Who Are You? (Series Masterlist)

Second Son (VI) | 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: Y/N goes looking for Regulus. Umbridge's spectacular rise and fall are overshadowed by the group's mission to the Department of Mysteries.

Part V / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant. Regulus isn't in most of the chapter, but the events that occur are crucial to the story line.

You didn’t head to the dining hall for dinner that night. After sitting on your windowsill in a state of disarray until darkness blanketed over the castle grounds, you realized that Regulus didn’t intend on returning anytime soon. 

If ever. But you brushed that thought aside as soon as it surfaced; you didn’t want to mull over the possibility until you were absolutely certain, and you weren’t going to be unless Regulus told you to your face. 

Curfew would sweep into the night any moment now, so you made a decision. 

Startling up from your stupor, you quickly grab Regulus’ portrait frame and your wand, pacing out of your dorm and the common room. Many sent you furtive glances, intrigued by your determination, while others full-body turned as if tempted to warn you against toeing the line for curfew. 

However, it seemed that their words were caught in their throats after catching a glimpse of the blood-stained bandage around your hand. It was clear that you were aware of the consequences of breaking the rules, and you just hoped that you wouldn’t run into Umbridge on your walk. 

You wondered what would happen if she caught you. Surely, she wouldn’t use the quill on you again, but you couldn’t rule out the wandering thought that she might just test out a potion by pouring it down your throat. 

You truly couldn’t wait for her to run back to her post at the Ministry. 

Walking along the cold castle corridors, you cast a silent lumos and bring up the bulb of light to scan the collection of portraits around you. Many of the portraits hissed at the brightness, whispering furiously to usher you away. You didn’t pay any mind to their protests, eyes darting around frantically to try and find Regulus. 

You knew that portraits could wander into other portraits located in the same building, so that narrowed down his whereabouts. Unfortunately, Hogwarts happened to be a proprietor of hundreds of valuable portraits–so Regulus could be anywhere.

Growing restless as hot frustration pervades your chest, your shoulders sag as you stop in defeat. Standing in the middle of the corridor, your wand resting by your side, you turn your head up to the ceiling. It felt like a million thoughts were whirring in the back of your brain, yet every single one evaded your mental grasp. 

It was overwhelming. There were too many conflicting thoughts and emotions coursing through you. Unconsciously patting the vacant frame in your pocket, you begin to slowly walk forward into the darkness, no real destination or plan in mind. 

It was likely past curfew now, and you imagined that you’d already be halfway down to the shrieking shack if you had Harry’s invisibility cloak on you. You didn’t want to stay in your dorm, every inch of your side of the room was infused with the memory of Regulus. 

You wanted to be somewhere where you could forget. Somewhere that took your mind off of Voldemort’s antics. Somewhere where you could stop stewing over the absurdity of your feelings and attachment to Regulus–a portrait. 

Merlin, you weren’t even sure how much of him was human. What did he retain? Was he real? Yes. Maybe. You didn’t know. But it was giving you a headache. 

Maybe him leaving was good. You needed to sort out your feelings and confusion. 

Suddenly, you hear two pairs of footsteps echo around the walls. Loud clicking and uneven stomps. You had grown accustomed to hearing those two walks. Umbridge and Filch. Scrambling further down the hall, you quickly disperse your lumos as you reach a turn in the corridor. 

As you throw yourself against the stone wall, you peer from around the corner to see a faint light along with two figures. They stop just yards away from your position in the darkness, and you hear Umbridge begin to order Filch around, “These as well. They must go at once!” 

Of course, he was doing her bidding. You were pretty sure he had a school boy crush on her. 

Furrowing your brows, you watch attentively as Filch begins to lift the portraits off the walls, shaking them to the side to empty them. Shock paralyzes your body as he continues to move down the frames, savoring the loud protests echoing from the other paintings. 

Umbridge looks downright pleased by Filch’s compliance, simply making a noise of approval before spinning on her heel and strutting back from the direction they both came from. 

This was madness. First, performing Ministry evaluation on teachers, now dictating what kind of decor was appropriate? But it didn’t make sense, why would the Ministry want all of the castle paintings removed? Making Hogwarts a barren institution did very little for them. 

Quickly straightening up from your huddled position, you begin to walk down the dark corridor, eyes partially accustomed to the dimness now. There was no way you could cut past Filch now, so going back to the dorms was completely out of the question. Perhaps, you could just spend the night in the Room of Requirement. 

As you quietly navigate through the castle, a sudden epiphany strikes you. Stopping in your tracks, your mouth parts in dumbfoundedness as you realize that the Ministry does not care about the castle paintings. Umbridge taking them down was out of her own fear, and as a show of power–something she would have never done without explicit permission. 

Dumbledore would never allow the paintings to come down. Which means the Ministry did something to usurp Dumbledore. 

Merlin. Was he being punished for the D.A.? If so, Umbridge was now the reigning head of Hogwarts. 

And Harry didn’t know. 

Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, you pick up your pace towards the Room of Requirement as you process the revelation. As you quickly approach the wall in your distraught state, you let your mind slip to the first thought screaming at you in your head. 

I need to find Regulus. 

The large wooden doors appear with a muted crackling, the door handles protruding out just large enough for you to distinguish in the darkness. Quickly swinging open the door, you don’t process the sight in front of you until the door is shutting behind you with a click. 

You are rooted to the spot for what seems like hours, taking in the familiar sight in front of you. This seemed to be a cruel joke, but the magic doesn’t lie, your magic seemed to sing in harmony with the room just as it did over the summer. 

The disappearing room at Grimmauld Place was right in front of you. No. Just the disappearing room. It didn’t seem to be truly tied to Grimmauld Place if it appeared at Hogwarts. 

Inklings of warm magic flowed throughout the dusty room, entangling with your cooler magic. Earlier, you thought of a place where you could find Regulus. Did that mean that he somehow was in the disappearing room? 

Closing your eyes, you concentrate on reaching out to the magic in the room. You had spent enough time with Regulus’ portrait to grow familiar with the feeling of his magic. If he were in the room, you would be able to tell. 

The cool stretch of your magical core blanketed the room, but gradually receded as you realized you couldn’t feel Regulus’ warmth. Oddly enough though, you felt something akin to Regulus’ magic, almost like a faint wisp of magic tied to the room. 

What could it all mean?

Your escapade brought more than you could have bargained for. The information was overloading your brain, and you slowly willed your legs to move around the cluttered room. 

Yes, this was truly the disappearing room, not a fib version conjured up by the Room of Requirement’s magic. 

There was time to kill, meaning you could finish exploring the expanse of the room’s items. Over the summer, you were too engrossed with bonding with Regulus to try and sift through the items, and you weren’t sure you’d get a window of opportunity quite like this again. 

Running your eyes along the room, the familiar dresser you attempted to investigate the first time you accessed the room caught your attention. Slowly reaching over to pull out the bottommost drawer, you hesitate for a beat as if anticipating for Regulus to magically appear and ask you what you were doing like he did the first time. 

When nothing happens, you suppress a heavy sigh of disappointment. Pulling at the brass knob in defeat, your eyebrows stitch together as the drawer’s contents reveal themselves. 

The first to catch your eyes is an expanse of gloomy colors, painted delicately to capture the details of an ashen cliffside, strokes of navy and sapphire paint overlapping to create waves. In the right corner of the canvas, signed in the peaks of a wave, a simple R.A.B beams up at you. 

Regulus Arcturus Black. 

The painting was so finely detailed that you could have mistaken it for a photograph. 

Under the oceanside painting, you realize that dozens of canvases occupied the drawer, evidently all belonging to Regulus. 

It felt like you were intruding on his privacy, so slowly, you pushed the drawer shut and tried to erase the sight of his vivid paintings from your mind. Taking another once-over of the room, you huddle against one of its corners, resting your head on your knees. As your eyes grew heavier, and you slipped into the void of unconsciousness, one last silent thought burned at the surface of your brain.

Regulus stored those paintings in here while he was still alive. He’s been here at one point in time. 

You’re nudged awake by an aching in your lower back, body stiff from the position you fell asleep in. Unfortunately, there was no telling how much time had passed since you went to sleep, so it was better to leave sooner than later. 

Stretching your sore muscles and stiff joints, you quickly smooth down the wrinkles in your shirt, tightening your tie. Luckily, you didn’t go exploring in your sleep wear the night before. Reaching for the crystal door knob, you pause and take in the sight of the room one last time. 

Until next time. Your bittersweet farewell left a sour note in your chest as you were forced to return to reality. 

Quickly exiting the room, you swing your head furiously side to side in order to scan for people. Releasing a breath of relief, you realize the corridor was desolate. Facing one of the grand glass windows, you realize that it was around sunrise. Good, there was time for you to sneak back to your room before your dorm mates woke up. 

As you padded through the passageways, you realize that Filch managed to strip away every single portrait from the castle walls overnight. He was surely dedicated, but now you were incredibly anxious about Regulus’ whereabouts. 

In the spur of your tornado of thoughts, you suddenly are struck with a realization that has you loudly gasping and suddenly sprinting to your dorm room. 

Today was the first day of your O.W.L exams. Oh you were nominally, extraordinarily fucked. 

As you sit in Umbridge’s class, quill in hand, you briefly amuse yourself with your thoughts as you stare down at the paper in front of you. You had almost skipped breakfast in favor of last minute cramming, but your dorm mates practically hauled you to the dining hall, reprimanding you good-heartedly about your absence during dinner the night before. 

Question 7. What is the incantation for the tongue-tying curse?  

Sweet Merlin. Sifting through your mind, you curse yourself as you realize that there were a lot of holes in your memory. Your stress and anxiety over Regulus seemed to impede on your mental capacity. Think. Mutterwutter? No, that’s not it. Mibblewimbble!

Silently cheering at your victory, you go to write the answer, but a distant rumble pulls you from your concentration. Lifting your head up in confusion, you note that everyone was now distracted because of the noise. 

Tilting your head to the side, you briefly make eye contact with Umbridge as she hurriedly goes to investigate the source of the disruption. 

One moment there is a gaping silence as everyone waits with bated breath, the next, the twins are flying in on their brooms, scattering your test papers in the air. You’re unable to contain your laugh of wonder as they proceed to chuck sticks of fireworks over your heads, bursts of colorful sparks clouding the ceiling arches. 

Oh, Mrs.Weasley is going to be so pissed.

Soon, you’re joining Harry and Ron’s side as you watch a firework dragon chase Umbridge towards the doors of the classroom. As the dragon explodes around her stout figure, the sharp sound of shattering glass cuts through the noise of firework explosions. Umbridge freezes in shock as the frames of her educational decrees come crashing down from the walls. 

Splints of wood surround the furious woman and you’re snorting a laugh as you take in her ashen state. 

Oh, how the cookie crumbles. 

Grabbing Harry’s hand, you don’t look back as everyone in the class rushes outside to follow the Weasley twins, cheering at your professor’s karma. Amidst the thunderous noise of clapping and laughter, you’re snapped from your excitement as Harry makes a choked noise next to you, beginning to sway on his feet. 

“Harry?” Your voice comes out as a mere whisper. 

He seems unaware of your panic, slowly falling to the ground, eyes wide in fear and shock. You scramble to kneel in front of him, grabbing at his shoulders as he breathes heavily and seems to look through you. 

Another vision from Voldemort. Of course, the bastard had to spoil every happy memory Harry had. 

The few minutes seem to blur together, one moment Hermione and Ron were crouching next to you, the next, you were rushing up deserted stairs with the trio as Harry frantically explained his vision. Your stomach churns at the thought of Sirius being in danger, having been captured by Voldemort of all people. You weren’t exactly close with the man, but he was Harry’s family and Regulus’ brother, so you did care to a great degree for his safety. 

“What if Voldemort meant for you to see this? What if he’s only hurting Sirius to try and get to you?” Hermione’s words come out breathless, but firm, trying to ground Harry to reason. 

“What if he is? I’m just supposed to let him die? Hermione, he’s all the family I’ve got left.” You find yourself agreeing with Harry’s words, but you also know you could very well be marching to your death because of this vision. 

The conversation leads to the formulation of a shifty plan, something you were already used to dealing with, having been friends with the three for so long now. As you all break into Umbridge’s office to access the floo network, your heart nearly stutters to a stop as Umbridge’s sharp voice interrupts your mission and punctuates just how screwed you all were. 

Damn, you forgot to check to see if the room was warded. 

You gave little care to her prattling as she pushed Harry into a chair, members of the Inquisitorial Squad holding you and your friends by your collars like wet dogs. Though, your attention snaps to Umbridge once she slaps Harry, berating him for his dishonesty. Merlin, even Draco shifted away in shock. 

God, where was Rita Skeeter when you actually needed her?

Your mental cries for help only increased in severity once Professor Snape came barreling through the doors, sneering down on Umbridge as she requested the use of Veritaserum on Harry. 

Merlin, she’s lost the plot. 

It seemed that the trio’s influence rubbed off on not only you, but a couple of your other (usually reasonable) friends as well. It was merely half an hour after Umbridge tossed you out of her office when the four of you, Luna, Neville, and Ginny were convening on the bridge, conceiving another, probably awful, plan. 

If Voldemort and his death eaters didn’t get you first, the Ministry surely would toss you to the dementors for trespassing in the Department of Mysteries. Reaching in your pocket to toy with Regulus’ frame, you nervously try to run through a back up plan in case everything spiraled into disaster (which it most likely would). 

Harry’s scouts in action, once again. Though, you’d do it all over again for him, he didn’t deserve to shoulder the burden alone. 

But if you died, you’d never get to say goodbye to Regulus, and no one would know about his portrait. 

He’d be alone again. 

That left you all but one choice. You couldn’t die, even if that meant having to kick Voldemort where the sun doesn’t shine in order to escape. 

“Luna, I love you, but if I fall off and die, I’m going to be quite miffed.” Your words come out playful, but you were being completely serious as you try to suppress a wave of nausea once she suggests flying on thestrals in order to get to the Ministry.  

Couldn’t you all have a normal day for once in your life? 

Forget a career. You’d just write an autobiography about your adventures after you graduate. You could be the next Gilderoy Lockhart–except without all the lying and felonies.  

Surprisingly, you didn’t slip off or faint on the journey to the Ministry, even when you got lightheaded as your thestral suddenly dove down once you were nearing your destination. 

That’s a win in your books. 

You find yourself fiddling with your wand as you all clambered into one of the Ministry elevators, adrenaline suddenly weaning away as unease enveloped your body. Tilting your head to look up at the elevator ceiling, you have little time to panic as you feel a hand land on your shoulder. 

Turning your head to the side, you raise an eyebrow at Luna’s soft smile, “Don’t worry, he is always watching over you.”

Mouth falling open at the girl’s ominous words, you can only squeak out a small response, “Him? As in God?”

She shakes her head in amusement, leaning over to quietly whisper in your ear, “The one who is always with you, in your pocket. The nargles told me. They say he’s a strange one, special magic. I can see it too, all around your ring.” 

Shifting your shoulder to study her in shock, your hand instinctively slaps against your jacket pocket, the frame pressing against your palm. 

As the elevator dings, Luna loops her arm in yours, “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

Releasing a breath of exhaustion, you simply pat her hand and whisper a small, “Thanks.” You’d question her uncanny abilities at another hour, for now you just hoped you’d all survive to see the next sunset. 

As your group warily files into the hallway, you take a moment to appreciate the interior design, intrigued by the design choice to have floor-to-ceiling black tiles.  

Understandment dawned on you though, once your group entered through the hallway door, entering a vast room of high shelves, spanning hundreds of feet high, so far that it seemed to disappear into the darkness. As you peer over Neville’s shoulder, you realize that the shelves seemed to go on for hundreds of rows. 

It seemed that the Department of Mysteries was going for a grand theme of monotony. Fascinating stuff. 

Casting a small lumos, you trek next to Luna as your group walks further down the aisle, Harry soon breaking away to rush and see if Sirius was anywhere around (being tortured and whatnot). Luckily, Sirius was nowhere to be found. Unluckily, you had an eerie suspicion you were now all trapped like rats in a metal cage. 

Harry reaches to pick up a small orb of fog, a familiar voice beginning to croak a prophecy as he holds the sphere tightly. That voice. You knew that voice, and apparently so did Hermione as you see her cringe from the corner of your eye. 

Bloody hell, Professor Trelawney was responsible for Harry’s prophecy? You had no idea the woman was an actual seer, after all, Luna gave her a run for her money. 

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice is quiet but taut with panic, a sound concerning enough to have your group following her gaze towards the darkness. Slowly, a masked figure breaks through the wall of black.

A death eater. 

“Fuck. It’s a trap.” Your words come out breathless and you spin on your heel to check your surroundings. Not being able to identify any other threat, you turn back towards the approaching death eater just in time for them to pull out their wand and disperse their mask. 

Fuck, even worse. Not just any death eater, it was Lucius Malfoy of all people. Of course, Voldemort just had to send in the most insufferable, bigoted–wait. Was that?--

“Bellatrix Lestrange.” Neville’s words come out with more bite than you’ve ever heard from the boy, and for a moment you want to break from the tense moment to give him a proud smile. 

Not the time. 

As Lucius continues to try and coax Harry, your nerves prickle as you realize that you were gradually being surrounded. Shifting closer to Ginny and Luna, you draw your wand as you steel your nerves. 

“Now!” Harry’s command has all of you firing off your best stupefy as you begin to sprint through the endless rows, inevitably splitting up as death eaters begin to apparate around you. Realizing that you somehow managed to end up alone, you prepare yourself just as a black swirl appears in front of you. 

Ducking as a spell flies over your head, you whip your wand towards the cloaked figure, hissing a confringo that fires off more fiercely than you intended. Seemingly startled at your reflexes, the figure narrowly misses being reduced to meat scraps by apparating away, allowing you to blindly sprint forward. 

Merlin’s balls, you just casted a pretty impressive curse. 

Letting out a noise of surprise, you nearly crash into your friends as you all reunite in a circle. As a black wisp quickly flies towards you, Ginny steps forwards and casts a firm reducto, reducing the black wisp into a bright light. That didn’t kill anyone, did it? No matter. 

“Ginny, you are truly amazing.” Your words come out unevenly as you try to catch your breath, catching the small smile the redhead sends your way. Your amusement is cut short, though, as the impact of her spell has orbs falling from the shelves and raining down towards your group in heavy clusters. 

Trespassing? Check. Breaking and entering? Check. Destruction of private property? Check. Potential manslaughter? Check. Today was just a fun little getaway to see how much you could extend your criminal record.

Soon, you’re all blindly running towards a door that has you falling towards the ground at an alarming speed. Just before you’re reduced to a human pancake, you all are jolted to a stop just inches away from the ground. 

As you’re softly dropped onto the floor, you let out an ungraceful grunt as you clamber onto your legs, trying to make sense of the day’s events. You probably aged ten years from stress, so surely Harry would die young from heart problems at this rate. 

Looking around the room, you realize it was completely empty save for the giant stone structure erected in the middle. The translucent swirling that filled the door-shaped gap of the structure made you realize just exactly what it was. 

“The veil.” Your whisper comes out as a mixture of awe and excitement. 

“Indeed.”  

You barely have time to register the scratchy voice behind you before you’re being manhandled by an iron grip, holding you in place. Your friends have no time to notice your predicament before they’re being swarmed by streaks of black. 

Damn. A part of you had hoped that the death eater lieutenants had succumbed to the downpour of crystal balls earlier. 

In record time, the intruding death eaters have you all successfully apprehended, victorious sneers painting their faces. 

Sure. How impressive of them to successfully take down a group of students. 

Their victory doesn’t last very long as before they could do any real damage, light fills the room as Aurors apparate in, allowing you to sag in relief. The man holding you draws in a breath of panic before he’s tossing you to the side and firing off a killing curse at Moody. 

Awfully nice of him to spare your life, yet vaguely offensive that he didn’t perceive you to be a threat. 

Not wanting to interfere with the Aurors' concentration, you hurriedly shuffle away from the fighting and towards your friends. Sweeping your eyes over the chaos, you manage to see Sirius guiding Harry away from blasts and hexes, guarding him from flying rubble. No doubt, the man was still cracking jokes at such a time. 

The next time you look over at the pair, you almost tumble down in shock as you see a curse hit Sirius square in the chest. His body goes rigid before immediately falling limp, slowly sagging backwards. 

Your heart seemed to disappear in that moment, dread pouring over you like a bucket of freezing cold water. 

Harry’s scream is unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him, but it's enough to kickstart your brain. 

Acting on instinct, you pull out your wand and cast a swift trahens actio, snagging his body towards you midfall, pulling him from falling back into the jaws of the veil. There was still a chance.

The next few moments are a blur and you’re barely focused enough to stay upright. You’re vaguely aware of Harry sprinting after a cackling Bellatrix, and you lean back against the wall, finding purchase on its stability. Sirius’ motionless body lies a couple of feet ahead of you, and you want to sigh in relief as you see Remus sprinting towards him, dropping to his knees and immediately checking for a pulse. 

Murmuring incoherently to yourself, you blindly fish around in your pocket for Regulus’ portrait, needing to ground yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. 

As you blurrily peer down at the small item, you’re sure you must be dreaming as you lock eyes with the boy you’ve desperately been looking for, his own eyes swimming with concern and uncertainty. 

“Reggie?” 

And the world seems to stutter to a stop.

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I only know pain. Arcane writers only know pain and while I’m all here for it, I can’t take it.

My Atlantis, We Fall | Finale

Part 1. Part 2.

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: Viktor Arcane X Female Reader, she/her pronouns

Warnings: ANGST, death, made up last name for Viktor, no mentions of Y/N.

Words: 6.3k

A/N: I really hope you like how this ended as much as I did! And thank you so much for 1k followers! I went from 600 to 1.1k in a span of 3 days 😭 Y'all are crazy for the viktorussyyy

The rain fell in relentlessly. Each droplet is a cold mnemonic of the rage and fear in your heart after what you just saw. The same droplets pressed Viktor's hair against his forehead and ran down his hollow cheeks like tears he was unable to shed. It was enough to sober him up.

You strode down the cobblestone street, footsteps splashing into shallow puddles of water. Viktor's irregular steps resonated behind you, his walking stick struggled to grip the slippery surface. He looked utterly lost. Vulnerable. A man stripped of his intellect. It reflected the agitation within him, but he didn't care if he'd stumble to the ground again and let the pavement scratch his skin just to catch you. Not right now. “Would you please stop walking away and talk to me?!” The loudness of his voice broke through the roaring storm, piercing its way through the wind to envelop you.

You froze mid-step, shoulders tensing as if his words had hit you physically. His words worsened the anger inside you. You kept on moving, the rain blurring your vision.

“Please!” he called again, and this time, the pain in his voice drew you back, completely halting you in your tracks. You turned sharply, water splashing from your drenched clothing, it mirrored the landslide of emotions breaking free from inside of you. Your chest heaved with each breath; tears mixed with the rain as you locked onto Viktor's gaze. His eyes were filled with desperation, glowing like orange lanterns in the middle of this storm. “Me?!” You sneered, a sense of bitterness lingering in the atmosphere. “You’re seriously the one talking about walking away? About communication?! Do you even hear yourself, Viktor?!” You stepped closer to his face, voice rising. You could see each detail of his face now; their beauty remains evident even amid all the gloom, but you didn't let them distract you. “Did you forget what you did? Or have you just convinced yourself they didn't matter?” Viktor flinched, as if each word was an arrow pointed straight to his heart. He opened his mouth, only to close it again, shame smothering him in the silence.

“I remember,” he said after the pause, his tone careful. “I remember everything. I remember them every single day.” You laughed, “Oh, do you? Then you must recall leaving without so much as a word. Treating me like I was a puzzle to solve only to discard me as soon as I didn’t align with your bigger plan!” Your voice cracked, the hurt threatening to overflow like the rain around you. “Like I was disposable...” His breath hitched, shaking his head in disagreement with what you had said. His grip on his cane tightening until his knuckles turned white. “You were never disposable—”

"Then why did you make me feel like so?" You cut him off.

Viktor paused, taking a small time to take in the look in your face caused by his actions. “I just... I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. That if I let you go, I could—” He halted, words choking him. “I thought it would protect you. That you would be safer. Happier without me.” “Protect me?” you mocked, almost closing the distance. “You hurt me, Viktor! You didn’t protect me! You shattered me!”

You thought his response was completely ridiculous. But did you genuinely believe that thought? It was clear that your anger is distorting your perspective again. Still, you have every right to feel that way. His face crumpled as your words struck home, his free hand reaching for you but stopping, trembling. “I know,” he said hoarsely. “I know what I did to you. There’s no excuse, no justification that could ever make it right. But please… please let me try to explain.”

"Just go easy on him, alright? He’s not great at these things." Jayce's words echoed in your thoughts, bringing back the image of Viktor coughing and bleeding. You never wanted to imagine it again. It felt as though it was your own care and affection for Viktor reaching out to you, urging you to truly listen to him. That beneath the anger, your love for him that had never fully disappeared was talking to you.

“Go ahead, then. Explain. Tell me why it was okay to tear my heart apart and just let me live with it.” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, feeling a chill that were more from the sight of him rather than from the cold air.

He took a cautious step forward, but this time you didn't pull back. You’re closer to him than ever before that you can smell his musky scent, so close that you can nearly tune into his thoughts and feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. His eyes filled with vulnerability, and deep inside you can feel them pinching your heart.

“I was a fool,” he began, briefly looking down before focusing on your gaze once more. “I- I told myself I was being selfless, letting you go for your sake. But the truth is, I was terrified of what you made me feel. As we grew older, it also grew more seriously inside me. That scared me. I was scared that those emotions would derail me from dreams. Dreams that I would sacrifice my life for. And I was a coward for that."

His words were like a glimpse of hope in your confusion. You could sense how heavy they were and almost feel his struggle. But then, Viktor paused, remembering another mistake he had made.

“What you saw up there… with Sky... I am so sorry. I was drunk. No, I am drunk.” Viktor chuckled and scratched his head, feeling embarrassed as he recalled his recent actions. “I thought I saw you. I thought it was you kissing me.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “But it wasn’t you. It was her. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake, and it hurts me to know that I let myself forget you for even a moment. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted anyone else, not after what we shared. I was trying to make myself feel something, anything, other than the pain of losing you. But all I did was make everything worse.”

This hit you deeply, making your chest feel tight, but it wasn’t enough. You still had barriers up, barriers that Viktor's words had not yet broken through.

As his words lingered in the air, your emotions swirled. You're still hurt, but you were validated. You couldn't put it into words, but the next words that came out of Viktor's mouth were both surprising and somehow anticipated.

He hesitated, eyes filled with everything he had kept inside. “I have struggled... in vain,” he began, “I’ve fought against this... against you. But I can bear it no longer..."

Countless thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to predict Viktor's next words while allowing him to keep speaking.

"The past years have been nothing but torment. I thought I was doing the right thing. I only intended to protect you.” His voice faltered as he took a step closer, as if you two weren't already close enough. His gaze softened, searching yours. “But I was wrong.”

Viktor cupped your face gently, his hands fitting the curves of your skin as if they were meant to be there, as if the Gods made them to touch you in this way. Every delicate contour of your facial structure seemed to align perfectly with each line of his palms, like another way of promising you his love if not through words.

His hands remained steady against your skin to which you subconsciously leaned onto, eyes fluttering closed as you exhaled softly. "Viktor, please..."

His touch soothed the storm inside you. So intimate, so real.

You waited for him to speak again, breath caught in your chest.

Viktor swallowed hard as the words finally came out, tears gathering around his eyes. “Please, end my agony... I... I love you.”

Those three words struck you like a speeding bullet train, each one ringing in your chest. They were impossible to ignore. His touch, his words—they were enough to lift the burden you carried for years.

But even with that weight gone, there was still something else lingering deep inside you.

Doubt.

The kind of doubt that was seeded long ago, as though it was permanent. The kind that couldn’t be erased with just three words, no matter how heartfelt they are.

You smiled, but it wasn’t the smile Viktor hoped for. It wasn’t the soft, tender response he had imagined after pouring his heart out to you.

No, it was something else. It was a smile that spoke more of deflection. The kind of smile that said, 'nice try'. The kind that concealed the sensitivity still flowing within you, and beneath that, a hint of doubt.

"If you really love me then you shouldn't have left me."

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

The weeks that followed were unfriendly to Viktor, as if the universe had conspired to reflect the torture he felt inside.

He buried himself in his research, and the lab became more of a prison than a shelter. The spark of his amber eyes has now been replaced by a hollow stare of sleepless nights.

The edges of his frame were frail. His already lean figure was exposed, with skin appearing even more pale. Dark circles etched themselves under his eyes and bruises of his own making from the nights he spent pouring every inch of his body into the study instead of rest.

His lips, once soft and quick to curl upward into a smile, are now chapped and pushed into a line. Clothes hung loosely over him, and the fabric of his coat looked heavier than the man wearing it. As he coughed, a deep, ragged sound would scrape off of his lungs, with random nose bleeds occurring here and there—Jayce noticing even more crimson specks smearing his handkerchief.

Still, Viktor dismissed everyone.

He denied recognizing the physical impact his work had on him and dismissed the worries with a feigned nonchalance. Now, his focus was singular: perfecting his research and proving that his sacrifice was not in vain.

But his hands trembled day by day, and the tension of lifting his tools became almost impossible. The recognizable sound of his cane hitting the floor now stands as a touching reminder of his deteriorating health.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

For several weeks, the rain kept pouring. It seemed like the weather understood your and Viktor's feelings.

You were savoring a warm cup of tea when gentle knocks vibrated at your door.

You hesitated before answering. Upon opening it, Sky stood there, drenched and shivering. Her eyes red as though she had been crying.

You gripped the doorframe, eyes rolling and your jaw clenching. “What do you want?” you asked coldly, the sight of her bringing back memories that you're still trying to forget.

Sky fidgeted, fingers twisting together nervously. “Look, I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” she began, her voice barely audible over the rain. “But I need to talk to you. Please. It’s about Viktor.”

Just hearing his name triggered an unwelcome pain that cut through the walls of your living room. You moved to close the door, unwilling to entertain whatever she had to say, but her hand shot out, gripping it with strength that caught you off guard.

"Excuse me?" You scoffed.

She cried out, “Please, just hear me out. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Ugh.

With hesitation, you moved aside and nodded you head toward the living room for her to enter, your arms crossed as you observed her walk into your house. Her wet clothes left a trail of water on the floor, but she seemed oblivious, her focus entirely on you. She looked smaller than you remembered, her confidence was replaced by an almost childlike vulnerability.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “For everything. For the kiss… for the way I acted. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

For the second time today, you rolled your eyes, lips curled into a bitter smile. “Is that why you’re here? To apologize? I've been trying to erase that from my memory, so if you're just here to remind me about it then please, feel free to leave.”

Sky shook her head no, hands clenching into fists at her sides. “No. I- I’m not here to make excuses. I know what I did was wrong, and I know how much it hurt you. But you need to know the truth.” She took a shaky breath, her eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that was almost uncomfortable. “I’ve liked Viktor for as long as I can remember. For years, I thought… I thought maybe he could feel the same way about me because we're always together. But that night… that kiss… I know he wasn’t thinking of me.” Her voice broke and she looked away, cheeks flushing with shame. “He was thinking of you."

Yeah, I know.

Her words lingered, combining affirmation and hurt. “Is that why you’re here?” you asked, your tone sharp. “To tell me that Viktor loves me? I- How do you even know me?”

Sky’s eyes filled with tears, her composure finally breaking.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m here because Viktor is dying.”

Viktor is dying.

The words played over and over in your mind. They are louder each time, drowning out everything else. The idea of losing him permanently this time made your stomach twist painfully. Tears threatened to spill, but you fought hard to blink them away.

Viktor’s “I love you," from a few weeks ago came back to your senses. They were never quite enough to erase all the anger, pain, and doubt he had left behind. Those three words were supposed to heal, but they didn’t; they couldn’t. They weren’t strong enough to undo the hurt.

But now, this another set of three words hit you harder than you thought possible. They weren’t warm or hopeful. They didn’t carry promises of love or second chances.

Yet somehow, they did what his “I love you” couldn’t.

Those three words, so opposite in meaning, tore through every bitter thought and resentment you held.

All they left behind was the truth that none of the hurt mattered anymore.

None.

You couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not like this.

Sky's words stole the air from your lungs. “W- what?” you managed to choke out.

Sky took a step closer, seemingly wanting to offer you some comfort. “He’s in the hospital. Jayce took him there after he collapsed. He… he’s not doing well.”

You wanted to say something, anything, but your thoughts were in a tangle of mess. Words failed you as you reached for your coat, the overwhelming need to get to Viktor as soon as possible overriding everything else.

You were halfway to the door, hand trembling on the handle, when Sky’s voice broke through your chaotic blur. “Wait… before I forget,” she said, the tone almost nervous.

You turned to face her, your impatience barely masked. Sky fumbled through her bag, pulling out a small blue leather-bound notebook. Its edges scuffed, and its cover worn with age. Her hands were shaking as she extended it toward you.

“This is his,” Sky spoke gently, her voice shaking in a way that reflected the quiver of her hands. “When Viktor left it on his table, I… I opened it. It was a few years ago. I wasn’t trying to invade his privacy. I was just looking for research notes, trying to understand what he was working on. But I found this instead.”

You paused, gazing at the notebook as if it were delicate. "What’s this?" you inquired, voice softer than you meant it to be. Your brows knitted together in confusion, questioning why she felt it was so important to hand this to you right now when every second counted.

We don't have time for this.

Sky looked down, as if she couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the notebook before letting it go, pressing it into your hands. “It’s… it’s about you,” she admitted. “You asked me how I know about you, right? This is why. Just… just read it when you can. You’ll understand.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the muffled rain against your windows. You looked down at the notebook in your hands, its weight suddenly heavier than it had any right to be. Brushing the worn edges, your mind buzzed with questions you didn’t have the time or courage to ask.

What could possibly be in here that Sky believed you needed to see?

But there wasn’t any time to dwell on it now. The fear in your chest wouldn’t let you linger in here any longer.

Viktor's dying, and every second wasted felt like a step closer to losing him.

You clutched the notebook tightly before leaving it on your coffee table, a strange feeling of hope in your gut.

Whatever it contained, it could wait.

Right now, there was only one thing that mattered. You had to get to him.

The journey to the hospital seemed to stretch endlessly, with each second feeling longer than the one before. What should have been a simple fifteen-minute ride felt like it took forever. It was as if the outside world had faded away, leaving only the chaos in your head.

Your eyes were fixed on nothing, your focus lost while the unrelenting motion of the Piltover transport only made your anxiety worse. A heavy dread weighed on you, as if something terrible was already unfolding and you were already too late.

At last, the vehicle stopped.

As soon as it did, you bolted out the door, the cold air hitting you. Frantically, you paced toward the hospital entrance, feet struggling to keep up with the other. Your chest felt drawn in and every breath was a challenge.

You could feel your heart racing painfully in your throat, in your ears, and in your head. Each pound threatening to choke you. Your legs were worn out from running, yet you couldn’t stop. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you swallowed them down, forcing them back. Not now. Not yet.

Viktor needed you, and you had to be strong, even if every part of you wanted to crumble. The hospital doors loomed ahead, the sterile smell of it filling your nose. With each step, the uncertainty bore down on you more severely, causing your legs to shake as you neared the reception.

Please, don’t be too late. Please, don’t be too late. Please, don’t be too late.

The thought circled in your mind like a chant, you could've sworn you were going insane.

You found the room—his room.

Your heartbeat so loudly in your chest you could barely hear your own footsteps, but the sight in front of you stole the breath from your lungs. The door to his room swung open with a force you didn’t even realize you had, the sharp sound of it startling the nurses who clustered around Viktor’s bed.

Their heads snapped toward you in a synchronized motion, as though your entrance was both expected and unwelcome.

They didn’t even try to move out of your way. You didn’t know if they were trying to shield you from the sight of him or if it was a sudden reflex to prevent you from seeing what you already feared.

Your feet felt frozen to the ground as you stood there. You couldn’t even take in the full picture of Viktor. His form pale and still under the lights of the hospital room.

The doctor was speaking in a hurried tone, but none of their words seemed to make it past the pounding in your ears. Your mind refused to process anything but the cold, harsh truth that was unfolding before you.

One of the doctors glanced at his watch, his voice steady yet emotionless.

“Viktor Vikhnovich, time of death 4:12 PM.”

The words struck you like a hard punch. It felt as though time stood still. You choked on your breath as you looked at the man who meant everything to you—someone who had been just out of reach.

Dead.

The word echoed in your head, but it felt wrong. No, it has to be a joke.

You wanted to scream, to demand they are mistaken, to rush forward and shake him awake. But your legs refused to move. Your vision blurred, body numb with the shock that hit you like a bullet to the chest.

The doctors moved around you, but you could barely comprehend their actions. You didn’t know if they were trying to offer condolences or explanations. None of it mattered.

All you could see was Viktor lying motionless, as though life had been drained from him just when he needed it the most. It took everything in you not to collapse right there in the doorway.

You walked closer to his laying body; he felt close yet so far. He isn't here anymore.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the words spilled from your lips, your voice trembling and raw as you stumbled forward. You pushed through the heavy air in the room, ignoring the doctors who tried to steady you or pull you back.

You couldn’t hear them. You couldn’t see anything except him.

You reached Viktor’s side, your knees giving out as you collapsed by his bed. “No,” you whispered again, this time softer, as though speaking directly to his now peaceful soul. Your hands hovered over his cheeks, shaking, afraid to touch him and confirm what your heart refused to believe.

His skin was colorless, chest still, and the nasal cannula lay idle. The silence of his lifelessness was more deafening than your cries.

Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision as you clutched his hand in yours. It was cold, far too cold. Far from the warmth of the pair of hands that heated your cheeks in the middle of the storm just a few weeks ago.

“Viktor, please,” you sobbed, voice breaking with each syllable. “N-no, don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I'm s-sorry.”

The sense of finality rang in your ears.

His face appeared serene, which only boosted your pain.

You couldn’t reconcile this quiet, unresponsive Viktor with the man you knew. The one who argued passionately about science, who lit up at the spark of an idea, the man you've always had an unspoken love with.

You pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead, your tears soaking the lifeless skin of his face.

“This is- this is all my fault…” you choked out. “Viktor, you can’t—” Your voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence, because finishing it meant acknowledging the truth, and you weren’t ready for that.

Your fingers brushed over his cheek and his moles, memorizing every line and angle for the last time.

The world felt wrong. It was too quiet, too still without him in it.

Sure, he hadn’t been a part of your life since the day he walked away, but this was different.

This was final.

The faint hope you’d always held, the possibility of crossing paths again, of hearing his voice, of sharing even one swift moment, was now extinguished.

He was gone, permanently this time.

There would be no second chances, no reconciliation, no more time to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

The doctors and nurses exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of pity and discomfort. Someone murmured something about giving you time, and the sound of footsteps walking away barely registered in your mind.

"Viktor... I love you, too..."

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with him.

Alone in your grief, your despair.

Alone with the reality that Viktor was gone.

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

Six months had passed since Viktor's passing and grief still lingered in every corner of your heart.

It had a way of reshaping your life without your permission. The past few months weren’t about healing, but more about surviving. You woke up every day feeling like a piece of you had been carved out, like there was a void that you carried everywhere you go.

Life continued on even as you grieve, but moving ahead just felt wrong.

It felt wrong to move on from Viktor because of the realization that there weren't many people left to mourn him. It was just you, Jayce, and Sky. However, in time, the three of you will also be gone. And despite all the blood, sweat, and tears Viktor put in, his dreams of leaving a lasting legacy in this world is now impossible to come to fruition.

You didn’t cry every day. Sometimes, it was worse: just complete numbness. The kind where nothing felt real or important anymore.

You ignored his name when it came up in conversations, avoided the places that held his memory, but the pain never failed to find you in the smallest things—a faint scent from the past or the quiet moments before sleep when there was nothing to worry you about having to forgive him.

And yet, you didn’t let it break you. Instead, you kept going. Because you know Viktor would've wanted you to.

Now, as you clean and reorganize your home, you found yourself surrounded by half-packed boxes. The sounds of tape peeling and cardboard shifting kept you distracted from your thoughts, until your hand grazed something tucked into the corner of an old shelf.

A small box, with the letter V written across its lid in faded blue ink.

Your brows knit together. The curiosity that drew you toward the box wasn’t out of curiosity but rather out of realization. You knew exactly what it was. It was Viktor’s. Or rather, a box of things that belonged to him. Things of him from Zaun that you kept. The appearance of it awoken a strong feeling, not only sorrow but also guilt.

"Forgot I still have these." You chuckled, fingers running across the surface of it.

The notebook Sky had given you moments before Viktor's passing had been left untouched. Unread. Seeing it again felt like reopening your own wounds, wounds that were filled with the regret of not having forgiven him when you still had the time to.

You hesitated before lifting the lid, the smell of old paper and dust wafting into your face. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze fell upon Viktor's notebook, sitting neatly atop a pile of random trinkets and scrap toys you made when you were a kid. But it wasn’t the notebook that stole your breath.

Nestled beneath it was a small, rusted toy boat, blemished by years of being kept away. Your fingers shook lightly as you picked it up, the memories it held flooding your mind like the stream where you used to play with this toy boat.

The boat.

The boat that had drifted too far downstream, leading you to Singed's lab. The boat that had set him on a path to greatness, to dreams so grand that they left no room for the simplicity of your childhood friendship. The boat that had left you behind. The boat that changed everything.

A smile tugged at your lips as you cradled the delicate toy in your hands. Viktor had no idea you kept it all these years. Not when he was consumed by ambition, not when you did the same but with the anger for him for leaving, and certainly not in the moments when you questioned if he even remembered you.

It was lightweight, but it carried the heaviness of nostalgia at the same time.

As you held it, images of your childhood played in your mind like a bittersweet reel. The laughter by the stream, the scent of Zaun's polluted air you never imagined you'd somehow miss, and the way Viktor’s eyes lit up with excitement as you launched the boat for the first time.

"I'll get it!"

"Come onnn, you’ll never catch it," Viktor called out, his voice teasing with worry after you dove into the shallow water to catch the boat. He stood on the bank, leaning lightly on his cane, his frame silhouetted against the golden afternoon light.

Your laughter bubbled up, louder than the gurgle of the stream. "Oh, watch me!"

Viktor shook his head, his lips twitching into a crooked smile. “You’ll be swept away before you even touch it,” he warned.

He stepped closer to the edge as if he could will you back to safety. He would’ve waded in himself if his leg allowed it. You knew that. He always hated being on the sidelines, watching while others took the risks he couldn’t.

“Vik, I’m fineee!” you called out, glancing over your shoulder at him. The current tugged harder the farther you went, but your determination burned brighter. “You’re just mad I’m faster than you.”

His laugh was soft, carried away by the breeze. “Faster, perhaps. Smarter? Doubtful.”

A wistful laugh escaped you as the memory replayed in your mind. Those were the moments before you stumbled upon the cave. If only curiosity hadn’t taken over—then maybe, just maybe—everything would’ve turned out differently.

Perhaps you and Viktor could have grown up side by side and make it Piltover together.

Finally you took the notebook. It sat heavy in your hands. You sighed, brushing the thin layer of dust from the surface. Your fingers hesitating for a moment before you finally flipped it open.

Settling onto the floor with your legs crossed, you prepared yourself for what lay inside.

At first, it was exactly as you expected. Pages filled with equations and wobbly sketches of his prototypes. You couldn’t help but smile as you traced the lines with your eyes, they captured the excellence he was born with.

It was so distinctly Viktor—obsessive, conscientious.

For a brief moment, it felt like he was right there with you, explaining each one of his ideas with his usual avidness, accent curling around the words.

God, you missed him.

As you reached the middle of the notebook, your fingers faltered. There was something different here.

Nestled between the pages was a photo. One you recognized immediately.

Your breath caught as you carefully lifted it, hands trembling slightly.

It was you. An image of a younger version of you at a turning point in your life when your hard work had finally started paying off. The image had been torn from an old newspaper article that featured your story. A story you never even thought Viktor knew or even cared about.

Your eyes shifted to the random affirmations beside the photo in Viktor’s messy handwriting.

"Still the most beautiful."

"I always knew you could make it, too."

"You grew out your hair. It suits you."

"My solnyshka, I hope you carry my love everywhere you go."

And more.

Each line felt like a whisper from him. He wrote them as if he was going to send them to you, as if you were replying to everything he jotted down. They felt like a kiss to your soul that you could almost hear him next to you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You traced the faded ink with your fingers, overwhelmed by the tenderness in every note he left behind.

Viktor had been paying attention all along, even when you believed he had turned his back on you.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared at the photo, the words, and the ghost of his presence woven into the pages. He was right. You indeed looked beautiful, as if you were looking at yourself through his eyes,

This wasn’t just a record of his work, it was also a reflection of the parts of his heart he never fully managed to show you.

And now, here it was, laid bare in your trembling hands.

Your fingers twitched, flipping the pages despite the fear in your heart. A part of you wanted to stop, to close the notebook and shove it back into the box, to avoid whatever might hurt more than you already did. But your curiosity overcame your reluctance, and you flipped to the next page after the other.

What you found stole the breath from your lungs.

In the center of the notebook was a section had been carefully carved out. The edges are neat, every cut made with precision. As if it was a secret pocket.

Within the hollowed space was a ring—a moss agate ring.

The soft green swirls within the stone caught the light, shimmering with a beauty that is so captivating.

It wasn’t extravagant like a diamond, but it was perfect. It felt just like him. Like the Viktor you knew.

The Viktor who found beauty in the simplicity, the meaningful, the genuine.

Your breath hitched as you picked it up, cradling it in your palm.

Moss agate. A stone symbolizing new beginnings and emotional healing. He had chosen it for a reason, you realized, and the realization tightened the ache in your chest even more than before.

It wasn’t just a ring. It was a promise, a reflection of your shared history and of humble beginnings, of scraped knees and childhood laughter, of dreams whispered by candlelight.

As you turned it over in your hand, a folded piece of paper stuck out the notebook, fluttering to the ground like a fragile leaf. You picked it up, noticing the faint smudge of red on the corner.

Blood. His blood. The realization sent a chill through you. Viktor penned this with his own hands, hands that had become frail as his body slowly stagnated.

Unfolding the letter, your breath caught at the sight of his familiar handwriting, every word etched with care despite the shakiness of the strokes.

His voice seemed to reach out to you from the page, the words pulling you into his world one last time.

My little sun,

Should this letter ever find its way to you, I cannot say how or when. Perhaps it never will. But if you’re holding this, it means I am no longer beside you.

I write this not knowing if you’ll ever read it, yet I must. Even if I will never again see your face alight with that smile of yours. There is nothing left to save me, and I’ve tried. I've tried to make peace with it. What weighs heavier than the end itself is leaving you. Knowing I’ve caused you so much pain.

I’ve thought endlessly of us, of the life we shared before it all crumbled.

Do you recall the day we met? You were the only one who didn’t flinch when you saw me. My leg, my limp. They meant nothing to you. You were so small then, full of boundless energy and kindness. You stopped without hesitation to help me gather the rusted scraps I’d dropped. And with that light of yours, you simply asked if I needed help.

Even then, I sensed there was something deeper. Something I wouldn’t understand until much later. From that moment, I knew you were unlike anyone I’d ever known. Only you... could make me feel that way.

I remember those stolen moments by the stream, the times you wept and I tried to comfort you, poorly if I may say. Yet in truth, it was your warmth and your embrace that gave me solace. Your laughter lingers still, echoing in the quiet spaces when I find myself longing for your presence.

And that day in the undercity, when you found that broken toy. You insisted we could fix it, though I swore it was beyond repair. I tried to explain the impossibility with the misaligned gears, but you looked at me with that defiance of yours and said, “We’ll make them fit.” And that we did.

Because that is who you are. Persistent. Always striving to mend what others deem beyond hope, even me. You tried to fix the rift between us when it should have been my responsibility to bear. And in return, I only worsened everything.

Do you remember the night I promised to marry you? We were just children, dreaming of a future that seemed impossibly distant. I don’t know what made me say it. Perhaps it's the way you looked at me, like I could be more than I was. You laughed and called me 'silly', but I meant every word.

Even then, I meant it. I told myself I would build something worthy of you. A life worthy of you.

But instead, I left. I pursued ambitions that devoured me whole and left you behind. And in doing so, I broke us. I see that now, clearer than ever. Though I don’t deserve it, I hope you understand how deeply sorry I am. For leaving, for hurting you, for failing to be the man you deserved.

When I promised to marry you, you told me I’d have to make you a pretty ring. I took that to heart.

I’ve held onto this ring for what feels like lifetimes. It is not grand, not polished like those found in the shops. It is simple. It is us. And it has always reminded me of you.

I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me. Perhaps I have no right to ask. But you must know this... Loving you was never a regret. It was my only certainty.

You are, and will forever be, my sun. The light I chased even when it burned. You made the impossible seem possible, even for someone like me.

And though I am gone, I hope you will continue to shine. Shine brighter than I ever could.

For both of us.

Yours always, Viktor

Tags: @blackravena @aysluxe @aise-30 @sillyguy49 @22carolina08 @rainyyumbrella @adrestlyd @he4rt4vik @brynneslitteworld @artist2181 @tofueater78 @victormydarling @marshallowy @burning-harmony

Second Son (XVII) | 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: Farewells and changes are on the horizon, as are unavoidable confrontations.

Part XVI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this...

You don’t think you’ve ever sprinted so fast. As you clamber through the bleached doorway of the home, nearly scaring Asger out of his skin, you suddenly jolt to a stop. Luna peers from over your shoulder, clavicle pressed against your back as she tries to distinguish the cause of your rigidness. 

Slowly stepping inside, you feel your knees tremble as doubt begins to seep into your veins. Asger shoots you a concerned look before filling a glass up with water and disappearing into Regulus’ room. 

Luna carefully guides you to the table and you take a moment to lean against the beat wood. 

“Are you going to stay here?” Her airy words were free of judgment, tone light and even as if she were simply asking you what tea you preferred. You wordlessly nod, barely reacting when the girl pats your shoulders and skips after Asger. 

You run your fingers down your coat as hesitation nips at your nerves, a bubble of anxiety rippling through your chest and up into your throat. Hobbling steps echo distantly in your head, and you’re faintly aware of Anders’ approaching magic. 

“You okay, kid?” His voice was gruff, but colored with understanding. 

You hum quietly, still lost in your head. An unnerving silence roots itself in the room, and you hear Anders shift from leg to leg as he seems to grapple with himself for the right words. 

“Alright.” He huffs. 

You spin around and face the man, eyes widening at him before gluing to the open window across the room, “Alright? You don’t think I’m a coward?” 

Anders rolls his eyes and limps towards you, placing a rugged hand on your shoulder, “Hell you thinking that for?” He moves to sit down next to you, “You’re a lot of things kid, a coward ain’t one of ‘em. Besides, I would do the same.” 

Tilting your head, you swallow harshly as a prickly sensation wraps around your neck, “What do you mean?” 

“If my Anne were to walk through that door right now, I don’t even know what’d I do,” He shakes his head with a wry smile, “Isn’t it funny that you can wish for something so desperately, but the prospect of it actually happening…” 

“It’s unbelievable.” You add, watching as the man nods solemnly. You almost feel selfish for allowing your emotions to taunt you, knowing that you were being handed an ineffable opportunity that the man would kill for. 

Before you can say much else, Asger cracks open the door with a resounding creak, slowly padding out with an unreadable expression, “He’s asking for you.” 

Your eyes widen considerably at his words, and you turn to look at Anders for guidance. The older man simply jerks his head towards the door, eyes closing as an imperceptible smile tugs at his lips. He looked like he was making peace with something–but what?  

Slowly making your way towards the commodious room, you feel your skin buzz and numb, mouth drying up as you gradually sink into a pool of uncertainty. As you cross the threshold, eyes set on the floor, you feel Luna slink around you with a little pat to your back, leaving you both alone.

As the door closes behind you, you slowly raise your gaze up. 

“Hello, birdie.” Regulus’ smile is strained, as if he were pained, but his eyes are practically glowing under the light. He’s sitting up on the makeshift bed, arms resting in his lap as he slowly fiddles with the frays of the blanket. 

A sob tears through your throat, muddling your words into an incomprehensible blubber as you practically fly towards the boy, throwing yourself into his chest. Your tears were no doubt pooling through the thin fabric of his shirt, but the onslaught of searing emotion only continues to flare as you feel him wrap his arms around you.

His arms. It felt so foreign, but so safe. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him not being in a rectangular frame.

“It’s okay now, I’m here.” He whispers, hand running down your back as he soothes you. 

You shift in his arms and lift your head up, broad tear tracks clinging to your cheeks, “Reggie…you remember me?” If you weren’t so doped up on a tidal wave of emotions, you would have cringed at how thick your voice came out. 

The boy smiles at you softly before bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, “Wouldn’t be able to forget you even if I tried, love.” 

A burst of affection threatens to demolish all of your sense of propriety as you gaze up at the boy, eyes furiously darting around his face to memorialize the tender emotion that paints his eyes. 

You rest your head on his shoulder and tiredly huff, feeling him shiver under you as the cool air hits his neck. It’s only after the passing of a few beats of silence when you realize that you’re practically sprawled across his lap. 

Gaping momentarily at the mortification that shatters your euphoria, you slowly shuffle off of him, “Sorry, Reg.” 

The boy tilts his head in confusion before tightening his hold, gently guiding your head back onto his shoulder, “Nothing to apologize for, birdie.” 

You take a few moments to compose yourself, gently sniffling as your tears begin to cease in intensity, only occasional droplets cascading down. Nuzzling into Regulus’ shoulder unabashedly, your voice comes out a tad muffled, “So do you remember everything then?” 

The boy drops his cheek down atop your head, fingers drawing patterns on your hand as he hums, “It’s all a bit foggy, but I remember the vital things. Of course, the memories from when I was a portrait are more coherent than my childhood memories, but I’m mainly trying to remember how to articulate having a physical body.” 

“You’re not doing too bad.” You tease, a light smile playing on your lips. 

Regulus’ chest vibrates vaguely as he emits a small chuckle, “Oh?” The boy peers down at you before dropping his lips down to the top of your head. Your heart skips at the blatant show of affection, and you grow impossibly fonder of the boy. 

“Thank you for coming back to me.” You whisper softly. 

He slowly drops back into the capacious bed, drawing you down with him as he tucks you against his side, “Thank you for finding me…again.” 

You laugh airily and drop your hand on top of his, suppressing your fluster as he effortlessly weaves your fingers together. The both of you lay together in a comfortable silence, a sudden exhaustion weighing on your chest as you listened to the rhythmic beating of Regulus’ heart. 

You’re unsure of how much time has passed the next time you’re fully cognizant, eyes blinking rapidly to shake away the heaviness of your eyelids. It seems the lethargic state you were reduced to after your emotional reunion led you to a dreamless slumber. In your sleep, you practically glued yourself to Regulus, coming to a realization that the boy had somehow been shoved into the crook of your neck, now also in a peaceful drowse. 

Brushing his curls away from your cheek, you run your fingers along his spine lightly, nails dancing along the clothed plane of his back. At your movements, the boy stirs groggily, a throaty grumble interrupting the atmospheric silence of the room.

You tighten your hold on him and grin when he blearily opens his eyes, head shifting to chase after the warmth of your skin. 

“Morning, baby.” He whispers, nose nudging up against your jaw. His voice is scratchy and still marred by inklings of sleepiness, and you’re not entirely sure if he noticed the little pet name. 

You bite your lip to tame the blinding grin screaming to escape on your face, bringing your fingers to run against his scalp, “Actually, I think it’s nighttime.” 

Regulus huffs quietly against your neck, “Good, so let’s go back to sleep.” 

You hum and open your mouth to agree, but the rumbling of your stomach cuts through the air. Coughing lightly, you ignore the blazing embarrassment that pins itself in your chest, choosing to instead continue your movements.

Regulus nuzzles against you again before slowly detaching from you, raising himself on his elbows as he hovers over you. You could see the sleepiness fade away from his gaze, and you bring a hand up to tuck a curl behind his ear. 

“Let’s get you some food, birdie.” He mumbles, dropping down to peck your forehead. 

The boy sluggishly stretches as he practically rolls off the bed, arms raised above his head as he yawns. You smile and begin to flee the cozy confines of the blanket, readily moving away from the warmth to stick by Regulus. 

“Do you want some tea?” You ask, keeping a careful watch to make sure he wouldn’t promptly collapse into a weak heap of flesh and bones. Luckily, it seemed that the boy was gradually gaining strength. 

Slowly pulling the door open, you peer out into the bleak twilight illuminating the house and sigh when you see that the others aren’t around. As you make your way to the cupboards, hands deftly flying about to quickly make some tea for the both of you, you feel Regulus wrap his arms around you. 

“Look at us being bloody domestic.” He murmurs, knocking his head gently against yours. 

You feel the blood rushing through your ears as you direct all your energy towards making sure you don’t accidentally break anything, too overwhelmed by the affection. 

You clear your throat as you put the kettle on the stove, leaning back against the boy, “Not that I hate it, actually, quite the contrary, but I didn’t peg you as an affectionate person.” 

Regulus draws patterns on your arms as he muses, “Hm, ‘m usually not. Just for you, I suppose.” 

You were sure you were about to go into cardiac arrest, one hand flying up to make sure your heart wasn’t attempting to fly out of your chest. You turn around to face the boy, eyes wide with uncertainty, “Just me?” 

The boy looks back at you with an assured gaze, smiling dopily at you, “Yes, just you, birdie.” You mirror his smile and nod slowly, still unsure of what to say. 

Before either of you can escalate the situation further, the loud whistling of the kettle rings through the air, its shrill screeching causing you to flinch back. You muffle a laugh behind your hand and watch as Regulus blinks in disorientation for a moment, shooting a look of mock irritation at the steel instrument. 

“No, please continue,” a brassy voice rings out from behind you both. You peer around Regulus to see Asger giving you a stare laden with impassiveness. Smiling impishly at the unimpressed man, you simply avert your gaze to the kettle next to you before glancing back at him, “Tea?” 

As the breezy coat of nightfall loomed in the skies, you all decided to head out for a small trek to a pier nearby. Luna skips ahead of you and Regulus, leading your small group, as she scurries around to look for unique stones. Anders and Asger were trailing the three of you, both men walking in a comfortable silence. 

A crisp wave of wind soars through the air, dotting your nose with coolness. Regulus has his arm looped with yours, eyes drinking up the sight of the environment around you, shining in disbelief and awe. 

A flicker of sadness lingers in your heart as you ponder about how muddled everything must have seemed to him when he was a portrait, time gelling together into indistinguishability. You weren’t sure which fate was worse: becoming an inferi or being stuck as a portrait. 

The echoing of your footsteps on the wooden dock sound through the night with a woody hollowness, eyes trailing up the pier and towards the inky pool of water around you all. You feel Regulus tense beside you, and you stop in your tracks to study him. 

His eyes are glassy and unfocused as he stares into the darkness of the water, body rigid as an internal turmoil seems to paralyze him. You want to smack yourself over the head with a bludger — Regulus was uncomfortable with the murky surroundings because it was reminiscent of his demise. 

Tugging at his arm, you slowly guide him away from the dock, shaking your head when Anders glances at your retreating forms. Regulus slowly floats back down to you, eyes no longer as dim. 

“I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” You mutter, hands reaching over to comfort him. The boy looks devastatingly vulnerable in his state, an anxious frown creeping up on his face. He had always been so strong for you, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t insusceptible.

He shakes his head and subconsciously leans towards you, arms slowly lifting up to wrap around your frame, “No, I didn’t even realize myself.” His voice is faint, seeming to be tucked away behind his brief panic. 

“Do you think you’re okay to travel, Reg?” You whisper, hands crawling up his shoulders to brush against his neck. The boy looks at you in confusion, but nods firmly. 

Sighing, your hands rest on either side of his face, thumbs swiping against his cheeks, “When I went back to the cave with Anders to retrieve you, we accidentally encountered Voldemort.” 

Regulus’ words nearly jumble together at the news and his mouth drops open, “You bumped into the Dark Lord?”

Grimacing at the wording, you shake your head, “Only briefly. He could only see me, but I’m apprehensive to stay here long. I don’t want to endanger the Fiskes.” 

“Where will we go?” He mumbles with furrowed eyebrows. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and divert your attention to the stars causing Regulus’ eyes to flicker around your face, “Birdie, what does that look mean?” 

Hesitating for a few moments, you consider all of your options before speaking. 

“Reg, maybe you’d be safer here,” you reluctantly voice, “I mean, where I’m thinking…it’s too hampered by uncertainties.” You frown, eyes meeting his gaze to try and implore him to see your reasoning. It was not an outlandish assumption in your eyes, as bringing him with you would mean answering inexorable questions and integrating him back into society amidst a full blown war. 

Regulus recoils as if you’ve slapped him, eyes wide with shock that rapidly bleeds into outrage, “You don’t actually think I’m letting you run off alone, right?” His voice is taut, bordering coldness, and you shakily exhale as your mind races. 

“You’re still recovering, Reg. Your magical core is still-” You begin to sputter, but Regulus shakes his head, and it has your words flushing away in a sweep of uncertainty. 

He shifts impossibly closer to you, eyes softening as he rubs your back, “I know that you’re concerned, birdie, but I want to be with you. I’m sorry that I got snippy with you right now, but this isn’t negotiable.” He frowns and leans over to nudge his nose against yours, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the world—wherever your heart desires, but I’m not leaving you to your lonesome when the Dark Lord is on your tail.” 

“If you come with me, it won’t be easy.” You breathe out. 

He smiles and tilts his head to the side, “All the more reason to follow you, then.” 

You assess him for a few moments before nodding, rolling your eyes playfully at the satisfied glint in his eyes, “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” 

Regulus hugs you to his body and muses, “Well, someone needs to keep your self-preservation in check.” 

As the stars slip away from the canvas of the sky to give room to the rising sun, you all gather inside the house, surrounding the dining table. You had to practically mandhandle Regulus into your usual seat as there weren’t enough chairs, but the boy only gave in once you compromised to share the seat with him. 

Luna periodically flashes the both of you grins, eyes shooting off through you as she tangles with visions of the future. Anders leans back in his chair to stare at Regulus, seeming to appraise his worthiness. Asger simply sips his tea and awaits for the conversation to ensue, humored eyes peering at you all over the rim of his cup. 

“Anders, I think that we should leave now,” you pause to clear your throat, “I don’t want to intrude and I hate the thought that I’m endangering you both, now that Voldemort is on my trail.” You word-vomit, hands fidgeting anxiously in your lap. 

Subtlety was not your forte. 

Regulus brings a steady hand to rest on your jittery ones as Anders grunts, “I understand, kid. You do know that we don’t mind though, right?” He raises an eyebrow at you when you don’t respond, “But I get it.” 

You breathe out in relief and straighten up in your seat, “Thank you, Anders, truly. This whole experience has been life changing to say the least, and I think I’m going to miss you both, honestly.” 

Both men meet your eyes steadily, and Asger breaks out into a small grin before placing his cup down, “I think we’ll miss you guys more, right Dad?” He turns to the older man, who merely grunts and looks away, but you would bet galleons that you saw a smile flash across his face. 

Anders slowly pushes himself up and walks off into his room, emerging moments later with a satisfied expression, “Here, kid.” You slowly rise up in confusion as Anders extends a stack of clipped papers towards you. 

“What?” 

The older man shakes his head and drops back down into his seat, “You didn’t think I’d actually publish someone else’s research, did you?” 

You hug the papers to your chest and gape at the man, “But, a lot of this is your research now. Besides, why would you…” You trail off, still boggled by a storm of perplexion. 

Anders waves you off and rubs his knee, “It's our research, kid. Anyway, I never intended to write it for myself in the first place, I’m much too old to get caught up in the academic world again.” He looks up at you with a proud sheen in his eyes, “Besides, you did most of the rune work and connection of theories. You better make something of yourself, yeah?” 

You are rendered speechless at the blatant display of care from him, and you find yourself wrapping the older man up in a hug before you can stop yourself. The man pats your back as you whisper hushed words of gratitude. 

You were practically holding your future in your hands. 

As the sun breaks over the veil of morning twilight, dispersing the ground of its mist and biting chill, you all stand at the edge of the village. It is bitterly nostalgic for you, mind flashing back to all those months ago when you stumbled upon Asger during the peak of night. 

Regulus stands back, now sporting one of Asger’s oversized corduroy jackets (a deep green, in slytherin fashion, and he looked offensively good in it). He watches as you and Luna say your final farewells to the father and son duo. Luna and Asger chat idly, with the older man patting the girl’s head fondly, smiling when she passes over a large blue stone to him. 

Turning away from the pair, you smile sadly at Anders, the older man already facing you with a calm expression, “Stay safe, kid. Tom won’t know what hit him.” 

You flash an assenting smile at him before stepping forward to give him one last hug. Closing your eyes, you are rendered inarticulate with poignance, “I’m gonna miss you, old man.” 

He pulls back and pats your shoulder reassuringly, “We’ll be alright, I think it’s time little old me did some soul searching.” 

Frowning in confusion, you lean back to ask, “How do you mean?” 

“Reine has treated us well all these years, but Asger and I were thinking of a change in scenery.” The man avows calmly. 

You step back and clutch the research papers tightly in your hands, “We’ll see each other again, right?” 

Asger swoops in and swings an arm over his father’s shoulders just as Luna bounces over to your side, hand clasping yours. The younger man grins at you brightly and inclines his head, “Who knows? We’ll be okay though,” he raises his head and his eyes grow serious, “but we want to thank you. You’ve given us a lot to think about, and I think it's time we celebrated my mother’s life instead of stewing in static.” 

You nod, mouth betraying just how sentimental you felt as it tugged into a frown, “Go well, both of you.” 

Anders cracks a small smile and they both wave you off. 

“Give him hell, kiddo.” 

“Take care of yourselves.” 

Wordlessly, you spin on your heel and walk towards Regulus with Luna in tow, the boy reaching towards you as you approach. In a blur, you’re interlacing your fingers with his and apparating away, the warping taking your mind away from any lingering sadness. 

As you touch down on smooth pavement, you feel Regulus shift closer to you, swaying ever so slightly on his feet. After steadying the boy, you turn to take in the sight in front of you — Zabini Manor. White pergolas embellished with thick grape vines curtaining the structure were erected serenely on the clipped lawn. Further back, winding balustrades, highlighted by Italian terracotta pots housing enormous clusters of begonias seemed to welcome you. 

The regal property towered over your figures, so much so that you all almost ignored the faint popping sound that echoed from next to you in favor of drinking up the sight. 

“Fiore be taking the Contessa’s guests to the parlor room.” 

You swivel around and face the house elf, nodding mutely as you’re all led inside. Regulus’ decorum is impeccable, years of etiquette lessons and pure blood preaching seeming to still be instilled in every joint of his body. Luna digs inside of her satchel all the way there and you hear vague clacking and shuffling from the bag. 

As the heavy wooden doors swing shut behind you, you feel your neck prickle with goosebumps as you release your magic, seeking out any familiar signatures. Your movements border robotic as you beeline to sit on one of the ottomans in the parlor, spacing out as you peer through the window and see rows of hydrangea bushes.  

It was time to face reality.

Regulus slowly traces shapes on the back of your hand as he glances around, no doubt comparing the furnishing to the dismal designs lining Grimmauld Place. 

“The brevity of peace is palpable these days, dear.” The euphonious voice breaches the threshold of the room before anything else, and you’re quick to school your face as the Contessa struts into the room, tobacco pipe clasped in one hand. 

You stand up and smile diminutively at the woman, “Contessa Zabini. Apologies for the intrusion.”

She sends you a sharp grin before taking her place on an ornate armchair, “No need for the pleasantries, my dear. I must say that you are rather better company than those friends of yours.” She takes a quick hit of her pipe, crossing one leg over the other. 

Masking your shock, you smile genuinely and shake your head, “I’m touched, Contessa. Which reminds me, I have failed to properly correspond with Blaise these past few months. I don’t suppose he’s tried to cajole those friends of mine for information?” 

The woman exhales a cloud of smoke and hums, “Ah yes, Blaise was quite disappointed from what I hear, but of course we both understood your precarious position.” 

“I’ll have to write to him soon, then. I assume that everything is well here?” You begin to fiddle with the corner of the papers in your lap, back aching minutely from your prim posture. 

The Contessa brings a hand to rest on her raised knee, eyes momentarily flickering towards Regulus as she smiles, “Quiet and uneventful, my dear. Now,” she tilts her head to gauge the sight in front of her, “I see that you’ve found a friend.” 

You could see the cogs whirring behind her eyes, mouth set into a thin line as something akin to familiarity seeps through the cracks of her expression. Nodding, you peer at the boy from the corner of your eye to observe his expression before replying, “Yes, he’s actually what I was referring to when I mentioned my personal interests.” 

The woman, to her credit, masks her brimming curiosity well, eyebrows raising as she mutely encourages you to continue. Regulus clears his throat quietly, “It’s a pleasure to make your company, Contessa Zabini.” 

The Contessa smiles pointedly at the boy and hums, “Well mannered…how interesting. The pleasure is all mine.” She places her pipe down on the round table next to her, eyes never straying from Regulus’ expressionless face, “Forgive me, but you look quite familiar, have we met before?” 

Regulus raises his eyebrows in show, “I do not believe so, I’ve been in recuperation for a number of years now.”

She doesn’t seem entirely convinced but turns back to you with a delighted smirk as she continues to address the boy next to you, “I see. I do hope to get your name then as it intrigues me that you have the ability to convert someone—who the public thought to be a staunch Dumbledore supporter, into a neutral ally.” 

Before either of you can respond, the doors practically burst off their hinges as they swing open. The thundering sound has you wincing from your spot, eyes immediately flying towards the source of the intrusion. Your mouth peels open at the sight of your friends and a very enthusiastic Sirius. 

Harry immediately beams as he catches sight of you, but his eyes grow as wide as saucers when he takes notice of the boy next to you. Hermione looks exhausted by the commotion around her, no doubt having mentally aged a significant amount in the time of her babysitting duties while you were away. Ron blinks owlishly at you, and waves hesitantly, posture shifty as he averts his gaze to assess the undisguised glower on the Contessa’s face. 

Luna jumps up from her seat and scurries over to greet the trio, her smile immediately drawing Harry’s attention away from you both. 

Sirius chuckles loudly as he stalks towards you, arms splayed wide open as he goes to hug you, “Pup, you’re finally here!” You quickly hug the older man back, bewildered by his ability to immediately get tunnel vision. 

As he draws back from you, your taciturn demeanor only heightens as you watch shock bloom across his face. The man springs back from you in a flash, eyes bulging out as he stammers for words at the sight of Regulus. The boy next to you gazes at his brother with regretful eyes, shoulders now sagging under the weight of the older man’s presence. 

The fraught silence is interrupted by a disbelieving whisper from Sirius, “Regulus?”  

“It’s good to see you, Siri.” 

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I’ve been posting the recent chapters on my Wttp and AO3 account, been lazing off of tumblr due to formatting (I hate formatting shit) but some of the other chapters are out. I just have to format them on here. Also we’re nearing the end of the first act for TG: Re/Who Are You?!!! Yay :D

Congratulations on reaching 4000!! I read your TG Drabbles and absolutely fell in love with your writing so I was wondering if I could get prompt 24 + Urie 💕💕 fem! Ghoul reader x quinx member Urie!! Thank you :)

# tags: scenario; kinda enemies/lovers and current relationship; light romance; drama; angst; ghoul!reader & quinx!kuki; crying, vomit and blood mention; dead body; kinda ooc!kuki (but not much); suggestive

includes: female reader ft. kuki urie {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hi! thank you very much for this request! i really like kuki and i am really happy that i can write about him! love u

24. “I’m a monster! Can’t you see it?!”

Your blood-stained long T-shirt, tears on your cheeks flushed with heat, a few strands of hair on the dirty floor, and the fear in your eyes seemed to the young Inspector an image that was downright terrifying, even nightmarish; however, not because of your appearance and the look of the room you both were in, but because of how scared and sad you were at that time. How much your eyes shone with self-loathing and how damned deep down you wanted to disappear and never be born.

“I’m a monster! Can’t you see it?!”

Of course he knew you were a ghoul. The walking grotesque, his enemy, the walking death, humanity’s greatest failure. A abominable monster.

He knew and watched you for months, studying your whole body and your behavior – he believed that he would eventually find a magical solution that would restore your humanity. He has kept you as a secret for a long time from the rest of his co-workers, from his command and from his own family. Although he knew every day that you could attack him, he bravely endured your outbursts of aggression and murderous desire, insatiable anger.

He was there when you vomited trying to eat a tomato and cheese sandwich, he was there when you cried into his shoulder, begging him to kill you, and he was there when you felt too human, wishing he would love you and stay with you for ever. He was in your worst and nastiest moments, but he was also next to you when you smiled slightly as you laid the last wild draw four card on the table and shouted a loud, almost carefree ‘Uno!’. He was always there and will always be.

It was hard for him to bear the sight of your hands in the dark liquid, your torn clothes and the traces of murder that were right under his feet. You killed an innocent woman who got a promotion in the family business two days ago. You killed a person who probably had a family who loved her, children who had to be kissed before bed, or even a dog who was eagerly waiting for her to put some of his favorite food in his bowl. You ate half of her firm, sweet flesh with tears in your eyes, and when Kuki caught you in the act, you nearly ripped out your own windpipe to relieve your own suffering. If there’s one thing you hated, it was definitely being a ghoul.

The silence between you two was interrupted only by your painful crying and the sound of cars driving down the street a few floors below. You looked alternately at the dead headless woman and at the man you loved, once again begging him to finally kill you. Of course, he didn’t do it that night, nor when you begged him to do the same three days later, clutching his shirt in a tight grip; behind you lay the lower limb of some five years old child.

It was hard for both of you to live with the thought that you loved a human and he loved a being he should have killed the first time he discovered your true colors. But he couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t.

You were both weak and pathetic.

Hard day | Remus Lupin x gn!reader

SWF

Summary: Your boyfriend Remus, has had a long day. You need to tell him what he means to you.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, so lovey dovey, no mentions of pronouns, nicknames (love, dove), tw for mentions of self-injury and scars, a bit of angst, happy ending, kissing.

Word count: 700

Remus Lupin was not a loud man, definitely not, the exact opposite in fact -soft-spoken, patient, kind-hearted, lovely. Most importantly he was yours, all yours to share with no one…most of the time.

Remus Lupin was not a loud man, so when he slammed to your shared flat you splashed a little tea onto the tiled floor of the kitchen, letting out a yelp of surprise.

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Hi there 👋,

My name is Mohammad, a father of three young children living in Gaza. We are facing unimaginable hardships due to the ongoing catastrophic war, and our home is no longer safe. I’ve started a fundraising to raise $40,000 to move my family to a safer place where my children can have a chance at a better future. 💔🍉

If you could spare a moment to read our story and consider donating or even sharing, it would mean the world to us. Every bit of support brings us closer to safety and hope. 🙏

Thank you for your kindness and compassion. ❤

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

I know that this isn’t my usual thing to post, but every single bit of attention this post gets matters!! The one-sided war going on in Palestine the past 3/4 of a century has affected the live of everyone in Gaza. There’s a famine, scarcity of available resources. Those who have been massacred, and killed by the IDF have mostly been women and children. I’ve seen news about a new father being delivered the birth certificates of his twin children, and the death certificates of his twin children, wife, and mother-in-law.

This has always been a very serious issue, and with this post I hope that you take the time and consideration to read and share, and donate to Mohammad and his family—but not just them, but to many others as well who are suffering the same fate. These are innocent people dying at the hands of the IDF. An ethnic cleansing is happening right now, a genocide. If you watched Katniss Everdeen fight and rage war against her own government, why are you turning a blind eye to it now?

Please, please, please help Mohammad! Although I cannot donate to him, I will help share his story. 🙏🙏

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Mohammed's Family From Gaza Rebuild Their Lives, organized by Mohammed Abu Swierh

My name is Mohammad Salem Abu Swierh, a husband and father of… Mohammed Abu Swierh needs your support for Help Mohammed's Family From Gaza R

Reading Arcane fics made me realize how much I miss writing so i might come out of my hiatus sometime soon. I have been wanting to get back to writing for my Urie fic but got so lazy, plus I kinda lost the concept (sad). Idk if I should start re-writing it now, or finish writing now and re-write it later. I did say I wanted to re-write it sometime in the future.

Y’all I will most likely update on Monday. This month is not it for me. (I’m finishing up written assignments on Apex.. might be 18 or so 😭😭. Shits eating me up. And it’s gotta be done by tomorrow at 11:59. Then Saturday I have to go to a baby shower. The 25th is my grad. I hate myself 💀). Btw this is all on me, not blaming anyone but myself 🙈

Ps. txt concert was so amazing 😭😭

Title: Eyes On Me

Genre: Slytherin! Yoongi, Ravenclaw! reader, smart and kind! reader, bad boy! Yoongi, pureblood! Yoongi, muggle born! reader, tutor au, fluff, and angst

Summary: Professor Longbottom asked L/N Y/N to help Min Yoongi out with Herbology. She’s excited to help another person out but Yoongi on the other hand doesn’t want people knowing she’s hanging out with him. Instead he tells her to study within the room of requirement but Y/N assumes it’s because he wants peace and no distractions to study. As time passes, Yoongi sees her more as his tutor and starts to develop a crush on the strange girl but what happens when his Slytherin friends see him with her?

[ The distance I feel from you is too far, I can't let go of a little trace I got from you ]

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His deep voice hit her ears making her face turn a light red shade. Professor Longbottom smiled at this and looked at Y/N with a soft look, “Is that okay for you, Ms. L/N? You can always decline it if you're busy with your studies.” 

She shook her head at him with a smile on her face. She glanced at Yoongi to see that he was already looking at her (with a blank expression), “I would love to help.” 

“Alright, thank you Ms. L/N. Mr. Min I expect your next test grade to be at least a 70.” 

They nodded their heads and left the classroom. She saw that he was walking faster than her and she grabbed his arm to stop him. He glanced at her and she noticed that he never had a smile on his face. She gave him a nervous smile and looked down at the ground, “I was wondering when you want to study. I usually study on the weekends to make things easier but if-”

“We can study on the weekends. I have charms to get to, can I go?” 

She let go of arm and looked down ashamed that she kept him from his class, “Yeah...I’m sorry about that. I guess I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah.” 

She watched him go down the hall until he disappeared. She frowned to herself and looked down at her shoes, Yoongi, you're so weird. When Yoongi turned the corner, he leaned against the wall and clenched his chest as he felt his rapid heart beat on his hand. He felt his face turn red now that he's alone and he hoped no one saw it. He ran his hand through his hair as he let out a deep sigh, “Y/N...”