#and it's not the only time in the chpt he does it

[bratscave]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 IN ANOTHER LIFE !

summary. falling in love with a old! driver, who's name was james while you were still in college was one thing — but finding out that he was wolverine after his death and meeting another version of him, was another.

includes/warnings. lots of flashbacks (sex heavely implied!!), let's just pretend he was an uber driver or smth cause miss college princess had no money for a limousine for sure :/, there will be chpt 2 dw!!

You remembered that first time like it was yesterday. It had been raining, one of those cold, relentless downpours that drenched you the moment you stepped outside. It had been your first day back at physical collage after all the online classes, all nervous, fumbling with your phone as you waited for the car to pull up.

He was intimidating, didn't utter a single thing, you quickly learned he wasn't a big fan of small talk. You had tried to make conversation, anything to fill the suffocating silence. You’d rambled on about the rain, about how much you hated storms, but Logan had only grunted in response, his gaze fixed firmly on the road. You’d thought that was his way of telling you to shut up, and for a while, you had.

But silence had always been uncomfortable to you, so you continued talking, about school, your shitty new teachers, your weekend plans. Anything that crossed your mind, really.

He had pretty hands, veiny n' all. That's what you thought when you first saw them, inappropriate thoughts to have about a man who was so much older then you. But back then, you weren't actually planning on doing anything about that small attraction.

It had been a particularly bad day — the kind where nothing seemed to go right, where you felt like the universe itself had a problem with you specifically and decided to make your life hell. You had barely held it together as you climbed into Logan’s car, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the door.

And for the first time in months, the car was quiet.

But you remembered the way he drove slower than usual, the way his eyes had softened every time they flicked to the rearview mirror. When he pulled up in front of your apartment, he had turned to face you for the first time, his voice low and gravelly: “It’s just a test, bub. You’ll be alright.”

You had always asked yourself weather he listened to your ramblings or not, the fact that he remembered that you had an exam that day, clearly proved one of your points.

It was such a simple thing to say. And if any other person would've said it, you would've given them attitude because nothing had been going alright that day and you were sure you had failed the damn thing.

But when he said it, you believed him.

“When does your shift end?”

Logan didn’t respond at first, his brow furrowing as he kept his eyes on the road. For a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard you, or maybe he was just ignoring you like he usually did when he didn’t want to answer a question.

But then, he glanced at you again, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Why?”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you pushed through, your voice softer this time. “I know a place. Quiet. You might actually like it."

For a second, you thought he was going to say no — that he was going to shut this down before it even started.

But then, he muttered a rough, “Sure,” and the air in the car shifted.

The tiny ramen shop was a street down your apartment complex, the prices were afforadable, for your college-spent wallet to afford, at least.

The familiar bell over the door chimed, and the owner — a small, elderly woman. She had made a lighthearted comment about 'you finally getting a man' and you were sure you had seen logan fight a grin.

You glanced at Logan as he sat across from you, his gaze sweeping over the modest interior. His lips quirked, just a little, at the sight of the place, like he found it amusing in a way you couldn’t quite place. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, you forgot what you were going to say.

But you'd quickly gather yourself, a chuckle escaping you at his antics, "Don't give me that look. You'll like it."

You didn't talk a lot, for the first time around him, you didn't feel the need to.

When the bill came, you reached for it, but Logan’s hand shot out, his fingers brushing against yours. The brief contact sent a jolt through you, your breath catching as you looked up at him.

“I’m paying,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

You shook your head, determined. “No. I invited you. I’m paying.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you thought he was going to argue. But instead, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re being ridiculous.’

“I’m not letting you pay.”

“Well, tough shit. I’m paying,” you shot back, pulling the bill toward you and slapping your card down on the table before he could react.

Logan let out a deep, frustrated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched, just for a second. “Stubborn as hell,” he muttered, shaking his head.

When you finally stepped outside, the cold air hit you harder this time, cutting through the warmth of the ramen still lingering in your stomach. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering slightly as you started walking back toward your apartment.

“I’ll walk you,” Logan said, his voice gruff as he fell into step beside you.

You shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “It’s literally down the street. I think I’ll survive.”

Logan didn’t respond. He just started walking down the street into the direction of the complex, his larger frame casting a long shadow over the pavement. You smiled though he didn't see it, in your humble opinion he was the stubborn one.

It took you all your courage to press out a, "Wanna come in?" after he walked you all they way to your door.

You had silently cursed yourself for not tidying up the space before wards, everything was just such a mess.

Shelves stacked with vinyl records lined one wall, your favorite albums mixed in with a few old books and random knick-knacks. Posters hung slightly crooked, tacked up without much care for symmetry, while polaroid pictures were scattered across the walls.

And then there were the plushies—so many plushies—bright pops of Sanrio characters peeking out from the corners of the couch, the bookshelves, even the bedroom beyond, where they seemed to be taking over your bed. A pink Cinnamoroll pillow lay tossed on the couch, its floppy ears slumping over the armrest like it was too tired to stay upright.

Logan’s eyes swept over everything, taking it in with a slow, deliberate gaze. You could see the corner of his mouth twitch again, that same almost-smile from the ramen shop, but this time it didn’t go away as quickly.

“You’ve got… a lot going on here,” he muttered, nodding toward the Sanrio plushies with a low grunt, but there was no judgment in his voice. Just something… curious.

You rolled your eyes, kicking your shoes off by the door. “I like cute stuff. Sue me.”

“Cute stuff,” he repeated, letting out a low, amused sound, but his eyes stayed on you, lingering just a little too long as you made your way to the couch.

He picked up one of the countless vinyls, carefully sorted next to a shelf, running his rough fingers over it. Something older from the 70s.

The next time you play that record, you'll think about how he kissed you on your coach a few minutes later. started of slow and tender, went all sloppy.

Maybe you’ll think about how he whispered your name, low and gravelly, like it was the only thing grounding him. Or the way his lips found your shoulder, kissing a line down your collarbone as he leaned you back against the cushions, his body hovering over yours, every inch of him pressing into you until you could barely think straight.

You’ll remember how his weight felt on top of you — solid, real.

“Christ,” he’d muttered against your throat, his breath hot, rough as he began moving. You highly doubted he believed in christianity or any religion at that, but the way he treated your body; felt like he was starting to believe in a new one, worshipping and all.

You had talked a lot that night, a few more hours, before you both fell asleep on same coach. It was the first time you heard multiple sentences beside just grunts and nods, from him.

If you only knew just how fast he'd leave you.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TWO

02 : SHOPPING (1/2)

CHPT. SUM. : life isn't easy in the Black Family household, you need to get out, you also need a new wand. Sirius does too as well as a few other things; time to go shopping.

LENGTH : 5.8k

TAGS. : hurt/comfort ; tantrums ; fluff ; sirius needs a hug ; regulus needs a hug ; original walburga can eat shit ; orion can eat shit too ; reader being an amazing mother ; walburga deserves to get bullied ; floo powder travels ; diagon alley shopping time~ ; stupid wands ; arson ; goblin OC ; sirius being a sneaky baby ; regulus follows in his older brother's footsteps ; misbehaving things ; Ollivander cameo~ ; please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes for now, this wasn't really proofread (╥﹏╥) i'll go back over things later on!

← PREV. | 01 : ARRIVAL | SERIES M.LIST

7th August 1971 

It didn’t take you long to uncover the upsetting affairs of the ever proud Black Family. 

There was nothing to be proud of. It sickened you to witness the blatant disdain Orion had for his own two sons, neglecting them by leaving for work early and returning only to lock himself up in his home office. The bastard even overlooked his sons when he was present at home on the weekends and the few words he spoke when addressing them dripped with cruelty and ignorance. The only positive thing you could take from his absence, however, is the fact that the boys didn’t have to tolerate his silent callousness for long periods of time. 

But that meant seeing the effects of Walburga’s despicable conditioning of the two boys, which was far worse. 

It was clear that Regulus wanted to be favoured and compiled to his mother’s whims, desperately seeking her approval. Whenever his small, pale hands reached out for you, no matter how miniscule, you accepted with open arms and a warm smile. His precious look of surprise, and shy happiness at your unexpected acceptance, never failed to make your heart shatter, even more so that his reaction never seemed to let up. 

Before every apology, before every small request, before every word he breathed in your direction, there was an evident hesitance, a slight fear in his motions that made him freeze up for a moment. It was a consistent action that you hoped, with time, would disappear for good. You love having Regulus for your son but you don’t want him to do things just because you said so. In your previous life and before your dreams were shattered, the one thing you looked forward to about having children was the development of their own personality, the becoming of their own individual person. That’s what you want for Regulus, and Sirius too. But you know that Regulus was the main son who was deprived of that pleasure in the original timeline so you wanted to give him that extra bit of care. It was your responsibility, now, to give him that happiness.   

Sirius was the same. He wanted approval too, you could see it so very clearly in his piercing grey eyes – it’s an innocence he shares with his younger brother. There’s a glimmer of hope in his grey pools, hidden behind the need to protect Regulus and the mix of anger and sadness fostered by the horrendous parents he had the ill-fate of having. You want to bring down those walls but you know it’ll take some time. Nevertheless, you clung onto the hope present in his eyes and used it to cultivate your firm resolution, like a garden to the foundation of a new life and a new future. It was needed, especially when Sirius lashed out, his fury, dangerously ablaze like a forest fire set on destroying everything in its wake. 

It was no secret that the original Walburga expected nothing but excellence from her only two sons, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that she had hired private tutors for them leading up to their official education in Hogwarts. They were to study French, Etiquette, Literature, Cursive/Calligraphy, Maths and all of the wizarding basics. All taught by private tutors that delivered material like stale bread on a plate and leaving them with the terribly tedious assignments in the most ridiculous amounts. You understood why Sirius worked himself up to such a tantrum. However, he was not setting a good example for his younger brother, who clung onto the long flowing skirt of your black dress and pressed himself against your legs for comfort. 

Tenderly, you combed your fingers through Regulus’ neatly permed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp while the two of you waited for Sirius to lose energy and simmer down enough for you to finally get a word in. It only took a few minutes but Sirius was soon left heavily panting, his expulsion of rage gone but still evident in his harsh glare and aggressive stance.

 Silence took over the room as you continued to hold his gaze, determined to handle the situation calmly but firmly and without any interruptions – you hope to God that your amateur imperturbable charm worked on the door of the room; it was the weekend, meaning that Orion was at home and he wouldn’t take too kindly to his equally hateful wife being screamed at by his disobedient son.

“...it’s not fair…” Sirius grumbles under his breath, pouting defiantly as his small hands ball up into clenched fists by his sides. 

“I know it’s not fair, Sirius,”

“Then—!” Sirius cuts himself off when you raise a brow at him, your mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. 

Some part of you understands why Sirius would lash out so aggressively; he was practically drowning under the workload he was set by his individual tutors, drowning under the expectations the original Walburga had set on him and he didn’t know how to express his frustrations. Along the way, you’re sure he’s bottled up his emotions and tried to get on with things, evident by the littered chaos of papers at his feet, marked by his neat handwriting. Such beautiful handwriting for such a young and troubled boy. With his deadline fast approaching and his assignments piled up to his ears, Sirius lashed out in the violent and wrathful way he’s been exposed to since birth. You want to be soft and comply with his demands but you know that’ll foster bad habits in him. Conceding now will only teach him that it’s okay to become violent when he’s frustrated and that it’ll work to help him get what he wants. But that is a false reality. And you will not perpetuate the illusion for him.  

He’s your son now, he’s your responsibility and you’re going to teach him well. So you stand firm but composed. You’re setting an example. It isn’t until you sense the fear of what may happen slowly seeping into Sirius’ much smaller frame, that you step forward and take action. 

In your slow approach, Sirius flinches and snaps his eyes tightly shut. His clenched fists slowly come up to shield his chest as his shoulders tense despite the visible shiver that runs up his frame.

A small voice calls out behind you, “Mother–”

“Regulus, this is between me and your brother. Please don’t interfere,” Regulus bites his lip into silence but watches on with fearful eyes. He wants to step in and hold his brother close, the same way Sirius has done to help comfort him many times before but, no matter how strong his will, Regulus didn’t move. Why? Was it the fear or… was it something else?  

Once close enough, you kneel down and gently grasp Sirius’ small shoulders. You try not to wince when he falters from your touch and tries to withdraw but your grip keeps him securely in place. Inhaling deeply and slowly, you begin to speak in a stable voice and with strength. It’s best to start from the beginning. 

“Sirius…” you wait until he meets your eyes, hesitant and afraid but stubbornly brave, “what’s wrong?” he sends you a look of exasperation, you can read him easily ‘why are you asking him that when he’s been screaming at you about it?’, “I will not listen or engage in any conversation with you if you ever speak to me that way,” you set the boundary and pause to make sure he processes your words clearly before continuing, “I will only listen if you talk to me like a normal person, if you just scream at me like that then I can’t help you,” 

Sirius wants to scoff at your words; how could he possibly trust you to help him if you’ve never been worthy of his trust? But he glimpses the image of his worried, younger brother over your shoulder and bites down on his sharp tongue. Regulus has grown a small but reluctant trust for you ever since the day you fainted. It was naive of him but Sirius could never fault his younger brother for anything. He’s always been the one with the softer heart between them so it was natural for Regulus to be more trusting. Deep down, Sirius wants to have that same level of give within him too. 

But it was hard. It’s hard to trust…

…that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, however. One prolonged look at his brother was all he needed to have the courage to put that trust forward. 

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, clearly this time.

“What’s not fair?” you prompt, your features softening along with your tone as Sirius wills himself to continue. You haven’t lashed out at him yet, you haven’t even threatened to launch a curse at him, that was a good sign. 

“All this work…” he gestures to the scattered papers he had thrown to the floor in defiance. Now, he looks towards them in shame and quickly diverts his gaze from the mess. 

“I see,” you hum as he looks onto you with eyes of wonderment, unable to comprehend that you were taking in his complaint so graciously – he isn’t used to this type of gentleness but he likes it…  “I’m sorry you’re under so much pressure to do this much work,” Sirius holds his breath as hope builds up within him, its light is radiant but he tries to ignore it, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you–”

“––I tried to do well!” Sirius defends, his eyes desperately searching your own for some form of understanding. It was your warm smile that eased his panicked heart… in some sense, he’s beginning to understand his younger brother; his mother looks far prettier when she’s smiling. 

“I know,” you cup his face with one hand and lovingly caress the skin of his cheek with your thumb, “you’ve worked so hard. Thank you for trying, Sirius,” you watch tears pool at his eyes and coo comfortingly as you bring him into your arms and tuck his face into your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I promise to talk to your tutors about the workload,” your gentle assurance and unfaltering promise eases his worries and Sirius allows himself to melt into your embrace. You’ve never called him that before. And never in such a loving or warm tone. It makes his heart feel lighter and his breath stutters in disbelief. 

Can he keep you like this? He wants you to be like this forever. 

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up in your kind embrace but he’s brought back to his senses when he hears shuffling and quickly feels his younger brother being brought into the hug too. Lighthearted and optimistic about the world’s goodness, Sirius brings an arm around his brother, who reciprocates his actions, and the three of you stay there, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. This is nice. 

“Regulus,” Sirius feels his brother stiffen up beside him, but only for a moment, it almost goes unnoticed before Regulus tucks himself further into your arms, “I’m sorry for the burden of work on you too,” 

“I-It’s okay, mother,” alas, his younger brother is too forgiving but Sirius knows it’s a trait that he loves his brother for. 

“Do you like the amount of work you’re doing?” you question, doing your best to keep your tone neutral and only slightly peaking in curiosity. 

Regulus pauses for a moment, contemplating his answer, “I wouldn’t mind less work…”

His answer makes you laugh, the sound feathery and light, it makes the two brothers stare at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. They’ve never heard their mother laugh before. It was obscure and strange but a pleasant sound, something that they want to hear more often from you. 

“Then it’s settled, I’ll be having a word with your tutors,” the two boys release a sigh of relief and you feel Sirius melt a little more into your arms, “so you can leave your work alone for next week entirely,” their shock doesn’t go unnoticed but you continue, “I’m so proud of both of you for working so hard,” you didn’t want to rush things but you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly and gently and with all the love you could muster, you lean forward and press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and then do the same to Regulus. 

They were stunned into silence as a pink hue rose to their cheeks, their wide, unbelieving eyes staring up at you in the most precious way. They look so adorable; you want to capture this image of them in a photo to keep forever. You can practically hear their racing hearts trying to beat out of their chests as their eyes swim with a child-like astonishment and wonder. They’re just two precious little boys who deserved better than the miserable, tragic fate J.K fucking Rowling wrote for them. And you were going to stop at nothing to make sure their futures were happy. 

Warm with happiness, your soft smile remains as you gently usher the two into the living room to settle down and relax for the evening. However, the little bubble of merriment you had cultivated with the two boys was promptly ruptured by the sour, disgruntled face you happened upon as soon as you opened the door.

Tucking the boys’ suddenly tense frames into the folds of your skirt, you address the intruder, “Orion–” 

“What was all that racket?” he demanded, his voice booming and frightening enough for Regulus to begin shaking faintly against you. It made anger spike in your chest but, thankfully, Sirius was there to reach out and immediately begin comforting his younger brother. You made sure to keep the boys out of Orion’s gaze but it was no use, “Sirius! I know it was you! HOW DARE—!”

“We’ve already settled the issue so there’s no need to talk about it further!” you interrupt through clenched teeth, chest puffed out angrily as you hold the boys’ tense but trembling figures into your legs, hoping to calm them as best as you can. Curse that imperturbable charm! And curse that stupid wand! You haven’t been able to cast a single, functioning spell with it and your excitement for the world of magic had quickly dwindled into abhorrence, stemming solely from the stubbornly disobedient wand, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so excuse us!” 

You hurriedly lead the boys away from Orion and to the living room as Orion snarls, outraged at being dismissed so flippantly but confused over your sudden change in demeanour. For now, he settles on observing the changes no matter how subtle and returns back to his office. 

“THAT WAND ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IT’S TRUE MASTER!” Walburga screams in your head and instantly makes you clutch your temple in distress. Settled in the living room sofas, Sirius and Regulus observe you with worry. Walburga doesn’t seem to know any other way of communicating than screaming and it has led to multiple black outs and fainting spells. It also meant that you kept having to drink the same disgusting healing potion over and over again and you were sick of it!

Seeing the same symptoms again, the two boys fidget in their seats, wondering what to do to help, “Are you okay mother?” Regulus asks as you muster a small smile. 

“I’ll be alright, Regulus, thank you,” your response isn’t enough to convince Sirius and he whispers something in his younger brother’s ear as you set to deal with the annoying bitch stuck in your head. 

‘Shut up you insufferable bitch, is inducing a headache your only talent?’ Your words and foul language make her sputter pathetically and it makes you laugh under your breath. Your moment of joy and satisfaction is short lived, however, as Regulus summons Kreacher just as you fall into darkness once more. 

The fucking bitch… 

8th August 1971

Because of that evil bitch stuck in your head, you had to ingest another phial-full of that horrendous healing potion. Not only that but the stupid wand still isn’t working for you. 

“How can I survive this hell hole if I can’t even use magic?” you grumble into the open air as the evil bitch cackles resembled the sputtering and coughing of a broken-down car, mixed with the discordance of an off-tune violin, erratic, grating and screeching. 

‘Can you shut up?!’ you shout in your head, already fuming, ‘Your laugh sounds like it could kill someone! No wonder you’re so miserable and your only sons hate you!’ that finally got her to shut up and you could think clearly again. Even though the situation was annoying, It made you snicker. Being able to bully Walburga into silence made those awful healing potions worth it. You’d drink a hundred healing potions if it meant delivering justice for you two boys. 

Now that she’s silent, you observe your desk. Thankfully, you also had your ownhome office. The previous Walburga had a planner specific for Sirius and Regulus’ studying plans, diet and calendars full of ‘X’s with small notes beside them on disobedience and the subsequent punishments. It was sickening and you wanted to burn the thing but you resisted. If you want to act convincingly in front of Orion and plan slyly, you need to know as much about the original Walburga as possible so you keep all her planners, journals and  scraps of paper intact. You’ll study their contents thoroughly in due time. You still have some major planning to do and you need to note down important dates to keep track of before you forget them. The start you’ve made has been decent, however, you know you need to rely on magic at some points and you wouldn’t be able to succeed in the current state of your wand. And it isn’t as though you weren’t able to cast magic; the first time you tried to cast a simple spell – the well-renowned ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ – you had set the flowers in the vase on fire.  

You need an excuse to go out. As the Patriach of the Black family, Orion had the key to the Gringotts Black Family vault so you can’t just go out haphazardly. You also weren’t comfortable with leaving the boys home alone so you need them to come with you if you can. 

With a sigh, you slump into the rigid desk chair and set about occupying yourself with mundane tasks. Perhaps if you indulge yourself in other, simple activities, you can come up with something creative. Stacking your messily scrawled notations of future plans, you begin to rummage through the desk drawers for a stapler or paper clip but come up unproductive. Nothing. Did wizards and witches not use basic stationary?... They had magic, yes, but surely… 

Your internal ramblings come to an abrupt stop when you spot a famed crest sitting above a deep red seal. The crest features four familiar beasts, a lion, a badger, a raven and a serpent; at the very centre was an ostentatious ‘H’ — it’s a letter from Hogwarts. And you were just beginning to suspect its potential contents. The seal has already been broken and the letter slips out easily. 

Words on the page read with nostalgia, it was as if you were watching the first Harry Potter film all over again and cheering at Harry’s liberation from his toxic aunt, uncle and cousin.  

‘Dear Sirius Black,’ it reads and your heart stutters in both excitement and anxiety, ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.’

“Term starts on September 1st,” your eyes snapt to the desk calendar, which had automatically crossed off the days. It’s a little early but that just means you’ll beat the academic year rush. With a smile, you take out the separate list of necessary school supplies and pair it with a small list of your own. 

Perfect, you have your reason. 

9th August 1971 

Before travelling by floo, Kreacher came up to you and cast a simple dirt-repellent spell on you and your two sons. You were grateful for his foresight and thanked him graciously for doing so. Much like all the times before, your unexpected kindness makes the grumpy house elf falter clumsily but adorably as Regulus grins at your side and Sirius huffs with an exaggerated pout on his lips. He’s still ever so stubborn about the house elf but you’ve observed how Regulus has put in the effort to push the two together. You join in the gentle prodding through leading by example, treating Kreacher kindly and with respect. Bit by bit, Sirius has been following yours and Regulus’ lead. He’s not fully there but you smile at the little progress he’s made. It’s only been a few days after all and the results are optimistic, it makes your heart flutter and you look forward to the future with brighter eyes. Sirius had been buzzing with silent excitement all morning and Regulus was quick to join his older brother’s enthusiasm when you informed him that he was welcome to come and join you. 

You set off to travel by floo first so you can wait for the boys on the other side and so they’re not on their own not for too long. “Diagon Alley,” you announce clearly and without a shake of nervousness in your voice, only feverish anticipation. In moments, you’re engulfed by green flames. The world whirls around you in a dizzying blur of colours and sounds, the sensation both exhilarating and disorienting.

Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, you appear out of the subsequent fireplace without a spec of dirt on you and smile as you stumble out to await your two sons. The adrenaline rush of it all makes your fingers tingle and your head feel light headed but your smile only brightens. You still can’t believe you’re really here, sometimes.

Sirius came next and then Regulus. However, despite their earlier excitement, it appears as though their spirits were dampened just before travelling. Now, they stand before you with pouting lips and downcast eyes. 

“What’s wrong boys?” you ask softly, kneeling down to their level, it was purely out of instinct now. You meet them at their comfort as an equal rather than the other way around. It usually does the trick of consoling them enough to speak to you but this time is different. Their lips are tightly sealed. 

“We’re okay,” Sirius says in a tone that makes it seem as if he was trying to convince himself that. You want to press further but relent with a nod. It would be better for you to let them talk at their own time. Hopefully, being outside with so many charming shops dotted around, they’ll ease up and smile again. Pressing a brief kiss to their temples, you lead them out to the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. 

The street was bustling with magic and mystery as you observe the scene with bright eyes. The atmosphere of the wizarding alley didn’t compare to the movie adaptations. It was much more charming and wondrous to observe in real life. And wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic as it was depicted to you. However, that may be due to the fact that you hadn’t left the school shopping too late and so the streets weren’t as congested as when Harry went school shopping for the first time. Nevertheless, your heart didn’t stop pounding in elation as you held hands with your two sons and set forth to your first destination.  

“Our first stop is at a very important place, okay?” on either side of you, Sirius and Regulus nod, still silent as you lead them through the streets. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and freshly baked treats from the nearby shops, a symphony of sounds and smells, it was a little overwhelming but you couldn’t complain, the tenor of the climate was still very addictive.

As if summoning your first destination, your eyes were drawn to the towering structure of Gringotts, the goblins' bank. Its grandeur was a stark contrast to the quaint shops lining the street, making it stand out like a uniquely different gem amongst a cluster of little treasures. 

You walk forward with purpose now but still keep your strides short for the boys. Looking down you observe how they take in the environment around them, dressed like little princes with perfectly permed hair and glittering diamond eyes. Sirius had familiarised himself with the routine of the day, the first stop would be Gringotts to withdraw money to buy all of his school supplies, the second stop would be to retrieve his wand and after that, it would just be a matter of going down the list. It was a different plan to the usual fixed outline his parents were strict to follow in usual outings. Sirius would have been more enthusiastic if his father hadn’t forcibly pulled him and Regulus aside after you’d first disappeared by floo. 

‘Don’t even think about dirtying the Black family name while outside. If I even hear a single word of your misbehaviour, it’ll be an entire day spent in the vault!’

His father’s threatening words echoed menacingly in his head, his mind like an empty cave except for the haunting remarks that bounced off its despondent walls. The only way for his father to hear of any misbehaving is if his mother told on them but… Sirius chances a brief glance up at you, only to be met by your kind smile. Quick as lightning, Sirius looks away with a clench of his hand around yours. His mother isn’t like that now, though…right?

As the three of you pass windows displaying cauldrons, brooms, and a myriad of magical trinkets, Sirius’ mind raced with possibilities. What spells would he learn? Who would he meet? And would he make good friends with them? What house would he be sorted into?  He hopes not Slytherin, it was what his entire family had been sorted into but he doesn’t want to be like them – never like them. Would he be able to play Quidditch, his mother always used to say that it was too violent and rambunctious of a sport to be associated with. Will he like his teachers? Will he enjoy his classes? The future was a mysterious, unopened book, and Sirius, although slightly hesitant, still bound to expectations, was ready to turn the first page.

As you step through the towering bronze doors of Gringotts, a shiver of awe runs down your spine. The splendour of the entrance hall was breathtaking, with gleaming marble floors and towering pillars that seemed to reach up into the heavens – as opulent a building should be that holds secure a multitude of treasures and ancient artefacts whilst being guarded by a ferocious dragon. 

Goblins, sharp-eyed and meticulous, worked behind large, ornate desks – tall and domineering. Their long, dexterous fingers moved swiftly as they counted coins and scribbled in large ledgers, busy but happily so when surrounded by so much gold. The air was filled with the clinks of coins and the soft murmur of transactions, bank-speak, typical and not too far from the banks of ‘muggles’. High above, the cavernous ceiling was illuminated by shimmering crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over everything, fitting for the amount of gold glittering beneath it. It was a complimentary union, one that oozed lavishness. Even the air smelled rich and you wondered if gold dust was dancing in it too. The atmosphere was one of ancient power and impenetrable security, safe and anchored. As you walked further in, you could feel the weight of centuries of wizarding history envelope you, it was unmistakably a place where secrets and fortunes were both hidden and revealed. 

Approaching a vacant desk, you steady your breath and quickly recite your introduction in your head before elegantly performing it. You first drop into a low but graceful bow and repeat your greeting from memory, “Greetings Master Goblin, may your gold prosper and your enemies fail against your blade, I am Madam Black,” with bated breath, you wait for his reply, hoping that uttering your family name was enough. 

“Madame Black, I am Filgus. What can I do for you today?” the goblin hid his surprise well. It was unusual to receive such a polite and formal greeting from the Matriarch of the infamous Black family. The surprise was pleasant but also carried with it a fair share of warning. Odd behaviour never bode well. Filgus was determined to not let anything pass, his pride as a Goblin demanded it be so.  

“I would like to withdraw from the family vault,” you explain and hand over the key Orion had 

“Very well,” Filgus accepts the key and moves to dismount his desk, “follow me to the carts,” you’re immediately reminded of the movie scene, where the speed and twisting passage of the cart made Hagrid sick, even as a half giant. 

“Is it safe for the children?” you fret instinctively. Maternal instincts, a previously dormant part of your nature now expressed in the most spontaneous but opportune ways. 

Filgus snarls in offence but bites his tongue as best he could, “I assure you Madame Black that Gringotts is one of the safest establishments to exist in the wizarding world,” 

Not wanting to offend the goblin further, you nod with some hesitancy and keep your boys close. The fact that you worried for them made their little hearts flutter as their cheeks heated into a delicate pink hue. It was unusual for them to experience such care and worry but it still made them feel good. Turning to each other, they observe their identical reactions and bite their lips to keep from grinning too widely. 

The journey to the vault was as winding and twisting as you remembered in the films. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. The experience was exactly like that of a rollercoaster but without as strict of a regard to safety. If only the path was better lit, maybe that would have made the journey a little more pleasant. 

“Here we are,” Filgus announces, stepping off the cart and politely asking for the lamp. You oblige and slowly follow him out of the cart, steadying yourself before you help Sirius and Regulus out too, “your key, Madam Black?” Filgus sets about opening your vault door as you turn to the boys and check their welfare. 

“Are you alright, my darlings?” you ask in a soft whisper, kneeling before them. 

In all honesty, Sirius had enjoyed the ride down, the twists and turns and perilous speed made his head spin in the most delightful sense but he’s grown to like you worrying for him more than that temporary thrill. So, with a pitiful look on his face, he shakes his head ‘no’ and slowly begins to stretch his arms open. 

“It was scary…” Sirius whispers, taking advantage of the cold underground temperature to make his voice shake in ‘fear’.

“Oh darling,” you coo softly and bring him into your arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sirius smiles into your shoulder and allows himself to cling onto you like he’s always secretly dreamed of doing. This feeling of safety and security was one he didn’t ever want to let go of. Over your shoulder, Regulus gapes at the affectionate scene and, although it goes against his moral code of lying, he musters up the sly courage his older brother so easily displayed. 

“M-me too, mother,” Regulus calls for your attention in a bashful whisper, “I was scared too,” your kind, understanding smile eases his nerves Regulus jumps into your arms as soon as you open up to accommodate his small frame. 

This didn’t count as misbehaving, right? Only they knew whether or not they were truly scared or not…

The bell above the door tinkled softly, happily announcing your arrival as you pushed open the creaky, unassuming entrance into Ollivander’s, the most renowned wand shop in all of Diagon Alley. It made you giddy just thinking about getting to meet the whimsical shop owner and wand artisan. 

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and magic, a combination that seemed to tickle the very edges of your senses. Your fingers itched to grasp at wand, your nose scrunched up at the pleasantly ancient scent permeating the air and your eyes surveyed the room with an eager gleam. The shop was narrow and cramped, yet it felt infinitely deep, with towering shelves that stretched up into the shadows. Each floor to ceiling shelving unit was crammed with thousands of slender boxes, their organisation questionable but fitting for such an antiquated establishment. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a mystical glow over everything. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient trees and magical cores, each wand holding the promise of a unique bond, waiting to be discovered and pledged to its chosen master. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hear Sirius’ heart pounding with the thrilling but nervous realisation that among the wondrous collection of boxes, one held a wand that was meant solely for him. It would be special and unequalled to anything else – an incomparable affiliation

Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, incisive eyes emerged from the shadows like a wisp of memory, his movements as silent and fluid as a ghost, a jolly ghost supporting a fanciful smile. His gaze takes in your sons, to which he gives a thoughtful hum before fixing his stare onto you.

“Madame Black…” Mr. Ollivander observes you with open curiosity, peaking the interest of your two boys, their diamond grey eyes watching the interaction silently and with overflowing intrigue, “having trouble with your wand?” his quick deduction makes your breath hitch and your shoulders tense. The impish gleam in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you, “it’s very peculiar for a wand that has already chosen its master to change its mind, especially from a wand that’s so loyal,” he ponders aloud as Sirius and Regulus inch closer to your sides, clinging onto the fabric of your dress skirt as they heed Ollivander’s nebulous words with a hint of caution, “curious, very curious indeed... I could only think of one reason, an abstruse but entirely possible reason for such a contingency in a world of magic…” Ollivander leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes, his own dancing about in their search, for what, you don’t have a clue. But it feels as though he can see into your soul, the flicker in his eyes detecting the presence of another. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief but laughs merrily, easing the tension built up in the air, “not one, but two, I see…” 

Your heart shudders in your chest. Did he know? 

NEXT. | 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : i would like to say that i was planning to delay this chapter update for a day or two since i was an absolute muppet to myself and decided to switch up events in the plot and oc introductions last minute but, thanks to @urmomw4ntsme (amazing username btw (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )) and their message about being excited for the update, i was lovingly and innocently pushed into getting the update out on time ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻) so thank you, my darling haha! i appreciate your perfectly timed, kind message. i hope you darlings enjoyed the read and forgive me for splitting this chapter up into 2 parts - i suppose i planned for too much in one chapter hehe~

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[theobjectofmyobsession055]

Boothill x SingleParent!Reaer: Lassos and Lullabies Chpt. 1

When Boothill helps find a lost child's mother at the grocery store, he'll end up finding a hell of a lot more than he bargained for.

Next part

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Even though Boothill was mostly made of metal, he still had need of basic necessities. He’d never admit it to anyone, but taking care of his hair was especially of importance to him. Not that he cared much about his appearance, but as one of the only human parts of him left, he’d be careless to let it fall into disrepair. So that led him to the supermarket, browsing the aisles of haircare products. Seriously, how many different kinds of shampoo could there be? It seemed unnecessary to him.

Just as he’d grabbed the simplest-looking bottle he could find, he felt a little tug on his pant leg. He looked down, and his breath caught in his mechanical lungs. Looking up at him with big, teary eyes was a little girl, her tiny fist clutching at his pant leg. She couldn’t have been much older than two, if that. Her dark curls framed her chubby, tear-stained face in a little halo, and if he still had a heart in his chest he knew it would have clenched painfully. She looked so much like his little girl, even down to the way she wobbled slightly on her feet. She must have just learned how to walk. It tugged at his nonexistent heartstrings to see her snotty nose and forlorn look in her big, dewy eyes.

He knelt down to her level, his gruff voice uncharacteristically gentle as he said, “Hey there, little lady. Where’re yer parents?”

She hiccupped, letting go of his pant leg to grip at his metal fingers. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight, despite his concern—she could barely wrap her whole hand around one of his fingers. “M-mama… Mama…”

Oh if that didn’t just break his heart. He couldn’t leave her to wander around the store by herself. “You’re lookin’ for yer momma, eh? Don’t worry, I’ll help ya find her.” He stood back up, but the moment he did the little girl started sobbing, reaching her little hands up towards him. “You want up, little lady?” She nodded her head, so he leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, propping her up on his hip. It’d been a long, long time since Boothill had held a child, but his muscle memory didn’t fail him, even in his cybernetic body.

She calmed down a little once she was secure in his arms, but she still sniffled and cried out for her mom every once in a while as they walked through the store. He didn’t know how long it would take to find her mom, so he started wracking his brain for ways to cheer her up while they looked. He bounced her up and down in his arms as he hummed an old tune he’d heard who-knew when. He didn’t fancy himself much of a singer, but his daughter always loved it whenever he'd sing or play the guitar for her.

The little girl giggled, so he figured he must’ve been doing something right. As he continued humming, he scanned the store for anyone who appeared particularly frantic, peering down each aisle as they passed. He almost didn’t notice the little girl reaching her hands up until she babbled out something that sounded suspiciously like “Hat!”

He chuckled as he peeked down at her, seeing how she reached up towards the brim of his hat. “You like cowboys, little lady? Here.” He took off his hat and placed it on her head. He snickered at the sight of how it almost completely engulfed her face, tipping it back so it didn’t cover her eyes. “Looks better on you than it does on me anyways.”

She squealed happily, clapping her little hands together. A soft smile grew on his face. Interacting with this little girl made him feel nostalgic in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, in a way he deliberately tried to avoid feeling. But it wasn’t awful, even if his chest ached as he couldn’t help but think of his own little girl, another lifetime ago.

“Charlotte? Oh my god, Charlotte, there you are!”

The little girl’s eyes lit up, and she reached her hands out. “Mama!”

A plump young woman came running up to Boothill, tears in her eyes that looked strikingly similar to the little girl’s in his arms. He could see the outline of her soft tummy through her modest but flattering dress, the fabric hugging her full hips. Despite himself, he couldn’t help the light flush on his face as he took in the sight of her, and it only got worse when she looked up at him with those dewy eyes. He cleared his throat. “Are you this here little lady’s momma?”

Instead of the trepidation he expected to see on her face from seeing a cyborg holding her daughter, her face melted with relief and gratitude. “Yes, I am. Thank you so so much for finding her, I was worried sick! I set her down for just one second and the next thing I knew she was gone!” She gently took the little girl from him, cradling her in her arms. The little girl cooed and cuddled up in her mother’s embrace, content as could be. The woman sighed deeply. “I can’t believe I lost sight of her…”

A smile made its way onto Boothill’s lips. If his hat was still on his head, he would’ve tipped it at her. “S’no problem, ma’am, don’t beat yerself up ‘bout it. Second they learn howta use their legs they’re all over the place. She’s a mighty brave little lady you’ve got there, askin’ a stranger for help.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “Actually, Lottie’s rather shy. She came up to you, you said?” She looked down at her daughter with a gentle smile. “Did you make a friend, Lottie?”

“Is that right?” He grinned, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Well I’d be mighty pleased to be friends with such a pretty young lady.” His eyes flicked back up to the woman’s face. “Or her momma, for that matter.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and a shy smile played at her lips. “O-oh, why thank you, sir.”

“The name’s Boothill. Pleasure to make yer acquaintance.” He took his hand out of his pocket and held it out towards her.

She took his hand and shook it. Damn, her hands were soft. Slightly calloused, but that was kind of nice too. He was glad he’d had those touch receptors installed. “Y/N,” she said. “Nice to meet you too. And this—” She bounced her daughter on her hip, causing her to giggle. “Is Charlotte.” Y/N looked back up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Really, thank you so much for finding her. She doesn’t usually like new people, she doesn’t even like the daycare workers, and she sees them almost every day. You must be some kind of toddler-whisperer or something. Do you have one of your own?”

His servers stalled. “…No.” It wasn’t a lie, he didn’t have a child. Not anymore.

He pushed the thought out of his mind, plastering a grin on his face. “But I’ll take that as a compliment. I quite liked little Lottie’s company as well.”

If Y/N noticed his hesitancy, she made no indication of it. She just smiled at him, those pretty eyes of hers crinkling at the edges. “Well, you’re just a natural then.” She was quiet for a moment, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Hey, I, um, I know I have no right to ask you for anything more than you’ve already done, but I was wondering… would you maybe be willing to babysit Lottie sometime? She just seems so taken with you, and it’s been so hard to find a babysitter she isn’t shy or nervous around. I can pay you too! You absolutely don’t have to, I know we just met and everything, but I thought I’d ask.”

Boothill blinked. Him, babysit? It was true he liked being around the little tyke for the short time they were together, but was he really cut out to babysit? On the other hand, he was somewhat touched that she’d trust him enough to look after her child, as ill-placed as that trust might have been.

But as he looked down at Charlotte, with her dark curls and bright eyes and his hat perched precariously on her head… something in his chest stirred. And even though it might’ve been a bad decision, he’d made a lot bad decisions in his life, and it couldn’t possibly be any worse than those.

He flashed her a grin. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. An’ ya don’t gotta pay me. I’d be happy enough just to see this pretty little lady again.” He took his hat off Charlotte’s head and ruffled her hair, making her let out a torrent of giggles. He placed the hat back on his head and tipped it at Y/N, giving her a little wink. “And her pretty momma too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red. He could’ve laughed at the way she blinked rapidly, obviously flustered. “O-oh, um… thank you. I’d… be glad to see you again too.”

His grin widened. “Well ain’t that just peachy, then. I travel around a lot for work, but if you need someone to watch the young’un when I’m in town, I’d be happy to help.

The smile she gave him could’ve powered thirty starships. “Thank you, Boothill. Here.” She pulled out a scrap of paper from her purse and scribbled something down on it, handing it to him. The fans in his chest whirred loudly. It was her phone number. “So we can get in contact with each other. Maybe we could do a test drive first—you can come over and I can show you around the place and everything. And we can get to know each other better, you know?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He took out a napkin from his pocket and scribbled down his own phone number before handing it to her.

She folded it up delicately and tucked it away in her purse. “Alright then, we won’t take up any more of your time. It was nice meeting you, I’ll shoot you a text. Say ‘bye bye,’ Lottie!” she cooed down at Charlotte.

Charlotte waved her hand enthusiastically. “Bye bye!”

Boothill raised his hand in a wave. Then they turned and left, leaving him alone to marvel at what the heck just happened.

He whipped out his phone and added a new contact called ‘Hot Momma.’ He’d be looking forward to that text.

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Boothill had half expected to never hear from Y/N again, but to his surprise he received a text from her about a week later. And lo and behold, she actually did invite him over to her apartment. Either she was just the most trusting woman in the whole galaxy, or he must’ve left a really good impression during their brief meeting. He didn’t leave those very often.

No sooner than he’d knocked on the door did it open, and he was met with Y/N’s bright smile and slightly flushed cheeks. “You’re here! I was just making lunch, come on in! Would you like something to drink?”

As she ushered him into the apartment, he took in the sight of the living space. Small, but cozy. He decided he liked it There were a few framed photos sitting on the mantel, and he took note that there wasn’t a man in any of them. “Nah, I’m all good. Thank you, though.”

Y/N scurried into the kitchen and stirred a pot of something. He smiled at the sight of Charlotte sitting in a highchair at the kitchen table, light blue bows dotted across her dark hair. She clapped her hands and babbled happily at the sight of him. “Hat! Hat!”

Y/N laughed, peering at them from over the counter. “Lottie’s been so excited to see you, Mr. Boothill.”

“Eh, none of that ‘Mister’ crap, just ‘Boothill’ is fine.” He leaned down to Charlotte’s level. Immediately, she reached out and grabbed ahold of one of his fingers, her eyes wide with wonder as she watched the way the light glinted off of his metal hand. He chuckled, his chest warming at the sweet sight. “I’ve been real excited to see her too.”

Y/N came out of the kitchen, balancing three plates of pasta, one significantly smaller than the others. “Please, come eat with us. Oh, um, if you can eat, that is. I made plenty for all of us.”

He didn’t have to eat, but he knew better than to turn down a pretty lady. He tipped his hat at her. “Aw shucks, ya didn’t haveta do that for little ol’ me. But thank you kindly.”

She sat one of the larger plates down in front of him, a bright smile on her face. “Of course I did! You’re doing me a huge favor by offering to watch Lottie, it’s the least I can do.” She sat down on the other side of Charlotte, stabbing a piece of pasta with a fork and offering it to her.

“It’s no problem, really. She’s a sweet little lady.” The sight of Y/N feeding her daughter like that made his chest constrict painfully. It reminded him all too much of evenings at the dinner table with his own little rascal, where she’d end up with her face and hands all covered in sauce.

He pulled himself out of the memory before he could get too wrapped up in it. “How old is she, by the way?” he asked.

“She’s two and a half,” Y/N said proudly, feeding Charlotte another couple forkfuls of pasta. She sighed wistfully. “She’s already growing up so fast.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, they do that. Best to cherish ‘em while they’re cute an’ little like this.”

“Very right you are. But she’ll always be my little Lottie, no matter how big she gets, won’t you, sweetheart?” she cooed at Charlotte, to which she babbled happily.

Boothill took a couple bites of the meal she’d prepared for him. His sense of taste wasn’t quite as good as it had been when he was fully human, but he could still tell that it was delicious. “Dang, darlin’, this is really good. You a chef or somethin’?”

She laughed, a pink flush dusted across her cheek bones. She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh no, nothing like that. That’s very sweet of you to say, though, I’m glad you like it.”

They finished up their lunch, and Y/N stood up to collect the dishes. Boothill stopped her with a raised hand. “Lemme take care of it, sugar. Can’t let a pretty little thing like you runnin’ yerself ragged on my account.”

Her cheeks turned rosy again as he stood and took the plates from her. “O-oh, um… Thank you.”

“No problem, doll.” He winked at her before heading into the kitchen and washing the dishes. He may have been laying the charm on a little thick, but what could he say? He liked her. And he knew how touch it was raising a kid, especially if she didn’t have anyone to help her.

Once the dishes were all washed and on the drying race, he returned to the dining room, finding that Y/N had picked Charlotte up out of her highchair and perched her on her hip. Her cheeks were still a little pink, but she flashed him a sweet smile. “So, would you like a tour?”

He nodded his head, and she showed him around her small home. There were a couple more photos in her bedroom, once again with a distinct lack of an adult male. She told him everything he might need to know if he were to watch Charlotte: her bedtime, how she liked to take her baths, emergency contacts, the whole shebang. A part of him couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to this, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of getting to spend time with a child again made him feel… something. He didn’t quite have the words to describe it, but it was soft and warm and healing somehow.

And it also didn’t hurt that her mom was such a cutie.

When they got to the end of the tour, Boothill leaned up against the wall and put his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual as he searched for the words to ask what’d been on his mind since the moment he saw her. “So… You have a… a partner? A husband or a boyfriend or somethin’?”

Y/N stilled, a shy smile on her face. “Ah… no. I don’t.” But before he could celebrate, her smile turned somber. “Charlotte’s father… isn’t in the picture anymore. When I told him I was pregnant, he packed his things and left. I haven’t seen him since.”

Boothill’s smile fell. So she was a single mom. He placed his hand on her shoulder, suddenly serious. “That ain’t no man, darlin’. Those there’re the actions of a boy, who ain’t willin’ to take responsibility for what he’s done. An’ he’s a damn fool for lettin’ a sweet little thing like you go.” He smiled down at Charlotte, who just looked up at him with big doe eyes. “An’ he’s missin’ out on seein’ this pretty little lady grow up. He’ll regret it one day.”

He heard Y/N take in a shaky breath, and he noticed her eyes were a little misty. “…Th-thank you, Boothill. That means a lot to me to hear that.”

“I’m just sayin’ the truth.” He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before letting his hand fall back down to his side. His regular cheeky grin made its way back onto his face. Now, when can I start watchin’ this little cutie?” He tickled Charlotte’s tummy, causing her to squeal in delight.

Y/N smiled at the sight. “Actually, I have this important work conference out of town Sunday night. I know it’s kind of last minute, but I’d really appreciate it if you could watch her while I’m gone. I’ll be back on Monday morning, so it’d just be for that evening and night. I don’t have a guest room, but you’d be welcome to sleep in my room!”

He chuckled. “Ya don’t gotta sell it so hard, I’d be happy to help. You’ve got my number, just let me know when to be here.”

She let out a long, relieved sigh. “Really? Thank you so much, you have no idea how much I’ve been stressing trying to find a sitter for her. You’re a life saver.” That might’ve been the first time Boothill had been called that, and he’d been called a lot of things. Typically, he was said to be the opposite. But the way Y/N smiled up at him really made him feel like a hero, even though it was really no skin off his nose. It was a nice feeling

[visceral-reject]

Sedatives CHPT.2

A/N: Here bc crossposting my beloved

Blaring alarm and sunlight slipping through your blinds awoke you from what you’d considered a good sleep. Friday, the day you’d longed for for months it seemed, not because there’d be shitty slashers on a seemingly endless marathon due to it being the month of October, though that was a plus; but no, it was finally your day off. A day all to yourself and a night to hand out candy to doe-eyed children in differing costumes. Groggily sliding out of bed was a task, though your feet planting themselves onto your cold floor was more than a wake-up call. Your quarters were homey, and cozy. More than enough space for you and your cat, Cilantro. Speaking of the greedy feline, who mewed her greetings as she weaved between your legs as you made your way to the bathroom.

“You can wait Lantro, not like you’re gonna starve any time soon. “You yawned, stretching your arms as your back cracked. The cat, however, didn’t seem to agree with your sentiments in the slightest as she mewed louder, seemingly in response to you. You closed the door in the thing’s face in return. Your morning was everything but eventful, though watching your neighbor’s children chase each other around their yard with dollar store skeletons and spiders, which left a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, sipping on your morning brew with a content glaze within your eyes. Though boredom was beginning to seep through that feeling. Your laundry had been put on, dishes had been washed and put away, and just overall tidying had all been done within the span of a few hours. What now? You hadn’t planned this far ahead, not like medical school and internships gave you time to establish any friendships, and a relationship was the last thing on your mind. Besides, the scum that you worked aside left such a stain on your mind when it came to potential partners. Nurses, smoking and degrading the patients within the yellowing walls gave you looks of contempt and the doctor’s hands planted themselves onto your skin for a good many moments too long. Yeah…so no relationship prospects in sight for you. Catnapping and folding laundry made up most of your day, finding the hours slip through your fingers like fine sand. The dulling sky held many stars, blinking into the blanket of dusty oranges and desaturated blues. You, still donning a simple jumper and pajama pants you're sure you’d stolen from some childhood friend you’d long forgotten in your adult life, pity. Trekking towards the door, donning a thick knitted blanket and Cilantro in tow, you made your way to your rocking chair, an antique thing that could use a paint job, but you didn’t mind. Propping yourself upon the old chair, the wood creaking beneath you, sighed, watching your breath cling to the air. Though despite your day of relaxation, you still carried a weight on your shoulders. “Fucking hell…” you groaned, head thrown back with a displeased expression.

Night lurked within your walls, a heavy silence bearing over your domain as you tossed and turned, comfort fleeting from you, and time ticked by one second at a time. Poor sight you were, desperate for sleep to claim you, for relief to wash over you in a cool wave. You, sweaty and annoyed, threw your comforter away, allowing the cool air of your tiny room to chill your skin, a shitty fan doing little to aid. Thoughts floating back to your job, the patients, the assholes who worked your nerves to no end…Michael. Your breath hitched as you began to think the patient over. How the veins in his hands flexed as he steadily layered paper and glued to form a face. How his eyes followed doctors and nurses, in a way you could only be akin to a predator stalking its prey. Intense. Calculating. Your fingers buried themselves in your soaked hole, your moans echoing off the walls as you brought yourself to the edge. Your back arched as your vision whitened, whimpers rolling out of your throat, riding out your height. It was easy to imagine it was Michael bringing you past this edge; how easy it was to imagine it was his rough fingers dragging down your body, toying with your clit. Attempting to steady your shaking breaths and legs was no easy feat. You stared at the ceiling, sweat clinging to your body as the thoughts of Michael dissipated, the reality of just how taboo this was finally setting in. He was your patient not your patient, but still! A sigh escaped your lips as you rolled onto your side with a wince, your muscles aching as you attempted to find some escape from your sleep.

October 29

Your uniform felt tight, almost suffocating as you placed the small plastic cups of pills in front of patients. You felt pity for them, abandoned and left to rot within the confines of the state, drugged up to a compliant lucid state. Their blank, watery eyes left you feeling hollow every time you turned your back on them after administrating their daily medication alongside the mush the penitentiary called food. It was fucking sick how they treated these mentally unwell people that needed help above all else.

But today, today was different.

Today you felt watched, more than usual. One could akin this to the feelings prey has before the predator strikes, but who was your predator? You shook your head, instinctively wiping your hands upon your dark scrubs, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you approached the behemoth of a man that you’ve affectionately dubbed your ‘favorite patient’.

Michael Myers was quiet, always. His face was always covered with a mask, if not the mop of messy blondish hair. Despite his silence, you found it rather easy to read him, perhaps it was due to the fair amount of time you’d spent tailing after Dr. Loomis, half-heartedly acknowledging his rambles about Michael that you didn’t believe. It was odd, you, a mere 2 years younger than he was, and two completely different people. Sometimes, between shifts or hiding with the smokers out back, you’d think about what life for Michael would’ve been like if life had been kinder, softer. A childhood filled with joy, love, and comfort is what every child deserves in your mind. You don’t think Michael was born a monster, but one born of circumstance. Squeaky cartwheels echo throughout this part of the rec room. Patients and staff alike avoided the very space Michael inhabited, for fear of becoming victims of the Boogeyman of Haddonfield. You, however, were either stupid or brave, and right now you didn’t quite know which one was worse. Michael sat slump, his head hanging low, though you could see his neck jerk in your direction as you approached. “Morning, Michael! “You chirped, gently sliding the plastic cup of assorted medicine to the man. He was quiet, eyes flicking to you for just a moment before slowly reaching for his dailies. You faced the wall as he downed them. You began to wonder what his face looked like; you’d seen his face in files. When he was a boy, his cheeks were rosy, and round, and his eyes still clung to some semblance of childhood innocence. You tried to picture him grown. Perhaps his face was made of nothing of right angles, maybe he looked like his mother? Questions ran through your head as Michael placed the cup down. It made you want to gag knowing he always downed his dailies without water, and it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Water was readily available. Ever the gentle creature you were, Michael watched as you sat across from him, folding your hands in your lap. You tried not to stare, honestly you didn’t, but there was something about him that made you just want to...stare. His hands were large and calloused from the years of nimble working of paper machete masks that donned his cell walls. It was the same hands that killed his sister at the age of 10. The same hands you’d fantasied about the night before.

He remained stoic, eyes finally meeting your face. It felt as if he was searching for something, a hint of malice or pity. He’d find none within your feature, nothing more than a genuine want to know something about him. Michael found you pretty enough, kinder than the nurses and doctors and specialists that buzzed around him like an annoying fly, poking and prodding with annoying tests and needles and a constantly changing dose of medicine that left him feeling ill. You, however, never buzzed. You may have lingered a tad bit longer than was necessary, but it was never in a pestering way. He’d notice how your hands toyed with the hem of your scrubs. They were always dark in color, but never stark black. Muted maroons and soft navies were your usual attire, something Michael found himself fond of.

You were simple. Not easy but you stuck to a schedule.

Michael liked that about you. He almost found himself longing to touch you, to feel you as you rose and walked away. A heavy metal door slammed behind you. It was decided in his mind then and there that you were his. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield wanted you for himself.

October 30

Smith’s Grove had befallen silent for the night, strangely enough. Everyone seemed tense, on edge as every little creak and crack was greeted with a jump. How odd people acted, you thought, making mental notes on what you needed to do before clocking out. It was already a quarter till 4 PM, and the ending of your shift never made you as happy as it is now. You practically skipped through the halls, ready to finally leave Michael with his usual goodbye before your departure. His cell neared, and the heavy scent of wet paper and Elmer’s glue lingered the closer you got.

You knocked, knuckles brushing against the reinforced doors as you entered the cell. Masks hung from the walls like hunting trophies, and one could only wonder how Michael found the creativity to even create such pretty things within his conditions. You’d hum, continuing to eye the brightly colored masks with your arms folded across your chest. You knew not to touch them; it was basic respect after all. Your constant lingering seemed to pay off though, as you nearly squealed when Michael offered a quiet ‘mmh’ in greeting. Sure, it may not seem like something much, but anyone who worked with the behemoth of a man would tell you, that Michael Myers does NOT do anything except eat, sleep, and make those masks; but with you, it was like he was a different entity all together. He was calmer, in your easy. The weight that he clung to within his shoulders seemed to lessen. You both sat quietly, content in each other's company. It was when your watch chimed that Michael stiffened, breathing heavily through his nose whilst you rose, offering a weak smile as you trekked towards the door, promising you’d see him tomorrow, you promised!

[neon-junkie]

In the Heat of the Moment - Chpt.9

Summary: “Less than ten percent of domesticated species go into heats,” accord to Tech and his research, and (un)fortunately, you’re one of that ten percent. What else are you meant to do? Trapped during a heat cycle with five men - five willing men who are happy to help relieve you, but not all have the confidence to say so.

Relationship: The Bad Batch x fem!Reader (she/her)

Tags: Heats, Mating, Sex pollen, Friends with benefits, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Sex, Jealousy, Pining, Tags to be added.

Word count: 2k

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 10 - not published yet]

Chapter 9 - An Excellent Listener

Thank the stars that the Marauder not only managed to exit the atmosphere of Tatooine, but also drift off into hyperspace! Everybody let out a sigh of relief as the stars around them turned into a whirlpool of lights, a sign that you’re finally on your way, with Kamino as your destination.

It’s going to take a few standard hours to reach the terraformed surface of Kamino, so the Batch are up to their usual shenanigans. As for you, you’re sticking to your quarters. That argument with Hunter is still brewing in your mind, and you might as well lock yourself away to prevent your poor Sergeant from being bothered by your hormones.

You’ve spent your time doing some cleaning, rearranging, folding clothes and changing your sheets. A deep clean never hurts, and it can be good for the mind.

But do you know what isn’t good for the mind? Or better yet - who isn’t good for the mind?

‘KNOCK KNOCK.’

“Come in,” you respond without missing a beat.

Tall, slender legs come into your line of sight, seeing as you’re sitting on the floor, rearranging your underbed storage. “Figured you might need this,” Crosshair comments as he enters your dorm, a cup of tea in hand.

“Oh,” you sigh. Crosshair was the last person that you expected to be bringing you a cup of tea. Well, besides Hunter…

Crosshair places the tea on your bedside table, and blankly gestures to your bed. “Sure, you can sit,” you nod.

Once seated, Crosshair rests back on his elbows, really making himself at home. His eyes dart around your room, noticing your decorations, memorabilia and trinkets scattered about. He doesn’t come in here often - if ever - so you can’t blame him for having a browse.

“Comfortable?” you sarcastically comment, seeing as his slender form is somehow taking up half of your bed.

“Not quite,” Crosshair responds. “Need to tuck myself into bed,” he grins, and begins untucking your duvet, earning a slap on the hand.

“I just made that,” you grumble.

“I noticed, fresh sheets and all. How kind of you,” he smirks, finally earning a laugh from you. “Now, stop distracting yourself, and come up here and talk to me,” Crosshair orders, giving the blank space on the bed a gentle pat.

“You want to talk?” your brow raises, yet you find yourself finishing off your organising, pushing the storage container back under your bunk.

Crosshair shrugs. “I figured it’s you who wants to talk, and I’m an excellent listener.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit yourself on your bed, getting as comfortable as you can. Only now does Crosshair’s cologne reach your nose, warm and musky, a comforting scent - but you’ll never admit that to him. Crosshairs shifts upright, now resting against the back of your bunk with his legs crossed. At least he’s not wearing shoes, nor his armour, keeping your bed clean!

You’re silent, so after letting out a sigh, Crosshair starts things off. “Hunter does care about you, you know.”

“Ugh,” you groan, already debating shooing the sniper out of your room.

“He does. That’s why he brought you those supplements. I was with him when it happened. He wouldn’t stop mumbling about your little issue, and figured it wouldn’t do any harm to have that option available.”

“He could have spoken to me about it first,” you shrug.

“How?” Crosshair replies. “We had the option then and there, and it isn’t exactly a conversation to be had over the comm. Might as well buy the supplements, and if you decide not to take them, then that’s your choice.”

“Exactly! I’ve chosen not to take them! Hunter can’t complain about my decision-”

“-But Hunter also has the right to be annoyed.” Crosshair shakes his head. Acting as the mediator was not on his list of things to do today, yet here he is. “When you’re part of a squad, every choice you make has the ability to impact others, including those closest to you. You know what Hunter is like. You’ve seen him suffering from migraines, poor vision, stomach bugs. His enhanced senses come at a cost, just like the rest of us.”

“And what’s your ‘cost,’ hm?” you pry. Sure, you’ve seen Wrecker suffer from his aching muscles, Tech with an inability to switch off his mind, even Echo has had his fair share of suffering, despite not being defective in the Batch’s way.

Crosshair lets out a grunt. “You’ve never seen me wearing my reading glasses.”

“Reading glasses?!” you repeat with a laugh. “I didn’t think that you-”

“-Exactly. I don’t wear them around others,” he waves his hand. “Beside the point, Hunter is going stir-crazy from that scent of yours,” Crosshair boldly points to your crotch, causing you to clash your thighs together.

“So, what you’re saying is that I should start taking them, for Hunter?” you question, seeing as that’s what Crosshair has been hinting at.

“No. It’s too late for that.”

“Well, then what?” you grumble, waving your arms up in frustration.

Crosshair raises his brows, offering you a suggestive expression. “Just kriff him already. Do us all a favour, and kriff him until you’re both satisfied.”

“Crosshair!” You yelp, grabbing a pillow to smack him over the head with.

“That’s Hunter’s name that you should be yelling, not mine!” he smirks, ripping the pillow from your grasp to smack you with, before chucking it across the room. “You need to do us all the favour! Hunter’s been in a sulk ever since you started your strange mating ritual, and the rest of us can’t bare to tolerate him any longer!”

With a huff, you send Crosshair a glare, only for him to mimic it. “I’ll think about it,” you grumble. The thought of sleeping with Hunter has been on your mind, but on your terms - not on Crosshair’s, as strange as that sounds.

“You better,” Crosshair playfully threatens. His arms cross against his chest as he leans back comfortably. “And just think…” he trails off, biting back a chuckle. “…Once you’ve had Hunter, there’s only me left to tick off your list.”

“Oh my stars!” you exclaim, your eyes darting around your room to find something to throw at him in frustration. Your cup of tea? Tempting, but you’d rather drink it. Saying that, you settle on swatting his arm before taking a well-needed drink.

Crosshair laughs. He truly, deeply enjoys winding you up! And it’s your own fault for taking his bait.

“Wait-” you sputter, placing the tea on your bedside table. “How did you find out about the others?”

Crosshair sends you a look, but he doesn’t hold back on the juicy gossip. “Everybody can hear you and Tech kriffling like lothbunnies, you two aren’t exactly quiet. Echo quite openly admitted to it, and Wrecker? Big guy couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it happened.”

Letting out a grumble, you come to realise the situation that you’ve found yourself in. Maybe Hunter was right - maybe you should have started taking those supplements, preventing yourself from sleeping with more than half of your squad.

Then again, you’re having some well-needed fun, and it’s not like your men have any issues with it. If anything, they seem more than happy to help with your biological needs, as well as blowing off some steam. However, you know damn-well that you’ll all need to sit down and talk this through when the time is right.

Maybe once you’ve kriffed the entire squad…?

“Dammit,” is all you mutter as a response. Can you blame them? Wrecker especially? You’re certain that you’d be flexing if you slept with someone such as yourself.

“You poor thing,” Crosshair taunts, playfully sticking out his bottom lip. “But then again, we all saw it coming.”

Darting your eyes to Crosshair, you dare question, “what do you mean?”

The sniper lets out a soft chuckle, his arms crossing against his chest. He shakes his head as he explains, “a pretty girl was assigned to a squad of men. Somebody was bound to sleep with you.”

“You think I’m pretty?” you bat your lashes, which only makes Crosshair roll his eyes. Way to focus on the important points!

“Of course I do,” he scoffs, and you’re almost certain you heard him mumble ‘duh!’ under his breath. “But like I was saying, it was bound to happen, even if we all had a pact against it.”

Mouth hanging open, you question, “a pact? What?!” barely able to hold back on your laughter.

Crosshairs lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m shooting myself in the foot here,” he curses, digging a ditch that he’s content on not escaping. “When you first joined, Hunter made us swear not to try anything with you. Said it would ruin the dynamic, and all that. I guess that’s why he’s been keeping his distance, alongside the enhanced senses issue.”

“Are you serious?!” you let out a laugh. Now that is a sight you wish you could have seen! Little Sergeant Hunter asking his squad not to get physical with the Jedi. It’s understandable, yet you can’t believe they had that conversation!

“And Tech was the first one to break it,” Crosshair huffs, although there’s a sense of pride in his expression. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Raising your hand, you defend poor Tech. “In his defence, I did pounce on him. He seemed rather eager, though!”

“Good man,” Crosshair comments with a nod of his head. If it had been Hunter who went first, Crosshair would have been beyond furious. But Tech? Yeah, Crosshair has his back. His eyes flick between you, and your forgotten drink. “Your tea’s going cold,” he gestures. You willingly take the mug between your hands, enjoying what’s left of your beverage.

Rising to his feet, Crosshair bids farewell. “I’ll leave you to your… organising,” he shrugs, heading for the door.

As the door opens, you call out his name. Crosshair looks back with his usual monotone expression, but a small smile appears on his lips as you reply, “thank you for the talk… and the tea!”

“Like I said, I’m an excellent listener,” he mindlessly shrugs, and leaves you to it, shutting the door behind him.

Now alone, you question if you have any energy left within you to do some more cleaning and organising, not that there’s much left to do. Your dorm is, after all, as small as it can be. Curse the GAR for always picking the cheap route! The time on your clock reads that it’s late, and the surprise yawn that escapes your lips helps you decide that it’s time for bed.

Hopefully, snuggled up within your blankets, you can plan on how to approach Hunter… or avoid him even more…

[mysicklove-main]

Parings: Yandere! Rengoku x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 14.3k (Part 1/3)

Warnings: This chpt is pretty chill so, overprotectiveness, slight possessiveness, vague meanings, rengoku personality does 180s, character injury, minor character death, gore (demon eating human and reader gets impaled)

Summary: Meeting the one you have idolized for years is a once in a lifetime experience. So, you live it up, baking him all the treats in the world. When you finally befriend him, you believe that everything is going great. But he keeps saying strange things, and is acting like he isn't leaving by the end of the week...

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Growing up, you have always idolized demon slayers. Your father was one, and he told you and your brother everything about them from a young age. Sure, it may have scared the daylights out of you, but at least you were forever prepared for the real world. 

He had planned to teach both of you the ways of a slayer, but he passed early into your childhood. With your mom passing at birth, it was only you and your older brother. The two of you made do with the loss.

Instead of following in your father’s footsteps, the two of you lived a simple life. The both of you live in a small cottage, just on the outskirts of a village. You woke up early every morning to sell fresh baked goods to the villagers, while your brother traveled west, aiding the sickly, and making money through donations. He always came back after one week of being gone.

When the two of you are together, you always are reminiscing over the stories your father once told. Most of the time referring back to how he met the Hashiras.

By god, you idolized them. You have always dreamed of meeting them like your father did. He described them as the most skilled people on the planet. The protectors of the human world. His words couldn’t help but draw you in. You wanted to know everything about them. How they trained, how they spoke, how they lived. 

You daydream all the time about meeting any of them. 

Specifically, the son of the man who once saved your father from death. Who granted him an extra three years with you. You have fond memories of how your father used to mention how strong the boy was from such a young age. The boy who was built to protect.

You dreamed of meeting him. You were a plain girl who lived a normal life, so you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being your age and fighting off demons. The thought of him drew you in and you vowed to someday find him.

You knew what he looked like. Your father went into detail about the child. The boy who looks like the flame. Fiery hair and eyes.

You shiver in glee like you always do when you think of your idol. He has to be your age by now, maybe a little older. You wonder what he is like, of course, he has to be unbelievably strong, but was he arrogant because of it? Or was he kind? You didn't care, you just want to see him. Talk to him. Just one time. That's all you needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” Your brother calls as you begin your journey toward the village. You turn, to see him in front of the house, his travel backpack on, and waving at you.

You frown. “You're not leaving right?” You respond, and the waving arm hesitates. He had just got home yesterday, he usually stays for a week before leaving.

“I have to! I just got word that someone needs my help.”

You sigh but nod. He always was so kind. “You'll come back? In a week?”

He grins at you, that bright smile he inherited from your father. You wish yours was as bright as his. That's part of the reason he was loved by all. “Always. I'll be back in a week’s time. Be good without me!”

You throw up a hand, waving him goodbye. “I will! Be safe!” You call and he smiles in return, before turning his back on you and beginning his journey.

You sigh when he disappears, sensing something amiss, but brush it off. Your worries always got the best of you, and you needed to focus. 

Alas, you begin to walk forward and toward the village.

You are greeted by your regulars, and many of the elderly come up to you to complain about how big you are getting. You always have to remind them that you are not a child anymore, but nevertheless, they never seem to get it. 

The villagers have always been kind to you, and you were forever grateful. With the lack of parents, it was nice to have someone to turn to for affection.

Currently, you were walking around and greeting the villagers, with your hands completely full of fresh goods. A handful of people approached you and paid their dues, with a warm smile. The business was going well, and you were having a nice time chatting with the villagers. 

You see a dark hooded figure in the distance, walking quickly toward you. Politely, you make your way to the other side of the road to avoid the stranger. You slightly nod to yourself and continue forward.

Suddenly, at a couple steps away they switch back into your lane and run completely into you. Their shoulder knocks into yours and you wince. Black gloved hands move quickly and you can see them snatch the money in your pocket. You can’t seem to do anything, because the force of his shoulder has sent you falling backward.

You land on your backside with a groan and watch all of your baked goods tumble across the pavement. Immediately you look up toward the stranger, but he was gone. So, you turn back toward the ground and try to scoop up any of the pastries you can. 

They are all ruined. You try not to let it get to you, but it hits you hard. You sit on your knees on the hard pavement and clench your fists, trying not to cry. All that time you spent baking and selling was for nothing. Just for some thief to steal your hard work from you. 

A shadow stands in front of you, but you ignore it, too focused on yourself to deal with another kind villager. You don’t want to lash out at them. 

A booming male voice says, “Are you alright?” 

You jump at the sheer power of the stranger’s call but continue to keep your head down. Tears were now pooling in your eyes and you quickly wipe them away. “I'm okay. It's fine, you can go now,” You mumble, but the shadow doesn't move.

“How could I leave a maiden in need?” He continues, still abnormally loud. You shake your head and sigh, before grabbing the remaining pastries and putting them back in their holder. When you begin to stand up, you feel a strong arm, grab onto yours and help ease your way up.

You finally look up to take in the man’s appearance and your eyes widen. Eyes and hair of a flame. A fire kimono. A sword connected to his side. 

This was him. The man you have wanted to meet your entire life. It had to be.

Your mouth hangs open as your mind blanks. He frowns slightly. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“Its…It’s you,” You say breathlessly, not caring at the moment how strange you may sound.

He frowns even more at your vague statement. “Oh! Do you know me?” His voice causes some heads to turn, but he seems to ignore it, almost used to the stares.

You blink at him. You are at a loss for words. He was here. You didn’t actually think this would happen. It was supposed to be just a dream.   

A couple of seconds go by. 

He instead changes the subject at your silence. “Well! I see that you dropped these.” He points to the now dirty danishes. “How upsetting! I wanted to buy some. Will you make more?”

This seems to snap you back into reality and you begin to ramble nervously. “Oh…Yeah. A thief knocked me over and took my money. Just my luck, huh? But i'll be back tomorrow with fresh ones.” You're blushing. You didn’t say or do anything embarrassing, but the fact that you are finally in his presence is making you squirm.

He smiles and you tear your eyes away from him, a wobbly smile pulling at your face. “Great! I'll buy the whole bunch in advance!” He hands you a huge stack of money and you gape at him. He just handed you two days worth of cash.

“Sir, this is way too much!” You splutter, beginning to hand him back the money. He just laughs in return. His huge body tilts back with the booming noise. 

“Nonsense! It's to compensate for what the thief did to you.” 

“Are you sure sir? You don't have to do that.”

“I want to. As long as you promise to make more of those danishes!”

His kindness makes you beam and the words slip out of you before you could stop them. “You are so generous, sir. As expected of such a high-rank demon slayer!” 

You knew you sounded like a total fangirl, clutching your fists with sparkles in your eyes, but you didn’t care. The fact that you weren’t freaking out right now was impressive. 

He cocks his head to the side, the soft smile never falling. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, I know who you are! The flame harisha. One of the strongest demon slayers out there. I am a huge fan, sir!” You grin up at him, setting the ruined danishes aside, and he lets out another powerful laugh.

He didn't seem as shocked that you knew about demons as you thought he was going to be. Or maybe he was just hiding it pretty well. “I didn't know I had fans!”

You hum with a frantic nod. “If everyone knew what you did for us, you would have millions of fans!”

He places a hand on your shoulder and you buzz with happiness. “You are too kind, ma’am. But please don't give me so much praise! I am only doing my job.” 

You shake your head, “You’re being way too humble! You have no idea how great you are.” You pause, coming back to reality. You don't want to annoy the slayer with your useless rambling, he was a busy man.

You sigh and instead, bow. “Thank you for everything. I won’t take up your time.” Your voice is quieter and more controlled but still expresses your immense gratitude.

You grab your stuff and head home with a gleeful look in your eyes before he could even say anything. 

A second goes by and you begin to daydream about the types of danishes you are going to make for him. Suddenly, you feel a presence, so you turn to your side to see him walking beside you, a small content smile on his face. You almost jump, his movements were so silent, how did he catch up with you so fast? 

When he notices you take in his appearance he turns to you and grins. “You’ll be back tomorrow, right? I must dine on some of your baked goods!”

You match his intensity with a wide smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, sir!”

“Please, call me Rengoku.”

“Of course, Mr. Rengoku!” You are buzzing again. Two conversations you have had with him and now you know his name. You couldn’t wait to tell your brother all about this.

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow…” He pauses, turning toward you, hinting for you to continue.

“Y/N.”

“Tomorrow then, Miss Y/N. Stay safe!” And just like he appeared, he disappeared in a matter of seconds, while you are stuck red in the face from your idol saying your very own name. 

You could die happy.

You woke up extra early the next morning. The goods had to be absolutely perfect. You were determined for him to like them. You even used some frosting to draw little orange flames on them. You hoped he didn’t think they were lame. It’s definitely a very good possibility he did.

When the sun rose, you grabbed your iteams and quickly headed down the hill. The quicker you got there, the better. You didn’t want them to get cold.

The town was extra busy that day. More people greeted you on the streets and you had to apologize to many that you weren’t selling today. After all, he bought every single one.

Your head hung high and you were practically skipping around the town, beaming at anyone and everyone. 

You don’t seem to notice the small curb in front of you. You run into it, and screech when you begin to fall forward, not knowing what to do. You could drop your danishes and save yourself from pain, or you could move the basket up and brace yourself for a harsh fall straight to the face.

You weren’t about to let Rengoku’s desserts get ruined. 

Just as you were about to hit the floor you stop. You feel a hand on your shoulder, as you stare face to face with the ground. You clutch the pastries. “Miss Y/N, its a pleasure seeing you here!” The familiar voice calls and you turn red out of sheer embarrassment at the situation you are in.

He pulls you back with just one hand and you have to physically restrain yourself from fangirling. He held your entire weight with one hand like it was no big deal. 

You quickly turn around, trying to ignore the fuming of your face, and hold out the pastries to him. “Here! I hope you like them!” You exclaim while pulling the lid off to show him the decorated buns. You take in a deep breath and wait.

His eyes seem to sparkle when he takes in the frosting and you take this as a good sign. He smiles wide and grabs one of the goods. Without a second thought, he plops the entire thing into his mouth. 

He chews in silence, and you could almost hear your heartbeat pound as you wait for his thoughts.

With a swallow, his eyes fall back to you, and he says, “Tasty!” 

You beam instantly, matching his wide smile. “You think so?”

“I know so. These are one of the most delicious baked goods I have ever had!” The gleeful buzzing is back, you knew that your baking was good, but to hear it from his mouth was such a gift. 

He puts both hands on both of your shoulders and you freeze at the touch, internally freaking out. “Come with me, Miss Y/N. Let us eat them together!” He exclaims, before snatching the goods from your hands with one hand and pulling you behind him with the other. You don’t have room for protest.

He leads you to the edge of the town and plops himself on a curb behind a small restaurant, and faces the hill you live on. You sit next to him, and he doesn’t seem to care about personal space, because almost instantly he is crowding yours. 

You’re going to have to get used to this, you can’t freak out anymore than this.

He opens the box again and hands you one of the goods, but you pull away. “Those are for you, Mr. Rengoku. I can’t take something you bought!”

But, to your dismay, he grabs your hands, places a baked good into them, and shuts his fingers over yours. “Eat!”

You weren’t going to ignore his demand, so you pick up the bun and begin to nibble on it. He stares, waiting for a reaction. You smile hesitantly, “It’s good!”

“Right!” He exclaims before placing another danish into his mouth, with another loud, “Tasty!”

You begin to laugh at his antics. The way he yells, the way he dragged you away like it was nothing, and simply how enthusiastic he seemed to be. He was a strange man, but you couldnt help but like him even more.

He looks at you as he chews, while you throw your head back in a laugh. “Is there something funny?” He asks, glancing around the area. It was just the two of you.

“You are just so…so human!”

He mimics your smile, even if he is totally lost at your vague statement. “Well, I'd hope so!” He says before taking another huge bite.

Your smile softens as you stare at the food in your hands. “It’s just, I thought you would be different, you know? A Hashira, shouldn't you be super serious or arrogant?”

He swallows his bite and looks out toward the hill. His voice comes out softer, “You idolize me too much Miss Y/N. I am nothing but a man who must protect the weaker people of this world.”

“But do you want to? You aren’t forcing yourself to do this because of your father, right?” He turns to you with slightly wider eyes and blinks. The two of you remain in silence for a couple of seconds.

But then he grins, with the tilt of his head. He places a massive hand on the top of your head and you freeze. “Not to worry, Miss Y/N. I love what I do. I wouldn't change it for the world,” He says, slightly ruffling up your hair. 

Another couple of seconds go by as you think of what to say. But he speaks up before you do. “You knew my father?” The man prompts, turning his attention directly on you. It makes you nervous, his watchful eyes seem to take in your every move.

You press on either way, tearing your eyes away so you can focus. “No, but he saved my father about ten years ago. So, I am forever indebted to the Rengoku family. I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Rengoku. Even if it wasn’t you who saved my father, you and your family have protected so many people. Saved so many. It's incredible, really, you're incredible,” You hum and he continues to stare.

You continue, you have been waiting to tell someone this, specifically him, so you couldn’t stop the rambling. “All of the Hashira are. For years I’ve daydreamed about meeting them. You specifically.” You glance up at him and quickly look back down in embarrassment when you see his small smile. “I've always idolized you all. It’s strange to think, we are the same species, but you are someone who risks their lives daily to kill demons, why I sell pastries to keep food on the table. It’s kinda embarrassing when you think about it…” You trail off, taking another bite of the good to keep yourself distracted.

Seconds go by and you begin to get uncomfortable. You turn toward him to meet his watchful stare. His fiery eyes seem to look through you. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I said way too much, please just enjoy the bun, I'll be quiet, I promise!”

He sets the danish down and your eyes follow it with a slight frown. He forcefully grabs your hands and you quickly look up shocked at the sudden touch. “Thank you for the kind words!” He yells and you cringe slightly at the volume. “But like I said yesterday, we are just fulfilling our duty. You are not indebted to anything. And Miss Y/N please don’t think that way! You don’t have to kill demons to be great, you know. Being this good of a baker is way more important than someone like me!”

The way he says it throws you off. It all sounds so genuine like he truly believes that what you are doing is important. He definitely knows how to make someone feel special. “T-Thank you, Mr. Rengoku!”

He smiles wide. “Please, call me Kyojuro! I think we are going to be friends, Y/N!”

You are taken aback. You didn’t think you would ever be friends with someone like him. It makes you grin. “You really think so?”

“Yes! Besides how else am I going personalized fresh goods from a pretty lady?” He says, gently letting go of your hands so he can point to the wobbly icing drawing of a flame located on the center of the bun. 

Your face fumes, both from embarrassment at his compliment and the ridiculous decoration. You wave your hands in front of your face. “It’s nothing! You deserve much more sir—Kyojuro.”

“Nonsense! How could anyone deserve something so magnificent!” He declares, loud and full of pride. 

It made another small laugh slip through your lips. It was endearing to see how passionate he was about the smallest things. He was unreasonably kind to you. 

He grins with a small hum, when he sees you smile, before shoving another bun into his mouth. 

“Tasty!” 

And just like that, you made friends with a Hashira.

The two of you were quick to get closer to one another. I mean it was simple really, you interviewed him on his entire life story, while he happily explained. You bring him goods every day, and no matter how much you reassure him it’s fine, he always insists on paying you the full amount.

But nevertheless, you have been avoiding the question that hangs in the air. Why are you here?

You don't want to know. There has to be a demon near or else he would never come to this small town. You fear that when you ask that question it’s going to spur his leave. It’s been four days now. He has to be on his way soon.

You've grown attached even in this short period of time. He has to have that effect on others; you wouldnt believe him if he said otherwise. He was the type of person who people couldn’t help but be drawn to. It made you feel possessively good that he was spending time with you rather than the other villagers.

A shoulder bumps into you while you are lost in your daydream. You flinch back and into Kyojuro. He glances down at you and then snaps his gaze back to the man that knocked into you. In less than a heartbeat, the Hashira steps in front of you and grabs onto the jacket of the stranger. You could barely even process what was happening.

“Sir, I’d ask for you to apologize. You’ve disrespected a lady,” His voice is tight, but the Hashira smiles at the man. It makes you gulp.

You realized quickly that Kyojuro is…overprotective. It made sense though, his whole job is to protect people, but these were humans he was protecting you from. And most of the time they weren’t even doing anything amiss. Simple things like, a salesman having a snarky tone at you, a man trying to flirt with you for your service, a small child almost tripping you, or now, someone who accidentally bumped into you.

He never gets truly upset, the smile is still plastered on his face, but the tone is always sharp, dangerous even. His voice was powerful naturally, so to hear it shift was intimidating. 

You grab onto his arm before the man could speak. “It’s fine, Kyojuro. It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” You turn to the man and quickly bow in apologies. 

His gaze sharpens, and you see his eyebrows begin to furrow at your actions. He didn’t seem to like this.

The man remains in his grasp. “Hey, you can let him go now,” You say, moving your hands to his fingers to try to coax them open.

His eyes remain locked on the man who was now struggling in his hold. “Apologize, sir.”

“Kyojuro, I said-”

He cuts you off, his loud voice cutting your train of thought short. “He touched you, so he must make up for it.” He smiles at you, but this time it doesn’t feel the same as it usually does. The malice in his voice is unhidden.

“I’m sorry! Can you just let me go you crazy bastard!” The man complains, grabbing at the Hashira’s wrist to pull himself away. 

In an instant, Rengoku drops him, and the man scampers away, mumbling curses underneath his breath.

You sigh, your gaze following the man that beginning to disappear into the crowd. When you turn back around, Rengoku is staring at you, the familiar small smile on his face. “Was that really necessary?” You whine.

He huffs a small laugh, before placing a hand on your head. Something he seems to do as a sign of affection. “Of course it was! I can't let you be treated that way!”

His usual smile is back and you find comfort in it. In these moments he was always different, but he always snapped back to usual not long after. So, you tend not to dwell on them.

“Whatever you say, Kyojuro,” You hum, before changing the subject. “C’mon, let's head back to my place, I wanna teach you something!”

He pauses, eyes slightly widening. He has never been to your place before. The two of you tended to stay in the village, spending daylight hours with one other. You have never asked him over, and at this time. It was almost evening.

It made him concerned. Do you invite other men over to your place? He knew you idolized him, but if you had met Tengen or Giyuu first, would you have invited them over as well? It made him feel strange to think about it. You were too accepting, you should be more cautious of inviting people over. The two of you only met a couple of days ago.

“You don’t have to go if you don't want to…” You say, your voice unsure at his original silence.

He snaps back to reality, and blinks at you a couple of times, before grinning wide. “I would love to go!” He bellows, causing heads to turn. 

You’re used to it by this point, so you grab his hand and lead him up the mountain.

He looks massive in your small cottage. It wasn't just his height. It was his overall frame that made him look so out of place. It wasnt built for a Hashira to live in.

You decided not to comment on it, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Besides, a demon slayer needs a frame like that. It was rather intimidating.

You lead him into the kitchen, pulling him away from the shrine dedicated to your parents. He didn’t comment on it, instead bowing low and letting himself be dragged. 

You begin to pull out your baking materials, while he stands and watches, occasionally asking if you need any help, to which you deny with a hum.

Finally, once settled you dramatically slam your first on the table, and look up at him with a smile. His eyes follow your fist in a confused, but delighted stare. “I am going to teach you how to bake!” You exclaim, hands thrusting into the air with excitement.

His eyes light up. “Tasty!”

You in turn roll your eyes, the smile still plastered on your face. “That's the goal. I hope that you can make your own goods when…you know.”

His eyes soften, and his voice drops. “I leave?”

“Yeah.”

He walks over to you, and he uses his hand to lightly trace the area near your temple, bending down slightly to meet your gaze. “Don't worry about that for now. We've got time.”

Your mind travels back to that question.

Why are you here? 

You ignore the recurring thought. It never seems to leave you alone. It wasn’t worth thinking about it. You were here with your idol, and that should be enough for you. Just meeting him should have been enough. You found yourself getting greedy.

You nod into the touch, blushing slightly, when he pulls away with a hum. You never got used to how physically affectionate he was.

He seemed to think nothing of it, constantly brushing his hand against your body. You’ve thought it was an accident at first, when his hands lingered on your hips for a second too long, or when his hands seem to twitch when they graze yours. But when he led you through a crowd with a hand on your back, it made you realize how touchy he must be.

You didn’t mind of course. If he was showing any affection toward you, it had to be a blessing. Demon slayers would kill to talk to a Hashira, nevertheless, be friends with one. 

“So where do we begin?” Rengoku prompts, rubbing his hands together as to prepare them for heavy work. 

You laugh, cutting your thoughts off, and begin the lesson.

It turns out he is horrible at baking. For all of the talents he was gifted with, the kitchen was not one of them. 

He tried, truly he did, his face is covered with flour, and whenever you asked if he needed help, he pretended that he was doing completely fine. It was cute, really.

But, after twenty minutes of struggling to follow your commands, you saw him begin to get frustrated. His brows were pinched as he tried to knead the dough, way too hard than usual. His fingers dug into it, and you heard his noises of annoyance under his breath. 

You walk over to him and stand next to him, before reaching over to put your hands on his. “Gently, Kyojuro. Like this.” You murmur, before guiding the both of your hands to knead the dough, gently this time. 

His hands are much larger than yours, and you struggled to move them, but he went completely lax under your hands. He lets you lead them into the repetitive motion, while you mumble instructions. 

His silence becomes deafening. Rengoku isnt one to stop talking, especially in situations like these. 

You glance up at him, to see that he is staring at you. His eyes are opened wide, his mouth curled up in a small content smile. “What?” You muse, automatically removing your hands from his. His smile drops when they leave.

“That's the first time you touched me.”

“What? No, it’s not, I feel like the two of us are always somehow touching one way or another.”

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I always initiated them. You touched me, Y/N!”

You turn red. “Am I not allowed to?” You say, trying not to let the embarrassment get to you.

“Of course not! Please, feel free to touch me at any time and anywhere!”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“What? I am merely speaking the truth. I enjoy it immensely when you touch me, Y/N!” Your hand covers his mouth before he could get anything else out. He blinks at you, before closing his eyes with a wide smile. Probably grateful you were touching him again.

What he was saying was true. You tried to keep a little bit of space between the two of you. Even if he enjoys physical contact, you didn’t want to catch him on a bad time and have him snap on you. Honestly, you don't want to do something that may make him upset, because the idea you have of him in your mind would be tarnished. You like how you see him now.

“Are you done now?” He nods frantically under your hand. You pull away and he beams at you. It was rare to see him not smiling honestly. 

He turns back to the dough, a determined look on his face. “Alright, I believe I can do this! Gently this time!” 

You nod and stand close to him as he begins to try to knead the dough. 

Too soft. Way too softly. It looked like he was afraid to touch it. You sigh. “Kyojuro, I don't think this is going to work.”

His body snaps over to you, his eyes wide and looking a little panicked. “What’s not going to work?” He splutters. 

It was the first time he didn’t look like a Hashira in your eyes. He looked like a regular man, who also have their fears and worries. But you have no idea what he seems to be worried about. 

You place a hand on his lower arm and tilt your head to the side in a soft grin. His eyes flicker to it, and his body seems to jolt at the touch. He focuses his stare on you. “You baking. I think you should stick to demon-slaying, hmm?”

“But how am I supposed to eat these delicious goods?”

You pause, using your other finger to tap your chin. “You could visit me from time to time and I can make them for you.”

He stares at you, a small frown on his face. He seems to do this a lot, you’ve taken notice too. The staring. It’s like he goes into a whole different world when he looks at you. Sometimes he would speak on what he was thinking about, others he would change the subject.

It seemed that he felt like talking today. Even if the results shocked you so. “Or you could live with me!” He exclaims so loud you swear you saw your porcelain cups shiver.

You blink at him. He smiles in return, and grabs both of your hands, cupping them in his own. “What?”

“I said, you could live with me!”

You shake your head, eyes flickering to your hands in his hold. “No, I know what you said, but what are you talking about? I can’t just pick up and move in with a guy I just met, simply because you like my danishes.”

His smile falters. “It will be more than just you baking for me, I promise Y/N. Besides, we met four days ago and we seem to get along perfectly!  Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, you are a Hashira after all. The world has to trust you.”  He doesn't seem to like this answer. His smile drops completely now, and his eyebrows slightly furrow. You gulp, not wanting him to be upset at you. “I mean–It's just that I can’t leave my brother alone! I have to stay here and watch the house when he is gone!”

He drops your hands, the smile returning. “Of course! The brother. You are so kind, Y/N, really.” His hand lands back on your head, ruffling the lose strands. His voice seems to be just barely strained, and the grip on your head is a tad bit harsher than usual. Not enough to hurt, but enough to notice the difference.

It’s not that you don’t want to go with him. It would be a dream come true to live with a Hashira. But you weren’t dumb. You knew that underneath the kimono and the blade by his side, he is still a man. A strong one at that. 

The thought made the image of him in your head start to blur once more. You are getting too close to him, and although it was nice to be his friend, when he leaves you don’t want to think of him any differently.

You focus on the task at hand. You fix your hair quickly, while he laughs gently. You beam back at him. “Well, lets finish teaching you how to bake!”

“Right!”

Tomorrow your task was to pick up necessities from the village next door. Stuff like flour, cloth, string, baking supplies, and maybe, if you made enough this week, a new pair of shoes. You go on these trips once every three weeks. They took about the whole day, as it was about a five-ish mile walk and you needed to visit many different shops.

So, you couldn’t see Rengoku tomorrow. The thought made you a little sad, but the two of you had seen each other for five days in a row. You didn’t want him to get sick of you anyways.

The two of you sat on the bank of the nearest river. Him filling up the containers for you, even when you tried to stop him, reassuring you that you could do it by yourself. He didn’t listen of course.

It’s silent between the two of you, instead listening to the sounds of the river passing by. His leg is touching yours. You don’t know if it’s purposeful or not. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” You hum, trying to start up a conversation.

Silence. Your eyes flicker to him. He stares at the ground, eyes wide, and darting back and forth along the grass, as if trying to process something. His hand grips his kimono. “Where?” He breathes, after a couple more seconds of thick tension.

You try to laugh it off, confused by the mood shift, and his eyes snap toward you. Recently, he has gotten more…serious. It made you even more afraid that he was beginning to not like you. “Where?” He questions again, his voice louder this time.

“To the next village over. Need some supplies. It will only take a day,” You reason, and you swear you could see his body begin to relax. 

And suddenly, as if nothing happened, he turns to you with a grin on his face. “Of course! We shall go together!” 

You blink at him, the thoughts of him getting sick of you resurfacing. Besides, he had a mission to do, you know he did, whether he told you or not. “I appreciate that, Kyojuro, but I kinda wanna do this alone.”

His grin falls in a heartbeat, and his eyes become wide again. Similar to how he looked yesterday. Panicked. “Are you sick of me?”

“What? No! Of course not. How could I ever get sick of you?”

He huffs, turning toward you. “Then we go together!”  

“But,” You continue, causing his smile to drop. “I think it’s a good idea for us to spend some time apart. We’ve only just recently met, and we have spent every day together.”

“That’s true! But we are enjoying it, are we not?”

“Well yeah, but we may not…soon.”

“Why?” He begins to move closer to you. You can almost feel his breath on your skin. The proximity makes you shiver.

“Because…Because I don’t know! That’s just how it works.”

“I will always enjoy spending time with you, Y/N. I hope the same for you.” He says that now, but you don’t believe him truly. It’s human nature for one to need alone time. It was strange that someone like him who works alone most of the time doesn’t understand it.

Your head is scrambling for something else to say, and without meaning to you tell him what you have been wanting to know for so long. “Kyojuro, what are you even doing here?”

He falters at this and your own eyes widen. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that. “I’m sorry–I meant, It’s just…are you on a mission out here?”

He smiles at you, his gaze soft, like you say anything, and still, he wouldn’t be mad at you. “Yes. There is a group of demons near the woods. I’m here to end them!” 

His story sounds plausible, but you weren’t stupid, he was a Hashira. This mission should have ended after at most two days. And not only that, you haven’t heard of any people going missing. Was he saving them and taking his time to kill the demons? 

Rengoku wouldn’t do that. The flame Hashira would never leave demons walking on this world willingly. He must be planning a strategy to kill them. He must be. 

But you’ve heard stories of how his father took down hundreds with little to no trouble. Was Rengoku weaker than you thought?

You couldn’t stand the thought of the glorified picture in your head being damaged.

So, you nod. “Well, you should probably stay here to protect the villagers in case something goes amiss?”

“Don’t you worry, my Y/N! Demons don’t come out in the day! The villagers will be completely fine with my absence. Please let me come along! I will not be a nuisance!”

He seems adamant about him coming, and you didn’t want to be a bother. So, with one last sigh, you nod and give in. Besides, you wouldn’t ever be sick of him, and you couldn’t help but cling to the idea that maybe he wouldn’t be either.

The Hashira accompanied you on your journey the next day, grinning the entire time while carrying your bags.

Two days have passed by. You’ve been with him for six days in a row now, and honestly, you’ve never been better. You were wrong about the idea of getting sick of him. Nothing about him steered you away.

In fact, you believe that you have started to have a crush on the Hashira. 

Not that you would ever admit it. It was a ridiculous idea, but you couldn’t help but fall for him. It wasn’t even him being a Hashira that drew you in now, it was his personality. Sure, he would always make you feel safe and protected from harm, but it was the way he smiled at you that made your heart flutter. The way he was always so polite, and treated you with the utmost respect.

You haven’t experienced many people like him, so like a moth to the flame, you began to fantasize about what it would be like to be with him. 

But, it was naive of you. He was bound to leave soon. A group of demons has ought to be killed soon. If not, his master would surely call upon him soon.

You were growing too attached to him. It was weird to think about how you would have to start doing everything alone again. How silent everything is going to be again. 

If you went with him, what would life be like for you?

You throw the thought out. You couldn’t leave your brother alone, he’s all you had left. The two of you needed each other to survive.

“I feel jealous of whoever you are thinking about, Y/N,” Rengoku calls from behind his shoulder, as he helps you put away some dishes. He turns to you with a smile on his face.

You laugh lightly, beginning to get used to his teasing. “Aw, too bad you’ll never know.” 

He sets the dish down and begins walking over to you, with a small smirk and raised eyebrow. You don’t move. He approaches you, much too closely as usual, and you try to refrain from blushing. “What?”

“And if I make you tell me?” He questions, eyes staring deeply into yours.

“Hmmm, how?”

His smile widens at your tone. “I have some ideas!”

You laugh at this and jab a finger into his chest. “You, my Hashira, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

He blinks at you. “You know just what to say to make a man blush!” He exclaims, the familiar loudness returning. It was true, his face seemed to have a twinge of pink.

It took you a second to understand. You didn’t mean it like that. The “my Hashira” was only supposed to tease him in turn. It made you fume from embarrassment. You begin to scramble to explain yourself, but he places his large hand on your head again.

His voice goes softer. “But my flame, that isn’t true. Please don’t doubt me. I wouldn’t hesitate to end someone if anyone hurts you. It’s my job to protect you.”

The seriousness in his voice makes you uneasy. “A demon right? Not a human?” You question, sounding way more nervous than you should be. The way he said it made you really think about how strong he truly is. Without a second thought, he could kill you or anyone if he wanted to. 

This thought confused you. Rengoku would never hurt you, nor any human, why does the thought seem to leave a chill down your spine? How are you having these thoughts, when not even a minute ago you were thinking about potentially leaving with him?

He stares at you, the smile not leaving his face. “Exactly,” He says, and then removes his hand from your head, to turn back to the dishes. He was always booming with confidence, why did he sound so doubtful?

Why are you questioning a Hashira’s morals?

You have to get your mind off the subject. It was making things complicated and you were allowing paranoia to get the best of you.

You creep up next to him, grabbing the clay cup from his hands, and away. “Kyojuro, do you remember the time I showed you how to bake?”  

He turns to you with a wide smile, eyes lighting up. “Of course! They were delicious!” Well, yours were. His didn’t turn out as well. You gave up on teaching him how to bake correctly, and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Well, you must pay a price for my knowledge,” You hum, turning your back towards him to hide your smile.

“Not to worry, I will pay for all the ingredients!”

You roll your eyes at the offering. “A different price. I did you a service, now you have to do me one.”

Footsteps approach you rapidly, and suddenly his chest is against your back. You jump at the feeling and crane your head to look up at him. 

Two bright eyes stare down at you, blinking owlishly. His hands fall to your shoulder, and his smile is different this time. It seems more like a smirk, rather than a grin. But still, you could tell that the man was practically gleaming. “What type of service, Y/N?”

His low voice startles you, and you flush at the noise. As on instinct you jump away from his hold and turn toward him. “Not that type of service!” You scramble out, trying and failing to keep your cool.

He laughs at this, and you clench your fists in embarrassment. “I apologize, I was teasing you, Y/N!” When you don’t respond, he continues, tone lighter than before. “I am at your beck and call, what do you need from me?”

“I would like for you to teach me some basic self-defense mechanisms.”

His eyes sharpen in an instant, the laugh in his voice gone. “Why? I will protect you.”

You frown at him, not expecting this reaction. “When you leave, Kyo.”

“You don’t need to protect yourself, I said this earlier. I will not let anything touch you. It’s my duty.”

“When you leave,” You repeat when he doesn’t get the memo. He’s acting like he could protect you even when is gone for his next mission.

His eyebrows furrow and his voice comes out flat. “Do you want me to leave?”

It feels like an accusation.

“What? No, but its inevitable.”

He grabs onto your hands and holds them tightly. It feels more than a regular friendship hold, it seemed desperate, but you were too engrossed in the situation to even think about that. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

You try to pull away, but he holds them in place. Your voice goes softer, almost as if you were soothing a small child. “I can’t go with you, Kyojuro and you know that. My brother needs me.”

His smile drops in an instant and his face turns cold. “Fine. I’ll teach you. Let’s go outside.” The swordsman says cooly, dropping your hands and beginning to walk toward the door of your house. 

Regret fills your veins. You have never seen him upset at you, and you have no understanding of what you did was wrong. He should know that the two of you living together was strange. Unless he was asking for marriage? But that doesn’t seem right, he hasn’t made any romantic moves on you and he would need your brother’s blessing to even be considered.

Or was it asking him to train you that made him upset? But that also didn’t make any sense. Wouldnt he want you to be more protected? Learning basic self-defense is something that everyone should know, and could possibly save your life. 

He was so confusing. In one second he’s smiling at you with stars in his eyes, and in the next, he seems to be a completely different person. 

Who was he, really?

You scramble toward the door.

He stands in front of you, back facing you. His figure stands tall, and his hair gently falls on the top of his shoulder. Even from far away, he oozes with power.

You tip-toe your way over to him, gulping when his eyes flash to you the second your feet land on the pathway. You smile awkwardly at him, and he in return nods his head with a huff. He turns around to face you. The two of you stand in front of one another in silence. 

You begin to apologize, the strange mood was not something you intended, but he cuts you off. “To begin, take out the knife in your pocket.”

You flinch, staring at him in shock. You never told him about the knife you store in case of emergencies. It’s hidden beneath enough fabric that nobody could feel it on you even if they patted you down.

He watches you begin to scramble for an explanation and laughs. The powerful noise throws his head back, with the return of the smile. Another strange shift in his personality. But you don’t mind it at the moment. The cold shoulder he gave you worried you. The laugh makes you feel more at ease immediately, almost forgetting completely about the knife. 

“I saw a glimpse of it when you reached for the top shelf!”

A simple explanation. Obviously, it had to be, you were being dramatic, Rengoku would never do anything weird. So, you just nod at him and reach into the cloth to pull out the steel blade. 

It was nothing fancy, but your father gifted it to you when you were younger, so you treasured it deeply.

“Great job, Y/N! Now attack me,” He beams, stepping a couple of feet away to give you running room.

You blink at him, trying to ignore the borderline embarrassing encouragement. He said it like you actually did something great. “What?”

“You heard me! Attack me! Pretend I am the thief from a couple of days back!” You do what he says without much hesitation. You asked to be trained, and he knows exactly how to do it. Besides, he was a trained swordsman it’s not like you were going to actually land a blow on him.

You charge at him and swing the knife up toward his shoulder. As expected, he dodged immediately. He now stands behind you. “Again!”

You shift your feet toward him, clenching your teeth as you take another strike, this time aiming for his neck. Like before, he seems to disappear. An arm grabs onto your wrist. He quickly moves your hand positioning on the blade, huffing when satisfied. “That was great Y/N!” 

You nod your head, ready for some pointers or any sort of criticism. But Rengoku just stands a couple feet away, and waits for another attack. You grip the knife, and try a different strategy, instead aiming for his feet. It’s useless, he jumps away. “Creative!”

You huff from the exertion and glare at him. Frustrated at the lack of advice, you speak up. “You are supposed to be teaching me.”

He flashes you a grin. “I am!”

“No, you’re not. Your toying with me. How am I supposed to get any better?”

“I actually think you are great at self-defense! And with me around you will never be in danger. I think its time to head inside for the night!”

When he turns to walk away, you jump in front of him, clutching the base of the knife. “Kyo, this is training for when you are gone.”

His eyes flicker to the blade, and for a moment, his voice is flat. “If you want to continue, keep swinging at me.” You obey his command and try to slam your arm into his shoulder. He continues, voice now expressing more of his emotions, “Why do you keep bringing that up? We will deal with that later!”

You scan the area for where he landed after the dodge. “Your mission is bound to end soon. I know how these things work, my father told me about it. You will leave and it will be soon.”

With a swipe to his collarbone, he jumps back behind you, and you feel his hand caress your neck. You shiver at the soft touch of his calloused fingers. His breath is right next to your ear. “Are you forcing me away?”

You clench your teeth at this and try to turn to him, but he has already moved. “Why do you keep saying these things?”

“Because it sounds like you want me to leave. Is that it, Y/N? You’re sick of me already?”

Another swing, you're so worked up that you don’t even care where to aim at.

“No! My god Kyojuro, you are acting so strange!” In an instant, you feel the blade come in contact with flesh and you freeze. Your heartbeat picks up, eyes wide, as you stare at the Hashira.

Blood drips from his hand and feel yourself pale. Your pulse picks up when the Hashira eyes for the first time during this training leave yours. He hisses out in pain and you watch his eyes widen at the wound. 

“Oh. Ow.”

You immediately rush over to him to make sure he was alright. You grip his hand, mind trying to grasp anything your brother has taught you. You half drag him to your cottage, dropping the knife midway. He follows behind you silently, holding his hand up to try to slow the bleeding.

You push him into the nearest chair, and scramble toward the first aid kit your brother left. 

When you return, he’s staring at you silently, like he is waiting for some sort of reaction. You pay no mind to it, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. 

You kneel down in front of him and he jumps, grabbing onto the chair with the other hand. You glance at him with a raised eyebrow, before grabbing his hand and beginning to clean the wound. “I'm sorry. I should have been paying attention. I didn't mean to.”

“Hmm. It really hurts.” His tone comes out whinier than you have ever heard before and you begin to really panic. He was a demon slayer, he must get hurt all the time, and if this was hurting him, then it must have been a sensitive spot.

When you pour alcohol on the injury, he hisses and you place a hand on his leg to try to comfort him. You feel his gaze on you, as you hold back tears, the guilt tearing ruthlessly at you.  “I’m sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

A smile begins to resurface and you feel better almost instantly. “No more lessons?!” he says, placing the other hand on your head again. 

Why was he so insistent on you not being able to protect yourself? Wouldnt he feel better knowing that you can be safe on your own? 

Maybe he has some sort of traumatic past for self-defense that you don’t know about? You don’t know much about him, so that does sound like a reasonable answer. 

 “Of course! I promise I won't ask again.” 

He beams down at you and your heart begins to pound, like it has been the past couple of days. “Great!”

You nod at him, and his eyes flicker to the hand still placed on his leg. You immediately pull away from him, embarrassed, but he grabs it before you can fully remove it. “One more request.”

You try your best not to blush, as he places the hand back on his leg, and begins to rub his thumb over the back of it. His voice softens, and his stare is unwavering. “You have to dote on me. I’m injured, so you can't leave my side until I have healed.”

You blink slowly, but nod your head automatically. It was his dominant hand that was injured, so he may struggle with basic tasks. Plus, you didn't mind not leaving his side. It’s not like the two of you have not been glued to one another since you met. It wouldnt be that big of a change. “Of course! I'll take care of everything. You don’t have to lift a finger. I’m sorry again, Kyojuro.”

He smiles, with a tilt of the head and picks up your hand, giving it a gentle, but affectionate squeeze. “Nonsense! But Y/N, I need you to promise not to leave my side. Do you understand?”

The intensity in his words makes you hesitate. “Until you are healed?”

His words become more frantic, and the grip on your hand tightens. He refuses to look away from you, the bright eyes seeming to peer into you. “Yes. Can you promise me?”

You had no idea why he was so insistent about this right now, but you give in immediately under his stare. “I promise I won't leave your side.”

He stands up, pulling you up effortlessly with him.“Good! Now, don't you think its time for bed!”

You pause for a second, completely forgetting about the fact that he was spending the night. At night he was off slaying demons, or so you assumed, so you never really saw him past sundown. You glance at the hand and sigh, he must have to stop because of you. You ignore the ache in your heart. You already apologized, it was the best you could do.

“Sure. You can sleep on my brother’s cot. He isn’t here.”

He uses your hand to pull your forward, so you had to look directly up at him. You are used to the forwardness, so when you collide with his chest, you don't even question it. “You just promised,” He says with a cocked head.

“But you won’t need any help when you're sleeping!”

He throws his head back in a laugh. “You never know! Besides, I think–” He hisses out and his eyes fall back to the injury. Your own eyes widen and quickly cup the injured hand, worry plastered on your face.

You are quick to reply, not wanting to make it harder for him. “Okay. I'll bring the cot into my room!” You scramble out, before heading into your brother's room and beginning to drag it over. 

He starts to walk toward you, as to help you, but he stops midway. He glances at his hand, and then sighs gently, fidgeting as he watches you move the cot by yourself.

Once finished you turn to him with a small smile. “I am going to get ready for bed. I can lend you my brother’s sleep attire?” 

“It’s okay! I have clothes under my kimono that I wear to bed.” He says, already peeling himself from the top layer of clothing. You slam the door shut immediately, and you hear the booming laugh from behind the door.

As you head back to wash your face, your mind travels back to the incident. No matter how you think about it, it was strange. He dogged every single one of your attacks without even a hint of a challenge. It was like he wasnt even taking you seriously.

So how did you land a blow? You were just a regular girl and he was a trained Hashira, ready to defend himself at any moment.

Was this on purpose?

But Rengoku wouldn’t do anything sly. He was always kind to you, and a Hashira. Hashira’s don’t trick people, they protect them from people who scheme.

He must have been distracted from the whole self-defense thing. You should really stop doubting his morals.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a slightly burnt piece of paper on the floor. About the size of a letter. 

Immediately, you wander over to it, confused because you haven't received a letter in a while. Plus, you would have read it before and why was it opened?

When you bend down to pick it up, a hand lands on your shoulder. You jump back in shock, to see a shadowed figure.

You know it’s Rengoku, even in the darkness, his figure is very much defined. But the presence still makes you unnerved. Maybe it’s the fact that you can’t see his smiling face in the darkness. “Kyo?”

His voice is flat. “C’mon, Y/N. Let's go to sleep.”

Your eyes flicker toward the paper on the floor. “Sure, one second I just need to–”

“In the morning. Please? I can’t go to sleep if you aren't there.” You feel the brush of the bandages on the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, and remember his injury. You clench your fist for a second, but sigh and turn around. 

He was right, it will be there tomorrow, and besides it would be hard to read at this time anyways. “Right.”

As the two of you lay next to one another, his non-wounded hand brushing over your face, you make small talk. The two of you whisper in the dark and laugh over nothing important.

He tells you stories of the demons he slayed, and you unconsciously lean even closer to hear them. He is powerful, and kind, and smart, its overwhelming that someone like him is next to you.

You see a hint of a smile in the darkness. “What are you thinking about?” 

“You are so cool Kyojuro.”

His body rumbles with a laugh, quieter than usual since its late and the house is silent. “You praise me too much.”

He leans closer, and the two of you are only a couple of inches apart now. “It’s true. Do you know what I give to be like someone like you?”

The face petting stops for a moment. “I don’t like that idea. It’s too dangerous out there for you. I like the thought of coming home to you, with fresh goods in your hands. Safe and away from any threats”

Your face heats up at the words. He makes it sound so romantic, and to be honest, you don’t mind the idea. But your brother should be home any day now. “I can’t live with you. You know this.”

He hums at you. “What if I told you I have fallen for you?” He murmurs, his voice low and soft. His calloused fingers return to tracing your face.

Your heartbeat picks up, and he must have noticed, because he chuckles lightly. “You like me?” You say, eyes wide, wishing desperately to see his face better in this moment.

“Is that outlandish?”

You look away, instead focusing on the shadows of your fingers. “Well…I don’t know. I’m just surprised.”

“I thought my intentions were clear. Please forgive me, if I confused you.”

It made sense that he was pursuing you. All the stares and the adoring touches. You just didn’t want to think of the possibility of someone as amazing as him liking you. Didn’t want to think of the fact the two of you won’t work out. “No, you didn't, it's fine. I actually like you too…But you are leaving.”

“Come with me. Live with me. I will treat you well. We can be happy together.”

At this point, the two of you were going in circles. You have had this conversation multiple times, and still, he doesn’t seem adamant about giving up. “I won’t leave my brother alone.”

He rolls himself on top of you, most likely annoyed that you weren’t looking at him anymore. He rests his body on his forearm, and his hair brushes your face. His voice is in a hoarse whisper. “You are too kind, Y/N. Think about yourself for once.”

You try your best to ignore the position. His body seems to engulf your own, and it makes you feel unreasonably small, but you’re unwilling to back down. “You know I can't do that. You know what it is like to have a sibling.”

His eyes become wider, and more desperate looking. You can’t meet his stare. “What if he was gone? You would come with me, right?”

Your head snaps back to him, and you look at him in shock. “Why would you say something like that?” You seem to hiss out.

At your tone, he becomes meeker, as if he was hiding into himself. He rubs his forehead against yours, with a hint of a whine in his throat. “Do you even like me?”

You immediately regret what you said, and instead begin to grow concerned. You have never seen him sound so upset before. “I do. I promise I do!”

His head falls into your neck, and his body begins to tremble. “You're causing me so much pain, my flame,” he whines and you begin to internally freak out.

Rengoku was never one to get his emotions involved. He was always upbeat with you, and the fact that he was so hurt over this must mean something big to him.

You place your hand on the back of his head, to try to get him to calm down. He was your idol, and now crush, you didn’t want to see him hurt, but you love your brother.

“If my brother found somewhere to live and be happy with, I would go with you. But he isn’t looking for a wife currently. So, I can't. I would love to, but I can't. I’m sorry, Kyo.”

In a heartbeat, his mood switches. He pulls his head out of your neck and begins grinning from above you. He rubs his nose onto yours, and you on instinct scrunch it up in surprise. “You want to. That's all I need. You want to live with me. Thank you. Thank you, so much!”

He rolls the two of you over so now the both of you are on your cot, with your head on his chest. You smile lightly at him, glad whatever you said finally made him calm down. 

His non-dominant hand rests on the back of your head, and you blush, finally taking in a new position. His body expels warmth, and you find comfort in it. 

Savorying the last amount of time you have with him to the fullest. It’s getting harder to ignore the ache in your chest whenever you think about him leaving.

Slumber begins to take a hold of you, and you listen to the rhythmic sound of the man’s heartbeat.

A couple of minutes go by, and you hear a whisper near your ear. “My flame?”

You hum and try to hold back a smile. “I like the nickname.” 

He chuckles, and your body shakes from the force of it. “Me too. But Y/N, make sure you come back to me. Always. Do you understand?”

You yawn, in your half-sleep state, but mumble out a, “Okay.”

He sighs, and he continues to pet your hair affectionately. “Good. Goodnight. Sleep well, Y/N. Tomorrow is going to be an eventful day.”

But you couldnt hear his warning. You had already fallen asleep the second after you agreed to his strange request.

You are awoken at 2:50 AM the next day by frantic whispers and aggressive shaking to your body. You blink a couple of times and flinch at the harsh light in your face.

Your pupils begin to constrict to the light, and your eyes scan the figure in front of you. Your brother was shaking you awake, with panicked eyes and a lantern in his hands. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to leave!”

He drags you from the cot, and you stumble forward. Your mind finally begins to awake, and you regain consciousness of the situation at hand. “Brother? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

He grabs your hand and pulls you through the small house, scrambling through cupboards looking for something. When he pulls out your father’s sword, you gulp.

He heads back over to you and begins to drag you away. “Didn’t you get the letter? You are supposed to be heading east by now!”

“What’s happening?” You reason again, voice louder and more panicked. He turns to you, and you jump at his appearance, finally able to see him clearly. His hair is a mess, he’s slightly trembling, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. 

He grabs onto your both shoulders, and his voice coming out frantic. “A demon. Or maybe multiple. I got messages that people have been disappearing from towns, and some of their….remains have been scattered around villages. It’s traveling from village to village, and yesterday it hit the town where we get our goods. Five innocents are gone and our village should be next. Tonight.”

You stare at him, eyes wide in shock. “Why are you here? You shouldn't have come!”

“I was going to grab fathers sword. We need some sort of protection while we wait until the demon slayer’s corpse comes.” He doesn’t know how to use it, he's a healer, and neither do you, but it was better than nothing. Especially if the two of you were without a home until everything clears up. 

“Grab your knife. Everything going to be okay. Just trust me. Everything is going to be fine,” He mumbles, seemingly trying to comfort himself more than you. He begins to drag you toward the door and you begin to reach in your pocket for your father’s knife.

It wasnt there. You lost it when you cut Rengoku.

Your eyes widen when you finally realize his disappearance. You turn around and quickly scan the room before your brother pulls you completely outside. 

“Kyo-” A hand covers your mouth immediately.

Your brother looks at you in pure fear, and you feel your own bubbling up at his gaze. “Quiet. We have to be as silent as we can. It could be near,” He whispers at you, and you nod from behind his hand. 

Your eyes dart around the area for the demon slayer. But he is nowhere to be found. He’s probably out looking for it by now. 

But he’s injured. Is it really okay for him to be fighting in his state?

Your brother removes his hand from your mouth and begins to drag you forward, a sword in one hand and your hand in the other. You gulp and follow him in the darkness.

A couple of minutes go by and the two of you haven’t said a word. The both of you had heard eerie noises, and you swear you heard a woman’s scream far off in the distance.

Your mind flashes back to all of the villagers you have gotten close to. It was better not to think about it. Rengoku should be there soon.

The two of you took the path into the woods. It was not the normal path to take when heading eastward, but it was safer. You both knew the woods well, and the chances are the demon is raiding the village. That’s what they have targeted the last couple of days at least.

Suddenly, you hear a growl to the right of you guys. Your brother freezes, and you run into the back of him. Your heartbeat picks up, and the hair on your neck rises. Your brother is trembling in front of you.

You turn to noise to see three bright yellow eyes staring at the two of you. A deathly aura creeps on the two of you, and it’s pin-drop silent.

Your brother grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you forward yelling out, ��Run!”

As on instinct, you turn back to him to pull him with you, but he’s gone. As if he vanished into thin air. The eyes disappeared as well.

A mass amount of dread and fear weighs on top of you, as you begin frantically scanning the woods. Your heartbeat is pounding in your chest and you’re shaking out of your wits. “Brother? Brother, where are you!”

Tears begin to form in your waterline, and you begin running, searching desperately for any trace of him. In the back of your mind you know your not going to be able to do anything, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

You wish Rengoku was here. He would be able to find your brother in a heartbeat, but he was most likely in the village. Where the demon should have been. But it doesn’t stop you from calling his name desperately for help.

Which is exactly how you attracted your very own demon. Your brother told you to be quiet, and you should have listened better. Fear made you naive.

It was standing in front of you, its eyes seemingly pinning you down. It was smiling at you, showing off its razor-sharp teeth, and you take a step back. You were trembling, alone, and defenseless against the demon.

“What’s a young girl like you doing out here alone?” The voice was high in pitch and shrill. A step toward you.

You don't respond, eyes darting around for an exit, while the demon continues to laugh and move forward, closer toward you.

You turn around and run. You dont have many choices in this situation and you rather take a chance than be a sitting duck.

It didn’t work, but you knew it wouldn’t. The demon grabs at your leg and pulls you back toward him. You fall forward onto the ground and hiss at the feeling of rock digging into your skin. You are being pulled backward, and the clawed hand on your ankle makes you shiver.

“I think I will take my time with you,” The being coos, licking a stripe up the back of your leg. 

Tears stream down your cheek as try to kick it off, to no avail. It’s going to tear your limps apart and eat you. Your brother is not going to be saved, and your family line is going to end.

With your last plea, you begin to scream. Loud enough to most likely alert every living being in the forest. Even the demon hisses out in annoyance.

Suddenly, there is a flash of orange and red. A flame.

You hear the plop of a sliced head a second later, and the slicing sound of the demon’s arm being physically removed from your leg. You cringe at the sound, but relief immediately floods your veins.

You turn your head to the side to see Rengoku, slightly frowning in concentration while he sheathes his sword. When he catches your eye, he smiles, and the comforting action makes the tears continue to flow.

He's holding you in an instant, crouched on one knee while wrapping his arms around your figure. His eyes are wide with slight panic, and his grip on you is tight. In any other situations, it may have been overbearing, but you craved the warmth.

His voice is hoarse and seemed to have a waver in it. “I was so scared, my flame when I couldn't find you. I thought you really left me. Or something worse had happened to you. The thought makes me feel ill. Tell me, why were you in the woods? You weren't supposed to be in the woods!”

You take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself down, while he runs his hands up and down your body as if reassuring himself that you are actually there. “We were trying to–” You freeze, eyes widening and immediately squirming in his grasp. “My brother. We have to find my brother! A demon has him!”

His hold on you doesn’t let go, and your movement is futile. He stares into the distance as if almost entranced by something. He doesn’t say anything for a long second, but when he does, his voice seems to be in a whisper. “Does it now?” 

You don’t pay attention to the tone, too distracted by the thought of your brother being on the verge of death. “Yes! So we have to go. Kyo, we don't have time!”

He hums, and the grip on you loosens, allowing you to stand up, and away from him. He stands in front of you, calm and composed while staring at you. You, on the other hand, are scanning the woods frantically trying to figure out where the demon is and failing miserably.

“Let’s go this way,” You say with uncertainty, pointing to the direction where you had last seen him. When you take a step forward, a hand grips your wrist, and you make eye contact with his owl-like eyes.

“You will stay. I will find him for you. It’s too dangerous for you.” The statement is unwavering as if it was a command to you, with no room for question.

“But-”

“Don't be afraid, my flame. I will place you in a tree, safe and hidden from harm.” He didn’t understand that you did not care for your own safety, it was your brother that you were concentrated with.

You turn to him with pleading eyes. The idea of you sitting here while your brother could be getting murdered, makes you feel sick. You need to be there for him the second Rengoku saves him. “Please, I won't get in the way! I can help, please just don’t leave me behind.”

His eyes widen at the statement, and he grips onto your shoulders with both hands. “I would never leave you behind. Never in a thousand years. But I am not the type of person to put the one I care about in danger. You will sit on a branch until I grab you. Safe from harm.”

He scoops you up with ease, and you jump with slight surprise. Then, he walks over to the nearest tree. “Please?” You plead for the last time, and he smiles at you.

“Everything will be fine, my love. After tonight, everything will be perfect. Just let me do this.” He murmurs and you sigh, and allow him to do whatever must be done. 

He walks up to the nearest tree and eyes it, before making a small huffing sound. Then he holds you in one arm and jumps. Way higher than a normal man would be able to you, and your eyes widen in shock.

He grabs onto a branch and pulls the two of you up, while you continue to stare at the fact that he is doing this effortlessly with one hand. He sets you down onto the branch, with your back leaning on the trunk for support.

You glance down and gulp. It was way higher than you expected, but Rengoku didn’t seem to notice it. He is balanced on the branch with ease and instead is focused solely on you. “You will be okay, do not fret. If anything goes amiss, shout for me and I will come running.”

You nod your head and he smiles softly. He begins to turn around but pauses when you grip his kimono. “You will save him right?”

He blinks at you and sightly frowns. “Everything will be alright.”

You believed him.

You were an idiot. An idiot for believing him. An idiot for jumping out of the tree in the first place.

Not long after Rengoku left you, you heard your brothers scream.

You acted on pure instinct. You moved within a second, trying to climb down the tree. The Hashira made it seem easier than it was to maneuver on the tree. You slipped and fell. 

You hissed when you landed on the floor. Very much close to breaking your legs, but you got lucky. You stand up and try to ignore the pain shooting up your spine. Then, you turn toward where you heard the noise.

It was during your sprint you realized you made a mistake. What were you going to do against a demon? How are you going to help your brother? He was the one medically trained, not you. Aren’t you just going to make things worse? You could be killed too.

But you were too deep in it now. Tree trunks turn into a blur as you continue to run, your legs throbbing with every step. 

You notice a figure and stop immediately. When you catch your breath and notice who it is, you cover your mouth. Your father’s sword lays next to the curled-up body. There was so much blood, he was barely recognizable. 

But you couldn't keep your eyes trained on your loved one. Crouching above him was a demon, chewing. 

Nausea hits you like a train and you’re forced to take a step back. You dont have it in you to scream for help. Would Rengoku even get here in time?

Where is he? What was he doing all this time? He told you everything is going to be fine, why is your brother laying in a pool of his own blood?

You continue to stare, the fear making you immobile. You take in the demon. It was strange, nothing like the one you had last saw. It was trembling before the body, as if afraid of something. It’s letting out disgusting wavering whines and cries, between each bite. 

Your thoughts are cut short. 

A shiver runs up your spine, and you freeze. You see the hair on your arms begin to raise, and your breath catches. Your eyes flicker back to the body, and the demon hasn’t moved. 

A nail as sharp as a dagger, trails its way up your arm, and you begin to tremble. You feel the power the demon emits, and it is different from the one before. 

You shouldn't have moved. You shouldn't have left the tree.

You hear the horrific noise before you can feel it. Your eyes flicker to the space right above your hip, to see the long fingernail peering out. Through you. And in an instant, you hear the squelching noise, and the finger is gone. 

Like a dog lapping a bone, you hear the demon lick its finger clean and shiver.

You hear frantic, nervous mumbles behind you. “Just a taste is fine. It’s alright if I have just a taste. I didn’t kill her, just wanted to try it…”  The being that made your skin crawl, sounded absolutely petrified. You didn’t know of what, and you didn’t want to find out. 

But, you didn’t have time to ponder. Your kimono is turning a deep red, and you feel the blood beginning to drip down to your legs. You fall to your knees with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. If you don’t wrap it, you are sure to bleed out within minutes.

The demon behind you panics, frantically telling himself that you aren’t going to die and everything is fine. But you’ve tuned it out.

You look up toward your brother again and freeze. Just a couple feet to the right of the two figures was a man leaning against a tree. The fiery hair that you could pinpoint in a crowd makes him recognizable in less than a second.

Rengoku was watching your brother get devoured with a blank stare.

The loss of blood had to make you see things. Or maybe it was the fear. Something had to be wrong with you. He would never do such a thing.

You clutch at your side with your hand. “Kyo?” You mumble, and his head snaps toward you, somehow hearing the call. He removes himself from the tree in an instant, and he stares at you with wide frantic eyes. You’ve never seen him look so petrified. 

In a blink of the eyes, and a flash of a flame you hear the demon behind you getting beheaded. “She isn’t dead! You promised! I was–” Another slicing sound and silence.

He’s by your side in the next second. He’s tearing off his kimono in an instant. “What are you doing here? Y/N, you're not supposed to be here! Fuck, the bleeding.” He’s tearing apart the cloth with his teeth, and wrapping it around your torso. You don't notice the shaking of his hands.

You feel dizzy and weak, from the mix of the bleeding out and all the other beatings you sustained. You can’t focus on his words, you are staring at your brother.

You miss the panic of his words. The way he trembles in front of you. “It's going to be okay. Don’t worry, I will take care of everything. It'll be okay.”

The demon has scrambled off, and it was just his mutilated body left behind and the sword. Tears well up in your eyes, and your brother’s now lifeless eyes stare into yours. 

You point to him and Rengoku follows your finger. Your words are soft, broken. “Help him. Please.”

But he ignores you. You're being lifted again, the callused hand putting a decent amount of pressure on the wound. He leads you back to your house, while your left staring at the body left in the grass. 

You're exhausted, you can't fight him. For the last time, you plead, “Help him.” before closing your eyes and slumping against his body. 

“It's going to be alright, my flame. I won't let anything happen to you. I will protect you now.”

[goldenrods935]

ORIGINS FANFIC!! (slowburn RiDe)

(Chpt. 1)

Hello everyone! I just wanted to try something new so I chose fanfiction ^^ how fun. I am not writer but I do promise that I tried to have it make sense, at least the best I could. The prompt is a slow burn RiDe fic which does mean I am going to add alot more to this but given it is my first time writing something like this and posting it I just wanted some insight and perhaps advice and people's input :) I am definitely open to any criticism and anything people may offer. This does all take place in origins, and im sorry if this isn't 100 percent accurate, I did get into zombies like 2 months ago so I am not sure if I had time to let ot marinate enough but I guess I just wanted to try it out! Ride is my fav ship if you couldn't tell and I was hoping to be able to share this with you ^^. Once again I do plan on updating but when is something I haven't decided yet. Since this is only the first chapter I have inputted nothing about the ship just yet but of course with it being a slow burn I will slowly add elements I promise :).

I would also like to add, i removed the point system because I wasn't sure how to implement it, and i want to illiterate this may not be 100 percent accurate to the story. I will try my best but if I do wrong please tell me. From what I can gather this is all I have for now. Anyways, please enjoy and thank you!!!!

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The sound of what can only be assumed to be machinery blaired throughout the area, its alarms being loud, and its footsteps being heavy. How many were there? More than one, even more than two, three, it seems. 6 individual steps taken across the hills of dirt and building tops that belong to this place.

North France, 1914, the battle of the Great War, World War I. A period of conflict and devastation reaching its climax, especially in Europe. Not just with battle, but with strange like creatures that can only be described as the term, "decaying". Pale green discoloration and sunken in faces, glazed eyes, no thoughts to process, no words that can even be formulated. Just brain-dead animals with no purpose but to kill. The reason for the reanimates sparks something else entirely. The work is due to the creation of group 935...

935 was an organization of scientists. No one can really determine their true goals, but what can be said is that the power they hold in their place of origins, Germany. After discovering an unknown contaminate, they decided upon themselves to continue researching what this blue substance can be, only to discover that this substance holds more power than any element that can be found documented and they called it element 115...

Dr. Ludwig Maxis, a man of great knowledge who holds strength in Germany's foundation, known for being one of the founders of this specific assembly of scientists, was the individual behind alot of powerful creations that had only manifested into something sinister. Aside from Maxis, his partner of occupation, Dr. Edward Richtofen, a person of both brains and an undesirable charm, used the liquid divinium for his own twisted pleasures, which awoken a force that was much too strong to manage, hoards and hoards of the undead.

The need to capture this man was strong. he was dangerous but also talented in his own field, it being a practice of medicine and anatomical procedures. The name Edward Richtofen was feared by most. He wishes to keep it that way. He holds no remorse, no sympathy, and not a feeling of empathy can be found in his body. Down to the very last atom, he was filled with disparity, insanity, immorality, and psychopathic tendencies. This attention was grabbed by those who lay outside of this continent, gathering 3 soldiers from different parts of the world, Russia, Japan, and America.

The name of these allies were infamous from wence they came. The motherland sending their Red Army soldier, a man of strength, Nikolai Belinski. Japan sending their best Samurai warrior, one who holds true honor, part of the Japanese imperial Army, Takeo Masaki. Lastly, the American dream, a Yankee from North America, a USMC spy, "Tank" Thomas Dempsey. The 3 were sent on a mission to infiltrate and investigate further on the crimes and studies of Group 935, all having the same intentions to report back to the allied countries.

By coincidence, the three men happen to find themselves in the same exact situation, facing jeopardy and coming across hazardous trails just to infiltrate this single scientist. Having to dodge huge robotic walk cycles while running in very steep and wet dirt roads is not a simple task, especially when faced with countless numbers of the Living Dead. The soldiers took this advantage to put their skills to the test, only being one person after all, unaware of each other's existence thus far, they were on their own for the time being...that is until they reached the end of their open path, coming to a dead end which was some sort of broken down building.

Confusion was the only thing felt between the individuals within the premises. The three allies have the same idea to run into the damaged facility, trying to get at least somewhat of a break. Their energy went most towards dealing with their situation. They hadn't realized the other persons presence. Additionally, the atmosphere didn't help either. The mist and debris that filled the air because of their surroundings decreased their line of sight, though only for a moment. Once the air cleared up, and they finally had time to catch their breath, they all looked at each other almost in sync. All were startled, which caused them to quickly reach for their weapon in hand and point it towards one another. Dempsey held his revolver up and aimed it towards both men that stood relative close to him, "tch." He smacked his teeth, keeping his focus. Takeo held a pistol in hand, pulling back the hammer of the gun, ready to fire if necessary, holding his breath in the process to help his focus. Nikolai's grip on his own weapon was tight, trying to aim his shot gun both at once, grumbling under his breath. Being focused on one another, they didn't realize who stood before them towards the back center of the room. It was Dr. Edward richtofen himself, who at the moment was dealing with his own situation.

His hands were covered in blood as he stood upon a metalic table. His victim, who was now deceased, laying their cold was Maxis. He had removed the brain that once belonged to the lifeless individual, displaying his scalp and what seems to have been the top portion of his cranium that had been removed, exposing the inside of whats now a hollow skull. It seemed that at the moment, his head was in a daze. A daze that was recovered facing recollections...recollections of what? What was in this Doctors mind? He looked at his hands with confusion and then fixed his vision to see the men that stood in front of him, which by that time they all had their guns pointed right at him.

This caused a slight suprise to Edward. His eyes widened a bit in shock. Though truthfully, he was facing a bit of deja vu. He's seen this before. He knows how this plays out. before he can mutter a word, Thomas was the first to speak, "Alright, Doctor, time to give your shit up, you're coming with me." He glared, leaving no room for any sort of retraction. This caused Nikolai to furrow his brows and speak next, "We know of the the things you've done German. If you don't move now, we shoot." His accent was thick, though by the looks of it, Richtofen understood him quite well. Takeo was the last to break his silence, reading the situation and feeling himself tense up less, knowing the other two men were only there for the same purpose. He spoke, "You need to give up. Your evil behavior and acts of violence are at its end." There was not a thing said after Masaki's words left his lips, though it seemed the silence that was held onto the air around them was louder than anything that could have been said. After a moment that seemed to have gone on for far too long, the German scientist finally spoke, "well gentlemen, it seems you have...finally caught up to me, though Ich promise I-", he was trying to look for the right words to say. Something wasn't exactly right. There was a reason for his extraction that layed before him, it wasnt just for malicious purposes, but of course, that's hard to really say given the reputation this man has. "Well, doc, scapel cut your tongue?" Tank spoke with a hint of sarcasm and absolute disgust, awaiting this "reasoning" for his behavior. "Ich..." he sighs, "it isn't what you think, This was a necessity for me, and I understand that currently, we are in a very dire situation. Ich am not who you think I am." He tried to get his words out as much as he could, his mother tongue being extremely heavy. "This is not up for discussion. You have committed acts of treason. You are a bad man, Edward Richtofen", The Japanese soldier said with a bit of haste. Anticipation growing heavier by the minute.

Edward sighed and stepped away from his array of medical utensils. He put his hands up as in defeat and placed himself even closer to the three others despite him having no way of defense. "Ich promise you all, this isn't what you think is is. I am not here to cause more trouble than I have. I can not explain at the moment. This is extremely time sensitive." His eyes look back at theirs almost with plead, like he was innocent, though of course they took this as deception and a form of manipulation. "Bullshit Richtofen! We will shoot!" Belinski was getting extremely impatient. This caused the doctors head to shake slightly, "Please trust me, Ich am not here to cause anymore harm than I have. If you'd allow me to explain mein situation you'd understand that this was all necessary..." The three had daggering glares. They didn't say anything, allowing the German to continue. Richtofen sighs and mutters a few words under his breath, feeling a bit of pressure. He knows what he wants to say but can't exactly say it. Truthfully, he isn't sure how he should tell them, tell them the reality, the reality that this is only the beginning to a very painful outcome. He began to speak, saying what he possibly could that is, "Ich am not here to cause more disaster but the contrerary. Are you all aware of what 'Agartha' is?" When he said this, he looked at Tank in particular, which caused a bit of confusion, that being implied on his expression. "Agartha?" The marine spoke, lowering his weapon a bit, seeing that there's no active form of threat. "The hell is that?..." His action caused the rest to lower their guns as well, not wanting to cause more hostility than they must.

At this point, the men faced confliction. Dempsey was curious, though he had a job to do. Takeo hadn't any idea what Edward was referring to, awaiting the explanation that was yet to be provided. Nikolai crossed his arms, placing a puzzled expression on his face, "What is this, uh, place you speak of, eh?" Richtofen slowly lowered his hands, feeling confident enough to do so with the signs of possoble gun fire gone. He fixed his sleeves and cleared his throat which followed with what he was gonna say next, "well, you see, to put it simply, there is a lost little girl by the name of samantha Maxis. It's a very, very complicated scenario, but I needed the brain of my counterpart as it plays an important role in freeing her. While ich do not care too much for her, it also..." He stops to a moment, wondering if he should continue, perhaps a white lie? Maybe he can stretch the truth? He continues after a short pause, "it opens the gateway to a dimension referred to as Agartha. Agartha is very hard to describe aber it is important i do so. It would open up a pathway to many things, different universes, a plethora of timelines. Mein hope is to be able to be able to undo all that has been set into motion and explore more in the realm of science. Ich just desires a better outcome than how society greets us." Though to him, it sounded like a reasonable enough explanation,to the rest, he sounded insane. Perhaps the term Looney would make a much better description rather than just crazy.

Dempsey furrows his brows as he glares at the German. He has no intention of trusting this man or his words anytime soon. He was sure the other two felt the same given the fact that at a quick glance, the other two held their weapons with a stronger grip than they had a moment ago. Richtofen sensed that their patience was running thin. Before he could say anything else, a sound of a low groan was heard from a distance, one that seems to be getting closer by the minute. They knew those noises all too well. "Shit... Those meatsacks are hoarding up again." Dempsey said as he turned the direction of where the sounds were from and placed a few shots into the few zombies he saw were approaching. They dropped dead, though he noticed more behind the bodies that layed before him. Takeo and Nikolai stood their own ground as well, getting their own weapons to a proper position to aim and fire. Richtofen quickly took a towel that was laying to the side of the table he stood upon, wiping off whatever blood stains still lingered on his hands. Though, of course, unable to get all of it, he just threw the dirty rag on the ground and quickly pulled out the bowie knife from his side. "These creatures have not stopped forming around the vicinity. We need to get out of here!" His slight panic reached the others as they were occupied with their own, shooting a couple of rounds before having to reload. "Y-yeah? And where's that, huh Doctor?"

Before Edward can give the marine a clear answer, he is met with 4 creatures on his right, ready to lunge towards him. He quickly took his weapon and attempted to cut them down. Unsurprising, it wasn't causing much damage. Noticing the struggles the doctor was facing, Tank shot them down as soon as he got done with his own situation. "Now, can ya tell us?" Dempsey said in a huffed voice, becoming restless, noticing the numbers of zombies only growing. Richtofen nodded, "Ja, Ich needs you all to trust me. Can you do that?" His words gave the group a very uncertain feeling, the three of them all making the same expression of doubt. "If you don't want to die becoming their next meal, I suggest you follow me. Ich am aware of my reputoir, but you really have no option. We need to go now!" His growth and feeling in worry snaps the crew back to reality, realizing that Richtofen had a point. "We await your orders," Masaki said in a low voice, Nikolai agreeing with his Japanese counterpart. "Ya better not pull anything stupid, I'll blow your brains out!" The American said with aggravation, letting the Doctor take the lead despite his unwillingness to cooperate.

"Right. Come with mich." Edward walked out from behind the table that was placed in front of him, picking up a particular item, carefully wrapping it in cloth that layed near by. He looked around before walking up to one of the two metal doors. "This one." He mumbles, proceeding to kick it, causing it to open. A small look of relief appeared across his face as he walked out of the room. He began following the trail in front of him, picking up speed as he got further down. The path was all mud which made it a bit difficult to move through. He shouted to the others he assumed were following behind, "Be aware of the mud gentlemen! Not only is it incredibly slippery, but it decreases your speed therefore reducing stamina and im sure you know why that is not a good thing!" He himself was having trouble running through, feeling the soles of his shoes to become stuck with every step he took, only pulling him back as he attempted to pick up his own pace. The other three found themselves in the same situation as they were sprinting through the dirt. "Shit, couldn't have picked a better way to go could ya doc?" Tank threw to the other, not earning a response back. Richtofen heard him, he just didn't want to waste his breath.

After running for what seemed like 10 minutes, The scientist found himself in front of another metal door, kicking it open just like the other. The next room he was met with looked at bit similar to the other, though the area was more spacious. Entering, all four men were cautious, being mindful of any sudden movement. Letting their guard down at any moment will result in fatality. Edward walked upon a table that was covered in blueprints and writing. On the surface, there was an array of radios, systems, and an additional amount of items one may use for in depth research. Something else that caught his eye was an empty container. With this finding he quickly and carefully placed what he had obtained from his earlier extraction. Still being wrapped under a thin cloth, Edward placed maxis' brain inside of the opened holder and sealed it shut. "Es ist perfect..yes. this is good." He mumbled to himself and grabbed the item as soon as he wiped himself off. Tank noticed the others actions and raised a brow, "the hell is that for? You know somethin, your starting to really creep me the fuck out Richtofen." His words followed a face of disgust before walking up the bit of steps that led to an elevated floor.

Edward paid no attention to the marine as he was stuck in his own head. He continued to look around, his memory slowly coming back to him. "Ja..I've been here before.." he muttered before following Dempsey in his steps, though keeping a distance. Takeo found himself lurking amongst the different sets of radios wondering if they held any clues to help them in their current situation. He kept their locations in mind, not wanting to touch what he shouldnt incase it causes more harm than good. He stayed close to his Russian allie, noticing the other studying a shovel placed upon a nearby wall. "Maybe it holds purpose da?" He said to Masaki, unhooking it from the nail that kept it in place and gave it to him. "Perhaps this shovel will find it's use during our escapade.." Takeo said in response and placed it on his side. The two looked at eachother with understanding and followed after the American and the German.

The rest of the room was filled with gritted flooring rather than the familiar woodboards they found themselves on. The floor was connected to a machine that covered most of the area. The machinery looked like a power source, a generator. The floor had two symbols of the same, being labled "01" which could imply the possibility of being more than one around the vicinity. Once Edward noticed the rest were at attention, he spoke, "I have to turn on the generator, though Ich believe that this will cause a bit of commotion.." How he knew what happens next stems from more hidden memories he has yet to really discover. From what he can recall, the power surge causes the undead to spawn and cause disturbance. After a quick thought process, he turned on the machine, which confirmed his suspicions. He yelled out a warning, which brought the others at their feet. Tank thought it was odd that Edward knew what was bound happen, noting to question him later. For now, focusing on what's in front of him, He began shooting the zombies down with the other two doing the same. After what seems like forever, the generator was finally stabilized and had successfully powered on, which by their luck had stopped any more of the undead from spawning in. The four took a minute to catch their breath, gaining a response from the marine, "the hell..was those things. What the fuck just happened?!" After questioning their situation, Richtofen gave him a response he thought made the most sense. "The generator must be kept on in order to access whats around us. Each one is powered by element 115, and by mein guess there will be more approaching us in our path. The element is notable for its effect on the dead, hence why we found ourselves surrounded." Before Tank could respond Nikolai spoke up, "I don't know what plans you have for us German but we all have a mission to con-" "and how do you expect to continue if you don't know a way out? There are several things we must do hence why Ich must carry the brain of mein late scientist friend. From what I have read prior around the facility, we must obtain und put together a plethora of objects...und in order to do that I advise you listen to mich. I cannot tell you much of how I know this but Ich will say this, unfortunately there has been a change of plans within your party und whether dou like it or not I will have to assist you three for a while. Our mission thus far is to free samantha Maxis and open the gateway to Agartha." Dempsey sighed in frustration and gave in his own input, "Alright so we gotta not only follow the damn mad scientist but we have to trust and work together with ya? You must be more mad than I thought, I don't have any plans to work with y-" "und what choice do you have. As I mentioned to Nikolai, I don't think you have much of an option Dempsey." This caused both Belinski and Tank to back down, not just out of defeat but out of shock. Both we confused on how Edward knew who they were. Perhaps their identities were known even outside of their place of origins? They do have a strong reputation but not one too known to the common public. Nikolai played it off and went with the explanation that made the most sense which was explained prior. As for The marine. He wasn't gonna just downplay it. There was too many unanswered questions and he was gonna get an explanation from the German. Though for now to avoid conflict he left it alone.

The doctor took a minute to recover from all that had just happened, speaking up once he was ready. "Ich know this will be hard for you to all understand und I know that it's not easy to trust someone like mich, but I would like to remind you, I am not who you think I am..." He let those words linger for a while, piecing together what should be done next in his mind. They were in the middle of a battleground surrounded by countless numbers of the undead, trapped in a hell that can only be fled through one way, which at the moment was deemed impossible. For now, all they can do is move forward, and whether they want to accept it or not, Edward Richtofen was their only way out of this situation.

[weirdmorefics]

Unmasked Chpt 1- The Call

Word Count- 1,461

Morning came slowly I stayed up most of the night with nightmares. The nightmares are usually worse this time of year, I think it is my mind's way of reminding me of the anniversary of the first Ghostface murders. My brain is wrong though I need no reminder. The only thing keeping me at all sane during the night is the fact that Spencer is not lecturing today and I will get to see him in the morning at work.

I walk into the BAU with a box of donuts for the team since we are all stuck doing boring paperwork today.

"Morning kid, you look like shit. Long night?" Rossi says full of humor.

I roll my eyes and open the box of donuts, "Hey, don't bite the hand that feeds you."

Rossi puts his hands up in surrender then grabs a donut, "Thanks, kid."

As he walks away I shout "Could you stop calling me kid too because that would be great!"

I set the donuts down in the breakroom and picked out one of Spencer's favorites to set on his desk.

I approach Spencer's desk and set the napkin-wrapped donut down on his desk. "Morning Reid,"

"Thank you, Y/n morning to you too. Did you know Americans consume ten billion donuts every year?"

I smile "Well let's make that ten billion and one." My phone cuts off the conversation and I see my sister's contact photo, "Excuse me I have to take this..." I hope he didn't notice my face shift to an anxious one.

Sidney never calls only texts and she still barely does that. She thinks I am an idiot for chasing after the crazy people who kill when enough killers already come after us.

"Do not come to Woodsboro," Sidney states in a serious tone as soon as I pick up my cell.

"Wow, what a lovely way to begin a call! No, hey sis how are you?" I bite back sarcastically.

"Did you hear me Y/n? Do not come to Woodsboro!" She repeats.

" I wasn't planning on going to that hell town anytime soon. What's going on with you? Shouldn't you be busy with your book tour or something?" I respond trying not to sound concerned.

"He's back Y/n," she whines out.

I swallow deeply and walk away from the desks and towards Penelope's office she is never here this early anyway. "This isn't funny Sidney."

"I am in Woodsboro and my rental car has a murder weapon in it and ripped-up pictures of my face and yours. Oh and did I forget to mention two kids were murdered in the same exact way as the original ones... so yeah I'd say he's back." She responds quickly in an angry panic.

I slam open Penelope's door and proceed to vomit my guts out in her trash can. I hear the wheels of her chair squeak as Penelope looks at me with concern as I dry heave in her trashcan. I definitely should have checked if anyone was in here first.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Penelope asks softly.

"Sidney, I got to let you go," I breathe out and hang up on her.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. Why does no one ever mention how exhausting dry heaving is?

"I'm fine Garcia," I try to sound detached. I can't be here. One thing that makes the Ghostface all the same is they want to kill the Prescotts and everyone they love.

"You really don't look fine," she says full of concern.

I try to exit without a word but Penelope is quick to follow to make sure I am okay. It must be an odd scene as Penelope chases me and I speed walk away. Especially since we are always attached at the hip.

I ignore everyone's gaze and walk into Prentiss's office without a word.

Prentiss was doing paperwork of her own and did not even look up, " I need a leave of absence as soon as possible... preferably today"

That statement made her head quickly whip away from her mess of papers, "This is awfully unlike you Y/n... has something happened."

The stress of the anniversary, Ghostface, and the worry of losing Spencer Reid after we just got him back from prison seem to boil all over at once. "I JUST NEED A LEAVE OF ABSENCE IS THAT SO HARD TO DO EMILY!" I shout so loud and instantly regret as I see all my team members' eyes on me from Emily's office window.

"I am sorry Prentiss," I put my hand to my forehead fighting back the anger and fear-induced tears. I have seen so many murders I should be used to it at this point but Ghostface will always be different he always comes back as someone new.

Emily stands up shutting the blinds to her office to halt the onlookers. "L/N you need to tell me what this is about, right now! I have never once seen you act like this."

I pace back and forth the last name I made up did nothing to protect me I will always be a Prescott. I just need to get out of here before they find that out. I take a deep breath, "I am really sorry I can't, I just can't tell you. It will just get you hurt. It will get the whole team hurt and I can't do that! Spencer just got back, Scratch is gone, and the team is almost back to normal I will not ruin it. I am going to leave either way I just needed you to know."

I turn to leave but Emily grabs my arm, "Agent, if you are in danger I need to know. One more thing you also seem to be forgetting is this team won't be normal without you."

A knock follows her statement, "Is everything okay? Garcia told me Y/n was sick. Does she need a drive home?" It's Spencer's voice I can tell immediately. The question makes this even harder. Why must he be so kind? Why can't I stand to leave him?"

Emily's gaze meets mine, "I recognize that look."

"Prentiss I don't have time for your profile," I whisper shout to prevent Spencer from hearing me.

"I know all too well what it's like to be undercover Y/n," Emily states compassionately.

"I have no idea what you mean?"

"Your file is suspiciously blank and sealed of all past background and Strauss assured me it's for the better. It is similar to what my file used to look like." Emily unfortunately continues to profile me.

I feel trapped I can't go to the door Spencer is there and there is no escaping Emily's questions.

Spencer proceeds to knock again, "Everything alright in there?"

I sigh, "Emily I will tell you everything if you leave the team out of this."

"Y/n you know I can't promise that," she frowns.

I grab her hands tightly, "You have to because I know how to deal with this but every time he comes back someone around me dies!"

"Who comes back Y/n?" Emily's tone changes to a demanding one like the one she uses in the interrogation room.

"Promise me you won't tell the team! Promise me you won't let Reid get involved." Tears prick my eyes I don't care that I am being blatant about my feelings for Reid nothing can happen because I am cursed to repeat the same horrors for the rest of my life.

Emily sighs, "I promise."

"Ghostface is back... and my last name isn't L/N... it's- it's Prescott," I stutter as the words come out like saying them would make this more real than it already is.

"As in the Woodsboro killings?" Emily asks in utter disbelief.

"Unfortunately... and I have to go back there, for my sister," I state. "You can not convince me not to, I can't lose her."

"Y/n we solve cases just like this we can do this as a team," She soothes.

"Tell that to the last agent who tried to help my sister and nearly died," my stress getting the better of me causing me to shout and not notice Spencer opening Prentiss's office door.

I felt the eyes on me once again, I doubt I can talk myself out of this one. The chance of a silent escape gone stuck in a room of profiles who could sense I am on the urge to bolt out the door. Then my phone starts to ring in my pocket, none of the team seems to notice when Emily gives me a knowing look. She clearly knows the Ghostface cases well they all start with a phone call.

Taglist- @bunbunbl0gs

[lavaflowe]

JTTW READING CLUB CATCH UP

Pt. 2

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

Chpt 4 Thoughts:

•the fighting immediately at the gate should have tipped everyone off this wasn’t going to go well💀 doomed from the start

•the hand holding with Gold star of Venus and Wukong I am not okay, I’m exploding it’s so cute

•Holy shit the poem about Heaven is LONG

•Wukong handles being called a bogus immortal very well?? I thought he would be angrier about that… I guess he knows its true tho🤷‍♀️

•Wukong is fantastic at his job- the best horse girl around (for the 2 weeks he was there lol)

•tantrum™️ kicks over his desk and smashes everything with his ruyi bang, causes property damage and LEAVES

•interesting that I’ve seen a lot of adaptations have him release the horses and do a mini havoc in Heaven

•love that it’s just 2 random demons who suggest 齐天大圣 to Wukong, not anyone important or anything JAKDJSJ

•HE QUITS AND THE JADE EMPEROR CALLS FOR HIM BE CAPTURED BECAUSE HES A MONSTER??? HUH???(I thought Gold Star stepped in but I GUESS I WAS WRONG)(capitalism smh /j)

•NEZHA APPEARANCE WHOOOO

•Spreading Flower axe sounds so cool, prime design material

•”eyes glowered strangely like burning stars; past his shoulders two ears, forked and hard; his voice resounded like bells and chimes”<- poem about Wukong, so lovely

•Theme I’m noticing: Wukong treated like an animal until proven otherwise (makes sense but also not)

•asks Nezha whose little brother is he, and Nezha immediately spits back like 3 insults JAKFJSJSJ, he is not here to mess around🔫

•3 HEADED 6 ARM FIGHT: WUKONG v. NEZHA

•the old bait and switch then smashing Nezha’s shoulder (flash back to all the paintings of Nezha running off while holding his broken arm💀)

•Love that Wukong called himself the little brother of the fraternal 7

•Gold Star Of Venus more like Master Negotiator/Mediator

•….is Gold star lying??? WUH

•”Peace and Quiet” and “Serene Spirit”- it’s like they don’t know that’s gonna bore the shit out of Wukong💀 like watching a train wreck in slow motion- HES NEEDS ACTION AND SOMEONE TO PLAY WITH

Chpt 5&6 under cut:

Chpt 5 Thoughts:

•uses all his free time to make more friends

•Gold Star realizes that he may get bored so they give him an extremely tedious task that will also probably bore him JAKDJAJAJD

•HELP HE JUST STARTS EATING ALL THE PEACHES WHAT- he behaved for probably like 2 weeks (again) and then decided he couldn’t wait any longer to try the OLDEST AND RAREST FRUIT IN THE GARDEN!!! AND HE PICKS MULTIPLE, NOT JUST ONE

•I’m yelling he does this multiple times

•okay but him playing around and eating making him tired and taking a nap on the branches when he’s 2 inches tall?? Adorable, no longer mad he ate all the peaches, he’s just a little guy

•ah so he only ate the really good ones. Ofcourse.

•Gently breaking the news that he’s probably not invited to the banquet 😬

•immediately freezes the peach maidens- WHY??? WHAT WAS THE REASON???

•Identity theft smh

•he is feeling….mischievous

•RESIST UR IMPULSES OH MY GOD

•he is so wasted he accidentally wandered into Laozi’s lab

Wukong: I’ve never met Laozi….now is for SURE the perfect time to make friends, when I’m so drunk I can’t walk straight

•He keeps putting things in his mouth, very monkey™️ of him

•IMMEDIATELY sobered up and knew he was in deep shit

•he lived in heaven for over a century 👀👀, Wukong says half a year- so maybe like 175 days?

•he goes back to get wine for his monkeys 🥺🥺

•next day/year Everyone one complains about the Havoc LMAO, they just kept coming, I know the Jade Emperor is distraught HAJDJAJ

•Wukong was going to straight up ignore the heavenly army they sent if they hadn’t busted down his door😂

•all his demon Allies were captured while he did a 1 v 6 with Nezha and the 5 Devarajas

•Wukong starting to get lost in the sauce, doesn’t care his ally’s were captured as long as his monkeys are okay

Chpt 6 Thoughts:

•Guan Yin Rolling up their sleeves to fix this mess

•”nothing but an invitation to disappointment” THE DRAMATICS

•I wonder if the Greek constellations were actually listed or if that was a translation choice??

•interesting that he outlasted Moksa instead of outwitting him- I feel like there’s a deeper meaning to that

•Guan Yin: I have a solution…..call in your Nephew

Jade Emperor: GENIUS

•Erlang is PUMPED to fight Wukong

•something something Erlang Shen is HAWT

•Erlang Shen: I’m here to kick your ass and arrest you

Wukong: your MOM

Erlang already swinging:

•Warform fight pt 2: Electric Boogaloo

•”they darted as stars to fill the sky”

•Erlangs eye being called the Phoenix Eye sounds SO COOL

•spotted bustard has no standards-I stand by the whore joke

•Erlang having fun with their fight LMAOOOOO

•HELP WHY DID HE WASTE TIME ENTERING A TEMPLE??? WUKONG PLS💀💀 UR ARMY IS GONE AND YOURE CORNERED NOW IS NOT THE TIME

•Wukong defeated with an assist from Laozi and Xiaotian

•stabbed for his crimes

•it’s execution time

•really loved that the poems were used to describe all of the fights

[wibblewomble]

Ranking Ajins by Death Toll

Oh but count them I did.

Have you ever wanted a comprehensive list of Ajin deaths? Well, here is one anyways!

The list is based on manga events as I actually haven't seen the anime 😬

The ranking only includes Ajins (AKA revivable characters) because otherwise the list would be…even longer than it is and 90% of it would be no-name characters. They also MUST make an appearance (so ruling out mentioned Ajins, like the Chinese Ajin with 2,000+ deaths).

Without further ado, AJIN CHARACTERS RANKED FROM MOST TO LEAST DEATHS!

...under the cut (I’m sorry, it is very long)...

🚨CW for Ajin typical shenanigans (death, mutilation, suicide, the like)🚨

Ranking by onscreen/shown deaths

Satou (44 deaths)

Kei Nagai (35 deaths)

Kou Nakano (15 deaths)

Koji Tanaka (9 deaths) TIE

Izumi Shimomura (9 deaths) TIE

Takahashi (6 deaths)

Masumi Okuyama (4 deaths)

Shinya Nakamura (2 deaths)

Reiji Akiyama (firefighter) (1 death) TIE

Himeko Tachibana (diet member passing the Ajin bill) (1 death) TIE

Satou detractor (with the cross-body bag) (1 death) TIE

Satou collaborator (with the two IBMs) (1 death) TIE

Ranking by estimations

Koji Tanaka (5,892 deaths)

Satou (692 deaths)

Kei Nagai (347 deaths)

Kou Nakano (215 deaths)

Izumi Shimomura (9 deaths)

Takahashi (7 deaths)

Masumi Okuyama (5 deaths)

Shinya Nakamura (2 deaths)TIE

Reiji Akiyama (firefighter) (2 deaths) TIE

Satou detractor (with the cross-body bag) (2 deaths) TIE

Satou collaborator (with the two IBMs) (2 deaths) TIE

Himeko Tachibana (diet member passing the Ajin bill) (1 death)

Everyone gets +1 to account for their first death in the estimation rankings (except Satou, Kei, Kou, Izumi, Shinya, and Ms. Tachibana because their first deaths were shown and already counted in the initial ranking)

Ajin’s with too little information to estimate (at least one death)

Takeshi Kotobuki

Jun Suzuki

Dr. Smith

Jim

Satou detractor (with the glasses)

Satou collaborator (with the glasses)

✨Honorable mention✨

Kai (by technicality)

Let’s go into some more detail about each death and estimation calculations.

Deaths are listed chronologically by manga appearance. “S” means it was self-inflicted with intention. They have to be the ones to cause the fatal blow (aside from one exception, being Izumi throwing herself in front of a car). Assisted suicide, like Tanaka stabbing Satou as a demonstration, does not count as self-inflicted.

Koji Tanaka

Gunshot to head (chpt 1)

Crushed by hydraulic press (chpt 2)

Stabbed with rods (chpt 3)

Neurological experiments (assumed) (chpt 3)

Dismemberment by lab researchers (assumed) (chpt 3)

Collision trauma (used as a crash test dummy) (chpt 14)

Gunshot to head by Gen (chpt 33)

Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 37)

Assumed reset (shoulder wound from Satou is gone) (chpt 43) S

+1 for first death (implied in chpt 13).

+1 assumed reset after being accidentally shot by Satou in chapter 41. His shoulder wound is gone and he (or the rest of the gang for that matter) probably wouldn’t wait for it to heal.

+1 assumed reset at some point after chapter 56. His leg wound—where he got stabbed by the minister's goons—disappears. Could have been forgotten about, could be he’s still walking around with it, but I think they would want to be in top shape when fighting Satou, so I’m counting it as a reset.

+5,880 for deaths while in captivity. Some were already included, but it pales in comparison to the total count. Tanaka was probably subject to experiments everyday. Let’s assume 3 deaths per hour (accounting for setup time and various death methods), 8 hours in a working day, and 245 working days in a year (Japanese work duration from Google). Which means in 10 years that’s 5,880 deaths. This is a very VERY general approximation, not taking into account probable overtime, lengthier experiments resulting in slower deaths, or extremely fast causes of death like getting shot. Regardless, with 10 years of captivity, Tanaka’s death toll is certainly the highest.

Tanaka’s total estimated deaths: 9 + 5,883 = 5,892

1 suicide, 2 estimated suicides

Satou

Stabbed by Tanaka (chpt 6)

Gunshot to head (chpt 9) S

Shot multiple times by Kei (chpt 10)

Stabbed and tossed around by Kei's IBM (chpt 11)

Shot by Tanaka (accidentally) (chpt 15)

Plane crash (chpt 19) S

Shot by SAT (chpt 20)

Shot by SAT (chpt 20)

Shot by SAT (chpt 20)

Shot by SAT (chpt 20)

Shot by SAT (chpt 20)

Shot by SAT (chpt 20)

Shot by SAT (chpt 21)

Shot by SAT (chpt 21)

Shot by SAT (chpt 21)

Shotgun to the chest (chpt 21) S

Diced by wood-chipper (chpt 35) S

Caught in explosion (chpt 36) S

Gunshot to head (chpt38) S

Gunshot to head by Kuroki (chpt 38)

Gunshot to head by Kuroki and Suzumura (chpt 38)

Gunshot to head by Kuroki and Suzumura (chpt 38)

Gunshot to head (chpt 38) S

Gunshot to head (chpt 40) S

Impaled by own IBM (chpt 40) S

Gunshot to head (after severing arm) (chpt 42) S

Jumped off Forge Safety building (chpt 42) S

Gunshot to head by gang members (chpt 47) FIRST DEATH

Decapitation by Takahashi's IBM (chpt 52)

Gunshot to head (assumed) (chpt 54) S

Shot by soldiers (chpt 54)

Shot by soldiers (chpt 54)

Gunshot to head (chpt 54) S

Blown up by C4 (chpt 54) S

Shot by soldiers (after intended suicide detonation) (chpt 55)

Gunshot to head (chpt 57) S

Bomb vest and plance crash (chpt 60) S

Bomb vest and plance crash (chpt 61) S

Bomb vest and plance crash (assumed, offscreen) (chpt 62) S

Bomb vest and plance crash (chpt 65) S

Bomb vest and plance crash (assumed, offscreen) (chpt 65) S

Bomb vest (chpt 71) S

Gunshot to head (after severing arm, assumed) (chpt 71) S

Head trauma/snapped neck from falling from heli after being shot by Manabe (chpt 76)

+40 for deaths from organ harvesting. Satou trades 10 livers, 10 kidneys, and 10 hearts for guns in chapter 8 so that’s at least 10 deaths. I don't think he would ask Tanaka to help given him being freshly released from lab experiments. Nekozawa calls him “a valued client”, it’s implied he’s done this before. Satou needed guns to save Tanaka, but aside from that we don’t know how many times he’s done this. Let’s just add another 30 deaths on top of the 10.

+540 for deaths from repeat killings by SAT. I imagine the SAT encounter until Satou’s recovery was quite fast and lasted at most 5 minutes. Killing Satou at a rate of 2 shots per second means 600 deaths in 5 minutes. Let’s subtract 60 (half a minute of deaths) to account for moments when SAT was distracted by Takahashi’s sniping.

+15 for deaths from fighting with SAT offscreen. Satou is a power house. He takes out at least 5 people for every death of his own. Slapping on an estimated extra 15 deaths from this fight since he was still tuckered out by the end.

+3 for deaths from fighting gang members (chapter 47). Though unarmed against a group of 100+ men, Satou would probably make quick work of these guys since they seem mostly untrained. Slapping on an estimated extra 3 deaths.

+50 for deaths from fighting Iruma Air Base soldiers (chapter 55-57). I’ve had enough of this dude. Let’s just add 50 more for his fight against the army base soldiers since they are highly trained, killing him without restraint, and there are a lot of them. Satou is also visibly weary by the end of it.

Satou total estimated deaths: 44 + 648 = 693

22 suicides, at least 40 estimated suicides

Kei Nagai

Hit by a truck (severed in half yikes) (chpt 1)

Strangled (chpt 2)

Slit throat (chpt 3) S

Bike crash (chpt 6) S

Stab to chest (after torture and dismemberment) (chpt 7)

Dismemberment by lab researchers (assumed) (chpt 8)

Drowned (chpt 12)

Stabbed in the throat (chpt 17) S

Shotgun to the chest (chpt 22)

Assumed reset (head wound from car crash is gone) (chpt 22) S

Shot by Satou via attack helicopter (dream sequence, yeah buckos i'm counting these) (chpt 31)

Assumed reset (hand wound is gone) (chpt  33) S

Caught in explosion caused by Satou (chpt 36)

Gunshot to head by Kou (chpt 39)

Gunshot to head (chpt 39) S

Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 40)

Gunshot to head by Hirasawa (chpt 41)

Gunshot to head by Hirasawa/Kou (after severing both arms) (chpt 42)

Gunshot to head by Hirasawa (chpt 42)

Fell off Forge Safety building (after being shot) (chpt 43)

Hypoxia (chpt 49) FIRST DEATH

Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S

Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S

Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S

Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S

Slit throat (after biting off fingers) (chpt 57) S

Slit throat (assumed, to heal fingers) (chpt 57) S

Gunshot to head (after poped eardrums) (chpt 60) S

Gunshot to head by Anti-Demis (chpt 61)

Plane crash and explosion caused by Satou (chpt 70)

Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 72)

Impaled by own hostile IBM (chpt 72)

Gunshot to head (chpt 77) S

Gunshot to head (missing an arm and impaled on a rod) (chpt  78) S

HIT BY A TRUCK LMAO DUMBASS (chpt 83)

+240 for deaths while in captivity. Using the same metrics as Tanaka, in 10 days Kei died 240 times. Again, this is a very general approximation.

+72 for drowning deaths while adrift for a week (chapter 14). The stages of drowning take between 10-12 minutes. But let's be generous and say Kei either lucked out with calmer waters or manages to stay afloat for longer. So he drowns at a rate of 1 death per hour. Let’s also say Kei was confused and his estimation of being adrift for a week was off (downing consecutively will do that to a man), and he was only in the water for 3 days. I also don’t think he would be floating around for a week, especially if he didn’t make it out of Tokyo Bay.

Kei total estimated deaths: 35 + 312 = 347

15 suicides

Kou Nakano

Jumped out a window (chpt 15) S

Electrocution (chpt 16) S

Bled out (after falling from aparment building, stabbed in the stomach, run over by Tosaki) (chpt 16) S...ish...I’m counting as 0.5

Impaled by Kei's IBM (chpt 16)

Jumped off a cliff (chpt 17) S

Assumed reset (leg wounds from Kei are gone) (chpt 17)

Impaled by Kei's IBM (chpt 25)

Hanging (chpt 26) S

Shot by Satou via attack helicopter (dream sequence) (chpt 31)

Caught in explosion caused by Satou (chpt 36)

Impaled by Tanaka's IBM (chpt 37)

Gunshot to head by Kei (chpt 39)

Gunshot to head by Kei/Hirasawa (assumed) (chpt 41)

Fell off Forge Safety building (semi-accidental) (chpt 42) S, another 0.5

Head trauma (could also be eventual starvation/dehydration) (chpt 43) FIRST DEATH

+200 for deaths from hanging. We are doing a lot of assuming, so let’s continue that trend. Let’s say Kou would only hang himself for 5 hours a day after training and before bed. Let’s also say they had approximately two weeks of training. To account for extra training, rest time, and Kou generally not feeling up for dying on repeat, we’ll assume out of the two weeks, Kou only used 10 days. Where am I getting these numbers? My gut tells me so (source: trust me bro).

Short drop hanging takes 10-20 minutes for complete brain death. Let's take the middle road and say 15 minutes. So on average, 4 deaths per hour. 4 x 5 x 10 = 200 deaths.

Kou total estimated deaths: 15 + 200 = 215

5 suicides, 200 estimated suicides

Kou and Satou were really hard to estimate for, but we powered through lads.

Izumi Shimomura

Impaled by Tanaka's IBM (chpt 4)

Head trauma (chpt 27)

Untreated illness/STD (chpt 27) FIRST DEATH

Fell off a building with Satou's IBM (dream sequence) (chpt 31)

Bled out (after losing an arm fighting Tanaka) (chpt 39)

Gunshot to head by Tosaki (assumed) (chpt 41)

Hit by car (chpt 56) S

Shot in the throat (chpt 56)

Gunshot to head by Satou (chpt 78)

I’m assuming Izumi didn’t die after Tosaki hired her since she wasn’t being researched nor was it likely she needed to die for Tosaki as a bodyguard.

Izumi total estimated deaths: 9

1 suicide

Takahashi

Sniper shot to the head (chpt 21)

Sniper shot to the head (chpt 21)

Sniper shot to the head (chpt 21)

Gunshot to head by Gen (chpt 33)

Assumed reset (shot by Satou) (chpt 37)

Gunshot to head by Anti-Demis (chpt 66)

Takahashi total estimated deaths: 6 + 1 = 7

Masumi Okuyama

Carbon dioxide poisoning (chpt 32) S

Electrocution (chpt 32) S

Assumed reset (shot by Satou) (chpt 37)

Improvised explosive device (chpt 58) S

Okuyama total estimated deaths: 4 + 1 = 5

3 suicides

Shinya Nakamura

Motorcycle crash (accidental beheading) (chpt 9.5) FIRST DEATH

Gunshot to head (chpt 9.5)

Shinya total estimated deaths: 2

Reiji Akiyama

Bled out (after being harpooned and fighting Tanaka's IBM) (chpt 15)

Akiyama total estimated deaths: 1 + 1 = 2

Satou detractor (with the cross-body bag)

Bled out (shot in spleen by Tanaka) (chpt 15)

Total estimated deaths: 1 + 1 = 2

Satou collaborator (with the two IBMs)

Sliced in half after pushed off building by Izumi (chpt 63)

Total estimated deaths: 1 + 1 = 2

Himeko Tachibana

Satou's plane crash (chpt 65) FIRST DEATH

Total estimated deaths: 1

Kai

Gunshot through throat by Satou (chpt 72)

Total estimated deaths: 1

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FOUR

04 : BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM. : beginning new things is always fun. getting to know your sons, them finally being able to experience having a loving mother, sirius going to school, and you planning for everything that was yet to come so that everyone gets to the happy ending they deserve. 

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; orion being a bad father ; original walburga being a nuisance ; reader being an amazing mother and an amazing cook ; regulus has food preferences ; brotherhood between sirius and regulus ; marauders spotted in the wild ; sirius and regulus being precious babies ; reader disrespecting walburga ; mentions of infertility ; mentions of divorce ; lots of future planning

← PREV. 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) | SERIES M.LIST

9th August 1971 

It, surprisingly, took very little to get past Orion on the topic of changing Sirius and Regulus’ private tutors. However, when you truly looked at his workaholic tendencies, your initial surprise should have been the more startling reaction — of course, he wouldn’t care, he’s too fixated on the happenings with his position on the Wizengamot to be aware of much else, discounting the protective wards he put up around the property. Nevertheless, it was good news for you and your boys. Finally, they would be getting more suitable tutors, who catered to their learning needs in a more digestible way. You had only recently sent out the notice, though, so you don’t expect many replies to be coming in soon. Your only wish was to have fallen into this universe sooner, that way you would have had more time with Sirius before he left to attend Hogwarts as a first year. 

Walburga didn’t have a formal occupation other than monitor her boys so having Sirius leave for his first year would mean less work for her and, subsequently, you. However, it’s not as if she needed the money; she’s the matriarch of an incredibly privileged family, meaning that her financial worries are close to non-existent. Both, the affluent family fortune and her lack of professional ambitions have you stumped, it’s something you’re not used to at all. Perhaps that’s why she’s so obsessed with control and the activity of her two sons; it’s not healthy and you don’t even want to attempt to understand what she was thinking—

“Of course you won’t!” Walburga snarls from the depths of your consciousness, her tone dripping with malice and a hint of something sinister. “I don’t expect someone who failed at becoming a mother to understand the right and true tribulations of bringing up children,” 

“…how did you know that?” you ask aloud, no longer satisfied with simply trying to call for the bitch - Walburga’s - attention in your head. She didn’t seem to want to reply, which only made your blood boil; her prolonged silence, the trigger to releasing your rapidly escalating rage.  How dare she?! How dare she strike you where it hurts the most, only to turn completely unresponsive when you demand answers, “Answer me!”  Thick tensions fill the room when she does not answer, the silence suffocating and poisonous. Taking a slow, deep breath, you engage control over your anxious heart and trembling hands once more. 

Work. You need work. Something to focus on so that you don’t dwell on memories that will only bring you heartache. It worked before so it’ll work for you now. It had worked so well, in fact, that you were able to build an empire out of it, perhaps you could replicate the same results this time. 

“Screw you then, ugly pig, I have more important matters to attend to anyway,” pulling out a drawer, you scatter your notes across the desk and move with fretful fever but, also, enthusiasm above them. No matter the change of environment, you can always trust in your habits to push you forward. Walburga mainly worked on keeping the boys in line as the official matriarch of the Black household but that’s all her world revolved around, she had no hobbies or any close friends other than her relatives whom she communicated with, somewhat, regularly. With a guilty ache in your chest, you kept a gradually growing stack of letters in the bottom-most drawer of the hard oak desk, not yet knowing how to respond to people you barely knew. However, you suppose their relations to a character like Walburaga make it slightly easier to ignore their communications. The affiliation doesn’t warrant your precious time. If you could send a passive-aggressive email, you might be more willing, but the extended process of having to write out the letters and then send them via owl wasn’t worthwhile. 

The priority on your list of important affairs is ensuring your boys’ happy and safe future. Sirius will not have to choose between Regulus and his friends, he will not suffer being blasted off the family tree, he will not have to be ashamed of his family, he will not have to witness his close friend’s death through another’s betrayal, and he will not be forced to go to Azkaban. Similarly, Regulus will not have to suffer Sirius abandoning him, he will not have to face his prejudicial parents alone, he will not be forced into getting the dark mark, he will not have to make the sacrifice he had to make at such a young age, he will not die a miserable and lonely death, and he will not be forgotten! You will make sure of it. 

Coming into the world as a Harry Potter and Marauders fan, you’re well-equipped with all the knowledge required to make the right decisions. The only problem is that the Marauders era has been a largely vague timeline that most of the fandom filled in for themselves so you’ll have to tread carefully. This will require meticulous planning, a steady rise to power and a conglomeration of useful allies to help set your plans into motion. Modern-day knowledge and business etiquette will serve you well here. You’ve survived toxic work environments, won in the race to riches, and dealt with all manner of manipulative, sexist swine you could ever think to encounter. If you play your cards right, you’re sure to win. 

“As if a muggle like you could conquer the wizarding world!” Walburga finally makes her appearance once again. And, of course, it’s for the sake of belittling you whilst making your head throb painfully from her distasteful screeches. 

“Shut up,” you hiss unapologetically, resisting the urge to smirk, “Unlike you, I know the future—” breathing the words aloud brings a blaring, singular thought to the front of your mind. The vision you witnessed at the Owl Emporium replays in your head once more…

How in the world did Walburga know about the biting habit of Sirius’ future owl?… 

Several moments pass achingly slow as you anticipate the aggravating screeching of Walburga to return. When no such wailing occurs or interrupts your train of thought, your mind immediately begins to spiral. 

How could Walburga remember being at the Emporium, shopping for Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts when she had yet to go shopping with him in the first place? They couldn’t have already gone, right? Orion would have said something if they were being inefficient enough to go a second time. That or the boys would have definitely made some comment… 

This felt like an urgent matter that needed your immediate attention but you had to prioritise other things for now. It’s not like the original Walburga was going to give you the answers you needed so it wasn’t any use pressing on the matter. It’s best to turn your focus and efforts elsewhere. Peering back at your scattered notes, you raise your newly acquired wand and utter the crafting spell you had learned recently. 

“Libeligare,” As you wave your wand over the desk, activity springs forth. In a flurry of animated pages and whistling currents in the air, your disordered notes compile themselves appropriately before binding themselves into a fresh notebook. It doesn’t have a hard cover and you debate on transfiguring a decorative letter set piece into one but think against it. This will do nicely for the moment. 

Finally, all your detailed plans are in one place. 

10th August 1971 

With nothing better to do and desperate for a decent meal, you address the home-cooked meals situation. Every dish served at the Black household was so unappetising and bland, that you couldn’t believe that the family was one of the most influential and richest families to exist in the wizarding world. You’re beginning to believe that the Blacks were the type of family to indulge in unpalatable spreads with the reasoning that they refuse to eat the same meals as those lesser than them. How childish. Even in your city-centre penthouse, you ordered take-out frequently and ate ordinary home-cooked meals that were comforting and warm. The memories make you compare all the meals you’ve had in Grimmauld Place and blanch abhorrently. This wouldn’t do, especially for your growing boys. They need to be well-fed so that they grow up healthy and strong. 

“Mistress!” Kreacher shrieks behind you, making you jump and spin around all at once. The hunched-over house elf dashes through the kitchen space clumsily and with much vigour, he pulls painfully at his drooping ears as his eyes bulge out from seeing you, his mistress, the matriarch, in the kitchen cooking! Without magic! 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kreacher,” you chuckle softly and turn back to your food prep, “I’m just trying to cook an easy breakfast for my boys,” if you could truly have it your way then you would cook enough only for you and your two darling sons to eat. Orion would have to sort his own plate. But you’re not divorced yet so you suppose this is a compromise you’ll have to make. 

“I-It is not mistress’ job, let Kreacher do it—!” the house elf, reaches forward to take the kitchen utensils from you but you’re too swift. 

“I want to cook the food Kreacher,” you argue and continue pottering about the kitchen as if it was just another Tuesday morning, all while Kreacher follows you around helplessly. He’s clearly stuck between letting you have your way or forcing you to let him cook instead. Both felt wrong in different ways considering his position as the house elf, and he was brought to a standstill. The poor guy looked ready to throw himself off a cliff from the indecision and panic.  

Having sympathy for the elf, you call to him over your shoulder, “Kreacher can you please pass me the eggs?” this feels like a good even ground to dance on. Soon enough you’ll be teaching Kreacher how to finally relax. Kreacher appeared happy to finally be doing something but as soon as he hesitantly handed over the eggs, he was back to being anxious all over again. Even though you are the matriarch of the household, you supposed you’ll have to share the kitchen with a very distressed house elf for the foreseeable future. 

For the rest of the morning, you’ve asked Kreacher to help you with crisping up the beacon, cleaning the mushrooms, opening up the can of beans, toasting the bread and laying out the table. No more tasteless, boring porridge for breakfast with no toppings, today you’re serving a Full English. Admiring the spread, you thank Kreacher for his assistance before undoing your apron and putting the finishing touches to the dining table just as the rest of the family make it down for breakfast. 

“What is all this?” Orion asks in slight surprise when catching sight of breakfast for the day, “Is today very important?”

“No,” nonchalance keeps your tone controlled just as your precious babies walk through the door and hop into their designated seats at the table, one more enthusiastic than the other, “I’m just tired of plain old porridge every day,”

“Porridge is delicious,” Orion defends.

“Every day?” from the look in his eyes, you don’t know whether or not you’ve bested him so turn a serene smile his way instead, “I can always ask Kreacher to make you porridge if you really want,” 

Orion takes a moment to observe the full, vibrant plate of bacon, toast, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, sausages, black pudding, scrambled eggs and beans. If he takes any longer to play indecisive, the food will get cold and your precious babies are waiting on his dainty, princess-ass to make a decision— can you hurry the fuck up?! you want to scream at him. Every meal is started after his first bite (the pretentious, narcissistic douche) so he needs to make up his mind quickly or else you’ll lose yours waiting around! 

“…it’ll be a waste, this will do,” he finally picks up his knife and fork to begin eating and you have to reign yourself in before you roll your eyes too noticeably at his conceited behaviour. Your babies behave better than him. The prick! 

Turning to your boys, you observe Sirius and Regulus digging into their own meals before finally taking a bite out of yours. It felt good to see their eyes light up like that, especially Sirius’ — it makes you want to giggle at how obviously he had been wanting to devour his beans and toast the instant he laid eyes on them. 

Breakfast continues pleasantly as everyone enjoys their meal until you begin to notice some peculiar movement in the corner of your eye. You try to be as subtle as you can, considering the uncommon calm that has fallen over the dining table; it isn’t usually this comfortable around the table so you wanted to preserve the ambience as much as possible. The source of your curious gaze was Sirius and Regulus. 

Covertly, Regulus sneaks spoonfuls of his scrambled eggs onto Sirius’ plate, who proceeds to eat up his younger brother’s share as quickly as possible. Regulus was doing this willingly despite this morning’s breakfast being the first appetising meal he’s had yet. It won’t be the last either. However, from the way Sirius is scarfing down the food whilst trying to remain as silent as possible, it wouldn’t be surprising if Sirius eventually suffers from a stomachache later on. You wonder what could be the matter with the scrambled eggs. Was the seasoning off? Kreacher helped taste test every element of the meal and gave his stellar praise for your unrealised culinary skills so you’re more than a bit confused at the scene. After swallowing all remnants of food in your mouth, you gently raise a question. 

“Regulus?” your youngest freezes up immediately, making your brows furrow but still, you continue in a soft voice, “What’s wrong?” Deep in your chest, you feel your heart clench in worry at the deer-in-headlights expression plastered across Regulus’ cherubic face. 

You are met with only silence, “do you not like your eggs, darling?” you try meeting your youngest’s eyes but he’s terrified to even face your direction. Instead, he’s firmly steered his gaze down to his lap and keeps it there, frozen in place. 

There’s a slam of the table and everyone stiffens. At the head, Orion stares disapprovingly at Regulus, who begins to tremble like a leaf, “How rude!” the patriarch spits with such force and bite that his saliva lands halfway down the lengthy dining table. He’s so scandalised by his son’s behaviour that the cold from his freezing gaze drops the temperature in the room lower than it already is. “How many times have we talked about this Regulus? Finish your plate at once or else it’ll be the last meal you eat today!”

“He’s not being rude!” you counter, flying out of your seat and making your way to Regulus, “And he shouldn’t be forced to eat something he doesn’t like nor punished harshly for disliking something,” Crouching down, you position yourself to block Orion from Regulus’ line of sight despite his frightened doe-eyes remaining transfixed on his lap. His small hands are turned into small, knuckle-white fists, gripping fiercely at the fabric of his trousers. A paralysed statue of fear incarnate, your little boy doesn’t deserve this! If you could ‘Avada Kedavra’ Orion’s pathetic, prissy ass, you would in a heartbeat. 

From your peripheral, you notice how Sirius had placed a comforting hand over one of Regulus’ closed fists and the sight made your heart bloom with pride and joy — seeing how well they take care of each other was so heartwarming. “Tell me what’s wrong, Reg…I promise I won’t get mad,” you make sure to keep your voice in a low whisper so that only your son can hear but also loud enough that Orion’s distant grumbling is disguised. 

“Do you not like eggs?” your prompting remains gentle and patient, hoping for a fraction of understanding. That’s all you really want. 

Sensing no antagonistic feeling in your tone, Regulus finally wills himself to speak, although barely audible from insecurity, “I….I don’t like scrambled eggs…”

“No? What about them don’t you like?”

"They feel weird in my mouth, I don’t like chewing them,” he explains shyly, his confession dripping with shame. His grey eyes look into your own remorsefully and, before he can utter an apology, he is stopped by the shaking of your head.

Smiling warmly, you pat his small hand and voice your reassurance, “That’s a reasonable preference to have. Do you not like the texture?” Regulus nods in confirmation as his small, tense shoulders slowly ease up, “Do you not like eggs at all or do you like them cooked in a particular way?” 

Regulus’ eyes widen with surprise. Never before had his mother been so attentive to his preferences like this. On the contrary, His mother was always the first to make him feel embarrassed for his picky tendencies when it came to food, especially over dishes that make him lose his appetite entirely, oysters and shellfish being the main culprit. He really didn’t like them at all. Many times, they were the appetiser to multiple-course meals hosted by pureblood, elitist wizarding families so Walburga was determined to season her son’s palettes early on in life. It was good etiquette to eat such foods and to know how to eat them properly. If he didn’t display appropriate dinner etiquette at the table then he is lesser, he is unworthy of the Black family name and blood running through his veins, he is unbecoming of his heritage, he is a disgrace— 

“I can cook eggs in many other ways,” you suggest thoughtfully, voice remaining soft and comforting, “I can fry them for you? Or I can boil them? Do you like your yolk runny or firm?” 

Regulus, spurred on by your softly placed questions feels the corners of his lips tug upwards, “fried eggs, please…”

His innocuous answer makes you beam, “with a runny or firm yolk, darling?”

“Runny, please,” Regulus finds your bright expression infectious and begins to smile a little wider too. Over the slope of his little brother’s small shoulders, Sirius is grinning from ear to ear; finally, Regulus isn’t going to be forced to eat something he doesn’t enjoy. The elation makes Sirius’ chest swell as his heart pinches slightly at the memory of his little brother retching up the contents of his stomach in the bathroom. Those disastrous, past meals started badly and they ended badly too. Peering at you with smiling eyes, Sirius knows that he won’t need to worry about that any more. 

“Of course, right away," you’re eager to leave and fix up Regulus’ plate but you also worry about leaving him with Orion at the dinner table; your husband wasn’t too pleased with Regulus having preferences — the pretentious prick could choke on his food and die for all you cared, “how about we go to the kitchen together?” you offer smoothly as you begin to stand, “that way, you can watch me cook and make sure I do them just the way you like it,” smiling brightly, Regulus nods and easily offers his hand for you to hold, “Siri, would you like to come?” if one brother was coming with you so was the other.  

“Yes please!” Sirius happily walks to the kitchen, hand-in-hand with Regulus, whose other hand is fully wrapped up in your own. 

From the head of the table, Orion stares with his mouth agape at what he had just been a witness to. What was happening to his wife?! 

11th August 1971 

Sirius and Regulus stand by the fireplace, waving off their newly appointed private tutor as they floo away before eagerly making their way to your home office. Usually, their session catch-ups would make the two freeze up and drag their feet along the plush carpets of their family’s proud home but not now. Ever since your irregular activities leading up to your fainting spell and subsequent switch in demeanour, they’ve felt safer and happier at home. But only around you, their father still frightened them. The patriarch’s grey eyes swirled with a mounting turbulence that they would greatly prefer to avoid so they quickly make themselves scarce around him but not around their mother. Not anymore.

“I can’t wait to show Mother my cursive practice,” Regulus has a skip in his step as he walks beside his older brother, who beams at him proudly. 

“Yeah, you’re getting really good at that Reggie,” Sirius praises, a slightly envious tone edging into his words, but it all remained playful, “say, how do you do your swirls so good?”

“Practise!” 

Sirius rolls his eyes at his younger brother’s cheek, “There has to be a secret to it that I don’t know about,” Regulus only giggles at his older brother’s shortcomings. This had been a rare happiness to experience at 12 Grimmauld Place but, gradually, it was becoming common between the two brothers. Suddenly the walls weren’t so drab, the furniture not as boring and the decorations not as hauntingly placed. The atmosphere was much brighter as sunlight always seemed to pour magnanimously in from the windows.

“Sorry Siri,” from Regulus’ free-flowing, tuneful words, he isn’t sorry at all but Sirius can never will up any hatred for his younger brother. They’ve been through it all together and now that their recent joys were also being shared, of course, they would partake in harmless teasing — teasing that was usually frowned upon by their mother but was no longer a worry. They can’t remember the last time their mother frowned — the two greatly prefer this new version of their mother’s expressions much more.

As they approach your office door, the brothers’ footfalls quicken and they barely catch themselves from bursting through the door without knocking. But not before they catch sight of your figure through the crack of the doorway. Curious about your activity, Sirius hushes his younger brother softly and holds him back so that he can lean forward to observe your figure closely. Inspired by his older brother’s nosiness, Regulus leans forward also and the two peer at you through the doorway crack. 

You’re not at your desk but are, instead, seated on the plush, cushioned seats of the emerald sofa placed in front of your desk. Black robes and other familiar attire are piled up beside you on one side while the other gradually assembles the neatly folded aftermath of your sewing…embroidery? Was there even a difference? Nevertheless, you had a needle and thread in hand without your wand or the use of magic in sight!

“Mother’s sewing your name tags herself,” Regulus concludes in a whisper following a muted gasp of surprise. 

Sirius’ eyes widen ever so slightly, “and she’s not using magic…” he doesn’t know how skilled you are at sewing but Sirius doesn’t care, the gesture alone is enough to make his chest swell. Even his face began to warm up from the heat climbing up his neck as it tried reaching his ears. 

“…do you think she’ll sew my name tags too? When I start my first year, I mean…” Regulus asks shyly, the clear insecurity in his timid voice making Sirius slightly defensive. 

“Of course, she will,” he huffs before grinning widely, “and if we tear up our uniform ‘accidentally’ I’m sure she’ll sew those up herself too!” Regulus doesn’t know whether he likes or dislikes his brother’s train of thought but smiles anyway; he’s just happy thinking about his mother paying as much attention and care to his first-year robes too. He can’t wait until he starts attending Hogwarts as well. 

Finally willing themselves to stop eavesdropping and return to their earlier task, Sirius and Regulus straighten their posture before knocking on the heavy wooden door. They don’t have to wait terribly long for an answering call to grant their entrance. 

“Come in,” you set your tools aside and smile when the door reveals your babies stepping into your office, “hello, my darlings,” from your periphery, you spot the time on the clock face and jump into conversation with them, “how was your tutoring session? Did you like your new tutor?” 

“Yeah!” the two answer simultaneously and with the same amount of enthusiasm — it makes you smile with content. Happiness looks good on them; their characters shine brighter and their faces are more child-like. They’re honestly the cutest little boys you’ve ever seen and now they’re your sons to love and protect.  

“That’s wonderful news,” you open your arms for each of them to jump into, “Tell me all about it,” you’re just about to magic away the robes and sewing equipment so that they can sit beside you but not before you spot Sirius inspecting your handiwork, “I’m afraid I’m not the best seamstress,” your confession comes out bashfully, “I should have had Madam Malkins sew the tags on for me—”

“No!—” Sirius interrupts, looking almost offended that you would consider such a thing, “I like your sewing,” you raise a brow and, together with Regulus, inspect your uneven, treasure map trail of stitches before turning to the eldest brother once more. 

“Are you sure, darling?”

“Yeah, only you can do the stitching on my uniform, no one else,” his firm answer makes your embarrassed expression melt into a warm smile.

“Alright then,”

“Thank you, Mother,” he gives you another hug that you happily return. 

“You’re welcome, my dear,”

Looking over your plans, you sigh in restrained frustration. This is going to be a little hard. Yes, you know what to do but it’s all about recruiting the right people, trustworthy people and ones who are right for the role you’re choosing to give them. There’s a lot on your plate too, with your most urgent goal being divorce. You’re convinced that it isn’t going to be easy, considering the controversies that will surround the separation of a prominent wizarding house. The laws surrounding marriage, divorce and custody at this time are also largely unknown to you. Thankfully, you’ve had the privilege of living in a modern ‘muggle’ society where marriage and custody laws were pretty equal and fair. Perhaps there’s a book you can read up on about these things. For now, it’s a safe bet to say that custody will favour Orion as a man in the 1970s — it’s better to over-prepare than be underprepared for any outcome. 

Despite the importance of this particular undertaking, you’ll have to wait until both, Sirius and Regulus, are attending Hogwarts to commence the divorce proceedings. You don’t want your boys to be front-row witnesses nor do you want them to rollercoaster through the typical, rough emotions of children caught up in their parents’ divorce. You’ve been through that already… and you barely made it out on the other side. You’re an adult and they’re just children; if you can protect them from the brunt of it, you will.

A stray thought pushes forward into your consciousness — it would be too optimistic to confidently wager on the boys siding with you. Although under abusive parenting, children are very loyal and you’re benefiting from that loyalty now; even though Walburga was incredibly cruel to her sons, they were still eager to give you a chance as soon as you took over and began treating them kindly. You need to be cautious. The silver lining of it all is that you’ll, at least, have some time to prepare affluently before starting the separation process. That, on its own, however, will require another bout of planning.  

Saving Regulus is another priority on your list. That requires getting rid of the Horcruxes and killing off snake-faced Voldy but you don’t want to be too hands-on with that, especially because you’re not very adept at casting spells yet — there’ll be more experienced and more willing people (Aurors) who would be able to handle this type of mission. All you have to do is pull the right strings and connect with the right people. Eyeing another task on your list, you spot a small connection and smirk to yourself. The nib of your quill dips into a pot of ink and bridges two of your obligations. 

“This could be quite beneficial on both ends,” if you play your cards right…

Making some more careful notes, you gradually begin to piece everything together. But then there’s the issue of Sirius being sent to Azkaban. It’s healthy to have faith in yourself but if someone’s life and wellbeing are in danger, especially if it’s your son’s, you need to have a second, third and fourth plan at the ready. There needs to be a second, third and fourth plan for Regulus as well. Luck and misfortune will always have some influence on the dice you roll, there will never be an exception to that. You’ve learned this enough times in your previous life already, not just in business but everything else too. 

Your quill stops and rests beside your plans as the cogs in your brain turn with more purpose. Sirius still needs to become an animagus and Regulus needs to learn how to be a strong enough swimmer so that he can cast a spell to repel the Inferi. It would be beneficial if they both become well-equipped in duelling. That’ll require your lack of interference (maybe even your support) until Sirius’ fifth year, getting Regulus sorted with swimming lessons and encouraging both on their Defence Against the Dark Arts skills. You make a quick note of both solutions and their reasoning before linking both back to your list of obligations. 

The progress you’re making with these intervention plans is making headway. You just hope that you won’t tip the scales too far so that what little control you currently have slips right through your fingers and you’ll be left floundering. 

20th August 1971

You’ve fully taken over the cooking for all meals and your boys are looking much healthier. It warms your heart every time you see them happily eating your cooking, it was hard work keeping up with the pantry inventory, planning meals and catering to their individual tastes but it was good work that filled your heart with so much content, you hardly felt the fatigue creeping into your bones. 

Regulus isn’t a picky eater, he simply has a preference for some foods over others. He doesn’t like his eggs scrambled, only fried and with a runny yolk; he can’t stomach oysters or shellfish; he doesn’t like pulp in his juice and he’d rather eat a raw onion than have any trace of offal trimmings in his food. 

Sirius can practically eat anything and does so healthily, however, he’s more of a savoury person, leaving Regulus to own the sweet tooth palette by himself. Both adore cheese and you often create mini charcuterie boards for them to snack on. It was so adorable. There was plenty of time on your schedule to assign towards aesthetic food presentation so you’ve mastered the creation of salami roses. You’ve also found that Sirius prefers caramelised onion chutney to go with his mature cheeses whilst Regulus goes for a sweeter fig chutney. 

Currently, you were making them their own mini charcuterie boards. Both were displayed on a circular board with their favourite chutney at the very centre, held in a small ceramic container. And, with decorative prowess, you place their selection of meats, cheeses, crackers and grapes around it. 

“Do they look good Kreacher?” the house elf peers over the countertop surface and gives an affirming nod with a barely noticeable smile. 

“The young masters will be very happy, Mistress,” helpfully he suggests bringing the carefully prepared boards and crust-less finger sandwiches up to the boys’ study room for you but you shake your head. 

“Thank you, Kreacher, but I think I’ll bring up the food this time,” you’ve met their new private tutor several times already but she was always so tense around you; you’re determined to improve her impression through some good old exposure therapy. “Please prepare some tea and bring it up as soon as you’re done,” with your wand and a softly uttered ‘locomotor charcuterie boards and sandwiches’, the items lift into the air just slightly and you begin to move them out of the kitchen. 

“What tea should Kreacher be brewin’ this noon, Mistress?” 

“Oolong would be lovely today. Be sure to brew some Earl grey for Orion too but deliver the Oolong to us first please,” Kreacher’s struggles with your utterance of the polite ‘please’ persists but he continues with his set tasks regardless. The hunched-over house elf has noticed you’ve been prioritising the young masters much more than Orion recently; whenever you want to do something thoughtful, you always think of your sons first. Only last minute do you finally remember your workaholic husband and leave the snack preparations for Kreacher to fulfil and deliver alone. It’s a peculiar shift in attention, the wrinkled elf admits, but seeing his young master Regulus so happy, he doesn’t complain. Kreacher also admits that he’s growing a slight, mutual fondness for the elder Black brother, the two share in their love for Regulus and loyalty to you; now they’ve become friendly acquaintances. The house elf is a little happier and much more willing than ever before to stay loyal to his mistress and young masters’ sides. And Master Orion too, of course.   

Making your way up the stairs, the pretentious cow stuck in your head makes her presence known with inconsequential complaints.

“You’re spoiling those boys far too much!” Walburga shrieks and immediately makes your temples pound, “Sirius and Regulus don’t need this much attention, if you continue this they’re going to grow up soft and weak and unable to carry on the Black family name with the proper dignity and class!” For the sake of avoiding the horrid healing potion Kreacher’s having you consume after every fainting spell, you’ve been training yourself to build up as much resistance to her incessantly obnoxious yapping as much as possible — you’re getting there but you still need some practise. Currently, you are traversing the stairs so you’re taking every step with extra caution.

“Bitches should be seen and not heard,” her confounded gasp doesn’t escape you, “so kindly shut the fuck up,” the sarcastic cheerfulness in your tone makes her gasp once more and, like a coward, makes herself scarce. It seems as though you’ve gotten better at shutting the shrew up but she has yet to acclimatise herself to your shameless disrespect towards her.  Hopefully, she never gets used to your comments; it’s always such a pleasure being able to render her utterly speechless. 

With a pleased smile, you give a soft knock on the boys’ study room before entering. The boys gasp happily as soon as they see the levitating charcuterie boards and the plateful of crust-less sandwiches float closer and closer. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I think you all deserve a lunch break,” the boys cheer and happily dig in while you face their tutor with a small smile, “please feel free to have as many sandwiches as you want, we have plenty on offer,” her smile is hesitant and slightly trembles under your hold so she’s quick to look away and fix her focus onto the plate of sandwiches — her own, personal reprieve from having to interact with you.

Peony Knight. She’s an incredibly timid individual who seems to be in her element only when teaching children rather than in the company of said children’s adult parents — she has yet to look you in the eye for an extended period. Her head is an organised plight of feathery, strawberry-blonde hair and her eyes are a pair of opal pendants, so brilliantly blue but incandescent with a kaleidoscope of other jewel colours. Her resume was astounding but her family wasn’t very notable so you could only imagine her surprise when she received your response to her application with a test run of her skills. It was important to you that she comes from an uncommon house and family, you didn’t want to draw too much attention over switching tutors. At her tutoring trial run, she started very shaky but eventually found her confidence when focusing on your two boys rather than your lurking figure from the corner of the study. She was a good runner-up and quickly became the perfect choice when your boys showed favour towards her – the other candidates appeared to have been more affected by your presence in the room and taught the way they thought you wanted them to. 

“She’s nice and patient,” Regulus commented when you went to him after her trial lesson. 

“I like the way she explains things,” Sirius added beside him. 

That was all you needed to hire her as their private tutor. Peony’s timidity of you as an authority figure played in her favour very well.  

Hidden within a thick pile of stacked parchments and a small mountain of miscellaneous scrolls, you found Walburga’s carefully curated curriculum for the boys and handed it over to Peony. Walburga would know better than you what would be useful for her sons to learn. However, you were surprised at the amount of ‘muggle’ topics on her curated list. Admittedly, you were only expecting foundational wizarding lessons maybe on wands or classic pureblood etiquette so your shock was justified. Walburga’s reaction, however, wasn’t.  

“I teach them proper pureblood etiquette myself, you useless girl! And how can I expect my sons to grow up well if they aren’t taught the basics?! They’ll be able to advance as better wizards of the Black family that way. Moreover, muggles stick to and remain in the basics so don’t get smug with me, you filthy mud-blood!” Walburga screeched without restraint and with much offence after your initial revelation, leading to another fainting spell — the disgusting bitch…

In addition to Peony’s private tutoring, you’ve taken to providing your own private lessons to the boys, much to their surprise and slight hesitancy. However, as soon as you began the extended lessons after their usual morning session with Peony one day, they’ve since grown to love it. This didn’t happen every time, however, only on Tuesdays and Fridays. Today was one of those days, a Friday, and you’re so excited to see their reactions to what you have planned. 

Their schedules typically consist of Peony coming over a couple of hours before noon and she teaches them for two or three hours sessions every day except weekends. Mondays were for English language and literature (wizard and muggle), Tuesdays were for Economics, Numeracy and Financial literacy, Wednesdays were for French and Cursive handwriting practice, Thursdays were for muggle sciences (basic biology, physics and chemistry) and Fridays were for history and philosophy (wizard and muggle).

You reserve the fun lessons for your boys with yourself as their teacher. These were composed of lessons that typically challenged their problem-solving, creativity and other fundamental skills to set them up with a good foundation for school and life in general. This included fun puzzle-solving, art (in every medium the boys wanted), some written/scenario problem-solving and role-play scenarios. The first Friday you did this, you had the boys act out from rough, child-friendly scripts you drafted inspired by the Shakespearian play, Macbeth. It seemed like an innocuous lesson but you wanted to gauge their ethical understandings and reasonings. 

Throughout the scenes, you would spontaneously make them freeze frame to ask prompting questions that typically go along the lines of, ‘what would you do in this situation?’, ‘do think that was the right thing to do?’, and ‘why did you think your character did this even though they knew it was wrong?’. Both engaged very well with their own perspectives on the situation. 

At one point they got into a small argument that you needed to break up due to slightly differing standpoints on the scenario. It became slightly more heated than you expected but you were thankful for the opportunity to teach them how to communicate well with each other despite their differences. The lesson ended after that because tensions were still high and they were equally very stubborn about who should apologise first. 

It was going to take more than one lesson to be able to make them understand the rules and the importance of healthy communication, but that was to be expected. This was just the beginning so you’re hoping that if you stay consistent with fostering their ethical reasoning, communication and problem-solving skills, they will be able to remain brotherly despite their opposing Hogwarts houses. In the end, you made them apologise at the same time (to the count of three) and had them hug it out before telling them to say one thing they like about the other person. Evidently, they weren’t used to your new way of doing things and making amends but they (grumpily) did as they were told — and looked absolutely adorable doing it, their pouty faces were too much to bear! 

Approaching the two boys indulging in their individual charcuterie boards and occasionally exchanging bites of their share, you kneel between them and begin pleasant conversations about their current lesson. 

“Are you two having fun so far?” you could practically see Peony stiffen up like cement behind you, just from the telling gasp she lets out in the background. Being so high-strung isn’t going to be good for her health so you hope she gets used to your presence soon enough. You do feel slightly apologetic for her but she needs to know that people can change no matter how drastically. Hopefully, she takes this opportunity to grow some confidence in herself too. Someone so intelligent should walk with broader shoulders and a higher chin. 

“Yeah! Did you know Pythagoras had a cult?” Sirius was practically bouncing in his chair.

“No, he had a school of very intelligent mathematicians and musicians,” Regulus countered after swallowing his bite of cracker, cheese and grapes. 

Sirius rolls his eyes but immediately jumps into another topic, “he discovered the theory of pitch which is surprising coming from a guy who’s scared of beans,” he cracks himself up laughing at the statement.

Again, Regulus interjects in defence of the philosopher, “he wasn’t scared of beans,” the two brothers exchange narrowed stares, “He just believed that beans were the vessels for dead people’s souls and didn’t want to disrespect them by running through a bean field,” a small argument ensues but you don’t act, instead, you watch as a bystander in the hopes that your presence alone can keep them in check. If you ever feel the need to jump in at some point, you will. 

All too well, Sirius and Regulus remain aware of your lingering attendance to their quarrel and make the silent agreement to not escalate things too far. For a moment, they share a knowing look after briefly glancing your way and glaring at each other once again. You watch them huff and inhale a slow, shaky breath. They actively turn their voices down whilst continuing with their argument. It didn’t seem to go anywhere but both concluded it with less heat and more of a calm acknowledgement of each other’s differing sides. 

“Two people can have different opinions and still be friends. They only need to respect that the other person holds a different view and that it doesn’t make them a bad person,” they remembered your sage advice from their first extracurricular lesson with you. It was a massive shift in perspective to their growing minds and the impact it had on both of them was enough to permanently imprint the message into their heads.  

Unprompted, you lean forward and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, Sirius first and then Regulus, “I’m so proud of you two,” you watch as their cherubic cheeks flush an adorable, pink hue. Sirius scratches the back of his head bashfully whilst Regulus fiddles with his pen, both of them equally biting back a small smile from the praise, “you remembered what I taught you,” they look upon your elated smile with shy fulfilment as they nod slightly. “Another person’s opposing opinions might be something we don’t share or appreciate as much as they do but…” they lean forward ever so slightly, wanting to consciously heed your elaboration on the topic, “hearing or witnessing a different view will expand our perspective on the world and help us grow as people. We need to keep an open mind for these sorts of things because they can teach us so much. It might be hard to do sometimes, but I want to ask you two for a small favour,” they nod silently, not questioning or hesitating at your words, fully trusting in your sensible knowledge — their mother was always a brick wall when it came to the opinions of others, they couldn’t penetrate her, especially when it came to opposite views on blood purity so, to see her encouraging such undogmatic behaviour, is peculiar but in a strangely motivating way. They find that they want to do whatever it is that you want to ask them to do no matter what, “I want the two of you to try to understand the other side of any argument or opposite view. The world isn’t as black and white as we think it is. We have to try to be understanding and empathetic people. There may be reasons someone sees the world a certain way and even if we don’t agree or like their opinion, the least we can do is try to understand them. Just try. That’s all… that’s enough,”

It was a lot to take in and it was a lot to ask of such young minds that were still developing. But you weren’t asking for them to be perfect at it. All you want them to do is try.

“Alright, Mother,” Sirius nods with solid determination in his eyes. 

“Whatever you wish, Mother,” Regulus says at the same time, also glowing with resolve. 

Smiling happily, you bring them into a group hug, your arms easily curling around their small shoulders as you press another kiss to their temples, “you don’t have to be perfect, just try,“ you reiterate in a whisper, “I’m so proud of you, my darlings, you make mommy so happy,” you don’t see it but you feel their bright smiles press into your neck from either side as they return your embrace and nuzzle their faces into the junction of your neck and shoulders.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Their lesson ended a few minutes ago and, like routine, they wave off Peony at the living room fireplace while you set up the study with all the things you planned on having them do for the afternoon. You asked them if they wanted to take a break before your lesson but they said they were happy to begin right away. They were able to detect the sparkle of excitement in your eyes as you left after their lunch break and were now filled with the same eagerness to begin your lesson.

Setting up their table with tools, aprons and a protective mat warmed your heart. You had planned so many things to do with your future children in your original life, read so many books and attended so many talks, lectures and groups on how to be a good mother that your heart was finally able to heal the scars that resulted from the infertility diagnosis you were slammed with years ago. You felt like a failure, not only as a mother but as a woman to be told that. It wasn’t until you were able to recover from that debilitating news that you finally began to consider adoption. It took years and years and the building of a corporate empire to finally get to that point but then, you were doomed once more. At the centre of a collision in the busy city streets, you lost consciously accepting your fate only to end up here…it was all quite a blessing really. Now you have two beautiful sons to call your own and to love with all of your heart. As an added bonus, they’re also two of your favourite characters from the Harry Potter universe. 

You could barely contain your excitement when you heard a small knock at the door to the study. They were here. 

“Come in, darlings,”

Stepping into the room, Sirius and Regulus gasp in awe and begin jumping on the spot ever so slightly from feverish anticipation. In your outstretched hands were two small, grey aprons, one displaying Sirius’ name and the other Regulus’ along the upper seam of the apron’s breast pocket. Without being asked, they step up to their aprons and reach forward to put the article on themselves. As they do so,  you announce what you will be doing for the afternoon. 

“Clay sculptures?” Sirius almost squeals in excitement as Regulus bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“We’ve never done that before,” Regulus chimes as you kneel behind him to help with tying up his apron, eventually moving on to redo Sirius’ clumsy knot as well.

“It’ll be fun,” you giggle, “fun and messy,” Sirius appreciates the hint of mischief in your voice and rushes to take a seat at the table with Regulus toddling along close behind him. You take a seat too and begin to talk them through the little sculpting tools they have beside them, the small mountain of clay at their disposal and the use for the bowls of water within reach. 

Regulus is listening but he can’t help glimpsing down at his stitched-on name tag every few seconds or so. His chest feels warm and so so tight that he feels like he’s about to burst. You had hand-stitched his name tag onto the apron yourself. He recognised the inexperienced, inconsistent stitches but he thinks it’s the most beautiful display of embroidery he has ever seen. There’s also the revelation that Regulus didn’t need to wait to go to Hogwarts to know that you would be attentive enough to do the same thing for his clothes as you did to Sirius’. He feels special and he loves the affectionate attention you were giving him, all the motherly love he and his older brother had always dreamed of experiencing was finally happening, not only through kind words but in warm hugs, soft kisses and silent acts of service too. He feels a surge of wanting to do well in everything, from studying to writing to eating to sleeping — all of it! He’ll do well in all of it. He only wants to make you proud. 

“Let’s begin with rolling out a piece of our clay,” you start, encouraging them to get messy, keep their clay hydrated and not worry about the state of their tools because you’ll all be washing them at the end together. After that, you had them make little balls using their hands and then roll out one ball into a flat sheet using their small rolling pins. With another ball, you instructed them to attempt making it flat using their hands instead, which helped you explain that moving around the clay with their hands makes the clay easier to mould.  

“Have you two been learning about muggle sciences?” you gently ask as the two go about flattening their spheres a little more so that they can carve patterns into them using their small wooden tools. 

“Yeah, I like the one called physics,” Sirius grins, eyes still focused on his clay.

“Me too!” Regulus chimes and the two brothers grin at each other, which makes you smile. 

“That’s very good,” you nod, spotting an opportunity, “so where do you think the heat comes from when we roll out our clay?” 

“From our hands,” Sirius immediately answers. 

“That’s right, anything else?”

The question is open for the two of them but Regulus is the one who answers next, “From all the moving around,”

“Brilliant, my darlings,” you praise and they grin pridefully. 

“Now, can you name the types of energies those are called? If you’ve learned about them, that is,” The brothers look at each other before beginning to ponder separately. The silence draws on so you decide to give them a little help, “What are all the energies called?” They do just fine with regurgitating the ten different energy types and that seems to be enough to prompt Regulus. 

“The moving around is kinetic energy,”

Sirius jumps to answer as well, “and our hands transfer the thermal energy,”

“Good good!” you give them a small round of applause, which they bashfully smile at, “you two are so clever!… What did I hear about this ‘transferring’ of energy, Siri?” your question comes out in a nonchalant tone. 

“Peony says that energy is stored and transferred,” Sirius answers, “and that they sometimes turn into another type of energy,”

“I see,” you look down at your own clay spheres and sheets, “where is the thermal energy from my hands coming from?” once again, they’re silent, “I think this can link to biology, specifically our biology,” that gets the cogs in their brains turning again and you can’t help but coo at their adorable thinking faces. 

“It’s from…” Regulus begins, immediately catching both yours and Sirius’ undivided attention, your eyes equally encouraging him to continue with his answer, “It’s from the energy in our food,”

Eyes sparkling with delight, you prompt him once more, “And what energy is that called?”

“…Chemical!”

“Good job!” Sirius claps for his brother’s success and reaches up for a high five that Regulus happily hits and once again, they’re grinning at each other. 

“What about for the movement?” This was a trick question but your boys are clever so you have full faith in them. Regulus already answered his share so he silently backs out from the arena by looking up at Sirius who begins to ruminate. “…well the movement has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it?” you thoughtfully point out, beginning to play around with your clay and trying to look innocent about it despite it being a definite clue. 

“It comes from us!” Sirius explains and looks down to play around with his clay too. You stay silent as you let him think and reach the conclusion on his own but you’re already so so proud of their intelligent displays, “…so it’s the same answer, it’s also from chemical energy…” he seems unsure from his tone but the minute he looks up to meet your eyes, the smile on your lips and the applause from you and Regulus has him beaming. 

“My sons are so so clever! I’m very proud of you both!”

That was enough of that — you only remember so much from your younger science education — so you move on to teach them about hatching and being able to stick two pieces of clay together with a little bit of water in order to make a small box with no lid. Thankfully, that was the final thing you intended to teach them before letting them make their own creations. 

“Now, you can make whatever you want with your clay. After this, I’ll bake them so they become solid, and then, we can paint them together. If you run out of clay, just ask and I’ll get you some more,” the two buzzed in their seats from the excitement and you were just as eager to let them loose with their creativity. “You can also make more than one thing but limit yourself to just two or three, please. Also make sure that whatever you make suits a function, it can be anything at all; you can even get some ideas from this muggle book on clay crafting,” you present them with the children’s clay craft book and place it where they can easily reach, “don’t mind getting the edges dirty, as long as the main text and pictures aren’t too muddied up by clay, it’s fine. It’s supposed to get used earnestly anyway,” they smile at your proactive reassurance but only Regulus goes for the clay book while Sirius goes about making his desired creation right away. 

For a while, Sirius cannot decide what to actually make. His speediness into action makes his younger brother peer over at him anxiously quite a few times but his initial unease gradually fades when he realises his older brother keeps changing his mind, flattening a scarcely sculpted creation just as quickly as he begins a new one. You don’t want to interrupt their independent creative flows and get to work on something you’ve already planned to create, a modest gift for your darling boys. 

Some time goes by in silence before you call for Kreacher to play one of the vinyls you managed to buy from a record shop when out on errands to muggle London. You had bought several along with the gramophone at the shop. When you first bought it home, the boys were eager to find out what it was and spent a lot of time happily winding it up so that you could all listen to the records together. It would have been preferable to get the electrical one but it would have been useless in the predominantly magic-operated house.  

“Great choice, Kreacher,” you smile at the house elf who nods timidly by the gramophone and promptly disappears when he feels as though he is no longer needed. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album plays in the background as the soundtrack to your clay sculpting session for several songs-worth of minutes before you finally get up to independently ask the boys about what they had chosen to make. ‘Oh! Darling’ sings in the distant corner as you kneel beside Sirius and quietly ask about his creation and what its function would be. In a whisper, he replies without turning to look at you, far too focused on his creation to divert any significant attention from it.  

“I’m making plant pots,” he begins, his pink tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth, “for the cooking herbs you said you wanted to grow in the kitchen, but I’m also making one for Reggie since he says he wants to grow a plant in his room,” after his nonchalant explanation, your heart soars. It would be a fair assessment to say that Regulus has spoken to him about exploring gardening. You didn’t know your youngest wanted to grow a green thumb but it was a pleasant surprise — you’ll see about taking him to a muggle plant shop soon, you don’t quite trust wizarding plants in the household. A succulent or mini cactus would be a good choice. 

Pressing a kiss onto Sirius’ cheek, you whisper a soft thank you and praise his thoughtfulness before moving on to Regulus. For a moment, the elder brother wishes he could grow out his hair so that you are less likely to notice his flushed cheeks and red-tipped ears. You also kneel by Regulus’ side to whisper the same questions about his creation. 

“I’m making a little jewellery dish for your rings and necklaces and earrings, Mother. And I’m also going to make one for Siri since he’ll be getting the family ring when he’s older. Sirius’ one is going to be star-shaped because he’s named after the brightest star and yours is going to be heart-shaped because…well…” Regulus can’t finish his sentence as his blush floods his entire face with heat. But he doesn’t need to finish his explanation, he’s said all you needed to hear to coo over his thoughtfulness and press a kiss to his cheek also. They’re such sweet boys. That bitch Walburga was blessed to have them and yet she mistreated them so much, they didn’t deserve any of that. Tender love and care is what they truly deserve and that will be your sole mission and life’s purpose for this existence. 

“What are you making, Mother?” Regulus asks unprompted when you finally sit back down by your humble creations again. The youngest’s question makes Sirius perk up and eye you with interest, his grey eyes flicking between you and the carefully shaped clay by your hands. 

“I’m making little star-shaped pendants for my little star boys,” smiling at their flustered expressions, you elaborate further, “I’m going to poke a hole near the top point so I can thread it through a chain and you can wear it as a necklace or a bracelet — you can choose,” you show them one with a carved ’S’ on it, “this one is for Siri,” next you present the one with an ‘R’ on it, “and this one is for Reggie,” they beam in happiness at the getting such a personalised gift from you and continue their clay projects with new-found vigour. 

It was relatively easy to create the small star pendants so, inspired by Regulus’ creations, you proceeded to craft minimalist ring bands, one each of you. Sirius’ you carved the same sort of archaic patterns as that of his wand, for Regulus, you did simple lines with an occasional dot and for yours, evenly placed mini daisies. At first, it was purely for making sure that Regulus didn’t feel left out from Sirius getting the family ring but, looking at your modest creations, your magnate mind begins to manifest an innovative idea you’re itching to begin. Your schedule is going to fill up very quickly and soon — there isn’t a chance that you’ll wait on this. 

1st September 1971

Today couldn’t have crept up on you quickly enough. One minute you were settling into a cosy routine with your darling sons and now you were sending the eldest away for wizarding boarding school. It was happening too fast and your heart was constantly breaking from being torn between freely letting him go and childishly begging him to stay so that you could spend as much time with him as possible. Even the novelty of rushing onto platform 9¾ through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10 couldn’t keep the tears from filling your eyes. However, your unhappiness and woe were quickly wiped away when Sirius expressed muted sadness at the idea that his father was too busy to see him off to Hogwarts. That morning, try as you might you couldn’t convince Orion to be there for his son. The git was lucky Sirius had interrupted your argument to express his acceptance and neutrality over the situation or else you would have clocked the pretentious asshole’s jaw. You would be surprised if the hypothetical punch landed hard enough to dislocate both of his temporomandibular joints. He would be eating through a tube if it weren’t for your little boy’s interruption but you’ll be sure to sink your teeth into your git of a husband as soon as you get home. 

Regulus seems to be whispering something to his older brother as they share a hug of goodbye. There was plenty of time for Sirius to get onto the train - you made sure of that - and you promised to wave him off as the train left the station so none of you were in any rush to leave the other. You kindly smile down at their wholesome interaction, completely drawn in by their innocence and heartfelt brotherly love for each other. Their relationship was worth preserving and building up. You were once saddened by Sirius and Regulus’ torn apart brotherhood but now, you’ll be devastated if your sons ever broke their bond like in the movies and books. So distracted by your loveable sons’ endearing display, you miss the shocked looks you were receiving from fellow parents of other children who were also boarding to attend Hogwarts — they simply couldn’t believe it! 

Everyone knew the matriarch of the Black family. However, the very picture of her now was not what was to be expected. Rumours of her cold and unsympathetic disposition appeared as slanderous lies when they took in your warm smile and fond stare, looking solely upon your two sons. It was well-known amongst the wizarding community that the famous Black family’s eldest son, Sirius Black, would begin attending Hogwarts this year. They expected to see a conceited and substantially reserved display of the family by the platform but not… not this! This is something for the papers! Had the matriarch of the most ancient and noble house of Black always looked this beautiful and kind? Surely not!… But their eyes weren’t being deceived, they were seeing the truth! Many gasped and openly stared, thankfully hushed down by the nosiness of the platform, whilst others didn’t know how to interpret the display and opted to avert their eyes.

Around his small wrist, Sirius keeps your clay star pendant around his wrist, which had been painted a deep black per his request while the ’S’ is marked with metallic silver paint. He has such good taste for aesthetics despite his young age. Every day there was something new to be proud of him for, no matter how little. You love being a mother!

“Oh darling, I’m going to miss you so so much. You must promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, don’t be scared about making friends,” you look him in the eye as you say so, combing your fingers through his hair and pushing away the curling locks from his forehead, “they’re going to love you just as much as I do,”

“Me too, Siri,” Regulus’ soft interjection brings out a mutual laugh from you and the eldest Black brother. Sirius brings Regulus into another hug that you are also brought into.

“And if they don’t like you then they can suffer having none of those mini pies I baked for you,” the two of you share a smirk and a wink. Sirius had requested some shelf-stable foods to bring such as his favourite chutney, jams and jerky, all homemade by you, especially for him. Of course, you didn’t say no. You even suggested bringing along something yummy for the train ride despite already providing him an allowance to spend on the trolley. 

“Regulus and I will write to you as often as we can so be on the lookout for our letters, okay?” he nods, eyes already sparkling from the anticipation and thought of receiving mail by owl solely for him. A letter addressed only to him, with his name on the envelope, and meant only for him to read — his feverish anticipation was to be expected. He couldn’t wait for his first letter. 

“I’ll write back just as much, promise!” 

“Good because if you don’t,” you scold playfully as Sirius bites back a cheeky giggle, “I’ll go to Hogwarts and demand a written letter back myself, I’ll bring Reggie with me too so that’s twice the heat you’ll be under young man, don’t forget,”

“Never,” Sirius whispers as he throws himself into your embrace once more. There’s never going to be enough hugging to satiate your aching heart, nor squash the sadness of watching your baby grow up too fast but, knowing the mischief and fun he’ll be getting up to, makes you almost giddy with excitement. You want to read all about it in his letters home! 

As much as you’d like to have said your farewells for longer, Sirius still needed to board and needed help with his luggage. Thankfully there were plenty of staff to help him lug it all around, which you smiled gratefully for. They seemed stunned by your courtesy but tipped their caps in acknowledgement and whispered a quick ‘thanks’ in return, regardless. 

Stepping back from the platform with Regulus at your side, the two of you try to follow Sirius along the train compartments as closely as you can until you finally see him settling into a box by himself. You wonder if he’ll be meeting his fellow marauders soon — god! You wish you could see them as adorable 11-year-old babies like your Sirius right now. 

Regulus toddles up to be closer to the window, opposed to the thought of separating from his brother and tries to hold one last conversation with Sirius as everyone waits for the train to depart. To hear him clearer, Sirius reaches up to open the window. Smiling at the pair fondly, you almost miss a heart-stopping sight. From your left peripheral, you spot an untameable mess of dark hair and round hazel eyes sparkling in jubilation, framed with an adorable pair of round glasses — you barely withhold your gasp of surprise. But all too soon, from your right, you glimpse a head of neatly trimmed but slightly grown-out brown hair, belonging to a rather spindly boy swamped under a cosy autumn-brown jumper. On his softly curving jaw is a light, nicking scar and when he turns his head ever so slightly, you see another more prominent scar marked across the pudge of his cheek. You’ve seen a wild, baby-ish James Potter and Remus Lupin. Almost all of the marauders were spotted getting onto the Hogwarts Express but do you even want to see the final member? No! Of course not! It was then that you noticed sandy-blonde hair weaving through the crowds of parents wishing their children farewell – a last-minute attempt at getting onto the train on time. Behind him, he is followed by a similarly blonde woman, his mother. Goodness, both share such startling similarities, both have curved edges to their silhouette, pink cheeks and sea-blue eyes. They looked like an adorable pair and you had to admit that Peter’s portly appearance made him incredibly endearing for his age. They looked like an ordinary, harmless mother-son pair, much like you and your boys…

A whistle pierces through the station and snaps you out of your daze. Finally turning back to your Sirius, your eyes tear up again for the umpteenth time that day. Regulus had rushed back to your side, clinging onto the long, black skirt of your dress with one hand as he used the other to wave goodbye. Silently, you mouth an ‘I love you’. He isn’t as surprised as when you whispered the same affection to him whilst still on the platform so he was able to mouth it back — ‘I love you too, Mother,’ — your heart pinches. Picking Regulus up, you sit him on the curve of your hip and wave Sirius off together. You see the slight shimmer of tears in Sirius’ eyes too just before the train moves too far and takes Sirius away with it. 

You miss him already.

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY →

A/N : surprise! goodness, this was a really big chapter hehe~ i hope you darlings enjoyed the read! i also would like to gently remind everyone that i am no longer doing taglists but to be notified whenever i post something, please follow and turn on notifications for reblog side account: @thekqipond where i will be reblogging every new fic as soon as i post it! the reason i was able to post this chapter a month ahead of my official come-back in October was to test my taglist solution and the order of chapters i want to post by Christmas ;) i hope you enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[lootsofathousandsworld]

Life of a Pirate Chpt 11

Hey hey been long time since I post a new chapter XDD

welp hope you all enjoy it and sorry if some grammar is wonky.

Third's Person POV:

B.E.N walks up the deck and heads to the cabin, humming. But he stopped dead when he got to the front door.

He gulped silently. Wasn't sure if his captain was in a better mood after all this happening. Then his friend came to him. He's doing all this for her. He cautiously knocks on the door. After he had done that, B.E.N almost jumped when he heard Flint's booming voice.

"Not now!"

"S-sir it's B.E.N," He answered. After his reply, he made a slight relief when Flint answered with a little calm tone.

"Enter," The robot slowly opens the door and comes in. Right when he walked in, he saw his captain sitting on his chair, shirtless, while Nicolas was tending his side wound. He bit his bottom metal lips nervously when Flint gave him the death glare. Meanwhile, Nicolas gives him a tsk on coming in a bad timing.

"Ye wouldn't think I forgotten of you. After Nicolas finishes, I will punish you right where you are standing."

The robot held his hands up and spoke. "I- I know I should be punished for letting her go, disobeying you. But before you do," Flint raises his eyebrows as B.E.N. finishes asking this question.

"I would like a request from you?"

Believing it was requested punishment, Flint nods for him to keep going.

With much courage, B.E.N finishes this "......I want you to thank Ashy for saving you," His captain's six eyes flared when he mentioned the woman, and he stood up, making Nicolas lose concentration on his work.

"You wanted me to thank that wrench for causing all this mess?!" He roared.

"Sir please!" B.E.N almost cower. "Try to be reasonable! She saved your life."

"So?" Flint snorted.

"Soooo you should go down the brig and tell her face to face thank you for saving me," B.E.N answered. "If she hasn't, you'll be in the navy's jail now or worse."

"He does have a point there Cap'n," Nicolas said. Flint glances down sharply at him, baring his teeth, not liking the surgeon taking on B.E.N's side. Nic, however, only gives him a deadpan look.

'If you had not broken your bargain with her, you wouldn't be in this mess. Now sit back down, I'm not finished." Flint snorted and returned to seating following the doctor's order.

He then rubs his forehead and grumbles angrily. "I would've just shot her if that woman hasn't caught my interest in her damn secret."

B.E.N almost breathed. "Her secret sir?"

Flint nods slowly. "Aye, she be hiding something ye not aware of it?" The robot hasn't realized that his Captain broke this parlay all because he wants his friend's secret.

He gulped when he was waiting for his answer. But he swore he would never reveal his friend's secret for her life's sake. So, he took a deep breath and fib.

"I..wasn't aware of that sir," He blinked, acting puzzled. Is it why she was acting funny?" Much to his relief, he bought his act when he snorted.

"Ever since she came aboard my ship, she looked at me as if I was some haunted being and acted like she had never been out in this galaxy."

"Oh really?" B.E.N chuckles, "Maybe she hasn't been off her planet before? As if she. I don't know. Was forbidden to go?" He watches his captain hum while Nicolas huffs.

"Well, she has shoddy parents that's for sure,"

"I-indeed," B.E.N replied. All of sudden he swallowed hard when Flint looked at him now suspiciously.

"B.E.N? You seem jumpy today,"

"Me jumpy? Nah!" The robot laughed. "Why would I be jumpy when we learned that this cabin girl has a small secret we don't know about."

"Hmm, I see," Flint talks lowly still eyeing on him. B.E.N panics silently when he is still looking at him the same.

Waiting to get the subject change he blurted out, "So anyway! Captain, please can you at least show her tiny gratitude? Like this tiny?" He gestures his robotic finger the size. Flint rolled all his eyes when he saw him still begging him to give his thanks to this woman he huffed.

"Alright fine! I'll give her my thanks for you shut up about it," B.E.N grinned, finally getting him convinced he even added.

"And I got an idea that she'll love!"

"And what's that?" Flint asked.

B.E.N finishes as he spreads his arm out. "Invite her to dinner!"

Flint and Nicolas both looked at him oddly at this idea.

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

"What?" Flint finally spoke lowly.

"You know? Like, you two having supper on this table?" He gestures to a small table." Every woman loves when a man takes their girl out to eat. It makes them feel special,"

"B.E.N. you know this isn't a tiny gesture," Nicolas said. "This is a big gesture,"

"I know but hear me out, if you invited her, she'll be forever grateful and will be happy to have a stomach full of... "He was silenced when Flint cleared his throat loudly, making him stop talking.

"This isn't about having me get her out of the brig, is it?" B.E.N. bit his lips when Flint asked this. He only smiles sheepishly in response.

"Maybe?" The captain frowns at him, knowing all this ridiculous idea was to get this woman out of the brig. However, this might be an opportunity for him to get his chance to learn her secret.

He then lets out a long sigh, almost gritting his teeth, not believing what he was about to do.

"Alright, tell this wrench she will join me for dinner," He replied.

"Great I'll go tell her!" B.E.N smiled, ignoring Flint's annoyance. Before he left the cabin, he turned to him.

"Oh, and when she gets here, make sure to give her a welcome dashing smile like this." He smiled, showing him how to do it. "Now you try,"

Flint huffed and gave his fake smile, showing his scary fangs for a few seconds. B.E.N flinched on his frightened facial and said.

".....Um, why don't you work on that while I get her sir," He opened the door and said before closing," Remember, dashing smile. Every lady loves that,"

After he closes the door behind him, he grins, seeing all this will get his friend out of that nasty brig as he makes his way down there.

"She's going to thank me when I tell her the great news!"

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

Ash's POV

I didn't realize I was taking a quick nap on the seating board as I got bored earlier. Nothing to do around here but listen to the ship moving and boots clamping above.

Also, think it could pass some time as I sleep. But I was twisting and turning. And mumble in my sleep.

Dream

"Ash! Ash wake up!" I heard a familiar voice calling me while shaking my shoulder. My eyes opened sharply, gasping and to my surprise, Jim was looking right at me, worrying.

"Jim?" I breathed. What happened?"

"You passed out when we opened the portal," He answered.

"I-I did?" I blinked.

He nodded. "Luckily B.E.N caught you before you fell, "He helped me up and I saw others looking at the portal. My eyes widened to see other familiar characters including John Silver, who was struggling to find a trove. Opening every portal he pressed on the green globe map.

"Where is that blasted treasure?!" John growled.

"Treasure? Treasure?" I turn fast at B.E.N. struggling to remember as he grips his wires in desperation. "It's... buried in the.."

".....Buried in a central mechanism," Jim helped him finish. He looked and I found myself nodding slowly, which made his eyes light up.

"What if the whole planet is the mechanism and the treasure is buried in the center of this planet?

"You could be right," I smiled, feeling my heart beating with excitement and with much happiness I was in the right time zone. I wonder if I was even dreaming I was aboard Flint's ship all this time.

Then my thoughts were interrupted when the crew tried to dig, but their shovels and pickaxe got damaged when they hit the metal surface.

"And how in the blue blazes are we supposed to get there?" I glanced over at Silver as he was still searching. Then Jim went to his side and almost nudged him. When he saw a similar planet we were all on, he put his finger on it.

"Just open the right door," He answered. As the portal opened to the trove my heart was still pounding. This was the moment I was finally going to see the treasure.

One by one, they walked through the portal, and I was last to go in. I grinned and was about to take a step across to join the others. Suddenly, I felt someone grip my shoulder harshly, which made me cry in pain and shock.

My blood ran cold when someone whispered in my ear darkly.

"You lead them here," I spun and my face paled to see Flint standing, all menacing.

"You betrayed me!"

"No!" I backed fast and almost stumbled, but the portal was gone. Instead, he has the map in his grasp.

"You lying little bitch, you knew where my trove was all along, and you decided to bring your friends to see it," He snarled.

I shook my head fast. "No, I can explain.."With much trembling, I fall to the ground. "Please I didn't know, honest!" He didn't listen and my breath shook when pulls his flintlock out. I begin to sob.

"No, please! No please don't kill me! Please!" He aims his pistol at me, ignoring my cry, and pulls the trigger.

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

"NO!" I shot up screaming. I panted heavily, gripping my chest, and felt my heart beating fast. I was back in my brig and realized it was only a nightmare.

"It was just a dream," I say to myself, calming my breath. "Just a dream." I gasped in startled to hear someone coming down. I get up and see B.E.N. walking down.

I can tell something is good as I see the robot having a smile on his face. When he reached my brig, he talked in ecstatic.

"Ashy I got great news! I find a way to get you... " He stopped when he caught my face looking pale. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded fast, "Y-yeah I just had a... bad dream that's all." I formed a smile, wanting him not to worry. "So, what's the news?"

B.E.N gasped and grinned again. "The news yes! Captain Flint agrees to let you out of the brig, showing his gratitude for you saving him."

"Really?" I asked, feeling happy I was getting out of this brig.

He nods, still having a smile. "Yep! And by showing his gratitude he..." I leaned in when he took a deep breath.

"...He invited you to eat dinner with him!" He finished spreading his arms out excitedly. My facial slowly went from smiling to irritated.

".... What?" I asked, making sure I heard it right.

"He invited you to dinner," He repeated. "isn't that great?" He waited for my answer but I was disgusted to have him think this would solve everything that I almost yelled at him.

"Have you lost your mind!?" He wasn't expecting this reaction out of me that he stammered.

"B-but this will have you be out of this brig,"

"With me having dinner with that..beast?" I groan angrily and walk around. "Did you forget he threw me in here? You got to have another plan to get me out of here, anything but that!"

B.E.N only shook his head. "I'm sorry Ashy, but he agrees to this. He's expecting you to come soon, that's an order from him."

"His order?" I scoffed can't believe he's even commanded me to have dinner with him. Then I turn my body around. "I'm sorry B.E.N. but I'm not going."

"B-But Ash you have to go. He'll be furious if you don't." He protested.

"Well, too bad that's his problem," I said stubbornly. "You can tell him I'm not interested period," In the corner of my eyes I watch B.E.N looking frightened about telling his captain some bad news.

I almost feel bad that he has to face Flint with this news, but he got me into a situation that I'm not agreeing with.

"...I... I'll tell him. But I'll bring you food after I served his." When he left, I didn't move my spot. I huffed as I rubbed my arms and said to myself,"

"After all this, he expects me to forget his cruelty to me. He's far awful than I imagined him to be."

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

Third's Person POV

After Nicolas tender his wound, Flint was wearing his comfy tan poet shirt and was sitting on his chair. He watched his surgeon, getting his table ready and even putting candles on the table and lighting them with a candle.

"Is the candle really necessary?" He asked.

"Well, I did not agree with B.E.N's idea but at least you need to have a table to look appealing," Nicolas replied. Flint snorted.

"I can't believe I agree to this stupidity. Who thinks eating dinner together would be irresistible? People come and eat, spend a dime on expensive foods bah!"

Nicolas rolled his eyes, "Sir everything your view contains stupidity,"

"Not everything," Flint corrected.

Nicolas tsks in response and after he sets the table up, he turns to him.

"Now remember, when she gets here, please keep in mind to control that temper of yours," This instruction made his captain laughed.

"Oh, come now I have been good on my temper. I haven't killed anyone yet, have I? I'm getting better at it," He smirked, looking proud of himself.

"Yes, I'm sure this lady will be pleased with your action earlier," Nicolas huffed silently, almost rolling his eyes again. Flint didn't respond as he had thoughts on the woman he was dining with.

He couldn't get his mind off on she risked her escape only to save his ass. Not sure if it was a foolish thing to do or not. He knows everyone in this enteriumn..especially the navy wants him dead. So why she's not like everyone he meets?

He finds himself more interested in her the more he thinks of this. And what is worse is he can't leave the image of her worried look. And he swore when the fire reflected her, he saw some gold in her hair. His mind snaps off when he hears his door knocking.

Nicolas heard as well and began walking towards the door.

"Alright here she comes, remember act like a gentleman." After he opens his door to leave, he finds B.E.N. with two meals in his hands.

"Ah thank you, Nic! Can you leave it open for a second? My hands are full," The robot chuckled. Nicolas let him pass, and when he looked behind him, he found out the woman wasn't with him. He hums and shuts the door.

B.E.N hums as he sets the two plates on the table," Voila! Your dinner sir! And can I say I love how you got the table all setup?" Flint raised his eyebrows and asked him.

"Well?"

B.E.N blinked. "Well...what?"

"Where is she?" He reminded him.

"Who? Oh, you mean the woman!" B.E.N chuckled. How can I forget?" He gulped when Flint was waiting for his answer.

"S-she did say she'll think about it, and you know how women are when they think, I-I think we should give her time to think..." He babbles on and Flint makes a low growl as he can tell his navigator is not telling him something.

"B.E.N." He snarled sternly. It shut him up and B.E.N swallowed hard.

Decided to get to the point and prayed he wouldn't go all berserk, he answered straight away. "This woman declined your invitation. She's not coming."

The whole cabin was dead silent. After about a few seconds, Nicolas broke the silence with a long sigh.

"Ah shit, here we go,"

[mcubuckyxlokisbitch]

OUT OF ALL THE TIMELINES

CHPT 3: Even Asgardians Have Myths

Short Series !

Female Asgardian reader (now avenger) X TVA Loki

Chapter 1: Avengers I need your help (done)

Chapter 2: Interrogations and proclamations (done)

Chapter 3: Even Asgardians have myths (done)

Chapter 4:

Chapter 5: -

Chapter 6: -

Surprise !!!!

Chapter 7: Chapter 8: Chapter 9 Chapter 10:

Warnings: Alot of angst <3, somebody kissed but im not saying who, mentions of blood, injury,

Summary: After your Lokis death and have moved on and joined the Avengers. After the aftermath of Endgame you and the other remaining Avengers all seek shelter in the new Avengers Warehouse Pepper Potts bought as a temporary replacement while the Avengers mansion is being renovated. What happened after a very tired mission. Well, you're speechless, to say the least.

a/n: I added a few more chapters because you know dreams lmao so enjoy this one !! Tell me if yall want smut soon. CuZ ye im feeling a smut scene some time soon.

You walked around the Avengers warehouse and got to the medic bay. The push the doors open, "How are her vitals."

"Well for one thin they don't make any sense."

"Ive been trying to heal her but, I can't get a signature on the dark magic... I need your magic to track it." Wanda says as her hands float above the blonde girl.

"She really does look like Loki its scary.... Like put a blonde wig make her shorter and put some eyelashes boom you got blondie here."

You rolled your eyes as your eyes traveled towards Ivars dark matter dagger. A strong dark force gutted your stomach, you could feel the evil from a mile away. You saw the veins around the stab wound as they turned black and spreaded around her stomach.

The only thing that could kill an Asgardian God. With its rusted blade and messily bandanged handle. Just as the myths say, the dagger was made for Odin the allfather but Ivar and his dagger were defetead and casted away before he could use it on him.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe to cast a simple healing spell.

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

"Alright, enchantments are more than just casting especially when your doing a healing spell." Loki circled around you. You closed your book as you groaned, bored of slow paced lessons set by the prince.

"A healing spell I think we can do something more challenging than that Loki."

Loki stopped in his steps as he brought out his dagger and striked your leg.

"LOKI... AARGH.... YOU MISBIGOTTEN SON OF A LEPPERS GOAT. YOU DAFT ARSE" YOU SCREAMED AT HIM. He chuckled and tipped your chin to look at him with the bloodied dagger.

"Careful, if we go on legal terms thats treason against the prince and queen..." He grinned. "On more serious terms you need to learn how to cast the spell on yourself, this way casting it on others will come naturally."

You tried to hold the cut on your thigh, blood was seeping out continously as you winced when you tried to move your leg. "How am I to focus when im bleeding to death." the words gritting through your teeth.

"Close your eyes and breathe..." Loki sat behind you whispering to your ear. He placed his hands on yours and led them to your wound. "The spell only works when your calm." You took a deep breath and out as your shaky hand lay above your wound. "Feel the energy from your body, allow it to flow through your to your hands down to your wound."

You did as he said. Your enchantments extended to the wound as the blood started to lessen but the wound didn't close. "Now the difficult part. Closing the wound, you can't just imagine it to close, you know the spell."

You said aloud through your teeth holding in your pain. "Rense helbrede såret." Nothing happened, the blood lessen but the wound was still wide open. You were confused and irritated to say the least.

Loki nudged his nose towards the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "A spells power is through its whisper, to be a true master you must not only say it but think it."

Relaxing your hands as Loki slithered his to your shoulders, you casted in a whisper focusing on the spell imagining the wound closing and the energy flowing towards your wound. "Rense helbrede såret." your eyes glew orange as your enchantment casted on your leg closed the wound slowly from one end to the other. The stinging pain you felt a few seconds ago was gone. There was no mark no scar where there was once blood and torn muscle. You laughed aloud and jumped up from your seat cheering.

"I- I did it no way, I just casted a healing spell on my first try... Loki you are magnificent." You turned to the man who raised an eye brow. The unimpressed look which gutted you stomach and stopped yur cheering as you felt shameful.

"Are you proud of such a small spell I mastered long before I was 16 years old." You blushed in shame as you brough your head down. Looking away from him, you could still feel him walk closer to you. "Charms are not something you can play aroudn on the side either you take it seriously and master it or I never teach you again. Do you wish to be great or nothing...."

He was now merely inches from your as he pinched your chin and brought him to look towards him, "So tell me little girl..." At this point you could feel your heart about to jump out your heart at any moment.

"Great or nothing." he whispered

"Great..." you mumbled.

"Perfect." he leaned down as he placed your lips on yours.

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

"Perfect-

You snap back to reality.

"Perfect, I have the signature of the spell.... You can take the spear out whenever your ready Y/N..." Wanda smiled.

You blanked out as you saw the wound still corrupted but not as bloodied as it was before.

"Careful, won't asgardians burn or disintegrate when you touch the handle or something." Peter stopped your hand.

"It is merely a myth Peter." You held his. "It'll sting slightly but I'll be fine."

"Wow even asgardians have myths. It's like inception a myth in a myth." Ant man said chewing on his chips in the corner of the med bay on a spare bed.

You hold the dagger and it burned your hand the moment you wrapped your hand around it. You winced and pulled back your hand and shook off the heat. Everyone had their eyes on you as you tried again. You wrapped your fingers around the handle, the burning sensation started as you focused on absorbing the heat but it didn't work.

"Teya, your hand it's turning the same colour as the wound." Sam pointed out

Your hand was corrupted. You casted a healing spell on your hand as you held the dagger handle tighter ignoring the warnings from your teamates.

Only one of asgardian strength can pull out the dagger. But anyone who lays in the hand on the dagger, will meet death.

It was a phrase, a warning actually, you remembered like the back of your hand from your favourite tale.

You pulled the dagger out with some force as the wound on the body closed. You dropped the dagger on the ground as you did too.

You were on your knees as your hand turned black and you wrapped your other hand on it trying to heal it. The room felt like it was a million degrees as you felt the darkness travel through your veins.

"Y/N whats going on..." Sam said kneeling down beside you. "FRIDAY RADIO STRANGE FOR AN SOS."

"Yelena, get Thor, Parker make sure Barnes does not know about this make sure they stay with Loki."

"Don't tell James." You whispered to Sam

"Not a chance princess."

"Wanda hows the wound." You looked up in pain.

"Closing in. But old Asgardian magic is complicated, I need time to find a way for it to not spread."

"Sam, I'm fine." you groaned through the pain still trying to cast the healing spell on your arm.

"Ya say that to your black hand. And..... woah." Sam started to let your hand go when your hand to elbow was turning black

"I'm here..." Stephen walked through a portal.

"Her eyes." Sam said concerened as there was no white left in your eyes just pitch black.

You forced yourself to stand up. Your shaking right hand corrupted as you projected your powers towards the dagger on the ground. Focusing the dark energy to leave your body. You groaned as you saw Stephen observe the situation and walk towards your arm.

"Keep focusing project any corrupted magic into the dagger."

Strange got to position and casted a cleansing spell on you. Helping to slip the dark energy off you. You felt your powers slipping away from you as the dark matter did.

When you felt no more corrupted magic you stopped as there was no more magic to give. Your knees felt weak and you tried to walk towards the closest bed but crumble and fell like a new born baby giraffe.

"I got you gurl." Sam caught you before you hit the ground.

"That was very stupid of you..." Strange said as he walked towards the sword glowing red and black. He formed a shield around it as it levitated towards you. "Here this won't get your hand burnt."

"Y/N, your hand. It.... it, that looks like a raisin." Thor winced.

"Thank you Thor, for that obvious comment." your groaned standing up, carrying the bubble with the dagger with your undwounded hand you walked towards the blonde girl. Who seemed to be breathing better as her vitals improved. You took a deep breathe to feel her aura and her health. Which was improving slowly, slower than it must, you looked up towards the body 2 beds down. "Strange what can be evaluated of this mans vitals..."

Strange walked over to the white haired man and hovered over him. Levitating his file to his hands and read through it. "This man is, hm...."

"Check the jacket , TVA ever heard of anything like it." Sam said tossing the jacket towards Strange. Strange looked at the jacket spread wide open hovering infront of him. "Yes the TVA, yes...... I- I actually never heard of them is this made up?"

"Well there goes our backup." Sam groaned plopping himself back on the bed.

"Well there isn't anything we can do. I'll take the dagger back to my room and we'll recon with Loki tomorow... Everyone eat, the food is here get some sleep, meet up first thing tomorow morning 7 am." You said walking out the medbay. "Friday keep an eye on our guest... update us if anything."

"Yes boss." the loud speaker said before the doors closed.

"A bit random but shes can be very attractive when she gets all demanding and stern." Yelena smirked.

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

You placed the sphere down on your tv table plopping down on your bed. You winced as your injured hand grazed against the sheets, clenching it with your other hand forcing down another healing spell, nothing, the redness seemed to fade away for a moment but it still looked bad.

There came a sudden knock on the door. "Y/N??" "Go away strange..."

"Actually." Thor opened the door and gave you a sympathetic smile.

"Thor... Hows-

"Your hand, does it hurt- is it corrupted- how are you do you feel well?" Thor rushed over to your side and sat down on your bed. "Let me see maybe I can be of an assistance.'

"If I remembered correctly you failed enchantment and healing lessons set by your own mother." you pulled your hand away.

"I have improved..." Thor said crossing his arms.

"Of course you have." You stood up and walked to your closet to change into something more comfortable.

"I'm sorry..."

"What?"

"I can't go through this again."

"No one is forcing you to be on this assingment. You may return to new asgard and take a break."

"You should be as well."

"Thor the team needs atleast 1 person who knows Loki."

"What if they didn't." Thor said plainly. You turned towards him confused, but you knew where he was getting to. " What if but for one moment we were selfish, what if we were not heroes, mere asgardians who simply needs to be born, live, then die."

"Thor-."

"You were right..." Thor sobbed, tears forming around his eyes. "It's just like Ragnarok all over again." He stared at the ground.

You walk towards Thor and lifted his chin up. "What can I say to the brother who has been my strength for centuries ..." You sighed "I know with Asgard gone, our duties blur with the destinies we thought we could have lived. For once... I really have nothing to say."

"He looks so much like him." Thor laid his head against your stomach. "I couldn't bear myself to get to know him."

You sighed and stroked his hair back. "You need not talk to him unless absolutely necesarry."

"Falling inlove with him... Loving my brother seems to be the one thing I cannot prevent myself from doing." Thor choked out. "Even though I know the outcome I can't help a part of myself to hope."

"Lets eat... you always feel better after we eat. We shouldn't think about this right now." You brought Thor up. As he leaned forward and embraced you.

"I miss him."

"Me too."

"It's been hard..."

"I know." You sniffled as you stopped the moment and stared out your window. You looked up to him. "Shall we join the others for dinner? "

"We shall." he smiled down as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

[proper-goodnight]

Into The Gray Chpt. 8 (House Call)

Fandom: The Gray Man (2022)

Pairings: Sierra Six x Reader, Courtland Gentry x Reader, Sierra Six x You, Courtland Gentry x You

Type: Multi-Chap

Tags: @medievalfangirl, @biblichorr, @pyrokineticbaby, @lxvrgirl, @asiludida164, @torchbearerkyle, @jasmin7813, @comfortzonequeen, @96jnie, @ryanclutched, @the-light-of-earendil

You sat in the opposite chair, chin in hand, watching Claire Fitzroy push around the dinner that you’d made. You may have been a little biased, but you hadn’t believed that you’d done that bad a job, considering cooking had become something of a hobby for you—but watching her turn herbs over and inspect them with a vaguely disturbed look, nose scrunched and repeating the action with the seasonings, had you doubting. There may have been too much complexity in flavor for a pre-teen to handle, one that you reminded yourself had lived on a strict diet of Hawaiian pizza and ice-cream. 

Claire’s body angled backwards, ready to leap from the chair in case the plate suddenly leapt off the table.

Garlic and zest may not have been the best option that you could have chosen.

The fork was eventually laid to rest against her plate with a clang. Tentative fingers nudged it away, a few inches and then halfway across the table. Her forearms folded on the table’s edge, the wooden finish worn from years of sitting. She’d addressed you briefly when you’d first entered the safehouse–a wooden cabin in the middle of nowhere–but this was the first time that she’d officially looked at you since you’d arrived. Her eyebrows raised, and yours instinctively copied the action.

“So,” Claire started, trailing off. 

“So?” You echoed. 

She leaned forward, and those raised eyebrows suddenly furrowed, narrowing with her eyes as though she had started some kind of interrogation. Her expression mirrored suspicion, but you thought that she was just curious. It was kind of cute; you could admit that. “You and Six aren’t friends?” 

There was a pause before you answered. Your gaze never left her. “We share secrets.” 

“That’s kind of what friends do.” She pointed out, skeptical. 

You nodded, once as if in understanding, but you didn’t really know. No one came to mind that you would trust to keep a secret, no one that you would consider a “friend” on either side involved. You thought about Dani, and you thought about Lloyd, but every secret that you’d learned about them had been without their knowledge. 

You doubted that it counted. 

Social standards and attachments weren’t lost on you, the sociology and psychology of it, but the fact that you’d only thought about it in a scientific aspect, synapses firing in the brain and the chemistry, only proved to you that you wouldn’t be the ideal person to get that kind of advice from—you were too blunt; too literal. 

“You tried to kill Six,” She accused, flat.

You didn’t. You told her that. “I didn’t.”

“You broke into our house,” her eyebrows flicked upwards, as though she’d caught you up in a lie. “I saw you. He had a gun, and then those people broke in. They took him.”

You didn’t know what to say to that; most of it had nothing to do with you. Most.

“Why did you go after him? Do you know Six?”

You briefly contemplated the extent of how much you should confess with a pre-teen and also the niece of the one person that you’d been after at the very start–the original dividing cog in an already fragile machine. Should you explain? Apologize? 

“I’m only concerned about him through proxy.”

“What does that even mean?” She grimaced, voice terse.

Your own remained even. “It means,” you trailed off, eyes flicking around the small space of the kitchen. “That when I get what I need from him, that’ll be the end of it.”

“And what exactly do you need ?”

When you didn’t answer right away, Claire leaned forward, turning your attention back to her, the suddenly intense stare in her gaze as she rested her chin on top of her fist, squinting as though determined to find some kind of secret that could have been hidden in your expression. You didn’t have anything to hide, so you found yourself staring back despite yourself.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading your mind.” She said as a matter of fact. “I can usually do it with Six; you both have this zone out thing that you do sometimes.” She exhaled, then gave up, the brunt of her shoulders colliding back against her seat. She rolled her eyes. “He’s easier.”

“You know him.”

Claire exhaled through her nose. “You two aren’t that different,” she then clarified: “You both can be really frustrating to talk to.”

It wasn’t often that someone could pull a smile from you, and you hadn’t expected Claire Fitzroy to be one. You could see how Sierra Six was attached to her, the contradiction to the rules–an innocence in a world that was quite the contrary. 

She was a child, and had it been your world before it’d gone, you knew without thinking too hard that she wouldn’t have made it. In your world, you learned how to hide from the CIS, NSA, the DIA, the NRO… among others. Your boss’ bosses, the groups they worked with and who knew their names, but never knew yours. 

You were a stray sitting across from something with an impressive pedigree. 

“If you have a prison tattoo with some Greek guy’s name, I’d consider the two of you twins.” Claire rambled on, her interest in you lost and your puzzled look left unanswered as she turned and slid out of her chair, her dinner left barely touched in the middle of the table. 

She left you, the sound of an old record lilting from a crack in an open door a moment later. You took that as your cue to leave, packing up what was left into the fridge–you didn’t count on the idea that she would eat it if she was hungry enough; you made a mental note to grab a few freezer pizzas when you were able. ~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know if it was because of Sierra Six, or because of your own, albeit brief, experience with Claire Fitzroy, but you found yourself looking for—not at, but for—specific dynamics among groups of people that you’d initially cast aside as irrelevant. There was no distinct purpose behind it and it had become more of a subconscious behavior, but you found it very ironic that you were surrounded by attachments that exerted the same effort to stay together as much as they also did to keep Six and Claire apart. 

Your interrogators on your first day, the brash one and the twitchy one that still couldn’t meet your eye in the hallway as you passed, carried photos around in their wallets of children–also unbeknownst to both of them–the same wife, but you hadn’t cared to ask who was technically the other half of that agreement. 

Dani fretted with her mother on the phone daily, and there was a working couple in the office a few floors down that fostered children. 

The accounting department went to karaoke once a month, and you were pretty sure that one of the intern’s sudden employment offers and the office manager’s vacation presiding on the same weekend wasn’t just a coincidence. 

They behaved as though Claire and Six’s dynamic, their own miniature version of something resembling a family, was any different from the ones they made up on their own–secretive or otherwise. The only difference was that their circumstances had been created by manipulated events; Claire had needed someone, and whether Six had chosen it on his own or decided that he was her best chance, he’d stepped in.

Funnily enough, these people were the ones that had created the circumstances that had forced them together. 

You hadn’t been to see Six since your last conversation. Carmichael had bombarded you with bullshit busy work to hide the fact that he was compiling evidence against you–unsuccessfully–and still looking into the job report that had coincidentally landed you in Florida at the same time that they had found Sierra Six.

Dani never said anything, whether she had any suspicions or not, but there was something about the looks she gave you that told you to cover your tracks a little harder before every single eye in the agency went back to following you around. She wasn’t as subtle. Her curiosities and willingness to go along with anything that could inconvenience Suzanne and Carmichael had kept you safe on several occasions. 

You liked that about her.

“It’s a Friday night,” the familiar baritone of Carmichael’s voice directly beside you was not enough to persuade you to acknowledge him. You were crouched in front of a series of file cabinets, sifting through dated assignment reports–your search was specific, but to an outside observer, you probably looked like you were sorting through junk; past cases considered closed. 

“Everyone’s left the office,” he said when you didn’t answer.

“You haven’t.”

“I’m waiting on a few friends.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his hands slide into the pockets of his pants, suit jacket having been discarded and the absence of it showing the hourly grind. His plain button up was rumpled, his tie partially undone. His head pivoted. “What’s your excuse?”

“I don’t have any friends.” 

“No?” He asked with mock surprise, raising his overly bushy eyebrows. “That’s shocking. I would go so far as to say emotionally complex if I thought of you as the emotional type.”

“I’d rather you not think about me at all.”

“It’s not voluntary, I promise you that.” 

“Is someone telling you to do it?” 

“No, but it's come to my attention that despite your stellar employee record, we have yet to find any kind of outside file on you.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and you heard the sarcastic lilt to the idea of you having a stellar anything. “Suzanne thought that you could be useful if you supposedly took out Sierra; she said that your potential would be a waste serving a life sentence.”

“Should I also be thanking her for this conversation?”

 He didn’t waver. “Interest alignments and general surveillance keep you here, but the lack has me curious.” 

His remark led into silence. You weren’t in the mood for this. You looked up. 

“You’re wasting your time looking.”

“We had Lloyd Hansen on a very thin leash, and I’ll admit that it was an idea doomed to go South, knowing as little as we did, but you’re an entirely different risk.” 

“I’m spending my Friday night looking through paperwork.” You tapped the drawer that you had open for emphasis. 

“Wasting your time looking for information that doesn’t exist, right?” His mouth tilted up at the edges, his suspicion evident; it’d always been. You could tell the lack of anything concrete was frustrating for him. He didn’t understand why you were here, nor why you’d been allowed to stay here. 

You understood that it was because of that lack of existence; you’d have been blamed for the CIA’s fuck-ups already if Sierra Six hadn’t been spotted at the scenes. 

“If I had my way about it, you’d be in the cell beside Six’s, and you’d be let out when we want you out—Suzanne lets you walk free, and I don’t quite get that.”

“If we are basing it off of your negotiation skills with Sierra Six so far, I do get it.” You answered. 

The subtle twitching of his facial expression told you that you’d struck a nerve, but Carmichael was not the type to let his pride get the better of him. You knew that the stab would further his attempts to incarcerate you, but in your opinion, he had more things to worry about. 

The squeak of his leather shoes cut through the tension as Carmichael stepped back. His hardened gaze bore into you, a death glare shot back over his shoulder as he left. You mustered up a smile that you made sure he knew was very obviously fake before you went back to what you were doing–but unfortunately, he was right. 

You wouldn’t find what you were looking for here.

It was not the only thing that he’d said that gave you pause, either. He’d mentioned Sierra Six in a cell. Not a room, where you’d first talked to him, but a cell. 

Over the years, many things had made you hesitate. One had been someone’s daughter, rushing to a dance lesson, outside of her mother’s sight but centered directly inside yours, another had been a scientist who thought himself a comedian but took entirely too long to explain what made his jokes funny, and another a reflected light off a skyline; you’d heard the bullet before you’d felt it. 

You found yourself hesitating now, but what you would have considered previously a very well-controlled ability to maintain your curiosity seemed to contradict itself where Sierra Six was concerned. The file cabinet was slammed shut with more force than necessary, and you rose, taking the straightforward path from the basement to the holding cells, one single angled hallway that was housed behind a reinforced door only available with a keycard. 

You didn’t personally have access to that, nor permission, but you’d taken Dani’s keycard when you’d considered going into the basement earlier.

You wondered if Carmichael had realized that. 

The lights in the hallway were the only guiding points to his cell, the lights inside each having been dimmed until what was visible beyond the glass were mere vague shapes among outlines. There was only one that was inhabited–the one at the very end, farthest from the door. You surmised that decision was made with purpose. 

A swipe of Dani’s keycard granted you entry, and when you walked inside, you were immediately met with the sight of him sitting by the wall farthest from the bed, the folded replacements of his clothes untouched at the very end. 

Six’s legs were bent at an angle, arms folded over his knees. The tousled mess of his hair was flattened against the wall where his head was laid back, blood matting it and specks of it spotting the wall. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that there was a leaning angle in the way he was sitting, as though there was an injury to his ribs. His appearance didn’t immediately alarm you, but you suspected this inevitability after enough time fighting his interrogations. 

 When he didn’t open his eyes, you wondered if he was dead; he was too observant to not have noticed you walk in.

Rather than immediately turn toward him, you pivoted in a slower motion. Your face remained passive despite the gruesomeness of him.

“You look like you got into a fight.” You noted. 

“Your friends don’t make good company.” His casual but strained tone was the only indication that he’d noticed you after all, but he didn’t open his eyes to see you.

“And I do?”

Six shrugged, a wince following the motion. “Better company.”

“And here I thought that Carmichael’s personality was just stellar.” You thought that you’d heard the beginnings of a laugh ushered from him, only to be cut short by a hacking cough before he spit a glob of blood across the floor. You didn’t immediately move to help him, lingering by the doorway as though encroaching on the personal space of his cell was worse than encroaching on the personal space of his house. 

In comparison, it was much smaller. 

“How bad are the other guys?”

“Worse off than me.” He wheezed.

With a hum, you finally strode across the room, finding a meager box of first aid supplies sitting on top of the folded clothes. You weren’t surprised that they had left him to patch himself up after beating him half to death, and like you, he’d chosen to be stubborn rather than oblige to anything they handed him. 

After retrieving the box, you’d knelt down in front of him. 

“Got anything to drink?”

You scoffed as you took a small bottle of antiseptic out of the box. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would work. “You’re going to have to deal with this sober,” you said, still digging out some essentials. You threw a glance up at him, only to notice that he was finally looking at you. It didn’t deter you from the order. “Take your clothes off.”

When he didn’t immediately move, you raised your eyebrows. Six looked back at you, one of his eyes partially squinted, promising a bruise within the next few hours. He hesitated to oblige this particular request and you found yourself marveling. 

The Gray Man, who had broken out of a secure CIA building through agents with years of similar–if not more–experience, felt awkward. 

You raised your eyebrows further. 

He still didn’t move. 

“I can’t help you through your clothes.” You pointed out.

Six exhaled through his nose, shifting with a soft grunt so that he could grab at the hem of his shirt and begin tucking it out of the cover of his jeans. His expression twisted at the extension of his movements, a strain on his wounds that had soaked through the fabric and left residue wherever his hands grabbed. You shuffled closer to him. 

“Let me help.” Six moving his hands out of your way was the only permission that you needed. You tugged his shirt free from the confines of his jeans, careful to avoid his wounds while you worked your way up over the defined muscles of his chest, skilled fingers gliding up his biceps and carefully working the sleeves through his arms before you could yank it free over his head. It was dropped to the floor.

Scars covered nearly every surface, old wounds from old places that you’d observed through the window at his house in Florida. There were new wounds and new bruising over the old, some that would leave new scars, but it did little to hinder his rugged handsomeness. You weren’t a fool; you would give credit where it was due. 

Your hands went for his belt next, but he grabbed them.

“I got it,” he insisted. 

“Are you shy?” You teased. 

Your little mockery gave rise to a very light smirk, refreshing the frustration that’d previously occupied his face, but your hands retreated so that he could take over himself, unbuckling his belt and carefully wiggling out of his jeans until he was down to his boxers. Those were discarded beside him on the floor along with his shirt. 

You poked at the space next to one of the bigger bruises at his ribs, purple and green discoloration starting; you went for an open gash adjacent to that space first, taking the antiseptic and gauze into your hands. Your head was bent low, your eyes wandering over the rough outline and bruised edges with practiced focus. 

“Did you finally sign that confession?” You asked.

“No,” Six murmured, soft. “They started beating the piss out of me before then though, so,” he hissed a sharp intake of breath as you dabbed at it with the antiseptic. “It felt like a win.” 

You glanced up, the edge of your mouth twitching. He was looking down at you, eyes wandering, and when your lashes fluttered and your eyebrows raised, he looked back up, to the space around the cell–as empty and disinteresting as it was.

“Uh, thanks.” He went on. “For–for this.”

“I wouldn’t thank me yet. This is not going to be comfortable for you.” 

Six nodded, leaving his appreciation in the air for another time. He leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. He looked more peaceful like this, the lights of the hallway blanketing over him and giving a warm, favorable sheen to features marred by blood. His hair fell away from his forehead, revealing another cut there; another eventual scar. 

You elicited a low groan from him as you pressed the antiseptic into the wound and dabbed at it with the gauze. One of his eyes opened to look at you.

“Just making sure you’re still with me.” You said. 

“Barely. I am beginning,” he hissed out, the words rising like bile in his throat, “to seriously question my life choices.”

Your head tilted. “The Sierra Program taught you how to take a beating, all things considered.” 

“That’s a family trait.”

You exhaled through your nose, poking on another bruise toward his left hip making him gasp; the skin there tender, but nothing that you had to immediately worry about. Nothing felt broken. “You’re hilarious,” you murmured good-naturedly, the action and remark earning a gentle glare from him. “Here I thought that it was the blood loss making you so passive.” 

“Just another Thursday,” he quipped. 

“It’s Friday,” you corrected him, your knees tucked against his thigh where you’d moved against his side. Six held up his hand except that his arm couldn’t extend that far and it fell back down to his knees. One hand pushed against his knees to flatten them both so that they were laying straight, granting you more access where it was needed.  “I’m going to work on your side first. I’m going to need you to hold still, okay?”

Other than a sharp intake of breath, and an occasional flinch, he hardly moved at all; one sharp jerk had you leaning your arm over his legs to hold him still, pushed close to his abdomen and practically laying over him. You’d nudged him closer to the wall to make more room for yourself, your hip pressed against the side of his thigh. 

Threading a needle with a closed eye, you glared at it in focus before your thumb and index finger guided the needle through his skin right beside a hole, drawing it over. As you worked, refined, you ignored the gentle sounds that you elicited from him. Soft sounds of pain were nothing new to you, and you did have to admit that they had made him rather resilient. You didn’t know what you had expected, but for some reason, you expected backlash.

You assumed that his and Lloyd’s pain tolerance were drastically different.

The iris scissors were lifted, and you tied off the thread before snipping it.

More antiseptic was soaked onto the wound before a bandage was applied. You shifted up his body to inspect the wound by his shoulder. One of your thighs was forcefully planted to one side of him, trapped between his and the wall, and the other folded beside you. The supplies were placed on his chest for assurance. He’d lifted his head up when he felt you move; the two of you were nearly nose to nose, but your head was turned, focused on his shoulder. 

He placed his hand beside your thigh, holding himself in place should he somehow find himself leaning. Where one of your hands was planted against his chest to hold yourself steady, you felt his heartbeat underneath your palm, pounding in a frantic rhythm. His skin was hot underneath your fingers. 

Charming.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’ve never had a woman this close before,” you said softly, and low without looking at him, your hand moving away to grab more of your antiseptic. 

His breath hitched when he was about to answer, but you interrupted him.

“I don’t want to know.” You mused.

“I have.”

You snickered. “I said if I didn’t know any better.” You felt his muscles relax underneath your hands, but you associated it more with defeat than relaxation. Granted, you had that effect on people naturally. Considering how often you had knowingly or unknowingly infuriated and simultaneously puzzled Lloyd Hansen and Denny Carmichael, Sierra Six was hardly an added challenge. 

Your slender fingers worked at disinfecting and closing the wound at his shoulder, gradually brushing up the length of his arm. Your skin was cold to the touch as always, and you thought that you felt him shiver under his fingers–there was an explorative nature to your demonstrations, touching every little line and mark as you worked your way up over scars old and new in search of other wounds. 

Your eyes never strayed from the work, speaking in their own silent words. Your hand traveled up to drape across his shoulder and toy with stray hairs, twirling blonde strands in between with gentle tugs that were strangely casual. From there, one would consider a conversation starter, or a knife positioned directly where your other hand lingered at his side, doing the same demonstrations where your fingers splayed at the sensitive skin by his hip bone.

It wasn’t often that you were able to get this close to a man without any other intentions.

Six’s hands lay limp, arrested, slowly curling into fists. When you nudged his arm to look at a wound at his other side, he obliged your wordless request. You felt him tense underneath your fingers, seconds teasing him, trickling past. He waited, and he watched. He didn’t risk another glance, another breath too deep. 

Slowly, mechanically, through painstaking precision, he turned to face you completely opposite with a crinkle in his crescent eyes. You knew that look. You’d seen it before, only with much less speaking involved. Then he truly did subside toward you. He pushed the heel of his palm into the floor for support.

All at once, you found yourself pulling away, your hands retreating from his skin, two breaths escaping in unison once you finally made distance and pulled yourself up from the floor. His fingers lingered, brushing your wrist and curling around your knuckles.

“Are you done?” Six asked, voice sounding groggy, lulled into a kind of security that was never meant to be found with you.

“I think you’ll live another day,” you answered. You forced yourself to not submit, to subside against unwise impulses. Especially with as pale and cold as he was—oh, how he could play the game. 

Later, you promised to no one in particular. 

Six finally exhaled, unable to challenge that certainty in your gaze. He managed a pursed smile, then the smile faded, unreadably flat now. With great reluctance, he let go of you. Not once did his attention stray from your face, clinging to it.

“I can’t promise that I’ll happen to be around the next time you piss someone off.” You advised, the barest twitch pulling at the edges of your lips. “So, be careful.”

“Why did you come around this time?” He’d asked when you’d turned away.

“I wanted to tell you,” you inhaled. “Claire is safe. She wants to see you.”

“I want to see her, too.”

Your hand lingered on the doorframe, and while that hadn’t been your original intentions in coming here, you were glad to give him that reassurance. Claire had never outright said it, but you knew as soon as you’d walked into the safehouse who she’d been hoping to see. You never lied, especially not when the facts were directly in front of your face.

“And you will.”

[impyssadobsessions]

Raising Phantom Chpt 9

Jazz sighed as she sent a text to Danny and Vlad, running her fingers through her hair. She had PLANNED and PROMISED to be home by dinner. Glancing at the clock on the school computer, it was already ten minutes past eight o'clock. She hoped Danny wouldn't be too upset, she really didn't mean to.. to-be like their parents.

Oh god. Jazz leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. She clenched her fist repeatedly, trying to calm herself down. Tears painfully pricking at her eyes. Trying her best to avoid breaking down. There were still a few students in the computer room.

She wasn't like her parents. She reminded herself, trying to ignore the doubt in her inner voice. She really meant to be home and she told them she'd be late. Maddie and Jack sometimes forget to even do that when they were busy. But they worked in the basement. Just a staircase away. Stop!

She shook her head. She sat up focusing on the screen, clicking print on her report. She was turning in her work for her classes for the week as well as chatting with her teachers, when one of her professor's refused to accept the format of her work for him. So she had to go and change every single one.

Jazz rubbed her eyes and got up to grab the report from the printer. Borrowing a stapler and returning to logout of the computer. He also demanded it to be in paper. She never in her life disliked a teacher, but he was the first.

Though she had to admit to herself, it wasn't all because of work and school she was late. Talking to Sam and Tucker was very therapeutic. Of course they didn't like that she left Danny with Vlad, but they understood that she needed her space. Encouraged it, even.

“Tch. Of course, the only time I would have loved to go to one of those stuck up rich parties.” Sam muttered, upset to miss the chaos. “Oof. Luckily I don't think Mr. Wayne would remember you. So at least you still have a future job!” Tucker has said, trying to get her to look on the bright side for her, “Annnnd if he does, then no offense, but I don't know you-OW! Sam! I was just kidding!” Jazz suppressed a chuckle with a smile at the memory. Despite having been Danny's friends, they closely became hers too. More so since... She shook her head, looking straight on, she marched back to her professor's office to hand him her work.. again. Refusing to focus on another thought that wasn't on what was around her.

Then it was time to head home.

The walk back was peaceful, well relatively. It was getting dark, which meant danger, but the streets were crowded enough where it didn't feel terrifying. The shops still were lit, and their displays proudly shown in the windows.

Jazz stared at them as she walked by. She never was much of a window shopper before, but after living in Gotham, it had quite an appeal. She smiled as she passed a jewelry shop that had beautiful necklaces on display, clear that they were only for show as the real products lay protected inside. One of the necklaces reminded her of Dora's amulet.

Danny had explained to her one day, after he took her to various allies across the ghost zone. So she knew who to contact if he needed it. Dora was a sweetheart, but the amulet could cause her to turn into a dragon when upset. Jazz liked having tea with her. They'll have to make a trip to see them, next time she takes Danny to Frostbite for a check up.

Another reason she was working with Vlad. Vlad had a working portal and Danny couldn't rely on conventional medicines. Neither could she. She reminded herself, as she walked past a closed pharmacy.

She did worry about what would happen if she got hurt, if they tried to take her to hospital. Or worse, did get murdered. She felt a sharp pang in her heart. She clenched at the strap of her bag. Jazz glanced back at the windows, trying to avoid that thought.

Death wasn't an easy concept. Accepting it was hard. She wanted to believe it wasn't something that happened as often as it did, despite the evidence around her. Even at times she forgot that Danny had actually-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!” a blood curdling scream broke Jazz from her window shopping and her thoughts.

Jazz slapped her back against the wall, as a car came tumbling through the street. She peaked around the corner, hearing the growls and terrified screams. People were trying to flee the streets as another car was picked up by a giant reptilian man. Killer-Croc.

Jazz furrowed her brows, having studied a lot of the reoccurring rogues of Gotham. After-all, her chosen future workplace, she needed to be informed about all the potential patients. She kept to the corner, watching the behavior of the man as he tossed the car into a building.

Killer-Croc was an unfortunate soul, cursed with a body that looks far more monstrous than human. Jazz felt empathy for the giant reptilian. The parallels between him and ghosts were so similar. Creatures that deserve to be treated with the same rights as humans yet both denied based on how they look or how powerful they were. People feared them and used their fear to cast judgment.

Jazz yelped as she rolled out the way of a light pole being swung into the corner of the building she was at. It bounced and flipped into the street, smashing down a traffic light with it. But just like ghosts, there were some merits to their fear. It was a sad fate.

Fate was cruel like that.

The red-headed woman jerked as a motorcycle whipped down the street, jumping over the crushed poles that laid on the street. It skidded to a stop. There was no mistaking the red helmet vigilante that perched on the bike.

“Croc! Don't make me do this same song and dance!” Red Hood yelled, immediately cursing as he jumped off his bike, dodging another car tossed his way.

Killer-Croc was still rampaging, without making any attempts to verbally communicate. Growls and roars coming from the man. People kept running by her, screaming. Jazz should leave, but something felt wrong. She couldn't do anything about it though. She SHOULDN'T do anything about it.

She watched as Red Hood disappeared around the corner, assuming he was running towards the man. Her eyes glanced up as she noticed another vigilante land on the building opposite of her. She had to let them do their job, one day she'll get to do hers. So, she steadied herself off the building and decided to cut through the alleyway to her right.

That had to be the hardest thing about living in Gotham. Having to standby and watch instead of trying to help, especially when she just imagines Danny in their place. Danny, or Phantom as he called his hero persona, the ghost boy that took on everything without knowing how bad it would get. Took every punch, every shot, and every weight on his shoulders to protect people around them. Ghosts and Ghost Hunters included.

She felt tears prick her eyes, making it hard to see. She rubbed her face as she continued to run to the other street. It didn't help that the buildings and cars were now on fire. Smoke filtering into the alleyway. She wanted to be home to hug Danny. She should have been home. She needed-

“What's the rush girlie? Don't like the show?” There was a click of a gun.

Jazz froze, putting her hands up. She didn't know how good of an aim they had, but they sounded way too close to miss. She turned her head slowly to look behind her. There stood a man in a trench coat and a fedora covering his face in shadow.

“You haven't even seen the best part, yet~”

She could see a hint of a grin on his face. A cold dread in her bones. He walked up to her and threw an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to him. His gun pressed to her neck. She could see him more clearly, but refused to do so. The red mouth and the cracking white paint of his neck was more than enough for her.

“Come on, I'll get you front row seats! Generous as I am. It'll be a blast.”

----------------------------@w@ '''

Danny poked at the cold lasagna on his plate as he kicked his feet that dangled. His stomach was in knots. Jazz had called them at five exclaiming she was going to be late, and then texted that she was about to leave around eight. Vlad was pacing around the living room, his plate empty on the coffee table with an empty wine glass. Both of them were growing anxious.

Danny was torn as part of him wanted to go and find her right now, but the other part was clearly reminded of how she was before she left. He didn't want to bother her... she said that she'll be fine. And Jazz was always right... He squinted at his food as if it gave him a questionable look back.

He shook his head and stared at Vlad. He had to admit, Vlad wasn't... so bad.. at least not all the time. Today was actually kind of fun, even if they were both crippled by worry at the moment. Honestly, they didn't even know it was time for dinner by the time Jazz called.

They had flown across the sea all the way to Italy and back. They haunted a grapevine yard and visited old buildings. Something Danny didn't think he would be interested in, but being able to explore endlessly was fun. Danny even found an old toy that was hidden in between the walls. Danny phased it out and gave it to a ghost girl he saw. She was fun to play with too.

Maybe this is how Danielle must have felt traveling? Maybe she'll take him one time.

Though Vlad was upset that Danny had insisted they still get food from the restaurant back in Gotham, but folded as Danny reminded he promised Jazz. And maybe his puppy eyes might have helped. So they had settled on a compromise... which ended up with the fridge being filled with Italian cuisine from both the restaurant and various places in Italy. Vlad even got himself some expensive wine.

His eyes glanced at the bottle on the coffee table. It was already empty.

He glanced back at his food. He hardly had taken a bite. At first they were worried they would get home after Jazz and be scolded for their impromptu trip, even if they brought back souvenirs and food. So once they managed to make it back, they scrambled to get everything put up and set out as if they had been waiting on his sister to return the whole time.

Danny was even ready to get his pajamas on and go to bed, but Vlad insisted they wait. Then they waited. Vlad told him to go ahead and eat, Jasmine would be upset if they didn't, but Danny didn't feel like it now. He poked at his food again. He felt a familiar sting to his eyes as he tried to keep his breathing stable.

It was dumb to be so scared. She was fine. She had to be. Yet, Vlad's conversation with him earlier in the day just reignited the fear into his mind. If she...

He heard a deep sigh, and a pat on his shoulder. “Hurry up and eat Daniel. Please. We'll wait another thirty minutes and then go search for her. Her stubbornness be damned.”

“No pastry swears?” Danny sniffed as he stabbed his fork into the lasagna, ripping a bite size from it.

“I'm too tired and not buzzed enough to care. Though I would appreciate it if we it kept between us, hmm?” Vlad returned to his pacing. He would call her if he wasn't worried the call would get her in more danger.

Danny snorted as he forced himself to take a bite, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't going to promise, but he was also too tired to care. It would be funny to out Vlad for cursing, but only if Jazz hadn't been so upset today. He just wanted his sister home already. He took another bite, mechanically. All he wanted was to hug her right now, embarrassing as it was to admit.

He snorted again to himself, reaching for his glass of milk that was starting to warm up from being left out. He blamed it on being so young again, that he wanted his “mom”. Even if the circumstances were different. She was his sister.

A loud boom thundered across the city. Only sound after was Danny's fork dropping onto the floor.

[theanimalsarecalling]

"Nothing Aurora could say would persuade Declan to do more than tolerate him. Aurora was already a lie Declan was being asked to play along with. He would not play along with another." (Greywaren chpt 25)

There is a lot to unpack in this line, where Declan recalls the time before he learned to love Matthew. But this isn't about Declan and Matthew. The central conflict in the Lynch family was never between Matthew and Declan, or Ronan and Declan, nor even between Declan and Niall. The central conflict was between Declan and Aurora. This casts other events in a different light.

1. It's amazing how much Declan sounds like Ronan here. Who would have thought there was a time when the Master Liar himself hated lies.

2. When Declan cried at the end, Ronan said "I miss them too." But does that really reflect Declan's grief? Declan grieved for Niall, but it never really says anything about grieving for Aurora.

3. In CDTH, Declan's love for Aurora was called "skeptical". Lacking context, his brothers judge him for this, but when Declan says (in MI) that Aurora made him an orphan, he didn't just mean when she fell asleep. She was a symbol of his lost mother, and whenever Niall was gone, he was parentless.

4. Ronan recalls Declan saying he would never get married, right after trying to knock Aurora's wedding ring down the drain. This speaks to a level of acting out behavior on Declan's part.

5. Declan recalls the time he was sick at home with Aurora and Matthew. He was only able to rest once Niall was home. This means Declan didn't really feel safe around Aurora.

6. For her part, Aurora must have been saddened and disturbed by Declan's response to her. After all, none of this was her fault. Declan himself admits that she loved him. As far as Aurora knew, she had always been Declan's mother. But since Niall had effectively lobotomized himself, there was nobody to tell her otherwise.

7. The Christmas story shows Aurora enlisting young Declan to help with dream cleanup, and being insensitive to Declan's moods, which means she wasn't a perfect mother. However, it also shows Aurora trying to include Declan and even siding with Declan when he and Ronan argued over the Christmas tree ornament. Aurora was made to love. And yet Declan didn't respond.

8. With this knowledge, did Niall begin taking Declan on his business trips to give Declan and Aurora some relief from each other? Declan's reaction to Aurora was probably Niall's first clue she was a dream.

9. Also, when Ronan revived Aurora in Cabeswater, he failed to tell Declan, and then lied when Aurora asked about him. And yet he knew Declan would have heard about it from Matthew. It wouldn't have been like Ronan to deny his brother entry, so the choice not to come would have been Declan's. Did Ronan lie to Aurora to protect her feelings?

10. And yet, in the final chapter, Declan remembers being happy as a child, so at some point, he must have decided to rejoin the family. The turning point was when he accepted Matthew, but to do this meant he had to lie about how he felt about everything else, especially Aurora.

In MI, Declan states Niall made him a liar. That's why he aspired to hate Niall (while actually loving and desperately missing him). Niall's and Mór's choices placed him in an impossible position. To be a full member of the Lynch family, Declan had to sacrifice the truth.