Idk Why I Haven’t Seen This With Jayce But 😭😭 I Need Want A Fic Of Him Inspired By El Chico Del

Second Son (Epilogue) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The new era. The end of one chapter, and the beginning of another.

Part XIX / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Thank you all so much.

You peer out of the fenestrated walls, eyes glazing over the faint swinging of wooden signs and veranda covers. The ambience around you swirls like a sheer veil as you lean back into your seat, sighing out blissfully as your cooling charm beats with fervor, shielding you from the blistering heat of the summer day. 

Dragging your eyes away from the bright view, you run your finger along the thick cardstock in front of you. The blocky letters begin to fade into the background of snowy mountain caps and faded waterfalls as you continue to trace your eyes over it. 

‘Greetings from OREGON’ 

You flip the postcard over and swipe a finger across the swirly letters. 

‘Hope you’re well, kid. - A. Fiske’ 

A sudden thudding noise echoes across from you, and you slowly shift to sit straight as your eyes drag themselves away from the letters. You tilt your head with a coy smile as your companion leans back to get comfortable, evidently miffed by the unrelenting heat waves. 

“Good to see you, B.” You smile saccharinely, fingers dancing along the chilled cup in front of you. 

Blaise rolls his eyes and places his own drink down on the table—iced americano, simple, bitter, and everything that Blaise wasn’t. You would never understand his fascination with the drink. He huffs before smiling sarcastically at you, “Yes, how long has it been? Two days?” 

“Don’t whine, it’s unbecoming.” You mutter playfully, twirling your straw around the rim of your cup. 

“Merlin, you’re even starting to sound like her. Really, no wonder mother finds you so endearing.” He tuts as he throws his elbow back to rest on the back of his chair. 

You chuckle and shake your head, “Okay, let’s digress then.” You lean forward and cross your legs, “How is Draco doing? Theo is irritatingly uninformed on the topic.” 

“He’s alright, thanks to you and Potter anyway. His father might not be facing a long sentence, but many of the elected Wizengamot heads are shifty even with your statements. Lucius Malfoy has been a slippery eel for a few years too long.” He hums, face unflinching as he sips on his potent drink, “How the mighty have fallen so.”

Nodding, your voice drops lower as you survey the rest of the cafe, “Azkaban will still do a number on him even with a lighter sentence. Narcissa is worried.” 

“As she should be,” he replies curtly, “and speaking of Azkaban, how is Lord Black nowadays? He’s become quite the hermit. Is he faring well?” 

You sigh and rub your chin, “Yeah, he’s just been busy with remodeling. He’s still quite miffed that Reggie and I decided to move out.” 

“At least he has Potter with him.” Blaise supplies, eyes darkening in rumination at the mention of Regulus. He levels you with inquisitive eyes, “Before I forget, what should I send over?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you hum, “How do you mean?” 

“Your house warming gift, daft one.” He rolls his eyes lightly. 

“Just bring your lovely self.” You huff out. 

Blaise crosses an ankle over his knee, “A vase then.” 

“If it clashes with the aesthetic then I’m tossing it into the basement.” You warn jokingly, smiling widely at your friend. 

He shakes his head with a muffled chuckle, “No worries. Anyways, you still need to unpack, right? Need any help?” 

“Oh? Work not keeping you busy enough?” You rest back against your chair, head bleeding with thoughts about how taxing work has been in the past few months with the Ministry trying to dial the reconstruction process to an inconceivable pace. 

Blaise groans at the reminder, taking a long sip of his drink, “Merlin, they should rename the whole Department! Department of International Magical Cooperation? What a joke, all they do is sit in an oval and squabble.” 

You throw your head back to laugh, a feathery light bubble of relief expanding in your chest. It was mind-boggling to think that not even a year ago you were all fighting for your lives, and now the same backdrop of fear that followed everyone around for so many years had disintegrated. People strided through halls and streets with lifted shoulders and bright eyes, war-hardened, but jovial as their burdens gave way. 

Blaise had worked his way up the Department of International Magical Cooperation, often leaving meetings with a sharp migraine and dwindling hope in the frequency of common sense. Theodore was faring well, now a highly revered Unspeakable for the Time Branch, all made possible with his swift denouncement of his father. Draco was the more withdrawn one out of the three, but you held out hope for him, having corresponded with him over his budding fascination for Alchemy. 

You found that your new friends were on your mind often, and you were endlessly grateful to them as they took Regulus’ reintegration into society with stride, often giving you advice on how to politely tell inquisitive reporters to bugger off. Meetings with them were slowly becoming a rarity as all of you became engrossed in work, but your friendships remained resolute as you all quickly became each other’s closest confidants. 

Luna wrote to you often, and you sent her trinkets and snacks by the dozen, finding yourself constantly worried that others would mistreat the girl with the absence of your friend group. Luckily, the girl found a friend in Ginny, and you were looking forward to reuniting with her during her Summer Break. 

Harry and Ron were inducted into the Auror ranks by Shacklebolt only a few weeks after the war. You had your reservations about their decision to jump into such a high-risk job, the stench of carnage and battle throbbing like an open wound, but they insisted that they would never be able to focus enough to finish school. 

On the opposite side of that sentiment, there was Hermione. She had quickly delved back into Hogwarts’ curriculum amidst its reconstruction, and was now looking to you with hopeful words about beginning her own sabbatical. 

You had published your research under both yours and Regulus’ name, omitting information about Regulus’ discovery of sentient portraits as a precaution for the future. 

You both respected Anders’ wish to leave his name off the cover and the research, but he failed to warn you against leaving his name anywhere else, so simply on the first page of your book, you dedicated the findings to him and Asger with a simple ‘For A. & A. Fiske.’ 

The research was groundbreaking, to say the least. You wouldn’t be able to forget the swaths of letters and documents from the Ministry, and one very heated missive to you from Blaise about how he was even more swamped with work, many foreign countries reaching out to inquire about the findings. 

It all paid off though, the royalties you and Regulus got would sustain you both for the rest of your humble lives, and the boost on your portfolio made getting a job in the Department of Mysteries a cakewalk. 

Once the sun rolled across the cloudless sky, the singing blues morphing to hues of pinks and purples, you bid your friend goodbye, wishing him luck with work and promising to gather with the rest of your friends the following week. 

You were certain that apparition was the most useful skill you had in your toolbelt, and you couldn’t fathom how you managed to survive the majority of your life without such a feat. As your shoes pad against the pavement, the bristling of leaves skidding around you, you let out a content sigh as you approach your destination. 

It was the closest thing you had to home for so long, and it still felt like safety and comfort despite the sudden heaviness of your own house keys in your pocket. As you pop the door open, head peeking around the heavy wood, your face lights up as a figure comes into view. 

“You’re home!” You exclaim excitedly, stepping inside with a wide grin. 

Harry approaches you and gives you a fleeting hug, hand raising to adjust his glasses as he pulls back, “Yeah, Tonks let me off early. How was your meeting with Blaise?”

“Good,” you draw out suspiciously, eyes narrowing as you both pace through the dim walkway, “how’d you know about that?”

“Regulus.” He answers simply, eyebrows raising in tease as you huff. 

You both cross into the threshold of the kitchen, stopping in your tracks as you see countless manuals splayed across the wide berth of the table. Regulus and Sirius are both hunched over in their seats, flipping furiously through the catalogues. 

“Some light reading, Sirius?” Your voice rings out playfully, body already moving towards your squinting boyfriend. Both men shoot up from their positions and blink owlishly at you and Harry, the sea of papers long forgotten. 

“Furniture shopping, pup!” Sirius replies with a tired grin as he stretches his arms over his head. 

Regulus rises from his chair and meets you halfway, arms wrapping securely around your body as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck. A few more moments pass by before he cranes back and blinks slowly at you, “Birdie.” 

You run a hand through his curls and smile lightly, “Love.” 

Regulus keeps you secure to him as he moves to drop back down into his seat, leaning his head against your stomach as you remain standing. Your eyes drop down to look at the varying bleak images on the shining white pages. 

Raising your eyebrows, your eyes drift around an image of a steep bookshelf with two glass doors, “Is this for us or Sirius?” 

Sirius leans back in his seat and rubs the bridge of his nose, “Your place. Reggie helped me pick out a few pieces earlier.” 

Your eyes wander around the aged cabinets and drabby wallpaper, trying to envision the space in a remodeled visual, one that would be Sirius-esque rather than screaming of cobwebs and medieval torture. You smile minutely before reaching a hand out across the table, bringing your other hand to card through Regulus’ hair as you mutter quietly to the tired man across from you, “I’m happy for you, Sirius.” 

The man reciprocates your smile and clasps his hand in yours, “Thank you, pup. I’m happy for you too,” he huffs and glances at Regulus, who remained immobile against your stomach, “the both of you.” 

The tender moment continues for a few more beats before Harry slowly leans on the seat next to Sirius’, eyes scrutinizing a forgotten pile of booklets off to the older man’s left, “Sirius, where are we going to put a lion table?” 

You snort out a muffled laugh as the man swivels over to his godson with beaming eyes, knowing that Harry would be whining to you later about Sirius’ ineptitude at interior decorating. 

“You should start cleaning up, Remus will be here soon for dinner.” You murmur with a pointed look at the trio. 

As the final outlines of the sun slinks away in the horizon, you and Regulus bid farewell to the occupants of Grimmauld Place, intent on spending the rest of the night in your home. It was fortunate that Regulus had managed to set up the floo network to your home only a matter of days before, and the journey back left little room for complaints as the green flames dragged away from your vision. 

You step out into the darkness of your study room, ears perking imperceptibly when the network flares again as Regulus joins you. The twilight sky filters into your home, dimly illuminating the barren room. 

“We’re home.” You mutter with a content smile. 

Regulus slowly pads towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he sways you both. Your eyes are drawn to the French casement windows behind the desk, getting lost in the sight of the dancing flower field. 

“Shall we head to the cliff, birdie?” Regulus muses, eyes following your gaze as he drifts into rumination. 

You nod and reluctantly step forward, pivoting on your heel and dropping a hand onto Regulus’ arm, “I’ll meet you at the front? I need to drop off a few things in the bedroom.” 

“Of course, baby.” He leans over to capture your lips in a soft kiss, hands dropping to your hips as he lightly grips onto you. 

Humming against his lips, you slowly pull back and rub a thumb across his cheek, “I’ll be quick, promise.” 

He pecks your lips again and gives you one last squeeze before he slowly backs away, shooting you a warm smile as he makes his way to the entryway. You retreat from the study room soon after, making a sharp right turn as you pace towards your shared bedroom. 

Regulus had been the one to bring up the idea of getting a beach house, assuring you that he was unsettled by still water and not turbulent waves. It was a quaint building, one that sprouted into the center of a lustrous flower garden, and you both knew it was the one when you toured it. Just a short walk away from the blooming fields, a precipitous cliffside broke away and loomed over a thick landing of sand, giving a small brief from the swaying waves 

As you enter the lusterless room, you shed away your bag and walk towards your bedside table, propping the Oregon postcard against your lamp. Atop the same white bedside table sat Regulus’ old golden frame, now whole and without trace of ever having been shattered. Under the frame, the folded piece of paper that Regulus had given you the night after you bought the property peeked out. 

You grasp both items in your hands, and smile lightly as an idea formulates in your head. 

“Kreacher!” You call lightly. 

The house-elf pops into the bedroom with a curious frown, teetering towards you as you extend the items out. You fish out your wand as Kreacher grabs the frame, muttering a faint engorgio at the rectangular object. The frame wobbles in the elf’s grasp before slowly stretching to nearly thrice its original size. 

“Could you possibly frame this note for me? Maybe above the headboard?” You request with a small smile. 

“Kreacher will do that.” The house elf nods and begins to fiddle with the frame. 

Your eyes run across the note one more time before you hand the slip to the elf, making your way out to Regulus with a fleeting farewell. The boy has a jacket slung over his arm as he waits for you by the door, carding his hair back as a flicker of joy flashes through his eyes when you appear in his line of sight. 

“All ready?” He murmurs once you reach him. 

“More than ready.” You reply with a hum, leaning to peck his cheek. 

The trek towards the cliffside passes by in the blink of an eye, and you’re left with butterflies in your stomach as Regulus picks several tulips for you along the way. By the time you’re close enough to the ocean to hear the crashing of waves, you are left to huddle close to Regulus for warmth. 

The sky begins to darken above you, but you give no protest when Regulus drags you to sit down on the ground. He peers up at the sky above him, eyes tracing across the faint twinkles of the approaching stars. 

You bring a hand to trace his chest as you do the same, cradling the flowers to your side as you begin to sift through the reel of memories in your head. 

“I love you, birdie.” Regulus whispers into the air, his arm moving to rest on your waist. 

You smile widely and press your face into the crook of his neck, “I love you.” 

And as you both laid under the stitches of glowing stars, sharing tiny whispers and shielding each other from the brutal winds, back in your home, Kreacher makes the last adjustments to the new wall decor. 

Kreacher mutely assesses the space as he backs out, the elf’s head full of future possibilities.

It was peaceful. After so many years, he felt at peace.

The door closes with a faint click just as the stars peek through the bedroom window, reflecting off the glowing frame. The swirls of inks encapsulated in the shining beams dance amongst the canvas of the wall. 

‘29 October, 1979

I wonder what being in love feels like. 

26 April, 1999

Love is like flying freely from the inhibitions of your burdens, where your person is your wings, your eyes, and your heart; you soar freely with the knowledge that they will carry you above the storms of doubt. I no longer wonder because now I know.’ 

Fin.

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[0.8k] tangled lights, glass ornaments and christmas memories in the making as you spend the holiday with the marauders.

.

“Sirius, put the tinsel down!” 

“But it looks good on me, love.” 

“Yeah, and I am sure it will look so pretty when I strangle you with it.” 

“Ouch, so testy for the festive season.”

A snort could be heard from somewhere behind you both.

The marauders were undoubtedly a handful to deal with, and you had known that for many, many years. From your first year when a wild curled James settled into the seat next to you, thrusting his hand out to you and slipping his name in between his rambles with Sirius and Remus quickly settling on the other side of you—to now, where the lot of you stood in the Potter Manor living room with boxes of decorations and one job given by Euphemia Potter to have the tree decorated before she returned. 

As it would turn out, decorating the tree with three overgrown children was much more difficult than you had convinced yourself it would be. 

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Chapter 3: Recreation—Redoubt

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The next few days were pretty uneventful. Most of the stuff that happened was meeting with Shimoguchi in the hospital. After his whole team was slaughtered mercilessly he resided in the stiff bed after help arrived and rescued him, treating all his minor injuries.

Although it was Akane's job to join both Haise and Akira during these moments she decided to leave it all to the both of them deeming the task, "boring." Instead she walked over to the familiar scent of ground coffee and sweet, sweet, sugar. Her beige coat engulfed her curvy figure as she entered the warm café. A little bell at the top of the door alerting the barista upfront.

Her dark purple swaying behind her as she greeted the new customer with a small smile. Her voice coming out smoothly, her upturned smile making itself present in her voice.

"Welcome to Re, what can I get you..?"

Her eyes widened in surprise as she trailed off. In front of her stood the short woman. Her lilac hair pulled up into a messy bun, her lips stained a bloody red making her pale complexion stand out even more. Her lips curled into a small smile, "Hi, Touka," she waved.

The woman felt conflicted, but a small warmth spread throughout her chest seeing a familiar face after all these years of living in solitude.

"I hope you don't mind brewing me a drink."

"I.. uh. Sure, plain brew?"

Nodding she sat by the counter up front and waited patiently. She looked around the place and noticed shelves and shelves of books on the walls of the café. They varied from informational novels, romance, historical fiction, thrillers, and other varying genres. The vibe of the café was calm, cozy—it felt like a safe haven, the dim lights making her feel at home.

In an instant Touka came back and settled the cup in front of her.

"Nice place you got here, Touka. Reminds me of Anteiku, you know? But the books are throwing me off." She said as she sipped the scalding liquid, her throat burning at the temperature, but she managed the pain.

"What are you doing here?" Touka inquired, feeling a bit off edge at her sudden appearance.

"You know you aren't being slick with the books. I bet if Kaneki visited he'd move in—in point five seconds." She chuckled as her fingers traced the rim of the coffee cup.

The dark haired woman blushed at the words and tried to deny every word that came out of the busty woman's mouth. Cheeks became increasingly red as she stuttered over her words. Akane just laughed at the younger woman and shook her head.

"You're so easy to read, grape."

"W-what are you doing here?" She crossed her arms.

"Can't I visit? Damn, first, Nishiki, now you? Guess I'm unwanted everywhere I go." She joked about blowing on her cup.

"That's not what I meant, and you know that."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes as she sipped on her cup once more,

"I wanted to escape from my job real quick." She shrugged as she looked into the brown liquid, her reflection gazing up at her.

"They're being a pain in the ass and I can't escape from them. I just wish I had my old life back, you know?" She chuckled whilst stroking the handle of the cup in a slow manner.

"Yeah. I know." Touka sighed

"What.. happened after we-"

"A lot. But it's best if we catch up at a later time, right now it's isn't safe to. Not here." She shook her head.

"You know, Anteiku was more like a family than my sister was, to me. I hope you know that I care for you and the others, Touka." She smiled as she picked her stuff up and pulled out a few bills leaving it on the counter as she left the café.

The purple haired girl watched her walk away leaving her glued to her spot as she looked down at the now vacant seat, her chest warming up for the first time in a while.

"You too, Reina."

The walk home was a bit slow and carefree. It's been a while since she decided to take up to enjoy the beautiful scenery surrounding her. It made her feel nostalgic of all the times her and her sister snuck out of their fathers place and wandered around without a care in the world. Soaking in the beauty nowadays was a luxury for most people.

Days consisting of work, barely any time to spend time at home relaxing, spending time with the family, with the kids, taking time for yourself was taboo. Forced to drink and make social relations with humans was growing tiring for Reina, she just wanted to rest and dream about the good old days.

Anteiku. The old coffee shop that used to stand in place of the newer shop, :Re. A family she found after her sister disowned her and left her to stay with her father. In an attempt to search for her sister she also fled to the 20th ward where she found home. She ended up transferring schools after she decided to live in the 20th ward, the safest ward up until a few years later.

She opened the door and sluggishly hung up her coat and kicked off her heels, as her hand reached up to unclasp the anchored claw clip in her hair. Her eyes felt tired and watery.

"Damn it." She cursed as the hand in her hair came down to wipe away the free flowing tears, her hair now unraveling itself down her back as it settled to frame her face

At the top of the staircase was a shadowed figure that made itself known after hearing noise coming from downstairs. She gazed up at the person and quickly settled her eyes elsewhere upon realizing who it was. She didn't say a word and instead just walked all the way up to her room and shut it. She laid on her bed all sprawled out and looked out the window. The bright sun peeking out from the thin curtains, rays of sun peeking through the gaps.

The whole room illuminated in a golden cast, the rays that hit her body warming her up more than before—but in a comforting way. All that was missing was a hand running through her hair murmuring a few words about an old story her sister heard a few times before they escaped that god ridden place.

She turned over and looked at the propped up frame on her nightstand. A picture of her older sister and father enjoying quality time together. Their faces calm and collected as he braided his daughters hair and she read with a book in her lap. The same rays of sun in her room showed in the picture, the warmth in the photo could be felt outside of it. She took the photo in secret after finding the discarded camera in an empty alleyway the day prior. The picture had been a fond memory of hers as she remembered what happened after they found her sneaking up on them.

The sound of a camera shutter could be heard from a few feet away which alerted the two. As her father tied up his little girls hair he stood up and walked up to the door of the room and pushed it open only to find his other little girl with a camera in her hand as she smiled up at him with innocent eyes.

"Where'd you get this from, Reina?" He asked as he picked up the device and inspected it closer. He certainly didn't remember gifting her a toy camera—let alone a real one.

"I found it! Remember when you sent me and Rize to go shopping? I saw something white in an alleyway and so I told Rize that I saw something and we checked it out! It was a camera! It might be a bit dirty and scratched up, but it works fine." She explained twirling a strand of her lilac hair between her thumb and pointer finger.

She looked up at her father and shied away from his gaze.

"So you didn't steal this?" He lowered himself to meet her face.

"No! No! Rize, tell him I didn't! You were there with me!" She pointed at her sister, hoping he'd believe her word.

The older girl just chuckled and shook her head in a playful manner.

"Hmm, I think I remember someone running after us saying 'you get back here you thieves!'" She joked.

"Hey! You know that's not true!" The younger girl furrowed her eyebrows as she crossed her arms.

The older girl just laughed and walked towards her younger sister and picked her up. "I'm just joking, queenie. I know you didn't steal it." She looked up at her father and explained that it was by a garbage can and they asked the owner if they could take it with them.

"Can't have my daughter thinking it's okay to steal. I've raised them to be respectful, kind ladies." He scooped them up and handed the camera back to his youngest.

"I know I may not be your biological father, but I hope you know that I care for you both and will try my best to be the best father to the both of you." He whispered as he kissed the crowns of their heads.

The boy had walked back to his place on the couch after the girl went up to her room. He noticed that her eyes were a bit puffy and red, her hair a bit disheveled. Hell, she hadn't even insulted him as she passed him. He found it weird but didn't think of it much. Pushing his thoughts aside he sat back down on the couch and scrolled through his phone for a while until he couldn't shake the thought anymore.

Curiously he made his way upstairs and walked to the wooden door. The scent of perfume lingered from her room, often nauseating the rest of the team with how strong they were. She'd taken their reaction into consideration and threw them out and swapped them for more faint scents. Often not she'd bring home samples and ask around the house whether they were good to wear or not.

His hand reached for the door handle and pulled it open as it revealed the girl curled up on her bed. Her hair splayed everywhere on her pillow, the sun hitting her curled figure, her arms cuddling something. A picture frame? As he was about to close the door the faintest mumbling could be heard, "Dad... wher..Riz.?" Her voice slurred. He assumed she was reliving a memory.

Her voice groaned before she spoke, "n.. left..? Wh.. she at.?" Her chest started heaving, breaths getting heavier and heavier as her face scrunched up, eyes wrinkling. Tears free flowing down the side of her face. She continued muttering under her breath, "not safe", "find her", and "no's" escaped her mouth until her tears stopped, her breathing evened out as her tense body finally relaxed once more.

"I'll.. find her... dad.." she whispered.

Hearing enough he shut the door and headed back downstairs, this time returning to his newspaper.

After a few hours there was a big bang that woke her up. Groggily getting up she rolled over and dropped the framed photo on the carpet with a thud which caught her attention, she looked down at the object and picked it up.

"When did I move you?" She mumbled as she examined it making sure nothing broke or got scratched. She put it back on her night stand and walked to her mirror.

She muttered a curse under her breath as she saw her reflection. She was a mess. Eyes bloodshot red, puffy, makeup all runny staining her face. Her hair stuck to her face from the tears—which acted like an adhesive. Sitting down by her vanity she pulled out a makeup remover wipe and began to scrub at her face. Throwing it into the trash can, she walked out and checked out what the murmuring in the hallway was about.

"What the hell did you do?" She loomed behind them.

Saiko’s room was a mess. Trash everywhere and the door was knocked off of it hinges. Mutsuki, Urie and Shirazu were all huddled around the small girl cornering her on her bed. The quartet paused their little argument and turned to the older girl.

"Saiko's finally going to work with us during missions!!" Shirazu and Mutsuki exclaimed.

"Okay, okay, calm down you guys. Clean this mess up while you're at it." she turned to Urie and winked at him,

"If you wanted to wear my perfume, you could've asked instead of sneaking in." She chuckled and left.

"That little... what happened to the Saiko from last night?!"

They were all outside the house waiting on the stubby girl to join them, but it seems that wasn't the case even after last night's convincing. Shirazu seemed to be the most irritated out of all them, his mood clearly worsening the longer they waited.

"Didn't you all convince her to finally start working?" The girl teased.

"We should get going, we'll be late." Haise jumped in trying to get the message across that Saiko wouldn't join them no matter what, but Shirazu was determined.

"What do you wanna do? Squad leader?" 

"Sasan. Go ahead, I'm going to wake her ass up!!" He insisted.

"But.. when Saiko sleeps in, nothing wakes her up.." Haise said helplessly.

"Everyone wakes up!!" His voice getting smaller the farther he ventured inside the house. 

There was no stopping him anymore. As they all headed into the car Mutsuki asked if they really believed if he could actually get her to wake up and get to the meeting.

“She didn’t wake up when I banged on pots..” Haise added with a troubled look remembering that day.

"It'd take a miracle if she even woke up let alone join us for the meeting." Reina commented as she buckled up in the backseat with Urie.

Stumbling to get to the meeting room in a rush, Haise opened the door and bowed, “I’m sorry we’re late..” as Reina followed suit.

“We’ve been expecting you, Investigators Sasaki, Nakou.” Rank 2: Hanbeh Abara stood by the door and greeted the squad.

“Where’s Juuzou?” He asked.

“He overslept.. we’ll start without him.” 

Situating themselves in their respective seats Hanbeh then began the meeting. He stayed standing up as he presented the case regarding the Nutcracker, the Madames, and the Gourmets. Interested Reina stayed paying attention after hearing that the Gourmets were involved.

She turned to look at Haise—who was all the way to her left—who surprisingly wasn’t paying attention to the meeting at all. Instead his face was screwed into confusion and worry. Knowing there was nothing she could do at the moment she turned back to pay attention to the case. There was no harm in asking after the briefing.

wc: 2.5k previous chapter  masterlist next chapter

a/n: i actually wrote this in early feb but decided to make a posting schedule just to make my life easier and more organized (i still have yet to complete my hw… I’m very irresponsible :’)

ps. this chapter was completed during midwinter break

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The Noble Daughter

Viktor x fem! reader / wc. 1.5k

synopsis: You are the daughter of a influential noble house. And Viktor is your little secret.

warnings: 18+, smut ofc, getting caught, him whimpering, soft sex 🫶🏼, reader getting eaten out, switch lean sub! vik, fingering

there might be some mistakes… -.-

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3

Every shadow and flicker seemed to embrace the secrecy of your meeting, cocooning you in a world that was just yours and his. Viktor turned at the touch of your hand on his shoulder, his amber eyes widening in surprise before they softened, filled with a mixture of longing and tenderness that made your heart ache.

"You shouldn't be here," he murmured, his voice low and gentle, laced with both worry and desire. But his hand found its way to your waist, as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go.

"I had to see you," you whispered back, lifting a hand to his cheek, fingers grazing the roughness of his stubble. He leaned into your touch, and before either of you could say another word, his lips met yours.

The kiss started soft, hesitant, but soon grew with a fierce urgency. Viktor's hands moved to your waist, pulling you close, as if he needed to make up for every second you'd been apart. He broke the kiss only to breathe, his lips brushing over your cheek, your jaw, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. You leaned back against his worktable, the cool metal pressing into your back.

With a glance up at you, Viktor lifted the edge of your blue dress, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh. The contact of his hands sent a shiver up your spine. His gaze flickered up, silently asking permission, and at your nod, he continued, his hands guiding you, exploring every curve with a careful reverence.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours, filled with both longing and concern. "I don't want you to feel..."

"Viktor," you murmured, sliding a hand along his jaw, tilting his face so he could see the determination in your eyes. "I’m in desperate need of your touch."

He bit his lip and with a shaky breath, Viktor nodded. His eyes never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist. He entered you slowly as he filled you inch by inch. This is what you were yearning for. His eyes were shut close trying to suppress his sounds, however here and there a whimper would slip through.

Each thrust was met with the wet, quiet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other, amplifying every sensation in the silence of the lab. All you could hear was the wet squelching sounds you’re pussy made as he continued to fill you.

As he moved, Viktor's hands slid under your thigh, lifting one leg to rest against his hip. The new angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out, your nails pressing into his shoulders.

Viktor's breath grew heavier, his forehead pressing against yours as he tried to hold back his own sounds. His gaze dropped down between you, watching where you were joined, the sight sending a shiver through him that made him let out a quiet whimper, his grip tightening on your thigh.

He began a slow, steady rhythm, each movement creating soft, wet squelching sound that continued to grow rapidly. The intimacy of it, the restraint you both held, only made the tension coil tighter. Viktor's gaze was intense, filled with both wonder and awe as he watched the way your bodies moved together. "I never thought..." he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "You're... everything I dreamed of."

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a breathless kiss, muffling both your gasps as he quickened his pace. The sounds between you grew louder, the wet, rhythmic noises blending with the quiet hum of the lab, filling the space with a symphony meant only for the two of you. Every motion, every shift, was precise, Viktor's movements guided by both his passion and his care for you.

The tension built, coiling tight as Viktor's restraint began to slip. His breaths came in shallow gasps, and his eyes met yours with a look so full of longing, of devotion, that it nearly undid you. You clung to him, burying your face against his shoulder to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, your body moving in time with his, caught up in the quiet, forbidden passion.

With a quiet, trembling sigh, Viktor buried himself fully, his own quiet whimpers echoing softly in your ear as he felt you shudder around him. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining, grounding you as the last waves of pleasure washed over you both.

In the stillness that followed, Viktor pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, his hands still resting at your waist, as though he couldn't bear to let go. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice full of awe and tenderness. "For loving me... for being here."

Moments have passed since you have reached your first organism and you were still on the table. As the quiet settled over the lab, Viktor held you close for a few lingering breaths, his forehead pressed gently against yours. But soon, the intensity in his gaze softened, replaced by a tenderness that left you breathless.

With a quiet reverence, he carefully knelt before you, his hands resting on your thighs. He was weary to not hurt himself which would cause him more pain on his limp leg. Viktor’s golden eyes met yours as he slowly lowered himself, his expression filled with something almost worshipful. He pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, then to your thigh, each touch lingering as though he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips moved higher, grazing over your skin with soft, open-mouthed kisses that left a warm, tingling trail in their wake.

Your breath hitched as his mouth moved closer towards your pussy, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.

Viktor's metal fingers traced along your thigh, the coolness of his touch a delicious contrast to the heat he was leaving with his lips. His long, slender fingers followed the curve of your leg, slipping inside your walls with a grace that was gentle. You felt his thumb press softly against your skin, steadying you, while his other hand reached up to rest at your waist, grounding you in the moment.

The coldness of his metal hand sent a shiver through you, heightening every sensation, and he seemed to notice, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "Still alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern, but his tone held a knowing warmth.

You managed a nod, your hand reaching down to thread through his hair, tugging him slightly closer. His lips quirked into a soft smirk before he returned his focus to you, pressing another kiss to your folds. His mouth moved with a slow, deliberate patience. His kisses growing bolder and deeper, as his tongue darted inside you.

Viktor's metal fingers traced light patterns along your skin, each touch careful, his control a testament to his dedication. As he moved higher, his thumb pressed gently along the inside of your thigh, guiding you open for him with a mixture of care and desire. The coolness of his touch, combined with the warmth of his lips, sent tremors through you that you could barely contain.

His mouth hovered near your folds, his breath warm against you, but he paused, looking up with a gaze full of tenderness. "You're... beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely a murmur, as though he was confessing a secret.

Before you could respond, his lips finally met your pussy, a quiet, reverent kiss that left you dizzy. His metal fingers continued their journey, a gentle, precise touch that sent waves of sensation through you, heightening every nerve. He took his time, savoring each reaction, each shiver, his mouth and hands working in tandem as he explored, worshipping every part of you with a devotion that left you breathless.

As his cool fingers reached deeper, finding your sensitive spots. His mouth followed, leaving soft, lingering kisses that melted any remaining restraint. The contrast of his cold touch and the warmth of his mouth created a rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the table, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out.

Viktor's pace quickened, his cool fingers moving with a newfound intensity. Each motion was calculated yet filled with passion, his gaze flickering between his hand and your face, drinking in every reaction, every quiet sound you made. His metal fingers, precise and deft, moved inside you at a pace that left you breathless, teetering on the edge as he guided you closer with each stroke.

He murmured soft, breathy reassurances between the kisses that he laid on your thighs. His voice filled with warmth."You're perfect... absolutely perfect," he whispered, his free hand caressing the curve of your thigh.

Viktor's replaced his slender fngers with his tongue again, alternating between teasing flicks and deep strokes, savoring every taste. His metal fingers splayed across your thigh, holding you firmly, while his other hand trailed down to his own body. He shivered as he began to touch himself in time with his mouth on you, his quiet moans and hitched breaths vibrating against you, only intensifying your pleasure.

He glanced up now and then, his amber eyes darkened with desire, watching the way you responded, drinking in every soft gasp and tremble. The sight of your flushed face and parted lips seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more hungry as he lost himself in the pleasure he was giving you. His fingers dug into your skin, his grip tightening as he grew more desperate, his own moans blending with yours, low and needy.

The lab was filled with the squelching sounds of your bodies. A mix of his restrained groans, the wet, rhythmic noises of his mouth, and your own stifled whimpers. You felt like you could cum any second as your stomach turned tighter. Viktor seemed to sense it, as his tongue pressing deeper, his pace quickening. His free hand gripped your thigh harder, pulling you even closer to him, as though he wanted to consume every last bit of you.

Just as you felt yourself reaching the edge, Viktor lifted his head slowly, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His chest rose and fell in deep, unsteady breaths, his flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression showing just how much he'd enjoyed himself. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your thighs, grounding you as you came back down, while he gazed up at you with a look of pure adoration.

He brought his metal thumb up to wipe away a stray drop from his chin, a slight, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You taste... exquisite," he murmured, his voice low and rough, a mix of pride and lingering hunger shining in his eyes as he leaned up to kiss you, letting you taste the passion you had just shared.

Viktor then reached towards your soaked pussy to finger you again. The quiet wet sounds filled the air, amplifying the intimacy of the moment, creating a world that felt entirely your own. But then, a faint creak echoed through the room, and both of you froze. The unmistakable sound of the lab door opening snapped Viktor back to reality, and he stilled, his eyes widening as his gaze shot up to yours. You both turned, just in time to see Jayce entering, a stack of papers in hand.

Jayce's eyes met yours first, and then drifted towards Viktor, his fingers still inside you. For a brief, painful moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant hum of hextech machinery. Jayce's expression shifted from surprise to awkward shock as the realization dawned on him. His mouth opened, as though he wanted to say something, but words seemed to fail him.

"I... I didn't mean to interrupt," he finally managed, his tone caught between embarrassment and disbelief. Jayce quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing as he backed out of the room, practically stumbling over his own feet.

"I'll... come back later," he stammered, disappearing from sight. The door clicked shut, leaving the lab filled with silence once more. Viktor's face had gone red, his eyes fixed on the floor, clearly mortified. But as he glanced down at you, the edges of his mouth twitched, and a quiet laugh escaped him, breaking the tension.

"Well," Viktor murmured softly, a hint of humor in his voice, "that... was unexpected." He lifted his soaked fingers towards his mouth as his other hand still lingering on your waist, sucking all of your juices as he maintained eye contact. His mouth made a popping sound as he let his fingers go from in between his lips. He then led his once soaked fingers towards the back of your neck, caressing your hair.

"Perhaps we'll continue... later?" he suggested, his voice low, a promise glinting in his eyes as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. You couldn't help but laugh, nodding as you pulled him into an hug. You hoped that jayce didn’t go out and tell anyone what happened. Because if he did and your parents knew, you would sure be in for a scolding.

taglist: @luneariaa @minagrayson @aliives @mammonsleftring @gxrextxgaidk @anna1-1 @bl-0-ndi-3

banner: @cafekitsune

This little trilogy fucking broke me 🤩

My Atlantis, We Fall | Part 1

Summary: A childhood friendship between Viktor and you grow into unspoken love, but your paths diverge when Viktor left you behind. Still heartbroken, you unexpectedly reunite during Progress Day after years, only to cause more heartbreak.

Pairing: Kid!Viktor X Kid!F!Reader, Viktor Arcane X Female Reader

Warnings: ANGST Words: 2.7k

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on my last Viktor fic! I am new to the Arcane fandom, so I apologize if I wrote some of these incorrectly <3 Hope you like this one as well. I will be posting Part 2 later today, hopefully!

The smog of Zaun never lifted. To Viktor, it was a constant haze that wrapped the Undercity in an unpleasant shade of gray. But even in that, there were spots of color, moments that broke through the dullness of it. For him, that color was you.

You were no stranger to the way the city worked. Born to a family scraping by on restricted earnings, you spent your days scouring the alleys for bits of scrap that could be sold or repurposed. The life of a scavenger wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest, and it was all you’d ever known.

At 9 years old, you met Viktor in the middle of a dusty alley, where scraps of metal and broken pipes littered all over the ground. He stood there, his cane awkwardly propped against a pile of junk as he messed around with some contraption he had made using a discarded piece of clock. For the first time ever, his golden eyes darted up to meet yours, they were wide with curiosity.

“Do you need help?” you asked, your tiny hands already brushing away the grime to pick up the gears he had dropped.

He hesitated before nodding. “Only if you don’t mind dirt.” You heard the accent for the first time.

From that moment on, dirt never mattered. Neither did the cane, or his limp, or the thin, almost too-pale figure that struggled to keep up with the other children. What mattered was him and the way his mind worked. Sharp and inventive that even the very air of Zaun couldn’t dull it.

The two of you spent your days hunting for scraps together, crafting makeshift toys your parents cannot afford, or setting little boats afloat in the polluted streams of the Undercity.

Life in the Undercity was a series of neverending struggles, but when you were with Viktor, it felt lighter somehow. You knew that together you could dream. Like you can achieve anything.

In the dim of the makeshift workshop you two had set up behind an old factory, you would spend hours building and talking about the future. Viktor would sit cross-legged on the ground, cane resting beside him. His golden eyes always alight with a passion that seemed to defy the gloom of your surroundings.

“We will leave someday,” he said, voice filled with determination. “We’ll go to Piltover. The air is clean there, and the people don’t suffer from the smog.”

You smiled at him and chuckled softly, hands busy polishing a piece of scrap metal. “And what will we do there?”

He let himself think for a moment, as if the question caught him off guard. Then he looked at you, his expression unusually serious. “Once we are there, we can change the world,” he said simply.

You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that echoed in the small space. “That is a big dream, Viktor.”

“Hey! It’s not just a dream,” he insisted, gaze unwavering. “We’ll do it. Together.”

"Promise?"

"Promise."

There was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. Viktor’s certainty was infectious. You could see it in the way he worked and the way he poured every ounce of himself into his small inventions.

Some days when his leg hurt too much to move, you would sit beside him to help him sort through the piles of scrap you had collected. He’d teach you the basics of his engineering, he was always patient and thorough while his hands guided yours as you pieced together a simple mechanism.

“See?” he'd say, voice tinged with pride as the small contraption you built whirred to life. “You’re a natural.”

You grinned, the warmth of his praise spreading through you like sunlight.

The days blurred together in work and laughter as your shared dreams served as a beacon in the darkness. It was during one of those days when you were both ten or eleven, that Viktor made a declaration that would stay with you forever.

You were sitting by the river, watching the toy boat Viktor had built move along the surface of the water. The sunlight did its best to pass through the smog, casting a glow over the scene that made the water seem like it was sparkling.

“When we grow up,” Viktor said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, “I’m going to marry you.”

You turned to look at him, eyes are wide with surprise as you felt the warmth of your blood travel up to your cheeks. Then you laughed, a sound so full of joy. It was music to him. “Then you would have to make me a pretty ring, silly.”

Viktor nodded, his expression earnest. “Of course! Then I’ll build us a house in Piltover, and we’ll have a workshop where we can create anything we want.”

It was a childish promise, one you didn’t take seriously at the time. But for Viktor, it was more than that.

It was a goal; a dream he clung to with every fiber of his being.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

The day you found a cave felt like the start of a new stage of life.

As usual, it began with Viktor’s handmade boat, the delicate creation that floated across the river. You were laughing, like you always do when Viktor is around. It was as if everything's happy when you were together. Your voice echoed through the narrow canyon, laughing until you saw the boat drifting too far downstream.

“I’ll get it!” you called, kicking off your shoes and splashing into the shallow water. Viktor watched from the bank, his cane resting against a rock, his expression was a mix of amusement and mild concern. He would've been the one to dive in if only it wasn't for his leg.

You chased the boat until it got caught against a jagged rock near the mouth of a dark opening in the cliffside. “Vik, look!” you shouted, pointing to the cave.

He limped over to join you, curiosity piqued. The two of you went inside, the cool air of the cave was a contrast to the warmth of the day. The deeper you went, the more excited you grew.

What you found inside changed everything.

As you went further, the light spilling in from the entrance slowly faded, replaced by an eerie green glow. You exchanged a glance with Viktor, “What do you think it is?” you whispered, the volume barely louder than the drip of water from the stalactites above.

“No idea,” Viktor murmured, his fingers tightening around his cane.

The source of the glow soon became clear: a hidden lab, long abandoned yet still pulsing with strange energy. You could almost feel it on your skin. Machines lined the walls, coated in layers of dust. Beakers filled with faintly glowing liquids sat undisturbed on a table alongside half-finished notes and sketches in a language you didn’t understand.

“Woah!” You stepped closer, your breath hitching at the sight. “Viktor, this is awesome!”

He nodded, gaze fixed on a machine in the corner that hummed silently as if it was alive. “Whoever built this was a genius,” he said, his voice filled with awe. He felt like this is where he belonged. For the first time he felt like he belonged. “Imagine what they could have created here.”

It was then that you heard the shuffling of footsteps. You both froze, hearts pounding in unison as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was sharp-featured, eyes glinting with a dangerous intelligence.

“Curious little mice, aren’t you?” the man said.

You instinctively moved closer to Viktor, your hand grabbing his arm. You felt safe that way. “We didn’t mean to intrude,” you said quickly, your voice steady despite the fear curling in your chest.

The man—Singed, as he introduced himself—was a Zaunite alchemist. He seemed more intrigued than angry as his gaze lingered on Viktor with intensity. He asked many questions, probing Viktor about his interest in machines and invention.

“I see potential in you, boy,” Singed said after a long pause, his voice carrying a weight of authority that was impossible to ignore. “A sharp mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted scavenging scraps. I could teach you things. Show you how to truly create.”

Viktor hesitated, his grip tightening around the worn wood of his cane. His knuckles whitened, using his other hand to place it on top of yours that was still rested around his arm. His touch comforted you more that he realized.

“What about her?” he asked, his voice quieter. He glanced at you, golden-brown eyes searching yours as if they were trying to find reassurance, or perhaps permission.

Singed’s gaze shifted to you briefly, cold and judgmental, before dismissing you entirely with a shrug of indifference. “I have no use for distractions,” he said bluntly, as though you were nothing more than an inconvenience in Viktor’s path.

The words stung. But what hurt more wasn’t Singed’s dismissal, it was the flicker of emotion on Viktor’s face.

You could see the storm brewing in his eyes. The pull of ambition against the weight of loyalty, the desire to seize an opportunity against the fear of what he’d leave behind.

He looked at you again, his expression was pained and conflicted. “I...” he began, but the words died in his throat.

“Hey, it’s okay!” even though it wasn’t, you still said it while smiling. “You should go, Vik. This is what you always wanted, right?”

The words felt like lead on your tongue, but you said them anyway. Because this was Viktor’s dream, wasn’t it? To break free from the chains of Zaun, to do what he is passionate about and take any step to build a better future. You couldn’t stand in the way of that, no matter how much it hurt.

After that day, everything changed.

Viktor began spending more of his time in the cave with Singed, learning things you couldn’t begin to comprehend. The closeness you shared, the companionship that defined your days, was slowly replaced by distance.

At first, he tried to make time for you. You’d see each other twice a week. His hands and clothes would often smell faintly of chemicals and his mind clearly still preoccupied with whatever he’d been working on.

“How was it?” you’d ask, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“It’s fascinating,” he’d reply, eyes lighting up in a way that made your heart twist. “There’s so much to learn, so much to do.”

You wanted to be happy for him. You tried. But it was hard not to feel like you were losing him, piece by piece, day by day.

The Viktor you had grown up with, the boy who had dreamed with you, who had promised to build a life together in Piltover, was slipping away.

You can feel it.

Eventually, even the twice-a-week meetings stopped. You hadn't realized that the both of you have grown into teenagers.

You considered that it was just a temporary thing at first, that Viktor was just busy with his new life and his ambitions. But the days turned into weeks, then months, and still, there was no sign of him. You did not bother going to that cave, still too hurt to face that man Singed for the second time.

You went to the places you used to go to frequently together. Hoping to catch a glimpse of him, hoping that the streets of Zaun would somehow bring him back to you. You waited, watched, sometimes even hallucinated he would appear around the corner with that damn crooked smile. The same smile that used to make everything feel okay.

But it never happened.

You said you didn’t care, but then you would be lying to yourself. You didn’t want to care, but the ache in your chest told you otherwise. You missed him more than you were willing to admit. And every time you walked past the spots where you once laughed and talked, where you shared dreams, that pain hit you all over again.

The day your family decided to move out of Zaun was the final blow. You wanted to tell him. No, you needed to tell him. You needed him to know that you were leaving. Maybe, just maybe, he’d say something to stop you from walking away from the place that had once held the dreams you shared.

So, you went to his home.

You stood there. The familiar wooden door that always opened to reveal him, limping toward you with that look of recognition and warmth.

You knocked. And knocked again. Heart pounding in your chest as you waited to hear his voice from the other side. But when the door opened, it wasn’t Viktor who greeted you.

It was an empty, cold silence.

The neighbors told you he’d moved. No one knew where, just that he wasn’t coming back.

The feeling was like a slap in the face.

Since when was he gone?

You couldn’t comprehend it. How could he just leave like that? The memories of all those times, those quiet moments where you had thought you were the most important person in his life suddenly felt like lies.

You convinced yourself, over and over, that he would always come back to see you, to explain himself, that the bond between you was way too strong to break. The amount of times you told yourself, "If he comes back tomorrow, I will forgive him" was beyond ridiculous at this point. Because it never happened, and now, everything seemed foolish.

The anger bubbled up inside you. Burning and consuming. And yet, underneath the anger, there was a deeper, more painful emotion. A quiet sorrow you didn’t want to acknowledge because it was too raw, too unbearable.

"Why..."

The truth was, you loved him. And he left you behind.

The years passed, and you are now in your early twenties. The anger inside you eventually faded. Time, as it always does, softened the sharp edges of your pain. But the emptiness never truly went away.

You tried to fill it with other things, other people, other distractions. But there were nights when his face would appear in your dreams, and you’d wake up with that same hollow feeling in your chest.

You thought about him often, even when you told yourself you wouldn’t. You wondered if he ever thought about you, if he ever regretted how things ended between you two.

You hated yourself. For still caring, for still holding on to something that crumbled a long time ago. You wanted to move on, to forget him and everything he had meant to you. But a part of you still clung to the memories of your childhood.

The laughter, the dreams, the whispered promises.

It was the only thing you had left of him now. It hurt, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

Progress Day

You found yourself in Piltover, the city you and Viktor had once dreamed of when you were just children playing amidst the grime of Zaun.

He was right. He always is. The air was indeed lighter, free of the toxic smog that choked you since the day you were born. The streets were filled with energy and purpose, lined with tall buildings that gleamed under the bright sun. Progress hummed in every corner, from the click of Hextech gadgets to the chatter of inventors sharing ideas.

You had fought hard to get here. The countless nights spent working until exhaustion, the sacrifices, the dreams you had held onto so tightly—it had all led to this. You should be proud of yourself.

And you were. You could look around at everything you had built and feel the satisfaction of knowing you did it. But no matter how high you climbed, no matter how far you tried to run, it still feels hollow inside. An emptiness that lingered like a ghost.

An emptiness that only Viktor could fill.

Deep inside, you knew that to yourself. It whispered in the quiet moments, when the celebrations died down and you were left alone with your thoughts.

The city was alive with celebration. It was a day to honor the advancements of Piltover after all. You attended one of the more exclusive parties, hosted by none other than Jayce Talis, the prodigy of Hextech innovation. You had little interest in the fanfare, but it was a chance to network, to prove your place among the elite minds of Piltover.

You had expected the night to be uneventful. Mingling with strangers, exchanging polite but fake smiles and calculated compliments. It was all part of the routine by now.

What you hadn’t expected was him.

Second Son (XIX) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The Battle of Hogwarts ensues.

Part XVIII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Only the epilogue remains, my dear readers. Thank you. Final wc: 8.6k

Time seemed to be warping and blurring together frenziedly; day and night pushed out of conscious thought, the passage of days folding together in one reel of memories in your head. The starless sky peered at you like an endless void, indicating that it had somehow already dipped into the corners of the darkest hours again. 

Your heart gives a sharp twinge as you find your eyes locked to the tall figure standing at the head of the hall, face ashened, mournful cloak adorning his imposing figure like a blanket trimmed directly from the night sky. Harry lingered ways off from you as everyone stood with tense backs and squared shoulders. 

You blink away the detachment tugging at your awareness as your ears seem to become full of cotton, keenly aware of the way your wand poked at your ribs from your robe pocket. Your former Potions Professor flickers his gaze around the swarms of students around you, and your chest almost collapses in on itself when you lock eyes with the stone-faced man. Snape’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but he masks it with a sneer as he raises his eyes to look over your dismayed face. 

Your mind immediately spins into overdrive as you grapple with your thoughts. That couldn’t have been your imagination. He saw you, so why didn’t he say anything?

A frown dances on your lips as you revisit your old sentiments about the man. You had always had your reservations about Harry’s inimical attitude towards Snape (though he had them for good reason), and you were beginning to think that you were correct in your assumptions that the man’s interests weren’t exactly black and white. 

Harry drifts through the rows of students and makes himself known, immediately pouring out all of his pent up fury towards the man. Snape’s face does a funny thing as it shifts ever so slightly from suspicion to troubled. 

The doors from behind you are tossed open, causing everyone to step back towards the walls as all heads dart to survey the intrusion. At the helm of the group, Kingsley Shacklebolt strides in with more assurance and conviction than you’ve seen in any of Dumbledore’s followers since his death. 

Stepping out from the belt of students, you unconsciously begin to reach out towards Regulus. The boy’s eyes move through the crowd furiously until they lock onto your drifting figure, his shoulders immediately slacking as he extends his hand out to you. 

A smile crawls up your face as you hurry out of the crowd and towards him, unbothered by the burning of eyes on your back as you do so. Once you grasp the boy’s hand, he brings your hand up to his mouth to give it a faint kiss, shooting you a small wink as he tugs you closer to him. 

The Order members hold their unwavering stances, faces etched with determination as they gaze at a frowning Snape. The man’s eyes are still fixed on Harry, seemingly unperturbed by the arrival of the Order and the overt breach of security. 

Harry grits his teeth as he practically snarls at the man, “Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him!” Your friend’s chest heaves with every word, as if the recollection of the events was causing him physical pain. 

You edge closer to Regulus as your eyes flicker between the two individuals. It was a stand-off that had been brewing for years, finally sizzling and tipping past the boiling point as your mind takes you back to your very first year at Hogwarts, painted with Snape’s glares and Harry’s innocent confusion. No longer was your friend inflicted by such adolescent hurt, now only rage and fatigue shrouding from his body. 

It happens in a flash, you nearly miss it as you blink—Snape draws back and points his wand at Harry, eliciting choked gasps as the crowd of students split  further apart in shock. Regulus steps in front of you instinctually, and if the situation were not escalating to such a degree, you would have found it funny that he jumped in front of you despite having no weapon or wand. 

As Professor McGonagall pushes Harry aside, firmly drawing her own wand up, you push Regulus behind you as you reluctantly bring your wand up to point at the man you had made so many mental excuses for. Snape falters at the sight of the woman’s stance, but regains his composure and levels his wand to her. 

Silence falls upon the hall, tension as thick as molasses as everyone draws in their breaths in anticipation. For a moment, you think nothing is going to happen, that perhaps Snape would magically curl into regret and surrender, but then a bolt of flames soars through the air. 

McGonagall is unforgiving in her onslaught of attacks, and Snape merely backpedals from his spot as he deflects the spells. The man’s face falls impossibly further into hurt, and you’re struck with a whirlwind of confusion. 

Why do you look like you’re the one who’s suffering, professor?

The one-sided battle recommences and you’re left rooted in your spot as Snape suddenly flees out of the window in a flurry of black swirls. As the glass shatters, a cloud of excitement seems to sprout into the air as shouts and whispers fill the perimeter. 

Regulus places his hands on your shoulders as you pocket your wand, your eyes still glued to the broken glass at the end of the hall. The cheering and clapping die almost as quickly as they erupted when Harry collapses, a sudden sharp stabbing in your head accompanying your friend’s stumble. You hiss as you reach for your temple, noting how the hall was now blanketed by a miasma of fear. 

Suddenly, a piercing scream slices through the air like cold steel, followed by another and another. Regulus huddles you to him as he peers at you with concerned eyes, his hands moving to trail your arms as the buds of chaos begin to prickle around the room. 

A sharp hiss rings from all around you, and you would have feared for your sanity if not for the petrified expressions on many of the other students’ faces. 

“Give me Harry Potter…Do this and none shall be harmed.”  The words seem to bounce around the room as you guide your eyes to settle onto Harry’s stiff figure. 

“Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched.” 

You divert your gaze to look at Regulus, and find that the boy is already glancing at you with conflicted eyes. 

“Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.” 

The tint of doom seems to lift almost immediately, and you exhale shakily as the foreign pressure around the atmosphere dissipates. 

“What’s that look for, Reg?” You whisper, unwilling to raise your voice as confusion stirs the air into silence. 

Regulus huffs through his nose and wraps his hand around your wrist, stepping to stand beside you as he looks towards Harry, “Just wondering if it’s too late to leave and go back to Norway.” 

You shake your head and go to retort, but you’re cut off by a resounding voice emitting somewhere among the swath of students, “Someone grab him!” 

Your eyebrows furrowed together at the outlandish suggestion and your eyes trail about to try and distinguish who it came from. Seeing many of the gazes aimed towards a cluster of Slytherins, you tilt your head as you see an unfamiliar boy pointing towards Harry. 

Ginny makes her way in front of Harry, spurring the rest of your friends to crowd around the speechless boy. As your eyes begin to wander, wanting to take note of those who were readily jumping to serve your friend on a silver platter, you make eye contact with an unimpressed Blaise. 

The boy’s eyes flicker to look at Regulus before they jump back to you, an eyebrow slanting up in a manner that reminds you all too much of the Contessa. Blaise slowly slinks towards the back of the crowd just as Filch hobbles into the hall, shouting incoherently about students being out of bed. 

“You have some explaining to do.” Blaise’s velvety voice sounds from behind you, causing you to jump out of your skin.

Turning around on your heels, you slam your palm against your chest to jumpstart your heart again. Did he apparate? How the hell did he just appear behind you?

Rolling your eyes, you give the boy a brief hug, “Nice to see you too, B. Sorry that I went AWOL, I wasn’t exactly in contact with anyone.” 

“Except my mother.” He points out with a sniff, arms crossing. 

Coughing lightly into your fist, you sheepishly smile in apology, “Nothing big, just aiding some vigilantes.” 

“You are a vigilante yourself, no? And you couldn’t have sent a little slip of paper telling me ‘hey, I’m alive!’, could you now?” He mutters with narrowed eyes. 

Shifting from foot to foot, you lightly frown, “Uh, sorry?” 

He waves you off before setting his eyes on Regulus, who looks infinitely amused by your friend’s antics. Blaise pauses for a split second before a shit-eating grin plasters itself on his face, “Oh, how prestante! You disappeared and found yourself a pure blood boyfriend, I see.” 

You blanch at his words and he snickers, “Merlin, don’t look so surprised. His facial structure just screams pure blood.” 

“Okay, that’s enough of you, B.” You hiss, “You absolute menace.” 

The boy doesn’t have time to respond as students begin to file out of the hall, someone bumping against your shoulder as McGonagall announces that students would be evacuated, underage students taking priority, while those of age were welcome to stay. 

Your eyes widen at the announcement, the reality of your situation crash landing on you all at once. “B, go. And look out for Draco, will you?.” You point your chin forward, eyes flying around the room before you settle them on Regulus, “Reg, go with Blaise.” 

Regulus swivels to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes, “I hope you’re joking.” 

“And I hope you’re joking. I’m not letting you run into danger without a wand!” You shoot back emphatically with a sharp tone. 

“Dio mio,” Blaise clicks his tongue, gracefully shoving his wand towards Regulus, “Here. If you break it or lose it, my dear Y/N will no longer have a boyfriend.” 

You and Regulus pause. One beat of silence passes, then another. 

“Blaise, what the bloody hell? Absolutely not! Your mother is going to have my head if she finds out that I left you defenseless.” You sputter, hands flying up and nearly batting into a passing student. 

The boy shifts to the side to avoid a stumbling first-year as he keeps his eyes steady on yours, “Good thing she’ll never know then. Besides, I won’t be needing it. I plan to apparate to Zabini Manor with Theo and Draco once we get out of here.” He rolls his eyes impatiently once you and Regulus remain motionless, “Now take it before I change my mind.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” You mutter quietly, eyes trailing towards the dark wand, feeling torn despite your friend’s insistence. 

“Well, he’s going to follow you anyway, and I’d rather be temporarily without a wand than permanently without a friend because you jumped in front of a curse trying to protect him.” He muses dryly, eyes quickly shifting to appraise Regulus as the boy reaches for the wand. 

He was going about this way too casually, a wizard’s wand was practically their life! But there was no arguing with the obstinate git, especially when he had that determined look in his eyes. 

You nod and swallow harshly as your throat wells up with thick emotion, “Thank you, B. Stay safe, okay? And make sure Draco doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

“No worries, our dragon is all out of stupid after what happened last year.” The italian winks at you before elegantly spinning around, his robes billowing behind him as he strides towards the exit, weaving his way towards a familiar mop of platinum blond. 

Regulus twirls Blaise’s wand around in his hand as he gets used to the feeling. He looks over at you with a warm smile, eyes twinkling brightly as a fire lights in them, “Always a good judge of character, birdie. Indeed, you are proficient at picking friends.” 

“Clearly not proficient enough, Crowface. I managed to grow attached to a stubborn bastard like you.” You hum playfully, taking a hold of his wrist to drag him towards your circle of friends. 

Though, one meaningful glance from your savior friend was enough for you to understand: split up and haul ass. 

Hermione and Ron take off in search of the basilisk corpse in the Chamber of Secrets, while Luna gives you a small smile before darting off towards Harry with a frustrated frown. Professor McGonagall almost breaks her neck doing a double take at Regulus, clearly recognizing him, but says nothing of her revelation as she ushers you with her. 

Regulus trails after you both, flocked by Professor Flitwick and Molly Weasley, both giving the boy discreet side eyes. 

“L/N, we are going to need to give Potter as much time as possible. I’m sure you have an idea of how you can utilize your skills.” The woman gives you a small knowing smile, and you nod back quickly despite not knowing exactly what she was insinuating. 

It is not until she spins back around and braces her hands up that your brain begins to work again. 

“Piertotem locomotor!”

Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign spell, but your attention is immediately redirected when a deep thudding echoes from somewhere in front of your willowy professor. Peering around her, your eyes widen as numerous concrete knights begin to march out in streams from the entrance hall. 

Ah. We’re Harry’s first line of defense. 

Winking at a fascinated Regulus, you couldn’t resist the urge to demonstrate your own magical prowess, wanting to match up to the boy’s level of intellect. Drawing your wand out, you scurry down the series of stairs and drop to your knees, beginning to draw out the most complex shielding runes you knew, tangling the swirls of characters into compounds of symbols that begin to shimmer against the dull ground. 

The strings of characters glow brightly before darting off into the sky in a flurry of streaks, reinforcing the growing bubble being patched together by the Order members. You continue to relentlessly draw your symbols, the ache in your wrist being overshadowed by the warmth of pride that lit up in your chest at the sight of your runes chaining themselves to the colossal dome. 

Ways off from you, you see Regulus marveling at the sky, eyes dancing around the strings of your runes. Your brain screeches to a halt as you zone in to look at the boy, mouth floating into a faint smile at the way his lips imperceptibly part. 

It was paradoxical, how at the height of slaughter and war, you fell into a hum of peace at that very moment. Your drifting thoughts only surge forwards when a procession of wispy blue streams hail towards the near-translucent dome, raining down towards you in mottles of cerulean orbs. 

Just as you begin to rise from your position, knees wobbling unsteadily along the way, the feathery streaks crash into the shield and explode into veins of white combustion. The loud crashing of explosions deafen you, and you stumble in blinded shock towards Regulus. 

The boy is already making his way towards you, face grim as he strides across the plaza with purpose. You barely refrain from crashing into him as he reaches to hold onto your biceps. 

Blisters of blinding white wash over your figures as you grip onto his elbows. Chancing a glance at the sky, you laugh shakily, “Think you still know how to handle a wand?” 

Regulus smiles and cups your cheek, “Of course, I have to protect you somehow.” 

“Your sense of humor dazzles me, love,” you search his face, opening your mouth to continue your retort, only to be disrupted by a painfully loud explosion, followed by the sound of insistent sizzling. 

Above you, your beloved crown of protection withers away like disintegrating paper. 

Chaos erupts almost instantaneously with giants lumbering through the concrete knights on the bridge, as arrays of colorful light fracture the structures around you. You catch a glimpse of Professor Flitwick scurrying around the crumbling soldiers, hands gesturing frantically for the students to take cover inside. 

The rune weavings that you spelled float listlessly until they gravitate towards the castle, speedily wrapping around a couple of the towers and absorbing into its walls. Regulus grabs your hand and you both sprint for cover behind a pile of rubble, ducking as gusts of apparition soar above you. 

Screaming begins to bloom into the air, followed by hurried shouts of curses and spells. You spring up onto your heels, wand at the ready as your eyes dart around frantically, heart virtually beating in your neck. 

“Crucio!” 

Your neck snaps to the side at the guttural yell, barely muffling a yelp as a red bulb of light zips towards you. Dodging the spell, you feel a symphony of rage tug at your nerves at the sight of a familiar death eater—the man who had grabbed you during the attack at the Department of Mysteries, Augustus Rookwood. 

Practically swinging your wand, you hurl your spell, “Reducto!” 

The man goes flying across the courtyard, smashing through a cracked archway before landing roughly like a ragdoll. You feel someone press against your back, barely taking note that Regulus and you were fighting back-to-back before another death eater sets their sights on you. 

You don’t know how much time passes as you and Regulus weave through onslaughts of killing curses, blasting aside enemies and assisting other students in their duels. Your world of blurry fighting trickles into clarity once you catch sight of an enormous giant swinging down at a familiar trio, all of them sprinting further down the ruinous remains of one of the castle walkways. 

“Paxillos Inferni!” Your shout echoes all around you, and your vision tunnels in on the cast of neon orange that darts from the tip of your wand. A wave of satisfaction drenches you as you see the giant drop its weapon in surprise, body jolting in agony before dozens of small razor-like spikes sprout from its body, suddenly expanding in size with a sickening crunch. The giant drops to its knees, a lifeless husk, remaining upright, supported by the flurry of colossal spikes that impaled it from every direction.

A few death eaters in your vicinity stop in their tracks, eyes widening as they take in the sight of the shredded giant and your bright eyes. Regulus swings his arm forward, sending a death eater packing before taking notice of your victory. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” He mutters reverentially, eyes drifting from the carnage around you before settling on the palisade-giant fusion. 

You shrug before taking advantage of the wave of shock around you, incapacitating a few lingering death eaters, “In one of the books at Grimmauld Place.” 

“I see. Nice work, dear.” He hums, tying up a sprinting death eater before the crazed woman could attack a distracted Hufflepuff. 

A sudden chill ensnares the nerves in your spine and fingertips, and you have to suppress the violent shudder tugging at your muscles. Risking a glance away from the enemies in front of you, your mouth falls ajar at the sight of a curtain of black drifting towards you. 

“Dementors.” You murmured, unnerved by the sheer amount of the creatures making their way over. The golden trio tumble forward and become struck by the same sight. The dementors drop down towards the bridge, swinging and weaving around fallen bodies and chunks of concrete. 

A gust of blue threads tangle into a large sphere before expanding across the bridge, the exceptionally powerful patronus charm managing to ward away a majority of the dementor army. Your eyebrows fly towards the sky as you catch sight of Aberforth, the man’s wand extended out towards the retreating veils of grey. 

You had no idea the man was even capable of producing a patronus with how downtrodden he seemed just hours before. This would be the last time you’d judge a wizard by their supposed disposition. 

Catching sight of a few stray dementors, you instinctually raise your wand, expertly locating a few specific memories of yours to manifest the spell, “Expecto Patronum.”

The familiar sparrow bursts from your wand and darts towards the dementor, the creature immediately retreating into the sea of darkness as the small bird perseveres in its chase. 

“What?” Regulus’ breathless mutter has you directing your attention to him, eyebrows raising at the astonished look drawn on his face. 

Feeling bashfulness crawl up your chest, you clear your throat and jump back into battle, only sparing him a small biting remark, “Laugh about it later.” 

The boy follows your lead and sends a hex towards a cluster of death eaters, “Laugh about what?” His voice is tinged in disbelief, yet still marred by his previous amazement. 

“What do you mean, about what?–” you blast an unsuspecting death eater in the side, “--Obviously about my patronus.” 

“Why would I laugh?” He practically yells over the commotion of explosions raining from all around you. 

You want to groan, feeling that perhaps he was trying to torture you, “Because! It’s a bird. A little birdie.” The boy glances at you with a minute frown of perplexion before his eyes slowly shift in realization, head snapping back to take down a few more enemies. 

Once the mayhem around you quells in just the slightest, he turns back to you, “Merlin, what am I going to do with you?” He mutters with a faint grin. Before you have time to question him, he shifts around and lifts his wand up, “Expecto Patronum.” 

The light blue swirls jet out from the borrowed wand and you raise an unimpressed eyebrow as it surges towards a confused death eater, the man watching as the spell flies towards him. You really couldn’t blame him—you too, would be rendered speechless at the arbitrary display. 

Just when the spell goes to topple into the man, it morphs into a familiar shape that has you gasping. Regulus’ small patronus sharply shoots up into the sky before it can crash into the death eater, the small bird rounding in circles before dissipating into the night. 

You and Regulus don’t miss a beat despite the demonstration, both taking aim at the flabbergasted death eater and sending off your best hexes. Once the man goes tumbling away, Regulus turns towards you, “A finch.” 

“A finch…” you echo quietly. 

Finches and Sparrows. Complementary birds.

“You-” you can barely comprehend the look on Regulus’ face as he breaks out into a wide smile. Your mouth parts, taken aback by how blatant his fondness was. 

“My little birdie.” He whispers affectionately, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. 

Your heart stutters on the spot, and you have to close your eyes to try and grasp onto reality. Regulus’ hands dance around your waist as colorful blobs spiral across your eyelids, the stench and discord of war suddenly shoved out of the forefront of your mind. 

Opening your eyes, you take a brief moment to peer into the boy’s eyes, mouth pursing once you see the fire dancing in them. 

“Blast me into a wall if you hate this.” You whisper. Regulus merely grins, immediately understanding your thoughts, and looking anything but bewildered. 

Giving no time for lingering doubts to fester, you surge forward and crash your lips onto his. He reciprocates immediately, gently nudging you behind a mountain of rubble as his lips dance with yours. Your hands run around his sides, seeking something to ground yourself to as he leans in further, completely pressing himself to you. 

His hands press themselves into your back, pushing you impossibly closer to him as if he were afraid you’d fall through the ground and disappear. You both continue to clash together for a dizzying amount of time, only stopping once the burning for oxygen practically imprints itself into your lungs. 

Pulling back with a huff, your eyes widen in disbelief. Reality comes crashing into you like a bludger as your eyes jump around every little freckle on his face. Regulus’ chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, eyes refusing to stray from yours. 

“We-” you utter, voice practically a squeak. 

Regulus’ eyes flicker with mirth before he drops his head to sprinkle fleeting kisses on your jaw and neck. Your hands freeze against his chest, not knowing how to handle the hot flash of disbelief and giddiness that sinks into your frame. 

Your brain was glitching, perhaps even smoking out of your ears. 

Eventually, you gently push the boy off of you, eyes already flying around in search of approaching enemies. Flashing the boy a warm smile, you slowly begin to emerge from behind the mass of concrete, “Let’s continue this later, yeah?” Your voice comes out smaller than you’d hope, but you’re just happy it wasn’t shaky. 

“No protests from me, birdie.” Regulus whispers lightly, hand ghosting your back as he submerges himself back into battle. 

You aren’t sure how much time has passed, but you are vaguely aware of how the sky seems to shed away into a forlorn grey as opposed to its former void of pitch black. When you spin on your heel, you make eye contact with a panicked Harry which has all of your mental alarms ringing. 

“Reg!” You call over your shoulder, not glancing back again as you briskly march over to your friend, cognizant of the faint sound of footsteps behind you. 

As you near the boy, you reach over to grasp his forearm, “Harry?” 

Harry gulps, “Where’s Draco?”

“With Blaise, they evacuated.” Your voice is cautious, watching as Harry’s eyes flicker from you to the battle behind you. 

“Oh…Goyle’s dead.” 

“He’s what–what the hell? Harry?” 

He shakes his head, eyes darting to look at Regulus before he averts his gaze to peer off into the distance, “No time. Come on.” 

You share a look of resigned confusion with Regulus before you’re both bounding off after the speeding boy, mind whirring on overdrive as you all duck into the steep shadows and clamber down a vacant stairway. Harry crouches down as you near a building, and you can only silently squawk once you realize it was the Shrieking Shack. 

What the hell was the boy up to this time?

Harry leans against one of the walls and peers into a crack in the mosaic glass, eyes wide as he mutely scrutinizes the scene in front of him. You and Regulus huddle together to do the same, but not before you quietly cast a concealment charm to hide your presence. 

You’re able to make out Snape’s figure, the man’s face was undoubtedly sullen as he tracks the movements of his companion with a perpetual frown. You feel Regulus tense by your side as you both recognize the other occupant in the room. 

Clenching your jaw, you shoot Harry a sharp look that he ignores, the boy becoming entranced by the conversation Snape was having with bloody fucking Voldemort. Craning your head closer to the cloudy glass, you can faintly make out what the tense exchange was about. 

The Elder Wand?

Regulus drops his hand down to interlace with yours, eyes shifting back and forth over the lattice of the window as he tries to fathom the topic. A few moments of eerie silence stretch out before you’re flinching back as something tersely slams against the window in front of you. 

Your first instinct is to reach for your wand and prepare yourself for confrontation, but upon closer inspection of the glass, you realize that it was muddled by a dark heap. Tilting your head, you hover a finger over the middle of the black shadow, eyes widening once you see the figure move ever so slightly. 

Harry’s hands are clenched tightly by his side as he peers on with unblinking eyes. 

“Nagini kill.” 

The cold voice has you swallowing a gasp, ears prickling with cold needles of dread at the realization of what was happening. A reverberant hissing slices through the air and soon you’re watching helplessly as the figure in front of you slams and struggles against the pane of glass.

Tears stab at your eyes painfully as you remain rooted to your spot, shoulders completely slack as shame wrings your veins unrelentingly. Separated by a mere two inches of glass. You wanted more than anything to be endowed with a wave of courage—to spring into action and save your Professor, but you knew you couldn’t. 

Two inches of glass, and Snape didn’t even know such little distance separated him from help. Or maybe he did—yet, you didn’t know if that was worse. If he knew you were all there, and gave no inkling of knowledge to the vindictive Dark Lord. Was he protecting you all? 

The banging ceases, eventually. 

Your jaw trembles violently as splatters of blood decorate the panes in front of you, dripping bright red, the streaks mocking you. Regulus’ face is completely blank and devoid of any color, but you could see the deep-seated agony flashing in his eyes. 

Were they friends? You couldn’t help but want to ask, knowing that Regulus would have been Snape’s junior whilst at Hogwarts.

You hear Snape grapple with his pain, gasping forcibly into the silent air. For a few moments, you wait it out, not wanting to storm into the building just in case Voldemort was basking in his most recent attack. 

Harry shoots you a quick nod, and that’s all it takes for you to fly onto your feet, body pushing through the worn door with such force that it slams into the adjacent wall. Your eyes find your Professor immediately, heart flying away into the dusty shadows somewhere as you collapse by his side. Regulus kneels down by Snape’s feet, eyes searching the older man’s disorientated gaze. 

“Professor!” Your voice comes out as a thick tremble, hands shaking with adrenaline as you fish out your wand. You begin to try and cast the strongest healing charms you know, but deep in the back of your hazy brain, you knew it would be fruitless. Harry crouches down opposite of you, posture more reserved—guarded, as he swallows harshly.

Snape glances at you briefly, eyes already dimming, before he turns to look at Harry when the boy tries to put pressure on the man’s wound. You refuse to look behind the blood-soaked collar, knowing that his neck was likely a mangled, stringy mess of flesh and muscle. 

“Take them…Take them…” Snape utters with a pained groan, small glimmers of tears rolling down his cheeks. Harry, seeming to understand the man’s urgency, whips out a small glass vial from his pocket and collects the tiny droplets. 

Snape reaches out with a weak hand towards your frantic friend, fingers ghosting over his face as he smiles weakly, “You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Harry barely bats an eye at the man’s words, only peering at him with a mournful gaze. Regulus speaks up for the first time, eyes hard as he addresses your friend without taking his eyes off of Snape, “Harry, go.” 

The boy looks over to you in question, and you give him a brief nod. 

Harry hesitates before leaning back and nodding slowly, hand gradually retracting from the bloody mess of the man’s neck. Your friend bites the inside of his cheek before capping the glass vial, “Goodbye, sir.” 

Without looking back, Harry flees the room and leaves you alone with the dying man. Your hands wander about in the air helplessly, as you grit your teeth, “Professor, you can’t die.” 

Snape’s head lolls over to your side, and he gazes at you dully, chest rising and falling more erratically now. You shake your head and furrow your eyebrows, “Do you think you can just drop down and die like this! You still need to apologize to Harry. If you die, I’ll never forgive you. I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to this whole time–this whole war–but Dumbledore trusted you. And Dumbledore was no bloody fool. So, live.” Your voice, once hard and full of fiery conviction, drops to a low whisper, “Live so I know that I haven’t defended you for no reason.” 

The man squints at you and his fingers weakly twitch, lightly tapping your hand once. Slowly, his eyes flicker to meet Regulus’ tense figure. 

“Regulus.” The man murmurs, syllables becoming slurred as his eyes droop lower. 

Regulus nods and shifts to sidle by you, hands reaching over to pat the man’s arm, “It’s me, Severus. It’ll be okay now, just rest.” Regulus’ soft words of comfort bring a small smirk to Snape’s face, and as you go to say more, your Professor’s breathing stutters to a stop. 

“Fuck.” You mumble out with a scrunched face, eyes burning as you press the image of Snape’s still body into your memory. Regulus’ shoulders sag, and he slowly reaches over to button up the collar of Snape’s robes with glassy eyes. 

“He might have actually been a spy for the Dark Lord this whole time, birdie.” Regulus whispers, hands drawing back slowly once he finishes his task. 

You sniffle and turn away from your dead professor, “I don’t know. I don’t want to believe that. I don’t even have a sound reason for my judgment—I can just sense it.” 

Regulus nods and reaches to cradle your face in his hands, “Your senses have yet to steer you wrong, little bird. I trust your judgment, always.” 

It was inscrutable. How could you truly mourn, pity, or empathize with a man who most thought to be Hogwarts’ most depraved? It was dichotomic how you wished to understand Snape’s motivations, but simultaneously wanted to spell away any memory you had of the man. 

A part of you hoped that he was everything you thought him to be—slightly misunderstood, heavily misguided, and desperately in need of atonement. Another part of you also prayed that it was the antithesis of your feelings—that he was truly an unredeemable, malevolent mastermind that fooled Dumbledore. At least that way, when the public inevitably denounced the man, he would deserve it. 

You refuse to shed tears over Snape’s death, but you wallow in the sea of hurt and conflict that threatens to drown you as you and Regulus make your way back to the castle. It takes a few moments before you snap back into reality, immediately tensing up as you scout the area for any signs of life. 

Regulus was faring better than you at the moment, eyes set forward, one hand grasping Blaise’s wand, the other, tightly clutching yours. 

“It will end soon.” He mutters, voice level and firm with certainty. 

You don’t respond, but you feel a pebble of determination fling itself into the empty cavity of your chest. As you both slip into a dark corridor of the castle, wands raised, you hear distant explosions and yelling around the corner. 

It was time to gear up for battle again. Throwing yourself into a slight duck, you swing out from the darkness with a hex at the tip of your tongue, a vicious spell rippling through the air and crashing devastatingly into a death eater moments after. 

Mayhem befalls the ruined hallway in a matter of seconds, and you catch a glimpse of two ginger mops. Slowly knocking down death eaters, you work further towards the two Weasleys. When you get within a few yards of the familiar individuals, you feel a small smile paint itself on your lips as you realize it happened to be Fred and Percy, fighting side-by-side. 

Seems as though Percy made up with the rest of them. 

Just as you send two death eaters down the stairs and into the path of a few stray hexes, you see Fred get knocked to the floor in your peripheral. The death eater standing over your friend waves his hand up menacingly, no doubt ready to obliterate him. 

Jumping into action, you aim your wand at the man’s back, “Mors Ruinam!”

A large void swallows the unsuspecting man before unceremoniously spitting him out from the ceiling just as Regulus shoots off a particularly nasty hex. 

You hoped that the Ministry wouldn’t be checking your wands after the battle. 

Fred is still splayed out against the wall when you approach him, face drained of color as he comes to terms with his near-death experience. You extend a hand to help him up, grunting when the boy nearly drags you down in his attempt to rise up. 

“What the hell was that?” He exclaims, eyes suddenly wide and bright. 

Leave it to the Weasley twins to bounce back at light speed. 

“Just a fun little dark spell.” You flash him a small relieved smile. 

He grins and claps your shoulder, “Wicked!” 

Percy makes his way over to the three of you with a nod, dark circles jumping out from his face as he slowly gestures for you all to make your way further up the castle. 

“Have either of you seen Sirius?” You ask, eyes trailing to focus on the wisps of fire that peeked through the cracks of the ceiling. 

“Reckon he’s with Remus and Tonks.” Fred supplies, glancing back to give Regulus a confused look. You nod and cough into your fist, eyes avoiding Fred’s as you deign him with an answer of your own, “Uh, this is my…boyfriend…Regulus.” 

Fred’s face splits into a grin and he nearly faceplants on the stairs as he shoots Regulus a knowing look, “Double wicked.” You roll your eyes, knowing that the next family and friends meeting would be awkward as you’d have to explain how and why you were dating Sirius’ dead brother. 

Regulus raises his eyebrows in amusement before tangling your fingers together. The journey up to one of the collapsing towers was uneventful from then on, but you were deeply relieved to see that Sirius was still up and running. 

“Pup!” He grins broadly, turning back around for a split second to blast an apparating death eater out of the window. The man makes his way over to you, giving you a brief hug before ruffling his brother’s hair, “Where’s Harry?” 

Just running amuck with your dead professor’s tears, no biggie. 

“Off and about. He was fine, last we saw him.” You answer with a hum, eyes catching Remus’ tired ones from across the tower ledge. 

“Where is Tonks at?” You wonder aloud.

Sirius hums and twirls to look at his fatigued friend, “Shacklebolt. They’re off somewhere inside the castle.” 

Percy steps forward and huffs quietly, “We should make our way down. There’s no telling how much longer this place will stand.” 

Before anyone could make a move to clamber down the stairs, a familiar steely voice hissed through your mind, “You have fought valiantly…but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now directly speak to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate…”

A few beats of silence pass and you could hear a few faint pops of apparition echo throughout the perimeter. 

“That isn't going to bode well with Harry.” You murmur, and Sirius grimly nods at your words, quickly retreating down the stairs. 

The walk down to the bustling dining hall is pervaded by a sense of dread and anxiety, all of you still on guard as if expecting a death eater to leap around the corner at any moment.  Just as you reach the heavy doors, Harry comes striding towards your little group from the other side of the corridor. 

Your head perks up at the sight of your friend, but confusion washes over you when you see the hard look in his eyes. His eyebrows are harshly furrowed as he stares down Sirius and Remus, both men looking at each other in confusion before starting to walk over to your friend. 

“Hey uh, Fred, Percy, I think your family is inside.” You cough out, not looking back as you debate on whether or not you should approach your furious friend. Luckily, both Weasley brothers feel the tension in the air and heed your silent request, Fred throwing an arm over his disgruntled brother’s shoulders as they saunter away. 

“What do you think happened, love?” You mutter, peering over to study Regulus’ expression. 

He turns to you and hums, “Snape gave Harry his memories earlier, I’m guessing he saw something he didn’t like.” 

You raise an eyebrow at the boy and bump your hip against his, “You know something.” 

“I know a lot of things, birdie.” He muses, pressing a hand to your lower back as you both watch on. 

Harry runs a hand around his lips before he peers up at his godfather and pseudo-uncle, muttering something that has both men flinching back as if he tossed a flame at them. You cross your arms as Harry sighs, seeming to retreat in his tirade, stepping around both men and marching in your direction. 

You shift to give him a questioning look, but he shakes his head and grabs both you and Regulus by the arm, pushing in between you both as he continues on his war path, “Later.” 

You don’t think you will ever receive an answer from your friend. Your heart feels like it is being ripped from your body as you stand atop of the ruined stairs along with the remaining survivors, watching as a completely still Harry is being paraded over to you by a river of death eaters. 

Neville grips the worn sorting hat tightly in his hands, mouth wobbling as he takes in the sight of the approaching forces. Your mouth stretches into a painful line as your eyes zone in on a particularly enthusiastic death eater dancing around beside Voldemort’s strutting figure. 

“Neville.” 

The boy turns to you as you begin to make your way down to him. 

“I hope you won’t mind if I send her to Merlin,” you whisper as you perch beside him atop a hill of rubble. 

Neville narrows his eyes at the woman before nodding, “Get to her first. I won’t be able to hold myself back otherwise.” 

“Deal. I’ll help you with the Lestrange brothers then.” 

Your brief exchange comes to a halt as Voldemort and his forces stop just a few yards shy of you both. 

Voldemort shoots a feral grin at the crowd before spreading his arms out widely in triumph, “Harry Potter is dead!” 

Ginny shoots out from somewhere behind you with a distressed wail, “NO! No!” 

Her father barely manages to tug her back as Voldemort hisses, pointing a spindly finger at her, “Silence! Stupid girl.” 

You want to snarl at the man, hand slowly wrapping around your wand. Regulus moves out from somewhere in the crowd behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stares down the laughing death eaters. 

Voldemort’s gloating continues for a few more moments before his eyes flit towards you and Regulus. It seems that world tips on its axis in that moment as the serpentine man stills on the spot before his face shifts to one of rage, the man’s change in demeanor spurring Bellatrix to follow his gaze. 

“Traitor!” She all but screeches, immediately lifting her wand to aim at Regulus. You react just as quickly, whipping your wand up to blast the woman into the next life, but you’re both distracted by the sound of a few gasps. Reeling over to look at the source of shock, your mouth curls up as you see Harry roll on the ground, standing and firing a spell towards Voldemort’s snake. 

Bellatrix whips her head to look at Voldemort before becoming further enraged as death eaters begin to flee by the dozen, clearly petrified by your friend’s ability to dodge death. 

“Reggie, cover me!” You yell, taking advantage of Bellatrix’s distracted state. The boy complies immediately, watching your surroundings as he begins to fire spells into the disarrayed crowd of death eaters. 

“Flipendo!” 

Your spell sweeps the demented woman off of her feet, her hair flying wildly as she bounces off of a broken slab of concrete. Explosions ring from all around you as Voldemort begins to take chase behind a fleeing Harry. 

Bellatrix recovers quickly, clambering around on the ground as she tries to find her wand. You almost want to drag out this one-sided duel to a torturous degree, but petty games had no place amidst war. 

Pointing your wand at a stone, you swing your arm through the air, “Depulso!” The rugged rock soars through the air before crashing into Bellatrix’s hunched figure, reducing her frantic movements into trembling pulses as she crumbles back down onto the ground. 

You pace towards her slack body, heart skipping as your mind races. Fuck, you didn’t kill her did you?

The woman’s eyes bulge in their sockets as she helplessly stares at your looming figure. 

“Filthy…traitor.” She mutters with a strained voice, mouth twisting into a repulsive sneer. 

You huff and shoot a glance towards Regulus, relaxing when you see him occupied with a duel, “Still have the energy to talk, do you?” 

The woman doesn’t answer, and only continues to gaze at you venomously. Her wand had clattered to the ground just a few feet away, and you faintly smile before kicking the curved stick into a nearby fire. 

“You brought this upon yourself. And really, it’s a shame for you that I’m not Neville,” you grin broadly at the woman, “he is far more merciful.” 

Before the woman can respond, you pace back a few steps before aiming at her, “Anima Redimat.”

The woman gasps shrilly, watching with frightful eyes as the purple spell sinks into her body, “You-” 

“You recognize it then? The Soul Ripping spell. I’ve heard you’re quite a fan of soul magic.” You hum as she gapes at you, “You’re not the only one who’s been around Grimmauld Place’s library.” 

The woman is unable to reply as the effect of the curse kicks off, a faint purple tinge enveloping her body. Bellatrix begins to twitch on the ground, limbs sliding around in a distressful dance before she completely stills, eyes wide and unseeing as her form freezes in a contorted manner. 

You spin on your heel and slide into the mayhem around the courtyard, firing off an endless flurry of hexes as a tidal wave of adrenaline pushes the world into clarity. Regulus joins you by your side soon after, eyes never once moving to greet his cousin’s lifeless form. 

As you turn to send off another spell, you still on the spot as you come face-to-face with Narcissa Malfoy. 

“Lady Malfoy.” You greet evenly, moving to blast away a death eater behind her. 

The woman hardly flinches at your ministrations and continues to stare at you before she finally whispers, “Draco?” 

“With Contessa Zabini and his friends, I sent Blaise off to take care of him earlier.” You reply, sending a binding spell flying from your wand as you see Rabastan Lestrange sprint across the rubble around you. 

The woman nods and peers at you with relieved eyes, “I see. Perhaps we should have tea one of these days.” Without waiting for a response, she strides away and grabs her husband, apparating out of the battlefield in the blink of an eye. 

Why did everyone insist on having tea with you? Your stress levels will be off the charts by the end of the day.

“Making your way up high society, birdie?” Regulus chuckles from beside you, a glint of satisfaction flashing across his eyes as he overpowers his opponent. 

“A penchant of mine.” You reply, tone glazed with amusement. 

Regulus shakes his head as he flings his fallen challenger away from him, “Trust me, the grandeur of it fades quickly.” 

The battle ensues for a few more beats before crescendoing as two figures suddenly drop down and roll into the middle of the square, driving everyone’s attention towards the disruption. 

It seems that time halts in place as Voldemort and Harry gather their bearings, wands raised up as beams of green clash into red, an overwhelming aura of power mounting up into the air. You faintly feel the magic, Voldemort’s smothering signature grappling with Harry’s light and airy one. 

The junction of power twirls into a vibrating ball of light as you see both men shake to push forward. Voldemort suddenly collapses onto his knees as the magic fades, a tense silence dispelling the air from your lungs as you step forward with bated breath. Harry quickly peers back in shock, and his contrast from Voldemort’s stricken demeanor tells you all you need to know: the tide of the battle has changed. 

Both men swing their wands forward again, but the power clash is less evident this time as the Dark Lord futilely struggles against Harry’s potent magic. The push-and-pull between the two disintegrates once Voldemort becomes enveloped by his own spell, the green wrapping around his figure like a deflating bubble. 

The man crumbles to his knees, body gradually going rigid on the spot as his skin begins to flake off into a wisps of ash. The swirl of flying particles reduces the man to nothingness, and you feel like you can breathe again. 

Voldemort was no more.

Harry steadies himself to his feet before smiling shakily, turning on the spot to greet the confounded faces around him. Sirius and Remus come flying from somewhere in the crowd, examining Harry’s condition as the boy stares off in content. 

This war was over.

So many years of suffering and struggle finally blooming into a new era, and your friend was at the center of it all. 

Regulus inhales shakily before turning to face you, seizing your stiff body into his arms when you glance back at him with disbelieving eyes. 

For the second time that day, he joins your lips together, and you can only claw at his enthusiastic figure helplessly as he crowds you against him. Cheering echoes from all around you as more people begin to pool into the courtyard, cries of victory lifting to the skies and blowing away the gloomy clouds. 

You cup Regulus’ face as you both slowly disconnect, lips swollen and eyes wide. 

“I love you, birdie.” He whispers with conviction, hands dropping to grip your waist. 

Your laugh bubbles into the air with a watery edge, and you try to ignore the tender fulfillment that permeates across your chest, “I love you too, Reg.” 

Today you would shed relieved tears and hold the untimely losses close to your heart, but with the battle won, tomorrow would be the beginning of a new chapter for Magical Britain. You would have to begin reconstruction, reelections, and rehabilitations—mere band-aids for the decades of emptiness that would scar every survivor of the Wizarding Wars, but it would suffice.

The incalculable change was a never-ending battle—even with Voldemort gone, but at least now you have Regulus by your side. Perhaps if change became too much, you could pay Reine a visit. 

A vacation or permanent getaway could be in order now, but that seemed like a worry for tomorrow.

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Chapter 5: Let it Rain Blood—Refrain

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"This is the club where the Nutcracker has recently been spotted."

"It's kinda fun."

"The crowds making me sick”

"I think we- no- I think I'm outta place here."

"Nah, you look cute, Shirazu." Reina smacked his shoulder and winked.

Instead of taking the compliment to heart he just grumbled about how horrible he looked in feminine fashion. But she didn't blame him, he did look out of place—for the wrong reasons.

Shirazu had decided to wear a plain strapless bodycon dress, a cardigan thrown over top of it—with a zebra print scarf wrapped around his neck. His makeup looking all bright—clumps of mascara sticking to his eyelids. His hair brought up into a side drill ponytail.

Meanwhile the rest of them had worn calmer outfits, soft flowey dresses, soft makeup, modest clothing—nothing too out there. And yet here he was standing out like a sore thumb. Though he swore it was because of his height—it wasn't.

"The difference isn't your height. Now shut up, and focus on the mission at hand." Reina smacked his arm and left to talk with Haise.

"Hey."

"Hey.."

"I noticed you weren't paying attention during the briefing the first time around." She looked up at him worriedly, "what's on your mind?"

"It's.." he sighed.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?" He smiled down at her.

"You know I wouldn't, Haise." She grinned.

He chuckled and looked at the dance floor, his arms falling behind his back after tucking the white wig behind his ear.

"I took the rest of the squad to this amazing cafe, I mean it was filled with amazing decorations, books, it felt so... comforting.."

She looked at his face, his eyes reminiscing the warmth of the said café, his eyes sparkling under the vivid lights. His lips quirking up into a soft smile.

"We sat down and got served by this beautiful... stunning.. woman—"

"Hmm, someone's got a crush." She laughed at him.

"You promised you wouldn't laugh!" He whined embarrassedly.

"Too late for that, lover boy. Now what's she got to do with it?"

"She uhh.. she served us our coffee and when I took a sip of it—it—it... it felt so... familiar.. like I've always known this exact taste my whole life, but this was the first time I've ever visited... the place." His smile dropped into a frown, his eyebrows furrowed, hands balled up behind him.

"It felt like I was.. home for the first time since.."

"I know. It's been a long time since we both felt.. at home. Even with the so called 'home' we live in, it's just a prison we're bound to. Its nothing like—"

"Hey, Sassan!"

Both mentors turned to the boy calling out to his mentor.

"I think the Nutcracker's evaluating someone." He whispered, pointing at the corner she was seen talking to someone in.

Just then the girl stopped talking and pondered the idea.

"This isn't good.. that girl might go with the nut. If the nut gets to her, she may be taken to a different location."

...

"Sassan, Nana. About Saiko.. I think you're both too easy on her. Is.. there.. a reason?"

Looking up at the older man she waited for him to answer first. Haise looked down at the ground and thought back to old memories.

"Saiko's... mother left her father and took her and her brother with her. She opened up a bar with help from her boyfriend, but things didn't go well." He paused.

"..Saiko and her brother were sent to the CCG Junior Academy because tuition was cheap. She never wanted to become an investigator in the first place."

"When the time came to choose a career path, she still had no intention of becoming a ghoul investigator. Then the Junior cadets were given a Quinx aptitude test, of the six who passed, Saiko was by far the most suitable subject."

"When her mother found out there'd be compensation she immediately agreed to the procedure. The risk didn't seem matter to her mother—that's what I was told." He turned to look at the boy and acknowledged that he was her mentor for the squad, so that she could do her job, but he felt compelled to doing his job knowing that this wasn't what she wanted to do in life.

"I hesitate to lay more on her than I have to when she can't be motivated."

"Guess having parents doesn't mean being happy. She's the only one with either parent close by." He sighed.

"Both of Urie's are gone. Tooru's family was killed by ghouls. My dad's—my mom's around somewhere, but.. as long as we're in that house, I think we gotta do our jobs!! She's just bein' lazy!" He yelled frustrated that there was such a simple solution that was being overlooked.

"If she's hurting for money, she can work... she should cut ties with her mom."

"Maybe..."

"No, she should!!"

"I don't think it's that simple as you think it is, Shirazu." Reina whispered knowing he didn't hear anything over the loud music.

"H-hey, Sassan? If you regain your memory... are you.. going to quit the commission? You too, Nana... since you're both..."

"Since we're both what?"

"You know.." he brought his hands up and put his pointer fingers together, hinting that he thought they were dating.

"W-wait a second. Me and Haise aren't.. you think we're..!?" She screeched out horrified.

"Me and Reina aren't—"

"Wait really?! This whole time I thought the two of you were—"

"Oh, god, no! Not that there's anything wrong with Haise, but he's like a brother! Ew." She cringed as he just watched and laughed at her dramatics.

"To answer you question, Shirazu, I won't quit." Haise reassured the boy who looked at him with a wavering smile

Just then a loud laugh erupted from the other side of the club.

"I like your hair!! It's cute!" Mutsuki a voice rang out surprising the person he was talking to—which was none other than the Nutcracker.

"Is he drunk?" A pull at Haise's dress pulled him out of his thoughts as he looked down at Saiko.

"What is it, Saiko?"

"I think Mutsi had something to drink. He reeks of alcohol." She recalled the unpleasant smell on him.

"Looks like that'll be one hell of a hangover for him tomorrow." Reina laughed.

"He's coming over!"

Mutsuki ran over to the group and greeted them with a salute before announcing that he successfully earned a job from the Nutcracker. His words slurred as his eyes focused on Haises before blinking away from the older man's gaze, and turning to drag both Saiko and Shirazu with him to the dance floor leaving both mentors by the wall.

They watched as they shouted, complained, and enjoyed themselves without worrying about their jobs, and instead focusing on being the children they still were at the moment. Both Haise and Reina admired them from a far, their faces smiling sadly as they took in this innocent moment.

And now, there she was. Sitting in front of one of the members of the Washu clan. Matsuri Washu. She's always hated him ever since she first met him. To be honest, he gave her the creeps whenever they spoke. She couldn't explain it.

Joining her was Juuzou and Haise, running the meeting was the damned Washu man. So far she'd done nothing but pick at her nails and pretende to read over the so called documents he gave the trio. She didn't care for what he had to say, plus Haise was there. Surely he would fill her in.

She found it funny how one could be so proud of his lineage without knowing all the actual problematic things that happened under his very nose. He'd been so sheltered, that he was blind as to what was right in front of him.

“…have investigator Mutsuki attend the auction.” Matsuri said annoyed.

At that Reina perked up and looked at Haise who glanced at her quickly and asked if he heard him correctly.

“A-alone, sir?” He stuttered.

They both knew that even if Mutsuki did get the lead, he was in no way fit to go alone no matter the circumstance. If they could decide who to take to the auction, Reina would offer herself. She didn’t endure a year of torture for nothing.

“Of course. It’d be suspicious otherwise. It’s to avoid arousing suspicion, and so we can mount an attack from within.” His voice echoed throughout the room.

“He won’t be able to carry a quinque in with him if there’s a security check. And that is what the quinxes ability is for, no..?”

Haise panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind to protect the boy from any imminent danger, “But Investigator Mutsuki isn’t ready for such an important mission!!”

“What do you mean by ‘but,’ Investigator Sasaki?” Matsuri voice lowered by an octave, an almost animalistic—irritated growl came out from the man.

Haise cowered and just watched as Juuzou stepped in to save him from. Raising his hand, he asked for permission to speak before asking if he could join the auction too. His bubbly voice cutting through the tension between both guys.

“What if I pose as Investigator Mutsuki’s friend? Might be good to have one more on the inside if you want to mess things up from within.” He smiled innocently.

The discussion only lasted a few more minutes until the Washu man finally relented and allowed the boy with red stitches to attend and pose as an average citizen.

Just then there was a knock at the door, Investigators Hirako, Akira, and Shimoguchi entered the room. They stood tall as Matsuri addressed them a lot more formally than he did with Haise and Reina. She scoffed but covered it up as a cough and sat forward in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest, and leaned on the table. After that the meeting had officially commenced.

“Now let me explain the details of the operation auction sweep.”

As everyone left the room Juuzou caught up to mentors and chatted up a small conversation before Akira came over and spoke to the both of them as well.

“Reina, Haise. If Squad 2 is involved, it’s a big operation. That doesn’t happen often.” Her words struck them as she wasn’t holding back.

She wanted them to understand the severity of the operation and what it entailed.

“I know neither of you have any career ambitions here, but what you do here will go a long way. That of course applies to your squad too. But the bigger the reward…” she sighed looking away from them.

“The bigger the risk.” Reina muttered as Haise continued from where she left off.

“Thats what you were going to say, right..?”

“Yeah..”

Reina stayed silent as she stayed listening to the older woman. She knew that she hated her, and yet she still warned her—them— of the dangers that lurked in future operations whilst working at the CCG. A small fire erupted in the younger girls chest. Maybe it was because she thought they were finally getting along, that she was pushing their differences aside even. That feeling died down into nothing but wisps of smoke when she thought that it was all meant for Haise.

But why did she care? She was a human, nothing but food for her. She shook those thoughts away and hurried the feeling deep down. She’d deal with her feelings once they were ready to burst in the near future. As for now she’d just have to focus on her words.

“You need to be stronger, Haise. Be stronger and kill ghouls. Those with the least to lose… are the strongest.” And with that she left them. She didn’t even bother to spare the girl another glance either.

Once she was far enough away Reina turned to Haise and found a conflicted expression on his face. Grabbing his shoulder she rubbed it.

“Hey, if you really want to be stronger don’t listen to her words. Killing does nothing, it only feeds into the conflict you have between yourself. Instead, do what feels right to you, Haise. You’re your own person.” She smiled before grabbing his arm and dragging him to the car.

“Let’s go home now. We’ve got the rest of the squad to debrief.”

Once they both got home she left to her room and changed out of her clothes and into some shorts and an oversized shirt she’d stolen from one of the boys. Walking to the bathroom she shut herself in and started her nightly routine. Making sure to wash her face, and moisturize properly.

It had been getting a bit chillier as autumn was coming to fruition. The wind nipped at her skin everytime she left without a scarf, leaving her skin dry.

Leaving the bathroom she went back to her room and thought of the squad and their first mission. She wondered how they’d hold up. She remembered the first time she’d ever fought against an operation. The day the coffee shop became nothing but burnt bricks and ashes. Tragedy following moments later.

She sighed and sat on her bed. The blinds were open allowing her to see outside the big wall of windows that so generously came with the house. Her thoughts suddenly turned to a certain boy in the hospital.

“God, what the hell am I going to do with him. He doesn’t listen to either of us, now look at what happened. Turning himself into a little guinea pig.” She flopped her head on her pillows and tugged the sheets over her body shielding herself from the cool air circulating throughout the room.

She stretched her hand out above her head, reaching for the ceiling.

“What would Yoshimura do? What would dad do?”

Pulling her hand down she turned to reach over her nightstand and turned the lamp off before heading to bed. That would be a problem for the furture her. For now she’d rest for there were big days ahead of them leading up to the raid in November.

wc: 2.3k previous chapter  masterlist next chapter

a/n: hi! I’m back again but imma dip soon again due to my teachers giving excessive work. I hope you enjoy the next few chapters, I barley had time to proofread them so I apologize for any errors!!

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AHHH so amazing!!!!

Memory

(ID: sequential art

image 1: A wide shot of a chaotic room of people from the fire nation, water tribes, and earth kingdom gathered around a table that Zuko sits at the head of, the meeting is interrupted by a group of people waving banners bearing the symbol of Phoenix King Ozai.

image 2: back view of a lighting bender conjuring lightning to strike Zuko, who sits on the far side of the table.

image 3: Sokka grabbing the lightning bender’s arm and restrains him before he can finish bending, the bender has the symbol of Phoenix King Ozai on his arm.

image 4: Zuko in profile, hands clutched to chest in fear.

image 5: a close up of Azula smiling while she lighting bends.

end ID)