#crazy what damage a healer can do if she's angry

[nerd2614]

She looked at the hero, now flat against the wall of the crumbling building. The building the heroes forced her to destroy. It was funny how much dirty work went into being on the 'good' side. Coverups and assassinations all in the name of a so-called brighter future.

"I" - the young hero cleared their throat - "can't, won't, let you get away."

The villain, still known only as 'Evil One' smiled. "You will." She said in an almost motherly tone. "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice, young one. Has anyone ever told you why I cannot be permanently caught?"

The hero had stopped cowering now. They shook their head.

"Well," the villain began, "there are two main reasons. The hero association never want me permanently caught because I give the world something to unite against - it helps prevent other large scale wars and the like."

"And the second reason?" The hero asked tentatively.

"I can never be held by someone whose heart has more guilt or apathy than goodness. That's why the heroes capture me every time a new hero appears. To test them. However, I have grown weary of playing their games. I refuse to allow myself to be captured anymore. And I suggest you get out while you still can, young one."

The 'Evil One' left the young hero standing in the rubble of the broken building. The older heroes arrived to see them alone and started screaming at them. One of the heroes (who was the newbie before they came along) took a swing at them.

"Not in public." Hissed the slightly older hero who had caught his fist before the blow could land. "Wait until we're back at HQ."

The young hero felt numb as rough hands grabbed their arms and pulled them into the sky to fly to HQ. In their disassociated state, they still noted that this wasn't the correct flying technique. They barely let out a whimper as their arm dislocated.

-

"Oh my sweet child." The Villain had broken in to the Hero HQ building to find the young hero curled in a corner of the holding cell she was usually kept in. The young hero was covered in bruises, with one arm dangling uselessly by their side as sobs wracked their body. They had flinched at her voice, squinting through a swollen eye to see who spoke.

"You-" They croaked out.

"Me." The Villain said softly. She opened the door and sat beside the young hero. She started to hum softly as she wiped the grime off their face. "Try to keep quiet now."

A flash of pain made the young hero gasp. Then gentle relief followed. Warm magic started to ease away the worst of the pain.

"Trap." They whispered, once the dizziness had passed.

"I know."

The Villain asked for permission, then hoised the young hero into her arms. "Sleep, we will be there soon."

Prompt #2078

The youngest hero trembled, tripling over their feet as they backed away. [Villain]’s manacles were supposed to be impenetrable, permanently forcing loyalty to the hero’s team.

The villain rubbed their newly bare wrists, gaze never wavering. “It’s okay,” they said, surprisingly soft. “You didn’t put these cuffs on, and you were always kind. I won’t hurt you.”

[demontouched]

okay. finally time for me to try and address my thoughts on laios vs shuro. (not that anyone cares, or that i'm an important figure in the community. but it hits a little close to home, and i want to talk about it.)

when i was younger (and my various undiagnosed problems were even more rampant) i was a lot like shuro. reserved, seen as wise, generally levelheaded. i didn't have a lot of friends, and on occasion, i had a laios. notably, my little sister.

my little sister has adhd like crazy. when we were younger, she was on medicine for it, but it was mostly for school. so at home, she was very much like laios. a little brash, very confident, loud, very much herself with no shame. she would charge into things head first (matephorically and literally) and drag people along with her. it was never malicious, but it was foolhardy.

we got into a lot of fights back then. never quite the knock-down-drag-out fight that laios and shuro had, but we got into some pretty epic screaming matches. neither of us were really in the wrong here, we just didn't mesh well. i was bad at communication, my sister couldn't read social cues, and it just caused a lot of arguments. neither of us were wrong for being like we were, but we were wrong for literally screaming at each other about it.

but that's this world, laios and shuro live in a world where it's not entirely unacceptable to just. have a fist fight. they got healers and shit. if we had healers irl, my sister and i would've clawed each other's eyes out multiple times.

since then, my sister has matured a lot, and she's not really like any dunmeshi character now, so she's being discarded for the purpose of this metaphor. (we no longer have epic screaming matches)

nowadays, i'm much more laios. i've been working on unmasking (which is both a privilege and really fucking hard) and getting more comfortable with just. being annoying to some people. making some people unexplainably angry. because that's what i do. i know not everyone likes me as a person because who they are as a person is fundamentally different. because that's ultimately what's happening with laios and shuro.

shuro is a poc who grew up learning social cues like his life depended on them (it does). he's learned to be quiet, respectful, aware. he is, at his very base, different from laios.

laios has just been Like That his whole life and deals with people's negative reactions as they come. you see how he handles marcille's adverse reactions when she cringes from his love of monsters and monster food.

neither of them are in the wrong, not for who they are or what they did. again, they live in a world with healers, where they fight monsters on the daily and get resurrected regularly. a fist fight between two tall men is the least dangerous or damaging fight either of them have been in, if we're being honest.

having empathy or sympathy–or at least understanding–for other people is important, not only for real life, but for media as well.

(this leads into a whole different thing about also remembering the lines between fiction and reality, and not giving more depth to fictional characters than they are shown to have in their source media. which is a very academia sort of idea, so like. write fanfiction and have ideas and give life to these characters. nobody can stop you and you can't do fiction incorrectly.)

[coldwayhome]

Hazel Levesque with Lover? (I barely see any hazel content 😭)

౨ৎ ⋆˚ LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WILL YOU PLEASE STAND?

☆ LOVER: send a character and i'll give you a few romantic hcs!

— HAZEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

— why does nobody pay attention to her like that's my girl right there!

— most powerful demigod who?

— anyways... back to the topic

— hazel levesque. oh my gosh. everyone knows she's the SWEETEST girl ever!!!

— but she doesn't get close enough with people for other's to realize how hilarious she is.

— except you, of course.

— you are subjected to hazel's torment teasing of campers behind their back...

— it's okay though she's allowed

— you can't count how many times hazel has ranted about octavian and his.. interesting.. personality.

— you've told her to save her energy for other things, but she's just so funny that you're on the floor crying with laughter.

— it's not that she's angry, she's just making fun of him.

— she doesn't really get angry angry. she gets irritated, but she reserves her anger for when people mess with her loved ones, including you.

— octavian made an offhanded remark about you being hazel's partner during a senate meeting, and she had to grip the table so she wouldn't lash out and rip him a new one. literally or figuratively, you choose.

— octavian can suck it! hazel is confident in her relationship with you, and knows nothing can break it. not even that stupid blond dummy!

— anyways

— hazel loves to treat you to presents. gift giving is her love language, along with quality time!

— after she got used to modern technology, you realized she loved to play video games.

— and i'm not talking animal crossing or stardew valley, though those are amazing games!

— what i'm trying to say is that hazel goes crazy on overwatch and valorant. like, crazy. she even dabbles in fortnite (but thinks it's a little silly)

— she likes to play matches with you, and is either your personal pocket healer, or your crazy damage dealer winning potg or mvp.

— hazel loves to buy you skins! she knows you like being cute in matches, and loves the look on your face when you open a gift box.

— gaming isn't your only shared activity, of course. hazel has been taking up dancing, and loves to practice with you! and of course, riding on arion (though it scares you to death).

— don't tell anyone, but you're hazel's muse. she has sketchbook after sketchbook of just your face, your smile, the way your hair brushes against your face in the wind.

— she's scared to show you, because she doesn't want you to think her drawings are creepy. being creepy just comes with being a daughter of pluto, though!

— at some point, hazel introduces you to nico. that meeting was incredibly awkward. you've heard so much about him, but the way he threatened you to treat hazel well (which of course you do and will) made you almost pee your pants.

— nico finally approves, and you end up going to the underworld for festivities and family events. you are still scared every time.

— but hazel wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, and she's amazing at calming you down if you get overwhelmed or stressed. she knows exactly the words to say.

— anyways, hazel supremacy!

hazel <333333333

[itsjustmylifeconfessions]

An addition to my previous post about Eternals reviews. No spoilers here but the article I mention does have spoilers so if you wanna read it this is my heads up to you! :)

As always: my blog is a safe space and rudeness and negativity will be deleted and ignored :)

A white guy writing a review that has spoilers, completely takes a very important Phastos scene out of context to make it bad and complains that Salma Hayek was not even fun or “hayeky” is one great example of why we also need diversity in film criticism.

He provides no context or details of who the characters really are and can do, just very generic stuff, and he carefully chose what he was going to reveal about these two.

Interesting...

I won’t talk about the flashback he mentions but basically, to explain: Phastos is an inventor and engineer, and he feels guilty about what humanity did with his help with technology, he did NOT build anything intending to cause harm but he helped people evolve, just like the other eternals did in their own ways, so when he sees what humans did with technological inventions he feels like he took part in it, in the horrible things people did to each other. I’m sure Phastos still has this guilty in him, specially with the advanced world we live in where horrible things happen with the help of technology all the time.

About Salma: "And the group’s leader Ajak is played by Salma Hayek, who is not even allowed to be fun and Salma Hayeky!" I don’t even have to explain his complaint about Salma cause that’s just so clearly xenophobic and sexist his quote speaks for itself. She is a leader and a healer, is she suppose to heal by the power of gritos?

He is not even trying to hide that he expected her to show up yelling in Spanish at the eternals and acting crazy (as we latinas often do in movies). Perfect example of how these people will only like the angry and loud latina and when we have a dramatic role they'll hate it.

We need more inclusion in film criticism, so productions are not affected by the prejudice that goes in the minds of the majority of the people who’s opinions are valued and considered as the right ones, specially those who get to watch them first and can really damage a movie’s marketing and future chances of diverse productions to get produced.

[within-the-abyss]

Cassian getting all protective when his fem!mate gets hurt.

「Cassian x reader」

「Cassian getting protective over his injured mate」

Cassian, Azriel, and y/n were on their way back from the Illyrian mountains after dealing with a small uprising. They had assumed everything was under control, so they headed back to Velaris.

What they didn’t realize was that the Illyrians had other plans.

The group decided to walk back for part of the journey so Cassian and Azriel could rest their wings, since they had flown on the way there. The trio was too exhausted to notice the suspicious figures in the woods, and Az’s shadows weren’t fast enough to alert him.

Next thing they knew arrows were flying in their direction as well as quite a few angry Illyrians. Azriel and Cassian quickly drew their blades as y/n pulled out her bow and arrow, aiming for the Illyrians coming at them from the sky.

Azriel and Cassian quickly got rid of the few on the ground as y/n fired the last of her arrows. They all took a breath, relieved to have gotten rid of the last of the Illyrians, or at least that’s what they thought.

Hearing a rustle in the trees, y/n reached into her quiver, only to find her arrows were all gone. Shit.

“Az! Cass! There’s one more in the trees on the rig-” she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence as she felt an arrow pierce her lower abdomen. And then another through her chest.

“Y/n!” she heard Cassian call as she hit the ground, coughing up blood. She assumed Azriel had killed the one in the trees, as he joined them a moment later. 

Cassian ripped a part of his shirt off, putting it against the wounds on her chest and stomach.

“Just hold on love. We’re gonna get you some help.” She could hear the panic in Cassian’s voice, and looked over to see him shouting something at Azriel. They seemed to be arguing but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Her hearing had started going in and out and her vision went fuzzy.

“Cassian…” was all she could manage, she could feel herself slipping- she had lost too much blood.

Cassian glanced down, shooting her a worried look and scooped her up in her arms, soaring off into the sky. She turned to look up at Cassian’s face as her hearing faded entirely and the darkness consumed her.

- - -

Cassian paced back and forth around the room as he looked at the female still asleep on the bed. She had been out for 3 days now. The 2 arrows had caused more damage than anticipated. She had lost large amounts of blood and the arrow in her chest was dangerously close to her heart and had grazed one of her major arteries.

It took many healers, and almost 8 hours to repair the damage, and even then she would still be left with scars.

Cassian was going crazy. His mate, his love, the female he promised to protect with his life was lying unconscious on a bed and he wasn’t sure when she would wake up.

His brothers had come in and tried to get him to eat, to sleep. But he refused. He blamed himself for what happened. If only I would have paid more attention then maybe-

His thoughts were interrupted by a groan from the other side of the room. His head shot up as he looked at his mate slowly trying to open her eyes.

He rushed over to the bedside to help her up. “Easy love, you’re not fully healed.” He put his hands on her back for support as she repositioned herself to a more comfortable position.

He looked her over trying to see if she was in pain anywhere. “Are you hurting anywhere?” he asked, eyes still roaming her injured body.

“No, I’m just super sore. But I have a killer headache.” Her voice came out raspy after days of sleep.

“Alright, let me call a healer for you.” Cassian popped his head out the door, not daring to leave his mate in this state, and called the closest person to get a healer. Once Cassian had sat back down beside the bed, he put a hand on y/n’s head checking for a fever.

“I’m alright Cass. I just have a headache. I’ll be fine.”

“I know I just… I’m just really worried. You were unconscious and lost a lot of blood. I want to be sure you're comfortable and healing safely.” Cassian said, pushing a stray hair out of her face.

“Can I get you some water, maybe something to eat? Do you need more blankets? I know it’s cold in here. What about-”

“Cass, calm down,” y/n cut him off. She appreciated his efforts, but it wasn’t necessary.

Just as y/n was about to say something, the door burst open, a worried Feyre and Rhys at the door.

“We heard y/n’s awake. We came to check on her,” Feyre said making her way over to the bed, Rhys in tow.

“Hey guys,” y/n spoke, offering them a small smile.

Feyre leaned in to give y/n a hug but Cassian stepped in the way.

“Nope. Nuh uh. She’s still injured and needs to be cleared by a healer.” Cassian stood in front of Feyre and it was clear he wasn’t going to be moving anytime soon.

“It’s just a hug Cass. I can hug people,” y/n said giving Cassian a pleading look. Feyre looked up at Cassian, hoping he would agree with y/n and move.

“No, not until a healer gets here.” Y/n let out a sigh, Cassian wasn’t backing down. Typical overprotective Illyrian.

There was a light knock on the door as the healer’s head peeked through.

“I’m here to check on y/n.” 

He walked over to the bed and proceeded to check on her stitches and the bruising on various parts of her body. He finished up, giving her a tonic for her headache and looked to the others, “She’s almost fully healed, but she’ll need a week’s more of bedrest. I suggest she stay in bed and only leave for things like the bathroom. She needs to eat and make sure she’s getting plenty of water.”

The healer gave them all a smile and walked out of the room. Rhys and Feyre also left soon after, saying their goodbyes and leaving Cassian and y/n to themselves.

“Well I’m gonna go make you some food. What do you want? A sandwich? Maybe eggs and bacon? Toast? You name it, I’ll make it.” Y/n let out a small laugh at Cassian’s serious tone, she knew whatever she wanted he’d get.

“Just a sandwich will be fine. And a cup of water if you don’t mind.” Cassian gave y/n a nod and left the room to make her food.

For the next week Cassian didn’t leave y/n’s side again. He was constantly asking her if she was hungry, thirsty, cold, even offering to massage her feet if he needed to. Y/n would be lying if she said it wasn’t a little much, but what could you expect from an overprotective Illyrian.

[dracowars]

Hiii can I request an imagine where Draco and the reader are old now and they work together (healers,maybe) but Draco used to bully her and be rude to her during Hogwarts years but she’s like this total badass now and he apologizes to her .

heal me | draco malfoy

pairing: healer!draco x healer!reader

word count: 2,7k

summary: where y/n has to work with the person she hates the most

a/n: paragraphs completely written in italics are flashbacks! i hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

"Don't worry. Tomorrow everything will be fine again", you explain to the younger patient and his parents while taking notes on your clipboard. "Thank you for helping our son", his parents thank you before you get up and leave the room with them, the little boy already much happier than a few minutes ago when his parents brought him here.

At the reception they wave their goodbyes at you and you have a short chat with one of the assistants before you make your way to the laboratory where you have to get new Skele-Gro. Entering the laboratory you immediately go to one of the cupboards in which all kinds of potions and medicines are located and search for the Skele-Gro.

At first you do not even notice that you are not alone in the room and quietly swear to yourself when you just cannot find the medicine. A low chuckle sounds to your right and you flinch in shock, turning around only to see the one person you actually prefer to avoid at all times.

Draco Malfoy.

The son of one of the richest and most influential pure-blood families, the Malfoys, the biggest asshole at Hogwarts back then and now unfortunarely also your colleague at the St.-Mungo-Hospital.

On your first day here you were so happy to finally be able to fulfill your dream and leave your past behind you. You were finally away from Hogwarts, the place where so many terrible things happened and you could finally live a normal wizard's life. At least that is what you thought.

Until the very moment you ran into Draco on your first day. And not as a patient, no. He was also dressed in the green smock with the sewn on crest of a crossed wand and bone. The one boy that made your life at Hogwarts a living hell every single day was also working as a healer now. Just like you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn away from him and continue searching for your potion, ignoring the fact that you have to endure his presence. "Can I somehow help you?", his voice suddenly sounds close to your ear and you let out a startled gasp. "No, thank you. I do not need your help. I can manage this quite well on my own", you hiss at him, giving him a look that could kill. His hands shoot up in the air in defense and he takes a step back. "Okay, okay! No need to snap at me like that", he claims offendedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nevertheless you notice his gaze on you while you keep searching around in the cupboard and you begin to feel really uncomfortable. Why can't he just leave you alone? You have been working at the hospital together for several months and until now you kept your conversations to a certain extent only if it was related to your work. But otherwise you do not exchange a word with him. Because you do not need or want to.

"What?", you scoff, turning around to face him again, a slick smirk on his lips that makes the blood in your veins boil. "Nothing", he shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his gaze focused on you. "Do you not have anything better to do than annoy me, Malfoy? Do you not need to rescue some lifes?", you confront him, keeping your posture as you give him your most annoyed expression.

"I have my break right now."

"And then you sneak around in the laboratory?"

"Yeah."

"What about you leave me alone and let me do my work?"

"What about no?"

"Merlin, you are annoying the hell out of me right now", you sigh while massaging your temples with your fingertips.

"Sorry that I am alive", he replys with a shake of his head, causing you to stop what you are doing in an instant. Alive.

"You are a shame to Hogwarts, Y/L/N", his evil laugh rings in your ears as he forces you onto the ground, your books all over the cold floor. His goons kick them further through the corridor, destroying most of the books that your family spent so much money on. Quickly you get up on your feet again, your knees shaking in fear.

"Leave me alone!", you furiously yell at them which is why they pause for a moment before starting to laugh out loud. "Why are you even on this school if you are not even able to protect yourself, Y/N? No, wait. Let me put it differently. Why are you even alive?", he giggles and his friends join in, pointing their disgusting fingers at you in amusement.

Tears start pricking in your eyes as they keep laughing at you. Completely alone you just stand there and let them have their fun, your head hanging low. Draco withdraws his wand out of his pocket and points it onto one of your books. "Incendio", he conjures and your beloved book immediately catches on fire.

"You will be sorry for that!"

"Uhm, hello? Y/N? Are you still there?", Draco waves his hand in front of your face and you blink a few times before slapping his hand away angrily. "Get away from me!", you tell him off and bring distance between both of you. With a confused expression on his face, he looks at you as if you have gone completely crazy. "Bad day?", he asks, wanting to seem sorry for you. He did not feel sorry for you. Not now, not then, never.

"I do not have a bad day. I just hate you profoundly and do not want you in my life, Malfoy", you explain with no emotion in your voice and shut the cupboard close loudly, making him flinch. With these last words you leave the room, even though you did not succeed in finding the potion, and slam the door shut behind you. Why are you the one being punished again?

Taking a long deep breath, you look down the empty corridors, straighten your uniform and set off to pursue your job. The one and only thing that can distract you now. Unfortunately, you do not get very far, not even out of the corridor, when you abruptly feel a firm grip on your wrist and get pulled back roughly. "Y/N! Wait-"

"What the hell, Draco?!", you yell and only get angrier when he does not let go of you and you have to free your hand from his grip. "What do you want from me?! Have you not done enough damage already?", you angrily bark at him, but he just sadly looks down at his feet. He lets you shout at him how much you want without uttering a single word. You stand in front of him, angry and breathing heavily. He has never seen you like this before.

For him you always seemed so strong and invulnerable, but now he sees your real self and how much he and his actions broke you. He has been watching you for all these months and how you thrive in your job as a healer. You were so strong and helpful and kind. He made many mistakes back at Hogwarts and he perfectly knows it. But he had enough time to rethink what he has done. The guilt has eaten him up as he never had the opportunity to apologize.

Yes, he did terrible things. He not only bullied a lot of students, but also doomed the headmaster to death and had to join the Death Eaters. Something he never wanted to. Just as he did not want you to hate him this much. He cannot explain why he did what he did when he actually liked you back then and probably still does. He loved how you would always run around with your books, how you would twirl a strand of hair around your finger when you were concentrating in potions or how you would speak up to tell the teachers every answer.

He knows what he did was wrong. But he lacks the words and also the courage to explain it to you. You would not understand him anyway and would loathe him even more.

"We are grown up now, Y/N. Can we not just forget what happened?", Draco pleads, but your reaction immediately makes him realize that he has chosen the absolute wrong words.

"Oh, so that is how it works for you Malfoys, huh? Great, when you are that grown up as you say, then why don't you just act like that and keep your distance from me, you damn asshole!", you scream out loudly and at this point you do not even care anymore if anyone else hears you. This man just makes you so incredibly angry when he thinks everything can be clarified with a few words.

"Listen to me, Y/N", Draco tries again, but you shake your head in disbelief. "You know what? I really thought I could not hate you any more. But I was wrong", you huff, turning around on your heel to finally get rid of him.

"I let you yell at me, why don't you let me explain it?", he desperately reminds you, his eyes basically begging you to give him a chance. "Do you really think that you can ever make amends for what you have do-", you start scolding him again, but get interrupted all of a sudden when you hear a very loud noise. The noise that an emergency patient has just been delivered.

Without wasting time you sprint off and towards the energency room, Draco following closely behind you. You spot how a man is being pushed through the corridor on a lounger in front of you right away and quickly run there to help.

"Oh! Good that you are here, Y/N!"

"What happened?"

"Serious Quidditch accident. He was badly battered by a bludger. Several broken bones and high blood loss."

"Take him to the treatment room immediately!", you command and you bring the injured player there together. Groaning in pain you lift him onto the hospital bed and you do everything possible to put an end to his pain. "Quick! We need some Calming Draught", you state and look around, but only a few seconds after your utterance the potion you asked for is already laid in your hand by no other than Draco, who has apparently thought ahead. You quietly thank him under your breath and give the patient the medicine so that he calms down.

Injuries in the wizarding world are often quick to heal, but there is still a lot of pain associated with them. That is why you do everything to make your patients feel better as fast as possible. "We should stop the bleeding from his wounds", Draco suggests while you are busy pulling out your wand.

"We need Blood-Replenishing Potion", you say at the exact same time as Draco and look at each other a little bit shocked. You turn back to the patient and continue to calm him down. You point the tip of your wand at his torso and cast a spell to to mend his broken bones.

"Brackium Emendo", you mumble and the spell works instantly, taking away most of the patient's pain. Just to be on the safe side, you also use Ferula to spare his newly generated bones while Draco is already holding out the Blood-Replenishing Potion to you. You take it and use it on the man, the other healers at your side to explain the next steps to the poor man.

After you have successfully healed him, you leave the room and let the other healers take care of the rest. Treating an emergency patient is always exciting but scary because you never know what to expect.

And what you also did not expect is that Draco follows you again and stops you by shouting your name. You heavily exhale and collect your thoughts before you turn to face him. "What is it now?", you ask, visibly annoyed.

"You did a really good job back there", he smiles, pointing behind him to the room you just left. Suspiciously, you look at him and raise your eyebrow. Then you sigh, putting your hands on your hips.

"Thanks. You were not bad either", you compliment him which he seems to be quite surprised about because his eyes widen for a moment. He smiles uncertainly to show you his gratitude and then scratches his neck in embarrassment. "So.. About earlier.."

"Draco. I really do not want to hear anything about it anymore."

"Please, Y/N. Just give me this one chance. At least let me explain! Afterwards you can still hate me as much you want to", he persuades you intensely.

"You have five minutes", you finally give in and drag him into an empty corridor to prevent anyone else hearing you. "I am listening."

"I know my behavior was wrong back then and I want to deeply apologize to you for that. It was not okay to destroy your supplies, to make fun of you, or to harm you physically and mentally. I just- I did not know how to deal with my.. feelings and the best way to get rid of those wrong feelings seemed to be to bully you. I have done terrible things, Y/N. And yet this is the reason why I cannot sleep at night. Because I am so sorry for everything and I know that you will never forgive me", he explains to you honestly, in a heartbreaking voice and although you try your best to fight against it, tears brimming into your eyes.

"I was in love with you, Y/N. Well, I still am", Draco suddenly admits and you could swear that - against your will and common sense - your heart just stopped beating for a moment.

Because what Draco does not know is that you actually had feelings for him as well. But that was before he even started any of this, when he was still watching you across the Great Hall and you would catch him staring. From one day to another he destroyed your hopes and suddenly started bullying you. It got worse day by day until your feelings for him turned from love to pure hate.

You loved each other, but one did not know about the other's mutual feeling and vice versa. And so two people hurt each other even though they were in love.

"D-Draco- I don't know what to say", you stutter out and do not dare to look at him, in fear that you will give in immediately.

"You do not have to say anything. Thank you for listening to me. I am sorry", he softly smiles, a comforting and especially real one, and lowers his head in defeat.

"It is really not easy for me either, Draco", you sigh, blinking your tears away. "I am not sure if I can ever forget what you did to me."

Draco nods dejectedly, understanding and accepting your decision. After all, he cannot forgive himself for what he did either.

"But I am ready to forgive you", you add and Draco's head shoots up immediately, locking eyes with you, not sure if he heard you correctly. "As you said: we have grown up and that means we can also learn to forgive", you give him a gentle smile.

A big and thankful smile spreads over his facial features. "I love you so much, Y/N. No- Not like that.. Well actually..", he babbles to himself. You gently put your hand on his shoulder to calm him down a bit, suppressing a giggle.

"Don't worry. I will see you later, alright?", you grin and and pat his shoulder softly.

"Y-Yes! Of course", he answers, not quite sure what to do with himself. He feels such an incredible joy inside of him, but just as strongly he feels fear. The fear that he might screw it up again.

While he is still deep in thought, you walk backwards and away from him. When he notices that you are retreating, he briefly shakes his head to get back to the here and now. "Thank you!", he calls after you, unable to move.

"See you later", you wave before you turn around and disappear into the next corridor, your heart almost jumping out of your chest.

Maybe this is the beginning of something new, of something more. The next chapter in your life.

A restart.

[the-angriestpineapple]

fanatic // bakugou x male reader

Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, meets one of his biggest fans and gets roped into walking him home. He finds out just how big a fan he is. NOTES: So this was my first xreader fic. I wrote it basically for one of my partners @spacebunnywrites​ before he was one of my partners. It’s a rough dom Bakugou but there’s some aftercare I promise. Tags: all the holes, rough sex, toys, some embarrassment. x fem here x nonbi coming soon  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

You’re on your way home from a coffee date with friends when you hear the first explosion. It’s coming from somewhere vaguely to your left, eyes immediately shifting in that direction in time to see some civilians fleeing onto your current street from an alley. Your heart stops in your chest, but not from fear.

It can’t be… you think. He’s never in this district. But you need to check, and your legs are moving toward the gap in the buildings before you’re really thinking about it. Soon you’re running through the narrow passage, pulse quickening as the sound of the blasts grow closer. You’re almost there, you just need to see -

You skid to a stop at the alley mouth, eyes widening as a heated explosion rockets past you followed by a maniacally grinning blonde.

“DIE!!”

Oh my god it’s him! Bakugou Katsuki, pro Hero Ground Zero, in the flesh. Your heart stops again as you watch him sail through the air, so elegant in movement despite his abrasive quirk and even more abrasive personality. Most of your friends fantasized about Midoriya Izuku – Deku – the shy green haired number one hero or Kirishima Eijirou – Red Riot – the sturdy number five hero and Ground Zero’s battle partner. But you? Your heart beats for the wild blonde with the crazy smile who constantly pushes the limits.

The battle was moving down the street. You had to get closer. Where all the sane people were running away from the dueling villains and heroes, you were running closer. This was the first time you had ever seen Ground Zero in person and would likely be the last – he was never in your district and you honestly didn’t know why he was now. That didn’t matter though, he was here, and you’d watch him fight or die trying.

You at least had some sense of self-preservation, ducking behind sturdy objects so that you wouldn’t get hit with some flying shrapnel. You watch in awe as your favorite pro Hero uses his quirk to shoot through the air and slam into one of the villains, giving an appreciative sigh. Fuck, he is so hot.

You’re so focused on watching the explosion hero in action that you don’t another fight right behind you; Red Riot is sparring with a huge, muscular villain. The red-haired hero slams the guy into the wall, but your ears are ringing from being so close to Ground Zero’s detonations that you don’t hear it. Then Ground Zero looks at you. Your eyes lock. Your heart stops. His mouth is moving, making words, and the look on his face goes from sheer confidence to panic.

The world around you starts moving again and you hear ‘Hey, LOOK OUT!’ before something slams into your head and you fall to the ground, the world going dark.

“Is he okay?”

“Fuck if I know, shitty hair, but at least the bleeding stopped.”

You blink as you come to, surroundings hazy and out of focus. Your world is a swirl of greys with splashes of red, black, orange, and yellow. Part of you wonders if it’s sunrise before your vision clears and you’re looking up into the concerned face of Red Riot, and the scowling face of Ground Zero.

Oh fuck.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? A medic team will be here shortly, and we didn’t want to move you.” The sturdy hero has concern pouring out of his tone, his eyes flicking your face for any sign of pain.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ground Zero hisses out, his eyes narrowing further than they were before.

“Bakubro, don’t be like that! He’s a civilian, he probably got trapped! He WAS right in between our fights after all!” Red Riot frowns at the blonde who is still glaring daggers at you. “You gotta work on your image man, your publicist is gonna straight up kill you one day.”

“Fuck off, Kiri.”

Your eyes are focused on Ground Zero, frowning at the anger that is radiating from him. You knew he was like this but it’s different when it’s directed at you instead of at villains or the press.

Both heroes look up as an ambulance squeals to a stop nearby, followed by police to apprehend the villains.

Red Riot immediately pops up and waves an arm. “Hey, he’s over here!”

Ground Zero is still staring at you as Kirishima gets the attention of the paramedics. Red Riot returns quickly, flanked by two more people.

“Hey, these healers can take care of you.”

One of the people holds out her hands, scanning over your horizontal body. “There appears to be no major damage, just a shallow gash to the back of the skull. It’s superficial, Nightingale can heal it without the need for stitches.” She steps back and her partner steps up next, placing a hand to the top of your head. You feel like warm water is rushing over your skull and the dull ache of pain recedes.

Red Riot gives you a relieved smile.

“He’s all set.” The medic, Nightingale, steps back and goes with her partner back to the ambulance. You sit up, automatically steadied by Riot’s large hands.

“Careful, uh...”

“(Y/N).” Your voice sounds a little raspier than usual and you wince.

“(Y/N). It’s nice to meet you! I’m Kirishima, and this is Bakugou. Can we escort you home to make sure you make it okay?”

Ground Zero’s eye daggers are now aimed at Red Riot and you hide a smile behind your hand.

“That would be great, actually.” You hope that you look calm on the outside because your heart is hammering WILDLY in your chest. Ground Zero walking you back to your apartment? Your mind races with all the ways that could end, except now he’s back to glaring daggers at you.

“Red Riot!” All three of you look up as a police officer comes over. “We need a report from you.” His eyes flick to Ground Zero, still crouched near your side, and a flash of fear shoots through them. “Ground Zero we don’t need both of you so you’re free to go.”

Ground Zero rolls his eyes and stands, the movement as graceful as a dancer. “Fine, I have shit to do anyway.”

“Yeah, like walking this one home.” Red Riot stared at his friend, Ground Zero glaring back, before the blonde hero tossed his head back with a sigh.

“Fucking FINE. Whatever. Let’s go.”

He yanks you up, ignoring Red Riot’s suggestions to be gentle. You let out a squeal of protest on your own, attempting to pull your arm back out of his gloved hand. He’s strong though, so much stronger than you ever imagined.

“Wait, Ground Zero, Ground Zero STOP!” You yank hard on your arm, stumbling back when he lets you go and whips around to face you.

“What?!”

You huff, scowling back at him. “You’re going the wrong way.”

His eyes narrow. “Well, you didn’t tell me where you fucking live.”

“I didn’t get a chance to! You just dragged me off like some fucking animal!”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ground Zero closes the distance between you two, his crimson eyes glaring into your (e/c) ones.

“I said… you dragged me off like some kind of animal.” He may be the object of all of your carnal lusts, but you were not about to be rag-dolled through the city. At least, not in this manner. You don’t flinch as he glares at you, feeling a thrill of victory as he emits a growl.

“Fucking… fine. Come on then. Which way...?” His voice is low, and you can hear the annoyance laced through it. You grin and head off in a different direction, looking behind you at the angry blonde planted on the sidewalk.

“Well come on, Red Riot will be pissed if you leave me alone.” You smirk as his scowl deepens. Since he more or less promised your safety to his partner, that left you free to push his buttons. You weren’t very happy about being yanked like that, but fuck you loved the aggression that the blonde exuded. Every scowl and squint were sending chills down your spine and you wanted to see if you could get him yelling at you before you got back to your apartment. Fuck, that would give you something to get off to for months.

“Fine.” You hear the stomping of boots following you and you can’t help the smirk pulling at your lips. This was fun. Your heart was still pounding in your chest being so close to him, talking to him, teasing him, but you liked to think that you were holding your own.

You annoyed him with chatter and banter for the whole ten-minute walk to your small apartment, easily swapping between teasing him (there’s a hole in your uniform Ground Zero, are you getting slow?) and yammering about anything and everything happening around you. Ground Zero might think it was nerves, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong. Your nerves were firing off like sparklers, bright and heated, but it was mostly the thrill of watching the storm cloud that darkened your favorite hero’s face as you walk.

You’re twirling as you go down the sidewalk, generally making a nuisance of yourself just to annoy him further, when suddenly you’re overcome with a dizzy spell. You stop twirling and put a hand to your head, the world spinning around you as you start to fall. You hear loud boot stomps and then strong arms are wrapping around you, catching you before you hit the ground.

“Fuck, do you have no sense of self-preservation? Why would you do shit like that after you just had a head injury?” Ground Zero has you fixed with that familiar angry scowl and you smiled up at him. You feel almost drunk as you reach out and ‘boop’ the hero’s nose.

He snarls. “Which fucking apartment building is yours, you shitty fuck?” Your arm flops toward your building and he grumbles as he takes off to it, carrying you bridal-style in his arms.

Your head is lolling back and he’s cursing under his breath. “Fuck. Which apartment? Where are your keys?” Your hand slips into your pocket and lazily fishes out your keys, promptly dropping them on the ground. Ground Zero curses again and crouches easily to pick them up. Your fuzzy brain has it together enough to be impressed that he’s able to squat and snatch your keys from the pavement like you weigh nothing. So strong. Swoon.

Ground Zero carries you effortlessly up the stairs to the third floor. Luckily your apartment number is on a tag on your key, so it takes him no time to find it. You aren’t really paying attention as he unlocks your door and swings it open, stepping into your home. You feel him pause, his eyes sweeping the area. You live alone and your home is small, but it’s cozy and you love it.

He spots a mass of pillows by the window in the main room and decides that is the best place to lay you. You squirm on the pile of squishy pillows and trying to make yourself comfortable; all the while Ground Zero watches you with a scowl. He knows for a damn fact that if he leaves you before you’re coherent that Kirishima will have his hide, so he’s trapped here until you wake up. Great.

He might as well try to find your bathroom and some medication, you’re bound to have a headache when you wake up fully. There’s only one door off the space you’re both currently in, so without hesitation he crosses to it and moves to open it. You open one eye in time to see Ground Zero’s hand wrap around the knob to your bedroom and you squeak out a weak protest, but the door opens. He stands in the doorway, frozen.

“...What the fuck is this.”

Shit. Now you were in for it. You try to pull yourself up, fighting the dizziness in an attempt to defuse the situation. You knew exactly what he was looking at. Your bedroom was absolutely covered in Ground Zero merch, both official and unofficial. You rise and shakily make your way to him. “Ground Zero, ah, don’t…”

He whirls on you, eyes narrowed. “You weren’t trapped between our fights. You came specifically to watch me.” It’s not a question and your cheeks color as you nod.

He inhales and turns from you, stepping into your bedroom and looking around at the amount of stuff. Posters, figurines, plush pillows that look like his grenade gauntlets. His eyes sweep your bed and pause at the elongated shape hidden under the blankets. Without asking for permission he rips back the black and orange comforter and you gasp as he reveals a body pillow of himself.

“Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?” Luckily it’s on the tame side and not the lewd side.

Then Ground Zero flips the pillow over. He looks at you with raised eyebrows. Your face floods with heat and you turn you turn away from him; missing the cocky smirk that graces his lips for a split second.

“If you have this so brazenly in your bed, what the fuck else are you hiding in here?”

You eke out another protest as he prowls around to the other side of your bed, zeroing in on a pair of doors. He opens the first, but it’s your small bathroom. The blonde hero shoots you a look and closes it, then grins as he opens the other one.

“People always hide weird shit in their closets…” He rips the door open and instead of a quick look like he did in the bathroom, he begins pulling your hanging clothes to the side, checking the floor, sweeping his hands on the shelf. He finds the thing you’re dreading quickly – a small box shoved in the corner of your highest shelf.  “Hmm. Looks suspicious.”

He pops it open with a smirk that quickly vanishes, and you want to sink into the floor and die. You know exactly what’s in the box, and there’s a reason it’s hidden where it is.

Ground Zero holds up the bondage harness as you watch, mortified, his eyes sweeping the black and orange straps. "Is this... is this official merch? I'm going to kill my entire marketing team."

"No. I, um..." You swallow, averting your eyes as your cheeks flush. "I made it."

Ground Zero stares at you for a second, then a grin slowly curls up the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? You made it?"

You nod. "There's, um. There’re matching arm binders that look like your gauntlets. And leg binders that look like your boots." You risk raising your eyes to look at him and you feel the breath knocked out of you at the hungry, feral look in his eyes.

"Put it on then.” His grin widens as he throws the harness at you.

You catch it, acting more out of reflex than anything. “What?!”

“If you're so desperate for my cock. Fucking earn it."

He casually fishes out the arm and leg restraints, looking them over the way he looked at the harness. “You fucking heard me. If you want it, you have to work for it.” Crimson eyes flick to you. “Especially after the way you fucking teased me the whole walk here.”

Teased him? I mean yeah, you were a little sassy, but… your eyes widen in understanding. He likes the sass. That made you look at all his glares and glances in a new light, and… Your eyes flick to the heat in them now. Fuck were you in for it, and fuck were you all about it.

“I’m not going to say it again. Put. It. On.”

His voice is like steel and you drop the harness on your bed, hands going to your shirt. Fuck, was this really happening? Were you really going to do this? You hesitate as you toy with the hem of your shirt and Ground Zero uncrosses his arms, cupping his palms, and lets off a few warning sparks. Your heart leaps into your throat and you yank the shirt over your head, throwing it nearly across your room before yanking off your pants and kicking them after the shirt.

You look at Ground Zero as you stand in your underwear, and he motions to the small garments. Your face heats up as you slowly slide those off too. At his raised brow you pick up the harness, carefully stepping into it.

“I uh, I can’t put this on by myself. It’s why I’ve never worn it before.” Your face flushes, the harness straps hanging from your frame. Ground Zero shifts his weight, moving like a cat stalking prey. He slowly walks around you, reaching out for the straps, and pulling them tightly into place.

“So, I’m the only one to see you like this, hah?” His voice is low and rumbling, hot like raked coals.

You shudder and nod.

He pulls the strap he’s tying tighter and leans into your ear. “Good. It had better fucking stay that way.” The words spike directly to your core and you groan, immediately moving to slap a hand over your mouth. He just chuckles darkly and finishes tightening the straps, and you look down on yourself. The harness is very nice, if you do say so yourself. You can’t help but feel a little proud of your handiwork.

Then you notice Ground Zero holding the arm and leg binders and grinning.

You immediately start to shake your head, but he just grins wider. “Ah ah, you made them, you must be dying to try them out.”

You’re only semi-surprised at the skill and nimbleness that he displays locking you into the binders, and you wonder if this is something he does regularly. Your arms are twisted behind your back and locked into place, and Ground Zero guides you down to the floor so he can use the leg binders to keep you in a kneeling position. It’s a good thing he has those huge knee pads on his hero outfit – they provide an excellent cushion from your hardwood floor. You’re glad you included them.

“There. And now that you’re all nice and tied up…” He walks to the front of you as he removes his gloves and reaches down, a calloused thumb teasing at your lower lip. You immediately open your mouth and he gives an approving rumble deep in his throat, using the pad of his thumb to stroke your eager tongue.

You roll your eyes back in your head at the flavor – he tastes like rich caramel. The scent rises off him now that his hands are so close to your face. You’re vaguely aware that it has something to do with his quirk, and that the nitroglycerin he sweats can be toxic, but you’re way too into him being in your mouth to care. He grasps your chin with his fingertips, holding your jaw in place from the inside. You give a small whine, closing your lips to suck on his thumb.

“Greedy little slut, aren’t you?” He pulls the thumb out and wipes your saliva on your cheek. “You know, that body pillow you got there? It’s fucking wrong.” He smirks a little, hooking the thumb that was in your mouth through a belt loop. “I bet you want to see the real thing, don’t you? You’re dying for it. I can see it in your eyes.” You whimper and nod, your eyes immediately going to the crotch of his pants. “Well too bad. I’m not done looking through your shit.”

You let out a much louder whine as he turns away from you.

“Let’s see now. I’ve already checked the closet, how about… in here?” He moves to your nightstand and yanks open a drawer, but all that’s in it are a few odds and ends. He gives you a scowl and slams it closed before pulling open the second one. That one yields much more fruitful results, and you feel like your face can’t get any hotter as Ground Zero lifts out a ball gag colored like a grenade, and a blindfold in the shape of his mask. He gives you a very direct look before carefully laying the items on your bed, then dives back in. Next, he comes out with a thin paddle made of wood with a slab of rubber on it, the rubber looking like a boot imprint.

“What the fuck is this?” He squints at the tread, then lifts his own boot and looks at it. “Is this my fucking boot print? How the fuck did you even get this?”

“Someone… after a fight in your district, someone made a casting of your boot print in the dirt. I uh, I bought it and cast the rubber to make a spanking paddle… with your boot tread on it.” You swallow a little. “I’m glad to know it’s authentic.” You give a tiny, nervous chuckle.

He stares at you for a second and then drops the paddle on the bed.

“You filthy fucking bitch. You just want me to walk all over you.” There’s definitely a vein of arousal in his voice, and when he turns you can see that the crotch of his pants is tighter than it was when he was standing in front of you. He shifts through the rest of the drawer, casually putting a bottle of lube on top of the night stand.

Without a word he gets on his knees and looks under your bed, pulling out another box. You’re so far beyond embarrassed at this point. The delicate lace of arousal in his words, the strain against his pants, you’re going to get fucked stupid by the hero you idolize. You wish desperately that your leg binders didn’t keep your thighs spread, robbing you of any friction you might have been able to produce for yourself.

Your breath intakes sharply as Ground Zero returns up from the floor, holding a sizeable black and orange dildo. “Did you fuckin’ make this too?” He’s catching on that all your sex toys are in his trademark black and orange.

You shake your head. “Commission,” you squeak out.

“Ah, you keep my dildo right under your bed, hah? Has to be in easy reach so you can stuff yourself as soon as you need to feel my cock in you?”

Your breath intakes harshly at the words. “Yes.”

He stares at you with hard eyes for a second. “…Fuck.”

He stands, eyes drilling into you as he pulls off his boots. Next go his gauntlets, clattering to the floor, followed by his top, and despite the fact that you’ve seen his naked chest countless times in either battle damaged costumes or professional photo shoots, you’re not prepared for the real thing.

You make a hiccup-y gasp, and his grin goes feral.

“Be a good boy and don’t move.” He closes the distance between you and easily scoops you into his arms, placing you on the bed with your back facing him. He glances at the hardwood floor where you were originally sitting. “Tch. Haven’t even fucking touched you and you’re already making a fucking mess.” He gestures at the floor where a small pool of liquid betrays how turned on you already are. You feel a slight sliver of shame but it’s heavily outweighed by the sheer force of your arousal.

You watch as Ground Zero, now stripped of everything but pants and socks, moves behind you again. Hands reach out and caress your sides, softer than you thought the blonde was capable of. You moan, trying to arch your back in the tight bindings. You hear a chuckle behind you and then clothed hips are grinding into your ass, the feather soft finger tips now grabbing your waist hard enough to leave bruises. You cry out, pushing your ass back into the hips, and are rewarded with a soft groan as the cleft of your ass encompasses the hard dick in Ground Zero’s pants. Your eyes widen – he wasn’t kidding, your body pillow did him no justice.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing? I didn’t say you could have that yet.” He smacks the round globe of your ass with his hand, then releases you.

You pant in need, trying to push your hips back again, desperately trying to feel his length against your body again. He makes his ‘tch’ noise and you bite your lip. You can feel him move behind you, then his arm comes in to view and he’s grabbing the boot paddle. Your breath hitches in your throat as the wooden handle slowly drags backwards across your messy bed. He’s going this slowly on purpose, you know it. He wants you to anticipate what’s coming.

You freeze as you feel the ridged rubber slide sensually across your ass.

“You ever use this before?” Ground Zero is practically purring behind you.

“N-no.” Your breath leaves you in another shaky hiccup.

“Why the fuck not?” The boot tread continues to rub across your flesh as Ground Zero’s voice gets a little angry.

“No one was good enough b-but you.”

The tread stops and you hear a breathy ‘fuck’ behind you before the blonde hero is pulling his arm back and snapping it forward again. The rubber tread of the boot slams into your cheek and you cry out. It didn’t hurt as badly as you expected – maybe it was the thickness of the boot. Either way, it was the perfect opening.

“T-that all you got, Ground Zero?” Your breath is coming out harsh, but you make damn sure that he can hear the antagonistic tone in your voice.

You hear a growl behind you and the boot flies down again, this time you can feel the bite of the tread marks in your ass. You hope it is going to leave an imprint.

“Hah, I t-thought you were strong, Ground Zero.”

You tense as you hear an aggressive snarl and feel a quick movement behind you, followed by the sound of glass shattering. You’re able to glance to your left and see the broken remains of your table lamp on the floor next to the paddle.

You’re a little annoyed, until you hear his quirk spark to life behind you, and your heart stops again.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat, hah? Just gotta be fucking mouthy? Well if you like my quirk so much, let’s see how you can handle it.”

The sparking sound intensifies, and you’re barely able to hold your breath before Ground Zero’s hand slaps against your cheek. Oh, oh FUCK yes. This is what you want. The sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and it radiates across your flesh like fire. You can’t hold back your moan, and you lean forward more to present your ass better. He gives you a matching slap on the other side.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Twin slaps to both sides again. He keeps going, hands still ignited, more and more until you’re sobbing, and he can see the outline of his handprint reddening your ass. “Fucking perfect.” He grins and places one more playful slap, your hips bucking in response.

Ground Zero moves to the front, grabbing your jaw in his hands roughly. “Open your mouth.” You do so without hesitation, and he grabs the ball gag with his free hand. His crimson eyes investigate your mouth for a few beats, and you take the chance to admire how handsome his face is. He is still wearing his mask, and there’s soft grey streaks from his battle on his neck and cheek. Then he leans forward a little and you wonder for a second if he is going to kiss you, but before you can close your mouth, he spits into it and stuffs the ball gag in.

“Good boy,” he purrs, tying the gag around your head. He smirks as he moves behind you again. You’re shivering in anticipation of what he’s going to do next.

The ball gag prevents your loud moan as your ass cheeks are separated and his tongue licks a long strip from your ballsack to your asshole. He doesn’t speak, he just starts to circle his tongue around the rim of your ass, inching the fingers of his right hand closer while keeping your cheeks spread. You fall forward as he hikes your hips up, just able to turn your head to prevent your face from pressing directly into the mattress. Your eyes are rolling in the back of your head as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole, growling softly at the whimpers you’re making that are muffled by the gag stuffing your mouth. He stops suddenly, mouth and hands disappearing from your skin, and you let out a high-pitched whine at the loss of contact.

Ground Zero laughs and reaches over to the bottle of lube he’d previously placed on your night stand. He positions himself behind you once more, popping open the cap of lube and pulling one of your cheeks to the side. He squirts the lube directly onto your hole, grinning as you shudder at how cold it is. The hand not holding your cheek circles your hole, teasing, not dipping in. It’s not until you push your hips back that he slips his finger inside, eliciting a groan from both of you.

He slowly works you open, watches you swallow his digit eagerly, his erection straining against the pants of his hero costume. You rock your hips back into him, your eagerness clear on your face as you pant around the ball gag. You choke out another muffled moan as he adds a second finger, hips rocking back harder. You need more, you need him to fill you. He lets a third finger slip it, scissoring all three to stretch the tight ring of muscle.

“Mm, yeah. Gotta stretch you open so you can take my cock, right?” You give a high-pitched groan, unable to control yourself as the thought of taking his cock sends you over the edge. You ride through your orgasm on his fingers, eyes squeezed closed, and he stops moving them. “Did you already cum just from the thought of it? Damn, you really are desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” You can hear the ego in his voice, and he removes his fingers. This is it. You’re gonna get to cum on Ground Zero’s dick.

You feel the blunt head prodding at your entrance, but it feels strangely cold. You open your eyes and Ground Zero’s wearing a cocky grin, pants still zipped up, with the head of your dildo breaching you. You pout, or at least you pout as best as you can with your gag in your mouth, and the hero laughs. His grin is almost maniacal as he twists his wrist, watching your ass swallow the black and orange toy. Your pout doesn’t last long because the feeling of being stretched has you groaning again, pushing back against it, trying to take it further. He stops once the toy is bottomed out inside you.

You squirm against it, groaning as it rubs against your walls, watching the explosion hero as he slowly walks back around to the other side of your bed. He reaches down and unbuckles the gag, pulling it from your head. He pulls you up, positioning you so that you’re sitting on the dildo but pushes on your shoulders so that your head bows back down. Not quite all the way to the bed, but level with his dick.

“Stay,” he murmurs, and then reaches for the buckle of his pants. You hover there, eyes locked on the movements of his hands, your mouth already open and salivating. He moves slow, watching your face with an intense hunger. He pulls the pants off, sliding them down his muscular thighs, and kicking them off. His boxer briefs are straining to hold his erection and there is a damp spot where the head is, betraying how much your reactions are affecting him.

He palms his own cock through his underwear, smirking down at you. “Do you think you’ve earned this?” His voice is low, dark. Your nose is filled with the scent of caramel again and you nod. “Are you sure? I’m not.” His fingers slowly wrap around his shaft, pressing the outline out harder through his underwear. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Ground Zero, I need it, I need you, please just fuck me!” you immediately plead. Your body is squirming, and you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue flat and looking up at him. He bites his lip and pulls his underwear down, his cock bobbing just out of reach of your mouth.

“Keep your mouth open.” His voice is a low rumble and he holds his dick by the base, rubbing the head across your tongue and lower lip, smearing his precum on your skin. He doesn’t quite taste like caramel here, not like his hands and not like he smells, but he does taste sweet. You moan softly, enjoying the flavor, fighting all your instincts to not close your mouth and take him in as far as he can go. “Fuck, good boy. Good boy.” He presses his cock in, slowly, until it reaches the back of your throat. “Close your mouth.”

You moan and do as your told, immediately curling your tongue around the shaft and sucking deep. He chokes out a moan and the sound sends a spike of arousal to your core, making you clench around the toy. He gently pumps his hips, sliding in and out for a few strokes. One hand caresses the top of your head and your heart flips at the tender treatment, but then he grins and tangles his hand roughly into your hair, snapping his hips harder. He starts to fuck your face in earnest, using his hand in your hair as an anchor to keep you in place. You start to take quick breaths in between his thrusts, trying to relax your throat so he can fuck into it. You’re rewarded by a loud moan the first time he does, his hips stuttering as he rocks back and forth in your throat. He pulls his cock out of your mouth, rubs your lips with it, and then shoves it right back in.

“Fuck yeah.” His motions are fluid and graceful, he fucks like he battles. He’s gives you no time to swallow as he snaps his hips in and out, your saliva pooling and running down your chin every time he pulls them back. He finally pulls out one last time, holding himself at the base and looking down at your messy face.

Without looking, Ground Zero reaches into the drawer and retrieves a line of small packets. He rips one off the line and looks at it, then rolls his eyes back. “Okay, I know you didn’t make these.” You give him a shaky smile, still covered in your own drool, as he stares at the condom packet’s slogan. ‘BAKU BRAND: Reliable enough for your biggest explosions!’

He shrugs and rips open the condom, moving around to the back again. He rubs a hand over the print he left on your ass before slowly pulling out your dildo and lining himself up to take its place. He lets his hands crackle with his quirk as he slams his hips in, and suddenly you’re stuffed full with Ground Zero’s cock, and it’s like a dream come true. The hero immediately starts a brutal pace, shoving your face forward into the mattress with every thrust. You cry out with each pump, and it only takes a handful before you’re clamping down around his cock again, shooting cum into your blankets for the second time.

“Nngh, FUCK! You’re so tight. That’s right, cum on my cock.” His voice sounds harsh, like he’s losing control as he keeps pounding into you. His fingertips are digging into your hips again, definitely bruising, as he yanks you back into him. He slams into you one last time with a hoarse shout and you know he’s cumming. His hand reaches around to squeeze your neglected cock and that small pressure and the thought that Ground Zero was cumming in you was enough to get you off one last time, your walls clamping a little weaker around him than the first two times. He holds there for a moment, holding you up as you sag on the bed. He slips out and you hear the snap of rubber as he removes the condom.

“Damn,” he sighs, smacking your ass a little more playfully once more, “That was good. You freaky little shit.”

His footsteps leave the room.

He’s back a moment later, undoing the bindings of the restraints. Your body sinks into your bed in exhaustion and you follow him with your eyes as he moves into your bathroom. You hear your bath water running and blink as Ground Zero steps back into your bedroom, then back out of it into the main area. He’s walking around like he owns the place, and if you could move your body at all you’d say something about it.

He comes back again and lifts you into his arms, carrying you the same way he did on the way in to your apartment.

“Here.” He holds a glass of water to your lips and tilts it. You look at him, confused, as you sip from the glass. “Good. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He carries you into your bathroom, holding you until the water fills halfway. You think he brushes his lips across your temple as he waits but you feel so out of it that you aren’t entirely sure. Once the level is acceptable he is carefully lowering you into the half-filled bath. You hiss at the hot water and he immediately adjusts the temperature. He leaves the glass on the floor. “Keep drinking that. Don’t fucking drown.”

He leaves the room again.

If you weren’t so utterly, deliciously sore you would wonder if you were dreaming. You’re only mildly aware that he comes back at one point to turn the water off before disappearing again like some kind of shitty blonde ghost.

The warmth is seeping into your bones and you’re feeling drowsy. You’re not sure how long you spend drifting in and out, but you aren’t aware when Ground Zero comes back in.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, and you open your eyes, blinking at him with a small smile. “Lean forward so I can wash your hair.” You lean forward as best as you can, assisted by the hero’s hands more than you actually do yourself. You’re able to hold yourself up by bracing your arms on the sides of the tub, and you hear the pop of a bottle as Ground Zero opens your shampoo. Then his hands card through your hair. You can’t help but let a small moan slip from the relaxing sensation. He’s being so much gentler than you thought he was capable of, especially after how rough he’d just been.

He rinses your hair then carefully washes you with your body soap.

Once he’s convinced you’re clean enough he pulls the drain on the tub, helping you to stand and wrapping you in a towel. You’re not so pathetic anymore and you’re able to walk, albeit shakily, back into your room without his assistance.

“Get some pajamas. Don’t put them on yet.” Gentle or not his tone still leaves no room for disobedience, and you pull out a pair of boy shorts (Ground Zero ones, obviously) and a black tank top to leave on your bed. Ground Zero himself comes back out from your bathroom with the glass you didn’t finish and some aspirin. “Take this and finish the fucking water like I already said to.”

You take the pills and sip on the water, watching him sleepily. He’s rifling through his pants pockets, still in his underwear, and pulls out a small green tube. “Alright, lay on your stomach.” He rolls his eyes at the look you give him. “No, not for sex, this is fucking aloe vera. If I don’t put it on your ass it’ll burn for a week.” He does give you a smirk at that, and you place the water on your nightstand so you can crawl onto your bed and lay on your stomach. His rough hands soothingly rub the aloe into your abused skin, and you can’t help drifting off to sleep again. There’s no sass left, only satisfaction. This time though, you don’t wake up when he’s done. You vaguely feel yourself being shifted around, carefully dressed, and tucked into bed. You feel the push of something warm, soft, and sweet onto your mouth and you wonder if you’re dreaming about him kissing you.

When you do wake up it’s almost the afternoon the following day. You’re dressed in the pajamas you picked out and tucked tightly into your bed. You sit up, still feeling sore, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining the whole of last night. It wouldn’t be the first time you had a dream like that, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Pity you didn’t wake up next to him, though. You ease out of bed and stretch, popping your back a little, before shuffling into the kitchen. On your counter top there’s an envelope. You tilt your head and slowly grab it, pulling it open. Inside is paper yen and a note. You pull the note out and open it.

“There’s food in the fridge. Make sure you fucking eat it. Cash is for the lamp I broke.”

You smile a little and skim further down the page for more writing. Your eyes widen at the phone number, but you about drop the paper at what’s scribbled underneath it. “For when you want to be a brat again. Maybe if you’re good, next time will be a creampie.

- GZ”

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 4 Part 2

Here is another piece of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

‘Life,’ Luz mused, ‘is utterly random.’ She slowly turned her latest find over in her hands. An Archive Terminal, a portable link to the information distribution magic system known as Archive. How Eda got her hands on it, Luz didn’t know, but it was an amazing boon for sure. Somehow, the device had full connection, accessing the open source information of Archive; admittedly, this should’ve been impossible in a normal Terminal, which meant she probably had a black-market unit.

Luz smirked. This wasn’t the first time she had handled illegally modified gear, and it probably wouldn’t be the last; the real issue was keeping this thing in good shape. Black-Chapter Magic Items, tools that had been deliberately modified to make illegal operations easier, were typically made to break down easily once they served their purpose or if they became separated from their owners. In the end, she was fairly sure that wouldn’t be a problem, and she just got one of the best teaching aids she could possibly get in her current situation.

Her face shifted into suspicion. On second thought, it shouldn’t be possible for her to have gotten this in her current situation. Luz’s luck had been odd ever since she’d arrived on the Isles, and strange coincidences were starting to pile up, including the appearance of this Terminal. Still, there wasn’t much she could do about the odd goings on around this place, and she couldn’t afford to turn away something this useful, shady circumstances or not.

“LUZ!” King’s voice rang out, jarring Luz from her thoughts. Taking quick stock of her supplies for when she went in for work, Luz sighed, preparing to face the lovable tyrant-wannabe.

“King, whatever this is better be important, please.” Luz groaned, making her way through the door, stuffing the Terminal into the pocket of her jacket. “I really don’t think Eda will be too happy about you interrupting her-” She cut off, eyes widening at the sight before her. Boscha, the bratty girl who had tried, and failed, to give her grief on her first outing into Bonesburough, witnessed her showdown against that creep Adegast, and newly minted Devil Slayer, was currently sitting on the couch, King pacing next to her, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “-Sleep.” Luz numbly finished.

“Oh, so you live here.” Boscha said blandly. Luz suppressed a shudder, the girl was far worse off than she had feared; it was like she had no life in her at all, as if she had nothing other than a desire to keep going. Or maybe she was misinterpreting this? Either way, it was creepy. Boscha slowly pulled herself to her feet, rolling her neck. “Sorry you’ve got to see me like this.” She said, gesturing at her attire. It was only then that Luz realized that the girl’s clothing was coated in holes and damaged patches, some areas even having the frayed look of burned fabric, yet also damp. Oddly enough, or maybe not if Luz’s suspicions were correct, Boscha herself looked completely fine, if not a bit drenched by the now raging rainstorm outside.

“Yeah,” Luz drawled. “Funny how things like this just happen, you know?” She plopped herself down in the nearby chair, gazing at the potentially dangerous girl in front of her. “So, I hate to be rude for once, but why are you here, exactly?”

Boscha gave a slight lift to her shoulder, a faint blush to her face. “I was practicing in the woods, trying to get myself back to normal, when I spotted the clouds forming.” She looked down at her clothes, a slightly perplexed look on her face. “I was prepared to track down a cave or something after I realized I had no way of getting to shelter in time, when I spotted this place.” She gestured to the house surrounding them, both tuning out Hooty’s preening from outside at the attention. “And I rushed for the barrier, hoping I could get through. I was willing to beg for shelter if I needed to, but…” she looked down at her hands, sliding them over her face in mystified wonder. “The rain caught up to me.” She gave Luz a critical look. “How, exactly, am I not a boiled up husk right now? Just what exactly did you do to me?” She finished, a hint of genuine emotion entering her voice; fear. 

“You mean besides saving your life?” Luz asked dryly. Her face shifted into a look of consideration. “To be honest, I’m not sure how much I can tell you.” She held up a hand, holding off any protests. “But that’s mostly because this isn’t a usual situation by any means. Usually implanting a Lacrima will just grant you a boost to whatever magic the Lacrima is based off of. End of story, close the book and all that.” Her eyes snapped to Boscha, a serious look on her face. “However. This isn’t the usual circumstance for something like this, especially not the type of Lacrima you got implanted into you.”

Boscha made a confused noise. “You keep using that word, Lacrima. What even is that?”

Luz snorted. “It’s the proper term for that magic crystal you snagged that night I fought Adegast. Or, more accurately, it’s the proper term for crystals like it; raw magic condensed into the form of a crystal, and chock-full to the brim with power.” A worried grin stretched across Luz’s face. “If I’m being honest, the fact that you have that thing stuck inside you now is honestly pretty terrifying, but it was either that or let you die, not to mention the fact you’d have taken the school with you.”

Boscha slowly nodded, processing the information. “Okay, so that thing was pure magic. What kind?” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’d like to think that I have a right to know just what was messing with my head.” She left out her worry about it happening again.

“Heh, fair enough.” Luz agreed. Her hand idly reached for one of the spare sheets of paper she had left lying around, gripping it. “But first, you hungry?”

The question surprised Boscha, but she nodded, not wanting to pass up free food if it was being offered. Of course, she expected it to be actual food, not… a rolled up piece of paper that had been set on fire.

She turned to Luz. “Are you serious?”

“Uh huh!” Luz glibly stated.

“There is no way I’m going-” Boscha started, only to cut off as a heady scent filled her nose. She slowly turned back to the offered paper, nose twitching. “Going to…” She trailed off, eyes glazing, a line of drool starting to dribble down from her mouth. With a blank look in her eyes, Boscha’s jaw widened… and clamped down on the flame. 

With a blissful sigh, she contentedly chewed on the flame, and there was no mistaking she was eating FIRE, seeing as she hadn’t even touched the paper the flame was holding onto. As she chewed, a rich, earthy flavor, like the best vegetable soup she’d ever tasted, filled her mouth. As she slowly swallowed the flame, a look of bliss, the kind that only came from good food, crossed her face… only to switch to dumbfounded shock as she started to process her own actions.

Turning a baffled look to Luz, who was grinning like the cat that got the canary, Boscha tentatively asked. “Did I just eat fire?” At Luz’s slow, grinning nod, Boscha gave a groan, cupping her face in her hands. “What did that thing do to me?”

Luz’s grin faded. “Well, for starters, it turned you into a Devil Slayer, the Flame Devil Slayer from what I can tell.” As Boscha whipped her head up in shock, Luz continued. “Basically, Slayers are mages whose magic is specifically designed to combat and harm specific forms of beings that are ordinarily beyond the abilities of Human Mages to combat.” She leveled a look of warning towards Boscha, who became still under the intense stare. “As a Slayer, you are stronger, faster, more durable, and have an instinctive bond with the element or concept your magic manifests as, and can absorb sources of your element to replenish your magic and as a substitute for food.”

Luz crossed her arms, and leaned back. She just had to wait and see how the girl was going to respond to what had just been dropped on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed King walking off, grumbling about not being able to concentrate. Aw well, his loss.

Boscha stood in place, utterly still. If what the human was saying was true, it basically meant her goal had just been radically changed. Before, she was just trying to get herself to a point where she didn’t have to worry about losing it and killing someone, and gaining control of her magic again was the first step to that. But now, what was the point? The way the human said it, she was basically a Demon-Killing weapon. People could never be safe around her entirely, not here, not in the Demon Realms, and certainly not on the Boiling Isles.

Whether this human realized it or not, her actions had irrevocably changed Boscha’s future. Boscha grit her teeth, temper rising from the cool numbness that clouded her mind so easily ever since that fight she had at the school. Why. Why was this happening? Was she really so awful that something like this was necessary!? As her thoughts started to spiral, Boscha’s fists sparked into flames.

“What kind of crap is this?” She muttered, drawing a confused look from her host, the human cocking her head in bewilderment. “First, I lost control and put a bunch of people in the healer’s offices, then I burned Skara, and now I gained some kind of crazy Human Magic that’s totally wrecked my control!?” 

Her voice was growing hysterical, a frantic edge filling it. “By the Titan, I get it, I’m garbage, a worthless nobody who thought she was bigger than she was, but why is this happening?” She collapsed back into her seat, energy draining out of her, her emotions pouring out in a haze of angry tears. “What am I going to do with myself now?” She looked at her hands, the memories of each and every demon she had brutalized over that four day haze coming to the forefront.

A clinking sound drew her attention. She looked up, seeing the human, Luz. She had set a glass of water in front of her. “So, are you done with your little pity party?” Luz asked, giving Boscha a look of sardonic amusement.

Boscha’s temper flared. “What was that?” She bit out.

“You. Having a pity party.” Luz bluntly stated. “Because that’s basically what’s going on.”

Boscha shot to her feet, flames bursting in her hands. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through! I’ve lost almost everything! My friends, my social life, my world view… EVERYTHING!!” She shouted.

“Yadda yadda yadda, I’m in pain and want to take it out on someone.” Luz deadpanned. “Got it.” With a furious shout, Boscha lashed out with her flames, blood red light flaring, only for Luz to catch her arm and lock it to the side, any showing the slightest hints of strain. She raised an eyebrow. “Cute.” Lightly pushing Boscha back into her seat, Luz got in close. “You aren’t the only person who’s got issues in the world, you know? The way you feel is totally valid of course, but acting as if you’ve got nothing left helps no one, especially yourself.”

Boscha snorted. “What could you possibly know about what I’m going through?” She slammed a hand down on the table. “I hurt people, I hurt my best friend! And to make it all just a little bit worse, it turned out I was going to explode, and the only thing that could prevent it ended up costing me my magical ability. I have to learn everything from scratch now!!” She turned slightly teary eyes towards Luz. “How could you possibly understand what’s happening to me?”

Luz sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to be pretty. Working her sleeve up, she showed her upper arm to Boscha, who reeled back, prompting a bitter grin from Luz. The sight of the scarred tissue running from her shoulder to her elbow was certainly stomach turning to look at. “I am intimately familiar with losing control of your magic, and the type of injuries, physical and emotional, that can cause.” Once she was sure Boscha had gotten as good a luck as she needed, Luz rolled her sleeve down, placing both hands on the sides of her face, staring at the girl. 

“You are still alive.” She said simply. “Is this a massive change for you, something that you had no control over? Absolutely. But you are still alive, and that means you can change it. You may never get back what you lost, but you can make a new life for yourself, forge new connections and new bonds with others. You have to start over with your magic? Fine, so you have to start from scratch. That just means you can relearn it, and maybe learn something new.” She gently placed Boscha’s shaking hands between her own. “I said before that I would be willing to help you with making the world make sense again. That offer is still on the table. Just let me help you, okay?”

That fateful confrontation with Skara flashed through Boscha’s mind again. Tears pricked at her eyes. “You're right.” She slowly nodded. “I can’t give up just because I got some news I wasn’t expecting. This is a setback, not the end of the world.” She slapped her cheeks. “Gah, I can’t believe I let myself get stuck in my head like that! So embarrassing.”

Luz chuckled. “Hey, it could be worse.”

“How so?” Boscha dryly asked, still reeling from how much her moods had shifted over this conversation.

“You could’ve said all that in public.” Luz grinned impishly.

Boscha blinked, before paling. “Yeah, that would’ve been way worse.” While she didn’t care about social standing and jockeying as much anymore, she still had enough self-respect and pride not to be indifferent to public embarrassment.

Luz stood, stretching herself out. “Well, now that we’ve got that bit of awkwardness out of the way, do you have any more questions?” 

“Just two.” Boscha replied, holding up two fingers in response. “Firstly, how did I manage not to get burned by the rain, and secondly, do you think you could help me get my magic under control?” She said her second request with a note of desperation. She really wanted this issue with her control to be done with.

“To the first, as a Flame-Element Slayer, the amount of heat needed to hurt you is so much more than the heat in the rain that it basically instantly cools on contact. No more issues with Boiling Rain for you, right?” Luz grinned at Boscha’s look of relish at the thought of not having to worry about one of the Isles’ most common and annoying forms of weather, before her smile gained a slightly sadistic edge. “And to the second, sure! Of course I can train you. No problem at  all.” She chuckled. Boscha had the feeling she may be in danger at that moment.

[secret-engima]

(Whispers) FFXV ten years younger AU; Noctis is like, 10yrs younger than C!Noct. How do you think that would work out???

HGFDSDHGFDS WAIT WAIT WAIT.

I’M CONFUSED.

Do you mean that Noctis is BORN ten years later and the plot still kicks off? Or that Noctis time-travels and ends up ten years younger. I’m gonna assume you mean the former so here we go. I’m sticking this under read more because I am going to RAMBLE LIKE CRAZY.

-The wedding is not a thing. Because Noctis is TEN.

-It is quite possible that he never got attacked by the Marilith, because by the time he was eight, Tenenbrae might have already been invaded.

-That or the invasion was delayed until Noctis got there, which means Luna would be 22 when she meets Noctis and Ravus is 26 so both are WAY more mature and comfortable in their own skin/morals by the time the invasion happens. Ravus does not beg Regis for help but instead helps with the evacuation, Luna is not dumb enough to stop and let the MTs take her, Sylva may or may not still die, but at least she doesn’t take a flame-thrower to the face (might still get stabbed by Glauca).

-Also Gladio is there because he’s like- 21 at this section of timeline and has taken his Crownsguard oaths. Ignis is there too.

-Imma go with my petty side and say that with two adult oracles, an adult Ravus (who was no doubt trained to be a deadly guardian of his sister), a Very Angry Gladio, and a semi-homicidal and reckless Ignis, Glauca has a Bad Day. Maybe dies, maybe not.

-Luna and Ravus escape with teeny Noct and Regis and take sanctuary in Lucis and denounce the Nifs for what they’ve done (Sylva too if she isn’t dead? Which she might be) and the world goes on something of a mass riot because the reason they didn’t attack the Oracles before was for fear of what the public would do if they found out.

-They’re called consequences you morons. You poisoned your cake now eat it.

-Luna and Nyx are a thing. Because Noctis is way too young to even consider it and Nyx finds this feisty Oracle woman who demands to be trained in the glaive with her brother to be Really Hot.

-Luna becomes the Glaive healer, using the Kingsglaive’s movements to disguise her own from the empire so she can still help people.

-If Glauca is still alive, he Glauca tries something as Titus and is murdered by one very angry Luna and one Super Angry Ravus who now has LC magic on top of whatever brand of magic male Nox Fleuret can use (yes I know oracle magic is a girl only thing but MAGIC, the boy has to get something even if its not healing based) because he joined the Kingsglaive.

-Ravus maybe becomes the new Captain of the Glaive? Either him, Nyx, Libertus, or Luche, who is not a traitor because I’ve grown to like him.

-Noctis loves his Shield and his Oracle Sister and Big Brother Ravus, Luna can feel destiny bearing down on them and often cries in private because Noctis is TEN.

-With the world rioting in fury over the truth of what happened in Tenebrae (which I HC in canon was never leaked because the two royals were being held hostage and the Tenebraen people either didn’t know or where being blackmailed into silence with the lives of their beloved royal children), the Nifs take some serious damage to their power base.

-Nifs offer a ceasefire with Lucis to begin “making reparations” with the Tenebrae line and Lucis two years after the invasion.

-Regis smells a rat.

-The rat looks like Ardyn.

-Still, he DOES have little choice but to accept, BUT with the Oracle’s healing and the world public on his side, Regis has way more leverage in this treaty, demands territories be returned and stuff (Galahd included).

-Nifs agree to the terms and come for the signing, Regis doesn’t send Noctis out of the city because as bad as his feelings are, Noctis is TEN and Ignis and Gladio are just young adults.

-The Nifs still pull their invasion nonsense because- well- NIFLHEIM. The Emperor is pretty power mad at this point and is like “if we crush Lucis the dissenters will shut up out of fear”.

-It’s pretty intense. Fire everywhere, traitors making trouble (NOT in the glaive, the Glaive were lured out of the city with leaked reports of a fleet to get them out of the way, it’s corrupt Nobles and disgruntled citizens that do this).

-Without Glauca there, Regis doesn’t die, but he DOES probably get injured and separated from his son, whom Ignis and Gladio take and flee the Citadel, trying to escape the chaos.

-In the chaos of trying to flee the city, they bump into a rookie Crownsguard who just took his oath like- a WEEK ago and he helps them evacuate the prince with his crack shot aiming skills and his knowledge of the city’s back streets (”I like to take photos of the alley cats okay????”)

-The four end up outside the city, separated from all backup, in a hotwired car that Ignis took (”Since when do YOU know how to hotwire a car?” “Since I thought the skill might come in handy now shut up and watch the road”).

-Insomnia doesn’t fall, but the Empire is freaking stubborn and starts a siege or something, so the bros can’t get back in, and since they encountered some Crownsguard traitors in the chaos so they don’t trust anyone outside their foursome and they’re being actively hunted by the Empire ... 

-Who’s up for a road trip?

-Also Regis probably thinks Noctis is dead because Angst and is furious beyond words and Luna smuggles herself out of the city to go wake up the Astrals and ask what to do now only to find out from a really vague Gentiana that the Chosen Lives so she’s off doing that solo adventure playing Hot-Cold with the bros as they run around trying not to get spotted by Nifs and figuring out WHAT TO DO. HELP.

(and this is the point where I could either make this a horrible tragedy about child kings and sacrificial lambs but I hate sad endings so I won’t so have some crack-flavored Fluff instead)

-Cor smuggles himself out to join the search but Ignis is doing his job a little Too Well so nobody can find these bros as they run around and Noctis ends up befriending Titan through the sheer power of his Cute and then Ramuh comes down to see because the Chosen isn’t old enough to take on his destiny except oh look. BBY. and his Granddadly instincts are roused for the first time in Millenia and so now the group has a doting Grandpa showing up at random to give advice and Smite People.

-Noctis continues to befriend just about Anything That Breathes as Big Bro Gladio, Brother Ignis, and his new Brother Prompto cart him around the wilderness of Lucis trying to figure out how to get safely back in Insomnia when there is a siege happening (the Siege is keeping the Glaives busy btw, which is why they aren’t out in force looking for Noctis).

-At one point Noctis gets separated from his bros in like- Lestallum or something and is wandering around freaking out when he bumps into someone. “Sorry,” he sniffles, trying hard to be dignified but also is so close to crying. The figure turns and ... looks at him. He doesn’t like that look.

-Noctis, who has been repeatedly told that he is in danger and needs to keep a low profile, starts to duck away from the man, afraid of being spotted, but then the man is in front of him, blocking his way and there are no other people around and Noctis is shaking and terrified, magic sparking under his skin as the man REACHES for him with a leer- and Noctis sobs and his magic reaches out instinctively in search of help-someone-please-PLEASE-

-A sword goes through the man’s chest, pinning him to the wall and suddenly there is a stranger there. A stranger with crackling, snapping magic that coils around Noctis, old and deadly and wounded but not- not evil. The new stranger turns and looks at Noctis, something cold and confused in his gaze, and maybe Noctis should be terrified of this man with red hair and tacky clothes and what looks like black makeup that’s all runny like he’s gotten it wet or been crying, but all Noctis can think is that someone rescued him, someone is HERE and that man has magic just like Noctis so he must be safe and-

-Ardyn feels like the wind has been knocked out of him less because of a scrawny ten year old cannoning into his waist in a desperate sobbing hug and more because- because-

-He hadn’t expected the Chosen to be a child.

-He had known, conceptually, that Regis’s son was very young but that- that was different from seeing it. From feeling young, immature magic latch onto his in desperation and needy trust and looking down at this tiny child who was already sobbing his heart out into the waistcoat of a MONSTER.

-The Chosen King is a child.

-And Ardyn can already feel two Covenants burning under the boy’s skin.

-The Astrals mean to make a CHILD their sacrifice? They will not even wait until he is grown?

-And Ardyn is not ... sane really, but no matter what he tells himself he still has standards and underneath the screaming of the scourge the old Healer King, the older brother who did more to raise his sibling than their father ever did, rears its head and snarls NO.

-Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto, who are all losing their minds over getting separated from Noctis, find him sniffling but content on the hip of a strange hobo-like man who smiles false smiles and says nothing with a great deal of words and somehow inserts himself into their group and never leaves. Noctis doesn’t WANT him to leave and the three are terribly astonished when Noctis blurts out that this poor man is sick and has magic like Noctis, but his sickness makes him tired and cranky.

-Ardyn is trying not to laugh to the point of tears over such a SIMPLE explanation of the Starscourge.

-Anyway to make an already stupid long ramble shorter, Noctis cutes his way to victory by melting the heart of the Accursed into going “Mine. My Nephew Now.” The Empire overreaches and gets it’s back broken by mass riots and Lucis’s defense and Altissia and Tenebrae both rising up in a bid for freedom, Ardyn gets medical help from a Very Confused Luna and they end up curing the Starscourge through the Power of Cute and the Power of Spite (aka Noctis and Ardyn) and then come back to Insomnia with a defected chancellor in tow who is now fully cured and mostly sane again and utterly devoted to his cute nephew.

-Regis is too grateful at finding his son alive and well despite prophecy to really care about the ex-Chancellor happily passing Noctis candy under Ignis’s exasperated eye every time Noctis looks the slightest bit Cuter than Normal.

[yastaghr]

Grey 17

Summary: Berry finds his datemates a little too late. Blue gets inducted into the revolution, and his HP is discovered.

Warnings: Blood, Aftermath of Torture, Major Character Death

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555439/chapters/64110841

It had been two days since Berry had last seen or heard from his datemates. To say he was worried would be an understatement. In a place as small as the Underground it was almost impossible not to run into people on a regular basis, especially if you were dating them. Plus there were the phone calls. Berry was used to calling his girlfriends every night that he wasn’t sleeping with them. So for him not to hear from them in two days was unthinkable. He had to find them!

He regretted not searching for them sooner when he found them. The state they were in… he would remember it for the rest of his life. They were missing all of the toes on both of their feet, and the raw patches had been burned. Their legs had been fileted. The places where the strips of flesh were missing had been salted. They went all the way up to their underwear. At least whoever did this hadn’t hurt them there. Their stomachs, though, were apparently fair game. It had been sliced up in a grid pattern that would make healing much, much harder. Their arms had words carved into them deep; “slut”, “creep”, and “shithead” were the only three he could make out around the blood. Their faces, though, were easy to read. They had the word “freak” carved from cheekbone to cheekbone. Spike’s glasses were embedded into gaping holes where her eyes had once been, and TNT’s gills had been cut off completely.

Berry took in all of that in a handful of seconds. That was all he had before his magic rebelled and forced him to throw up everything he had eaten that day. The mess merged with the blood on the floor of the room to form a sickening tye-dye effect. He threw up again when he realised just how much blood there was.

By the time he had gathered himself enough to act it was too late. Berry unbent just in time to see the two monsters he loved the most, the two monsters who had pulled him out of his depression and saved his life, he saw those two monsters turn to dust. He gaped, unable to believe it. This couldn’t be real, right? They hadn’t just turned to dust. This was all just a big misunderstanding. He would wake up any minute now to Spike’s snores and TNT’s fond exasperation at those snores. Then he and TNT would tickle Spike mercilessly until she was fully awake. They’d all laugh and get out of bed and… and…

Berry shuddered when he looked back down and saw the blood. That was wrong, wasn’t it? Even if this was just a dream, he shouldn’t leave the floor looking this messy. He should at least try to clean it up, so he did.

That was how Stretch found him when he came back to gloat over their bodies. Seeing someone stuck in a cleaning fit was very familiar. Maybe he should have questioned it more, but, to him, it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

=====

Blue insisted on making sure that Scales was settled comfortably before letting them talk about anything else. It was hard for him to do; he wasn’t used to asserting himself like that. He managed it, though. It helped that he could put on his “doctor” voice. It also helped to know that these people were willing to be kind to him, even after knowing he’d been raped. That felt so alien to him that he didn’t really know what to do with it. The only thing he could do was hope it would last.

When Scales was safely set up in one of the beds down here in this hidden lab (who knew that there was a lab underneath the lab? He didn’t.), Blue gulped and faced the others. He could still feel the fire in his belly from hearing about what the King did here. He found the Royals so- so frustrating! Every decision that his Queen had ever made had hurt him. Her rules had ruined his life. Her refusal to pay for the damages of the accident had cost him his father. Her appointees to the Royal Guard had used their authority to rape him. Her arrogance had stopped him from saving thousands of lives. Why couldn’t they just be helpful? Was it really that hard?

“underfell to blue, can you hear me?” The words weren’t what smashed him out of his internal fit of fury. It was the poke that accompanied them. He definitely overreacted by flinching back and shaking with fear. Red looked at him with confusion, then shook it off. “i dunno where you went just then, bud, but scales wants to tell us her plan now. you good with that?”

Blue nodded slowly. He was just glad that Red wasn’t mad at him for overreacting. Stretch hated it when Blue overreacted in public.

Scales, propped up with more pillows than should rightly have been down here, coughed. “Well, three of you know the general plan for the revolution. Everyone hates the King, so it’ll be easy to convince them to stay home if we use Metta’s channel. The guards are already on our side, so it won’t be hard to get into the castle. The only part that we hadn’t worked out before was how we were going to subdue him long enough to shove him in the Void. I think Blue might be our answer to that.”

Blue’s head slowly tilted as he tried to figure out what she meant. Just the idea that there could even be a revolution was hard for him to grasp.

Fortunately, it wasn’t only Blue that was listening to Scales. “YOU MEAN THAT, IF WE SNEAK HIM INTO THE CASTLE, HE CAN SEDATE THE KING AND PUT HIM IN A COMA, RIGHT? HAVE YOU CHECKED HIM TO SEE IF HE’S UP FOR IT?”

Blue stiffened in real fear. “NO, NO, NO, PLEASE DON’T-” He was too late. His stats popped up for all of them to see.

“Blue - Underswap Sans” “The easiest friend you ever made. Rulebreaker for 17 years.”

1 LV 0.568 / 0.713 HP 90 / 90 MP

AT: 1 (-25) DF: 1 (0) EXP: 0 NEXT: 10

WEAPON: None (Healer!) ARMOUR: None

GOLD: 0

Silence reigned for several seconds as Blue started to tremble. They had seen. They had seen. They had seen they had seen they had seen they had-

The feeling of fear that overwhelmed him ran into the one obstacle he didn’t expect, although he probably should have, given that it had happened earlier. Three sets of arms wrapped around him in a hug. Three voices tried to sooth him. Eventually, a fourth voice broke through the bedlam due to sheer volume. “BLUE, WHY DO YOU HAVE SO LITTLE HP? THE ONLY MONSTER I KNOW HAS HAD LESS THAN 10 TOTAL HP IS RED, AND THAT WAS WHEN HE FIRST FELL DOWN HERE INTO THE UNDERGROUND. HOW DID YOU SURVIVE WITH LESS THAN ONE?”

Blue gulped. “I… REMEMBER HOW I SAID I WAS RAPED A LOT? I NEVER REALLY… GOT THE QUALITY OF MEDICAL CARE I SHOULD HAVE, SO I DIDN’T REALLY HEAL UP VERY WELL. IT’S… BEEN GOING DOWN LATELY, TOO,” ever since Stretch found out about his prostitution, actually, “BUT IT WAS AT 0.498 THE LAST TIME I CHECKED, SO IT’S… ACTUALLY GONE UP?”

Seven eyes stared at him. Red’s eyes were the most angry looking. Blue quaked before them. “lemme get this straight. a maximum of about seven tenths of a hp point is an improvement for you?”

Blue nodded, thinking through his next words carefully. “I’M JUST… WEAK. LIFE HAS BEEN HARD, AND I’VE TRIED MY HARDEST, BUT IT WAS HARD TO TAKE CARE OF MY LITTLE BROTHER ALL ON MY OWN. I TRIED TO RAISE HIM RIGHT, BUT, AS THINGS GOT HARDER… I STARTED TO LOSE HOPE. I WAS DETERMINED TO KEEP GOING FOR HIM, BUT… I GAVE UP HAVING ANY HOPES OF MY OWN WHEN THE QUEEN REFUSED TO SIGN THE LICENSE OF A FORMER PROSTITUTE.”

Red burst out laughing. Scales and Edge gave him an unamused stare. Felldyne looked like she wasn’t that far behind Red in the laughing department, and it was she who spoke. “Seriously? Even Fellgore didn’t care about me, and I did that to pay for my own house so I didn’t have to live with Gerson. Is that seriously why she refused to sign your license?”

Blue, blinking at her, nodded. “...ALMOST ENTIRELY, YES. SHE DIDN’T LIKE THAT I BROKE CURFEW AS A CHILD AT THE HOSPITAL, EITHER.”

Felldyne did chuckle then. “Sheesh, no wonder you hate her. If I were Empress I’d make you the Lead Healer in an instant. You helped Scales, you hate the Royal Family, and you’ve got enough spunk to compliment someone who could kill you with a sneeze. Definitely leadership quality. You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a job, would you? Once we pull this coop off I’m the next in line.”

Before Blue could jump on this opportunity, Red threw it away for him. “come on, dyne. he’s got a brother waiting for him back home. i know i’d give anything to get back to my bro if i lost him.”

Blue became aware of the way Felldyne was studying him. He shivered under that stare and the thought of going back to life with his… well, he couldn’t deny it anymore, could he? His abusive brother. He didn’t want to burden them with his problems, though. Not before he earned the right to call them friends. He had to help. “SO, WHAT’S THE PLAN ONCE I SEDATE YOUR KING? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH HIM?”

The others reluctantly (and not so reluctantly) accepted this change of subject. “WE’RE GOING TO SHOVE HIM INTO THE VOID, THE ULTIMATE PRISON SPACE WHERE NOT EVEN LIGHT CAN ESCAPE. IT’S WHERE THE KING SHOVED MY FATHER WHEN HE REFUSED TO LET HIM TAKE RED AND ME AWAY FROM HIM.”

Blue shivered. He knew who dwelled in the Void from back home, and he knew why. After all, he was the one who put River there. “ARE YOU SURE THERE ISN’T ANY OTHER WAY?”

They all nodded, but Red nodded more vigorously than the others. “that bastard has too much damned lv to put in a prison - he’ll just punch through the walls. can’t kill him neither, not without going lv crazy. no, we need to send him somewhere he can never get out.”

Blue sighed. “ALRIGHT. IF THAT’S THE ONLY WAY… I’LL HELP YOU WITH THE SEDATION AND ANY HEALING, NOT WITH ANYTHING ELSE. I’D ONLY GET IN THE WAY.”

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳26

Pairing: Zuko x OC

AU: Adult-Verse

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 5900+

Notes: IMPORTANT NOTE: My writing schedule is being thrown into a loop. I’m still be posting once a week, but for the time being, instead of a set date of posting (Friday), I’m going to post as often as I can. That way I’m not stressing about posting at a specific date. You’re still getting a chapter! It just may take longer. I hope I don’t upset anyone with this change.

Besides that, I hope you enjoy the chapter and don’t be shy to leave a comment, like, or reblog! Thank you for your love and support, and take care~!

Masterlist ︳25 ︳ 27

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person. The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Nefarious

(Latin/adj.) Wicked, villainous, despicable.

 ~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            Zuko didn’t seem to clue in to the fact that I was watching him.

            A frown painted that handsome face of his, dashing from corner to corner, overturning every single box, cream, and lotion that laid on our dresser and vanity. I could tell he was trying to remain calm, being as quiet as possible as he still thought I was asleep.

            But despite his attempt to remain calm, I could see the flickers of fire wander around him, every deep huff of his just emphasizing that he was flustered. I looked at the window, rubbing my eyes tiredly and slightly annoyed. The sun was starting to rise, the air crisp and dewy.

            Zuko said I was crazy for saying that he didn’t know how to relax, but this was just another example to prove my point. Who in the world wakes up early to go for a morning jog during a vacation? I huffed, sitting upright and pushing the warm blankets off my body.

            So entranced with finding whatever he sought after, Zuko didn’t even hear my huff or the way I slipped out of bed and put on my robe. He wore casual clothing this morning, and I found myself smiling. How I wish he dressed as relaxed as he did now more often.

            It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his royal attire, trust me – he was a snack when he was dressed to the spirits. But it was also lovely seeing him comfy. Not with a tight bun, body-hugging clothing. He was always on his toes – but seeing him like this made me smile.

            The way his long locks fell along his shoulders, loose T-shirt and baggy pants…

            Without warning, I wrapped my arms around Zuko - humming softly and feeling his warmth along my skin. As much as I enjoyed the heat of Ember Island – I wouldn’t trade it for Zuko’s natural warmness.

            Zuko’s breath hitched, hugging my arms and looking over his shoulder with a frown, “I’m sorry, did I wake you, love?”

            “Mhmm.” I giggled, stuffing my face into his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted as he chuckled. “Sorry, uh, now that you’re awake though…have you seen some creams?”

            I pulled away, looking at Zuko with confusion. My head tilted, pondering to myself as to what creams Zuko could want. I waltzed over to my vanity - gazing, “What type of creams?”

            “Uh…just plain white bottles.”

            I turned around, noticing how hesitant Zuko was to speak, his voice wary. A small pout formed on my lips, crossing my arms as I looked at him, “Spill Zuko.”

            “It’s nothing, forget it.” He grumbled, ready to walk away, but before he could, I grabbed his arm, pulling him close. And it was then I realized – his scar.

            It was dry, ashy; the skin pulled tight around his face. There was no way in the world that it wasn’t irritating him. His eye was slightly veiny, red. Probably from him rubbing the skin during his sleep without realizing and I frowned, “Zuko-”

            “Don’t worry, I probably forgot it at home-”

            “Zuko stop!” I hissed, grabbing his arm more forcibly and making him stay put. Gosh, the skin was so irritated. I need to do something.

            But Zuko scowled, “It’s fine, don’t worry-”

            “Stop acting so damn tough! I care, I worry. So sit down on the bed while I figure something out.” I shouted, and for the very first time in our relationship, I snapped at him.

            The way Zuko’s eyes widen in shock, never hearing my voice raised, especially towards him. But what could I say, I was annoyed. Not only did he wake me up early, now he has to act all ‘manly,’ unable to admit that he was in pain - and that drove me nuts.

            I shoved him towards the bed, huffing under my breath as I dashed towards the washroom, not giving him the time of day to argue with me. He’s lucky I didn’t freeze his damn ass to the ground and leave him for days.

            My eyes scanned about, searching for what I needed…a towel…a cup…

            I dashed towards the sink, filling the glass with some cold water before walking out of the bathroom. I swear if he’s not there sitting on the bed-

            A small smirk flickered on my lips.

            Zuko sat on the bed, pouting like a child with his arms crossed, evidently ticked off at how I yelled at him. I pushed back the giggle that wanted to erupt because I still had to play the part of being angry ��� or else this man will never listen to me. Although I had to say – he looked adorable sulking like that.

            My feet obnoxiously stomped on the ground, trying to play the part that I was still upset, but the moment my eyes lined up with his face I softened.

            His scar was a blistering red. Usually, the skin was muted, although red – and it wasn’t as rash or vibrant. But today, it was different. A shade of red I’ve never seen before.

            I sulked, stepping forward and outstretching the cup towards him, “Hold it for me please…” Zuko gazed at me wearily, hesitance written all over his face, “What are you going to do?” He huffed - a bit more bite in his voice than usual. But I ignored it, Zuko may look like a lion, but he was just an adorable cat.

            “Trust me,” I said softly, letting my hands cup his face as he held the cup of water. His eye twitched, struggling to see, and I pouted.

            Zuko was in pain, I could tell.

            The way his jaw clenched, forehead pinched together, a hand of his digging into his leg. And in a bold move, I let my hand gently caress the wound. The hiss he released, but he didn’t make a move to pull away.

            I could feel it.

            The way the blood fought to pump around the skin, struggling to carry the necessary water to keep the skin hydrated. He needed moisture, water.

            With a flick of my fingers, I could feel the water rise from the cup, Zuko twitching from the cold liquid sliding across his skin, “Shut your eyes…” I muttered softly, letting my hand brush over his eyes, his lids fluttering close.

            My eyes shut, trying to figure out the sore spot.

            ‘Focus on the way the blood pumped,’ my mom always said when healing. It was a trick she adopted, instead of conducting the regular check up on patients, she used to feel the way the blood flowed in one’s body – and from that, she could tell what was wrong with patients. Discovering health concerns that no doctor had figured out until she mentioned it.

            My brows pinched together, letting my water freeze slightly over his scar while allowing the water that directly touched his skin penetrate. Zuko gasped from underneath me, wincing slightly and my eyes opened, “Am I hurting you? Let me stop-”

            “No-” Zuko huffed, a hand tightly gripping my wrist, “It feels…good. Relief.” He shyly murmured under his breath. I couldn’t help but smile, noticing that the skin was muting in colour, no longer throbbing angrily.

            I let my fingers dance along the skin around his eyes, feeling the majority of the damage there. A sad smile painted my face; I could only image how much it hurt. What person would do this to a child? To Zuko? No wonder Zuko always feared the thought of having a family, being a father – he didn’t exactly have the best experience besides Iroh. And it was then I decided to make a mental note to thank Iroh – for being the rock Zuko needed all his life.

            The water was almost completely absorbed, and I began letting whatever ice I formed to start melting away and hydrating the skin as well. “You can open your eyes now…” I muttered softly, and when Zuko did open his eyes, my heart fluttered.

            His eye was no longer red, strained or dry, but the usual vibrant gold I admired, “Better?” I hummed, grabbing the towel I let lay over my shoulder to tap whatever water remained.

            I could see it, Zuko’s lip slightly curved upwards, cheeks crimsoned as he nodded, “Thank you…” He whispered, voice lacking his usual spunk. I pouted, realizing that my sudden outburst must have affected him.

            He seemed torn - between wanting to argue and thanking me, “Sorry for getting upset with you.” I blurted, cheeks flushed as I pulled the towel away and grabbed the cup from his hand.

            “No, don’t be. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that.” Zuko spoke, shaking his head as he stood from the bed. His hand gently rose to touch his cheek, amazement in his eyes, “I thought you weren’t a good healer?” He mused, giving me a look of disbelief.

            My cheeks coloured, shaking my head bashfully as I walked over to the vanity to set the materials down, “I’m not, my mother was though. I can only try…” I muttered. But a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, feeling Zuko’s chin resting on my shoulder. The sudden warmth, feeling him so close made my shoulders relax, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Yue.”

            I smiled, shaking my head, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to tell me; I was just worried-”

            “You have every right to worry and know what’s going on, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you?”

            With that statement, I turned around. Letting my arms wrap around Zuko’s waist as he grinned, “You like being spoiled, huh?” Zuko chuckled, watching the way my eyes lit up at the mere thought of getting something. I giggled, shrugging my shoulders as I fell into his embrace, “It’s your fault; you spoil me too much.”

            “Pinning it back on me – I see what you’re doing.”

            “Oh, you love me.”

            “I do. So how about…I make you tea?”

            I jumped, looking at Zuko with a big smile, “Tea?”

            Zuko worked at a tea shop, and he told me that he learned a few tips and tricks about tea making back at the Southern Water tribe – boy does time fly by. And given that Iroh is an avid tea-drinker, I had high hopes. It was small things like this, him making me tea, waking up in the morning to his sleepy face that made me so happy.

            I skipped away, opening the door and tightening the stash on my robe, “Let’s go!” I chirped, only to earn a laugh from Zuko.

            Elbows on the counter, chin on my palms, I sat with full attention to Zuko.

            I knew that the man was just making tea, but in my eyes – it was the most magical thing in the world. I watched keenly, studying his every move. Zuko finally poured the hot liquid into two cups and slid it towards me, chuckling, “You’re watching me as if I’m going to quiz you after.”

            “Well I gotta say, I got a cute teacher.” I teased, only to earn a flick on my forehead. A small pout formed on my lips as Zuko rolled his eyes at my words, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

            With a tiny spoon, I stirred the milk and honey, watching the hot liquid stir around in the cup. And once satisfied, I lifted the cup to my lips, sipping - thistle. The floral tones, with a pinch of sweetness from the honey and creaminess from the milk - I smiled.

            “You like thistle?” I hummed, taking a sip of the tea as Zuko drank, staring through the window and watching the sun rise over the crystal waters of the beach. “Never really drank it till today,” Zuko said, scratching his neck sheepishly. I giggled, shaking my head at his response before stealing another sip, “For some odd reason, Kima and Lia packed a bunch of it. Same with ginger root and stone seed root.” Zuko spoke, opening a cabinet and proving his point.

            I brought the cup down from my lips, pouting as I studied the teas. Thistle…ginger root…stone seed root…

            “They have some sort of herbal properties – I remember my mom telling a few locals to drink those teas,” I answered, tilting my head to the side. “And now that you mentioned it, ever since I came to the kingdom, Lia always gave me a tea in the morning, and it was always between those three.”

            “Maybe high in some sort of vitamins? Now I’m slightly jealous. It’s like she takes better care of you than me.”

            “Well, she’s my maid after all.”

            “And I’m the Fire Lord.”

            I rolled my eyes, stealing another sip, “I’ll ask the maids when they come, maybe they know. Are you going for your jog now?”

            Zuko nodded, placing the dirty cup in the sink before leaning over the counter, “And don’t you dare think for a second that I forgot.”

            “Forgot what?” I asked, confused by the glare he gave me, “That you still need to train. So get changed so we can go for a jog.”

            “Oh, come on!” I whined, letting my body fall against the marble, huffing like a child. There was no way in the spirit world; I would be training during my vacation. But Zuko’s hands ruffled my hair, pulling on my robe and making me look upwards, “Come on babe, either we run or we train tonight with your bending.”

            “A run it is!” I sheepishly grinned, pushing the empty teacup to him. Zuko chuckled, shaking his head before a knock on the door caught my attention. I hopped off the stool, “Probably the workers and maids, let them in, love.” I nodded my head, opening the door with a bright smile, “Good morning!”

            The workers and maids smiled, watching how cheery I was, bowing as I moved to the side.

            “Good morning Imperial Consort, Fire Lord Zuko.” They all muttered, bowing before walking off to their work. Zuko let out a soft smile, nodding his head as he began washing the cups. “Oh, Fire Lord Zuko let me-”

            “It’s fine; I got it,” Zuko spoke, letting the water splash over the dishware. The maids anxiously gazed at each other, and I let my hand fall over their shoulder, “It’s fine. It’s nice being…normal.” I whispered, watching Zuko wash the dishes.

            The tiny things in life…

            “I have a question!” I jumped, tugging the maids towards the kitchen, and pointing at the teas, “What are these teas for, do they do something?”

            The way their cheeks flushed, looking at themselves with stifled giggles, “A-are you really asking us?” A maid cheekily blurted, giving me wide eyes. I looked back at Zuko, who was still seemingly oblivious to the conversation, “I have no clue…”

            “I-it’s to prevent, uh…how do I say this…a natural form of birth control.”

            My cheeks flushed, utterly rosy as I quickly shut the cabinet and timidly smiled at them. My mouth formed into a giant ‘O,’ tugging any loose hairs behind my ear, “T-thanks for the clarification.”

            “So, what is it? Vitamins?” Zuko asked from behind me, his hands gripping my hips. I tensed, looking up at his face, a face filled with curiosity. “You know, it’s nothing. Just forget about it.”

            “But I want to know.”

            “Let it go Zuko!” I grumbled, walking away with rosy cheeks, and that just seemed to fuel him more. The maids giggled behind us, watching the way I actively avoided his pestering. So when the older man from yesterday walked in front of me, bowing and started talking, I gave him a massive mental thanks.

            “Did you go through the box I gave you yesterday? There were a few photos; I figured you might want to hang some throughout the home.” He smiled. My eyes widen, shaking my head, “I forgot! How about you go for the run Zuko while I organize what’s inside the box.” I said with a grin.

            The look Zuko gave me, a frown as he huffed, “You just don’t want to go on the run.”

            “I really don’t…”

            Zuko’s hands wrapped about my waist, grumbling into my messy bedhead, “Fine. Put the things into piles while I go for a run. When I come back, we can pick and choose, okay?”

            I skipped, hugging Zuko happily before pecking his lips, “You’re the best.”

            Zuko laughed, pulling away before walking towards the entrance, “See you la-”

            “Fire Lord Zuko!”

            The front door swung open, a flustered worker panting heavily. They gazed over me briefly before their eyes fell upon Zuko with urgency, “Mihir, he requests your audience.”

            And just like yesterday, Zuko tensed.

            The way he walked towards the door, a grimace on his face as he hesitantly looked over his shoulder to me, “I-I’ll be back. I should be quick.”

            I pouted, wanting to ask what this Mihir person could possibly want two days in a row, but Zuko left in a flash. The door shut behind him, disappearing as quickly as Aang does, like a breeze itself. What in the world is going on with Zuko?

            “Imperial Consort Ying Yue…?”

            I turned around, gazing at the construction manager with a sad smile, “It must be tough…” He spoke softly, scared to over-step but wanting to comfort me. My hands pulled on my robe, bringing it tighter to my body as I nodded, “Fire Lord first, Zuko second.” I hummed, the saying I’ve repeated to myself the moment I accepted that seal back at the Southern Water Tribe.

            “As a husband, a father, I can tell he loves you.”

            “I know…good thing I’ve learned a thing or two about patience.” The man chuckled, nodding his head, “You’ll make a brilliant Fire Queen.”

            Fire Queen.

            I shyly smiled, blushing at the comment, “Thank you. I should get sorting.”

            “If you need help, let me know, I could get some of the workers to help out.”

            “Thank you! I will.” I sang before dashing into the bedroom. I slid the door behind me, enjoying the fresh breeze, the sunlight lighting up the bedroom. And it was then I spotted it, the box at the end of the bed.

            Not bothering to change out of my pyjamas, I sat down on the floor, scrunching my nose as a bit of dust danced in the air as I pulled the box closer. It wasn’t a big box, or heavy, mostly filled with old stuffed animals, and photos. I wonder if they’re any embarrassing baby photos of Zuko…oh my gosh - imagine a naked baby photo of him?

            I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, Ursa seems like the type of mom that would do that, and I grinned.

            The first goal; organize the box.

            The second goal; look for any embarrassing photos of Zuko to use as blackmail.

            I pulled out the first photo and already started giggling – Zuko in an adorable sailor suit. This is going to be a great day.

 ~ Fire Lord Zuko ~

            The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the theatre, bouncing off the walls, and projecting piercingly down the empty halls. It was the only place where I knew I could get privacy, able to speak about guarded matters without eavesdropping. And although the local theatre was small, it would suffice.

            I stepped forward, and I could see him - Mihir.

            Like usual, he wore black clothing, not leaving an inch of skin exposed, including his fingers. He tug his red scarf closer to his face, the only skin visible in his entire attire. Just seeing him wearing such dark colours and tight fitting clothing made me sweat, the man must be boiling alive. But I pushed the thought away, because even if he were sweltering – Mihir would never say a word.

            His dark eyes aligned with mine, wrinkles peeking through and showing his age. I finally spoke, “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to come back in two we-”

            “I think he’s alive.”

            “What?”

            My breath hitched, stepping forward with a look of disbelief, searching for any sign that Mihir was bluffing. But his stern eyes never wavered, and if there was one thing I knew, it was that Mihir never lied.

            He was an informant, always searching and retrieving information regarding every single thing and being in the Fire Nation. If he said something – it was never less of the truth. With outstretched hands, he held out the papers, and I grabbed them.

            My eyes scanned the documents, General Axe.

            A giant x and skull decorated the name, and in an instance I flipped open the papers, looking for any new information. But a frown soon appeared on my face, looking up at Mihir with confusion, “Why are you giving me this? I gave this to you; I already know what’s inside.”

            “Look again; we missed something.”

            I frowned, walking to a free desk and letting the papers rest. Eyes frantically searching for that piece of information Mihir wanted me to see. General Axe was a traitor, due to leaking information. I already knew this; fuck even Yue told me that. So what is it?

            “Her mother’s body - they found it, burned it, and destroyed all evidence that she even existed. But they never found his.”

            “What are you trying to hint at?”

            “What if General Axe never died? What if he managed to escape?” Mihir said, flipping the papers back, pointing at the red skull that loomed over his name, “What if this mark, shouldn’t be here. Because the job was never completed.”

            I pulled away, looking at him in disbelief, “Are you saying they failed the assassination? We are talking about skilled warriors-”

            “Ying Yue got away, a child. Why couldn’t he, a trained warrior?”

            My mouth shut, lips pressed tight as I ran my hands through my hair. I should be happy, happy that I found something. All I wanted was to find some long-lost family of Yue’s.

            Aang, Sokka, even Toph, told me how much Yue longed to reconnect with family. Regardless if they’re distant members, but this was more than I bargained. I wouldn’t be introducing her to some distant uncles or cousins; I would be bringing her dad back from the fucking grave.

            “It would explain…a lot.” Mihir spoke, watching the way I fought with myself. “We know for a fact that General Axe had no siblings and his parents died years ago. But whenever I asked colleagues or friends about him, they all seemed hesitant. As if they were hiding something.”

            I groaned, slapping my hands on my face.

            Why. Is. Life. So. Difficult.

            “But why? Why hide? Why not find Ying Yue? He left her alone all those damn years; it broke her.”

            “Because while you and I know that what he did was for the greater good – he’s still a traitor to the Fire Nation.”

            “He’s scared that he’ll endanger her...”

            “Fire Lord Zuko, this is bigger than the both of us. All of his colleagues and friends who supported him have either retired early or weren’t aware of his secret love affair. But some of them do know about Ying Yue. And they know that your consort is his child.”

            “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.” I hissed, and Mihir nodded, “It can be. Because someone years ago leaked that information to your father, someone who was pro-war. And if word goes out, that you’re dating the daughter of a traitor, they could use that against you – get your father back to the throne.”

            Fuck.

            I huffed despairingly, leaning against the desk with a range of emotions. This was supposed to be a cute fucking surprise. Hopefully, introduce Yue to some extended family, have a lovely bloody dinner – the regular stuff. But instead, I dug myself into another scandal as if the council wasn’t already struggling to wrap their heads around the fact that Yue was a damn Waterbender.

            “We can fix this, before news of this breaks. If we find General Axe, lift his ‘traitor status,’ scandal goes poof.”

            “How? If Yue’s father is alive, and that’s a huge fucking IF - he’s hiding. And if he’s been able to go under the radar for this long, there’s no way we can find him.”

            “Don’t underestimate my skills,” Mihir smirked, and for a split moment, I relaxed. Mihir crossed his arms smugly, “I’ve been doing this for thirty years, I worked for your Uncle, and now I work for you. And I didn’t pledge myself to you to fail.”

            “Mihir, if you’re right, we need to be smart.” He nodded, grabbing the scattered papers on the desk and putting them away neatly. But as his hands brushed along the documents, he paused, “You never told her yet, have you?”

            Silence.

            I looked away, gazing through the windows and watching the motion of the distant water. The way sun reflected off the waves, birds flying high into the sky, “No…I can’t do that to Ying Yue. Give her false hope. It’ll hurt her if we find nothing, and I can’t do that.”

            “And what if her father is alive? Then what?”

            "I guess I can finally ask General Axe.”

            “Ask what?”

            “His blessing in marriage.”

            Mihir smiled, tugging the folder into his shirt before walking towards the door, “I’ll do my best; I haven’t been to a wedding in a while. See you soon.” I nodded, the sound of the door opening and closing, and my soft breathing echoing.

            My head spun, sighing as I rubbed my face in defeat. This was supposed to be a nice vacation, some time off for just me and Yue. But more importantly, a chance to get her to safety, away from whoever the snitch at the kingdom was, and just thinking about it made me groan in annoyance.

            I was tired, so damn tired. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I needed a damn hug – her hug. Her hair in my face, her soft giggles, just her.

            I straighten, rolling my shoulders back as I cracked my fingers, “Maybe I could pick up some biscuits-”

            “I haven’t had cookies from the town in such a long time Zuzu, thanks for offering.”

            My blood ran cold, turning on my heel at the sound of that voice. It was a voice I’ve long forgotten, put away and left for dead. My fists rose, feet planting on the ground as I twisted. But my mouth dropped as I saw a slender body easing its way out of the shadows, a wicked smirk playing on her face, “Long time no see Zuzu.”

            “Azula.”

            She didn’t change a damn bit.

            Her black hair still up in a ponytail, bangs framing her face as she waltzed around the room. I let the flames in my fists build, watching her every move, but her eyes flickered over to me once again, fingers dragging along the old theatre props with a gaze of boredom, “Relax, I didn’t come to fight.”

            “And we both know you didn’t come to make friends.” I hissed. Azula grinned, tapping her cheek in amusement, “I wouldn’t worry too much about her father. That’s not where the secrets lie.”

            My eyes narrowed, matching her footsteps, keeping myself at a fair distance; trying to keep cool all the while staying alert. How many years has it been since I’ve last seen her? Two, three? More.

            And no matter how many years have passed, nothing but dread filled my heart. Because the truth was, I would’ve rested better knowing she was just dead.

            “What do you want Azula?”

            “I’m going to say this once Zuzu, so listen carefully.” She hissed, and I cringed at hearing her stupid nickname for me, a nickname I’ve only heard come from Kiyi’s lips. The closest thing I ever had to a little sister, and she wasn’t even entirely related to me.

            Azula’s lips twisted to that of a smirk, “Your girlfriend isn’t what she seems. She’s hiding a secret. Forget about the father – research the mother. We both know the mother’s side is far more interesting.”

            “And makes you think that I’ll trust you – of all fucking people,” I growled. She’s still insane – that’s for sure. But Azula rolled her eyes, flicking her wrist as if to dismiss my words. “Fine, don’t listen. But if she starts to control you from the inside out, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

            “What?” I gasped, trying to decipher her words. But Azula leaned against an old prop, crossing her arms, “She’s a Bloodbender, you idiot.”

            “You’re fucking insane Azula. There’s were two Bloodbenders in this whole world; Katara and Yakone.”

            But the way her grin lit up hearing Yakone’s name, “Make it three now. And ask her about Yakone; I bet the name will ring a bell in that girl's head.” I frowned, because memories of that night, the dinner party with the Earth King flooded my mind. The way Yue flinched at the mention of Bloodbending, the name Yakone…Could Azula-

            “These accusations – it’s insulting, we both know that.”

            “What’s more insulting is that you plan on getting married and I haven’t gotten a wedding invitation. Although I understand why - it’s not like you’ll go through with it. A Waterbender, a Bloodbender, plus the daughter of a traitor. You really know how to pick them Zuzu.”

            “Insult her one more time-”

            Azula smiled, licking her lips as she leaned forward, “Bloodbender.”

 ~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            A soft smile flickered upon my lips as my fingers trailed along the photos. They were beautiful, and it was a shame that most of them were wrinkled or burnt. Whatever photos were at the top were of Zuko and Ursa. And Ursa looked gorgeous, so proud of her son, bearing the sweetest smile, the smile of a mother. Gosh, I hope I can age like her – gracefully.

            And the more I studied her soft features, her stunning smile; it made more sense where Zuko got his looks. They were so much alike, and as I flipped through the pictures, I saw more.

            Zuko getting older - crawling, standing, walking, going up the porch stairs. And despite his physical changes, hair getting longer, more sturdy, there was one thing that remained the same - that captivating twinkle in his eyes. He was adorable, and the smile on me grew more. I was a sucker for Zuko, but more so for a baby Zuko.

            But as the pictures got older, I noticed something change with Ursa. Her belly was getting bigger…face a bit puffy. She’s pregnant in these! Zuko’s sister.

            I knew that Zuko had a sister, a sister other than Kiyi - Azula. The infamous Fire Nation Princess, the prodigy. But that was all she was to me, rumours. Katara told me how strong she was, what a skilled fighter she was, and her blue flames – a rarity in itself. But not once had Zuko mention her to me. And for the first time in my life, it was something I wasn’t all too curious about asking.

            My brows pinched together, seeing a few baby photos, evidently her. Ursa was smiling, Zuko looking over Azula with curiosity. Should I hide these from Zuko? Would he even want to see them? I frowned and found myself putting down the images; I shouldn’t

             I felt like I was overstepping suddenly.

            It felt dirty looking at these pictures. I have to put them away; I can look at these when Zuko comes back, I can’t-

            And as I leaned forward to make a separate pile for the private photos, the film shifted, spilling over and scattering across the ground. I hissed loudly, scrambling to put them away. Why must I be such a bloody clutz? And as my hands frantically grabbed the photos, I stopped.

            Because I was met with a pair of eyes that pierced through my heart.

            The same eyes that haunted me from the moment I got to the Fire Nation, and last night. I reached forward, grabbing the photo. Her black hair, narrowed eyes, that smirk – it was the maid from last night but-

            She was young in this photo, a child, and is that...Mai?

            I sat back, studying the picture. It had to be Mai. But…why would a maid be playing with royalty? The clothing she wore was not of a maid, but of royalty – no. Even more magnificent, outshining Mai. Wait a minute…is that Ty Lee in the background too?

            My head shot upwards, looking at the rest of the scattered photos that lay on the floor, my heart beating. Because realization hit, a dirty reality snuck under me with such force I stopped breathing altogether. It can’t be- gosh no.

            Another picture – she was sitting with Ursa and Zuko.

            Another one – they were at the beach, Mai blushing beside Zuko.

            Her Zuko and Mai. Her Zuko and Mai. Her, Zuko and Mai-

            No, no, no-

            “A royal bed warmer.”

             I stood up, my stomach in my throat, running to the door. “Imperial Consort Ying Yue?” A maid gasped, looking at me with fear. But I didn’t care.

            I didn’t care that my hair wasn’t done, that I was still wearing my damn pyjamas because my worst fears were coming true, “Where’s Zuko?” I gasped, tears threatening to spill over.

            The maids frowned, looking at one another, a few construction workers stopped and seeing my fear, “W-we don’t know, are you alright, sit down-”

            “No, I need him now.” I cried, and right away, their eyes widen. My head spun, blood cold and palms sweaty, I feel like I’m going to be sick. “Ying Yue, you’re as white as a ghost, what’s wrong?” They begged, grasping my hands as I shook like a leaf, “I just need Zu-”

            “Yue.” My head shot upwards; front door flung open.

            “Zuko.” I gasped, running forward. His brows pinched together, seeing me all frazzled, but I also noticed he looked disorganized.

            “My sister – you’re in danger.”

            “I know the snitch – it’s Mai.”

            Both of your eyes widen.

            Welp…this vacation went to shits.

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[alindakb]

How Love Hurts - Chapter 7.7 - by Alinda

Harry looks at Hermione. He doesn’t know what she wants him to say. That he’s happy or relieved probably. But he won’t, because he’s fucking not.

“So, I’m not allowed anywhere near this case, of course, being family of the victim and the person on trial. But Marion is a great prosecutor, she will make sure the truth comes out,” Hermione continues.

“That’s great, Hermione,” Draco answers her. “I’m sure the Ministry will inform us if we have to contribute in any way.”

Harry turns his head into Draco’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to contribute to anything. He just wants to get the all-clear from the healers, find a new place to live and take this second chance on life he’s been given. Well, technically his fourth chance. Maybe Scorpius is right and Harry is secretly a cat that has nine lives. So he will be able to escape dead another five times. Well in the rate he’s going he might even make it to a hundred years then.

“Harry, I thought you would be happy to hear that the Ministry is supporting you again. They even consider to up the charges to attempted murder and domestic abuse. That means that once this trial is over she will never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“Hermione, can we maybe talk about something else. Harry isn’t ready for this. Let just give him some time to adjust to the idea that the entire wizarding world is going to find out that his ex-wife almost killed him when he tried to settle some kind of visitation agreement for his children. You know how much he hates being the centre of attention.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so angry at her. What she did, for who knows how long. And I didn’t even notice it. I’m really sorry Harry, me and Ron, we should have noticed something was wrong. You should have been able to tell us. And I’m really sorry you couldn’t.” Harry can hear that Hermione is upset, and he’s sure tears will be on her face when he looks up, but he can’t. Harry wants to disappear, so he just keeps his face hidden in the crook of Draco’s shoulder.

“He knows, Hermione. Just let him be, okay,” Draco tells her while his fingers stroke through Harry’s hair.

“Yes, off course. Did you already hear back from the healers about the latest tests? I’m sure both of you would like to go home by now.”

Home, wherever that is going to be. Harry still has to tell Draco that he sold Grimmauld Place. Draco said he would get Mila and Toby to clean it up, get it all ready for their return as soon as Harry can leave this stupid hospital. Whoever knew that spending two months in here would drive him crazy. At least it kept all the journalist at bay. Harry doesn’t need to know what they’ve been writing. Ron said it’s crazy to see how all the reporters that named Harry a young man with a midlife crisis that finally lost the plot when he left Ginny for Draco now call him the victim of an unjust society. Not a single word has gotten out about what really happened, the only thing that is public knowledge is that Ginny has been arrested for attacking Harry. And if it was up to Harry that would be all they ever find out. But with the trail coming that’s not going to happen. The entire world will hear about how their Saviour was just a scared man trapped in an abusive marriage that almost killed him.

“No, I hope they tell us something soon. The longer it takes the worse it’s going to be,” Draco says.

“It’s going to be fine, Draco,” Harry says while he sits up a little straighter. “I can walk all by myself to the toilet now, I’m sure they will all agree it’s time for me to get out of here. And when not, I’m going to hex everyone until they let me.”

“Harry, if they say you need to stay longer, you should really stay. What will your kids say if you drop dead at home because you got sick of staying at the hospital,” Hermione says.

Harry shakes his head and Draco lets out a short laugh. “Yes, Hermione, I know. And I will, I promised my kids I would listen to the healers and be a good patient for once. So here I am, being good and all. Doesn’t mean I want to stay here for another day,” Harry says.

“It would be nice to go home,” Draco says. “I’ve missed Grimmauld Place.”

Harry his hand moves up to the scar on his upper arm. He really needs to tell Draco, he knows he has to, but it will break his heart. He’s put just as much effort and time into fixing up that place as Harry had. And Harry just sold it without a second thought.

In that moment healer Johnson walks into the room. She has a smile on her face and tells them that Harry passed all the tests with flying colours. His heart is completely healed, no sign of any permanent damage. He’s free to recover further in his own home. Draco burst out in tears when they tell them and Harry hugs him close.

“I told you I was going to be fine,” he whispers into Draco’s ear.

“I know, you idiot. You have any idea how fucking lucky you are. Eighty-seven percent of victims with spell damage at the heart don’t survive past a week, and only fifteen percent of the people that don’t die have a full recovery. Most die within years after the damage is done.”

“Draco, I’m not going to die anytime soon, you hear me. I want to see my kids graduate, fall in love, get married, have kids. I want to see them make fun of me when my hair starts to turn grey, I want to see wrinkles start to form on your face because of how much I make you smile in the life we’re going to have.”

Draco nods and gives Harry a soft peck on his lips. They smile at each other for a moment until healer Johnson clears her throat.

When Harry looks back at healer Johnson and Hermione he doesn’t miss the small tear that Hermione whips from her face. Of course, she also knew the numbers and how big the change was that Harry would never fully recover.

“I need to go tell Ron, and... Well, everyone, I guess. I’ll floo Minerva so she can inform the kids at Hogwarts, I’m sure you want them to know as soon as possible,” Hermione says while she gets up from her chair. She already has her phone in her hands.

“Yes, go make sure everyone knows I’m good. I’ll write the kids later, have them hear it from me too, but floo Minerva anyway. The kids would be glad to know asap.”

Hermione nods and walks out of the room. Healer Johnson goes over the rules for Harry to go home. No heavy lifting, no running, and defiantly no flying. Harry has to take it easy. Healer Johnson tells him to let that man take care of you, and so on. Harry is fine with all of it, as long as he can just leave this hospital. The only thing they now have to do is figure out where to go.

When healer Johnson leaves the room, Harry knows he can’t keep it from Draco any longer. “There is something I need to tell you,” he starts. He looks Draco in the eyes and he hates how much he’s going to hurt him now. “We can’t go back to Grimmauld Place.” Tears start to form in Harry’s eyes when he sees the confusion on Draco’s face. “I’m so sorry, I know you loved that house just as much as I did.”

“Harry, shh, it’s okay. If you don’t want to live there anymore we can find a new place.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to live there anymore, I had to,” Harry hides his face in Draco’s shoulder again. He can’t say this and see the hurt on Draco’s face, knowing it was all for nothing in the end. “She made me sell the place, Draco. It’s not mine anymore.”

“Oh, Harry, I thought you knew. This is why you kept giving me those looks every time I mentioned the place. You think it’s not ours anymore. What do you think Hermione did the moment you decided to agree to sell it.”

“Draco, I don’t get it. I’ve sold it, the house belongs to someone else. Why aren’t you angry at me?”

“Because, Harry, look at me,” Draco lifts Harry’s chin so they can look each other in the eyes. “Because I’m the crazy person that put down all his money to buy the place. I even sold the Manor to afford it. That place is special to you, I wanted to make sure you could get it back when you realised what a mistake you made giving it up.”

“You sold the Manor to buy Grimmauld Place?” Harry can’t believe his ears. Draco is the one that bought the house. They can still go back and live there. Harry feels overwhelmed, he leans forward and kisses Draco. “I love you so much,” he cries against Draco’s lips. “Thank you for doing that for me.”

“When will you get it in that thick head of yours that I’ll do anything for you, Harry?”

“Maybe soon, it’s getting a bit hard to miss with all the sacrifices you’re willing to make to make sure I’m happy.”

They kiss again and Harry struggles to believe he’s really going home today, to the place that was made to give him his happily ever after.

Draco pulls away and fumbles with something in his pocket. “There’s another thing I’ve been wanting to ask you. Lily put this idea in my head, and after a talk with Hermione I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Harry looks at Draco, who suddenly looks nervous. “Draco, what are you doing?” he asks. Harry has an idea of what kind of idea Lily came up with. She’s a firm believer in happy ends for fairy tales. And most of them end with the princess marrying the prince.

“When my mother died, I inherited the Black family ring. I gave it to Astoria back then, but she never wore it. After her death, I found it in its box, next to a letter. Tori wrote to me, telling me I should one day give it to the man that will hold my heart in a way she never could. You’re that man, Harry. I love you so much. And almost losing you this Christmas, made me realise I don’t want to live without you. So what I’m really trying to say is,” Draco pauses to pull a golden ring from his pocket, “fuck I should be on my knees for this shouldn’t I?”

“No, you don’t, just ask me the fucking question so I can say yes,” Harry says. His heart is beating like crazy and he’s glad Johnson just told him it’s all healed up.

Draco takes Harry’s hand in his and their eyes lock onto each other. “Harry James Potter, will you marry me?” Draco asks. Harry utters a yes and then his lips are on Draco’s. He’s going to marry him, the love of his life. Someday soon he’ll be able to call him his husband. And Harry can’t wait to find out what married life is like when you are truly in love, he’s sure it’s going to be amazing.

[lisinfleur]

Not on My Watch

Author’s Notes | This is a whole new situation, and I love soils where I didn't put my feet yet! Thanks for this amazing request! I hope you like the final work. Universe | Vikings Pairing | No Pair, Ragnarssons interaction Info | Viking Age AU, Fixing Plot AU (Giving lines to Hvitserk, giving actions to Hvitserk, saving Sigurd’s life), requested by @lol-haha-joke for 5CW5 Words | 1798 ⁑ Warnings: Some ANGST, cursing, mentions of blood, and violence. +18

“We are all the sons of Ragnar. We have to stick together.”

“Frankly, dear Sigurd, I don’t care what you say. The truth is, I wouldn’t even piss down your throat even if your lungs were on fire.”

Just another table with his brothers. Absolutely nothing new under the sun. Sigurd trying to speak, Ivar rebutting everything he was trying to say, Ubbe looking from one to another trying to frown a wrinkle more to every slap they were hitting each other's face with.

Some of them going too far, as always, adding an extra wrinkle on Ubbe's face and an expression of light reprehension to his own, like the one he was looking at Sigurd now, after that low strike of his last sentence.

"Well, maybe that's because you're not really a man... Are you, Boneless?"

It was a really low strike. Björn took the word and Hvitserk tried to advice Sigurd in a low voice, taking the time of decisions among the men to speak to his little brother a little more privately.

"You shouldn't spread this kind of thing, Sigurd. It was a secret and Margrethe asked us to keep it. She asked you to keep it and you already spoke everything to us. Don't try to shame Ivar like this for something he has no control over," he tried to lecture receiving a roll of his brother's stained eyes.

"You and Ubbe protect him too much. Mother licked him too much. The truth is that he's nothing but a spoiled brat who will lead dozens of our men to the ruin if we leave the army in his hands, Hvitserk. We must think for them, not for ourselves only. Look at him!" Sigurd insisted, showing Ivar who had just started a whole speech about how Björn was a fool to separate the army in two. "We're princes, Hvitserk. We're leaders of our people. We cannot let them follow Ivar's madness blindly to death. The Valhalla is something we all want, but there is no reason to rush things like this! I won't let him play with our warriors as if life was a fucking hnefatafl board!"

So mature...

For the first time since those fights started, Hvitserk had to agree Sigurd had a good argument to fight. And after all, Ivar was really acting over his elders. Before Ivar's right, there were still Ubbe, him and Sigurd himself, and they should be included in the idea of new leadership to what would remain from the Great Army after Björn's departure. However, there was Ivar, forcing himself to stand over his twisted legs and screaming to them all as if he was the only possible leader all those men could follow - men Hvitserk knew would follow any of the sons of Ragnar who could get up and scream to them all that way simply because of the blood on their veins and the need of those men for more fights and conquers.

"Everyone else can follow me!"

"I don't want to follow you, Ivar," Sigurd's voice sounded and Hvitserk saw his brother getting up with the shadow of a new king growing behind his back. "You are crazy! You have the mind of a child!"

There was still too much of a boy in Sigurd's actions, but the heart of a true warrior was growing into his brother's chest and Hvitserk could do nothing but straight himself at the chair, looking at Sigurd with a certain admiration.

To fight for his people... Here was something Hvitserk never thought Sigurd would do in his life.

Nevertheless, the conversation evolved and Hvitserk could see both of them were still children, despite the traces of maturity starting to grow up under Sigurd's thoughts.

"As far as I remember, Ragnar didn't play the oud. And he certainly didn't offer his arse to other men!" Ivar shouted from one side.

"You make me laugh. Just like you do when you crawl around like a baby!" Sigurd shouted from the other.

And Hvitserk filled his mouth with one more piece of meat, trying again to fill his belly before the arguing ended up with the end of the dinner - like so many times he saw happening in his house.

Sigurd was growing up. It was a fact. But Ivar was still able to drag him to a childish level that was always in the edge of the absurd. Always in the edge.

But not today.

"What's the matter Ivar? You can't take it? No. I guess it must be hard for you now that your mommy is dead, knowing she's the only one who ever really loved you."

Today everything went too far.

Sigurd's words went deep into an open and bleeding wound that Hvitserk would surely reprehend him for touching so soon. It was a wound for all of them, but pretty much it was a wound for Ivar and despite Sigurd's right arguments and base, it was still too cruel to hurt Ivar like that.

Hvitserk was ready to pull Sigurd for a conversation out of the table. He heard Ubbe's words advising Ivar to not to listen to their brother. It was just anger making Ivar growl, right?

No.

It wasn't.

"IVAR!"

Everything went slow in Hvitserk's mind just like when he was on a battlefield and someone was about to kill him. He saw Ivar's hand picking up the ax over the table. He listened to Ubbe's yell and saw Sigurd completely off guard with his cup in his hand. His eyes made the math and he didn't need more than a fraction of second to see where that ax would land.

Hvitserk's body acted before his brain could really calculate the damage and he jumped from his chair towards Sigurd; his shoulder crossing the way of the ax exactly when it would reach its destiny in his little brother's chest. Sigurd fell in his chair and the chair turned back, throwing him on the ground with his cup of mead all over his chest.

Hvitserk fell over his legs, arching his body on the ground with Ivar's ax deeply sunk in his collarbone causing terrible pain and a deep wound he couldn't touch even to take out the ax or he would bleed to death where he fell.

Ivar's eyes became as larger as Sigurd's. Ubbe jumped the table, lowering himself down near Hvitserk, trying to help his little brother and reprehend the other two with his eyes at the same time.

"HEALER!" Björn yelled, annoyed.

He was so tired of dealing with his father's children! Such a disorganized bunch of kids in his eyes, now trying to kill each other to make it worse.

Sigurd frowned, angrily. His will was to get up and sink his own ax in Ivar's chest to end that curse his mother brought into this world and he was obliged to call "his brother". But Hvitserk used his useful hand to hold Sigurd's leg and press it tightly, prevent him from getting up and going forward with his intent.

"Please... Enough," Hvitserk grunted, gasping in pain. "Enough..."

The tone in his voice and the despair in Ubbe's trembling hands while he was trying to lift Hvitserk's torso and prevent his wound to continue bleeding, caused Sigurd to stop, to breathe.

His brother was bleeding. His older brother was scared and alone in the middle of all that shit. He could get up and cause new despair on Ubbe's heart by killing that cripple bastard on the other side of the table or he could help who just saved his life by risking his own.

One more time, Sigurd showed his brothers he wasn't a boy anymore.

"Don't move him, the more you move, the more the blade cuts," he said, ripping his own sleeve to cover the ax and the wound, keeping the blade held to avoid new movements and small cuts to Hvitserk's flesh.

The healers came quickly. To avoid the bleeding, the wound was burnt on the spot, and only then Hvitserk felt Ubbe's arms lifting him up to carry him towards the healer's tent.

His eyes went back to the table and for a second, he thought Sigurd would punch Ivar's face when he saw his angry brother coming closer to the youngest one.

Sigurd picked Ivar by the collar. There was so much anger in his face.

"Sigurd!" Ubbe called, but Sigurd lifted Ivar from the chair and looked straight into his eyes.

"What makes you believe you can fucking lead an army and get its respect when you cannot respect your own brothers? What makes you think you could lead warriors when you can't even control yourself? Do you know how many times I wanted to take the chance of your blue eyes to crush your skull against a wall and say it was a terrible accident? I thought about this my whole life, Ivar. But guess what? I never did it. I never tried to kill you. I never threw an ax towards you. That's the difference in between me and you, little brother. That's the difference between men and children."

Ubbe didn't say a word, but Hvitserk kept his eyes on his little brother, seeing when Sigurd sat Ivar back on the chair without even trying to hit or punch him.

"I don't want to follow your lead. And I don't think any sane man should follow your lead. Put your big boy's pants, grow fucking up and prove me wrong. Killing me won't change the fact that you're nothing but a spoiled brat."

With this said, Sigurd left the table towards Hvitserk and Ubbe. Hvitserk could feel when Ubbe released the air in his lungs, relieved. To be honest, he was relieved as well.

At least one of his little brothers was really growing up after all.

"It worth the price to save your damn ass, brother," he growled towards Sigurd who was walking beside Ubbe with an annoyed expression in his face that faded in confusion after Hvitserk's words.

The wounded one giggled.

"You're not a man yet, Sigurd. But you'll become one soon. And I already can see him through your eyes." Hvitserk said, sighing and relaxing on Ubbe's hands.

He would have a long time being spoiled by the lovely healers and the beautiful slave women he would demand Ubbe to bring for him. It wouldn't be so bad to be wounded after all.

"Make it worth my scar, Sigurd," he said.

Smiling at the nod in Sigurd's face.

He would be a good king one day. Or maybe a good farmer. A minstrel or bard. Whatever his brother would become, one thing Hvitserk was sure: he would be a good-hearted man.

And it was enough for him.

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[theshipsfirstmate]

ODAAT Fic: Feel I’m on the Verge of Some Great Truth

Some missing bits from 3x12 -- Penelope deals with Schneider’s relapse, and the aftermath.

A/N: My first Alvareider fic! Holy moly, these two brought the feels almost as soon as I started watching -- which was tragically right before Netflix dropped the axe. I’m still holding out hope for a season 4 pickup, because I need more of the Alvarez fam in general and these two in particular. In the meantime, here, have some of whatever this is. 

Title from “Wait” by Alexi Murdoch.

Feel I’m on the Verge of Some Great Truth (AO3 - wc: 3201)

“You don’t have to do that alone.”

She says those words to him, fingers combing through the soft hair at the back of his neck, and for a moment, she forgets who they are to each other. She watches his eyes close in anguish, and she remembers, not for the first time, that she’s done this before.

It was Alex who first brought it up, after Penelope found them sitting next to each other on the laundry room floor. Four sad eyes stared up at her, two rimmed red with liquor and remorse.

“Pen, shit, I’m sorry,” Schneider had mumbled as Alex stood and the two of them helped him to his feet. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him…”

She had stopped cold at that half-confession, able for a moment to see only bright red in front of her eyes.

“Mami, it’s fine.” Her son's voice cut through the instinctive response and he gave her a pointed look and a nod from the other side of Schneider’s chest, like he knew exactly where her mind had gone. His tone was almost bossy -- if she could have felt anything through the panic, it might have been annoyance -- but he was calm and he didn’t look hurt, only worried. “I’m okay, it was nothing. Let’s just get him upstairs.”

They didn’t say it out loud -- not that she could hear much over the ringing in her ears -- but Penelope’s pretty sure neither of them even considered taking Schneider to his own apartment. Still, he was nearly dead weight, and once they had maneuvered him inside their doorway, they only got as far as Mami’s room before they had to set him down on the pull-out couch.

“If you throw up in here…” Penelope started to warn, but Schneider groaned an interruption before she could think of a suitable punishment.

“I’ll buy you a whole new living room set,” he promised, though he still looked a little green for her liking.

She hustled back to her room then, passing Elena who was sitting at the kitchen table, homework abandoned, eyes wide like they used to go when Victor would wake them up as he crashed around the living room after a long night.

“Elena, come help me in the kitchen.” Penelope heard her Mami call for her daughter as she rounded the hallway, and she put a note on her mental list to say a prayer of thanks later that night for the viejita and her quick thinking. There were only so many things she could worry about at once. “Vámonos, mija.”

In her room, she knew exactly where to look -- the third dresser drawer down, where a pair of Schneider's sweats and a soft, grey henley were neatly folded next to her own pajamas. They had gotten mixed in with her laundry one day, months ago now, and she kept meaning to give them back. But she hadn’t -- a curiosity there just wasn’t any time for tonight. Stepping back into the hallway to chuck them in Schneider’s direction, Penelope wondered, in a brief moment of panic as she closed the curtain behind her, if things would ever be the same again.

It's the second time in two years that she's missed the signs completely, and the memories of another soured night in her Mami’s room didn’t do anything to help ease her anxiety. So she tried to do it herself, taking a few deep breaths before stepping through Alex’s open door, where her son sat at the foot of his bed, considering the stain on his shirt with a quiet pensiveness that made her heart ache.

“Papito? Can I come in?”

“Wow, this must be serious,” her boy answered, with a wry smile that didn’t meet his eyes, and Penelope took a split-second to hate that he’d mastered the art of deflection at such a young age. “You never bother to ask.”

“That's right, ‘cause I pay the rent, so technically it’s my room,” she joked back, despite the fresh tears stinging at the back of her throat. “I just want to make sure you’re really okay.”

“I mean, I'm worried about Schneider,” he admitted, sounding every bit the man she wasn’t ready for him to be just yet, and she immediately folded herself next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“But I'm fine.” Alex indulged the hug for longer than she expected, and Penelope couldn’t help but press her forehead to his neck, bemoaning the fact that he was already too big for her to cradle properly. “It really was nothing, he just shoved me a little when I went to call you.”

“That’s not exactly nothing.” The room went a little crimson again and suddenly she was back on her feet, hands flexing into fists. “We’re gonna talk more once we get him settled, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded and she moved to make her way back to the mess waiting for her in the living room, but stopped short, bracing a hand on the doorframe when she heard his voice go small and soft. “But, Mami?”

Alex was looking at the ground, fidgeting his feet when she turned back, and Penelope’s lower lip pressed almost painfully against the top to keep a sob from slipping out. “I know you have to do your thing, or whatever, talk to him, but don’t be too hard on him, okay? He’s not Papi.”

She tried not to gasp aloud, but the question came out breathy all the same. “Baby, what do you mean?”

He sighed. “I know you think I was too little, but I remember how Papi used to get.” Her tears started coming then, there wasn’t any sense in trying to swipe at them before they could fall. “But Schneider, it wasn’t like that. He wasn’t angry, I think he was just scared. And sad. He didn’t mean to--”

“But he did,” she interrupted. “That’s an addict thing. And that’s something that he, and I, are gonna have to deal with.”

Alex nodded, but she could tell there was more on his mind. “He really doesn’t want you to hate him,” he explained, and there were about a hundred threads to pull on in that admission, and the soft, uncertain way he let her in on it. “Just don’t--”

His attempted warning, however, was cut off by the sound of the curtain sliding open from the other room, and they both paused, putting the moment on hold for the time being -- though Penelope still felt the adrenaline bumping her heart at an unnatural rhythm as she turned to face whatever was coming next.

“You did the right thing by calling us,” she assured her son softly, as Elena and Mami made their way out of the kitchen, supplies in hand -- “That's what our family does, right?” -- and the small smile Alex gave in return eased her nerves just enough to carry on.

Schneider sobers up quicker than she expects, given what was left in the bottle she tossed in the laundry room trash can, and after his heartfelt thanks -- and a stuttered apology to Alex that makes her swallow hard -- Penelope clears the rest of the family out of the apartment with almost too much ease. Then, it’s just the two of them.

At first, she’s ready to fight. It’s not a foreign instinct, or even a surprising one. Hypervigilance, Pam sometimes calls it, a product of her PTS -- both from the military and life with an abusive alcoholic. Another look into Schneider’s eyes, though, and as the tears well again in her own, she realizes that this is a different kind of battle.

They’ve all spoken different languages, the men in her life. Max is a healer, like her, Mateo a solver. Victor is a warrior, though and through. Even now, with his manicured beard and fancy second wife, she can still see the fire and fight in her ex’s eyes. He’s a soldier, and their life together was a war. Even when they were both back stateside, she never stopped feeling like she was in the trenches.

Schneider, though, he’s a refuge. He’s the door she knocks on when the family is driving her crazy, or she can’t sleep, or it’s three in the morning and she doesn’t have it in her to go another round with the demons that have their own curtain-enclosed living space in her brain. He’s where she looks when she needs strength that feels like it’ll never come, and when she has questions that feel impossible to answer. And now she needs to be those things for him. She has to. Because he’s hurting. Because Alex asked her to. And because...

Penelope’s not entirely sure where that sentence ends. Or maybe she is. Her world’s been upside down since her mother pulled a near-empty bottle of whiskey out of an obnoxiously personalized yoga mat. She doesn’t feel like she’s taken a real breath since the moment she turned to see Schneider finally coming clean, sure that her broken heart was written all over her face, but unable -- and maybe unwilling -- to hide it.

And tonight, the anger goes out of her almost as quickly, replaced by something darker and gnawing -- something she hasn't had the courage to look too closely at until now.

When she learned of Victor’s relapse, that night in her mother’s bed, she hadn’t wasted any time kicking him out. She needed him gone, as quickly as possible, needed to spare herself and her kids and the fragile idea of a family she was just barely holding together with the strength of her own hands and her Mami’s prayers.

She needed to minimize damage. Call it military instinct. Unbidden, the acronym paints itself in neon on the backs of her eyelids: FUBAR.

But Alex is right, this isn’t the same as it ever was with her ex. She doesn’t want to kick Schneider out, and her gut is telling her that she doesn’t need to. If anything, she's preparing to hold on tighter. She wants to keep him in her sights, feels, in the deepest part of her, a compulsion to keep him safe.

It only gets stronger when he admits to her the actual moment when he gave in and had his first drink in eight years. Penelope can see so clearly in her memory the way Schneider’s face had dropped that day when she told him that he was his father’s son. She remembers how he had looked like a stranger in his suit and slicked-back hair, remembers the way he said her name as she kicked him out of her apartment.

“I had one drink, and I actually managed to stand up to him,” he confesses. Then she remembers something else.

“Family’s everything.” Those words, the way she could see Schneider’s devotion to her and the people she loves through his thick-rimmed glasses and teary eyes, had been one of the most profound moments in her life so far. It had made her feel something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to access again -- a stutter step in her heart she’d thought was lost to someone younger and more naive -- and the way it's tainted now, with the realization that he was under the influence, burns like a betrayal.

This night, this conversation, his relapse, these things aren’t about her, but it's like they were designed to make her confront the feelings she’s been stuffing down only semi-successfully over the last few months, ever since she split from Max. (Maybe even before then, if she’s honest.) She hasn’t been ready to admit to herself that she feels something when Schneider wraps her up in his arms -- which happens more often than it probably should if they’re sticking to the whole “just friends” mantra. She feels something when their eyes linger on each other across the room. It’s foreign and familiar at the same time, comforting and terrifying in equal measure. 

She feels safe with him, even when her anxiety has her pinned to the mat -- even when it screams that that kind of safety, especially when found in another person, could be the most dangerous of all.

And tonight isn’t the first time Penelope has learned that lesson. She's done this before, looking into someone’s eyes and pleading with the only person who can save them. But still, it doesn’t feel the same.

Was it harder then, because she knew how she loved Victor? Or is it harder now, because the way she loves Schneider has become increasingly more complicated?

“You’re never gonna trust me again.”

He says it, and her first thought is relief, so strong she almost sighs it out audibly. For once, she doesn’t have to be the one to speak it out loud. For once, she doesn’t have to dole out threats and warnings like grenades, wincing when she looks back to see if they’ve hit their mark. He put his hands on her son, and he knows as well as she does that she's cut people out of her life for far less.

You’re never gonna trust me again. Her second thought is, that he's wrong. Somehow, he's wrong. She trusts him still  -- and maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe it will be a mistake. Schneider the Addict is basically a stranger to her, and she knows enough about dependency to understand how situations like these can go from Jekyll to Hyde in the time it takes to blink.

But he’s standing here in front of her, talking about taking her son to his baseball games like it’s the most precious thing she could possibly take away from him, and the truth of the matter is that Penelope can't imagine a world where she doesn't trust him.

He's family, he has been for so long that she didn't even realize it was happening. They're his and he's theirs, and she didn't need to see his eight-year chip on the wall next to her daughter's report card to know how he belongs.

“You’re the only one who’s ever trusted me, Pen. All that goes away now.” They’re similar words, but they don’t feel the same the second time. There's no relief in his resignation, no solace in the way he looks at her like he's drowning, and she's the only lifeguard left on the beach.

She realizes that she’s been silent for a long time then, longer than she ever imagined herself being in a conversation like this one. Her throat aches with unshed tears and plenty more are falling to brush salt across her pursed lips. But it's time to speak now. It's time to make sure he knows.

“It doesn’t go away,” she tells him, and when her voice goes shaky, it occurs to her how much she truly means it. It’d be like missing a limb, life without Schneider. He fills a missing piece for them, and not a just a crack in the drywall or a spot at the dinner table.

“I’m not giving up on you. None of us are.”

Penelope watches as he turns that over in his brain, watches years of conditioning kick in and try to convince him that it's a lie. She saw his father walk out on him with ease, just weeks ago, knows that Avery did the same not long after. Someone needs to fight for him this time. Her hands are already clenching to fists.

They're seated on the couch now, and it's like the willpower has drained out of him. She knows she needs to move them towards the next step -- needs to get him to a meeting -- and so she plays her trump card.

“You want to be a good role model for the kids, right?”

She tried never to use Elena and Alex as bargaining chips when it came to Victor’s sobriety. It wasn’t fair, she had repeated to herself, and besides, it never had the intended result. A mention of their family was like pouring gasoline on a fire, it only made him rage about ultimatums and equity and the things that were his.

But this too, is different with Schneider. His eyes close, almost peacefully, on a sigh, and something in her chest sparks anew at the fact that, out of everything, this is what will push him to try again. Her kids. Their family. “This is your chance.”

In the last hour alone, she's seen her daughter tell this man that she loves him -- anyone who didn't know Elena well would have thought those words came easy for her -- and watched her Mami hand over sopa de pollo like she knows something Penelope doesn’t. Alex forgave him without a thought, and while she knows there will be more to unpack between them, there isn't a bone in her body that doesn’t believe the two of them will come out the other side even stronger.

But still, all Schneider seems to have are doubts. So she quotes his own words back to himself -- “Don’t quit before the miracle happens” --  and watches him smile for the first time in what feels like far too long.  Penelope’s always fancied herself too practical for miracles, but maybe there's a time and place for everything.

This is his time. They can be his place.

“You don’t have to do that alone.”

He finally looks back at her then, and she realizes she's been waiting for it, longing to meet his eyes again and see the spark of the man she knows so well underneath all that hurt and embarrassment.

She's struck suddenly, with the urge to press her lips to his cheek or his forehead, remembers him waxing poetic once about nontraditional kisses. It would be too much tonight, she tells herself, with everything so close to the surface. So she suppresses the urge without looking too closely at where it came from, and settles instead for drawing his head to rest on her shoulder -- a mirror image of the way he’s comforted her so many times before. They exhale a heavy breath at the same time, and for some reason it's then that's she's certain they’re going to be okay.

Later, they'll return to this same spot -- a new chip in his pocket, his first name on the tip of her tongue. He'll apologize again, and she'll shake her head and offer to let him sleep on the couch so he doesn't have to face day two alone. He’ll nod in grateful acceptance and smile in a way that makes her forget her earlier conviction and drop a kiss to his hairline that lingers on her lips as she heads to bed.

Maybe there’s a miracle coming, after all.

[fangirl--of-everything]

Everything They’ve Built (Warren Worthington III x Reader) Part 3

Word Count: 5020

Request: nope

Chapter Warning: swearing, blood, gore, violence, death, a crazy teenager 

Series Warning: violence, blood, occasional descriptions of gore, swearing, emotionally abused Warren (I will give specific chapter warnings for when each of these things occur in specific chapters)

A/N. Warren’s first cage match! I loved writing this series, but at the same time I hate doing this to him, poor bean. Also, this chapter is twice as long as the last one! Yay! I think this is the goriest chapter, just so everyone knows, and it’s not horrible, but there is blood and violence, just be prepared. Please please please give me a comment and let me know what you think of the series so far, I'm interested in hearing what you guys think. 

(the masterlist and previous chapters are available on my blog under the tag “everything they’ve built”, because this site is being stupid and won’t let my posts show up in the tags if they have links embedded in them)

Alright, enjoy :) 

When Warren woke up he was in a cell. It was small, basically a box, with the left wall made of concrete and the right being a mesh grate, revealing another, empty cell beside his. It smelled like rust, and static, and sweat and blood, and the floor felt gritty again this cheek. He expected his head to hurt, but it didn't, and neither did his wings. The second he realized they weren't tied to his back anymore he shifted onto the balls of his feet and prepared to take off. 

"Don't!" 

He froze, wings half open. 

"Don't." 

He looked up to see the lizard girl in the cell across from him. 

"Why?" He snapped. He was getting really tired of being told what to do, and for the first time since this had all started he was actually in a position to do something about it so why the hell not?

"It's electrified." She explained. "You can try it, but those feathers look really flammable."

He glared at her suspiciously. His wings rustled and he pulled them tight against his back before reaching out and poking the mesh cage in front of him. A jolt of electricity shot up his arm and he jerked back, shaking out the pins and needles in his hand. "Son of a bitch!" 

She laughed. "Told you so." 

He growled at her, pacing around the small cell. She arched an eyebrow and walked to the back of her own cell, settling against the concrete wall. 

"I need to get out of here." He said, more to himself then to her. "I don't belong here."

She threw her head back and barked a laugh. "Do you think any of us belong here?"

"You don't understand." He shook his head. "I'm not like you okay. This--" he gestured around the room. "This isn't me. This isn't my life."

"Tell that to the wings growing out of your back." She rolled her eyes. 

"No, you don't understand. My name is Warren Worthington, my father owns Worthington Industries. I go-- I went to a private school. I'm not like you, I'm not a runaway. I'm not-- I don't fight other mutants. Yeah I listen to loud music, and yeah I-- maybe I liked to get into fights at school, but this-- this--" he takes his hands through his hair. He became aware of the fact that his face didn't hurt anymore. "This is insane! I don't--"

"Look angel boy, do you think anyone wants to be here?" She interrupted. "Do you think I wanted to get grabbed off the street and dragged across two countries to have people gawk at me? And I'm sorry, what makes you think I'm a runaway?" Her eyes were burning with anger. "Fuck you Warren Worthington."

Warren's eyes widened. "Look, that's not--" 

She collapsed, twitching and seizing, on the floor. 

"Woah, hey! Hey! Someone help!" Warren grabbed the front of the cage, then hit the ground as electricity jolted through him. He clenched his jaw as his body spasmed out of his control, breathing a sigh when it finally stopped. He groaned, rolling onto his side, and froze when he saw two armed guards staring down at him. 

"W-what are you doing?" He asked, eyes darting between the two of them. "Help her!"

"Shut up." One of the men snapped. He pressed a button on the side of the cage, and the door slid to the side. Before Warren could move the other guard lifted his gun and fired. Pain ripped through his side and he bent double, arms curling around himself as fiery pain started to spread from the wound. The guards closed the door to the cell and walked away without looking back. 

"H-hey!" He stammered, blood starting to slip through his fingers. "Hey wait! Come back, don't--!" The heavy doors at the end of the hall slammed shut. 

"It's a flesh wound." (Y/n) said weakly from her place on the floor. "They do it to everyone." She lifted the hem of her tank top to show a shiny scar on her side, leaving a gap in her scales. "It's to show they're in control, and you're only alive because they want you to be."

"Why-why didn't you warn me?" He snapped, hysteria slipping into his voice. 

"If I warned you they would have shot you twice." She moved closer to the door of her own cage and leaned against the concrete wall. "And they would have hurt Alina. Sorry, but you're not worth that. Take your shirt off and hold it against the wound."

He glared at her and winced as he tugged the shirt over his head, bunching it up and holding it against his stomach. "This is fucking insane." He groaned as he put pressure on the wound, causing pain to radiate through his side. "Are they going to leave me like this?"

She shook her head. "It's a test to see if you heal. They'll come get you tomorrow and Alina will fix you up. Then they'll do your exam, and if they like you you'll go in the ring. If not…" she trailed off, and he figured the bleeding wound in his stomach was an indication of what he had to look forward to if he didn't impress them. Whoever they were. He slumped against the wall, eyes closed. This was too much.

"Hey!" she snapped her fingers. 

He cracked one eye open to glare at her. "What?" 

She matched his glare head on. "Don't close your eyes. If you go into shock you could die. Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you." He snapped. And then quietly, to himself, he added, "I just want to go home."

"Yeah, me too."

He looked up at her. "Really?"

"Are you serious?" She snapped. "Of course I want to go home. Do you think I enjoy being in a cage?" 

"That's not-- I didn't mean--" he groaned. "Fuck! I'm too tired for this. I assumed you were a runaway. Sorry."

"It's because I'm green isn't it?" She asked. 

Warren raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Shut up." She didn't seem mad though. She leaned her head back against the wall and wrapped her jacket more tightly around herself. "I'm not a runaway. My parents didn't care that me and Alina were mutants. My mom was a mutant."

"Oh." Warren shifted so he could lean against the wall, and he grimaced when a twinge of pain shot through his stomach. "Sorry, I just assumed-- wait, Alina the nurse kid?"

"Yeah." 

"She's your sister?" 

"Yup." She smiled. "I know, we look just like each other."

He sat back, thinking that over. "So you guys got caught together?"

"Yeah." Her voice had gotten quiet. "They killed our dad, and our mom didn't survive the exam. Alina's too young to do any fighting, and she doesn't have an offensive mutation anyway, but she's a healer, and they realized keeping her around meant keeping the rest of us around a lot longer too. And they didn't have to be gentle with us anymore." She trailed off, getting lost in her own head. 

"That sucks." Warren said sympathetically. He felt like it was only fair to share one of his shitty stories now. "My dad tried to rip off my wings."

"Really?" She sat and turned to look at him. "That's crazy! Why would he do that?"

Warren shrugged. "He's just always been like that. He never really accepted that they were a part of me you know? He always thought I could get rid of them if I really tried." 

He proceeded to tell her his life story. He told her about how his father was never around when he was growing up, and how he used to get into fights just so he would get to spend some time with him. He talked about how his dad had figured it out and started sending a bodyguard to pick him up instead, but not before he taught Warren how to throw a proper punch. And how the first, and only time, his father had ever visited him at boarding school was when his wings grew. To this day, no matter how many times he had gotten into fights and come home bruised and bloody, he had never seen his father look as ashamed of him as he did when Warren stood up, tearstained and looking for comfort, with wings growing out of his back. 

He told her all about how his father had dragged him to dozens of doctors, and how as each one said there was nothing they could do his father got more and more angry. And how one day when he was fifteen some crazy doctor had said that he could get rid of the wings. 

She called Warren Worthington Jr. a stream of words so foul they made him blush when he told her about the procedure. 

He'd locked himself in his room for two days and begged his father not to make him go, and he'd cried and begged more then he'd ever cried before. The procedure itself had happened in one of his father's facilities, where he'd been strapped down to a table face down. Laura had held his hand. The man who claimed he was a doctor had dug into Warren's back, cutting into his flesh with almost no anaesthetic, and hadn't stopped, or been stopped by Warren's father, no matter how much he'd screamed. 

The doctor hadn't stopped until his father had made him, and that was only because Laura had threatened to shoot him if he didn't. The man had already done serious damage to the muscles in his back by that point, and Laura told him later that of she hadn't been able to heal him he wouldn't have been able to use his wings, or his left arm, again.

"Wow." She gave him a sympathetic look. "Your dad's a dick."

She then proceeded to tell him all about her. It was only fair. He learned that she'd been here for six months. They were from Poland, and had gotten caught when Alina had used her powers to save someone after a car accident. Their small town was actually very accepting of mutants, and no one had a problem with her scales, or the fact that she occasionally set things on fire. Purely by accident of course. She explained that her father was a doctor, and her mother was a healer like her sister. She had no idea where her mutation came from. 

She also told him what it was she could do. Besides the tail and the green, scale covered skin, she was inhumanly strong and her palms could catch fire. Warren didn't believe her, and she was forced to prove it. His eyes widened when orange flames leapt from her palm and danced up her arm. 

"So you're literally a dragon." He laughed. It wasn't a real laugh, but it was better than nothing. 

"Yeah." She smiled. "I can find gold too if you ever wanna go looking for it."

She told him about how when she was younger she used to always accidentally set things on fire, and how when she was six and it really dawned on her that she looked different her dad had sat her down and made her feel better about it. In their family, he had explained, he was the freak. How was he supposed to fit in with a family full of mutants? It made her feel a lot better. She had learned that it was all about perspective. And even here, she had explained, the more of a freak you were the more the crowd loved you. 

They talked all night, and Warren almost forgot about the bleeding wound in his side, and the fact that he was trapped in a cage in Germany, far from anything he knew. -----/--/----- Then next morning-- or what he assumed was morning-- two guards came in, guns raised. 

"Don't resist." (Y/n) warned, backing up against the wall. "And feel free to scream. They won't care."

They bound his wings tightly to his back, and then his hands, and dragged him out of the cell, one landing a solid punch to the wound in his stomach. He bit his cheek, hard, causing blood to fill his mouth. They dragged him to his feet, and one of the guards hit him in the face with the butt of his gun and he hit the ground hard. They dragged him out of the room, and when he shot one look over his shoulder to see (y/n) watching him from her cell, palms burning, jaw clenched tightly. 

The exam was the worst thing he had ever experienced. They dragged him into a different room then before, one with tables lined with medical instruments, and chained him to a metal table with his wings spread wide. They did everything possible to him, from taking his temperature to sawing into bone and extracting bone marrow. He learned then that his bones were hollow, like a bird’s. They even cut off one of his fingers and had Alina reattach it. They cut into his wings, plucked feathers, and dug into his back to get to the root of his wings. Every time he blacked out they woke him back up before continuing. By the time they were done his throat was hoarse from screaming. 

"I'm sorry." Alina said quietly, brushing her fingers over his forehead. "Are you okay?" 

He was barely conscious, but he gave a small nod. She was only thirteen, and he felt a compulsive need to protect her, and make it seem like things weren't as bad as they seemed. It seemed bizarre, considering she had reattached his finger and repaired almost all the bones in his body over the past few hours. She didn't have much innocence left to protect. He groaned as the bones in his chest started to knit themselves back together, the skin resealing over top of his repaired ribs. 

"You know," Alina said quietly, hands ghosting over his chest, "they sometimes let you go. If you bring them enough money."

"Really?" Warren asked, sitting up and looking at her with wide eyes. 

She nodded. Then she bit her lip and shook her head. "No. No they don't. It's a lie (y/n) told me to make me feel better. I thought it might help you too. Just at first. Roll over please."

Warren groaned as he rolled over onto his side. "I figured as much. These people don't seem like the type to let money go. My dad's the same way."

"Your dad runs a mutant fight ring too?" She asked, eyes widening in surprise.

"No. No, nothing like that. He owns a big company. And assets, you know, things that are making him money, he holds onto those tight. It's the things that don't make money that he lets go."

She nodded thoughtfully. "They don't let anyone go here. If you don't make them money they kill you."

Warren nodded. "Yeah, my dad does that too." Her eyes widened again, but only slightly. "He kills a project instead of selling it. That way no one else can make money on it either."

"Oh. So American business is a lot like this then?"

"No." Warren shook his head. "This is much worse. But it does make you rich and powerful in America."

Her eyes lit up. "Will your father come looking for you? Maybe if he's so powerful he can find us and rescue us."

Warren opened his mouth to tell her that, no, his father wouldn't be looking for him, he was most certainly glad his embarrassment of a son was out of his life, but her face was glowing with excitement and it was the first time he'd seen the skinny girl look anything but somber, and too old for her years. So he said nothing, looking down at his hands as she finished knitting his ribs back together. She worked in silence for a minute, content in her fantasy of rescue, until she paused. 

"Can you tell (y/n) something for me?" She whispered.  

"Yeah." Warren nodded. 

She gave him a small smile. "Just tell her I love her okay?"

His heart actually hurt for her. She was just a kid, she didn't belong here. He nodded. "Yeah of course."

Once she was finished repairing all the damage they had done, she gave him a small smile and two guards led him from the room. He expected them to lead him back to the cells, but instead they dragged him down a long, dark hallway. As the neared two large heavy doors he heard noises from the other side. (Y/n) was leaning against the doorway, three guards standing around her. 

"Stop." One of the guards tugged him to a stop and spun him around. 

"What are you--"

"Shut up." The butt of a gun slammed into his gut and he bent double, wheezing. 

"Hey!" (Y/n) snapped, taking a step forward. One of the men pressed a button on his belt and she seized up immediately, jaw locking. 

One of the guards grabbed Warren by the hair and yanked his head back,  and other clicked something around his neck before shoving him away. He stumbled forward, balance thrown off by his bound wings and hands. The guard held up a small device. "See this?" Warren nodded warily. "It does that." He pointed to (y/n), who was seizing on the floor. "Push me and I'll use it on you got it?" Warren nodded again. 

The guard who was shocking (y/n) released the button, and she went limp on the floor with a gasp. "One day Monroe." She growled, still breathing heavily. He pressed the button one more time, just a quick zap. She twitched, shooting him one more glare but keeping her mouth shut. 

"Go on Dragon." One of the guards  nudged her side in heavily accented English. "Tell the kid what's about to go down."

She pushed herself to her feet, still glaring, before meeting Warren's gaze. "This is the cage. Remember I was telling you about it yesterday?" 

"Yeah, I remember." Warren said quietly. He remembered the horror stories she had told him about what mutants had to do in there, and how the humans bet money on it. It was sick. 

"Okay, good." She nodded. "Well, here are the rules. You fight, or you die. If you refuse to fight, these lovely gentlemen," she gestured to the guards, "will kill both you and your opponent. It isn't necessary to kill your opponent, and in fact it's encouraged not to, as we are very fond of recycling." The words were bitter and sarcastic as she spit them out. "If they tell you to stop, you stop. If they tell you to kill your opponent, you do it. Trust me, it's better for everyone. There are fifteen matches a night. If you win, you fight again until you lose. The more money you make, the more perks you get. Got it?" 

He nodded again. 

"Alright angel boy." She gave him a small smile. "We've shared a lot  of person information with each other the last couple days, and I'm gonna consider us friends, so I'm gonna give you a hug, sound good?"

She pulled his head down before he could protest, her chin resting on his shoulder. He tensed-- her scales were cold and he still wasn't wearing a shirt. 

"What are you--"

"Shut up and listen." She hissed in his ear. "Puppet Master only has an attack radius of about six feet, and if he can't see you he can't get you. Stay out of his reach, and strike fast. Got it?" He nodded against her shoulder. "Good." She pulled away, studying his face. "Don't die."

"Okay." He said shakily. She nodded again, taking a step back. 

"Hey wait." She froze, turning to look at him and raising an eyebrow. "I have a message from your sister. She said she loves you."

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks Angel."

He gave her a small smile back, and then they shoved him forward hard, and he stumbled through the heavy doors. He flinched immediately when the noise reached him-- hundreds of screaming people, cheering and swearing. Over the noise he could hear someone saying something in German, but he couldn't tell what it was. When he saw that the guards were dragging him towards a large metal cage in the middle of the room he tensed, struggling to pull away. His wings strained against the ropes binding them to his back, but all that did was make his shoulders scream. He dug in his heels and tried to jerk his arms free. All that got him was a punch in the face. The crowd screamed with pleasure. 

His arms and wings were released, and before he could do anything about it he was shoved into the cage. He stumbled and hit the ground hard, the metal floor cold against his skin. His wings had snapped out immediately, and he felt a tingle of static against the very edges of his feathers as they almost brushed the edges of the cage. He heard movement, different from the shouting outside of the cage. This was in here with him. 

"Puppenspieler gegen Engel!” The announcer shouted. The crowd cheered. 

Warren scrambled to his feet, making sure to keep away from the wall, and caught sight of his opponent on the other side of the cage. Puppet Master was a lean boy, no older then fifteen, but that didn't mean he wasn't scary as fuck. All angles and bones, he looked like a puppet himself, with jerky movements and a head that lolled eerily to one side. He had dark smudges of something around his eyes, and his face was flecked with dried blood. Now that Warren looked closer he saw that even his dark hair was wet with it, matted and tangled with dried blood in some places. Those dark smudges around his eyes, those were blood too. When he grinned even his teeth were stained with it. 

"Such a pretty angel." The boy giggled. "Show the crowd your wings pretty angel." He took a jerky step forward and Warren took a step back, hissing when his foot brushed the wall of the cage, sending a painful jolt of electricity through his leg. He stumbled forward, away from the wall, and the other boy lunged. 

Warren jumped, wings flapping twice, and he grabbed one of the rafters about ten feet off the ground, dragging himself up. He tried to stand, but his balance was off and he settled for crouching, both hands on the beam, wings spread wide for balance. The crowd was screaming, cheering at the sight of his wings. He felt the urge to curl them around himself and disappear. He'd always wanted people to accept his wings, but this seemed more like mocking then acceptance. 

"Come down pretty angel." Puppet Master called, looking up at him. "The people want to see you dance."

Warren shifted but didn't move. Looking up, he saw (y/n) standing in a small hole in the wall, separated from the crowd by a metal cage. She was watching him intently, biting her bottom lip. When she met his gaze she gestured with her head, directing his attention to the guards below, who were shifting with their hands on their guns. Warren bit the inside of his cheek, took a deep breath, and gave her a small nod. 

"Come down pretty angel." Puppet Master pouted. "Our friends don't like waiting. They get bored so fast."

Warren took a deep breath, shifting on his perch. "Come get it freak." 

He jumped, landing on the skinny boy's shoulders, causing them both to hit the ground. He landed on top, not that it did anything, as they ended up in a tangle of limbs, but he was able to scramble free first. He stumbled back, remembering what (y/n) had said, and jumped back up into the air. By the time the other boy had scrambled to his feet Warren was comfortable back on his perch in the rafters. The crowd was screaming, but the tone had shifted. 

"Engel!" They were chanting. "Engel! Engel!"

Warren looked over at (y/n), and she gave him a thumbs up. She watched him shift back and forth on the rafter, watching Puppet Master. 

"Okay." (Y/n) mumbled to herself, running her thumb over her bottom lip. "Okay, good. Don't get too close." 

"Ouch." Puppet Master said quietly. "Alright pretty angel. I see how it is." He tilted his head, still smiling. 

God she hated that kid. He was absolutely crazy, one of the worst ones here. He liked this. He enjoyed fighting, he enjoyed playing with his victims. They had to keep him in a private room because he had gotten in the habit of torturing and killing other mutants in the cells. They didn’t make any money that way. Warren dropped again, this time landing right in front of the boy. He punched the kid in the face before Puppet Master could move. 

"Okay," she mumbled, "okay now pull back."

But he didn't. Warren grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt and hit him in the face again. 

"Do you like that?" He shouted over the screaming crowd. "Do you like that you freak?" He punched him again. 

"No," she breathed. "No Angel stop." 

"You like hurting people?" He punched him again. Puppet Master raised his hands, flinching back. 

"Warren move!" (Y/n) screamed over the crowd. A guard slammed the butt of his gun into the back of her head. 

Too late. His gaze snapped up to meet hers and he jumped back, remembering her advice. He beat his wings once, rising off the ground. 

"Too late." Puppet Master grinned. "Now freeze pretty angel."

Warren did. His body went still, wings mid stroke. Puppet Master jerked his hands down, and Warren hit the ground hard. 

"Fuck." (Y/n) swore. 

"Come here beautiful." Puppet Master lifted his hands, and Warren stood jerkily. His jaw worked and his eyes darted around, panic evident on his face, but he walked forward slowly, coming to a stop right in front of the smaller boy. Puppet Master tilted his head to the side, fingers twitching. Warren's wings rustled in response. 

"So dass sie wollen, dass ich den Engel tanzen zu machen?" Puppet Master shouted to the crowd, who screamed in response. "Do you want me to make the Angel dance for you?" The crowd cheered. He raised one fist and roared, Warren's arm rising to mimic it. 

"Tanzen!” The crowd shouted. "Tanzen!"

Puppet Master turned, grinning, hands twitching. Warren screamed as his arm twisted behind his back. (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut. Warren screamed again, and her palms started to itch and burn. 

"Do you like that pretty angel?" Puppet Master cooed. "Let me look at you."

Warren's body moved on its own, wings stretching to their full length. He gritted his teeth, struggling to force them back down, but his body wasn't listening. His arms lowered to his sides, and he screamed as pain shot through his injured shoulder. He was frozen, chest heaving, arms wide, wings spread. Puppet Master looked him over, as did the crowd. 

"I think we'll start here." Puppet Master trailed a long, thin finger over Warren's chest. "Was denken sie?" 

The crowd cheered, shouting things, and Warren was glad he hadn't taken German in school. Puppet Master pulled out a long, rusty, bloodstained knife, and Warren tensed. There wasn't anything he could do though. The younger boy met his gaze and gestured that he should come closer. Warren gritted his teeth as he leaned forward against his will. 

"Will you scream for me pretty angel?" Puppet Master asked quietly. "Not for them. They don't care about you. Will you scream for me?" 

"No." Warren growled through his teeth. 

The other boy frowned. "Oh. I think you're wrong." He stroked Warren's hair, and Warren suppressed a shudder. "I think you will."

He jammed the knife into Warren's stomach. 

Warren bit the inside of his cheek, causing blood to flood into his mouth, but it did the trick. He didn't scream, only let out a loud groan as the serrated knife dug into his stomach. The other boy pulled the knife out, and he groaned again. The crowd was screaming. 

"Mehr?" Puppet Master shouted, turning to the crowd. "Do you want more?" The crowd cheered in response. 

The boy turned with a grin, sliding the knife down Warren's stomach, leaving a shallow cut. Warren gritted his teeth, breathing heavily, but this time he didn't make a noise. He just glared. 

"I'm gonna kill you you little freak." He growled. 

Puppet Master's smile fell, and he looked serious. "Do it."

Warren blinked in surprise, and then the manic grin was back. He couldn't hold back a scream as the knife dug deep, right below his collarbone, and dragged down his chest. He groaned as Puppet Master pulled out the knife, looking smug. 

"I told you you would scream for me." The younger boy said smugly, turning back to the crowd. 

Warren sagged, chest heaving, wings drooping. Then he froze, ruffling the feathers of his wings. His body was still locked, completely outside of his control, but his wings...

Puppet Master shrieked when Warren's wing caught him like a club across his back, sending him flying into the fence. Warren's muscles went limp immediately, and he collapsed, but he forced himself to his feet and grabbed the younger boy, throwing him to the ground. Warren jumped on top of him, using his knees to pin the other other boy's hands to the ground. He didn't know if it would help, but he did remember what (y/n) had said. If he can't see you he can't get you. His fingers went for the younger boy's eyes, and soon Puppet Master was the one screaming, and the crowd was cheering Warren's name. 

[ourloveisforthelovely]

In Love and Death Chapter 15

Harry Potter AU 

Link to Chapter 14

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

______

After Sirius calmed down, you went upstairs to the bedroom for a nap. After all of the excitement, you needed some rest. Regulus sat on the bed when you walked in. He looked up at you with those “please love me” eyes that typically got him anything that he wanted.

Ugh, why does he have to be so fudging adorable?

You thought as Regulus finally spoke.

“Is he okay?”

You nodded, sitting down beside him.

“I think I calmed him down. Regulus smirked. If there was someone that could talk anyone down after being upset by something...it was you. Even though you were typically sarcastic and sassy, you knew how to handle upset people like a champ.

“How did you do it? Scotch?”

Both of you laughed at that. It had been days since the two of you had a conversation like this and you realized how much that you missed it. You had missed “your” Regulus more than anything else. His sudden sullen quietness that he usually reserved for other people being directed at you was more hurtful than any of his icy words could have been. You understood though. He was still in a panicked state over you running after Harry and Bellatrix. It was risky...you had to admit that (especially given your condition). Had the roles been reversed you would have probably been a wreck to. You may have chosen your words and actions a little differently but you would have been upset.

“That is actually a brilliant idea, darling. I just talked him down. That’s what he needed. It's clearly a shock.”

Regulus took your hand in his as he traced his fingers over your palm. A “shock” was a great way of putting what he had just witnessed. Knowing that he had a niece that was 10 was a definite shock to Regulus’ system. He had tried to process his thoughts on the matter and was only coming up with anger and annoyance. Regulus’ main source of annoyance was with the child’s mother, whoever she was. The woman should have come to Sirius when she found out that she was expecting. He was already raising Harry so he could have easily supported his own child.

Your voice pulled Regulus from his thoughts.

“How are you feeling about it?”

Regulus turned his attention back to you.

“I don’t know. I mean...I always suspected that Sirius would knock some girl up with the way that he behaved but it's different now that it actually happened. Part of me is angry that Sirius is getting hit with this 10 years later. I mean, he’s missed 10 years of this child’s life. Another part is pissy because there wasn’t much that I could do to help him being dead and all. The last part is thrilled that this child didn’t grow up with my family...you know what a hot disaster that is. However, I have no idea what kind of trauma this child did grow up with...it could be 10 times worse than whatever we had to offer.”

You lay your head on his shoulder with a sigh. Regulus was definitely right on that one. This kid could be 100% blissfully normal or could be some poor damaged thing that grew up like yourself.

“Either way, she just lost her mother. That will be rough. No matter if a parent is cruel or not...when you lose a parent it's painful. You think about what you could have had if the fates would have been remotely kind to you.”

You said, sadly. Regulus immediately frowned, feeling awful. That statement alone told Regulus how you were feeling. No matter how tough of a front that you put up, you were missing your own mother. It was probably the way Regulus felt when he “woke up” to find that both of his own parents were dead. There was a mixture of relief and sadness.

“We can give the child something better, you know? I think Sirius will do just fine. It may be a bit of a dumpster fire at first but at least we won’t be our parents.”

You had to agree with Regulus on that one. Sirius, Regulus, and yourself at least knew what “not to do.” The three of you wouldn’t care if the child was a Slytherin or a Gryffindor or any house for that matter. You would see the child’s talents and what made that child “special.”

“That's true. We are most certainly not them.”

The two of you sat in silence until you squeaked as the baby shoved another little foot in your ribs. Regulus’ head turned in your direction.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded.

“I would be if your child would leave my ribs alone.”

Regulus smirked before gently placing his hand on your stomach. You were thrilled to see him smile when the baby moved under his hand.

“The baby has been moving a lot lately.”

Regulus commented, his smile not leaving his face.

“I guess I should stop drinking coffee if I want to make it another month. Just so you know, we are never doing this again.”

Regulus nodded. He was fine with this being the only one. Now that he knew healers didn’t know everything, he was pleased with the outcome.

“That’s fine with me. Y/n, about the past few days...I’m sorry that I have been a dick. Watching you run off after my psycho cousin scared the crap out of me. You know that I couldn’t function without you. Since I came back from whatever it was that Voldemort did to me...you’ve been the constant that I needed.”

You copied his action of taking his hand in yours and stroking your fingers over his palm. This was one of the ways to calm him down. A few soft strokes of your hand would leave Regulus a moldable little lump of clay in your hands.

“In your defense, it was kind of dumb for me to run after her.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t have to be a dick though.”

“You had your reasons. Let's just say everything is okay and move on, huh?”

Regulus nodded, feeling thrilled for that outcome. If he could just have you back as his lover and things be normal he would be fine with everything in his life.

“That sounds really nice.”

The next morning you stood with Regulus and Sirius as the three of you waited to finally meet Lucinda. Neither Regulus nor Sirius had said much since arriving at the ministry. Sirius had been a nervous wreck all morning and had been anxiously tapping his fingers on any surface that he could get his hands on. It was Regulus that finally told him to “fucking stop.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the difference between both brothers. Sirius stood looking like his typical rock’n’roll god self while Regulus stood at your side in the dark suit that hugged his slender body perfectly.

Now isn’t the time to start drooling over him.

You thought with a smile as Sirius turned to his brother.

“What do I say?”

Regulus didn’t make a facial expression or turn to face his brother. How the fuck was he supposed to tell Sirius what to say when he didn’t know himself.

Hi, we are your family but just found out about you.

Hello, you’re coming with us. Do you have any emotional issues that we should know about?

Regulus had to choke back a smirk at both of those thoughts. Sirius was going to have to tackle this one. Regulus had no idea what he would say if the shoe was on the other foot.

“You could start with hello.”

Regulus suggested earning a sneer from his older brother.

“I am so glad that I asked you for help.”

Regulus again didn’t turn to his elder brother.

“You know that I’m not good at these things.”

“She’s your niece too.”

Sirius commented. Finally, Regulus turned to look at his brother.

“I am very much aware of that. Have you thought about just what we are getting ourselves into, Sirius? This child could be damaged...worse than what we were.”

Sirius closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about that. The last thing that he wanted to consider was his own child could have had a worse childhood than him. In all of his years, Sirius had sworn that if he were to ever have a child that she/he would never grow up with abuse. Now that promise could have been for nothing…

“She’s still my daughter...traumatized or not. I can’t just do nothing.”

Regulus frowned.

“That isn’t what I meant. I only meant that we should both be prepared for the worst.”

Sirius nodded.

“You shouldn’t worry about it. You have your own family to deal with. Y/n will have your baby soon. You shouldn’t be worried about mine.”

The sentence left Sirius’ mouth before he really thought about what he had said. He knew, if it had been years before, Regulus would do nothing to help him. He would probably sit back and watch him suffer. It wasn’t until Sirius saw the annoyed expression on Regulus’ face did he realize that his brother wasn’t going to just leave him behind.

“You’re talking crazy. Whether I have my own family or not, you are still my brother and I’m not letting you do this alone.”

You sniffed earning a stare from both Regulus and Sirius.

“God damn these pregnancy hormones...you two are making me want to cry. This is worse than the sad abused pet commercial.”

Before Sirius or Regulus could make a comment, a witch stepped out of the office. Her attention went to Sirius before smiling politely.

“Mr. Black, I am sorry to have kept you waiting. If you all will come with me.”

Sirius was crossing the room without a second thought. Regulus’ hand wrapped around yours, seeking reassurance that only you could provide. You gave him a small smile before the two of you followed Sirius into a small office. The witch turned with another kind smile.

“She hasn’t said more than two words since she has been with us. I believe that the poor dear has suffered something horrible in her short life.”

Regulus turned to face you with a dark expression that said “I knew it.” Sirius was unable to say a word so it was Regulus that turned to the woman and said a quiet thank you.

The three of you waited until the witch walked out of the room before turning to face the small girl sitting by the window. Both Sirius and Regulus glanced at each other as the little girl turned. Right away both brothers could see their mother as a child looking back at them. Everything about Lucinda screamed Walburga Black only with deliberate differences. She was a lot smaller than Walburga at ten years old.

You, meanwhile, couldn’t help but smile. Everything about her screamed Sirius and Regulus Black. Her eyes matched her father’s, however, the expression on her face reminded you of Regulus.

The poor dear looked scared to death. Your newly acquired maternal instincts kicked in and you wanted nothing more than to hug the poor little girl and stroke your fingers through her curly dark hair...yet another feature that she shared with Regulus.

You stood quietly beside Regulus as Sirius knelt down in front of Lucinda and spoke quietly.

“Hi sweetheart, I know this all has to be very confusing for you and I’m sorry that you are going through the things that you are. I’m…”

“You’re my father. I know. I heard what the woman out there said to some other people.”

Sirius nodded.

“I am. I don’t know everything about you, dear but I won’t let anything bad happen to you again. You can have a family now. Speaking of which, this is your uncle Regulus and aunt Y/n. They are going to help take care of you too.”

The whole way back to Grimmauld Place, Lucinda didn’t say much. Her eyes were focused solely on the road in front of her. You had a feeling that Regulus was going to be right about the whole thing. This poor dear had seen things that children hadn’t seen and had no idea how to recover from it.

You stood in the kitchen helping Tonks cook dinner. Tonks gave you a smile before patting your arm.

“You know that it is all going to be okay, right? We are going to get the little love straightened out and before long we’ll all make some strange big happy family.”

Regulus was sitting at the table and laughed at Tonks’ comment.

“She’s onto something, Y/n. Notice that she said strange. I think that's fitting.”

“Strange works for us.”

You commented as Lucinda walked in. She sat down across from Regulus. Her eyes had locked on you watching your every move. Tonks elbowed you in the side with a small grin as if telling you to “work some magic.”

“So sweetheart, what foods do you not like?

The little girl shrugged.

“I’m not picky ma’am.”

Regulus’ eyes rolled up from the paper as you tilted your head.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am.”

Lucinda shrugged.

“Mother would have beaten me if I didn’t.”

Both Regulus and yourself locked gazes. You could see the fury quickly building in your lover’s face as he pressed his lips together. Taking a breath, you crossed the room and sat down beside Lucinda.

“I had a mother like that too. Lucinda you were born into a family that didn’t appreciate you. Now things are going to be very different. You have a lot of people who care for you now.”

The following weeks proved to be some of the more difficult for everyone in the house. You quickly began to realize how much Lucinda’s early childhood reminded you of your own and it was one of the more painful things that you had dealt with in a long time. Lucinda reminded you so much of yourself as a child. She was quiet, agreeable, and quickly grown to following you all over the place (and you didn’t mind). She was quickly opening up to everyone a little more with each day.

You smiled at how much she reminded you of an even mixture of Regulus and Sirius. Something told you that once she “came into her own,” Lucinda would be the perfect little trouble maker. Sirius was too good at getting caught. Lucinda, however, had Regulus’ sneaky nature and would probably get away with whatever the task was.

One morning, you stood in the kitchen feeding your obsessive need for hot chocolate. Regulus and Sirius had gone off on a mission leaving Tonks and yourself at home with Lucinda.

“Hot chocolate again?”

Tonks smirked at the expression on your face as you shoved another bite of a cupcake in your mouth.

“Yes.”

Tonks gave Lucinda a playful smile before turning back to you.

“If you keep feeding that baby like that, he will never want to be born.”

You rolled your eyes before turning and going off in search of a bottle of water.

“Yeah, well I don’t think that is going to be happening.”

Tonks quickly sat up on the counter.

“Yeah, and why is that?”

You turned.

“Considering that I have been having contractions all morning off and on.”

Tonks' amused expression immediately turned to worry. She quickly looked down at her watch. Jumping off of the counter, Tonks quickly began to pace.

“It's too soon. You have another month and a half. Have you called Regulus?”

“Tonks, it's a bit early to panic. It isn’t like my water…”

As soon as you said it a wet sensation went down your legs. Tonks met your gaze as her mouth dropped. She quickly turned and tossed her phone at Lucinda who effortlessly caught it.

“Darling, call your father and uncle. Keep calling them obnoxiously until one of them answers the phone.”

Tonks turned back to you. She gently pushed you into an empty chair. Had it not been for the pain of another contraction you may laugh at the hilarity of the situation. Tonks was spazzing out as if she had never given birth herself.

“There’s no stopping it now. I’m going to go get Molly. She of all people will know what to do. I want to sit here and breathe. REMUS!”

“Right here, why are you yelling, darling?”

Remus asked, stepping into the room looking confused. Tonks was practically jumping up and down as she pointed to you over and over. Remus raised an eyebrow.

“My water broke.”

You explained. Remus’ mouth dropped as he followed his wife’s example and checked his watch.

“It…”

“Too early...I know...baby is coming…”

You whimpered through gritted teeth. Lucinda was still playing phone tag with Sirius and Regulus. She finally gave up and turned to you.

“I’m not getting either of them, aunty. Dad’s line just rings and Regulus’ is going straight to voicemail.”

You rolled your eyes before internally muttering to yourself to calm down. The last thing that you wanted to do was traumatize the poor girl in front of you anymore.

“Regulus probably broke his phone again.”

Remus finally pulled himself out of his own state of worry.

“I’ll go get them. I know where they went.”

You nodded as Remus disappeared from the room. Molly quickly appeared into the room taking Remus' place. Her friendly face was full of worry as she reached you. Tonks was behind her still looking as if she was taking Regulus’ place in having a panic attack. It took all that you had not to giggle.

“Y/n, Dora said that your water broke?”

You nodded, still trying to keep your calm and casual persona.

“Yep. That is the way that it looks. I think Dora is having a worse time though.”

Molly quickly reached out for your hand.

“Come on, we need to get you into bed.”

You shook your head.

“Oh no...not yet. I want to wait right here to tell Regulus that my mother was right. Sex is bad.”

Molly instantly broke out into a fit of laughter. Had she not been through childbirth so many times; the comment wouldn’t be as funny. Hearing it come from the first time mum was all the more adorable.

“I’ll be sure to let him know what you said. Now come, dear. We need to get you settled.”

______

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