#bloodsport x

[frentique]

[coquinaclutch]

[keefechambers]

TASK FORCE X + DND CLASSES

[emeraldelixirs]

Bloodsport // prologue

bsf! m. riddle x fem!sallow!reader, stepbrother! t. nott x fem!sallow!reader

Bound by Blood, Betrayed by Fate. When you’re dragged to Malfoy Manor under orders from Voldemort himself, you learn the price of your mother’s mistakes: an Unbreakable Vow, tethering your life to the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange. Forced to navigate a web of dark magic, family debts, and impossible expectations, you must tread carefully in a house brimming with enemies—and a few familiar faces. As tensions rise and the lines between loyalty and survival blur, one question remains: will you find a way to break free, or will you lose yourself to the darkness?

content warnings: 18+ dark themes, aged up characters (by a year), mention of y/n, mentions of anxiety and isolation, death, crossover references with HP legacy, canon HP themes involving death eaters, blood status, purity, house prejudice, and underage coercion. let me know what if there’s anything missing!

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: I’ve been keeping this fic held near and dear to my chest for a while, but have been too nervous to post it and wanting it to be perfect aligning the canon, noncanon, potential AUs, etc. Also I’m just a girl with a full time job and life. 🥲 But as I keep adding on to this story, I think, at least, hope others will enjoy it as much as I’ve been while writing. Feedback, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated 🫶🏻

[playlist: no time to die—Billie eillish ]

<< next part >>

The click of your heels against the cold, tiled floor echoed hauntingly through the desolate halls of Malfoy Manor, a sound that mingled with the steady pressure of Fenrir Greyback’s wand digging into the small of your back. Each step felt like an eternity, your pulse hammering in your ears as Narcissa Malfoy led you down the dimly lit corridor. Her movements were calm and composed, her shoulders drawn back with an elegance you envied in that moment. She, at least, did not have a predator breathing down her neck.

“Keep moving, girl,” Fenrir growled from behind you, his voice low and guttural, sending shivers down your spine. “Mistress doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“That’s enough, Fenrir,” Narcissa snapped, her tone cutting through the air like a blade.

Her icy demeanor, usually so measured, betrayed her frustration. You could sense it in the stiff set of her shoulders and the clipped tone of her voice. Narcissa Malfoy hated what her home had become—a fortress for Death Eaters, a cold and dark parody of the life she once knew. But most of all, she hated that the lives of children, her son and his friends included, were being consumed by the dark tide that had overtaken their world.

When Narcissa came to a halt before the double doors of the dining room, her fingers meticulously adjusted the buttons of her blouse, her sharp gaze fixed on the brass knobs. “Leave us, Greyback,” she commanded, her voice devoid of emotion but brooking no argument.

“Mistress said—”

“Do I need to remind you,” she interrupted, turning on her heel with a venomous glare, “that your mistress is *my* sister? This is still my home, and I will not tolerate being undermined in it. Now. Leave.”

Her warning crackled like electricity in the air, but Fenrir relented with a sneer, retreating down the hall. Narcissa exhaled slowly before turning her attention to you. Her cold, pale fingers reached out to smooth your hair and adjust the sleeves of your dress, though you’d ironed them to perfection just that morning. Her dull gray eyes darted behind you, ensuring the hall was empty, before she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Listen to me, child,” she said, her hand cupping your cheek with an unexpected gentleness that contradicted the steel in her tone. “You go in there with your head held high. Shoulders back. Do not let her see your fear. She will exploit it.”

The lump in your throat grew unbearable, but you managed a trembling nod. Narcissa’s hand tightened on your chin, forcing your watery gaze to meet her own lifeless one.

“Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you murmured, the words scraping against the knot in your throat.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then, with a curt nod of approval, she turned to knock on the doors.

The dining room was frigid, both in temperature and atmosphere. Bellatrix Lestrange lounged at the head of the table like a queen upon her throne, her wild, matted hair framing her pale, deranged face. Alecto Carrow stood beside her, her towering, stocky figure and lifeless gaze only adding to the oppressive weight that filled the room.

Bellatrix’s lips curled into a sinister grin as her dark eyes landed on you.

“This is the girl?” she drawled, rising with an unsettling excitement.

“She will be in her sixth year, like Draco,” Narcissa said coolly, her tone devoid of the pride she’d once reserved for introductions.

Bellatrix let out a high-pitched laugh, tilting her head back as though the very idea of you amused her. “Sixth year! A mere child!”

“She turned 17 in the spring,” the younger sister noted, clearing her throat. She was aware of what Bellatrix wanted, and the idea of a child doing her sister’s bidding stirred the already restless unease in her body.

Your stomach churned as she circled around you, her wand tracing invisible lines along your jaw and down the column of your neck. Her closeness made your skin crawl, but you stood your ground, your face a mask of carefully constructed neutrality. You couldn’t afford to falter now—not in front of her.

“You look so much like your mother,” Bellatrix said, her voice dripping with mockery. “The Veela blood is strong in your family. A pity it didn’t make her smart.”

Your nails dug into your palms as you resisted the urge to react, hearing Narcissa’s earlier warning echo in your mind. Bellatrix’s gaze bored into yours, relishing in delight at your discomfort.

“She’s one of the top in her class, and heavily involved in the school’s extracurriculars.” Narcissa interjected, her voice brittle, though she stood rigid behind you. “I believe she will do well with the tasks you assign her.”

Bellatrix’s twisted smile widened, and she gestured for Alecto to step forward. The red-haired woman stalked closer, her soulless eyes narrowing as she assessed you like one might a piece of meat.

“Do you know why you’re here, Y/n Sallow?” Alecto asked.

“I’m here to finish the business my mother couldn’t,” you recited in monotone, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you.

“Good,” Alecto purred, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. “And do you know what happens if you fail?”

“I will be executed,” you replied, the words chilling you even as they left your lips.

Alecto chuckled darkly, seemingly satisfied with your response. Bellatrix clapped her hands together, her giddy laugh echoing off the cold stone walls.

“You will not bear the Dark Mark,” Bellatrix said suddenly, her voice gleeful. “No, the Dark Lord has other plans for you. You will be bound to me instead—by an Unbreakable Vow.”

The words struck you like a physical blow. Your mask faltered as you turned to Narcissa, whose own composure cracked for just a moment. This was not discussed–Dark Mark or Unbreakable Vow–you were supposed to be unscathed by any affiliations Theodore Nott Sr, your step father, told you.

“Bella, this wasn’t—”

“Dark Lord’s orders,” Bellatrix snapped, her wand digging into your chin as she forced your gaze back to her. “Take my arm, child.”

I hate you.

With trembling fingers, you obeyed, grasping her sickly pale forearm as she held it out. Alecto began the incantation, her voice cold and mechanical, each word sealing your fate.

I hate you.

The vow burned as it took hold, a searing pain lancing through your arm and up into your chest.

I hate you.

The three words chanted through your brain as the woman laughed maniacally listening to Alecto talk.

In the moment, resentment tugged through you at your mother for leaving you alone in this world to take the weight of her debts. Alecto’s words becoming muffled to a deafening screech of the thoughts that thrummed in your head. The brand of the vow making itself known, threading through the fibers of your being.

And when it was over, you staggered back, Narcissa catching you before you could fall. Bellatrix’s laughter rang in your ears as she clapped her hands again.

“I will call on you soon to prepare for your new role,” she said, dismissing you with a wave of her hand. “There are other matters to take care of.”

Narcissa dragged you from the room, her grip ironclad. The tears you had been holding back slipped down your cheeks as the weight of what had just transpired settled over you. The woman beside you offering icy coles trying to coax the tears to stop.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name stopped you in your tracks. You turned to see Theo, Draco, Enzo, and Mattheo walking toward the dining room. Theo and Draco acknowledged you with stoic nods, while Enzo’s concerned gaze lingered. Mattheo, however, didn’t even spare you a glance.

Mattheo had always been the one to meet your gaze when things got bad. A silent promise shared between the two of you—‘I’ve got you.’ But now, there was nothing. No glance. No acknowledgment. As if the weight of your fate was too much for even him to bear.

The sight of him ignoring you sent a fresh wave of anguish crashing over you. You tore your gaze away, as Narcissa pull you further down the hall, sparing one more glance back at them. Enzo was still turned towards you as Theo tugged his arm to pull him away. You could feel your chest be torn apart as you were carried further down the halls past death eaters gathering.

There had to be a way out of this. There had to be.

A/n: eeeeee it’s out to the world, chapter one will be out soon to not keep you waiting. If you want to be added to the taglist let me know or have suggestions of making it efficient pls pls pls

[danidrawsstuff]

i am all yours, i am unmanned i'm on all fours, willingly damned loving you's a bloodsport

pose based on that one lou//stat screenshot from 1x07 during the mardi gras party because there's a concerning overlap in my playlists for these two ships and because my fave ship trope is two men who match each other's freak so much that they cause absurd amounts of collateral damage to people around them by the mere act of being together

🌟[ Commission Sheet | Commission Terms / Form ] 🌟

[moonys-chocolate28]

Im having flashbacks to the time i read ‘flightless bird’ ‘unbelievers’ ‘walk that mile’ ‘soft hands, fast feet, can't lose’ ‘young & beautiful’ later ‘bloodsport’ and ive decided that was the peak of my life.

[south-of-heaven]

jon moxley x fem!reader where he is in a match with orange cassidy and kris statlander tries to sabotage him so reader takes her down and he’s like “ that’s my girl.”?

Atta girl! || Jon Moxley x Reader

Summary: You make sure there are no outside interferences in Jon's match.

The arena was buzzing with energy as Jon prepared to step into the ring for his match against Orange Cassidy. You watched with bated breath, seated at ringside, as Jon made his entrance, ready for a fight. This was a crucial match, and the last thing you wanted was interference from anyone.

As the bell rang, and Jon and Orange Cassidy began to circle each other, you noticed Kris Statlander lurking nearby. She had a determined look in her eyes, and it was clear she had something in mind.

Suddenly, Kris lunged forward, attempting to interfere in the match. She tried to trip Jon, and you knew you had to act fast. You sprang into action, moving swiftly to intercept her.

With a well-timed move, you knocked her feet out from under her, sending her sprawling to the ground. Kris was caught off guard, her interference thwarted by your quick thinking.

Jon, in the midst of his battle with Orange Cassidy, caught sight of your successful takedown of Kris. A proud grin crossed his face as he continued to fight in the ring.

"Atta girl! Good job!" he yelled, his voice filled with appreciation for your efforts. You gave him a nod, letting him know that you were always there to have his back.

With Kris's interference now dealt with, Jon could focus entirely on the match. The crowd roared with approval, and you settled back into your seat, determined to keep a watchful eye in case anyone else had any ideas of interfering.

Jon's determination was unwavering, and as the match continued, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for the man you loved. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he had you by his side, ready to support him in and out of the ring.

[mistycreativelilacs]

Thawing of A Heart Pt.3

Authors note: what’s this? Not me updating this fic three years later.

Whoops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯… Anyway here’s the (maybe) long awaited third part filled with tension and plot twists.

Content warning: Violence, gun use, references to castration, references to mental health, use of the word crazy, mild angst, mentions of character deaths, Peacemaker exists (rip to people who like him)

Pt.1 (x) Pt.2 (x)

You’re lost in the ever-changing branches of Rick’s timelines when Cleo nudges you. Your eyes sweep the plane, unable to stop the pang of longing for your old team. The pang turns to a dull ache in your chest as you attempt to block the visions of your friends' flickering timelines. If you were going to be any use to them, you’d need to re-adopt the Ice Queen persona you’d had when you started this job five years ago.

“So how does Bruce Wayne’s eldest charity case end up working with a bunch of second-rate criminals?” Bloodsport interrupts your pondering. He’d been watching you since the debrief, eyes trained on you like a puzzle he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to solve. You could imagine what Harl’s would have to say if she were here.

‘Ooooh, looks like someone’s got themselves a shiny new criminal admirer. Should I lick you to show him you’re already claimed?�� Said in the world’s worst stage whisper to garner Flags attentions. Subtlety and Harley were not synonymous, and no one cared more about the pseudo-relationship between yourself and Flag then your self proclaimed ‘BFF’. She’d expressed her feelings on the matter several times over the years. Your favourite instance being several months ago, during one of your last missions with the team. You and Flag had been arguing about sending you in to get information from the target when Harley sauntered over wicked grin on her face. ‘You twos should just relieve this obvious tension already. Seriously, here’s a broom closet. Go at it, for the good of the team.’ Manic smile still firmly on her face as she attempted to drag you into said closet.

“I believe the words you meant to say, Sergeant Dubois is ‘Bruce Wayne’s eldest child’. To which I’d have to say we have more of a sibling relationship. Not that it’s any of your business.” You hold his gaze. “As for joining the squad?” You shrug, “Wrong place at the right time.” He quirks his brow clearly unamused.

“I haven’t been a Sergeant in a long time.”

“And just what would you call your current roll here?” You gesture around the plane while he glares at you. The corner of your mouth twitches against your will.

“Waller evidently had been keeping tabs on me, due in part to certain rumours about my participation in corporate espionage. So, when I got picked up by GCPD for allegedly crashing Bruce’s new Ferrari into the lobby of LexCorps newest eyesore of a skyscraper in downtown Gotham, Waller swooped in.” Your little chat had garnished the attention of the plane's other occupants, their heads all turned towards you and Robert.

“You want us to believe that the daughter of Billionaire Bruce Wayne got hauled off to Belle Reve for crashing a car? And what could Waller want in a civilian like you anyway?” Peacemaker. You’d been attempting to avoid him since Waller introduced you at the debrief. If his persistent existence as the antagonist in your visions of Flag’s current timeline wasn’t enough to turn you off, the skin crawling sensation of his eyes constantly roaming over your body was enough to put him firmly in the creep category.

“Crashing a car didn’t get me sent to Belle Reve. As I said, I’d been the subject of corporate espionage rumours for years. Waller used my accident combined with those rumours to get me whisked to Belle Reve under the guise of my being a National Security risk. It took one phone call from Bruce to get the charges dropped, but by then I was already in the middle of Midway City on my first Task Force mission.”

“If the charges were dropped, why stick around?” Your eyes wonder back to Robert.

“Can’t a girl want to be part of something bigger than herself?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice and somewhere in the back of your head a voice - that sounds suspiciously like Harley- reminds you that you’re here to save Flag, not flirt with attractive violent Englishmen. Even if they did fall perfectly into your type of the emotionally constipated older dilf. “No, much like all of you Waller has a small amount of blackmail to keep me compliant.” You cross one leg over the other, adopting the oh so familiar public persona of a Wayne. “Unlike all of you, I’m being paid to be here.”

“But why does she want you here?” Peacemaker leans forward in his seat.

“Originally, she believed me to be some sort of hacker savant or a meta with some sort of compulsion powers. I was neither of those, but I did prove to be quite useful in the field.” Your gaze moves to you lap as timelines tickle the back of your mind, begging to be seen. “I do dread the day she realizes just what kind of bird she’s caged.” An image of Rick in pain flashes through your mind. Gone before you can really grasp if it was a future timeline or your own imagination.

“Are you saying you’ve got some sort of bird powers?” You toy with checking the timelines to see just how fucked you’d be for killing Peacemaker here and now but ultimately decide it’d give Waller more ammunition against you.

“My powers lie more in the line of a… second sight than with birds, although…” You pretend to mull it over, “I’d probably get along better with you if my powers were more avian in nature.” You could see the ghost of a smirk flirt across Robert's face and a warmth flits through your chest.

You avert your gaze before the familiar itch of branching timelines can pull you under. Perhaps Flags icy demeanour of the last few months had affected you more than you thought. It’d been a long time since such minor attentions from a man had you near slipping into the branches of time.

“What the fucks that supposed to mean?” Peacemaker stood abruptly, moving towards you only to be halted by Robert’s hand on his chest.

“Alright tough guy, sit back down.”

“Was it my use of verbose vocabulary words that has you confused?” You stand, waltzing closer to where they stand, one strand of hair curled around your finger. Perhaps Harley had been rubbing off on you more than you cared to admit. “Let me put it in words you’d understand.” Your standing face to face with Peacemaker now, Roberts body only partially between the two of you. “You.” You jab your finger into Peacemaker's sternum, brushing against Robert's arm. “Dumb.” Another jab. “Like.” Peacemaker's eyes had drifted to your finger on his chest while Robert attempted to move himself more in front of you. “Bird.” With the final jab you run your finger up and flick him in his nose, a move reminiscent of your nephews. With that final flick all hell broke loose.

Peacemaker moved to advance on you, having shoved Robert aside. You were expecting this, having let slips of the timeline penetrate your consciousness, and turn your back to him at the last minute grabbing the arm he’d reached forward to attack with. You flip him over your shoulder and as he slams into the planes floor, you dig your foot into his neck pointing your gun at his face.

“As you can see Robert, those fears of me being dead weight can be put to rest. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself. Even against dumb brutes like him.” Peacemaker moves to grab your leg, and you let off a shot beside his head. “Stay down or the next ones a castration shot.” You move the gun to point at Peacemakers crotch and you catch a glimpse of fear in his eyes.

“Bitch” he gasps out as you dig the ball of your foot a little deeper into his neck.

“A bitch with near immunity, not that anyone would care if I wounded trash like you. Now are you going to shut up and behave like a good little dog.” Theres a flash of defiance in his eyes and you twitch your trigger finger.

“What the hell are they teaching in those fancy prep schools?” Robert's face didn’t give much in the way of what he was feeling, much like Flag, however you’d noticed that unlike Flag, Roberts eyes displayed his every emotion, if you knew what to look for. God, a few hours with this man and you’d already believed you could discern his emotions from a single glance. The sooner you got out of this plane the better.

“Looks like Rickies got some competition…” There goes the phantom Harley once again. Maybe her crazy is rubbing off on you like Bruce feared.

“Dancing.” You spit out, holding Robert's gaze as you remove your foot from Peacemaker's throat. “They teach you how to dance.” You’re finding far too much enjoyment in this little rapport you’ve started with the mercenary, but even Harley didn’t put up with your idiosyncrasies for this long, unless she was in a mood. The last person who could, ended up on the wrong side of Jokers crowbar. Perhaps Waller was right when she claimed the only thing separating me from the rest of the Belle Reve residents was the Wayne family name.

“I highly doubt dance lessons taught you how to do that.” There’s a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Dancing, fighting.” You shrug “They’re one in the same are they not?” You sit back down, aware that the rest of the plane has gained a new wariness of you. You feel more than see Robert give you a once over.

“You truly are something else Wayne.” Robert exhales as he sits back down, the hint of a chuckle shaking his bulky frame.

Alarm bells start going off in your head. The kind of alarms that sound like Bruce and scream ‘life altering, name ruining, PR nightmare, absolutely atrocious decision making incoming.’

“You don’t even know the half of it Sergeant.”

Tag-List: @paryl @nerdgrrlramblings @weallhaveadestiny @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boristhepineapple @girlnred @romanticgumchewer-reactivated @lacontroller1991

[mysecretattic0]

nova-caine ♒︎

Pairing: Bloodsport X afab!Reader

WARNING: SMUT/EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD! Mentions of murder, death, abuse, alcohol, weapons, violence, etc.

Prompt: That noise… keep making it. @delusionisaplace

Suicide Sqaud: Bloodsport & Nova

Heavy breathing. Filled with fear. Tears cascading rapidly down my cheeks. Wounds and bruises scattered across my skin like horrible confetti. Whispers can be heard from every direction. THEY WON’T SHUT UP! I can’t go back. I CAN’T! Don't look back. Don’t stop running. I can’t stop now. I’m not far enough. I must hide. Where? WHERE?! No time to think about that. I CAN’T STOP! SHE’S COMING! But she’s dead. SHE’S COMING FOR ME! Go. FASTER! WHERE DO I GO?! Suddenly all the whispers were silent. All that could be heard was the snapping of the twigs below my bare feet. Upon realizing the whispers had gone silent, I came to a halt. The silence was deafening. It hurt; it made me more fearful. Frantically looking in every direction. No. No! NO! I fell to my knees. Skin crawling. NO! SHE’S STILL HERE! I can feel her. I quickly looked up and —

I gasped awake. Frantically searching. Searching for her. The woods that surrounded me. Instead I was kneeling on the cold floor of my cell. I hectically scoot back against the cold painted brick wall. Feeling an anxiety attack coming along. I suddenly began to break down. Crying uncontrollably.

It took me a while to calm down. However, when I did, the sun had just begun to rise and a loud buzz sounded, indicating our cell doors had been opened; and it was now morning. But I don’t move from my spot. I didn’t realize how long I’d been sitting there, staring into space, until my name had been called.

“Nova. Can you come with me?” Ms. Waller asked in a semi soft tone, though it surely wasn’t a question, with a knock on my open cell door. With a nod of my head, knowing I didn’t have a choice, I stood and joined the group she had in tow. Seems to me as I was the last to join them. There was a gigantic shark human hybrid? A groggy Cleo and three other unknown men. One of which I caught staring at me. Though when eye contact was established he looked away. He seemed to have a permanent scowl or mean mug, if you will, upon his face. I tried not to pay any of them any mind. I just wanted to get this mission over with. We all went to get prepared for Ms. Waller’s explanation of our “objective” for this “mission”.

~~~

After getting mini bomb explosives injected into our necks, we were brought to a dimly lit room that resembled a classroom. May as well be called one, reason being, Ms. Waller stands at the front giving her ‘lecture’ presentation. Giving us the run around on why we’re doing this mission, what it’s about and who’s involved. We sat listening, scattered in different rows of seats. 

“Your mission is to infiltrate Jotunheim and destroy every trace of project starfish.” Ms. Waller ended her lecture. “How are we supposed to get in?” Said the British guy with the staring problem, whose name I’ve come to realize is, Bloodsport? Ms. Waller then spoke, “Gaius Grieves, the Thinker, is a geneticist in charge of Project Starfish.” she briefly paused, “After hours, he hangs out at a gentlemen’s club known as, La Gatita Amable. Get Grieves to help you by whatever means necessary, and he can get you into Jotunheim.” She finished. The lights came back on. “Any questions?” She asked us all. Cleo asked about a projector no longer in use. Irrelevant. Peacemaker? Asked about a connection between starfish and buttholes? Stupid. Nanaue asked about his hand. Adorable. “We’re all gonna die.” Bloodsport stated as a matter of fact, annoyance ridden in his tone. “I hope so.” Polka-Dot Man weirdly stated. I turned to look questionably at their interaction.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Bloodsport with a roll of his eyes. When he caught my eye, I turned back around in my seat, with a sigh.

~~~

We swam to the shore of this island. The feeling of the cool water against me was very relaxing. Though the sensation was short lived; as we approached the shore. As we were walking there was a rumbling explosion on the other side of the island. The unexpected loud noise made me jump with a gasp. The group turned their attention to the explosion and briefly sent glances my way at my fear. Bloodsport quickly pulled out his weapon, “Control, we have a disturbance south of here.” He said into the comm as he pointed his weapon. “It’s just a diversion, Bloodsport.” Waller replied.

Bloodsport led us through the jungle, I tuned out their conversation as I unknowingly fell slightly behind. I began to hear those whispers I despised. Feel the chills that brought me nothing but horrible thoughts and fear. That brought me back there. When I looked up, the group was no longer in front of me. I looked in every direction. But suddenly, I was; back in the woods. Running from her. My own mother. A powerful, wicked, witch that never ceases to haunt me. Chasing me.

I was suddenly tackled to the ground. I only saw her. I fight with all my might to get her off. Refraining from using my powers. The last time I did that I—

“Calm down! It’s me!” I heard a British accent. I blinked a couple of times to find that it was Bloodsport on top of me, restraining me from causing him anymore harm. Him holding me down was triggering my anxiety and claustrophobia. My breathing picked up as I began to panic; it made me think of her. “Let me go!” I yelled breathlessly. I broke down as he immediately let go of me. I scooted out from under him, bringing my knees to my chest and slowly looked up to find his eyes staring back at me with a confused and concerned expression. I stared at him with tear filled eyes. “Breathe. I’m not gonna hurt you, love.” He started, calmly, with his hands up in surrender. “I just wanna help you.” He stated. “We set up camp. I noticed you got left behind. I just came to find you, and I saw you running.” He explained. I put my head down to hide from him.

“Why?” My head shot back up upon hearing his voice. He took notice of my confusion and continued, “Why were you running, love?” He asked. “Just another vision.” I replied plainly. “A vision?” He questioned. “Something like that. A flashback. An episode whatever you’d like to call it.” I nodded as I wiped the tears from my face. “What, like a psychic?” He asked, genuinely confused, but with a hint of sarcasm. I scowled at him, “No.” I rolled my eyes and stood up, as did he. I could feel him eyeing me intently for what seemed like forever. “Can we go, please?” I crossed my arms over my chest, avoiding eye contact with him. “Sure.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug. He began to lead us back to where we’ll be camping for the night. “What do you do?” he asked. “What?” I responded in a tone of confusion. “What’s your superpower? Like your ability.” He continued.

I hesitated but I decided to tell him. “I’m a witch.” I stated, annoyed. “Hm.” He hummed. “What?” I asked, taken aback and slightly offended. “Nothing.” He shook his head. “No. What’s that supposed to mean?” I stopped with my arms folded atop my chest. He turned, “Never seen a real witch before. Thought those only existed in the stories.” He said mockingly. “I’ll prove it.” I said confidently. I unfolded my arms and took a deep breath. I let the words of magic fall from my lips in a mumble. As I stared into his eyes, he started to get fidgety. 

“You feel that?” I asked in a condescending tone. I slowly took small steps toward him. “That heat.” I continued. When I got closer he shivered. “And what about that? That tingle?” I taunted. Inches away from him; as I got closer he backed away. His breath hitched when his back hit a tree. “And that?” I chuckled. “That arousal.” I whispered in a low sultry tone; our faces mere inches away from each other. I brought my hand up between us and slowly balled it into a fist. He let out a low shaky groan; almost whimper, briefly making my knees weak. “That noise… keep making it.” He watched as I untightened my fist and placed my palm in the center of his chest; and with the other, I hovered over his arousal. “May I?” I asked for his consent; staring into his soul through his eyes, making sure he couldn’t look away.

He hesitated; but he eventually nodded in agreement. I raised a brow at him, “Yes.” He gritted. I softly laid my other hand on his erection. I closed my eyes briefly, letting go of my hold on our eye contact. When I opened them his head was resting against the tree, eyes closed, breathing shakily. “Can you feel that Robert?” He released a strained groan in response. I pulled back with a low chuckle. His eyes shot open to glare down at me. “What the hell was that for? Why’d you stop?” He lowly shouted in that heavy British accent, so as not to alert anyone. “Because, we’re not here for that. Plus, we don’t want them to come looking for us do we?” I asked as I continued on our previous path.

~~~

After trying to kill Nanaue for almost eating Cleo, traveling to find Flag; who we found out was also on the island along with others, killing a lot of the Freedom Fighters, hearing Krill’s story on his interdimensional virus; that was caused by his evil scientist mother, and killing guards to get Milton to drive us through town to La Gatita Amable; We all sit in the van in normal clothing to “blend in”.

Cleo asked Robert why he was so afraid of rat’s leading to the story of her father. I sat in the seat behind Cleo while she told the story of her father’s death due to his “burden’s”. Which led to Robert telling us about his father locking him in a crate full of starving rats for 24 hours as a punishment when he was just a young boy. Followed by a heartfelt, adorable moment between Cleo and Robert.

We’re now seated in the club that Waller mentioned. La Gatita Amable. “So when’s this “Thinker” guy supposed to be here?” Rick questioned. “Supposed to be in the next few hours.” Cleo answered. “Looks like we gotta find something to do to pass the time. Uh, miss?” said Peacemaker. He called over a waitress and ordered drinks for the table. “I’m okay. I don’t drink.” I stated. “Why?” he asked. I didn’t get a chance to respond; not that I wanted to. “Hey, Pissmaker. We’re on a mission.” Robert insulted. “Easy, Inspector Gadget. Little drink never hurt nobody.” He joked. “Except for the thousands of people killed in drunk driving accidents every year.” Krill abruptly stated. “Come on, DuBois. This could be our last drink.” Ignoring Krill, Rick placed his arm on Robert's shoulder. The waitress came with drinks. “Just one.” Robert said to Peacemaker, giving in. 

I left the table to go sit at the bar and I got a glass of water. Robert and I kept exchanging glances at one another. He eventually got up from the table to walk over to me.

“You never told your story.” That British accent said from beside me. Robert sat down next to me and ordered another drink. I scoffed, “You don’t wanna hear my story.” I told him. “Oh but I do.” He smiled slightly as his drink was placed in front of him. I hesitated but I saw a persistent look in his eyes, he isn't the type to give up easily. I took a deep breath, “Well, my mother was a powerful, wicked and evil witch.” I said enunciating on ‘wicked’. I hesitated, “She performed powerful and most times very painful rituals on me.” I paused. “She was very narcissistic and manipulative.” “She abused me when the rituals didn’t go her way. Always told me hurtful things.” “...Killed people.” “I can’t count how many near death experiences I had at the hands of my mother.” “My mother?” I scoffed. “And she never cared, she just kept on like I was a doll for her to play with… and not her daughter. A human being.” I looked at Robert and saw him fiddling in thought.

“She got rid of anyone who ever loved me; in any kind of way. Just to control me; and keep doing rituals on me…” “Abusing me.” “...hurting…me.” I finished lowly; trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I propped my elbow on the bar and rested my hand over my mouth. Out of nowhere I got the urge to be spontaneous; so I grabbed Robert’s glass and chugged what was left in it. When I looked at Rob he was already staring at me, with an expression I couldn’t depict the meaning behind.

“What?” I questioned. “Nothing. Just– I understand where you’re coming from.” He said sympathetically. “We’re a lot alike, y’know?” “I know. The story you told about your father.” I responded. He nodded, looking down at his hands. “But I killed my mother.” I stated, staring off into space. “That’s the big difference between what happened to us both.” I said, looking toward him with so much pain behind my dark brown eyes. “I got fed up. I’m no better than she is because everything she did to me I did right back to her.” I scoffed, shaking my head as tears threatened to fall. “After, I ran into the woods.” I paused. “Thing is…a witch’s spirit never dies.” “They still hold the power of magic from the other side. She still haunts me to this day.” “At certain moments, I’m back there. Back in those woods with her evil spirit chasing me.” “I see her and kill her over and over but I can never escape her.” “What I thought was her—” I cut myself off.

“Wasn’t her, was it?” He asked for confirmation. I shook my head. “That’s what happened in the jungle that night, when I found you, you saw her?” I nodded, wiping my face of tears. “I got caught. That’s how I ended up at good ole’ Belle Reve.” I let out a breathy laugh, avoiding eye contact. However, I still felt his eyes burning a hole into the side of my head. He stared at me for what felt like forever “Excuse me.” I got off the barstool and headed toward the bathroom. I stared in the mirror at myself. I don't know who I am nor what I see. Who am I outside of her?

I bent down to put water on my face. When I stood up I dried my face with a paper towel then I began trying to fix my hair. Then, I heard the door to the bathroom open. “Occu– pied” I stopped everything I was doing when I saw Robert walking into the restroom, through the mirror. He closed the door behind him and locked said door. I threw away the paper towel in my hand and placed my hands on the sink leaning my weight into it. “What do you want, Robert.” I said lowering my head avoiding eye contact with the man. When he didn’t respond I looked up to him through the mirror. He was slowly walking toward me. “May I touch you?” He asked. I hesitated but eventually I nodded, granting him the consent he requested. When his front met my back, my breath hitched. He slowly ran his hands up my arms making me stand straight up against him. Unfamiliar with the feeling but still making no effort to escape from it. When I tried lowering my head he stopped me by placing a hand under my chin lifting it.

“I just wanna’ help you, love.” He finally responded, staring at me intently through the mirror. My face softened at the nickname “You can’t help me, Rob.” I told him. “See, I think you’re wrong. We have a lot in common, love, and I think we can help each other out.” He spoke in his low, husky tone. I swiftly turned to face him, having to look up at him, the heels I wore not doing me justice. “How?” I asked. He leaned closer, our faces mere inches apart “I wanna take some of that tension off your shoulders.” He spoke lightly, running the back of his fingers over my shoulders. My eyes flickered down to watch his mouth as his words fell from his lips. “Make you feel good.” He leaned down to softly kiss along my increasing pulse making me pleasantly sigh. “Take your mind off what brings you pain.” He moved to his previous position, staring down into my eyes, tucking my braids behind my ear, letting his fingertips run over my temple. “I think we both could use that right now love, don’t ya’ think?” 

I was so caught up in gazing at his eyes and his lips. “Would you like that, love? Do you want that?” He asked. He lifted my chin to refocus my attention “I need an answer.” His dominance made me weak. Biting my lip to keep from letting a whimper escape from my mouth and letting him know how much control he has gained over my temple. Though, knowing deep inside that he knew the advantage that just fell into his hands. “Yes.” I let a whisper fall from my lips like magic. I look up at him seriously, “I’m trusting you, Robert.” I made clear. “I won’t break that trust, Nova.” He promised me softly. He slowly leaned down closer to me, stopping inches away from my aching lips, waiting for me to close the distance. Wrapping my arms around his neck, closing the distance; feeling everything around me disappear. He softly placed his hands on my waist, closing any distance between our bodies. His touch made my breath hitch and he took that opportunity to slide his tongue past my lips. The unknown feeling further weakened me. My body betrayed me; letting a moan slip past my lips and travel into his, unintentionally sending a chill down his spine. The way the kiss gradually became more and more heated made my lust flow down forming a river in the cloth that covered my passion. Running his hands up and down my body sensually caused my legs to betray me; he wrapped an arm tightly around my waist, catching me when I began to fall. Regaining my balance, with his help, he turned me back to face the mirror, pressing my back to his front once again. His mouth explored my neck, licking, sucking and biting, drawing moans from within as my breathing uncontrollably increased. Running his hands over every curve, holding me, caressing me, peeling off the dress that hugged me and letting it fall. My panties being the only clothing left clinging to my hips. Relaxing against him; feeling his hand leading a path down to my throbbing passion. 

When his fingers slipped past the hem of my panties and made contact with my clit, I gasped sharply, throwing my head back against him. I reached to pull him closer, feeling him smile against me. “Have you ever been touched here, sweetheart?” He questioned, tracing his fingertips through my slit, my lust coating them. “Have you, darlin’?” He said into my ear, pinching my clit. “No.” I moaned breathlessly loud.

“How does that feel, baby?” He soothingly circled my clit. I whimpered in response, biting my lip. He placed his other hand around my throat and squeezed lightly. I slightly tensed as my moans became louder. “Relax babe. Tell me how that feels, love.” He coaxed, making shoulders return to their resting position. “So good, baby.” I whimpered, gripping at him. I realized he was still clothed; that wasn’t going to fly with me. I grabbed his wrists, removing his hands. I turned to him, removing his button up and wife beater, discarding them. I pushed him back against a wall and worked on his belt buckle. Unzipping his pants and letting them fall. Mumbling a spell, placing one hand on his chest and the other on his rock hard cock. Letting my magic radiate more intensely than the last time “Oh fuck me. Jesus Christ!” He groaned. I slipped my hand into his boxers and stroked his shaft slowly. “Fuckkk!” He dragged out through his teeth as I caressed his tip. “How does that feel, baby?” I asked, repeating him. “Ha. Very funny.” He hissed and looked up at the ceiling. “Tell me how it feels, love.” I whispered seductively in his ear. “Fuck you.” He groaned, closing his dark brown orbs. I chuckled lightly. I gasped when he abruptly picked me up, turning, and placing me onto the sink. “Not laughing now are you, love?” He wore a cocky smile upon his face.

I grabbed him and crashed our lips together. When I felt Rob’s tongue enter my mouth, butterflies erupted in my belly. I moaned as our tongues fought for dominance. He touched and caressed every part of my body. I grip him for dear life as I bask in the bliss of his affection. He reached down pulling my panties aside and guided his cock to my entrance. Our mouths parted as we gazed into each other's eyes. I nodded giving him a look of confirmation. He slowly pushed into me as we gasped simultaneously at the sensation. He buried his head in my neck and wrapped his arms around my waist as he bottomed out. He slowly pulled almost all the way out and gave long, slow strokes in and out of my dripping cunt. I moaned uncontrollably loud. He pulled back, placing his forehead on mine and flashed a smirk. “You like that don't ya’, love?” he chuckled. “Fuck you.” I slightly chuckled with a breathless whine. “As you wish, baby.” he pulled me closer to the edge of the sink. I wrapped my arms around his neck as my legs entrapped his waist.

He tightened his grip on me, making me moan from the affection. His stroke sped up. “Oh fuck!” I moaned breathlessly. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “O- Occupied!” I shouted as clearly as I could. He chuckled. I placed my palm flat on his muscle ridden back and looked him right in his mud colored eyes. His body jerked, and his stroke slowed, savoring the feeling of ecstasy. He threw his head back. When his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed I knew exactly what he was feeling. My half lidded eyes watched as I received such a reaction out of him. “Look at me, baby.” I cupped his jaw.

I watched him slowly lower his head only to find him giving me a pleading look. Half lidded eyes, eyebrows furrowed, lip caught between his teeth. I whimpered, that look paired with his length dragging along my velvety walls was blissfully pleasant. I bit my lip, “Don't stop, love, please.” he begged, shaking his head. 

I placed both of my hands along the back of his shoulders, holding on to him. “Faster.” I whispered to him like a spell. He shivered and placed one of his hands on the mirror behind me and the other on the nape of my neck. His slow stroke turned fast paced. My eyes rolled back and I pulled my lip in between my teeth. 

He groaned as my nails left marks on his back. Power intensifying due to what I feel. Sending waves of energy throughout his body. My walls pulsed around him. “Bloody hell!” he gritted. His tip caressed that spot deep inside of me with every thrust. It drove me mad. The way he knew my body better than I did. “I’m close baby!” I moaned loudly. “You gonna’ come for me, love?” he whispered in my ear. "Yesss!" I whined. "Hold it for me baby." he grunted. "I can't!" I whimpered. He creeped his hand from the nape of my neck into my scalp. He grabbed a handful of my braids and pulled. "Oh my God! Don't stop!" I yelped. "You like that?" He grunted. I moaned loudly as a tear threatened to fall. I was in ecstasy. "I know baby. I know." He grunted quickening his pace. He licked a path up my pulse.

He made me look him in his eyes, “You feel so good, baby. Fuck!” He gritted breathlessly. “I’m close baby.” His strokes faltered as I felt him twitching inside me. “Cum for me baby. Let it out.” He coaxed. He reached to rub circles over my cunt. I felt the knot unravel, I held him as close to me as possible. My legs shook as I came, screaming and scratching at his shoulders. A tear falling from my eyes.

As intense as the feeling was, the strength of my magic increased as well. “Fuckkkk Nova!” He released an elongated groan, squeezing me. He latches his teeth onto my shoulder making me whimper as I felt ropes of his hot cum shoot into me.

As we came down from our high, we caught our breath. I rested my head on his shoulder, exhausted. I whimpered, my legs shaking uncontrollably. He chuckled. I was ready to go to sleep. He slowly slipped away causing me to whine from the loss of fullness and warmth. He cleaned us up and picked up our clothes. He helped me redress and did the same for himself. He stood between my legs again. He rubbed my sides.

“You alright there, love?” He asked with a grin. “Yeah.” I sighed deeply. “That was amazing.” He chuckled softly, placing his forehead on mine. I laughed breathily, “Yes it was.” I embraced him and placed my lips on his. When our lips made contact, butterflies filled my stomach.

“Can you help me down, please? We still got a mission to finish.” I chuckled. He held my waist and lifted me off the sink. “Got it?” He asked. I nodded and began walking toward the door, only to stumble. Rob was right there to catch me. “You sure you got it?” He laughed. I hit his chest, “Don’t laugh at me. I just… need a little assistance.” I said giggling. “Uh huh. A little assistance. I think that’s a bit of an understatement, love.” He shook his head. “Whatever. Let’s get back to work.” I rolled my eyes as he helped me to the door. He unlocked it and we walked out.

We walked past people who were glaring at us because they were waiting to use the restroom. The team was eyeing us from around the room. Their smirks and knowing expressions made feel uncomfortable. I hated being the center of attention. We spotted Thinker, and it was back to the matter at hand.

[whoisthatstrangeimbecile]

lantern custody

omg omg i had a stupid au idea i talked with a friend idk if thats you lmaoaom

where the beast really did put the woodsman's daughter's soul in the lantern and beast does try to help (hes still a fucking asshole manipulative bitch) and they keep fighting each other on who takes care of the lantern best insulting each other having divorce arguments its absolutely fucking buck wild

[frentique]

[ventriclealchemy]

Bloodsport

I want to roll the numbers

I want to feel my stars align again

Even if the earth breaks like burnt skin

And the heavens just won't open up for me

Would you invite me in again?

Won't you pay for your arrogance?

Won't you show me your weakness?

I made loving you a blood sport

I made loving you a blood sport

I made loving you a blood sport i can't win

I made loving you a blood sport

I made loving you a blood sport

I made loving you a blood sport i can't win

So let's play

And somewhere

Somewhere the atoms stopped fusing

I'm still your favourite regret

You're still my weapon of choosing

And out there stuck in a quantum pattern

Tangled with what I never said

You say it doesn't matter

I want to be forgiven

I want to choke up chunks of my own sins

Even if the sky cracks in mourning

And the heavens just won't open up for me

Would you invite me in again?

Let me pay for my arrogance?

Won't you show me your weakness?

Timelapse video

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Issue #2 Easter Eggs

The second issue of the My Adventures with Superman's comic book tie-in which bridges the gap between seasons 1 and 2 [W: Josie Campbell, P&I: Paolo M. Collar, C: Nick Filardi, L: Lucas Gattoni] is out this week and so lets check out the Easter Eggs in it! Remember the second issue can be bought at your local comic shop!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

Spoilers if you haven't read the issue yet

Starting things off Clark gives us a summary of what happened last issue and he mentions that the military took the Amazo robot back to Mt. Simonson and mentioned the defenses it has like the lead walls and the Cadmus Red Sun Omega Field. I talked a bit about Mt. Simonson's reference here, the lead wall's blocking out Superman's x-ray vision here, Red Sun being a weakness for Superman and Cadmus here, and the fact that the caption using the word Omega in the Red Sun Omega Field and the Kirby crackle in the panel here.

When our Daily Planet trio go to the base to figure out where the Amazo robot is Jimmy gets put on blast for his conspiracies about the things the military may or may not have or be doing. The latter two panels mention a turtle boy and Atlanteans from the Mariana Trench.

The first reference is a nod to Jimmy Olsen's time as the Giant Turtle Man. Giant kaiju turtle Jimmy Olsen makes his first appearance in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #53 (1961) [Cover art by Curt Swan] where Jimmy finds a treasure chest containing an enlarging ray that Jimmy accidentally triggers with a turtle nearby acting as a filter causing the ray to hit Jimmy creating the Giant Turtle Man as seen on the cover. Superman fixes this by using Brainiac's shrinking ray on Jimmy and Lori Lemaris who was once Superman's mermaid partner figures out Goxo, an Atlantean criminal who built the enlarging ray, was involved in all this. MAwS Jimmy also mentions mermaids and I talked more about the only Superman related mermaid, Lori Lemaris here.

Jimmy mentioning mutated Atlanteans from the Mariana Trench brings to mind the Trench from the Aquaman comics. This underwater civilization that was once part of the Atlantis kingdom and when Atlantis sunk to the ocean, the Trench adapted to their underwater environment to be more like the deep sea creatures who live deep down the depths of the ocean floor. The Trench make their first appearance in Aquaman #1 (2011) [W: Geoff Johns, P: Ivan Reis, I: Joe Prado, C: Rod Reis, L: Nick J. Napolitano] where they were seen surfacing back up from the ocean floor. You might also have seen them in the first Aquaman movie where Arthur and Mera are on a boat in the stormy seas and the Trench swarm and attack their boat.

Later on as Jimmy gets escorted to the visitors area, we see Robert and Slade have a dick measuring contest and Slade mentions Team Seven. I talk more about Robert's comic book counterpart here btw.

Team Seven makes its first appearance as Team 7 under the legendary Jim Lee's former comic imprint, Wildstorm in Gen 13 #4 (1994) [W: Jim Lee, Brandon Choi, J. Scott Campbell, P: J. Scott Campbell, I: Alex Garner, Sandra Hope, C: Wendy Broome, Wildstorm FX, L: Richard Starkings, Comicraft]. In the double page spread, John Lynch explains the history of the Team 7 which he was a part of, telling the Gen 13 kids, that their fathers who were all part of Team 7 was exposed to the Gen Factor to give them superpowers thanks to International Operations who now want to control the Gen 13 kids.

When Wildstorm and their characters were absorbed into DC, they became part of the DC universe and during the New 52 reboot Team 7 was reintroduced again with some familiar faces from the DC universe joining the team.

This iteration of Team 7 made its first debut in Team 7 #0 (2012) [Cover art by Ken Lashley and Nathan Eyring], where the team was composed of former Wildstorm Team 7 members, Alex Fairchild, Cole Cash aka Grifter, and James Bronson aka Majestic, DC familiars Amanda Waller, Dinah Drake II (the second Black Canary and daughter of the first Black Canary aka Dinah Drake I), Steve Trevor, and Slade Wilson and then-new to the New 52 universe characters Dean Higgins, Kurt Lance (who eventually marries Dinah Drake II), and Summer Ramos.

This iteration of Team 7 is a government affiliated team that is used to stop metahuman threats.

Later in the issue we meet Dr. Killgrave who, along with his team, are doing experiments on the Amazo robot.

Thaddeus Killgrave makes his first appearance in Superman #19 (1988) [Cover art by Jerry Ordway]. In the comics Professor Killgrave was a mad scientist who helped build anti-Superman tech sometimes even selling them to other villains. He also worked for Intergang before Superman was able to stop them all together.

And with that we finish the Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman #2! Come back next month to see what is in issue 3! Be sure to preorder your copies at your local comic shops because not only are you showing DC that there are fans behind this book, but you are also helping out a small local business stay afloat as well!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[macabrebatz]

There’s not enough fanfiction of him on here. *sigh* Guess I gotta fix that.

[emeraldelixirs]

Bloodsport {II:when the party’s over}

bsf! m. riddle x fem!sallow!reader, stepbrother! t. nott x fem!sallow!reader

Bound by Blood, Betrayed by Fate. When you’re dragged to Malfoy Manor under orders from Voldemort himself, you learn the price of your mother’s mistakes: an Unbreakable Vow, tethering your life to the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange. Forced to navigate a web of dark magic, family debts, and impossible expectations, you must tread carefully in a house brimming with enemies—and a few familiar faces. As tensions rise and the lines between loyalty and survival blur, one question remains: will you find a way to break free, or will you lose yourself to the darkness?

Content warnings: 18+ themes, angst, dark, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, blood, swearing, fighting, taboo themes, underage coercion, predatory behavior, suggestive content, underage recreational drug and alcohol use, typical canon HP themes of blood purity, house prejudices, oppression, lmk if I miss anything this chapter is considerably lengthy with detail

Word count: 8k oops

A/n: is it really a slytherin fic if it doesn’t have a party scene? sorta hehe sorry. but we have the whole gang together in this, and that’s why i love this part sm, easily so far my pride and joy of what i have written for this fic. also collectively the longest chapter ive ever written for any fic ive wrote…ever. banter and comedic relief is really my bread and butter

[playlist: televised—hunny, bite my tongue—you me at six, softcore—the neighbourhood, do i wanna know—arctic monkeys, kyoto—phone bridgers, people—the 1975, fourth of july—sufjan stevens, when the party’s over-from the room below—sleep token, seventeen going under—sam fender]

<< previous part >> || << next part >>

The Zabini Villa roared with laughter, loud chatter, and throbbing music that seemed to make the very walls vibrate. Judging by the unfamiliar faces crowding every room, this party had spiraled well past its original circle of Hogwarts pure-bloods like Blaise had originally intended for. You and Theo wove through the throng, his large, warm hand secured at the small of your back, guiding you gently while you led the way.

“There’s no way all these people are from Hogwarts,” Theo quipped, batting away a gaudy streamer that dangled in front of his face.

“Merlin, no,” you muttered, forcing a polite smile at Millicent Bulstrode as she brushed by, then reverting to a frown once she was gone. “Everyone must sense this might be the last Zabini bash they’ll ever see.”

And perhaps they were right. The Daily Prophet had plastered the story across its front page at the end of term: the Department of Mysteries debacle was conclusive proof that Voldemort was back. The second wizarding war had begun to weave its dark tendrils into daily life, pulling you—and your friends—deeper into roles none of you wanted. Now, your presence at this party felt less like revelry and more like obligation. But among the upper-inner circles you roamed, appearances were everything still. You and your friends had a carefully maintained status quo, and no looming war would undo that overnight.

Not that you were simply a carefree teen. You were also Bellatrix’s pawn: the one she nudged around the board, using you to lure secrets from the gullible, offering your company to the wavering. You tried not to dwell on that as you made a beeline for the kitchens, your chest feeling tight beneath the weight of her instructions.

“The less your peers know, the better,” she’d sneered earlier that week, pacing in the Malfoy Manor drawing room.

“We may never know who might have vital information—on their family, their loyalties, their resources…” Her cold eyes had narrowed on you, a grimace of satisfaction twisting her features.

“Do you understand, girl?”

“Yes… Mistress,” you’d been forced to concede, swallowing your hatred.

Now the memory fluttered through your head as you stepped into Blaise’s expansive kitchen. You exhaled, relieved at the relative calm. Maybe you could breathe easier here, at least for a moment.

“C’mon, let’s get a drink,” Theo said, noticing the faraway look in your eyes. He maneuvered around you, snagging two cups from an array of colorful bottles lined across the counters.

To your mild surprise, the kitchen wasn’t packed—only a handful of people rummaged for snacks or chattered over glasses of spiked punch. The music, mercifully, was less ear-splitting.

You leaned against the moss agate countertop, the cool surface grounding you. Theo’s presence was a balm, as it always had been. You’d known him since infancy, your mothers having been close friends long before war divided loyalties. And his father—your now stepfather—had become a mentor to your own father before his untimely death.

Theo had been there for every moment that mattered: the good, the bad, the life-altering. Neither of you wore icy apathy like a shield towards one another; instead, your shared experiences had created an unspoken understanding. A bond as unshakable as it was fraught.

A hand slid around your shoulder, making you jump.

“Oi,” Daphne Greengrass said, lips quirking into a half-smile. “So jumpy. Relax—it’s a party.”

You forced a semblance of a grin, tension dissolving a fraction when you saw it was just her. “Daph…”

She pressed a friendly kiss to your cheek, eyes darting between you and Theo. “Where in Salazar’s name have you two been? Blaise is losing his mind—he’s about ready to hex the pair of you for being late.”

She didn’t know half of it since this was the first time you’d seen her since summer began; how Bellatrix had forced you into an unbreakable vow; how Theo had been dragged into the Dark Lord’s fold with no way out. War loomed in every corner, and Daphne, blissfully unaware, was closer to its claws than she realized. And you hadn’t been sure you wanted her to know, terribly naive, too pure for the mud you and the other rolled around in now.

You shrugged lightly, deflecting. “Busy summer.”

She jabbed a finger at you, pouting. “More importantly, where have my letters gone?! I wrote you heaps!”

You flinched. She pulled away, stepping around the island to give Theo a quick squeeze and a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You do realize our father’s in Azkaban currently?” Theo replied for you, tone sharper than usual, though that never deterred Daphne.

“And?” she retorted, placing her hands on her hips. “A simple note to tell me you’re fine would’ve been comforting, you git.”

Theo set his jaw, a flicker of apology in his eyes. “Right. Sorry.”

You parted your lips to intervene, but Daphne continued chastising Theo, her exasperation morphing into mild relief that both of you were safe. Then launching into her usual Daphne updates, like a beat wasn’t missed: an outfit she saw that reminded her of you, the gossip she heard—that you too should have known—since school ended, or where her family was choosing to stay for holiday.

Somewhere in her mini-lecture, she casually mentioned:

“Oh, and watch out—someone said Lord Rosier’s nephew, Evander, is here tonight, skulking around somewhere. You know the Rosiers, always up to something… shady.” Then she held her arm as she twirled a piece of her honey blond hair, thoughtfully. Then adding in, “though I remember him being so handsome back in first year—shame.”

An internal pang reminded you of the other very real reason you were here—to attempt to gain information from any possible prominent names in attendance. Her offhand comment sent your thoughts spiraling because this was, if not, the biggest prominent name on the list of contacts Bellatrix had talked about. The Rosiers were an influential pure-blood family, their allegiances as ambiguous as they were dangerous. If Evander was here, he might have information Bellatrix would find valuable.

You masked your interest, offering a polite nod. Inside, determination sparked more than it ever had since you were pushed into task. If you could pry even a shred of intel from Evander, it might buy you some breathing room—enough to finish your summer coursework without Bellatrix breathing down your neck. Even for a week? Then you could surely spend the rest of summer doing her bidding, or gods knows what, and maybe hold together your sanity?

“Need to… use the bathroom,” you excused yourself, ignoring Daphne’s frown of confusion. Theo’s gaze lingered on you, sharp and knowing. But he let it go, turning back to placate Daphne.

Your mind thrummed: Find Evander. Ask the right questions. Remember Bellatrix’s instructions. Your stomach twisted in equal parts excitement and dread. This had been it—a moment to prove yourself.

You scourged the main corridors of the party, narrowly dodging your friends and peers, with no sign of the infamous wizard yet.

Did you even remember what he looked like?

Finally giving up on the obvious, you slipped into a hallway that led away from the main commotion. Passing ornate paintings and the occasional couple giggling in corners towards the back wing of the villa, you found a partially open door—likely Blaise’s mother’s study or personal lounge. Light spilled through the crack of the sturdy mahogany door with noise of man humming lightly.

You took a breath, moving slowly to peak through the ajar door.

A tall, slender wizard with sharp cheekbones and slicked-back hair leaned against a sideboard, swirling a glass of brandy. It was him—Evander Rosier, you had remembered him from when he attended Hogwarts faintly now. He was in 6th year when you had only first been sorted, but you remembered his distinctive features anywhere. He was the head boy for Slytherin by his 7th, with a gleaming smile, and dimpled cheeks that made all the girls swoon.

Not you though, you weren’t easily charmed with looks, even when people thought of you to think different. Veelas or those with Veela lineage held ideologies that vastly contrasted the stereotype, but that may have been something your mother had just told you. You never met her side of the family or knew much besides they disowned her when she married your father.

Taking a deep breath, you took a baited one right after, faking a casual stroll into the room, glancing behind your shoulder for anyone that may have seen. The space was richly decorated with dark wood shelves, a looming portrait of some Zabini ancestor, and a deep emerald rug that muffled your footsteps.

Evander glanced up when you entered, eyebrows raised in mild curiosity. “Can I help you?” he asked, not unkindly, but distant.

You summoned your best coy grin. “Oh, sorry—I was looking for a quieter spot.” You let your gaze trail meaningfully over the spines of expensive books, then back to him. “Didn’t realize someone was here.”

He shrugged, taking another sip. “I don’t care for crowds. You can stay if you’d like.”

Perfect. You let out a soft sigh, stepping closer. “Crowds can be suffocating, can’t they?” you said, letting just the right note of empathy creep into your voice. “Especially these days, with the rumors swirling… people are so on edge.”

He gave a short laugh, swirling the brandy again. “Rumors. Right.” His eyes darted to the door. “Though some rumors are more than that, if you catch my drift.”

Your heart gave a little leap. This was going somewhere. “I do,” you murmured, feigning a shadow of concern. “Everyone’s talking about… you know, Him. People say families might be forced to pick a side again.”

He stiffened slightly. “And do you have a side, Miss…?”

You offered a small, self-deprecating laugh, hand pressed lightly to your collarbone in a subtle attempt to seem compelling. “Selle.” You opt for your mother’s maiden name. “I’m just a young witch, worried about my future, about where my family stands. It’s all so uncertain. Forgive me if I overstep.”

His expression softened slightly. “Curiosity isn’t a sin, Miss Selle. But it’s a dangerous habit to cultivate these days.”

You forced a bashful smile, letting your lashes flutter—just as Bellatrix had drilled into you. “I only ask because… I want to be prepared. For whatever’s coming.”

His gaze flicked over you, lingering for a moment too long, and a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Preparedness is admirable. But it can also attract… unwanted attention.” He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “Are you sure we haven’t met before? You seem… familiar.”

He thinks I’m flirting, you realized with a jolt of disgust. But you pressed on. If you wanted these secrets, you had to endure the creeping slime of his interest, you reminded yourself of your training with Bellatrix.

Your throat tightened, and your pulse quickened. “I don’t think so,” you replied, aiming for nonchalance. “But perhaps you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Perhaps,” he mused, though his eyes betrayed lingering doubt. He reached out, brushing a knuckle against your shoulder—a gesture that made your skin crawl, though you resisted the urge to recoil and continued to flutter your lashes up at him.

“How are you preparing for the inevitable…forgive me,” you touched his arm, thoughtfully. “I hadn’t caught your name yet?”

He studied you, the softened sharpness of doubt in his eye dissipating as he stared at you. “Evander Rosier,” he said, dazed. “My uncle’s always forging alliances, scouting alternative avenues. Now that the Ministry’s rattled…” A dopey like smirk curved his lips?

That was interesting—unexpectedly your charm had begun to work. You forced your expression to remain neutral, your mind racing to process what he’d just revealed. “Alternative avenues,” you echoed, letting the words hang in the air. “Like… trade alliances? Resource management?”

His fingers trailed down your arm slowly. “We’re… considering our options. With the Ministry in disarray, alliances are fragile. It’s a precarious time for everyone.” The closer he stayed, the more his cologne hit you like a wall of acrid fumes, sharp and cloying, filling the air between you with an almost suffocating intensity.

“But you have the resources,” you pressed, letting a trace of awe color your voice, though you upturned your nose avoiding his heady overpowering musk. “The foresight. Surely the Rosiers aren’t relying on chance.”

He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of humor. “Chance is a fool’s game. Let’s just say we’re exploring alternative avenues. Not everyone sees eye-to-eye with the Dark Lord’s methods, you know.”

You nodded in understanding. “Your family must be analytical. I envy that, mine can be so naive and misled, never seeing the bigger picture.” A scoff to feign disdain.

“You’re quite inquisitive, Miss Selle. Should I be worried you’ll pass on every word I say to some rival faction?” A charming smile donned his features as he teased you.

You bit your lip, acting as if you were being bashful. “Oh, hush,” you said lightly, playing coy. “I just want to know where the wind blows. For my own safety.”

The air weighed heavy, and you felt a flush of shame. But you forced a sweet smile until he relaxed again, rambling about his relatives’ hush-hush business deals and doubts about the Dark Lord. You caught snatches of who they might recruit, how they planned to hide assets, all the while your heartbeat thundered at your success.

Eventually, he glanced at the time and frowned. “I’ve got to mingle. But perhaps we’ll talk again?” He grabbed your hand, brushing your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

You swallowed your revulsion. “I would hope, Mr. Rosier.”

“You’re surprisingly… charming,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, as he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your hand.

You forced a tight smile, leaning into his touch just enough to keep the illusion intact. “Likewise,” you murmured, stepping back to break the contact. “I should probably get back as well. My friends will start wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”

Evander’s smile widened, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Of course. Do take care, Miss Selle. The world is a dangerous place for the… unprepared.”

With that, he tipped his glass in a mock salute and slipped out of the study without another word. You waited a moment before you made your way out of the room, your chest tight and your mind racing. The information he’d shared was valuable, no doubt—but the cost of acquiring it had left a bitter taste in your mouth. A mixture of triumph and nausea churned in your stomach. You’d gleaned valuable info—Bellatrix would be pleased. But the cost felt steep.

Emerging from the study, you felt shaky, so you snatched a drink from a passing tray and downed it in one go. You nearly bumped into Pansy, who’d apparently been looking for you.

“There you are!” she scolded, linking your arm with hers. “We’re headed to the veranda for fresh air—Blaise wants to smoke.”

Her eyes lit on your face, puzzling over your unsettled expression. “Are you… okay?”

You forced a bright grin. “Sure, yeah. Just… too many people in there.”

But your hands trembled slightly, and Pansy noticed. She frowned. “You’re sure?”

Before you could answer, Daphne’s voice floated over, calling, “Y/n, there you are! Was the toilet enchanted and sucked you in?” She stopped short, noticing your stiff posture. “What’s going on?”

They both stared at you with that worry in their eyes. They didn’t know the half of it—how deep you and the others were entangled in the Dark Lord’s web.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, plastering on a wry smile. “This place is packed. I had to go all the way to the other side of the house to use Blaise’s personal bathroom, the line was so long. Got cornered by some ex-Slytherin alumni, talking my ear off on the way back.”

Daphne’s brows rose. “You? Getting cornered by random men? Never.” She tried to sound playful, but her eyes flickered with concern. “Ugh, well, you’re safe now, with us.”

You almost winced, remembering how you’d endured the man’s touch and questions just minutes ago. But you just shrugged it off. Keep the mask on, you reminded yourself, following your friends closely through the throng of wizards and witches.

Inwardly, you clung to the swirl of relief. The idea of being surrounded by your close friends, you could put on your old persona again—just a teenage witch out for a good time—never mind the dark secrets burning a hole in your mind.

After edging away from the house’s main hall, you emerged onto a white stone veranda that stretched grandly across the villa’s rear façade. Tall, dark mahogany beams framed the space like silent guardians, while beyond them, the night sky hung heavy with stars. Music reverberated from within, muffled here by the draped entrances.

In one corner of the veranda, your circle of friends had gathered like a small court. The aura they exuded—Mattheo, Draco, Theo, Enzo, and your host, Blaise—repelled most other party-goers, who lingered meters away. Perhaps the others sensed that an entourage of Death Eater heirs—and the Dark Lord’s heir himself—was too intimidating a scene to breach. Even in the chaos of this unexpectedly crowded party, power commanded distance.

Daphne let out an excited squeal as she dropped into one of the cushioned iron chairs by Blaise. “Everyone’s together again!” she cheered, blissfully unaware of the that undercut what lingered around her within her own friends.

Pansy strolled over to Enzo, who stood near Blaise, indulgently smoking a joint that was being passed around. A swirl of smoke left his lips just as Pansy pinched his arm, snatching the cylinder from his hand.

“Oi, Pans—what the fuck?!” he snapped, rubbing his arm.

“Looked like you were hogging it,” she retorted with a nonchalant shrug, raising the joint to her lips.

A slight grin tugged at your mouth, and you ruffled Enzo’s hair as you walked past, heading to drape your arms around Blaise’s shoulders from behind in a gesture of greeting. “Sorry for being late,” you murmured. He patted your arm briefly, acceptance in his silence.

You then moved to the wide couch where Theo and Draco were seated. They each gave you a subdued nod. Theo casually rested his arm across the back of the couch, behind you, as though you’d never been apart. Draco gave a subtle tilt of his lips—a sort of half-smile, half-cool acknowledgment.

“More like you ladies were taking forever,” Enzo grumbled, adjusting his fluffy brown hair, glaring at Pansy who was now inhaling deeply on the stolen joint.

“It took us ages to find Y/N,” Pansy interjected, her tone pointed as she exhaled a plume of smoke that curled overhead.

You raised a brow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this party was less than sacred among our peers and needed some solitude at the other end of the house.” The smoothness in your voice was practiced, every bit of forced normalcy. You’d slip a mask over the chaos that churned in your racing thoughts, bidding to grant yourself grace for the rest of the night. You’d done what you needed, there was no need to dig for more.

Across from you, Daphne let her legs drape over the arm of her chair, and Mattheo silently passed the joint her way. She took a swift drag, then handed it off to Draco.

Blaise let out a bark of laughter. “I didn’t realize either, okay?” he said, gesturing at the throng of unfamiliar wizards mingling through the open archways. “Apparently, the world’s craving a distraction with… well, everything going on.”

You flicked a look at Theo. He met your gaze, then glanced at Mattheo, who had fixed his dark eyes on you—a hard stare that spoke of annoyance or concern briefly flitting to your now healed hands, then back to your eyes. Your stomach knotted as he scowled deeper, snapping his gaze away the second you raised a questioning brow.

It stung. He was—is—your best friend, along with Theo. Inseparable, you three. Hell, he basically lived with you and Theo at this point. Had his own room in the guest wing and everything. So why did he choose to be distant when you needed him most? When he needed you the most?

“Probably never a good sign if Evander Rosier’s milling about,” Pansy said, taking another slow drag before handing the joint to Draco. She wrinkled her nose. “That man’s a menace.”

Daphne propped her head up, eyes alight with curiosity. “Is he still as handsome as he was in school?” She twirled her hair, kicking her feet idly off the chair’s arm.

“Daph, the guy’s a weasel—” you started, rolling your eyes.

“That prat is here?” Mattheo muttered, stepping forward and running a tense hand through his curls. He spat the words low enough that only your group would hear. There was something almost feral in his tone, like he itched for a confrontation.

Draco leaned in, elbows on his knees. “Bold of him, considering his family's got major targets on their backs for switching allegiances when it suited them. Heard the Dark Lord isn’t fond of turncoats. You’d think they’d keep their heads down.”

“Exactly,” Mattheo agreed, starting to pace in the limited space of the veranda. Each step exuded pent-up energy, a sign of the storm roiling beneath his brooding façade. “I don’t trust him,” Mattheo muttered.

“You don’t trust anyone,” Pansy quipped, leaning into Enzo’s side as she blew a huff of air to fix her bangs.

Mattheo didn’t bother replying, his jaw clenching tighter. Draco, seated at his side of the couch, shifted slightly, one leg crossing over the other as his cool gray gaze flicked between Mattheo and Theo. A hum of knowledge unspoken as the dark curly haired boy continued pacing, his equally dark eyes sharp and restless. His shoulders were tight beneath his tailored jacket, each step deliberate but restrained, as though holding back something more volatile.

War was creeping into every aspect of your lives. It was easy to mask it under booze, weed, and forced smiles, but it only took a mention of someone like Rosier to remind you that trouble lurked everywhere.

“Well, Mattheo’s not wrong,” Draco said, breaking the silence. His tone was measured, but his words carried weight. “If Evander Rosier’s here, it’s for a reason. And it’s not to mingle.”

Daphne, ignorant to the depth of that trouble, scoffed. “You lot are so dramatic. Maybe he’s just here to enjoy the party. Could be a rumor, anyway—who said he’s committing treason?”

Pansy grimaced. “Not treason, survival,” she corrected, flicking her gaze your way. “Rosier’s family is desperate to cling to whatever power they have left. Bet they’ll sell out friends or enemies alike to keep afloat.”

“And what does it matter to us?” Daphne countered, her tone breezy but her eyes narrowing. “We’re not the ones making alliances, are we?”

Her words struck a chord—you forced yourself not to flinch, remembering how you and Theo, Mattheo, and even Draco plus Enzo had been entangled in the Dark Lord’s webs. You busied your hands by taking the joint from Theo and inhaling a bitter drag. A tingle of numbness slid through your veins, but the conversation kept your mind from fully escaping.

Theo, finally spoke up. His arm still rested casually along the back of the couch, his fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the fabric, growing antsy. “If Rosier’s family is trying to play both sides, that makes him a liability to everyone. Including us.”

The group fell silent, the weight of his words settling like a shroud, uncomfortably close to the truth.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Y/n,” Pansy noted, arching a brow as she glanced your way. “Something on your mind?”

You exhaled smoke, crafting your face into something neutral. “Just listening,” you deflected, passing the joint to Enzo. “Watching the crowd, seeing who’s worth noticing.”

“You just smoked!” Enzo complained, though he took the cylinder greedily.

Mattheo’s pacing halted, his gaze snapping to you with hawk-like sharpness. “Did you talk to him?” he asked abruptly.

The question sent a ripple through your friends, each set of eyes anchoring on you.

You wanted to scoff, nothing got past him, did it? Feeling so entitled to know everything you did, despite keeping you at arms length right now.

You hesitated—barely a fraction of a second—long enough for Mattheo’s eyes to narrow. “Briefly,” you confessed, keeping your tone cool. “He wasn’t direct, but he hinted his family might not be as loyal to the Dark Lord as they pretend. Could be worth telling—”

“You shouldn’t have,” Mattheo cut you off, voice throbbing with repressed anger. “You can’t toy with Rosier, he’s dangerous.” Mattheo’s scowl deepened, and he ran a hand through his dark curls in frustration. “You believed him?”

Something about his hostility riled you. You straightened, the high of the smoke fueling a rush of bravado, everyone became muffled background noise. “I’m not toying with him, I’m gaining information. If any of it’s true, we can use it. If not—”

“Y/n,” Theo leaned forward, trying to interrupt.

“Use it for what? Bellatrix’s schemes?” Mattheo interrupted him, bitterness dripping from every word. “For what? For him to use you for his schemes as well now?”

The words hung between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You straightened your spine, the mask of confidence you’d worn all evening hardening.

“I’m not toying with anyone,” you said quietly, doubling down on your stance. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Mattheo snapped. “Because it seems like you’re getting in over your head stupidly.” His words laced with venom.

“Mattheo.” Theo’s voice became sharper, his arm tensed along the back of the couch, but his body coming forward. You put a hand on his chest, pushing lightly him back into the couch.

“No, let him finish,” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. You had been bemused almost. These were the most words you had garnered from him—in the form of an argument nonetheless—something that shouldn’t have shocked you.

Mattheo’s eyes burned into yours, the intensity of his gaze almost unbearable. “You think Bellatrix cares if you come back in one piece? You think she’s sending you out there because she trusts you?” Mattheo’s voice rose, drawing the attention of several onlookers. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You’re disposable to her, Y/n. We all are.”

A hush descended, the weight of his outburst making the veranda feel smaller. The truth of his words cut deep, but you refused to flinch. Instead, you held his gaze, your jaw tightening.

Somewhere in the corner, Blaise stood, shock and anger etched across his features. “Wait, wait, wait–a gods forsaken second!” Blaise demanded, half to the group, half to you, looking from Theo to Draco to Mattheo for clarity. “Bellatrix’s schemes? Gaining information? What the hell have you lot been doing this summer?”

You didn’t need legilimency to see how Daphne, now realized how serious this was, sat upright, eyes wide. “You guys are… involved with the Dark Lord? And you never told—”

Pansy paled, anxiety twisting her face. “Merlin, did you take the Mark?” She peered at Enzo, then Theo, then you, voice trembling. “Please tell me you didn’t. Tell me you still have a choice.”

Enzo shifted, inhaling sharply, “Well, only Theo and Matt—uh…”

He trailed off, a fateful hush smothering the veranda. The color drained from Blaise’s cheeks; Pansy’s hand flew to her mouth in horror. Daphne opened and closed her mouth, at a total loss, the illusions of carefree youth shattered before all your eyes.

The stress in your chest mounted, your mind swirling with guilt for all you’d hidden. Theo leaned forward, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Enzo…” he grumbled.

Mattheo’s nostrils flared, fists clenching at his sides. “You… you twat!” he snarled, rounding on Enzo. Anger and frustration overloaded him, the tension snapping like a frayed wire of weeks of him barely holding it together

In one swift motion, he lunged for Enzo. The other wizard watchers on the other side of the veranda corner recoiled, startled, as Daphne yelped, tumbling off her seat. The metal chair scraped violently across the stone. Pansy rushed to her aide while the rest of you scrambled to break up the fight.

Draco and Theo tried to pry Mattheo off Enzo, who’d ended up pinned on the floor. Blaise tried to help, but Mattheo and Enzo were locked in a tangle of furious limbs, fists swinging, sounds of fists connecting to bone. Shouts rose from the party-goers that remained, some jeering, others stepping back to watch the spectacle like a twisted show.

Your stomach churned. You’d known everyone was on edge, but seeing them physically brawl—to the point of bruises, cut lips, and swollen eyes—felt like a bitter confirmation that the war had long sunk its claws into your friend group, fracturing the dynamic you all once held.

Your hands shook as you sprang forward alongside Blaise, trying to wedge yourself between the two hotheaded boys. Theo had latched onto Mattheo’s arm, Draco pulling Enzo, but the pair still flailed with adrenaline and rage.

“Stop—stop it!” you yelled, voice cracking with tears you refused to shed. You could glimpse Enzo’s dazed expression beneath Mattheo’s clenched fist. The savage twist in Mattheo’s features struck you with guilt—had you caused this?

Finally, with combined effort, Draco, Blaise, and Theo yanked the two fighters apart. Mattheo staggered backward, panting and furious, his lip split, while Enzo lay on the floor, coughing, a bruise already forming on his jaw, eye swelling. The veranda fell into a stunned silence as party-goers parted to watch.

Blaise, face grim, holding onto the younger man. “You got him?” He asked, and you nodded quickly as he let Enzo slouch into your grasp. He then stepped forward and brandished his wand with authority. “That’s it. Party’s done—get out!” he roared at the onlookers, who quickly backed away, murmuring in hushed tones. Some half-scurried to the exit, others lingered but kept their distance.

You knelt by Enzo, gently brushing back his chocolate brown hair. Despite your anger at him, you couldn’t stop the wave of compassion. His nose was swollen, maybe broken, and blood trickled down his chin. He looked up at you, eyes full of remorse.

“S-sorry,” Enzo whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just… hold still, we’ll get you patched up soon.”

Near you, Mattheo stood rigid, fists still trembling, you shot him a bitter glare. Theo hovered, breaths ragged, one arm loosely supporting Mattheo, the other still clamped on your shoulder for stability. The hush pulsed with leftover anger, confusion, guilt.

Pansy and Daphne stared at the group in shock from where they sat, uncertain whether to help Enzo or scold Mattheo. Draco grimly surveyed the damage—a few scattered chairs, a torn tablecloth, broken glasses. The fleeting warmth of the night had turned sour, a mirror of the secrets you and your friends tried to hide from the others now laid bare.

Blaise rubbed his temples, clearing the last stragglers away. “I’ll handle them,” he muttered, shooting the group a glare that balanced frustration and worry. “For now, just—sort yourselves out. This is all going to absolute shit.”

Around you, the once-lively party had dissolved into broken fragments. The veranda, now eerily quiet, bore the evidence of the night’s chaos: dark smears of blood against the pale stone, shattered glass glittering under the soft glow of the fairy lights. In the distance, the music continued its pulsing, upbeat hum—mocking the grim reality before you.

Mattheo stood apart, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain control, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. Enzo sat slumped against the railing, wincing under your careful touch, his face contorted with pain. Theo, his usual composure frayed, closed his eyes briefly, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the night had finally broken him. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears that threatened to spill, the stress of the evening hanging over you like a leaden cloak.

Without warning, Mattheo turned sharply, causing both you and Theo to instinctively shield Enzo from whatever fury might follow. But Mattheo didn’t lash out at any of you; instead, he kicked a broken votive lying on the ground, sending shards scattering across the stone.

“Fuck!” he spat, his voice low and hoarse, as he stalked toward the edge of the veranda, Draco following. He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one with shaking hands, then offering the pack and lighter to Draco, who took it with trembling fingers.

The flame trembled briefly before catching, the glow illuminating the raw anger and frustration etched across his face. Draco’s face is heavy with exhaustion evident on his pale features.

Theo exhaled deeply, releasing his hold on you as he turned to check on Daphne. She sat huddled nearby, her knees drawn to her chest, tears streaking her pale cheeks. Bright, angry red scrapes marred her arms and legs where she’d fallen, her quiet sobs cutting through the silence like a knife. With Theo nearby, Pansy excused herself to go find Blaise inside the house.

Daphne shouldn’t have been part of this. She wasn’t supposed to be caught in the crossfire of your mess—or theirs. You doubted Mattheo or Enzo had wanted this, either. For all her family’s ties to conservative politics, Daphne had always remained blissfully uninvolved in the darker intricacies of the war. She should have been unscathed.

Enzo groaned softly, clutching his side, his breaths shallow and labored.

You let out a quiet sigh, reaching for your wand.

“Keep still, please,” you murmured, your voice gentler than you felt. “This is going to hurt.”

His only response was a faint grimace as you grasped his broken nose carefully between your fingers. He winced sharply, a hiss of pain escaping through his teeth, but he didn’t pull away.

You muttered the incantation for a mending spell, your wand’s tip glowing faintly as you guided the bones back into place. The magic hummed beneath your skin, familiar but no less draining.

“There,” you whispered, leaning back slightly to inspect your work.

Enzo exhaled shakily, his face pale but less strained.

You, Pansy, and Daphne had long since learned the basics of healing spells, an unfortunate necessity when dealing with the boys. Scuffles with others—and often each other—had left their marks over the years. But tonight was different. This wasn’t some petty fistfight or roughhousing gone wrong. This was something darker, more violent.

“Thanks,” Enzo rasped, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, brushing another stray strand of hair from your face as you sat back on your heels.

Nearby, Theo helped Daphne to her feet, his touch gentle but firm. She winced as she stood, her scraped knees trembling slightly. He muttered something low, his voice too soft for you to catch, but whatever he said made her nod, her sobs quieting to sniffles, helping her sit on the couch.

Mattheo, meanwhile, remained by the railing, his back to the group. Smoke curled around him in lazy spirals, the sharp scent of burning tobacco cutting through the night air.

“You should talk to him,” Theo said suddenly, his voice tight and quiet as he returned to your side.

Your head snapped up, meeting his gaze.

“Me?” you shot back, your voice hushed but edged with disbelief. “Why me?”

Theo’s jaw clenched, “someone has to keep him in check, Y/n. He’s going to get himself—or all of us—killed.”

Your lips parted, a retort forming, but the weight of his words silenced you. He wasn’t wrong.

“He won’t listen,” you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. “Look at what happened just now.”

Theo’s expression softened, the anger giving way to weariness. “He listens to you more than anyone else. He always has.”

You glanced toward Mattheo, your heart heavy. He stood rigid, staring out into the dark expanse beyond the veranda, the glow of his cigarette flickering faintly in the shadows.

“It’s true,” Enzo sat up more properly. “Even when you two are at each other’s throats.”

You shook your head, “not now.” You muttered, looking back down at Enzo. “Lets get you in a seat.”

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the distant hum of music and the faint crackle of Mattheo’s cigarette with the scraping of a chair that Theo picked up for Enzo to sit in before pulling up his own chair. Their legs bounced up and down anxiously in tandem as no one dared to speak. You sat with your back against the railing, picking at the sides of your nails anxiously.

Pansy finally emerged from the house, her arms laden with first aid supplies. Her usual sharp, composed demeanor was dulled, her expression unusually grim as Blaise trailed behind her, carrying a bottle of firewhisky and a collection of mismatched glasses—enough for all of you.

“Well, that was fun. Anyone else want to air any more grievances?” Blaise announced, his voice laced with sardonic humor as he set the bottle and glasses on the small table beside his chair. He poured himself a drink with practiced ease, his movements deliberately casual, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his true feelings.

No one responded.

Blaise glanced around, his deadpan expression hardening. “Good. Let’s start the family meeting, then.”

Mattheo let out a sharp, humorless laugh from his place at the railing, the ember of his cigarette flaring briefly as he inhaled. “Family meeting? You’re acting like this is some petty school spat, Zabini.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, unruffled. “And you’re acting like sulking is going to fix anything, Riddle.” He poured himself a generous measure of firewhisky, the clink of glass on glass unnervingly loud in the silence.

Draco sank into a chair across from Blaise, his elbows resting on his knees, a sharp contrast to Mattheo’s restless stance.

Mattheo rolled his eyes but said nothing, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. The smoke curled lazily around him, dissipating into the cool night air.

“This mess is only going to get worse if we don’t get our shit together,” Theo said, his voice steady but laced with a frustration that mirrored everyone’s simmering exhaustion.

“Enlighten us, Theo,” Pansy cut in, her arms crossed as she perched on the edge of a chaise. “What exactly is the plan here? Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve all—” she paused, her sharp gaze flicking to each of you, her finger subtly tracing a circle that excluded only Blaise and Daphne. “—been keeping things from us.”

“And if we told you?” Theo shot back, his tone sharper now. “What then? You think any of us asked for this? Dragging you into this mess is the last thing we want.”

“Enough,” you said firmly, your voice slicing through the escalating tension. You stood, brushing the dust from your hands, feeling the weight of their stares settle heavily on you. For a moment, you regretted speaking, but you pressed on.

“Whether we told them or not, they’re associated with us,” you said, sitting beside Daphne. “They’ve been collateral since we made our vows. And now? It’s about survival. We’re in too deep, and we all know it.”

Mattheo snorted, the sound bitter and sharp. “Oh, we know it. But pretending to be one big, happy family isn’t going to change anything.”

“And brooding in a corner is?” Blaise shot back, topping off his glass with an air of exasperated nonchalance.

“They deserve to know,” you said softly, picking up a bottle of antiseptic elixir and a clean cloth. You turned to Daphne. “May I?”

She nodded silently, her tear-streaked face a mixture of gratitude and quiet pain. You dabbed the cloth with the elixir and began cleaning the scrapes on her knee. “Face it, Mattheo,” you continued, your tone firmer now. “We’re stuck with each other, whether you like it or not.”

“Stuck,” Mattheo repeated, his voice low and dangerous. He flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the darkness, the ember snuffed out on impact. “You say that like it’s some minor inconvenience, Y/n. But in case you’ve forgotten, there are people out there who’d kill us all without a second thought. And some of us…” His voice dropped, and his eyes flicked briefly to Theo. “Some of us are already marked.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the unspoken weight of the Dark Marks on Mattheo’s and Theo’s arms casting an even darker shadow over the group.

Daphne broke the silence, her voice soft but steady as she placed a hand on yours, stilling your movements. “I think you’re forgetting something,” she said, her blue-gray eyes filled with quiet resolve. “We’re your friends. Not your enemies, not spies waiting to turn on you. Friends. If any of us thought in first year that befriending Riddle, Sallow, Malfoy, and Nott was a mistake, we’d have steered clear. But we didn’t. We chose you, just like we’re choosing to stand with you now.”

Mattheo’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at her, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.

A watery chuckle bubbled out of you despite the heaviness of the moment, and you quickly wiped your face with the back of your hand.

Pansy hummed in agreement, picking up the glasses Blaise had poured and passing them around. “She’s right,” she said, her tone light but firm. “So stop brooding, Mattheo, and get over here.”

Mattheo’s scowl deepened, but he pushed off the railing, crossing the veranda begrudgingly.

Blaise exhaled heavily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Now we want to know everything,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “And don’t bother sparing the details. I can get my hands on Veritaserum if I have to.”

Theo rolled his eyes but accepted a glass, muttering something under his breath. Draco rubbed a hand down his face, masking a smirk, while Enzo let out a soft laugh before wincing and clutching his side.

You handed a glass to Daphne, then grabbed one for yourself, the firewhisky burning as you took a slow sip.

“Fine,” you said, leaning back against the cold stone wall, the firewhisky warming your chest but doing little to ease the heaviness of the moment. “But you’d better brace yourselves. You might wish you hadn’t asked.”

With Theo, Draco, Enzo, and even begrudging input from Mattheo, you told them everything. The words came haltingly at first, but as the night wore on, they began to flow more easily. You described the aftermath of Lucius Malfoy’s and Theodore Nott Sr.’s imprisonment in Azkaban, the brutal ceremony that branded Mattheo and Theo with the Dark Mark, and your own unbreakable vow with Bellatrix—a chain wrapped tightly around your throat.

Every detail out in the open, even Bellatrix’s obsession with your role as her informant. When you recounted your confrontation with Evander Rosier, Mattheo’s fingers turned white against the arm of the chair. His jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as you explained why Rosier’s allegiance—or lack thereof—was such a critical piece in Bellatrix’s game.

“Merlin,” Daphne whispered, her face pale as she sank deeper into her chair. “If I’d known, I never would have—Y/n, I’m so sorry—”

You waved her off with a lazy flick of your wrist, muttering another ‘Reparo’ as you all worked to restore some semblance of order to the veranda. Shattered glass reassembled, splatters of blood faded from the white stone, but the aftermath of it all lingered

“You didn’t know,” you said softly, brushing stray hair from your face. “And honestly? It might still be useful. If it buys me even a day of her not breathing down my neck, I’ll take it.”

Mattheo scoffed from across the veranda, his sharp eyes flicking toward you, but he said nothing. You shot him a glare, daring him to push further, he only turned his focus back to cleaning, muttering incantations as he scrubbed at the stubborn stains on the tiles.

By the time the night drew to a close, the tension had softened, though it never fully dissipated. There were still unspoken fears and lingering doubts, but for now, what mattered was that the group remained intact.

Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne had listened in silence, their expressions a mixture of shock and resolve. Despite everything, they remained steadfast in their decision to stand by you.

“We’re in this together,” Pansy said firmly, her hand resting on your shoulder as she caught your eye. “No matter what.”

The burden you’d carried for weeks felt just a little lighter, their support a fragile but welcome relief even with the apprehension you felt for their involvement. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope.

As the floo network flared to life, casting an emerald glow across the room, you turned to your friends. Each of them stood nearby, ready to depart but unwilling to leave without a proper goodbye.

You hugged Daphne and Pansy tightly, promising to write as often as you could. Enzo pulled you into a warm embrace, murmuring a quiet apology that you brushed off with a forgiving smile. Draco offered a rare but sincere pat on your shoulder before stepping aside for Blaise, who enveloped both you and Theo in a firm, protective group hug.

“Don’t hesitate to call on us,” Blaise said quietly, his voice steady. “If you need anything—anything—you know where to find me.”

For all the darkness that surrounded you, they were your anchor in their own ways.

“We’ll talk soon,” you said, your voice quiet but resolute.

Theo nodded, his arm brushing against yours in silent support as he stepped toward the hearth.

Just as you moved to follow, Mattheo’s voice stopped you. “Y/n.”

You turned to find him standing apart from the others, his usual mask of indifference fractured, if only slightly. The low light caught the sharp angles of his face, his dark eyes glinting with something unspoken. For a moment, the weight he carried: fear, frustration, and a simmering anger, lay bare between you.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, as though wrestling with the words. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and raw, barely audible over the crackling floo. “Get some rest.” He finally murmured, gaze dropped, and his fingers twitched at his sides, betraying the composure he tried so hard to maintain.

Your breath caught, the knot of frustration and exhaustion loosening just enough to let the gravity of his words settle. Despite the distance he’d put between you, the quiet simmering for weeks, this moment felt like a quiet truce—for now—a bridge across the gulf that had formed between you.

You stepped closer, your voice soft but steady, your fingers twitching, wanting to reach out but hesitating. “You know where to find me, Mattheo.”

He lifted his gaze, and for an instant, his expression was unguarded, raw. His nod was slight, almost imperceptible, but enough to say what words couldn’t. His lips pressed into a thin line before he turned away, retreating to the shadows of the villa.

The green flames licked higher, casting flickering shadows against the walls. You hesitated for a moment longer, your eyes lingering on Mattheo’s retreating figure. Then, with a steadying breath, you stepped into the hearth beside Theo.

As the world blurred into streaks of green, Mattheo’s quiet words echoed in your mind.

The war wasn’t just coming—it was already here. And now, more than ever, you’d have to trust that the fragile bond between you all would hold.

Taglist: @moonlightttfae

A/n: and there we have it the madness begins, I hope you enjoyed. Lmk what you think as always!!

[fire-gift]

Raleigh Ritchie - Bloodsport (Live From The O2)