#The inspiration is just FLOWING in my veins and I refuse to be stopped.

[funyiipp]

Hello and welcome to: Frankie once again has brainrot for the silly black-haired man. This time, I was listening to Cobra by Mcbaise and this somehow clinked into me losing my shit over the concept of Wallace being a murderer. Here you go! Two things for you.

How would he get to this point? Girl, idk. But his grandparents are probably very disappointed. Also, there's one survivor and I'm sorry to all of you Syvlia fans: she is not it. Your GOAT dies here, I'm afraid.

It's Joyce because my friend's favorite WH character is Julie (and so, Joyce is their favorite by extension) and they held me at imaginary gunpoint to make it so she was the survivor.

(And for the record: I will draw more of this. It's triggered something in my box turtle-sized brain.)

UHHHMMMMMMM anyways:

Wallace is a silly man @lizaisdrawing. Give him a big kiss on the forehead for me. Love that silly boy always. (he got too silly though)

Err bye.

[mrsdesade]

hi, I loved your s4 writings (the one with sister sage and the other one with ryan). if you want to, can you write something with firecracker and ophera as rivals? maybe ophera wants to kick her out of the Seven or she protects Ryan from her. I'm sure anything you write will be great.

btw your art is gorgeous, I love your ophera design!! I'm a beginner artist, and your work really inspires me to learn and be better in this.

Sure!! I love exploring interactions and relationships with other characters from the series (any suggestions is more than welcome), but I suppose now is Firecraker's turn ❤���‍🔥

Btw, thank you for your kind words, I'm honoured! Keep going and never stop drawing! ✨

The fire inside;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (Ophera) + villain!Firecracker TW: dark themes, violence, blood, torture, revenge p**n and nsfw (mentioned), Herogasm situation (mentioned) Timeline: season 4 Words count: 6,2k

''I know what's better for him. And for his father too. Anything. I'll do anything for them.''

Firecracker's pedantic voice filled the Seven's common room, while you were the only ones there, waiting for the morning meeting. At first your interactions seemed to go well, there was a sort of mutual respect. She didn't get in the way of your plans. You didn't get in her way as well.

But for some reasons unknown to you, from the moment you were introduced to Ryan, something has changed. Jealousy. Horrible jealousy had begun to flow through the veins of the fiery new addition to the team. You are what she always wanted to be, famous, admired, probably loved.

''I don't expect the same from you. But have the decency to step back and make room for me, who knows what I'm doing."

''You don't know what you're talking about Firecracker. Stay away from Homelander business, it's better for everyone."

The coldness of your demeanor and the superiority complex you exuded, clearly touched a raw nerve.

She took a step closer towards you, trying to look intimidating. Though it felt more like an act than anything else. Firecracker's slender form was considerably shorter, the height difference making it even more ridiculous.

''Better for everyone? Including Ryan? Do you think you're good for him?''

You had no difficulty maintaining a cold gaze, your expression remaining completely stoic. You stood confident, exuding a sense of superiority over her, as if letting her know that you were definitely better, without a doubt. You hadn't appreciated Homelander's decision to make you responsible for Ryan, as if you were his ''mother'', but you decided that you would protect him at all cost.

Firecracker was taken aback by your cold response, not expecting such a confident and dismissive reply. She gritted her teeth, her fists clenching involuntarily at her sides.

"You really think you're something, don't you? Just because Homelander choose you as his public partner? You're just a clown performing on the stage. I bring the truth to people!"

You kept your composure, not showing any signs of intimidation or defensiveness in the face of her aggression. Instead, you let out a soft, mocking laugh, the sound dripping with disdain.

"Please, spare me the charade. You think I'm intimidated by this little act of yours? Things cannot change."

"Act?!" she replied, her voice taut with anger. "I could burn you alive without breaking a sweat. Do you really want to test me?"

You raised an eyebrow at her threat, silently amused by the level of her arrogance. You took another step closer, your confident smile refusing to waver.

''Your weak fire cannot destroy the metal in my body.''

Just as the tension between you was reaching its peak, the sound of the meeting room door opening broke through the air, interrupting the heated moment. Before any further exchange could take place, the door to the conference room swung open. Homelander and The Deep entered, breaking the standoff between you two.

They were deep in conversation, not even noticing the tense atmosphere in the room. Firecracker quickly composed herself, masking her annoyance with a forced smile, while you maintained your composure, watching the two as they approached.

"Ah, there you are. Arrived early this morning, good girls." Homelander said, finally taking notice of you two. He gave you a friendly nod before turning his gaze to Firecracker, his eyes showing annoyance at her big smile.

The Deep shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling the lingering tension in the room. "Everything okay?" he asked, glancing between you and her.

Firecracker's fake smile remained plastered on her face, her voice dripping with faux cheerfulness. "Everything's perfect!" she replied, shooting you a quick, insincere glance.

And the scene ends like this, you took your seat beside Homelander and you really hope you've been clear enough with her. You hope it no longer intrudes on the extremely delicate balance you're trying to maintain between you, Ryan and his father.

The day quickly transitioned into night, and with most of the Seven dispersed for the evening, you were walking through the now-deserted hall when you heard footsteps approaching. Turning, you saw Firecracker walking towards you, a malicious smile on her face.

''No, not you again, please.''

"We're on the same team silly, did you forget already?" she said, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I was hoping I'd run into you tonight, I have something important to discuss with you."

Her tone was almost too sweet, the false cheerfulness making your stomach churn. "What do you want?" you asked curtly, keeping your voice cold and detached.

"Come on, no need to be so cold." She stepped closer to you, invading your personal space.

You roll your eyes, bored by his extreme closeness. And you decide to move the conversation with a sarcastic tone. ''If you get any closer, I'll start to think that you have some special interest in me. And I don't think Homelander would be happy about that. He is very jealous of his possessions.''

Firecracker's smile faltered for a millisecond at the indirect mention of Homelander. She clenched her jaws, her eyes narrowing slightly, before regaining her composure.

"Don't flatter yourself Ophera. I don't have any ''special'' interest in you." despite her denial, you caught the hint of defensiveness in her tone. Clearly, the idea of you being the object of Homelander's interest and not her had struck a nerve.

"Then what do you want?" you asked point-blank, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I got something about you.''

You raised an eyebrow, trying to appear unruffled. "Oh? And I'm curious what that might be?"

"I have a video. A video of you in… a very compromising position. That, If it were to go public..." she began, her voice dripping with venomous honey. "...would really damage your reputation."

A chill went down your spine as her words stung. You managed to keep your expression relatively blank, but inside you felt a wave of anxiety. How did she get a video of you? Your mind raced, trying to remember any situations where you could have been secretly filmed.

Or she was lying, maybe it's just a bluff, of course, it has to be like that. "Oh please, you're bluffing.''

"Bluffing? No, unfortunately for you, I'm not." she replied, her voice dripping with feigned sympathy.

''Then prove it. Show me this so-called video." you say with a confident grin on your face, keeping your arms crossed over your chest, still thinking she's lying.

"Sure, just to make things clear, let me show you…" Firecracker pulled out her phone, scrolling through the gallery to find the video. Your heart sank into your stomach as you watched Firecracker produce her phone. She was not bluffing. She really seemed to have something. A real video that would certainly cause a scandal.

She found the video and held the display towards you. You could clearly see yourself in the video. In one of your best Herogasm performances. You were always untouchable at that particular event, no one dared to touch you since you were Homelander's public partner. But someone's company wasn't necessary, you could perfectly satisfy yourself on your own, all you needed was an adoring audience watching you.

You had always been so careful, so meticulous in keeping your activities discreet. And yet, here was proof, captured on camera. HD. 4K.

Your initial reaction was anger, both at her for having the video and at yourself for being so unwary. But there was something else behind the anger, an even more primal feeling: fear. The fear of having your reputation and your place in the Seven ruined by one video.

She pushed the phone closer to your face, forcing you to look at the damning footage again. "Imagine this being leaked. How do you think the public would react? How would Homelander react?"

The thought of the whole America seeing this video, the idea of Hoemlander seeing it, his reaction, the damage it could cause - it was all too much to consider. The rage that had just barely been contained now exploded. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, your mind swirling with worst-case scenarios.

"Where did you get this?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky despite your attempts to keep it steady. "Who else has seen it?"

''I have my sources." she responded with a smile. "And don't worry, as of now only I have seen it. But who knows what might happen if this were to get into the wrong hands…"

You stared straight into Firecracker's eyes with a burning glare.

''You have ten seconds to give me just one good reason not to punch you in the face, and destroy your phone with that damn video inside.''

She had underestimated the anger beneath your cool veneer, and now she was taken aback by your threat. Her bravado waned slightly.

"Oh, look to you, all threatening and violence." she said sarcastically, trying to mask her momentary alarm. "Are you sure you want to do that? Even if you break my phone, I have the video backed up. Now, you, the American sweetheart, are about to do exactly as I say."

"I'm listening." you answered coldly and defeated, the anger in your voice barely leashed.

''Mmh. Rather than just listening, maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings, danger can hide at every corner.'' she smirked, triumph radiating from her. She had you exactly where she wanted you.

You can sense something is wrong, a negative feeling invades your chest. It's too quiet around you, and the Tower of Seven never is. She gave you a smile as realization slowly dawned on you. You had been so focused on the confrontation with her that you hadn't noticed the silence that had enveloped the area around you. Her words, though vague, were starting to paint a more alarming picture.

''What the hell are you talking about?''

''You'll see. Very soon.''

Your worst fears were confirmed when unexpected hands seized you from behind. Strangers. They grabbed you from various points around your body, rendering you unable to struggle as they forced you to the floor.

You feel a needle prick your neck, and an icy liquid invade your veins, making your powers temporarily unusable. You struggled against their grasp, but it was in vain. Now the masked strangers were stronger than you, their grip on you unyielding. You were in the middle of what seemed to be a very well-planned and synchronized kidnapping.

"Don't even bother struggling. They've been paid a lot of money for this. And they're very professional." she said, approaching you as you lay helpless on the floor.

''Ah! Good luck trying to kill me, it won't be that easy!'' you reply, but the strength that usually coursed through your veins seemed to have deserted you, leaving you at the mercy of these unknown individuals.

"Who said anything about killing? Oh no, no. I have something special planned for you, love. I have more creative plans for you.''

''Fuck yourself, crazy ass bitch.'' you're spitting venom with your words, the desire to destroy them all is tearing you apart.

"You see Ophera, I know you're invincible, or that you like to think yourself of such." she continued, her tone mocking. "But now, thanks to that little injection of Compound V inhibitor they've just shot you with, you're quite defenseless."

''The effect of the inhibitor will not last forever, you know that?''

''Yeah, I know silly! But it will last long enough to make you disappear. Gone, forever. No more shows, no new albums, no afternoon with Ryan, no gala dinner with the Seven.''

Then Firecracker reached down and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her face.

"And Homelander won't be happy, when he comes back and finds out you're gone. Without any warning or goodbye messages. Oh, I can't wait to see the look on his face."

Despite the effects of the drug rapidly dulling your senses and your powers, a little smirk escaped your lips.

"Oh please… You really think that's going to work? You really think Homelander won't figure it out? He's not blind to obvious sabotage, trust me. He'll find me."

"You think you know everything, don't you? It's time for a reality check, love. This isn't just about a spot in the Seven, this is about making sure Homelander looks at me, me and not you. I want his attention, his praise, his everything. He's the one I want and nothing will stand in my way."

You locked eyes with her, your voice strangely calm despite the effects of the drug and your weakening state. You laughed bitterly.

"You think it's all sunshine and rainbows, being his favourite? Please, you're more stupid than I thought. Homelander's love could be a death sentence. To have his twisted obsession on you. His attention can be a curse as much as it can be a blessing. You're pathetic. And you don't know anything about the burden of being his beloved, trust me."

Surprise is clear on her face. The way you talked, the way you described being Homelander's favorite... for a moment, she didn't know how to react to your words.

"Oh, I bet it's soooo hard being Homelander's little sweetheart, getting all the fame and recognition while the rest of us have to fight for scraps." she spit with venomous sarcasm. "Boo-hoo, poor you, suffering under his terrible twisted obsession. You have everything! His love, his attention, his hands on you… Fuck, you're his damn public girlfriend! You have no idea what I'd give to be in your place."

There it was-the truth. The real reason behind her hostility, her jealousy, her attempts to bring you down.

''I don't think... I don't think you know... what it means to be in my place. His… isn't… love. You're going to...hurt yourself-''

Before you could finish your sentence, your vision began to blur and your head grew heavy with fatigue. The drug finally taking hold, you lost consciousness, sinking into oblivion.

Firecracker gestured to the group of men, and one of them picked you up effortlessly.

"Now. Time for the final act. You know the plan, take her somewhere isolated and secret. And make damn sure no one finds her. Respect the orders, no one will have to recognize her, ruin that pretty face as best you can.''

The masked men nodded in response, lifting your unconscious body with ease and proceeding to carry you to a waiting van outside the Tower. Once you were safely inside, the van doors shut with a loud thud, and the vehicle soon vanished into the night.

Firecracker felt a surge of triumph. Her plan had gone flawlessly. You were gone, out of the picture-at least for the foreseeable future. But the taste of victory was bittersweet. Deep down, she knew that once Homelander discovered your disappearance, hell would break loose.

Indefinite moments, minutes, hours pass. You can't say how much has passed since that evening.

Your eyelids flickered open, a disoriented groan escaping your lips. Your head throbbed with a dull pain, and for a few moments your vision remained a blurry mess. Then, slowly, your surroundings began to come into focus. You were in an abandoned warehouse, the air thick with dust and a musty scent. The walls were crumbling, and the silence around you was interrupted only by the sound of your own shallow breathing.

You tried to move, but quickly realized your limbs were tightly bound to a chair. You felt the bite of rough rope against your skin, the tight ropes digging into your flesh as you struggled. The abandoned warehouse was cold and eerie, the only company provided by the ominous figures that stood guard around you. They were all wearing masks, making it impossible for you to identify any of them.

"Oh great, this isn't a cliché scenario at all…" you muttered sarcastically, your eyes scanning the area for any potential escape route.

One of the men, the tallest one, stepped closer to you at the sound of your voice. He took a couple of seconds to assess your situation before speaking up in a low voice.

"Looks like our little songbird finally woke up. I hope you're comfortable." he said, a hint of mockery underlying his words.

"Well, this is a lovely place you've brought me to." you drawled, feigning nonchalance. "Not exactly the five-star hotel I booked last week."

Despite the situation, the guard chuckled at your sarcastic reply. "Oh, sorry to disappoint. Our five-star prisoner need another room? Unfortunately they're all booked.''

You rolled your eyes, silently thinking of the countless witty comebacks that were at your fingertips but couldn't be voiced at the moment.

Then the men leaned in closer, now mere inches from you. "Now, enough chitchat. We've been paid to keep you here and we have strict orders to follow. So, do us all a favor, stay cooperative and keep your pretty mouth shut."

Their cold demeanor and close proximity sent chills down your spine. It was clear they were not here to joke around. One of the other guys stepped forwards, standing almost directly behind you.

"We were paid for a specific task." he chimed in, his voice dripping with a mocking sweetness. "And that task is: to make you as unrecognizable as possible."

His words sent a new wave of fear coursing through you. Unrecognizable. What the hell did that mean?

You swallowed heavily, a sense of dread beginning to grow in the pit of your stomach. "What exactly do you mean by unrecognizable?"

''Just a few…adjustments to your lovely face, body and maybe hair." the man behind you said.

They really intend to disfigure your face? Ruin your body and fill you with scars? Of course. So that you are no longer fit to be in the spotlight. That's one of your greatest fears, even more than great heights perhaps. You struggled against the ropes binding your wrists and legs, trying to break free, but the only result was the ropes digging into your skin even more.

The man behind you chuckled at your struggles. "Don't bother trying to break free. You aren't going anywhere.''

Another man, the largest one, spoke up. "Yeah, so save your energy for what's coming next."

The tall man started to circle around you, examining you from different angles like a piece of meat on display. Each circle he made around you sent a new wave of disgust through your body, and you had to resist the urge to spit at him.

''So, what's coming next assholes?''

He stopped in front of you, a cold smile on his face. He pulled out a shiny little knife from his pocket, the blade glinting menacingly in the dim light.

"Now, now, that's not a very nice way to talk to the people holding your fate in their hands." he warned, holding the weapon close to your face. Then the blade of the weapon traced a light, teasing line from your chin down to your chest.

The cold metal against your skin sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through you. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your terror, though.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" you retorted, attempting to sound defiant. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you forced yourself to remain calm. You refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing you break.

The group was momentarily taken aback by your apparent bravado. "Playing tough uh? But we'll see how long that lasts once we start carving up that pretty face of yours.''

When he moves the knife in your direction, you instinctively move your face and pull back in your uncomfortable sit, showing how scary this thing can really be for you. Fuck. How long does it take for your powers to return?

What you need now is just a bit of time, extra time.

''Wait- Wait! Just for a moment! If Firecracker paid you to do this, I can pay you a lot more, absolutely, no doubt!''

The mercenaries exchanged glances, clearly caught off guard by your attempt to stop them. The man holding the knife pulled back, a skeptical look on his face.

"You're really trying to buy us off right now?''

You mask your fear behind a ridicoulous smile, the same you use to charm your fans.

''Oh come on, everyone has a price. Just kindly asking what's yours.''

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you? I never would have guessed beneath all that sparkle and charm is just a desperate, bargaining diva.''

''Desperate? Me? Hardly. I just know how to play my cards and get what I want.''

The mercenary chuckled again, but his expression took on a more serious note. ''But I gotta admit, you're right about everyone having a price. Let's say hypothetically we were open to negotiation. Just hypothetically, of course. What's your offer?''

You took a deep breath, mentally calculating the worth that you could possibly offer to these men if it means they'll spare you.

"How does 25 million sound?" you said, keeping your tone casual.

The men all looked at each other again, clearly surprised by the amount you had just thrown out there. One of them whistled lowly.

"Sweet lord, that's a hefty sum. You're really willing to pay us that much just to spare that pretty face of yours, huh?"

As you talk with them, you feel the time ticking away, and you are still tied to a chair and unable to fight. Frustration would soon turn to anger and you would lose your temper. Then, all your diplomacy suddenly fails.

"What, you didn't think I had that kind of money to spare?! I'm a damn Seven! Of course I can afford it! Believe me, I'm worth much more alive and well than disfigured or dead."

Bad move, really bad move.

Your sudden outburst and loss of diplomacy did not go unnoticed by the men. They were clearly enjoying seeing the cracks in your composure. The idea that you were worth more alive, that they could get even more money from Firecracker to ruin you, was already setting in.

This was turning into a game of cutthroat negotiations.

"Well, well, well." the tallest man chuckled. "Looks like the little diva's mask is coming off. All this time, pretending to be so calm and collected, and now you're getting desperate. It's quite entertaining, isn't it, boys?"

As the men closed in on you, the situation was starting to feel hopeless. You had miscalculated, and now your attempts at bribery seemed to be backfiring. The reality of your predicament was setting in as the men circled around you like a pack of hungry wolves.

"No more deals. You're worth more alive for sure, and we'll talk to Firecracker to get more money to end this work, but in the meantime we can make sure you're not quite as perfect anymore..."

You quickly weigh the options. These men are more interested in doing their job than listening to you. You're tied to a chair. No powers. No escape route. All you can do is bargain, and hope to delay them long enough to get out of this mess.

''Fine...do your worst.''

You lower your head and close your eyes, your only option is to try to resist, until the Compound V inhibitor has finished its effect.

They began to pummel you, their fists raining down on your body. You tried to resist, to fight back, but your strength was fading. The Compound V inhibitor was still there. Each blow felt like it was tearing through your very being, pain radiating throughout your body like fire through a dry forest. You held onto consciousness by sheer determination and will, refusing to show weakness even in the face of pain. You gritted your teeth, refusing to let them see your weakness. Hiding your face, your most precious possession. Your uniform was stained with blood, your skin bruised and battered, but you managed to resist the urge to cry out.

You couldn't give them satisfaction.

Time passes, and your desperate plan finally takes effect. They wasted their time hitting you, without thinking about their main task anymore. How stupid humans are. And you bought the time you needed. The time it takes to regain your powers.

As the men's fists continued to rain down on you, you felt less pain, finally. With a burst of strength, you managed to break free from your bonds and pushing them back. Gaining a few meters of breathing space around you. Your vision was blurred, and your body ached, but you were free. You lunged at the nearest man, knocking him to the ground. The others were taken aback, their surprise momentarily stopping on their places.

The leader, the one holding the knife, was the first to recover. He quickly recomposed himself, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He quickly realize the situation has changed. You're no longer tied up and sedated, and you've already shown that you're a threat. He quickly pulls out a syringe with another dose of inhibitor inside.

"Grab her, don't let her get away!"

You stay dead silent. Full of fury. With fire inside your body.

As they rush at you, you spot the weapons they have on them. You feel the familiar pull and tug of your powers coming back to you. Taking a deep breath, you focus all your energy on the metal objects around them, using your powers to grab and pull on them. You can feel the weapons being yanked out of their hands, as if invisible strings were attached to them.

With a flick of your wrists and your powers now back in full effect, the weapons float around you, like obedient puppets waiting for your command. Metal barrels, knives, and a few firearms all levitate in the air, circling around you. A dangerous gleam in your eyes. You look like a terrifying sight.

A dangerous goddess dressed in red of her own blood.

Their eyes darting from you to the weapons floating around you. They look at you with fear, finally seeing you for the dangerous woman you truly are.

In the meantime, Firecracker stood before the massive glass windows of the Tower, looking out over the New York skyline. Her heart was racing, a feeling of triumph coursing through her veins. She had succeeded in her plan, you were gone.

Homelander was nearby, staring out at the city with a mixture of anger and confusion. The news of your disappearance had already reached his ears, and he was anxiously pacing back and forth, waiting for anyone to give him an update.

Firecracker approached Homelander cautiously, trying to mimic a concerned and empathetic expression. But it was evident that her words were nothing more than a facade.

"Hey..." she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know this must be hard for you. I can't imagine how much you care for her. But you know how she is, she's unpredictable, fickle, frivolous.''

Homelander turned his red burning eyes at her. "I don't need your sympathy, Firecracker." he snapped. "I need her back."

Taken aback by his harsh tone, she started caressing his shoulder. "I understand, I really do. But we have to be realistic here. Her role was heavy, she did this job for many years, maybe she was tired. But of course, it's horrible that she didn't tell you anything.'' she adds, to make him doubt your loyalty.

Homelander's face darkened at her words. "She has always done everything I asked of her. Never once did she waver. No, this isn't... right.''

She continued her act, feigning concern while trying to sow seeds of doubt in Homelander's mind.

"Maybe her loyalty wasn't as strong as you thought. Maybe she was just waiting for the right moment to escape.''

"You're trying to say she betrayed me? That she's a traitor?"

He hated the idea that you would betray him, but Firecracker's words were starting to sow seeds of doubt. She could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, the seeds of doubt starting to take root.

But without warning her phone rings, and an unknown number appears on the screen. Her heart skipped a beat, and quickly she excused herself from Homelander, taking a step away and answered the call. She expected to hear the news of your complete disfigurement. So she spoke in a low voice to avoid others from hearing.

"Hello?"

''Kindly, could you accept my video call?'' a familiar voice answered on the other end of the line.

She froze. That was the last thing she expected to hear. It was you, asking for a video call? How? This was not supposed to happen. She quickly looked over her shoulder, making sure Homelander was still occupied and out of earshot.

''Did the cat got your tongue? Turn on that goddamn phone camera.''

She turned away again, her mind racing. She had no idea how to handle this situation. She had been so sure that the plan would be a success, that you would be disfigured and taken out of your position as a favorite.

This wasn't part of the plan. Now you're playing by your rules.

She reluctantly pressed the video call button, turning on the camera to reveal her worried face. Your face appeared on the screen, a small smirk gracing your bloody red lips. You looked exhausted, your face a bit bruised, with a small cut on your cheek. Your uniform, stained from head to toe with blood. And behind you, on the ground, the lifeless bodies of the men who had dared to harm you.

''How...?! How the hell are you-''

"Oh, you thought I'd be sitting quietly, waiting for my face to be carved off? How naive you are.''

Firecracker snap on the other line, realizing she had been outplayed. With anger slowly boiling inside her, she raised her voice. "Don't act so cocky. I still have that compromising video of you." she warned. "One click and your career is over."

''You know, while you left me with your nice masked friends, I had a lot of time to think. At the beginning I was very worried about that video, it would have really created a big scandal for my image...''

''And you should still be worried about it! Indeed, terrified!''

Your laugh echoed through the speakers.

''But then,I came up with a realisation. Maybe he will get angry at first. But Homelander won't take kindly to anyone who threatens me. He'll eliminate anyone who has seen that footage. And If you release it, you'll become public enemy number one."

Firecracker's heart sank as she realized the truth in your words. Homelander's protective nature towards you was a well-known fact. Anyone who had seen that footage, especially someone within the Seven, would quickly be targeted.

"You... you wouldn't dare. I'll deny everything." she stuttered, her confident facade starting to crumble.

A wicked gleam appeared in your eyes as you smirked again.

"Oh, I would. And Homelander will believe me over you any day. He'll tear you apart If you try anything. So I suggest you delete that footage, love. Because If it ever sees the light of day, you won't be able to save your pretty little face."

Firecracker's hands trembled as she gripped her phone tighter. Your words rang through her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

You started walking outside the building, still holding the camera, your voice calm. "And by the way, I found the phone of one of your mercenaries. And guess what I found there? Evidence of your little plan to ruin me. Messages between you and them, planning every detail. If you're still in doubt of what to do next, know that have all the proof I need to expose you."

Her blood ran cold as she watching you in horror. You had evidence, solid evidence, of her plan to ruin you. She could feel the walls closing in around her. She became ridicoulous.

"Wait! L-listen, we...we can talk about this! You're alright! You're fine, you're the mighty Ophera! Mine was j-just...a prank. Sure, a prank! You were never really in danger"

It was a desperate, last attempt to save her own skin.

And you are a merciful goddess, right?

''Mmh. An interesting way to spin things. A prank involving hired mercs, secret planning, blackmail attempts, and the risk of disfigurement. Just a little prank, right?"

"I…I…y-yes. A sick, twisted, and stupid prank. I never meant for it to go that far, really. Just a way to get back at you for…being so perfect all the time. I envy...I envy you, you know!''

Your eyes rolled at her attempts to rationalize her actions. She was really going all in, trying to save herself with excuses and half truths. You could practically see the desperation on her face even through the video call.

With a single wave of your bloody hand, you tell her to stay silent. And she stop with her rambling, confused.

You leaned closer to the phone, a lovely grin on your face. "Just a friendly reminder, Homelander can hear pretty well thanks to his powers. He might be listening to this conversation right now."

She had been so focused on her own survival that she had completely forgotten about Homelander's incredible sense of hearing. The thought that he might be listening in on this conversation sent a chill down her spine.

From her reaction you can guess that they're in that same room, maybe with Ashley and all the other super waiting for any news about you.

''Now, be a good girl and go to Homelander.''

"You…you can't…please, I-" she pleaded in a small desperate voice.

''And give him the phone, now.''

She slowly started walking towards Homelander and the others, the phone in her hands, hardly mantaining a smile on her face. ''Uhm- H-Homelander...I've some good news!''

''Spit it out, what's going on?" raised an eyebrow, dead serious.

"Uhm- I-it's for you." she held the phone out to him

The moment Homelander laid eyes on the phone, his emotions were a mixture of relief and anger. He quickly snatched the phone from Firecracker's trembling hand.

"Ophera?! Where the hell are you?!" he repeated, his voice echoing the frustration he was feeling.

"Hey, love. Sorry to worry you. I'm safe and well, just had a little unexpected adventure."

He clenched the phone tightly, his fingers leaving cracks on the device. "Damn it, woman. You had me worried sick. What the hell happened? Where are you? And are you covered in blood? Is that yours?!"

You felt a tingle of satisfaction as you heard the edge of worry in his voice. You can barely imagine Firecracker's defeated face at that moment.

''Don't worry, isn't mine. You know, the usual, anti-super criminals. I got my ass kidnapped, but don't worry, I took care of it. The morons have no idea what kind of trouble they stepped into."

"Why didn't you call me sooner? I could have come and rescued your ass.''

''I am an independent and strong woman. I never ask anyone for help.'' you smiled confident and charming on the screen.

Homelander couldn't help but smirk at your response. Despite his concern, he knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself. "Damn straight you are. Now. I'm coming to get you. I need to know everything about this absurd situation of yours.''

''Sure love, I've a lot of things to tell you. Like a good and all blooody bedtime story.''

Firecracker stood nearby, watching the exchange between Homelander and you on the phone. Her heart was in her throat as she listened to your conversation.

Her eyes widened as you continued to talk with him, your confident and charismatic persona shining through even in your bruised and battered state. She couldn't believe how calmly you were handling the situation, while she was the one who had orchestrated the whole disastrous plan.

''I'm at the old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. You know, the one with the graffiti and the broken windows?"

"I'll be there in three minutes, don't move."

Admiration for you filled her, and jealousy as well as she observed Homelander's reaction to your words. The concern in his voice, the protectiveness he still had over you, it was all too evident.

As you hung up the phone, Firecracker couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. You were unfortunately safe, and he was on his way to get you back to the Tower. But she also knew that her actions had consequences. She had crossed a line, and there was no going back.

You ended the call, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. You had turned the tables on your rival, and now she was the one who was in trouble.

"Well, well, well. Looks like someone's in quite a pickle." you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I suggest you start thinking about your next move, Firecracker. Because whatever it is, I'm one step ahead of you."

The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: the dynamic within The Seven had been irrevocably changed.

-------

ALRIGHT, WHAT A RIDE WAS THIS ONE?? I absolutely wanna write more with other canon characters! Thanks again for the request, it was really good to write, hope you like it! Kisses ❤️‍🔥

[heirofserpens]

11. things you said when you were drunk .

OOC: just fyi this was heavily inspired by your Nagni POV Bellamort fic which still lives in my head rent free.

Liquor is helping assuage his anger somewhat. He shouldn't drink. He loathes not being in control. He is alone, so he does not mind. Until he is not alone.

Her footsteps are quiet but he hears them all the same; the presence and familiarity of her magic feels much like his own these days. He supposes it should make him less reluctant to this whole...ordeal. It does not.

He still does not want the child.

He does not turn but he continues to stare out onto the starry night sky. Above him is Orion but Bellatrix has been shining brightest these last few months. She is burning hotly, shining with splendour much like her mortal form. In his inebriation he scoffs.

"Of all the things you could refuse to do for me." He says loud enough for her to hear, "why this?" He turns then, "you've grown content hmm? Is that it?" Hairless brows knit in towards each other, "you think you can refuse your Master's will?"

He studies her silhouette in the darkness of the room and through the haze of liquor. She looks delicious. He has denied himself of her too long. Anger pulses his veins, the bottle beckons. He does not go to it. His steps are sure nonetheless as he moves closer to her. His lip curls half in snarl and his hand shoots to her jaw. He likes watching her recoil from him but today she does not. Still he hisses at her.

"How dare you defy me, Bellatrix Black."

It's her caress which mitigates him. It unclenches his jaw, it quells the anger he feels blistering through him. She is brave. She moves in against him as she whispers, "forgive me, Master."

He can not bring himself to scream at her again. He should cruciate her he should batter her with curses and hexes and all manner of dastardly violence. To defy him is sin. Yet he wants to forgive her.

"If you'd wanted this-" He hesitates but the liquor flowing his veins spurs him on, "-if I'd known. If you'd told me. Then perhaps..." He releases her and she tightens her grip on his hand, "I would've given you a child, Bella."

Her grip slackens for half a moment and something in him screams to stop. He cups her jaw with strong fingers which are now far more careful in their motion atop her skin.

"If it is truly what you wanted. Salazar knows I can not deny you for long." Wretch; he wants to add in his bitterness of the latter statement. Vixen. Seductress. He is just as much to blame for this doing. Thoughts come to the front of her mind that he reads clearly: why not allow her to keep it now then? His brow knits again, "it's not that simple."

"So you'd have given me what I wanted." She says with careful measurement though he hears the bite in her tone as she questions: "but only on your terms?"

She turns from him. He is confused by the motion. She is angry with him.

"No." He blurts before he can stop himself. "On our terms."

She looks at him the way all Blacks look at everyone who isn't one of them. She doesn't trust a word coming from his mouth. She's quick to remind him it doesn't matter because she's pregnant now and she wants to keep it. He's quicker still to remind her they have a war to win. She insists he can spare her for a couple of months. He insists that he can not. She purses her lips and she shrugs. Kill me then.

He raises his wand quicker than he can think. He points it at her chest and he bares his teeth. She does not flinch because he does not need a wand to kill her. He has no intention to hurt her and she knows it. Her eyes pool however and she steps a little closer.

"Please." She whispers. "Let me keep it."

Lord Voldemort lowers his wand after a time. His truth speaks behind liquor.

"Fine."

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Leave Your Lover (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! So, this was going to be one really long part, but it kind of got away from me and I had to split it into two. Don’t worry the next part is going to be very long either way because that’s the half that got away from me. This takes place pre-Infinity War. Inspired by Sam Smith’s “Leave Your Lover”, mainly the line featured. 

Summary: A brief glimpse into life on the run. Will Wanda be able to find Y/n? 

“If I can't have you I'll walk this life alone, spare you the rising storms and let the rivers flow.”

Being on the run was difficult to say the least and being on the run while trying to find someone who was actively trying not to be found was even worse. Despite being told by the rest of the group that it may be in her best interest to just move on and let you go, Wanda knew that wasn’t an option. She had made a promise to herself that she was going to keep fighting for you, no matter the cost. Wanda had let you go once and she wasn’t going to let it happen, not if there was a part of her that knew you still had love in your heart for her.

The only one who knew where you were at all times was Steve and he had spent the last few months absolutely refusing to disclose your exact location. That never stopped her from trying though. 

Eventually though, he gave in. Steve wasn’t sure if it was her sheer determination that impressed him or the fact that he had never seen you happier than when you were with her. If she thought she could create happiness in a terrible situation, Steve thought she at least deserved a true chance and he wouldn’t stand in the way. 

When she received the location, Wanda quickly packed what little she had and booked the next train ticket to Rennes, France. Feeling hopeful for the first time since long before the events of Lagos. _________________________________

For the majority of the time you’d been on the run, you stuck to the idea that hiding in plain sight was the best course of action. Which is why you were currently at a poorly lit bar, trying to live as normal a life as you possibly could under the circumstances. The only unfortunate thing was that you couldn’t interact with anyone due to the risk of being discovered. So, when you felt someone tap your shoulder, you knew it would be time to go.

Before turning, you downed your drink to prepare yourself to either get hit on by a random drunk person or convince them you weren’t who they thought you were.

Neither options were what you got when you turned around though. You tilted your head in pleasant surprise at the sight before you.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Without thinking and perhaps partially due to the alcohol coursing through your veins, you wrapped yourself tightly around the woman in front of you. She laughed in surprise and gladly returned the embrace. You couldn’t help but revel in the contact, touch deprived from all the time you had spent in solitude.

For a while, you both just stood there, wrapped in one another’s embrace. Ignoring the occasional odd look from random passer byers. With one final squeeze, you released her but kept your hands on her shoulders. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nat.” you admitted to her with a smile on your face.

Natasha easily returned the smile. “It’s good to see you too. I was passing by outside when I thought I saw you sitting here and I had to see if it was really you.”

“What are the chances?” you asked with a laugh as you signaled the bartender over and ordered drinks. “Let’s celebrate.”

After drinking for a bit and catching up slightly, you both agreed that staying longer would be too much a risk and decided to take a walk outside. 

“You dyed your hair.” You noted as you reached over and took a strand of her hair gently in between your fingers before letting it go. “It looks good.”

A playful smirk spread across Natasha’s lips. “Yeah, well, I figured the red was a dead giveaway for me, so… blonde it was.” She nudged you playfully. “A better disguise than a beanie and glasses at least. You’re no better than Rogers.” 

A boisterous laugh escaped your lips, “What can I say? That man taught me everything I know.” Natasha shook her head but laughed despite herself. 

You knew you would have to separate soon, but you tried not to focus on that. The pair of you walked in contented silence, enjoying the comfort of not being alone, even if it was temporarily.  Eventually you both come up on the street where your hideout was located and for the first time you didn’t feel the need to rush in. Thankfully there was a small bench located across the street and you both wandered over and took a seat, enjoying the cool air.

“How have you been?” Natasha eventually asked, her eyes on yours as she attempted to analyze you.

You pondered the question for a moment. “I’ve been… lonely.” You finally breathed out, turning your gaze skyward. “I feel alone. I miss real connections. I miss just being able to walk down the street without fear of corporal punishment. I miss human contact.”

Natasha’s hand fell to your knee and squeezed lightly. You turned your head to meet her eyes. “I know what you mean. You’re never really alone though, Y/n. You know we’d all be there in a heartbeat if we could, if we have to.” 

The touch and the knowledge that you weren’t alone was something you had missed. Again, whether it was the alcohol in both your systems or the deprivation of another human’s touch, but you both found yourselves leaning forward and connecting lips. 

It was gentle and nice, but you couldn’t help but compare it to Wanda. Kissing Wanda always felt powerful and right. The way your whole body felt like electricity was coursing through your veins at the simplest of touches. Kissing Wanda always felt like coming home. You could’t help but think you needed this to realize that the one you still wanted was the one you shouldn’t want.

Despite this, you didn’t pull away, tangling your hand in Natasha’s now blonde locks as her hands fell to your waist. You allowed yourself this small moment of comfort.

Across the street, Wanda had been approaching only to stop in horror at the sight before her. Her mind rushing and heart breaking at the sight. If she felt a fraction of what you did that night on the roof, she couldn’t imagine how you got through it. As much as her heart ached in her chest, she didn’t allow it to stop her. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. That you hadn’t already given your heart to another. 

After some time, both you and Natasha pulled away. Laughing when you met one another’s eyes. “That was… nice.” You said lightly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re drunk. We will never speak of this again.” She chuckled and looked at her watch. “My train leaves in a little over an hour, I should probably go.” You nodded in understanding and she hugged you once more before beginning to walk away.

“Hey, Nat?” you called after her. She turned. “Take care of yourself, okay?” She nodded and blew a teasing kiss your way before walking off into the night. With a sigh you leaned into the bench and closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the fact that you were alone again. 

It had to have been less than a few minutes when you felt someone sit next to you, your eyes shot open and met with stunning emerald eyes that used to be your world. “Wanda?” you whispered, feeling the air leave your lungs at the sight of her. 

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly, but there was melancholy in her eyes. “So, you and Nat, huh?” There was no accusation in her tone, just sadness. Possibly even acceptance. You quickly realized that she must have seen the kiss.

“And if we are? Together, I mean. What will you do?” You probed challengingly.

Pain flooded her eyes as she dropped her gaze to her lap. “Nothing. I’m not going to interfere if you’re happy, but… but just know that I won’t stop fighting for you. I’ll be here waiting because our love is destined and I’m not going away. I’ll still love you even if you chose to love someone else. You have all of me. Always.” She paused slightly. “You are my only direction.” She added quietly, repeating the words you once told her back to you. 

Your heart clenched at the referenced moment, of one of your formerly favorite moments. 

Staring off into the distance, you could feel the numbness begin to fade as the alcohol started to leave your system. “Why?”

She lifted her gaze up to you curiously, but you didn’t meet her eyes. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep trying?” 

Wanda took a deep breath and turned so she was facing you completely even if you wouldn’t look at her. “Love.” She stated simply, “I’m in love with you, beyond all rationality. Even if you don’t believe me. I want you to have everything you want, even if its Nat, even if that destroys me.”

Even in Spain you had never heard her speak so passionately. It terrified you. Terrified you so much that you wanted to get up and run far, far away from her. Far from the feelings that her words stirred within you.

Wanda wasn’t done though, she needed to get everything off her chest. To lay all her cards out. “When you love someone, you don’t stop. Even when everyone on the team calls me crazy and tells me I should just move on and let you go. I won’t stop or give up because if I could give up…” She risked taking your hand in hers, sighing in relief when you don’t pull back. “If I could give up and listen to everyone’s advice and move on and find someone else that wouldn’t be love. That would be some imitation that is not worth fighting for.”

“Wanda…” you whispered finally looking up at her, noticing the way her eyes shined with unshed tears.

She squeezed your hand again. “But you… You are more than worth fighting for. You will always be worth fighting for. And if I can’t have you I’ll be alone because no one else can hold my heart. This is love.”

“I’m not with Natasha.” You admitted softly after Wanda’s declaration, watching the way relief filled her eyes. “I think we were both just lonely and comforting each other.”

The relieved smile that took over Wanda’s features was contagious as you couldn’t help but smile hesitantly back at her. 

Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. That was the first time you had smiled at her since the night on the roof. 

“What does that mean?” she questioned hopefully.

With hesitation, you interlaced your fingers with Wanda’s. “It means that I’m still not sure I trust you and I’m not ready to be with you again.” Her head dropped in dejection. “But. I’m not going to ask you to leave if you want to stay and work on that.”

For the first time in a long time, Wanda felt a semblance of happiness blossom in her chest. Unable to stop herself, she surged forward and took you in her arms, melting when you held her back. “I promise I’ll earn your trust back. I’m not going anywhere. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Y/n.”

Part 10! double digits! Pre-Infinity War and Infinity war was supposed to be one chapter and in hindsight that was probably overly ambitious of me. That means there will now be 13 parts instead of 12. Anyway, as always let me know what you think, and hope you enjoyed! :)

[albaedhoe]

while i am still my own

pairing : albedo x reader

summary : albedo feels the impurities and evil within him slowly fester and devour his conscious. he makes one last wish to you.

a/n : inspired by this tiktok. i got venti and decided to celebrate with this <3

tag : @anormalguyreader

“Please, Starlight- You can’t-...Y-You can’t just ask me to do this to you!” You cried and plead as Albedo gently handed you a sharp dagger into your hold. He softly cupped your hands to keep them still, lining the blade towards his heart.

You watch as Albedo’s crystal blue eyes briefly flicker into a deep red and back to its former again; the veins that line his neck and face occasionally pulse a disgusting shade of indigo; impure and definitely not his own blood.

“Shh, shh...” Albedo guides your head to his shoulder, his right hand soothing the back of your head. Trembling furiously, the only thing you could see was the shining weapon, seemingly brighter because of light refracting through your tears. “I only have so much time, Darling. Hurry, before it takes over my mind completely.”

“I-I can’t-... I can’t-”

“-But you can, my love. I believe in you... Please? For me?”

Dropping the dagger onto the ground, it clang against the hidden rocks underneath the snow. Wrapping your arms under Albedo’s and around his torso, you held onto him. Held onto what bit of hope you had. Onto the future you were supposed to spend together. Burying your face into the crook of Albedo’s neck, you didn’t intend to let go.

Sighing at your stubbornness, Albedo reluctantly brings your head closer, relishing your scent as this may be the final time he’d ever get to really immerse in it before he loses the battle against... whatever was eating him alive.

Albedo didn’t want to leave so early, leave you so early. He didn’t choose to be made like this. He didn’t- He didn’t even get to fully experience life with you. He didn’t get to take you to Liyue to see the Lantern Rite yet. He hasn’t spoken of his appreciation and love for you enough. He hasn’t finished the sketchbook dedicated to only portraits of you. He hasn’t baked enough deserts with you. He hasn’t, he hasn’t, hE HASN’T-

Murky tears start to flow down his porcelain cheeks; what made them so unclear, he did not know the answer to.

Kissing the crown of your head, Albedo lifts your face, both of his hands cupping your face. His thumbs wipe away the tears that tainted your completion.

“I don’t want to die being known as the alchemist that turned Mondstat to ruins.” Albedo chokes out, his throat throbbing as raw emotion slip through his lips. “Kill me while I am still my own, Y/n. Kill me while I’m still Klee’s older brother, while I’m still the proud Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius.”

Albedo stops to take a quick intake of breath, losing composure for a brief second as a strong wave of despair rushes in. It’s almost time.

“While I’m still yours.”

You witness your lover’s entire left eye turn an abysmal scarlet once again, an unnerving contrast to his original, but this time, it refuses to turn back. The roots of his ashy blonde hair are slowly converting to a black that rivalled the midnight sky. But that didn’t matter much, he was still your Albedo, that, and the fact your vision was practically useless against the moisture secreting from your eyes.

The both of you sat on the snow. You, on Albedo’s lap. Time ticked by, it could’ve been a few minutes or hours; it didn’t matter. Sat in silence, only the exhale of each others breaths and the beating of your hearts were heard across Dragonspine.

Releasing a heavy sigh, filled with pain and anguish, you accepted the alchemist’s fate. Your left palm against his right cheek, Albedo, to yours and his silent dismay, habitually sought your warmth. You ran your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Wait for me, okay?” You ask.

“Anything for you, my love.” He answers.

Pressing Albedo’s lips against yours a final time, you felt him lean into you. Closing your eyes, the taste of salt takes over your tastebuds; your tears, most likely.

You sink the dagger seamlessly into his heart.

[legolasbadass]

A Lifetime Apart [1/3]

Artwork by the lovely @gwen-ever​

Relationship: Thorin x OC

Summary: Thorin meets his One while still a young prince in Erebor, but their lives are torn apart by their families and the arrival of Smaug. 

Based on Alice Tynan’s interview with Richard Armitage in ‘The Vine,’ this fic was inspired by @gwen-ever’s wonderful art for the @tolkienrsb 2021! 

Warnings: Angst. Seriously guys, this is really angsty, get your tissues ready. (gwen and I are not sorry lol)

Rating: T

As always, the fic can be read on AO3. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

There is a room in Erebor, a secret place where once their love bloomed in peace. All the memories of that place, where he held her and worshipped her with his lips, were forever engraved in his mind. It was there that, after months of struggling with his feelings, he had realized she was his One.

All Dwarves know that Mahal sometimes creates two of his children from the same stone, bonding them for life. Of course, not all Dwarves marry. Even those granted this honour by their Maker do not always choose to marry, for some value friendship above all other bonds, while others devote themselves to their craft. Still, as a young boy, Thorin had hoped Mahal would deem him worthy, and every night he had dreamt of the moment he would meet his One, conjuring their likeness like an artist who paints a picture and gives it life.

He had also wondered what it would feel like to meet his One. Would he know immediately? And how would he know? Perhaps it would be like in those romance novels his sister liked so much. A tender, all-consuming look from across the room, silently reassuring the other that they had found each other at last.

Perhaps due to long hours in the council chamber, Thorin had become more of a realist as the years went on. He always had to be on his guard, and he learned quickly that he could not trust his desires, for they could be manipulated by advisors and enemies alike. Romanticism was fine for artists but not for princes. The idea of a destined love became no more than a child’s fanciful dream, and Thorin grew gradually less opposed to the concept of an arranged marriage until the thought of it did not bother him at all. After all, his parents had been married for a political alliance and had still grown to care for each other. Thorin knew he would do the same.

At least, that was what he had told himself before he met Rúna, his dear Rúna.

He did not know immediately that she was his One, but from the moment their gazes met, he knew he would never again be the same. Her presence had so bewitched him that he had not realized he was walking toward her until she stood right in front of him. Then, stumbling over his every word, he had thought himself defeated, oblivious to the fact that she felt the same indescribable pull toward him.

“Thorin, at your service,” had been his first words to her.

“Rúna, daughter of Ragni, your highness,” she had replied with a curtsy, enchanting him all the more with her melodious voice.

“I hope you are having a pleasant time, Lady Rúna.” Already, he had loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

“More pleasant than you, at least, seeing as you have found nothing better to do than stare at me from across the room,” she had replied teasingly.

Blushing furiously, he had attempted to remain formal and composed but, ultimately, had failed miserably. “I had hoped that would go unnoticed, or at the very least, that you would humour me and pretend like nothing had transpired. And just because I was watching you does not mean I am not having a pleasant time. On the contrary, my spirits were lifted by the sight of your fairness.”

Thorin could still remember the beautiful blush that had painted her cheeks. “Forgive me,” he had said hastily. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I did not say I did not enjoy it,” she had replied with the most enchanting smirk.

That was how their conversations usually unfolded. Thorin, who always prided himself on being in control and always knowing what to say, would find himself barely able to think. He blamed her low-cut gowns and the redness of her lips for that.

They soon became inseparable. Every day, they would meet in their secret room, a haven where they shared stolen kisses and soft caresses. Âzyungel, she would call him, for she, too, had accepted Mahal’s will. She had accepted Thorin as hers, and in those moments, both of them had believed nothing would ever separate them, for they were destined to be together.

Deep in the caverns of his mind, a voice called out to Thorin, warning him against the intensity of his passion, but he did not listen. He found himself thinking of her at the most inappropriate times, and she haunted the nights he wished he could spend with her. When he closed his eyes, he saw her smile and heard her laughter, clearer than the soft splashing of water against limestone rocks.

What would it be like to spend his whole life with her, his Rúna?

Thorin thought with utter surety that he would soon know when they announced to their families their intent to wed. At first, everyone was overjoyed. Rúna came from a wealthy and respectable family, so the king had no objections to his grandson’s choice — not that any of that mattered to the couple. Ale and Dorwinion wine flowed freely as the news travelled through the mountain. The prince had chosen his princess.

Thorin and Rúna welcomed their families’ approval, but they secretly longed to be alone once more. When at last they found themselves in the comfort of Thorin’s chambers, they drank some more wine between languid kisses, committing the moment to memory. Fingers braided hair then caressed the skin they hastily revealed, their cheeks tainted with the soft glow of love.

That night, like their hearts forever bound, their bodies became one. Thorin was gentle, attentive to her every need, and even afterwards, he continued to bathe her in tenderness, scattering kisses all over her skin as they murmured promises of eternal love to each other, bodies entangled.

Rúna fell asleep to the soft lullaby of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and though she never doubted for a second his sincerity and devotion, those promises were never fulfilled.

Rúna knew they should have been patient, and although she was usually very sensible, she had not known how to resist her handsome prince, especially not when his body had promised her glorious passion, now and for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was not as though premarital relations were unheard of. However, princes had to follow much stricter rules. And these rules had been carelessly ignored. And as the days went on, Rúna knew she would not have the luxury of keeping their transgression a secret, for inside her bloomed the product of her and Thorin’s love, but also the cause of their demise.

Even if it had not been for her growing belly, her morning sickness and alarmingly fluctuating moods would have given her away. And they did. She had never seen her parents so furious, and their disappointment pierced her heart. Her father shouted about her stained reputation and their ruined bloodline, leaving her in tears as she tried to scramble away in search of Thorin even as she knew it was hopeless.

She knew they would separate them.

King Thror, with the support of Thorin’s parents, banished Rúna from Erebor, never to see her beloved again. She tried to fight them, indignation festered inside her like a poisoned wound, the unattainable promise of Thorin’s love shattering her heart into a million pieces, but it was hopeless.

They did not inform Thorin of this, for it was their firm intention never to let him know about the bastard child. Instead, they told him she was bedridden while they conjured up a more permanent plan. And so, unaware that his One had been taken from him, Thorin brought flowers to Rúna’s door every day. He hated every moment he was forced to spend away from her — it felt unnatural — but he consoled himself by thinking that they would spend their whole lives together.

Then the dragon came.

Thorin had been out hunting in the woods with his siblings when a strong wind began to rattle the treetops. Then a roar like thunder split the sky, and the blood of Thorin’s veins froze when he heard a shout from afar.

“Dragon!”

Rúna.

Without so much as a glance at his companions, Thorin bolted toward the mountain, fear clogging his throat.

Refusing to believe this was real, he did not even stop when the gates loomed above him, riddled in flames, but the screams piercing his ears grounded him to the bitterness of reality. The air was wrought with the stench of burning flesh and the sorrow of a broken people. All around him, children cried in fright, and mothers wept while the distant ringing of useless steel announced their defeat.

No help came from the Elves that day, nor any day since; a betrayal Thorin never forgot. Even if there had been survivors still clawing for breath inside the mountain, they had no means to reach them.

Rúna.

Thorin searched for her everywhere, shouting her name until his lungs burned, but when the moon appeared, and she was still nowhere to be found, Thorin knew it was hopeless. Grief crashed over him like a hurricane.

He had lost her.

He wanted to tear the sky open and demand retribution from Mahal himself, but all his remaining strength he used to remain on his feet. He had to be strong for his people — what remained of them. His family had miraculously survived, but even that could not have filled the gaping hole where his heart had once beat.

Rúna, his dear Rúna. The memory of her lips against his turned to ash in his mouth. When he had last kissed her and held her, he had done so thinking he would have a lifetime to keep loving her. But she was now no more than a memory.

He forced himself not to think of that, for his people needed him now more than ever. Only once he was finally alone did he let his tears run free, and all through the night, he sobbed into his pillow, his only comfort the memories of their secret room, untouched by fire and blood. Thorin held onto those memories all through the years, never forgetting, never forgiving.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Âzyungêl: Love of Loves (used here to refer to the Dwarven belief in a single, destined soulmate)

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @mcchiberry @bitter-sweet-farmgirl​ @i-did-not-mean-to​

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

[fandomness--randomness]

Not so Hard Run Ins {Reiner Braun x Reader}

Warnings: none, just fluff and embarrassing stuff lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You just wanted to return a shirt Marco had lended you, instead you found yourself face to face with your longtime crush.... or rather face to chest.

inspired by this tiktok

Anyways - I love Reiner and his hella mommy milkers (I've loved this hoe since season 1, I am the ultimate Reiner simp)

Sasha let out a long groan as she stretched her arms high above her head. Her joints cracked and popped as she did so. “Gah! I’m so hungry!” She whined.

“Please - you’re hungry all the time.” You chuckled softly, landing a light punch across Sasha’s arm. The girl overreacted, splayed herself across the porch banister and placed the back of her hand across her forehead like some kind of damsel in distress.

“Oh woe is me! I have been slain!” She cried out.

Connie, who was walking from the training field with Jean and Marco, quickly joined in on the antics. He laid himself across the banister next to Sasha in a similar fashion and began to lament of their shared demise. Something about how if Sasha, his partner in crime and fellow prankster, died - he too would die of heartbreak and boredom.

Rolling your eyes, you walk into the cafeteria with Marco as Jean attempts to pull them out of their improve scene.

“When those two start acting up, I can’t help but feel old.” You muttered as you snatched a plate of whatever mediocre slop they had been feeding the training corps the last three years and some stale bread.

Marco chuckled. “Come on (Y/N), don’t say that. You’re only a few years older than us. It’s not like you’re some old lady who can barely walk.” He sat down on the bench gently while you plopped down without a care.

Rolling your shoulder, you scoffed. “I sure feel like it with all this hand to hand combat lately. I just want to get back to ODM training already.”

Two more, much taller figures than you and Marco sat down across from you with their own meals.

“Well now, if you’re an old lady does that make Bertholdt and I old men?” Reiner joked before taking a bite of his bread. “We’re the same age after all.” He added, sending you a soft smile.

Clenching your fist under the table, you turned your gaze to your dinner and fought back the oncoming heat to your cheeks. You’re not sure when it happened - but along the path of tough,constant training and awkward teenage development, you found yourself in love with the muscular blond. You didn’t think much of him at first, thinking he was just like the other stupid boys from your village that showed off their muscles in an attempt to woo girls like you and your friends.

But that idea began to crumble when his brotherly nature was revealed and he offered a helping hand to the other cadets when they needed it. The misconception was practically destroyed the day he offered to carry you back to camp after you had rammed right into a tree while using ODM gear. You had originally wanted to curse out Eren for being overly cocky and nearly crashing into you, which caused you to overcorrect and smash into the tree - but the feeling of Reiner’s muscular back against your chest was just too distracting. That night you practically ran to bed in an embarrassed mess.

Tonight would no doubt be the same if Reiner continued to joke around with you.

Shoveling some food into your mouth, you leaned onto the table with your elbows and pointed the old spoon at Reiner. “I’m - what - 3 months older than you? I’ve practically got years of wisdom on you.”

Reiner laughed at your remark just as the rest of your friends joined the table - Sasha and Connie sporting reddened ears and Jean nearly having a vein in his forehead pop.

Smiling at your fellow cadets, you let yourself fall into the flow of conversation. And although you loved and appreciated all your friends, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over to Reiner every once in a while.

Thankfully, there was no after dinner training - so the cadets had a few hours of freetime until the lights went out. This gave you the chance to finally get around to cleaning your laundry and refreshing your ODM gear.

While others found doing laundry to be a pain Sasha, you found the rhythmic pattern to be soothing and comfortable. Because of this, more than often, you would do laundry for yourself and few of your friends.

Popping your head into the giant dorm room, you called out to the rest of the girls. “Hey, does anyone need their laundry done? I want to get it done before it gets dark so give it to me now if you want.” Most of the girls shook their head, thanking you for the offer, but some of the others handed off small baskets of clothes and bedsheets.

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” Christa exclaimed.

You smiled back at her. “It’s no problem. This way they'll be able to dry overnight if need be.”

Walking back outside with a few more baskets of laundry, you set to work. It was the height of summer and the sun was still beating down on the poor training corps. Thankfully, it hadn’t rained in some time so there was no lingering humidity that would prolong the drying process.

It was so hot and dry that your first round of laundry was done drying by the time you finished washing the entire load. Pulling the dry laundry off of the pins, you brought them inside and to their appropriate owners before going to the equipment building to clean and polish your ODM gear.

By the time you returned to the hanging clothes, the sun was starting to set.

You smiled in victory at the realization that all of the laundry had dried. Setting everything in the appropriate baskets, you lugged the now clean clothes and bedsheets inside. The girls who had taken up your offer thanked you again as they readied themselves for bed.

Taking your own basket to your bed (thank god for having the bottom bunk) you began to unload and fold the laundry. All was normal until you came across a large navy blue shirt. It was certainly too big to be yours and you didn’t own anything like this.

Then you remembered. Slapping a hand across your forehead, you let out a long sigh.

The week prior, Sasha had knocked you right into the mud during some after dinner training. Thankfully Marco and Jean were watching the two of you, so being the kind soul he was, Marco rushed into his dorm and grabbed an extra shirt for you to change into quickly.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glanced out the window. The sun had set, but the torches outside and lights inside the other buildings were still lit.

Turning to Mikasa, you asked, “do you think I have enough time to return this shirt to Marco? Before lights out?”

The ravenette glanced at you, the shirt, outside the window, and then back to you. She nodded lightly. “Yeah, I think it’s safe. The sun set only a few minutes ago. Lights shouldn’t be called for another 30 minutes.”

Letting out a breath of relief, you jogged out the door and called out a thanks to Mikasa for her stable judgment.

It wasn’t uncommon for cadets to go back and forth between the dorms despite their gender. You and Sasha were often found invading Jean and Connie’s space to beg them to play cards with you two and Marco. Eren and Armin always seemed to be calling for Mikasa to come hang out with them too. But that was when the sun was out.

Going to the others’ dormitory building when the sun had already set was sort of...taboo among cadets, even if it was technically allowed.

No one just wanted to walk into the dorms when the chance of walking into the other cadets changing or even bathing were at its peak. But this was just a quick trip in and out. You’d be fine.

Slipping into the boys dormitory hall, you started the familiar trek to the dorm room Marco was in. It was practically ingrained into your head at this point (not to mention that the dorm buildings’ layouts were the exact same). You expected to run in and run out - no issues.

That was until you turned a corner and came face first with a wall. At least that’s what you would’ve thought if the wall didn’t let out a surprised grunt.

Horror flooded through your veins as you realized your cheek was pressed right against someone’s bare chest, the heat of their skin radiating across your face. Glancing up, that horror doubled - no, tripled - in size.

You hadn’t just ran into some random boy. No - you had just ran right into Reiner Braun, who was only clad in a towel around his waist with skin still damp from his shower.

The red blush you had pushed back at dinner came back full force. The two of you stared at each other for a moment in surprise. Reiner’s own blush spread across his cheeks and ears.

“He’s really warm.” You thought. “And a lot more muscular than I thought. Yet his chest is so soft. I feel like I could fall asleep on it.” You stared at his deep hazel eyes. “I really want to run my hands across his chest. Does he have abs too? Oh what I would do to be able to let my hands wander down furth-”

A droplet of water from Reiner’s hair dripped onto your nose.

“THIS IS FOR MARCO PLEASE GIVE IT TO HIM!” You screamed, shoving the now wrinkled shirt into Reiner’s chest.

Not waiting for a response, you turned onto your heel and ran out of the dorm practically screaming - a high pitched whine and curses following your wake. You didn’t stop until you had your face planted into the mattress and body huddled in blankets.

Your entire body was on fire as your friends questioned what had happened. Some were more worried, like Christa; while others immediately thought the worst may have happened like Mikasa and Sasha. Eventually, when you kept shaking your head and refused to come out of your blankets, your friend retired to their beds. All except Sasha, who sat next to you, swinging her legs back and forth as she waited.

Peeking out of the blanket, you looked up at her.

“I did something so embarrassing, Sash.”

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 1: Suit Up

EDIT: Written by The Maribat Pit Content warning: Swearing, there is a quote that is a reference to Titans!Jason, references to Chloe’s actions in “Battle of the Miraculous”. Rated: T Inspired by: that one Tumblr post that suggested what would happen if Jason used a Lucky Charm.   Prompt: Suit Up The kidnappers had Marinette, and Jason knew that desperate times called for desperate measures.  Marinette hadn’t returned home from her mission the night before, Plagg returned that morning without her.  He explained that Marinette had managed to free most of the kidnapped kids, but she was captured shortly after being depowered.  They assumed she was one of the kids that hadn’t managed to escape. 

Jason went from slightly worried to absolutely frantic.  Roy was still in rehab, and there was no time to call in the Bat clan for help, it was up to him.  In his mind, the more time they wasted, the closer she came to sharing his fate.  “Great, just fucking fantastic”, he muttered to himself “the bad guys have the girl you love and you’re here looking for her jewelry”.  If he went in guns blazing as the Red Hood, they would probably just kill her instantly and without a second thought.  That being said, she would probably kill him later for tearing through the apartment like this.   He was flipping the bed on its side, opening all the drawers and pulling out all of the contents.  He was trying to find the Chinese Miracle Box, thinking maybe someone in there would help him if it meant saving their Guardian.  He remembered a conversation they had when his curiosity about her powers got the better of him.

“So what if you were to, hypothetically, use several of these things at once?” He remembered asking.

“I did once, the Multimouse clones were using different fusions.  Wearing them all at once can be pretty draining, even the fusions can be pretty taxing at the best of times if I’m not careful” she explained.

She also explained what happened when her old classmate tried to put on various Miraculous at once and started demanding power from them. Suffice it to say she didn’t get her way.  So, by the sound of things, Tikki was his best bet, or he’d probably end up pissing off the other ones like Chloe did.

He found the box in her closet and opened it, to find that Plagg’s ring was missing and so were Tikki’s earrings.  He closed the box and pushed it back into the closet, before searching the room for the earrings.  She had said something before about Plagg and Tikki being the least suspicious of him.  Probably because their combined magic was what created the Lazarus pits, the very reason he wasn’t still six feet under.  He finally noticed the small red and black box sitting on the chest of drawers, and he popped it open to find the earrings inside.  He wasted no time putting the studs in one ear, before a pink ball of light appeared in front of him. The ball of light turned into Tikki who gave a little stretch and yawn before being startled to see Jason instead of Marinette in front of her. “Hey Tikki, sorry, no time to explain but Marinette’s in trouble” he spluttered, “please I need your help, I wouldn’t be asking otherwise”.

“If that’s true, then there’s no time to waste, let’s go!” Tikki exclaimed, “Just say the words and I’ll help you.” Jason’s mind suddenly drew a blank, as he tried to remember what words Marinette used to transform into Ladybug.  

“Bug Prism Power Make Up?” he tried.

“He doesn’t know the magic words?” Plagg asked slyly, “our Guardian’s life is on the line and he doesn’t know the magic words”.

“I know that you’d make a nice chew toy for Brutus”, Jason snapped as he tried to think.  “Go go Lucky Charm?” he tried, Tikki shook her head.

“Lucky charm usually comes a bit later” she rubbed the back of her head, “keep trying, if Marinette is in trouble, then she needs our help”. 

“Okay let me think, uh…It’s Magic Time? Ladybug Up? In brightest day, in blackest night...?” He kept throwing out suggestions, but Tikki continued to shake her head.  “Uh, Shazam?” he had to give that one a try at least once, Tikki sighed.

Tikki thought it was admirable watching him at least trying to figure it out, even if Plagg was no help at that moment.  It was clear to the little Kwami, she didn’t need to look that hard to know that this boy cared deeply for Marinette, even if he was hesitant to admit it at first.  Tikki remembered gently encouraging Marinette to confess her feelings towards him, while Roy and Jason’s brothers took a more…direct approach.  

“All right Jason, I’ll tell you the magic words but first,” Tikki told him and they both heard the Kwami’s stomach growl, breaking the awkward silence in the room.  Jason remembered why Marinette usually kept a cookie on hand whenever she brought Tikki along, while the faint smell of cheese usually meant Plagg was in tow instead.  

“Come on, let’s go get you a cookie” Jason said, “and some cheese for you” he shot Plagg a slightly irritated look.  As Jason looked around the kitchen, the only cookies and cheese they had were the cheap stuff.  Tikki tried to be polite about the fact that the oreo wasn’t going to cut it, Plagg just turned up his little cat nose at the processed American cheese. “Sorry Tikki, Marinette’s been a bit busy lately,” he told her before rounding on Plagg “what’s your problem?”

“You don’t happen to have any camembert, do you?” he asked, still refusing to even look at the slice of processed cheese.

“Camembert? Who was your last user?” Jason asked incredulously.  Desperate times were calling for even more desperate measures, “just hang in there Marinette,” he thought.

Jason wouldn’t be racing over to Wayne Manor if it wasn’t a dire emergency. Tikki was safely tucked away in his jacket pocket, while Plagg was clinging to the hem of his jacket as it billowed behind him.  Jason brought his motorbike to a stop just outside the gates, before hopping off darting past Damian, petting a sleeping Alfred the cat in his lap.  Right now, he was hoping Alfred the human was baking something that would catch the Kwami’s eye.  Sadly, he was not, a note on the kitchen door explained he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.  Sadly, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow.  He opened the kitchen door, the cookies from Alfred’s last batch were stored in a cookie jar on top of the fridge.  There was one cookie left, he unzipped his pocket and gestured to the cookie in the jar.  Jason reached up and grabbed the jar, before opening it and grabbing the cookie inside.  He also reached into the fridge and grabbed the camembert for Plagg.  With the Kwami munching on their snacks of choice, he dashed out of the kitchen. Plagg had practically inhaled the wheel of cheese all at once, and glided alongside him. Meanwhile, Tikki clung to the cookie with one hand and the hem of Jason’s pocket with the other. 

That morning, Bruce was not expecting to see Jason rushing past him.  He wasn’t expecting to see a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie threatening to fly out of his jacket pocket.  “Hi, can’t talk now, Marinette needs help, bye.” He called before disappearing down the hallway. Jason dashed past Dick who had just woken up, and Tim was on his way to the kitchen for some more coffee. 

“Was that the last cookie?” Dick asked, slightly groggily.

“Oh that had better not be the last cookie” Tim groaned, someone had better be dying if that was the case.

Jason rushed to his motorcycle, and slammed the gate shut behind him before hopping on and putting on his helmet. Tikki was halfway through munching on the cookie, when she gave him a quick rundown of the powers that she would be giving him.  Jason knew that the Miraculous granted the user enhanced speed, strength and endurance, he just hadn’t thought there would come a day when he would have to use their power.  It was probably for the best that their guardian didn’t choose him when he was 13, for reasons that a bunch of guards were about to find out very soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette found herself in a cage inside a warehouse.  There were two men guarding the cage, neither of them knew that Marinette was the girl in the black leather catsuit. They caught her just as the clock had run out on her powers, and they assumed she was one of the kids that had been captured.  She was a petite young woman, and they found her dressed in a polka dotted hoodie, shorts and tights.  She sent Plagg to go get help, and he had been gone for a few hours now.  She was getting increasingly antsy,  Jason was probably worried sick about her.  

Jason arrived at the suspected gang hideout as fast as could, leapt off his bike and grappled to a vantage point. “Ok, relatively small time trafficking racket. Now where is Pixie Pop?” Jason thought to himself, scanning the area from his vantage point. “Plagg, go find Marinette, and tell her to not transform until I arrive.”  Plagg flew out of Jason’s pocket and made his way there.  “Alright Tikki, what's the magic word?” The Kwami flew out of Jason’s pocket as he spoke, Tikki glided to Jason’s ear and whispered to him the phrase. Jason repeated “Spots On” and felt power coursing through his veins. It felt like Venom without the addictive or berserk tendencies, pure energy was flowing through him. He felt the uncontrollable urge to pose and move with the flow of energy, doing a flourish of kicks and punches.  It ended with him raising his left leg to his head, as if it was a vertical split and slamming it down. “Owwwwwwwwwwww” Jason groaned, “My thighs were not meant to do that.” He was not expecting the compulsive flourishes for the transformation itself.

Jason looked at his reflection in a nearby puddle, he could see he was wearing a full spotted suit and domino mask like Ladybug, yet his leather jacket stayed during the transformation and received its own ladybug pattern. Jason sucked up the pain and pushed onwards to the gang hideout.

Jason snuck in through a vent and approached a large main room, housing most if not all of the guards and their “merchandise” with cages strewn across the room with mostly women and children locked up. He finally sees Marinette, alive but imprisoned in a cage with a few other people in a corner. Jason needed a distraction so that Marinette could transform into Lady Noire. He had to do something to take the attention off every single person in the room. 

Jason sighed and thought of a plan, it may not be the most flattering, but it worked and it would not be so threatening as cutting out the lights. He burst from the air vents and landed in a crouch, standing straight and shouting “Halt Evildoers, it I...Red Bug?” 

This indeed worked as planned, as every guard, goon and hostage set their eyes on the intruder.  The guards began pointing and laughing, “Good, they don't think I’m a threat” thought Jason. The guards underestimating Red Bug was what he needed, so that they would not find him threatening or harm anyone just yet. 

Marinette took this opportunity to transform into Lady Noire. She wasted no time and began with Cataclysm, bringing down all the cages and making her way to Jason’s position. Both Lady Noire and Red Bug began fighting the guards, buying the hostages time to make their escape. As the last person successfully escaped the gang hideout, both Lady Noire and Red Bug stood side by side.  More of them began to trickle in as they heard the commotion and began to surround the pair.

Marinette needed to think fast, she didn't have much time left after casting Cataclysm. She said to her partner, “Lucky Charm, Now!” Red Bug raised his eyebrow, “Lucky Charm?” he repeated. He suddenly felt the same compulsion as he did during the transformation, his arm suddenly shot upward with the yo-yo spinning. He looked up to see a swarm of ladybugs converge to form...a purse? Red Bug caught the purse with a look of disbelief, Lady Noire looked around the room for a plan to use the purse. Lady Noire got a burst of inspiration and turned around to tell her partner of her cunning plan, only to be greeted by thin air. She was brought out of her stupor hearing her partner yell out “LIGHTS OUT BITCH!”.  She whipped her head towards the source of the noise to see Red Bug beating the guards with the Ladybug-themed purse.  “I guess that works too” she said to nobody in particular. Knowing she had little time remaining as Lady Noire, she started running for the exit. Red Bug had no issue dealing with the remaining goons. Marinette hadn’t expected Jason to suit up with one of the Miraculous, not that she was complaining.  She had expected him to come charging in as the Red Hood, or maybe start by picking off the guards one-by-one.  She was surprised, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one, mostly.  Since leaving Chat Noir behind in Paris, the fight left her feeling oddly nostalgic.  Sometimes she missed fighting alongside a Miraculous user, though Tikki might have something to say about his...unusual use of a Lucky Charm.  She walked over to Jason’s parked motorcycle and waited. Within minutes Jason followed suit and walked out the front door of the hideout.  A swirl of green light surrounded him as he changed back, and Tikki zoomed over towards Marinette.  Tikki nuzzled against Marinette’s face for a moment, before Jason walked towards her.  He pulled his girlfriend into a big hug,  Marinette is left breathless for a moment as he nuzzles into her neck.   He didn’t say anything, but neither of them really needed to say anything at that moment. Touched by how much Jason cared for her, Marinette returned the hug. She stayed in that warm embrace for a long moment, before reaching up and gently patting him on the head.  “Let’s go home...Pixie Pop.” Jason pulled away at the mention of the nickname he gave her, and before she could react, Jason began pinching her cheeks. “What did you call me?” Jason jokingly interrogated, while Marinette giggled like an idiot. EXTRA: Jason is sitting next to Dick and Damian in the Wayne manor lounge with two ice packs on his thighs Jason:  I don’t know how you do it Dickie, my thighs were not meant to do that. Dick (covers Damian’s ears): Soooo did you and Marinette…. Jason:  I literally beat up some guys with a purse today, don’t push me.

[legendofzelda4life]

I tried...

Okay sequel to this oneshot, inspired by this

Lets go Hyrule angst

-------------------------------------

Twilight closed his eyes.

“N-no…” I felt for his heart rate and breathing.

Faint, but there.

“Dammit, Twi! Don’t do this!” I ran my hands through my hair as I looked towards the two others within the room. Four and Time stood, faces stoic, pain visible in their eyes.

I knew what to do.

I conjured up a book of herbs and plants.

Books of magic.

Books full of words and words about things that, no matter how hard I tried, they didn’t work.

Hours have passed since Twilight’s eyes closed. By now, he was long gone.

But I have to keep trying.

By this point, the room was overrun with plants, seeping through the floorboards and out the windows. Twilight’s body lay suspended in a cradle made by the vines.

The door opened and closed, making way for everyone that wasn’t already here. I glanced at Sky.

Pleading.

Wind had pain in his features. Warriors had guilt. Legend, sorrow. Wild was the last one to walk in.

They say your eyes are the gateway to the soul…

I daresay, I’ve never seen one so shattered and full of rage. Regrets.

Wild’s eyes burned with the pain of 1000 words. He began to speak as he cupped his hands together.

“Mipha, I know I laid the abilities to rest but, please, I need your help.” Wild’s body glowed an ominous, spiritual green as he placed a hand on Twilight’s chest.

Nothing.

Tears fell from Wild’s eyes as he held Twilight’s torso in his arms.

“No…” He whispered, brushing hair from Twilight’s eyes. His body racked with the pain-filled sobs we all felt.

Wind walked forward, removing the joy pendant from his own neck as he placed it on Twilight. “Legend has it, these are meant to keep those you love alive. I never believed it but now-” Wind sobbed, “now I need it to work.” Time pulled the sailor in as he cried.

Sky walked up next, quietly placing a small wooden carving of Epona next to Twilight.

Four’s eyes flashed a mix of colours as he stared at the floor, seemingly mad. He didn’t know what to do. Legend and War stood unmoving near the door, refusing to look anywhere except Twilight. Time looked as though he desperately wanted to cry for the loss of his son but, with the seven others there, he refused.

“I tried…” I quietly whispered. “I’m sorry…” I looked up to see Wild looking at me with sad eyes. “We know, Hyrule. No one blames you.” “But-” I tried to interject. “No.” Sky cut me off. “The only one to blame is that forsaken Goddess.”

The room went quiet from shock as we slowly registered what was said. “But isn’t she your…?” Legend asked. Sky looked up, eyes and veins glowing a lightning blue. “This is all because she wanted Hylians to do her bidding! I killed a God that cursed you all into this because she made me!” The lightning spread to his hair. Before we knew it, he was wrapped in Wars’ scarf.

“Lightning proof.” He calmly stated before looking back at all of us. “But, he’s right. The Goddess didn’t have to take him so soon. Only the will of the Gods can stop the power of the Triforce like that.”

“But maybe if I just tried harder.” I looked from my hands to the vines. I feel so..

So useless…

“It’s okay, Rule. We know you tried. Wild did too. So did Time. There’s nothing we can do.” Legend took me into a hug. Part of me feels like he needed this more than I did.

“Now, it’s probably time we get going.” I don’t really know who spoke, all I know is that I was directed out of the room.

“No!” I fought out of the grasp I was in. I wrapped my hands in the vines and released as much magic as I could.

I screamed as it burned.

“Hyrule! Stop!” Legend…

I can’t…

I need it to be enough…

I need to save him…

The world went dark.

Timeskip

It’s been weeks since Twilight died. We’re already back in the Hyrule we left him in.

Time flows differently depending on which Hyrule we’re in. Here, it’s been decades. The building we left him in was crumbling over the vines and plants. I walked into, what used to be, the room he was in.

The vines I held as I drained my magic laid at my feet. They were the only ones that didn’t grow.

The floor where Sky stood as anger overcame him was charred.

Fairies seem to have made their home here. More than six of them, easily visible as they fluttered around the orb of vines Twilight was in.

A soft tune played throughout the overgrowth. The very same tune Time had tried.

Looking over to where Twilight was, the blue green glow that Wild had emitted was now surrounding him. Twilight himself? Well…

It seems his body refused to decay.

Why must the Goddess be so cruel? Why let us stop the decay but not save him?

Why make me try so hard?

Footsteps approached and I turned to see Time.

“Looking for a chance to cry, old man?” I asked. He chuckled in response. “I didn’t get much of one when it happened.” He said as he slowly approached the body of his successor. I left the room - if you could even call it that - silently to give him that chance.

-------------------------------------

I know, I know. It makes no sense and the sentence structure sucks but fuck you im crying lol

[sirius-archive]

Dare or Dare (Prompt)

Pairing: James Potter x Reader, mentioned Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 2256

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, mentions of sex i guess?

Request: Could you do 13 and 15 of random with James or Sirius maybe? :) - Anonymous

Prompt: 13. “YOU SAID BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!” 15. “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” 

A/N: First prompt finally finished!! please send in more! the list is pinned to my blog. Enjoy <3

***

It may have been cliche, but it was a common tradition for you and your friends to steal food from the kitchens, get drunk and play stupid muggle games late at night in the Gryffindor common room.

The fire crackled and popped, emitting shards of amber light that jarred with the dark shadows, creating a golden-warm atmosphere that encompassed you and your friends. You sat crossed-legged on the ground between Mary and Marlene Marlene while the boys - James, Sirius, Remus and Peter - sat opposite you, forming a circle that sort of resembled a seance. Littered in the centre of your ‘Friendship Circle’ (coined affectionately by James) was your plunder; a variety of puddings and treats and left-over sweets from a recent Hogsmeade trip.

Soon enough, two bottles of firewhiskey were brandished and passed around the group, and everyone was taking long sips from the bottle - everyone except for you.

“Boo,” Sirius jeered, “You’re boring.”

“Well excuse me if I don’t want liver failure,” you drawled, rolling your eyes, “Besides, six people sharing from the same bottle? That’s unsanitary.”

“What? You worried you’ll catch boy cooties,” Sirius teased, “Because last time I checked, you didn’t mind boy cooties when I saw you making out with Prongs in the broom closet last week. And trust me, none of that was exactly ‘sanitary’.”

You felt your face glow with embarrassment as laughter bubbled over the group. You glanced at James, at the little curl of his lips that wasn’t quite as mischievous as a smirk, but not as open and carefree as a smile. It was somewhere in between...like he wasn’t embarrassed of kissing you, of even being lumped in the same sentence as you. It made your heart swell, your cheeks no longer warm from embarrassment.

“Why don’t we stop harassing (Y/N) and Potter and get on with some games!” Marlene urged, gracefully saving you from Sirius.

“Yes!” Peter agreed, “I managed to find a load of fun muggle games in this book!”

He pulled out a book from his bag and brandished it before you friends.

“101 Party Games to Play at your Bachelorette Party,” Remus read aloud, frowning, “Some how, I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I do!” Mary said eagerly, leaning forward to get a good look at the book.

“Whats a Bachelorette Party?” asked Marlene, brows knitted in confusion.

“It’s a party where a bride and her bridal party celebrate her last night as a ‘single’ woman,” Mary explained excitedly, “My mums been to loads. She always comes back with weird penis shaped memorabilia.”

“Well, what’s the hold up, Wormtail?” James asked, grinning broadly, “Let’s crack it open!”

Peter dropped the book in the middle of the circle and sat back as Sirius opened the first page. A devilish grin spread slowly across his face as he read the index.

“This is brilliant!” Sirius laughed, flicking the page, “’Stick it in the Hole’ a game inspired by all those sex ed classes you pretended to listen to in High School. Two people are required, much like the real thing.”

“Muggles are insane…” Marlene decided.

“Dunk the Weenie in the Creampie,” Sirius continued, “The only time when it is encouraged to be bad at cooking. Simply tie a sausage to your waist with a short rope and try to dunk the sausage in the centre of a cream pie. Beware, this game is messy.”

“Yeah, I’m not playing that,” said Remus, disapprovingly, “I’m not sure what’s worse; having to embarrass myself by grinding on a cream pie in front of my friends or watching you lot do it.”

“Agreed,” said Peter, who was blushing furiously.

“What about this?” Sirius perked up, reading intently, “Bridal Truth or Dare. A sexy twist on a classic game. Players must reveal deep truths or suffer through scandalous dares. The more debauchery, the better!’”

“I’m down for a game of truth or dare,” Mary piped up excitedly.

“Same!” Marlene chimed.

“Me too!” said Peter.

“I have no shame and I don’t believe in regrets so I’ll play,” said James, winking at you.

“Oh what the hell,” Remus shrugged, sighing, “So long as the fire whiskey’s still flowing.”

“What do you take us for, amateurs?” Sirius gasped, his tone oozing with mock-offence.

Everyone turned to look at you. An unpleasant burning sensation prickled beneath your cheeks.

“Alright,” you sighed, grabbing a sugar quill, “I’ll play.”

Marlene and Mary giggled excitedly as Sirius dropped the book in his lap and skimmed the first page.

“Right,” he said, importantly, “If someone asks for truth, they have to answer or risk being forced to do a dare from the list of Extreme Dares.”

“I like the sound of that,” said James, craning to peer at the list.

“I don’t,” you muttered, glancing at Remus.

You knew beyond a doubt that you’d be asked about you and James’ complicated history by one of your friends and, if you refused to answer, would probably have to do something embarrassing with him like let him fondle your breasts or something stupid like that.

“Alright, so the eldest starts,” said Sirius and he grinned, “Which is me so suck it losers.”

Everyone groaned. Having Sirius start a game of Bridal Truth or Dare was going to be excruciating to say the least.

Sirius feigned a deep look of hurt, clutching his chest in pain, “I had no idea you guys thought so highly of me!”

“Hurry up, Padfoot,” Remus grumbled, taking a swing of fire whiskey, “Lets just rip it off like a band aid.”

Sirius’ lips spread into a wicked, calculating smirk. You knew that look all too well; it was the look of someone who was either barking mad or insanely clever forming a devious master plan.

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he pretended to think for one attractive moment before narrowing his eyes on you.

“(Y/N), Bridal Truth or Dare? Quickly now, or we’ll all sober up and lose our nerve.”

You thought that was quite impossible for two reasons: one, everyone except you had had enough fire whiskey to drown their veins in alcohol and, two, Gryffindors never lost their nerve.

You sighed long sufferingly, “Alright, truth.”

“Bridal truth,” Sirius corrected and then furrowed his brows in thought. His eyes sparked again with a look of wild excitement, “Have you and Prongs ever reached third base?”

Marlene and Mary stifled their giggles. James shot you an apologetic look, grimacing at Sirius.

Something about the challenging look in Sirius’ eye rankled you, grating obnoxiously on your competitive streak. Usually, you were more rational, more ‘pick-your-battles-carefully’, but now, Sirius was closing in on your relationship-not-relationship with James, something you considered deeply personal. If Sirius wanted to play this game, then he’d better be prepared to lose.

“Padfoot,” James began, glancing at you, “I think that’s-“

“No,” you answered, defiantly, “James and I have not reached third base, and that’s only because we kept getting interrupted by you.”

There was a stunned sort of silence at the tone of your voice. Everyone was used to you denying your relationship-not-relationship with James, so your candor was like a splash of cold water in the middle of winter.

You broke the silence by snatching the bottle from Sirius’ grasp, “I’m too sober for this shit.”

“You don’t even drink,” said Marlene in shock.

You uncorked the bottle, “Maybe I should start.”

Tipping your head back, you took a long drag of the fire whiskey and winced as it seared the back of your throat. A moment later, a tickling warmth kindled in your stomach, and what felt like gold shot through your veins, filling you up.

Everyone was staring at you, shocked and speechless. You - Gryffindor prefect, one of the top performing students in the school, rule abider and teachers pet - were breaking a dozen school rules by drinking fire whiskey and admitting quite blatantly that you and James would have had sex if it weren’t for Sirius.

Their shocked expressions made you smirk.

“Are you lot going to keep staring at me or are we going to play?”

***

An hour into the game, and your brain was swimming in pools of intoxicated bliss. It was like peering through rose-tinted glasses - everything was hilariously funny, and your courage and impulsivity had been dialled up by about a hundred while your common sense had abandoned you.

Everyone had participated in an array of embarrassing truths and even more embarrassing dares. Peter had asked you what it was like to kiss Sirius (you and Sirius had a few…flings…in the past, before you had realised your feelings for James).

“Be honest now,” Sirius winked at you, “You don’t have to lie because ol’ Padfoot is here.”

James looked slightly amused, but there was a glint of something dark, something wild in the mosaic of his eyes.

You took your time, formulating a response.

“Eh, he’s alright” you shrugged, nonchalantly, “I’ve had better. A little overrated, if you ask me.”

That had been a mistake. Without warning, Sirius had launched into a wild tickle attack, scrambling toward you and poking his fingers between your ribs. Laughter erupted from your lips as you keeled backward, lying flat on your back as Sirius clambered on top of you.

“YOU SAID BE HONEST STOP TICKLING ME!” you shrieked, laughing hysterically, “SIRIUS! GEROFF”

James was the first to pull Sirius off you, smacking him around the head.

“Ouch!” Sirius yelped, but he smiled at James’ playful expression.

The hours ebbed away.

Soon, everyone was getting bored with Bridal truth or dare and instead decided to play Dare or Dare. You, Marlene and Mary had been dared to race each other stripping your bras off without taking your tops off. While you had done it a million times before, it had been significantly more difficult to do while drunk.

Remus had been dared to sneak into Filch’s office and leave him a love note and James and Sirius had been dared to kiss - which they did, passionately and unabashed.

“Alright,” James had smirked as he stared at you, “(Y/N). Dare or Dare?”

You pretended to consider your options, “Hmm…Dare!”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” James grinned, dodgy and lopsided, “Alright, I dare you to sprint past Dumbledore’s office, topless.”

You grinned, climbing to your feet, “I’ll do you one better.”

Slowly, while maintaining eye contact with James, you stripped into your underwear. James’ expression cycled rapidly between awe and arousal, and you couldn’t help noticing the way he squirmed, trying to casually cover his lap with a pillow.

Marlene let out a low whistle, startling you. You had forgotten about the others.

Grabbing your cloak, your friends all made your way to Dumbledore’s office, dodging out of Filch’s sight and weaving around Peeves, who was throwing furniture around in Filch’s office.

It was only after you watched Nearly Headless Nick sweep past Dumbledores office when you unclasped your robe and let it pool around your feet. Moonlight soaking into your skin, you stepped into the empty corridor and took a deep breath. The air was cool, prickling your skin with goosebumps. Your cheeks, however, felt hot and flushed from the alcohol and adrenaline.

“Go!” urged Sirius and, without hesitating, you ran.

Arms flailing in the air, you sprinted past Dumbledore’s office while your friends giggled madly. Once you reached the corridor, you turned around and raced back but came to a sudden halt when a figure stepped around the corner.

Severus Snape was standing at the end of the corridor, a look of shock and embarrassment creeping into his thin, pallid face.

You immediately took a step back. Severus had become your friend after meeting him in Diagon Alley before your first year at Hogwarts. You’d stopped associating with him after he had started associating with Death Eaters and you had noticed a definite change in his attitude toward muggleborns.

“(Y/N),” he said, softly, as he drank in the view of you, your skin glowing in the moonlight, “W-What-?”

James and Sirius stepped forward protectively and Remus draped your cloak around your shoulders, forcing you behind him.

“What do you want, Snivellus?” James spat, “Looking for another kitten to drown for Lord Stinkamort, are you?”

Severus’ expression contorted into a look of fury. He grabbed for his wand when you stepped forward, lacing your fingers with James’.

“He’s not worth it,” you whispered, and with another urgent tug, you pulled James away, Sirius following.

Perhaps because you were there, neither James nor Severus attacked one another as you retreated to the Gryffindor common room. James was grasping your hand tightly, still enraged by Severus’ presence, but that changed when you pulled him around a corner and kissed him deeply.

“What was that for?” James asked in surprise.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” you asked, playfully, “Oh, alright then…” you started to saunter off but James pulled you back into his arms and crashed his lips onto yours, stealing the breath from your lungs and the words from your tongue.

Panting as he pulled away, James looked around and spotted something to your left. You followed his gaze, where it landed on the Prefect Bathrooms.

“Fancy a dip?” he asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Definitely,” you smirked, tugging on his belt, “And this time, we won’t be interrupted.”

***

@siriusmuch  @beyoncesdragon​ @moon-zodiac @mflufflion​

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Welp, inspiration struck me, felt as though it quite literally hit me over the top of my head at like 1am, so I proceeded to write this at...1am. It was fun, honestly. It was meant to be a shorter blurb, but I guess it grew into a longer one. I have been experimenting with different writing styles to see which one fits me the best, so I gave the main character a name this time, Alessandra. Also, I was a slight idiot and on my first tag list, I made it specific to the other series I am writing. If you like this piece and the other Mat piece I wrote and you want to be tagged when I post any writing at all, the tag list is here. The semi lowercase thing I've got going on is purposeful. As always, feedback is appreciated, and if you like it, give it a like, reblog, or pop into my asks. Thanks! :)

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: When an ex comes back in a moment of weakness, you have to make a tough decision.

you say nothing as you approach the black haired boy sitting at a table in your english class. you sit down next to him. he looks up at you, and you lock eyes. no words are spoken, only a mutual understanding. one that only you two could define. you suddenly inch closer to him, continuing to lean in until your head is resting on his chest. you rest your arm next to your head, and he wraps an arm around you.

home. warm. it was.

you could feel his heart beating out of his chest. your heart fluttered with joy. it was instant. it was marvelous. it was beautiful.

“I love you, Alessandra.”

you lurch forward out of your bed, heart beating so fast you are shaking. you pant heavily, tears stream your face, startled. your eyes dart around your room to ground yourself through watery eyes. you hold up your trembling hands, something that has refused to stop since he walked out of your front door for the last time two months ago.

“please don’t visit,” you choke out. you find the strength to turn around and grab your pillow. your chest pounds with pain, every movement is agonizing. you squeeze your soft pillow against your chest to try and alleviate the self-sustained blow. you pretended the pillow could somehow suck the heavy feelings out of you, the way he used to use his hands of healing magic, the way he used to place them with gentle care on your chest to somehow suck the anxiousness out of you onto himself.

you mindlessly rock back and forth, waiting for the waves of mind numbing pain to recede back into the endless deep abyss of despair.

“please don’t visit,” you repeat in a weak voice. not that he could hear your begging, anyways.

he didn’t hear your pleas to love you how you loved him- with every bone in your body. he held a knife in his calloused hands and carved his initials into your soul. every inch of your soul belonged to him, and you let it.

how can you break a bond that felt as though the angels themselves used their delicate touch to hand-tie the gold string you once believed held you two together?

maybe that explains why this feels like hell.

you flinch as you hear a sharp knock at the front door. you should probably get that, but you instead settle back into your hazy gaze out into your room.

a second knock rings throughout the apartment, faster, with a sense of urgency.

“please don’t visit,” you croak.

“Alessandra,” a voice croaks back. “open up.”

your blood freezes cold, eyes grow wide in panic. fire spreads through your veins. hot and cold sensations rip you apart limb from limb. your voice feels broken. no sounds come out when you open your mouth.

I guess I should move.

so you do. you stand up a little too quickly, and your vision goes black. you place your palms down on the bed and wait for your vision to return. you tip toe over to the door and place your palm on your chilling door. goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“it’s Mat,” his once soothing voice whispers through the door.

“Mat,” you quietly repeat back.

“yes, it’s me,” he says with a sigh of relief that you answered him.

his voice of familiarity is catching you in a stint of anxiety where you just want something- anything that’s familiar. you know this. when you used to gaze into his kind, brown eyes, you would see the boy you met in eighth grade, not the man that walked out that door just two months ago.

you went to move the locks, and you unlocked both of them, until you pulled back with hesitancy. “I can’t, Mat, I can’t,” you breathe out, “I can’t see you. please,” you plead, “hear me. I, I can’t. you didn’t hear me all those months I pleaded with you. hear me now.”

you can hear him place his head on the door with a soft thump.

“I still love you, Alessandra,” he mumbles.

and that was it. you just about exploded. the emotions you had kept at bay were unleashed. you began to sob and you sank to the ground until you could hug your knees. you still faced the door. you knew he shouldn’t walk in, but you almost wanted him to. you wanted him to put an end to this, but was it a good idea?

no, it wasn’t. and you knew that.

you began to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. “it’s unlocked,” you hear yourself say in the distance. you didn’t immediately regret those words like you thought you would. you had scooted yourself away from the door so you wouldn’t get hit.

he slowly opened the creaky door, and glances down to see you blankly staring at your knees. what else could you do? it was awkward enough.

he doesn’t say anything. the apartment is dead.

he carefully sits down across from you, far enough where he isn’t in your face, but close enough that you could extend your legs and they would touch him.

you both sit in silence for a moment, trying to adjust to being in each other’s presence again. his presence felt so natural, yet so nerving. you weren’t used to feeling so on edge around him. so hurt.

“time,” you sniff and break the unbearable silence. “I need time,” you reaffirm.

he nods slowly. “I understand,” he whispers. “I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up. I fucked up badly.”

you don’t move a muscle from staring at the seam on your sweatpants. you take a shaky breath. it’s now or never.

“Mat, do you know how painful it is to have to practically beg someone to not treat you like shit one day and then to decide the next day I’m the fucking greatest human being on this planet?” you start to find your voice again.

“I had to beg my boyfriend to treat me with respect. the person I gave my soul to. do you know how much that fucking killed me?” your voice was seething with anger as you remembered the end of your relationship. feelings of betrayal and hurt overtook you.

you push yourself off the floor. he follows you.

“you don’t love me,” you assert. “you ‘love’ me because of when you met me. I’m just familiar to you.”

he makes a taken aback face, his eyebrows furrow. “hey, I know what I feel okay? and yeah, I was a fucking asshole. I realize that now. I shouldn’t have acted out on you like I did. I shouldn’t have made you beg for basic human respect. I’m sorry.”

you look into his eyes again. those brown innocent eyes were once filled with sparkling joy. you see 13 year old you dancing around with his favorite flower in your hair. you see hundreds of dates, each one more special than the last.

you see innocent you. it’s just familiarity. you know it is. you’re too hurt, mind too foggy to really sort through your feelings to figure out if you love the mat standing in front of you.

“I’m going to need time, Mat. I am still feeling too much hurt to decide how I feel.”

he swallows hard, but eventually nods. “okay.”

with a heavy heart, you walk him to the door. before he can walk out, he stops, turns around, and looks down at you one last time. you gaze up into those endless eyes of his, heart shattering because you know you have to send him on his way. it’s for your own good.

he opens his mouth to speak and you gently shake your head. he closes his mouth, and you offer him a nod as in, it’s time to go. you can see his body exhale. he steps through the door frame, this time you sending him through there yourself. you don’t wait to see if he will turn around. you don’t want to see if he turns around. you want to close that door knowing you are the one who sent him away, and that was all you wanted to remember in the future. and so you do.

you lock the locks with every ounce of you left, pressing your fingers down to make sure the door was actually locked. you just wanted to keep everything out. every weird feeling, any remote desire to go back to him.

you paused to touch the door one last time, letting a single tear flow down your cheek before turning to crawl back into bed and sulk for the rest of the day.

you knew deep down that was the last time you would ever see the face of your teenage love.

he won’t be visiting anymore.

------------

again, here's the link to the tag list, and my asks are open if you want to talk about this piece! I hope you...well...enjoyed it, I guess? lmao

[lapinmiel]

Mirror, Mirror

Felix and OC (Female), 1,8K. (Part 1)

Phoebe’s life was never one of an adventure, even as a vampire — after being discovered by the Volturi for her talent, she finds herself running away from the world’s most powerful organization, and soon she finds herself in a complete lie and truth situation, with the anchor of her lover leading her to his side.

Part 1, Part 2

None of the nights were calm anymore, it was always a chaser behind, and there was always an obstacle to be faced ahead. Days were filled with blood and dread, and she wished she could close her eyes for a night and never wake up again.

He called it “teenage dread” which made her very sad and furious, because she had been alive for fifty years now, how the hell could she have a teenage dread now? She had never heard it before anyway, she was past her teens — more like early twenties, but she didn’t remember her birthday. Her thoughts were like water droplets in a bucket of water swaying left to right, purely disordered.

And now, she was dealing with another threat: the damn Volturi were after her.

The night they realized there was a vampire out there who could mirror any talent was the night her life as a free vampire had ended. She had never seen the Volturi before, but she’d heard about them from Saladin’s stories, and all those were horrible. From executing clans to poaching lone vampires, they gained form as soulless monsters in her imagination, and she was not ready to face them.

And when the night of her planned poaching had come, she was surprised, because even Jane, the little one was a monster in her mind but, she was barely half of her height, which made things complicated for her. She knew she could kill Jane in a heartbeat, it was one of her skills after all, but would she feel comfortable killing a child? She didn’t know, but she realized she would have to do it one day rather quickly.

“Phoebe.” Jane’s dead, stone-cold voice had traveled the air and reached her. “I propose you join us, and we will let your creator be free.”

It wasn’t an easy choice. It wasn’t a choice. Saladin had told her before, the Volturi does not forgive. The Volturi does not tell the truth. If she joined them, Saladin would be dead by dawn, and she would have to spend her whole life serving for three marble like (but much uglier) creatures to death. Her aspirations didn’t fit theirs, and her sense of freedom definitely wasn’t a thing that they could inspire. It wasn’t the right band of people to be sent to offer a union anyway, a little agony machine, a man with eyes of mischief and another one with a door like figure that looked like it would take him a single wrong lettering of a name to crush your skull to a jelly. Besides, the men looked slightly attractive, and it wasn’t for the easy lover like Phoebe to resist men like that easily.

She refused. No hesitation was found in her noise, no twitching of hands — and in a second of leaves falling from the trees, she felt thousands of needles trying to penetrate through her skin. Her mind took action in an instant and the three vampires fell on the ground. She used the chance to turn around and tell Saladin to run away, but he had already, and when she tried running, she felt something around her neck.

The arm, or whatever it was that choked her, felt like a tight rope, much like when she was drowning in her human life. She tried putting her hand around it, but the force was far too powerful for her to slip her hand.

Then she acted out on her instinct, and kicked the figure behind her. The arm around her neck loosened, and she used the moment to run away.

It had been five days since the night happened, and they hadn’t stopped for more than two hours. “If we stop, they will find us.” Saladin had said to her earlier, he told her that the shorter man was called Dimitri, and he could find anyone, anywhere. He couldn’t risk staying in a place more than a couple of hours because he knew the Volturi would bring a whole army to poach Phoebe, and it wouldn’t matter whether his shield would be working or not. They had penetrators anyway, and he wasn’t looking to die in at least three hundred years from that moment on. They were running for hours, hunting, and running again. Saladin knew the Volturi were tracking their footsteps, and Demetri was on their necks like a crow.

It had been three hours since they’d stopped on a mountain in north Asia, and soon, it was going to be the time to move.

Phoebe had been thinking to say something for days, and the mountain range, which she didn’t know the name at, gave her the feeling of what would happen if I said, it doesn’t matter, and she wanted to go for it.

“You know what, Saladin.” She said in a breath. Saladin was busy with finishing his food. “I’m gonna say it.”

He looked up with curious eyes.

Phoebe poked the hand of her victim on the ground to fend off nervousness.

“You are the reason that we are running away now.” She looked up at Saladin. His eyes showed no emotion other than curiosity. “If you hadn’t put your shield down on the forest, we wouldn’t be here. We would be looking for Zareen like you wished.”

Saladin, licking the blood on his lips, got up and stood on the place like a mannequin. Phoebe was relieved now, because her thoughts had reached the belonging place, and now she could deal with his bickering for a couple of days. Better than keeping thoughts in a locked up place.

“Well, I am.” Much to her surprise, Saladin wasn’t angry. “But you must accept that it wasn’t intentional. I was distracted by the human. If I wasn’t, nothing would have happened.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” She said. “If you weren’t. You should keep your guard up all times. You hadn’t one time, and we are being hunted down by the Volturi and you are probably going to get burned like a witch at a stake as if it was the Middle Ages!”

“I’m not you, Phoebe! My talent doesn’t work on its own, I have to focus on it.”

“I know.” She was feeling guilty for telling him what she thought now. It felt ungrateful.

“It doesn’t matter. We will survive this.” Saladin took a step towards her and put his hand on her shoulder. “We are going to find Zareen, and we are going to erase our existence from our world.”

He smiled, and embraced her tightly.

She knew it wasn’t completely his fault. She knew that it was a distraction that caused this all, yet, she couldn’t forgive him completely. No, it wasn’t a matter of forgiveness — it just felt wrong. It felt wrong that after living fifty years in peace, she now had to run away, and if they couldn’t find Zareen, they had to do it for their whole life. God knew how long would that be.

She was already getting bored with her life. Living in the shadows, hunting people, overpowering every being on the planet, being indestructible. A weakness was lacking, and her talent didn’t help at all. She was presumably the luckiest person in existence, and perfection was boring after spending decades being it.

After Saladin released her from his hug, they started running again. Hours and minutes were as light as a bird’s feathers, and later, they found themselves in the southern regions of the continent.

After hours of running, they stopped again, another mountain by a big city. Saladin felt like the place was quiet enough for him to catch any sound that sounded peculiar, and Phoebe thought that the trail around the mountain was the perfect place to hunt humans. They quickly ran around the mountain for a possible prey, and they fed on him to his last drop of blood once they found him. Within seconds, they felt powerful again.

In that little euphoria of feeding, Phoebe caught the glimpse of a plane flying right above their head. Her eyes glimmered. She turned and looked at Saladin to see whether he was thinking the same thing, but no, he definitely was thinking about his meal.

“Saladin.” Her voice brought surprise to Saladin again.

When he looked at her, she pointed upwards to the plane, but still, Saladin’s eyes were oblivious as ever. Maybe it is his old age, she thought.

“We can use planes.”

Saladin furrowed his brows.

“We can use planes to stop the Volturi from finding us. We’ll sneak into the cargo compartments during take off, and you’ll use your shield throughout the journey. When we land, we feed and look for Zareen. Then the Volturi will be confused.”

Saladin finally understood. Phoebe often felt like following him was a mistake, because despite his brilliant plans, he was often too slow at understanding her plans.

“They won’t be able to track us without thinking that something is wrong.”

“Yes!” Phoebe’s excitement was flowing through her veins. “No vampire uses technology. And I wasn’t born a thousand years ago.”

Saladin gave a quick smile. They agreed on the plan, and they quickly finished their meals. They arrived at the airport soon after. Phoebe offered playing a little game to choose which plane to sneak in, but Saladin, being his no-bullshit self, refused it, and choose the biggest plane. The logic behind it wasn’t clear to Phoebe, because he had never traveled by plane before, how could he know which plane flew where? Phoebe didn’t know it either, but judging from the size, it was likely going to America.

The plane they chose came to the runway about an hour later. They were waiting by the airport fences. When he felt ready, Saladin told Phoebe to run and lead him. She did as he wanted — just when the plane was about to start its engines, she run and entered the plane from the back tires.

The space was enormous, and Saladin look terrified. He knew he wouldn’t die even if something happened, and he knew that planes were completely safe after what Phoebe told him about them, but being in such a foreign object was giving him an extremely uneasy feeling, as if he was a human again and was sick with nausea. Taking off part felt like he was flying, not the machine, and after spending long hours, lading felt like falling.

The terror in his eyes when Phoebe told him to hold on to somewhere on the top of the compartment was remarkable, and Phoebe couldn’t contain her laughter when he saw him looking like a little scared puppy. While they were holding to the cables and parts of the plane, the tires got lowered, and for once Saladin felt thankful for his vampirism. At least I won’t be crushed by this thing, he thought.

Just as when the plane was getting out of the runway, Phoebe and Saladin jumped off the plane and run to the nearest fences. They jumped through them, and started running again.

It took a couple of seconds for Phoebe to realize it wasn’t morning and that they didn’t have to run away. She slowed down and told Saladin to do the same too. He came close to her to get her in his shield.

But it didn’t take long. The feelings that settled in Phoebe was not relaxation, but fear.

Because the signs on the streets didn’t read any English words. The people around them were not speaking English either. It was melodic, much more than her own language. And it was terrific too, because they were trying to run away from their hunters, not land in their homeland.

From the Writer: Just a heads up, my first language is not English and I struggle with choosing tenses when writing. If you see “had been” mixed with “was” or thing like that, please inform me. I can’t really differentiate them. By the way, Phoebe is not read the regular “Phee-bee” way, it’s more like “Pho-ee-bee”, because that’s how I pronounce it lol.

[theharellan]

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II. Pairing: Solas & Cole (platonic) Prompt: Library

Masks upon masks. The Winter Palace is strange to Cole, who attends at the Inquisitor's bidding and finds himself at a loss for how to help. Solas comes upon him with ideas for how to cope with the deadly Game.

Read on AO3.

Couples spin on the dance floor, turning and turning, going nowhere and everywhere at once. Their heads fill with daydreams, one gazes into her partner’s eyes through their masks, imagining the hidden corners they could lose themselves in. Another, all he sees is the faint outline of a knife in his companion’s skirts, so all-consuming he almost forgets the steps. A third, their eyes bore holes into the other’s heads, hate springs from love eternal. His eyes dart from one couple to the next, glimpses into minds fraught with thoughts of a Game no one ever really wins.

He breathes in and feels the air catch in his throat. Honeyed words mask the taste of poison, cold compassion, they understand only so they can hurt. It isn’t right, it isn’t fair, it isn’t–

In the blink of an eye he’s in the library, surrounded by pages that whisper the words of yesterday. Not so sharp against his skin. Below, a dead man in the shape of a Warden pretends to stare at a plaque, praying no one will look at him twice, fearing they might see his valourous wings are clipped. It’s still a hurt, a tangle, but he’s trying to help. Cruelty does not become him. He lets out a breath he forgot he was holding, hands coming together to pull at his sleeves.

Oh.

He had forgotten about the uniform. The fabric doesn’t come away at his touch, no matter how hard he tugs.

And he misses his hat.

Cole wonders how long he will wait here, alone with his panic clawing at his throat. In the Spire he spent months isolated, forgotten by all save the one who no longer cares to know him. Suddenly the soft, inviting lights which illuminate the halls of the Winter Palace seem as cold as the dark cells they had kept Rhys in, clapped in irons for crimes Cole committed. Anxiety squeezes every inch of him. He counts the beats of the music that drifts from the distant dance hall, just to assure himself only minutes have passed since he came here.

A door opens behind him, and he nearly jumps into shadow, the Veil waiting to envelop him, drawing him from prying eyes, but a familiar face waits on the other side. “Solas!” he gasps, relieved and ashamed that he had doubted, but grateful most of all.

Solas shuts the door behind him, turning the handle so the latch doesn’t make a sound. “I thought I might find you here.”

That gives Cole pause. He hadn’t known he would find himself here, until it happened. “But I don’t read.” The books here are newer than those kept in the Pit, some hum with the occult, others recount poems about the shape of a woman’s hips, but he still doesn’t read. There isn’t a question in his tone, but Solas hears it, all the same.

“This place can be overwhelming for anyone, even without accounting for your abilities. Books carry meaning, but without eyes upon them those meanings are static. Far easier to take in,” he answers as he walks towards him, gait stiffer than usual. His feet had forgotten what it was like to wear shoes. Solas has been quiet that evening, quieter than usual, the stem of a glass glued between his fingers, bottomless. He lets his hat do his talking for him, the Drasca’s dissent lived on atop his head. He stops beside Cole, leaning upon the marble rail, gloved hands bearing weight. His eyes turn upon him, no brimmed hat to hide behind. “Are you all right?”

He pulls on his sleeves, this time he thinks he feels a thread come loose. “Yes... No? There are two faces for every person.” The Left Hand smiles and laughs, she comes alive, but inside it’s cold and cruel. The rose withers upon the vine. He finds the thread with his finger and pulls, but it doesn’t break. It unravels, further and further, if he keeps going his whole sleeve will be an unspooled mess on the floor. “I don’t know which to look at. I-I don’t know how to help.”

Solas reaches out, subduing his worrying hands with a single, steady touch. A gentle gesture, despite the blood which stains them. Sometimes they do not seem so different from his own, they remember the bodies because forgetting would be worse. Killer’s hands, but there is no deceit in their tenderness. Solas wraps the thread around his finger, string bright white against his brown glove, and he tugs. It snaps, suddenly brittle, and falls to the floor to be swept away by a servant who will never know they were here. A comforting hand is placed deliberately on his shoulder blade, and Cole stills. He inhales, eyes snapping from the abandoned thread to Solas. There is kindness in his eyes, quiet assurance. He has seen this all before and he will make it easier to bear. So many tricks just to make it through a day, an evening, an hour. “You will not find much compassion in these affairs, any help you offer will be perceived as duplicitous, a means to get what it is you desire.”

“Then I… shouldn’t help?”

He hesitates, delaying his answer with a moment’s deliberation. “The choice is ultimately yours, but their comfort should not come at the cost of your peace of mind.” His hand slowly falls from his back as Cole turns his advice around in his head. “While we are waiting for the Inquisitor to call upon us, rather than mend the missing pieces in strangers’ lives, perhaps I may help you.”

“Help me?” He searches Solas’ eyes for answers, compassion seeking solace in pride. They are quiet, revealing only as much as intended. Cole chips at the cracks in the rock and hopes for water to spring forth, but he guards his sorrows like a wolf guards her den.

“Would you care to learn how to dance?”

A dozen thoughts pile into the spirit’s head, most too quick to catch, but he grasps one by the tail. “Do spirits dance?”

Solas claims spirits are people, and each day that belief is realer in Cole’s own mind, reinforced by the Herald and Solas himself. He need not change to be loved, or understood, he need only be himself. But if he is a person, then he is not a person the way Varric is, or Cassandra, or even Solas. There’s a touch of sadness in the corner of his smile, as though he is sorry the question needs to be asked. “I suppose it falls to us to answer together,” he replies patiently with an offered palm.

Uncertain how it will help, but ready to trust that it can, he takes Solas’ hand.

“Listen closely,” he says, but he declines to speak again. Cole’s instruction takes a different turn, a manicured glimpse through a window into Solas’ soul.

“Delicate hand folded like a paper crane between my shoulders, her eyes shine like the gold she deals in when I take to the dance.” Josephine had poured so much into tonight, all her smiles and favours, anything that will see the Inquisition prevail. “She didn’t think you would be asked to dance, but she was afraid if you didn’t learn, someone would.”

“Her time was likely better spent elsewhere,” he agrees, “though nothing would have given me more pleasure tonight than refusing one of Celene’s court. Listen again, parse the thoughts which cloud the memory and see how we move.” Cole nods, and concentrates. He remembers the palm tucked in the valley between Solas’ shoulders, and he moves his there. His feet, too, he moves in line with his hips. It’s strange, focusing upon his own body and the space it takes up in the world. Lighter now that he has chosen compassion, but still very much real, empty only in the seconds the air rushes from the chambers of his lungs.

He feels eyes upon him, questioning, searching for confirmation before the music dares move them. “I’m ready.”

When Solas steps forward, Cole steps back, like they’re two puppets on the same musical string. He clips his strides, travelling farther faster than Solas can hope to without magic to carry him there. Awkward at first, but with each beat he feels him join with the dance that exists in his head. Old melodies, half-remembered, play in distant memories. Like the sky he knew it, once, but made himself forget. Dancing wasn’t always this way, was it?

Solas remembers. Feet too full of motion to keep his thoughts safe in his head, they spill onto the fabric of the world where Cole breathes them like his own. Memories of moving on a dancefloor to a familiar tune, swaying with the stars themselves, spinning until they parted from the earth. He swells with pride, a beast alive beneath his ribcage, it thrives and fights and inspires. When they dance the heavens and the earth move, and an empire holds its breath. It fears what dread the dawn will bring, but his People find freedom in the impromptu steps.

“What are you two doing here?” A voice snaps the string. Halamshiral looks different than it did heartbeats ago, all the magic hidden in dark corners (all the elves, too). When Cole turns to see the servant who disturbed them, he’s surprised to see a bare face behind her plain mask, and a second later cannot recall why.

With silver eyes she stares at him, unblinking. “She can see me.”

“A consequence of our dance, I believe.” Yes, he can feel it. Solas fades with each passing second, growing distant as his hand falls from his waist. “It will fade in a moment.” He speaks as though she is not there, but he’s waiting. It’s another dance, only it’s Cole’s turn to lead.

Cut loose, he turns his attention to the woman. Fear flows through her veins, the dagger beneath her sleeve is ready to open theirs. Beneath the steel, her heart wavers. Stranded between duty and love. “I’m warning you-”

“There’s still time,” he says. “She waits for you beside the fountain where you wished away Your Lady’s collection.” There were wiser things to do with gold, but oh how they’d laughed with every dream plunged into the water.

Cole steps forward and she braces, but not fast enough. “Forget.”

Time is unmade behind her eyes, and she slips the mask from her face to rub the last place she’d been kissed. Gone as quickly as she came, with new purpose in her step.

“It seems you found a way to help someone, after all,” Solas remarks after the library door has shut behind her. “You never fail to impress.”

Something in him shines brighter, bolstered by his pride. “Thank you.” He falters, looking down at his feet, curling his toes inside their boots. “I’d like to try another dance, if you think there’s time.”

A laugh coloured wine red parts Solas’ lips, punctuated by a snort that makes Blackwall down below look around for its source. “I believe there is time for one more,” he says, outstretched palm seeking Cole’s hand. “Since you have devised a way to put off intruders, I daresay we have all the time in the world.”

It isn’t a lie, but neither is it true. Like the golden caprice coins that shine beneath the lovers’ reunion, Solas’ words glow like wishes.

[bailey-reaper]

This prompt is slightly inspired by the cult au but could you write about the brothers becoming vampires? Maybe one of them turns the other?

The Blood of the Covenant

Notes: Hello anon! Honestly... the amount of vampire aus I could write for the van Zieks really doesn't bear mentioning (both here, and on my other blog / here / here)

Content Warnings: supernatural stuff; vampires; blood; angst; knife / stabbing mention

Klint had never thought he would be grateful for the curse Stronghart had inflicted upon him: a condition that he described as a 'gift', but to Klint's mind seemed to be nothing more than a punishment–– that was, until the day an attempt on his brother's life succeeded to such a point that the young man was on the very precipice of death...

He'd been expecting Barok home around 9pm, following a dinner at Inner Temple, but after two hours his younger brother had not yet returned. That was enough to concern him, so he took Balmung out and had the hound track his brother down.

Even as they drew near, the stench of blood was overwhelming; copper on rain-soaked stone, it should have been more repulsive to Klint than it was, but he ignored it out of blind panic at the scene before him. Barok was slumped against a pristine white wall, a long crimson smear pointing down to where his crumpled frame was lying.

A dagger was prominently protruding from the young man's stomach, yet he noted that Barok seemed to be holding it in place (no doubt an attempt to stem the flow).

Klint knelt before his wounded brother, who looked even more pale than usual, and for a few moments he quietly panicked over what he could do to help him–– until it came to him. There was something he could do to spare Barok's life, even if it was to inflict an unrequested cruelty on him.

"Forgive me, Barok," he murmured softly as he brought his wrist to his lips, "I am a cruel and selfish man, it seems, because I would rather damn you than lose you..." the idea of being alone in this world, and of having failed to protect his little brother, was more than he could bear; and while it made him selfish, he was unable to stop himself from tipping Barok's head back and pressing his wrist to his lips so that his cursed blood could enter his brother's veins.

Balmung kept watch, as he normally did when his master fed, for any humans; should one approach, then he would make a soft bark before approaching the person and growling in order to scare them away. Thankfully no one passed that dark alley while Klint knelt there cradling his brother, waiting to see if his blood had any effect upon Barok's condition.

At first, his heart sank: Barok only seemed to grow paler and colder, his heartbeat was so faint and weak... tears filled Klint's eyes as he refused to accept that his brother was lost. He simply couldn't lose Barok. Not his darling little brother, the one thing that had helped him through the pain of losing his parents...

When suddenly he felt the form in his arms move and fangs sinking into his throat, Barok was clutching at his clothes with trembling hands while feeding as if his life depended on it, and perhaps it did. The relief Klint felt numbed out any pain that the awkward bite might have caused. He rubbed his brother's back and murmured softly, "I'm so glad you're alive, Barok..." he heard the clatter of the knife as it fell out of Barok's stomach and hit the cobbles, the wound it had made closed over as the young fledgling continued to drink.

Finally, having had his fill, Barok relented and sank back down to the floor, "... What...?" his voice sounded thick, from the blood he'd ingested, and ragged, "Klint...? Why... are you here?"

"... I was worried about you" he answered,"You were due home some time ago, so I feared the worst... then I found you here."

"They... stabbed me," the events prior to him passing out were coming back to him, "The men from that last case... they said it was 'only fair'... but... Klint... they stabbed me," he looked up at his brother with bewildered eyes, "Yet... I can't feel the wound... am I dead?"

"... Not exactly," Klint said, tentatively, "Barok... I... I will explain everything later, for now... just know that you're alive and... I did what I thought was right, okay? Let's go home."

The young man nodded, too shaken and confused to argue with his older brother as they quietly made their way back to their home in Mayfair...

[romantic-barnes]

strawberry & tape | part one

| part one - the beginning or the end? |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader 

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot of blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood? 

Warnings: mention of non-con, possessiveness, mention of suicide, humiliation, animal cruelty. This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above!  

A/N: Please don’t read if you are under 18! This series is inspired by This Is What Makes Us Girls by Lana Del Rey. Or just the whole album let’s be honest here. This is my first time uploading my dark fics so yeah, I love this, I loved writing this. 

I’m just gonna tag some of my faves, you are under no obligation to read this! @imanuglywombat​ @mariessecretfantasies​ @sinner-as-saint​ @nsfwsebbie​

There she stood, your best friend. A light Autumn breeze waving through the early spring trees, shivering the grass alive with it. Her shoulders shaking with the leaves, mumbling through her pink painted lips, whimpering and sobbing between words. 

There wasn’t a word needed to express what happened, the petite girls’ tears flowing down her pretty face, carrying all the information with them. 

She bunched up the skirt of her dress, fumbling with the seam before lifting it slowly and carefully. Her blood shot eyes watching you carefully as her lip trembles, fresh tears flowing.

Your eyes wandered down to the seam of her dress, slowly revealing the bruises on both her thighs. A hand covering your mouth, careful to not upset her, shake her, make her run. But there was little to hide, the agonising and painful pull at your heart. 

She let the skirt fall, covering her thighs. 

There was something you wanted to say, something reassuring, but the words could not slip past your lips. A simple ‘what happened’, a question reasonable.

“He- he touched me, and I said- I said n-no.” A string of sobs left her lips, closing her eyes. “He didn’t s-stop.” 

You reached out to her, laying your hand on her shoulder, a light and careful pull. She stumbled towards you, laying her head on your shoulder. A thousand thoughts, but none delicate enough to say. You knew what happened as soon as she came walking up the street. A bittersweet romance turned poisonous. A possibility you saw coming. 

The town doesn’t have a lot left for girls falling for the leather clothed men chasing them all over town. They turn their face away from them, whispering profanities. A lot of ‘told you so’, a lot of hot air from the people living in Dawn.

A lot of people think the town is possessed, cursed by witches from medieval times.

The smell of blood always wavers through the air as soon as you enter Dawn. Scientists say it’s chemicals, but none of that stays in the heads of the residents. 

The old tale says that women used their period blood to seduce men, covering their desired man’s house in symbols to pull them into an everlasting love. 

The town is built like a circle, a church in the middle, a poor attempt to rid Dawn of it’s evil. Before the church there was a town house, owned by the wealthiest man there was. Red scull, they called him, the origin story of the men in leather. 

After him, the townhouse was torn down and a church was built, but not long after not even god was safe from Red Sculls son. The offspring who would bring the gang back to life. 

They showed everyone who was in charge, blood was shed from anyone daring to refuse their power, deny them of what is theirs and so, the smell of blood never left. Always lingering in the air.

Generation after generation attracting folks who were looking for more control, but end up with blood on their hands, guilt on their faces. Only a few make it, with promises they couldn’t keep.

A town build on tales and make-believe.

You sat across the table from Lana, the girls’ hands wrapped around a mug, tears staining her pale complexion. He bottom lip trembled as she raised the mug to her lips.

“He needs to pay for this.” You said confidently.

Lana shook her head, her Bambi eyes wide with terror. “You’ll get yourself in trouble, you know what they can do, what they’re capable of. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with them.” A whimper escaped her lips.

You hung your head, defeated. There is truth to her words, but someone has to put an end to this. Another girl left on the curb, used and abused by the head of the clan. Another girls’ innocence stolen by force, without so much as a glance from the townsfolk. 

An eerie silence fell, the presence of someone evil lingered around her. 

Barnes.

A name no one who isn’t looking for trouble ever dared speak. Afraid it would somehow summon him, like a spell. A man as dangerous as his name, but just as beautiful as the devil created him. A curse not meant for the faint hearted. 

His words are the national anthem here. 

No matter if it’s a curse, spell or an enchantment, you’re not falling for it. Determined to defy the cliché of the weak woman falling for the devil’s son. A cliché in itself. A dangerous game to play, but a game, nonetheless. 

You weren’t scared of a man trying to find a moment of thrill from an innocent soul. 

-

The small cafe was empty, like every day it dawned on you day after day. Maybe that’s why your mother did what she did. A failure of a dream she had. Turn the family business into a cosy place, but the money stopped flowing slowly and steadily. 

Standing at the counter with your apron, sundress adding to the sweetness of the aura your mother created. A place for the people who didn’t know of the more popular diner in the centre of town. 

Your life threatened to become just like your mothers. No steady relationship, money slipping through your fingers, mundane days dripping with boredom. Your end was destined to end like your mothers, a sting of rope, swinging without life. 

The pastries fresh from the oven, buttered and sprinkled with powdered sugar. A recipe your mother created. You set one down in front of you, a cup of coffee in your hand. 

A break you didn’t really need, but took advantage of, nonetheless. 

The bell above the door chimed, surprise overtaking you, but a look over your shoulder killed it instantly. Lana entered the cafe, still pale as ever. Her eyes shallow since that fateful day. 

She sat across from you and you slid the plate over to her. Her small hands took the pastry, taking a bite. She loves your mom’s baking. “Can you pack up some of the strawberry ones for me?” A smile that didn’t reach her eyes stretched her lips. 

A simple nod and you were about to stand when the bell over the door chimed once more and the look on Lana haltered you. The sound of heavy boots on the tiled floor.

The air filled with fuel and leather. You didn’t dare to look, in fact, you’ve never seen them other than when they rode their bikes through the streets, passing you. 

“I think you forgot this.” One of them said, undoubtedly Barnes. A low and dangerous laugh echoed through the room, cutting through the tension.

A pair of panties hit Lana right on her chest, short breaths escaped her lips and you knew what this meant. Not much longer and the faucet would be running. 

Anger bubbled inside you at the sight of her clutching the pair of pink lace panties. No matter how much danger radiated off from the man behind you, everything you knew about him was thrown out of the window.

You gripped the cup with your hand, an electricity searching its way through your veins. With the turn of your torso, not even sitting up from the chair you aimed the brown, hot liquid in his direction. 

The cafe fell silent, all tension hit the floor as you met the eyes of the man stood in the middle of the room. Rage, that’s all you could read in his blue eyes. The two men standing behind him tightened their fists.

Time stood still, all eyes on you.

The only pair of eyes that you could focus on were the ocean blue ones staring right into yours. A death threat. Nothing but crime in his eyes and you right in his point of view. The shiver running down your spine left you cold. A single breath felt like a thousand daggers through your chest. 

He moved, slow. Without a single second to react, his hand wrapped around your throat. “You little bitch.” He spat.

His voice ringed in your ears, but the rage bubbled back up, a stern look on your face. “How could you mock her after what you’ve done?” 

You expected a lot of things. Maybe his hand tightening around your throat, or spitting on your face, but he retracted his hand. 

A low chuckle from his lips and your face dropped, unconsciously softening. He studied you. Eyes moving from yours, to your cheeks, lips and raked over your body, stopping right on your cleavage. 

“You’re going to pay for this, dollface.” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re gonna wish you stayed in the shadows.” His smirk made you feel smaller than you wished it did.

Barnes and his entourage walked through the door, but he turned once more. “See you, y/n.” 

-

It was difficult to decide whether the spotlight drawn to you by Barnes was worse than the fact that he already knew who you are. You relished in the fact that you never made direct contact with the Howling Commandos. 

But now that comfort was stolen from you and you wondered what exactly they knew about you. It makes sense to you that they know the residents of their town. 

A week passed. A week of anxiety. You tried to push away the thought of him, but each day you set foot into the cafe a flash of what happened passed before your eyes. Another memory added to the dread of this place, another one added to the one of your mother lifeless, swinging side to side.

Your fate isn’t as unusual as it may seem. No one truly gets out of Dawn, always bound to come back to take over the family business. Anyone stupid enough to move here sees the horror not long after, but it’s too late. Bound to the town and the town bound to them. 

You breathed in and out, but the sound of motorcycles couldn’t find their way out of your ears. Was is a coincident that you heard the roar of their bikes more often this past week, or just your imagination.

Along with fear, a sense of responsibility and purpose raged within you. Somewhere in you. A purpose to teach him just how cruel the devil can be. What you have can be taken away from you. 

Revenge is as sweet as strawberry jam. 

-

Fun isn’t written very big in Dawn and unfortunately the only place to get wasted is the club house on the outskirts of town. A place full of the Howling Commandos, their wife’s, claimed women and men with a death wish written on their throat. 

You let Lana in, leading her to the living room. A modest house, but a house, nonetheless. She sat next to you; her legs crossed. Two glasses were filled with red wine.

You handed Lana a glass, taking a big gulp of your own, eyes studying your friend with caution. It became harder to read her emotion, her face tainted by the horrors pushed upon her. 

“How’s peter?” You asked between sips. A question to steer away from the million questions you had in your head instead.

“Oh, yeah he’s doing ok. He’s finally learned how to make a Bouquet.” 

Peter started working at the flower shop a few weeks ago, revealing himself to be skilled in the field, a true eye for the delicate petals. A young man you wished she would’ve caught an interest in.

“But he’s been getting a little too nosy about the bikers,” her eyes watered, a sigh escaping your lungs. “he asked about him today.”

“Oh, Lana.” You pulled her side towards you, encasing her with your arms. 

A knock on the door interrupted her quiet sobs, her big brown eyes staring into yours, a glimmer of fear hidden behind the glassy tears. Your feet carried you towards the door, hands shaking slightly as you turned the doorknob.

A man you recognise only by the patch on the shoulder of his leather jacket. A stern look mixed with boredom. A glance down to his hand and you saw the small brown package. 

“For you.” A wicked smile spread on his grey bearded face.

You slowly reached your hand out to take the package away from him. The small bundle of brown paper rested in your hands. The man turned his back to you waling off to his motorcycle. 

You stared at the package, backing away from the door after closing it. A twist in your stomach and you knew this wasn’t good, not in the slightest. 

Lana walked over to you; questions written on her face. 

Your senses kicked in, only now realising that the package is warm. A warmth spreading over your hands, but a cold shiver running down your spine.

You set the package down on the counter of the small kitchen. A look over to Lana and you untied the bow with caution. The brown paper loosened itself and from it oozed a stench of blood. As the layers were pulled away from the mysterious item, the brown turned red. 

A gag from Lana and a shrill scream from you as the paper was pushed away. A heart revealed itself, bloody and fresh. 

Lana looked to you teary eyed, a hand covering her mouth. You swallowed stepping away from the heart. 

“You know what this means, right?” Lana whispered, barely audible enough to bounce off the walls. A shake from your head and Lana removed her hand from her face. “When one of- one of them sends you the heart of a deer- it uh- it’s kind of like a claim of the woman’s heart.” 

If you weren’t so disgusted by the sight of the object and the stench of blood filling up the kitchen, you would have laughed at the ridiculousness. You lifted the corners of the paper, heart pounding, hoping to find the name. 

Bucky Barnes.

There it stood in tar black ink. You didn’t know what you expected, but you hoped it would be any other name. But the gift is his’, a claim on your heart and your name. 

-

[ part two ]

[ taglist open ]

[alrighttevans]

evermore

but if the world was ending you’d hold me, right?

inspired by this prompt 

Ao3 link

The tight grip over her heart was no stranger to Ladybug.

In fact, as much as she loathed the fact, it had grown into a very much familiar sensation for her. When she was Marinette, she felt it when she was on the verge of an anxiety crisis. When she was Ladybug, she felt it every time she watched an akuma take her partner from her right before her eyes.

On a few occasions, it was a spell she could manage to break. More often than not, it was some kind of possession that would turn him against her until she managed to capture the akuma. Yet, sometimes — too many times, for her displeasure —, it was murder, what took Chat Noir from her.

She felt deeply distressed every single time she lost her Chaton in battle, even though it had happened several times already — the stupid cat always had to put himself between her and any dangerous threat, being the great foolish hero that he was —, it always brought a sharp and incessant pain into her chest, like it was the first. At the pace that a little corner on her mind that archived the multiple occasions in which Chat had heroically and selflessly and kindly sacrificed himself for her had only grown larger, so had the hurt that each event left on her. She was not ready, when Timebreaker had taken him from her, back when they were still very young. She was not ready, when he had jumped from the gameboard, back at the time they fought against Gamer for a second time. She was not ready now, when the Polished Avenger had erased him from existence, so she could now control who was anybody and who wasn’t. 

When Ladybug hadn’t been quick enough to dodge the akuma’s attack and Chat Noir refused to let her pay the price for that mistake.

She was not ready.

Ladybug still found herself shaking, as she ran for her life, unwilling to allow her partner’s sacrifice to go to waste. She still felt her whole person being filled with a mixture of both fear and despair, as she gasped for air, leaning back on one of the walls of the narrow alley she had converted into her current hiding spot. She still had a growing overwhelming need inside her telling her to sit in a corner and cry, as she attempted to stop the tears that threatened to fall off her bluebell hurt eyes.

It was not supposed to happen, him being taken. 

They were Ladybug and Chat Noir! They were complements of each other! There was no creation without destruction! She became unbalanced without him; lost, even, to a certain extent — even though you wouldn’t hear her admitting to that —, because she wasn’t supposed to do this without him! She didn’t want to do this without him, but she had to, if she ever wished to see him again.            

No, Ladybug couldn’t allow herself to drown in the sorrowful taste that rose through her throat. She couldn’t give herself the benefit of the doubt; Paris depended on her, her sanity depended on her, her kitty depended on her and she had only one chance to capture the akuma and make things right again — one misstep and she would be doomed.

So she ordered herself to stop stalling and do her fucking job, because the clock was ticking and she couldn’t fail. Keep yourself together, she chastised, as she wiped her tears away and blinked a few times, trying to regain the focus she needed to think clearly and win this battle — and bring him back —, even if the weight over her shoulders kept pulling her from her objective.

Just… Why did he keep doing that? Didn’t he realise what a mess she became once he was gone? She loved him for all the qualities that made Chat Noir who he was, yet she still hated him for it, since those same qualities were the ones driving him into taking a hit for her again and again. Had he no sense of self preservation? Honestly. The boy could use some.   

She tugged her pigtails, sliding her fingers through her long dark locks. 

Focus, Ladybug. 

Throwing her hand upwards, she called for her lucky charm, hoping her luck wouldn't abandon her, and a red and black candy apple fell into her hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She frowned, before carefully poking her head out of her safe area to see if she could find something that would snap the solution to all of her problems in her mind. Ladybug’s eyes ran through the perimeter and she was able to see the Polished Avenger searching for her, calling for that “pesky bug”, as the akuma so kindly nicknamed her; an idea forming in her head.

Feeling the ever so familiar adrenaline of a risky fight taking charge of her, Ladybug dashed back to the battlefield, only daring to go as close to the akuma as her plan demanded to. “Looking for me?” She called, before a frown took place in her face. Polished Avenger wasn’t there. Where had she gone to? Oh, no. Her frown was replaced by wide eyes at the realisation; it was a trap. 

Panic ran through her veins, as she looked around her, alarmed to find her opponent coming from only God knows where and jumping on her. She gave a last minute back flip, that prevented her from disappearing right that second and quickly occupied herself with putting as much distance as she could from the akuma. She couldn’t afford sloppy tactics, otherwise she would lose, lose him. She couldn’t let his faith in her to be misplaced.    

As she watched the Polished Avenger getting closer and closer from the corner of her eye, trying to touch her with her bloody duster, she threw her yoyo on the balcony of a nearby building and pulled herself out of the akuma’s way. 

“You can’t run forever, you annoying little pest.” The akumatized woman snarled, watching her carefully.

“Trust me, I don’t plan to.” Ladybug replied, more to herself than to her opponent, and threw her yoyo onto a farther building, one in which would give her enough time to land on the ground without being hit at the pace that the akuma chased her on foot.  

The Polished Avenger was just a few yards away when Ladybug prayed that her aim wouldn’t betray her and threw the candy apple in her opponent’s direction, as she held her breath. The akuma caught the sweet in the air, before it could hit her, and stretched her hand open to toss off the candy as she followed her way, only to stop when she noticed the apple candy was still on her hand. The woman tried to shake her hand like a loon, glaring at the offending sweet and sneer in frustration, but she couldn’t get rid of the apple candy. Lastly, she let go of the duster to try and remove it with her other hand, and Ladybug wasted no time and snatched the duster with her yoyo. When the akuma realised what she was doing, it was already too late; she broke the object and freed the familiar black butterfly from it. Quicky, Ladybug captured the akuma and cleansed it. 

“Bye-bye, little butterfly.” She said, as she dashed to the very confused woman standing before her and took the apple candy from her hands, without either a ‘please’ or a comforting comment to her; Ladybug was yet too exhausted, too shaken, too anxious to think about anybody else. She had won, it would have to do for now. “Miraculous Ladybug!” She called while she threw the candy into the air, feeling the bittersweet taste of her victory on her tongue.  

Chat Noir blinked, feeling the familiar sensation of time loss and confusion after an akuma possession flow through him, trying to evaluate as much as he could from his surroundings, however, he couldn’t assess much, for the first thing he put his eyes on was the red and black blur that was Ladybug running in his direction and throwing herself in his arms. 

Even though his eyes widened, his arms immediately found her back and held her, just as tight as she pressed herself to him. It took Chat a second to realise the soft, subtle sound of his lady sobbing, as he felt shock run through his body. 

 “My lady?” He called, as quietly as he could when he was full with concern.

She didn’t answer, at first, but buried her head in the crook of his neck and kept shedding her tears, and the only thing Chat could do was to hug her close, as she took her time and his heart filled with fright with whatever had got Ladybug this distressed. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” Her question came as a whisper, one in which he wouldn’t have caught, if it wasn’t for his heightened senses, causing his brows to meet in a frown.

“That what?” 

“Dying for me.” Ladybug’s voice broke with her answer, and his jaw dropped. 

She was crying because of him?

He was the mindless prat that had made her cry?

“I… I can’t help it. The thought of you—” Chat shook his head, refusing to verbalize that dreadful thought that haunted him every time his lady was caught in imminent danger, and it was his duty to prevent it from happening. “The world doesn’t end when I get hit by an akuma.” 

“Mine does.” He felt his heart break as she pulled her face away from his neck, allowing him to see the painful watery gaze on her pale blue eyes. He was hurting her, and he couldn’t bear to see her heart break. 

“It’s okay.” His hands found her face, as he cupped her cheeks, and Chat, touching her softly, carefully wiped her falling tears, that led a melancholic thread behind them. “I’m okay. It’s just temporary, everything always goes back into place.” 

“What if someday I can’t fix everything?” Ladybug prodded, “What if I lose you forever?” She whispered, as if she was afraid that, if she spoke too loud, some superior force would listen and shape her nightmare into reality. 

It was like having a knife being continuously stabbed into his chest, to watch Ladybug drowning herself in the ocean of guilt about his safety. She shouldn’t have the weight of his actions making her sink faster. Couldn’t she see that it was all for the best? For if she was the one that was gone, Chat Noir would break. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly and come up with a smart solution, as she did every time. He wouldn’t be able to focus on studying the akuma’s weaknesses, but instead he would fall into a deep cliff of despair and nothing and no-one would have the power to bring him back. Paris would be doomed; stuck with a hero too unstable to do his job. However, even if he managed to overcome his distress, he didn’t have a Miraculous Ladybug Cure to make it all right again — he would never be able to recover from losing her forever. How could she fathom the idea of him not preventing this catastrophe from happening?

Well, he wasn’t the one that was going to ask her that. 

One task at the time, and the present worry was to take that sorrowful expression off of her lovely features. 

“Do you really think you can get rid of me that easily?” He inquired, with a cocky smile, hoping his light comment would bring a smile to her lips. “I’ve told you, my lady, you have a life sentence to serve for stealing my heart.” 

“Chat! This is serious!” She chastised, hesitantly removing her arms from his neck to cross them over her chest. She still was a bit worried he’d vanish again if she ever let go of him.“You-you have to stop it. I can't watch you disappear before me, because of me ever again.”

“It's okay, Ladybug. It'll always be okay.”

“No, it’s not! Promise me you won't do it again.” She was inflexible; Ladybug had always been stubborn, but this, oh, she definitely was not backing down from this argument. He could see it on her eyes — they burnt with determination and fury. In usual circumstances, he would be intimidated by the glare she was throwing his way. Normally, he would soon agree with her, for she generally was right, especially concerning serious matters. She was a brilliant girl, after all. He would be a fool not to listen to her. But this? This wasn’t something he could give her. He would rather be forever gone than to live in a world where she didn’t. “Please.” Her tone was somewhere between demanding and begging. 

“I can't, my lady. I'm sorry.” 

“Stupid cat.” She scolded, before burying herself on his chest again and his arms immediately wrapped her close — it seemed that they never were close enough, even though the space between their bodies was none. 

They remained there, in silence, longing for more of something they couldn’t name, until the sound of her earrings beeping was what broke them apart and both their eyes grew wide with the realisation of what that meant. Chat Noir sighed, feeling a sudden exhaustion and all the weight that came with his duty settling over his shoulders. They could stay hours, days, years, there, in each other's arms, if it wasn’t for the alarm that dreadly announced the end of their timed moment together — the curse of desire and responsibility that kept chasing Chat, despite his best efforts. 

He was the first to let go, knowing all too well that if he dared to wait for a few more minutes, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do so. As soon as she felt the absence of his hands on the small of her back, Ladybug slowly untangled herself from him. Her pale blue eyes shone with the words that were stuck on her throat, as she raised her fist to him, with a bittersweet smile on her face.

Chat bumped into her fist with his own, without ever taking his gaze away from hers, as he wondered if she could read the I love you he tried to communicate to her with his cat-like eyes. 

However, “Pound it.” was the only thing they both said, in unison, before forcibly parting ways.