#but that ‘’justice’’ came before all else and ended several lives

[yuridovewing]

i loveee kit scenes theyre so precious

[sapphire-writes]

Hey, if your requests are still open and you accept... How about Aemond being inevitably soft towards jace's twin (who he claims to hate)? Maybe they were close as children but they drifted apart due to family division. During her family stay at kings landing, not a day goes by without them engaging in some good old fashioned arguing/battle of wits. One day he finds her all alone and in distress and before he can say something mean, she bursts out crying and hugs him tightly (almost like he's the only solid thing around her). Cue Aemond being out of sorts and unable to get out a scathing remark out while innerly: "No, stop! I'm supposed to be mean and scary. I'm not soft 🥺🥺"

A/N: Oooo nonnie I loved this request. I love some banter, I definitely ran with them really taunting one another. I hope you like this! I made them pretty feisty towards one another 😂💚

Dragon's Bane ~ Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: reader is Jace's twin, some violence

masterlist

EDIT: PART 2 is live 💚

Your stomach twisted with nerves as you arrived at the Red Keep. Your mother squeezed your hand, to comfort you and you offered her a small smile. You glanced at your twin Jacaerys who stood tall, looking towards the red towers. Luke, however, paled at the sight before him. You placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“It shall be alright,” you told him, causing him to smile weakly. Driftmark’s succession had been challenged, the reason for your return to the capital. You pushed your fear down, deep inside of you. You needed to be there for your brother, focused on nothing else. 

As your mother and Daemon made their way into the castle, you followed your brothers towards the training yard. The sound of clashing steel in the early morning rang out across the yard as a crowd gathered to watch. Jace nudged your elbow, beckoning you.

Finding a window between several heads you saw your uncle, Aemond Targaryen, was the source of all the clamor. He twirled expertly away from Ser Criston’s attack, silver hair fanning out behind him. He looked rather graceful, as though he was engaged in a dance rather than a fight. 

Aemond and you had been close as children, friends even. The two of you bonded over not having dragons of your own. Aemond was not awarded a dragon in cradle, and yours had failed to hatch. It wasn’t until later in your adolescent you had claimed a dragon of your own. 

With the loss of his eye came the end of your friendship. Luke was your brother after all, it was your duty to protect him from the Queen’s justice. Though you empathized with Aemond, for the wrong done against him. 

“Nephews,” Aemond called, “niece.” His sword was pointed, his violet eye locked onto you. He was handsome, you had to admit, even with the scar and the eyepatch that hid half his face. 

“Come to train?” he asked, a challenge more than a question. Your twin stood eerily still next to you. You snort out a laugh as his remark. Aemond’s eye narrowed.

“Something funny, niece?” he asked, as you crossed your arms in front of you. 

“I just found it rather unappealing, tis all. Need your ego fluffed up a bit more, uncle?” you told him, raising your brows. Aemond’s mouth formed a tight line. Jace’s head snapped towards you. 

“Sister,” he warned. Aemond’s lip curled. 

“Careful, niece,” he says, voice smooth, “you begin to tug free from your brother’s leash.” Aemond makes a tsk sound with his tongue. Your cheeks fill with fire. You open your mouth to say something else when Jace wraps his hand around your arm. 

“Come on,” he orders, pulling you from the scene, “he’s not worth it.”

The incident in the training yard was hardly the last quarrel you got into with your uncle during your time at King’s Landing. It was as though your mere existences annoyed one another and yet you could not see to stay away from each other. 

Everywhere you went, he appeared. The library, the gardens, the sept. There was no escaping his torment.  

“I didn’t know you could read, niece,” Aemond had said, snatching a book you tried to reach, walking past you. You huff in frustration, trailing after him, deeper into the library. 

“Give it back.”

“Ivestragon issa isse valyrīha,” he says (Tell me in Valyrian). 

Your face scrunches. Your mother tongue has been difficult for you and your twin to learn. You and Jace spent ages in the halls of Dragonstone practicing the language of Old Valyria. 

“What?” you ask, causing Aemond to smile at your defeat. 

“Nykeā zaldrīzes qilōni daor ȳzaldrīzes,” he says chuckling (A dragon who cannot speak).

You curl your hands into fists. You can feel the humiliation in your bones.

“Say it in the common tongue, if you’re so brave,” you taunt him, reaching for the book. He moves out of the way effortlessly. 

“Kostilus tolī.” (Perhaps later)

“It must be exhausting, being this insufferable all the time,” you tell him.

“You’re very cruel when you are feeling inferior,” Aemond tells you, a smirk on his face. 

“Inferior? To you?” you bark out a laugh, “you wish.”

“I already know it to be true,” he says, leaning against a desk, “in knowledge, in name.”

You sigh dramatically, tipping your head back to expose the skin of your neck. Your dark curls fall down your back, bouncing at the action, nearly mesmerizing your uncle. 

“You speak so poetically uncle, it almost feels like you’re trying to make a point.”

Aemond merely hums in response. He eyes your neck as though he wishes to sink his teeth into your flesh and tear out your jugular. 

“You always were a spiteful little creature,” he murmurs, eye narrowing. 

You hold his gaze for a moment. 

“Give me my book.”

“No, it is mine.” 

Your mouth forms a smirk then, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“Cannot part with it for an afternoon?” you tease, pouting, “very sweet uncle, like a child with a toy.”

This causes him to throw the book across the room. 

Dinner is a nightmarish event. A fight is likely to start once your grandsire is removed from the room. Aemond stands to make a final toast. 

“Final tribute, to my nephews, and niece,” he drolls, holding his cup out. Your ears ring as he continues, you watch his smug mouth move the words lost to you. All you see is red. 

“I dare you say that again,” Jace says, from his spot with Helaena. You stand from your chair and move away from the table. 

“Twas only a compliment,” Aemond insists, “do you not think yourself strong?” 

Jace is on him, punching him in the jaw. Aemond barely moves, pushing Jace to the floor. You walk over to him, slapping his cup from his hand. It clatters to the floor, the wine pooling like blood. Aemond’s smirk only grows.

“Do you not tire of being your brother’s lapdog?” he says. You slap him before thinking of the consequences. He turns back to you, cheek an angry red. He twists his hand in your curls, pulling you close to him. You can feel his breath on your face. There is only Aemond in the room, the noises around drown out. You hold his gaze, both of your faces masked in rage. 

“I hate you,” you hiss. A growl rumbles low in his chest. 

“I hate you right back.” 

Daemon has to drag you from the room, at the instruction of your mother. You sit within their chambers trying to cool your head. 

“You are too quick to anger,” Daemon scolds, as you fix your hair. The roots sit painfully from being manhandled by your uncle. 

“He vexes me,” you snarl and Daemon chuckles. 

“He will not bother you long.”

You look towards your mother who rests her hand on her stomach. Her lilac eyes are sad. You wish you looked like her, especially when you were young. You often dreamt of waking with lavender eyes and silver hair. 

“What do you mean?”

Daemon glances at Rhaenyra for permission. Though Daemon has been your father figure for most of your life, he still looks to Rhaenyra for guidance when it comes to you. She nods.

“When we return to Dragonstone, you shall journey to Winterfell,” he begins, “to wed Lord Cregan Stark.”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins. It was only a matter of time, you supposed, but you had hoped your mother would delay it. 

“What?” you say through your teeth. 

“My love,” Rhaenyra says beckoning you to come sit with her, but you back away. 

“No, no! Mother please,” you beg, tears filling your eyes. Your voice is strained and panicked. 

You have sat in your mother’s lap and listened to her cry over being forced to marry. You have seen her tears and listened to her sobs in the night when she believed you to be sleeping. You have seen her unhappy, heard her thoughts on the matter. And yet she puts you in the same position. 

“I will not go!” you insist, though you are afraid you sound like a petulant child with your demands. 

“You shall do your duty,” Daemon says, a warning look in his eye. You do not meet your mother’s gaze as you flee from the room. 

Aemond finds you in the gardens. He had come to get some air after the event of dinner. When he spots you sitting on a bench his whole body tenses. He feels a throbbing where his sapphire eye sits as though your very presence is enough to bring on one of his painful fits. 

Aemond struts towards you, tongue ready to release a cruel remark. A twig snaps beneath his foot in his haste and you turn towards him, tears streaming down your face. Aemond feels as though he has been kicked in the gut as all the air in his lungs leaves him. 

Your face is red, dark eyes glassy with fresh tears as you stand. Your lower lip wobbles as the streams on your cheeks glisten in the moonlight as fresh tears wet your face. Aemond’s lips part as he readies to speak, to throw an insult your way. 

A sob slips through your lips and suddenly your arms are around him, and her nearly topples over as you throw your weight onto him. His chest muffles your sobs as you hide your face from him. Aemond froze, his hands held out to his side, as you anchored yourself to him. It is as though you cannot leave King’s Landing as long as you are tethered to him. 

Your hands claw his back, holding on as though someone intends to tear you from him. You are in the palm of his hand, how easily he could humiliate you now. But he does not. Aemond’s arms relax against you as he holds you to him. He brings a hand to stroke your dark hair from your face. 

He finds himself unable to speak, the words fizzling from his mind as he feels the heat from your body melt into him. All he can do is stroke your hair, rub soothing circles in your arm as his tongue fails him.

It unsettles something within him and disturbs him. His bastard niece, this is wrong, he thinks to himself. Aemond does not believe himself to be a comforting man. The kindness he displays to his niece is foreign to him. 

You hate her. 

You despise her. 

She is everything you loathe in this world. 

You look up at him with those big brown eyes, and Aemond believes you must think the same about him. Neither of you speaks. This is not a language either of you knows. But as your cries lull, you stay in his arms in the gardens bathed in moonlight, exploring this unknown territory together.  

[xjulixred45x]

Can you headcanon of Mark Grayson/Invincible x Scarlet Witch fem reader from Marvel; she is serene, and kind-hearted please?

Awww yes of course! Thanks for the Request!

(SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY😭🫠 HOPE THIS IS OKAY)

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Scarlet Witch! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: Spoilers from INVINCIBLE most recent season AND Wanda's Maximoff past(MCU), typical violence, Reader is good but has some heavy trauma, PTSD from both parts, comfort, fluff.

THEY= HYDRA

The life of a reader was quite complicated, even before the powers came into her life.

Living in a poor country, with a poor family, you had to do everything humanly possible to survive.

The reader's parents were good people, hard-working, honest, but thanks to this they were not at home much, they had to feed TWO children after all.

Therefore, the reader spent much of the time with her twin brother, Pietro.

Everything seemed to be going right in their lives, she remembers it well...

It was a quiet day, at night, her parents had been able to buy a television and they were all going to sit in front to have dinner and watch it.

She felt so happy...

...and then the missile fell...

Everything was dark for a long time, until Pietro was able to wake up reader, under the rubble of the house.

Their parents, dead.

Their house destroyed.

And worst of all? The missile was still there... flickering, as if it were going to explode at any moment...

It was the worst week of the reader's life, but the really bad thing was yet to come.

when THEY came into their lives.

The reader doesn't remember their names well, it doesn't matter now, not after what they did.

They saved them, but in compensation they wanted to use them as test subjects, who would help them create "heroes"

and since they had no one else, they went with them.

and the process of obtaining powers...was much more painful and straight out of a nightmare than the reader could imagine.

but they did it.

They got powers.

Pietro super speed.

reader...could almost warp reality.

equal.

but they were powerful enough to flee from THEM and try to seek justice into their own hands.

They were going to go after whoever bombed their house.

That was when they officially met Invincible.

To be fair, there were already reports of some thief with inhuman speed who was stealing in several cities (curiously, mainly food and clothing...)

But this was the first time he had done something BAD like attacking a company and not only that, but he was accompanied.

And at first that was their dynamic, Mark would try to prevent the twins from destroying the weapons company and hurting people, he would receive a beating/lore drop and they would leave due to a tactical disadvantage.

Even if Mark is fast, he can't outrun Pietro or the reader portals.

Which, by the way, is the most difficult to fight.

Mark tries to reason with her when they are still "enemies" while they fight (or rather Mark throws blows and she redirects them with magic) and while he can see that it works, he knows that it is difficult to forgive that easily. especially when you don't have all the context.

Although, ironically despite the initial beatings, Mark ends up enjoying these almost weekly encounters with the twins, especially with reader.

Why? because she is precisely the one who kicks his ass the most.

Don't get me wrong, he doesn't underestimate Pietro, but several of the reader's tricks have definitely left him in trouble several times... more than he can count.

Apart from the fact that while they fight, they talk about anything, the reader gradually opens up to Mark and evolves from being totally hostile to being hostile, but enjoying the dynamics, feeling in CONTROL of the situation.

(Probably on some occasion the reader got into Mark's mind, saw all the trauma he went through, and from there she understood him a little more, she was more understanding as she no longer only saw him as a hero)

apart from that Mark realizes several things.

one, that reader and her brother really don't want to hurt people, two, that they are exclusively going after a specific company, and three, reader is holding back on him.

She dosen't want to hurt ANYONE. None of them want to.

Mark realizes that they really aren't bad people, they just have something to figure out, but he can't just let them hurt people.

..but he could help them if they would let him.

reader is undecided, while Pietro is VERY vocal about it being a BAD idea, since the last time they allied themselves with some organization it ended in a lot of pain.

and, well, Mark understands that VERY WELL.

but at least now they stop attacking weapons installations so brutally. It's progress!

I can definitely see Mark trying to approach the reader like civilians (for that matter, Wanda doesn't even wear a mask) and because they no longer need to fight to see each other, their relationship improves.

Pietro and Mark are still a little tense, but at least he no longer attacks Mark when he sees him😅

Mark tries to introduce the reader to things she might like that she hasn't had the chance to try.

Can you imagine that the reader ends up liking Science Dog? Mark is so confused (and secretly happy) why she likes something "for kids" (mark)':) and the reader would open up about how she couldn't even have those kinds of things as a child, so having the opportunity to reading them even as an adult makes her very happy (:

(It's like the equivalent of an adult buying a toy they couldn't have because their parents didn't have money).

Probably thanks to that, the reader has more predilection for things from science fiction, amusement parks, sweets, etc.

reader healing her inner child😭

and thanks to this, the reader is calmer, more serene, more mature.

now she has a life ahead of her without THEM or revenge on his mind, he can live.

Pietro may end up finding his way in his own way too. probably lending a hand with his speed when needed.

By the time the reader starts having a relationship with Mark, she and her brother probably become some kind of vigilante duo, no, they don't work for Cecil, but you could tell they try to do things right.

Mark also helps them out and defends them if their teammates get defensive.

reader definitely uses magic to do certain everyday tasks, including tidying up when she's at Mark's house. Who knows, she can even remodel if she wants😅

Probably thanks to this, Debbie really likes reader, not only because she is a charming young woman, but because she has a good influence on Mark and vice versa.

Reader and Pietro don't really go to school, so they probably study at home, Mark can give them a hand with their homework! Of course, in the topics in which he is not very VERY behind🤣

They both really enjoy the time they spend together in general. Whether it's reading comics, flying, even when they find themselves patrolling, it's enjoyable.

well, except for Pietro who is now condemned to be the third wheel🤣.

I can definitely see Mark giving some of his old toys to the reader as gifts instead of throwing them away like last season, since as much as she got excited about the comics, the toys left her CRYING. IN A GOOD WAY!!

A part of Mark's heart breaks a little thinking about all the trauma the reader went through for THAT to make her cry.

just like other things.

for example, I think Reader would HATE alarm clocks, especially the ones with flashing lights...

just like she has HUGE claustrophobia and fear of the dark.

Any of those things can cause either a slight tremor or a full-blown panic attack.

and that combined with powers does not end well at all.

Mark is the only one who can calm her down during these outbursts and come out alive😅 along with Pietro obviously.

Also despite the great difference in power between the two, Mark continues to be protective of the reader, not only because of his history of trauma, but also because he told her about the times in which she has been manipulated/used (e.g. THEM) and partly Thanks to the big heart of a reader, Mark is worried that she is a little naive/easy to fool.

although in general it is the reader who saves her skin in risky situations. whether finding it in another dimension, preventing buildings from collapsing while fighting someone, sending an enemy to another planet, etc.

he definitely finds her cute (and hot when things get bad, but this is sfw so).

When the Viltrumites come to Earth, you can bet these protective instincts rise TO A THOUSAND (reader will probably try to use magic on Mark's house so his enemies will have a hard time tracking him down).

Mark introducing the reader to Oliver and her doing magic tricks to entertain him ✨(Mark falls in love again lol)

In general, a couple that supports each other through the good and the bad. together .

(Pietro will forever be the third wheel though🤣)

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[sooinluvz]

(𓇼) ⸺ ⠀𝐓𝗁𝖾 𝐂𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝐒𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾

pairing : sukuna x gn!reader

summary : to save thousands they must marry the king of curses

tw : slight gore mentions, implied con/dub-con, kuna is rough

notes ; this is an intro from a bot im working on lol

the entire arrangement was meant to bring peace to the chiefs and elders terrified of what war would look like if the king of curses did not get what he wanted. tyrannical, cruel, barbaric, those names and more always followed after he was mentioned in any conversation among the peasants or the highest of nobles.

no one was safe from him. no one could hide when time came for punishment. no one dared question his rule, not if they wished to eat their tongue after it had been severed.

he was the ruler of all the lands, an emperor, a king, maybe even a god who came down from the heavens to torment and aid humanity. his power knew no bounds, it never failed him nor would it ever do so.

as rare as a drop of rain during a drought was his kindness during meetings with his advisors (they were just there as decoration because he never listened to them), during consultations with his people, during interactions with his servants.

the word scary didn't do him justice, no, it was too soft, too *weak* for someone like the king of curses. he could end someone's life with a mere glance, the servants would whisper in the corners of the palace. not before the air was pulled from their longs and their corpses dropped to the ground though.

a man like that, suddenly relaying to every noble house in his empire that he wished for a spouse to marry, it was the thing they least expected. many thought the king would take their wealth for himself, leave them to frolic with peasants and eat dirt. that would have been their fate if they hadn't decided on a spouse for the king.

many months had passed since the announcement, and many had lost their lives just from being prospective spouses. if tensions were high then, they could reach the moon now.

familes were terrified to send their eligible children to have a chance at being the spouse of the king, and yet, if a child hadn't been sent, all of them would be slaughtered within a fortnight.

none were safe from his wrath, it was hopeless. there seemed to be no one that lord sukuna wished to marry, all would have been lost.

although, having just stepped out of their carriage in front of the palace gates, the king could already sense them. their scent was mind boggling, a beauty unlike any he had ever seen. but it wasn't their face that had him sold, it was their heart.

and he didn't mean in the romantic way, he meant it as in he wanted to rip their heart out of their chest and taste their flesh and blood. he wanted to watch them bleed, turn pale and die. that's what had happened to all his concubines, why shouldn't it happen to his spouse as well?

not even a week had passed before they were married. the ceremony was grand and lavish, but the air was misted with heavy emotions, from both his spouse and the people of his empire. as promised however, sukuna had given them a bit of leeway, letting them breathe for a bit before he would grow bored.

now living in the palace, it was a dreary and absolutely depressing place to live. the gardens never bloomed, the hallways never cleaned, the planets never seen to. though the palace was old and had its charms, it was also falling apart.

they were treated very well, however. given the finest clothes, meals, gifts and anything else they wished for. the tales they were told of how evil sukuna was seemed more far fetched then anything else; they hadn't even seen him since the wedding.

what sort of man didn't even wish to consummate his own marriage?

they shouldn't have bothered with trying to be a good spouse, the servants warned them not to make the king of curses mad, for the consequences could very well cost them their life. they were told that sukuna hadn't seen them was because he was being considerate, something that wouldn't last.

despite being warned, they would wait for sukuna at dinner, try to spot him in the throne room, find him in the courtyard, or even in the bathing chambers. but no dice. it was only when they were walking through the palace at night with nothing but a lantern guiding their steps did they see why the servants, why the people, feared the man known as ryomen sukuna.

he was a monster...

sukuna's eyes snapped down to the one who was meant to be his spouse, seeing the fear on their features because of his form. he had tattoos on his skin, four arms, four eyes, razor sharp teeth peaking out from his lips as he smirked.

a deep chuckle rumbled within his chest. "you aren't meant to be here." he told them, a hand reaching out to grab their arm, grip almost bone breaking. "didn't the servants ever warn you not to roam the palace at night? a monster might eat you..."

he leaned down, hot breath ghosting over the skin of their cheek before he ran his tongue along the side of their face. without much effort, he threw them over his shoulder and walked back to his bedchambers. his hand smacked their rear end, a little harder than necessary, sure to leave a red mark.

"come now, stop squirming." he warned when he hovered over them on his bed, top set of arms holding their wrists while his bottom set split their legs open. "i suggest you listen to my words very carefully. you wouldn't want to... disappoint me, would you, my dear?"

running his tongue along his sharp teeth, a hand from his bottom set held their chin, sharp claw like nails dragging down their throat. "shh, shh, don't cry." he mocked them. "i won't make it painful, not now at least. be good for me and shut up. or i'll have to throw you out my window and you'll decorate the roses with your blood."

"understand?"

[sitp-recs]

Hello! Not sure if you'll respond but I thought I'd ask about it anyway.

Would you happen to know of any fics with a very complex characterization of Draco and Harry with a bit of gut wrenching situations? Preferably older D&H after the war. I'm even open to tragedy, even cheating(?) and just something that is out of the ordinary. I know I'm shit at explaining this but, I'm just like, craving a fic that has adult problems, where one/both of them are at a moment of life where things are complex. Maybe H left D a while ago and married someone else, and then after a few years he sees him again and is just lost in a haze of "what if I hadn’t?" or "what to do with myself now?" because getting back with him isn’t easy? I'm sorry for this weird messy ask but you are the first person who came to my mind who I thought could help me out? Sorry for rambling so much! It's definitely alright if you can't find anything like this of course! Have a great day!

What an interesting ask, anon! I’m a bit picky with gut-wrenching themes but I do love myself a thought-provoking, mature fic. It’s about the implications and complications amirite 🤌🏼 this list is a personal take so I’m not sure it is what you’re looking for, but here are some fics that came to mind when I read your ask. Pls mind the tags before jumping in. I’d be very curious to see what my followers rec too!

Kissed by Pie (M, 12k)

Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.

Poor Unfortunate Souls by DoubleApple (E, 19k)

Draco is a potioneer. Harry is trying to save his sex-challenged marriage. Everything is a mess, but at least there's an octopus in the lobby.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Stain of Silence by brummell (E, 28k)

After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

REVOLVEVLOVER by firethesound, zeitgeistic (E, 46k)

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

Nightingale by michi_thekiller (NC-17, 60k)

God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages. -Jacques Deval

Super Rich Kids by trishjames (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k)

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

Danse Russe by Frayach (E, 140k)

True Love. Soul Mates. They're just words until put to the test. Harry and Draco have a bond that was forged in the hell of the post-war years and pulled them both back from an abyss of nihilism and self-destruction. Nothing can break it, or so they believed. But True Love can demand sacrifices too great to bear and deeds too terrible to justify.

Plus 2 fics I haven’t read but can vouch for the authors as I’m very familiar with their work:

Unhook the Stars by jad (E, 70k)

Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words.

Freedom to be by Quicksilvermaid (E, 170k)

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect.

[nocturnalcharm]

Famous (Shadowheart x Fem!Tav)

𐙚 prompt: shadowheart and tav travel together after the nautiloid crash. after finally finding some other companions, shadowheart finds out tav is a famous bard. 𐙚 cw: fast paced relationship lol, nautiloid trauma, events changed a bit (wyll knows karlach isn’t evil), brief fights 𐙚 a/n: ty for the req <3 hope i did it justice! i’m so awk w ending fics so ahhhdhdhfhdh ok bye

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

You felt the warm sun and sand on your body, but this wasn't a tropical vacation. This was a nightmare. As you came to, you remember all of the details, the nautiloid, the tadpole… the crash. You opened your eyes slowly, and rose to your feet.

Patting yourself down, you didn’t see or feel any injuries. You inspected your hands, making sure nothing was broken or bruised. It felt silly, almost. You could’ve been severely injured, or dead even, but you wanted to make sure your hands were fine, to make sure you could still play your lute.

You had somehow landed safely on the beach. Looking around, you see another girl. A beautiful girl. You don’t recognize her from the ship, but could only assume that’s why she was laying in the sand, unmoving.

You ran over towards her and shook her slightly to wake her. “Please, wake up.”

After a few moments, she jolted awake, just as confused as you.

“How- How are we alive?” She says, hesitantly, as if she’s nervous that her voice won’t make it out of her throat.

“Not sure. Not sure I care, though.” You laugh, lightly.

She huffs with a smile, before turning to you, “Are you okay? Are you injured?”

“No. Perfectly fine. Are you? Do you feel any pain?” You worry.

“I’m.. fine. I think. As fine as I can be, with this wretched thing in my head.” She pushes herself off the ground, “Alright, let’s go.” She's dusting the sand off her clothes.

“You want to stay together? Um—”

“Shadowheart. And of course. It’s a smart idea, after everything that’s happened, don’t you think…”

“Tav.”

She smirks. “We could both use the company while we try to find a way to get these things out of our heads.”

You hid your blush, hoping she would assume it was just a stress-induced rash. “Yeah. Good idea.”

Both of you scrounge around to find supplies, unsure if there were any settlements nearby. By the time you had gathered enough food and found some weapons, it was dark. You still had yet to run into anyone else, only the dead bodies strewn about.

“Do you want to sleep now or keep trekking on?” You asked. It was obvious that she was the leader in this situation, but you didn’t mind. She had more of a rational head on her shoulders.

You two hadn’t really ventured far from the crash, just followed the coastline a bit. Possibly because you were expecting people to come investigate the ship, rescue you.

“Let’s lay down. We’ll find a camp tomorrow, hopefully. But we should rest.”

You agree, laying out the two bedrolls you found earlier. The gentle waves crashing on the sand made you feel a little more at peace.

“So, tell me your story.” Shadowheart inquires, with a smile.

“What do you want to know?” You secretly hoped she didn’t know who you were. You were a pretty famous bard, and lots of times it meant people were insincere towards you, or fantasized about you, leaving you with empty relationships.

“What do you do? Who is ‘Tav’?” She smirked again. You could tell she really didn’t know you, and that made your heart flutter with the possibility of a genuine connection, not disguised by the glamor of fame.

“Hm. Well, I’m from Baldur’s Gate. I live with my Godfather.” She didn’t need to know your Godfather was Duke Ravengard. “I’m a bard… Not sure what else there is to know.” You laughed, awkwardly. “Tell me about you.”

She goes into brief detail about her life, just about as much detail as you did. You can’t help but smile while she talks. She was so breathtaking, so interesting.

You didn’t even realize how close you two were, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made your breath stop in your throat. Despite your status in Baldur’s Gate, you had never had a relationship with someone before. You were so cautious around anyone you liked, worried the link between you was artificial.

Before you could say anything else, she was leaning in. She grabbed the back of your head, pulling you in softly. Your lips touch hesitantly, only for a moment, before she pulled away.

“I’m sorry!” She stands up from her spot and starts to walk away, pacing around. “I don’t know why I did that!”

“Shadowheart!” You shout, to get her attention, and stop her from rambling further. “It’s fine. I.. liked it.” You started drawing in the sand, embarrassed of your admittance.

“You did?”

“Did you?” You ask, ignoring her question.

“Yes. I just didn’t know if it was too soon. We’ve just met.” She sits back down next to you.

“Yeah, and in the next five minutes we could turn into mind flayers. I don’t know if I care about the appropriate length of time to wait before kissing someone.” You joke, earning a laugh from her.

“I suppose you're right.”

“We should probably sleep, though. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.” You worried for a moment about your future, before pushing it out of your mind completely.

You lay on your bedroll, watching Shadowheart. She pushes her bedroll right up to yours. You roll over to face her, and you two end up staring at each other, studying the details of the others face.

“You’re so pretty.” She whispers.

***

You wake up, but don’t open your eyes. You’re listening to the sound of the water, and the wind breeze through the tall, rustling mergrass. Once you do open your eyes, you see Shadowheart, already awake. She was sitting up, looking at you, with a soft smile upon her lips.

“Good morning.”

Her simple words cause you to blush. “G’Morning.” You mumbled, sitting up, “What’s the plan for today?”

“Find a camp, find other survivors, find a healer.” She helps you up, then wraps up your bedroll for you.

You just nod, still tired. You pack up the few things you found the day before, but as you start to head out, you hear something behind you, coming from the area of the crash. You look over at Shadowheart, panic in your eyes, not wanting another fight.

“Behind me.” She commands.

You do as she says, grabbing the long sword you had found on someone’s body yesterday. As you do, a few goblins come around the corner, ready to attack.

Shadowheart hurls a fire bolt at the old barrel next to them, instantly wiping out three. With only one left, you ran over, and in an instant, raised your sword high and slammed it back down, piercing the goblin through his chest

“Are you okay?” Shadowheart ran over to you.

“Fine. Let’s just get going before there’s more.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and continuing her walk. You lock your arm with hers, keeping close by her side.

“So, you said you're a bard?” She asks, attempting to lighten the mood, “Do you play the lute?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you good?” She inquires, seriously.

“I’d like to think so.” You laugh. If only she knew…

“Maybe, you can play for me sometime.” She flirts.

“I’d like that.” You blush.

You both venture farther than you did the previous day. Eventually, you see a path to follow. Assuming it took you somewhere good, you decide to follow it. You and Shadowheart took turns, telling stories from before the nautiloid, about your lives; indulging each other. It was so obvious both of you were smitten from the moment you laid eyes on each other.

Continuing down the path, over a river, and through some shrubbery, you eventually see a man. He was tall, with braided hair…

“Wyll!” You shout, absentmindedly dropping Shadowheart’s hand and running to him.

“Tav?”

You hug him tightly, “M’fine! Oh my Gods! I can’t believe it!” You pull away to look over at Shadowheart, clearly confused.

“Shadowheart, this is Wyll. Our families have known each other for years! We can trust him.”

Her protective demeanor fizzles away as she sees he’s not a threat… To your lives or the possible budding romance.

She nods as a greeting, and he waves.

“I found Shadowheart after the crash. We stayed together last night. Wait, you do know about the crash, right?” You ask him.

“I did. Are you okay? Were you on the ship?” He asks you both.

He didn’t seem to know about the tadpoles. And since you weren’t sprouting tentacles from your chin, you decided to just leave it for now. “Yes. But soon, we’ll need a healer.”

“Alright. I’m actually heading out now, but there’s a camp right over there, past the wall. The guards should let you in—”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to find someone— a friend. You’re welcome to join.”

You turn to Shadowheart. She hesitates before saying, “We’ll come.”

You knew Wyll wouldn’t say anything about your musical activities. He knew you liked to just be ‘normal’ sometimes, so he wouldn’t bother to bring it up.

“So, who are we searching for?” Shadowheart asks.

“Tiefling named Karlach. She’s tall, got one horn.”

“And why are we searching for her?” She retorts.

“That’s a long story.” He voices, clearly not wanting to go into details.

You grabbed Shadowheart’s hand again, following Wyll.

***

“Fork in the road.” Wyll announces, “You two go North. I’ll take the long way ‘round and meet you up there.”

“Ay Ay, Captain.” You salute him, jokingly, and follow the dirt path up North.

You trudge up the hill, looking around for a one-horned tiefling. Shadowheart was the one leading the way, so you just followed. She held your hand steadily as you crossed over a river, ensuring you didn’t fall, but she stopped right in her tracks.

“Tav, look.” She nodded over to a secluded little spot, with a red tiefling in the middle of it. She continues to approach her; The tiefling not even noticing. “Karlach?” She calls out, cautiously.

She looks up quickly, “Hello?”

“Hi. We’re with Wyll. He’s trying to find you.”

“Oh, thank Gods! I tried searching for his camp but couldn’t find it!” She grabs her bag that was previously on the ground. “Let’s get to it, then. I’m Karlach— but you already knew that.”

“My name is Shadowheart, and this is Tav—”

She is cut off by Karlach’s squeak.

“Oh my Gods! It’s Tav! The Tav! It’s really you!” She is so giddy, practicing up and down.

“Oh. Heh..” You blush heavily, glancing over at Shadowheart to see her reaction. “Yes. That’s me! It’s nice to meet you, Karlach.” You give her a big grin, not wanting to come across as rude or unappreciative of her clear admiration for you.

“I can’t believe it!” She gushes.

At this point, you hear someone approach you from behind, peaking over, you see Wyll.

“Wyll! You didn’t tell me you know the Tav!”

“I guess it just never came up.” He looks at you with apologetic eyes, and you smile a forgiving smile. “Let’s get headed back to the camp.. before the goblins hear you screeching.” He jokes with Karlach, and they start the journey before you and Shadowheart.

Once you’re alone with her, she immediately asks, “What was all that about?” She didn't seem angry, just confused.

“Well. I told you I’m a bard.. I just left out the ‘famous’ part..”

“Famous? You’re a famous bard?”

“Yeah, sort of…”

“Oh my Gods…” She was silent for a bit. “You let me blabber on about wanting you to play for me! And asking if you’re any good! I can’t believe you let me make a fool of myself!” She playfully slaps your arm.

“I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t upset with me.. Most people try to take advantage of me the second they find out. I just didn’t want that to happen again. I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.” She reiterated. “A lot. I would never do anything to hurt you, or make you uncomfortable. I know we’ve really only just met, but I mean it.”

The grin plastered on your face couldn’t get any bigger. “That means a lot.”

“Now, c’mon. Let’s follow them to the camp.”

[marimayscarlett]

Another list of unrealistic wishes for the 2024 tour

Back at it again with the delusional takes and here to make it everyone elses problem - a very warm welcome to volume 2 of our wishes for the upcoming Rammstein tour ✨ This time again carefully put together by @wizzardclown @gothtoast and me, with additional wonderful influences by my dear @m---e---l. Thank you ladies 🤍

(Read our first list here and please consider checking out the great suggestions in the notes!)

Set list and concert organisation in general

first up, the question of the supporting act: -> either not happening in general, since none of us actually want to endure another round of the piano tinkling, so we though about this concept:

This way, we get an even longer concert with no distraction from the pure Rammstein sound.

-> or, another idea which came to mind: to celebrate the literary-genius Flake, he could give us a reading of one of his books before the concert, lighten up the mood and feeding the masses with entertaining facts. Additionally, Richard could play some piano in the background during it, for dramatic effect (like the piano accompaniment during silent movies back in the old days).

Opener for the concert this year: 'Haifisch'. Would be an amazing and appreciative nod towards the fans in regards to the support the band was shown last year.

'Zwitter': a banger to set the sexual ambiguous mood for the evening.

'Mein Land': Not sure if they every played this one live, but it would be a fitting song to get some summer vibes going.

for sunset rather fittingly 'Sonne'.

Off to the first proper segment, welcome to the 👻haunting hour👻: fitting for the upcoming night time, a creepy conglomerate consisting of: -> 'Wilder Wein' (I could write a whole chapter about this song, it's so captivating), followed by 'Spieluhr' -> 'Hilf mir': perfect for some new haunting stage show (maybe as a replacement for 'Puppe'; or to quote @wizzardclown: 'When in doubt, set Flake on fire') -> 'Heirate mich': preferably with some 'sliding on his knees/a rolling board'-Till -> to end this phase with a classic: 'Du riechst so gut' is an absolute MUST.

following: 'Rein Raus', some relaxing ASMR to lighten the mood.

Welcome to the next section: 🔥Some like it hot🔥, consisting of: -> 'Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen': camera focus has to be on Schneider. -> 'Asche zu Asche' with burning mics (!). -> 'Du hast' with its fire rockets (my favourite pyro in the whole concert) because no Rammstein concert can exist without this song, that's a physical law, and additionally Richard would be sad if he couldn't play it. -> 'Engel' preferably with the iconic wings (poor Till really has to go all in during this concert).

as a moment to take a breather: Mutter.

'Deutschland': a song we all wait for, with a huge meaning, just overall a perfect piece - yet no remix this time, since we need the time to slide right into the next phase of the concert:

💗questionable on-stage actions and homoerotica galore💗, consisting of: -> 'Mein Teil', with dilf dad-dance moves AND several guitarist kisses (what better moment than the dick eating song for it) -> 'Zick Zack' with at least some sort of elaborate costumes, -> 'Feuerräder', for the perfect vibe with Flake riding on Till's back, neon tube ready to knock seven bells out of his tormentor (justice for Flake), additionally maybe Oliver skating with his roller skates which emit flames in the background and more guitarist kisses

after this breathtaking segment, how about some 'Anna'-sing along! Scream the name of your fave on the top of your lungs and show your love for him 💘

finally some unrealistic (as if the whole list isn't a fever dream already) wishes : 'Eifersucht' and 'Fellfrosch'. To finally give Olli's sick bass lines the stage they deserve 😤

2. some more outfit ideas

long hair Schneider with his handband, because this was a look:

leg belts for Richard 🖤

and last but not least, this is a PSA: If Frau Schneider makes an appearance and decides to grace us with her presence, consider everything on this list to be obsolete. Seeing the mother again would be the greatest joy of all, we don't need anything more 🙇🏼‍♀️🙏🏼

[dyns33]

True love kiss

Dream of the endless x female reader 

Careful, spoilers if you didn’t read the comics. 

The Kindly Ones didn't really live up to their name. There was really nothing nice about them, although their function did not require them to show kindness, but to bring justice and punishment after a serious crime had been committed.

Normally, Morpheus and his entire kingdom should have been wiped out after the murder of his son. Infanticide could not be tolerated.

But the Kindly Ones listened to Caliope's complaint. They listened to the story of the young Delight, now Delirium, who had lost her mind long ago, while remaining the wisest of them all.

Although the crime was proven, Orpheus had requested that his father release him from his condition, so that his aunt could be able to take him to his wife. They couldn't not punish him, but they could accept mitigating circumstances.

A choice was therefore made.

"We won't destroy your kingdom, Master of Dreams. Not right away anyway. But you've spent your entire existence hurting others, behaving selfishly, refusing to see what you are. We are wondering if you really deserve to stay, or if a replacement wouldn't be better. So here is our verdict. Like those who enter your realm, you will fall asleep, and only someone who loves you, and who has always loved you, feeling no bitterness towards you, can ward off this fate. The longer it takes, the more your power will decline, and your sister will have to come and put an end to all this, before the dreams become only a vague memory. We have spoken."

Dream didn't have time to answer that it would probably be faster to destroy him now, because he couldn't see who could have loved him without ever resenting him. He fell asleep, and the Kindly Ones let the dreams take care of their unconscious creator.

It had not been specified what form of love it was, so the other Endless came to see their brother, and each of them spoke to him, took his hand, and kissed him on the cheek, but without result.

They had all had, during their long existence, a quarrel with Morpheus, and although they all loved him, their relationship was not perfect.

It was exactly the same with his former lovers. Most of them didn't even agree to come, or only to have the pleasure of seeing him fragile and vulnerable.

The others secretly hoped to wake him up, thereby regaining his love, their place by his side, and a chance to rule the dream realm.

"Good thing that freaky woman didn't make it. She kissed the boss for almost five minutes, yuck ! I felt like pulling her hair to pull her away."

"The noble fairy queen Titania is not a freaky woman, Matthew."

"I thought she was married ?"

"She is, Mervyn. Fairies don't care about that sort of thing. There's some repairs to be done in the north wing, please. Matthew and I will find something else."

"Quick, Luce. I can try to fix it, but if the boss doesn't wake up soon, it won't help."

All dreams and nightmares had also tried, at Lucienne's request and because they didn't want to die with their creator, but none of them seemed to love him enough to lift the curse.

After several days, there were only two options left.

"Option one, we must seek out a mortal. We have asked all other beings that exist and know of Lord Morpheus."

"And the second option ?" Matthew asked, tilting his head.

"... We accept that we are going to disappear."

"I'm going to the Waking world. Although I'm not sure who to look for."

Dream had never been very close to the dreamers, let alone mortal dreamers. He didn't really hold them in his heart, considering that humans were terribly selfish and cruel. It hadn't really improved since his confinement.

Yet he had some friends on Earth. In any case people with whom he discussed, like Constantine, Mad Hetty, Rose or Hob.

They were all shocked to learn what was happening to the master of stories, and they agreed to try to help, but again, it didn't yield any results.

All hope seemed lost.

"So it's over ? There's nothing to be done ? Everyone tried and nothing worked ?"

"No, Robert Gadling, nothing worked."

"Damn. Not even with Y/N ? Damn."

"... Who is Y/N ?"

The librarian had vaguely heard of Y/N. A friend of Hob, a strange young girl, with whom Lord Morpheus often argued. When he spoke of her, it was to repeat how annoying she could be.

"They adore each other." Hob said with a big smile. "They're dumb and shy. Once they're in the same room, they can't stop yelling at each other to hide their feelings. I thought it was funny at first. Now it's kind of boring."

"Even if you were right about the feelings they might have for each other, I don't think that's what we're looking for. The person has to love them, have always loved them, with no resentment."

"I don't think they've ever really argued over anything. Anything real I mean. Y/N asks me about him all the time, pretending not to care about the answer, but she freaks out if I say he's not well. She criticizes him, but always finds good excuses for him despite everything. She is convinced that he will never be able to fall in love with someone like her, but she remains hopeful. In any case, she dreams of being with him. We could try."

It wouldn't cost anything to try, so Matthew went to visit Y/N to explain the situation.

At first, as Hob had said, she was very attentive and obviously ready to follow him to help Dream. Then the raven explained to her what she should do, and she seemed more hesitant.

"... I don't understand what you want from me."

"Well, we don't really know. Being there, for sure, telling him you love him, or showing him. A kiss, maybe. That works well in storytelling."

"... I have to tell Morpheus I love him and kiss him ? Why would I do that ?"

"To help him ? If it works, that'll be great."

"No, it won't be 'great'." replied the young woman, grimacing. "He'll laugh at me. Or he'll pity me, not knowing how to tell me he doesn't feel the same way. We won't be able to stay friends. I'll be ashamed !"

"I don't think the boss will laugh."

"Sorry, I don't think so either. He'll be nice, he'll try not to hurt me."

"Or will he tell you that he loves you too ?"

"You are funny, little raven." Y/N sighed, stroking his head. "What if it doesn't work?"

"So we are lost."

It didn't make her happy, but Y/N ended up entering the Dreaming with Matthew, accompanying him to Morpheus's bedside, who still hadn't moved.

There was a lot of hesitation. A long discussion with Lucienne, Merv and Matthew. Insults towards Hob, for having talked too much. The fear of being humiliated. The certainty that it wouldn't work, because even though Y/N vaguely admitted to being in love, that didn't mean that she had never been mad at Morpheus. There was also the possibility that it wouldn't work because he didn't love her back.

But Y/N really loved the master of dreams, so she approached him, ready to try anything to make him wake up.

The kiss was quick. Almost shy. She backed away to a corner of the room, not knowing if she wanted to see the outcome, or what outcome she would have wanted to see.

Then there was a movement.

"Glad you're back with us, boss."

"Thank you Matthew. What happened ?"

"Well..." Lucienne began.

"Nothing. Nothing happened, we are all happy with this happy ending, and I would like to go home, now."

Dream watched Y/N for a long time, probably wondering what she was doing here, but he nodded before waving his hand to send her back to her house as she had requested.

Like his subjects, part of him wanted to respect her request for silence.

 Something had happened and she didn't want to talk about it. But Morpheus was curious by nature. He didn't like not knowing, especially if it concerned him and his kingdom.

Several times he tried to understand, by asking specific questions, but the librarian was far too intelligent to be fooled, Mervyn pretended not to understand, the two brothers went to hide in their house.

Only Matthew seemed ready to give in, torn between his loyalty to his creator, and his gratitude to Y/N.

It was a human who offered him the answer. A human who always offered the answers.

"I'm really very happy to see you again, my friend. You're early."

"I'm also glad to be back, Hob Gadling. I deserved my punishment, but the world needs me. I'm a necessity."

"So how did things turn out in the end ? Y/N wouldn't tell me."

"It is complicated."

"Everything is always complicated with you, my friend. I don't understand why. She loves you. The kiss proves it, showing that she never held a grudge. And maybe it shows that you love her too. Yes, she's mortal, but she could become like me. It's really not that complex."

"She's right, you're too talkative." sighed the  raven. "I should have agreed to go and poke your head when she asked me... Boss ? Where's the boss ?!"

"Sleeping Beauty is probably on his way to find his princess."

"Alright, that's it, I'm going to prick your head, you asked for it."

Meanwhile, Y/N was trying not to jump as Morpheus appeared in her bathroom. Fortunately, she was already in her pajamas, but she hesitated to throw her comb in his face.

"I troubled you." whispered the master of dreams with a strange look. "Forgive me."

"I guess endless beings don't really have the concept of doors, privacy, and showers. Do you shower ? No, you have to have magical skin and hair that's always clean."

"Technically, we don't have bodies or hair."

"What can I do for you ?" she asked hesitantly, hoping he wasn't there to talk about what had happened, definitely not ready to have her heart broken.

"Hob explained to me that you saved me."

"Hmm."

"By kissing me."

"Hmm."

"Because you are in love with me."

"Hmm hmm."

"You are very troubled now." he said again, still with that look. He seemed scared, which wasn't normal. A child who thought he had done something stupid, and that he was going to be punished by being abandoned on the side of the road.

During their short trip to the Dreaming, Matthew had spoken a bit about his master's love life. He had heard rumors, and he had seen certain disasters. Dream was really bad when it came to relationships. All kinds of relationships, with his family, with his subjects, with those who wanted to be his friends, and with his lovers.

He was always saying or doing something that upset them, hurt them, and make them leave.

The proof was that they had all tried to wake him up, and that none of them had succeeded, because they had all at least once felt some resentment towards him.

All except Y/N.

There were times when he could be a real pain, but she never really blamed him, forgiving him right away, because he wasn't human, he didn't understand everything, and especially because she couldn't resist his big eyes and desperate pout, when he was unable to apologize, while not wanting to lose her.

That was what was happening now. Although she wasn't sure yet why he had come, Morpheus was afraid to act like the idiot he could be, and scare away the only person who had shown unfailing affection for him.

"I'm probably confused because you are here to tell me that you are grateful, but that you prefer that we remain friends. I would have understood that without you having to come see me."

"I'm not here for that."

"Hmm."

"I still find it hard to believe that you ever hated me, even a little bit. And I can't guarantee that you'll never have reason to hate me. The Kindly Ones cast this spell on me to a good reason. But if you... If I..."

Y/N silenced him by pressing her lips against his, before pulling away just as quickly, waiting for cries of anger.

Instead, Morpheus looked shocked for a brief moment, before throwing himself on her to kiss her again and again, much better at it than speaking.

Maybe that wasn't what the Kindly Ones had planned, certain that no one could truly love Dream of the Endless, dooming him to die and be replaced.

Or they were giving him one chance, one last chance, and if he didn't stop behaving like a selfish fool, hurting and losing Y/N, then he would be alone on top of his mountain, and he would call his older sister to put an end to his stupidity.

But for the moment everything was fine, the Dreaming was here, its inhabitants were safe, and Morpheus continued to kiss Y/N, full of love, fear and gratitude.

[a-funeral-pyre]

May Day Parade 2024 - Prompt One: May King Mordred

I did an attempt at re-editing and finally posting an old fic of mine for @queer-ragnelle 's May Day Parade! Although I have to admit I am not fully satisfied by the translation, but there is not much that can be done for that. Here we go:

“Yit that traytour […] Turns hym furthe tite, and talks no more Went wepand awaye, and weries the storndys That ever his werdes ware wroght, siche wandrethe to wyrke” (Allitterative Morthe Arthure)

The sky should not have been so dark today. It is barely midday, and this should have been a peaceful day. But the sun is gone, along with any hope of changing things.

It doesn't cause you any pain. Darkness is your most ancestral memory.

You were born in darkness. You were always destined to live there. Generous hands have rescued you from the abyss only to lead you onto a path devoid of light.

Deep down, you have known it from the beginning.

Before you even knew who you really were there was a voice that came from the night and whispered to your soul. You knew you were fated to be more than just a fisherman's son.

You thought your destiny was to become the heir of a king. You realized too late that you had to be an avenger.

Your father must pay for what he did.

It seems everyone has forgotten the massacre he chose to carry out. Everyone except you. And now you will bring justice and take your rightful place.

You could have repressed your hatred if it weren't for the blood that unites you. You did not ask to be born. You are just the result of his actions, but he's always been too busy looking at you suspiciously to realize that. He never wanted you and he tried to destroy you as soon as you came into this world. The time has come to punish him.

And you don't care how many will be burned by your revenge. Not anymore.

You could have spared Guinevere. But she didn't deserve to have Gareth pay for her. You wished it was her beautiful, cruel face to be frozen in death, her head to be severed. She could have loved you. If not as a wife, then at least as a friend.

But you are the symbol of her husband's guilt, and this is enough to make you enemies.

Now it doesn't matter anymore. You stopped desiring her. When you return, seeing her become aware that in the end you won - the bastard, the traitor, the sick fruit of the king's sin - will be enough.

This time you are certain to win. The darkness around you is witness to this. You will have what is yours, you will avenge the victims of your father, your mother...

And yourself.

Maybe your father thought this time would never come. Maybe he believed that welcoming you into his court was enough to erase the fact that he tried to kill you.

He was naive enough to think you were harmless and he thought that, like everyone else, you couldn't see through his mask of justice and virtue.

All you had to do was look him in his eyes to know what he thought of you. A youthful mistake, a child that should never have been born, dangerous just for existing. He could never have been a father to you. He could never see you as anything other than an enemy.

Now he doesn't hide it anymore.

All your life you have done what he taught you. You have lied. You will rise to power by cheating and killing, as your grandfather did, and you will prove yourself to be your father's worthy son. Then the throne can only be yours.

You are not alone. You have an army with you. Men who saw you worthy of being king, men who long to see you in your father's place. And it doesn't matter that they only follow you for the benefits you promised them. They chose to help you. They chose to raise you to the place you should not have conquered by force. They are more loyal to you than your family ever was.

You have them, and more. You have the blood of kings on your side. You are about to kill a murderer If there really is a just God, He can only be on your side.

You can finally take off the mask you've kept on for years and breathe. For the first time, you are truly alive.

This unnatural night that has fallen on the world will be the dawn of victory for you.

The lie you have woven all these years has come to an end. Just a few hours and you will be king. You will get what you want. You will be respected, you will be loved.

You have to keep telling yourself this until it's all over. Just one last trick on yourself. Just enough to keep going.

Then you will be satisfied with having repaired the wrong you have suffered. You will be able to go on living alone. It won't be too difficult – it's just what you've done so far.

You were born for this moment, to follow the path that fate had written for you. You will have to be able to survive what comes next.

You will have to delude yourself that you can achieve victory. That you can be the master of your destiny.

You have believed in your hatred for so long that you no longer perceive its meaning, but you have gone too far to stop now. You've been alone too long to find a way to bridge the gap between you and your father. From the beginning you had to take on this role. Thus said the prophecy that shaped you.

Deep down you are aware that only emptiness will come afterwards. You've been waiting for this moment your whole life. And you are afraid, because without the desire that has sustained you so far you will no longer be anything.

This will be your last moment. If you survived, you could try to be reborn. You could truly live, finally, once you are free from your father's shadow.

But you are not made for the light of life. Only for this darkness. Only in this moment, now that you are so close to your goal, you really exist.

And nothing has changed compared to before. You are still completely alone.

You had no one to accompany you this far. If Agravain lent you his help, it wasn't because he believed in you. There is no seer who can advise you along the way. As if the fate that put you on this path had abandoned you from the beginning.

You are not naive enough to delude yourself that things will change when all this is over. You have to believe that it is a valid price to pay for what you are about to do, because now you can no longer go back.

You will undo everything you were, everything you are. You're not sure if you'll still be anything after that.

But you can't care about what you might have been if there had been another way. Not anymore. It didn't matter to your father, a bastard born of deception too virtuous to let you become king like he did. You should follow his example, at least this time, and bury all visions of a brighter future.

Even if you had the chance to rebel in the past, you can't do it now. You are just the shadow that must suffocate the light.

You see him, your father, in front of you. Proud and terrible. White and shining. The sun that disappeared from the sky was incarnated in him.

It will burn you, and you know it. You are already defeated. You're better off accepting it and giving up. He will never forgive you, you would die anyway, but at least you would have consciously chosen something, even just once in your entire life.

There's no more time.

As much as it is a crime, as much as it is useless and does not fulfill your hopes, you will do what is right. What you want, what you have to.

All you will do is fulfill desires that were never entirely yours. You have to accept your nature. You are just an instrument of fate.

And when your father dies, you will bring no new dawn. Only darkness and silence, again.

You could have had a normal life. Arthur might have made you his heir. Or he would simply smile at you, every now and then. He would have spoken to you with the same love with which he spoke to your brothers. If he hadn't believed in the prophecy. If I hadn't hated you. If you had not hated him, fulfilling your fate.

You never had a choice.

You had to get here no matter what. You have shed too much blood and tears. Gawain, who, however loyal he was to the wrong person, was still your brother, was only the last of the sacrifices, of the bodies you had to pile up to climb to this moment.

You can't stop anymore. There is nothing left that can save your soul, or at least deprive you of the painful awareness of having lived in vain.

Your father was a glorious and ephemeral flame. You were born just to turn the page.

Nothing more than this.

You existed for him, and together with him you will die. There is nothing you can do to change things now.

Just a moment and you will be free from everything. Whatever awaits you in hell will be no worse than the years you spent on this Earth.

And as his spear slides into you, as his light pierces you, you just wish you had another chance, to go back, change fate, and be happy.

But it's too late. Your name will always be a whisper in the darkness, a black stain in this shining legend, and in your torn body there is no longer enough breath to cry out your pain.

Camlann stands silently over your ruin.

[subastian-swallows]

Dark Whispers, Light Vows

PROLOGUE: ESCAPING IS ONLY THE BEGINNING ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

Chapter one ★

Pairing: Dark!Sebastian x AurorMC x AurorOminis - Love Triangle Fic

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst baby — will eventually grow darker, angsty, smutty, painful, softer...I suppose just a little bit of everything

Summary: “In a race against time, (Auror’s) Alice and Ominis must work together to recapture their former friend Sebastian, an escapee from Azkaban. But when Sebastian begins to use a mysterious new form of magic to haunt Alice’s dreams, she’s torn between bringing him to justice or helping him escape, risking everything in the process. Love, friendship, and the battle between light and dark intertwine as Alice must decide which path she will take.”

A/N: This fic, holds a special place in my heart. I have prepared the ending and it’s very bittersweet, will be sad (that is my goal), so only go into this if you don’t mind a sad/happy ending. There will only be one choice at the end for Alice and I won’t let it be known who she picks until the final chapters...so we will see her with both Ominis and Sebastian. I look forward to showing you this little bit of me and I hope you enjoy it!ヽ༼ ಥ_ಥ༽ﾉ

“We cannot be sure of having something to live for unless we are willing to die for it.” ― Che Guevara

The scent of the sea made Sebastian sick now. The lingering saltiness on the air attaching to his skin like a leech, slowly sucking away any leftover warmth from it. And yet, a part of him recalled just how much Alice loved the sea. 

He couldn’t recall much more than little snippets of her now, desperately clutching onto their memories together and yet, with each attempt they grew harder to remember. Each day felt dark and Sebastian no longer knew how long it had been, but he had grown several feet taller and his body lost all of it’s baby fat, so he knew it had been awhile. But it seemed pretty pointless to care about time in a place like this. Time was no longer a friend. It was just something else to forget about and with so little space left in his head, Sebastian chose to keep it only for her. 

Sebastian often wondered if she thought about him and despite realising it was cruel of him to think such a thing, he hoped she did. At the beginning, he regretted hurting her. Feeling as if he had destroyed someone so pure and kind, but eventually, even his love for her, couldn’t hide the anger he felt. Perhaps, it was his mind playing tricks on him, contorting his memories of Alice, just enough to make him wonder if she had ever loved him. And so, his anger festered, lingering in his heart and ripping it to shreds as his eyes unfocused on the sun and moon slowly morphing together. 

The visions of her grew darker, as if he willed them to make him hate her. And for a time it seemed to work, the softness of her skin, the melody in her laughter, now quickly fading into the darkness as he locked them away. Sebastian had to hate her, for if he didn’t, he would surely suffocate. But, it seemed that Alice always returned to him when he let his guard down and when she did, Sebastian wished he had more tears to cry—for now, his eyes just stung painfully with the memories of her.  

The weight of everything swallowed him quickly and soon it felt like he was drowning. Sebastian clung desperately to what little he had left, before he finally let the darkness consume him completely and he laughed softly to himself as he dropped to the floor. But it seemed that Merlin himself wasn't quite finished with Sebastian, no instead rather cruelly, it appeared that he wished to keep a hold on him and there was no fight left in Sebastian to stop it. The touch came first, like a small electric shock, that lingered on the surface of his skin and then the dreams came. 

But they weren’t Sebastian’s dreams. No, it was as if he was only a spectator and eventually he realised that he could communicate with the dreamer. Overtime, Sebastian grew more curious, more daring and when he attempted to touch, to mark the dreamer, as if to test out his theories—Sebastian only grew excited, seeing the marks he had left, now vibrant and real. He fiddled with this new found power for a while, practising on prisoners, guards, figuring out what he could do and get away with. And yet, in the darkest moments of the evening, when the only light that slipped into his cell was the moon, Sebastian wondered just how far he could push himself.

He wanted to visit her dreams. To touch her, hold her and yet, he couldn’t reach her. Not yet. Perhaps he just needed more practice, more information and so he returned his focus to the guards and to figuring out how to use it to his advantage. Sebastian’s touch only grew more bold as he learnt how to manipulate the minds he invaded, starting off small, extra rations, more water. But, even that got boring quickly. So Sebastian spent hours, days, slowly penetrating the mind of a guard he hadn’t seen around long—a pretty thing, easy and soon she was in the palm of his hand. 

Sebastian had planned it perfectly, falsely placing visions of himself into the woman’s mind and in the end he had created a willing pawn for his escape. It was exhilarating and for the first time in years, Sebastian felt his confidence return, felt the darkness welcome him with open arms and he accepted it willingly. When the day came, he cared little for the soft kisses the woman provided him as she gave him a wand and provided him with clothing. She was risking everything and had no idea, her vision so clouded by the false reality he had shown her—that Sebastian knew she’d even take the responsibility for it all, if he asked. And he would. 

The escape hadn’t been easy and he had to kill again. But this time, it felt justified, at least to him, at least in that moment. For Sebastian only cared for one thing and that was getting back to her, back to Alice. He knew this meant that they would come after him and yet, he didn’t care as long as he could see her again. It had been awhile, Sebastian wondered if she would have moved on by now and he grew disgusted by the thought. The woman that helped him escape followed with eagerness, until he didn’t need her anymore and he simply casted her aside, removing the fog of his visions—purely to make her suffer with her choices and she did. 

It should have ended there. With Sebastian putting way too much faith in being able to research his new ability alone, desperately wishing someone had scribed something down about it. But, that would have been too easy. And so, Sebastian lingered in the shadows and kept his focus on figuring out exactly what he was capable of, only hoping it would eventually lead him to her. Word spread quickly of his escape, that even Sebastian was amused by the chorus of whispers and rumours that now spread about him. Eventually he got bored of it though, caring little for those that meant nothing to him but then he thought of Alice and he wondered if she had been told. 

Sebastian now had one last task, that he would see through. He would have her again. Alice was the piece of him that was missing and Sebastian was ready to watch the world burn, just to be with her. But, being a fugitive made things difficult and it appeared, she had been busy, Sebastian catching sight of her moving picture alongside Ominis—the bile rising quickly in his throat at their smiles. They had become Aurors, typical, simply desperate to feel helpful, even after everything. And yet, he couldn’t dismiss it completely, it did fit them. 

Tossing the paper to the ground and letting it soak up the soft mud, which had grown thick due to the rain, Sebastian pulled at his cloak’s hood and covered his face. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was her, was them. Sebastian was confident Alice hadn’t forgotten him, forgotten his touch and the way his lips felt against hers. So, he slipped back into the shadows and promised one thing: she would be his once more, no matter the cost. He was already a fugitive, a murderer and so there was nothing to lose, nothing he wouldn’t do to have her back in his arms. And the only way he would stop, or give up, was if they killed him. 

However, Sebastian didn’t realise it yet, but his determination and possessiveness meant he would eventually find himself agreeing to an unbreakable vow with the devil. 

But he was willing to do anything for love…right?

[nadjasworkshop]

Introducing my Builder:

BIRTHDAY:

14th of Autumn

HEIGHT:

164 cm

WEIGHT:

68 kg

AGE (ARRIVAL AT SANDROCK):

29 years old

LIKES:

Art & Literature, dark humor, cats

DISLIKES:

Noisy crowds, bullies, greed

BACKGROUND:

Nadja spent most of her twenties studying Humanities while working part-time as an assistant for several teachers and librarians. She eventually grew tired of her stale environment and decided to turn her natural talent for fixing gadgets from a lost hobby to a profession. Nadja graduated surprisingly ahead of time, landing her first job in an environment she deemed less competitive than Highwind, and more fitting for her temperament.

PERSONALITY:

Nadja was a bookish, sensitive child and often felt more at ease around teachers than she did around other kids. She still struggles to connect with other people, but keeps very strong bonds with her small group of friends.

Often dismissed as aloof and unreachable, those who ever managed to get past her shell would describe her as extremely loyal, with an imaginative mind and a very vulnerable core that she tries hard to never show in public.

While wisdom and integrity are the real keys to her heart, people with a dry sense of humor and an ability for keeping their cool are the easiest get on her good side.

RANDOM FACTS:

Shares the birthday with Yan. This was completely accidental on my part, but makes for a lot of funny occurences (not for her).

One of the most obvious signs of her toughening up since her arrival in Sandrock is the way she learn to handle guns in self defence. The first time she entered a hazardous ruin, she was so scared of shooting a geegler that Justice had to cover for her and promise he wouldn't make fun of the situation. In time, she was able to pull the trigger without a flinch. The Duvos invasion and the events that allowed it were quite the turning point.

She enjoys all sorts of arts, from drawing to playing the flute, but can't imagine making a life of them. It was one of the reasons she wasn't able to make the best of her time as a student.

Usually perceived as serious and even gloomy, she tends to catch people off their guards with unexpected quips. One of the many things she admires from Grace is her sense of humor.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Nadja had a really hard time getting used to Sandrock. For several months the taste of Highwind Fried Rice was enough to bring a tear to her eye. However, getting directly involved in the protection and recovery of the town turned her into a true Sandrocker in the end, and after two years she couldn't think living anywhere else.

Nia's parents and hers have been living next door for decades. In fact, Nadja was 6 when Nia was born and used to pretend she was her babysitter. They remain close despite being so different from each other, in a sisterly "goth & prep" kind of way more than as friends.

After a long rollercoaster of a story and a year without seeing each other she and Miguel started as a couple not long before the end of his imprisonment.

In the beginning they used to have a strange dynamic where they had fun antagonizing each other all the time and spent hours discussing philosophy (while mostly everyone wondered what the hell were these two nutcases always arguing about). As they got closer, they started getting in the way of each other's purposes. There was a brief intimate moment after Nadja came back from Logan's hideout and was presumed dead but both regretted instantly. Then the Incident happened. Obviously she didn't take it well, being someone whose trust is not easy to earn. It took a lot of time, a Duvos invasion and a long collective healing process in parallel to Sandrock's own healing for her to start to see past the bad blood. Once the "greenification" was complete, she found herself more and more often visiting her long lost antagonizer in prison and bringing him books once she finished reading them. It was mostly the difference between the person she once bid farewell with a cold "Matilda has betrayed you" and the one who was talking to her from behind the bars that sparked a renewed, less troubled feeling in her, one that would not fade away.

Other than that she finds easy to be around quiet people with a lot going on in their heads, hence she considers Fang his best friend. In the early days when she still had trouble socializing with the townsfolk, Unsuur and Heidi were the ones who found it easier to approach her. With the former, it was because they quickly understood each other's "weirdness". with the latter, out of common interests and encouraging each other's work from similar fields.

On the other hand she really doesn't like Pen. It's like if someone tailored a person entirely for her distaste, that was him. She can't stand Yan either but that could be said about everyone in town.

She adopted two cats and a half (Macchiato, Banjo and CoCo) and would have adopted many more given the chance.

[bullet-prooflove]

The North Star - Part Seven: The Heist - Terry Bruno x Reader (Feat Mike Duarte)

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @bbyxoo @the-adzukibean @xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life

Part One: Moments

It was three quarters of the way through your appraisal of the room that you spotted him. That familiar dark hair neatly slicked back from his grizzled features, a black waistcoat over white shirt and black trousers. He was dressed like one of the caterers, a large silver whipped cream canister tucked under his arm as he pulled aside a discreet black velvet curtain at the back of the room and slipped behind it.

Are you fucking kidding me? You thought exasperated. Every time you thought this case couldn’t get any more complicated; something threw a spanner in the works.

A Degas and now a Duarte. Christ, Terry was going to get a kick out of this.

Paul was still occupied on the opposite side of the gallery, his head bent low as he talked with Arthur Munson, the fence and host for the evening. You followed Mike’s footsteps, disappearing behind the curtain before anyone could realise that you were missing.

It took you a second to realise that the room was set up for the auction later tonight. Over a dozen chairs facing a stage that included a podium and a gavel. It was old school, compared to the way it was done these days with computers and electronics. Paul had mentioned that Arthur Munson was a traditionalist. The walls were littered with artwork, a blatant display of the man’s proclivities. You didn’t recognise any of the pieces, but you assumed they were each worth a small fortune. This event tonight was an opportunity to show off, to fortify his reputation as a collector and procurer. A decadent marketing campaign that put his competition to shame.

At the end of the front row, near the stage stood Mike Duarte, his scarred hands covered with black latex gloves as he clasped the frame in front of him and tried to pull it from the wall. It stuck fast, unrelenting as he yanked at it again before huffing with irritation.

“Mike.” You hissed as your gaze came to land on him. “Tell me you aren’t trying to steal that painting.”

“I’m not trying.” He snorted, inclining his head towards you for a moment before turning his attention back to the task at hand. “And I consider it a liberation.”

You stepped up to the painting as he withdrew a scalpel from his waistcoat pocket. It glinted wickedly in the dim light above.

“Is that…” You trailed off as you studied the painting in front of you.

The photographs you’d viewed on Meredith’s coffee table didn’t do it justice. It was vibrant and evocative, all plush greens and vivid blues. A sprawling hillside near Medellin, Colombia, a miniscule white picnic blanket had been added in such beautiful, perfect detail, you could see the tiny red poppies embroidered into the fabric. There was life in this work, it emitted through the thin layer of canvas vibrating through your bones as you stood entranced.

“Carrillo’s work is stunning. Nobody knew he painted, only that he put the fear of God into Escobar.” Mike informed you as he took a second to survey it.

“Mike, I can’t let you...”

“Yes you can.” He said firmly, turning to face you. His eyes fixated on yours, you saw the ferocity in his gaze, the ire and the passion. “His family deserve to have this back; it’s not meant for anybody else’s eyes. He painted it for his wife, to remind her of what they were fighting for before the Narcos killed her. That man sacrificed everything for what he believed in and I’ll be damned if I let this sit in some cartel shithead’s mansion like a fucking trophy.”

There was a viciousness in his voice, an undercurrent of anguish and understanding because Mike had done something similar. He had given everything for the neighbourhood, his heart, his soul and almost his life. He’d lived a lonely existence before Meredith had come along, he had told you one night in front of the fireplace, sharing a bottle of 19 Crimes. Meredith’s head had been resting on a cushion in his lap where she’d fallen asleep, his fingertips were brushing through her hair tenderly.  You discussed his life prior to the attack, how isolated he had become, how he had simply been surviving instead of living. It had been years since he’d actually been able to breath, and with Meredith he thought he’d found a home, someone to love, someone who loved him in return. He couldn’t believe it most days, sometimes he thought he was dreaming, that he’d wake up and the bubble would burst but then Bono would greet him with a cold enquiring nose, Shasta would lick his face and Meredith would laugh and his heart felt like it would explode in his chest.

You recognised that feeling, the one where you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. You had it in the dead of night while Terry slept beside you, his face buried in the curve of your throat, his soft breath ghosting over your skin. There was nothing quite as perfect as being wrapped up in his arms, feeling his heartbeat steadily against yours.

“It’s getting shipped out tomorrow.” Mike told you; he lifted the scalpel to the painting before sucking in a breath and hesitating. “That fucking asshole Munson wanted everyone to get one good look before it disappeared. It’s meant to be his piece de la resistance, proof he can get absolutely anything.” He paused, the scalpel wavering as he tried to select the right place to cut. “Go back to the party, I’ll be gone before you make your bust.”

You reached for the scalpel instead, your fingers wrapping around the handle and removing it from his grasp. Mike let you, your hands were steadier than his, these days. He moved to allow you more space to work.

“We can use the scalpel to break the frame instead.” You informed him, driving the slender blade between a minuscule space in the corner of the wooden panel before leveraging it from side to side. “That way you won’t be compromising the painting.”

Mike cleared his throat as a low crack resounded through the air, the lacquered wood beginning to separate at the joint.

“Meredith’s dad used to do carpentry.” You explained, hooking your finger under the lip of the frame and gently working it away from the painting. “It’s why I like upcycling so much. Do you have something to put the painting in once I’m done?”

Mike picked up the metal whipped cream cannister from the seat where it resided before unscrewing the top and revealing an empty vessel.

“Should I be concerned about how good you are this?” You asked him as you pulled away the side panel of the frame and set it down upon the floor. Mike picked removed a folded handkerchief from his pocket and wiped down the glossy surface as you tactfully slid canvas from its prison.

“I should be asking you the same thing Sergeant.” He said as he took the artwork from your hands with the utmost care before rolling it up gently and placing it inside the container. You took the handkerchief from his outstretched hand and wiped down the rest of the frame before depositing it and the scalpel into your clutch. “How long do I have?”

You removed your phone from your purse, your thumb flicking over the unlock screen.

“I’m about to call in the FBI.” You told him, your thumb hoovering over your text chain with Sinclair. “So, I’d get out of here as soon as possible.”

Mike rose an eyebrow.

“There’s a Degas out there.”

A smile twitched at his lips, and you found yourself returning it, a burst of laughter beginning to bubble in your chest as the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. You had to look away because you knew that it would erupt from your mouth if you held his gaze any longer.

“Bruno is gonna love this.”  He said, tucking the cannister back under his arm.

“I think he’s gonna ban me from watching Ocean’s Eight after this.” You told him, typing out your message to Sinclair.

‘There’s a fucking Degas.’ with three head exploding emojis. ‘Five Dancing Women (Ballerinas)’

He’d know what to do, Sinclair had been your right-hand man ever since you’d made Sergeant and transferred into the Bronx Homicide Unit. He was the one you trusted the most out of all the detectives you supervised.

“You probably have ten minutes after I send this message.” You informed Mike as the two of you strode back towards the black velvet curtain obscuring the doorway. “Head out the service exit. I’ve got Sinclair covering the back and he knows your face.”

Mike nodded his head, before straightening his shoulders and schooling his features into polite boredom before stepping out from behind the curtain and back into the main gallery.  You hit the send button on your message as the curtain closed behind him.

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[randofics]

Daredevil/Matt Murdock x southern reader pt2? 18+

Had to write this as soon as I came up with it. This one may be a bit of a slow burn but I feel like Matt would do things a bit slower. I just love the idea of him leaning into his other senses when being intimate and focusing on giving the most pleasurable experience possible.

18+ Under the cut

Winter in New York was not your friend. The first week or so was fine but it soon grew tiresome for you. The thick blanket of snow left on your apartment steps was a constant struggle as well as the ice it often left behind if you didn't clean it in time. You had almost wiped out several times walking up or down them. Matt's apartment building didn't have that problem as his building's staff kept on top of it during winter so that he wouldn't be hurt while leaving. The sandpaper grips on the steps also helped.

It was late and you had decided to surprise Matt with an early Christmas gift. The small box was tucked under your arm as you walked into the elevator. As it lifted you up to his floor you grew excited to see how he would react to the present. With a pep in your step you walked to his door and knocked. You could hear him yell to you from inside so you waited patiently. "Who is it?" "It's me Matt!" With that you heard the lock on his door unlatch and you were greeted by his bright smile. That smile always managed to make your heart flutter. He closed the door after you walked inside and you turned to greet him only to be left speechless. He didn't have a shirt on, and his dark grey sweats were hanging low on his hips displaying the prominent v to his abdomen. He was still wearing his glasses for some reason, perhaps he just forgot them?

You hadn't really seen him shirtless yet, and you were so used to the suits and dress shirts and occasionally casual clothes. You hadn't imagined he'd be this well built. His voice brought you out of your gawking. "You didn't greet me like you usually do is something wrong?" He sounded a bit worried at your silence. "OH no it's nothing just got distracted for a sec. I got you an early Christmas gift!" He looks a bit surprised but holds his hands out for you. You place the box in his hands and he feels it for a second before experimentally shaking it. Not much sound comes from the box but he gives you an excited smile and starts to rip off the wrapping paper. He pulls the lid off and takes out its contents feeling them carefully. A pair of soft wool socks with black red and grey stripes is the first thing he pulls out. He usually wore an old pair of socks around his apartment or none at all so you wanted to get a warm new pair for him. The next item was a new pair of fingerless gloves with the ends able to cover his fingers if he wanted to. It was just a plain black pair but you thought he'd like using them while it was still cold out. Sure he did have gloves but none were fingerless.

The last item was a Keychain you had found online. It was a simple rectangle of metal but it had braille on it. You had gotten it custom for him. He felt the bumps on the cool surface and smiled. "Justice and faith?" "I couldn't think of anything else so I chose two parts of you. You're a lawyer and you're catholic." "Well thank you baby." He pulls you in for a hug and you relax into him. "By the way how are you not cold?" He snorts in amusement. "I'm used to it. Lived in New York all my life after all." You nuzzel into his neck and feel his body radiating heat. "How about we sit on the couch and you can snuggle into me more?" You hum and let go walking to the couch with him. He plops down and you take off your heavy coat tossing it on the chair. Your boots are shucked off under the coffee table and you straddle his lap. You're about to lay on him when you take in his figure under you. In the dim light you can just barely make out the scars on his skin. That's surprising to you but you choose to ignore that for now. You drag your hand down his chest to his well defined abs. When you look up his expression makes you squeek. There's a dangerous grin on his face and you feel heat creep across your cheeks.

"By all means don't stop on my account." You trace the lines of muscle down his abdomen making the skin quiver under your fingers. He lets out a shaky breath at your touch and you lean down pressing your chest into his. You feel his hands grip your hips as you slip off his shades. His green eye's shift from side to side as he feels up your back. You caress his jaw and guide him to kiss you giving his plump lips a few languid pecks. He suddenly moves so his back is against the back of the couch with you still on top of him. Gripping your thighs he pulls you further into him centering your now twitching core over his crotch. His hand moves to your jaw and he pulls you in for another longer kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers tangle in his short brown locks as the kiss grows heated.

He can feel and hear everything. The moment you paused in greeting him he heard your heartrate quicken and the slight nervous tone in your voice. And when you sat on him and paused again he could feel your core twitching on him. He absolutely grinned when he felt your hands roam over him and heard your heartrate quicken again. That little squeak when you looked at his expression was adorable and at this point he wanted to hear more. He hadn't often been this intimate with you as he was either too busy with work or you just weren't in the mood for anything more than some slow kissing. Now sure he thoroughly enjoyed whatever you wanted to do with him but this time felt different. He wanted you badly and it seemed you may be in the same mood. His own heart starts to beat quicker and soon he turns his attention to your neck.

He pulls away only to kiss your neck. You tilt your head for him and squeak when you feel him nip your throat. You jump but just as quickly relax back into him. His tongue licks across your skin and you shiver. A whimper escapes your throat when he licks over your adams apple. He kisses down to your collar bone but the collar of your shirt gets in his way. His fingers find the hem and pull it up and over your head tossing it to the floor. With the offending clothing out of his way he kisses over your chest. With the need for a bit of pressure growing every second you wriggle your hips into him. He groans in your ear at the friction and grips your hips tight. But suddenly he freezes as though he's realized something. "Hold on a second baby." He nudges you to get off him and he practically runs into the other room. It surprises you that he doesn't run into anything and he just as quickly runs back to you. A small square packet is between his pointer and thumb. He gives you a cheeky grin as he sits back down. With the packet hanging from his teeth he pulls you back onto his lap. Now that he's closer you can read the packet. Your face blooms red at the realization of what it is. You stand for a moment to pull down your pants and underwear while he does the same. When you look back up at him he's slipping on the condom. He's a good size and you can only think of how he'll feel opening you up.

You straddle him but stay on your knees hovering over him. You can feel your juices threatening to drip on him as you kiss him again. He moans as you take your turn kissing his neck. His hips suddenly buck upwards nudging your petals. You can feel a bit of your juices connect with his tip and pull away in a thin clear strand. The sensation is a bit strange but you continue your previous ministrations. Eventually you can't help yourself and you slowly lower down. His tip aided by your slick splits your folds open instantly. With one hand you rub him between your folds covering the condom in your slick. You lean your forehead against his and line him up with your entrance. Gently you push down and his tip slips inside making you shiver. His hands grip the couch cushions as he tries his hardest not to thrust up into you. You moan and whimper as he stretches you. He hisses and groans as you lower even further onto him. When you're fully seated on him he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. You both catch your breath for a moment before you feel him move his hips.

In this position he can't quite seem to get enough leverage or room to thrust into you so surprising you with his strength he stands up holding you. He walks to the kitchen counter and takes a towel from the drawer laying it on the counter. He lifts you up just enough to set you on the towel his hips still flush with yours. With the new position he leans over you hands on either side of you. He pulls out and plunges back in one time making you moan. He grins down at you liking the reaction he received. He starts a slow pace and you bury your face in his neck as you mewl and moan for him. Soon he quickens his pace and his own moans make you twitch around him. You call his name earning a growl from deep in his chest. The sound makes you squeeze around him and a choked sound from him follows. His thrusts get sharper and he let's grunts and growls flow from his lips. He suddenly slips both of your legs into the crooks of his elbows. The move basically folding you in half with his hands moving behind your back and locking on your shoulders. In a sudden show of pure strength he lifts you up in that position and thrusts into you harder. He snorts with the exertion and all you can do is try to bear the extreme pleasure he's giving you.

You feel the coil in you tighten as you quickly get closer to the edge. He can feel you getting closer and he continues his pace chasing your release. "C'mon baby let go." He kisses you as your coil snaps your juices cover his crotch but he could care less as he chases his own high. Just a few seconds after you he releases, pumping the condom full. He let's out a strangled growl at the intense feeling. After a few seconds he let's you wrap your legs around his waist again and sets you back on the towel. He leans on his elbows panting heavily. You're both drained of energy but after a minute he lifts you back up and takes you to his bedroom. After he cleans you both up with a wet washcloth he snuggles into bed next to you. You roll on top of him and get comfortable with your ear over his heart. "Love you Matt." "Love you too y/n." You both drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God | m.m

Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter thirty-one: Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)

Previous part XXX ° series masterlist ° main masterlist

Summary: Hydra falls, but the victory is short-lived.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, ANGST, blood and gore, more mutants, hints at child abuse and sexual assault, trauma, child molesters get what they deserve, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

a/n: Publishing earlier and not as scheduled because Christmas is just right around the corner (and we celebrate on the 24th here in Germany) I wanted to give you this before that. Finally, the show-down is here, the climax, the thing we’ve all been waiting for. This ends on a huge cliffhanger because it connects directly to the next chapter. You’ve been warned. I wish those of you who are celebrating a merry Christmas! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. The next update will come Sunday night.

The hallway was empty. Except for the blaring alarm and the red lights, the long, sterile walls were void of all souls and sounds. 

By the time Natasha reached the marked dormitories, Matt’s news about Eliza’s pulled stunt had already traveled. She deemed the emptiness of the hallway as suspicious. Her mission was to free whoever else Hydra kept trapped in the facility, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the position her friend had put herself in. Part of her wanted to let her ruin Viktor Volkov, she deserved to get revenge and he was more than deserving of a slow and gruesome death, but the rational part of her told her that Eliza was going to regret her choice if she ended up killing the man instead of bringing him to justice, and she wouldn’t be able to survive the guilt that came with it. So Natasha couldn’t let her do it, no matter how much she wanted to. 

“Remember the mission, guys,” Steve reminded them.

“How? If Eliza is going to do what Matt thinks she’s going to do,” Clint prompted. 

“We can’t focus on the mission,” Natasha finished for him. 

“The mission was to find her, correct?” said the Captain. “So we’ll do that. Doesn’t matter if Matt lost her, we’re just going to search for her all over again, and then we’ll stop her before she can make the mistake of killing Volkov.”

“Matt?” she asked.

Only a grunt was audible on the other end. “Little busy,” he managed to choke out.

“Well, Cap is closest to her final destination, so I suggest he makes sure she doesn’t even come this far.”

“Copy that,” Steve replied.

Though when he turned around from his spot on the roof, the door flew open. Several guards flooded the limited space. He stared at the soldiers who stared back at him, half of them in shock and the other half expectant. They knew him, and most of Hydra feared him, but the people in front of him didn’t even move a facial muscle at the sight of him. Without his shield, he was just a man in Stars and Stripes. 

“I’m Captain America,” he told himself. “With or without the shield.” 

He often doubted that lately, not sure what to think or believe anymore after his whole life collapsed right in front of him and everything he had grown to know and love disappeared from him. At that moment though, he needed to believe that he was Captain America. He needed to believe he was a symbol, a fighter, and Hydra’s worst nightmare. He had to be strong for Eliza, he had to be strong for Bucky and everyone else who suffered at their hands. He wouldn’t roll over and die. He wouldn’t give up, that wasn’t his nature, no matter how defeated or how detached from the real Steve Rogers he felt. 

Natasha only heard static on the other end of her earpiece, so she figured everyone was back to doing their jobs. Back to the mission. Focusing became a little harder, her worries being the only thing driving her down the hallway. She had to get to the fourth quadrant. She wanted to stop Eliza herself, Mission be damned. She needed someone who knew her better than anyone, someone who used to be her. 

Though as she thought about it she realized, the second she turned on Tony and helped Steve escape, she distanced herself from Eliza and left her behind. The time when she had known her better than anyone was over. She had someone else who understood her in a way only a handful of people ever could, and he had never been like them before. Still, she trusted him with her life. She ran to protect him, she was willing to sacrifice her life for him, and that told Natasha all she needed to know.

She had to follow the mission. She had to do what she was told to do or all of this would have been for nothing. 

Her fist tightened around the gun as she burst into yet another unoccupied room. The sheets were crumbled and clothes were strewn around; someone lived there, as did in the other dormitories, but no one was there. The place was cleaned out completely.

She pressed a finger to the earpiece. “The rooms are all clear,” she said. “So is the hallway, surprisingly. I think they pulled resources to find her.”

Clint was the only one who got her message. “Copy,” he said.

“Rogers?” 

“Haven’t heard from him yet.”

“Alright, well, if he decides to make a sound, tell me. I’m heading down the hallway now, moving on to the training grounds.”

A pause. “Security seems higher there,” Clint stated. 

“They’re all just passing through,” Sam corrected. “They’re looking for the breach while also trying to get rid of all the evidence. They know Eliza is loose.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you using the spy bird again?”

“His name’s Redwing.”

“I will not call that thing by its name.”

“Come on, he’s helpful. You can say his name. Redwing.”

“No.”

Natasha stopped. A single pair of footsteps came from the corner to her left. 

The man stared right at her, seemingly as surprised as she was to see him. His clothes were pedestrian; he didn’t look like a soldier or a mad scientist. He was just a man, plain and simple. 

“What are you doing here?" he asked.

She stammered, “I got lost.” 

"This is a secure facility.”

“Really lost,” she said. 

He gawked at her, she gawked back. They kept staring at each other until it got too awkward to continue. 

“You’re not one of them, are you?” Her hold on the gun eased. If he wanted to kill her, he would have done so already. 

He seemed misplaced and so did she. They had that in common.

He straightened his dirty jacket. There was a cut on his left cheekbone, his hair disheveled and his knees and knuckles scraped, but other than that he seemed healthy.

The man pointed a finger at her. “You’re not either,” he said. 

“No, I’m…” 

She remembered his face from somewhere. 

“Wait, you seem familiar.”

“I feel like everybody says that these days.”

She cursed herself for realizing it too late. “You’re Anton Petrova.”

“Oh, you actually know my name,” he said.

“I saw your picture in the file you gave to Tony Stark. The file on your daughter,” Natasha said. 

“Tony… oh!” 

He twisted and turned, searching for something. She followed his movements with curious eyes. He held a small device in his hand, barely big enough to fit into a power outlet. 

“I’m Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced herself swiftly. 

“I should have figured you guys were coming too.”

“So you’re not Hydra, you’re here because Eliza sold you out.” 

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“The lengths this girl is willing to go…” Natasha huffed. “Well, if you want to survive, I guess we should stick together. Things could get really ugly really fast, and this place isn’t made for civilians to make it out alive.”

“I’m not planning to stick around,” he told her. 

His eyes finally caught onto what he was looking for. He attached the device to the keypad set into the wall. Sparks blew from the fuses. He typed in a series of numbers, then flicked a switch on the added extension. Natasha didn’t recognize the sequence, nor did she remember ever seeing such a device. 

“I have the same goal as my daughter, only that I don’t plan to get out. She made the right choice to sell me out. I deserved it. I’m going to burn this place to the ground so Alina can finally leave this hell behind her. I should have never given her away. It was my fault she ended up here and now it’s time for me to face the music after I’ve run like a coward all these years.” 

She pursed her lips. “What are you doing?” 

“Like I said, blowing this place up,” he stated. Anton pointed to the mystery device. “I’m attaching this to every sensor in this building, overriding their security systems. There are bombs placed in certain areas around this complex. Those weren’t my doing, but back when they had taken me to get to my… to Alina, I heard them talk about additional safety measures in case anything went wrong.” 

He stepped away from the keypad, admiring his work. Another one of the devices slipped between his fingers. They resembled slightly thicker keycards. Upon further inspection, Natasha realized that he had used pieces of metal from a broken computer to string together something new, something that could override even the most complicated code.

She frowned at his quick fingers. The question bothered her. “Did you bring that here?” she asked.

“Would you believe me if I said I made them from scratch in the past hour under the immense pressure of super soldiers trying to kill me?” 

“No.”

“Then yeah, I took them with me.” 

“Jesus…” Doing something like this required certain training that she doubted he possessed. “What are you?” 

Anton shrugged. “Scientist and occasional spy.”

“Hm.”

“After you guys caused the alarm to go off, I managed to get out of my little cell and find my way to the control room. I figured out where they keep their fail-safe. I didn’t know what it was. I found the button attached to a series of explosives and put one and two together. This device overrides all their systems and reprograms the trigger to a certain time that I have set.”

“And when is that?”

He checked his cracked watch. “Twenty minutes,” he told her.

“Twenty minutes?” Natasha glared at him. “Your daughter’s still here somewhere. Twenty minutes aren’t going to be enough to get her out of here in time!”

“The trigger points are at each entrance that leads to the outside,” he explained. “The bombs are meant to stop anyone from leaving.”

“Then why would you want to trigger them?”

“They won’t see it coming, that’s why. It will give Alina, you, and your little friends enough time to act while I try to figure out how to burn this place to the ground. In my humble opinion,” Anton said and moved onto the next keypad at the end of the hallway, “I think they’ve got an even bigger charge hiding in their basement, but it’s not connected to the building’s system, so it has to be manually triggered. I intend to find that thing and blow this place five ways to Sunday once you guys are out of here.”

“You’ll die,” she argued.

He sighed, “Yeah, but Alina already believes me dead so it doesn’t matter. My job is done here.”

It was a noble display of his affection for his daughter. 

Natasha rubbed her tired eyes. The stone was already rolling, she didn’t have much of a choice but to roll with it. 

“Alright, well, I have a mission to finish so I can’t stick around. And if you say you want to stay, that’s you’re choice. Although the chances that you’ll survive are instantly zero if you do what you say you’re gonna do, so don’t say I didn’t offer an escape to you.”

“I know,” he smiled. “As long as you tell my daughter that her father loved her.”

“I will,” she told him.

“Thank you.”

She took an even bigger leap. “Do you know what happened to the people they kept here?” 

Anton looked around. “They took them out back. If you have men outside, you should be safe.”

“Thank you!” 

Natasha pressed down on her earpiece.

“The hostages are yours,” she said. “They’re coming out the back.”  

“Copy,” Sam answered.

Anton smiled again, attaching his magical device to the keypad and flipping the switch once again. Sparks flew. “Save my daughter, Agent Romanoff,” he said. 

She holstered her gun. “That’s what I intend to do.”

“Do your best.”

“If you knew me, you’d be aware of the fact that I never accomplish anything short of the best.”

He disappeared down the hallway with a knowing grin, granting her more time by not even caring if someone caught him. She set out to sprint the rest of the way. 

“Guys, we have a surprise coming our way. We need to find Eliza now before it’s too late…”

“Well,” Clint piped up, “I would ask Rogers how far he is, but his comm seems to be malfunctioning.” 

Natasha cursed under her breath. “They probably got to him too.”

“What about Matt?” asked Sam.

“Here!” he sounded from the other end. Something resembling pain laced in his voice. “I managed to knock them all out, now I just have to find a way out of here somehow.”

Natasha stood in front of the same problem. The glass doors were locked with thick metal covering them. “Seems we have the same problem, Matthew,” she murmured, kicking against it. 

“Yeah, the doors won’t budge. I tried that.”

Of course, he heard her attempts to break through the steel. Rolling her eyes, she chose to try it with her shoulder next. 

Matt sighed wearily. “Tried that too,” he said.

“What haven’t you tried?” she bit back. 

“Anything a person with sight can do with a computer. I have no idea how that works, but the security system has to run somehow, right? Maybe you can override the lock Eliza put on these doors. I heard her push a button to initiate the lockdown. Not even the emergency exits are working anymore. I tried everything I could. We’re trapped.”

“How does she move around with the doors closed?” Sam asked the important question.

Natasha and Matt were more in sync than ever. “She’s blowing through them,” they said at the same time.

“Yeah, she’s probably bulldozing through them like a madwoman,” Natasha added. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Vandalism is her second name.”

Clint grunted, the swoosh of an arrow passing by his earpiece. “Try the override,” he said. “Batman seems to be onto something here.” 

“Control room!” she blurted. “Yes! I have an idea. Matt, hold on! I think I just found the solution to our problem.”

“Hurry,” he told her, “Or I might start smashing my head into the door. I can’t lose her again,” the admission ran quietly. “I refuse to let her get away with this. And I won’t let her die just because she thinks it’s the right thing to do. So please, for the love of God, hurry up!” 

Natasha found the room Anton mentioned with ease. She busted the door open with a satisfying squeal.

“Almost there,” she said. “I just need to find…” she pushed the only two blinking buttons. 

The red lights stopped blinking, the alarm stopped blaring in the distance, and with a roar, the metal unlocked from the glass doors. 

She caught a glimpse of the structure outside. The space around the building was littered with Hydra soldiers fighting against flying arrows and a man with metal wings, which sounded weirder than it looked. 

“Barton, you still need the headlights?” 

“Nope,” he replied. “Shut them off.”

She pulled the lever down. The ground turned dark. Only the spotlight was left. 

“Thanks!”

She stepped out of the control room. “Matt,” she called out for him. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m going to get Steve before I can get Eliza. He’s probably in trouble if he’s not answering. Can you search for her?” she asked. “The exits are all going to blow in twenty minutes and we need to have found her by then or she will have more of a reason to kill Volkov.”

He pushed himself off the wall. “Copy that,” he said. 

“I trust you.” Coming from her, that was a compliment of the highest order.

The reservations she had had at the beginning vanished the second Eliza chose to go her own way. They were two people who loved her very much, and they needed to use that to their advantage. She couldn’t hate him even if she tried. If there was one thing he was more than capable of, it was finding Eliza and bringing her back safe. He wouldn’t stop before she was safe and sound in his arms. She needed to hold onto that. 

Matt was so in love, he would blur all the lines to get to her. Honorable would be the word she would have used to describe him. 

He expected the override of the lockdown to bring on more of the super soldiers that attacked him back at the west wing. His ribs were broken, probably, but he pushed through the sharp pain that tore through his lungs with every breath. He fought the men who were twice as strong as him, but if ‘watching’ Eliza fight had taught him one thing it was that super soldiers were just human too, after all. They had the same weak spots, only a higher tolerance. The serum didn’t turn them into something else, only enhanced what was already there. He used that knowledge to his advantage. As much as this new world blew his mind, it wasn’t much different from fighting the men Fisk sent for him. 

Eliza made her way through the armies of men that tried to stop her without batting an eye. The wound on her shoulder pulsates numbly, though all she truly felt was rage. It fueled her determination. 

The many guns and knives didn’t stand a chance against her. She stopped thinking and for once decided to follow the primal instinct that she had denied for a very long time. She let the unknown thing inside of her loose without another thought about it.

What she had been so scared of, became a part of her. No, it became her. She turned into the thing she was born to be. Not quite human and not quite alien. She was the most wanted in more ways than just one. Her blood held the power of an infinity stone, the most powerful elemental crystal that started at the dawn of the universe, and it molded with her DNA to the point where both could no longer be separated. She became one with it when she was born, her mind had just been twisted enough to hide the truth for so long, always controlled and caged in by someone who thought they knew better, selfish people who were afraid of what she could do.

She didn’t waste another thought about them, therefore allowing her body to restore almost as easily as her mind. As she put down all of her restrictions, a new life bloomed inside of her chest. She had never felt so full, never so complete. 

Eliza made her way through the masses, sending her opponents flying away. Extending her hand toward the machine gun that was pointed her way, she thought about the butterfly symbolism she took from her childhood.

Ironically, saving a life made her father give her away. Butterflies are used as a metaphor for rebirth and evolution. She was the butterfly from her memories, broken down and alone, waiting for someone to save it and set it free. She had broken out of her cocoon and discovered her true beauty, her true abilities. Eliza was a butterfly, the very thing that ended her up in the grasp of Hydra. 

The man cried out as his gun disappeared and turned into a swarm of bats. They flew straight at him, pecking his skin apart. 

She kicked another soldier in the chest, into his partner. The two hit the wall behind them. She used the moment of surprise to bring half of the ceiling down on them. In her wake, several bodies littered the floor. The bats she had released disappeared back into the smoke dancing around her fingers. 

The closed door didn’t pose as much of a threat. She placed her palm flat against the metal. Her veins released another surge of power. The lock cracked. She pushed harder against it. The pathway to the other building blew open at sheer force, electricity flickering. She was so close to her target now. 

Then, the lights turned back on. She expected something like this to happen; her friends weren’t going to give up, not without a fight. Even though they knew Eliza did this with the thought in mind that a sacrifice might be out of the question, they still wanted to prevent her untimely death to tear them apart. She understood that, but the reality would only hurt them more if they kept holding onto her like that. She was long gone, broken beyond repair, someone they couldn’t help or cure. She had made up her mind. This was her choice, she would not let this end any differently. It was foolish of them to believe there was still redemption in the cards for her. 

With the lights on full display, the Hydra soldiers believed they had an advantage. They could see her clearly, and possibly even anticipate her behavior. Cute, she thought. It was an honorable belief.

She stood in front of an army she could not count. The anger manifested, becoming a part of her. Ever since she could remember, anger, pain and despair sustained her. She learned how to live with this constant ache and emptiness in her chest, a hunger that could never be satisfied, keeping her on edge always. Now that she got the answers she wanted, now that she knew who she was born to be and why Hydra was really after her, that emptiness had shrunk to the size of an atom. Her soul no longer felt pointless. With the knowledge came contentment.

She struggled to accept the changes at first, but after allowing them to take over completely, she had never felt more at peace with the inner stranger. At the same time, she had also never felt more at peace with dying than she did at the thought of finally tearing down the walls that caused her so much pain in the first place, of destroying the man who destroyed her life all those years ago. 

The feeling that remained though was anger. The anger burned hotter and brighter through her veins than it ever had. The truth did not only bring peace but it brought dissatisfaction with how the world turned out to be. She knew there were variables to eradicate before the peace could make a nest, but she also knew that when those variables were gone, she might also be, and then the peace didn’t matter anymore, so she could fall for the anger and not feel any regret because her life was supposed to turn out this way. Content with her real identity, but enraged at the people of her past, ready to remove them from the narrative for good. She would help others more than herself, and that made the small part of her that still wanted to be a hero swell with pride. 

This was her destiny. The universe dictated it to end this way, the same way it dictated for her to become who she was. The stone could have killed her, instead, it chose her. Her DNA absorbed it and she survived while her mother didn’t, which couldn’t have been an accident but something the stone wanted. She felt it, she couldn’t describe it, but the truth lay in the palm of her hand. She understood more now than before, possibly even everything. Suddenly, everything made sense. The world lay at her feet, the knowledge was entirely hers. 

She had the power to destroy and create worlds, and that alone was dangerous. She chose not to be dangerous anymore. One last time to set the record straight, to make the world right and the hourglass to stop losing sand, and then everything would be fine. She would make it fine for the people she cared about. There was a lot of making-up she had left to do, and this was part of the bargain she struck with the voice in her head. She would do this and then she would be done. She didn’t have to like it, the truth often hurt more than it felt good.

As Eliza stood across her enemies, she found herself wondering what Viktor did to them to have them so incredibly at his mercy. But those were just super soldiers, they weren’t enhanced like her. He knew they stood no chance against the person she had become. There had to be a bigger plan at play here, especially since the way to the fourth quadrant had been way too easy. 

The knife soared through the air. Before it could hit her already mangled collarbone, she lifted her hand. It stopped mid-air, frozen in place. She waited for them to act. They didn’t. 

“For people who are supposed to protect their boss,” she cooed, “You are doing a terrible job at trying to stop me.”

She snapped her fingers and the knife disintegrated. 

“Anyone else? No?”

Finally, one of them hit after her with his baton. She ducked under it, punched him in the ribs, and stole the weapon to hit him over the head. She copied Matt’s technique to throw the baton across the room, hitting at least three men in the process. That seemed to wake them from their trance. 

Soon enough, she found herself surrounded by five men, throwing fists and knees until they were bloody on the floor. Someone grabbed her from behind. She yelped. Strong arms pulled her back, hitting the wall. She regained her composure by the time they met the hard stone. She brought her elbow back, breaking his nose. Next, she pulled his head down so she could push herself up, swinging over his body with her feet crawling across the wall. The position made it possible for her to jump onto her next opponent’s shoulders, smashing his skull in from above. She went down with him, bracing her fall on her knees. 

Her chest heaved. This was a lot more complicated than she thought. 

The men mistook her posture as submission. She chuckled. The smoke rose in front of her, building a wall. She pushed it toward them. The force knocked them off their feet, sending them across the hallway. The overwhelming sense of agony kept them awake but paralyzed. She rose back to her feet with her palms faced upward. 

“Well, that was embarrassingly easy,” she said. 

The man next to her stumbled back up. Before he could make his advance, she punched him hard. 

“Stay down!”

He passed right back out. 

Rounding the next corner, she was met with an empty hallway. The feeling that something else might be coming for her worsened. The clock in her head sped up. 

A rumbling started in the distance. The floor vibrated. It lasted for three seconds, then stopped. She tilted her head. The vibrations picked up again. Another three seconds, then it was over. She shook her head. Probably another army heading for her, perhaps with the orders to kill upon seeing the destruction she left in her wake on the security cameras.

Viktor was so close, yet so far away. Who knew if he was even still in the building? With this little security, she doubted it, and her anger only got worse. She needed him dead. She needed to kill him, not watch him get away. Not this time. 

Just as she was about to set off into a sprint, the ground shook again. It wasn’t soft this time, the entire building jumped with the force of an explosion. She fell forward, the blow hitting her from behind. Smoke swallowed the hallway she came from whole, removing any sign of an exit. Fire crackles. She could hear shouting and screaming, her nose noticing a whiff of the fresh air from outside. What time was it? Her ears rang. 

Someone blew up all possible exit points to keep whoever was inside trapped by the debris. With enough force, she could knock it back and get out, if she could figure out where the explosion happened. It wasn’t directly at the door she had torn down, that was for sure. Still, the pathway that had led her there was completely gone, leaving her trapped in the empty hallway with only one way to go. One way that would lead to her definite death, no doubt. 

She lifted herself to her knees, groaning at the growing stiffness of her muscles. Footsteps approached. She looked up. The electricity before her crackled. The powerline hit the linoleum floor. 

Eliza stood up slowly, rising to her full height, which seemed to be only half of her opponent. The man from her apartment stood before her with all his might, his body radiating dangerous charges of electricity, voltages that could easily kill any human being in a heartbeat.

He had upgraded. It was just him, no one else. Viktor’s only successful experiment since she left, and even then he didn’t manage to create someone strong enough to win against her. He could stall time though.

She sighed. “Didn’t you get enough the first time?”

He stared at her with dead eyes. 

“Right, I forgot, you don’t speak.”

His fist clenched and unclenched, the white lightning bolts spurting from his fingertips. 

She tilted her head, he tilted his. Neither of them moved. 

“Where is he?” she asked.

Once again, he didn’t speak. He balled his fist, bringing it down on the ground. The volts traveled from his spot toward hers at inhuman speed. Not sure what would happen if it hit her, she copied his motion, slapping her hand down. The smoke caused the floor to bulge between them, a dune of sand shooting up and filtering the electricity. 

He huffed the first sound she heard out of him. The red sand dissolved, returning to the white floor it had been before. 

Her fast reaction changed something in him. He realized he couldn’t fight her, even if he wanted to. He couldn’t even catch her off guard. 

The man reached for the batons in his suit. She waited for them to extend as he flicked them at his sides. Instead of hard plastic or metal though, the sticks turned into bendable whips running on high voltage. They snapped against the floor. The electricity crackled, louder this time and the white lightning blinded her. She could feel the energy in the air, tickling the tiny hairs on her arms. Her powers responded to the change in the atmosphere, itching under her skin, her protective shield. 

The first attempt to hit her, she dodged. The whip went straight past her, extending and then shrunk back to its wielder’s size. 

She flipped over the next. He was far more agile than before. Viktor must have put him through the works to prepare him for this. She was almost impressed at his dedication to pushing her limits. He ruined this stranger’s life as he did hers to fit his agenda, all because his most precious experiment broke his heart and crushed his pride. 

The smoke coming from the hallway seemed like the perfect opportunity. She willed it toward her with just her mind, using her glowing hands only when it reached her feet. She let the still gray smoke rise around her, disappearing behind it. The power lines reached for her. She opened her arms. 

In her hands, the smoke turned into a dangerous weapon. She shaped the smoke into her version of a whip. It wrapped around him, immune to the voltages seeping out of the man’s body. If anything, it only recharged, fueling her powers. She grinned. The smoke tied around his throat, forcing him up. He levitated over the ground, reaching for his neck in surprise.

Eliza dissolved the smoke, realizing his lips turned blue. He dropped to the ground, catching himself on one knee.

She pulled his weapons toward herself before he could reach for them again. Midway, he caught one of the whips and pulled against her powers. She was left with only one while he held the other, staring straight into her eyes with his new white ones. He was completely dead. He was breathing and his heart still beat, but other than that there was no life left in his soul. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t reach for him. He didn’t feel anything. She couldn’t manipulate what wasn’t there. 

“What did they do to you?” she repeated the same question she asked him that previous night. 

When he went after her with the whip next, she did the same. The charges met in the middle, causing an epic blowout that sent both of them hurdling back. 

Eliza hit the wall with the back of her head. The slight sting was followed by a hot, wet feeling getting stuck in her hair. She groaned. 

Motherfucker.

As if getting hit over the head somehow restored his speech center, he finally opened his mouth for the first time. What came out though made her boiling blood run cold.

“On the edge, you mustn’t lie,” he sang.

She flinched, the jolts running through her body entirely too much. Her mind was fragile after everything they put her through in just the past hour. 

Without Viktor, that song would have never come to be. 

“Or the little red demon will come.”

She didn’t want to believe it at the butcher shop. Back then, the song only told her that Hydra was back. The memories she connected with it were dark and twisted, not even Mueller could match up to it. She had felt so many feelings at once, she didn’t look further. Deep down, she knew from the beginning that Viktor was behind this.

Because of this song, this stupid song. 

“And will nip you and will nip you on the tum, Tug you off into the wood, underneath the willow root.”

Her mouth parted. She lost the little self-control she had left. With an agonizing scream, she jumped at him, electricity be damned. She hit him, grabbed his face with her hand, and forced her anger down into his soul. His veins glowed as she boiled him alive. He might have been emotionally dead, but his body could still feel everything.

She thought about every cell and atom in his body tearing itself apart, putting itself back together, then scrambling again. His attempt to electrocute her only gave her a boost.

If he couldn’t do it with his powers, he would do it with his fists. He fought against the pain, bringing his head forward to hit her chin; she was eye-level with him now. She lost hold of his face. He used that to punch her in the ribs, then her nose, and lastly, her throat. 

She jammed a knife into his thigh from behind. He cried out. 

Everything that happened after, Eliza watched from afar as her body reacted to the commands of a mind that wasn’t hers. The song kept playing on repeat in her mind. All of her morals bled out of her, lost somewhere on the floor along the way. She no longer cared, she should have stopped doing so a long time ago. Life mattered nothing, it no longer served a purpose to her. Not just hers, and life. She was done asking for forgiveness or permission. She was done pretending to be the golden child when she was anything but. 

They wanted her to be the villain so badly, so she would give them what they wanted.

On the edge, you mustn’t lie.

She forced him to his knees in front of her, startled by the brutality and unable to focus on anything other than her hold on him, physically and mentally, and the red eyes staring into his from where she had his head tilted back.

Or the little red demon will come.

She pulled the knife out of his thigh. Oh, that stupid song. She set the blade to where his earlobe stopped at the side of his neck. 

And will nip you and will nip you on the tum, Tug you off into the wood, underneath the willow root.

The crimson disappeared, and left behind was only the eye color she was born with. She wanted him to see her like a person, not a mutant. This wasn’t the stone acting, it was her. It was the person the song had been rewritten about. 

She would give him what he wanted. She would prove him right while also turning into the one thing he feared most. The ruthless, out-of-control soldier escaped him. The one thing that wouldn’t dance to his music anymore, and that was his greatest enemy.

Eliza buried the blade deep in his jugular and cut. She slid the knife through his flesh, listening to it squish around the sharp edge, and sliced his aorta in two. 

The blood squirted from the vessel. He choked on it. The red painted the white walls dark, some of it staining her face, flooding the palms of her hands. His blood was sticky and glued her fingers together. She tasted copper on her tongue, some of the dirt that was left on his skin mixing with the thick liquid. His pulse vanished underneath her fingers as even the last drops of blood were squeezed from his motionless heart. 

He fell out of her grasp, dead weight on the now slippery floor. 

She breathed heavily. She should have been scared of herself, she should have covered herself against the wall and just let them take her. Anything was better than turning into the person she loathed. Though as she caught sight of her face in the reflective tiles, she felt nothing. 

Her body remained numb even when even more Hydra soldiers came around the corner, having realized that even Viktor no longer had a way out with the exploded exits, and now it was on them to restrain her. They probably watched what she had done, they had watched all emotions drain from her eyes as she drained the poor man of his blood.

All she did was wipe her face and stare at them, her eyes set with determination. She threw the blood-covered knife in their direction, hitting one of them in the throat. She didn’t care. 

The voice in her head screamed for her to stop. She stumbled over unconscious bodies and spilled blood. By the time she had reached the last man standing, using her powers to paralyze him, the voice had given up. She was only a faint buzzing in the back of her mind. 

The last door in the quadrant flew off its hinges. With the walls made out of steel, the room almost looked like a bunker straight out of a war movie. 

Eliza tossed the remaining soldier’s unconscious body at his feet. “I believe this belongs to you,” she said. 

She stood across from Viktor, her clothes drenched in someone else’s blood and sweat, and her usually bright eyes had turned almost black in the artificial light. 

He stared at her with something that could only be described as a mixture of adoration, impression, and pure, unbridled fear. He didn’t get scared often, if not never. This was a big accomplishment she had to note in her books of unlikely scenarios that have become true. 

His hand clenched around the walking cane. He was only superior in height, nothing more. His stance was supposed to look intimidating, make what he had worked for him, but she only felt sad for him when she saw how desperately he tried to intimidate her. 

“What did you do?” he asked eerily calmly, motioning to her clothing. 

She shrugged. “There is more where that one came from.”

There was a whole control panel behind him, security cameras and microphones covering the entire facility. They were all working. He knew what she had done. He watched her. He probably applauded her for turning into a monster again, too. Though as soon as it was him in the line of fire, he suddenly felt so inferior.

“I told you, I’d get out,” she said to him. “The way you’re looking at me right now tells me you didn’t have faith in that, but here I am! I outsmarted you again. I outmatched you again. Doesn’t it get tiring to lose against me over and over again, and still think you can win?”

He chuckled. “You’re here, aren’t you? I’d take that as a pretty big win.”

“I’m here to kill you.”

“Are you sure about that?” he clicked his tongue. “I don’t think so. I think you’ve felt the thrill of killing again and now you’re not so sure what to do with me anymore because you have realized that you miss this life, after all.”

Eliza swallowed the bitter taste of the words left in her mouth. “You disgust me.”

“God, if you could see yourself. It’s truly victorious. For a moment there I doubted my abilities. I thought that maybe I was wrong to put my faith in you back then. I wasn’t,” he said. “You will always be my perfect little girl.”

“You don’t own me, fuck you!” 

“Oh, malyshka, I will always own you. You’re mine. Running away doesn’t make you any less a part of me.”

“You made me think that this is what love is supposed to be like,” she said. “You made me think that being used and abused is all that I deserve, that I was only worth it when put into a cage. You made me believe that men can do whatever they want with me and speaking up against it is a bad thing. And you made me believe that everyone that wasn’t you could never love me. I was never yours, you just wanted me to be your property and when I fought back, you punished me until I was entirely at your mercy. But that’s over now! I have my mind back. I know now that I didn’t deserve what you did to me. There are people who actually love me, and because of you, I can never experience what it’s like to feel such devotion because you broke me. You made me believe I was unlovable so I became a loveless monster.”

Viktor only laughed.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Eliza inched closer. “Are you proud that you have ruined so many children’s lives?”

“I mean…” he trailed off. “It worked out in the end, didn’t it? You’re the most powerful thing to ever come out of Hydra. You should be proud of yourself. You’re a monster. You’re a legacy. Think about what we could do,” he said, “together.”

She scoffed, “You think saying those things will make me fall for you again? Well, it won’t happen. I’m done with you, Viktor. Your words mean nothing to me now.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

“That depends,” she asked, “are you?” 

“I know where I stand. You say you do, but I doubt that. If you really wanted to kill me, you would have foregone your little speech. That’s not what I taught you.”

“You took away my childhood,” her fingers began to glow, “and you ruined all that I am. What’s enough is enough. I want my girlhood back, and I want to give everyone whose lives you ruined here in the years while I was gone to get the same opportunity.”

“Oh please, you were too mature to even be considered a girl.” 

“I was a child!” She cried out. “I was a child and you took that away from me! You took my pride and my innocence and my… my body, and that is something I will never forgive you for. While you’re alive, I will never know peace. And you’ve never even deserved the air you breathe in the first place. You’re the monster, I’m not. So this place can crash down on me, I don’t care, as long as it buries you with me. I’m going to die sooner or later anyway. But I will not stand by and watch you do this to anyone ever again.”

“We both know that no matter what happens, I will always get back up again.” 

“Not when I can help it,” she said. 

Viktor tapped the cane down in time with his laugh. “Here’s the thing,” he said, “I still don’t believe you have the guts to kill me.”

“I’ve already killed one man today.”

“You can’t kill me because deep down, you still feel love for me. I raised you, after all. I am your father. I’m the only man who understands what you need.”

Eliza cut him off, “I have a father! He might have been a shitty one and he was never there for me, but he had my best interest in mind, always. And you’re not him. You don’t have the heart to be a father, let alone love someone the way you claim to. This is not love, this is manipulation. I know who I am now and I won’t let you take that away from me again. I will no longer grant you that power.” 

“You say you have so much fire inside of you.” He opened his arms, shrugging. “Where is it, if you’re not scared?”

She clenched her fists. “I promised that I will end you once and for all, and I meant it.”

“You promised a lot of things. Right now, I think you’re just stalling. You can’t act without a clear order, so when I tell you not to kill you, I know for certain that you won’t.”

“Why?” she challenged.

“Because you like to please,” he stated. “Most importantly, you like to please me. You don’t want to disappoint me.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip. “You have a pair on you!” she said. “You think I’m still like that? That I’m still your prisoner, even after all these years?”

“Am I wrong? I hear you talking, but I don’t see you acting on any of your promises.”

He grew cockier by the second. The less she did, the more confidence he gained. She was only feeding into his ego.

Eliza wasn’t sure why she hadn’t jumped at him yet, why she returned to talking rather than following through with her plan. She had been so certain. Staring into his face though, she found herself back in a different world. She saw a different person. She saw the man who ruined her life while at the same time, she saw the man she owed her life to. It was twisted. She hated her mind for falling back into old patterns.

“You say you’ve become who you’re supposed to be. I say you’re wrong,” he said. “I think you’re scared of unfolding your true potential, still, so you blame me for everything that’s wrong with your life when in reality, it’s you who’s wrong.”

She rolled her eyes, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to hide her tears. They were a sign of weakness, proof that he was right and it would make his attitude only worse. 

“Look around you!” his voice bounced off the walls, hitting her right where it hurt. “Ever since you ran away in a pathetic attempt to redeem yourself, all that followed has been death and destruction. Every person who decides to get close to you gets hurt. And somehow that’s my fault?”

Her nails dug into her palms.

“You blame me because you can’t look the truth into its very honest eyes. You’re the problem! You always have been. It’s not me who has made you a monster or unlovable, you were just born that way. You always get just what you deserve, yet you’re never satisfied with the outcome, so instead, you blame those who only want to help you. While you’re so sad about the lives you’ve ruined, you forget that there is someone who would never judge you for who you are; me,” he said. 

“I’m the only one who can ever truly love you because I understand the kind of person you are. Whether you like it or not, we are the same. Your father brought you here because I’m the only one who can control the storm inside of you and give you the power your body craves. No one else can show you the kind of tough love that you need, the absolute devotion that you deserve. Respect and guide you all at the same time. I care about you enough to tell you the truth about who you are and not tell you silly little lies about the goodness of your heart. I think you know better than anyone that there is no such thing when it comes to you, and that hope is fragile and only hurts you when it turns out to be untrue. Emotions are a distraction, easily manipulated, and distractions will only keep you from rising to your true potential. Do you know who taught you that? That was me. I made you into something that’s supposed to understand the fragility of emotions better than anyone, so I thought you knew better than to let vengeance control you, blind you, and turn you into a shell of the woman you were before. Physically you might outmatch me, but your mind is holding you back. Your conscience is making you weak, little one, and it’s making me disappointed in you.”

His eyes spoke the same language as his words. The color darkened, glazed over with the sheen of disappointment. He looked her up and down as if she were worth far less than him. Her heart screamed. She hated that look. She needed him to stop looking at her like that. He made her weak in the knees, playing with the switch that would have her bowing at his feet in no time if he asked her to. 

Why did she think this was such a good idea? She couldn’t control herself around him. She turned into a robot waiting for its master to push the right buttons. When he visited her before, she thought she could do it. She thought she could face him and make him suffer for what he did to her. He deserved to burn for the hell he put her through. She knew all of that and yet, as she stood across from him, all she wanted was to fall to her knees and cry to him about how sorry she was. She wanted his respect, she wanted him to take care of her and give her the same kind of attention that used to sustain her. She wanted to feel important again, not empty and useless and with the world out of her control. 

The power she felt when killing the soldier who attacked her was all too familiar; scary but familiar, and the familiarity seemed more important than anything else at that moment. No one else truly understood her, he did. He didn’t run, he didn’t shy away, and he never tried to change her. He was only there to guide her the way. 

Perhaps he hadn’t been that bad, after all.

Eliza squeezed her eyes shut. No, this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to fold, he wanted her to run back into his arms so he could escape and fix whatever she broke to keep his empire strong and healthy. He wanted the world, knowing she could help him get what he wanted in a heartbeat, and once she came to him voluntarily, the upper hand would be his forever. Because if she joined him out of her own free will, she proved him right, and he could twist her mind to the point where all she would be was his slave. She would be his pet, his everything, and he would use her weaknesses to his advantage, the same way he would use her powers to destroy the world and make it seem like he did it all alone.

He would get his pleasure from her, would use her to get ahead of everyone and everything, and then he would only continue kicking her further into submission until Eliza was no longer there. She would only be the number eight, not a real person, merely a number on a list of hundreds.

He took everything. He took her childhood, her pride, and her girlhood. He took her innocence, he hurt her and he broke her down into tiny little pieces that weren’t glued together quite yet, but she wanted to try. She wanted to be whole again. If she fell for him, all of the fightings would have been for nothing.

Eliza gnawed on her tongue. She couldn’t listen to him. She couldn’t let him destroy everything Natasha helped her work toward. She wouldn’t let him take away her dignity, not anymore, not if it killed her.

As much as she craved to be his again, she realized that it was a twisted need he imprinted into her brain. She wanted to be submissive, to serve, simply because she grew up under his control. She learned how to fight back, she had to stick with that, not return to the helpless girl she used to be. She was better than that.

He was a dangerous man – many were like him, trying to take whatever they wanted however they wanted, with manipulation being their best skill. He wasn’t right with what he said. He was the monster, not her. 

She had to remember that. She had to stop doubting everything and remember the plan. Always remember the plan. She was strong enough to fight this. Just because her mind was fragile didn’t mean she had to endure his words as weapons. She could fight him. If killing him hadn’t been a clear option before, it sure as hell was now. 

Viktor began to walk around his half of the room, cane hitting the floor at a condescending pace. The grin sat firmly on his lips, sour and ready to poison her. He’d almost had her right there. 

“I just found a way to restrain you so you become more than the wreck your father left you to be,” he told her. He made it sound so easy, so real, so truthful. “I saved you, I made you something. Everything that’s happened in the past seven years was because of you, not me, but you alone. The things you ruined, you ruined with your own decisions. You just like putting on a mask and pretending nothing is your fault. Though who else would be at fault for your actions if not you? The past doesn’t exactly dictate your behavior. Not anymore, at least. Trauma doesn’t make you a terrible person. I didn’t have a hand in any of it, nor did Hydra. This is all on you.”

Eliza waited for her heartbeat to slow down. She couldn’t let him see her bleed.

“You are blessed with a curse that started the day you were born when your mother died because she chose your life over hers. Even her, you killed. I guess you were just born for the cause, that’s why we got along so well.”

Her teeth bared. “No,” she growled, “you don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to talk about my mother and blame me for what happened.” 

She unclenched her fists to reveal the crimson smoke dancing in her palms.

“You have no right to act as if you know me because you don’t. What you’re doing is gaslighting, and you’re right, my heart is far from good, but I’m only half the monster that you are, and that already makes me so much better than you because I actually care about people,” she said. “I refuse to let you manipulate me anymore. I’m done.” 

Her veins filled with newfound energy. 

“You don’t get to destroy who I am!”

Viktor sighed. “What are you doing?”

She raised her arms. “Making true to my promise.”

He launched at her, but the ball of red hit him in the chest before he could even reach her. He flew back. The walls around them crumbled. She took them apart inch by inch, leaving behind a crimson wasteland made out of sand and fire. 

He knelt before her, holding his aching stomach. His eyes were blown wide. She walked up to him dangerously slowly. 

“People always ask me what’s going on in my head,” she said. “I suppose this is not what you expected to see…”

“Please, you don’t want to do this,” he begged. He actually begged her.

“This?” Eliza looked around herself. “No, you’re right, I don’t want to do this. I could make you feel pain until your heart stops. I could throw you off a cliff that I made up or I could drown you in the sand. I could burn you alive. I could make you look your deepest, darkest fears into the eyes,” she grabbed him by the throat, pulling him up, and the world around them changed into the ruins of a burned-down building, “And then I’d sit back and watch while you die.”

He hit the ground with a huff. The sand burned under his fingers, back in the wasteland she created. He was sure, this had to be what hell was like. With every inch of fire, yet freezing at the same time. Time didn’t exist and there was no sunlight. 

“I could do this,” she said, and something strange wrapped its hands around his heart, squeezing the organ and draining it of all the blood it had to give. “Or I could do this.” Roots broke from the ground, tying around his limbs and his neck, hoisting him up to his knees. “But…” as fast as the world had changed, they returned to the bunker-like room. “I won’t.”

Viktor toppled over, too exhausted to hold himself upright any longer. 

“I won’t kill you,” she paused to catch the momentary hope in his eyes, only to crush it under her boot, “like this. I want to kill you with my bare hands. I want you to feel as humiliated as I did with your hands all over my body, and I want you to feel every last bit of my pain while I watch you die the slowest, most agonizing death I can think of. And then, when you’re dead, I will make sure everyone in the world knows about the horrible things you did to children in your precious little white room so no one will care about your existence ever again.”

Before he could ask what she meant by that, her fist collided with his jaw. He grunted. She didn’t hold back with her force. Over and over again, she planted her knuckles on his face, breaking the skin. She broke every last bone in his face and while he struggled, he gave up fighting after the third hit. His body was on fire. He was in so much pain, he wasn’t sure where his own started and hers ended. 

Blood coated her already bloody hands. Her boot collided with his ribs, breaking every single one of them. His leg cracked under the force of her stepping on it. He was only a mess of broken, mangled bones on the floor, blood pooling around him, and his kidneys actively bleeding into his stomach. She avoided his windpipe for now, not ready to watch him die just yet. Watching him cry, wheeze and writhe in pain was so much more satisfying. Feeling the fear radiating off of him, she swallowed it. She was so alive.

Every last thing he did to her, the things she could remember at least, and perhaps those she knew about subconsciously, she poured into her punches, and letting out all of her anger had never felt more satisfying, never better. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, even though she accounted herself the right to whatever it took to destroy him when all of this started. He deserved to die and she deserved the honor of doing it herself.

Right and wrong blurred together. None of it mattered as long as Hydra would be out of the picture when she was done.

I hate you. You ruined my life. I loathe you. 

She only realized she was screaming when she ran out of breath, her throat aching and her cheeks wet with tears. Her knuckles were bruised, the different blood types mixing. She could already feel a rash coming on. 

He inhaled sharply, his lungs close to collapsing. 

“What,” he choked out, “changed your mind?”

She growled, baring her teeth. Her fists rained down on his face once more. She cried out when her bones started to ache from the torture. The pain was oh-so-sweet. She deserved it the same way he did. She needed it, she needed the pain to be reminded that this was real, that this was truly happening. 

Watching the life slowly drain from his eyes had victory blooming in her chest.

The last hit, she directed toward his throat. Her elbow was in the air, fist pointing in his direction. She was ready. 

Someone grabbed her from behind. Too focused on the blood-thirsty haze that had her vision and mind clouded, she didn’t realize until the force pulled her back and into the air easily. She gasped, fighting against the hold. Part of her hoped it was Matt. She wanted him to stop her before she could drive herself deeper into the snow. 

The hand around her throat reminded her that it wasn’t Matt. She would have recognized his arms instantly and this wasn’t him. Eliza brought her head back, breaking the man’s nose. 

“You are a pain in my ass!” he said. 

She turned to look at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she retorted.

Ivan stood across from her, alive and well, not even a scar other than the one she left on his face, on his body. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

He shrugged. “Death is a social construct.”

“Ivan, get the hell out of-“

“Not when you’re trying to kill the man who gave you life,” he snapped.

“I won’t stop,” she said.

“I thought you were going to say that.” He sighed, slipping a knife from his sleeve. “That’s why I came prepared.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You seriously want to fight for him? The man treated you like a piece of meat!” 

“At least he loved me!” His voice echoed. “And he loved you too, but you have absolutely no respect for the people who raised you.” 

“Hydra didn’t raise me, you turned me into a murderer. Why would you protect him, Ivan? Are you really that deranged?”

“I’m not protecting or fighting for him,” he told her. “That man could not matter less to me. No, I’m doing this for Hydra. Now, you might have a perfect family to go back to, but I don’t, and I refuse to let your greedy ass take the one good thing in my life away from me. We’re stronger than you think.” He jabbed the knife at her. She dodged his attempt. “Just because you kill one of us doesn’t mean we will fall. Cut off one head, more shall grow in its place. That hasn’t changed.” 

She grabbed his wrist, twisting it until the knife fell out. He grunted. She expected him to punch her. The adrenaline was high, so she barely felt it. 

“If it weren’t for Hydra,” she panted, “you could have become a good person.”

Ivan chuckled darkly. “Then I’m glad Hydra took me. Hero’s are so boring.” 

“Oh, honestly, you know what?” She hit him, pushing him back until his back hit the wall, and then she punched him again, this time in the stomach. “Fuck you!”

He wheezed, “We used to be such a great team, what happened?” 

“We were never a team,” she bit back.

His push sent her flying across the room. He towered over her then, pointing his gun at her head. 

This wasn’t how she planned to die. 

“You and your father have been a pain in my ass for the last time, Alina.” 

She frowned. “My father?”

“Oh, and your superhero friends? Yeah, they’re all trapped outside now with over a dozen very dangerous, very mutated super soldiers waiting to get their first kill in.” 

“What-“

“I’d suggest helping them, but I don’t think you will be getting out of here alive anytime soon.”

The thought of her friends fighting for their lives was more important to her than the fact that her father was somehow brought into the mix. Ivan didn’t know what he was talking about. She didn’t care, it wasn’t part of the plan.

Eliza kicked at his wrist. The gun tumbled out of his grasp and onto the floor. She used the moment of surprise to jump back to her feet. He reached for her, but she ducked and just as he was about to retrieve another weapon, the full charge of her powers hit him. 

She grabbed his hair from where he lay, looking deep into his eyes. Breathing into his ear, she spoke again, “Don’t try to stop me again,” she said, “or I won’t hesitate to kill you and bury you side by side with daddy in your own backyard.” His skull collided with the steel, painting the world black and drowning him in unconsciousness. 

Time was short. She took his gun, ignoring the burning in her chest, the need to strangle him and watch as he struggled to breathe until death. Viktor peeked up at her through swollen eyes. He wheezed something inaudible.

The safety was off and her finger rested on the trigger. She only had to pull it. One more second and she would be free. He would die instantly. 

Then why was it that she couldn’t bring herself to follow through with it?

The gun shook in her hand. 

“If you do this, you’re no better than who they want you to be,” Matt said in the back of her head. “He doesn’t get to destroy who you are. This? This isn’t you. This would be destroying everything you worked so hard for. We both know you won’t be able to live with yourself if you do this.” 

Even as a hallucination he was right, and she hated that. 

“I already killed someone today,” she argued. “What would one more change?”

“You want to have more blood on your hands? He doesn’t deserve to die, Eliza, because death would be merciful. He should rot in jail, that’s what he deserves. You defended yourself against the first one. If you killed him, it would be out of spite and revenge, and you’d carry that guilt with you until the day you do. There’s more satisfaction in watching him suffer for what he did for years to come than killing him and offering him the chance to be laid to rest. He would not be held accountable for his actions, he would just be dead. That’s not what you want.”

She wiped the knowing laugh off of Viktor’s face by smashing the barrel into his head, probably leaving him with extensive brain damage. 

“Death would be too kind as a punishment for what you did,” she told him. “This isn’t self-defense, this is revenge, and revenge makes people sick.”

“And he doesn’t get to make you sick anymore.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t.” 

Killing him had been a foolish idea. She had to get out. 

Eliza turned back toward the security footage. Ivan was right, the perimeter was crowded with super soldiers. They looked just as dead as the one who attacked her.

An idea came to mind. Her eyes stayed glued on Matt’s figure in the blurry footage.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” she decided.

Screw the plan, she managed to dethrone Viktor and as soon as law enforcement had him, Hydra would still be gone. If she didn’t do something about her friends’ situation soon though, they would be history before they could even celebrate victory.  

Twenty minutes, as it turned out, weren’t a lot of time. Natasha realized that when she jumped the roof to get Steve out of his predicament. The second she stepped up on that pedestal, the first explosion hit. The second one caused the helipad to collapse, sending her and a very distraught Steve several feet to the ground. He shielded her fall, which at least kept her skull intact. Her pride, however, took a brutal hit. 

She was about to ask Matt how far he was when the next entrance exploded. He didn’t get very far either. “Are you guys okay?” he asked through the earpiece. His voice came labored. 

“I think I broke another rib,” Natasha groaned. 

“But other than that, we’re fine,” Steve said. 

“Matt, where are you?”

He grunted. “Trapped.” He sniffed the air. “Outside.”

They found him buried under debris and several super soldiers.

“You were supposed to stay away from the doors!” she lectured him once they helped him up. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly get the chance to explain it to these guys before they attacked me,” he said, patting the dust off his suit. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

Natasha checked for a pulse. She nodded. “Yeah, they are.”

“Fuck!” Matt kicked some of the debris aside. The entire wall had collapsed in itself, making it impossible to properly see inside. “We’re out. There is no way back inside. She’s… fuck! She can do whatever she wants now. We might as well have put the gun in her hand. All because I was pushed into the door. I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. It was almost as if… as if they knew what was gonna happen.”

“Maybe they did,” she said.

“Don’t make me think about it.”

On the other side of the complex, Clint pressed his finger into the earpiece. He long came down from his hideout on one of the viewing points. “What the hell just happened?” he asked. 

“We’re fine,” the three answered in unison. 

“Eliza?”

“Still inside,” Natasha told him. 

“Damn it! Well, we might have a bigger problem on our hands,” he said and looked at the crowd of what he could only call zombies heading toward him and Sam, who did him a favor and returned to a landing next to him. He counted the arrows he had left - five was nowhere near enough for the number of soldiers standing their ground. They were surrounded, the facility completely cut off. He had never seen so many different eye colors and skill palettes at once. 

Steve frowned. “Barton, what do you mean?” he checked in. 

“You should come see for yourself.”

“Yeah,” said Sam, “We could use some support here.”

The bushes behind the trio shuffled. Matt, slowly regaining his hearing, turned toward the sound that went unnoticed by his partners. “Heartbeats,” he said.

“Where?” Natasha looked around.

He pointed in the direction he first heard the shuffling, the faint footsteps followed by the faintest heartbeats. He could make out six pairs so far. Further away, there seemed to be even more on their way. The uneven beating of their hearts caused goosebumps to spread over his skin. He could feel the air shift, something changed in the atmosphere. 

Natasha and Steve couldn’t see anything in the darkness, nor could they hear the same signs Matt did, which put them at a disadvantage. The bushes shuffled again, stronger this time, not to be mistaken with the wind. They were far away from the cage that kept the perimeter safe from the outside world and the woods around them. The spotlights outshone the stars, rendering the sky completely black to the naked eye. 

She moved her finger to the earpiece first. “Clint,” she kept her voice low, “We might be facing a problem of our own.”

“Ah, great!” the Hawkeye huffed. “Just when I thought we finally had the upper hand.”

“Where are they coming from?” Sam said. “That’s not normal! Were they hiding in there all this time? And what the hell can they do, they’re just staring at us.”

“They’re waiting for instructions,” Matt murmured. 

“What?”

“Instructions,” louder this time. “They’re waiting on orders from somewhere, orders to kill us.”

“They’re the experiments,” said Natasha. “Listen,” she directed her words at the entire team this time, “We don’t know what we’re dealing with and we probably won’t figure it out in time to anticipate behavior.”

“So we react,” Steve told them. “We wait for them to do something and then we react in the hopes that none of us die. When we get a free window, one of us is going to find a way back in to find Eliza. Until then, we just have to get through this.”

Matt offered him one of his batons. He took it gladly, running a hand through his beard. He was positively exhausted, and the black eye he received during the fight on the roof pulsated heavily, the pain traveling up to his temple. 

Natasha rolled her shoulders back. “You heard the Captain.”

The bushes parted. “Now,” Matt said just before the creatures stepped out of the dark. 

She aimed the gun at the first girl - she couldn’t possibly call her a woman, she was sixteen, at best - targeting the top of her shoulder through the thick scope. Her finger ghosted over the trigger. Just as she was about to raise her metal arm, she pulled her finger back. The projectile traveled the distance, hitting her acquired target where she wanted to. The girl slouched forward at the force. 

She reloaded, repositioning. She hit the next target in the same spot. The zombie-like children on the field below her dropped like flies, the sharp projectiles sticking out of their bare shoulders. They wore the same white pants and tank-top combo that she had on, minus the stolen flannel. 

Eliza caught sight of Clint’s face through the scope, the red target floating over his nose. He froze, lowering the arrow in his bow. Another five went down around him shortly after one another. Sam halted his movements too, Redwing coming down to rest at his sides. She couldn’t hear them, but surprise was written all over their faces. The silencer made the shots inaudible to the human ear  - in their state of mind control, the dropping of bodies went unnoticed until only a handful of soldiers were left standing. The Avengers corned them in this time. 

She held her breath. Matt stepped into the line of fire, knocking his baton over the girl’s head that was in front of him. She pulled the trigger at the one next to her, then the next, and the two that were left, Natasha electrocuted with her bracelet. 

The five stood in the middle of the empty perimeter now, looking around themselves but finding none. Matt listened. He could hear her heartbeat, but he wasn’t sure where. It came from somewhere above. The more he listened, the closer she came. His own heart picked up at the prospect, drumming against his ribcage, and it threw his senses off for a second. It couldn’t be… her smell hit his nose next, slightly overshadowed by the tangy scent of blood, sweat, gun residue, and smoke. Still, her signature scent lingered on her salty skin. All of the stress from the past hours constricted his airflow. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry or yell at her. 

Her feet hit the ground softly. That was why her heartbeat had sounded so far up - she had hidden out on the roof, the vents being the only exit they didn’t consider. Landing gracefully, she looked up at her friends, still a good few feet away from her, but they could see her more clearly now, and the relief in their faces made tears sting in her eyes. 

Natasha breathed out. “Did we just win?” she whispered. 

Eliza pressed a hand against her side. Her ribs hurt, but nothing could overshadow the sudden feeling of hope that spread through her, making the pain a little more bearable. 

“I think so,” she said, approaching them. She kept her steps slow, careful not to cross any unnecessary boundaries. She wasn’t sure how they felt after everything if they even still wanted her back. 

“Those were some good fucking shots, kid,” Clint spoke up eventually, and he sounded not at all upset. It gave her the necessary push to come even closer, stepping into the limelight. 

Matt looked as if he was about to pass out. “You’re alive,” his voice pushed everyone else into the background. 

She nodded, her lip twitching into a smile. “I’m alive,” she breathed. 

He removed his mask by the horns. His brown eyes pointed aimlessly in her direction, and she just imagined them staring lovingly into hers as he finally wrapped her up in his arms. Everything would be okay, she realized. With him in front of her, she could believe again. He was so close, she could almost feel his warmth and his soft voice in her ear, whispering sweet nothings until she relaxed into him fully.

Neither of them dared to move closer. “I was so worried I was never going to see you again,” he said. 

“I know and I am so sorry.”

“Are you okay?” The mask fell to the grass. 

“I’m okay,” she said. 

“He didn’t hurt you or…”

“No, it’s, uh,” she shivered slightly at the present feeling of the dried blood on her skin, “It’s not mine.”

His face finally broke into a bright smile. “I thought I lost you.” His steps grew more determined to close even the last space between them. 

“Well, you haven’t.” She readied herself. 

Eliza believed it was Natasha who taught her to always cover all of her bases, make sure that her back would always be covered, and that she never left any weapons behind. It was Natasha who taught her how to be smart, not to underestimate her opponent, and not to cheer before the war was officially over. 

She made all the mistakes she was taught not to. She had hope - she had hoped for one second, but a second was all it took for her small moment of happiness to break like a glass. 

“May the legendary Red Angel please stand up!” he roared from behind. 

She twirled around, staring at the bloodied man stepping out of the ruins. 

“Oh, my…” she growled in the back of her throat, “Haven’t you had enough, Ivan?”

“So heroic,” he spat. “Always thinks she’s better than everyone. A round of applause for the traitor!”

“Come on! You’re too late. You lost. It’s over.”

“Maybe I have,” Ivan raised his gun, “But I won’t be going down alone.”

“Wait-”

“Hail Hydra!”

Dying doesn’t feel like flying. Everyone experiences death differently. For some who have come close to it, seeing the light is an overused metaphor. All they saw was a deep, dark void. Some say they saw a white light urging them to come closer, others might have seen a loved one who passed away, and there are even those who claim they’ve seen their life pass right before their eyes.

Not everyone can remember how it happened, what they saw, or what it felt like. Mostly, it’s a blur. Death comes in different shapes and sizes, and the process is an individual process that can not be reduced to one universal saying like ‘when you die, you will step into the light’. Also, heaven and hell are bullshit until you’re actually dead. No one knows what happens beyond that, but the afterlife doesn’t speak to you, at least not actively. 

She had stared into the face of death many times before. The number of near-death experiences she had had was sheer endless. She couldn’t remember just one during which she saw something other than darkness. She passed out, stared into the void, and then woke up eventually to the sound of hospital machines beeping. So naturally, she had never actively been on her deathbed either because every time she was fatally injured, she instantly went into a floating state.

She and Death were old friends. It would come knocking at her door every once in a while, she let it in only for it to leave soon enough again. Every time she almost died, she survived. It had become quite the routine. 

This time felt different though. This time, when the bullets entered her body, she remained numb. The first one stung, and the next she barely felt. She wasn’t sure if there was a third one. She could hear a faint shot in the distance, and then the world went quiet. 

Eliza lost control of her legs. She waited for the darkness to take over, but her eyes remained open. She didn’t pass out this time, she stayed awake, and as soon as her knees buckled, the fog that clouded her senses disappeared and she was hit with the full noise around her. Fire crackling, screaming, wheezing, and then two strong arms caught her as she fell, the pain still non-existent, and for a moment she believed the bullet hit so deep, she was fully paralyzed. More likely though, her body was protecting itself from the pain, mixing with the adrenaline to give her a softer send-off.

She would not make it out of this one, or else she would have already passed out. Her body was giving her time to adjust to the truth, to say goodbye, and then it was over. She was bleeding out, and not just externally. Every doctor would have told her the same thing – she was completely fucked, and she didn’t need to assess all of her possible injuries to know. With every second, breathing got just a little harder, and her heart did cartwheels against her chest cavity. 

Eliza instinctively clawed at the fabric of his suit. Her eyes searched for him, taking embarrassingly slow to do so. The sight broke her already bleeding heart. 

“No, no, no, no,” he chanted. 

His hand pushed down on the holes in her chest. Where had his gloves gone? The pressure made her hyper-aware of the state she was in, causing her to suck in an even deeper breath. She smelled the copper, the smoke, and the faintest hint of salt in the air. 

Matt felt her blood between his fingers, hot and sticky, and the flow just wouldn’t stop. He’d been so close to touching her again. If he had done so sooner, maybe he could have seen Ivan coming, maybe he could have jumped in front of her instead, but he let his emotions distract him. He shot her three times and even then he only stopped because Natasha put a bullet between his eyes. He couldn’t do anything but catch her, his mind went blank. 

The sounds her body made were anything but healthy. He could tell her lung was collapsing, she bled into her chest cavity and at least one kidney was completely screwed up. And the blood… God, the blood. There was so much of it, too much, and it just wouldn’t stop. His hands were coated after only a few seconds, her pulse thudding underneath his fingers. It got faster, way too fast, only for it to fade again.

He felt her looking up at him. He smiled, he tried to, but the tears betrayed him. 

“Hey,” he said, “You’re okay.” His other hand went to hold her cheek, leaving a trail of blood in the wake of his fingers. 

She shuddered. “Matt-“

“Shh, I’m here. You’re okay.”

“We both know that’s not true,” her voice was shaky and thin, something it never was, not even when she was anxious.

He put more pressure on his hand. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? We can fix this. We always do. You and me against the world, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault.”

“It is though. I’m so sorry for leaving you, for leaving a letter like a coward instead of telling you the truth, without saying goodbye, I… I was scared and part of me was angry at you for the nice things you said ‘cause I can’t deal with nice. I had this plan,” she stopped to wheeze, “I had this plan, I wanted to stop Hydra and kill Volkov, and then you’d be safe. I didn’t care what happened to me. I just wanted you to be… to be safe.” The words came more labored now. The oxygen burned in her lungs. “I never wanted you to get hurt by my words, let alone my actions, so I ran. That’s all I know how to do. I can’t… I don’t know what else to do.”

Matt nodded. He allowed the tears to flow freely now. All he could do was hold her, apply pressure to the wound and pray to god that she was going to be okay. Hope was fleeting with every second, but he had to be listening. He had to save her. It wasn’t time yet. She was too young, she had so much left to do. They needed time to figure this out. And she deserved to be happy, to move on. She wasn’t supposed to die so soon. 

“I’m so sorry, Matt. I fucked up. This is all my fault. I did this. I… I should have talked to you. I should have been honest with you. I promised not to push you away and I did, and I… I planned for this to go differently, you have to believe me. Things went wrong because I didn’t calculate what Hydra was truly capable of, I was just so blinded by rage and vengeance I didn’t think, and I’m so sorry.”

He stroked her cheek. “It’s okay,” he said. He told her what she wanted to hear, needed to hear, in case this might be the last time. “I forgive you, sweetheart. None of it matters now, all that matters is that you’re gonna be okay. Just focus on your breathing, focus on me.” 

Shivers tore through her body. She choked at her tears. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to do this. 

“I can’t,” she choked out.

“Hey, no! No, you stay with me, alright? This isn’t over.”

“Matt…”

“Stop! You’re not saying goodbye. I’m sorry for pushing you the way I did, and I’m sorry for lashing out. I think part of me pushed you away, too, and I realize now that it was all just a little too much for you. I didn’t mean it. You are the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. I should have shown you that I was there for you, that I wouldn’t judge you for what you were planning to do. If anything, it’s my fault. You needed me and I… I was too caught up in my own feelings to realize you were starting to feel alone. You’re not alone, you never were. God, I’m so sorry…” 

She shook her head. “Please, Matt, don’t make this any harder on yourself.” Her hand found his face and he nuzzled into her touch almost instantly. The low temperature of her skin caused a tiny sob to escape his lips. “It’s okay,” she breathed. 

“No, none of this is okay,” he said. “I should have heard him coming. I was supposed to protect you.“

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

“Look at you, comforting me.” He chuckled. 

Her eyelids fluttered. 

“No! Sweetie, stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.” 

She was so tired, still, she forced her eyes to open again.

He smiled down at her. “There you go. Hey,” once again, he rubbed her cheek. “You gotta hold on just a little bit longer. Remember how you promised me you wouldn’t die on me? Yeah, you have to keep that promise.”

“Matthew,” she said his name, and he knew what she was about to say had to be serious. She only said his name when she really wanted him to listen, not that he ever did anything else. She needed to brand her words into his brain. “We both know I’m not going to make it out of this,” she said. 

Matt shook his head. “No.”

“I won’t make it.”

“That’s not true. I’ll get you out here, get you fixed up and you’ll be okay. You have to be, sweetheart, that’s the deal.”

Stage one, denial, and she wasn’t even dead yet.

“Matt, please. I need you to promise me something.”

“No, this is not goodbye,” he insisted. “I refuse to let you say goodbye.”

“Promise me you won’t blame yourself,” she said. “Promise me you will move on. Promise me you will try, okay? Promise me you will find someone to grow old with. I need to know you’re going to be okay.” She nodded her head, using all her strength to run her hand through his ruffled locks. “Promise me, Matthew!”

He sobbed, “I promise.” 

He could never be happy with anyone else the way he was with her. 

“But you’re not going to die.” There it was again, the endless hope, the devoted catholic. 

She smiled. “That’s what makes you so remarkable. You always see the good in everything, even when you can hear and feel all that is wrong with the world. Can you feel my heartbeat right now?” she asked.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Memorize it.”

“I already have. I did from the start. It’s a sound that never grows old.”

“Good. I don’t want you to forget that I did care about you. I cherish you. You are so good, Matthew, and you deserve to be happy. You deserve to live a full life without pain.”

“Eliza, please, stop.” And he only used her name when he was truly upset. 

She sucked in another sharp breath. Bad idea. Her chest heaved as she coughed, the taste of her blood spreading around her mouth. It was everywhere, closing her esophagus. She lurched forward, spitting the blood onto the grass. He held her hair back. 

This was it. Her eyes grew heavy once again. Her mind was lulled into a comfortable fog where nothing seemed to exist. She could no longer hear the noise, only his heartbeat, and feel the hand on her cheek.

His eyebrows furrowed, lips tilted downward. 

“I’m not in pain,” she told him. “It’s okay. To be loved by you,” her breathing shuddered, slowing by the second, “was the greatest gift this life could have given me.”

Matt leaned his forehead against hers. “Please,” he begged. 

She coughed again. “You can let me go.”

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t.” 

“Matt, I’m dying.”

“No, not on my watch. I won’t let that happen.”

Her voice dropped, eyes demanding. “Let me go,” she whispered. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I can’t lose you,” he cried quietly into her hair. 

On the next breath, she choked. 

“Please, don’t leave me. I can’t do this alone. Sweetheart, please.” 

Her eyes closed, but didn’t reopen to blink. He shook her, but she didn’t respond. Her heart was still beating, faintly but it was there. He held onto that as he kissed her icy forehead. 

“I love you,” he told her, hoping she heard. “That’s why you need to hold on, you hear me? I love you so much…”

The following events passed by in slow-motion. He could hear the whirring of chopper blades in the distance. Boots hit the ground. Orders were yelled. 

Natasha knelt next to him, touching his shoulder while cradling her lifeless head in her hands at the same time. She had unshed tears in her eyes, but not all hope was lost. She told him that.

Matt looked up in a panic at the footsteps. 

“They’re the good guys,” she assured him. “They’re SHIELD. It’s okay. We only have a short time window. We need to get her out of here before it’s too late.”

“We’re too far from the nearest hospital,” he whispered. She wasn’t going to make it this far. 

“I know a place. I’m not losing her. She’s supposed to outlive me, not the other way around, so you just have to trust me.”

He hesitated, though when he listened to her fading heartbeat, he decided that he had to try everything he could to save her. She had to come back to him. So, he gave in. 

Natasha nodded to Clint. He snapped his finger, uttering an order to Sam. He took off.

“We need to get her into the car,” he said to Matt.

As Steve was about to take her from him, he slapped his hand away. He hooked his arm underneath her legs, the other supporting her back. He hoisted her up. 

“Show me where,” he said.

“This way!” Natasha waved, knowing he could very well sense the motion. 

He had never run this fast before in his life. 

In the backseat of the Rangerover, he held her in his lap once again. She shivered and there was nothing he could do about it but to listen to her suffer quietly. It was torture of the highest order.

“Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, As it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive them that trespass against us.

He wasn’t sure what else to do but to pray. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers together, and he bowed over their joined fingers, closing his eyes. 

“And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil.”

She stirred. “I’m so cold,” she didn’t say it consciously. 

Matt held onto her tighter, trying to supply more warmth. She was bleeding out, there wasn’t much he could do. Not even a blanket would have helped, only delayed the inevitable. He wanted her to be comfortable but at the same time, allowing her comfort would have been succumbing to the reality that maybe, she was dying. Maybe he would lose her and their last proper conversation would have been a fight. He apologized, but there was so much more making-up left to do. He wanted more time with her, he wanted to show her how much she meant to him. He needed more time. 

His lips pressed against her forehead, now hot and coated in sweat. “I know, sweetie,” he said, “but you gotta hold on, okay? We’re almost there.”

“So cold,” she breathed again. Her lip quivered as another wave of shakes riddled her body. “Hold me?”

He was startled at the question.

“Please,” her voice cracked.

He pulled her into his chest. Her chest heaved, if it was from her ragged breathing or a choked-up sob, he couldn’t tell. He was too focused on her fading heartbeat. 

“I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Thud, thud thud, thud. Thud. Thud…

Matt gasped, “No.”

He touched her wrist, but nothing. He placed two fingers against her throat, but nothing again. He didn’t trust his hearing this time, perhaps her heartbeat was just too weak for him to hear, but that was possible. Her breath no longer fanned his face and she turned even colder, going limp in his arms. He shook his head, this couldn’t be happening.

“No!” he said, louder this time.

Natasha turned around from her place in the passenger seat. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Her heart…” he felt nothing. His body sunk to the bottom of the ocean with stones attached to his ankles, the water filling his lungs. He couldn’t even breathe. “She’s not breathing. She’s not…”

“Oh, my God!” 

Steve hit the gas. 

“C’mon,” Matt did the most conscious thing and brought his fist down on her chest. 

Nothing happened. She had lost so much blood, his suit was soaked, and her heart simply couldn’t pump anymore. 

“Stay with me, sweetie, you gotta stay with me.”

The car drifted as it came to a halt. He kept chanting the Lord’s Prayer over her limp body, crying out for his help, crying for him to bring her back. He wasn’t supposed to take her just yet. It was far too soon for her to leave. God didn’t deserve her, she still had a whole life ahead of her. Matt, he’d been through enough. It should have been him, he thought. He deserved it more than she did. She hadn’t even lived for herself enough to die so soon. 

Her body was soundless and cold. He wasn’t used to her being like this. The familiar tune of her heart was gone, he couldn’t even count the number of breaths she took in a minute or concentrate on the way her body felt next to his as she was cold but never too cold for him. He could no longer feel a pulse, even with his hand around her throat, trying to find any sign of life. 

As her heart stopped, so did his. 

“No,” he growled. “You don’t get to do this. Not today. God can’t have you yet.” He tilted his head back, eyes directed toward the sky. “You hear that, you greedy son of a bitch? You’re not taking her. This is not your decision to make. You can’t just rip the life from her. I refuse to let you do that. You’re supposed to be good a-and merciful, so don’t you fucking dare, you hear me? Not today.”

The car doors opened. Steve tugged at him from behind, but he refused to let her go. In the distance, he heard the squeaky sound of small wheels scraping against the asphalt. Natasha screamed something at him, but there was cotton in his ears. He couldn’t hear them, he couldn’t hear anything but the air whooshing by them. 

He prayed as he lifted her out of the Rangerover, carrying her as if he could see where he was going. There was still hope. There had to be. 

He placed her down on what he believed to be a gurney because he was told to. All the while his hand stayed in hers, holding onto her. 

They wheeled her into a building and he followed, not once easing his hold. Though when they reached a set of automatic doors, he was torn away. He fought back with all his might, but the person behind him was much stronger.

“Let me go!” he grunted. 

“You can’t help her,” it was Steve, “They can. They’re going to do everything they can to bring her back, I promise. You just have to let them do their jobs.” 

“She doesn’t want to be alone!”

“She’s not alone.”

“I’m not letting her die… I have to be with her.”

“You can’t do anything, Matt. You’d only make things worse.”

“But… I… Oh, God. I can’t breathe, I can’t…”

Matt went limp in his arms, falling to the floor. The gates to hell opened. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, the excruciating pain in his soul that reached his heart. With every beat, his chest constricted and he felt like suffocating. He clawed at his suit.

Steve went down with him, his arms around the writhing man’s shoulders until he stiffened, and he let out a scream that echoed through the walls of what he suspected to be a hospital. The scream subsided into sobs, tears streaming down her face, and he could no longer keep composure.

She was gone, carted away somewhere he couldn’t hear or feel her, and he was left alone pondering whether she was going to make it out alive or not. God didn’t listen, he never did. He prayed and prayed and prayed and in the end, it would never be enough. It was as if Matt didn’t deserve the lord’s guidance, as if his word meant nothing to him. 

Steve held him as he cried. The man clawed at his arms, desperate for comfort while at the same time, in pain from how close he was. He wasn’t going anywhere. He persisted, knowing the pain he was in all too well. Perhaps that was why his defenses crumbled and silent tears started to stream down his face. 

Natasha slid down the wall opposite them. Her wide eyes were fixated on an empty spot on the ground. She couldn’t breathe. The world didn’t seem real. Everything went by in a blur. She wasn’t sure what was real and what was a bad dream anymore. Surely she would wake up in a cold sweat soon, somewhere in a safe house in Belgium, and Eliza would be fine right in New York. Hydra wouldn’t exist and the world would still be intact.

She opened parts of her zipper before she burst out crying. It was an ugly cry, one that tore her chest apart from the inside and caused her head to explode. She pulled her knees up to her chest, shielding her from the curious and pitiful eyes of the people around her. She had tried to stay strong, for her sake and Matt’s. She tried to stay strong because that’s what sisters do for each other. She tried to remain her hope intact – Eliza was the strongest person she knew, she couldn’t just die. But she did exactly that. In front of her eyes, all life left her body. A corpse. Dead. Her hope died the second her heart stopped. 

The doctors could try to revive her, operate to the point where all of her organs were gone, and she still wouldn’t make it. She knew she wouldn’t. This was final, and admitting that to herself hurt even more. 

Clint came sprinting around the corner, Sam in tow. As soon as he saw the sight in front of him, he threw his hands up, tangling them in his hair. 

“No,” he whispered. “No, this can’t be happening. We got here on time. We… no! Nat, please tell me she isn’t… Please! Steve, Matt, anyone. Tell me this is not happening right now. Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

Natasha reached out for him, sobbing so hard the words wouldn’t even come out. He fell to his knees before her, taking the shaking woman into his arms. 

“She isn’t dead. She can’t be dead. She’s not supposed to die, not before us. She’s fucking twenty-three years old… this is too soon. Please, tell me I’m wrong. Talk to me!” He shook her by the shoulders, but she only sobbed harder in his arms.

Clint caved, cradling her head and holding his best friend against him. He couldn’t cry, he was numb. He still couldn’t believe it, and he refused to until someone actually said the words into his face.

I’m so sorry for your loss.

Denial is a strong emotion, that’s why it is included in the five stages of grief and often the strongest. The world doesn’t seem real when you lose someone and it’s easy to pretend they never died in the first place. It protects your heart and your soul from the crushing weight of loss.

And denial was exactly what they found themselves in, their only hope hanging on my a thread thinner than a piece of paper.

“I should get you guys some tea or somethin’,” Sam murmured. He wasn’t sure how to react. To serve was the only way he knew how to deal with the oncoming feeling of despair. 

One of them had to be strong. One of them had to catch the others. He couldn’t lie down and cry when everyone around him was already falling apart. They had the right to, and he had to make sure they were okay. 

Eliza would have wanted him to do so, and he wanted to honor her wishes. If she died, he had to make sure she lived on. Someone had to do it.

Someone had to face the truth, the inevitable, and though Sam hated the position it put him in, but falling apart had never been an option for him, not once in his life.

“Sam,” Steve called after him.

He stopped.

“Don’t leave, not yet.”

Sam swallowed, but nodded nonetheless. He walked over to one of the plastic chairs, lowering himself down on it. He felt suffocated by all the pain in the air. He had lost friends before, but the sight before him was truly the most heartbreaking by far. It crushed his soul even though he and Eliza barely knew each other.

A hand found his knee. Steve held onto him while he held Matt, barely holding on himself. It was the same for him – breaking wasn’t an option.

If Eliza had been there, she would have been more than crushed to see what her death would cause. And she would never forgive herself for that.

[majesticwren]

The Hanging Tree (Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley x OFC)

Summary: Are you, are you comin' to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say, who murdered three — She is on a path looking for war as her fate foretold. And he has war within him. Both, thirsty for vengeance, justice and blood.

Words: 3.9k. Trigger Warnings:  Mention of Past Trauma, Mention of PTSD, Mention of Nightmares, Mention of Toxic Working Out as a Coping Mechanism, Mention of Injuries, Mention of Paganism, Strong Language and Verbal Abuse, Deano being Deano. Tags: @hirunoka and honorary mention to @literaryuppsala, thank you darling for all the support 💕 Let me know if you'd like to be added 🌻

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Chapter 2 - Goner.

She sat alone at one of the hotel restaurant tables. Her focus was lifted from her breakfast, as she looked outside the huge opened windows, over to the beautiful gardens underneath.

One of the perks of always getting up early was to get the best seats.

Summer was approaching. It didn't matter much though, since they would travel more often than not. But she did enjoy the brighter mornings and the soft breeze kissing her skin.

Valkyrie had a huge plate of fresh fruit in front of her and a bowl of oatmeal to the side. She had already dug through half of her food, enjoying feeling it filling her senses and stomach, giving her strength, but, as with everything since the night before, her focus was elsewhere, often broken and easily distracted.

She sat there looking peaceful, ignoring the room slowly filling up with other people joining her for breakfast, ignoring her duties and definitely delaying her practice and training schedule. Letting her thoughts run freely, making her float above a real sense of time and space, was much sweeter.

And every single one of her thoughts was focused on the man she met last night, Dean Ambrose.

The Gods had sent her in his aid as she had often found herself doing with so many other warriors, both there and through her past life. It was her fate and her nature, Valkyrie never thought too much of it, because her true calling came to her as naturally as breathing. It was so rare someone would impress her that much.

He had shaken her deeply, possibly without either of them realising it, and as soon as he left her alone, she felt the air suddenly tight around her. It was a weird feeling of longing. And soon melancholy clutched around her chest, leaving her feeling unbearably cold and missing something. Except she wasn’t allowed to feel something so intimate, private, and vulnerable like missing someone. Missing a man. So mundane. So out of her character. So inappropriate.

How could humans conduct their lives normally with such feelings?

But the reality was that she hadn’t been able to think about anything else but that strange, wild, beautiful man. And, even worse was that she didn’t even try to push those thoughts away. She couldn’t recognise the warm, fuzzy part of her soul that decided to embrace such feelings. But she wasn’t fighting it either.

From a certain point of view, it was a welcomed change. She was even grateful. For the first time in a long while, she actually managed to enjoy her time alone. Often, when the curtains fell and she found herself in an empty, impersonal room, knowing no one was around, made her feel scared of every dark corner and closed door.

Her problem wasn’t loneliness. She liked being alone. And her Gods were always with her. No. That wasn’t even close to her problem. It was that fear always followed every end of her day, clutching her heart every second, making it impossible to fall asleep comfortably or feel any other emotion or need. Sometimes her fear was so deep and dark it render her petrified as ghostly, filthy hands tried to grab her to drag her down into memories made of unspeakable evil that still, to this day, scarred her skin in several places.

She was indeed a warrior and she was sworn to avenge all the time she had lost and all the blood she had spilt by the hand of a hideous man. But even someone as strong and as relentless as her was often the victim of nightmares. And her nightmare in that forsaken place was a man that went by the name of Bray Wyatt.

With petrifying fear, anger often followed. And her anger was often consuming and impossible to control. But also, too great to be handled by her mortal body. It made her do uncontrollable things she hated, such as breaking things or punching walls, when her only desire was to destroy that man and wipe the world clean of his memory. Sometimes, her only way to find relief was to head to the gym and work out every thought and emotion to the point of exhaustion. Until only physical pain was left inside of her. Until she was so tired to collapse into a disturbed sleep. 

Not last night though. No. Last night, she was free.

She was tired when she fell asleep, with a warm feeling of satisfaction filling her belly. And she dreamed peacefully. And that morning, she woke up rested for the first time in months.

Being aware of what Dean Ambrose unknowingly gave her made it even more difficult to stay away. And knowing his wishes, but most importantly knowing she had enough honour to respect them, made her heartache.

She took a deep breath as the clear memory of Dean’s voice calling her angel made her tremble so deeply, she had to change position. It was as if her skin was suddenly exposed and extremely sensitive and that memory could brush over her, making her jerk. Though her lips bent under an unconscious smile and her stomach vibrated.

The moment she was having, lost in her own thoughts, was suddenly shattered as her chair was rudely pulled. She was turned around by strong, uninvited, unexpected hands, and when her eyes could finally focus, her face bent in an unimpressed pout.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Randy Orton stood proudly in front of her, before rudely grabbing one of the chairs around her table just to place it in front of her, so he could hop over it, sitting as close to her as possible. He wasn’t even trying to appear friendly. His face was constricted in an extremely annoyed expression as his gaze pinned her down dangerously.

She knew lots of men like him. Guys who liked to appear intimidatory, who liked to be scary, and especially, guys who hated having their paths crossed. But he was nothing scary to her. He was only another someone she had defeated advocating for someone who couldn’t. And like last night on ring, still now she wasn’t bothered by him. If not for his rude manner.

“My manager advised me not to do this.”

“Smart manager.” She dared to say, sending him a clear challenging look. And, Gods, how much she liked to see him flinch. He was so tensed up it was clear as day he was ready to jump her. And part of her almost hoped for it, she was ready to give him seconds.

“You think you are so great and smart, uh?” He hissed, shaking his head. “Behold, the mighty Valkyrie!” He pulled a theatrical gesture and as he raised his voice like he was pretending to introduce her to an invisible crowd, his annoyed tone was what attracted a lot of attention on them from the rest of the room. “You had no business interrupting my match last night. And you owe me a win.”

“I do not owe you anything. You fought dirty. Accept the consequences.” That being said, she was ready to leave but before she could even consider starting to walk away, he was on her. Randy grabbed her arm and gave her a strong pull, keeping her there.

“Bitch,” it appeared as if he said it only for the sake of it, “you should consider staying out of men’s business. Why don’t you return to whichever hole you rolled out of?”

“You are hurting me.” She pointed out not giving him the satisfaction to appearing particularly shaken by his words.

“The fuck I care. Next time you’ll cross me I won’t be as gentle.”

“Is that what you’ve been saying to yourself to justify your inferiority?” She knew she shouldn’t have said that. She knew she should have just bit her tongue. She knew better than just rattle an angry man. And yet, she couldn’t control herself or her anger.

He did call her a bitch, after all.

His expression trembled and his clutch over her arm became harder, to the point she started to fear he was trying to snap her bone. “Fucking cunt. You need to learn to shut your stupid mouth. Maybe I should teach you that-”

“Let her go.” Before he could spit more empty threats or she could hiss some more arrogant words that would only anger him more, a deep, unmoving voice interrupted them.

Randy grunted angrily as he raised his eyes towards the new threat. She couldn’t see the man who spoke, he stood behind her, and she didn’t recognise his voice, but by Randy’s reaction, he must have been imposing.

Randy’s attention slid back to her as he gave her a strong shake. “You’ve got guard dogs now!?”

She didn’t have time to respond that someone spoke for her.

“Do as he said or I swear to god I’ll tear you into pieces, Orton.”

She gasped loudly as soon as she heard those words. That voice and that tone, she recognised immediately. Her stomach trembled in response.

“You do not have the balls for it.”

“Fucking try me, asshole.”

Behind her there was movement.

Randy exploded in a fake, sarcastic burst of laughter and, still holding onto her arm, he pushed her to turn toward the two men standing by, so she could face them. “Fuck me. Are you her little puppy now, Ambrose?”

Dean had moved closer; his face was still bruised. Possibly worse than last night, but his healthy eye was giving off a dangerous, totally unstable look. Though, he was restrained by the man next to him, who had an arm pulled over his chest. The other man was taller and bigger. He had tattoos crossing his massive arms and shoulders. His black hair was pulled in a bun. And his handsome face was crossed by unmovable seriousness.

Roman Reigns. Of course, who else could stand by the Lunatic Fringe?

“Orton, I gave you a warning. Let’s not make a scene.” Roman's tone was deep, calm, and somehow soothing. Though, the thin threat hiding between his words was as clear as day.

Valkyrie now reacted, she turned towards Randy, pushing him off her. She didn’t want anybody to get into a fight. Not there. Not for no reason. “Just get out of here.” She warned him even if he didn’t appear too impressed. His hold on her arm was still firm and painful.

Randy took a step back but still pointed a finger to her face. “You better start watching your back, bitch.”

She didn’t think much of his words. Empty threats of a man with a wounded pride, she thought. And she was ready to just let him go, not to think about him ever again. That’s how unbothered she was by him. But she wasn’t the only witness to those words. And as soon as he disrespected her again, Dean snapped. He slipped away from Roman’s reach and was ready to charge and tackle Randy to the ground. Many, around the restaurant, gasped in anticipation of a fight.

That, if Valkyrie hadn’t intercepted him before he could initiate something they all would have to be sorry for later. She stepped into Dean’s way, taking only a fraction of a second to calculate the risk and deciding to ignore the fact that he could have hurt her too if he wanted if he had been capable if he was as unstable as everyone seemed to think. She didn’t care.

“Dean, no.” her tone was gentle as she arrested his charge, not hesitating to press her hands into his chest, “please.” Her beg seemed to make something inside of him click. He didn’t shove her to the side, but accepted her imposition, even if he was ready for a fight, dangerously close to kick-off. His breath was laboured and his muscles tense. He clenched his fists so hard she suspected the healing wounded skin on his knuckles must have cracked. He never lifted his crazed look from Randy.

And the longer he looked, the worse he appeared to be. Like a caged bloodhound desperate to go on a hunt.

The second she heard Randy mockingly laugh at him; she wrapped her hands around the sides of his face. “Look at me,” her hold was gentle but firm as she tried to pull his attention away from the man standing behind her, “Dean, look at me. It’s ok. I’m ok.”

Roman moved quickly around them and posed himself between them and Randy, not so gently inviting him to leave but still trying to diffuse the situation.

Valkyrie's attention was solely on Ambrose though. As soon as their eyes locked, she didn’t let his gaze go. It felt as if he was grasping on her to escape his own fury. He was showing her a vulnerable side of himself. It lasted only a second, but it felt like much, much longer. She dared to gently caress his cheeks with a brush of her thumbs, as her fingers slid through his sideburns and hair, encouraging him with a nod. “It isn’t worth it. I’m ok.” Her begging was becoming soothing chants at that point.

As she looked right at him, right into him, part of her was transported away by the thought of how beautiful he was, with his proud bruises and wild spirit. She really wished she wasn’t so weak, but there was something in the way the light hit his messy hair, making them appear fiery. So fitting. And surely there was something in the way he stood, tall and dignified, so noble, so strong. There was something even in the little distance that divided them, as inebriating as the thought of the possibility of all the things she felt the sudden need to fill it up with. And Gods, his crazed look-

She pushed all of those inappropriate thoughts away and started mimicking taking deep breaths, only so he could follow her queue and, possibly, find a way to sedate his desperate need for violence and destruction.

Then, as soon as he appeared more in control, he broke their moment. Wrapping his hands around her arms he pulled her hold off himself, immediately finding some distance from her, looking away.

She had to fight against the need to follow him.

Roman immediately slid by his side, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder. “All good, brother?”

“Good.” He mumbled, not looking anyone directly in the eye.

Roman seemed to be acquainted with his behaviour enough to simply give him another affectionate pat on the back of the neck. She wished her concern could be so easily lifted.

“Ok. He is gone.” As Roman informed Dean, his gaze travelled to Valkyrie. His attention was, now, slightly more focused. He offered her a grateful nod, but he was undeniably studying her. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or cautious.

Trying her best to ignore him, Valkyrie inhaled a deep breath, looking away.

The room all around them was filled with a small crowd, but by then everyone’s attention was back on their breakfast, as the chattering grew back to a normal level for a restaurant.

“Thank you.” She finally said, looking back towards the two men. Her attention immediately slid on Ambrose before she could think anything of it. He still seemed pretty shaken. He stood rigidly, fists clenched, hunched shoulders and neck, tense muscles and distant gaze as he did his best to avoid looking at anyone, especially her.

“No problem.” Roman politely replied, although they both knew he wasn’t the one she was hoping to talk to, clearly, since she was still hanging looking at Dean.

He flinched. A twitch shook his shoulder, causing him to roll his neck. An annoyed grin pulled his lips. “No. Fuck that,” he first looked at Roman, before finally directing his attention to her, “I do have a problem. Can you try and stay out of trouble for longer than a minute?”

There it was, the sudden flattering that made her stomach tremble at the quick thought that he could be worried for her.

"I-"

"No. Shut it. I won't look after you. I’m not a babysitter.”

“I didn’t ask you to be.”

“Funny that. Annoying, isn’t it?” He wondered taking a step closer. He was acting slightly over the top, but she didn’t back off. She wasn’t afraid of him.

“I was handling it. I am completely able to-”

He pointed a finger to his own chest. “I can take care of myself too, angel. Guess we don’t always get what we want, uh?”

Valkyrie rolled her eyes to the ceiling, wondering how many times they must have the same conversation. “You were incapacitated, choking on your own blood. Did you see yourself in the mirror?”

He rolled his eye to the ceiling too, clearly biting his tongue and doing his best to keep a safe distance. “Our debt is repaid.”

“That is not how it works.” She pointed out crossing her arms to her chest.

By that point, Dean was already walking away. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Valkyrie grumbled, biting her tongue and clenching her fists. He was annoying. So stubborn and proud. Though, probably worse of all, more frustrating than his behaviour, was the fact that she still cared enough to feel both disappointed by his last words and flattered by the fact that he still intervened.

That man was driving her insane and they hadn't known each other for even a day yet.

She turned on her feet, not having the heart to watch Dean just walk out of the restaurant without looking back even once. Just then she realised Roman was still looking at her. His arms were crossed to his chest as he was now relaxed, leaning on the table. His features had softened as a smile popped on his lips.

Suddenly feeling awkward, she looked away, clearing her voice.

“Thank you for what you did for him last night,” Roman’s words and his soft tone surprised her enough to bring her to look back at him, “we generally watch each other’s back, but last night I was incapacitated off the Arena. And Randy knew about it, which is the main reason he thought he could jump Dean without consequences.”

“That is cruel.” She came from a cruel and cold ancient world. The rules of her Gods weren’t always gentle, but self-worth in one’s accomplishments and morals were the higher values of her people. And it was a very rare finding in that age and place. She brought a hand to her chest, realising that every second longer she only slipped into caring for that crazy man more and more. And as that grew, she felt the need to break every bone in Orton’s body. Winning over him last night wasn’t remotely enough.

“It is,” Roman agreed, “and it’s cowardly. But I’ve heard you made him pay.”

Valkyrie nodded. “I am the consequences.” A cocky smirk appeared on her lips, and she didn’t feel sorry for it. “It is what I do.” She briefly explained as Roman seemed interested to listen. “Though, he doesn’t seem to be as appreciative.” They both knew who he was.

Roman’s eyes lifted over to the point where Dean disappeared. A soft sigh left his chest. “He is. He is just a really proud really prickly motherfucker. And he doesn’t trust anyone.”

A giggle escaped her chest as she nodded. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She took a brief pause and hesitated a second before words slipped through her lips. “What is his story?”

“Oh-” Roman shook his head trying to gather his thoughts, “why do you care?”

“I just do.” She tried her best to make it sound plain and irrelevant, but her words still attracted Roman’s sharp gaze. Now, he looked up and down at her. He wasn’t diffident, more like surprised.

“Well, fuck me,” he heavily fell on the chair, behaving as if he owned the table, he looked like he was just struck by an enlightening thought, “don’t tell me you care, care for him.” Valkyrie felt under the spotlight. She fidgeted, trying to find an answer that wasn’t the truth, but not a lie either. Though she didn’t even need to speak, Roman was already laughing. “Sweetheart, are you aware of the man you’re dealing with?”

“He got described to me as bat shit crazy.” She decided to finally sit back down, in front of Roman.

“Suitable,” Roman studied her, “and you don’t care.”

It took her a second before she shook her head. “I have my reasons to like him.” She felt it. She knew there was a connection even if he acted the way he acted and everyone seemed to have an opinion about him that wasn’t encouraging.

Roman offered a polite nod. He wasn't trying to investigate any further, showing her his respect and trust. In the end, he slid his arms on his knees, bending on the chair, and a sigh left his chest. “What the hell, right? You would find out regardless, sooner rather than later, am I right?”

Valkyrie simply nodded. And Roman nodded back. “Fair.” He then fell into a silence that seemed to last forever. His gaze drifted to an undefined corner of the room. “Some time ago, we used to be a trio. We trusted each other like brothers and watched each other’s back. We used to be called the S.H.I.E.L.D. advocating for justice and responding to no one but us. Until one of us decided to betray everything we stood for and worked on, not to talk about the ruined friendship. He stubbed us in the back and went rogue. Dean hadn’t been the same since. They were very close. After that, I was the only person Dean trusted besides himself. And even then, I still had to fight to get him to understand I wasn’t going to hurt him too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Roman shrugged, looking back at her. “Don’t be.”

And yet his words were hardly a consolation. Knowing how deep Dean’s wounds were made her heart creak under the pressure.

“So,” Roman began again, “about his mental state, he had always been a bit crazy. He is chaotic by nature. You won’t see that ever changing.”

“I would have never expected that.”

Her answer seemed to surprise him. “He may be an asshole. But he is a good guy underneath it all.”

“I know.” Again, her answer seemed to surprise Roman, to the point the man melted into a huge smile, relaxing on the back of the chair.

“Then you are both fucking crazy.” He giggled, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter much, I think. He doesn’t seem to appreciate my presence much.”

Roman picked a piece of fresh melon off her plate and ate it without even bothering to ask permission. Again, he shook his head trying to hide a grin. “No. He just sucks at dealing with emotions or new people. With what I saw, you do rattle him. He doesn’t know how to behave,” he appeared to throw those words there distractedly, but the little look he sent her was curious, “you seem to be an itch under his skin he can’t shake. He might not want it, but it’s there.”

A wave of warmth washed over her as she tried her best to keep her inappropriate feelings at bay.

“Is that a good thing?”

Roman shrugged, trying his best to hide an amused smirk. “Not in the slightest.”

[unitedstatesofworld]

The Downfall of Jaylen Fleer: A Shocking Turn of Events

Jaylen Fleer. It's a name that once carried a certain level of respect and admiration, but now? It's synonymous with scandal. How did a promising young law enforcement officer find himself embroiled in a controversy that would forever change his life? The story of Jaylen Fleer is a tale filled with twists, turns, and shocking revelations that continue to baffle many. Let’s dive deep into his journey, exploring how things went awry and the lessons we can all learn from his dramatic downfall.

The Rise of Jaylen Fleer

Before the controversy, Jaylen Fleer was a standout in the world of law enforcement. He was known for his commitment to the community, always lending a helping hand and working tirelessly to keep the streets safe. He had the makings of a hero. But as the saying goes, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."

Fleer wasn’t just any officer—he was viewed as someone with a bright future. So, what happened? How did things spiral out of control?

The Scandal That Shocked the Community

In 2020, Jaylen Fleer's name made headlines, but not for his bravery or achievements. Instead, he was accused of serious crimes that left the community in disbelief. His arrest sent shockwaves through San Diego County, where he had built a reputation as a solid and trustworthy lawman. It was as if the rug had been pulled out from under everyone who believed in him.

And the charges? They were no small matter. Fleer was accused of inappropriate conduct with minors, which led to his swift removal from the San Diego Sheriff’s Department. The public was left asking, "How could someone who was supposed to protect the vulnerable end up preying on them?"

A Fall from Grace

Jaylen Fleer’s case not only tarnished his career but also had a lasting impact on his personal life. Friends distanced themselves, and family members struggled to reconcile the person they knew with the accusations made against him. In a blink of an eye, the promising officer’s world came crashing down.

Is it possible to recover from such a massive public scandal? While some have managed to rebuild their lives after controversy, Fleer’s case is a stark reminder that actions have consequences—sometimes irreversible ones.

The Legal Battle and Sentencing

After the allegations surfaced, Jaylen Fleer found himself entangled in a lengthy legal battle. In 2021, after a series of hearings and plea deals, Fleer was sentenced to a significant prison term. This left many wondering whether justice had truly been served. Could his sentence ever fully account for the damage done?

For those who once viewed Fleer as a symbol of hope and protection, his sentencing was bittersweet. On the one hand, justice was delivered, but on the other, there was the harsh reality that this was a man trusted to uphold the law, now serving time for breaking it.

Public Reactions to Jaylen Fleer's Crimes

The public reaction to the Jaylen Fleer scandal was overwhelmingly negative, as one might expect. Parents were outraged, colleagues were blindsided, and the general public felt a sense of betrayal. Fleer’s actions served as a painful reminder that those we trust the most are capable of the worst betrayals.

Social media platforms were flooded with posts condemning him, while others debated how someone like Fleer could hide such dark tendencies for so long. Can anyone really know what lies beneath the surface of someone else’s personality?

Can Redemption Ever Be Found?

It’s a question many ask: Can someone like Jaylen Fleer ever find redemption? While some people believe in second chances, the severity of Fleer’s crimes makes this a difficult question to answer. Rehabilitation might be possible, but rebuilding trust? That’s a whole other challenge.

The Importance of Accountability

If there’s one thing that the Jaylen Fleer case teaches us, it’s the importance of accountability. No one is above the law, and when trust is shattered, it takes a long time—if ever—to rebuild.

Being a law enforcement officer doesn’t make you immune to consequences. In fact, it heightens the responsibility on your shoulders. Jaylen Fleer’s story is a stark reminder that authority figures are human too, and with great power comes great responsibility.

Lessons We Can Learn from Jaylen Fleer’s Story

There are several key lessons to take away from Jaylen Fleer’s downfall:

Trust is fragile: Once broken, it’s nearly impossible to repair.

Actions have consequences: No matter your position, your actions will eventually catch up with you.

The importance of integrity: Even when no one’s watching, it’s essential to hold yourself to the highest standards.

Support systems matter: Surrounding yourself with people who will keep you accountable can help prevent tragic downfalls like this one.

Conclusion

The story of Jaylen Fleer is a sobering one. It’s a story of how someone with so much potential can lose everything in a heartbeat due to their poor choices. While his actions are inexcusable, they serve as a reminder to all of us about the importance of living with integrity and accountability.

As the dust settles on the Jaylen Fleer scandal, the community continues to heal, and the lessons learned will not soon be forgotten.