#'treason is only a word' my ass

[scarlethexelove]

Please Don't Leave Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4281

Warnings: Angst, Pregnant!Reader, Natasha being an ass, injuries, Depression, Wanda being the bestest of friends.

Part 2: Gone

A/n: Had this one in my head for some time and finally decided to write it. As it always seems these fics just seem to run wild and get longer than I mean them to be. I can tell you all right now I'm pretty sure your not going to like the ending very much 😅

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

“Natty.” You try to get your wife's attention as she moves around the room quickly. Natasha is shoving things in a bag. “Nat.” You try again, but she doesn’t stop. Frantically moving around the room grabbing whatever she can. “Natasha!” You finally yell at her. She still doesn’t stop her movements. “Y/n I can’t right now.” She says shoving the last of her things in her bag. “Nat I have something important to tell you.” You try to reason with the woman, but she just zips her bag throwing it over her shoulder and walks past you. “There are things you don’t understand. I have to go.” You grab her arm and she finally looks back at you. “I really need to tell you this.” You try to reason with her. Your eyes pleading with her just to let you talk. But she shakes her head and pulls her arm from your grasp. “There are more important things than you right now.” She makes it to the door letting it creak open. “We will talk when I get home.” She doesn’t face you, only slightly turning her head before she is gone. “Don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” You see her hesitate in the door but she shakes her head before slamming the door shut behind her. 

Your heart shatters in your chest as your legs buckle beneath you. A muffled thud is heard as your knees hit the ground. Your hand covers your mouth as a sob escapes the depths of your chest. You pull the small stick from your back pocket looking down at the two pink lines. “I’m pregnant.” You whisper to yourself like somehow Nat will hear you and come back, but you know she won’t. To Natasha her job has always been more important than anything. She loves being an Avenger and helping people, but it always comes at a cost to you. You had a sliver of hope that maybe just maybe this could change that. After what she had gone through in the red room she was pretty sure that she couldn’t get you pregnant but here you are. The prospects of having a child had given you hope that maybe she would come back to you. Be the loving wife that you know she can be. The little pink lines now taunting you as tears splash down on the plastic blurring your vision and the once prominent lines. 

It seems like hours before you finally pick yourself up off the ground. Finally having cried all the tears away. Pulling yourself off the ground as you wipe your cheeks before making your way to your shared bedroom. It is empty, too empty. The book Nat was reading was still sitting face down open to the page that she had left it on. Moon light shining through the curtains illuminating the dark room. You don’t bother turning on the lights or changing clothes as you crawl into the cold bed. Seeming much larger now than ever before. You curl in on yourself, exhaustion from all the tears you have cried catching up to you. A pain in your chest as you finally drift off into nothingness. 

Over the next few days multiple new stations report of the Avengers fighting one another. The chaos and destruction of a German airport. You place a hand over your lower stomach as the news flashes. ‘Natasha Romanoff aka Black Widow has broken the Sokovia Accords. Now wanted for treason against the federal government.’ If you thought your heart couldn’t break more you were wrong. 

It has been nearly four months since that fateful day. The day your world shattered around you. You had hoped that one day maybe Nat would try and contact you but those hopes had been dashed over a month ago. She had moved on and so should you. You slowly pack your things in the home that you once shared with your wife. You’re not even sure if you should call her that anymore. A single tear running down your cheek at the thought. You still love her deeply but you can’t live like this. You have a baby to think about now, you need to live for them. Placing your hand on your growing stomach as you gently rub your finger up and down feeling their movement and smiling. 

A phone ringing breaks you from the tender moment. You grab your phone looking down to see an unknown number calling you. Your heart stops a moment wondering if after all this time it is finally Nat calling you. You're so distracted by the tight feeling in your chest that the phone stops ringing and the call ends. You still stare blankly at the screen before it starts to ring again. Phone lighting up in your hand once again still showing unknown as the caller. 

This time you press the answer button. Your movements are slow as you bring it up to your ear. You open your mouth but no words come out, your breaths coming out erratic as you begin to panic. Your ear is soon filled with a soft voice. “Y/n/n?” That voice is distinct but not your wifes. “Y/n are you there?” The voice asks again. “W-Wanda?” Your voice trembles as your mind catches up. Your best friend is on the other side of the line. 

This is the first time you have heard from any of the Avengers for a long time. Tony once stopped by but you refuse to let him in. You didn’t listen to any of the words coming out of his mouth as he spoke through the door. If it wasn’t for him you don’t think you would be in this position right now and maybe your hopes for a better future with Nat would have come true. Wanda had sent a few letters letting you know she was ok. You couldn’t obviously send anything back due to now knowing where she was and the nature of the events and why she was also on the run. 

“Y/n/n?” Wanda’s voice breaks through your mind once again. “I-I’m sorry Wands. What were you saying?” Her words had been muffled by your mind. She shakes her head like you could possibly see her doing that. “Nothing sweetheart. Are you ok?” She can tell that something isn’t right. “Not really. I, I’m alone.” Wanda’s heart breaks for you. She may be on the run but she hasn’t been alone. “I’m tired, Wands.” You know you shouldn’t be thinking that with a child on the way but it has been hard. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you sniffle into the phone. 

Wanda made a decision right there. “Sweetheart, I'm going to send Vision to come and get you.” She knows it could be dangerous to have you with her but she also knows that you’re not a wanted fugitive so if for some reason that she is caught you will be left alone. But she will do everything in her power to keep you safe. She can’t stand to hear you this hurt and down. “W-what if that gives away where you are?” You question not wanting to bring her into any danger. “I’m safe here. If you want to, you can come here. We have to move every so often. You don’t have to if you don’t want to but I’m not going to leave you alone. You always have me.” You cry tears of happiness for the first time in a long time. “Yes.” Your voice is small but hopeful. 

You land with Vision somewhere in what you believe to be Belgium. Vision never mentioned anything to you about your pregnancy which you are thankful for. You see Wanda bound out of the small quaint house on the outskirts of the town. You watch as she stops in her tracks a few feet away from you. Your head dropping, not wanting to see her reaction. Scared that she wouldn’t want you around any more. 

“Y/n/n.” Wanda says quietly trying to get you to raise your gaze to hers but you don’t look up. Tears well in your eyes, scared to move, scared to look your best friend in the eye. Hands cup your face gently making you look up into green eyes. A soft smile on her face. “You're pregnant.” It’s not a question but a statement from the woman. You nod your head as she pulls you into her arms hugging you as tightly as she can without hurting you or the baby. 

Just then the flood gates break. A sob leaves you as tears cascade down your cheeks into Wanda’s shirt. You bury your head in her neck. A hand rubbing gently up and down your back as you're held for the first time in months. Your legs give out as you clutch to Wanda for dear life afraid that you're going to wake up and she will be gone. Wanda holds on gently guiding you both to the ground as she lets you cry. Your tears soak her shirt as you sob for what feels like forever. Wanda whispers reassurances in your ear as she just holds you. Her gentle motions on your back, not ceasing. 

Wanda lets you get out your pent up emotions. Sitting with you until your sobs turn into sniffles. “She left me. I never got to tell her.” You whisper, still gripping onto Wanda. “What sweetheart?” She asks, trying to get you to elaborate. “Natasha. I-I haven’t heard from her. She, she left that day to Germany. I tried to tell her. She, she told me that there were more important things than myself.” Wanda’s eyes swirl red with anger. How could Natasha do this to you? All she wants to do is fly off and break Natasha like she broke you. But Wanda comes back to reality when you grip her tighter, scared she will leave you just like Nat did. 

“Please don’t leave me.” If it was even possible Wanda’s heart broke for you more. Like herself you don’t have any family. All of yours were gone long ago, but you had found a family in the Avengers, a wife. But that family is now broken but Wanda is determined to show you that she is still your family. “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart. I will always be here for you.” She kisses your head smiling. “And for the baby.” More tears come to your eyes but from happiness. 

“So you and Vision?” You give a watery chuckle. Wanda nudges your shoulder and laughs. “Yeah.” She smiles happily when you pull back to look at her. “So like does he come with a vibrator setting?” You ask half joking half serious. “Oh my god Y/n!” Wanda exclaims, shocked by your bold question. You two laugh as she helps you off the ground leading you into the house. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to mention something to Nat?” Wanda asks you softly, causing you to look up from the book your head is buried in. You let out a sigh as this constant conversation. “If she wanted to know how I was doing she could have called me the same way you did.” You rub your swollen stomach. So close to meeting your precious little one. “Wands I know you are looking out for me and I also know how pissed you are at her. I also know that you partly want to tell her to rub it in her face on how royally she screwed up. She has had almost 9 months to find me. And I know that you said she has mentioned that she has done it for my own safety but at least hearing from her once would have been something. Instead she went no contact. The famous Black Widow knows how to send encrypted messages if she really wanted to.” 

Wanda knows how much you are right and every time she has to touch base with the team she has been distant and cold with Nat. She so badly wants to break her heart the way she has to you. She knows how much you still love Nat and would love to be a family. These times are hard though with everyone on the run so she bites her tongue and nods her head to your words. 

To get your mind off of things you put your book down and swing your feet off the bed. “Hey Wands, it's a nice night, maybe we can all take a walk.” Vision appears in the doorway. “That sounds like a lovely idea Y/n.” You smile at the synthezoid before giving a questioning look to Wanda. “Sure.” She nods her head. “But someone is going to have to help me with my shoes.” You chuckle trying to reach down to your feet which you can’t reach. The other two laugh before all of you put on some clothes and help you with yours. 

Wanda and Vision are holding hands as you walk through the streets of Edinburgh, the quiet street clearing your mind as you three walk peacefully. Vision stops Wanda to talk a bit as you waddle over to a window with a news cast playing. You watch on as a breaking news cast flashes on the screen. As the scene plays out in front of you you gasp. “Wanda.” You call for her. The conversation dies between the two as they come up behind you seeing as the screen plays footage of New York being attacked. You all stand there silently as death and destruction is shown on the screen. Tony Stark missing flashes on the screen and Vision looks to Wanda. 

“I have to go.” Vision says kissing Wanda’s hand that is still laced with his. He starts to walk away dropping her hand, Wanda pleads with him to stay. You start to drown them out as you watch the screen. Terrified that you may see something about Natasha come across it. Screams of pain makes you turn around seeing Vision impaled on a staff. “Vision!” Wanda screams, her hands glowing red ready to fight. 

Someone else blasts Wanda from behind sending her flying into a building across the street. With you close proximity you're thrown back hard. Trying to brace yourself you hear a sickening crack as your wrist impacts with the ground. You scream out in pain. “Y/n!” Vision yells when he hears your cry of pain. You turn on the ground seeing him do the same. The two who attacked turned him over on his back and the thing that stabbed him placed the sharp end of the staff on his head.

Vision’s screams can be heard through the quiet streets. You struggle trying to get yourself up knowing your wrist is broken, cradling it close to your chest. You watch as red balls of energy slam into the two creatures throwing them back. Wanda runs towards Vision using her magic and pulling you safely over to him. Pain is written all over her face as she looks over the both of you. She uses her magic to lift all of you off the ground pulling you closer to her as she tries to fly you all away from the area. You all are almost hit by a beam causing Wanda to have to bring you all down. Wanda lands you both down gently laying you on the ground before turning to catch Vision with her magic. 

“The blade, it stopped me from phasing.” Vision says as you see a bright yellow line in his body and he seems to be glitching. “Is that even possible?” Wanda asks, helping him sit up against the wall. “It’s not supposed to be.” He says, you can tell he is in pain. Your adrenaline is pumping so your wrist is just a dull ache at the moment. Wanda hovers her hand over Vision, her magic flowing and pulling the opening closed slowly but not completely. “I’m beginning to think we should have stayed inside.” You mumble feeling guilty that this could have been avoided if not for you avoiding your feelings about Nat. 

You and Wanda are pushed back by Vision as one of the creatures grabs Vision flying off and fighting against a building. The other comes and attacks you and Wanda. Wanda puts a barrier of magic around you. She starts to fight the female creature as your heart races in your chest. 

You lose sight of the both of them fighting. Wanda’s magic dissipates from around you allowing you to move forward looking for your friends. You can hear it now so clearly in your head like she actually is yelling at you. Natasha’s voice tells you to run and protect yourself, but Wanda is your best friend and she has been there for you. So you push that voice away following the commotion. You run into the train station seeing Vision propped against a railing. Wanda stands red surrounding her hands as the two creatures look ready to fight once again. 

Squealing of wheels from the train moving past has you all looking. A dark figure in the shadows looms behind the moving train. The female creature throws her trident-like spear at the figure when the train passes. The figure catching it perfectly as he walks into the light you see Steve Rogers. You try to get up behind the female creature but she quickly turns wrapping her hand around your throat. 

“Y/n!” Wanda screams. The female creature throws you back and you land on your back crying out in pain. You feel a gush of liquid between your legs after you hit the ground. Wings fly in front of you as Sam Wilson collides with the creature. You let your hand drift down feeling the wetness and bring your fingers back up into view, relieved that it isn’t blood, but your heart drops when you realize what is happening. You gasp in pain from the sharp feeling in your stomach. 

Wanda uses her magic again to pull you towards her and Vision. Wanda pulls you into her lap. That is when you spot her in the distance. The hair color may be different but she is still herself. Natasha fights with Steve against the creatures. You have tears in your eyes as you look up at Wanda. “Wands, I think my water just broke.” You groan in pain again. You can see the panic in her eyes as she looks around the area. It’s not long before the fighting is done and the other three walk over towards you three. 

Natasha stops dead in her tracks when she sees you. Your swollen stomach has her chest rising and falling a bit fast. She thinks maybe it could be someone else's but she knows deep down that the baby is hers. She wants to cry but she turns stone cold hiding her emotions. Hating herself for leaving you, for never reaching out in all this time. You cry out in pain causing her to look back to you. You're curled in on yourself in Wanda’s lap. “It hurts.” You whimper.  Wanda holds you closer to her. “I know sweetheart.” Wanda looks to the other three. “We need to get them out of here.” She can see the two men side eyeing her before Steve speaks up. “Quickly, get them to the Quinjet.” 

Natasha moves to help you but you pull away. “I have her, can you help Vision?” Wanda says flatly, Nat can only nod moving away and helping Vision up. Wanda effortlessly lifts you in her arms and you all make your way to the Quinjet. Your contractions are getting strong and closer together. Natasha can only watch from afar as you whimper in pain. Wanda helps you and Vision sits close holding his side. 

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Wanda says brushing the hair sticking to your forehead out of the way. “We will be at the compound in 30 minutes.” Steve explains. “Steve, I don't know if she can last that long.” She iterates looking back down at your pained face. “It’s the best I can do Wanda.” She sighs gently stroking your cheek. “It’s ok Wands. I’ll be o-” Your cut off by another contraction. All Nat can do is look on with regret. 

Once the quinjet finally lands Wanda lifts you in her arms again and runs into the compound they enter and see Rhodey talking to a hologram of Secretary Ross. “We need medical.” Natasha says out, causing Rhodey to turn and for Secretary Ross to start arguing. You can’t concentrate on what they are saying but you know it isn’t great. Rhodey ends the call and signals for medical, who come in with Bruce. 

As they wheel you away the team follows. Before Wanda can head in after you Nat grabs her arm. Wanda whips her head around anger evident on her face. “Please just tell me. Is it mine?” Wanda gives an amused chuckle. “Of course it’s yours.” She pulls her arm from Nat’s grasp and follows you in the room. Nat lets tears slip down her face. She left you alone pregnant with her child. Not once contacting you in the last nine months. She had told herself she was doing it to protect you and to keep you out of this life, but she was wrong and she sees that now. She understands now why Wanda became so cold towards her after a few months. She has to fix this. She has to be able to win you back and to become the family she always wanted and she will do anything to get that back. 

Natasha can hear your cries of pain as you go through labor wishing more than anything she could be there with you but you don’t want her to be. But you chose Wanda and she understands why. She soon hears other cries. The crying of her child as they are born. Tears slip down her cheeks as she hears them. The boys know not to go around her or to talk to her at this moment. She is breaking on the inside and all she has to blame is herself. 

An hour later Wanda walks out and comes over to Nat. Her head is down, not looking at the younger woman waiting for a scolding, but that doesn’t come. “You can go meet your son.” Wanda speaks with no emotion to her voice. Natasha looks up and Wanda can see she has been crying but that doesn’t change how angry Wanda is at her. “I have a son?” Nat whispers. Wanda just nods her head and moves out of the way. 

Natasha slips into the room quietly. Her heart stops seeing you laying in the bed with a blue bundle in your arms and a smile on your face. More tears spill as she quietly makes her way over to you. You don’t look at her until she is standing right next to you. “He’s beautiful.” Nat mumbles trying to stop the sob that so desperately wants to escape. You have a soft look on your face and she can’t read it. “Meet Alexander Pietro Romanoff.” You smile down at your son. Natasha lets the tears freely fall. “Romanoff?” She questions you. “Romanoff.” You repeat looking back up at her with a soft smile. She feels a flicker of hope that she can fix this, that she can have her family.

“Do you want to hold him?” You ask her softly and lightly lift him the best you can with your broken wrist. Nat nods and takes him from you holding him in her arms. She has so much love for him already that more tears well in her eyes. You watch her as she holds the baby and cries. 

“I’m sorry.” Nat whispers. “I'm so sorry.” She looks at you with teary eyes. “I know.” Is all you can respond with. She looks back down at the now sleeping boy. Just looking at him and remembering all of his features. She had seen the flicker of green in his eyes, the same as hers. But he looks so much like you. He is just as beautiful as you are. 

Loud beeping makes Nat’s head snap up. Your face is now pale and your eyes are closed. The sheets are staining red between your legs. Doctors rush in as she backs away holding her son close to her chest. He starts to cry with all the noise and commotion. Her heart rate picks up and she starts to panic. The voices of the doctors are muffled to her ears as she feels the blood rushing around. She can only focus on you, your face pale and your body limp in the bed as doctors work around you. They soon wheel you out of the room mentioning something about you hemorrhaging and needing to go to surgery. 

Nat starts sobbing in the empty room. All that is left is herself and her son. She slides down the wall begging to whatever is out there in the universe that you will be ok. That you will come back to her and your son. Promising that she will do better and be better. She will be the wife that she had promised in her vows. She will do anything for you to take her back, just please let you live. She whispers in the emptiness. “Please don’t leave me.”

[ddejavvu]

okay I have a vision so (younger obv) reader is new to the bau and they all get called in for case but she was out with her friends clubbing and she is wearing one of those playboy bunny costumes because it was like a costume night or something like that (sorry can't thinking of something else😭) anyway she can't change her outfit because her apartments on the other side of town so she just shows up in her costume and when hotch sees her he like freezes because "omg shes so hot but I can't shes to young for me" and the whole case he's really distracted because he can't get that image of her out of his head and everytime they talk he gets really flustered but tries to hide it...

and I haven't actually thought of an ending but I just love flustered hotch 🤭🤭

You're not quite sure Penelope's 'AVENGERS ASSEMBLE !!! COME AS YOU ARE' text had quite meant this.

Storming through a government building in a bunny suit feels like treason. Somehow. You make it to the BAU's floor, and you're thankful no one else is in on a Friday night. It's just the round table room that's full, and every step you take towards it feels like a step towards death itself.

You try not to walk in like a cartoon character, leading with your whole body instead of slipping a heeled foot through the door first, then letting it trace up your thigh. Your shoulders are hunched and your hands are gripping your eared-headband so tightly that you think the plastic will snap.

Aaron's eyes land on you, and he thinks he's going to explode. Really, he's never popped a boner this fast in his life. The shuffle of his chair sliding further towards the desk to hide his lap isn't noticed, though, everyone is staring at you.

"I will change on the jet," You don't let anyone get a word in, stalking towards your seat, "I didn't have time to change."

"Woah," Derek eyes your bodysuit amusedly, and you're pleased to discover that even if he's teasing you, his gaze isn't predatory, "Not that I'm complaining, Y/N, but why do you look like this?"

Aaron's fist clenches around the screen remote so tight that he hears the plastic creaking.

"I was drinking with my friends," You sink into your seat, bare thighs against the leather as your bodysuit blends in, "And it was theme night at our favorite bar. Something about Res-Erection," You recite with burning cheeks, "People get really creative for Easter."

"Nothing like celebrating Jesus by gluing a tail to your ass," Emily snorts, then her face falls slightly, "That is.. glued, right?"

"Yes!" You shriek, burying your face in your hands, "Oh my god, everyone stop talking! I told you I'd change on the jet!"

"Let's get started," Aaron commands, and you send him a sheepish, thankful glance. He's not sure why he did it, whether it was to save you from teasing or save himself from his jealousy, but either way, you're both glad for the subject change.

--

Unfortunately, Aaron is distracted. For the first and only time in his life, he's unable to worry about the serial killer you're chasing, and more concerned on scrubbing his brain of the image of your bunny costume. He likes it, he loves it, but he shouldn't be thinking about it, so he's trying to run a deep clean on his brain.

The seat beside him hisses with air as you plop down in it, now fully clothed in jeans and a blouse. Everyone is theorizing as they read through M.E reports, and you use the distraction to lean in.

"Thank you, Hotch." You hum beside his ear, and tingles shoot up his spine, "I appreciated you changing the subject back there. Oh- and, uh, I'm sorry for being so unprofessional. It won't happen again."

"It's alright," Aaron's tongue feels numb as he avoids meeting your eye, now much more interested in the police reports in front of him, "Things happen, it's not your fault. And it was, uh, revealing, yes," He blushes, praying you don't notice, "But nothing I'm going to have you arrested for."

"I think I'll lend it to Morgan," You muse, still murmuring so close to his ear that he's having trouble breathing, "He'd look good with the ears."

He plays along, ignoring the lingering thought in the back of his mind that he would wear the ears if you asked him to, "No, I think Reid would be a better fit. He twitches his nose a lot already."

"You're right," You gasp, knocking your elbow into his, "Thanks, Hotch."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Rossi raises an eyebrow, and Aaron keeps his eyes diligently on his paperwork.

"We're planning Reid's next Halloween costume," You inform them, "Spence, you like magic, right?"

"I do," He nods carefully, "Why?"

"Rabbit in a hat," Hotch murmurs, still scanning the pages as he nods thoughtfully, "Good thinking, Y/L/N. And we can saw Morgan in half."

[izzabela]

Ok, here me out! We both love Tomas (sweet cinnamon roll) I was thinking about what would happen if Tomas and the female reader get into an argument and it caused them to distance each other for a bit and it causing the reader to go on a mission for Liu Kang and while the reader is gone longer than planned Tomas starts to worry and lose his patience and decides to go after her?

I'm Sorry - Tomas x fem!reader

in which you and Tomas get into an argument before your mission, and Tomas is a bit antsy to apologize

a/n: Tomas would def be the little brother who always apologizes, whether his fault or not

ship[s]: tomas x fem!reader

warning(s): little angst? pre-kanon story (see what i did there)

get yo ass up, white boy

=====================

The air between you and Tomas could light an explosion if one was not careful.

Though you were not present, away on another mission by Liu Kang, it was clear that the remnants of that strife still followed the European assassin.

He gave harsher punishments to the initiates under his care, prolonged training hours, and he even punished his own losses with starvation and excessive workouts.

It worried his brothers, though it was not evident on their faces. Watching their youngest do this to himself was something that... terrified them to say the least. Ironic, since they were formidable ninjas.

It would all resolve itself, though, since you would be coming back today. Though, the memory of that fight laid in everyone's head.

*********

"Do you not realize how insane you're being right now?" Tomas howled at you as you sat on your shared bed, head turned and arms crossed.

Tomas roughly shut the door of your guys' bedroom, but his brothers were in hot pursuit to make sure nothing would go wrong once you had woken up from the healers.

Their mistake.

"Insane is not finishing the job," you spat back, turning your head. "Was I to come back empty-handed? Disappoint my grandmaster, our lord, our mission?!"

It was a rough mission, but you got some valuable info on a threat against Earthrealm thanks to your superior skills. Though, those very same skills did not protect you from the serious bodily harm you endured. Cut up and battered, you returned home like an abused animal.

"Not when you return home looking as you are now," Tomas pointed out, "You've been blinded to finishing the job, to the point of neglecting your own health!"

You scoffed, "Says you! You can go get healed without a word from me. But when I have to go get it done, it's like I've committed treason!"

From the outside, Kuai Liang and Bi Han gave a point to you for that one. However, Tomas was more experienced, and you had only recently been getting sent on more dangerous and high-stakes missions. Tomas had been doing this for years.

"If you had trained more, you would not be in this position," Tomas sighed. "Perhaps it was my fault for putting your name in too early."

You jaw dropped at this.

"Don't you dare pull this on me, Tomas," you said low as you get out of bed. Sure, your legs and wounds ached, but the adrenaline of your anger was fueling you to heights unknown.

"I'll have you know-"

"Mind your place," Tomas commanded, voice dripping with authority.

Tomas may be a brother to Kuai Liang and Bi Han, a technical inheritor to his clan, but he never felt like it. He often humbled himself by refraining from using any sort of authoritative tone, especially since he began dating you. Yes, he may be kind to his friends, his brothers, you, but he was still second-in-command along side Kuai Liang.

Of course there were times he needed to use his voice- but now wasn't the smartest time.

When Tomas realized what he had done, it was within a blink of an eye that a mean left-hook took him in, and a deadly powerful palm push sent him flying through the door. Tank the elder gods Kuai Liang and Bi Han remained on the side.

"Do not even bother coming back in here," you hissed, water swirling in your eyes as you turned around to go to sleep.

*********

That was but a week ago, now Liu Kang, Kuai Liang, Bi Han, and Tomas wait at the fire temple for you to come through the portal after your mission.

While his brother's remained calm and still-faced, Tomas was a little more antsy and nervous. You had left during your fight, and without proper apologies being made (not saying you did anything wrong). Tomas wanted to fix it immediately, and that would begin as soon as you came through the portal.

Right... now!

As the fires that lit the portal up continued to crackle and burn, any sign of your presence was not found. Liu Kang, focusing all his energy into finding you, could not sense you either.

Strange, since you were very punctual for any of your missions. It was a trademark that earned you the nickname "Dead-line" from the other ninjas.

"She is late," Kuai Liang points the obvious out.

"She must have had a run-in with something, perhaps we should-" Tomas is cut off by Bi Han.

"Under no circumstances will you do such a thing, Tomas. She is capable of this, so she is capable of coming home."

Liu Kang agrees, "I will keep the portal open and watch for her. While punctual is a great aspect, not everyone is immune to a little tardiness."

The brothers bow before heading out, Bi Han and Kuai Liang walking a little behind to watch Tomas. How did they know he was nervous? Well, he walked right in front of them, forgetting the order in which they travelled. And his eyes were also downcast, like clouds blocking the sun.

As well-trained as he is, emotions were naturally human. So, naturally, Tomas couldn't hide these feelings no matter his skills and experience.

"Tomas, all will be well," Kuai Liang tries to soothe his anxiety. He turns around, nodding to his words, but his face looks as if he is not accepting it.

"You will see to it you keep yourself in check," Bi Han scolds, "All will be well, carry on as per usual."

Tomas rolls his eyes as Bi Han strides forward. Kuai Liang just puts a hand on his shoulder and offers a kind smile.

"He means well, let us carry on for her," Kuai says, patting his shoulder before walking to follow his elder brother.

Perhaps tomorrow Tomas thinks.

~~~~~~~~~~

Except tomorrow you don't come, nor the day next, nor the day after.

You were tardy by three days, and as much as Tomas buried himself in training, missions, and some paperwork, he couldn't shake the feeling off that something was wrong- horribly wrong.

So, after dinner with his brothers, he waited until everyone was asleep before sneaking out of the palace to the Fire Temple. Mask and attire on, he calls on a portal to be opened to the temple.

Walking through, he is greeted by Liu Kang and some monks on guard. He bows, and Liu Kang does so to reciprocate, though is skeptical on the smoke ninja's unprecedented appearance.

"Tomas, this is unexpected," Liu Kang notes as he sizes him up.

"Lord Liu Kang, please permit me to go (y/n)," he says, bowing again to further his desperation in finding you. Liu Kang chuckles, telling him to raise his head.

"You love her very deeply, that much is evident," Liu Kang said, pulling out a chi-director from his pocket.

Tomas stares at the device, back at Lord Liu Kang, and then back at the device. He takes the glowing blue compass and bows deeply, revering him in respect before fire pops and cracks, and the portal opens. Tomas runs through the portal and allows the compass to guide him.

As he takes his surroundings in, Tomas realizes he's in the hinterlands of Outworld, and a cold part of Outworld at that. Of course, he was trained to deal with such weather, but being out for this far for this long, you may be on the brink of your doom.

The compass glows in Tomas's hands, and the hand inside spins like a twister gone rogue. Finally, it focuses on a direction southeast, and Tomas trudges in the growing snow of the region.

After following the compass, he was led to a cave in the side of a mountain. Inside, he saw the faint glow of a fire and heard low breathing from within.

As he rounds the inside, he finds you tending to a gash on your shoulder. You have plants with healing qualities by your side and a cloth loosely pulled over the bleeding. Plus your magic was working over the open wound.

"Who goes- Tomas?" your hands were in defensive positions, but they went back to your wound at him in your sight.

"My darling," he sighs, running to your side as he tries to stop the bleeding.

You wince at the force in which he pressed a ripped cloth into your shoulder, but welcome it as your magic was dulling the pain.

"Fancy seeing you here," you say with a sarcastic tone.

"Dear, please," Tomas lightly scolds you, in which you silently allow him to treat you.

It's quiet between both of you, and the only thing to fill the void of quiet was howling of the wind outside.

Tomas begins to stretch the cloth out in little strings, to make a makeshift bandage for your wound. He's staring at your back, and your head is turned to the side as he tends to the horrid wound.

"Usually you aren't this late," he tries to lighten the mood, but it's clear you're not up to the jokes.

Once Tomas wraps your wound perfectly, he moves around to face you, but your head remains away.

Instead of speaking, Tomas wraps you in the warmest, gentlest hug, and your eyes are shining with tears are you inhale his natural musk.

"Thank the elder gods you're alright."

Your shoulders rack in his chest as you cry and wrap a singular arm around him.

"I'm so sorry," you sob as tears begin flow, "I'm so sorry for being so mean, sorry for being so brash, you're rig-."

Tomas shushes you, one hand rubbing your head and the other your back in up and down motions. You cry harder at his tenderness- why wasn't he angry? Why was he so nice?

You literally chucked him out of the bedroom, and he remains kind to you?

"I don't care about that anymore," he whispers. "The minute you didn't come through the portal that day, everything else fell away."

Oh, that's right.

If it weren't for a rogue blade from the enemy, you'd have gotten home earlier.

You wince as the adrenaline begins to wear off, and the pain in your shoulder finally begins to settle in.

Tomas notices, and he chuckles as he sets you down against the wall softly.

"At least you won't be chucking me through doors anytime soon," he laughs as he begins to clean the wound up a bit.

You flinch at the pain, but push through so Tomas can make sure it doesn't get infected.

"I'm sorry, dear," you begin again. "Truly, I'm so sorry for doing that to you all those weeks ago."

Tomas shakes his head as he rubs some healing plants on the wound, "I want to apologize. Using my tone against you like that, especially after such an experience. It was uncalled for, dishonorable for a man."

He wraps the wound up again, holds a hand out to you, and picks you up after you take it.

"Let's get you home, dear," Tomas says as he sweeps you off your feet.

In his arms, you finally collapse and give your eyes a rest from the crying.

The real talk can happen later, you just need Tomas for now.

=====================

no yap notes

see y'all in the next fic!

[soaked4mk]

(Mk1) Flirty Intro Dialogues (part 3)

-Suggestive Content-

Bi-Han,Kuai Liang,Tomas Vrbada Peace Maker,Shao Kahn and Sindel

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Bi-Han 🌨️

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

★Y/N: “I’ve heard, contrary to your chiromancy, you’re actually not a chill guy, Bi-Han…”

-Bi Han: “And I’ve heard enough of your words.”

★Bi-Han: “Prepare for a cold loss.”

-Y/N: “Don’t tell me what to do, Frosty the snowman.”

★Bi-Han: “Liu Kang has never cared about your life.”

-Y/N: “And you do…?”

-Bi Han: *Scoffs, shaking his head* “you truly are blind….”

★Bi-Han: “You’re getting stronger with each fight, Y/N.”

-Y/N: “Rare of you to flatter me Bi-Han…”

★Bi-Han: “Your allure burns a fiery passion within my frozen soul.”

-Y/N: “Shang Tsung has definitely rubbed off on you…”

★Bi-Han: “If only you would listen-

-Y/N: “How dare you assume I would ever consider such an offer…?”

★Y/N: “I will never form an alliance with you….”

-Bi Han: *Scoffs* “Of course not, Y/N…”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Kuai Liang 🦂

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

★Kuai Liang: “You have a fiery spirit, Y/N.”

-Y/N: “I can set your heart ablaze if you wanted~”

★Y/N: “What a hottie~”

-Kuai Liang: *Shakes head while chuckling*

★Y/N: “Is it getting hot in here? Or is it just you…?” *corny smirk*

-Kuai Liang: “Are you trying to charm me, Y/N?”

-Y/N: “Is it working?”

★Y/N: “You fan the flame in my heart.” (Didn’t know about Harumi until hanging out with Tomas.)

-Kuai Liang: “I am honored”

★Kuai Liang: “I couldn’t help but notice you and Tomas getting rather… close”

-Y/N: “Does that bother you…married man?”

★Kuai Liang: “Of course a woman (man/person) as stunning as yourself can fight just as adequately.

-Y/N: “I’m flattered, Kuai Liang”

★Kuai Liang: “Have you prepared for this, little spitfire?”

-Y/N: “No need to prepare when I’ve already won.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Tomas 💨

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

★Y/N: *whistles* “What a smoke show”

-Tomas: *smirking* “Very clever, Y/N…”

★Y/N: “I hope you’re ready to lose, Vrbada.”

-Tomas: “Whatever you say krásné.”

(Beautiful)

-Y/N: “Huh-?”

★Tomas: “This will not be an easy fight.”

-Y/N: “Tell me something I don’t know.”

★Y/N: “Johnny says you talk about me often…?

-Tomas: *Clears throat* “Yes…but only good things…”

★Tomas: “I won’t be holding back this time, Y/N.”

-Y/N: “It won’t matter either way, smokey.”

★Tomas: “pěkný…”

(Pretty…)

-Y/N: “Tomas, I have no clue what

you’re saying…”

★Tomas: “Lord Liu Kang talks highly of you.”

-Y/N: “And you are about to see as to why”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Peace Maker ☮️

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

★ Peace maker: “Seriously…? How much kush do you smoke?”

-Y/N: “I have 20 bucks bro, sell me the sack.”

★ Y/N: “So if I just say ‘activate sonic-‘

-Peace maker: “do NOT-”

★ Y/N: “I’ve heard your actions are contrary to your message.”

-Peace Maker: “Dude, I’m just making peace, any way I can”

★Peace Maker: “Ready for this, sweet cheeks?”

-Y/N: *Rolls eyes* “Sweet cheeks…? And I thought Johnny was bad…”

★Y/N: “That helmet is certainly…”

Peace Maker: “Bad ass? I know right?”

★Y/N: “You and Kung Lao would get a long well.”

-Peace Maker: *confused* “What makes you say that?”

★Peace Maker: *smirking* “I see you checkin’ me out, cutie pie”

-Y/N: *lightly chuckling* “No, I’m judging your choice of uniform.”

★Y/N: “Naming your eagle ‘eagly’ is uhm…”

-Peace Maker: “Genius? I know, I know…”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Shao Khan 💀

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

★Y/N: “You have single handedly ruined your reputation, skull face.”

-Shao Kahn: *Scowls* “How dare you state something so foolish!?”

★Shao Kahn: “I’ve done nothing but serve the out world just as my family has, for generations.”

-Y/N: “If causing treasonous conduct is a part of ‘serving’ out world, then I don’t want to hear it, general.”

★Y/N: “Tell me you have toxic masculinity, without telling me you have toxic mas-“

-Shao Kahn: “Silence! you incompetent-“

-Y/N: “And here you go, proving my point…”

★Shao Kahn: “Why must you keep attempting battle with me?”

-Y/N: “You can’t beat a person who won’t give up, general.”

★Shao Kahn: “Why spar, when I can detect your fear, Y/N…?”

-Y/N: “A true warrior isn’t immune to fear, she (he/they) fights it out of spite.”

★Shao Kahn: “You could be victorious, in condition you submit, and join me.”

-Y/N: “Better to fight you with the possibility of falling, than to live without hope, Shao…”

★Shao Kahn: “Foolish of you to assume you won’t die during battle”

-Y/N: “I would rather die, than bow at the feet of a king, wearing a crown, studded of jewels of every life he has ended.”

★Shao Kahn: “You earth realmers, provoke me”

-Y/N: “Sounds like someone’s mad cause bad.” *smirks* “You mad cause bad Shao Kahn?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Sindel 🔊

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

★Sindel: *snickers* “How quaint…I’ll be sure to enjoy this spar.”

-Y/N: “As will I, Empress.”

★Sindel: “I do hope you’ll be able to sustain during this battle”

-Y/N: *smirks* “I’ll be able to sustain, and then some, queen Sindel.”

★Y/N: “I just have to say, it’s an honor sparring with a beauty, such as yourself empress.”

-Sindel: *lightly chuckles* “Quite the flatterer, I see.”

★Sindel: “Aren’t you a bit young to be flirting with me, earth relamer…?”

-Y/N: “Heheh—It’s not about the age… it’s about the mileage, empress.”

★Y/N: “So what’s this ‘royal treatment’ I keep hearing about…?”

-Sindel: “Come over here and find out, my dear…”

★Sindel: “Liu Kang tells me you’re quite the formidable fighter.”

-Y/N: “And I’ll prove his case with this battle, your majesty.”

[littlemisssatanist]

on the topic of me being team green

a bit of a different post for me, considering what my blog is, but i was honestly so offended at being called a misogynist i made a fresh google docs page and typed out 1634 words of me ranting.

is there a real reason to post this? probably not, but i felt the need to establish myself as team green, considering all the posts i've been liking and commenting on lately. (if you are team green, and you see this, feel free to be my friend. in fact, i am begging you to be my friend. i have no tg friends and i need to see the light).

beware, typos and repitition are probably aplenty.

Whenever I see people talk about being TG, I always will see TB stans in the comments saying something along the lines of “Oh, you must be a misogynist, then.” And you know, it never happened to me until a few days ago when I commented on a TikTok post about Rhaenyra beefing with two-year-old Aegon. Someone replied to me, saying that I only brought it up because I’m a misogynist.

And. You know, I’ve been insulted before. I’ve been called ugly, stupid, immature, whatever whatever. But I honestly can’t think of a worse thing for someone to say to me, that I’m a misogynist. I know this isn’t that commentator’s fault, because they obviously don't know me. But the irony of calling me a misogynist when I am the most misandristic person to exist on this earth. I pray for the downfall of men daily. I make fun of them. Whenever I see an AITA post on TikTok, I am immediately on the woman’s side, regardless of what she may have done. 

It’s because I distrust men to a certain degree. You know what’s different for ASoIaF, though? It’s not real. It’s all fiction. TB stans will come on the internet daily and complain about TG existing, calling us misogynists, elevating the conflict between us to that of a literal genocide. Are y'all delusional? Are you guys stuck so far up Rhaenyra’s ass that you can’t tell reality from fiction? 

Y’all love to preach about how Rhaenyra is the number one feminist girlboss of Westeros, without realizing exactly how exactly you’re falling into the trap. You uphold a woman because she’s the heir, meanwhile she steals Rhaena’s and Baela’s inheritance in order to put her illegitimate sons on the throne (which, btw, is treason). But of course you guys wouldn’t care, because you like to think Rhaenyra is the exception to the rule.

That’s the thing. She’s only the exception because of her father, the king. After Viserys dies, she suddenly finds herself back in the same patriarchal world that y’all love to claim she’s trying to overthrow, that she’s trying to change. 

I don’t hate Rhaenyra because she’s a woman. I hate her because she’s a stupid woman. She knew exactly what it meant to be a woman in Westeros; she gets forced into an unwanted marriage (and even in that she gets far more freedom and will to choose than other women), she is undermined for being a woman, and others view her as unfit to rule. I would sympathize with her if she did absolutely anything to change that whatsoever. 

Y’all love to say that she’s so iconic with her dragon scenes, but what did that really accomplish aside from showcasing she is unfit to rule? She has three illegitimate sons who look absolutely nothing like her. Even if Viserys was on her side, everyone knows that they are bastards. Like, at least Cersei’s bastards looked like her. Rhaenyra was a white woman with white hair married to a black man with white hair, and her first three children are white boys with brown hair. Girl, if you were going to have bastards, at least do it with someone that bears at least some resemblance to your husband, or yourself. She purposefully made it harder for herself.

And for those of you guys who will bring up something about Laenor being gay. I genuinely don’t know how to tell you this, but if they truly cared about keeping up appearances, they would have had children. I say this as a queer person myself: If I were in Laenor’s shoes, I would have children with my coverup. Afterall, that’s what a coverup is for. And also: I could find nothing about Laenor being infertile. 

And for those who will also bring up Laenor accepting the Strong boys as his own, I literally couldn't care less. Everyone and their grandmother could see that those boys were bastards. Laenor accepting them and Viserys being delusional doesn’t change the fact that they were illegitimate, and everybody knew it. Secondly: Rhaenyra would need to admit the boys were bastards in the first place for anybody to claim them, something she did not do. In fact, she went so far the opposite way, I wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to delude herself that they were legitimate. 

And this I don’t understand. How do you shoot yourself in the foot, not once, not twice, but three times, with three obvious bastards, knowing that people would oppose you, people already oppose you, and still think yourself fit to rule? Every decision Rhaenyra makes is so stupid, it’s almost mind blowing to me. To live in Dragonstone for years while your father, the king, is sick (in which case, btw, the heir is supposed to step in to rule). Instead, we see Alicent ruling the kingdoms from behind the shadow, because Rhaenyra does nothing but live out a couple of years of bliss and comes back to King's Landing expecting everything to be handed to her. She does absolutely no politicking, absolutely nothing in order to sway the lords to her side. Should she be so surprised, then, that she is met with such resistance? 

Y’all TB stands love to call TG misogynistic because we don’t worship your perfect little dragon lady, as if her uncle-husband isn’t Lord of Fleabottom and grooms and rapes her from a young age. As if Daemon hasn’t called women whores and bitches, and his first wife, Rhea Royce, ‘Bronze Bitch.’ Like, is that not disgusting to you? Y’all love to preach about how Daemon loved Rhaenyra, as if he didn’t choke her the moment she disagreed with his methods. As if his first instinct everytime is anger and death and war.

(In case y’all couldn’t tell, I am extremely anti-war. I am under the impression that if you can’t solve things by talking it out, then you are definitely not mature enough to be ruling a kingdom, and Daemon is one of the most immature rapist misogynists I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing).

(As an aside, I am not blaming Rhaenyra for her relationship with Daemon. Yes, I do find that most of her actions are stupid, but I cannot deny the fact that she was groomed and raped by him-- yes, raped, because she was a child, and children cannot consent. That is in no way her fault, and Daemon is the one responsible for this).

Y’all praise Rhaenyra for her maternal instincts while simultaneously hating Alicent for hers. Of course, an eye for an eye is unreasonable and far too much, but a son for a son is totally reasonable and to be expected. Rhaenyra protecting her children is being a good mother, but Alicent (rightfully) assuming that her children would be persecuted if Rhaenyra ascended the throne is her being a jealous bitch. Y’all blow her “sweet sister” line so much out of proportion, saying that she wouldn’t have killed her siblings if they just came over to her side. As if Alicent’s children, Alicent’s family, would choose Rhaenyra over her. Because “Helaena was the only good green” and “if only she just joined Rhaenyra”. Why would she ever do that? Because Aegon was a bad husband? The show literally stated that he only ever laid with her when he was drunk, because he couldn't do it otherwise. Obviously neither of them sought any pleasure from it, but they are still family. Helaena only had Aemond, Aegon, Daeron, and Alicent. Why would Rhaenyra ever be worth what her family is worth to her?

On a similar note, TB stans will constantly say how “oh, I feel sorry for younger Alicent, but not older Alicent.” As if Alicent wasn’t a 14 year old girl groomed and abused, as if she wasn’t twice pregnant by 17. As if Alicent wasn’t a victim doing her best in a world specifically designed against her.

That’s the difference between her and Rhaenyra. Both were victims to a much older man, but Rhaenyra considered herself an exception. Alicent had no choice but to be the bad guy, and despite how much y’all love to ignore it, Rhaenyra should have done the same. “Oh but Alicent was jealous of Rhaenyra!” Like you wouldn’t also be jealous of Rhaenyra? Rhaenyra, the perfect little princess, loved by her rapist daddy the king, who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. Would you not also be infuriated by her attitude, the entitled way she views the world? I’m sorry, but if your “strong female character” needs every other female character to agree with her, then she’s not that strong. Or a girlboss.

In conclusion, Rhaenyra sucks and is a terrible role model. True feminists love Alicent Hightower. Also, negative comments will be deleted, bc yk what is so fun about the internet? You can block people. I know, crazy concept. If you don’t want to see me or other TG on your for you page, consider blocking them. That tends to get rid of the thing you don’t want to see. I will also be doing this to anyone who thinks they’re smart enough to argue this topic with me. I do not care, hope your day goes terribly. <3

Btw, please never call me a misogynist again. In fact, you can call me Little Miss Misandrist, because there is no universe out there where I side with a man over Alicent Hightower. Or any woman at all, for that matter. 

(Except for maybe if the pickings were between Rhaenyra and Criston. If you’re one of the media illiterate TB stands who consider Criston to be an incel, you should also go ahead and block me, your stupidness is draining my brain cells).

Stay mad, xoxo.

[fic-heaven]

Duty's Price.

1. Philip Graves.

⚠️ Gore ⚠️ /Heavy angst/ fluff to angst/ hurt no comfort/ loss/ madness / poor Graves looses his mind and his love

🐥Part one of a series of gorey and angsty shorts I'll be making to practice my written gore as well as the descriptions of grief and trauma, ALWAYS involving Reader's death.

-You have always loved Graves. Sadly, sometimes the consequences of loving the wrong man could cost you your very own life.

Again, ⚠️GORE WARNING⚠️

.

Your last words to Phillip: "I'm so sorry, commander..."

_______

The love and loyalty you had for Phillip Graves was unlike any other he has ever received.

Graves, like any other men who got to meet you, was instantly weak for you. You held a devotion for him that stroked his ego in unimaginable ways, but it was your unquestionable loyalty what got him tempted to test the lengths of your love for him while increasing his affection for you.

You had confessed more than once, and although he'd always make his feelings for you clear, he never really said "I love you."

Graves had a plan. A plan he'd order you to fulfill, much to his later regret and grief. A plan that involved a tank. To secure his scape or fake his own death depending on if you were able to kill the 141 and/or los Vaqueros before they could kill you. Phillip needed a very loyal and strong shadow to drive the tank, and with little luck, kill Soap and Rodolfo while he scaped Las Almas.

The first time you confessed, he had kissed you right then and there on the landing zone in the middle of a sea of shadows while waiting for your pilot to take you to Acapulco where you two would meet general Shepard for the very first time and strike an alliance. The second time was at his new office, he ended up hauling you to his desk and using his new forniture for the wrong purpose. Finally, the third time was in Las Almas when you were celebrating Valeria's capture, but that time he didn't kiss or make love to you, much less confessed that he love you back, instead he nuzzled your cheek with his thumb and smirked before breathing out a "Prove it, darlin'. One last act of loyalty and I promise after we get Hassan's ass I'll give us a try." You arched a brow at this but didn't question it one bit, as there was nothing you desired more than to finally be by his side in a more... Romantic way.

He chose you. Whose love and devotion for your commander was bigger than the affection you held for your previous allies, or so he thought. Phillip was convinced you'd be victorious in your mission of killing them, your habilites never disappointed him after all, you were sharpminded and your aim was unlike any of his other shadows. The thing was... You had shared victories and defeats with Soap and the others, you held each other, healed each other, bled, laughed and cried together working side by side. You were loyal to your people, and this treasonous move your beloved commander pulled, even if you had planned this from the start, wasn't something you fully supported.

Even so, you played your part faithfully parting from you commander with a final deep kiss he surprisingly initiated. He left with two escorts to a secured Humvee and you drove the tank to the training yard, turned the speakers on so your commander's voice would taunt the others to make them think he was inside and later you fought against Soap.

A fight between a man and a tank. Victory was secured right? Right...?

The more exploding sounds Graves heard coming from the walkie hidden in the cabinet of the tank the more scared and unsure he got. It was clear on the way his voice wavered while taunting Johnny, how he cursed when he heard the mines the Scotsman planted explode one by one wrecking the tank and violently shaking the cabinet with you in it. But to Graves dismay and luck, It only added more credibility to the farse... While you purposely missed and cursed at the bond you formed with Soap that was now a heavy weakness in your fight against him, Johnny kept trying to literally blow you up with anything he had at hand thinking it was Graves occupying your seat inside the tank. But frankly, after your betrayal, you think he wouldn't hesitate on his attacks if he knew it was you.

The heavy smoke and beeping console inside the tank were clear signs of your defeat. So, as you completed your final act of loyalty to Phillip, you took the walkie-talkie with a shaky hand and weakly spoke.

"I'm so sorry, commander..." You weren't going to attend your first date after all.

Just after that, a loud explosion announced your death kilometers from him. Graves could hear it from the racing humvee, could feel it on his bones, on his heavy heart, on his rotten soul.

He just stared ahead, turned off the quiet walkie-talkie and kept silent the whole way to his base.

A few days passed. Imagine the pain the commander endured when all they could save from you was a sad sack of crisped dust inside a fucking cardboard box. It was insulting. It was disgusting. Phillip was in denial, his brain couldn't process that all that was left of you was inside that sad container. He couldn't understand how that friday when he had kissed you goodbye before the tank fight, a few hours later you'd be reduced to ashes like this. He couldn't accept it nor believe it.

With constant insistence, his own shadows relented and revealed that the ashes they gathered were just remnants near the tank but they wouldn't deny that a part of you wasn't in that cardboard box either which had him stop his restless pacing around his office.

"P-part...?" He parroted, eyes injected in blood from not sleeping in days.

With hesitation one of the shadows approaches his commander warily. "Sir. As a widowed husband, I understand your grief. But trust me when I tell you, sir... That in between seeing my wife's body and what they presented me of her... I would have preferred to fool myself into thinking that those ashes in your counter are all that's left of her." Graves thanked his sincerety and advice. But the ache and denial in his heart pushed him to force his shadows into letting him see what they ACTUALLY recovered from you.

The fruits of his betrayal. The outcome of his scape plan was a few floors down. He should have listened to his shadow.

His breaths became chocked, with shaky shoulders shivering violently, a weak yelp arupted from him when his knees buckled under him making him fall to the floor next to where they had left you. He was having a panic attack. The tears on his eyes felt so hot he immediately thought they'd melt his face just like what happened to you, and the flash of your body on his mind and the fact that it was resting one feet to his right was enough for his brain to scream in terror.

Your remnants were scattered on a table, it's metallic color contrasted with the carbonized bones, the torn scraps of the burnt uniform you wore barely united the pieces of your mangled torso and limbs. You were missing a whole arm from the shoulder and your right hand was detached from your other forearm. Both your feet were gone and your legs were nothing but bone mid thigh. Your head, or what little they gathered from it, was completely detached from the rest of the body. His watery eyes could only make out your fractured jawbone, the ligaments, tendons and some muscle were out the air still uniting the jaw piece to the cracked skull, it's skin was melted, mangled beyond recognition, your eyes were missing as they had to be the first thing that melted from your face, and a few locks of hair remained attached to a very small part of sunburnt scalp. Phillip barked everyone to get out, his tense body wasn't fully facing what was left of you as he couldn't contain his gaze on your corpse for longer than a fucking minute.

Never on his life had Graves felt such fright. His shaky legs hardened, stood him up and he immediately ran, the fight or flight response his brain suddenly got from the view he had just witnessed filled him with such terror and ache it was maddening. In a blink he was running away from his shadows all throughout the base as the men tried to stop their commander, to calm him, to speak to him, some were pushed, others even received a punch. Phillip felt like a child being chased by demons, demons who wrecked your body leaving it a mangled mess. His thoughts were running a mile per minute, thinking of your crisped corpse being eaten by crows, or any other wild life from Las Almas while the culprits celebrated their victory against him, of Soap taunting him back by exploding and burning your beautiful body while he was scaping the country like a coward, of the steel bracelet he gifted you the day of your promotion which he saw before in the room where they had placed your body, the steel had gathered so much heat it melted your skin to the bone until your wrist had detached from your arm. Without realizing he was screaming like a mad man pointing and swinging a knife to whoever tried to approach him while his feet carried him out the training yard.

He curses whoever was above for punishing him like this. His throat felt raw from the loud screams he had let out into the night's air, the crisp cold hit his sweating body like he had entered a giant fridge. His hair is wild as his hands keep tugging on his locks and scratching his own face, his uniform is damp with some stains of green from throwing himself into the wet grass of the training field. He was squirming on the spot as if he was getting electrocuted by a wave of sorrow and shock struggling to get a hold of himself, standing up only to lose balance and fall to the cold grass again and again, just like the newborn foals he helped birth at his father's farm learning how to stand without the help of their mother.

He was going mad then and there. As the shadows who ran after him pinned his body still and one of them tried to sedate their commander after disarming him in his crazed state. Right then as he struggled on the floor against all the shadows trying to calm him, Phillip knew he had lost his mind compleatly. When his eyes saw another shadow across the field, still and unmoving like a tree, the shadow took their helmet and face mask throwing them carelessly to the grass and he saw you. Your face was sad but stern. It held disappointment and... Betrayal.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart... I-I didn't mean to, this wasn't supposed to happen. Please don't look at me like that.. don't- PLEASE...!" He couldn't say it out loud as whatever they had injected into his veins was making him feel a strong wave of dizziness until his eyes closed and the last thing he saw was your form melting right before his pinned body, an invisible fire taking your life once again, your screams were silent as the commander was held too far from you. He felt useless unable to rescue even the fake you his own mind had projected.

How pathetic was that? How pathetic was him?

He'll never be the same. Not without his (Y/n). But gods be damned if he gave up on ending the entire 141 unit.

.

[qqueenofhades]

This may be a stupid question but do you really believe MTG is funded by Putin? In my head she's too fucking stupid to be calculating enough to actually enrich herself.

I don't know if she is actually getting money from the Kremlin or she's just a moron who loves to believe whatever conspiracy theorist nonsense she's told, but I think it's pretty clear she is either being handled fairly directly by Russian intelligence or is closely plugged into sophisticated Russian propaganda systems. Example A, Marge submitting an amendment to the Ukrainian aid bill insisting that aid not be disbursed until the Ukrainian government allegedly stopped "oppressing Hungarians in Transcarpathia." This is a key part of the Orban regime's anti-Ukraine talking points that has in turn been directly amplified by Russia, but it is so specific and so obscure (not to mention, there's literally zero chance Marge knows what any of those words or issues mean, or could find Transcarpathia on a map) that there's no way she organically came up with it on her own. She's also been otherwise echoing word-for-word Russian propaganda about them being "the defenders of Christianity" by invading Ukraine, which is one of Putin's preferred/favorite narratives and plays into the function of the Russian Orthodox Church as a Kremlin booster. Hence, if Marge is directly repeating Putin's personal justifications, I'd say it is more likely than not that she's getting something out of it.

As I have said before, it is pretty clear that Putin is ordering Trump to get the House GOP to stall Ukraine aid in exchange for help in the election, and there is a significant chunk of the House GOP that is eager to suckle at the Russian propaganda teat in all circumstances. (See: Hunter Biden's laptop being a Russian disinformation operation from the start that got exposed when the House GOP impeachment effort went up in flames.) We have also consistently had networks of Russian agents and Russian money be exposed in Europe, where they are offering financial incentives to EU politicians to serve as Kremlin shills. Russian dirty money has beyond doubt entered the Republican Party at many, many levels; we had that whole investigation about how Trump and the Russians have been working in concert for a long time. Now, because getting Trump in power again is so important for the Russians, and the Russians' help is so important for Trump in trying to stay out of jail, the corruption is pretty systemic.

In short, I figure it is only a matter of time if/when we find out that the most stridently pro-Russian members of the Treason Caucus are actually being paid by or otherwise benefiting from Russian lobbyists, because they are fascist traitors who love money, will kiss Trump's ass in any circumstances, and are willing to do anything in the name of undermining America, Ukraine, Biden, and Western democracy in general. We know it is the way Russian destabilization, disinformation, and influence operations customarily work, and that they have previously and consistently worked in cahoots with MAGA, so yeah. If Marge and Co. aren't active Russian assets, financially or otherwise, I would be very surprised.

[yanderes-galore]

Can we have Yan!Uppermoon!Uzui and his Yan!Demons!Wives capturing a Slayer and deciding to keep her?

Sure! Demon Hashira AU ^^ Not really the best with writing him and the wives so I'm going to warn this'll be short. I'm also having trouble being into Demon Slayer lately... I tried, I hope it was good even if it struggled with it lol.

Harem

Yandere! Demon! Uzui Tengen Short

Pairing: Romantic - Implied Poly

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Violence, Blood, Near death experience, Manipulation, Forced relationship implied, Swearing.

Everyone has heard of demons being powerful on their own. One basic demon could devastate an entire village. However, they are not the worst.

There's demons who are chosen as they are the most powerful. Sometimes they cultivate their power from experience, other times... people join them willingly.

Uzui is a strong demon who utilizes sound in his attacks. Alongside him are three female demons whom he calls his lovers. He's a demon dedicated to only them and his leader.

He also has a God complex, wishing for those lower than him to worship him.

When Uzui found you, a Demon Slayer meant to slay him, he laughed. He will admit upon meeting you for the first time he thought your determination was admirable, but laughable. You really thought you could beat him?

Uzui applauded you for putting up a fight. Unfortunately, you were fighting a losing battle. The slayers alongside you were no match. You see, even if you had a group, Uzui's much stronger.

Especially with his wives sneaking up from behind.

Uzui's shockwaves were enough to land your team on their ass before they were torn to bits. Soon you are at his mercy... Uzui's status as an uppermoon really showing in his strength.

"This mission they sent you on was suicide..." He comments, red eyes flicking towards your injured form. "You know that now, don't you?"

You say nothing, blood dribbling from your lips. Your eyes weakly look behind Uzui to see his wives. They stare at you hungrily, you're nothing but injured prey.

"It's a pity... wasting such good potential. It's like throwing a pebble at an attacking beast. You had no chance at harming me."

He steps closer, kneeling down to wrench your chin up. He thinks thoughtfully over your broken body before grinning. You could see his sharp teeth so close to your face.

"Don't you want a second chance?"

You have a questioning gaze. You're dying and a demon suggests a second chance. Of course he's attempting to use you even now....

"Poor thing can't even speak. That can easily be fixed. I think you have the potential to be my fourth."

Fourth...?

"You'd fit alongside my wives, dear. I'd treat you well and you can take your revenge. The slayers clearly see you as fodder, why not show them your true strength?"

The demon wanted you to commit treason. You either become a demon or die... a decison that held heavy consequences. You could die with honor... or-

"Look at you, thinking hard as your brain fails. What have you got to lose? You could die a human... or live as a demon. Be honest, which one sounds better?"

He picks you up as if you're a ragdoll, smiling. Charisma oozes with each word he says. You're in no place to fight him-

"I bet you were alone with the slayers, huh? No need to look so sad... you've proven to me you have the ability to fight. You'll never be alone if you join me. You can have... a family."

You feel him dig claws into your neck, causing you to sputter. Uzui looks disappointed in your silence or lack of response. He scoffs, slinging your bleeding body over his shoulder. Probably shouldn't have gouged your stomach....

"Your determination to cling to human life is sad. No matter, I wasn't going to give you a choice in the end anyways."

He turns and walks off with his wives in tow.

"If I say I think your worthy of being mine, there's no fighting it. Even if it means dragging your bleeding body where I want it to make you a demon. So sit tight, you're going to be mine, doesn't matter if you like it or not. I'm a GOD! You are foolish to even think of not joining me."

Far as the corps know, you're considered dead like the rest of your team.

What they don't know is you became victim of the infamous demon Uzui...

Forced to give up your humanity even if you were against it, all because he happened to like your fierce spirit.

[mychoombatheroomba]

The Crucible (Part 2)

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 50

The test ends.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

I had someone ask me to be tagged in upcoming chapters, so if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just ley me know!

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Chapter Index

In the last year and a half, you’d found yourself caught in many situations you felt ill-prepared for. You’d encountered the reanimated corpses of your comrades, your brothers in arms. You’d survived wounds that should have been the end of you. You’d been recruited into a secretive program to fight man-made monsters. You’d fallen for a man you’d never have met if it weren’t for all the horror you both endured. 

You’d been stabbed, burned, tortured, and you’d survived. You’d found a way through. 

You could navigate this conversation, too. Somehow. 

All you had to do was not make yourself look guilty of treason. 

Easy-fucking-peasy. 

“You’re not to be out of the barracks.” Reed approached you with a superior look in his eye. Fitting, given he technically was your superior. As much as you might hate that fact. 

Luckily, you had more than one man you took your orders from, these days. 

“Krauser asked me to keep setting wire charges for the mornings.” The lie came so easily to you, though maybe that was because the evidence to support it was literally hanging off your shoulder. The duffel bag held all the little components to make the traps your Major had taught you how to set up. 

Just setting charges, like normal. Not breaking into your office. Not reading your reports-

Your thoughts were so loud in your head you worried that they might escape you, somehow. Still, you willed yourself to be stone. Just as the man in front of you was. 

Or, more accurately, just as he normally was.

Reed’s long nose crinkled as he looked down at the bag, then back up to you. “I wasn’t aware of this.” 

“Didn’t know he had to tell you.” It was sharper than was smart, but you felt like you were backed into a corner . . . but then Reed hadn’t made any accusations yet, had he? “Didn’t know you were supposed to be out here, either.” 

Reed shrugged at that. “I can go where I please.” 

“So what brought you out here?” 

His eyes narrowed, and he reached into his pocket. A silver lighter was what he pulled out, one that he flipped open and then closed. Something you wouldn’t expect from the man, when in all the months he’d been here, all the weeks you’d been out late setting up lines with Krauser, you’d never once seen Reed smoke. But before you could voice that- “Bad habits, unfortunately.” He slid the lighter back into his pocket, then, studying you. “Maybe we have that in common.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re very close with the Major . . . aren’t you?” 

What the hell-

“He’s my commanding officer.” 

“And you spend a lot of time with your commanding officer. A lot of time in your off-hours,” Reed observed, and what the actual fuck was happening right now? “He gives you permissions far beyond your rank-”

“He likes things to be handled by competent people, I guess.” 

“Does he now?” Reed raised a brow, his eyes sharpening, and you were so thoroughly thrown off your guard you let the silence stretch a few moments between the two of you. “I can understand some familiarity. He did save your life, after all.” 

“Guess he wouldn’t have had to if that soldier had gone for my throat, right?” you hissed, because those words had been a splinter in you all day. One that you couldn’t get out, that festered. 

“I suppose not.” 

Fuck it. 

He knew something. He had some involvement with bioweapons. He’d known before STRATCOM asked him to help train recruits. And if the reports Krauser had were really all the incidents the government had on file, then there was only so much Reed and Hellman could have been involved with. 

The operation to retrieve the G-Virus . . . or the first communication with Birkin himself.

If you weren’t just pulling theories out of your ass.

Time to find out if you were. 

“Been thinking about that,” you said, your eyes cutting through the dark, aiming for him. “You were right. That soldier should have made sure I was dead.” Reed knew you were setting up something, you could see it in his eyes. The bastard was gracious enough to let you do it - not that you gave him much time to speak and interrupt that line of thought. “And our government should have arrested the man who made a biological weapon of mass destruction, but they didn’t. They made a deal with him. And now we’re all paying the price for some idiot’s actions.” 

You watched the agent’s face carefully. Watched as something raged against the cage of stoicism he’d built around himself. The corner of his mouth curled. “Now how did you learn about that?” he asked, and the two of you might as well have been circling each other with knives. 

And you would have to answer that question very carefully, or he’d be able to bleed you. 

“How did you?” you asked, and Reed actually smiled. 

Krauser’s smile usually meant trouble, at least when it came to training. It meant a challenge. This? That smile felt more like a snake baring its fangs. “Oh, Sergeant, you don’t want to play this game with me.” 

“I’m not playing.” The words were steel. “I want to know why any idiot would think that trying to make a deal with someone like that would be a good idea.” 

“Dealing with Birkin was a necessary compromise,” Reed hissed, taking a step forward, trying to back you towards the mess hall. You couldn’t smell any traces of cigarette smoke on him as he got close. “A force that is willing to do whatever it takes is the one that will remain in power.”

“Sure,” you felt rage rising like bile in your throat. “Just better hope it doesn’t kill our own people in the process, right?” 

“Sacrifices are a part of war,” Reed said, his tone devoid of any empathy. “I thought soldiers were supposed to know that. But then, soldiers are also supposed to follow orders. They’re supposed to not scrape for classified intel. And they’re supposed to not fraternize with their comrades . . . but here we are.” 

A muscle in your face twitched, and Reed smiled wider. Satisfied. 

“You’re done for the night. Get back to your barracks.” 

In the end, the two soldiers he pulled from night patrol to escort you back made it a difficult order to refuse. And so, you lay in your bunk, staring up at the ceiling. Good thing you were used to sleepless nights, because you had too many thoughts to sort out. 

Fraternizing. But Reed hadn’t spoken of Leon. No, he’d spoken of Krauser, and that thought . . . 

You tried not to focus on it too much, because for all his bluster, Reed had slipped. You’d seen the reports in his office. You’d read the matching ones Krauser had given you over and over again. Birkin’s name had been blacked out on each and every one of them, but Reed had just spoken that name to you. 

It left you exhausted as the hours passed by, but-

⧫⧫⧫

The purpose of the test was exhaustion. 

Leon had known that when he first heard the timeline of it. Fifty-four hours in the woods, with limited rations and even more limited sleep. Days full of physical and mental exertion. 

He wanted to sleep, he really did. Even if they were only being given four hours for it. Still, he hadn’t accepted any arguments from the others when he volunteered for a night shift. It was only right, in his mind. He’d been given the responsibility of leading during the test. He’d watch over everyone while they took their well-deserved rest. 

Valeria had insisted on taking the second watch, but for now she slept alongside the others on the forest floor, rifles at their sides. Ready for anything, just as Krauser had trained them to be. 

Leon half expected a tear gas canister to sail into their campsite. 

Or for Krauser to just storm in and start slicing proverbial throats. 

All that to say, Leon was keeping his focus on the space around the squad, listening for any signs of danger. 

And that was likely why he overheard the raised voices in the distance. 

Leon’s brow furrowed - because he’d recognize Krauser’s voice anywhere. He’d know the tone it took when the man was upset, too. 

He should just leave it. He knew that. 

That didn’t stop him from shaking Valeria awake, though, just in case. She grumbled when he whispered that he was going to check something out but took up his watch anyway. So, once the rest of the group had someone watching over them, Leon slunk off into the dark. He’d just proved earlier in the day that he could move quietly, but that didn’t make it any less difficult now. The shadows helped him move unnoticed, though, hiding him from the lights Leon found himself moving towards. 

There was a command tent set up in the woods, big enough to no doubt house Krauser, Hellman, and the other drill sergeants that traded out with them. A lantern dimly shined through the gaps in the canvas, letting Leon see movement inside. 

“He’s a fucking problem, Hellman, and you know it!” Krauser’s voice was not so easily confined as the light was. 

The response was mostly lost, until Leon moved closer. 

“ . . . perhaps drastic-” 

“Two of my men have had bones broken or dislocated under his watch. That’s not drastic, it’s incompetence at best,” Krauser shot back, and Leon’s jaw clenched. Reed. There was no one else they could be talking about. 

“And are you suggesting it was intentional at worst?” 

“He didn’t seem all that broken up about it.” A third voice, one Leon also recognized as Doc’s. 

There was a pause before Hellman spoke again. He sounded as tired as Leon felt. “You told me that he didn’t lay a hand on the injured recruit this time-”

“But we all know that wasn’t the case before.” Krauser reminded the agent, and Leon felt himself be thrown back several weeks. He was struck then with the memory of Hellman looking at him through two sets of prison bars, the sound of fists impacting flesh. The sound of your scream- “He’s losing us men. That’s all there is to it. Training them hard I have no problem with. Crippling them before they can even fight? That’s unacceptable, and I want him gone.” 

“You know I don’t have the authority to make that decision.” 

“Then we find someone who does!” 

“Major,” Hellman said, and Leon couldn’t miss the sympathy in his voice. “Reed is a difficult man, I know that. But he has always put the interests of our nation first. We wouldn’t be aware of Umbrella’s part in what’s happened without him.” Leon balked at that, the implications settling in his gut. “He has his reasons for doing what he’s doing, but . . . I understand what you’re saying. I’ll speak with him when we get back.” 

There was a huff. “You will,” Krauser ordered, leaving no room for debate. 

 A moment later the tent’s flap was thrown open and Krauser stormed out, absent his usual beret and wearing an expression of pure and utter frustration. He reached up, pressing a hand to his forehead, letting out a ragged sigh. Leon watched from the shadows of the forest, sympathy in his chest along with worry. 

He held on to those emotions as Krauser rounded the corner, heading towards the Humvee Leon could barely make out nearby, and the younger man took that as his cue to leave. 

“What was it?” Valeria asked in a hushed voice when he returned, and Leon grimaced in the dark. 

“Someone got hurt back on base. Reed was watching, I guess.” 

A scoff heralded Valeria’s response. “What a dick.”

A dick who’d been the reason the US government knew about Umbrella. And if that was so, Leon could only ask himself one question-

⧫⧫⧫

How did he know?

It plagued you into the morning, keeping you from sleep. That, and the veiled threats Reed had thrown at you in the night. 

Fraternization. Did he know? Or was he jumping to conclusions with the wrong man? You weren’t sure. Whatever the case, he wore a smug look the next morning, one that held disdain for you when you reported for First Call. 

But you weren’t being suspended from duty. So, he hadn’t told anyone his theory. Not yet.

Instead, Reed seemed to be taking his punishment out on the whole unit. He’d doubled the distance you all normally had to go for your morning run, and by the time breakfast rolled around, everyone was more than happy to dig in to the food offered, even if it tasted like shit on the best of days. Everyone but you, because you were rescued from that fate by one of Doc’s assistants. Even if Reed protested, having someone else remind him of your orders helped. 

There wasn’t much to do that morning, though, so you were pretty sure that the assistants just did it because hatred of the agent was spreading through the base like wildfire. 

So, you, them and Grayson hid out in the infirmary, eating the food that Doc had left for you. Pasta this time - a big tub of it that you all divided up and reheated. There wasn’t quite enough for everyone, but one of the two assistants volunteered up her share to Grayson before you even had the opportunity. She went to the mess hall instead, and you were left in the peace of the infirmary. It wasn’t exactly a talkative breakfast, but you were thankful for that. It gave you more time to think. To turn the night’s discoveries over in your head. 

Or, more accurately, the pieces of discoveries. 

You weren’t sure if those pieces fit together to make the actual puzzle become clear, or if your spite was leading you to force things to fit an image in your head. 

All you knew was that Reed was a bastard. That he wanted you gone, one way or another. That he was all but accusing you of sleeping with your commanding officer, if he wasn’t accusing you of fraternization in general. You were sure that he’d encountered BOW’s or at least knowledge of them before, and you were sure that he knew Birkin’s name and role in the talks with the government. 

You just couldn’t be sure of how he knew. 

That didn’t change the feeling in your gut though; the idea eating away at you, even as you went about your day. Birkin would have covered his tracks well. What he was doing might as well have been suicide, if the wrong people discovered his treachery. So, it begged the question - the same question that Alenko had voiced not so long ago:

How did Umbrella find out? Who ratted him out about the deal with the CIA?

Maybe Umbrella discovered it on their own. Or maybe someone tipped them off to Birkin’s actions. And if that were the case . . .

If Reed had been one of the few to be in a position to know, to do something . . .

If, if, if. 

So many ifs. So much depended on your hunch being right. 

All of those ifs and maybes, and one filled you with dread more than any other.

What if you were right? 

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what you would do because how could you present any evidence? You had none, save for inference from stories you shouldn’t have heard, and the reports hidden in your bunk that you shouldn’t even possess. Reports that, you decided, you desperately needed to return to Krauser’s office. You’d held on to them for too long, and Reed would be watching you now. You could feel his gaze on you all day long as he pushed you and the rest hard under the blazing July sun. 

Enough that, after the lunch you mercifully skipped to go to the infirmary, one of your comrades could take no more, it seemed, and doubled over, spewing her meal into the dirt. 

You grimaced but went to help her up when Reed deigned it not important enough to interfere. Unsurprisingly. The recruit brushed you off when you asked if she was alright, but she looked pale. That didn’t change over the rest of the afternoon, but she pushed through, even as the amount of exertion from the day left her and many others looking ill. 

And all the while, Reed’s eyes were fixed on you, some unseen equation in his head. You could see it - the two of you trying to assess each other. To understand one’s enemy. 

“Sergeant,” he ordered as you all reported for melee sparring, “let’s have another demonstration. See if all that time you’ve been spending with the Major is paying off.” 

You brushed off the insinuation as best you could, because even if he had the wrong man, the implication of his words . . . 

Didn’t matter now. Not until he made a formal accusation, you supposed. In the moment, you had opponents to deal with. Ones that were just as exhausted as you were, but opponents nonetheless. It was a familiar scenario that Reed set up for you, one that you’d been through a dozen times; your comrades lined up, stepping in to face you as you defeated the previous attacker. When Krauser had set such a challenge for you, though, you knew it was because he wanted to force you to be better. 

With Reed, you knew he only wanted to see you fail. 

Well, fuck him. 

You knocked your first opponent into the dirt. 

Disarmed the second. 

They didn’t put up much of a fight. Not like they usually did. A fact that concerned you, but still, you pressed on.

On and on, opponents were sent to face you-

⧫⧫⧫

And on and on, Leon fought them back. 

He could remember a time, not so long ago, when he’d watched you fight your way through his squad, one after the other. He remembered thinking that such a feat was impossible for him. That he would never be able to hold a candle to your abilities. 

Now, he was proving himself wrong. 

King of the hill. That was what Krauser had declared these fights would be. Winner gets to stay in the ring - a twenty-foot wide structure made of wood. One person lost the fight and was sent out, the next combatant was sent in. That meant only one winner by the end of it all. One fighter out of ten. Winner would be spared from whatever exercise was coming next, that was the deal.

Leon had been the third person to fight, and now, he was on his seventh opponent. Sweat dripped down his face and back under the oppression of the heat, his body sore and demanding rest. Still, he kept going. He ducked under swings and delivered counter cuts, kept his movements small and his mind sharp. It was enough that as Alejandro made a misstep, Leon was able to take advantage of it, his knife slashing forward as the other man went to switch his weapon from one hand to the other. 

Blunted metal met fabric and pressed against flesh. 

Two left. 

Two opponents. 

There was no BOW spin to this test. Nothing to make it seem like they were fighting a monster. This was a test of one’s skill against a person. The very thing Leon had struggled so hard with, in the beginning. Now, as Valeria stepped into the ring with him, knife in hand, Leon felt none of the anxiety he once experienced. None of the fear. 

Only the desire - even if you weren’t here to see it - to make you proud. 

Valeria put up a good fight. 

Leon would expect nothing less of her, but in the end, he had come to expect her scraping up dirt to throw in his eyes, or going for headshots. 

As she went for one, her knife aimed high, Leon spun low, using the same move that Krauser had knocked him down with just a few nights ago. It would have worked, too, if Valeria hadn’t read the next attack, spelled out in his exhaustion. Or, maybe she’d just intended to use the high attack as a feint. Either way, Leon hoped she’d intended to aim for something other than what she hit as he swung his leg out at hers. The attacks landed at the same time, and Leon was sure that him sweeping her supporting leg out from under her hurt a hell of a lot less than the shin that crashed into his face. 

His vision blurred as pain cracked into his nose and mouth, and then both he and Valeria were on the ground, groaning in pain. Copper flooded his mouth, warmth spilling down his lips and cheeks as he blinked. 

Ah, well, maybe he’d gotten overconfident . . .

But no immediate attack followed. He looked to where Valeria had fallen, seeing her up . . . but not attacking. She looked almost concerned. 

“The hell you doing, Soto?” Krauser asked, and Leon, even with what felt like a broken nose, smiled at her answer. 

“Letting him get a free shot in,” she admitted, giving him an apologetic smile. “Busted his face, seems only fair.”  

It would hurt her performance, Leon knew that, but she was doing it anyway. 

So, Leon pushed himself off the ground and threw himself into the fray again, not giving her the chance to really ready herself. You would have been pleased with that, and Krauser was too. At least in part. 

The fight ended in a few moves, Leon using a few feints of his own. When Valeria backed away from a slash, then rushed back in, Leon met her with a hard kick to the chest. She slammed backwards into the makeshift wall of the arena, and Leon pinned his knife to her throat there. 

“You okay?” were the first words she spoke to him, and Leon just nodded despite the blood dripping down his face. 

“Fine. You?” 

A laugh. “Fine.” 

Krauser stepped into the arena as Leon lowered his knife, the Major’s gaze a blade in and of itself. “Don’t let your enemy get back up, Soto,” he growled, “you know that.” 

“I do, sir,” Valeria nodded, sighing and letting exhaustion weigh her shoulders down. “You know me and my overconfidence,” she groaned, like it was some great enemy of hers. 

Krauser didn’t appreciate the joke. “If you know, then fix it, dipshit. Get out of here.” Valeria didn’t need to be told twice, throwing Leon a wink and rolling her shoulders as she left. “You good to keep going, rookie?” The question turned Leon’s attention to the Major once more, and Leon just huffed, spitting out some of the blood in his mouth. 

“Never been better, sir.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d fought with a bloody nose, and it wasn’t the first time he’d won with one, either. Williams gave him a run for his money, but in the end, she overcommitted to a strike, and gave Leon the time that he needed. He was exhausted by the time it was done, panting as he slashed his practice knife across Williams’ stomach. 

He tried to decline the prize. 

It would be bad for morale if the squad leader sat out while everyone else did a hundred pushups, Leon argued. Even if it would just bring him more exertion. 

Krauser had scoffed at the idea, shaking his head and telling Leon that he could do two-hundred if he was so inclined, but he’d do it after a medic saw him. Made sure he wasn’t concussed. 

So Leon found himself in the care of one of Doc’s assistants. The woman had swapped out with her mentor just before the melee test started. Leon recognized her - he’d seen her more than a few times when he’d come to visit you in the infirmary. 

She had never looked so pale, then. 

He watched her carefully, his brow furrowed in concern as she checked him over and gave him things to stop the bleeding in his nose. Her movements were sluggish, her face drawing into a grimace when she thought he wasn’t looking. “Are you okay?” he finally asked. 

He was given a surprised look and a not entirely-convincing nod. “I’m alright.” 

Leon nodded, but when he returned to the rest of the group, he couldn’t shake the feeling that-

⧫⧫⧫

Something was wrong. 

You’d felt the thought scratching at the door since afternoon. Someone getting sick from exertion wasn’t unheard of. This wasn’t someone, though. 

Not when you had a dozen beds full in the infirmary, and Doc was struggling to make sense of it all. There wasn’t much you could do, honestly. Most of the men and women who’d come in just lay in bed coughing wet air from their lungs or sitting hunched over buckets. 

A dozen of them. 

A dozen people, all coming down with the same sickness at the same time. 

A sickness that left them growing more and more pale as the sun dipped below the sky. And it didn’t continue to be just that dozen. Their fevers worsened, their complaints of aches growing and growing as others joined in, hobbling towards the infirmary-

Something was very, very wrong. 

By Doc’s expression, he knew it too. 

“Come on,” he gestured to his assistant, then to you. “Let’s get them some water.” 

The three of you didn’t make it more than two steps outside the main sick bay before Doc closed the door behind him . . . then locked it. “Go secure the other door,” he ordered his assistant, and you felt something rising up in you. Choking you. Cutting off your air with a familiar grip . . . 

But this wasn’t . . . 

It couldn’t be . . .

“Sergeant.” An order. Give me an order. Something to do. Some way to help. “Get to the comms tower. Tell the Major there’s a situation.” 

A situation. 

A non-committal word. Because a situation could be resolved. De-escalated. 

That was all this was. 

That had to be all this was. 

You and Doc were just being cautious. Quarantine was a safe play. Alerting Krauser was the smart thing to do. 

So, you nodded, trying to ignore the way your own stomach lurched. Praying it was just nerves and not something else. 

“Sergeant?” Grayson asked, poking his head out of the room that had been yours for so many weeks. His arm was in a sling, but otherwise, he looked fine. “Is something wrong?”

“Get back in your room.” The order was given without even a second glance at your fellow cadet. “Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Doc.” 

If Grayson was frightened by the command, you didn’t see it. You were too busy storming out of the infirmary, heading towards the comms station. A place you’d spent little time in, during your tenure here. It was a long walk there, one that felt longer and longer as your thoughts closed in on you, a hungry pack with gnashing teeth. They nipped at your heels, your head snapping towards the sound of a hacking cough in the distance. 

Get to the comms. 

Tell Krauser. 

Get back and-

You were half-way across the base when it happened, passing through the training yard that you’d spent so many evenings in. There was no music coming from Krauser’s office, given the man wasn’t there, but if there had been, it would have been cut off. Just as surely as the lights were. 

You stopped mid-stride as the streetlights, the buildings, everything, was plunged into near darkness in the gray, fading light of dusk.

And for a moment, your heart stopped with it when, in the dark you heard it:

⧫⧫⧫

Footsteps. 

Leon hadn’t been sure he’d heard it. In all honesty, there was too much other movement from his squad to be sure. They were getting ready to set up camp for the night, Alejandro volunteering to take up watch. The last night of the test - the final stretch. The group, Leon included, was exhausted, more than happy to bunk down for the four hours of rest, eating what little of their MRE’s were left in the stretching shadows of the trees. It had been a moment of rest. A brief reprieve. 

And it ended with those shuffling footsteps. A cautious voice. “Hey, guys, we’ve got-”

And then a scream. 

Leon was on his feet in an instant, his gun raised and ready for whatever test Krauser had planned . . .

But then there was a wet ripping sound. A splattering, a choked cry . . . and in the dim, fading light, Leon saw crimson as a body fell to the forest floor. 

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Chapter Index

Tag list (if you'd like to be added, just let me know)!

@greywardensaywhat

[endofradio]

FRAGMENTS OF FEAR — CHAPTER 7: TREASON

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6

WARNINGS: gore mentions

NOTES: i lowkey locked in with this chapter WHY IS IT SO LONG. i also decided to spice things up a bit by having sylvie talk to abigail instead of joey doing it (when abigail says that frank is valdez). i am VERY excited to write the scene where abigail exposes everybody because the drama is going to be REAL.

SUMMARY: now that everyone’s locked inside, sylvie decides to make the decision to talk to abigail herself, something that she regrets. after rickles dies next, sylvie confronts frank, which only leaves her feeling more confused and frightened than she already is.

WORD COUNT: 3,290

TAGLIST: @reclaimedbythesea @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @that-one-gay-aew-enthusiast @evildarliing @maggotmommys @maggotssmichael @13th-floor-in-moonstone @vampireheist @xashleyo03x @blackwolfstabs @atcarpenter

shoot me a message if you’d like to be added to my taglist! and… seriously — reblogs and comments are heavily appreciated. don’t just leave a like! it helps keep me motivated. 🙏

“Come on, Rickles. Hey!”

Rickles was storming straight for the front door, adamant on his decision to leave. Even with Joey calling for him and following after him, he didn’t change his mind one bit. Once he reached the door, he attempted to open it.

Well, unfortunately for him, the door was completely locked. There was no way to get out. In fact, as Rickles attempted to open the door, some sort of silver gate rose up, blocking the door from any sort of access. It was completely shielded by the gate. Everyone stared at the door in confusion. How the hell did that happen?

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Peter asked. He figured that since he was the strongest of the entire group, he probably had a chance at unlocking the door. It was worth a try, at least.

Turns out, being 6’5” and over 200 pounds doesn’t always make somebody the strongest. No matter how hard Peter strained as he tried to break the door free, nothing happened.

Confused, Peter looked up at the door. “What the fuck?”

He turned around to look at Rickles. “Rickles, stand back.”

Rickles took a few steps back, and then Peter threw himself at the gate, trying to use all of his strength in an attempt to successfully break through it. Still, nothing happened. It only resulted in some physical pain that definitely hadn’t been worth it.

“It’s locked,” Peter announced, disappointed.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Peter. It’s obviously fuckin’ locked.”

Sylvie and the others watched as Peter still tried to unlock the door. Great, so now everyone was stuck here. Dean had mysteriously been killed, and now the front door was completely unusable. It almost seemed like this entire place was just one big trap.

Frank sauntered over to Sylvie with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.”

Sylvie looked up at Frank, a half-annoyed expression on her face. Seeing that infuriatingly smug grin on his face made her want to just smack him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Maybe she was a coward, maybe it was something else. Either way, the fact she couldn’t make herself do anything about it was bothering her. It was as though her feelings toward Frank were slowly beginning to do a complete 180° in the span of just a few hours.

“And I bet you’re just happy about that, aren’t you?” She asked, trying to sound like a total smart-ass. A snarky response was the most Sylvie could do.

Frank’s smirk grew at Sylvie’s response. He only looked cockier. “Well, I’m certainly not complaining.”

“This whole thing is a trap.”

Frank and Sylvie looked to see Rickles walking away in an obvious hurry. If the front door wasn’t going to be any use, then he figured he’d keep looking. He was determined to get out of this place somehow.

Peter watched as Rickles disappeared. “Rickles! Where’s… hey. Where’s Rickles going?”

“Goddamnit.” Frank hissed under his breath. “Don’t worry about it, Peter. I’ll go after him.”

Peter sighed. “Alright.”

Joey then had an idea. “If Valdez is here, perhaps he checked on the girl and left her there to throw us off…” she speculated.

“I’ll go talk to her.” Sylvie then offered. Right as Joey was about to speak, she was already making her way back up the stairs to the kid’s room.

“Wait—”

Sylvie paused, turning around to look at Joey, who was trying to catch up with her.

“You can’t go in there, Ava.”

“She’s already seen my face. It doesn’t matter.”

Before Joey could say anything else to try and stop Sylvie, she continued on her way.

When Sylvie carefully opened the door, Abigail looked up at her, fearfully clutching a blanket. The sight made Sylvie’s heart clench. She felt really, really bad for the kid. None of this was right at all. She should be at home right now, not locked up in some mansion in the middle of nowhere in Massachusetts.

“What do you… want?” The girl croaked, her voice trembling. “Where’s Joey?”

Sylvie sighed, carefully taking a seat on the edge of the bed, making sure to keep her distance. The last thing she wanted was to make the kid even more afraid than she already was.

“I just need to ask you something,” Sylvie explained, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just need to talk to you, okay?”

Reluctantly, the girl slowly nodded. She still seemed wary of Sylvie, but not as much. Well, that was a good sign at least.

“Has anyone else been in this room?” Sylvie then asked.

Abigail paused, then shook her head. “N-no… just you and… Joey… and the man with the glasses…”

Sylvie slowly nodded. Only her, Joey, and Frank had been in the room, apparently. Just to make sure that Abigail was being honest, she decided to press a little more. She knew how scared kids could lie, speaking from her own experience. Sylvie had personally lied a lot as a child to protect herself. If Valdez had come in here, there was the possibility that he could’ve threatened Abigail into keeping his name out of her mouth. Hopefully, that wasn’t the case.

“Are you sure?” Sylvie asked, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Abigail gave a quick nod.

Sylvie sighed. “Nobody else has been in this room, is that correct? By the way, you can be honest. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Abigail shook her head. Sylvie tried to search her expression for any sign of hesitation, but… she appeared to be telling the truth. Sylvie couldn’t detect a single sign of dishonesty.

She was about to get up and leave the room when Abigail suddenly spoke up.

“He’s gonna hurt me.”

Sylvie turned around to look at her, noticing how the girl seemed to be completely frightened again. She paused, feeling her chest begin to tighten with concern.

“What do you mean? Who’s gonna hurt you?”

“The man with the glasses.” Abigail continued, her voice growing more panicked. “He said he’s gonna hurt me.”

Sylvie could feel her chest start to tighten even more. “Wait, hold on. Are you telling me the truth?”

Abigail frantically nodded. “Yes! I’m serious… I’m serious. Please… please believe me. I’m really scared. He said I need to keep a secret, or… or he’d hurt me.”

“What secret?”

What she said next made Sylvie’s heart just about drop to her stomach.

“He said he works for my father… he said his name’s… Valdez.”

Fuck.

Sylvie didn’t know what to believe. Sure, Frank was a cold-hearted bastard in all honesty… but a ruthless murderer? Maybe she was just in denial, but she couldn’t picture him doing what had been done to Dean. She wasn’t sure if he was that sadistic, that cruel. The idea of Frank working for Lazar and being a brutal killer was enough to make Sylvie sick to her stomach.

If it was all true… then what else did Sylvie not know about Frank?

“You’re not just saying that, right?” She carefully asked.

Abigail looked so afraid that she seemed as though she was about to break down in tears. She fervently nodded again. “I’m telling the truth, I promise!”

Sylvie had to get out of there. She couldn’t bring herself to hear anything else. She didn’t want to hear anything else.

But, as she started to head for the door, Abigail spoke up again.

“Why are you surprised?”

Sylvie was starting to feel increasingly agitated. She turned around again, suddenly sick of hearing the child’s voice. “What the hell do you mean?” She asked, sounding almost irritated. She instantly regretted it.

“He’s a very bad man. I think you know that.”

Sylvie had enough. Quickly, she rushed out of the room and shut the door, her mind struggling to process everything she had just heard. None of it made sense. None of it seemed… real. She leaned against the door, trying to steady her breathing.

What am I supposed to do now?

As Sylvie remained there, her back pressed against the door, she tried to think. As she reflected on Abigail’s words, she thought about what she said about Frank working for Lazar. As she thought about it… she reluctantly realized that it made sense. She remembered back to when she and Frank were talking earlier, how he had admitted to leaving his old life behind.

What if he had been referring to working for Lazar?

The more Sylvie thought about it, the more sick she felt. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Maybe the kid’s just lying because she’s scared.

But… why would she say something like that?

Why are you surprised? He’s a very bad man. Those words kept repeating in Sylvie’s brain. But… what confused her the most was Abigail’s next words after that, “I think you know that.” What the hell had she meant by that? I think you know that? Sylvie didn’t even know who the fuck the girl was.

What was even worse was that she was right — Sylvie knew that Frank wasn’t a good person. But… “a very bad man?” What the fuck— nevermind. She was done thinking about this bullshit. The more she thought, the more confused she became.

As Sylvie continued to lean against the door, she heard voices coming from one of the rooms down the hall — Joey and Rickles. Quickly, she hurried down the hall and into the room, clearly interrupting a conversation. Upon seeing the worry on Sylvie’s face, though, Joey and Rickles both became concerned.

“What is it?” She asked.

Sylvie drew in a shaky breath. “Something is really fucking wrong.”

Joey narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Sylvie couldn’t bring herself to explain. “If you want to know, go talk to the girl yourself. I don’t… I don’t know if she’s being serious or not.”

Joey and Rickles exchanged a disconcerted glance before looking back at Sylvie. Joey slowly nodded. “Alright. I’ll… be right back.”

Once Joey disappeared, Rickles glanced at Sylvie again. “You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” He commented. “The hell happened?”

Sylvie shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it. If she tells Joey the same thing she told me, I swear to God…”

Now, Rickles just seemed confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Look. Are you sure there’s no other way out of here? I need to get out of here. I… I want to go home.”

Rickles sighed, crossing his arms. “Trust me, I wish there was. As far as I know, we’re all locked up in here for who knows how much goddamn longer. I’m not buying the ‘twenty-four hours’ bullshit. I guarantee this is a trap.”

Sylvie nervously tapped her foot against the floor, her eyes darting around anxiously as she waited for Joey to return, anticipating what she would say. Seconds ticked by, and they were starting to seem like hours at this point.

“You believe Valdez is real, right?” Sylvie then asked.

Rickles slowly nodded. “I’ve heard too much shit about him for him not to be.” He answered, his voice taking on a grave tone.

“Do you really think it’s possible he’s here right now? Like, one of us is actually him?”

“Dean’s head was ripped clean off. That’s some bullshit that only Valdez is capable of,” Rickles explained, “and if the girl’s Lazar’s daughter… gives him more of a reason to be here.”

“Have you two seen Frank?”

Sylvie and Rickles turned around to see Joey briskly walking towards them. Her expression was difficult to read, but she did seem rather pissed. At least, that’s what her tone of voice suggested.

“I can go look for him.” Rickles then offered. “Why? He the next victim?”

Joey scoffed. “No. Actually, he might be the killer.”

Rickles’ eyes narrowed in a mixture of confusion and shock. “Wait, what?”

Sylvie felt like she was going to vomit right then and there.

“Frank is Valdez.” Joey continued, her voice cold. “He told the girl.”

Rickles wasn’t exactly buying it. “He wanted to leave. That doesn’t make any sense.”

He had a good point, Sylvie thought. If Frank was really Valdez, then why the hell did he seem so adamant about leaving after talking to Abigail?

“He acted like he wanted to leave.” Joey then said.

“If he’s Valdez and Lazar’s his boss, then why kidnap his kid?” Rickles questioned.

Sylvie was relieved that at least Rickles was skeptical… but at the same time, if Frank wasn’t Valdez, then who was? Jesus Christ… none of this was making any sense.

“Maybe he and Lambert are planning a power play.” Joey suggested.

Rickles let out a sigh. “You’re telling me that skinny motherfucker rips people apart?” He scoffed. “Something doesn’t add up.”

Sylvie decided that she might as well offer her opinion. “I know he’s an asshole, but I can’t picture him doing some gruesome shit like that, y’know?”

Joey seemed reluctant to believe Rickles and Sylvie, her expression wary. “All I know is that Frank definitely isn’t an amateur. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.” She spoke. “If Frank really is Valdez, then he definitely knows how to get out of here, which means so would I if I spend about six minutes with him.”

“So… what’s the plan?” Sylvie asked.

Joey sighed, clicking her tongue as she tried to think of something. “You two split up and take the main staircase. I’ll go south. We’ll meet in the middle.”

Reluctantly, Sylvie slowly nodded. “Alright.”

Rickles tried to offer a small, reassuring smile. “We gonna get through this.”

“I have to.”

“You have a kid?” He asked.

Joey nodded. Sylvie felt a pang in her chest. God… she definitely did not belong here. Silently, Sylvie hoped that Joey’s son was safe and well back at home.

Rickles placed a comforting hand on Joey’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure you get home.”

As Sylvie wandered through the mansion, she started to feel unsafe now that she had lost sight of Rickles. Now, she was by herself, and suddenly… everything seemed eerily quiet. Where was he, anyway?

Sylvie stood there in the hallway, her eyes anxiously darting around as she tried to see if she could hear or spot any sign of him. Yet, there was nothing.

And then, she heard what sounded like gurgling coming from the distance. Her heart starting to race with worry, Sylvie dashed toward the direction of where the sound was coming from, leading her to another room. As she stood in the doorway, she saw Rickles standing there, his back turned.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Sylvie asked, her voice cautious.

Then, Rickles suddenly collapsed, and that was when Sylvie caught sight of his face — it was horribly mutilated and looked as though a fucking dog had ripped through his face. His cheek was torn open, and she could see his teeth through the gaping, bloody hole. The wound went all the way down his neck, dark blood staining his shirt.

Covering her mouth, Sylvie took a few steps back, desperately fighting the urge to vomit. She immediately wanted to break down and cry right there, just… scream. “What the fuck…? No, no, no…”

Two people had just brutally died in this mansion. Already, two people were gone in only a brief span of time. Sylvie didn’t know how much more she could handle. Who was going to be next? That was all she could think about.

Quickly, Sylvie ran to the nearest bathroom, opening the toilet seat as she retched. Nothing came up, so all she could do was let out painful dry heaves. Once she was done, she closed the seat and staggered to her feet. Suddenly feeling a rush of anger, she slammed her fists against the wall, as though she was trying to knock some sense into herself. Maybe this was just a nightmare, and she’d wake up from it.

“Wake up… fucking WAKE UP!”

She continued to punch the wall, but nothing happened. She only felt pain… which meant this was either real or a hyper-realistic nightmare. Unfortunately, it was beginning to seem like it was… real.

“Hey, what the fuck’s the matter with you?”

Sylvie whipped her head around, her senses on high alert. Any movement, sound, or voice was enough to make her jump out of her skin at this point.

When she turned around, Sylvie saw Frank standing there, looking at her with a mixture of annoyance and… perhaps a bit of concern, which was rather rare to see from him. It seemed more like an annoyed type of concern, whatever the hell that meant.

Upon seeing Frank’s face, Sylvie didn’t know how to react. One thing was for sure — she didn’t feel good.

“Get… get away from me.”

Frank narrowed his eyes, his annoyance growing. Instead of listening to Sylvie and backing away from her, he only stepped closer to her. She flinched as he moved towards her, almost as if she was expecting him to hurt her.

Frank let out an irritated scoff. “Jesus Christ, would you calm the fuck down? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Why don’t you have any… blood on you?” Sylvie asked, her voice shaking.

Frank looked taken aback by the question, his eyes widening slightly in a genuine expression of shock. “The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“You… you’re Valdez. The girl… the girl told me.”

Frank went from shocked to annoyed in seconds. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You’re seriously listening to her?”

“Rickles just… Rickles just died. Rickles and Dean are both dead. You…”

Frank rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Sylvie, for the love of God. You don’t have a single clue what you’re fuckin’ talking about, do you? I know you’re smarter than this.”

“Well, can you please tell me what the fuck is going on? I just saw two people die. I’m scared. I want to get out of here.”

“What’s going on?” Frank repeated. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Please tell me the truth. The girl said the same thing to me and Joey, that you’re… that you’re Valdez.”

Frank let out an annoyed huff. “Did she, now? Well, I don’t appreciate people trying to tarnish my fuckin’ reputation.”

Sylvie swallowed, trying to steady her breathing. “So… she’s lying?”

Frank chuckled, the sound devoid of any humor. “No fuckin’ shit. Children love to lie… but lying about something like this? I’d say that somebody needs to be put in their goddamn place.”

“But then… who did it? Who’s… killing everybody?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. That’s what we’re all trying to figure out, right?”

Letting out an annoyed grumble, Frank turned around to walk away. Just as he was about to leave, Sylvie spoke.

“You’re not going to let anything happen to me, right? Just… tell me everything’s going to be okay. I don’t… I really don’t want to die. Not here.”

Frank paused, looking back at Sylvie for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but he seemed slightly caught off-guard by her sudden vulnerability. In the time that he knew her, he never once heard her ask him for reassurance. Frank had always known Sylvie as a defiant, feisty little brat… yet, here she was, frightened to death because she didn’t want to die. It was a side of her that he had never seen before.

No, don’t let her get to you.

Frank remained silent for a few moments, trying to think of how he would respond.

“You’re not gonna die.” He simply answered, his voice matter-of-fact. Cold. Emotionless.

And then, he left.

[vodika-vibes]

How to Get Away With Murder

Summary: When Commander Fox burst into your office before lunch one day, you think that he's coming to steal you away for a midday rendezvous, as per the norm for your relationship. But he has something else up his sleeve.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Reader

Word Count: 1124

Warnings: Uh, some generally decent people planning murder

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: I was feeling the urge to write Fox, so I did. Also, today I learned the difference between a hit and an assassination. An assassination is always politically or religiously motivate. A hit is just a murder.

Divider by Saradika

Commander Fox, the love of your life, leans across your desk, a shit eating grin on his handsome face, and you can’t help but think that his time working under Palpatine finally caused him to crack. Of course, that’s also assuming that he wasn’t a little bit cracked when he first came to Coruscant. Which, knowing him, he probably was.

You lean back in your chair and eye your Commander warily, “Why are you in such a good mood?” 

“I have a brilliant idea.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to be involved,” You reply immediately, seeing as his brilliant plans tend to involve a degree of risk that you’re not sure you like or not.

Of course, you seem to be physically unable to say no to Fox.

He leans back in the other chair, his wide grin turning into a smug smirk, “Yeah, you do.”

You mentally curse him, and rest your chin on the palm of your hand, “Fine. What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to kill the Supreme Chancellor.” Fox replies blithely. 

“Is…isn’t that treason?” You ask. Tellingly, that’s your only concern.

“They can elect another one. One that isn’t corrupt. Like you.” Fox replies, and then he hops to his feet and walks around your desk and pulls you to your feet, intentionally tugging you so that you’re flush against him, “It’ll be fun~” He coos right in your ear.

You shiver, and then tilt your head back so you’re able to look right in his eyes, “Murder isn’t fun.”

“It is if you do it right.” He grins and presses a quick kiss to your lips, “Come on, babe. We have work to do.” Fox takes your unprotesting hand and pulls you out of your office, “Besides, if we do this right, then me and my brothers get rights, and I can finally stop listening to Thorn bitch over the fact that he can’t kiss his girlfriend.”

“Wait,” You hurry to keep up with his much longer legs, “Thorn has a girlfriend?”

“Yup. But he can never see her because the Chancellor is an abusive asshole.” Fox replies.

“Then how do you have time to come and see me?” You ask as you half jog to keep up with him.

“You, cyare, are a senator. Which means I can just walk my happy ass into your office and take what I need.” Fox replies with a small smirk.

“I wish you wouldn’t say it like that,” You grumble.

“Am I wrong?”

“No. I just wish you wouldn’t say it in such a disgusting way.” You reply.

He laughs, a warm sound that never fails to make you smile at him like a lovesick schoolgirl. Fox favors you with a smile that he reserves for you and you alone, and then he opens a door and tugs you into a well lit, buzzing, room. “Okay, I’m back.”

You look around the room and fight the urge to hide behind Fox. There are a lot of big names in the room.

Aside from you, a relatively small-time senator from a backwater planet no one in the Republic actually cares about, there’s also Senators Organa, Mothma, Amidala, and Chuchi. All three of them are rather big names, and you feel very out of place. 

Aside from the four senators, there are also Generals Kenobi, Koon, and Windu in the room…plus their respective Commanders.

“Senator,” Senator Organa greets you with a kind smile, the same way your father greets you whenever you go home to help out on the family farm, “Forgive me! Had I known that you were a believer in our cause, I would have invited you myself.”

Fox guides you over to an empty chair, a smug grin on his lips, and you shoot him a look, which only makes his grin more smug. “This cause being the assassination of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic?” You ask, very dryly.

“Assassination is such an ugly word,” Senator Amidala says lightly.

“Oh. Is there another term used for the politically based murder of a specific person?” You ask.

“We’re doing it for a good cause.” General Kenobi says patiently.

“It’s still called an assassination.” You point out.

“You’re not incorrect,” General Windu interjects, “Does it bother you?”

“No. I’m the one who has to patch up Fox after a bad day. But I was just going to poison him, so-”

Fox chokes down a laugh, “You’re amazing and I don’t deserve you.”

“So long as you know, darling.” You lean back in your seat, and Fox’s gloved fingers brush against the back of your neck, “I assume there’s a plan?”

“There is, but we need the Guard outside of the senate building.” General Koon says quietly, “And we’re not sure how to do that.”

“Oh, I can take care of that.” You say with a tilt of your head, “Easy.”

“How are you going to do that?” Senator Chuchi asks, “Without alerting Palpatine-?”

You smile serenely at her and pull your comm out of your purse. You pause, and tilt your head back to look up at Fox, “How big of a riot do you need?”

Fox frowns thoughtfully, “To empty the Corrie barracks and the Senate building? A couple thousand.”

You send a series of messages, and you get responses almost immediately, “Uhh…how does seven thousand sound?”

“You can really get that many people?” Fox asks as he leans over your shoulder.

“Yeah. There are a lot of anti-war, anti-government protestors who are happy to riot at the drop of the hat.” 

“I’m sorry, how do you know these people?” General Kenobi asks.

“Uh…the best way to enact change is from the inside?” You admit with a grin.

“How many protests have you personally set up?” Senator Mon Mothma asks with a sharp glare.

“I’m not answering that question on the grounds that I don’t want to, and also you’re in here planning the assassination of the Supreme Chancellor, so maybe you shouldn’t cast stones while in a glass house.” You send another series of messages, “And…done. You have three hours to come up with a good plan, because that’s when the riots start.”

Senator Organa grins at you, “When we’re done with all of this, kid, you and I need to have a conversation.”

“Uh…I suddenly feel like I’ve been called to the principal’s office.” You mutter under your breath.

Fox laughs softly and presses a light kiss to the top of your head, “Don’t worry so much, cyare. Everything is going to be fine.”

And you relax as the much older people in the room start debating. If Fox says everything is going to be fine, then it has to be true. Fox isn’t a liar after all.

[madamairlock]

Drabble #16 please!

16) "It's a new law, look it up."

His fingers traced patterns on her skin, moving over her back and down her arms only to repeat the circle again. Each new pass renewed her goosebumps that weren’t helped by the chilly air in his quarters. Slowly, his hand moved lower, tentatively caressing her hip and her ass before it moved back to more neutral ground. She shifted encouragingly, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“There’s more to explore, you know,” she murmured, the soft and sultry rapidly catching his attention.

“I could spend days between your legs,” he confessed without looking away from the ceiling.

“I heard you have to explore everything periodically. Like you’re patrolling your property.” She smirked and stretched her hand out for his. It wasn’t an analogy she would ever use with anyone else, but with Bill she knew it was safe.

“Where did you hear that?” His eyebrow rose up as he tilted his head toward her.

“It’s a new law. Look it up.” Her smirk widened. “Straight from the President’s desk.”

“Well…” He dragged the word out and his touches grew more purposeful and firm. “It would be treason to disobey then, wouldn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far…” She hummed as his lips found hers and his arm braced her so he could roll them over. “But it’s best to be safe.”

“Oh, yes.” He gently tugged on her lip and knelt between her legs. “I’ll get to work right away, Madam President.”

“You are my best Admiral.” She stretched her legs out and arched up into his hands as they lightly kneaded her thighs.

“At your service.” His cocky grin was the last thing she saw before he made space for himself and dove between her legs.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

A Sisters Love Sequel

You could almost laugh at the enforcers escorting you.

Each cautious of you, even in cuffs.

Some when you were in a cell had even shit talked about you, Silco and Jinx.

That didn't go over well, especially since they had to come into your cell to give you meals.

But now, here you were.

Handcuffed and shackled at the waist, arms and legs as you headed to the top.

You were being sentenced today, by shit for brain councilors, at that.

"Walk." An enforcer ordered, shoving you closer to the middle of the room.

It almost looked like you were on display, displayed as one of the most wanted Undercity residents.

From the whispers that you could hear once they heard your chains clicking, you could tell you had an audience.

The enforcer led you to the middle, standing you still as they tightened your cuffs.

"Don't try to pull anything." The obvious woman under the mask sneered.

"Me? Never." You mused with a smirk, only infuriating the enforcer more.

But they couldn't do shit to you. Not in front of your admires.

It was pitch black in the tower, barely able to see In front of you.

But as a light shone above you, whispers flickered throughout the entire tower.

All you could do was smile at them all, even with their disgusted eyes judging you.

You looked at every councilor, picking each apart until you got to Jayce.

The man just stared at you, but you could see the slight fear and disgust in them.

"Do you know why you are here today?" A sudden voice called out.

It was the councilor Mel Medarda, you'd heard of her from down below.

"Don't you have a list or something?" You shrugged, feeling too tired and annoyed to answer.

"Yes, we do. We just need a verbal answer." Medarda continued, her professionalism almost making you puke.

"Murder, explosives, theft, treason, plotting, other bullshit I can't remember…" you trailed off, almost laughing at the horror on the citizens faces.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Or for your companion?" Jayce asked, catching your attention.

You finally got angry, him telling the council Jinx was dead was part of your deal.

The guy seemed to fucking lazy to even hold up his end.

"Jinx is dead." You sneered, hearing the whispers disperse as they listened.

"I'm the one who is on trial, not her." You finished, shrugging off the man's glare.

"Again, do you have anything to say for yourself before you are sentenced?" Council Medarda cut in.

You sighed, not angry or tired, just utterly annoyed at the fucking inconvenience.

"What's the point? I did what I did against your bitch ass city. Get over it."

You heard the gasps at your language at the councilors, but who the hell cares?

You quite actually giggled at the citizens gasps and the arrogant councilors faces.

"Your city is full of assholes who spit on my people for years. I did what I did to fuck over your city for ruining lives, do you expect me to apologize?"

"Watch your mouth!" A councilor man finally stood up, angered at your words as an enforcer held his shoulder.

"Or what? Whatcha gonna do? Bite me?" You teased, laughing at his face.

"Enough!" Jayce exclaimed, seemingly as fed up with this all also.

"You," He turned a pointed look at you, getting a smile in return.

"Are sentenced to Stillwater Prison where you belong, where you will rot for the rest of your life."

Jayce finally finished, waiting for a reaction from you but merely getting a yawn.

Jayce shook his head, looking around as the citizens all looked ready to spit on you.

You simply waved your fingers at them all, holding out your cuffed hands to be dragged away.

You were escorted by more enforcers than before, surrounded as angry citizens tried getting to you.

You laughed at the whole ordeal, waving at them like some sort of celebrity.

Butt, you sorta were right now, weren't you?

Finally you got outside and the fun ended.

"Get in." An enforcer pulled open a car door, another shoving you inside.

You rolled your eyes at them before getting situated yourself.

Other enforcers joined you before the van finally started, looking out the window you could tell you were headed for the shore.

You had to cross with a boat to get to the prison, maybe you can throw an enforcer or two down into the water.

But that thought was quickly put to rest once you heard a deafening boom and the van stop.

Enforcers all looked around confused before another went off, right next to the van.

They all looked at you once you laughed at their horror.

"Never been through this before?" You asked, just as the van's doors were pulled open.

You could see rubble everywhere, fires started and most of all, Sevika was there to pull you out of the van.

"Get your ass out here, Kid." Sevika threw. "Gladly." You smiled, slipping out your handcuffs and ankle shackles.

You'll lazer the others off.

Sevika grabbed your arm and helped you down from the van, just for you to see Silcos goons helping distract enforcers.

Just as you got out the van and far enough away, the enforcers stuck in there were blown to bits.

You watched happily as the van burnt up in flames before you heard a yell.

"(Name)! Did you see that?! I did that?!" You turned around with a smile to see Jinx.

Silco stood there with her, both watching you before Jinx ran.

You followed her lead, meeting her in the middle with a hug as Silco joined.

"Why'd you give yourself up for me?!" Jinx exclaimed, pulling away from the hug to punch your chest with tears welled.

"Cause I knew there would be a plan, plus, your explosives work better than mine."

You laughed, pulling Jinx's hands from punching you as you made her look at you.

"Were you treated well?" Silco finally asked, inspecting you for injuries.

"They were too afraid to do anything." You shrugged, getting a nod from Silco.

You knew he would never do it so you did it yourself.

You hugged the man. Feeling him tense before relaxing, Jinx joined you.

The man stood there with his hands at his sides for a moment.

Then he finally allowed himself to hug his daughters back.

"Come on. No need to linger." Silco finally cleared his throat after a minute.

"Oh! Come on, (Name)! He got new goons we can bother." Jinx excitedly told you as the other goons who dealt with the enforcers began to disperse.

"I just wanna sleep." You complained, being dragged back to the Undercity where you belong.

"Too bad. Well watch the news later."

You did, in fact, watch the news.

It told the terrible story on how enforcers we're killed by Undercity citizens angry at your arrest.

And enforcers and you, were killed in the chaos.

People mourned the enforcers while celebrating your death.

But you weren't really dead, were you?

[sofrosine]

— 15 LINES TAG

tagged by my beloveds @corvosattano and @nightbloodbix — thank you both!

tagging (opt in or out here!): @gwynbleidd @risingsh0t @adelaidedrubman @firstaidspray @faarkas @queennymeria @florbelles @shallow-gravy @socially-awkward-skeleton @henbased @roofgeese @belorage @strangefable @unholymilf @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @cptcassian @delicateweapon @marivenah @thedeadthree @inafieldofdaisies

RULES: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

turns out to have 15 lines of dialogue for a character you have to actually write for them…disappointed and surprised. anyway — here’s five lines from my three most enjoyable to write kiddos!

1. “Bugs in chocolate. It’s a thing, isn’t it? With the FDA? Thou shalt not have more than ‘x’ number of bug bits in every chocolate bar?”

2. “Well, let’s see,” she starts, pausing to pluck an olive from the bottom of her empty martini glass. “I’ve spent the last five years working for a covert terrorist organization without knowing it. My best friend — the only person I have ever trusted with my secrets — was somehow working for that covert terrorist organization without me ever clocking it, and her mother? Well, now I have her breathing down my neck asking me where her daughter is and why I never paid attention to the ‘multitude of red flags waving in my face’. Her words, not mine. Does that answer your question?”

3. “Is it treason to say you’re tired of Captain America? It feels like treason. I’m not going back to the Raft.”

4. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, you know that? You’re gonna kill your mother.”

5. “Oh, haha. You’re an ass, you know that? Certifiable.”

1. “How come you always think that’s the reason, huh? That I’m jealous? Maybe he’s just a dick.”

2. “I don’t think I can be better than this,” he finally admits, his voice wobbly and thick. “I don’t think I can.”

3. “What? No, Grandma, he didn’t have to—he was just making sure I got in okay. It’s fine. See? I’m fine.”

4. “I miss him,” he rasps, sucking in a shuddery, hiccuped breath. “I miss her, I miss Lily—“

5. “I do feel better now that you’re here.”

1. "No stingrays," Ryan conceded, his answer met with a disappointed stare. "Got stung by a jellyfish a couple years ago in Costa Rica, though."

2. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he said eventually, frustrated with himself and Mark and the absurdity of it all. “It’s nothing. Just stress. Not sure if you’re aware, but this isn’t exactly an easy job. Or fun, for that matter.”

3. God, he didn’t even know. It had been a long time, and Ryan had done about as much as he could to block out the memory of his own skin burning underneath the end of a cigarette. The smell had been unbearable. “I don’t—I was a kid.”

4. “I’m gonna kiss you again,” he said. His breath ghosted over her lips. “If that’s okay.”

5. “Hey,” Ryan said after a while, rolling his head towards her. There was a playful kind of gleam in his eyes. “Tell me again how brave and heroic I was.”

[mychlapci]

Megatitties! Apologies for the 2nd post sent recently cause i wanna add onto the other anon who spoke about the megaboobs.

Megatron would definitely feed his bitlets whenever they demanded it, 100% spoiling them because they’re so demanding and he’s proud of their angry, half-babbled glyphs repeated until their carrier finally scoops them up, opens his chest-plates and let them greedily drink from his nozzles, giving the odd growl when they didnt share with their eachother. Him being oddly soft when one of the sparklings falls asleep, still sleepily trying to hoard a nozzle for itself, that he ends up sitting on his throne, going over some datawork with sleeping bitlets cuddling against his titties <3

Maybe it gets out to the autobots that Megatron has bitties, and now theres faction wide interrogation, clearly led by prowl and Maybe Optimus, because why do 4/5 of the bitties have blue optics. Unless Megatron carries that gene (he 100% doesnt since 1 little bitty has red optics) the sire is an autobot. Prowl has his suspicions and intel-reports show that these tiny bitlets share a decent amount of red..

Nobody admits it, nobody wants to admit it. But when a intel-report comes in saying Megatron is sparked again, all hell breaks loose in the middle of a battlefield. Nobody can do anything to stop prowl as he storms over to Optimus and DEMANDS an explanation. The Decepticons have definitely made bets on who would be bold enough to fuck their leader until he was sparked up, Who would put their spike anywhere near their crazy, stubborn, psychotic leader’s valve? And who would do it TWICE? But now they’re all making bets on how many times both leaders have gone at it away from the battlefield, or even on the battlefield depending on the horny meter. And making bets on when Prowl is gonna crash / bluescreen.

- Chase anon <3

Also, whats your opinion on Megaratch and Megop? I definitely favourite Megaratch but rambling about the two leaders, because technically they can say them fucking isnt treason since they make the rules, is needed.

oh god, Megatron's angry little bitlets rocking red plating and blue optics, which isn't something that the autobots find out until someone who was in Megatron's capture escapes and explains to the high command that one of their comrades, not pointing any fingers, seemed to have put their dick inside Megatron and created these oddly adorable abominations. The decepticons clearly realize that their leader's sparklings were co-created by an autobot, but none of them are going to say anything about it, what are you, nuts? The only one who says anything is Starscream, and he got his ass kicked by Megatron the moment the words “autobot spike” left his mouth. So everyone is just silently placing bets, but they're pretty sure it's gotta be Optimus. They theorized Prowl for a while, but the guy just isn't red enough. 

Prowl literally realizing it must be Optimus the first time he sees the sparklings on a recording Jazz brought back from a spy mission, but he tries to not jump to conclusions. Until rumour comes around that Megatron is sparkled again. This means that sometime during their last big battle, Optimus and Megatron must have strayed into the shadows and their dear, beloved, righteous leader shoved his spike into Megatron, out of all bots, and made him mewl over and over again until his gestation tank was so full his frame had no choice but to start making another batch of bitlets. The first batch is still getting breastfed, Optimus, what the fuck - Prowl, probably, in a fit of rage, not really aware what he's even saying anymore.

also btw Chase anon… why must your brain be so big. i am now forced to admit that megaratch is actually my guilty pleasure ship. I love megop dearly with my life, theyre my toxic old man yaoi, but… shit, you hit the nail on the head. Can I just indulge and say... Prowl screaming at Optimus, demanding to know what was he thinking, and Optimus is thoroughly confused until Prowl just straight up asks him if he'd fucked Megatron. Everyone's so angry that their bets fell through when Optimus swears he didn't. Well... then who did the blue optics and red paint come from?

[hiatuswhore]

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ

♕ A/N: Writers Block has kicking my ass. Feedback please, it’s a great motivator!!

♕ SUMMARY: A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid.

♕ WORD COUNT: 3k

♕ WARNING: Sexual Violence, Harsh language, misogyny

previous — Masterlist — next

kin in all but blood

Your heavy pants fill the throne room as the nobles chatter dies down. Coils of hair curtain your face, appearing more like a wild animal than a noblewoman. The nameless knights grip on your forearm makes you grit your teeth. Lords and Ladies stand at a distance gaping at what remains of the once most vibrant lady in Kings Landing. A lady from a great house. The last of House Azgeda.

“Your Grace she slaughtered my brother, Lord Houghton and his men. I beseech the court to take her head with haste. For to not do so would be an act against justice,” Dawsin Houghton, the new Lord of small house Houghton. The new head of a house of leeches.

“You speak of justice though your house has committed atrocities in your insatiable thirst for power. I’ll see you in the seven hells,” Your eyes peek through the opening of your hair, glaring daggers at Lord Houghton. His facade faltering and recovering in an instant. The King reminds you of your time to speak, urging Lord Houghton to continue.

“You’ll be there a good long time before I show up,” Lord Houghton goads. A faint smirk plays in his lips eyeing you with smugly.

“I don’t mind waiting,” There’s a chilling calm to your tone. More beast than man, pure unadulterated fury. That of a warrior not a noble lady.

“The Lady of Azgeda has taken to madness. Too feeble minded to understand the workings of politics and houses. Entitlement leading her to believe security in the name Azgeda absolves her of the consequences of treason,” Lord Houghton voice booms through the hall. The sickly King’s coughs follow but do not dissolve the tension.

“What of these atrocities does Lady Azgeda speak of?” King Viserys hoarse voice grates your ears. The tread between the living and dead, far too familiar. No longer the cheery seemingly healthy man you once knew as a girl.

“Your Grace, the girl has gone mad. I fear the past six years she has been unable to come to terms with the fates of the traitors she calls kin. It is unwise to believe a word she says. Like her treacherous house I accuse the lady of murder,” Lord Houghtons gaze bounces between the iron throne and your fixed stare.

“Lady (Y/n) you stand accused of murder, of treason. What say you?” Lord Houghton steps forward insisting on dissuading the King. Viserys voice still booms with authority despite his failing health. “I asked a question of the Lady. I demand an answer!”

Lord Houghton’s back straightens, watching you warily. You scan the room slowly caring little for the gawking stares. All the Royal family stands eyeing you curiously. Many of the lords and the ladies of the court appearing vaguely familiar.

“I bled Lord Houghtons men by simply poisoning their wine. Then I cut the former little Lord neck to navel,” Your words leave you at a slow pace, sending a wave of chatter across the room. The incredulous stares meeting your lopsided smirk. “I intend to the same to Lord Dawsin.”

“You confess to the charges brought against you on this day, Lady (Y/n)?“ Viserys eyebrows pinch, eyes narrowing down at you.

“No for the only crime I have committed is being a woman who took it upon herself to seek retribution for the wrongful slaying of her great house—a house that gave even Aegon the Conqueror what he deemed a worthy challenge. Your Grace, you descended from conquerors, I descend from survivors. My house words, from the ashes stemming from the survival dragon fire put upon us. Your Grace, to my understanding conspiracy and lying to the crown is an act of treason. The House of Houghton has committed both of these acts against the crown,” Your voice raises, ripping your arm out of the hold of the knight. “I will have Lord Dawsin’s head!”

“You lying bitch! I should’ve have fucked you bloody!” He growled, walking into the unmoving hand of a Kingsguard.

“Perhaps you should have. Rest assured I did not hesitate as I took your brother!” You hiss, gripping the chains as he rushes past the guards. Parrying his strike with your shackles, kicking out his back leg bringing him to his knee. You bring your chains around the wrist of the hand that holds his sword pressing his back to your knee, holding his hand and sword inches from his eye.

“Hold!” The Lord Hand yells as the King coughs muffle his words. You steady your breaths, using your leg to block his free arm. The Kingsguards eye you with their hands on the hilt of their swords, awaiting the order to cut you down.

“Lady (Y/n) continue,” Viserys eye focuses on you, ignoring Lord Houghton’s trembling gaze on your hands that hold him captive.

“You know not of the horrors I have lived due to a lie. The only crime my family committed was being favored by the crown. For the fortune our perseverance has brought us. Envy green brought the demise of my house. My mother and father butchered in their sleep. My sister defiled as my brother’s were cut down in pursuit to stop them. They made me watch I—,” Your words garner gasps at the revelation. Swallowing a shudder you pause while pulling his sword closer to his face, “I was only a girl then.”

“Then why not seek aid from the crown?” Your head whips to the left revealing the Rogue Prince.

“For what, you to send men to claim their lives in my stead? Marry me off to lesser a man to become the new face of my house? No, I wanted the last thing they ever would ever see to be the daughter of Carth Azgeda looking down on them as they died. If I am put to the sword then so be it. They sold me to Pentos slavers who put me in the fighting pits. The crown be damned I will be the one who ends the craven cunts of house Houghton,” The chatter of the court raises the many gaping at your boldness, at the vulgarity and brutality you speak so fluidly. You kick out Lord Houghton’s other leg, his pleas drowning in the onlookers whispers.

“Do not forget yourself Lady (Y/n). You accuse House Houghton of egregious crimes. Can you provide the crown with more than just hysterical accusations?” You release your chains from Dawsin’s sword kicking him to the floor. Gripping the edges of your tunic you rip down the sleeves. The ink marking your skin earning gasps—the markings of a repeat conclave winner.

“My desire to cut down my foes is what kept me alive all those years in the pits. That aided me in winning my freedom. Your Grace, I implore you to ponder all that House Houghton has gained in House Azgeda’s demise. No longer little lords, but a members of court. Lands and grand titles. My King, you were a dear friend to my grandsire and a great supporter of my mother in the wake of his death. She said you helped prepare her for her duties as the Lady of House Azgeda. King Viserys is our kin in all but blood. Her words. I beg you to right this wrong not only as our King but a beloved ally to the House of Azgeda,” Holding your head up high you blink away the searing heat in your eyes. Clasping your hands in front of you, swallowing the knot in your throat. Visery sighs, his resolve softening at your petition. An image of your mother hidden beneath the evidence of survival that litters your skin. The eyes of ghosts staring back at the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys calls for a private council meeting, a change in your detainment effective immediately. A guard unshackles you ushering your out of the throne before the dismissal of others. You catch the faint call for Lord Houghton and his remaining men to be sharply questioned.

In a private chamber your eyes never leave the hands of the servant who bathe you. The older woman’s the only one of the servants who do not eye you warily. Her touch gentle but it does little to ease your guarded tension. Not once does she meet your gaze.

“My apologies for the wrongs done to you and your house. I remember your family quite fondly. The only house of pleasant nobles to be guests of the King,” She speaks barely above a whisper. Her hands moving slow over the scars across your abdomen. She studies them closely, her eyes revealing nothing but acknowledgement. You grip the edges of the basin.

“You’re not in pits anymore, my lady.” Her hand rests on your white knuckles. Your eyebrows furrow, the ache through your hand averting your gaze. You splash water up and onto your face, your demeanor dissolving back a guarded stare.

“We’re all in the pits. The arena much larger, the fighting more calculated, far more complicated. I won’t delude myself into thinking otherwise,” You stare off at nothing particular, speaking plainly. The attempts to place you in a gown prove fruitless, even with the looming threat of the Kings command. A guard escorts you back to the throne room, donning a black tunic and leather slacks.

The throne resides with a much smaller audience. Westerling, Lannister, Wylde, Beesbury, and a Grand Maester. Their colors reveal their houses as you count the number of guards. The false maester of war stands in your houses colors, a fiery orange with the likeness of your sigil, the Phoenix. To the right stands the Targaryen family, the only other women in attendance being the Princess and the Queen.

“The accusations thrown today are of the highest acts of treason. Today somebody lies and deceives his Grace. An act of open defiance. Due to the Kings disposition to an accused party it has been decided the small council will carry weight in the decision going forward. To the council members do best to know if House Houghton is proven to be as treacherous as the lady claims. His Grace will being taking a look at all the great houses whom benefited from this tragedy,” Lord Hand Otto Hightower booms with authority. The neutrality of his features telling all you need to know, a man of secrets—of hidden machinations. Each of the small council members nod in acknowledgment, taking their respective seats looking down on yourself and Dawsin. “At the start of this mess we began with Lord Dawsin. Now we shall start with Lady (Y/n). Do you confess to the crime of murdering the late Lord Seth and a considerably large number of his soldiers?”

“I confess to no crime on this day. Seth Houghton and his men were my lives to claim. Just as Dawsin Houghton’s shall be,” Your eyes cut to Lord Houghton who shifts on the balls of his feet. A sharp glare slitting your eyes, his own meeting your gaze with an uneasy huff.

“Mind yourself lady (Y/n). If your words are true I cannot imagine the ire that burns within you. But this is my court and it will run by my command,” Viserys eye stays on you, the decay of his flesh reminding you of your stolen youth. A long stretch of time in a constant fight for survival.

“Lord Dawsin. You stand accused of an egregious list of offenses. Murder, treason, conspiracy, defilement of a noble lady and deception. All against the crown and a great house. A house with great reverence from his grace. Do you confess to the crimes that stand against you this day?” Otto’s eyes do not leave your piercing glare that remains on Dawsin. A deafening silence takes the room, Dawsin’s eyes meeting your own.

He turns forward his gaze downcast, eyebrows pinching you watch as his mouth opens but nothing leaves him. Otto glances back at the King receiving a nod before turning forward, “Today Lord Houghton.”

“I Lord Dawsin of house Houghton, confess to no crime committed against House Azgeda. House of Houghton detests such accusations and will not forget such a slight.” Lord Houghton speaks with a conviction leaving even you questioning your memory. Balling your fists, a scoff leaves your lips garnering a look from Lord Houghton. He looks you in the eye his words cutting through you sharper than a blades edge, “Be at ease little bird. Your wings are yet to be clipped.”

“Relax little bird. Your wings are yet to be clipped,” His breath tickled the shell of your ear. Your head throbbed as he held your arms locked behind you.

“Stop it!” Your voice wavered, dry and itchy. The burn of your knees soothed by the crimson puddle beneath you. Heart hammering as though it will explode from your chest. Your eldest brother head parted from his shoulders, your youngest brother throat slit to the bone. Anya’s screams filled your ears as she thrashed ceaselessly.

“Enough!” Seth Houghton roared above her, a sickening crack took the room. Only your sobs remained. At the satisfied groan of the younger Houghton, your eyes widened at the fate that awaited you.

“No!” You screamed. The next moment a blur, of heavy pants and trembling limbs. Your legs burned without a moment of reprieve. Dawsin Houghton’s large hand grip tight as you both stood mere miles from the docks.

“—I sympathize for girl. Just a girl when her family committed acts of treason. The massive changes must have taken a h—” You blink back into the moment, finding many eyes watching you. A shudder rattling your core as you turn to the throne.

“I escaped by biting a large piece out of Lord Houghton’s shoulder. Large enough to leave a permanent scar. I was apprehended mere minutes from the ports, he was supposed to kill me but instead he sold me to slavers,” Your resolve crumbles in a moment of weakness you have grown to loathe. Lord Houghton’s hands searing your skin, his grip still fresh in your memory.

“This is nonsense,” Lord Houghton chuckles but it does not reach his eyes. The King calls for the removal of his shirt, “Your Grace you cannot be serious.”

“At once,” Lord Hightower says. Your eyes stay on Dawsin’s struggling stature, weak against the three Kings guard who detain him. The burn of your eyes leave you blinking incessantly to halt the tears that build. His no’s and your sisters blurring the lines between the past and present. The removal of Dawsins shirt reveals a faded scar, the print of teeth faint but visible.

“You fucking bitch!” Dawsin lunges toward you, stopped short by the guards. You do not flinch nor look away. The next moments occur in a flash. Not a single small council member votes against you. House of Houghtons fate sealed. Even in the face of every thing you wish for, a fate worse than grief—worse than death plagues you. Nothing.

“Dawsin Houghton dies by my sword,” Your voice so small in the large room, your words nearly missed. Scanning the room a sneer consumes you at the shared expression amongst those who observe you, pity.

“Lady (Y/n). We understand that you have suffered a great amount of misdealing,” Lord Lannister earns a scoff as the others observe you wordlessly.

“Do you now? Tell me, my lord. Were your parents butchered in their sleep. Were you ripped from your bed in the middle night to watch your brothers cut down before you. Your sister defiled and killed right in front of you. Did you live six years of your life in fear others would slit your throat in your sleep. Do you truly understand that? If so then there would be no conversation of who swings the sword to bring Dawsin Houghton to his end. I seek nothing but retribution. No title, no lands, I care for none of it. All I ask is for this,” You plead. The small council turn to Lord Hightower who turns to the King. Silence takes the room, the men dismissing you from the hall to await further instruction.

Pacing the corridor, you do not miss the quiet movements of the Targaryen after you. He stands by the door of the throne room door, eye never leaving you.

“Lady (Y/n), will you join me for a walk in the gardens,” The baritone of voice as uninviting and calculated as his cold stare. You do not cease your pacing, fingers drumming at the sides of your thighs.

“No.” You speak plainly, his hand around your forearm halting your steps. All the cards reside not on your face but in the bawl of your fists. You turn slow looking up over your left shoulder to meet the Princes glare. “Is this meant to frighten me?”

“It would be foolish not to,” He leans down closer, eye narrowing. A scoff leaves your lips, glancing at his eye patch—the words leaving you instinctively.

“It would be foolish to continue without hand as you do without an eye,” His eye flares his other pinning you to the wall as he unsheathes his sword. Your free hand skims his waistband, the hilt of his dagger between your fingers.

“Mind your tongue you brazen whore! I have you,” He hisses, the smirk on your lips like oil to a fire. The Valyrian steel sits beneath your chin, your reflection broken against the blades surface.

“Do you?” Your voice raising, the glint in your eye shining. You press the blade of his dagger further into the divot between his stomach and hip. “One wrong move and you live a cripple. Tell me, who truly has who?”

His eye stays on your own, silence dancing between you. The opening of the chamber doors reveal, the Queen’s trusted knight. A dornish man.

“Prince Aemond,” He calls out. You both turn to him as though you do not threaten the other with blades. “Lady (Y/n). Is everything alright?”

You turn facing the knight, your stare empty and voice light, “All is well Ser..?”

“Ser Cole,” He says, nodding you turn back to Prince Aemond. His eyebrows knit as he watches you.

“Right, my prince?” Aemond releases you sheathing his sword, saying nothing as his dagger disappears from view. You stop at his side speaking low enough for only his ears, “A bit of advice. I’ve killed far greater people than you. It’s be a shame to add a dragon prince.”

You catch a mere glimpse of his furious glare as you walk to Ser Cole. The cold metal of the prince’s dagger kisses your hip, quietly you follow Ser Cole back into the throne room.