#and am seized with the urge to draw them

[hoofpeet]

YURI

[kykyonthemoon]

Comforting

When he comforts a reader who is so stressed and upset that she bursts into tears.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader (MC)

Included parts in order: Sylus, Caleb

This is the second part of the same prompt, for the two said characters, after my first one - "Soothing" for Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne.

── .✦ Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, comfort, long-distance relationship (Caleb's)

── .✦ Word count: 1k3

── .✦ Requested by Lightbook Aki

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

Sylus

"Let's go." Sylus tossed you the key to one of the two motorcycles parking in front of the flat. You were puzzled:

“To where?”

“Anywhere you want. Just ride.”

After he finished speaking, he started his motorcycle. Its scream seemed like both an invitation and an urging to you. 

You put on the helmet. Even though you constantly mentioned that you wished to ride about the city with him at night, Sylus's arrival at your door so late at night seemed odd. Particularly since you were in such a bad mood. And was it Luke and Kieran that you had just seen earlier nearby?

The motorbike that Sylus chose for you was a bit smaller than his, and matched your physique well. You did not object anymore. And so your night out began. 

A cool night wind blew. You kept on riding, not knowing where you were heading. Sylus rode safely away from you while keeping you in sight. He would sometimes approach you, as if to remind you that he had always been by your side on this journey.

Away from the noise of the city, you chose to stop on a hill on the outskirts. Sylus pulled up behind you when you got off the motorcycle and removed your helmet.

Nobody uttered a thing. Sylus waited close, watching you go around, your feet stepping on the dirt and rocks below in discomfort. After a while, when he realized he had no way of keeping you like that, Sylus approached you and gently seized your elbow, drawing you back to look at him.

"If the ride wasn't so enjoyable, we can go further."

"No... I just..." You halted because you were unsure if you should tell him or not. Was it appropriate to share such private emotions given that the two of you had just recently met?

"How do you know that I need a change of scenery? Was it Mephisto again?"

Sylus grinned. His index finger curled, and he swiped it over your nose. "Your thoughts are all reflected on your face like that. You haven't left your flat in days. Even without Mephisto, I suspect that something is wrong with you. Say it out. I am here to listen to you."

You took a brief glance at Sylus. The wind blew, ruffling the curls of hair on his forehead. You paused for a moment before telling him about how you ended up ending someone's life before they turned completely into a Wanderer on the last mission. That tormented you to no end.

When you finished the story, Sylus said: "You did what needed to be done. It wasn't your fault." He gently inclined his chin towards the gracefully illuminated city of Linkon on the horizon and continued, "This place is calm, thanks to you. You did very well."

That alone was enough to make you cry. You attempted to fight back your burning tears, but just as you were going to wipe them away and turn everywhere, Sylus grasped your hand tightly. His other hand caressed your cheek in a tender gesture, but did not wipe away your tears. He told you:

"Just let it all out."

And so you wept. You failed to recall the last time you ever sobbed like this. You had always believed that you were capable and powerful enough to battle Wanderers and defend others. But, in the end, you sought someone to tell you that you did the right thing by eliminating a soul's suffering, or that you did not have to bear it all on your own.

Sylus, resting on his motorcycle, softly raised your hand. His lips almost brushed it as he muttered, "Sometimes we have no option. Sometimes we have to deal with worse things than Wanderers. You just need to choose what is most important to you and do your best to protect it..."

Sylus halted and softly stroked your hand. His crimson eyes fixed on you, giving you an odd sense of reliability.

"Just like what I'm doing right now, protecting the most important person who is right in front of me."

Caleb

With a pleasant box of ice cream in hand, you sat on the porch of a closed business. It was dark, yet you refused to go home. You had been strolling the streets of Linkon all evening.

You did not have dinner yet. Both eyes were swollen. Your hair was a disaster. Everyone knew you had a rough day based on your look, and it was best for them to stay away from you. You searched for the phone in your coat pocket. A name displayed on the screen; it was Caleb's account.

But you sighed and put your phone away. These insignificant concerns were not worth his attention. You could manage it entirely on your own. You hoped that the next day, despite your current situation, you would return to your cheerful, active self. 

Opening the ice cream box, you began eating little spoonfuls. If Caleb was here, would it not be great? You would tell you about how you were bullied at work, unfairly accused, and how people turned their backs on you without knowing the whole story. But in the end, nothing was important anymore. Everything you could do to salvage the situation had been done. What you needed at that moment was a little consolation from someone, but that person was a long way from here.

You had learnt to handle challenges on your own when Caleb enrolled at the Academy in Skyhaven. You had always proven that you were mature and responsible enough not to disturb him. When you started this long-distance relationship, you knew he could not always come racing to you when you needed him, and there would be moments when you were entirely alone like this.

The ice cream box was about half-empty. The lightly inhabited street became even quieter. Perhaps you should go home. Still, tears went on falling. As the world faded away in weeping, you noticed that person's silhouette growing more and more apparent. Then a large hand rested on your head.

"You're all grown up, yet you're sobbing while eating ice cream here. Aren't you worried that others will laugh at you, pip-squeak?"

That voice belonged to Caleb. You rubbed your eyes. He instantly squatted in front of you, his mouth beaming and his hand aiding you in wiping away the tears.

"Caleb?"

He replied, "I'm here. Tell me. Who bullied my pipsqueak?"

You sniffled. Seeing him like that was a genuinely unexpected blessing. Of course, your spirit was also much lifted. You said:

"Who would dare to bully me? I just... wanted to eat ice cream. But how did you find me?"

"I received a call from Tara. She updated me on what occurred at work and then mentioned she could no longer contact you. She was concerned about something happening to you and asked me to reach out to you."

"Then… why did you come here instead of giving me a call?"

Caleb lightly squeezed your cheek. "If I called, you'd act as if nothing happened, right? You always go here for a box of ice cream when you're feeling low. That habit has not changed."

You had to confess that Caleb knew you too well. When you were depressed and didn't want to do anything else, he went out and bought you a box of ice cream from this store. He also said that as long as you had it, you would become happier. Since then, the ice cream here had served as your spiritual comfort whenever you started to feel down.

Caleb closed the ice cream box and held it in his free hand. He stood up and extended another hand towards you, saying: 

"Let's go home."

You felt instantly at ease. When Caleb helped you up, you grabbed his hand and leaped into his arms, hugging him by the neck hard. Perhaps as long as you had him, it did not matter anymore if the entire world turned against you.

Banner photos from Ghibli and screenshots by LittleBunnyCC

[spenglersglasses]

⌛⚙️ Take me to Valhalla! ⚙️⌛

Lol j/k

Hello everyone, I am back again with the next chapter of my Immortan Joe x the Fray (Corrine) fic!!!

This one is a bit shorter than my usual chapters, but I didn't feel like I could fit all the next bit without making things way to long so here we go!

I am really excited to get this too you and as with all my fics I will update as I am able and inspired to make sure I am giving you my all every time.

**This fic will be an AU! Mostly I will try to stay canon but there will be some conflicts and reimaginings. This includes themes as listed in the tags, if any of this doesn't sit well with you, please skip this one!**

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️Discussion about RAPE/FORCED PREGNANCY/VIOLENCE/VARIOUS DISTRUBING SUBJECTS⚠️

Listen you are reading a fic with Immortan Joe, it should be pretty obvious. but that being said if you are still here, I sincerely hope you all enjoy!

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the awesome dividers!

Glimmer in the Wasteland

Many years after the Citadel was conquered and seized by him, the Immortan Joe longs to feel something besides the pain and anguish of the world. Desperate to secure his legacy by siring an heir, he decides that now is the time before it becomes too late. Meanwhile a young woman named Corrine is separated from her group in the Wasteland and captured by the War Boys. When Corrine awakens within the fortress of the Citadel, her world changes when she has an encounter with the deeply feared and infamous warlord.

Chapter 2: Gilded Cage

Corrine is in shock when she finds out the man who has come to see her is the infamous Immortan Joe, but what will shock her even more is what her tell her is to be her fate.

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Read from the beginning  HERE! 

Will eventually be very NSFW below the cut!!

The air she’d held within her lungs, had left her. Standing still and unable to draw in a new breath. Corrine stared, speechless, into the eyes of her captor. The man responsible for her incarceration. 

Was it really ‘the Immortan’ who had come to see her personally? Was this man, the tyrant of the Wasteland? One who now bore witness to a single tear as it ran down her cheek. IF so then her ill fate truly was sealed. 

No matter how hard or how resolute she had grown from a life spent in unforgiving waste, she has never held more helpless or in danger than in his presence. While life before had been dreadful, at least it was free. Corrine, left now to curse herself for having been foolish enough to be caught. To have allowed the bittersweetness of freedom to slip away. 

The silence between them had felt like hours, though she knew only seconds had passed. Corrine tried to gather herself, if only enough to respond. To appear more courageous than she felt within her true resolve. Crumbling inside, like a dried husk in the sands. 

“The—the Immortan.” she uttered, swallowing back her urge to cry. And with her response, there was a hint of amusement that filled in Joe's eyes. A look that all but assured a smile was worn beneath that mask. Corrine wincing as she felt the grip of his hand tightening around hers. The blood pulsing through her veins, palpable in his vice grip. Her heart, beating harder and harder between them as she knew she could not pull away.  

“So you’ve heard of me?” he mused, taking a seat back on the chair. His adornments, rattling like chains as he relaxed into it. His calm, calculating demeanor—well kept. It was clear to Corrine that she was not seen as a threat. Watching him as prey watches the hunter. 

Joe drew in as deep a breath as he could muster, staring directly at his treasure. Visibly ogling her—Corrine, fidgeting in her discomfort. Joe was already infatuated, filled with desire for his wayward goddess that, as if by fate, had been brought to the Citadel. The Immortan’s mind, filled with salacious thoughts.

He pictured the two of them together. His fingers entangled in her beautiful hair as he thrusted into her. The Fray bent over the balcony, facing out onto the Citadel, as he filled her with his seed. The whole of the Wretched watching them—his virility was on full display. 

There was more. From the moment he saw her it was as if he knew. She was more than anything he’d come across before. Superior to any of those who had previously held her title. Wondering to himself if she would stand by him and the Citadel, together. Hoping that the Fray might save him a life filled with nothing but pain. 

“Yes.” she told him. There wasn’t a man, woman, or child that lived in the wasteland who didn’t know his name. The ruler of the coveted Citadel, bastion of prosperity to some, and leader of the fearful and zealous War Boys. He, of all, was the one person Corrine never wanted to encounter—and now he was a hair's width away. 

The realization stirred her inside. Corrine, doing her best to avert her eyes from looking at him. Her view, now woefully framed, on their hands. Her’s, still held by his. Corrine’s heart began racing, pumping hard with fear from behind the confines of her chest. 

She was stunned. The feelings and instincts inside her, that should be telling her to run, were absent from her mind. Desperately, she tried to shake off whatever unspeakable thoughts had begun to take root. Stuffing them down until she could only feel the anxiety and fear. Her gut, churning as she worried what was to become of her. 

There had been rumors, and all amounted to nothing good. The Citadel’s captives were either put to work, becoming slaves to its leaders or something far worse. The common thought being that women captives were surely assaulted by the high-ranking members. Made to become receptacles for their bodily fluids or, if lucky relegated to a life the likes of a dairy cow. 

The last thing Corrine could recall was the tale of Joe’s wives. A group of women, who were described as beautiful and in good health. All of which were said to be hand-picked by the Immortan to be his breeders. None of them though, having ever managed to give him a viable son. 

“Whatever you think you know about me, Fray, forget it.” Joe told her as she slowly tried to pull away her hand. 

“I can’t…you…really expect me to just…” Corrine hissed, finally freeing herself from his grip and stumbling backward into the water. Drenching the bottom of her dress as Joe stood back up and followed her in. Slowly inching towards her, Corrine doing her best to maintain the distance.

“What is it you think I intend to do with you?” He asked, gripping tight to her shoulders. 

“Nothing I want.” she hissed once again, their eyes meeting as he held her close. That same wretched pumping of her heart starting once more. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, noticing the flush of red as it filled her cheeks. Eyes dilating with the increased rate of her breathing. 

“You know nothing of me…” she began noticing a cocked eyebrow. “...and your arrogance is written all over you like the history men. No one longs to be a slave or…glorified cattle…or worse one of your command's whores!” she yelled, the backs of her calves hitting against the wall of the pool. 

“Ah…Is that what you think?” Joe asked, brows raised even more with the accusations. Having been, however, more than satisfied to know that his reputation and the rumors were still held up. Keeping those who might try to rise up and take all he had away from him at bay. “I could know you. Know everything about you…but it seems…that despite your snarling you are frightened of me? Don’t be. You will not become a slave or a Milk Mother or blood bag… none of those things will come to you. I would never give you over to them.”

“Oh?” Corrine began, confused by his answer. “...How can I trust you…you look as if I blink wrong or insult your position that I will be sent to slaughter. What’s to become of me in this horrid place?” she growled. Breathing heavily, eyes blown wide like a wounded animal. Teeth gnashing and ready to bite if need be to protect herself from harm.

“Heh…” Joe said, humming to himself. Seeming to be thinking before doing something that neither one of them could have expected. As Corrine’s breathing began to settle, Joe dropped the grip of his right hand from off her shoulder. His fingers brought along the back side of his mask, unclasping it. Allowing it to open—revealing his full face to her.

Corrine’s mouth suddenly fell open, staring at the man hidden behind it. His face was both strong and regal. Jawline, sharp and a large, but distinguished nose in the center of his face. And full, soft looking lips surrounding his menacing grin. Before Corrine realized it, she let out a gasp.

“I—I…You…” she stuttered, lips quivering with the words. 

“Am I that frightening now?” Joe asked, continuing to smile, bringing himself close to the side of Corrine’s face. Ready to whisper something in her ear. “Look while you can Fray. I can only manage it for so long.” he told her. His breath, shallow and soft as it traveled along the side of her neck. The sensation, making her tremble. A sight that did not go unnoticed by him. 

For a moment Corrine fell completely silent. Was the war god she had heard about really human after all? Just a man and not a monster? The moment between them, however, abruptly passed when Joe suddenly began to cough. The sound, rough and grating—almost violent. 

Joe quickly worked to re-affix the mask in place. The bladder well hidden behind his white mane of hair, began to inflate once more. Filtered air, filling his diseased lungs and returning his respirations to return to normal once again. Corrine, surprised as she watched him struggling with each breath. 

“You're sick.” she remarked. Without a word, Joe turned away from her. Bringing himself back out from the water and standing between Corrine and the door. Laughing like a mad man at her revelation. Now she knew the truth—that though the Wretched revered him as a god, he was still flesh and bone. 

“Aren’t we all.” he laughed again, that same sinister look in his eye had returned.

“I’m not…” she said, her words trailing off. Corrine swallowed back, stepping out from the water. The two of them now standing opposite one another across the pool. 

“Good…and you shall remain so. So young and beautiful. A desert flower, growing in the harshest of conditions. Yes, and strong…that I can tell. Here in the biodome you will be fed and clothed and educated. Miss Giddy will tend to your every need. You shall drink clean water and eat a bounty from my own personal garden. Sleep in a warm, soft bed and breathe the cleanest air that this world can offer.” he proclaimed. 

“Why? Why would you do that? Why am I here?” she asked, the only question the Immortan seemed to not wish to answer. A fact that chilled her down to the bone. 

“You were brought to the Citadel because your camp was caught by the War Boys in my domain. You were a casualty of circumstance.” Joe explained. 

“Where are the others—my people?” she asked him. 

“They are no longer your concern. Most of them are now dead.” he told her point blank. Watching the horror reach Corrine’s eyes. The people she had grown up with, friends, family, dead or worse and all because of him. 

“Then why not do away with me. Kill me or leave me for dead in the elements. Why keep me here? Why am I spared?” she pleaded, both angry and distraught. Unable to stop more tears from flowing. Joe intended to leave her unanswered. No explanation and without another word as he turned around and took hold of the door handle. Ready to step out and leave her alone in the vault when the sound of her sobbing made him stop. 

“From now on Fray, you belong to me…and me alone. I have not long don't have much time left and you…you will give me whatever I ask of you.” he commanded. His voice, boisterous and daunting. Its resonance, unyielding even with his back turned to her. 

“Please…what do you want from me? Just tell me?” she begged again. Joe stood still, staring at the vault door. Grappling with his thoughts. Things had already started off on an intense note. 

She was alone in an unfamiliar place, of course she had questions. She, like so many before her, was scared of what might come of her. Joe hoped in time she’d accept her fate, and that maybe there would be something more between them than originally intended. Her spirit was fiery, like the combustion of an engine, and nothing excited him more. 

“I want what any king wants for his kingdom. What he wants from his queen…and make no mistake Fray…here, and in the whole of the wasteland, I am king.” he began. His words, lingering heavy in the air between them. Corrine’s eyes fixed on him as he continued on. “I want a son. A son to carry on what I have set forth here. Someone who can ensure my legacy.”

“You…want?” Corrine began, having trouble getting out the words. Joe pulled the door open before choosing to answer her. 

“I want you to give me a son, Fray. A healthy child. Though us things can be different than before, if you will surrender to me.” 

“No…” Corrine cried back. Her fate laid out plainly before her. Joe turned to glance at her one last time before exiting the vault. Shutting the door tightly behind him and leaving her alone once again. Suddenly the beautiful ceiling, Corrine had admired, had begun to resemble a gilded cage.  

[twoidiotwriters1]

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: I'M BACK-Danny

Words: 2,269

Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter

2013—2014

As far as everyone knew, Leon Regulus was a decent student at Hogwarts.

The accurate statement was, that Leon Regulus was the best student of his year, and to prove it now he had a Headboy badge. He was also Captain of the dueling club, and rather popular... and he didn't want his family to know.

He was still staring at his letter when Mel came down for breakfast with Lily in her arms.

"Morning," she said. "Is that your letter? We can go with the Flints—"

"Get mum," Leon said, eyes never leaving his letter.

"What?"

"Get mum," he repeated. "I need to talk to her."

Mel sat her sleepy daughter on the couch and approached. "What is it?"

The young boy reacted, jumping out of his seat and holding the letter behind his back. "Get mum and then I'll tell you!" Mel stared at him and he got even more alarmed. "Do not read my thoughts!"

"I'm not!" Mel tried to hide her laughter, chasing her younger brother around the drawing room. "I wasn't snooping! I was just trying to—"

"No, don't do that! You're too smart and you'll figure out before mum!"

"Reg—"

"Oh, bugger off, I'll do it," he complained, seizing his wand. "I'm allowed to do magic now, I keep forgetting it.."

With a swift flick of his wand, his Patronus—a border collie—ran out of sight.

"Now what, you'll avoid talking to me until Mum gets the message?" Mel smirked.

"You left a minor unsupervised—and that one likes playing with fire!" Leon reminded her as he rushed upstairs.

"Oh, Reg, don't be such a—"

Someone knocked on her door then, and Mel tensed. It'd been a whole month since Harry and Ron had gone away, and she was still waiting for news. She feared opening the door to a Ministry worker holding one of those dreadful burgundy envelopes, the ones reserved to notify the relatives of a deceased Auror.

Mel walked to the door and opened it, she visibly relaxed when she realized it was Emily Flint. "Hi, love!"

"Hi," the girl looked briefly over Mel's shoulder, she was holding her Hogwarts letter. "Is Leon still here?"

"Yeah, you want me to call him?"

"Yes, please. I was on my way already when he sent me his Patronus."

"Oh!" Mel blushed. "Oh, sorry, Emi, I think my brother made a mistake—"

"Hi, hi, hi!" Reg rushed down to meet the girl and stopped Mel from talking. "You got my message?"

"Yes," she smiles, but it looks a lot different than the way she usually grins at her friends. "I was actually on my way, I got my letter."

Regulus blushes. "Me too."

"I got great news," Emily continued, looking at them with excitement. "I'm the Captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team."

"Emily! That's brilliant!" Mel beamed.

"Dad wants to organize a dinner to celebrate my promotion, he asked me to invite you and your kids if you're, you know, in the right mood—"

"Of course I am," Mel pushed aside the little sting of disappointment when she thought of Harry, missing the milestones of people they cared about.

"We'll be there," Regulus said, looking anxious. "Mel, can you excuse us?"

She looked at her brother with a raised brow, but the boy just gave her a look to urge her to leave them alone. Once again Mel concealed her mirth and stepped aside. "Sure. I'll be in the kitchen with Lily."

When Mel's mother arrived, Emily Flint was still with Regulus upstairs.

"Hey," Mel started, lowering her voice so her children couldn't hear their conversation. "I can't believe I'm asking you this, but..."

"Your brother has gone soft over Erick's oldest daughter, yes," the woman smiled. "But Mel, need I remind you it's rude to talk about other people's love lives, especially when they're young?"

Mel made a face. "I stand by what I said back then, it was wrong of you to bet on my life. But I'm not betting, now I understand why Regulus was so eager to come and spend the summer here."

"Well, he's always liked spending the summer with you."

"But this year he's barely been here at all!" Mel pointed out. "He's spent every afternoon with the Flints—with Emily. They go to the muggle town and come back at dusk, beats me what they can do there that could be considered fun for teenagers—"

"Oh, Mel," her mother rolled her eyes with a knowing smirk. "You and Harry would walk around Privet Drive doing absolutely nothing most days, and you still had loads of fun."

She smiled at the memories of her youth, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading on her chest. "So this means our Reggie has a girlfriend now?"

"I don't think Emily would date him without having her father's approval first," her mother grinned. "And we would've heard something from Erick by now if she'd asked. He would've come to you vibrating with the need to share the news."

Mel laughed, shaking her head a little. "Well, at least it's the one boy that Erick has known since baby. That ought to ease his mind."

"Might not be as lucky with the rest of his children," Emily smirked. "He could have a Mel in his home."

The woman scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Just, you know... how every time you dated I would always find out through other people or months after it had started—"

"Well, maybe if someone hadn't bet on my love life, perhaps I would've kept them in the loop."

"Mum?" Reg's voice came from the hallway.

Mel and Emily both stopped and turned to him. Emily Flint pushed the older boy forward, and he stepped closer to them, holding his Hogwarts letter.

"Hi, boy," His mother smiled. "Everything okay?"

He handed her the piece of paper. "I'm Headboy."

"What!" Mel seized the letter and read it hastily. Beside her, their mother gasped and covered her mouth with both hands in shock. "Reggie!"

Mel pulled her brother in for a hug, her mother soon joining in. Leon laughed, face flushed, and held onto them, he was shaking.

"I didn't know you were aiming for that!" His mother exclaimed. "I mean, when you got the Prefect badge you looked annoyed—"

"He wasn't annoyed, he was stressed," Emily Flint clarified. "Layla's a troublemaker, and she was counting on him getting the badge."

"Ah, your father went through the same with us," Mel grinned guiltily. "I personally, didn't make his job any easier."

"Yes, he has a lot of stories," the girl giggled. "Anyway, if you are okay with it, I want to share my dinner celebration with Leon, I think he deserves it."

Regulus blushed and turned to his friend. "No, I already told you I don't want that!"

"I've been trying to convince him for a whole hour," Emily turned to the older women pouting. "Please talk to him?"

"It'll be fun, we can invite everyone! Harry..." Mel stopped, her husband wasn't around to celebrate with them. Emily—her mother—placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"First things first, how about we all go to Diagon Alley and get your books? I didn't get to take Mel to buy stuff for her seventh year, so we'll all have fun with it."

"Why not?" Emily Flint asked innocently.

"Mel didn't go to Hogwarts a seventh time," the boy mentioned as shortly as possible. "Because of the war." Mel and Reg shared a look, the air in the room suddenly getting a little awkward.

Emily's face got so red Mel took pity on her. "I was so ahead in my lessons by the time I was sixteen, that going a seventh time wasn't needed, if I'm honest. The war saved me the hassle of wearing uniform for yet another year."

Emily smiled shyly. "True... though I like the uniforms."

"You look nice in them," Regulus offered, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the kitchen. "Come on, I'll walk you out, Emie."

When the teens left, Mel took a deep breath and turned to face her mother. "I'm losing it, Mum," she pouted.

Emily hugged her, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach Mel's shoulders. "Still no news from Harry?"

"No," Mel sniffed, quickly drying her tears as they parted. "I have a bad feeling about this one."

"Been a while since the last time, that's all..."

Mel pushed her hair back. "It will never get easier, will it?"

Her mother's eyes softened, seeing herself reflected on her daughter. "My sweet Mel... the war ended so long ago and you still face everything the way Dumbledore taught you." Emily cupped her face.

"Is that... bad?"

"It's the only way you Dumbledores function, I've come to realize," the woman sighed. "But if you're scared, just say it."

Mel lowered her head and closed her eyes tightly. "I'm scared."

Regulus's family tended to go big when celebrating his achievements, and somehow Rita Skeeter always made it sound way more classless and embarrassing than it actually was.

Most people had doubts when it came to the reporter, but that didn't stop his classmates from teasing him about his rich relatives' traditions. Emily and Elizabeth Flint were overly protective of him as well as Teddy Lupin and Vicky Weasley, which was nice but still just as embarrassing, considering they were all younger kids. In Regulus's eyes, it was like having an army of toddlers defending his honour.

He was complaining about all this to the only person he knew would understand how it felt to be judged by things that weren't even his responsibility: Mel.

"So what do you recommend?"

"You know what I recommend," the woman grinned. "You're bloody good at charms."

Regulus wrinkled his nose in annoyance. "But I don't want to jinx or hex other people, that is beneath me."

"Exclaimed the prince," Mel laughed a bit. "Are you sure you're a Gryffindor? I never knew of a lion who didn't like fighting. Even your professor, Neville had his fair amount of fights."

"Well, maybe I don't see the point of getting my cloaks dirty with losers's blood," he rolled his eyes.

"Ah," she smirked. "So you're a haughty one, like my dad and his uncle."

"Can you be serious for a moment and help? There is a reason why I'm not asking Mum for advice, I already know she would also choose violence."

Mel laughed good-naturedly and then sighed, a smile lingering on her expression. "I'm sorry, Leggie, most of your family is a bunch of hot-headed individuals. If you want a mellower response, call Uncle Moony."

"I thought I was talking to Mellow?" The young man smirked.

The woman laughed again. "You are, but I'm afraid that when it comes to my little brother's well-being I don't necessarily act wisely."

Regulus hummed. "So you're sticking to your first answer?"

Mel pondered, looking out the window of her drawing room. It was almost midnight, and Regulus had to go to bed soon. So did she, but lately she wasn't sleeping all that well either way.

"No..." she shook her head before glancing back at the two-way mirror she'd propped up on a pile of books. "If I were Uncle Lu... I'd tell you to pay them no mind. You have good friends willing to fight your battles—though they shouldn't—so I guess... indirect intimidation."

Regulus chortled and raised a brow, shaking his head. "You're useless."

"I think half the Ministry would disagree," Mel grinned. "But that is definitely the mellowest answer I can give you. You're Headboy now, and you have that Sultens thing about you that just screams danger when you get angry. And you have the cold-blooded Black mindset, so really, I think what's best for you is to have someone to talk to so you get all that frustration out. Someone like a Flint, maybe?"

At her knowing smile, Regulus made a face and adverted his eyes, mumbling his response. "I know what you're implying."

"Good, that was my intention."

"I won't date Emily Flint."

"Yet."

"Mellow!"

The woman opened her mouth to reply but then she heard a sudden commotion right outside her front door, like feet stumbling to a stop and then some groaning. Mel tensed and reached for her wand.

"I heard something," she said quickly. "I'll talk to you later, Reg, see you."

Mel placed the mirror face down on top of the pile of books and got to her feet, turning all the lights off with a swift hand movement the moment her front door squeaked open.

"Don't move!" She hissed, prepared to cast a hex on the person if they refused to cooperate. "Who are you?"

The person groaned again and leaned against the threshold, mumbled "Lumos!", and Harry's face looked up at her. "I'm your husband."

Mel gasped, turned the lights back on with a flick of her wand, hurried to the man's side, and lifted his face up to examine the wound on his face, messily bandaged.

"What happened?" She breathed, trying to stay quiet so the kids wouldn't wake.

"I was lousy," he winced, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him. "Don't worry, I'm not dying—just a cut."

"Harry!" Mel exclaimed in relief, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He smelled like smoke and coffee. "Where's Ron?"

"Alive, better than I look," he groaned again. "It's alright, Mel, honest. They barely got my face..."

Mel cradled his face and her gaze softened, a tentative smile coming through. "So another scar, huh?"

Harry sighed, returning the smile with irony. "Nothing new," his hand reached up and traced over the ones she had down her jaw and neck. "I missed you."

The witch hummed, brushing his hair back and helping him take off the cloak. "You look tired, I'll run you a bath."

"It's midnight—"

"I've been going to bed at two in the morning anyway," she brushed it aside. "It's nothing..." Mel grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs, lowering her voice even more as she continued with a playful expression. "I'll join you if you want."

Harry's whole face lit up at the offer, his smile turning genuine and slightly crooked. "How could I refuse?"

Next Chapter –>

Taglist

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @21bruhs @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @greengarsstuff @aconfusedslytherin @talksoprettyjjx @avengersz-biotch @23victoria @moonhoonie @raajali3 @peachyaeger @espressopatronum454 @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @na1ven3vy

[herenya-writes]

I don't know what this is. All I know is my brain wouldn't let me do anything else until I wrote this. So enjoy, I guess. Warning: character death

I couldn’t read the runes inscribed on the edge of the basin like my lady could, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t hard to guess what they said. Reaching this grove among the frozen peaks had been a difficult journey, but that wouldn’t be trial enough. Not for the prize that my lady sought.

I knelt on the thick green grass and held my dagger aloft in front of me. When my lady turned, her eyes were desperate in a way I had never seen. I smiled at her, but her mouth twisted.

“You knew,” she accused, her voice thick with tears.

I could only bow my head. “The gods would never part with such power without demanding a sacrifice.”

She took a step forward, and I kept my head bowed until gentle fingers urged my chin up. I met her eyes and wished I could draw out the pain I saw there. She was silent for several heartbeats, her eyes searching mine. “The gods do not deserve your blood,” she whispered, smoothing her thumb across my jaw.

“I am not giving it to them.” I pressed my dagger into my lady’s empty hand. “My life already belongs to you.”

A quiet, pained sound slipped from my lady’s lips, and the fingers under my chin tightened. “How can you ask me to throw such a gift away? After all we have been through together, with all we still need to do? How can you ask me to do this alone?” The tears that had gathered in her eyes fell now, hot and fast down her cheeks.

I rose from my kneeling position, pulling a small cloth from my belt as I did. I raised it slowly, giving my lady time to back away, but she didn’t move except to slide her hand from my chin to grasp the back of my neck. I dabbed away the tears as gently as I could.

“It has always been my blessed duty to bleed in your stead,” I whispered, holding my lady’s gaze. I had never doubted my place at her side, and every scar I had earned in her service was a reminder of how precious that which I protected was. No one so kind, so noble, so strong had ever walked the earth before her feet touched it, and I doubted a person like her would be seen again. “I have been your sword and your shield. Please, let me be this as well.”

A tremor shook my lady as emotions warred on her face. Silently, I cursed the gods for forcing her to feel such pain on top of all she had already lost even as I cursed myself for causing it. It was the only way, but I selfishly wished to shield her from all harm and sadness.

The silence stretched, and when my lady did not move for several minutes, I dared to overstep, and wrapped my hand around the one that held my dagger. Her skin was smooth under my rough calluses, and I prayed they did not chafe her too much as I led her to the basin and knelt on the raised stone there. I felt my lady shake with a silent sob, and I brushed my thumb across the back of her hand in a pale shadow of her gentle caress.

I wished I was a softer creature, someone who could offer her true comfort. This was all I had to give.

“The trek down the mountain will be easier than the ascent was, but you will need to watch for avalanches still. When you reach the treeline, head west. There are rumors of a bandit party in the forest there, but it’s safer than the main road. Move by night if you can, and you should reach the city within a week. You will be safe to master your new strength there.”

A watery smile spread across my lady’s face, and she shook her head. “My protector even after death. I have never deserved you.”

Disbelief surged through me along with a sudden urgency. I leaned forward, once more impertinently thrusting myself into my lady’s space, and seized her eyes with mine. “If all good things laid themselves at your feet, it would not be even a portion of what you deserve,” I declared. I was not a good thing. I was a blood-stained, broken thing that had been given a chance to put my dark skills to a brighter purpose. I was the unworthy one.

My lady shook her head again, tears falling once more. In her eyes, I read the truth: her soul was too kind to take the gift I offered on her own, even to save our people.

“Forgive me, my lady,” I said, and tightened my blood-soaked hand around hers. I leaned as far over the basin as I could, bowing my head. I heard my lady stifle a sob as she shifted to stand behind me. Good, less of my blood would stain her there. “This will be messy. You will need to hold my head over the basin as I bleed.”

My lady swallowed loudly. “I understand,” she said, and I couldn’t help but feel pride at how level her voice was. She was stronger than she knew.

“Thank you for giving me the honor of serving you.”

I could not see her face, but I felt the kiss she placed atop my head. “The honor has been mine.”

There was nothing else to say. It was time for my lady to claim the power that was rightfully hers.

I raised her hand and the dagger to my throat, placing the tip under my ear. The cold steel bit into my skin and I felt my blood begin to well. I breathed in, the soft smell of my lady enveloping me. I held onto that familiar scent for one heartbeat, two, then slashed the blade across my throat.

[hollow-lime-green]

Waitwaitwaitwaitwait HOLD ON. YOU WROTE A JAYVIK FIC?!?!?!? Any chance we can get more of your expertise with season 2 content...👀🙏

season 1 act 1 jayvik seized me with the uncontrollable urge to make them kiss in the study

I do want to write something for season 2, but to be honest I just haven't figured out what that is yet. I have played around a bit with alt timeline ideas but nothing solid. (S2 spoilers and ramble under the cut)

I'm actually as insufferable about league lore as I am about jjk lore. Slightly less but still definitely like, 'um ackshually'. Which is why for all of S2 (and since the end of S1) I was like, 'wait how the fuck are they going to get Viktor to his canon endgame appearance.' silly me they just said fuck canon (which I strongly respect and appreciate by the way - love the eldritch, love all the retcon, no notes. I love where they went with Viktor and how they gave nuance and depth to his character and didn't feel tied to the og jayce-viktor canon).

Anyway so I asked my friends "okay so where is Viktor in this alternate timeline?" Because I'm thinking, ooh I could do something with this. I could make him chemtech. He could be Singed's lab assistant. We could do a jaded poor street urchin take - hm but that doesn't work with the opportunities we see afforded to zaunite Ekko and Powder. But whatever I can make it work-

"well he's dead isn't he? they never cured his illness"

wait shit.

yeah.

people aren't talking about the fact that Viktor is just straight up dead in the fun ekko everyone's gay timeline. I mean it doesn't matter but it's kind of funny that I forgot that obviously that is what happens. that's the whole thing y'know, the good intentions paving jayce's path to hell. I can't believe I forgot the whole thing.

Anyway I might write something for S2. I just don't know what. I actually don't ship jayvik that hard. Not that I think there can't be romance there, but I mean it when I say I legit think it's a secret third thing that is indescribably complicated and I don't think romance is even near the top of what is most dominant in that dynamic. but consider: I would love to write jayce getting fucked by the void arm

Another thing like - this is just off the dome so don't judge my coherency here. Somehow powerbomb feels so incredibly gay? I don't know how to describe this but despite it being heterosexual, it draws me the way that only gay ships have ever done. And I think, if I had to guess, it is because Ekko is one of the first straight male characters that I've seen in a long time that gets to be like, scared and inexperienced with romance in the way that I would traditionally see in gay ships esp in the 2010s (my formative years as you know). Obviously they are giving insanely bi4bi energy. I don't think they let anyone in zaun be cishet, I think it's part of the alternate universe rules actually.

they did Ekko so fucking good in arcane. I liked him in S1 too, but man I was worried they were going to drop the ball and nope the writers are actually just great. I have never felt compelled to write and read het the way I felt in ep 7. I have never wanted a straight (bisexual) man to win the way I wanted Ekko to win. (This I think exacerbates the pacing complaints - because sharing this ep with jayce was an L because both sides could have had more exploration. Actually I think jayce needed it more because I believe Viktor is actually specifically using Void magic (as in kogmaw kaisa belveth void) and I think that would be much more clear and better if we had more time to make those connections. But I can rant about that other time)

And maybe part of that is self selected media, these moments and experiences aren't necessarily common in what I read/watch, esp since I am selecting for LGBT romance not het. but anyway, I feel like we criticize so often and so loudly when representation fails, and I want to point out that Arcane should really be celebrated for actively actively actively representing a.) nontoxic masculinity b.) POC in extremely powerful poitions in the narrative (ambessa, mel, ekko, SEVIKA MY FUCKING QUEEN)

P.s. I would also like to write about Sevika being softened by the touch of a woman but I cannot for the life of me figure out who that would be. I will talk more about Sevika some other time bc as an Indian woman myself I intensely intensely cherish portrayals of Indian women that are not "the smart rational one who imposes power with great control and distance". Not that Sevika isn't smart but she is also other things like strong and butch.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

on our fates alight--request

"Give him what he wants."

The statement had the effect of a bomb going off in Count Edmont's study. Shocked silence met Haurchefant's words, and then the hush was broken by Artoirel.

"What did you just say?!"

"Give the brother of Halone's Dominant what he wants." Haurchefant repeated. "Let them shelter with us, and draw a line with the other High Houses and the Church."

"Steady on, old boy!" Emmanellain protested. "Do you ever hear what you're saying?!"

"One of the most dangerous men in Ishgard was chosen by the Fury to be her flesh incarnate amongst us." Haurchefant fixed his gaze on his older brother. They didn't have a relationship, but he knew that Artoirel was every inch a solider much like the men and women that he commanded.

"He has scandal attached to his name." Artoirel replied. The look on his face was thoughtful, and Haurchefant seized the opening.

"Would you call it scandal or cleverness? So yes, he left the city for Ul'dah. Yes, he fought on the bloodsands. But he left as one of their most acclaimed champions--and wasn't even after the glory! He wanted only to better his skills in combat and to have the money needed to free himself from the vultures that call themselves his kin!"

"Haurchefant." Count Edmont warned, but it was without heat. He watched as his middle child spun on an armored heel to face him.

"Am I wrong? Of all the vipers in the pit that is Dzemael and their vassal Houses, House Seymour is the worst! How Ser Augustine was able to come out of it with the purity of heart and spirit that he bears has been remarked upon by many!"

"It's said Ser Vellguine was torn between him and Zephirin for the position of Archimandrite." Emmanellain crossed his arms, musing. "And he was in the running for at least second-in-command of the Temple Knights. If he hadn't gone to Ul'dah, he might have at least been able to obtain the latter."

"He's kind-hearted." He could see what his...brother was getting at. And if Artoirel was honest with himself, he'd thought upon it too. Kindness had no place on the battlefield with the dragons. Yet Augustine Seymour--now Bishop-- was praised for his gentle heart...but also feared for his utter ruthlessness and skill in battle. From healing fallen comrades to turning around and completely decimating his area of the field in a dance of blood and steel without so much as a blink... Artoirel looked at his-no, their father, who had leaned back in the chair. The older Fortemps' eyes were closed, and his arms crossed.

"This is not a light thing you are asking for, Haurchefant. His own deeds aside, there is still the matter of the Church and just how Halone came to choose him instead of the Archbishop." He said, opening his eyes. Not to mention there was an elephant in the room that everyone was steadfastly ignoring...Augustine's own bastardy.

"We declare ourselves neutral." His son countered. "We draw the lines, father! We are neutral due to offering sanctuary to Halone's Dominant and his kin! Anyone who tries anything would be violating the law of hospitality!"

"It could work?" Emmanellian held up his hands as all eyes focused on him. "We might have to withdraw on some matters--or ask for impartial judges--but I doubt that anyone would want to dare raise a sword against the Fury herself, let alone Her Chosen! If anything, it could possibly elevate our standing!"

"The other Houses." Edmont began.

"Nothing ever pleases Dzemael, and we know Durendaire will complain! Hallienarte would come around--in fact, they have no choice! They don't have the means to support or protect them!" Haurchefant urged. He watched as Edmont looked at Artoirel. His older brother nodded.

"We would have to be careful for a while. No mistakes, no scandals--" Artoirel glared at Emmanellian, who pouted and crossed his arms. "And we have to stay out of any business involving the Church. We have to be perfect until everything...settles."

"We can do it!" Haurchefant declared. "We don't even have to house them in the city. I can prepare quarters for them at Camp Dragonhead--in fact, that's what he wanted."

"His brother asked specifically for that?" Edmont repeated, his brows furrowing. Haurchefant nodded.

"He did. It was a request not only from him, but from Ser Augustine himself." The silver-haired elezen gestured. He watched as Edmont absorbed those words.

"...The business with the Fury aside...I cannot blame them for wanting out of the city. It could be that they are safer here than there." Edmont uncrossed his arms. "Very well. Extend the offer of our House's hospitality to them both."

[marshmallowloves]

I've got WarioWare brainrot lately rewatching clips and playthroughs and getting excited to dress up this Halloween and I'm like I gotta DO something with this 👀 so I decided to revamp and make a more proper reference for my WarioWare self insert!

and it's...not Sirela???

soooo... long story short, I don't really feel like Sirela fits as a WarioWare self insert anymore...mostly because I originally made her for the Marioverse, and I only shifted her over because I had just recently added Orbulon to the f/o list and needed someone to pair with him, and I...didn't have any other ideas at the time gkdhg but now I do! the idea is ME cause I love the funky lil alien dude! So here she is!! :D ...Here I am...?? ...THIS GUY ☝🏻 (also I tried to imitate the look of the character bios from Mega Party Game$ and it's not 1:1 but I think I still did pretty well considering I made it all from scratch kjdsfhg)

little backstory under the cut~

Cici is an aspiring artist who specifically wants a career in video game design! She heard that Diamond City and the surrounding area was fairly diverse and rich in culture, and figured it would be a perfect place to try and land a job somewhere in the art field…or at least peddle some of her own drawings to the artsy-fartsy people living there for a quick buck.

For a while, she's able to find part time jobs to make ends meet, but nothing that lets her express her creativity like she wants… Until she hears about WarioWare Inc., which happens to be URGENTLY AND DESPERATELY hiring game designers regardless of experience or…any other qualification really. Kinda shady…but she still seizes this golden opportunity to finally get a real head-start in her career, unaware that she will…probably not be getting much of the gold she needs from this establishment (or any at all kdjfg).

As she's home working late one night on concept art, trying to meet a deadline from her new boss, she hears a BOOM! just outside her house. When she goes outside to investigate she finds that a certain alien has crashed his ship in her yard (what else is new?) and after making sure he's okay, she urges him to stay at her house at least for the night - it's dark out and the weather's getting colder lately, certainly not ideal conditions for him to start making repairs... Delighted by her generosity, he accepts the invitation, and it's over a warm and sweet cup of cocoa that they learn they're both working for the same guy right now! What are the odds?

It's also when she learns that her boss has a…less than reputable track record of getting people to do his work and getting away with not paying them djfgsf. And while that definitely sucks, she's at least getting to do the kind of work she always wanted to, so it's still a win in her book!

And so I…haven't thought much beyond that actually dkjfg. I'd imagine it's through working for Wario (at least partly) that she and Orbulon spend more time together after their initial meeting. I think maybe he'd enjoy coming back to her house every so often, even after he's fixed up the Oinker, because he just finds her interesting as a human. She's actually happy doing her job for dirt pay, she's always got weird (to him dkfjg) and delicious snacks at her place…and to top off his intrigue, she's sort of fascinated by him too - after all, she's hanging out with an actual hyper-intelligent alien! 👀 (and it doesn't hurt that he's cute and weirdly charming to boot kdjfg)

[angelcas22]

Open

As Castiel struggled against the overwhelming force of the Leviathans, he could feel their dark energy writhing within him, attempting to seize control of his vessel. The ancient creatures, once imprisoned by God, were now unleashed upon the world, and their hunger for chaos was insatiable.

"Fight it, Castiel!" he urged himself, his thoughts echoing in the chaos of his mind. He could sense their malevolent glee at being freed, a chorus of voices whispering temptations and threats. They wanted to consume him entirely, to use his grace to amplify their power and spread destruction far and wide.

He struggled to focus, drawing on the remnants of his angelic essence. Memories of his time with Sam and Dean flooded his mind—battles fought together, the bonds of friendship that had formed amidst the chaos. He recalled the moments of humanity they had shared, the lessons learned about sacrifice and love.

"Help me!" Castiel shouted into the void, his voice rising above the cacophony of the Leviathans. He could feel their power thrumming beneath his skin, but he refused to let them take him completely. If he could just hold on a little longer, perhaps he could find a way to banish them back to their prison.

The Leviathans laughed, a sound that echoed like thunder in his mind. They were ancient, powerful, and unrelenting. "You are weak, Castiel," one of them hissed. "You cannot resist forever. Join us, and we will grant you power beyond your imagination."

"No!" Castiel roared, clenching his fists as he fought against the tide of darkness. "I will not let you take me. I am not your vessel!"

With a sudden surge of will, he reached deep within himself, seeking the light that had once defined him as an angel. He envisioned the bond he shared with his friends, the hope they had instilled in him. With each memory, he pushed back against the Leviathans, channeling the strength of his convictions.

The Leviathans howled in frustration, their grip on him faltering as he fought to reclaim his identity. "You think you can resist us? We are Legion!" they bellowed, but Castiel could feel their power waning.

Finally, with one last surge of determination, he summoned every ounce of strength he had left and cast out the Leviathans' influence. Light erupted from within him, a brilliant radiance that pushed back the darkness.

With a final scream of rage, the Leviathans were expelled, their forms dissipating into the void as they were banished from his being. Gasping for breath, Castiel fell to his knees, the weight of their presence lifting from him.

But he knew this victory was only temporary. The Leviathans were still free in the world, and he would need help to confront the chaos they would unleash. Summoning his resolve, he rose to his feet, dusting himself off as he prepared to seek out Sam and Dean. Together, they would find a way to stop the Leviathans for good.

[los3rkid]

"Just Go"

A/N This is a revised version of the previous story, as there were several misspellings and parts that were not clear. It is still a Carl x male reader story, and I am the sole author now, as my co-author and I are no longer friends.

~Flashback~

"Hey Carl, could you come over here, please? I'd like to have a word with you," the fourth-grade teacher beamed, prompting the entire class to react with excitement. Carl shushed his friend and obediently made his way towards the teacher. "We have a new student, and I've chosen you to help him settle in, alright?" Carl grinned, glancing past the teacher to catch sight of a petite boy peering out timidly. "I'm [M/n]," the boy introduced himself. "Nice to meet you, [M/n]. I'm Carl. Let me give you a tour of the school!" Carl gently took hold of the boy's arm and eagerly led him around. Little did they know, this encounter marked the beginning of a cherished friendship.

~End Of Flashback~

"That's not fair! You can't say that!" Carl exclaimed, his voice brimming with frustration, directed towards [M/n]. [M/n] responded with a smile and calmly retorted, "It is fair, Carl. Just accept it. I'm taller." Carl swiftly fired back, "Well, at least I was taller than you when we were kids." Well the keyword: 'was.' You have short genes," [M/n] playfully replied, pushing Carl in a nostalgic manner reminiscent of their childhood. "Come on, please ju-" [M/n]'s words were abruptly cut off by Carl. However, before [M/n] could utter another word, a horde of walkers emerged, encircling them. Reacting on instinct, they both bolted away, drawing their guns.

[M/n] skillfully dispatched walkers left and right, while Carl inadvertently became separated from [M/n].

Carl (POV)

"Darn it, darn it, darn it! These walkers have become faster," I muttered, shooting down the walkers blocking my path. I frantically scanned the area, searching for [M/n]. "Where on earth is he?" I yelled in frustration. Though it felt like an eternity, I managed to eliminate the walkers in my vicinity. Determined, I set off to locate [M/n]. As I turned a corner, my heart sank at the sight of him lying on the ground, clutching his injured arm.

He looked up at me and surprisingly smiled. How could he possibly remain so composed?

[M/n] had been bitten. The one who had always been more cautious than me, more confident than me, kinder than me, and even calmer than me, was now bitten. "Carl, please don't cry," [M/n] said to me, urging me not to shed tears while I faced the impending loss of my closest friend.

"Just go. Leave me behind. I don't want to turn and hurt you. Just go," were the last words I heard before I fled, leaving [M/n] behind.

~12 hours Later~

"Bring him along," commanded a deep and resonant male voice, echoing through the air. The speaker, a tall and imposing figure, gracefully lowered himself to the ground, gently sweeping aside the disheveled locks that obscured the boy's face. In a swift and deliberate motion, he snapped his fingers, prompting his companions to spring into action. With practiced efficiency, they swiftly and deftly seized the lifeless form, securely placing it within the confines of the waiting vehicle. As the engine roared to life, a collective chuckle erupted from the men, enveloped in the dark humor of their shared mission. "Rest assured, he possesses the potential for greatness," one of them remarked with a knowing gleam in his eye, before joining his comrades inside the truck.

(M/n) [POV]

As my weary eyes fluttered open, I found myself in a dimly lit chamber, searching the room with a growing sense of unease. To my surprise, there was not a soul in sight. Suddenly, the door violently swung open, revealing the imposing figure of a man. Without hesitation, he placed a plate next to me, recognizing my ravenous hunger. I wasted no time devouring the meal, my stomach grumbling in appreciation. The man's chuckle filled the air as he remarked, "There's more if you desire, my young friend." Setting the plate aside, I mustered the courage to address him, "Why haven't I transformed?" Confusion etched across my face, I rolled up my sleeve to reveal a bite mark I had acquired. The man examined the wound, shaking his head in response. "Well, kid, that's exactly what we're trying to ascertain," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "(M/n)," I interjected firmly, unwilling to be referred to simply as "kid." He raised an eyebrow, surprised, before flashing a friendly smile. "Very well, (M/n). I'm Negal, pleased to make your acquaintance." As his words settled in, he continued, his tone taking on a commanding edge. "Now that you're within the confines of my base, you'll be working under my authority without question. Do you understand?" Meeting his gaze, I silently nodded in agreement. A mischievous smirk graced his lips as he led me outside, where a multitude of individuals gathered, busily consuming their meals. Negal's voice boomed across the open space, capturing everyone's attention. "Attention, all! This individual beside me is now under our protection. Any harm inflicted upon him will be met with swift and lethal consequences. He is to be obeyed without question. Is that understood?" A resounding chorus of "yes" echoed throughout the base, solidifying my newfound status and the collective resolve to safeguard me.

With a warm and welcoming smile, Negal greeted me, "Welcome home, (M/n)." Having delivered his words, he left me to observe the bustling activity of the people below. As I stood there, lost in the sea of faces, a stranger kindly offered me a refreshing beverage. Gratefully, I found a comfortable spot near the staircase and took a sip of the liquid, presuming it to be water. Reflecting on the journey that lay ahead, I couldn't help but acknowledge that it was going to be a long and eventful day.

~Approximately one month had passed~

A sense of satisfaction washed over me as I watched the life drain from the walker we had just vanquished. As we began our journey back to the base, Negal halted my steps abruptly. "Hold on, (M/n)," he interjected, his tone carrying a hint of excitement. "We're going to mold you into a reflection of myself." With an expectant smile, he guided me into a room, revealing a woman named Cindy. Negal explained her transgression, noting her failure to bring an adequate supply of weapons when the need was dire. "So, here's why you're here again," he continued, placing a firearm into my hand while gesturing towards Cindy. "As punishment, you'll end her life. She's made this mistake three times now." I turned to face Negal, searching his eyes for any sign of remorse, only to find a devious smirk aimed in my direction. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me, but I redirected my attention towards Cindy. With a heavy heart, I whispered an apology before pulling the trigger, ending her existence with a single, fatal shot to the head. Negal erupted into laughter. "That's my boy," he exclaimed, his amusement evident. "Let's continue onward. We have matters that demand our attention." With those words, he departed the room, leaving me alone with the lifeless body of Cindy. Moved by a sudden impulse, I gently placed a delicate flower upon her chest, a small token of remembrance amidst the chaos of our actions.

~2 year Later~

Carl [POV]

I squinted my eyes in frustration as the approaching truck caught my attention. "Why in the ever-loving fuck is he here ahead of schedule?" I muttered under my breath, a tinge of annoyance coloring my words. Determined to investigate the situation, I swiftly exited the confines of the house and briskly made my way towards the gathering where Rick stood.

To my surprise, Negal emerged from the crowd, poised to deliver a speech that would undoubtedly shed light on the unexpected arrival. "Ah, I bring tidings," he announced with a mixture of authority and intrigue. "We have a fresh addition to our ranks, a new member who joins our distinguished team." My cynical thoughts bubbled to the surface, already preemptively labeling this newcomer as yet another sociopathic individual to contend with.

As the truck's door swung open, a young figure stepped out, standing shoulder to shoulder with Negal, There was something strikingly familiar about the kid, but my thoughts were abruptly halted as a commotion arose near the infirmary. Curiosity piqued, I found myself drawn to the growing crowd and instinctively followed their lead, my footsteps echoing with purpose.

[okruchlodu]

❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare. @taleswritten ( Ciri )

She wakes up again, screaming and in pain, drenched in sweat. Terror chokes her, furiously sinking its claws in her throat, raw and burning with her wails that pierce the night like a knife, frightened of what she has seen, frightened of what she can not remember yet still gnaws and bites into her heart, promising death. Her panic, wild and furious, shapes itself into a tangible thing that flows from her veins, dark and endless, comes to Yennefer like a flood, choking itself in her blood like a summons that sinks its cruel, sharp fangs into her chest, viciously rousing her from her sleep with its ferocity, and she is at her side and reaching for her face within moments, her heart cold and filled with dread.

❛ Ciri! — ❜ gently, but decisively, Yennefer takes her by the shoulders and shakes her out of her stupor, pulls her close, enveloping her in her warmth; the obsidian star hung about her throat vibrates and pulses with strange light from the Force thrumming and throbbing in the air around them, lingering like a shroud over the girl. Her pulse is quickened, pouring down her veins in torrents. The sorceress takes Ciri by the chin and lifts her head so that she might meet her gaze, says, �� come here—  it is over now.... I am here. ❜ she promises fiercely, pushing back strands of pearl-grey hair, damp with sweat, delicate, cold fingers lingering upon the apex of her cheek as she holds her gaze, violet eyes glowing in the shadows. ❛ it was just a nightmare... You won't see it again. Never more. I shan't let it. ❜ she holds her closer, still, until her trembling seizes, and only then, does Yennefer deign to draw back, looking down into big, round eyes burning with an emerald fire. ❛ come... you will sleep with me, in my room tonight. ❜ urges the sorceress; she shall not let her suffer this torment any longer; all dark, sinister things that crawl under her skin when night comes and sleep becomes a nightmare, shall burn and perish in the firestorm of her wrath. Yennefer shall make sure of it.

[kathbigaran]

Positividade Manifesto

I have always held a deep-seated belief in the transformative power of positivity, understanding its ability to turn even the darkest moments into opportunities for growth and connection. In a world that often feels like a rollercoaster of highs and lows, I have sought solace and inspiration in this simple yet profound principle. Upon reviewing the blog entries I have posted throughout the semester, I noticed a recurring theme of positivity woven into many of them. Recognizing this pattern, I decided to have positivity as the central theme for my manifesto. I named it the “Positividade Manifesto,” drawing from the Portuguese word “positividade” as a nod to my Brazilian heritage. This word holds a special meaning for me, encapsulating the essence of positivity in my native language and reflecting my connection to the theme. The song I chose for the representative work is a perfect example of being positive. Avicii’s song “The Nights” has an upbeat melody and inspiring lyrics that serve as a reminder to seize the day and make the most of every opportunity. Growing up, I often yearned for the future, eager to embark on new adventures and chase my dreams. However, as I have gotten older, I have realized the importance of living in the present moment and cherishing the experiences that shape who we are. Similarly, Rufino Tamayo’s abstract masterpiece “The Children’s Game,” which I chose for the abstract images post, evokes a sense of nostalgia and wonder, reminding me of the joy and innocence of childhood. As a child, I spent countless hours playing games with friends, lost in the moment and free from the world’s worries. Looking back, I realize that those moments of pure joy were some of the happiest of my life, and while writing about this artwork, I felt an urge for positivity as I reminisced about the joy and innocence of being a child. In poetic license, I spoke about D.A. Powell’s poem “Positivity.” Through his evocative imagery and lyrical prose, Powell reminds us to find joy in the present moment and embrace life’s wonders. As I reflect on my own experiences, I am struck by the realization that happiness is not something to be chased or pursued—it is something that exists within us, waiting to be discovered and embraced. For my plotting, I wrote about an unexpected beach day marred by a sudden storm, which perfectly encapsulates the essence of positivity amidst adversity. Despite the disappointment of disrupted plans, I embraced the unpredictability of the weather with resilience and optimism. Last but not least, for the post on public art, I wrote about the “Shower of Blossoms” at the Physicians Regional Medical Center in Naples, FL, which exemplifies the theme of positivity through its impact on the hospital environment. Despite the challenging circumstances patients and their families face in the ICU, the artwork serves as a beacon of hope and renewal. In my life, I have realized that positivity is more than just an emotion; it is a guiding concept that shapes how we traverse the world. Even under challenging circumstances, approaching life with optimism can provide strength, resilience, and joy. In a world that is frequently uncertain, it is comforting to know that happiness is something we can cultivate within ourselves.

[shadow-and-purgatory]

Wrong Shade Ch. 7

Read it on AO3!

Tumblr masterpost!

word count: 1941

-------

The silence in the clearing is thick enough to cut with a knife. Four doesn’t know what to say. 

When he and Wild heard the roar, they’d gone to investigate, to see if anyone was in danger. Instead, they found Twilight. Twilight is here, really, truly here, only a few feet away, and the smithy is seized by the sudden urge to run at the older hero and bury his face in his soft fur pelt. 

He curbs the impulse, instead looking the ranch hand up and down. He doesn’t look injured, as far as Four can tell.

For his part, Twilight looks surprised. His eyes are wide, and he stands up straighter. His stance, Four notes, is a defensive one, even though he sheathed his sword when he saw them. But then again, Four has no idea what Twilight has been through. No sudden movements. 

Four puts away his own sword, and Twilight’s eyes flicker from Wild to him. He smiles, taking a step forward. “I– I can’t believe it,” he says. “You’re… here, and alive, and– and here.”

Twilight tenses, and Four stops moving. “You… have my shield,” he says after a moment. He looks between the two of them, an odd expression on his face. 

Four nods. “Well, yeah, we wouldn’t just leave it. It’s important to you.” He smiles. “I even cleaned it for you, although you do a pretty good job keeping your gear maintained.” As he continues talking, in his periphery, he sees Wild take a step back, eyes wide, his expression one of distress. Four feels a stab of worry, but doesn't turn around. “What happened? Are you okay?” He lowers his voice. “Do you know if Dark is nearby?” 

Twilight makes a face. “...What?” His eyes keep binging between the two of them. There's something in the way he’s looking at them that’s just… wrong. Four may not be able to place it, but he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit. 

Four takes a deep breath. Get it together. He takes another step forward, cautious this time, like he's approaching a wild animal. "Rancher?"

"Where did you get my shield?" Twilight's stance becomes more defensive. 

"We… found it in the clearing. Wait, are you hurt? Hang on Twilight, I might have a potion." Four pats his pockets. He starts towards his brother, who takes several steps back, his hand going to the handle of his sword. That’s the moment that Four knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something is very, very wrong. Under no circumstances would his friend even think about drawing on him.

“What’s going on here?” Twilight demands. “How do you- where’d you learn that name?” His eyes narrow. “Have you two been following us?”

“I don’t understand,” Four says. His voice sounds ever so small, even in his own head. “Twilight, you– what do you mean?” What’s wrong with him? ‘Us?’ Why is he acting like this? Why is he looking at us like he doesn’t even know us? Round and round his head the questions go, making it hard to think straight. They all point to only one likely explanation, and Four really doesn’t like it. Focus, focus! He takes a deep breath, which helps only marginally. Behind him, he’s dimly aware of Wild, who’s breathing hard, bordering on hyperventilation.

Twilight looks at Wild and his expression softens somewhat. “Is he alright?” he asks, concerned.

Why isn’t he rushing to Wild’s side? Four bites the inside of his cheek, trying to regain his composure. He takes Wild’s hand and squeezes it firmly. It takes longer than Four would like, but after a few moments, Wild squeezes back. He takes another deep breath. “Twilight–”

“Who are you?”

The words hit Four like a punch to the throat. Beside him, Wild flinches. 

“Twilight, it’s– it’s me,” Four manages to get out. “You know who I am, you know me.”

Twilight looks uncomfortable. “I don’t recognize either of you, or at least, I don’t think I do, I’m… I’m real sorry.” He shifts his weight between his right foot and his left.

Four’s vision blurs, and feels his eyes burn. He squeezes Wild’s hand, both to reassure the younger hero, and because he needs some reassurance himself. Wild doesn’t squeeze back. Four feels sick. Over three weeks, almost a month of searching, and after all that, their friend doesn’t even recognize them. 

The smith looks at Twilight, who looks genuinely sorry.

Earlier that day, Wild came back to Kakariko in the afternoon, ever so briefly. Four had pulled him aside and asked to go with him the next time he left, as a second set of eyes. Wild had been hesitant, but Four had badgered, and they’d all been around one another long enough for Wild to know that Four wasn’t going to budge on the issue. So he’d agreed. 

Of course, he really did want to provide an extra pair of eyes, but mostly, Four just needed to feel like he was actually doing something to find his friend. He’d wished he could ask Twilight for advice. Twilight was easy to talk to, in a way that the other members of the Chain weren’t. There was never any judgment in his words. He was kind, and reassuring, and when Four saw Twilight for the first time in weeks, he’d been so relieved. 

But then there was this, this kick in his teeth. Four squeezes his eyes shut, feeling hot tears stream down his cheeks. He pats them a few times, trying to cool his face off, to no avail. He hiccups a few times.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean to make y’all cry, are you– I’m real sorry. Can I… help at all?” Twilight asks, and he just sounds so earnest, and genuinely concerned, and himself, and it’s just so much. A choked sob bubbles out of Four’s throat before he can stop it.

Four feels a heavy hand stiffly come to rest on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, shhhh, it’s okay, everything is gonna be okay.” Four wipes his eyes and looks up to see a very uncomfortable looking Twilight, gently shushing the two younger heroes with his ‘goat whispering voice.’ Four blinks up at him. “It’s alright, you’re alright.” 

Wild throws his arms around Twilight, and Four leans into the form of the older hero, folding in on himself a little bit. Twilight stiffens, but doesn’t do too much to try and move away from the smaller heroes. He just awkwardly pats their backs and continues trying to comfort them.

The situation is oh so familiar and yet far too impersonal at the same time, and it makes everything better and so much worse all at once. 

For the next several minutes, it’s quiet in the moonlit clearing, save for Wild and Four’s gradually quieting sobs and sniffles, and Twilight’s soft, strained reassurances. 

Wild is the first to speak. “What happened?” His voice is quiet. 

“Pardon?” Twilight dips out of his ‘soothing a frightened child or animal’ voice and back into his normal country accent.

“What. Happened?” Wild says again, louder this time. “Why don’t you– why don’t you remember us? Why don’t you remember me?” He pulls away, and Four does as well. “What happened to you, what did Dark Link do to you, what happened?” 

Twilight takes a few steps back, looking alarmed. “Listen, I’m really sorry, but I… I still don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” 

Four takes a deep breath. “Twilight, you’ve been missing for over three weeks,” he says. Twilight’s eyes widen, and Four presses on. “We- everyone has been looking for you but, but it’s like you and Dark Link just… vanished.” He stares at his boots. “We’ve been really worried.” His voice sounds impossibly childish, even to his own ears. 

“Missing? What? I… I don't understand. And what’s this about ‘Dark Link?’ I mean… My name is Link, but I’ve never been called ‘Dark’ before. Do y’all know the Old Man or something? Is that a nickname of his or something?”

Four’s eyes widen and his head snaps up. He looks at Wild, wondering if the cook heard it too. The smithy grabs Twilight’s hands in his own. “Wait, the Old Man? Do you mean Time? Do you remember Time, then?” 

Twilight yanks his hands away sharply. “What?” He starts backing away. 

Wild surges forward, desperately grabbing his tunic sleeve. “Wait, hold on! We can… we can help you. Please. Let’s go back to Kakariko. We can figure this out there. Hell, I’d bet 50 rupees that the Vet’ll know something about it.” His eyes are pleading. 

“The Vet? Who’s– never mind.” Twilight tries to pull away from Wild, but the younger hero manages to hold on. “Let go of me!” 

“Please, Twi, We can work on restoring your memory,” Wild begs, tugging on his sleeve. 

“I…” Four can see the conflict in the ranch hand’s eyes. 

“Time’s been worried sick, we’ve all been worried sick.”

Twilight jerks in surprise. “Wh– Time?” He manages to yank his sleeve out of Wild’s grasp, and scrambles backwards. “What are you talking about? Listen, I don’t know who you are, and I’m real sorry that that’s so upsetting to you, I really am. But I’m not… I’m not gonna go off with y’all just for that.”

“You have to!” Wild lunges for his mentor again, but Twilight is ready this time, and sidesteps fast enough to dodge. 

“Have to? Excuse me? Who do you think you are?” 

“You know me, I’m Link! Or- or Wild, or the Cook, or the Champion! I’m you Cub! You know me! …You know me.” Wild is crying again, and Twilight looks sorry.

But then Four notices the way he’s holding himself. He’s going to run. Four starts to reach for him, but the older hero is already out of his reach. He starts to give chase. Wild is gaining as well, but the rancher is just a little bit faster. 

He dives through a cluster of bushes which slows Wild and Four down. They emerge, and the Hero of Twilight has vanished. When he spots the canine paw prints, Four’s heart sinks. There’s no way they can catch Twilight as Wolfie. Even with his Pegasus Boots, Legend has some difficulty keeping up with him when he really wants to move quickly. He drops to sit on the forest floor, sighing. 

Wild kicks a tree. “Dammit!” He continues to kick it, making sounds of frustration. 

“That’s only going to hurt your foot and fuck up your boots,” Four says dejectedly. 

Wild slumps his head against the tree hard enough that Four can head the thunk when his head hits the tree. He winces. 

“He was right there, and now he’s gone, and it’s–” Wild chokes out. 

Four looks up at him. “Stop that. It’s not your fault. We both know we can’t catch him as Wolfie, and there’s not much point in trying.”

“No, no, I mean–” Wild sighs. “I scared him off. He was confused, and I got too wrapped up in my stupid brain, and I– I overwhelmed him. I should know better, more than anyone else, but–” He hiccups. “But instead I fucked it all up.”

“Oh.” Four pats the grass next to him. “I think I scared him off too, then.”

“But–”

“No buts. Listen, we know he’s alive. We found him once, we can find him again. And we will find him again.” Emerging from under a leaf, a Picori catches Four’s eye. He smiles as an idea begins to form in his mind. “We’re going to get him back. Promise.”

[ptergwen]

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

-

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

[earlgreydream]

enemies.

| bucky x reader | fluff |

requested by @fitzfiles​ enemies to lovers 

this is technically a highschool au, but only slightly. we love bucky being a loveable ass out here

Your eyes narrowed and you glared at Bucky. You couldn’t stand him. Bucky was popular, flirtatious, and an asshole. He was always flirting with you at school, and you always felt like he was trying to make a joke of you in front of everyone. On top of that, it made other girls envy you, tainting friendships with jealousy.

It seemed like you were the only one who didn’t want Bucky Barnes. 

“You’re such an ass!” You snapped at Bucky, who only laughed in response. You hated when he tilted his head to the side, the stupid smirk you loathed pulling at his lips. 

“Don’t be like that, doll.”

“I’ll do whatever I want! Leave me alone, I’m not going to fall at your feet like everyone else!” You stood up from the library where he had been absolutely intent on distracting you from finishing your homework, the reason for the fight in the first place.

You were the only one who didn’t give him every ounce of attention he desired, and he was determined to get it. 

You sat on your bed, a folder of history homework open in front of you. You studied with music softly in the background, needing a break from trying to study with Bucky bothering you every five seconds. 

“Y/N,” your mom called your name as she walked in the door. 

You looked up, setting down the document on World War II. Your father was behind her, and you grew uneasy, wondering what they possibly felt they needed to both talk to you about.

“We’re worried about you, dear.”

“Worried? Why?” you laughed, surprised by their explanation.

“We’re just concerned that you don’t have the same social life people your age have. You seem to always be up here, studying in your room. We want you to meet some people, and have some fun,” your father explained.

You were confused by the explanation. You spent most of your time at school, and around other students. You did have friends, but you also prioritized your grades. You certainly were not the hermit they were making you out to be.

“You don’t need to worry-”

“But darling, you’ve never dated. One of our friends has the most charming son, and we think he’d be perfect for you. We want to set you up.” Your mother was smiling, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Perfect for me?”

“Yes! He’s so charming, and he’s sweet. He’s also incredibly intelligent, his grades are wonderful. He travels a lot, you know, has that worldly kind of sense. And, he’s beautiful. We were thinking of setting the two of you up, having them over for dinner.”

You couldn’t deny that this sounded too good to be true. The boy they were describing sounded perfect for you, and although you cringed at the idea of your parents setting you up, you were intrigued.

“What is his name?”

“James!” She beamed, and you raised your eyebrows.

“I will go on one blind date with him, if you stop giving me a hard time about my social life.”

“One date. You can meet him at dinner tomorrow, and then the two of you must go on one date. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But try for us, honey.”

“I will, I promise,” you smiled at your parents, excited and nervous to meet your supposed dream-man. 

You dressed up for dinner once you were home from school. You’d never even seen this boy, and yet your tummy was filling with excited butterflies. Your name was called from downstairs, and you quickly ran down to meet them. 

You nearly tripped over yourself as you stopped dead in your tracks. You were met with an all-too-familiar silver gaze, and the smirk that made you so, so angry.

“Bucky.” 

Your voice was cold, and all of the butterflies shriveled up and died, the excitement fading from you. You were furious that you’d agreed to go on a date with him in addition to sitting through this dinner.

“You two know each other?” His mother asked, surprised.

“Quite well, actually. We have history together at school, right doll?” Bucky was trying not to laugh, only fueling your irritation. 

“It’s Y/N. And we’ve met, yes.” 

This motherfucker. 

Dinner was long and painful, and you were forced to listen to what a perfect prince everybody thought Bucky was. You were surprised to hear about his academic standing, one that competed with your own. It was clear by his expression that he didn’t want the news to get out that he wasn’t a complete anarchist. 

You cringed as your parents praised you too, unsure of who they were trying to impress. You were quiet, not giving a single damn about being polite to the boy you hated. 

“Why don’t the two of you go upstairs?” your mom suggested, and you sighed, holding back a massive eye roll. Being alone with Bucky was about last on the list of things you wanted to do.

You stood up under the pressure of four gazes, and Bucy followed you up the flight of stairs. He couldn’t contain his amusement for the situation, and you walked into your room and sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Did you know it was me?”

“No, I really didn’t. But I’m glad it is.” He almost sounded sincere.

Bucky looked around your room, taking in the soft lavender walls, and the white bedspread that you sat on top of. Everything was soft and sweet, like you. Fairy lights hung above the bed, casting a gentle glow over the room. Bucky thought you looked beautiful.

“Quit staring at me,” you snipped, pulling your knees up to your chest.

He smiled, stepping in from the doorway and sitting beside you on the bed. You were angry at yourself for noticing the way the lights seemed to make him look golden, glinting in the reflection of huge silver eyes.

“How could I not?” He breathed, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

No. No, this is not happening. You will not let yourself be seduced by this cocky asshole. 

“Save it for the date,” you rolled your eyes and he smirked. 

“You’re not looking forward to it?” Bucky asked, and you shook your head with a face.

“No, of course not.”

“Come on, I’ll show you a good time. You’ll probably even realize that you’re in love with me.” His grin was infectious, but you fought off the urge to smile back.

“In love with you? Hardly.”

“I’ll give you one night. You’ll change your mind.” 

“You seem confident,” you snarked, rolling your eyes at his arrogance.

“I always am.”

You watched him as his eyes traveled over the room, seeming to take everything in. Bucky noticed every small detail, including the sketch of daisies that leaned against the wall on top of your desk. 

When he was finally called away, he stood in front of you, leaning over you with one hand on the wrought iron bed frame. A soft smile broke onto his face, and you felt warmth spread through your chest, reaching up to your cheeks.

“Goodnight, doll.”

You scowled at the dress that was laid out in the end of your bed when you got home from school. You’d been dreading the date, especially when Bucky winked at you during history class. He didn’t make a show of embarrassing you in front of his friends. You hadn’t even heard gossip about it, so he must not have told anybody. 

You were a bit surprised, you thought that Bucky would seize the opportunity to be the subject of gossip and attention, dragging you into it with him. 

Your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you’d been set up for a friday date after school with Bucky. The doorbell rang, and you went to answer it, your eyes widening a bit when you saw him in jeans and a button down. 

Fuck, he was handsome. 

“Hi James.” 

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” he said honestly, and you couldn’t stop the warmth from blossoming on your cheeks. He held up a bouquet of daisies, and you bit back a smile, taking your favorite flowers from him. You realized he noticed the drawing, and something about that made you feel fuzzy inside. 

It was too bad you didn’t even like him.

“Let me set these down, thank you.” 

You put them in a vase on the table, and he followed you. 

“You didn’t tell everyone at school.” It was a statement, but you meant it as a question.

“Why would I? I knew you wouldn’t appreciate everyone in your business,” Bucky confessed. Despite the amusement he gained from getting on your nerves, Bucky did like you, and he did respect you. The idea of others participate in the teasing, more than just his bit of playfulness, upset Bucky.

He wanted you to like him. 

You followed Bucky outside to his yellow car, one that was sort of vintage. He didn’t drive to school, and you realized you had never seen his car, but it somehow fit him. You got in the passenger seat, and he handed you the chord to play your own music.

You nervously scrolled through your phone, deciding that the safest bet for music was bon iver, and he broke into a smile, leaning forward to turn up the stereo.

“I love this song,” Bucky grinned, surprising you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning forward and watching the buildings pass by as he drove you to an unknown location. 

“Just trust me.”

He parked and was opening your door for you before you could get out. You stepped out and took his outstretched hand, deciding you had to at least give this as much of an effort as he was. 

His hand was soft and he squeezed you gently as he led you inside the huge aquarium in the city. It was your favorite place to go, and you wondered how Bucky knew that. 

“You mentioned it once, in class,” he spoke as if he read your mind, or at least read the bright smile on your face.

“I can’t believe you remembered... Or that you even listened,” you laughed.

“I always listen.”

You walked through tunnels filled with colorful fish, and they swam around you on all sides, even under your feet. You gasped and pressed your hands to the glass, letting go of Bucky as you watched a sea turtle swim by. Bucky watched your delight, smiling at your excited squeal.

“Look!” you pointed, and he grinned.

“I see, it’s so cool,” he indulged you. 

You moved through the tunnel, into a room of separate tanks, all smaller and holding their own creatures. You struggled to see the clown fish in the top, even standing on your toes.

“What’re you doing, doll?”

“Trying to see the nemo fish, but-” you squeaked as Bucky’s hands went around your waist, and he lifted you up so you could see. You blushed and smiled, looking at the fish swimming around. He gently set you down, and you wrapped your hands around his arm, a little bit shyly.

The two of you spent hours looking at the creatures, and you let him wrap his arms around your waist as you stood and watched the jellyfish. 

“They’re so pretty!” you gasped, and Bucky could see the reflection in your wide eyes, and he couldn’t ignore how his heart raced when he looked at you.

You found yourself feeling the same way.

“This was great, James. I didn’t think you’d manage to win me over, but this is the best date I’ve ever been on,” you confessed shyly as you left, the sky already dark. He beamed at you, his silver eyes lighting up when you smiled at him.

“I’m so glad, but we’re not finished yet, doll.”

“You spoil me,” you giggled, and he pulled you to the car.

“Come on, or we’ll miss it,” he hurried you, laughing as he got behind the wheel. 

He drove to a park and got a blanket from the backseat, producing a basket that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Picnicking in the dark?”

“Hush and come with me,” he insisted, laying out the blanket on the grass and pulling the food out. 

You bit into a piece of fruit, leaning against his side. You gasped as fireworks started to go off overhead, and you looked at Bucky, who just smiled back at you. 

“I thought you’d like them.”

You watched the light and colors explode in the sky, enjoying the dinner he brought. You ended up leaning back against Bucky’s chest, wrapped in his jacket when you complained of being chilly. You couldn’t believe that over the course of a few hours, he had managed to work his way into your heart, and you were now in his arms.

“Do you want to come in and stay?” you asked Bucky as he pulled up in front of your house.

“I’m invited?”

“Yes.” 

He smiled, grabbing sweats from his trunk, explaining that he always had a change of clothes, on account of being an athlete. You teased him with a giggle, going inside with him and up to your bedroom. 

You changed into a pajama set and laid on your bed with him, the two of you staring up at the tiny, glittering fairy lights above you.

“You look perfect like this,” you whispered.

“Not as perfect as you.”

“What happens Monday? Do you go back to being an ass and I go back to hating you?” your voice was soft, and although you were joking, the fear behind it was real.

“I was hoping I could call you my girlfriend on Monday.”

You leaned over and kissed him, answering the question. When he kissed you back, it was like a million tiny fireworks exploding inside of you, instead of in the sky overhead. 

“You changed my mind in one night.”

[knightofgalatea]

Fingers tapping against her will against her leg, Ingrid realized this would be harder than she’d initially thought it would. Either Astallac was toying with her, or this person was exceptionally clever.

She cursed inwardly, wishing the books had given more details regarding Laurellane and Astallac. Had she awoken in the body of the heroine she would have been able to determine if there was another displaced soul like herself instantly.

Yet instead the goddess, if she was even here, was clearly toying with her, testing her. The urge to pitch herself through the window again overtook her, if only because she was growing tired of this verbal dance. Things were so much easier when she had a blade in her hand, and although she wasn’t yet perfect, at least in battle she did not fumble as often.

This person’s momentary hesitation and the slowly drawn out question hangs in the air between them. The way he did not confirm nor deny her statement, her lie that her sister had been the sickly one and not Laurellane, made her suspicious.

Would the true Astallac not have seized on that at once? Laughed or told her that she made up for her frail body’s failings with a sharper mind than her sister would ever possess?

My… Lady? Why are you telling me this? Is something the matter?

Yes, in fact something was very much the matter. She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him and scream that she was not Laurellane. She wanted to demand to know whether he was the true Astallac.

But what if that got her killed?

He was staring her down, confusion evident on his face even now.

Why had she told him that? Why would Laurellane tell her most trusted companion that, on the off chance this truly was Astallac and she was moments from being locked up or worse?

Her fingers danced on her leg and she had to grab the offending hand and press it firmly into her lap, trying to quell her fidgeting.

She’d never much cared for Laurellane before, but in this moment she pitied her. How frustrating it must be, to spend her days playing verbal games, to be trapped in these sumptuous rooms, all the finery unable to hide the fact that it was a prison.

She would ask only another question, and no matter his answer she would have to forge ahead. If this was truly Astallac and she showed her hand she would have to use her knowledge of combat and hope this body would allow her to survive a battle. And if he were not Astallac, well…

She supposed that bridge could be crossed later. If there even was a later.

Ingrid waited another few moments to speak, positioning herself to look as dispassionate as she could. Leaning back, elbow on the arm of the chair she lounged in, cheek propped up by her cheek. The picture of noble indolence.

“Why am I telling you this?” She asked, drawing the words out slowly. How strange that her voice didn’t even sound like hers. This would certainly sound ridiculous in her normal cadence, and yet it fit Laurellane’s voice perfectly. “Do you understand who I really am? I need to know that my closest confidante, who supposedly knows everything about me, truly understands.”

She prayed he didn’t. She prayed to the goddess, to any deity listening, that he fumbled. She was going to need an ally in this place if she was going to find a way home.

So it was not a common occurrence then… not that he expected as much, but one could hope. The lady spoke merely in hypotheticals, and he had spoken literally- a most unfortunate error. There was a long pause, where she likely considered the absurdity of such a statement. He wants to sigh, having been so close to finding new information only to learn it was false. And, he was unfamiliar with the customs of the area- or anything regarding his situation, truly. There was the possibility that she would soon accuse him of some sort of crime. Or perhaps, given her unfamiliarity of this situation, he would be instead treated with some form of hatred and fear. Neither outcome seemed particularly pleasant, and he nearly tried to retract his words in a form of damage control.

No such luck as the lady swept her way back into the room, gesturing for him to enter. He did so, shutting the door behind him as she made her way to one of the lavish chairs positioned as if for this very purpose. It was as if it were a painting, furniture arranged not to be practical but to be beautiful, as if she had something to prove. Interesting.

She sat, the very picture of nobility, and he waited for her to begin speaking. If nothing else, he would be polite in hopes that she would spare him of suspicion. It seemed that she had much to say, and not all of it unpleasant. And that she did, with an air of reminiscence. He listened- for it would give him information that he dearly needed, but it was strange that she would speak so openly after being so suspicious of him, but perhaps she still held some trust for the one she referred to as her most trusted confidant. Truly, who was he, that he would be so distrusted by other servants but held in such high esteem? 

She pauses, and he wonders if she was trying to gain his sympathy. But what for? Was he not her confidant- surely, he would have already known all of the prior information. Was she searching for comfort, or did she simply use this as an excuse to complain? Nonetheless, as per what was likely his task at the moment, he waits for her to continue. He takes note of her appearance- her emotions, which she wore more openly than before-

Yet still she was wary. 

Perhaps a test then. If he could not correctly imitate Astallac, as his name was, then he would simply have to demonstrate that no matter how his personality changed, he would still be her aide. At the very least, it would help him survive. 

When she stops, her story apparently over, he wonders what she was searching for him to say. There was no request or question, merely a recitation of her past. He hesitates.

“My… lady? Why are you telling me this? Is something the matter?”