#And calling these two fools traitors felt so right just like fighting them

[argentaur]

Prompt: Potion

Remus had thought a lot about this recently. There were not a lot of redeeming qualities in his life, not for a long while now. At one point, he might have believed in the goodness in his possession and a future ahead of him, but life had a way of spitting in his face.

He’d been fighting the good fight. And then Halloween happened. And ever since there’d been a lot of regrets in his life.

Seeing Sirius in his unkempt state in the Shack had been his greatest salvation as well as his greatest shame. He felt, he should have done better. He should have been better. And though he will never regret Sirius’ escape and staying loyal to their shared secret, he cannot deny the shame and wrong in keeping secret about Sirius’ ability, not when he’d honestly thought him a murderer and traitor at the time. It had been wrong, as seemed the trend with Remus in his unreliable conduct and cowardice.  

They hadn’t talked much ever since. He wished they had, he was disappointed they hadn’t. Silence seemed to be the only tether between them, and with every passing day and every whisper of a looming threat, they felt more and more like strangers and coworkers. They weren’t supposed to be this way. The words refused to leave his throat, and the tongue that would have been so quick to lash at a traitor now laid numb and heavy in his mouth.  

Sirius as he remembered him should be chatting in his ear, and if not that, he’d at least want to care for him, to ease his pain and suffering of over a decade and still continuing, the same way Sirius had always done for him. But there seemed to be steel bars separating them.

Remus didn’t remember how to talk to Sirius. Didn’t know how he ever had that easy flow and easy exchange with a boy, a wizard, a man like him. There were too many words and no words at all to address everything between the two of them.

He wanted to stand up for him in a way nobody in the Order seemed to think he needed or deserved. He should stand up for him, the way he neglected to do all those years ago. He felt restless and lacking, not enough and wanting more. He should be doing more. For him. For them.

He grieved the years they had lost, the years in separation, aching and loveless. And his spirits kept sinking with every day they continued to waste in keeping silence between them.

Yes, he’d thought a lot about this, and that they should stop avoiding the adult conversation they needed to have, that they deserved to have. He wanted Sirius to stop acting like there was nothing to talk about, nothing he could talk about. Not when it came to Remus. Like they were strangers. Like it didn’t matter. Like there was nothing in the future for them. Most of all, he yearned for open communication so that they could eliminate any possible misunderstanding between them. Because this was something he wanted to pursue. He refused to let what they had wither in their hands, not when he just got him back.

Remus should have considered the fact that he had always been rather mediocre at potions. He should have considered the fact that he had scarce ingredients, and that the few he deemed alright enough to pick right out of the stores of dilapidated Grimmauld Place would be of questionable quality. He should have considered the fact that it had been a decade since he last made this potion himself and that he might have been a bit hazy about the exact measurements. He didn’t think it’d affect the result at all.

It was supposed to be a simple thing to perk him up, courage potion they called it, frequently used in their mischief, in dares and parties. It made him nostalgic about their past joy, and it really was supposed to be a simple mixture with little mistakes to be made; they might have been young and daring but they weren’t fool enough to mess around with potions of all things. It was a fun, innocuous liquid that would lift his spirits and let him brave the next challenge, not strong enough to tip him into brash impulsivity. It was a party trick, really.

He had been a bit too eager, he thought.

Which was how he ended at the Order meeting, turning words and things he wanted to bring up to Sirius in his head. Again, there wasn’t much to be shared and Sirius chafed at yet another fruitless session, at yet another reminder for him to stay, be quiet, be less.

He wished he could grant him freedom, he wished he could give him more, do more, make it hurt less. But there was little he could do about the Order and their work, and he didn’t have the authority to release him from his shackles. Which was why he was all the more eager to at least fix the thing between them, that even if the world fell apart around them in the coming war that they might have each other.

Which was how, after gulping down a dose of courage potion with his tea he deemed not too little and probably just enough to overcome his cowardly heart that would rather yearn and pine than confront his love, he jumped to his feet and asked, “will you come to bed with me, Sirius?” before Dumbledore even finished calling the end of the meeting.

@wolfstarmicrofic (941 words)

[whiteqnn]

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sean invites one of his good friends - Y/N - to play with him and the group. She has a lot of fun with them, but at the same time is too oblivious, too nice, and too pure to notice that one particular Among Us player has taken a liking to her the moment he heard her voice...

Notes: Hello everyone! This is the very first time I’m publishing something bigger in here, I’m honestly still figuring out how Tumblr works, even though I’ve had this account for quite some time now 😅. That being said, please don’t expect anything super impressive. I tried my best though just so you know. 🥺

A/N- It didn’t turn out as I expected, but I really hope at least some of you find it enjoyable :(

Y/C/N - your channel name

part 2

part 3 

part 4 

part 5 

PURE [1]

“Did you guys find anybody?” Felix asked, as the number of players still showed just 7 of them. They could just start now, but the game would be way more fun with a full lobby. 

“Yeah, Lily’s joining. I just texted her the code, so she should be here at any moment.” Sykkuno replied after receiving a text message from the said girl. “Oh, and Corpse also said he’d be joining soon.” 

“Great. Anyone else?”

 “I think Jack was also bringing someone, right?” Dave asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I have one coming, she’ll join us in a few” the asked man replied at the same moment Lily’s character appeared in the lobby. 

“Who you’re bringing Jack?” 

“Y/N” he said, causing Felix to gasp in shock and yell into his mic:

“How the fuck did you manage to convince her? I’ve been bugging her about this game for the past week and she always had some excuse!” 

“What can I say, my charm is irresistible” Jack replied nonchalantly, causing everyone in the lobby to laugh at his fake deep voice.

The number of participants changed to 9, as a little black astronaut with horns on his helmet appeared in the lobby. 

“Corpse, you’re here!” Rae’s character ran up to the man, circling him excitedly. 

“Hey man!”

“What’s up, Corpse?”

“Hello everyone” his deep voice sounded out “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“All good man, we’re still waiting for one person.” Felix reassured him “Sean, why is she not here yet? Are you sure you’ve sent her the right code?”

“Of course I am!” he all but shouted at Felix “And about that, she just texted me to give her a few more minutes and that we should start without her.”

“We can just wait, right?” Lily offered, earning a few hums of approval from the others.

“I think it might take a little longer than a few minutes, she has some problems with her microphone.”

“Who are you guys talking about?” Corpse asked, completely unaware of who Jack was referring to.

“Wait, Jack, you mean Y/N from Y/C/N?” Sykkuno asked suddenly, only then realizing why this name sounded familiar

“Yeah, the one and only” Jack replied, a smile evident in his voice.

“Oh my god, I love her videos!” Rae exclaimed at that “She’s so funny and sweet!”

“Yeah! Her new video is so freaking cute, I wish she’d upload more often.” Poki agreed. 

“Right?” Jack said, clearly very proud of his friend. “But don’t let that sweet demeanor fool you guys cause she’s one of the best players I’ve encountered in this game.”

“That’s true, she’s a secret big brain genius” Toast confirmed, making Pewdiepie gasp once again. 

“wHAT??YOU TWO PLAYED WITH HER?!” Felix’s offended voice boomed through everyone’s headphones “HOW DARE YOU. HOW COULD YOU NOT INVITE ME?!” 

“That’s for not inviting me to your latest Cringe episode!” Jack was quick to respond, making others in the lobby laugh at their mini fight. 

“Oh, so that’s where I recognized her from!” Sykkuno nearly shouted when he finally put two and two together. “I can’t wait to meet her, she seems like a really nice person.”

“She is! When she got impostor for the first time she refused to kill me” Toast explained, earning himself a couple of Aww’s from his friends. “So we just ran around the emergency button until I called the meeting and voted her off.”

“Yeah, only to be her first victim in the next game.” Jack all but giggled, clearly very amused at the memory of Y/N going into a full berserk mode. No one except for him and Toast knew how good she really was at this game... 

“She’s basically the wolf in sheep’s skin” Felix concluded with a chuckle “Very soft wolf, however.”

“She’s like the complete opposite of Corpse, both in voice and personality” Jack suddenly said, making Felix laugh wholeheartedly at something only two of them understood at the moment. 

“I don’t know how should I take that” Corpse admitted with a chuckle. He remained silent for most of the conversation since he didn’t really know who the guys were talking about. But he would lie if he said he wasn’t intrigued by this girl at least in the slightest. Although he heard about her channel, he hasn’t seen any of her videos, so he didn’t really know what to expect. But hearing what gamers like Sean and Felix said about her, he knew he’s not gonna be disappointed once the girl joins them in the game. 

“Imagine Corpse and Y/N talking.” Felix said suddenly with a seemingly very amused voice.

“Imagine Corpse and Y/N both being Impostors” Toast said, which resulted in many of them shouting over each other at how crazy that would be. 

“Alright, now that you mention this I start fearing the moment two of them meet” Jack confessed with loud laughter following the sentence. Corpse chuckled deeply under his breath, at the same time glancing at the questions his audience was asking him in his stream. He could hardly read any, as there were quite a lot of people asking, so all he saw was just a bunch of comments moving at the speed of light in his chat. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he was slightly nervous, seeing the growing number of people watching his stream. It was still a rather new thing to him, and he feared he'd say something inappropriate, or just make a complete idiot out of himself. 

"At least no one can see me..." he mumbled under his breath after muting his microphone. 

"Oh! Y/N just texted me! She's joining the call right now!" 

"Fuck yeah!" Felix shouted excitedly "Just so you know Jack, I won't forget that you two played without me."

"Uh-oh. Is that a threat? Are you threatening me now?" 

"It's a warning" Felix replied, receiving a series of gasps from other players. "If I get impostor, you're the first one on my list."

"Okay, everyone heard that! You know who to vote off when I'm dead!" 

"It's so cool to play with someone new, I wonder if she's as good as you guys depict her" Sykkuno spoke up, but before anyone could answer his question, a new character popped up in the lobby.

*** 

"Hi everyone! I’m sorry I left you just like that, but this stream would be completely useless without me being able to answer your questions. Fortunately it wasn’t anything serious, I just had to readjust my mic and go through the settings to find what was wrong. Took some time, but here I am now!” Y/N chirped into her microphone, smiling apologetically at her webcam. At the moments like this, she really appreciated how supportive her audience was. No one was hating on her when she had to get off the stream for a couple of minutes, and everyone was just so understanding that it made her heart melt. Perhaps her audience wasn’t very big, but it felt almost like a second family to her. 

“Anyway, as you already know from my twitter, today I’ll be playing Among Us with my friends and their friends! I can’t wait if I’m being honest, last time I played this game was so much fun, and there was only a few of us.” she admitted with a genuine smile on her face. “Let’s just text Sean now so we can get into the lobby...”

Y/N: Ready to play with you guys ^^

Jackaboy: Great! You got that mic fixed already? 

Y/N: Yes, everything is fine. I’m sorry you had to wait so long.

Jackaboy: It’s all good kiddo, no worries. I’ll call you and send you the code in a sec. 

Y/N: Perfect, thank you Sean :)

Jackaboy: Btw, everyone can’t wait to meet you ;-)Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, only now, seconds before joining the group, realizing how nervous she felt. From Sean’s tweets she saw earlier, she figured that the lobby was right now full of many famous streamers, those she wouldn’t even compare herself to. It’s not that she thought of herself very low, but... being among such youtube celebrities like them made her panic a little bit. She didn’t want to look like a complete fool amongst them. 

Playing or recording with Sean and Felix was something else because she knew those guys for years (and yet still sometimes found herself thinking how lucky she got to be able to call them her friends). She felt good in their company, not worrying about choosing the right words. But amongst the rest of the players, she knew only Toast and talked with Rae maybe once in her life... 

What if the rest won’t like her? 

Y/N cleared her throat, realizing that she was still staring at her phone like hypnotized and her audience was already asking her what’s going on. She quickly typed in the code Sean had texted her and readjusted her headphones, before joining the discord chat.

“THERE SHE IS” screamed Sean, making her grin from ear to ear, hearing how excited he was “Little wonderchild!”

“I think you meant little TRAITOR” Felix corrected him with a scoff. A silence settled in the lobby as everyone was waiting for Y/N to speak up.

“Um... hello everyone..” she said softly, almost inaudibly, a sudden wave of shyness taking over her. “I’m Y/N” 

“Oh, you were right about that Corpse thing!” replied another, also very soft and very sweet voice, and Y/N saw the image of someone named Lily pop up. “It’s like the exact opposite!” 

“See? Told ya. Everyone, meet Y/N/N, the little angel from Y/C/N.” 

“Hey Y/N!”

“Hi there!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“H-Hi, so great to meet you, Y/N!” a very friendly sounding voice said, and a little lime astronaut with the name Sykkuno above it started running around her. “Can’t wait to play with you!”

“That’s so nice, thank you” she replied with a wide smile on her face, moving around his character as well. “I can’t wait to play with you too, actually with all you guys. It’s so great to be here with you.”

“Jack I swear she’s the cutest little thing I’ve ever heard. Where the hell did you find her?!” Poki all but yelled at the man, making Y/N giggle to herself and in-process loosen up a little bit. They all seemed like someone she’d happily be friends with. 

“Or rather, where do you get one?” someone else commented, making them all burst into laughter, Y/N included. 

“Guys, what did I say about that sweet demeanor...” Jack said after calming down from his fit “Don’t put your guard down just because she sounds like that!”

“Wait- what did you tell them about me?” Y/N asked confused, the tone of her voice making him laugh even more “Jack!”

“Don’t worry, only the good stuff” a very deep, low voice spoke up, leaving her taken aback for a moment. Her eyes widened slightly and she glanced at the name of that person, reading out CORPSE. Now that’s something she didn’t expect... 

“Corpse, mind your manners! You didn’t even introduce yourself!” 

“Oh, shit- yeah, sorry. Um, I’m Corpse, it’s very nice to meet you Y/N” he replied right after, making her lip corners curl up into a smile. 

“Nice to meet you too Corpse, you have a really pleasant voice.” she spoke sweetly, completely unaware of the chaos that was taking place in her stream chat. She didn’t even think of it the way her audience did, she just simply spoke up her mind, and being an incredibly nice person - turned it into a compliment.

“Oh- wow. I mean, thank you so much. I love your voice too, it’s really sweet” he replied, nervously chuckling at the end, before muting his mic. It was, however, enough for Felix and Sean to start teasing him, as the two immediately screamed:

“SIIIMP!!!”

“It’s the voice Felix, I told you he’d fall into her trap!” 

“Wait- he was just being nice, guys! Stop making fun of him” Y/N immediately defended the man, trying to speak up over the hysterical laughter of the other players. 

“Oh my god, but what if they both get impostors and they both pull the voice cards on us?!” Rae managed to yell through all the noise, making Y/N even more confused.

“Wait, what? What do you mean? I don’t understand.” 

“Don’t worry Y/N, that’s how I feel all the time around them.” Sykkuno seemed to be the only one who heard her question, as the rest continued their gabbing without giving her as much as a glance. 

“Alright, let’s start the game maybe. I might have a few old scores to settle” Toast cleared his throat theatrically, his astronaut coming face to face with Y/N’s. 

“Oh, you mean me? I thought I already apologized!” she replied frantically. “You gave me no choice Toast, I didn’t even want to kill you in the first place...”

“BUT YOU DID. IN THE VERY FIRST ROUND” 

“I’m sorry!” 

“Alright, enough! Toast, just don’t kill her right away, okay? Let her run around the map, fearing for her life for a moment.” Y/N gasped upon hearing Jack’s words, clearly sensing the smirk behind his voice. 

“Wha- Jack?! Since when are you against me?!” 

“Don’t worry Y/N, I won’t let them hurt you. You haven’t played with us yet, I’ll protect you.” 

“Oh, thank you so much Sykkuno! I’ll protect you too!” 

“Great. Another one simping...” was Felix’s last words, before the game began. 

Y/N sighed in relief upon seeing the word crewmate forming on her screen, but at the same time feared Toast’s inevitable revenge. She thought they'd already buried the hatchet, but it seemed that he was desperate to make her pay for the last time they played together. 

“Aw, Sykkuno was serious” she mumbled with a smile, when his lime astronaut started circling her white one, so she would follow him. “Okay, let’s do some tasks.”

They both made their way towards the medbay, Sykkuno patiently waiting nearby as she did the scan, then Y/N waiting for him to do the same. The moment his little character stepped towards her, a meeting was called by none other than Felix.

“What happened?” Rae asked.

“I called the meeting because I’m afraid of Jack” he responded, causing everyone to laugh. “Seriously though! Dude’s been following me around the whole time.”

“I was just making sure nobody kills you.”

“Yeah don’t go all Sykkuno on me!” Felix screamed, making the call erupt into even more laughter. 

“Alright, are we skipping?” 

“Yeah.”

“Guys, my life is in danger!” Felix wouldn’t give up. “Come on, show some support! Y/N? You played with him, you know his techniques!” 

“Sorry Felix” Y/N giggled, clicking the skip button. 

When the next round began, Sykkuno was quick to join Y/N on her way towards admin, where they both found Poki doing the upload. They did the card swipe and left her there, when the lights suddenly went off.

“Uh-oh. Let’s head the opposite direction, Sykkuno” the girl murmured, dancing around his character and heading towards Comms instead of going to Electrical. It was the easiest way to die, after all. 

Once they entered the room and waited for someone to fix the lights, Y/N could see another figure appear in the same location. She couldn’t recognize whose character it was, but upon seeing the horns on the helmet she smiled to herself.

“Hey there, Corpse” she said, walking up to the black astronaut, who was standing still in the same place as if he was just watching her and Sykkuno run around Comms instead of doing their tasks. 

They stood like that for a couple of seconds until Corpse turned around and ran away, and that’s when the first body was reported. 

“Oh no, Jack!” 

“Poor guy. He’s gonna haunt us now.”

“Where’s the body?” 

“Navigation” replied Rae, who was the one to find Sean’s green astronauts’ body “Didn’t see anyone around, but I’m pretty sure someone just vented right in front of my eyes...”

“Any suspicions?” Toast asked.

“Um, not really sure, it was the exact same moment the lights went off. I was doing tasks with Jack and then he just died. I only saw the vent close, nothing or no one else.”

“Okay, where are you guys right now?” 

“I’m in admin with Dave, we only passed Poki when we got there.” Lily’s voice sounded out, quickly being joined by Poki’s explanation.

“Yeah, I was finishing the upload when you guys came in, Y/N and Sykkuno saw it”

“Did you see her?” Toast asked, addressing his question towards the white and lime astronauts. 

“Yes, we were doing the card swipe before going to Comms. Corpse joined us for a moment and then left.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to fix the lights when I stumbled upon them in Comms, the body was reported the exact moment I left.”

“Can someone confirm this? I mean, did someone see you besides the two of them?” Toast continued his questioning. 

“I think I only saw Felix in Medbay.”

“Hmm, so no one really knows where you were this whole time. You could easily lure Jack into Navigation and kill him there. Is that what you did, Corpse?”

“Woah, that’s some serious accusation” Corpse replied in his usual, low and calm voice. “Where were you Toast? You seem the only one who still doesn’t have an alibi”

“Neither does Felix.” Y/N spoke innocently, and the mentioned man quickly started his explanation.

“Okay, I was with Jack at the beginning but he clearly can’t confirm this since someone snapped his fucking neck. We’ve split up in O2 after doing our tasks and then he must’ve gone with Rae. I just wandered around the map, escaping from the death.”

“Hmm, so not only were you one of the last people to see him alive, but you also admit to not doing your tasks” Y/N said, trying her best to keep her voice steady and stop herself from laughing. She was sure Sykkuno was doing the same thing, they both refused to do any tasks after the lights went off, after all.

“Yeah, but does that already makes me an Imposter? I’m just scared for my life, that’s all.”

“Y/N has some good logic, but I’m not really sure it’s Pewds. I mean, I saw him in Medbay and he really seemed to be just jogging around.” Corpse said, his voice almost immediately doing its magic, as people more or less willingly agreed to skip this round as well. 

“I think it’s Felix. I mean, I haven’t played with him yet, but I have this feeling that he’s just acting.” Y/N said to her chat after muting herself. She went towards Weapons to do another task, seeing Sykkuno’s little character follow her once again, but the doors were suddenly locked and his lime astronaut remained in Cafeteria. “Oh no, Sykkuno” she sighed with a pout on her face, deciding against waiting for him and risking getting her neck snapped. She finished her task in Weapons and moved towards another location, when suddenly Corpse appeared in front of her, coming right out of nowhere. 

“Oh- Corpse, you scared me to death” Y/N breathed a laugh, watching as his character stood still for a couple of seconds, before circling around her white astronaut. Y/N nodded her head with a smile, even though he couldn’t see her, and followed him in Shields, where they found Poki’s dead body. 

“The body is in Shields” Y/N replied right after reporting the body, only to gasp in shock when she realized more than one person was killed. Red crosses decorated not only Poki’s name but were also visible next to Dave and Lily. 

“What the hell?!” Felix all but yelled into his mic, obviously shocked just like everyone else who was still alive. 

“Now that’s... a lot of bodies” Sykkuno mumbled under his breath. 

“Alright, who’s in Shields? Y/N, you said you found the body there, which one?”

“Poki’s, Corpse was there with me” her reply was followed by his short and low hum. 

“Sykkuno, where are you? I didn’t see you anywhere since the last round.” Felix asked, clearly accusing the lime astronaut of being a murderer. 

“I was... doing the wires in electrical, Toast was there for a moment as well.”

“Yeah but I was only searching for the body, so I saw you maybe for a second” Toast replied, building even more suspicions around Sykkuno.

“But- guys, you know I wouldn’t kill two people in one round, let alone four of them.”

“No one says you did that, I only mentioned that you were nowhere to be seen. You could’ve been sabotaging the map for the other Impostor” Felix said nonchalantly.

“Guys, I-”

“It’s him! It must be him!” Rae shouted through her mic. 

“Sykkuno is 100% innocent, I can vouch for him” Y/N’s voice sounded out in everyone’s headphones “We were together since the start of the game and he didn’t kill me, even though he had quite a number of chances to do so.”

“Weren’t you with Corpse this time?” Felix asked suspiciously.

“I was! But at the beginning, I was with Sykkuno, until someone locked him in Cafeteria. That’s when we split up.”

“And you haven’t seen him ever since?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then I can assure you it was only a matter of time before he’d stab you in the back” Toast concluded, making Sykkuno gasp in confusion.

“Wha- No, I would never do that! Y/N is our guest, I was just making sure she was okay!”

“Sykkuno, simping won’t save your life right now” 

“Wha- I- Guys!” he tried to stutter out some logical explanation “Y/N, don’t believe them!”

“I don’t, I know you’re innocent! C’mon guys, he wouldn’t do it!” 

“Yeah yeah, let’s kick him out. Corpse, who are you voting?” Toast asked, and Y/N could see the I voted sign next to his character. 

“I kinda feel like Felix tries to shift the blame onto Sykkuno. He didn’t even tell his location, and was already throwing accusations on someone else.” Corpse replied after a moment, making the smile widen on Y/N’s face. Someone was finally on her side! 

“That’s because he can’t even explain himself!” Felix exclaimed, voting as well. 

“Besides, I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for whoever locked that door, Y/N would be dead as well!” 

“No, I told you I-!”

“Guys, we have ten seconds to vote. Rae?” 

“I think it’s him as well. He was acting suspiciously since we started this round. I vote Sykkuno”

“But..!” 

“No, Sykkuno...” Y/N whispered with a pout on her lips, when she saw the number of people who voted for her lime friend. 

Sykkuno was ejected. 

“Alright, I’m pretty sure it’s Felix. I saw Rae multiple times and she didn’t kill me, Toast also doesn’t act very Impostor like, but maybe that’s just one of his strategies... Corpse is with me again, I don’t think that’s him, I mean, he followed me around last round, but still didn’t do anything, and even vouched for me and Sykkuno when we were both clearly chilling in comms. It can’t be him... right?” 

 Dead body reported.

 “I just saw Corpse kill Toast, then vent!” Rae’s voice blared through Y/N’s headphones, as she looked in shock at the red cross next to Toast’s name. If not him, then..?

“What?” the accused man asked calmly “That’s a self-report, she’s trying to frame me. You guys can’t possibly believe her.”

“I believe her. I saw you enter the Electrical with Toast, then he’s suddenly dead” Felix said. 

“That’s because she vented in there and killed him.”

“No! I swear, Y/N/N you have to believe me!” she directed her words towards the girl who remained silent during their discussion, processing her accusations over and over in her head. “I was fixing the wires, Toast was doing another task, and then boom! I see Corpse snapping his neck!”

“How could you see that if the lights were off?” Y/N suddenly asked, making Rae cut her own sentence off “No one went to fix them, they were off the entire round.”

Silence. 

“It’s Rae, it must be her” Corpse couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly at how small was the mistake which completely blew Rae’s cover. “We’re voting Rae, right Y/N?”

“No! Guys, I mean, let me explain, I-!”

Rae was ejected. 

“Now that was something I didn’t expect. I would’ve never thought it was her, I even suspected that Sykkuno might really have been the other Impostor, but now... It’s just me, Corpse, and Felix. I’m clear, clearly, so it must be one of them. And since Corpse protected me for the past few rounds, there’s no other option than...”

Her eyes suddenly widened when the realization hit her, and she quickly turned around to speed towards the emergency button. Fortunately, no one was around to stop her from calling the meeting.

“Felix.” Y/N started, trying to contain her excitement and sound seriously “Where were you when Sean was killed?”

Neither Corpse of Felix said a word, as it was probably the last question they expected her to ask. Felix cleared his throat, however, and finally replied:

“Y/N, that was literally the beginning of a game. How am I supposed to remember what I did then?”

“Well” she said nonchalantly “I, for example, clearly remember the things you said even when we were in the lobby.”

“What are you implying?” 

“Wasn’t it you, who told everyone that Sean was your number one if you get Impostor?” she asked with a wicked smile on her face. Felix was dumbfounded, he obviously didn’t expect her to pull that card on him, hell, he didn’t even know how she knew about it since she wasn’t even in the call at the time. 

“FELIX” Corpse suddenly broke the silence, simultaneously breaking the said man from his train of thoughts. 

“Okay, first of all- YOU WEREN’T EVEN IN THE CALL WHEN I SAID THAT” he yelled through his mic, making both Y/N and Corpse laugh, as it only confirmed their suspicions. 

“See? You only proved my point.” 

“Oh, fuck’s sake- I was just joking okay?!” he tried to defend himself, but hearing how he couldn’t even contain his own laughter anymore, it was clear he already accepted the defeat. “It wasn’t serious, god damn it!” 

“You know what to do, Y/N” Corpse’s voice asked through her headphones, and surely, she knew exactly what to do.

“C’mon Y/N, that’s not fair! At least let me explain myself!” 

“Bye Felix” she said in an overly dramatic tone before Corpse voted as well. 

Soon enough, the sign VICTORY could be seen on her screen, which made her squeak and joy. This game was really fun, even though she was so scared of being killed first. 

“I knew it! I knew you would figure out it’s him! That son of a bitch who murdered me!” Jack basically yelled out, clearly very happy about the result. 

“Y/N, seriously now, how did you know I’ve said that?” Felix asked without even hiding his surprised tone.

“Let’s just say I might’ve stolen some of your viewers, Felix” she admitted, winking at her webcam, a new wave of comments landing on her chat. “Thanks guys!” 

“Okay, that is rude and not fair!” 

“It helped me win, so I’ve got nothing else to say” Y/N grinned from ear to ear, before muting herself for a moment to finally answer some of the questions from her chat, while the rest took a quick break to eat something or go to the bathroom.

She was halfway through telling the story of how she met Sean when she noticed she got a message from a private discord chat. 

CORPSE: That was really impressive :)

Y/N smiled to herself upon seeing his text and quickly typed out the answer. 

Y/N: Thanks!! I wouldn’t have done that without you though, you stood up for me and Sykkuno and all

Y/N: Also, thanks for protecting me from being murdered ^^

CORPSE: No problem, I knew you were innocent right away. 

CORPSE: Anyway, good game, Sean was right saying that you’re one of the best players

She couldn’t help the blush that arose on her cheeks, it was very sweet of him to say that, even though she didn’t actually do much except for exposing Felix. 

Y/N: I wasn’t an Impostor though, so you didn’t really see much :)

She watched the three dots beside his name, that signaled he was still texting. The chat was completely forgotten, but people seemed to quickly notice that small, shy smile on her lips, and the pink tint decoring her cheeks.

CORPSE: Okay, now I’m intrigued... 

Y/N: Maybe we’ll both be Impostors one day ^^

CORPSE: Can’t wait for that to happen.

Soon enough, they returned to the lobby to begin another game. Y/N glanced at her chat for a second, and the moment she returned her eyes to the game, her jaw basically dropped. 

IMPOSTOR was written in bold letters in the middle of the red screen, right above her name.

Corpse’s little character was standing beside her. 

[xreaderbooks]

Part of us

 Request: Could I request a Sirius x reader where the reader is maybe a year younger and his or regulus childhood best friend and she gets sorted to gryffindor so she becomes a target for bullies so Sirius and the marauders takes her under their wing....a few years later she gets hurt and Sirius gets super protective and confess his feelings....angst and fluff??

Pair: Sirius Black x reader, Platonic! Marauders x reader, Platonic! Regulus Black x reader

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Language

A/N: So this is my first request... I don’t know if I did what you imagined justice but this is what I came up with and I really hope you enjoy. 

Masterlist 

When you were placed into Gryffindor you thought it was a mistake. There was no way with your long line of Slytherin pureblood, that you'd be a Gryffindor. Not that you thought there was anything wrong with that. You never cared to live up to people's expectations or what people thought of you, even though your parents did. And despite your family's attempts at making you see their way, you never could. There was no superior bloodline, you were all equal. But you played your part so you wouldn't hear the lectures or deal with all the drama. You didn't partake in the bullying or the maltreatment of muggle-borns or half-bloods like every other pureblood; you didn't see the need. You kind of just stood by or left whenever your friends would tantalize others.

However, when you got sorted you weren't the silent one while others bullied and tortured others who weren't deemed worthy in the eyes; you were the one getting bullied. The first few years you wanted to fight back but eventually, there were too many for you to handle. So you just dealt with it. At the parties that the pureblood families had thrown-- which your family was invited to-- your parents had advised you to try to blend in and not draw attention to yourself. For the most part, you did.

Regulus, your best friend tried to get you out of your shell. You tried to convince him that it wasn't you but your parents. You would've love to enjoy yourself at the parties, being dressed up and all that. But with your situation, you couldn't afford to make a fool out of yourself, and drinking firewhiskey in different rooms or sneaking off to where your parents couldn't keep an eye on you, wasn't a good idea. When you and Regulus were older your parents had set an arranged marriage between you two. Uniting rich and powerful families and all that. But You and Regulus were just the best of friends, always together. And just like everything else, that had to change. You now had to find ways to see each other in hidden places. Never to be seen together in front of students or staff in case it would get back to your parents. In Hogwarts you ignored each other, magically passing notes to update each other on your well-being. It was tough but you managed. Regulus was your only friend after all.

~~~

It was just another day at Hogwarts, You were avoiding Bellatrix Lestrange. Your main terrorizer. She had a group of Slytherins trailing her. Ever since you got sorted into Gryffindor every pureblood who was in Slytherin, taunted and teased you to no end. They jinxed you and called you weak. Saying things about how you weren't one of them. You knew that much but you didn't need the constant reminder.

Bellatrix and her group were right behind you as you were walking to the Gryffindor common room. You cursed in your mind, they saw you.

"Going somewhere L/N?" You ignored her. "You know it's rude to not answer your superiors."

"I'm not trying to bother anyone Bellatrix." You sighed but kept walking.

"Your presence alone bothers me." She sent a spell your way to catch your attention.

"Are you crazy?" You turned to face her, Your voice raising a bit. An amused smile played on her lips, she tilted her head to the side.

"You have no idea what crazy looks like Y/N/N." She stalked towards you in a predatory way.

"We grew up together Bellatrix," You slowly backed away from her so as to not set her off. "Name-calling and pranks are one thing but curses..."

You didn't know what you did to cause the special attention that others like first years or Muggle-borns got from Bellatrix. Sure you were never that close, you always got along better with Andromeda than Narcissa and the former, but never would you have thought that you'd be on the receiving end of her fury over blood status. This was outrageous you thought to yourself. How could anyone be this upset over what house people are in?

"Don't worry, after a while, they won't hurt." Your blood started to rush through your veins and a shiver ran down your spine. You stopped walking backward when you bumped into something behind you. A pair of arms held you to keep you steady. You turned around expecting another one of Bellatrix's "friends" only to be met with a tall, shaggy-haired boy.

Sirius Black, your best friend's older brother, who just so happened to be in your house. Relief washed over you. You were no longer outnumbered. Sirius and his group of Marauders were there. Surely they wouldn't just walk away from a fellow Gryffindor in trouble. Of course you never really had an affiliation with them besides the same color robes but they were good people, weren't they?

"We heard something about pranks?" James spoke.

Bellatrix scoffed, "This is none of your business Potter."

"Well Bellatrix considering how Y/N is a member of our house, it does make this our business," Remus replied. She cackled, "How fitting the two blood-traitors in one pitiful little group." She signaled the others to follow her and walked away.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, not letting go of your shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"C'mon we were just going back to the common room." He let go of your shoulders but tugged on the sleeve of your robe to follow them.

"What did you do to cause the wrath of crazy over there?" James questioned. He led the way to the common room, you kept your distance not really trusting any of them. Their reputation for being the school's signature pranksters didn't ease your mind as you walked with them. You never held a conversation with any of them before today, maybe a few with Remus but he was the only sane one out of all of them, it made sense that you were wary of their presence. Who knows what they had planned.

"Does anyone have to do anything at all to provoke her?" Sirius snorted, you gave him a questioning look and he just shrugged.

"No, I suppose not."

"Well Y/N I guess you could call yourself lucky your knight in shining armors were there to save the day." James' cocky smile written on his face assuming he was right.

"Although I appreciate the help, I could've handled myself." You stepped into the portrait hole, anxious to get back into your dorm room and take a nap.

"Not against all of them, you know sometimes you need to run in a pack L/N, you could get killed without one."

"You make it sound like we're wolves," you stated, each attempt to get back to your room was failed by every comment James made. What was his point?

"Some of us aren't," Sirius commented. You noticed Remus got tense and slightly shook his head.

"Point is Bellatrix and her groupies aren't going to quit bothering you and we want to help." James offered.

"What's the catch?"

"Why does there have to be catch? We want to be your friends." Sirius answered and plopped down on the chair across from the couch where you were sitting. You gave him a dead look. "Just think about it, hm?"

"Whatever." You got up from your seat and went to your dorm to take your well-needed nap.

Later that night you went down to the common room to read by the fire until you fell asleep. You felt like you'd only closed your eyes for 2 seconds when you were rudely awakened by Sirius.

"What?" You hissed. His mischievous grin made you want to slap him.

"You're coming with me." He took the blanket that you had wrapped around you, off.

"No." You said simply, reaching for the blanket again. Just as your eyes were beginning to close again you heard him say, "Yes."

He lifted you in his arms and you dramatically fell limp. "What the hell." You groaned loudly.

"Shh you're going to people up," You glared at him.

"Maybe they should wake up since I'm being kidnapped!" He rolled his eyes. You jumped from his arms so you could stand on your own.

"Where are we going?" You asked, Slowly recovering from being awoken.

"You'll see." That was all he responded as he continued to guide you out of the portrait hole and through the halls. You were anxious, in all the years of Hogwarts you never went out past curfew so you didn't know the chances of being caught and getting in trouble.

"Sirius, Filch may be out here." You warned.

"We'll be fine Y/N/N just trust me."

"I don't trust you that's my problem." You muttered. He turned around and looked at you. His piercing grey eyes shining in the darkness. He pulled out a long cloak from who knows where and wrapped it around the both of you, causing you to be closer together.

"This will keep us hidden so Filch won't catch us." The weight in your chest lifted and now replaced by butterflies. You inhaled sharply at the close proximity.

"You alright?"

You nodded, which gave him the confirmation he needed to continue, "Let's go."

When you made it to your destination you gasped. The astronomy tower, "Wow" you whispered, shedding yourself from the cloak. The night sky hadn't looked as beautiful as it did at that very moment. You've been here for class but you've never seen the stars so bright, you wondered what special cosmic event it must've been for the night sky to look the way it did.

You whipped around remembering who you were here with, you crossed your arms, "Why did you bring me here?"

"I can't take you sight-seeing now?"

"I had this class yesterday, this is hardly what I'd call sight-seeing." You arched a brow upwards. "Besides we're not exactly friends..." He gasped and feigned hurt by putting a hand over his heart.

"After all we've been through?" You rolled your eyes. He continued, "I was hoping we could change that. The boys and I have noticed you've been struggling socially and don't really play well with others, but I've seen the way you interacted with my brother before Hogwarts and you enjoy the company. I had to wonder why is it that you don't have that many friends?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but since I got sorted into Gryffindor my old "friends" and family haven't been that accepting considering the fact that they're all Slytherins, I mean you should know how it is." You sighed and took a seat resting your back against a wall facing the night sky. "The people I used to get along with, well, their parents don't want them to spend time with me. As for not having friends in our house, nobody has tried to get to know me, they just assume I'm like the other Slytherins even though I was placed here for a reason." You scoffed, people truly were ridiculous. "It sucks cause every side thinks I've chosen to be apart of what they go against when in reality I'm not apart of anything."

He stared at you, you then realized that you went on a full-on rant and nervously looked down, picking at your nails. He'd been silent the entire time listening. It was nice, "You could be apart of us."

You were skeptical, "Sirius this isn't funny." You moved to get up.

"It's not a joke Y/N." He chuckled.

"You're not being very convincing right now."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"We've barely spoken to each other in all these years of Hogwarts, even before Hogwarts!" you threw your hands in the hair. "I went over your house for playdates with Reg and never had one conversation. You and your friends have a reputation for pranks, How do I know this isn't one of them?"

"Because I'm not trying to prank you Y/n, in fact, I'm trying to help you. We all are." He put his hands on your shoulders to get you to look at him. "I know how it feels to be all alone in a world like that. To be in an environment where you feel uncomfortable with those people. Knowing all the wrong things they say and not being able to say anything because they'll disown you."

"The difference between you and me is that you got out." You shoved his hands off your shoulders. "Not all of us have a James."

"Y/n-"

"I'll think about it." With that, you left, not caring if you were to get caught.

If you were being honest the reason why you didn't want to be friends with the marauders was that they had 3 years to be friends with you, you knew Sirius from years prior. Why didn't he come to you sooner? Knowing you had been friends with his little brother. He just sat there and watched while you spent the first 3 and a half years of what should've been the most fun years of your life at Hogwarts, lonely and sad. If his defense was that he could sympathize with your situation and that he wanted to help; why didn't he approach you sooner? Also, you might've been a little bitter about him having a place to go to while you still had to stay with your parents.

~~~

You did think about after that Night with Sirius, you decided you give them a chance. You wouldn't be cornered alone anymore or hopefully cornered at all. You would have a group now. You also thought it was great that you had someone you could relate to in the group and someone that you somewhat knew. You never thought that you'd be actual friends with your childhood crush, even if that was your best friend's older brother and you'd spend more time in his house than your own most days; but here you were.

Being a part of the Marauders was fun, you were practically family now. They let you in on their little secret; with Remus' permission of course. They informed you of his full moon situation. They offered to help you become an animagus, which you denied, you didn't want to deal with all of that. You helped James with Lily, it wasn't easy but it worked somehow. You would help them with their pranks. They pulled pranks on the people who used to bully you all the time which you appreciated greatly. It was nice knowing they had your back and they knew you had theirs.

Nobody messed with you now and you gained a few more friends now. Lily, Alice, Dorcas, and Mary. It was all great. Except for your growing crush on a certain Marauder. With every moment you spent with him your heart swelled, it wasn't a great idea to get involved with him in that way. You were his brothers best friend, he'd seen you grow up, and took you under his wing when you were in need (you always thought even if he truly wanted to be your friend, it was a sort of favor for Regulus since he couldn't be there) there was no way he would be interested in you. But you had always hoped.

You remembered one Christmas that your parents had forced you to go to a party that the Malfoys would throw annually. It was terrible. You didn't have your friends there with you and Regulus couldn't talk to you with his parents watching. The blacks were suspicious of you spending more time with their son, who they disowned and like every other parent at that party, they didn't want Regulus to associate with you. So you were alone again. The only perk of this entire thing was you didn't have to completely show your face since it was a masquerade ball theme.

Evan Rosier came up to you, your eyes narrowed and you tilted your head in question. "Shame you spend your time with those blood traitors Y/N, I would have asked you out."

"I think I lucked out on that one Rosier." You took a sip from your drink shifting your gaze to somewhere else.

"You filthy little-"

"Careful what your next words are, my friend, I don't think Mummy and Daddy would appreciate it much." A voice that came from behind you said.

"You are not even supposed to be here, Black."

"Sirius!" You threw your arms around his neck, he wrapped his around your waist. You heard Evan scoff and leave.

"Y/N darling, have I told you that you attract way too much trouble."

"No, but I'm starting to think you're right." You pulled away from him, realizing that you were in the eyesight of your parents. "What are you doing here? Your parents will kill you if they see you here."

"I couldn't let you come here alone, with all these people." He looked around with distaste.

"Alright well, we have to find a more private place so you won't get caught." You grabbed his hand in yours and led the way to the maze garden.

"Y/N if you wanted to get into my pants, all you had to do was ask." He wiggled his eyebrows, You shoved him away. "Gross."

"Okay so I didn't tell you this but James and I are breaking you out of here."

"How the hell are you planning on doing that?"

"Easy, a distraction." You were about to ask what the distraction was when you saw a stag through the windows. Screams of the people were coming from the inside. You put a hand over your mouth to cover your smile. You did not expect that at all. Sirius retook your hand and pulled you deeper into the maze when the guests were filing out.

You stopped when you were finally in the middle, there was an enchanted fountain spewing water. you had a rush of energy and laughed. Sirius was looking down at you.

"Where'd James go?"

"He should be coming soon." He replied. It was quiet for a while before Sirius scooped up water from the fountain and threw it at you. You gasped, "You asshole!"

You dipped your hand in the water and flicked it at him. This started a war between the two of you. You ducked behind the fountain and threw water at him whenever you got the chance and he did the same. It wasn't until you heard footsteps coming that you stopped.

"Y/N?" You remembered that voice, you whipped around quickly and almost fell into the water if it wasn't for Sirius who had put a hand on your back to catch you.

"Reg?" He ran to you and wrapped his arms around you, picking you up and twirling you around. Once he put you down he pulled you away at arm's length to observe you.

"You're wet." He stated, confused.

"Water fight." you smile into the response. He laughed and threw his head back.

"Only you." Sirius coughed, you almost forgot he was there.

"Hello, brother." Regulus nodded to him. "It's been a while, I've missed you."

"Have you?" You gave Sirius a look, now was not the time. This was the first time you've seen Regulus in months, years even. You didn't need them to argue.

"We should talk." He suggested, You agreed and strolled along the maze with Regulus, noticing that the guests have all returned inside.  

"So you escaped your parents." You started talking.

"So I did." he glanced at you. "But only for a bit, they'll start to wonder where I've gone. I just needed to see you."

"Yeah me too."

"I just wanted to let you know that I can't write to you anymore." Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Why not?"

"It's not safe."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just know things are about to get serious and dangerous and I have to do things that I know you won't agree with to keep you safe."

"Reg, I-I don't know what you're saying."

"Soon enough you will." He stopped walking. "I needed you to know before I cut ties with you, that I love you. You're my best friend and I never want you to get hurt." You felt the tears forming.

"I love you too." He caresses your cheek and kisses them both before saying his final Goodbye. You were left standing there trying to decipher his words.

Eventually, you found yourself back where you and Sirius were playing with water. He was sitting on the edge of the fountain. He stood up when he saw you and your tearstained cheeks. He wrapped you in a hug.

"I'm glad you came." You whispered, hugging him back. He kissed the top of your head and told you that it was time to go. You went to James' house, you spent Christmas and summers there from then on. You never returned home. You slept in the guest bedroom and Sirius stayed with James in his room. Your parents sent you a letter telling you that you were no longer welcome at their house since you chose to associate yourself with bad company that was ruining their reputation. You didn't care much about it, knowing you had a better family now.

It wasn't until you graduated from Hogwarts that you figured out what Regulus was talking about. The war was getting more serious, Lily and James had to go into hiding, you and Sirius had joined the order, you became partners on missions, your bond growing more and more every day.

~~~

"There's too many of them Y/N we need to go back to headquarters!" Sirius yelled over the sounds of fighting. This was supposed to be a quick mission to find out where Voldemort was going to attack next. Hopefully saving a family and your best friends. But as always nothing went according to plan, you didn't drink enough poly juice potion that let you take the face of a death eater that you and Sirius had captured. You didn't bring the flask with you so in the middle of asking questions you transformed back into your true form, which then brought on the fighting.

"No! You go and get the others," A curse was sent your way, you blocked it. "I can fight them off in the meantime!"

"There's no way I'm leaving you with all of these death eaters!"

"Well I'm not going, we just need to catch one and get the information we need!" You continued to duel with Evan Rosier who was easily blocking all of your offensive spells. 'Shit' was all you thought. Six against two were not great odds and you were getting tired. Sirius made a point of retreating. If you were to leave now, you lost the element of surprise and they would be expecting you next time. That or they would retaliate. Great just great, all because you forgot to bring extra poly juice potion.

"Now is not the time to play hero, we can try another day." He took your hand and apparated you to a random alley in another part of London, but not before you were struck with a stinging spell.

"Fuck-" Tears stung in your eyes, Sirius was rushing towards you screaming your name.

The next thing you know you were waking up in a bright room. You assumed you were at St. Mungos. Memories of the moments before you were brought her played in your head. You slowly opened your eyes you turned your head to the sound of snoring. Sirius was sitting in a chair beside your bed. Despite feeling like shit you decided to throw a pillow at his head to wake him up. He sat up quickly, eyes wide staring at you.

"What the fuck?"

"Even when you're asleep you are annoying."

"I'm sorry I was up all night taking care of your dumb-ass."

"Apology accepted." You broke into a smile when you saw his face. He was so...serious. You could never let go of that joke.

"I'm not joking around, you were bad like so bad I thought I lost you."

"Siri-" You sat up in your bed.

"No Y/N I don't think you understand how serious this situation was. You had seizures and might've slipped into a coma. You've been in and out for days now." Your smile faded. "I-I thought I was going to lose you and I can't, not you." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"Sirius, we all get injured, it happens. It's apart of the job."

"Yes but you're different."

"How? How is it any different than if this were to happen to Remus or James or any of the others?"

"Because I love you!" You tried to process his words. He searched your eyes for any response but you were in shock. He spoke softly, "It's different from the others because I am in love with you. I have been for a while.

"You don't have to say it back, you probably don't-" You grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and kissed him.

"You're an idiot." You kiss him once more and looked him in the eyes and said "I'm in love with you too."

Tags: @divergirl99

[l4verq]

fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

-

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

-

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 13

The Darkling x Reader

This is more of a filler chapter, I wanted to write something where reader is in action🤭

As much as you loved to keep your personal and work life separate, the life at the Little Palace rarely allowed for such things. Rumors spread and tensions rose and much to your dismay the privacy of Aleksander's chambers only reached so far. Everywhere you went eyes followed you with a sense of interest, poking and prodding for the details of why the Deputy General had stayed in the Darkling's quarters, but more importantly why you raced out of there in the dead of the night, slamming every door possible with loud echoing thuds.

You ignored it all, you had work to do. Currently, you stood waiting in the courtyard for your horses, your recruited Grisha in tow. You had asked Fedyor for the best soldiers, ones who could be ruthless and loyal. Two Heartrenderers, an Inferni and the Squaller you now knew as Zoya waited behind you, shivering from a sudden gust of freezing wind.

The weather had gotten brutal over the past few days but this mission couldn't wait. You had gotten intel that somehow a Kerch merchant kidnapped Grisha while they traveled between camps and was keeping them in a home not far from the Palace, waiting to transport them across the Fold and use them as indentures. This angered you beyond means of explanation.

Your stableboy brought out your beautiful chestnut brown Arabian, and you quickly hoisted yourself up. You would all be going on horseback despite the weather, for a carriage would slow you down significantly.

'Zoya, I'll need you upfront with me, if it starts to snow heavily we'll clear the way.' You addressed the Squaller, patiently waiting as she got up on her horse and came to rest beside you, giving you a curt nod.

'Ready?'

You brought your horse into a quick gallop, cringing as the cold whipped past you.

******

Riding a horse was only comfortable for so long before your tailbone began to ache. It had been around an hour, but you were almost there as a small village came into view over the hill. You stopped your horse and put up your hand signaling the rest to stop too.

'We leave our horses just there, where the forest fades-' You pointed over to a place just to your right, where tree coverage would protect your horses from the cold. '-we walk the rest of the way. All intel pointed to the house being secluded, most likely right before the village grows more populated.'

The thing with these missions was there was never an exact location, which frustrated you and from the loud sigh Zoya gave, it frustrated everyone else too. You all slid off your horses and walked them to the forest, tying them securely to trees and beginning the walk, making sure to stay hidden behind the trees.

'What's the plan?' Asked the Inferni.

'I go in first, neutralize any threats I can see. Fedyor, keep to my side but be behind me. The rest of you, your main priority is to look for the Grisha. Don't kill anybody unless I tell you to.' You could see the surprised look on their faces and you knew why.

Even though Aleksander was extremely powerful and immortal, he never walked into a fight first, he was always the one to walk into a clear path, never cleared it himself. You did things differently, liked to be in complete control.

'What did the General say about this?' He spoke again.

You stopped and turned to him.

'If you have any issues with how your superior is commanding the missions, I suggest you turn around and learn how to be a soldier.' You snapped. Aleksander had these people wrapped around his finger. He stared at you with wide eyes and almost immediately his composure dropped, succumbing to your intimidation.

'I don't have time for this nonsense.' You scoffed and walked ahead to where Zoya was searching for the hideout.

'Is it that one?' She pointed to a cabin about with a man guarding the front door. Bingo.

'He's too far, I need to get closer.' Fedyor's raised hands dropped down to his sides. The other Corporalnik nodded in agreement.

You turned away from the group and concentrated on the man, feeling for his pulse and once you gathered the understanding, gently stopped The flow of blood, watching as he fell to the snow-covered ground with a thud.

'Don't take offense, I'm much older' You patted the Heartrenders on the shoulders and ran to the cabin. You saw Zoya let out a strong gust of wind to open the door, almost knocking it off its hinges.

Shouts erupted all around and shots were fired. You bled shadows into the hallway, rendering the Kerch men blind, hoping they wouldn't shoot in the dark. Simultaneously, you slowed the heartbeats you could make out, hoping the shouts died down. With luck on your side, the cabin turned silent and you retreated your shadows.

Three men dressed in fine vests lay slumped on the floor, a pistol or rifle in each hand. Fedyor automatically bent down to take the guns out of their hands and looked around for something to detain them with. You could hear the rest of your crew search the cabin, the loud squeak of the cellar latch opening. You too went to look around, opening all the doors that could open and listening for the beating of one's heart. Nothing.

You grew angry at the possibility of the intel being incorrect. You came to the last door on the far end of the home which was slightly ajar. You could feel a faint pulse and as you opened the door, ready to protect yourself when your eyes caught sight of a purple kefta. A Fabrikator? The figure didn't move from where they were standing. Their hands weren't bound and neither were their legs.

'Are you here with the Second-Army?' Her voice was quiet but steady.

'Yes. Come with me' You moved away from the doorframe and into the hallway once again to let the Grisha through.

'Who are you?'

'Deputy General, now come on we must get going' You heard Zoya indicate from the cellar that they had found the Healer.

She moved away from the wall and walked to you with her head down, showing no indication of being thankful for being saved. Doubt pooled in your stomach but you let it go. You returned to the main room and stared at the three men tied up in the chairs but quickly averted your eyes to Zoya who appeared perplexed and for once, you shared her thoughts. The Inferni walked out with the Healer behind him and what looked like a Squaller to his right but nobody said anything. What is going on?

'Is anybody injured?' You spoke first amongst the crippling silence. Nobody responded. Suddenly out of the corner of your eye you saw the Fabrikator take one of the disposed pistols and point it at you, not hesitating to take shots. You deflected as best you could, protecting the others from the bullets but quickly realized the girl was a Durast and wherever she wanted to shoot, she could definitely make the shot.

You looked around and to your surprise, your Inferni was lying on the ground as the Healer battled Zoya. Fedyor was seemingly pushed up against the wall by the Squaller. What in Saint's name is going on. These are not my Grisha. Your falter caused your shadow shield to break and you felt a cold bullet lodge itself in your thigh where your kefta peeked open.

The pain was too strong, clouding your mind and momentarily prohibiting you from accessing your powers. Saints this hurts.

You reclaimed your mind, letting the merciless Cut wander out to her. The Durast screamed in horror as her hand dropped to the ground. You ignored it, letting your eyes wander to the Squaller and knocking her out with a wind so strong it rattled the cabin. Zoya managed to subdue the Healer, tacking to the ground and holding her hands above her head. You shot out a tendril of onyx shadow and restrained her, relieving Zoya of the uncomfortable position.

You were beyond angry, you were fuming. You harshly grabbed at the Durast, slamming her against the wall by the lapel of her kefta, your thigh screaming in pain. You could feel blood pooling in your riding boots.

'What is this?!' You hissed

'You're not taking us back. You will not force us to be part of that army'

'You would give up the Little Palace for the dirty streets of Ketterdam' The venom rolling off your tongue was almost paralyzing.

'If I am to serve your kind then of course. You're probably stealing my power as we speak' The room stilled and your pain was forgotten. Zoya held her breath, even the Healer's stomach dropped.

Something in you snapped, and with nothing more than a flex of your fingers, the girl's neck snapped, her lifeless body tumbling to the ground. You didn't say another word. Zoya took that as a sign to tell the rogue Grisha they will be tried as traitors, and restrained them both, taking over from you.

Your previous words came back into your mind, Don't kill anybody. You shame Aleksander for merciless killing yet you just did the same. You broke your own rule because somebody offended you. You fool.

You wordlessly limped out of the cabin, completely forgetting the bullet wound on your thigh.

***

The ride back to the Little Palace was torturous. The two traitors had been subdued and riding with the heartrenderes. Your thigh was in excruciating pain and upon entering the gates, you had felt completely numb. As far as you knew, nobody knew you were shot. You had left them to deal with the mess in the cabin, too blinded by anger and arrogance to help and act as the leader. But now, the only thing blinding you was tiredness which you knew wasn't good.

Your horse diligently walked to the courtyard doors but you didn't get off, you couldn't. Your eyes had shut on their own accord. The tiredness washed over you again and your head spun.

You could faintly make out the sound of your name being called by Fedyor asking about the traitors, but you paid him no mind, focusing all your attention on trying not to fall off your horse. Your head bopped, but you fought to stay awake and pass the wave of tiredness so you could walk to the healers unit, but it was relentless.

You felt somebody pull the reigns of your horse and lift the cloak covering your leg, you didn't argue. Then the shouts started. You couldn't hear what they said as your head bopped again, once, twice, then you let go.

****

The immense itching sensation on your thigh was overwhelming. If that wasn't the reason for you waking up, it was the loud argument taking place at the foot of the bed.

You managed to open your eyes to see a Healer working on your leg, looking very focused. She spared you a sweet smile then went right back to work. Oh Saint's this is so itchy. It took everything in you not to itch the bloody wound. Thankfully, the raised voices dragged your attention away.

'We didn't know, she just left!' Fedyor.

'If you'd have gotten here 10 minutes later she would have been dead' Aleksander.

'We thought she wa-'

'I don't care. Leave before I do something I regret' The door opened and shut. You suspected the only people left in the room were you, the Healer and a fuming Aleksander. If he knew you were awake, he showed no indication of it. You didn't need to look at him to know he was brooding. Was he mad that I'm injured or that the mission went sideways?

Your hands clenched as the itching sensation got worse. You hated being healed, it was even worse than being injured.

'If you clench that fist any harder you'll break your knuckles' His voice carried no anger anymore, it was soft but had an edge of plea in it.

You didn't respond. You didn't know what to say. You hadn't seen him since the other night when you confronted him about Alina, and he made no moves to approach you since then.

'I'll give you a written report mission once I'm done here.'

'No need. Zoya took care of it already' As much as you had tried to convince yourself you disliked the beautiful Squaller, she had really come in clutch today. You were thankful.

'Alright, that's all I can do for now. You did lose a lot of blood, so take it easy for the next couple of days.' The young girl got up and left after you muttered a quick thank you.

'Are you ok?'

'We just got ambushed by rogue Grisha who had personal vendettas against me, what do you think' You sat up and rested your head against the headboard, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand.

'I should've cross-examined the intel. If I knew what they were I would've given you more reinforcements.' He leaned against the wall next to the door, sensing your hostility and keeping his distance

'I didn't need reinforcements. I was just caught off guard is all'

'You killed a-'

'Please, don't say it. , it wasn't my proudest moment.'

'Zoya kept it out of the report. Said she got caught in the cross-fire.'

I love you Zoya.

'Do you want me to leave?' His question made you freeze. On one hand, you were still angry about the other night and the comment he made, but on the other Aleksander always made you feel safe and his presence brought you peace.

'You probably have work to do. I do too anyway' You got up to leave the bed, but he quickly walked over to you, pushing you back down. You grabbed his hands out of reflex.

'Take it easy for the next couple of days. Is that not the advice you got?' He cocked a smile and traced a small pattern on your hand. You stared into his eyes and tried to find a reason to not fold into his embrace, you badly needed a hug, and he gives the best ones.

'Alright, but you can leave' Your answer surprised him, it surprised you too. Apparently subconsciously you still held a grudge against him.

'Y/N, Next time you get hit, please tell someone.' He whispered as he swooped down to kiss the top of your head lovingly, letting his lips linger for a moment. Just as you were about to give in and wrap your arms around him, his warmth left you.

'It won't kill you to take a day off.' He teased as he walked out the door.

I never got that hug.

Part 14

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added to the Little Witch taglist !!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

Here’s a masterlist where u can find previous parts of Little Witch 🖤

[amorgansgal]

Cruel, Cruel World - I've Been Living Too Long

So here's the first chapter of my Charlotte x Arthur fic, it was inspired by @rivetingrosie4's other idea suggestion during the TY Giveaway I did. I liked both so much and wanted to do an Arlotte story anyway, that I decided to write it as well as The Bitter End! It will cover their meeting and feelings for each other, but it's going to be a tale of unrequited love, so prepare yourself for angst and feelings!

You can read it on AO3 and The Bitter End on AO3 too.

Warnings: Depiction of skinning and gutting an animal.

The first time they meet she’s still crying. The overwhelming shock of grief that left her gasping for air and howling like a wounded animal is gone, replaced with tired sobs. Her back and shoulders ache from digging, there are blisters coming up on her fingers. Charlotte knows she must look a sight, her blouse is covered in filth, mud smeared across her face, tear tracks run down her cheeks and her eyes are red and sore.

She has no widow weeds, nothing suitable to wear for a funeral. The closest she can get to is a blue blouse and a grey-green plaid skirt. She hadn’t exactly planned on having a funeral. What young couple does? Why would she think that the beginning of their new, exciting and adventurous life would mean the end?

Charlotte thinks about the one funeral she attended a long time ago. A Great Uncle. They hadn’t been close so she felt no real absence or loss. Grief had been a pretty thing, played out with processions, quiet sobs, small handkerchiefs fluttering like white birds amongst a black sky. A neat, tidy performance. What would all those people think of her now, crawling in the mud, dirt etched into her fingernails, her belly aching with hunger, as she sobs hopelessly?

‘We’ll read books and we’ll grow vegetables like we did back home and we’ll learn as we go!’ Cal’s excitable words haunt her now. What absolute fools. It would take thousands of books, hundreds of years to learn what they needed to know. ‘We don’t need anything special. All we need is each other.’

She’s so lost in thought, feeling her heart beating traitorously against her chest, that she doesn’t even hear the man’s footsteps or the rustle of grass at his approach.

‘Er, you alright there?’ A warm, rumbling voice says.

She turns quickly and gets to her feet. ‘Who are you?’

He’s as tall and broad as an oak, wearing a light brown leather jacket and blue shirt. His soft brown hair touches the collar of his shirt and rough stubble lines his cheeks and jaw. The hat on his head is tipped back slightly, as though knocked by a branch, and she tries to gauge from his blue-green eyes whether he will hurt her. He looks rough, strong, doubtless he could injure her if he wanted to.

He raises his hands in surrender, though she has already seen the revolvers at his hips and the rifle slung across his back. ‘Oh, it’s okay, ma’am. I don’ mean you no harm.’

What does it matter if he does? The world has pulled every last bit of love and warmth away from her. If he knocked her into the ground, raped her, robbed her, killed her, would it really matter? She cannot feel anything anymore, her body won’t allow her to feel any more pain.

Charlotte watches him cautiously, his gaze steady and sure. No sense of danger within them and better still no false pity or assumed grief. He doesn’t know her; he isn’t going to pretend to feel her pain. For that she’s grateful.

‘Well, it makes no difference now. If an outlaw or wild animal doesn’t get me, starvation will.’ She says hollowly. She looks over to Cal’s grave and sees with shame that the flowers she left on it are streaked with mud. She thinks about the bouquets and wreaths that were given at her Great Uncle’s funeral. So lovely looking and well ordered, that they almost didn’t look like real flowers.

Charlotte picks up Cal’s flowers and does her best to wipe away the smears of mud. When she turns her head, the stranger is still there, watching her. There’s still no artifice in his gaze and almost without meaning to she finds herself speaking openly to this man.

‘We came out here from the city in search of a different life. Something true, something real. All this squandering and indulgence we wanted to strip it away, to find something authentic.’ She hates the words, she hates herself. If this man mocks her now, she wouldn’t blame him. What a stuck-up prig she sounds.

A sob gets caught in her throat and she almost chokes. ‘What a pair of fools.’

He looks away briefly, almost a little uncomfortable with her grief, but then returns his sea green eyes to her. He looks saddened for her, but more for the situation she’s in rather than anything else. He does not deride her dreamy notions of escape and adventure, he does not pity their foolishness, he won’t offer false sentiments of his condolences for her.

‘Is there a train station or a town I can take you to?’ he offers.

His offer is sensible, practical, reasonable. Everything she and Cal hadn’t been. Her head says she should take the stranger up on it, pack her things, head back to Chicago. But to what? To a family that will give her nothing but pitiful looks? To in-laws that will do the same but may whisper behind their hands about her? To a society that will look at a childless woman in her thirties and will shake their heads at the shame? Her heart tells a different story. Do this for Cal, do this to show the world you can, do this to show this strange man you aren’t afraid.

‘No, I can’t give up now. He wouldn’t want that. I… I can’t have it.’

She turns to the grave, looking at the rough wooden cross she had made from two planks nailed together. ‘I’m going to do this for you… Cal.’ The very act of saying his name aloud says a sharp wave of pain through her, but she bites back her sobs.

‘Well…’ the stranger murmurs. She begins to walk past him to go back to the little cabin Cal and her once called home. Her muscles are stiff and aching and she struggles to walk normally. ‘I’ll erm… I’ll leave you to it.’

The tight feeling in her chest grows as the restrained sobs seem to grow more and more, pressing against her throat and lungs, till her eyes burn. He’ll leave her, he’ll go and she’ll be alone to face this terrifying, looming pit of grief and hunger and pain and loss. Charlotte staggers and drops to her knees, the tears all too easily dripping from her face and the pitiful sob forces its way up. She hears his footsteps stop, but she can’t look back, she can’t watch this man go.

‘Damn fool,’ she thinks. ‘Damn, damn you, Charlotte. You don’t know this man; you can’t feel pain at his leaving. He would leave at some point. What would he do otherwise? Offer to stay with a grieving widow?’

‘Is there anything left for you to eat?’ The warm, gravelly voice asks.

She looks at him, wishing she could offer a real smile. He might be uncomfortable, but he’s kind. Unreasonably so to a widow he’s found in the cold grey afternoon who is acting like an idiot. Any normal man might just leave her to her fate, rolling their eyes at the ridiculous notion of her surviving.

‘Nothing.’ Charlotte manages to fight back her tears again and gets to her feet. ‘No, we didn’t know the first thing about hunting, we… couldn’t even catch a darn mouse. If you need any poisonous berries though, I’m a natural at finding those.’

The joke is a poor one and it sticks uncomfortably in her throat. Though the man does the decent thing and lets out a small murmur of amusement. She realises she is still holding the flower from Cal’s grave in her hand. The flowers are almost wilted, the petals sticky with mud. Tears burn in her eyes again; she can’t even do this part right.

‘Well… you ain’t goin’ to last much longer out here if you don’ know how to hunt. Come on,’ he says, gently cajoling her. She gazes up at him seeing his expression has softened considerably. ‘I’ll show you.’

She feels strangely reassured as she rises to her feet. ‘Alright… But you better not try any funny business. You know, I may be weak but I still know how to stand up for myself.’

‘Oh, I don’ doubt it,’ he gives her a quick smile. From anyone else it would be mocking, but it’s genuine from him. ‘Come on.’ He gestures with a hand for her to follow and Charlotte is surprised when she finds her feet moving towards the pathway.

She looks back to the grave. Despite the hunger the claws in her stomach, the grief that weighs heavily on her heart and the tiredness she feels from digging that cold, dark pit, a small glimmer of hope seems to blossom inside her. Perhaps in the moment of absolute loss and heartache, Cal has guided this man to her. Perhaps he was still looking out for her. Charlotte looks back at the man walking ahead, his reassuring smile that he turns on her so welcoming she could weep all over again.

Arthur walks through the woods, hearing the quiet, steady footsteps of the woman beside him. He finds himself still reeling at the thought of his eagerness to help her, perhaps the old Arthur would have turned aside. The old Arthur Morgan would have shaken his head and left the woman weeping by the grave. He doesn’t like to think if he would have done anything worse, but there’s no denying it, he did go here because of a robbery tip.

Old Arthur wouldn’t have time to teach her to hunt, to survive. But for all that his time is rapidly running out, it seems almost as though he has plenty of it. Plenty of time to offer help and aid instead of a cold shoulder of indifference. More and more he longs to help others. Perhaps it a longing for redemption, to do what little right he can do. A lifetime of sins isn’t easy to unpick and untangle, but he can at least balance out the bad with some good.

He glances at her, trying to see the woman underneath the streaks of mud on her face and the mask of grief her features have become. Dark hair that is straggly and unkempt, eyes swollen, her clothes plastered with mud.

‘Tell me, you ever skinned an animal before?’ He needs to know how much she knows; he doubts whether a city girl would ever need to learn such a skill, but he could be wrong.

‘No, but then again, I haven’t caught much of anything either.’

For all the comfort and privilege of her upbringing, he appreciates her humour and straight forwardness. ‘Well, you’ll need to know how to do both if you’re going to survive out here.’

‘I am all too aware,’ she replies grimly. ‘So where should we head for?’

‘Er… let’s try in the trees down there, near the river.’ He gestures the large body of water that spans the length of the train bridge. There must be something down there, even if just a rabbit or a duck. The woods are quieter, the shadows of the late afternoon lengthening. There is still a little golden light from the sun that reaches through the trees, making the grass and low-lying shrubs glimmer as though gold coins are being tossed amongst them.

‘What happened to your husband, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Arthur says. He remembers she talked bitterly about the poisonous berries she found and, as they pass a patch of bright pink oleander sage, he thinks perhaps he’ll also need to teach her which plants are good and which are deadly.

‘A bear got him… it was horrifying.’ Her voice sounds hollow and tired, he wonders when was the last time she slept properly or ate. ‘He survived but only for a couple of days.’

Arthur risks a glance at her, seeing her pale drawn face, the pain in her soft grey eyes. He thinks about reaching out and touching her shoulder, offering some comfort that way. But he quickly pulls his eyes back to the path and the forest floor. Any comfort he could offer would be a poor affair and doubtless she does not want it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says instead.

‘This was really his dream more than mine. I’d have hopped back onto the next train to Chicago if he’d said the word… but now… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain… I have to do this.’ The calm resolution in her voice makes him reconsider his first thoughts, that whatever he could show her would be of little use. That perhaps like many he has met in his travels, grown to both like and love, she would not survive. But maybe she will. Maybe that steely calm resolve will help.

She spots the rabbit before he does. He quickly dispatches it and uses the time, where he bends down to pick it up, to hide the fact that he’s somewhat impressed at her keen eyesight. He only sees it when the rabbit begins to hop about, trying to escape from him. The woman seems to see it when the thing is nestling quietly amongst the bushes. Her voice trembles when she hears the shot.

‘Oh! Oh… Good shot.’

He shuffles the rabbit from hand to hand, busying himself so she does not see how the small amount of praise has affected him. It’s ridiculous, absurd that he should find a hot flush creeping up his cheeks at the kindness of her words. Has he really been so starved of approval from Dutch that any slight, meaningless compliment makes his head spin?

She approaches him cautiously and he passes the rabbit to her. ‘Okay then, go on. Time to get your hands dirty.’

‘How do I… I mean… what do I do?’ she asks apprehensively.

‘Just hold the legs tight, and pull the skin away, quickly. Should come righ’ off.’

She tentatively holds the rabbit up, her face betrays no squeamishness, just nervousness at getting it right. Her right hand carefully grips the fur by the rabbit’s legs. She glances up at him and Arthur wonders if he should show her how to grasp it more firmly. But then she tightens her grip and begins to tug on the fur, till bit by bit she manages to remove the coat.

‘Oh my… it worked!’ she exalts, a rare genuine smile crossing her lips. He finds himself smiling back, a deep sense of pride running through him. He taught her that and she did it. She’s a smart woman. Her cheeks flush pink and she looks away back to the rabbit. Arthur clears his throat nervously.

‘And that is all there is to it. You did good.’

She lets out a soft sigh, almost of satisfaction. ‘I think I’ve seen enough blood for one day. Do you mind if we head back now?’

‘Sure, I’ll walk you back.’ He falls in step beside her, the rabbit slung over her shoulder and he thinks about warning her that the blood will stain her blouse. But he remembers that she has a thick coating of mud all over her clothes, so it’s unlikely that any of them will ever truly be clean again. ‘That should keep you fed for a few days.’

‘Oh yes, at least. Thank you so much.’

Arthur is glad she’s walking ahead of him, though he shakes his head a little and stares down at his boots. Has a death sentence made him a complete fool? A twig snaps under his foot and the woman glances back at him, she offers him a quick smile. The fearful, desperate look in her eyes is gone, she looks comforted.

‘I mean,’ he says, clearing his throat and eager to change the subject. ‘This really ain’t such a bad spot. You got a good water source. It’s remote, but you can survive here alright.’

‘I have no doubt that one can survive here… whether Charlotte Balfour can is a different matter entirely. You’ve probably lived your whole life in the outdoors.’

‘A lot of it, that’s for sure.’ So that’s her name, Charlotte. He repeats her name in his mind, keen not to forget it immediately. Should he offer her his? Would she recognise it with the law and Pinkertons drawing in ever closer? Would she draw back in fear or contempt if she did? It doesn’t feel like he can stomach a rejection right now. He faces so much of it back at camp he probably should be used to it. But is it any better to lie and hide his true self from her? He feels bad when he realises she has been speaking and he hasn’t heard a word, too caught up in his own fears and concerns. For a man who has once insisted he didn’t think much about anything, that is another thing that has changed.

‘…Cal spent his summers growing up at his grandparents’ lodge in Maine, but I get the impression they did more punting than hunting.’

‘Right.’

‘Ever since we got here, it feels like every step forward has come with a hundred steps back. People always talk about the simplicity of country life. But there’s nothing simple about any of this.’

‘I guess we only know what we know…’

‘Oh please, I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to adjust to a life of privilege and indolence in the big city.’ She smiles lightly.

‘I don’t know about that… it sounds awful.’

‘Oh, it is. A truly empty and boring existence… but an undeniably easy one.’

Arthur thinks about it. The notion of him being a banker or a shop owner sounds ridiculous. He’d be one of those many people he had robbed over the years and it almost tickles him to think on it. Would he be a well to do type? Someone who regularly smoke cigars and drinks brandy in the evenings, with a small wife and a family he’d occasionally see on weekends if the notion took him?

He glances at Charlotte as she climbs the hill, trying to picture what it would be like to be married to a woman like her. A city girl who has soft, delicate hands and has never skinned a rabbit. He almost scoffs aloud at the notion. Then scowls in thought.

Perhaps that was why he and Mary were destined to fail, he can’t imagine himself with a woman who hasn’t had a bit of rough living, who hasn’t skinned a rabbit or gone hunting. How he thought Mary was well suited to him he would never know. He wasn’t good enough for her. Not good enough for a woman who was better off living in cities, who could keep her hands soft and her skin unblemished.

They are approaching the apex of the hill, a simple wooden structure marking the entrance. Ahead two buildings. One looks to be more of a barn or shed, doubtless filled with tools and useful odds and ends. Outside the low wooden structure sits a wheel and a water trough. Arthur wonders if he should suggest Charlotte get herself a horse, but he doesn’t doubt the woman has thought about it already.

Ahead of him sits what could be a pretty cabin. He admires the slate tiling on the roof, providing far more protection than any thatch or wooden panelling could. Around the front door is a small porch, with a bench outside, practically ideal for any person to sit out on warm summer evenings and admire the sunset over the trees. Curling smoke drifts up from the chimney and he is glad that she seems to have enough wood to keep it lit. The path in front of the cabin is lined with stones and either side of the steps that go up to the front door are flowers, the tall blue ones he recognises from around the area of Little Creek River. A pretty place.

Once they reach the doorway, Charlotte pulls the door open slightly and then turns blocking the entrance. He can only see the wooden walls and maybe a chair from where he’s standing.

‘Thank you. That was the first time anyone’s done anything nice for us.’ She sighs at her mistake and raises the rabbit. ‘For me… since we got here.’ The recent loss is evidently still all too recent.

‘Well, nature provides, but she sure don’ always make it easy.’

‘That she doesn’t… I’d invite you in, but I’m dead on my feet, if you’ll forgive the pun.’ She manages another strained noise of amusement. ‘Please do call again some time, though. A good rest and hopefully I’ll be a new woman.’

‘You take care Ma’am.’ She lingers by the entrance and gazes at him for just a moment, then steps back into her house and closes the door. Arthur breathes out a sigh he had been holding and lowers his head. Then he turns on heel and begins to walk down the path. He whistles for his horse.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 XV

Warnings: noncon/rape, violence, trauma, allusions to torture.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The trial begins and takes it toll on those involved.

Note: Chapter fifteen already?! I dunno what I’m doing but it’s happening. Everyone it’s happening! Hahah. I’m having too much fun. Also call out to @lokislastlove​ because you know she fuels the fire too much.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your days formed a pattern. You woke as the king readied for the day ahead. When he left, Hal remained and kept you company. He helped you with your letters or read from you from his code of honour. You sewed or reclined on the chaise as you listened. Sometimes, you spoke of yourselves; the boy hadn’t the sense to be secretive but he was young and had little intricacy to his character.

When the king returned, he dismissed the boy. Often, he took his pleasure. You could do little but let him in hopes of keeping him pleasant; of avoiding a fight you couldn’t win. Other nights, he merely sat and thought, a few words offered on his inner turmoil. It was a peculiar, if not absurd, routine; the two of you in denial of the past as the present bore down on you.

A week passed. It felt longer and shorter all at once. Time seemed warped in your mind since your return to the palace. But you felt the changes inside of you. Your hunger grew insatiable and the nausea more persistent. Your emotions swelled and swayed between despair and anger; between buoyancy and blight. And as you were kept in better condition, your flesh began to soften and even after a few days, you noticed how you began to grow.

That day, you felt unready. You’d been awake for much of the night after a knock came at the door. Loki went to attend to his visitor and returned with jarring news. Thor had arrived in the capital and had been secured in his royal prison. His trial would commence within days.

Loki was restless too though he would not admit it. He lay beside you and feigned sleep. You stared up at the top of the bedpost and found it difficult to get comfortable. To think that Thor was just across the green in Boulder Tower. It was a trap meant for noble criminals, a historic landmark that had held traitors since the early days of the kingdom. You just didn’t believe it could hold Thor. Nothing could. In your mind, he was unstoppable.

You said little to the king before he left you that morning. His mind was on his brother, as yours was. Even Hal could not lift the gloom from you as he appeared with his usual smile. You ate with the boy and he helped you to the chaise as you grew weary from your fitful night. He sat at your feet and listened as you recited your letters.

“You remembered them all,” he beamed.

You smiled. It felt ridiculous but you were just as proud of yourself. You went through your letters every night after Loki was done with you. You repeated the sounds in your head as Hal had shown you and though your progress was slow, it was better than none.

You were silent as you struggled to keep your mind on the lessons. You hadn’t the energy to take up your needle and you found yourself fidgeting until Hal touched your ankle. You yawned and propped yourself up on your elbows.

“My lady, I can tell you are distracted,” he prodded.

“I am,” you dropped back and sighed. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t sleep and I cannot stop thinking of…” You couldn’t say the words and so you only shook your head.

“The prince?” He ventured. “I did see them escort him to the tower last night. They had him chained and… I never saw him look so worn.” Hal almost whispered, “And angry. I admit I did not sleep much, either.”

Your lip trembled and you covered your face with your arm. You might start sobbing if you thought of the prince too long. You could not do so without feeling his cold grip on your body, feeling his intrusions over and over, hearing his raw voice as he mocked you.

“Do you believe they can bring him to justice?” You asked. “That the king could ever rein in his own brother?”

“I know that the king is clever and that he would not proceed if he did not have some plan,” Hal said, “And I pray that Prince Thor is dealt with swiftly and rightly.”

You sniffed and flung your arm away from your head. You sat up and frowned. “Hal,” you said softly, “I wouldn’t think that the king feels much more for me than shallow want but… he might resent me for whatever becomes of his brother. Might resent the child inside of me.” You lowered your head, “I feel awfully alone and frightfully lost.”

“The king… no, it isn’t your fault,” Hal said. “You couldn’t--”

“Promise me,” you breathed and looked up meekly, “If this child is born and I am not kept around to see it grow, that you will look in on it. For me.”

“What do-- You are its mother, you will be there.”

“I am a peasant. I am a bed warmer, not a wife. I haven’t rights, even though I bear the seed myself.” You blinked away the tears, “I have no one else. You must see that in my absence, that this child is well.”

Hal gulped and nodded. His youth struck you and made you feel terribly for what you asked of him. You drew your legs down and sidled over to him. You touched his slender hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, Hal.”

“No, I think I am sorry.” He replied. “I haven’t listened to you. I forget…” He chewed his words, “I… sometimes, I find myself believing that you and the king, that you are his wife and that he is happy with you.” He inhaled deeply, “It is unfair of me to think of it as such because I know of all he’s done. It is only that I cannot understand it. I love the king but I do not love what he does.”

“I don’t understand it either,” you muttered, “I don’t think I can.”

He looked at you and his boyish cheeks paled. “How can you not? You are the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

You laughed, grimly. You touched his shoulder and retracted your hand as you stood. “Then, if you think me wise, listen to me. Do not try to understand the king or the prince or men like them. Only learn from them. Do not become them. Hal,” you turned back to him and clutched your hands, “Don’t let them take your decency.”

His eyes rounded and he rubbed his hands together as he thought. He hung his head. “My mother…” he spoke so quietly you could barely hear him, “She died birthing me. I never knew her and my father wanted me away so bad. The king, he has been the only constant in my life and I never questioned him before.”

“And you shouldn’t. There are things he can teach you. For all his cruelty, you can learn to be kind. For all his trickiness, you can learn to be honest. For all his sins, you can learn good deeds.” You swayed on your feet and hugged yourself, “And maybe one day, he will have the grace to learn from you.”

Hal’s eyes were glossy. He stood so quickly you hadn’t time to react before his arms were around you and his face was buried in your shoulder. Stunned, you slowly untwined your arms and hugged him in turn. You held him until he drew back, his face rosy with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accost you.” He rubbed his cheek.

“No, you didn’t,” you found it hard not to weep at the realisation that this boy had likely never been embraced thus. “Don’t apologise.” You drew him back and rocked him in your arms. “You’re a good boy, Hal, and you will be a great man.”

🐍

The prince’s trial commenced three days after his arrival in Boulder Tower. Loki didn’t touch you the night before and left without disturbing you. You woke, confused and alone. You spent much of your day over a basin, spilling your guts as the anxiety added to your sickness.

That night, the king remained silent. You caught him staring at you but he looked away quickly each time you did. You sat and sewed the hem of the nightshirt meant for your child. The tail was closed to keep the child’s legs warm and the collar was to be embroidered as a final touch.

You laid down but Loki did not. You fell asleep after some time but did not sink far into slumber. You awoke as a log clacked into the hearth and the king’s shadow retreated into the front chamber again. You rolled over and slept some more. You woke and rose to relieve yourself before peeking in on the king.

Loki had the nightshirt in his hands and traced the stitches with his thumbs. He grumbled to himself and replaced it where you’d left it hanging from a hook. He rubbed his eyes and sat heavily at the table. His hand balled into a fist and he hit the wood. You backed away before he could see you and hid yourself in the bed once more.

When the morning came, Loki still wasn’t abed. You heard the door and Hal’s voice permeated the early lull. “Your majesty,” he whispered and the king grunted, “It is time.”

You listened to the movement in the next chamber and the boy came to retrieve clean attire for the king. You pretended to doze as he did, your ears pricked as you tucked your chin down beneath the covers. The rustle of cloth and tinkle of metal followed.

“Weeks. It will be weeks.” Loki uttered. “Will I ever be done with my fool brother?”

Hal said nothing. He wasn’t expected to. He listened to the king’s qualms and went about his duty.

“Distract the woman,” he slithered, “Let her not think of Thor or the rest of my troubles. Birger will be at hand if you require him.”

The door opened and closed not long after. You realised that Hal was more than a placeholder, he was to keep you from asking questions. You didn’t want to dwell on Thor and all he’d done to you, but you hated to feel as if you knew nothing. Did you not deserve to hear of the fate of your worst tormentor?

You sat up and dressed in a dark blue gown. You washed your face from the basin and pulled on fur-lined slippers before you strode through to the front room. Hal read, a covered plate awaited you on the table. He bid you good morning and you sat and ate the hearty breakfast. It did little too soothe the ache of your stomach.

As the morning turned to noon, you took out the papers from the desk drawer and practiced your writing. Hal watched and helped you spell out simple words; table, chair, desk, your name, and his. When it came to Loki’s name, you dropped the pen and turned to glare at the boy.

“Tell me what you know of the trial.” You insisted.

“The trial?” He repeated, “Well, not much, I’ve been here with you, my lady.”

“Yes, but you’ve time without. You have friends in the palace. You are close to the king.” You tapped your fingers impatiently, “So tell me what keeps him so quiet.”

“I…” Hal sputtered and wrung his hands. “I don’t know if I should--”

“What do you think I’ll do? Surely I won’t say it to him. But… I am bored in here and kept ignorant. I deserve to know, for my peace of mind. Don’t you think?”

Hal huffed and fidgeted as he tried to come up with some argument. “Promise you won’t say a word.”

“I haven’t a particular urge to face the king’s wrath,” you said, “So?”

“The trial’s only just open,” he straightened the stack of parchment as he spoke, “Witnesses will not be heard for at least another week. As of now, they’ve only sworn in the prince and begun to review the evidence.” Hal poked his cheek with his tongue, “I had it from one of the servants in attendance that the prince threatened to choke each judge with his bare hands and lastly, the king.”

“He threatened them? At his own trial?” You gasped.

“He is angered that they took his wife and child. He swears he is framed and that the people will not let him be convicted on false charges.” Hal looked at you, “And as they began to present the evidence, he grew angrier. He attacked a guard and the session was ended early.”

You gaped at him. “Do you think he is right? That the people will harry behind him?”

“Who knows? He was king once but the council wasn’t entirely distraught to hear of his resignation. And King Loki has since tidied up much of the mess he left.” Hal scratched his chin, “There will be some loyalists but enough to save him? I hope and think not.”

You mulled over the revelations. Loki’s detached manner made more sense, and you admitted, was a blessing. You could not handle both the stress of the prince’s proximity and the king’s unyielding desire.

“I hope not, as well,” you said at last. “I won’t mention any of it to the king.”

🐍

Loki said less and less as the days passed. Some nights, he slept beside you, others you found him snoring in the chair as the fire dwindled. Aside from Hal, you felt terribly alone. It was as if you were living with a ghost. You might not long for his attentions but you were troubled by his silence.

A week after the trial began, you were woken by a sudden yank on the blanket. Loki stood by the bed and stared down at you. He lifted a brow and beckoned you with two fingers. He turned as you sat up and retrieved a stack of clothing from the low bench. He dropped it beside you and crossed his arms.

“Get dressed. You will break your fast and come with me,” he ordered.

You lifted the tunic, a dull grey embroidered with silver. The trousers were black and thick, and the boots were too big for you. “And covered your head,” he tossed a cap at you, “Try not to sway as a lady would.”

“What? I don’t--”

“Do as I say, mouse, all will make sense soon,” he backed away and left you in the flickered of a single lamp.

You pulled on the tunic, loose enough for your stomach and tied up the breeches as well as you could. You slid into the boots and tucked the cap into your pocket. You found the king chewing on a rasher and sat to eat with him. His long fingers were restless between bites and his forehead wrinkled in thought.

When he finished, he wiped his mouth and hands and took the cap from your pocket. He pulled it over your hair and gave you a dark cloak. “Keep your head down,” he led you to the door and you found Hal waiting in the corridor. “Go with the boy.”

“I don’t--”

He shushed you and pointed a single finger at you. “Wait. We will discuss after.” He snipped. “Keep quiet and don’t make a scene.”

Confused and too tired to resist much more, you followed Hal away from the king. You were nervous that you might not return to the chamber. That perhaps you might be taken some place where you would see only your own shadow. Had the king finally decided to be rid of you? The thought was not entirely dreaded but you would hate to be confined further.

As you were led out into the snowy yards, you were further disoriented. Hal helped you up into a carriage and sat across from you silently. You asked where you were going and he only shook your head as he gave a helpless look.

You pulled up outside a pillared facade with ancient statues. You hesitated as you descended the step onto the ground. It was the theatre. The trial was being held there, as Loki said, and you realised what was happening.

“What?” You grasped Hal’s wrist. “No, I can’t-- the prince--”

“Is restrained. By chain and by guard.” Hal assured. “He won’t even know you’re here, my lady.”

You shuddered and clung to Hal. “Why am I here?”

“To see. To listen.” He said cryptically. “I won’t leave you, alright?”

You nodded and braced yourself. You let go of him and followed him through the wide doors. You were guided up a flight of narrow stairs and into a balcony meant for the aristocratic patrons of the stage. You sat beside hall on the fine bench and peered out between the curtains.

The council members streamed in and filled the seats along a dais and the judges sat on the stage, a single stool at the centre for the witness. The doors opened to let in the audience, both common and noble, and they filled the benches meant for purveyors of a much less grave show.

The jury entered next, followed  by the king, and order was called by the judge who sat at the center of the triarch. A hush went over the buzzing crowd and a staunch and dire tension filled the air. 

Finally, the prince himself was shown in with chains at his hands and throat. He was sat in the box before the rows of benches to face his crimes. He was seething though his appearance bore evidence of his exhaustion. You reached to hall and squeezed his hand.

Loki sat with his head high as the judge began the proceedings and handed it over Lord Mariton, who was chosen to prosecute the case.

You weren’t entirely certain of what was going on and you leaned forward as you listened. Commoners were seen in the lower courts and often the disputes were over property and swiftly cycled through. You had never seen anything so… big. The scene could not be anything less than historic.

“The court will proceed from the last day’s activity. We continue down our list of witnesses and having heard from servants and lesser, we would call on our more reliable voices this day. We would call to the stand a conspirer in the prince’s plot.” Mariton strode along the edge of the stage, “One Magnus Dorson. The king’s former guard.”

Your breath caught deep in your chest and your head swam. You gripped Hal’s entire arm and let out a pathetic whimper. The boy touched your hand. “My lady, I’m here.”

“How-- When?” You gasped, “He--”

You gaped down from the balcony as the doors beside the stage opened and a silhouette appeared. The former guard entered with his head down between two others. His broad shoulders slumped like a beaten dog and he limped heavily as he was shoved up the steps of the stage. He was forced into the witness box and sat in the chair with a thump.

Even from a distance, you could see all that had been done to Magnus. His eye was swollen, his lip split, and half his face was off-kilter. You barely recognized him but it could be no other. You brought your hand to your mouth as tears trickled from your eyes.

You couldn’t focus as Mariton swore in Magnus and you shook your head as you felt it hard to breathe. Your eyes kept bouncing between Magnus and Thor. The prince was visibly shocked at the site of his accomplice as the other man seemed barely able to see through his swollen eye.

“You served the king for how long?” Mariton began lightly.

You stared at Magnus. Waited for that voice, the one that haunted you, and when it came, it was brittle and broken. You looked at the king. He turned and met your gaze, though likely he could not see you past the shadows. He nodded and for an instant, his lips curved.

“Since his father’s reign. Almost five years.” Magnus hissed and shifted in pain.

“And when, in those five years, did you decide to betray him?”

Magnus sniffed and choked. He cough and a splotch of red spattered across his hand. He shook his head and swallowed.

“I never wanted-- The prince came to me. He said that he required an ear in the king’s presence. He said he was kept from courtly business though he only gave up the crown, not his nobility. I thought it harmless--”

“But you divulged royal business to the prince? The king’s business.” Mariton insisted.

“I… I did but--”

“And when the prince used this information and decided that he would reclaim the throne he willingly gave up on admittance of his own incompetence, you did not warn the king?”

Magnus coughed again. “No.”

“In fact, you left the palace on the Prince’s orders to carry out his will? His conspiracy?”

“Y-yes,” Magnus answered and kept his head down.

“So you admit your treason.”

“I-- I do,” Magnus’ voice crackled and he winced as he raised his shackled hands to touch his face. “I did it. I betrayed the king. I intended on handing over his throne to his brother. And the prince…” He shuddered, “The prince wanted a war.”

The audience broke out in a chatter. The king sat stoically and the jury huddled to whisper. The judges looked to each other and shouts echoed off the high ceilings.

“Traitor!” A shoe flew from the rabble and hit the prince. “Cunt!”

“Order!” A judge cried out and hit the floor with his staff. “Order!”

You covered your face at the chaos. Your mind erupted as you rocked and tried not to think of those dark days. Thor roared back at the maddened audience and you sobbed. Your entire body was racked with your dismay as you leaned against Hal.

“They can’t-- They can’t know I’m here! They’ll hurt me!” You whined into his tunic, “They’ll hurt me. Hurt me. Hurt…”

Hal rubbed your back and hushed you and he cooed in your ear. “My lady, they cannot. They will not. They are chained. They are caught.” He whispered. “Please, my lady, breathe.”

“Take me away,” you begged. “Take me away now.”

The boy held you and carefully helped you to your feet. You clutched his arm as you feared you would stumble and he took you back down the stairs. He ushered you to the carriage and you stumbled inside. He shut the door behind him and sat with you on the bench as you covered your face and continued to weep.

He hit the ceiling of the carriage and it jerked as the wheels groaned and churned through the slush. Hal touched your shoulder and rubbed your arm as you continued to blubber. You barely noticed the city as it passed you by. You weren’t there; you were in that room below the butcher’s shop, waiting for them.

[clnriswood]

DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Four

a/n: so glad to be back! things start getting a bit more, uh, intense -- but stay tuned for p5 bc it’s about to get vv steamy hehe.

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret  @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive

X

If matters had been bad between Draco and the girl before, it was safe to say that the strength of their bond now was at an all time low, underground, even. On his end, she was a thieving traitor who was joined in Potter’s ranks against him, and in hers, he was a treacherous snake who was incapable of trust and had been solidified into his cruel habits. Their last encounter, at quidditch tryouts, had been the worst yet. It went something like this: Draco, as he left the field of Slytherin’s recently finished tryouts, jeered some nonsense about “any old fool who can swing a bat (Y/N played the role of beater) being allowed onto the team,” which was met by a swift reply from Y/N, who suggested cooly that Draco’s groin should be her bat's next target. This had led to quite the eruption of bickering between both of the teams, one which Madam Hooch, who was entirely fed up with both houses, abruptly put an end to. After that, the girl simply rode the wave of Draco Malfoy induced rage, and during the tryouts, envisioned the barrelling quaffles to be differing versions of his arrogant head. Shockingly, by an act of God, it had worked. Or, not really. Really it was months of training with Cedric over the summer that won her a place on the team, but, well, the rage certainly helped. And yet, despite it all, a nagging truth scratched relentlessly at the back of her brain. And this truth was that somehow, despite it all, Draco Malfoy was the thing of which she was apparently most attracted to.

“Whaddya reckon?” the voice of Ronald Weasley interrupted the girl’s drifting thoughts.

She and her three Gryffindor comrades had just escaped to the side of the Great Lake following the end of their first week of classes. Desperate to get the last of the sun before the soon to come autumn leaves and grey skies, the quartet had stripped free their thick robes and laid out a crimson picnic blanket upon which they sat surrounded by goods. Around them, other Hogwarts students of every year had done the same. With bellies now full, they’d thrown themselves happily back, their chins all turned towards the bright blue sky. As it was, Ron sat beside Hermione, who sat beside Harry, who sat beside Y/N. As they watched the ginger, he jovially made a stream of rainbow colored bubbles fly forth from the tip of his weathered wand.

“What’re you going to kill Voldemort with multi-colored bubbles?” Harry choked on the last pumpkin pastie with a snort.

“Harry!” Hermione scolded, poorly attempting to conceal her own giggles.

“Laugh all you want,” Ron said, “some girl is going to fancy this, I’m telling you.”

Suddenly Hermione wasn’t laughing at all, and she’d gone quite pink, the girl noticed. Next to her, Harry turned into his elbow to cough, which was really just an attempt to cover the big stupid grin he was wearing. The girl chuckled and batted him away with the back of her hand. He winked in reply.

“I want to go for a stroll,” Harry beamed suddenly, sitting upright in a flash.

“Lovely, shall we come?” Hermione began to stand.

“No!” he protested quite loudly. Then, “sorry, just want a quick chat alone with Y/N, if you don’t mind.”

The girl arched a brow at the jet black haired boy beside her, reluctantly standing and throwing Hermione a confused stare as she padded slowly alongside Harry and away from her other friends. The boy drifted farther from the patch of red blanket and closer to the water’s edge, where the grass was long, green, and swampy around their shoes. For a moment, the girl caught sight of one of the Giant Squid’s long tentacles, and she watched as it went sweeping against the surface of the black water and sending ripples across its inky surface.

“What is it then?” she said when they had gotten far enough away.

“What is what?” Harry said stupidly.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she replied gruffly.

“Ah,” Harry scoffed and shook his head, “just said that so we could give Ron n’ Hermione some time alone together.”

“Oh?” the girl answered quizzically.

“Totally fancies him,” he continued excitedly, “not that she’s ever going to admit it, mind you.”

The girl felt her lips split, “really?! I did always wonder… though I couldn’t be sure.”

“I’ve spent the last five years watching those two fight, believe me, I am,” he wrinkled his nose with a grin. “Duck,” he added.

Without hesitation, the two friends bent their knees, covering their heads as the Giant Squid sent a tentacle soaring into the air and slapping the water, making millions of airborne droplets come cascading over them. Knowing the system well by now, the girl snapped her wand up, creating a clear arc above herself and Harry. The dazzling white stream of magic sheltered them safely from the Squid’s tidal wave, repelling all liquid outwards from its top. From around the shore, the sound of unsuspecting student cries of surprise echoed loud in reply.

“Anyways,” the girl stood cooly, like nothing had happened, “I assume this means I shouldn’t be saying anything of it to Hermione?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, “she’d throw herself into the lake if she knew we knew.”

The girl laughed. He wasn’t wrong.

For a few minutes they walked, quiet as they enjoyed the hot sun on their skin. Behind them, though she only snuck a quick glance, Ron and Hermione were bickering; apparently Hermione had made bigger bubbles than Ron and he’d taken it as a personal attack. The girl shook her head, letting the moment pass her and the fresh air flow through her lungs before she spoke again.

“Harry,” she started nervously, “there er, is something I actually wanted to speak to you about.”

He stopped walking, sinking his hands into the pockets of his pants as he sighed deeply with understanding, “you mean you causing a row with Malfoy?”

The girl froze in her tracks, “you knew about that?”

“Well apparently you weren’t too quiet about it,” he smiled half-heartedly. “I just… don’t understand what you were doing with him in the first place,” he admitted.

The girl felt her throat go hard, “dunno that myself, really.”

He blinked at her with his big green eyes, awaiting her explanation patiently.

“I- I just,” she started unconfidently, pausing to think. “I’d noticed there was something off about him. I just wanted to see what it was about.”

“And you think Malfoy’d tell you if there was?” Harry said, voice thick with doubt.

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “I know because he -- well, because he kind of told me so.”

Harry’s mouth dropped, “he did?”

“Yes,” she repeated, feeling her face prickle with warmth.

“So what does he,” Harry began, bewildered, “does he fancy you or something?”

“No!” the girl blurted, tucking her windswept hair behind her ears and finding her eyes suddenly glued to the muddy ground. “Of course not!”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry realized, ignoring her completely as he came quickly to an understanding of how this newfound information could play to his advantage, “and what did he tell you?!”

“Erm,” she gave a weak sigh, eyes back on him, “he said he knew I was working with you and told me to shove off, basically.”

Harry’s expectant smile faltered, “oh.”

“Yeah,” she gave him a reluctant glance.

“But you’re not,” he said confusedly.

“Yes I know that,” she echoed.

“Oh,” he said again.

Harry began walking once more, letting his thoughts brew a little before he continued. The sun’s rays were hitting his glasses hard, sending bright beams of light refracting off of them. The Gryffindor chewed his lower lip thoughtfully and gave his head a scratch.

“So then, if that was all, what was it that you’d wanted to tell me?” he said at last.

“I wanted to ask you how I could help,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and keeping her eyes forward on the nearing edge of the lake.

“You want to help me?” he asked.

“Course,” she shrugged. “I still believe he’s off, or up to something at least. And you seem to be the only other one around here who's noticed it, I’ve heard.”

“You’re right,” he affirmed, “and given that Malfoy’s got some sort of soft spot for you or something, I bet you’d have more luck than me finding out what exactly that is.”

“Er, yes,” she voiced hesitantly. “Only, I think I stomped the soft spot out when I called him a fool,” she said. “And he seemed to have taken it a bit personally.”

“Has he?” Harry said with mock surprise.

“You know he spat on me in the hallway the other day?!” she recalled suddenly. “I mean, literally spat on me. Him and his goons were by the courtyard when it happened,” she recounted sourly.

“Ah, the Malfoy rain,” Harry grinned knowingly.

“The what?!” she gaped.

“Ron calls it that,” Harry continued without hesitation, “because it’s like rain… but from his mou-”

“Disgusting!” she gave her friend a shove, making him cackle.

“I’m surprised this is only your first time,” he chuckled, “I’ve been getting the treatment since my first year.”

“That’s foul,” the girl curled her lip.

“Yes, well,” Harry shrugged, unfazed.

The boy-who-lived adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his skinny nose before stopping at the water’s edge. The surface had gone completely still, making the water look like nothing more than a black sheet of paper. It was beautiful, she thought. Harry stared too, before turning back to her, his smile gone and his face hardened with seriousness.

“Y/N,” he started softly and gave a stiff sigh. “Whatever he says, or whatever he does, that soft spot is still there. Vulnerability like that doesn’t just go away, y’know?” he said. “If he had it before, he can get it again.”

The girl looked at him. There seemed to be some kind of knowing in his green eyes. It made her heart lurch nervously.

“And how might that happen?” she asked.

Harry shrugged, looking her dead on, “you’ll just have to make him get it back.”

. . .

“Well,” she tried, “how do I look?”

The girl stood before a large gold framed mirror in her room, her other self glaring steelily back at herself from within the reflective surface. It was late in the afternoon now. Yolky orange light rays seeped from the half-circle windows that encircled the girl’s bedroom and filled the space with a hot haze. One window, with its peeling paint flakes, had been forced open, providing a comforting breeze and the smell of fresh grass to the dormitory room. The circle shaped room, with its exposed brick walls, thick cream carpets, and vine stuffed walls, seemed like the nicest place for her to be at the moment. But, with Slughorn’s unfortunate dinner party approaching at an alarming rate now, the girl was soon to depart and had found her stomach turning faster and faster the closer her deadline approached. Truthfully, she’d take reading an old book whilst tucked sleepily away into her thick sheets over this charade any day of the week. And, judging by the look on her face, this feeling wasn’t one she was successfully concealing. The girl curled her fingers over her faded wooden dresser, sucking in a slow breath as she reluctantly brought her glittering eyes back up to the mirror before her.

She wore a flowing sheer cream dress, one with long sleeves and little patterns embroidered into its circumference. Wanting to stay casual, she’d thrown on her usual scuffed black boots, but swapped her school socks out for ruffle trimmed white ones that peeked over her shoe’s tops. Her hair was in its usual messy state atop her shoulders, too. Behind her, Hannah Abbott stood with her arms crossed, her head tilted as she looked her friend over.

“Erm-” Hannah started unsurely.

“Oh no,” she said, turning around with wide eyes, “is it that awful?”

“No!” the blonde assured her with a wave of her hand. “Just, well, come here.”

The girl stepped timidly closer, nervous as her friend procured her wand, looked her over, and then gave it a flourish. First, the girl’s hair started magically flattening, before finding itself lifting dreamily from her shoulder tops and into a thick bun, one with a huge loose french braid on its side, and with stray pieces dangling at the front to frame her face. Smiling with like, Hannah then stuck her tongue cheekily out and shortened her friend’s dress a noticeable chunk of inches, so that it stopped flirtatiously at the tops of her legs.

“Oi!” the girl laughed in embarrassment, throwing her hands nervously over her front.

“Oh loosen up,” the blonde giggled, looking pleased with her work.

“I’m rarely out of robes,” the girl huffed, turning back to the mirror.

“Exactly,” her friend said from over her shoulder. “You only get so many chances to show those legs off to Cedric Diggory.”

“WHA-” the girl clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, spinning around. “HANNAH!?”

“Oh please,” Hannah said, sinking down onto the plush yellow quilts that were draped over her bed. “Like I haven’t seen him trying to sneak a peak before.”

She felt her face go red quite suddenly, “excuse me?”

Hannah smirked, leaning against one of the four oak posters that closed in around her bed. She twirled her hair around a finger with glee as she blinked slyly at her friend. Wordlessly, she closed her eyes and waved her friend off towards the Common Room.

“Well,” she shrugged, “go on then!”

The girl glared daggers at her unattentive friend as she cautiously approached their room’s door frame. She stuffed her hands in her dress pockets nervously, her feet feeling as if they were sinking through the now goo-like floor with every step. The green vines that trickled down the large woody door waved their tails in an encouraging goodbye.

“Well,” the girl decided with a smile, “I’m going to throw up.”

“At least wait til’ you’ve gotten out of our bedroom,” Hannah said, leaning back in bed with a sigh. “I’m not cleaning up your vomit.”

She snorted, shaking her head as the door slammed tight behind her, and she went tapping quietly down the stone staircase and out into the Common Room. There weren’t many students around, as many of the non Slug Club members had the luck of eating their normal meals and going about their usual after-dinner-weekend plans, unlike her. Cedric was already awaiting her however, and he looked incredibly dashing in his white button up shirt. The shirt was peppered with little black dots, and had its first two buttons undone, so as to expose just a hint of the god-like collarbones Cedric was sporting. His gold streaked chestnut hair was stood just a little straighter than usual, like he’d attempted to neaten it before giving up shortly thereafter. Still, it was quite cute.

When he saw her, Cedric’s face became the sun, his lips splitting into that dazzling smile, and dimples coming to life across his lightly bronzed skin. From above her, one of the hanging plants whistled, not for the first time that year, she noted.

Cedric tilted his head towards the creature, “yeah, what it said.”

The girl chuckled, off put by the flattery and finding it hard to keep looking at the deathly attractive boy before her.

“Ced,” she protested bashfully, worming her fingers nervously around in her dress pockets.

He smiled wider, if possible, and put his own hands timidly into the pockets of his black pants.

“Sorry,” he chuckled warmly, letting her come to him. “You look lovely.”

They met in the centre of the Common Room. With the sun practically set now, the only light was from the flickering of the massive fireplace’s flames, which cast shadows over the hollows of her friend’s cheeks, jaw, and lips. For a moment, neither said anything. Instead, they just looked at each other. It was Cedric who cleared his throat first.

“Erm,” he said, “shall we?”

“O’course,” the girl responded awkwardly, trailing Cedric out of the Common Room and into the deserted halls.

The two were quiet as they made their way around corners and over moving staircases. Neither spoke, or looked at each other, really. Halfway up a moving staircase, Peeves had attempted to toss a water balloon onto the two, but Cedric stopped the thing midair and sent it flying back at the ghost, who cackled as it went through his stomach and splattering against a wall. The two friends couldn’t help but give a laugh there. One of the portrait’s, which was just nearly missed, screamed defiantly at the friends in protest. Then, about a minute later, Cedric and Y/N turned into the corridor outside Slughorn’s, where they ran into none other than Harry and Hermione.

“Hullo,” Harry grinned.

“Mate,” Cedric scrunched his nose with a smile, the two boys clapping a hand together in greeting.

“Y/N!” Hermione beamed, “you look lovely! You too, Cedric.”

Hermione was wearing a pale pink blouse, Harry a black button up. Both looked nice for the occasion. Also, both looked a little nervous.

“You as well,” Cedric and the girl replied in unison.

Hermione smiled, mumbling, “nothing really,” or something like that.

Harry, uninterested, had jerked his head towards the girl, “I take it you’re not interested in being here, either.”

“How’d you know?” she chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

“Well, me n’ you are only here because Slughorn fancies our dead parents-” he began.

“Harry!” Hermione gaped, slapping her friend upside the head so as to shut him up.

The girl let out an explosive cackle, going weak in the knees with laughter, “he’s not wrong you know.”

Harry rubbed his head as he flashed his teeth at her and raised a hand for her to slap hers against. She did, making the two only laugh harder.

“You two are awful,” Cedric said with alarm, gaining a supportive nod from Hermione.

It had seemed that the group’s commotion had drawn the attention of Professor Slughorn, who poked his head out from around the entrance of his room. He wore, on his body, a quite excessive frayed brown blazer with his black pants, and on his face, an almost terrifyingly supportive smile. When he smiled in such a way, his forehead creased with a set of expressive little lines, and he looked somewhat like a happy frog, she thought.

“Dear boys and girls, you’ve arrived!” he declared loudly.

“We have,” Harry echoed in an obvious reply.

“Come in! Do come in!” Slughorn chuckled joivally, ushering his students into the room he’d cleared for them.

It was an interesting sight to see. In the middle of the room, a huge polished oak table had been set up, around which just over a dozen large and eloquently carved wood chairs stood. Students of every house had gathered; notably, Blaise, one of Draco’s henchmen, and Neville, their friend. The table had been filled with large glass mugs, which were topped to their brims with seven massive scoops of decadent chocolate ice-cream each, atop which were further chocolate shavings. Neville, who looked just about ready to faint, sighed in heavy relief as his friends pulled aside chairs next to his own. Instantaneously, Slughorn began his unsurprising fire of questions. First he spoke to two dark haired Ravenclaws the girl was unfamiliar with, then the boisterous Marcus Belby, and finally he landed his beady little eyes on Hermione.

“My parents are dentists,” Hermione blurted nervously when Slughorn asked of her.

The girl slid her mug forward, dipping her silver spoon uninterestedly into the dessert and swirling it around dismissively. Beside her, Cedric was taking polite tastes of his desert, and, beside him, Harry was uncomfortably shoving spoonfuls worth of ice-cream down his throat. The girl snorted, elbowing her friend, who snapped his gorgeous hazel eyes to hers, his lips crinkling into a little smile as he shifted his attention over to Harry. Cedric nudged Harry, who lifted his chocolate covered face up slowly.

“What?” he said defensively, his voice low so as to be unheard as Hermione continued speaking.

“Is that a dangerous profession?” Slughorn asked the frizzy haired brunette.

“Erm… no,” Hermione said awkwardly.

Everyone, including Cedric, stared at her in awkward silence.

“What’s a dentist again?” Cedric said through the corner of his mouth.

On either side of him, Harry and Y/N tried miserably to stifle their giggles. Luckily for them, a perfectly timed interruption shifted the attention away from the two, and instead to Ginny Weasley, who had just entered the room sporting a cute black dress and some unfitting red eyes. Harry scooted loudly back in his chair, emitting a deathly screeching sound that matched perfectly with the absolute silence of the room. Hermione put a hand over her mouth, a smile spreading beneath her fingers.

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” Slughorn beamed, “come in!”

“Sorry,” she replied through a mumble, “not usually late.”

Harry let out a loud grunt and scooted back forward in his chair as if unaware he’d done anything odd. The girl looked first at the-boy-who-lived, then to Ginny, her brows furrowing in confusion as her eyes travelled. Next she looked to Cedric, who mirrored her expression, and finally to Hermione, who flickered her eyes indicatively at the two Gryffindor’s before turning her nose back to her food.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn said loudly, refocusing his attention once again to the girl.

Her eyes darted forwards to her professor, “yes, sir?”

“Your parents,” he said, “tell me a bit about them, will you?”

It had been expected, of course. But she’d dreaded it nonetheless.

“I’d rather not, sir,” she tried.

“Please,” the old man quite literally begged.

“Uh, well erm, she started awkwardly, not knowing where to begin. “They both died when I was quite young-”

“Yes, actually about that,” Slughorn fed in, “how was it your father passed? There was little heard of him after he joined You-Know-Who’s ranks.”

The girl was quite taken aback. How bold of him. Actually, how rude.

“Er,” she blinked frustratedly, “an explosion, I think.”

“Go on,” the professor encouraged.

Everyone, not just Y/N, it seemed, wasn’t comfortable with such a discussion. What was the point of asking such things? How did this add a shine to his little collection of trophy students? Mostly, though, how was it that the man was so oblivious to his indiscretion?

“The Ministry notified me about it when it happened. He took out a bunch of muggles with himself, they said. Only, they didn’t do much reporting on him because...”

“Because?” Slughorn persisted.

“Sir-” she tried again.

But the professor looked absolutely carefree as he took a large spoonful of ice cream in with a wave of his small chubby hands, “do tell us, Y/N, we all want to know.”

The eyes of every student in the room were glued eagerly to her, whether in mild interest, discomfort, or both.

The girl felt her whole body heat up. She’d never disclosed the second part of that story with anyone before, let alone a whole damned Slug Club. Flustered, she blinked rapidly, turning her head left, right, and back left again, as the left was where the door was. And by God, did the door look good at that moment. She could feel the blood rushing to her ears, her feet preparing to bring her to a sprint, a nervous glimmer soak her brow, and yet, just as she’d decided to stand and run, something stopped her.

Beside her, the girl felt one of Cedric’s large hands snake under the table and take a reassuring hold of her wrist. It caught her off guard, the way he’d so swiftly done it. The boy’s long fingers dipped straight into her own, first landing on her wrists for a soft little rub, then sliding right up into her palms, where he closed his fingers in on her own. His hands were wam. Warm and rough. This settled her hard beating heart, if only for a moment. And that was all she needed.

“Sorry professor,” she responded flatly, “but no.”

Her eyes scanned those of her classmates more confidently, and most all of them glittered back proudly in reply. Across from her, Slughorn released a disappointed sigh, before continuing on his little train of questions and peppering Cedric with his next rounds of interrogation. Of course, Cedric was as cool, calm, and collected as ever. The boy put on his most handsome and proud lopsided smile as he answered the professor’s questions of -- well, honestly she wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. For while he spoke, Cedric had released her fingers and found himself absentmindedly tracing the patterns on his friend’s hand, not that anyone could have known. And she, incredibly flustered, but more comforted than anything, let him. Only when dinner ended did the boy retract his touch.

. . .

“Excellent,” Harry declared, the second they’d stepped foot outside of the dungeon. “You were excellent, Y/N.”

The jet black haired boy gave his friend a huge slam of appreciation to the back. He, Cedric, Hermione, Neville, and Y/N were making their tired escape from Slughorn’s party. Together, the group made their defeated and slumped ascent out of the dungeons.

“Thanks, Harry,” she half laughed and half grumbled. “I couldn't have done it on my own.”

Her large bright eyes flickered up to Cedric’s glowing ocean ones, and they twinkled adoringly at her in silent communication. Beside her, Hermione raised a quizzical brow, though, truth be told, Y/N wasn’t paying her much attention at that moment.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting an invite back, though…” she’d muttered dryly.

“It’d be his loss,” Cedric fired back confidently, earning a half smile from his favorite girl.

She’d gone to say something else, but her lips had hardly opened when she saw him.

Draco. Draco, with his snow white skin and blue-grey eyes, was heading their way. This was unsurprising, given that they were on Slytherin’s side of the castle. Honestly, he was the last thing she’d wanted to be confronted with at that moment, and judging by the look on his sallow face, it went both ways. As he drew nearer and nearer, his hands stuffed into the black folds of his robes, she waited for the blades of his sharp words to slice her, for him to mouth insults her way as he had so frequently loved to do. But, shockingly, the boy was quiet. In fact, it seemed he had no plan to say anything, but rather to snake right past them, silent and unheard, like a figment of their imagination. He’d almost done it, actually, but the girl had other plans.

“What?” she said, stopping dead in her tracks.

Draco had just passed her, and gone deathly still.

She turned on her heel, asking again, “what? Not going to say anything?”

The boy turned slowly to face her, his icy eyes narrow with dislike, his teeth clenched so hard she could see the definite pulse of his hard jawline beneath his porcelain skin. Beside her, her friends all warily stopped walking, their faces clouding with concern. Apparently, they all thought it better to not acknowledge his existence. The snow white boy blinked silently, keeping his pale lips pressed harshly together.

“What? So now that you don’t have any goons around, you’re no longer interested in making a show out of us?” she asked with a bitter chuckle.

Malfoy’s nostrils flared, a hard grimace taking shape on the curvatures of his perfect mouth.

“You know what I think, Draco? I think you don’t actually care for it. I think you only do it for others to maintain some sort of facade. And I think, you’re too cowardly to face us alone.”

“Y/N,” Hermione tried, “don’t fire him up.”

Draco flickered his narrowed eyes to Hermione, then settled back on Y/N’s. Finally, he spoke.

“Much to Granger’s disappointment,” he started softly, “you don’t have the power to fire me up.”

Her lips split into a sour smile, “don’t I?”

“Y/N,” Cedric huffed with concern, “just drop it.”

Now Draco’s eyes were on Cedric.

“You, however,” he drawled, “are all very easy to fire up.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate, but, as she should have expected, was beaten to it.

“Diggory,” he began, “congratulations on giving your little girlfriend an express pass onto the Hufflepuff quidditch team. I expect she returned the favor nicely with her mouth.”

Cedric flushed a bright red, his nostrils flaring, and eyes growing cold with distaste. This enraged Y/N, yes, but it enraged Cedric more. Before he had the chance to fight back, however, Draco was onto his next target.

“Mudblood,” he mouthed, addressing Hermione. “Did it hurt when Potter here beat your pompous, self righteous self to the Felix Felicis? Is that why you’ve told everyone that he cheated his way to it?”

“N-no,” Hermione replied unconvincingly.

“Shut up,” Neville added.

“You,” Draco chuckled, snapping his attention mechanically to Neville, his lashes fluttering to the beat of his laughter. “Longbottom, please. You’re so pathetic, I could almost find the sympathy to feel bad for you. Everyone can. But, I really needn’t say anything for you to know that, do I?”

Harry had a hand on his wand now.

“Go ahead,” Draco dared, focusing now on the boy-who-lived. “You’re awfully more of a milksop than one would expect of a Gryffindor,” he said, “so you won’t. Especially not on my side of the castle, where you’d be under professor Snape’s jurisdiction.”

He had a point. About that second part, of course. Slowly, Harry released the grip on his wand.

And then Draco’s eyes were back on the girl, and they were a cold stormy gray, touched lightly with a hint of mild intrigue. The girl felt her fingers shaking now, practically aching to take form into a fist. But she had to stand her ground. She had to prove his lack of power over her.

“And you,” he finished with a heavy sigh. He brought his eyes up to her friends before saying his next words. “As of late, this little thing has been of most interest to me.”

Everyone seemed to have frozen in place, including Y/N, who was capable only of blinking up angrily at him, her jaw tilted up so as to be able to reach his searing and curious gaze.

“And d’you know why?” he arched a silver-blond brow, stepping closer to her.

He looked like he wanted to touch her. Wanted to force her jaw up within the tight grasp of his hands. Wanted to step close enough that her heaving chest would bump against his own. But a flicker of his eyes to her friends stopped him, and instead he just stood there, about a foot apart from her, his hands still buried in his pockets.

“Because,” he continued bemusedly, “unlike everyone else here, you have a secret.”

“And what’s that?” she dared lowly.

Draco’s lips split into an awful, cruel, smile.

“You like having me put you in your place.”

There was silence.

The girl wanted to speak. She’d tried. But only a mute and incoherent stutter toppled forth from her agape lips.

“Fascinating,” his lips stretched wider yet, his voice dropping lower yet, “isn’t it?”

And then his hands withdrew from his pockets. Draco let his slender and silver ring clad fingers find themselves on the bend of his knee as he lowered his height so as to be level with the girl’s fiery stare. For a moment, he just let the blazing blue sear of his scrutiny make its way across her face. She could smell his cologne invading her lungs, the inexplicably alluring scent of Draco Malfoy growing vile to her. He lowered his voice, then, so that only she could hear his almost inaudible murmur.

“This little game of ours,” he whispered. “I quite enjoy it.”

Then he raised a finger, a long and slender index finger, and tapped the tip of her nose.

She just stared at him, and it was a long and wordless encounter. His icy blue eyes pierced straight through her own and into the depths of her soul. He seemed eager to see her either crumble beneath him or expel with rage, but what he did not expect is what she said next.

“Incendio.”

Suddenly, her dress was on fire.

Draco leapt back in surprise, his brows knitting as the base of the girl’s cream colored clothing went up in flames. Around her, her friends all gawked and toppled back in shock. In her right hand was Draco’s wand, plucked straight from his pocket only a moment ago.

“Catch,” she grinned, throwing the boy his wand.

The blond chuckled in bitter surprise, “and what does that achieve?”

“A spell search will reveal that you just casted a fire charm on me,” she gaped in mock shock as she extinguished the flames on her dress with a newly learned Aguamenti charm.

Beside her, the faces of her friends told her they were utterly lost. But it was alright, they’d soon find out what had happened.

Draco let loose a chuckle, “and you think Snape is going to believe that, from you?”

“Sure I do,” she shrugged, “because I also did.”

“What-” he began.

“Incendio!”

Now it was Draco whose clothes erupted in flames. Quickly, he stifled the orange licks up his robes with his own water charm. Now it made sense. The boy’s pale face had gone flush with rage upon realizing what she’d done.

“Oh no,” she shrugged sarcastically.

And then they heard the footsteps. No doubtedly, Snape was on his way to see what the commotion was about. From behind her, her friends all gaped, impressed. Then, on her command, they took their cues and bolted, cackling as they disappeared down the hall and away from the scene of the crime. In front of her, Draco’s mouth trembled with a newfound sense of rage. His white and slender figure slumped slowly with defeat, knowing he’d been outsmarted.

“What?” she teased.

He practically snarled, his eyes alight with a blazing hatred.

“I thought I couldn’t fire you up, Draco?”

. . .

“Our detention will be next week!” the girl exclaimed.

Beside her, Julian, Hannah, and Ernie all roared with approval, the group meeting their large mugs of butterbeer together in celebration. After being issued a lovely disciplining from professor Snape, the girl had headed back to the Common Room in her tattered dress, only to enter a hero to her friends, who’d heard of the encounter from Cedric. Together, by the light of the dying fire, the group celebrated the girl’s triumph over Draco Malfoy. She could only assume that somewhere, on the other side of the castle, a set of Gryffindors were doing the same.

Now, by the dim light of the fire’s embers, the group had jovially devoured a set of gooey celebration biscuits and leaned back lazily in the overstuffed armchairs of the Hufflepuff Common Room. From above and around them, plants snored lazily as they embarked upon their nightly slumber. Slowly, one by one, her friends departed for their beds, until it was only Cedric and Y/N who remained in the Common Room. Cedric was unusually quiet as they left. In fact, he’d been unusually quiet the whole evening. It’s not that she hadn’t noticed, but rather that she didn’t want to. And so, upon being left alone with him, she said nothing. Finally, after a minute of deathly awkward silence, he spoke.

“So. What was all of that about then?”

He’d said it softly. And not the way he usually did when he spoke softly to her. No, he sounded outright disappointed in her.

“What d’you mean?” she arched a brow at him.

Cedric sat stiffly upright on the squashy yellow couch, his ocean blue eyes set forward in thought. His previously neat goldish brown locks had found themselves resuming their usual messy state atop his head, with one little curl springing forth attractively upon his forehead. He still wore his button up, but his hands were folded gently upon his lap in an odd manner.

“I mean,” he continued softly, “why would you do what you did tonight?”

He turned now, his stare intense as it bore into her own. The girl found her throat closing up, and her chest tightened with uncomfortability.

“You went explicitly out of your way to rile Malfoy up. And then- and then you make some feat of landing yourself in detention with him.”

“It was about time someone stood up to him-” she began.

“No, but that’s not why you did it,” he interrupted, hurt.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, or to him, really. The boy looked weakened, his handsome figure bent over with a sort of sadness, casting a rather sad looking silhouette over the dark wooden floors of the Common Room. She’d opened her mouth, but upon meeting his eyes, stopped. They were strained. They were strained and ever so softly moistened with hurt.

“Is it?” he asked, more quietly this time, the look on his face desperate for her next word to be ‘yes.’

But it wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” she admitted begrudgingly, her shoulders falling. “Something about him just gets me going, Ced. Now more than ever. It’s- It’s because I know he’s capable of better.”

“Is he?” Cedric said with a raise of his brows.

Cedric, more than anyone, knew how to see the good in people. And Cedric, now, voiced doubt for the redemption of Draco Malfoy.

“There’s just something different,” she exhaled, feeling far too guilty to hold her friend’s gaze.

“I see that now,” Cedric agreed. “I do.”

She blinked up curiously at him.

There was an eerie silence. Aside from the faint chirping of crickets, the rustling of the flora and fauna upon the stone walls, and the gentle crackles of the dying fire, the only thing to be heard was her own faltering breath.

“But not about him,” he said. “About you.”

Her heart sank.

“I see it, you know?” he murmured lowly. “I see the way you look at him.”

“Ced-” she tried.

But he wasn’t having it.

“And I know in that… in that look, you know?” he continued. “There’s something different.”

Her heart was racing now. Cedric had never talked like this to her before, and the feeling was one she was unfamiliar with. And then there was the way he was looking at her, which hurt. It hurt because he was hurting. It hurt because she didn’t know why it hurt him. And then, this certainly wasn’t a revelation the girl had either expected or wanted to be confronted with, of course. But more to the point, to have it told to her like this, by the person she loved most in the world, was too much.

“How would you know that, Ced?” she murmured, the sound of hot blood in her ears making her dizzy.

“Because,” he started.

Then he stopped. His lips quivered and his lashes fluttered, a tell-tale sign that this next act was going to injure him further, that his next words weren’t ones he could take back.

“Because it’s how I look at you.”

[dclsbaby]

traitor - Dominic Calvert-Lewin 🦋

Summary: you reflect on your relationship, realised you've been wronged and should've trusted your gut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

masterlist

Brown guilty eyes and,

Little white lies,

I played dumb, but I always knew

That you talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

It’s his green-hazel eyes that dissipate every logic, every sense of reason you had. It’s the way he would roll over to your side of the bed each morning to savour another 5 minutes before he has to leave, that made you feel yearned for and wanted. It’s the lingering kisses on your neck, on each shoulder and collarbone, that convinced you you’re the only one. It’s the grand dreams shared with you about your future together, filled with kids and their tiny jerseys, that made you believe his little white lies.

You had ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach that felt nothing like the butterflies you experienced on your first date with Dom. The feeling told you to succumb to your suspicions and unlock his phone, scroll through his messages and social media interactions. No, the feeling demanded you to swipe his phone, lock yourself in the bathroom, overstep boundaries, and find evidence of another woman. But that wasn’t who you are. You respected boundaries, and decided against it. You loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The paranoia began to grow when you noticed the little things, such as the way he would put his phone screen-side down on the counter, or the way he brought it everywhere like it’s a part of him, even in the bathroom, or that he wouldn’t leave its sight when it's being charged. Then, these signs started getting stronger and more frequent. He’d get phone calls when you’re having dinner and every time you ask who it is, you’re always met with, “No one important enough to take me away from you,” and a kiss to suppress your suspicions.

Does he have anything to hide? You often ask yourself. Do I really want to know? Another voice asks.

You knew, deep down, that your gut was right. You knew what was happening behind your back.

It’s always the girl they tell you not to worry about.

You were first introduced to her one evening at a club event. Dom referred to her as the ‘girl with the magic hands’, to which you cringed at the innuendo. That was the first warning sign you ignored. Although shortly after exchanging names, you learned that she works at the training ground as a masseuse. Magic hands, makes sense, you thought. It did not make you feel better though.

You could see her appeal. You could imagine Dom and his teammates steal a glance, their eyes lingering much longer than they should. You could hear the locker room talk, words of adoration spilling from their mouths. Her charm is magnetising. She’s bubbly, she’s awfully kind. But did she really have to look like she could be on the cover of Playboy circa 2004 too? Though her beauty’s not your lack, it did not help with your brewing paranoia.

You can’t help but think she’s the reason he’s been staying back late at the training ground, why he comes home wearing a different shirt to the one he left with in the morning, and why he doesn’t talk about his day much anymore, as it probably mostly consisted of being lathered up in oil and getting sensual massages by a hot masseuse. The thought always made you sick to your stomach.

The overthinking had convinced you he had been seeing another woman right in front of you this whole time. But pretending that everything’s alright was so much easier than the inevitable confrontation, the accusation, the fight, the ending. So you kept quiet so you could keep him, and live in the false fairytale you try so hard to become reality.

Until you couldn't anymore.

—

And ain't it funny how you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You and Dom stayed friends after your relationship ran its course, for the first couple of weeks, at least. The days leading up to the break up were plagued with arguments over the little things like missing dinner plans and not keeping the room tidy, which led to bigger fights where you accused him of not being in love with you. Of course, he vehemently denied this, but you thought he didn’t fight for you enough. He didn’t push back, he didn’t give you a reason to stay, and that was enough for you to know that your relationship never stood a chance. You could handle disagreements and a few fights, but when you’ve been led to question your own worth—it’s done.

In the end, it was a mutual break up. It made sense, he needed to focus on his football and the constant fights weren’t helping his concentration. It was hard for him to leave each morning knowing you both went to bed angry, and although he would spend the drive home practicing his apologies, he would come home to find you fast asleep in bed before he could even make amends. As for you, well, you had to look for love elsewhere.

All seemed well until he turned more and more sour by the day. Sure, you didn’t expect to be glued to his hip at all times, or be the best of friends—you two broke up for a reason. But what you did not expect were the bitter remarks, the one-word replies, the sarcastic comments that portrayed the antithesis of who he was when he was with you.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

It all made sense when you began receiving texts from your friends attached with a photo of him with a young fan. You thought it was odd, why were you sent pictures of your ex with a fan, of all things? But there she was, in the background of the photo. Of course. Of course it was her.

More pictures started coming through of both of them in his black Range Rover driving around town, having coffee at your favourite coffee shop. You curse at him, now you have to find a new place to get your coffee. The pictures that stung the most were of the pair of them driving to the training centre together. Imagine the sight of a new couple in town pulling onto the Finch Farm carpark. You knew it wasn’t just a friendly carpool. She’s been staying on my side of the bed, you thought. Meanwhile, you’re still seeking the warmth from his side of the bed.

It dawned on you how much of a fool you’ve been. You feel angry for not trusting your gut, for letting yourself get played, for letting yourself take the beatings from people who had accused you for being with him for his money when it was you who was taken advantage of. If the love he had for you was true, it wouldn’t have taken him that quickly to find someone new.

—

You sat on your sofa for hours. Waiting to feel something other than numbness, the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers from the shock is no longer there. The numbness eventually turned to chills, so you reach for a blanket in the woven basket next to the sofa. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, though all you wanted was to be a butterfly, spread your wings, and fly away. Pathetic. Even my metaphors remind me of him.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you sluggishly stood up and dragged your body to the kitchen and pulled out three different bottles of alcohol from the cupboard—ignoring what a senior had told you in uni to never mix alcohol unless you want to get absolutely wasted. You grab the glass from the top shelf, a cocktail shaker that came with the set your friend had got you for a secret santa gift, and make yourself a drink. One drink turned to two, to three. Then, you started watching recipe videos on YouTube on how to make a pornstar martini, which led to another two. 5 drinks in total. Lucky number 5.

After making a mess on the kitchen island, feeling delirious, you stumble across your flat, bumping a table on your way back to the living room, leaving a bruise on your hip that will hurt in the morning. The alcohol running through your veins giving you the urge to belt out a ballad and pour your heart out, so you somehow managed to open your music and play a song.

Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You belted every word, not caring if your neighbours could hear you drunkenly sing the words to a depressing ballad about not being enough for a boy.

Realising with what’s left of your consciousness that your balance is becoming unsteady, you stagger your way to your bedroom, extending your arms, careful to not run yourself into any walls.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you undress yourself into just a bra and underwear and dive face first into your made up bed, curl up under the warm covers, and blankly stare at the ceiling. The lights appear as though it’s duplicating with every blink—you could’ve sworn there were only two.

With each passing second, you begin having flashbacks of him. Images of the bedroom you once shared which looks nothing like the room you’re in now tattooed in your brain. Whispers of “I love you,” and “you’re the love of my life,” haunt you as you try to shut your ears with your hands, desperate to rid of his voice. You feel angrier and angrier by the minute, waves of sadness taking over your body. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know how badly he’s hurt you, something your sober self would never admit.

So you do what your gut tells you, no sense of reason in the way to stop you from unlocking your phone, scrolling until you’ve reached ‘D’ on your contact list, and clicking the name you’re looking for.

*ring*

*ring*

Pick up.

*ring*

You asshole, pick up.

*ring*

*ring*

Fuck this, I—

“Hello,” a hoarse voice answers. You inhale a sharp breath.

His voice. The exact voice you hear every morning at 6:45am as he kisses you goodbye.

“You, you betrayed me,” you slurred as you made your way to your bedroom. He takes the phone off his ear to look at the Caller ID again, squinting at the bright light. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Dom jolted at your voice, the concern in his voice ever so clear, afraid that you might not be okay.

“And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt,” your speech slows down with every syllable, ignoring his question. The sound of his breath tickles your ear, making you squirm a little. On the other line, there he was, awake from his sleep, listening silently to your drunken voice, his heart breaking all over again. “(Y/N), have you been drinking?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“You talked to her when we were together,” finally throwing the accusation you never would’ve said to his face. He finally put together why you were not yourself towards the end of the relationship, you were convinced he was cheating on you. “I never—it has always been you, only you,” you ignore him. “I promise”, he whispers softly, trying to convince you with what’s left of his heart. He wants you to believe him so badly, but he doesn't know what else to say. Pain revisits him each time he tries to convince you that you’re the only one he’s ever been in love with.

“Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter,” you laugh humourlessly, remembering all the times you wanted to be assured, to be convinced that you were the only one, but his actions suggest otherwise and your paranoia ate you alive. He didn't fight for you even when it was the last straw.

“You gave me your word,” alluding to each time he would tell you that no one else compares to you, each time he made promises about your future together. “It took you two weeks to go off and date her”, you accuse him. “I’m not with anyone,” he says under his breath, knowing you’re too drunk to remember what he says.

“(Y/N)?” Dom asks when he couldn’t hear anything from your end. “Please, can we talk, I—“ “God, I wish that you had thought this through,” you cut him off, your eyes getting heavier by the second, “before I went and fell in love with you”.

There it was. The sentence that ripped him to shreds. The idea that you might have regretted him, regretted being in love with him broke him to bits. He hadn’t realised the damage he’d done during your relationship, and what he did after your break up was unnecessary. He knew what it would look like, to be seen out with her. But he did it anyway to hurt you.

After consuming way too much alcohol, your body feels it’s full effect as your phone slips from your hand and you cave into your tired body.

He hears a loud thump on the other line.

“(Y/N)? Are you there? I—I still love you, can you hear me?”

Line’s dead.

Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

06.

there’s things you tell your best friend, then there’s things assholes don’t deserve to know

It was another night of training with your grandfather, another night of beating if you could give it a subtitle.

As of late, you’d been sparring against Shinso to help him get into shape should he wish to transfer to the Heroics Department. And so far, he’s showing results. Just when is he going to make use of them, you’ll never know.

But, it’s summer break now, so he’s deserved a break from night training. And with that, resumes your training with your grandfather – whom you’ve never beaten once. He just loves to shift his fighting style to his liking and without warning.

And sometimes, or just because he doesn't have tact or does it on purpose, he manages to catch you off guard.

“…what.”

“You’re really making me repeat myself?” having blocked your kick, with your feet in his hands, he pushed back, causing you to slide into the mat. “Masaru called, inviting us for dinner before the boys head off to their summer camp.”

“And you said ‘yes’ without even asking me!?”

And you just saw Uncle Masaru a few days ago!

Yellow eyes stared at you, unimpressed. “Clearly, from your reaction alone, we both knew what you’d say.” He says with a gruff, circling you. “Don’t be rude, girl.”

And then, he charged towards you.

Blocking his attacks proved difficult, especially since he successfully caught you off guard.

Straining to block all his punches, you nearly missed the kick to sweep you off your feet making you jump. Landing awkwardly on your feet, he charges at you again. Picking up on his approach, you deflect at his hands, aiming to grab hold on you. Seeing an opening, you aim for a quick kick to his stomach- to which he easily caught his hands, twisting your foot with a flick of his wrist, you were twirling in the air and landing on your back, hard.

Groaning, you didn’t have to open your eyes to see the smug look on his face, but the tone of his voice was another. “You better be on your best behavior, foolish girl.”

Grumbling, you lied there, yellow eyes opening, set on the ceiling, grimacing into space.

“Tell that to him.”

Dinner later that evening, you dressed simply: wearing a simple shirt, with a print that comically read ‘plaid’ in kanji, tucked in a simple long skirt. The shirt had been a gift from Izuku, one the two of you got together at a bargain sale.

Funnily enough, when he showed up, he wore the same shirt. You two laughed at each other, enough to ignore the ash-blond eyeing the two of you.

Dinner was rather eventful, with the adults doing the talking, often asking questions to either teen. Bakugou, however, was surprisingly quiet. You pretended not to notice, but it was hard when the teen sat across you, carmine eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before you tore away first. For the rest of the dinner, you were adamant about just enjoying good company and good food.

It almost felt homey, considering the people in the table. Keyword: almost.

“So, how’s school been?” Uncle Masaru asked, a rather innocuous question directed towards the teenagers.

Izuku replies first, helping himself to another serving. “Fine, Uncle! Well, not much has changed since Kacchan has me beat in ranks.”

“Hm? What is your rank?” you asked, curious.

“Third,” Bakugou replies quickly, you blink at him just as he swallowed his meal. Pointing to Izuku with his thumb, he says, “Fourth.”

You feel your lower eye twitch, your question wasn’t really directed towards him but was rather open to either of them to answer, so you left it at that.

“Heh, that’s impressive, Izuku!” Whatever tension brewed, immediately squashed down. This was not the time for that. “Well, you’ve always been smart anyway.”

“How about (Name)?” Auntie Inko chirped, smiling.

“She’s not so bad,” your grandfather replied, sipping his tea. “she’s one of my best warriors in the martial arts club!” he says with so much pride it was practically emanating off him.

You felt your eye twitch, giving your grandfather an exasperated look. His answer was so far off.

“If you would just let me answer!” the adults laughed, Izuku included, holding onto your shirt sleeve to prevent you from attacking your grandfather. “I’m doing fine, actually. Other than my clean reputation," you emphasize for Izuku "‘s not so bad. It’s not UA, but it’s comfortable. Made some friends here and there.“

“What’s your rank?” Bakugou asked, curious.

Fixing him a look, you reminded yourself of where you were, replying politely. “Tenth, out of twenty-eight.”

“Wow, that’s impressive, (Nickname)!” Izuku smiled at you, genuinely. Smiling back at him, you took a bite of your meal, chewing slowly as you lull yourself into the comforting dinner noises.

The tension between the two young adults were not amiss to a certain ash blonde, shooting your grandfather a quick look, then to her husband, a glint of mischief.

“So, (Name)-chan, got yourself a boyfriend yet?” Auntie Mitsuki asks, rather bluntly.

Your eyes shot wide open, doubling over. 

Bakugou nearly choked on his meal, Uncle Masaru quick to pat his son’s back gently. 

“M-Mitsuki!”

Your grandfather snorted, turning the other way, holding his laughter in.

“What? I’m just asking! Ah, Shihan, you don’t mind, do you?”

Recovering, your grandfather gives a sage shake of his head, unnervingly at ease at the question thrown at you. Izuku eats away, but keeping an interesting ear – traitors, you thought.

“E-Eh, no.”

“What!? That’s too bad.” Auntie Mistuki practically yells, looking offended, too.

“I agree!” Auntie Inko seconds. “(Name)-chan grew up to be such a pretty girl, any boy or girl would be foolish enough to miss out on you!”

“Also, she’s really good in martial arts!” your grandfather adds, pride written all over his face. “Only a fool would miss out on my granddaughter!”

More like fear me, you fool of a man.

“Why is the conversation suddenly all about me,” you mutter uncomfortably, chewing your dinner. Izuku shrugs, working on a small smile.

“So, no boyfriend then, (Name)-chan?” Uncle Masaru, master of keeping the peace, asked.

You could only shrug. “No.” 

It was an honest answer, enough to quell anyone’s curiosity, but it seemed like the wrong answer to Auntie Mitsuki and your grandfather, whose shoulders dropped in disappointment. Uncle Masaru frowned at the two, shaking his head. Auntie Inko blinked innocently, unaware of the ploy of the two.

Only Bakugou Katsuki caught on, jaw clenching, one hand balled into fists under the table while you and Izuku began to chat amongst yourselves.

A white envelope was squeezed into your shoe locker one morning, a bag of chocolates – very clearly bought at the convenience store, was taped next to it, much to your confusion.

Dull (e/c) eyes stared at the items, trying to make out the items before you. Beside you, Izuku followed your gaze, a startled look on his freckled face as red soon blossomed his cheeks. “(N-Nickame)!!!!”

From his high-pitched shriek, a few girls turned your way in interest, whispering amongst themselves. Other students, who just walked in, eyed your shoe locker curiously.

You stared at it harder, not moving from your spot, arms crossed over your chest. Behind you, a small crowd had gathered - not really lingering long, but curious on your situation.

“Oh, someone actually has the guts to give one to her?”

“Well, Yoruichi’s actually not that bad looking.”

“For a quirkless.”

“Well, at least she compensates elsewhere.”

Izuku, patiently waiting on you, leaned in to whisper, amidst the chattering behind you, to you. “I-I-It might be confession letter?”

“HAH!?”

A loud explosion sounded, scaring half the middle schoolers entering the building, followed by a voice behind you. “THE FUCK!?”

“A-Ah, Ka-Kacchan! Good morning!”

“Fucking nerd, get outta my way!” yelled the blond, taking your cue to roll your eyes and rip the chocolates from your shoe locker, assessing the brand with interest, unaware of carmine eyes watching you.

“(Nickname)?” Izuku turns to you in question.

Lips pursued, you nonchalantly pocket the chocolates in your bag, taking a bite out of one of them. “Chocolate is chocolate, right?”

His freckled face only burns a darker shade of red as you put your shoes on, laughing at him.

“Izuku, you’re so cute.”

With the letter in hand, you eyed the words carefully, making sure it wasn’t a mistake: ‘To: Yoruichi (Name) of 2A’.

“Throw that piece of trash away,” mutters the blond beside you, but you pretend not to hear him and pocket the letter as well. You didn’t see the look of shock cross his face, as you turned to Izuku, forcing chocolate into his mouth, laughing more as you two head off to your classroom, nor the smoke coming out of his hand.

The rest of the day, Bakugou was in a foul mood, especially when you munched on the chocolates or gave some to Izuku (he tried to reject them because they were for you and not him).

In the end, it was a confession from a lowerclassmen which you turned down politely.

After dinner, you had volunteered to do the dishes, knowing that Izuku would join in and the other guy would go off to do whatever he does. However, since receiving his quirk, your grandfather had been interested in seeing Izuku use them in action. And with his quick muscle build-up, he was even more piqued to discover what interesting skills he's developed. Thus, your best friend was stolen away from you, leaving you to work on the dishes with…him.

Just as your grandfather has stolen Izuku away, Auntie Mitsuki yelled at Bakugou to help you with the dishes instead of shutting in his room doing god knows what.

So, two teens stood there, by the kitchen sink, a respectable distance between them, while Uncle Masaru placed the dishes, smiling apologetically. Somewhere, Auntie Mitsuki was eyeing the kitchen with a satisfied smirk whilst Auntie Inko was left in the dark.

Truthfully, you enjoyed washing the dishes, in a way, it was therapeutic alone or with a friend. Just, not with someone like him.

Then again, you had no choice. You did volunteer.

Resigned, you sighed and began to bunch your hair into a bun, getting to it. “I’ll wash, you rinse.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, and silence filled in once more.

And with that, the two of you were off to work, strictly work.

The only sounds heard were the gushing of water, scrubbing on plates, and utensils. As the night when on your heightened senses ran wild: with your hearing, you could hear the quiet chattering amongst adults in the living room, Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru inquiring about Uncle Hisashi from Auntie Inko, and outside, just faintly, you could hear Izuku floundering on the spot as your grandfather worked with him. It was enough to bring a smile to your face, only to stop when you remember the person beside you.

It was hard not to feel unbothered when you could feel his eyes on you, smell burnt sugar off him mixing with lemon dishwashing soap and hear the beating of his heart.

Soapy bubbles slowly began to fizzle one by one as you began to take the plates from the water, passing them along to Bakugou to be rinsed.

All in all, you managed to do the dishes without any bloodshed – which just seems to be the case whenever the two of you were together. However, during dinner, it was non-existent. It was probably out of courtesy, respect towards the elders who wanted to catch up. Then there were the young ones, two of three were doing the talking but only to themselves, singling the superior one out. Throughout dinner, he was the odd one out, which was strange since he's always been showered with attention - as though it was supposed to be. But no, nobody really talked to him unless asked or when curious, mostly his answers were minimal. 

“I-I told Kacchan as well…”

For some reason, your mind made you think of that. When Izuku told you his secret, you felt honored, trusted, assured.

"But he didn’t seem to take it seriously.”

But the fact he told him, that unnerved you. After all, why? He didn’t deserve a piece of Izuku he willingly tossed aside so many years ago. Izuku still held on to Bakugou for so many years despite the bullying, it irked you. You were enough, so why cling on to him?

“Your summer camp…” you tested, words slurring.

Beside you, the ash blond physically flinched, surprised that you were talking to him.

Hey, it wouldn’t hurt to talk, right? Because, like Izuku, there was some reason you still clung on to him. “How long is it?” Well, a tiny part at least.

A beat of silence. “A week.”

You hummed, watching the soapy water go down the drain. “That’s a long time.”

Call it friendship, or a sense of duty, but there was more to it. Delving deep to wonder what exactly was scared you though, so you left it at that.

When the last of the bubbles disappeared, you lifted your gaze out the kitchen window eyes searching above rooftops for the moon. Tonight’s shape was a waxing crescent, your favorite moon phase because if you tilted your head, it would’ve resembled a Cheshire grin.

Fixated on the moon, you were unaware of the way his eyes lingered on your shirt, identical to the one Izuku was wearing, his insides unsettling. Carmine eyes silently took in your form, mouth formed into a straight line, eyes shifting from (e/c) to yellow, glazed with a thousand thoughts he was barred from asking.

“They’ll probably give you hell over there,” your voice was airy, vague, comforting, testing again.

He felt his hand twitch, especially nothing that a loose strand of hair fell against the nape of your neck, over your burnt mark. He wanted to move the (h/c) strand away, to feel his fingers against your skin, marvel over something that was his doing, in a sick way – relish his mark over you.

Turning to him, you offer a small smile. “Well, have fun over there.”

And with that, you pushed yourself off the sink and walked out the kitchen.

(His hand dropped to his side, weakly, defeatedly.)

BREAKING NEWS: The League of Villains infiltrated UA's Summer Camp, several students injured, one kidnapped!

The door slid open, forcibly, everyone flinched at that, and of the person stomping in. “I-ZU-KU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” the green-haired boy flinched at the volume of your voice, each syllable of his name pronounced angrily, a menacing aura emanating off you. “ARE YOU SERIOUSLY PLANNING TO GIVE ME AND AUNTIE INKO A HEART ATTACK!?” 

Green eyes widened, arms weakly making pathetic gestures in the wind. “(N-Nickname)…l-let me explain-“

Approaching his bed, your aura didn't let up. “One of these days Midoriya Izuku,” pointing at him dangerously, finger shaking in front of him. “ONE OF THESE DAYS!”

“Now, now, (Name)-chan, we’re at a hospital…” Auntie Inko calls out as she rushes in, gentle hands trying to calm you down.

“Granddaughter have some manners!” your grandfather chides, a basket full of apples in hand. “This is a hospital, y’know-“Realizing that they weren’t alone, the elder man blinks at the people crowding his room. “Ah, he has guests.”

That made you stop, stopping in your shaking of your best friend, head snapping to several eyes looking your way, they tremble under your gaze.

“W-We’ll just leave then…” Ochako states, bravely, Iida leading the group out, offering you a friendly smile on her way out. For some reason, there was more to that smile, a coded message. But you’ll get to that later.

After giving your best friend a piece of your mind, it was Auntie Inko’s turn. Well, her version was more on crying, wailing, and fussing – very Auntie Inko. Your grandfather merely huffed, arms crossed, unimpressed with Izuku’s recklessness. Nonetheless, he ruffled your best friend’s curly locks, offering his rare smiles.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Izuku-kun.”

“Y-Yes, Shihan!”

Despite seeing your best friend safe and sound, something unsettled in the pit of your stomach, had you unnerved to the bone. You weren't his best friend for nothing if you hadn't noticed it. Seeing as your grandfather and Auntie Inko were here, you knew you couldn’t ask him about it just yet.

Once the two of you were finally left together, you turned to him, eyes asking with the same mien Ochako gave off earlier. Izuku seemed to anticipate this, a look of guilt and unease colored his features.

Taking a deep breath, he began to talk.

Words were coming out, sentences forming, information settling in your brain, processing.

And then, you could only feel one thing: numb.

Numb, just like the time a punch caught you off guard.

Numb, just like when he said those venomous words at Izuku in junior high school.

Numb, just like when you lost your parents.

Just. Numb.

Tears welled in your eyes, dripping down your cheeks before you could stop yourself. They won’t stop pouring, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, your breathing was going abnormal. Shaky knees almost knocked you out, had Izuku not grabbed a hold of your arm. Coming to, you grabbed at his shirt, desperate, worry, anger. “Y-You’re going to get him back, right?” he stopped, glossy eyes meeting your own. “Y-You will…r-right?!” your voice cracked at that, fingers shaking uncontrollably.

One nod, firm, solute, and final. “I will, (Nickname). I’ll bring him back.”

Your fists tightened, head bowing, forehead pressing into his chest, tears coming faster. “Please, Izuku, bring him back. Bring back our, Katsuki!”

Guess what? You thought about it, plaguing your mind for days later.

The result? Well, it feels stupid. YOU feel stupid for a silly little crush over a short-tempered childhood friend, who forever sullied his reputation and severed ties with you.

Simple as that.

Congrats, you won a bucket load of denial slathered with angst.

Why, oh, why couldn’t you have fallen for Izuku, instead? Sweet, kind, and reliable Izuku. Life would have been so much easier and saner.

But as that one stupid song goes: the heart wants what it wants.

Why the fuck did it want him? Bakugou Katsuki?

The cons weighed so much than the pros, you could go on and on. But at the end of the way, the pros could still weigh over those cons, no matter how little you presented.

It’s fine, you thought, this’ll pass.

A stupid little crush like this will pass and you’ll find yourself laughing at it when you’re older, sober, and probably mature.

Your only hope was to distance yourself from him, which worked for a time since he goes to UA and has resided there since his kidnapping/All Might’s retirement.

Yet, you live in the same area.

Your only REAL hope was for him to graduate, get into hero work that’ll make him work hundreds of miles away, OR, you graduating, getting into university and moving away from town. Both possibilities worked. There was more.

However, Izuku thought otherwise.

“You’re being a coward, (Nickname). You’re basically running away.” He’d berate, a disapproving look on his face.

Ducking, you played with the ends of your hair. “Isnt it better this way?” You muttered, looking away, not wanting to be at the receiving end of his look. You hated that look, it reminded you of your mom, dad, Shihan, and Aizawa-san – it made you feel like a child.

“It’s not fair to Kacchan.” you deadpanned with a roll of your eyes.

“Well, he was never fair with us anyway. Call it even.”

Izuku sighed heavily. “(Nickname)...”

Turning to him, you asked, a bit miffed. “Why are you defending him? How can you forgive him so easily?!”

“Well, it’s never good to dwell in the past…” His words, you never trusted them whenever the blond became the topic of your conversations – which is minimal, by the way. There was something he wasn’t telling you completely, something he had to figure out for himself first.

And you were patient, so you left him at that. “We’re becoming civil now. You two, should as well!”

“BIG. PASS.”

He gave a weary sigh, from the weight of your words.

Honestly, you couldn’t sleep the night you received news that their summer camp had been invaded by the League of Villains. You were worried sick for both of them. You wanted them to be safe. And since Bakugou was kidnapped-

“(Nickname), you should be more honest with your feelings. Especially towards Kacchan.”

Of course, he’d see right through you, he was your best friend with a brain so great after all.

“Pass.”

“(N-Nickname)…”

“I want nothing to do with that dead fuck, after everything he’s done to us, to you.”

“I’ve already forgiven him for that.”

“Good for you then.”

“(Nickname),” his tone was berating, again.

Sighing, aggravatingly, you beg with your eyes. “Don’t do this, Izuku. Please.”

“But, you’ve always liked him-“

“THAT WAS BEFOR-!” you stopped mid-yell, balled fists shaking, taking a deep breath, you repeated your words. “That was before.”

Izuku had the gall to look unconvinced, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, head tilted at you – since when did he learn to be this snarky!?

Exhaling through your nose, you stood your ground. “I’m not sorry for yelling. I’m not planning to forgive him now, or any time soon, I can never forgive him for what he did. And I’m sorry I can’t be as forgiving as you.”

Green eyes softened, his pose unchanging, but he fixed his head to look at you better. Worry coloured his features. “But (Nickname), it isn’t good to hold on to your anger forever, you know that, right?” Somewhere deep in your heart, you swore you felt a skip, your knuckles suddenly felt hot. “I’m not saying that you should forgive him now, but at your own pace. You can deny how you feel, but you can never escape it forever, (Nickname).”

Weakly looking up to him, his green eyes were unwavering, swallowing you whole.

“I hate when you’re right.”

“I always am.” The corners of his lips lift, a bit smug.

Your eyes narrow. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too, (Nickname).”

From: (Name) Yuroichi

To: Bakugou Katsuki

I’m glad you’re safe.

masterlist • seven

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings are as follows - mentions of alcohol, descriptions of blood, Whiskey being a bit of an ass and some brief talk of dead relatives. 

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You watched him as he settled himself back down into the couch, taking note of every breath he took while he reclined back, refusing to look you straight in the eye. That didn’t bother you too much - you were too busy studying the myriad of bruises and cuts splayed along his body, from the tears and scuffs in his denim jacket to taking note of his perfectly maintained Stetson. How on Earth that thing had managed to escape from whatever situation Jack had gotten himself into unscathed mystified you, but from what you remembered of him you knew he loved that damn hat to death. 

Neither of you had said a word to each other since he stumbled through your front door only moments before, that heightened sense of tension undoubtedly ripe in the air. You thought if you ever saw Jack Daniels face again that you’d have a couple of cutting remarks to say to him - if you ever did think about him that is, and you usually didn’t. Jack hadn’t haunted your thoughts for years now, memories of the summer you two first met and the cold dark of winter when you fell apart falling away to the sands of time. The last thing you ever expected was to have him show up on the front step of your ranch, looking like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. Gazing over him now, you felt it was somewhat your obligation to make sure he was fine: despite your less than amicable feelings towards him you weren’t about to let him die on your couch. 

“Can I get you anything?” you asked him, a hint of uncertainty to your tone. He turned his gaze towards you and shrugged slightly, looking no less unsettled than he had a moment before. “I’m fine for now. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks”. 

“You sure about that? No offense, but you kind of look like a wreck” you shot back, to which he replied with a small scoff. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart. I forgot how hospitable you were to those in your care”. 

You could feel a spark of heat rise in your cheeks at his words, and almost wanted to retort back with something equally if not more biting. That fucking bastard. Here he was, lying on your couch looking like he’d walked out of a gang fight and he had the gall to give you attitude. “Alright, ignoring your completely rude and uncalled for attitude for a moment, you still haven’t answered my question. What the fuck did you get yourself into?” you asked.

There was a momentary pause where Jack looked back up at you, an expression of remorse crossing over his face in the brief glance he shot at you. Turning his gaze back down towards the wooden coffee table before him, he shook his head and sighed. “Sorry about that, darlin’.I just...I got myself into a bit of a tight situation. Things have gotten complicated now” he explained, prompting you to raise your brow at him. 

“Yeah, I can see that. Who did this to you?”. 

“Just some other agents. It doesn’t matter” he replied curtly. 

“From where? Statesman?” you asked. After dating him for about a year, you were well aware of his position as an agent to Statesman, and you knew exactly what that job entailed. Jack had been injured before, sometimes worse than how he was now. You remembered once he came back from a mission with several different bones broken, multiple gunshot wounds and a concussion. You’d been left worried for weeks after that as he recovered, only being allowed short visits to see him due to the very nature of his job. This time was different though. You knew Jack was a survivor, but for him to show up out of the blue after several years of no contact, looking the way he did, something was horribly wrong. Studying his expression intensely, you couldn’t help but let out a low sigh in frustration. It annoyed you to some degree of how evasive his answers had been thus far. It was almost like he was ashamed to even say what had happened to him, ashamed to be even talking to you. 

“No, no, they...they weren’t. That’s not important right now though” he finally answered, running the edges of his fingers over his tattered jeans. If it were any other day you would have been more upset at his dismissal of your question but upon seeing the troubled look on his face you felt it best to let it go. An uncomfortable silence had started to hang over the room, the space between you and him feeling more and more tense as the moments ticked by. You looked down at your shoes, taking note of every scuff and streak of mud as if they were the most interesting things in the world, and giving yourself another minute of hesitation before blurting out “Why are you in Dallas?”. 

“It just so happened to be the place the cargo plane I was stowing away on landed. I wasn’t tryin’ to seek you out or anything, if you’ll believe me”. 

His explanation gave cause for you to raise a single brow at him once more, not entirely believing it to be a coincidence that he just happened to show up in Dallas after seven years of radio silence. “Really? Why come here then? Don’t you have your agent buddies to fall back on for shit like this?” you inquired, your tone coming off far more biting and bitter than you originally intended it to. You could see Jack seize up slightly at your callousness, a pained expression passing over his face that made your breath catch in your throat for a second before you darted your eyes away from him, focusing back down to your shoes and deriding yourself for even having a moment of fleeting attraction to him. All these years and those pathetic puppy dog eyes still managed to get to you. Damn him. 

“Usually, yeah. Not this time round though. I’ve…” he stopped himself, his eyes betraying the deep wounded pain woven within them, strengthening every second longer he dwelled on the memory of his former glory. “I’ve been kicked out of Statesman. Or, well, I haven’t officially been kicked but after what happened the other day I’d be a damn fool if I even tried to walk through their doors again”. 

You blinked at him in confusion, his words not fully registering with you. Statesman kicked him out? Him of all people? You briefly considered the possibility that he was simply just pulling your leg and trying to gain some sort of sympathy but upon remembering the pained expression on his face you were instantly told all you needed to know about the truth behind his words. Ok, so he’s not lying, but still...why? “I find it hard to believe that they’d just boot out their best field agent. What did you do to warrant that?”. 

You could see Jack’s mouth twitch slightly, indicating that he wasn’t entirely up for divulging such information. Running a hand through his hair, he trained his eyes to the ground and refused to look up at you as he went on to explain what exactly had gone down to lead him there. “Long story short, I had a disagreement of sorts with a couple of agents from a fellow organisation, and may have gone against Champ’s direct orders in order to hinder them. I guess you could say I went rogue” he elaborated, intentionally trying to keep some of the finer details out. You had half a mind to push for more info, though after another seconds thought you decided against that idea and instead settled for nodding at him semi-sympathetically.  “I see. So...why are you here then?”. 

He didn’t answer you right away, rather finding himself to be staring straight upwards at the wooden beams on the ceiling above. You analysed his expression, trying to find any sort of hint towards what he was thinking. Your eyes kept being drawn back to that dried gash of blood across his cheek, and you winced at the thought of him being in any sort of prolonged pain. Maybe you should have fetched some medical supplies for him after all - knowing Jack and the way he was, he always liked to downplay the dangers associated with his job. Every time he wound up in Statesman’s medical wing needing some sort of bullet taken out of him he never once admitted to ever being in pain. Getting injured was part of the job, he always said, so it wasn’t worth it to worry over him everytime he got hurt in the line of duty. He was an expert at saying he was fine when it was all too clear that everything wasn’t. 

The sound of Jack sighing heavily pulled you from your thoughts, looking up to see him with his head in his hands, practically exhibiting every clear sign of tension in the book. A small part of you wanted to feel sorry for him, for seeing him like this. “Look, I realise this may be too much to ask of you, considering our history, and part of me hates that I have to in the first place but...I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go back home to either New York or Kentucky. I’m not an agent anymore, so I can’t ask any of them for help, and I’m almost a hundred percent sure that I’ve got some sort of bounty on my head now. I’m on the lam as they call it”  he prattled. “I need a place to hide out, to lay low while I sort some shit out”.

The day had already been weird enough already, hearing him ask for your help was only just the cherry on top. Blinking slowly and with your mouth hanging open in utter disbelief, you blurted out “Let me get this straight: you need my help?”.

“Just for a little while, and I promise, sweetheart, as soon as I’m able to I’ll be outta your hair” Jack assured, turning his eyes upwards to you so that you could see his lovely brown eyes, the very same ones that you felt yourself get lost in all those long years ago. “I would never ask this of you unless I had no other choice. You and I both know that”. 

You were at a complete loss for words. Between his tone and those frustratingly sweet eyes of his, you weighed your options carefully on what you should do. Should you let him stay with you? On one hand, with what he’d done to you years ago, something that still left you hurting even now, some part of you felt hostile towards him being around again. You remembered being young and 21, giving your heart out to him and only ever receiving empty promises in the end, leaving you with the painful memory of standing crestfallen on a flight of marbled stairs, on a night that you had sworn was gonna end with a ring ending instead with a shattered heart and never-ending glasses of merlot on your lips. Eventually, you’d learnt to live with the heartache. And pretty soon, for the most part, you’d forgotten. Seeing him there, tonight, in your living room of all places, was starting to bring those feelings back. No matter how hard you tried to stifle them, ignore them and focus on the matter at hand, you still felt the bitterness creep into your tone every time you opened your mouth.

Still, even though Jack had hurt you, you couldn’t just leave him out with nothing. From what he told you, he truly had nowhere else to run. If you threw him out now, he could be dead within hours. The mere thought of that made your heart sting, and despite any bad blood between you two you weren’t heartless, so with a small sigh, you at last settled on the answer you would give to him. “Alright. I’ll let you stay. On one condition though: you gotta help out a little with some of the ranch handling stuff. Once you’re all healed up from your injuries of course” you posited. “And don’t bother trying to butter me up, I’m not enough of an idiot to fall for your charms twice. I’m doing you a favour so it would be in your best interest to avoid pissing me off. You think you can handle that?”. 

He smirked back at you, though it was void of it’s usual playfulness and felt to be more out of sadness than anything resembling his usual jackassery. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart, but yeah, of course. I’d be more than happy to help ya out”. 

“Alright. Now…” you nodded at him before turning on your heel in the direction of the kitchen in search of some bandage and gauze for his injuries. “I am going to get you some medical supplies because even though you said you’re fine you clearly aren’t, and I’m not about to have you dropping dead in my goddamn living room. The blood would get all over the carpet and I ain’t lookin’ to pay to get it cleaned” you announced, dropping down to your knees and rifling through one of the lower kitchen cabinets for all the necessary items. 

You could hear him chuckle from the living room, imagining him to be wearing a more toned down version of that charming grin he always seemed to have on him. “Ah, you wound me, my dear girl. Where are your folks?”. 

His question made your heart seize in your chest, your hands grasped around the roll of bandage and bottle of antiseptic you’d scrounged out from the back of the cupboard. Rising to your feet, you stuttered on your words as you led yourself back into the living room with an arm full of different medical equipment. “They...they died a couple of years ago. It’s been just me for awhile” you answered back, doing your best to ignore the look of surprise that spread across Jack’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’”.

Tearing off a strip of bandage, you motioned for him to give you his arm so that you could begin tending to some of the deeper cuts on him. “It’s ok. Well, not ok, really, but what can you do?” you murmured, brushing the length of his torn denim jacket out of the way and pressing down a dash of cold antiseptic cream across one of his cuts, watching as how he winced slightly from the sting. “Life goes on. It has to, or else you get left frozen”. Shaking your head, you began to tie the strip of fabric around his forearm, eager to get off the topic of your deceased loved ones as soon as possible. “I’ll put you up in the guest room upstairs. Don’t go through any of the shit in the cupboards, ok? It’s private stuff”. 

“I would never dream of doing so, sugar”.

“Good. Lucky for you, none of these gashes seem too bad so they’ll most likely heal within a couple of days. I’ll just put a bit of adhesive over that awful one you got across your cheek and you’ll be right as rain in no time” you said, popping open the box of adhesive bandages. 

Jack smiled at you, albeit weakly as you smoothed the bandage over his cheek. “Thank you for doing this for me. I mean it. Honestly, I didn’t think you were even gonna let me stay here”. 

You shot him an odd look at that comment, leaning back down to pick up the various bits of first aid paraphernalia off the floor to deposit back onto the coffee table. “What do you take me for, Jack? I ain’t a cold hearted bitch. I hate you for what you did but I don’t want you to die or anything” you quipped, staring at him straight in the eyes as you said those words. Not allowing him a second to respond, you turned away and began to walk off towards the stairs, starting to feel the exhaustion of the day sink in once again when you placed your foot on the first rung.“You’re all good to go. I’d say go upstairs and get some rest, lord knows that’s what I’ll be doing. If you need anything give me a shout ok?”. 

He nodded back at you wordlessly, abruptly turning away afterwards the lean against the couch with his back turned to you, lost back in his own thoughts. You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment longer then dragged yourself up the stairs and towards your bedroom, flicking off the hallway lights as you went. In an instant after you heard the click of your bedroom door shut behind you, you allowed yourself to groan out in agony at your entire predicament. So, your ex-boyfriend is on the run and hiding out in your house. This could prove to be interesting...

[miraculouscontent]

*moon walks in* have you ever written anything for zutara? If not that’s cool *moon walks out*

I’ve written a piece, yes. It’s a what-if on Zuko’s scar getting healed by Katara instead of them getting interrupted after their conversation in the catacombs:

"It's a scar. It can't be healed."

"This is water from the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It has special properties, so I've been saving it for something important. I don't know if it would work, but..."

Likewise, Zuko didn't know why he allowed Katara to touch his scar. He'd long grown used to the fact that he had it, but that also didn't mean he let people idly touch it like it were something to gawk and poke at.

And what did he really expect? That his scar would be magically taken away, just like that? His life had never been that easy. He'd struggled all throughout his existence, and any wounds caused along the way were likely there to stay.

This girl was clearly fooling herself, acting as if it'd just be--

"Yeah, I--" Katara summoned forth her spirit water. "--I think this might work."

He gave her a weird look, though given that his neutral expression usually made him come off as sour anyway, she probably couldn't tell. "What?"

She seemed to ignore him, her spirit water bending around her hand. She looked up at him, eyes briefly squinting like she was unsure, then stared down at the spirit water with the same expression. She took a breath, apparently solving whatever mental debate she was having as she raised her hand to touch his scar again.

He flinched, and then hated himself for flinching. The water had been freezing.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Sorry. You're a firebender, so it must be too cold for you."

He was almost suspicious, but the look in her eyes seemed genuine. He had a slew of responses for her, most of which were sarcastic, but he somehow ended up saying, "It's fine. I can handle it," instead.

She tilted her head, concerned, but that just made him more determined to prove her wrong. He forced himself to stand rigidly in place, staring her down like he was ready for a fight.

She snorted - actually snorted - at him! Was she amused? The nerve!

"Alright, hold still," she ordered gently, raising her hand again.

Zuko tried not to look so obviously like he was steeling himself up. Thanfully, if Katara had noticed anything this time, she showed no sign of it, and the water touched his face without issue. He was surprised in a way, as he'd expected her to make the water colder just out of spite.

It was nice to be wrong, he supposed.

The water felt strange against his skin. He couldn't see what she was doing obviously, his left eye closed from the water while his right could see a bit of her hand if he really tried. Katara's gaze, meanwhile, was focused and steady, never wavering from where her hand was.

He was only forced to stop looking when the water began to glow. The temperature of the water suddenly stopped mattering, as he couldn't determine it. Maybe it was numbing him?

He could feel the vibration as the liquid shifted like a calming wave, like it were washing over the left side of his face over and over despite it already being submerged. At first, he didn't understand how it felt like it was seeping into his skin, seeking impurities and washing them away, without hurting him at all.

But water was the opposite of fire. His father's flames had burned him and the heat had dug so deeply as to leave a scar, so it would only make sense if water could reverse it. He'd just never imagined it was possible, and he was more glad than anything else that the light forced him to close his eyes as to avoid Katara seeing any more emotion than he was comfortable sharing.

Could someone's sins really be washed away with something as simple as water?

Suddenly, there was the sound of rocks collapsing nearby, jarring both he and Katara out of their state. Katara staggered forward in surprise, but seemed compelled to keep her hand on the left side of his face. Likewise, he tried not to move, unsure of how interrupting the process would go and not wanting to tempt fate.

His left eye couldn't see beyond the now-faint light of the healing water, while the right could only stare at Katara. She'd averted her gaze, presumably to look at what'd caused the disturbance, and although Zuko couldn't see it himself from where he was at, he knew well enough that she was capable and would say something if anything were wrong.

Katara's eyes widened. "Aang!"

Recognizing the name of the Avatar, Zuko's head twitched on reflex to look, only barely managing to keep the rest of himself still as Katara's hand was still on him. She went through something similar, shifting her body as if to run off before remembering the situation.

She peered up at him, the light intensifying now that her focus had returned. She tilted her head and eyed him critically as she ran her thumb where his scar was. He may've taken the critical gaze personally under normal circumstances, but he supposed it was just the water having an effect on him.

Finally, the light died down, Katara pulling her hand away along with the water. Zuko was immediately hit with the strange sensation of just the left side of his face, covering it with his hand in surprise at the shift in his vision.

Katara had already run off. He straightened, looking over to see her in the middle of hugging Aang, who was currently glaring at him. Iroh was nearby, rushing to Zuko to embrace him. It wasn't that Zuko wasn't happy to see his uncle, but he focused on returning Aang's glare, not sure what the Avatar's motives are.

Given that, he wondered aloud, "Uncle, I don't understand. What are you doing with the Avatar?"

Aang broke away from Katara and replied, as if he'd been asked, "Saving you, that's what."

Needless to say, Zuko didn't appreciate the cheekiness in his tone. He tried to move, ready to fight, but Iroh hugged him tighter to prevent him from going anywhere.

"Zuko, it's time we talked," he said sternly, but quietly. Finally pulling away - allowing Zuko to lower his hand from his face - Iroh turned to face Katara and Aang. "Go help your other friends. We'll catch up with you."

Aang bowed, then ran off for the nearest cave. Katara followed, but kept a slower pace to look back at Zuko.

He saw a slight raise of her brows, then a smile that wasn't directed at the Avatar, but at him. He tried not to show too much of a reaction to it, not matter how bizarre it was, but that didn't stop him from continuing to maintain eye contact until she'd fully disappeared into the cave.

Then, remembering himself and that Iroh had never answered his question, he turned. "Why, Uncle?"

Iroh faced him, looking serious. "You're not the man you used to be, Zuko. You--" He cut himself off, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open in surprise. Apparently, all the seriousness had just drained out of him. "You're really not the man you used to be!"

"What?" Zuko asked, but realized a second later exactly where Iroh was staring. Bringing a hand up to his face, he finally felt along where his scar was.

Or rather, where his scar used to be. His skin was smooth, his vision just as good in his left eye as it was in his right. In fact, the only sign that there'd been a scar at all was his lack of a left eyebrow, though that could grow back with time.

"The... Katara," he began, "she used a type of water she got at a spirit oasis."

"A spirit--of course..." Iroh's expression regained its calmness as he placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Zuko, listen to me. You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been, and now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny."

Zuko raised a brow (well, the only one he had), not sure he understood.

Iroh continued, "It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good."

Zuko opened his mouth, but the conversation was cut off by a sudden earthquake. He managed to keep his balance, but a slew of crystals suddenly burst through the ground, separating him from Iroh and trapping the latter in a crystal prison.

He gaped at the sight, then assumed a fighting position at nothing in particular and readied himself, not showing any emotion even as Azula descended form the sides of the crystal chamber alongside what he presumed to be two earthbenders.

Walking to Zuko and Iroh, Azula kept up her usual demeanor despite his vanished scar. "I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle, but Zuko," she began, "Prince Zuko, you're a lot of things, but you're not a traitor, are you?"

Zuko glared. "Release him immediately!"

"It's not too late for you, Zuko," Azula insisted as she stopped in front of him, not paying his order any mind. "You can still redeem yourself."

Iroh shouted to Zuko from his containment in the crystals, "The kind of redemption she offers is not for you!"

"Why don't you let him decide, Uncle?" Azula challenged. She glanced back at Zuko, voice softening as she continued, "I need you, Zuko. I've plotted every move of this day - " She raised a fist for emphasis. " - this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have Father's love. You will have everything you want."

Father's love? Everything he wanted?

"Zuko," Iroh called out gingerly, "I am begging you. Look into your heart and see what it is that you truly want."

Zuko looked back and forth between the two, Azula's eyes unusually gentle while Iroh's were as gentle as they always had been. However, he lowered his gaze, not meeting either.

"You are free to choose," Azula said. She raised a hand, the gesture wordlessly telling her guards to leave the premises. That done, she simply walked off into the cave that Aang and Katara had gone.

Zuko thought back to Iroh, though still not looking at him. I'm begging you, he'd said, and it was familiar because he'd said it before. Zuko had been down this path before, being asked what he wanted and what his "destiny" really was back when he tried to take the Avatar's bison. He remembered it well.

I'm begging you, Prince Zuko! It's time for you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you, and what do you want?

Prince. Iroh had called him that, even back then. Azula was doing it now as well, but...

Zuko knew deep down that it was one of her tricks. He'd played her games too many times; been played too many times. He wasn't foolish enough to think otherwise, but he also couldn't be sure that Azula would betray him completely.

Already, he could hear a fight ensuing in the the direction that Azula had gone. His feet were itching to move; to do something, but what?

Iroh spoke up, "You said it was water from a spirit oasis."

Zuko glanced over at him, giving him his attention.

Iroh continued, "Zuko, that scar you had was full of suffering and terrible memories. Had you truly wanted to go back to that, I'm sure that you wouldn't have been able to be healed from it." He shook his head, his voice thick with sorrow. "All this time, you've been trying to make up for something I've never held against you."

"What do you mean?"

"Think," Iroh urged. "You spoke up, yes, but against the idea of lives being lost! Are you going to apologize for that?!"

Zuko blinked, eyes wide at the fact that he'd never thought of that.

Iroh's voice softened. "I'm sorry that I let you into that meeting. I had to live with that guilt for the scar you had on your face."

"What? Uncle, no, I'm the one--"

"You were young, but you were already a far better Fire Lord than your father will ever be. You cared about the lives of others even if they weren't for your own benefit. I'm proud of you, and I'm so happy that you have a moment to start over again." He paused, squirming briefly within the crystal restraints. Realizing that he was firmly stuck, he looked back to Zuko, uttering firmly, "Go."

"But, Uncle--"

"Go!"

Zuko's feet finally moved. He dashed past Iroh and into the cave as quickly as he could.

He felt stupid. He felt pathetic. He'd spent all this time torn and twisted between two sides when his heart had made up its mind a long time ago and his body struggled to listen.

"The Fire Nation took my mother away from me."

"I'm sorry. That's something we have in common."

Common. Relating to someone was not something he often did. His father and sister had long since convinced him that he was less than nothing without earning his honor back, but what did honor mean? If he was less than nothing, why could he get so close to the Avatar and his bison with his own efforts?

The only thing he had in common with Ozai and Azula was blood, and it'd been boiling away ever since he'd been banished.

Who are you, and what do you want?

As he made it out of the cave, he jumped, letting out a blast of fire between the ongoing fight that Azula, Katara, and Aang were having. They all stared at him as he landed, his stance ready for action as he looked around at the lot of them. Now that his mind was clear, he could see the almost expectant look in Azula's eyes, along with a hidden threat if he dared to betrayed her.

He was no pawn. Not anymore. He wrote his own destiny.

"I'm Zuko," he declared firmly. "and I want the kind of honor that you and my father could never give me!"

He inhaled, then thrust his arms forward to let out a blast of fire so loud that it drowned his own cry of frustration. Years of pent-up aggression were put into the flames, and he just barely caught the sight of his sister's wide eyes before she almost seemed to become engulfed in it. It wasn't that he thought he'd truly destroy her with it, but finally letting it out gave him a sense of freedom he hadn't felt before.

Aang and Katara flung themselves back due to the heat, despite not being within the flames' particular range. Aang gaped, confused, then glanced at Katara for answers.

But she wasn't looking at Aang. She was meeting Zuko's gaze with her own. For the moment of calm in the battle, they simply stared at one another.

They said nothing, but shared an unspoken promise, held together by the simple commonality they shared.

Let's take down the Fire Nation together.

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily | Pt. 9

warnings: violence, angst, mentions of r*pe. seriously y'all, this chapter gets kind of heavy. take care of yourselves. 

a/n: this chapter is very long because wow. Crossroads of Destiny. It’s over 5k, so you’ll have to bear with me and power through. 

Also, yes. I am posting this at midnight in my time zone. Yes, my hair is looking some type of way, and yes, I'm wearing Christmas pants. All of this is irrelevant but I want you to know my vibes for whatever reason. And just so you know, my taglist is open!

Enjoy! 

Fire Lily Masterlist

“Let him go!” Y/N almost never yelled—it hurt her throat.

“Y/N,” Bihun looked into her eyes, calm overtaking his voice, “go back inside.” The Fire Nation soldiers had hold of his arms.

“But you didn’t do anything.” Y/N’s chest heaved, and she looked at the soldiers. All she felt was rage.

Bihun didn’t steal. She knew he didn’t. He was careful, collected, thought things through. They were arresting him because he was from the Earth Kingdom, and he was there. Bihun’s heel left an indent in the dirt as the soldiers starting to drag him away.

They were just trying to go home. Their front door was only a few feet away, but the soldiers had followed them.

“Let him go!” Y/N repeated, eyes on the soldiers. She could feel it—the fire. But she didn’t stop it. She wasn’t Bihun. She wasn’t careful.

“Y/N,” Bihun pleaded. The soldiers were still pulling him away. “I need you to calm down. Breathe.”

“No!”

“Y/N, we need to go,” Lee urged, already on his way out the door.

They were serving tea at the palace today, she remembered. She had her apron, and her pack on her back. She didn’t need it, but it was nice to have. She didn’t like leaving home without a weapon, especially after that night. Jet’s hook swords were secured inside. It had nearly burned to touch them, but her knife was long gone. And he told her to protect herself.

---

The palace was greater than Y/N could have ever imagined. It was so big—bigger than her entire home village, she guessed. She couldn’t imagine having to walk up the stairs, though. She was greater for their earthbender escorts, pulling them up the incline on a stone slab.

Mushi hadn’t been able to stop smiling. Y/N wasn’t sure that she should go to the palace. She felt like a traitor even now, staring at it. A firebender in the Earth King’s palace was unthinkable. But Mushi had been so excited, and insisted she come along.

“You’ve played a great part in my success, Y/N,” he had said. “It is only fair that you get to witness the results.”

Y/N carried the tray with the best tea set that they had. She had been careful in arranging the cups in neat rows and tried to keep it as level as possible on the journey. Luckily, the way up to the palace was smoother than she had imagined. These benders were precise, and they had so much control. Y/N was envious. Mushi hadn’t mentioned the burns on the table, but he and Lee had come home with a new one the day before. She wasn’t sure what they did with the other one.

“Many times, I imagined myself here, at the threshold of the palace,” Mushi mused, leaning in to whisper something in Lee’s ear. Y/N only caught his final statement. “Destiny is a funny thing.”

“It sure is,” Lee agreed, reaching and lightly touching Y/N’s elbow.

Destiny was a funny thing, Y/N thought. She was destined to be a disaster, and she knew it. But here she was, at the palace, with someone who knew the truth and hadn’t run away. Someone who would keep her secret safe.

An Earth Kingdom guard let them in the ginormous palace doors. Y/N had to appreciate the décor. Everything looked green, but still somehow managed to look royal. Y/N had to crane her head to see the ceiling, it was so high up.

They ended up sitting on the carpet at a small tea table in another room, waiting. The throne sat empty. Y/N wasn’t sure how long they’d been waiting, and despite his newfound cheery attitude, Y/N could tell Lee was getting impatient.

“What’s taking so long?” Lee asked out loud. She wasn’t sure if she was meant to answer.

“Maybe the Earth King overslept?” Y/N suggested in an attempt to put him at ease. His hand was gripping the table tightly—she put hers over it.

Finally, the door opened. Y/N felt her heart stop as Dai Li agents filed in, one after the other until they had the table surrounded. Y/N grew cold.

“Something’s not right,” Lee grumbled, eyes downcast. Y/N almost wanted to shout. Obviously. But any words she could have said would get stuck in her throat as she felt her nerves go haywire. She was ready to jump and run. Her fingers tapped random, quick rhythms on the back of Lee’s hand.

The Dai Li agents said nothing as the final member of their crew walked in. Y/N realized with shock that it was a girl, who couldn’t have been much older than her. She had her black hair pulled up with two perfect strands falling to frame her face. She seemed to have foregone the usual Dai Li headwear for a green hairpiece. Y/N saw something familiar in her face.

“It’s teatime,” she cooed, sounding amused.

“Azula!” Lee shot up like a fire rocket. Y/N turned to look up at him. It was clear he recognized her. How did he know this girl?

“Have you met the Dai Li?” The girl, whom Y/N assumed to be called Azula, mused. Y/N’s hands felt clammy. She was tapping on the table now, since Lee had stood and pulled his hand away.

“They’re earthbenders,” Azula continued with a sharp grin, “but they have a killer instinct that’s so firebender. I just love it.” Y/N’s hand stilled as Azula’s gaze finally landed on her. It seemed to be the first time she noticed that Y/N was there.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a girlfriend, Zuzu,” Azula smiled, eyeing Lee.

“Who’s Zuzu?” Y/N hated how small her voice sounded.

“Oh, Zuzu,” Azula sighed, giving a mocking frown. “You haven’t told her your little secret?”

Y/N looked to Lee. He didn’t look at her—he kept his golden eyes trained on Azula. She hadn’t seen him this angry before. Not even in the fight with Jet. What was he hiding from her, and what did this girl have to do with it? And why was her face so familiar?

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’ll be easy to take care of the spare.”

“Did I ever tell you how I got the nickname, ‘The Dragon of the West’?” Mushi asked suddenly. Y/N realized he was pouring a cup of tea. She almost wanted to laugh. How much did tea really matter right now? This girl had just called her a spare, and Y/N didn’t like the knot in her stomach that grew tighter at every moment.

Y/N slipped a hand under the strap of her pack slowly, ready to swing it off of her shoulder. She thanks Spirits that she’d thought to bring her hook swords, but she had a sinking feeling that they wouldn’t be any help in whatever fight was coming her way.

“I’m not interested in a lengthy antidote, Uncle,” Azula brushed him off. Uncle.

“It’s more of a demonstration, really,” Mushi smirked, lifting a cup of tea to his lips. Uncle. Did that mean…

Before Y/N could even identify the million thoughts she felt stampeding through her brain, Lee was smiling and pulling her off the ground to stand behind Mushi.

“Lee, what’s—” Y/N started, but then the world lit up.

Fire was spraying towards the Dai Li agents, and for a split second, Y/N thought it was her. Maybe she’d lost control again without even noticing. But she blinked again, and no, there were no flames spewing from her hands.

Mushi was breathing fire. Actual fire, extending outward like a fan. The Dai Li soldiers recoiled. Lee had a tight grip on Y/N’s arm as Mushi turned in a circle, and Lee started pulling Y/N toward the back wall under Mushi’s cover. Lee lifted his arm, sending a blast of fire through the wall.

Y/N’s world shattered when she watched the light leap from his hands. Everything was a lie. The whole new life she had built in Ba Sing Se was a lie. Lee and Mushi probably weren’t their real names, and she was the fool who had relied on them. She had helped them, lived under the same roof. Suddenly, Lee’s acceptance of her secret made a lot more sense.

Y/N was under the lake all over again. Head pounding, legs feeling weak. But she let Lee pull her out through the gaping hole in the wall and kept her feet moving, because she couldn’t just stop. Stopping would mean she’d be the spare, left to Azula’s predetermined fate for her.

Stopping would mean that she’d never go home. She knew she was kidding herself—there was no chance of that. But if she could make it through today, through tomorrow, then maybe one day she’d send her father a letter. Maybe she could apologize.

She was under the lake again, Lee showing her what to do and where to go. He was still wearing a mask. While it didn’t have horns or fangs, Y/N knew what it was. Or maybe the mask was finally off.

Mushi ran ahead of them, blasting a hole through the wall leading to the outside. Stone was pummeling into the walls and floor, just barely missing them as the Dai Li gained ground. Y/N pulled the hook swords out of her pack. She could make it. Jet taught her to protect herself.

Y/N watched Mushi leap out of the hole in the wall, into the sunlight, an animal-shaped hedge breaking his fall. Y/N guessed they were about a story up—not too terrible, but she couldn’t say she was stoked about the idea.

“Come on!” Mushi called from his spot on the ground. “You’ll be fine!” Lee didn’t move as Y/N leaned down to stab the end of her hook sword into the wall. She could use it to swing herself closer to the next hedge to break the fall.

“No!” Lee yelled back. “I’m tired of running! It’s time I faced Azula.” Lee looked at her for what felt like the first time in forever. “Go,” he mouthed, before turning to face Azula and the agents who now far too close.

Y/N caught Mushi smacking himself in the head in exasperation before he turned and began to run, motioning for her to follow. Y/N cautiously slung one leg over the edge.

“You’re so dramatic,” Azula drawled. “What? Are you going to challenge me to an Agni Kai?”

The Fire Nation soldiers in her hometown had talked about Agni Kai. Something about honor. Y/N’s father said there was no honor in fighting your own.

“Yes! I challenge you!” Lee replied brashly, squaring his shoulders towards the girl.

Y/N quickened her pace, easing herself out the ledge, hoping to slip out unnoticed. She tested her hook sword’s hold as she finally dropped her lower half off of the ledge, digging the other sword into the wooden floor to be safe.

“No thanks,” Y/N heard Azula say. She doesn’t dare look as she heard the sound of stone heading in Lee’s direction.

“Oh,” Y/N heard Azula add, almost as an afterthought. “Get that girl that’s right outside. I think I might want her to stay.”

Y/N didn’t have time to let go of her swords before the Dai Li had stone hands around her arms, lifting her back inside. She managed to yank her swords out of the stone and wood, keeping a firm grip on them as the Dai Li brought her away, just like before. They didn’t bother to confiscate her weapons. She knew when she’d lost.

She didn’t look at Lee as he was dragged along beside her. She could feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of her head. Y/N didn’t care. She hoped he burned.

---

Azula couldn’t even be bothered to imprison them separately. Echoes of Y/N’s head injury resurfaced when the Dai Li sent them tumbling down into the crystal catacombs under the palace. The landing had been rough. To Y/N’s surprise, they had company. Katara sat dejectedly on the ground and jumped up as Y/N and Lee landed.

“Zuko!” Katara squinted a him accusingly.

“Is that your name?” Y/N said, fighting back tears as she got her bearings. Her hands were warming up. She willed them to stop, tightening her grip on the sword handles.

“What?” Lee asked, bewildered.

“Is that your name?” Y/N repeated, slower. “I’d think that after everything you’d at least owe me that.”

Lee looked hurt, but he answered. “Yes.”

“Zuko,” Y/N whispered to herself. She wouldn’t burn a handprint into the sword handles. She wouldn’t.

She knew that name. Zuko. Whispers of it floated around in the colonies. Banished, they’d say. The Fire Lord’s only son.

“Why did they throw you in here?” Katara asked Zuko. “Let me guess, it’s a trap. So that way when Aang comes to help me you can finally have him in your Fire Nation clutches.”

Katara continued to rant while Zuko tried to ignore her. “You’re a terrible person, you know that? Always following us, hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world’s last hope for peace! But what do you care? You’re the Fire Lord’s son. Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood. And now you’ve somehow dragged Y/N into your mess. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Y/N slowly moved to Katara’s side and was grateful when the girl didn’t back away.

“Are you okay?” Katara whispered, taking a break from the ranting for a moment. Y/N managed a light nod. She was not okay, not by a long shot, but she was at least in one piece.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zuko replied, not getting up from where he was sitting on the ground.

“I don’t?!?” Katara yelled back. “The Fire Nation took my mother from me!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Zuko whispered, getting up to move closer. Y/N lifted her swords protectively. She didn’t know Katara well, but they did have a common enemy, it seemed. “That’s something we have in common.”

Y/N paused. She didn’t know that.  She supposed she didn’t know anything. She could tell Katara was crying, and she allowed Zuko to move a little closer as she pulled the other girl into a hug.

“Thank you,” Katara mumbled into Y/N’s ear. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

Y/N pulled away as Katara wiped the tears from her face. She finally turned to face Zuko and look him in the eye for the first time knowing his real name. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was,” Lee—no, Zuko—insisted. “I was going to tell you when I figured out how. I,” he shuffled a hand through his hair. “I thought you’d be happy when you found out.”

“What?”

Katara looked equally as confused as Y/N felt. She and this girl were practically strangers, but she had shown her kindness before. Y/N was tired of lying, but she needed answers.

“I mean, maybe not about the prince thing, but,” Zuko took a step toward her. Y/N held up the swords. “That you’re not alone. We’re the same.”

“I am nothing like you,” Y/N seethed, stepping toward him. Zuko managed to be smart enough to back off. “Never suggest that again.”

“But,” Zuko held up his hands in surrender, “we’re from the same nation. We both left, started a new life.”

“I am not from your nation. The Fire Nation has done nothing but take from me, from my family. From my nation.” How dare he suggest that she was like him? She wasn’t Fire Nation. She wasn’t a colonizer, a tyrant, a murderer…

“What do you mean?” Zuko asked, looking legitimately confused.

Y/N couldn’t hold back a hollow laugh. “You know what the Fire Nation gave me? A curse. Thanks to them I can’t even be accepted by my own people. If someone sees what I can do… ” Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head. “My parents are both Earth Kingdom. Did you know that?”

“But…”

“They’re both Earth Kingdom. The people who raised me, at least. My mother is my mother. But my father…” Y/N laughed again, and Zuko looked a little scared. He should have, she thought. “The Fire Nation invaded my village when my brother was a baby. Expanding the colony into our land. Soldiers broke into our house. My father, my real father, was gone, here, on business with the King.

“They found my mother. My older brother was asleep in his crib.” Y/N let the tears fall from her face. She didn’t care anymore. She would make it out of here, but Zuko would never see her again. She was sure of that. “I was born nine months later. Looked just like my mother. Wasn’t until later that they found out what I was.”

“No—” Zuko started, but Y/N lifted a sword to silence him. She felt Katara’s hand on her shoulder.

“And I thought it was a cool trick, at the time. I didn’t know. I was so excited to show my father what I had learned.” Y/N finally lowered her swords and the world swayed. She slowly sunk down to the floor. “I lit a candle, just with my hand. I thought it was so cool.

“My father turned down a council spot here in the city, you know. Because he was afraid that someone would find out.” Y/N sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. It was gross, but she didn’t care. “He should’ve taken it and left me there for the soldiers to find.”

Zuko didn’t respond. He slunk down to the ground a few feet away, his face downturned so his hair hung in front of his eyes. Y/N tried to slow her shaky breathing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know,” Zuko said after a long moment of silence.

“I thought I’d built something here, Zuko. Something with Lee. I could’ve been happy, you know. A tea shop in the city was more than enough for me.” Y/N leaned in to Katara, who had sat down next to her. She had expected Katara to leave her be, now that she knew the truth. But she was here, at least for the moment. Y/N felt like she understood. The Fire Nation had taken something irreplaceable from each of them.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, and Y/N’s nerves finally calmed. The knot in her stomach began to untwist, and the dread of their situation was taking its time sinking in. If they got out, they’d have to fight their way there. And the Dai Li were good fighters. Y/N had a feeling that Azula was better.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you before,” Katara said, finally breaking the silence. Y/N didn’t say anything, but she met Zuko’s gaze. She couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed. He had lied to her, yes, but she had lied to him to. She supposed it was far from unreasonable for him to assume she was from the Fire Nation. It didn’t make everything right, but it did make her feel a bit better.

“It doesn’t matter.” Zuko shook his head. He was right.

“It’s just that for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face.”

“My face?” Zuko’s hand lightly traced the outline of his scar. “I see.”

Y/N still felt sick looking at it. Not because of how it looked, or anything. But because for the past few weeks, she’d look at it and see herself. She could do that to someone if she lost control. Someone like her had done that to him. She knew she wouldn’t be that person. She tried to shake the thought that Zuko could be that person.

“No, no, that’s,” Katara stood, moving closer to where Zuko was now standing. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s okay. I used to think my scar marked me. As a banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar.” Zuko looked Y/N in the eye. “But I’ve realized that I can choose my own destiny, even if I’m never free of the mark.”

Y/N’s heart swelled a bit. She had told him that the tea shop was enough, and maybe one day she’d be able to forgive him. He could choose that destiny.

“What if…” Katara looked down at a small vial that hung on a string around her neck. Y/N hadn’t noticed it before, but the vial was ornate. Not Earth Kingdom crafted. “…you could be free of it?”

“What?” Y/N stood, moving over to join them. Zuko seemed surprised that she was willing to get so close to him. She surprised herself. She could feel the heat radiating from him as she stood by his side. She supposed that that part about him made a lot more sense now.

“I have healing abilities,” Katara explained. Y/N vaguely remembered Katara’s hands on Jet’s chest from that blurry night.

“Did you use them on me?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask. Mushi—or, whatever his name really was—had said that she had recovered remarkably quickly.

“Yeah, you hit your head pretty bad. I hope you rested up. You kept mumbling about a tea shop, so we dropped you off there,” Katara confirmed. Zuko shot Y/N a look that she couldn’t quite read, but his eyes were sympathetic.

“It’s a scar, it can’t be healed,” Zuko argued.

“I have water from the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It has special properties, so I’ve been saving it for something important,” Katara elaborated, holding up the vial. “I don’t know if it would work, but…”

Katara gingerly lifted a hand to touch Zuko’s scar. Zuko’s eyes fluttered shut and there was an unpleasant tenseness to his face. Almost like he was reliving a memory, Y/N thought.

Suddenly, the wall behind them broke, sending shards of crystal flying. Y/N raised her swords.

“Aang!” Katara cried, rushing to wrap Aang in a tight hug. Y/N remembered him, from the lake. There was something important about him that she couldn’t remember that night…

“You’re the Avatar,” Y/N stated dumbly, staring with an open mouth. Of course he was. He had airbender tattoos. The Avatar was an airbender.

Suddenly, Mushi came rushing in, wrapping both Y/N and Zuko in a tight hug. Y/N wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She heard Zuko grumble a complaint under his breath. It was almost like old times.

“Aang, I knew you’d come!” Katara cried jubilantly, wrapping Aang in yet another hug. Y/N noticed that Aang seemed quite pleased as Mushi-whatever-his-name-was let her go.

“Uncle, what are you doing with the Avatar?” Zuko’s voiced sounded grated and irritated.

“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang replied snarkily. Y/N giggled a little but bit it back when Zuko took an aggressive step forward.

“Zuko,” Not-Mushi said, “it’s time we talked.” He turned to Y/N, Katara, and Aang. “Go, find your friends. Y/N, go with them. We’ll catch up.”

As angry as she was, as absolutely furious as she was, Y/N didn’t want to leave them. She wished they could stay, go back to the Jasmine Dragon and pretend this all never happened. But that couldn’t happen, and Not-Mushi and Aang seemed to have somewhat of a plan, so that was good enough for her.

Y/N followed Katara and Aang out of the tunnel that Aang had created in the wall, catching one last glance back at Zuko. He didn’t meet her eyes; he was already immersed in a conversation with his uncle.

The way through the tunnel was short, and Y/N was grateful. The tunnel felt like the halls under the lake. The whole palace did. Y/N did not like the Earth King’s palace, she decided, bad experiences notwithstanding.

They came to a large open room, with stone walls and what looked like doorways and windows carved into them. It was like a tiny piece of an underground city, Y/N realized. She had heard that earthbenders once carved cities into the earth, but it was another thing to see it. It would’ve been beautiful if they weren’t under constant threat of attack.

Y/N didn’t think that fire had a sound. Crackling logs had a sound, and water on coals had a sound. But suddenly there was a fire burning behind them that was so fast and so powerful that Y/N could hear it. Aang quickly turned, lifting stone from the ground to block the flames.

When the smoke cleared, Y/N recognized Azula, standing with one arm extended, poised after the strike. Katara ran out from the behind the cover of stone, drawing water from the canal running through the center of the giant space. Y/N had never seen such a powerful waterbender before. She hadn’t seen any waterbender before.

Katara swept the water up and brought it down on Azula, hard. Azula countered with a flash of blue flame, and the water turned to steam with a hiss. Y/N decided that waterbenders, or at least Katara, were scary.

Y/N watched Azula emerge from the cloud of dust and steam, almost floating through the air. Azula launched blue fire and where Katara was standing. Aang rushed out to help Katara bend more water from the canal.

Y/N didn’t let up her grip on her hook swords despite knowing they were no help here. Azula was no joke. Azula was in it to win, and Y/N knew what winning would mean for them.

Azula landed on the ground lightly, arms poised to strike as she faced down Aang and Katara. Y/N slowly emerged, swords in hand. She wouldn’t cower.

Azula was outnumbered three to one. Well, two to one, Y/N supposed, since her hook swords could be burned to bits at any moment. The odds weren’t good for her here. Not a lot of environmental features for her to use. Jet had taught her about that. If she didn’t bend, she’d be at an automatic disadvantage. The lack of useful surroundings made it worse.

Y/N caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Zuko, a look of determination set in his face. But he wasn’t looking at her. Zuko punched forward, flames sprouting from the movement. Y/N waited to Azula to react, but she never did.

Aang barely missed getting burnt. Zuko had aimed for him.

“Zuko!” Y/N yelled desperately. He surely hadn’t meant to. Surely, he had changed, and something Not-Mushi said had gotten to him. But Zuko reared up to fire again, his aggressive expression turned toward the Avatar.

“Go find Sokka and Toph, Y/N,” Katara yelled at her. Katara’s face looked panicked. Y/N felt the reality sink in further. This was very, very bad. Y/N nodded and sprinted away, feeling the heat from Zuko’s next strike at the Avatar hit her back.

Y/N went through the nearest tunnel, turning on passageways that began to look less like tunnels and more like hallways as she went. She kept a hand along the wall as she went—rough stone turned smooth, and then eventually, she found herself in the halls of the palace. She willed herself to keep going. Find Sokka. Find Toph. Even though she wasn’t sure exactly who they were, she figured she could figure it out.

Y/N finally came across other people when she reached the throne room. A girl with black hair in matching buns atop her head sat on the steps looking bored, and another girl was in a rather uncomfortable backbend, her hands and feet bound to the floor by earth. Over them stood a boy in blue and a small Earth Kingdom girl, along with a bespectacled man in a rather fancy robe and a… bear, Y/N realized, wearing a shirt. Not a platypus bear. Just… a bear.

Y/N brushed off the strangeness of the moment.

“Y/N?” The boy—Sokka, Y/N realized—blurted. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s your bison?” Y/N managed to get out, huffing. Sokka and Toph’s faces fell. Everything was wrong. “We have to leave.”

Sokka and Toph led the way. The palace felt unusually quiet. It gave Y/N a bad feeling, knowing what could have been happening in the catacombs. Katara and Aang were outnumbered, surely. Azula had the Dai Li.

They wandered through the halls and out of the palace. Y/N thought it wasn’t the best time to be asking questions about the bear, but she noticed that Toph wasn’t wearing shoes.

“Don’t your feet hurt?” Y/N asked. Maybe it would lighten the mood, if only for a moment.

“I’m blind,” Toph said simply, as if that explained it. Y/N didn’t ask any more questions as they continued along.

Finally, Y/N saw the bison. Appa, if she remembered right. She almost wanted to cry. She wanted out of this city, if they’d take her. She could leave Ba Sing Se behind, along with all of the unpleasant memories. Sokka gave her and the other man a hand.

“Thank you, young man,” the man said.

“You’re welcome, your Majesty.”

“Wait, you’re King Kuei?” Y/N asked incredulously. “Your Majesty, I’m—”

“There they are!” Sokka shouted suddenly, pointing back toward the palace. Katara rose on a twisting beam of water. Aang was in her arms. He wasn’t moving.

“Appa, yip yip!” Sokka commanded, bringing the bison in closer. Katara let the water fall away as she landed on Appa’s head, laying Aang down softly in front of her.

Y/N watched as Dai Li agents began emerging from the palace. “Guys…”

“I can’t see to hit them,” Toph said. Sokka lifted a boomerang, but that wouldn’t be enough, Y/N knew. And Katara was…

Y/N looked over. Katara was leaning over Aang, tears in her eyes. Katara was busy.

Y/N took a breath. She thought for a moment, of Zuko, and her parents, her brother. She let the feeling build. The anger, towards Zuko for lying, towards Azula. The rocks were already flying their way. Toph didn’t know, and Sokka’s face was riddled with worry. King Kuei leaned into the bear’s fur.

Y/N let herself lose control. Only for a moment. But it was enough. The fire was bright and strong and accurate enough, hot enough to break the flying rocks apart. And oddly enough, she didn’t feel like she was freefalling. She didn’t feel like she was observing an explosion.

But she still felt relieved when Sokka and Toph decided not to mention it for now. Katara lifted the vial of Oasis water, the liquid shining in the dark.

They were going to take her brother away, and she wouldn’t let that happen. She let go. She showed them what she was capable of.

But they had taken him anyway. They’d sent more soldiers to the house, looking for the general’s ‘stolen daughter.’ Bihun was off in a prison somewhere, and they were coming for her next. For her parents.

The servants had seen. Their loyal, Earth Kingdom servants whom they’d been so careful around. They had run off almost immediately, and word would spread. Her own nation would be looking for her. The Fire Nation girl who posed as one of them for years, and her traitorous family.

Y/N went into their library. It was her favorite room in the house. It was small, but cozy. She had read most of the books there. But they were easy. Flammable.

When the Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom soldiers arrived, whichever came first, they’d find that burned library. They’d see her parents and know that the girl who did that couldn’t have been any daughter of theirs, destroying the most valuable room in their home. Stealing the cup that sat on the mantle.

Maybe it would buy them time, at least. They were smart. They could run with a story. Say that she must’ve been a spy, or that they never knew she was a firebender until that day. They thought she was theirs.

She left on foot, her pack slung over her shoulders, its only contents being the cup and the purse full of coins she had found in her father’s study. No real plan, but the Earth Kingdom was big. And Ba Sing Se was a big, populous city. It would be easy to hide there. She could disappear there.

She had thought about leaving a note for her parents. They’d been home, but she had locked them out of the library and left through the window. But a note would leave evidence, and she wouldn’t put them at risk. Even if it meant breaking their hearts by leaving without a goodbye.

Fire Lily Masterlist

Taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele, @aquatickanye 

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 17

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A FEW MINUTES LATER

BJORNHEIMR

Sigurd dragged his feet across the uneven terrain, slogging through the dead woods that now served as Dag’s tomb. His hand shone vividly with a bright layer of red due to the blood that clung onto his skin, and his ears still buzzed with the echoes of his friend’s final cries.

As for Eivor, the jarl’s son appeared to be equally as harrowed as his companion. His eyes mirrored the frozen desolation of the bleak landscape sitting before him, and his face remained expressionless much like the corpses that now rested at Bjornheimr’s temple.

Both of them traversed the world like a pair of hollow shells, wandering through the dark in search of any light to hold onto. A black haze had blotted out the beam that once twinkled in their eyes, and it seemed as if the fire that once burned in them had been completely snuffed out.

Eivor just prayed this would be the end of their grief. It wouldn’t be long before they got the information they needed from Gorm, and the young man imagined they would soon be braving the seas again in search of the wretch’s father.

It was an endeavor that would only lead to more war, no doubt. There was a high chance that more people would die during their pursuit, and Eivor could no longer guarantee that even he would survive a second battle against Kjotve.

But after everything that had happened, he refused to shy away from this fight. Kjotve’s death wouldn’t bring Ulfar or Thora back from the dead, that much was true. But even then, Eivor hoped that -- at least -- it would serve as a balm to ease the pain now wracking his heart. 

He didn’t even care about reclaiming his honor anymore. All he wanted was to bring this horrid war to an end. Far too many people had been lost to Kjotve’s barbarity, and Eivor’s only desire now was to deliver peace unto those who had suffered for so long.

It was something he was willing to die for at this point, and a part of him suspected that he would.

“Wait,” Sigurd said as they entered the village. He stopped in his tracks and gazed in the distance, looking towards the docks. “Is that Randvi’s ship?”

Eivor followed his line of sight, nodding in response. “Yes. Randvi and her men returned not too long ago. They arrived whilst you were dealing with Dag.” He paused briefly, giving the prince a grim face. “...I’ve already told her about Thora and Ulfar. She’s at the temple now with my father and Ingrida. They’re preparing for tomorrow’s funeral.”

“...How is she?”

“How do you think? She knew Thora and Ulfar even longer than I did. She... she’s beyond devastated.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, hanging his head low in regret. “...Damn it. I should’ve killed Dag weeks ago. I should’ve confronted him from the start. He had been acting so strange ever since we came to Bjornheimr. I shouldn’t have waited this long to do something about it. Perhaps none of this would’ve happened then.”

Eivor took a few steps closer to him, speaking softly. “You are not to blame, Sigurd. You had no way of knowing Dag was the traitor.”

The prince wasn’t swayed. “On the contrary, I was the only one who could’ve known. I was the closest one with Dag out of anybody in our clan. I should’ve been paying more attention. I shouldn’t have let my love for him blind my judgement.”

Sigurd shut his eyes for a moment and let out a breath, clearly exhausted from the day’s events. “...I’m sorry, Eivor. I know you don’t fault me for what’s happened, but even then, I still carry some of the blame on my shoulders. I must be more vigilant from now on. I can’t allow anything like this to occur again, and I won’t. You have my word.”

Walking away before the other man could respond, Sigurd left Eivor behind and simply pushed forward into the village, emerging from the forest like a shadow slipping out of the night. The despair that once dimmed his expression had been replaced with the flickering embers of a growing rage, and the Wolf-Kissed could almost see sparks igniting in his eyes.

As for the young man himself, he simply followed the prince from a distance and trailed along quietly, unsure of what else he could do to comfort his lover. A few of the villagers -- including Styrbjorn -- had turned their heads upon Sigurd’s anticipated return, and immediately brought their attention to the blood now staining his hand.

The color faded from the king’s flesh as soon as he noticed the striking pigment. He didn’t seem to understand what had transpired just yet, but the dreary cloud hanging over his son was enough to imply that something terrible had unraveled.

Styrbjorn approached the two of them, carrying a look of concern.

“My son...!” He called out, keeping his tone hushed. “Where have you been? What’s happened to you? Whose... whose blood is that?”

Sigurd exchanged glances with his companion, hesitant to answer. He didn’t appear to be any calmer than when Eivor first found him in the woods, and the younger man feared that it wouldn’t take much more to send him into a storm. 

“It’s... Dag’s.” The prince admitted. “...I killed him.”

The older man fell into silence, taken aback by his son’s actions.

“You did what?”

“I had to,” Sigurd justified, steeling his voice. “Dag was the traitor. I had to get rid of him before he did anything else. I couldn’t allow him to harm more people.”

“A traitor?” Styrbjorn repeated in disbelief. “Are you positive? What makes you so certain he betrayed us? Did you find any evidence?”

“He confessed his crimes, father. He told me everything. Dag was the one assisting Kjotve. He was the one who informed him of our alliance. Ulfar was right.”

The king didn’t seem convinced. “I see. And was there anyone else around to hear Dag’s confession?”

“...No. It was just me and him.”

Styrbjorn shook his head in disapproval. “Then how can we be so sure that you killed the right man?”

Sigurd stared at his father in bewilderment, finally catching on to the man’s concerns. “...You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, son. But other people may not -- and for good reason, I might add. You just killed one of our own clan members because of a confession that nobody was around to hear. Nobody except for you. How can I accept that as evidence? How am I going to explain Dag’s death to our people? How can I convince them that what you did was not, in fact, murder?”

Sadly, Sigurd was in no state to process things rationally. The king’s doubt only added more fuel to the anguish that was already festering inside him, and his temper quickly took over like a hurricane commanding the seas.

“You can explain to them that I just killed the man responsible for Thora’s death! I killed the man who would’ve thrown the rest of us to the wolves. Had it not been for that rat, this village would still be in one piece. Thora would still be alive. I killed him because it was necessary.”

Styrbjorn was quiet in response, urging Sigurd to fill the silence.

“You think I murdered him out of indulgence? You know how much I loved him, father. He was my brother! I didn’t want to see him dead. But I did what was required to keep our clan safe. I finished what Ulfar started.”

But the king had nothing else to offer other than criticism. “You acted carelessly, Sigurd. There is no honor in slaying a man who cannot defend himself. You know this. If you truly believed Dag was the traitor, you should’ve brought him to me -- not slaughtered him in the woods. I could’ve held a trial to determine his judgement. His crimes would’ve been brought to light.”

“You think we have the time for something like that? Dag may have been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool. If there really was any evidence to find of his collusion with Kjotve, he would’ve destroyed it. We’d be investigating for weeks, if not months!”

“And what if there is evidence? What if we discover that Dag was not the only traitor in our midst? What will we do then, hm?”

Sigurd grew irritated. “We’ll deal with it. Just like I dealt with Dag.”

Styrbjorn sighed in defeat. “You rely too much on impulse, my son. You cannot take matters into your own hands like this. If you are to wear the crown someday, you must learn to respect the ways of our kingdom. A good leader enforces the law with a firm hand, but is never above it.”

The prince didn’t take kindly to that. “You are the last person to dictate what makes a good leader. While I’ve been fighting alongside our warriors on the battlefield, risking my life, you’ve been idling with a bottle in your hand, watching everything unfold! You say I’m reckless, but who else is going to defend your kingdom if not you?”

The older man turned away in shame, causing his son to descend even further into his tirade.

“Killing Dag was the only way to proceed, father. I wouldn’t have done it if I had any other options, but we are at a dead-end here. You don’t want me to act like this? Then you can swing the axe yourself next time!”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Sigurd cut himself off and took a moment to glance at his surroundings, suddenly realizing just how much attention he had drawn to their argument. Everywhere around him, men and women alike gawked at their altercation with a blatant sense of fear in their eyes, alarmed by everything they just heard. Not a single word was uttered amongst the small crowd that had gathered around them, and yet, it felt as if their very thoughts lingered in the air.

Looking at his father, Sigurd stepped away from the other man and slunk to Eivor’s side, backing down as if he were shocked by his own behavior. He appeared to be even more devoid of life now that he had argued with Styrbjorn, and within moments, he was desperately searching for a way out.

“I... I need to be alone.”

In the blink of an eye, Sigurd removed himself from the vicinity and retreated to the longhouse, aching for the solitude of his chambers. He left Styrbjorn and Eivor with nothing more than the company of their own thoughts, and disappeared as if he were smoke being whisked away by the wind.

In the meantime, the two men simply watched the prince vanish in the distance as the crowd began to disperse, granting them the luxury of privacy they so fervently desired. A portion of them already felt somewhat sheepish due to announcing their troubles to the public, and frankly, the only thing Eivor wanted was to lock himself in his room.

Unfortunately for the young man though, Styrbjorn didn’t seem ready to let him go just yet.

“Oh, Sigurd...” the king muttered to himself. “When will that boy learn...?”

Eivor approached the conflicted man, attempting to calm his nerves.

“Forgive him, my lord.” He pleaded. “Grief has befallen Sigurd. He made a great sacrifice for us today, cutting down his own friend like that. It will take him a long time to recover from this.”

Styrbjorn pinched the bridge of his nose out of stress, pacing back and forth in the snow.

“I understand that my son was only trying to protect our clan, but I must ensure he’s prepared to inherit the throne. We are at war, Eivor. There’s no guarantee I’ll be around by the time Kjotve is vanquished. The dawn of Sigurd’s reign could arrive sooner than he expects. He must be ready.”

“He is ready,” The Wolf-Kissed reassured. “He just needs time to heal.”

The king halted in his tracks and glanced at the younger man, inquiring about one other matter.

“Listen, Eivor. I hate to ask you of this considering everything that’s going on, but could you speak to Sigurd for me? I’d feel better knowing he wasn’t dealing with this alone.”

Eivor raised a brow. “Me? Why not you?”

“You’ve witnessed firsthand the animosity that stands between me and my son. Very rarely does Sigurd ever greet me with a smile. Whenever we’re together, it always feels like he’s angry at me, or frustrated. And the worst part is... I can’t even say he’s completely unjustified.”

“What do you mean?”

Styrbjorn sighed regretfully, dropping his gaze to the ground. There was a clear rein of hesitancy holding him back, but he knew that in order to help his son the best, he’d need to offer his full candor. 

“Perhaps he’s already told you this, but... ever since Sigurd’s mother passed away, I’ve found myself continuously drawn to the allure of drink. It’s something that’s haunted me for years now. I’ve tried many times to put down the bottle, but in the end, it always ends up trapping me in its clutches. I’m not proud to admit it, but it’s the truth.”

Eivor nodded in remembrance. “Sigurd has told me about this, yes.”

“I’m not surprised. He often speaks fondly of you. It’s clear you’ve gained my son’s unwavering trust. Unfortunately however, I cannot say the same for myself. My relationship with Sigurd has suffered due to my addiction. I have not always been the father he deserves, nor given him the guidance that he needed.”

The king’s stone facade faltered briefly. “It breaks my heart to consider it, but I fear that my own son views me as a nuisance more than anything. A lingering shackle that keeps holding him back. Sometimes I even wonder if the boy hates me.”

The young man’s expression softened with sympathy. “...No, Styrbjorn. No. He  doesn’t hate you. Even Sigurd himself has told me that he loves you. He just feels ignored.”

That caught Styrbjorn’s attention. “Ignored?”

“Yes. The last time he and I spoke about this issue, he expressed that he often feels like you don’t heed his advice; that his words tend to fall on deaf ears. Sigurd wants to help you overcome this, but he says you won’t let him.”

“It’s... true that I haven’t always kept my promises. I cannot deny that. But this battle is not so easily won.”

Eivor gave him an understanding look. “And Sigurd is aware of that. He knows you won’t be able to discard this overnight. But he just needs to see that you’re making some kind of effort. That will be more than enough for him. Trust me.”

Styrbjorn took the man’s advice to heart and quietly thought to himself for a moment, evidently shaken by this revelation. It was clear that a part of him drowned in guilt due to the discovery of Sigurd’s frustrations, but a hint of relief also twinkled in his eye now that he knew the boy still loved him.

“...I see.” The king said sincerely, gazing at the young man with an immense amount of gratitude. “Thank you for telling me this, Eivor. The path to reconciliation will be one laden with difficulties, but at least I can see where I must go. I will think on what you’ve said, and I’ll speak to Sigurd when the moment is right. In the meantime, could you talk to him for now? I fear that my presence would only amplify his anger.”

“Of course,” Eivor said with a firm nod. “I’ll check on him for you.”

“I appreciate it. Stay safe, my boy. Our struggles are far from over. I pray that the gods will extend their mercy to you from now on, and that you recover quickly from today’s tragedies. Peace is a distant reality for us at the moment, but not unreachable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE LONGHOUSE

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Wandering through the longhouse’s dimly lit halls, Eivor followed the trail of torches as he made his way to Sigurd’s chambers, overwhelmed by the looming silence that was broken only by his footsteps.

The adamant walls of the building had blocked out any intrusive sounds --  including that of the howling wind -- and as a result, nothing but the low crackling of fire was present to accompany the thoughts screaming in Eivor’s head.

He just didn’t know how to feel anymore. When he first discovered Thora’s body, the agony that overcame him was so fierce it almost crippled him entirely. He felt like the gods had ripped a hole in the very fabric of the world, and the impact of Ulfar’s death only pressed harder on the weight that was already resting on his shoulders.

Still, he couldn’t imagine what Sigurd was experiencing. Even though Eivor was no stranger to the atrocities of war, he had never been cursed with the responsibility of striking down his own brother. The mere idea of putting himself in the same position with Randvi was enough to crush him, and he worried that the guilt would twist the prince’s spirit into something much darker. He just hoped he could help the man before it was too late.

“...Sigurd?” The Wolf-Kissed said gently, knocking on the surface of his door. “It’s me, Eivor. Can I come in?”

A soft rustle emitted from the inside, followed up by the muffled thuds of Sigurd’s boots. The door swung open after a few moments, and standing in front of him, Eivor saw the prince, looking somber as ever.

“Eivor...?” He whispered, still afflicted by the ordeal with Dag. “You’re here?”

“Yes. I know you said you wished to be alone, but... I was worried. You disappeared from our sight before we could even get a word in. I wanted to check on you. I hope I’m not intruding.” The younger man paused for a second. “...How are you feeling now?”

Sigurd’s gaze fell to the floor. “I... I don’t know, Eivor.” His posture slouched in remorse. “...I’m not doing well.”

“Of course not,” Eivor said in understanding. “Dag was like a brother to you. No one could do what you did and come out unscathed.”

The prince scoffed. “No one except for my father, apparently.” He turned away from the door and stepped aside, allowing Eivor to come in as he spoke. “Can you believe that man? We are this close to winning the war against Kjotve, and he’s more concerned about due process.”

Eivor followed Sigurd into his chambers, closing the door behind them.

“Your father just wants to make sure you’re ready to rule the kingdom.”

“Well, there won’t be a kingdom to rule if we don’t catch Kjotve soon enough. My father says I’m careless in my behavior, but I don’t recall the last time I saw him lifting a sword. What else does he expect me to do?” 

Sigurd took a seat on the edge of his bed and sighed, completely drained of all vigor. “...I know I’m not perfect, Eivor. I know I still have much to learn. But everything I do is for the betterment of this clan. Why can’t my father see that?”

Eivor sat beside his lover, placing a comforting hand on his back. “He does see it. He may not be the best at getting his message across, but trust me when I say your father knows you have good intentions. He just worries that you’ll act with too much haste.”

The prince’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Is that so? And what makes you so certain of that?”

“He and I talked after you left,” the younger man admitted. “He wanted to speak with you personally, but he thought that his company would only aggravate you more.” Eivor frowned in empathy. “...Your father thinks you hate him, Sigurd.”

Sigurd’s entire mood seemed to shift at the response, and for a split-second, it almost looked like he had completely forgotten about the rage he harbored. 

“He does...?”

“Well, he suspects it,” Eivor clarified, “but he said that things are always tense between you two. There never seems to be a moment of peace whenever you’re together.”

The prince shook his head, eager to dispel his beliefs.

“...No,” he said softly. “No. I don’t hate him. I love my father, in fact. I just hate the things he does sometimes.” Sigurd leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I want to keep him safe like I promised my mother I would. It brings me no joy to see him endure any pain or hardship, but...” he let out a breath of frustration, “...he never listens to me! Whenever I try to help him, he only pushes me away. Once, I even dumped all our ale into the river to stop him from drinking, and he broke into a fury unlike anything I’d ever seen.”

A grip of fear took hold of Sigurd’s voice. “...That stuff is poison, Eivor. It’s going to kill him someday. The last thing I want is to see my father step into an early grave, but how am I supposed to help him when he won’t even help himself?”

Eivor brought his partner into a hug, allowing his chin to sit on the man’s shoulder.

“You need to be more patient, Sigurd,” he advised. “Ultimately, your father’s recovery is his own responsibility, but a hostile relationship won’t do anything for either of you. He’s still trying to move on from your mother’s death. Just like you’re trying to move on from Dag’s. Give him time.”

The prince let out a sigh and warmed up to Eivor’s embrace, finally cooling off from the heat of his argument with Styrbjorn.

“I... I suppose you’re right.” He conceded, turning to face the younger man. “...Okay, Eivor. I’ll try to make things right. Not just for my father, but also for you. I promise.”

Eivor smiled at that. “Good. It won’t be easy, I know. But it’ll be worth it.”

Sigurd sat up from his position and laid a hand on the Wolf-Kissed’s lap, diverting the focus of their conversation elsewhere.

“Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing, my love? I’m... so sorry about Thora and Ulfar.”

Eivor separated their hug and stared bleakly at the floor, trying to keep himself together.

“...I still can’t believe they’re gone,” he said. “I thought I’d be used to losing people like this after what happened to my parents, but it hurts just as much as it did all those years ago. Only this time, I feel like I could’ve done something. I wish I did.”

A tinge of regret blanketed Sigurd’s face. “Are you angry that I held you back during the holmgang?”

“No,” Eivor answered truthfully. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. You were only trying to preserve Ulfar’s honor, and to be honest, I’m grateful that you did. As much as I wish I could’ve saved that man, I’d feel even worse if he never reached Valhalla. I’m going to miss him more than words can describe, but at least I know he’s at peace now. At least I know he’s reunited with his wife.” A cloud of sorrow fogged the young man’s eyes. “...I just wish I could say the same for Thora.”

Sigurd’s nose crinkled at the memory of discovering Thora’s body. “Gorm is even more of a coward than his father. It’s a shame what he did to her. He will get the punishment he deserves, Eivor. I won’t let him get away with it.”

The Wolf-Kissed found some solace in the prince’s reassurance. “Thank you. I know there’s nothing I can do to bring Thora back, but it seems only fitting that the man who murdered her joins her side in Helheim.”

“And he will. One way or another.”

Standing up from the bed, Eivor straightened his tunic and inched towards the door, preparing to take his leave. He didn’t want to abandon Sigurd’s side just yet, but he also wanted to see how his family was coping before the day came to an end.

“Anyway, I’ll give you some space, Sigurd.” He said, pressing a hand against the door’s surface. “I imagine you probably want to be alone right now, and there are some things I need to take care of before the funeral starts.”

Contrary to his belief however, the prince didn’t seem to share his sentiments. “Actually, I’d like you to stick around a little longer. If you’re willing to stay, that is.”

Eivor halted mid-action, unable to hide his interest. “You would?”

“Your company is one of the few things that offers me peace nowadays, Eivor. If you want to take this conversation further, you’re more than welcome here.”

The blonde viking took a hesitant glance outside the door, still carrying the same concerns he had lugged around for the past two weeks.

“But what if someone finds us? Don’t you think it’ll strike them as odd that I’ve been with you for so long?”

Sigurd let out a fatigued breath, slowly rising from his bed. “...I don’t care anymore. All this death sitting on our doorstep has shown me just how precious life truly is. I have no idea if I’ll even survive this war, Eivor. I’m not going to spend what could possibly be my final days pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

He walked up to his companion, leaving no more than a few inches between them. “I love you, Eivor. And I’m not ashamed to say it.”

Eivor froze at the confession and simply stared at Sigurd in silence, entirely at a loss for words. It wasn’t too long ago that the prince nearly tore himself apart trying to keep their affair a secret, and yet, he was practically declaring his love from the top of the world now. He no longer cared about the rumors that would spread, or the judgmental glances he’d receive. He was finally done hiding, and Eivor wondered if it was time he felt the same.

“Forgive me,” the younger man replied, “I... I don’t know what to say. I just never expected to hear you say those words.”

Sigurd chuckled. “Neither did I. I used to berate myself without pause when I first realized I was growing attached to you. I tried so desperately to shift my attention to Randvi for the sake of this alliance, but... it never worked. Things only deteriorated for me, and as a result, my life turned into a never-ending battle. I was miserable.”

Eivor smirked affectionately. “And now?”

Sigurd returned the grin. “Now, I know what I want at last. I can finally see why the gods led me here, and I’m done pushing against this fate that the Nornir have woven for me. I’m done with living a lie. My only question is... do you feel the same?”

The Wolf-Kissed let his hand drop from the door and focused completely on the man in front of him, peering fondly into his eyes.

“Of course I do. You’ve always been there for me ever since you first arrived at Bjornheimr. The circumstances under which we had to meet will forever leave a scar on this clan, but I can say for certain that our encounter was a blessing.” Eivor beamed brightly at the prince, holding his cheek in his palm. “I love you too, Sigurd. And nothing will ever change that.”

Sigurd’s expression radiated with a vibrant joy upon hearing that, and he pulled Eivor even closer to him, gently pushing him against the wall. He pecked a small kiss on the younger man’s neck and held him securely by the waist, allowing himself to forget about his troubles for just a brief moment.

“Then let us cast away the burdens of our struggles for tonight, and cherish our final hours of peace together. The stability of this war is precarious enough as it is. If anything happens to us, I don’t want to leave this world with regrets. Freya gave you to me as a gift the day we met, and I don’t intend to waste it.”

Eivor closed his eyes in bliss and linked his arms around Sigurd, caressing him in his embrace. The prince’s touch soothed his skin like ice on a fresh burn, and for the first time in a while, he was able to let his mind roam free from its continuous torment. The bond they shared was something that provided Eivor with a tranquility unlike anything else, and he silently begged the gods to keep his lover safe.

“From here to Valhalla,” Eivor whispered warmly, “I’ll always be at your side, Sigurd.”

[m-y-fandoms]

Danganronpa V3 characters Most to Least likely:

to take their S/O’s side during a scrum debate, knowing their S/O is lying

Sort of an imagine + most to least likely list due to my explanation of each scenario. Warning: spoilers for the entire game throughout.

-Mod Kokichi

Kokichi Ouma - Once he’s in love with you, he’s ride or die to the point that he doesn’t care if he or the others die for you. Plus, lying at the scrum debate and winning doesn’t technically mean the trial goes poorly or that his S/O is the culprit, it’s just a step to find more evidence and weed out traitors, and that’s just how he would justify it to himself. Plus, it’s just waaaaay more fun to spice up the trial with your lies~

Kaito Momota - He chose to love you, right? So he has to believe in you. You must have a good reason for lying, he thinks, but even if you don’t, some people are just worth dying for.

Tenko Chabashira - A similar mindset to Kaito. She will trust her S/O, believing that there’s no way you could be malicious, and wanting to believe your true heart is pure to the very end. Even if she’s not confident with her decision to support you, she’s gonna yell and fight like she is.

Kaede Akamatsu - She wouldn’t choose an S/O who would lie to save themselves and let everyone else die, so if you’re lying, it must be for a good reason.

Shuichi Saihara - A mix of Kaede and Kaito’s reasoning, he believes that he chose a good person to love, and believes in your intellect. You must be lying to twist the trial in a positive way. He did point out Kaede’s lie in the first trial reluctantly, but he just had a mild crush on her...he LOVES you, and whereas Kaede asked him to expose her lie, you were clearly wanting him on your side. He just couldn’t turn against you.

Ryoma Hoshi - He wouldn’t lie for a friend or aquaintence in a trial, being a very blunt and honest guy, but if the only person in this world who gave him a reason to live and loves him needs him on their side, you’re damn right he’s going to lie for them.

Rantarou Amami - Amami isn’t a selfish guy. He’s loved many people in his life: siblings, parents, friends, previous lovers. He knows what it means to sacrifice and even though he is the Ultimate Survivor, it was because he’s good at it, not necessarily for selfish reasons. If his little sister had been throw in this killing game or the previous one he was in, he would die for her in an instant, an he would die for you. So...he trusts you. And after a bit of a shocked expression and wondering what you’re up to, he would join in and lie with you, and he’s so confident and smooth that he might just fool the majority of your classmates.

Korekiyo Shinguji - Make no mistake, Kiyo has no trouble lying on his own behalf...but for others, no. He would be very conflcited at first, even trying, subtly and gracefully, to get you to tell the truth and sweating over your lies in the trial, because deep down, he can be a very selfish person. No one has ever wanted him in their lives and he’s a loner, so self-preservation always came first. Why stick his neck out or care about people who bully/ostracize/judge him? Why see other humans as anything other than objects of beauty, precious but ultimately not as valuable as his own life, just as an artifact would be. But...you didn’t look at him like that, like he was a creep or inquire about his mask and habits. He had fallen in love with you, realizing his relationship with his sister growing up was something traumatic and not normal, very much forced on his young mind. He had to...he had to lie for you.

Tsumugi Shirogane - As the mastermind, she can easily tell where the trial is headed and can probably make Monokuma say some stupid reason or new rule for getting you out of your lies later on, so she’s willing to lie for you in the debate, putting on her innocent and naive facade, just with a new layer of lovesick.

Miu Iruma - This would go one of two ways. 1. She genuinely doesn’t know you’re lying and sides with you, barking at your opponents in your defense, or 2. She knows you’re lying and the anger behind her words thrown at your opponents is half for them for accusing you, and half for you for being a dumbass, lying little bitch who now has dragged her into this. If you both survived this trial, she would chew you out later.

Himiko Yumeno - She doesn’t want to die, but as seen in-game, she quickly loses heart when it comes to losing people she loves or being pressured. She would hesitantly tell you to stop lying and that she trusted you, so how could you act like this, but would slowly lose the will to fight and want to take your side because she loves you, even going as far as to say something like: “Nyeh...I know S/O is lying, b-but, but I’m gonna take their side until the very end, and I’m not gonna vote for them. I...I just can’t,” while trembling softly. And shame on you for making her feel that way.

Maki Harukawa - She wouldn’t associate herself with, much less date someone who lies for the wrong reasons. She would lie for you if she felt it was necessary or for the greater good or moving the trial in the right direction, but would avoid voicing her opinion in the trial altogether unless her hand is forced. Maki is more likely to call out your bullshit bluntly and in a monotone voice, before forcing you to tell the truth to the others and own up to what you did. If you were only lying to find evidence or save face, she wouldn’t even bring it up after the trial, but if your lie was to cover for you killing someone, she would close her eyes during your execution and silently pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did, crying later when absolutely no one could see her. They would be tears of grief over losing her one true love, and tears of anger at your selfishness and her stupidity in choosing to love you.

Angie Yonaga - “Atua says it’s alwaaaays better to speak the truth!” She says while posing her hands in a praying position. You saw how she threw Himiko under the bus in the second trial, there was no way she was lying for you or dying for your stupid lie. If it was a lie to keep the trail moving, oh well, she exposed you. If you lied and died as the culprit, oh well, it is better to be with Atua anyway, and she can find other people to be around easily. Additionally, I really see Angie as aromantic or averse to real romantic relationships. I think she would see her S/O as someone who cares about her and Atua, and is easy to manipulate, but who she admits she likes spending time with more than others. Still not lying or dying for you though.

Gonta Gokuhara - the key word here is knowing his S/O is lying. If he is convinced you’re not lying even when you are, he will take your side until convinced otherwise by his friends. He loves you so very much, but gentleman don’t lie, and he believes that his S/O should always tell the truth. “S-S/O, telling lies only hurt yourself and others. Gonta knows you are good person. Only bad people lie!” He would be heartbroken that you want him to take your side and expect him to lie, and has a very the-truth-shall-set-you-free mindset. Plus, I don’t think Gonta would think so far ahead as to see that the truth may get his beloved killed. He’s thinking of the here and now, this particular conversation. And you shouldn’t be lying to your friends.

Kirumi Tojo - If Kirumi ever let herself get close enough to you to fall in love, she would still set strict boundaries for herself, and have a very professional/master and maid type relationship with you. She would comfort you more and maybe blush at your contact or flirty advances but not reciprocate too much becasue there is a part of her that keeps every relationship in her life at a arm’s length. She won’t let herself truly love. No one can break down her wall, for that’s what makes her perfect to serve unconditionally. When realizing you’re lying, because oh, she definitely would, she would close her eyes, a small frown on her face. She’s disappointed in you, but reminds herself again why she doesn’t get close to people. She sighs, exposing your lies calmly to the others with phrases a little less cold than usual, such as: “I’m sorry, S/O, but that’s not the complete truth and I can’t allow it.”

Kiibo - Simply put, no matter his feelings toward you, Kiibo knows that in this trial, lying could lead to everyone dying. A handful of friends and himself dying for a liar is just not fair. He wouldn’t lie with or for you. In the best case scenario inside his careful and analytical mind, you are exposed for lying and it was a petty lie or doesn’t mean you’re the culprit. I the worst case scenario, it leads to your death. And while he feels the closest feeling to human love he has ever felt for you, he can’t let a bunch of innocent friends die for your lie. He would miss you, and be very depressed about losing you and maybe never try to have a relationship like this again, but his decision is what was ethically and morally right.

[valdarian]

Invader Zim- Infinite Pink: Prologue (1)

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This fic is intended for a mature audience and will be covering some traumatic topics that could be triggering. Please be advised! 

Read with caution! 

-Major Character death is temporary and only used in prologue.

-This fic is likely to make some uncomfortable or potentially be triggering. -It is intended for mature audiences, as it will be exploring dark and mature themes and situations. Such as violence, implied/attempted sexual assault and abuse. Non-con/dub-con warnings apply. I will try not to go into too much graphical details, however be warned it will be implied or referenced. -The events in this story are entirely fictional and merely done for dramatic effect. However, they are not intended to poke fun or downplay the real-life seriousness of these issues in anyway.

-I always try to include additional warnings in my author notes before each chapter.

WARNINGS OVER.

Stay safe!

===============================

SUMMARY: Zim’s trial was a victory for Irken society, their biggest thorn finally defeated for good. Zim’s soul reflects on his life and actions from the great beyond. 

When a second chance presents itself; Will he achieve his happy ending or wind up like he did before? Fighting against impossible odds, unraveling mysteries and discovering what lies beneath. Secrets will be revealed. What truth awaits?

===============================

NOTES: 

-Prazr is supposed to be slow burn endgame pairing.

-No Dib/mission to invade Earth (I don’t plan on exploring it) in this fic, besides small past references. 

-Instead it will be focused more on Irk and her history/society. Like Zim’s Academy/elite days.

-It’s been years since I’ve wrote a proper story, so please don’t mind the writing if it’s a bit weird in some places. I’ve had this plot stuck in my head for about a year. Inspired by my obsessed with Isekai/reincarnation/do-over manga and fics.

-If others want to use this as a base for their own story or art, that’s fine. Just tag me, I’d love to see what you do!

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(The Abyss: Undetermined time after The Trial)

Zim floated endlessly in darkness, surrounded only by a feeling of a bygone age.

His body, the only thing visible as far as the eye could see. Was as bare as the day he was born, not even a PAK attached. 

Any Irken caught like this would be ridiculed for such degeneracy. Yet, he could not muster much shame. Only hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

He had nothing to show the passage of time. Only a half remembered feeling of what it was to be alive. Left alone in the Abyss with only his own thoughts and distant memories as company.

How long had he been here? Minutes, cycles...Eons?

Was this what death truly felt like? All alone and tormented by his life on replay.

Forever wondering what had went wrong.

He had been angry at first. Enraged at the thoughts of his trial and execution.

How dare they do this to him, to ZIM! He hadn't done anything to deserve this!

The pain of PAK removal was one of the few things still fresh in his mind.

He had cursed the hoomans and their filthy planet, the dib-beast for always interfering in his plans. As well as a long list of others for his fate. Just about anyone and everyone he could remember. No matter how insignificant they had played a role in his life.

His rage had burned without an end in sight. Who had he angered to endure such disgrace! Who did they think they were to put him through such humiliation? 

The names had slipped past his lips before he could stop them.

The Almighty Tallest.

His tirade had halted immediately. Appalled at his renegade of a mouth.

What traitorous thoughts! 

The propaganda and teachings of the Empire still deeply ingrained within his mind.

Yet, the more he had thought about them, the more his rage started to burn again. Turning into a blaze of discontent and resentment.

The Tallest had used him!

They were no more innocent then he!

Just as the Empire had designed them to. Zim had only been doing what any Irken soldier would've done...right? They were taught to love destruction and mayhem. How could he ever be the one in the wrong? Was not that, the purpose the Control Brains gave them?

He was only doing his duty.

What right did they have to punish him then!

Was not it the Tallest who had forced him to pilot during Operation Impending Doom? 

They hadn’t even asked what had caused the disaster. Why he had done what he did. Not that he could’ve answered them. Even now, that time is nothing but a distant haze at best. 

Still, they had never tried to find out what had went wrong. Only sending him to suffer on Foodcourtia under the sadistic Sizz-Lorr.

Did they like seeing him in pain? Did they enjoy seeing him unable to fight against them, even when they continued to ridicule him. Pushing him ever closer to his breaking point?

Like when they had sent him to that treacherous death-world known as Urth.

No! His body had shook in anger.

No, no. 

The truth was that they had sent him into the deep recess of space, hoping he would die.

He had turned a blind eye to all their misdeeds against him. 

For so long...too long, he realizes now. 

Letting his feelings blind him.  Everything had just felt so...so right with them. He had clung to a smeethood friendship. To long buried feelings that he swore they shared, but could not speak of. 

Had he really been that delusional?

They had been friends once, close ones. It had been an instant connection. One he thought would last the test of time. Since their days in the Academy, they had spent practically every waking moment by each other’s sides. Years spent studying, training and completing assignments together. Even graduated as elites with one another.  

He had cared about them, more than he could ever put into words. He had thought they had cared about him too.

Maybe they had one point...Until their love of status won out.

Zim had always known about their dreams of grandeur. But, had ignored it. Convincing himself, that no matter what, they would never abandon him. That they still cared for him...even if only a little.

Yet, time and time again he was proven wrong. 

Unwilling to accept the truth. His own delusions gladly filling in the blanks. They were ultimately the same as him, obviously. Only doing what the Empire wanted. What the Control Brains wanted. 

This was all an...act...There was no way they actually hated him. It was...a test! A test of his faith, of his will...of his love. No matter what, he couldn’t fail. He needed to prove himself to them. Maybe then...

What a pitiful creature he had been.

So much so, he had even done something as primitive as pray to the ancient Gods. Hoping that one day...

He really was delusional. The crazed mess everyone believed him to be.

After all, what Irken in their right mind, would ever want to be seen with such a tiny smaller? 

Yet, in the end he had still loved them. Even now his cardiac-spooch aches for them.

They had hurt him, but he had hurt them too.  He hates them, he loves them, he hates them, he loves them...

He doesn’t know what to think about them anymore.

After some time, his anger had eventually moved on. 

To the only ones left.

The Control Brains.

The machines who claimed to control everything. If they were truly such omnipotent beings, then surely they had to have known his PAK was defective! They dictated everything about Irken lives after all, from what they wore, to their careers and everything in-between. 

Then why was only he to blame!

Were not they the ones that programed him this way!

If he had been such a threat to the empire, if his PAK had so many errors, then why didn't they fix it!

Why had he been the only one to be punished!

If he was so broken, then why couldn't they have just fixed him!

…and just like that, the flames had been snuffed out. He had been quiet for a few minutes...hours...or maybe even days. Dwelling only on that single thought alone.

A sob had left him as the realization came crashing down.

Only then had he finally blame himself. A deep well of shame had quickly bubbling within him.

Over two hundred cycles, years devoted to serving the Armada. Bowing to the strict rules of the Empire and whims of his Tallest. Placing his loyalty to Irk above all else. Rejecting his natural inclinations. Forever trying to hid his perceived weaknesses.

It all amounted to what exactly?

He was defective. A mistake. A problem to be remedied and swept under a rug to be forgotten.

He was only capable of needlessly destroying everything in his path, even himself.

Forever trying to be something he wasn't.

While Silently pleading, hoping beyond hope someone would give him the attention...the love that he so desired. His peers would recognize him and appreciate him.

Irk was sure to celebrate his death for cycles to come.

It's not that he hadn't tried to control his urges. He had tried, he really did. To be the perfect soldier, to be the prime Irken example.

But, at his core, that not who he was. Despite how much he had tried to make himself to be so.

Luck was as much his friend as it was his enemy.

In a society were one was not to step out of line, not to break any mold, to do only what they were told. Someone like him, could only double down. Hoping that maybe this time something would go right. If only he kept trying it wouldn't be considered failure. Something would have to work eventually, right? He hadn't been kicked out of the collective yet. So that meant there was still hope.

What a fool he had been. 

Chaos incarnate many called him. The name Zim was synonymous with destruction and failure. He had no glory, no honor. He was nothing but a devil to his own people, an omen of their death.

By the Gods, if he could just go back! 

His hands clench at the thought.

Would things be different? Could he make different choices. 

Even if his loyalty came into question? If he walked a different road then that of the perfect little Irken. 

Would he even be capable of such a thing?

He doesn’t know.

If only he had tried a little hard to control himself. If he could just be given another chance to prove himself. If to no one else, but to him. If he could just have a chance to live life how he truly wanted.

If only he could start over. If only...

A humorless laugh leaves him. Who would even give him the time of day? To him of all Irken?

As if.

His Empire had denounced him. His people had forsaken him. He had nothing left.

Magenta eyes stare blankly into the expansive darkness. They close as he  buries his face into his knees, lamenting his fate.

Truly this couldn't have been a more fitting punishment for someone as despicable as him.

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Cover Art: https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/643477875611271168/cover-art-for-my-invader-zim-fanfic-infinite

OC ART:https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/643603226310148096/just-a-few-of-my-oc-that-appear-in-infinite-pink

MAP of IRK: https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/644055524128735232/guess-who-found-a-world-map-maker-its

Next chapter:

https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/640238150925598720/invader-zim-infinite-pink-ch1