#he saw her control flames and kick ass and he was head over heels

[wereh0gz]

The idea of shipping Omega with literally anyone is super funny to me bc the only reason I can see him be attracted to anyone in that way is bc of their destructive power and nothing else. Not personality not appearance nothing just how much shit they can break and honestly I respect that and want to see more of it actually

[jellydishes]

The first time Alistair met Bethany Hawke, she thrashed him so thoroughly that he saw enough stars to make a few new constellations.

Admittedly, he'd gone into the sparring session with a few preconceived notions. The Warden Commander had told him in confidence that Bethany was a green recruit fresh out of Kirkwall, and, well… He'd have never said so to her face, but Alistair may have pulled the first few couple blows, just to test her limits. Anyone who actually knew anything about circle mages -especially those from the Kirkwall circle- knew that they were deliberately taught weaker magic to keep them in line and under control.

In hindsight, Alistair suspected that maybe the commander was trying to get him back for something. Either that, or they had a very sick sense of humor, because that ‘green’ recruit of hers came at him like a… well, like someone who knew what she was doing. And what she was doing was handing Alistair his ass.

He began to suspect that maybe Bethany was working out some aggression the second time she twirled that imposingly bladed monstrosity of a staff and brought it down, sending out a ring of flames that forced him back on his heels. Maybe it was the battle cry, or the way she was glaring at him, or maybe it was the way she spat a few curses at him that he'd have to remember for later.

The woman was like a whirlwind. She threw out magic faster than he'd expected from a circle mage (and wouldn't he be kicking himself about that assumption later), and he had to act fast to lash out with his shield. She went skidding back, giving him some breathing room from that staff of hers. Even without her magic, Bethany was quicker with it than she had any right to be.

He'd muttered that last part to himself, resisting the urge to rub at a few sore spots as she shifted his feet wider to brace himself. He held out a hand to prep a dispel using his templar abilities, but before he had the chance to finish it she'd already closed the distance and swung the flat side of her staff at his legs, knocking his feet out from under him. Alistair yelped as he tumbled down in a flailing heap of arms and legs and clattering armor.

Maybe that's why he was breathless as he looked up into the closest thing he'd seen to golden eyes since the last time he'd locked gazes with Morrigan, and quite forgot what he'd been going to say. Something extremely suave and clever, obviously. Unfortunately, what actually came out was, “Oh, wow. Wow. Are you- wow!”

Bethany was panting as she pulled her staff back from where the pointier end had been aimed at his throat, and looked at him with a dumbfounded expression that twisted the birthmark stretching over her nose. “Did I hit your head a bit too hard?” She asked him. Now that she wasn't cursing, it was a lot easier to make out her accent. A Ferelden girl then, eh? Interesting.

He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until she started to laugh, probably at him. And he was very okay with that idea. He wouldn't mind hearing it again, actually, and again after that. Her laugh wasn't musical or like bells or however a woman's laugh was always described in the songs, he noted; Bethany Hawke possessed a deep, raspy chuckle that turned into a snort at the end, and he'd never been more enamored of a laugh in his life. He also decided it was a better and altogether wiser policy to stare admiringly at her face just now, not least because he wouldn't get beat up again. Not that he'd mind that so much. Something about being on the other side of a beautiful woman who could rip you a new one was very intriguing, and flames, had he said that last part out loud again?

She paused, making him nearly groan aloud. Then she held out her hand to him, clasping his forearm in the way of a fellow warrior as she pulled him to his feet with a strength that told him ‘apostate’ just as much as the callouses on her hands. “I don't know what I am anymore,” she said with a rueful expression that he understood very well. “I'd have said Fereldan not too long ago, but…”

He smiled at her, feeling some kind of pang in his chest that he decided not to examine too closely just now. “It's alright. You don't have to be anything but a warden, now. At least,” he added more gently, “that's what the man who recruited me probably would have said. I think he meant that you can decide who you are as you go along. The wardens are good for that, among other things.” She had a strange look on her face, one that made him feel a bit of that old self-consciousness. “Something I said?” He laughed, scratching at the back of his head.

“No, it's just… I suppose that I'm not really used to hearing that sort of thing. Everyone’s always been so certain of who they were, except maybe for my twin brother.”

“Sounds like we'd get along famously, me and this brother of yours. I hardly know who I am after breakfast, let alone in that big metaphorical scope of things. Soul searching is exhausting, and I get tired just from maintaining my train of thought!” He laughed at himself the way he always did, but she didn't match it the way he expected.

“I think you would have,” was all she said, and Alistair winced as he realized just how badly he'd put his foot in his mouth this time.

Good going, he thought sourly, but his smile was still in place as he rubbed a hand at the back of his head. Anxiety scratched, scratched, scratched between his ribs but he did his best to ignore it as he said, "I know what it's like to lose someone important to you," he said slowly. "It clings to everything you do, doesn't it? After a while though, it…" He laughed humorlessly, wishing he were anywhere half as talented at speaking his mind as somebody else he knew. "What am I talking for, you already know. Probably better than a lot of people think. The quiet types aren't underestimated at just the one thing, are they? Again, not like I would know… Can't quite manage the knack of keeping my mouth shut, can I?"

Bethany didn't answer, didn't seem to know how, and he supposed he deserved that. He gave another smile that hung at an odd angle and hoped to the Maker that it looked genuine, then made to go on his way. “Did you mean it?” She asked him just as he was turning away, and Alistair looked back with his eyebrows raised.

“Of course I did. But just in case I need to recall this for ah, posterity, what are we talking about?”

“When you called me beautiful.” That rueful look was back, and so was that twist behind his ribs. “I've been called that before, you understand, a lot. Usually when people say it they don't really mean it as a compliment. So I guess what I'm trying to say is… What did you mean when you said it?”

He hoped his expression hadn't gone as soft as it felt like it had, but his luck was predictably bad. He could physically see her drawing back from him again, and he hurried to say something, anything, to fill that gap in the conversation that somebody who was better at this than he was would have used slightly better. Slightly. As it was, he had no idea what he was going to say until he said it. “I suppose I meant that you looked like you shone brighter than that fire of yours. All passion and skill and… you know,” he added with another one of those laughs that didn't actually hold humor so much as uncertainty, “bravery.”

“Bravery?” She sounded skeptical.

“Oh, definitely. You might not know who you are in words, but you threw yourself at it anyway. That takes a lot out of a person, being angry. Not everybody's good at it.”

“And you think I am?” She asked with a twist to her mouth that could've meant a lot of things, most of which Alistair was familiar with from his own mirror.

“Wouldn't be brave if you were,” he lifted a shoulder and let it fall in a lopsided sort of shrug.

Bethany laughed, and he couldn't help watching it with a different sort of ache in his chest. “I'm trying to decide if that was a compliment or not,” she said.

“I do hope it was the first one but ah, let me know when you figure it out, will you? I'm always unintentionally insulting the wrong people and not insulting the right ones. It's a real problem.”

“And which one am I?”

“Oh, you're the right one. At least, I um… You know what?” He said instead of the words building up on the edge of his tongue, “I'm going to go be embarrassed over here for a few minutes and pretend it's official business with the warden commander.”

That earned him a startled burst of laughter. Bethany had a peculiar way of laughing behind one hand that made him nearly burst with the urge to tell her that she shouldn't have to feel like she had to hide her happiness from anybody, but i stead he swept himself away in a hurry. He was already blushing up to the tips of his pointed ears. No need to embarrass himself any more than he already had.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨6/End

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) cucking, violence, blood, some untagged extreme events.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. ��Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Here’s the grand finale, I hope you all enjoy it!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You breathed shakily as you clipped the chain of diamonds around your neck. Clark stood and you watched him place his gun down. He rolled his head back and cracked his neck as he shrugged off his jacket. He slung it over the corner of the upholstered chair and your fingers fluttered down the front of your dress.

“Marcus,” he called tauntingly and clapped his hands, “I think you should see this with both eyes, don’t make me take one out.”

“Stop,” you hissed, “please.”

“What do you care about him, sweetheart? He’s a pimp,” he said brusquely.

You lowered your eyes and sniffed. He nudged you with a bent knuckle then hooked his finger under the strap of your dress.

“It’s getting late,” he warned, “let’s go.”

You stepped away from him and pushed down the zipper hidden underneath your arm. You kept your gaze to the floor as you slid the straps down your arms and shimmied out of the taut fabric. You flung the dress away and bent to undo your strappy heels. Clark tutted as he got close and slapped your ass.

“I like those, they go well with the necklace,” he purred and traced his finger up your back to snap the band of your bra.

You winced and stood. You reached back and unhooked the bra and tossed it at him with venom. You exhaled and pushed down your panties as he hummed. It took all your strength and pride not to cover yourself and cower. He came up behind you and traced your shaped with his fingertips.

“Come on,” he gripped your waist and walked you around, only feet from Marcus as he stopped you in front of the ladder, “up.”

“What?” you grabbed the rungs as he urged you closer.

“Go up,” he repeated brusquely.

You climbed carefully and when you got to the top, he tickled the back of your thigh.

“Turn around, sweetheart, and take a seat,” he demanded.

You heard Marcus sob against the gag and you turned as you tried not to slip. You sat on the top of the ladder as you faced Clark and he grasped your knees. He pushed until you let him part your legs and you felt the cool air along your cunt. He bit tip of his tongue out and kneaded your thighs.

“I’ve been patient, I can keep on,” he taunted as he leaned in and his hot breath grazed your folds, “I want to savour this, sweetheart.”

He flicked his tongue along your cunt and you hissed and clung to the sides of the ladder. He pushed your legs back so that your feet hooked around the rungs and held your hips in place. You gasped at the sensation that steamed from your loins and bit your lip. 

You put your bent finger between your teeth and moaned. His tongue moved faster as if encouraged by your weak drawl and your heart fluttered wildly. You dropped your hand to your throat and the diamonds pressed to your palm. You gulped and leaned your head back as you tried to stifle a whine.

He kept more fervent with each lap, and you pushed your thighs against his face. You looked down without thinking and the height made you dizzy. You rasped and grabbed the back of his head as you feared you would fall. He growled and sucked on your clit. You groaned as your lungs burned and your eardrums pulsed. 

You panted as the flames licked at your flesh. You turned your head away from Marcus in shame as you felt the sudden peak rising. Your hand slipped down to grasp the back of Clark’s neck and you squirmed as you came into his mouth. He kept the pressure on your clit and teased it lightly with his teeth until your legs hung limp and slowly dragged his lips down your thigh, a trail of your arousal left along your skin.

“Mmm,” he stood and shoved his hand between your legs. He pushed a finger into you suddenly and the ladder teetered beneath you. He steadied it with his other hand and added another finger, “listen to her, Marcus. How could you let this go? Priceless.”

He pulled his fingers from your cunt and held them up so that they glistened in the light. He presented them to Marcus and raised them to his mouth to suck them clean. You grimaced and looked away once more.

“Sweetheart,” he turned back and kicked the bottom rung, “you can turn around.”

You blinked at him and swallowed. You trembled as you stood on a rung and he caught you before you could fall. He helped turn you around and placed your hands at the top of the ladder and he guided you to the bottom rung. You gripped it tightly as he groped your ass and smacked it several times so the sound reverberated. 

Your flesh stung as he pressed himself to your back and nuzzled your head. He gripped your hips and rubbed his thumbs along your hips. He pulled your waist back so you were bent slightly against the ladder. He pushed apart your ass as slid two fingers down to your cunt.

He ran his fingertips along your wet folds and unzipped his pants with his other hand. You quivered as he came flush against you and bent his knees as he prodded at you from below. His tip brushed along your entrance and he coated himself in your juices before he slid just inside.

You bent your head and gulped in air as he stretched you. You reached back as he pushed in another inch and you pressed your hand to his stomach blindly. He grabbed your hand and twisted your arm behind your back. He thrust into you completely and bent to whisper along the shell of your ear.

“Feel that,” he jerked his hips so that you cried out, “perfect fit.”

“Please…” you croaked.

“Please… more?” he mocked and drew his hips back, only to slam into you again.

“Nnngghhh,” you groaned and clung to the ladder as he rocked slowly.

“This is real art, Marcus,” Clark said as he ran his hands up your side and cupped your tits, “look at her… listen to her.”

“Pl--” you couldn’t speak as your walls tightened around him snugly, begging for more even as the strained around him.

“Mmmmm,” he kissed your neck and sent a shiver through you, “so sweet.”

He nibbled playfully then sank his teeth in as he sped up. He grunted and stood back as his hips clapped against your ass. His motion stuttered for just a moment and suddenly a loop of cloth fell over your head and around your neck. He pulled the tie until it was taut around your throat and wrapped the tails around his hand.

“Ah, look at her wearing her leash like a good kitten,” he purred, “my kitten.”

You shook your head and moaned through your clamped lips. Why did it have to feel so good?

He grabbed your chin with his other hand and turned your face towards Marcus. Your head lolled in his grip and your lashes fluttered as you saw the shadow of the man you loved. You couldn’t just let that go, not in a night. A tear trickled from your eye and leaked down the side of Clark’s hand.

He kept his hand firm around your jaw and his other arm swept around your waist. He lifted you from the ladder and you squeaked. He carried you to the chair, his cock buried as deep as it would go. He bent his legs as he placed you on the cushion and you latched onto the back as he began to fuck you again; harder, faster than before.

Your voice rang out as your groans grew almost to wails. All your anger and sadness bubbled over as the pleasure forced it from your lungs. You bared your teeth and blinked through the blur. Marcus shook his head as the stool wobbled beneath him. You hated him, you hated the man behind you. You hated that you were so stupid.

You came with a shrill cry and Clark dropped your head against the back of the chair. You hugged the upholstery and whimpered as he sped up. He lifted your legs off the seat as he rutted into you, his growls savage and carnal. Your nails dug into the fabric and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the swell of ecstasy.

He rammed into you so hard you were crushed against the seat. He supported himself against the arms of the chair as he pounded into you. He huffed and swore under his breath as you felt him quake and he spilled into you. You braced yourself, disgusted by him and how great it felt.

When he finished, he lingered inside you, his knee against the edge of the seat. He slid out of you slowly and his cum dripped out of you as you sat back to catch your breath, your arms shaky as you pushed away from the cushion. He went to the table where your paints were and he took a clean rag from the bunch to wipe himself. He whistled and caught his breath.

“Did you like the show?” he taunted Marcus and tossed the dirty cloth at him, “I sure did.”

Marcus grumbled through the gag and you backed off the chair. Your walls were tender and tingly, your legs trembling, and your soul racked with shock and spite. You could hardly see as the dim light made your head ache and you shook your head as you tried to escape the afterglow that drained the energy from you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Clark continued, “I can give her anything she wants and what can you do, hmm?” 

You fell against the small square table and your hand scrambled for the dark pistol. You stood straight and turned to limp over towards the men. Clark’s back was to you as your heels knocked clumsily against the wood. As you neared, Marcus lifted his head and his brow wrinkled.

You aimed at Clark but before you could pull the trigger, his arm was around yours. He pushed the gun down and you fired into the floor. He overpowered you easily as his hand wrapped around yours and you fought for control of the gun. He chuckled darkly and forced your arm forward.

He pointed the barrel at Marcus as you tried to push it away and another shot went off and left your ears ringing. You screamed as you watched the blood spread across your boyfriend’s chest. Clark released you and you fell to the floor as the gun spun across the floor. 

You got to your knees and dragged yourself over to Marcus. You reached to touch his bleeding chest and more spread onto the gag shoved into his mouth. The red stained your hands and dripped down your arms as you rose to cradle his head and his breath rattled as you pulled the cloth from his mouth. His eyes rolled back and you felt the strength leave him entirely.

“No, no, no,” you grabbed his chin and smacked his cheek, “please, please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Marcus…”

You were yanked back suddenly and nearly fell over on the strappy heels. Clark spun you to face him and you hit his chest. You looked up at him as he pushed your face against him and embraced you. He hushed you as he pet your head.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s alright,” he cooed, “you won’t be alone.”

Tears flowed down your cheeks and choked you. You sniffled and shook your head as you pushed weakly against Clark, “you’re a monster.”

“You pulled the gun, sweetheart. We could’ve been done…” he snarled as he dragged you over to the window and spun you against the glass, “but the adrenaline always get my blood pumping.”

He pressed you to the glass as your hands streaked scarlet along the window. You heard his zipper again and in an instant, he was inside you. You were on the toes of the heels as he shook the glass and thrust into you deliberately. You leaned your forehead to the cold pane and stared out into the night, the metallic smell of blood tugging at your nostrils.

🎨

You didn’t sleep, you didn’t even lay down as Clark moved your body how he wanted. The water couldn’t be hot enough to scald away your guilt and the memories of a night that never ended. The afterglow of the shower and your night did little to ease the horror of your existence. You felt as if the blood still stained your hands as you buttoned up the borrowed shirt.

You went to the window of the spacious bedroom and looked out as you heard the voices below. The black plastic bags loaded into the back of an equally dark car. You sobbed and smothered it with the loose cuff of the shirt. That was how you said goodbye, watching the remnants of your boyfriend thrown away like trash.

“Sweetheart?” Clark’s voice set your hair on edge and you turned to face him, a towel hung loosely around his waist, “I know it’s hard now--”

“How can you be okay?” you edge away from him as he neared, “he’s dead. You shot him.”

“Wasn’t my finger on the trigger,” he planted his hand against the wall and blocked you with his arm, “you shouldn’t play with guns.”

You sniffed and mopped up the last of your tears. He was so callous, so calculating. It chilled you completely.

“Who are those men?”

“A few soldiers,” he said as he dropped his arm and grabbed your hand, “you look tired. You should sleep.”

“I can’t,” you tried to tug away but he kept a hold of you.

“Well, if you’ve still got the energy,” he pulled you against him and snaked his hands down to your ass.

“You’re horrible,” you uttered as you grasped his thick biceps.

“To some,” he bent so that his nose touched yours, “but I can be real good to you, sweetheart.”

You stared at him, worn and weak. He kissed you and you let him. Marcus was dead because of you. You thought he was the selfish one for wanting everything this man had, but hadn’t you wanted the same? You came here to paint because you wanted to get paid. You were no different and now he was gone and you were stuck exactly where you belonged. It was what you deserved.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he parted and turned you to walk you backwards to the bed, “you’re gonna need your sleep.”

He nudged you down onto the bed. He went to the window and drew the long drapes and the room dimmed. He swept away his towel and let it pile on the floor as he climbed up next to you and reclined with a sigh. You laid back on the pillow and looked up at your reflection in the mirror set into the ceiling.

“Now that is art,” he winked at your reflection as he reached to caress your cheek, “you’ll see it soon enough.”

[deexchanel]

Don't do this to me.

Word Count:

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x BlackFem!OC

Warning: Angst, Sadness.

Summary: Charmaine's first mission with the team but it doesn't end well and the team loses a member.

Go to the series masterlist before you read this chapter, if this is your first time: Charmaine

A/N: Okay so I feel way more comfortable posting this chapter after I said I wasn't going to post the rest. Let me know if this cringy, I love feedback.

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The day was Friday and it was the same as any other day, Charmaine was back home from her class, Peter was getting out of school, the team either train or helped find the location of the Hydra base that held the scepter. One month after the avengers been staying in the tower. The relationship between Charm and Bucky was growing every day, at times they act like a couple without even noticing.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Charm questioned while washing the few dishes that were in the sink. Bucky walked over placing a kiss on her cheek and putting his dirty plate in the water.

"I loved it, that lobster mac and cheese was amazing."

She blushed at the comment and his boldness of him kissing her on the cheek. He winked then walked over to the couch sitting down beside Sam, joining him in the movie that was playing. Bucky let go of the nervous breath he was holding,  he seemed confident on the outside but on the inside, he was scared as fuck.

Charmaine wasn't no easy girl that he would flirt and take home the same night in the '40s. She was the girl that he wants to get to know fully, learn the little things about, be himself around. So most time he was around Charm, he was nervous as hell praying that he wouldn't say something dumb.

Charmaine hummed one of her favorite songs while cleaning up the last dish thinking about a certain long-haired brunette. She turned around coming face to face with spiderman who was hanging upside down.  The 21-year old let out a yelp clutching her heart.

"Peter don't do that !! What the hell dude."

"You okay Charm?" Bucky questioned from the couch looking over at her. He saw Peter hanging down so his concerns washed away. "Oh, Peter just scared her."

"Yeah, you alright?" Sam asked as well not taking his eyes off the screen, ignoring what Bucky just said.

"Sorry Champagne, I just came back from patrol and I rushed in here before you left to ask you this. Can you make brownies? I wasn't here the last time you made them and everyone said they were good. " Peter rambled as he let himself come down, sitting on top of the perfectly clean marble countertop.

"They were!" Sam chimed in.

"See! I want to try them." Peter pout poking out his lip.

"I be spoiling you guys I swear. I'll make some just for you Peter."  Charm groaned playfully, opening the cabinet grabbing the brownie box. "Get your ass off my counter, I just cleaned it."

Peter hopped off happily," So? You and Bucky?"

"Peter if you continue to say something about that topic, I'm not making the brownies." She warned looking in the fridge for the eggs.  Maria walked in from the elevator with a serious face grabbing everyone's attention.

"They found the base. Cap said suit up and meet them in the lab in 5. Peter, Happy is downstairs waiting for you."

Everyone nodded and Charm hugged Peter. Tony had let slide with one of his kids going on the mission, not both so Peter was going home until they got back. She kissed his forehead.

"This mission shouldn't take long, I'll be back to make your brownies. Be good for Aunt May."

" I am Champagne, be safe and please come back. "

"I will Petey. I'll always come back."

-----------

Charmaine walked in beside Sam as they were the last two to join the rest in the lab. She found a spot beside Scott. Everyone was in full armor ready to go except Bruce and Tony because you know.

"Glad of you two to finally make it," Tony said sarcastically then started swiping away on his tablet. It projects a hologram of what seems to be Rome. "We are going to Rome. Intel tells us that hydra has a camp in the countryside."

The hologram shows a huge vineyard with a building that looked abandoned with little buildings surrounded.

"Inside sources tell us that the person who is over this organization called M.A.Z.E is supposed to be visiting any moment now. We're taking down two operations at once so be prepared for this mission to be one of the hardest." Maria said reading something off her tablet. Charm snuck a glance at Bucky who was in his winter soldier attire. She hoped that this mission wasn't going too hard for him.

"Brief explanation. Stay focused at all times, take out as many as you can, feeling overwhelmed? Walk it off. Get in, Get out. Anyone that has the chance grabs the scepter." Steve spoke with determination.

"When we get there we fight anyone that comes our way. Sam or Stark will find a way to get us in. Charm you stay by someone at all times okay? first mission and we don't want to lose you."

"Gotcha." Charm nod her head understanding his rule.

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

Inside the quinjet, she sat beside Bucky. Both had their mask off to communicate with each other. Everyone was in either their own zone or in a conversation. Bucky closed his eyes so he could converge on how to not lose control of himself, he didn't want to completely turn back into the winter soldier.

"You like my suit?" Charmaine asked softly taking him out of his trance.

Bucky turns his head giving a smile, "I like it. You make it look good and very badass."

"I feel like a badass." She jokes making them laugh. As their laughter died down, Charm grabbed his hand pulling it in her lap. "Are you okay about this whole mission? I know history with you and hydra isn't really that good."

"I should be good, I just don't want to be captured again, you know? Steve and I are still working on me not reacting to my trigger words. It's hard but it's working. Plus I got you fighting by my side so we are going to be the coldest duo."

"Well I'm not going to let that happen, you protect me so I'm going to always protect you . If you don't mind, I could help with the trigger words? I'll be there to hold your hand or something." Charm said with quiet empathy giving him a soft smile. " Coldest duo? Well, this mission should be over in no time. When we get back can we finish watching Legally Blonde? You fell asleep before it started leaving me up by myself."

"I'll check with Steve when we do it the next time, I wouldn't want you to get hurt if anything happened," Bucky said nodding his head towards Steve. " And I told you that I was tired! You didn't listen and put on the movie anyway."

"I'm not going to get hurt and I thought you were playing!" Charm said in defense then calmed down. "Hey, Bucky?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm always going to be here for you okay? You mean the world to me and I don't want to lose you under no circumstances." She said holding his hand to her face. Charmaine looked him in the eyes, showing that she was serious. A world without Bucky is a world that she can't live in. She needs him.

His hand opened and Charm cuddled to it. Bucky looked at her in admiration rubbing his thumb against her cheek. He admits it, Buchanan was head over heels for her,"You mean the world to me as well so don't think you're going anywhere. You're my lucky charm."

In the next four hours, they had arrived Rome's countryside and everyone prepared for landing. Charm stood next to her dad as his Iron Man suit connects over his body. Before his helmet covered his face, Tony turned to Charm.

"Kiddo, be safe alright? Don't get hurt or anything."

"I will." She reassured and he kissed her forehead. 'Now thinking about it Tony has a weird way of expressing his feelings' Charmaine thought to herself. The doors to the jet opened and Steve spoke up, "Stark, Sam you're up!"

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

A/N: I am not good with action so skipping to the juicy part.

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

Charmaine ran down the hallway trying to find the exit to the big building. Thor didn't retrieve the scepter and they were still looking but time was winding down. She ran into this room where there were big computer screens on the wall with a closed-cell in the corner.

"Ahh, I have been looking for you." A female voice came from behind her making Charmaine turn around swiftly. "I'm Mazikeen and you are going to be on in my unit."

The room filled with tension as they circled each other not losing sight of one another. "Unit? I'm not going to be anyone's slave. Let alone let you lay a finger on me, so let go of that stupid ass idea you have." Charmie snapped holding her fist up. Mazikeen winked getting in defense mode as well.

"Snarky? I like that. Let's do this shall we?"

She swings on Charm who easily blocks it. The two fight hand-to-hand combat for a couple of minutes, none stop. Charmaine was getting tired but she held her weight up. She kicked Mazikeen on her back, placing her foot on her neck. The Demon grabbed her ankle smirking then rolled over making Charm fall on her side. She gets on top, pulling out her knife.

"This won't hurt one bit. Well, maybe just a little."

"Anyone have eyes on Charmaine? The building is going to blow in 3 minutes." Tony's voice came through the comm.

"I'm busy at the moment!" Charm yelled pushing Mazikeen's arms up so she wouldn't get stabbed in the face. The dark skin girl moved one of her hands to the side grabbing the demon's hair yanking it.

Mazikeen fell off and it gave her enough time to get back to her feet. Charm kicked her to stay down but Mazi grabs her foot mid-air then twist it making her body twirl, falling on the ground.

"I will have you to myself and make you my eternal flame. Right along with the other 3 elements. You are going to be the most powerful." Mazikeen leans down grabbing her hair yanking it making Charmaine cry out in pain. The demon moved her mouth close to Charm's ear with a sinister smirk.

"I'm going to have you kill anyone that stands in our way."

A guard's body flew in the door from someone kicking him through. Bucky walks into the room angrily seeing Mazikeen holding a handful of Charm's brown hair.

He runs over punching her in the face making the demon drop his lover. Bucky grabbed Mazikeen by the neck with his metal hand dragging her towards the closed-cell.

The bounty hunter's eyes widen from the pressure that was on her throat, she hit his arm repeatedly but that didn't do anything. Bucky flings her into the closed cell like she was discarded trash.

Charm sits on the ground rubbing the back of her head, the words haunting her mind. Bucky goes back over to help his best girl onto her feet.

"We need to out of here now."

But it was muffled because of the mask. She nodded putting her weight on him as they walked to the exit. On the roof, the two ran to the middle.

"We're on the roof! Bring the Quinjet!" Bucky yelled taking off his mouth cover. Charm was hunched over trying to catch her breath, she literally just fought 5 minutes straight now she doing a full-out run. She needed more exercise.

The explosion sounded off and the building shook. Just in time, the Quinjet hovered down lowly so they could get on. A huge crack in the roof separated the two.

The building was going to collapse.

They looked around frantically as Charm's side start to slowly but gradually fall.

"Jump!" Bucky yelled, holding out his hand.

Charm did as told, not even second-guessing, leaping off the fallen building. She catches the side of the broken roof, barely holding on with one hand. All she needed to do was use her upper body to lurch her forward so her other hand could grab his. Bucky bends over, reaching for her hand, not taking his blue eyes off her brown ones.

Charmaine's eyes were filled with fear, feeling herself slowly losing grip, "I can't reach it!"

"Use your strength, Charmaine. Grab my hand!"

"I can't, Bucky; my body is too tired. I feel myself slipping!"

"Charm, grab his hand! Bucky, you need to need to grab Steve's hand. That building is going to collapse any second! He will pull you guys up." Natasha said in the comms but was ignored by both.

Bucky leans forward more without noticing that he might fall himself, "I'm not leaving without you charmaine. grab my hand!"

"I'm trying!" Charm yelled when she tries to lift herself; it aches in pain. She drops her hand down in pain. Tears clouded her vision as she knew this was it; Bucky stared at her scratched-filled face knowing what she was thinking.  He shook his head; He can't lose her, not now, " No Charm, you're leaving with me!"

Charmie could feel the building she was holding on to began to fall, sobbing; she looked into Bucky's blue eyes one last time. "I'm sorry Bucky."

"No Charmie, you have time. Just grab my hand! P-Please." Bucky yelled as tears clouded his vision. "You're my lucky charm. I need you!"

The building collapsed, and his feet slip from under him. A hand grabs his keeping Bucky from falling in the rubble; Natasha lowered it down in time just for Steve to grab the back of his armor from falling with her.

"No!" Bucky stared in horror watching Charmaine screamed, falling into the explosion reaching out for him.

Steve gasp as tears fell down his face seeing the horrible fate of his sister.

There was nothing either could do.

With the help of others, Steve pulled Bucky into the quinjet.

Bucky laid on his stomach sobbing with heartache.

Tears weld in Thor's eyes as he saw that Charmaine wasn't on the jet. This didn't seem real to him; he couldn't accept it, "Where is Charmie? Why isn't my sister on this jet?!"

"Steve, where is Charmie?" Natasha asked, slowly getting up from the pilot seat as Clint took over. Her heart raced, hoping that he would say that Tony has her or something. Bruce grabbed her waist, but she snatched away from his touch.

"Natasha, sit down."

"Don't tell me to sit down! Where is she?!"

Steve couldn't say anything as he drops to his knees, breaking down. Sam catches him before he hit the floor. "I got you man."

The jet doors opened as Tony flew in; he raised an eyebrow to see the team in tears. He was getting files in this underground room but got out in time just as the building collapsed. He noticed someone was missing.

"What's going on? Where is Charmaine?"

No one answer, which made Tony panic.

"Where is my daughter?!"

"Tony, she died; she f-fell into the explosion," Scott informed him while wiping his tears.  Her falling replayed in Bucky's mind like it was his personal hell. Charm reached out for him, and he couldn't save her. He failed.

Tony's world crumbled as tears blurred his vision looking around the jet as if she was hiding, "What? Barnes tell me he's lying! Where the hell is my daughter!"

Bucky sat up now with his knees to his chest; he couldn't stop crying no matter how much he tried. He lost the one person that meant the most to him other than Steve, the person he saw a future with. His best girl is no longer here.

Tony sat down in a seat in disbelief; for once in his life, he cried. He completely broke down, not being able to hold it. She filled the lonely hole in his heart; everyone he ever loved was gone, and the person who made him happy.

Was gone too.

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

It was evening time when they got back; they had been gone all day.

The living room was silent; the avengers sat down sulking and mourning. Bucky squeezed his eyes tightly closed as the memory of her falling hit his mind like a truck. Tony had his head in his hands, just letting his mind run all over the place. The elevator ding, and a frantic Peter walked out looking for Tony.

"Mr. Stark, I'm here! What happened? Is everyone okay? Are you okay?" Peter rambled, walking into the living room. He noticed everyone's sad behavior, then looked around for Champagne. "Guys?  Did something happen? Where is Charmaine?"

Tony gets up from the couch, going to Peter, engulfing him in a hug. Peter hugged back, shock that he did that but was still confused about what happened. "Mr. Stark, what's wrong?"

"She n-not co-coming back, kiddo."

"H-huh?"

"I'm s-sorry, kid."

"N-no, you're lying! This isn't a joking matter, Mr.Stark; everyone can put smiles on their fucking faces, and Champagne can pop up from under the couch." Peter said abruptly, pulling back from Tony's arms; doing a 360 to look around for a camera. Steve rubbed his hand over his mouth to keep from crying again.

"Queens, it's not a jo-joke."

Peter's face reddens from anger and sadness," She said she was coming back! She promised! What happened to her?!" Charmaine promised without even promising him because she always comes back. Peter prayed that this a sick ass joke; she was his best friend. Him and Her against the world.

"She fe-fell into the explosion Peter," Bruce said sadly; with that, Natasha broke down in his arms. Peter wasn't taking this well, and that broke everyone's heart even more.

"N-no guys, stop this, pl-please."Peter cried, shaking his head, then he looked Tony in the eyes. Her father nodded his head as a way of saying that it's true. Peter broke down mentally, " My Champagne is su-supposed to be here with me. My best friend is.."

Tony pulls his son into his arms; tears threaten to spill.

Peter sobbed his heart out.

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

2:43 a.m.

Bucky's body lurched forward after grabbing the gun that was kept under his pillow for 'emergency purposes' raised at...

Steve.

"Bucky, drop the gun. It's me."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Steve." His fingers slowly lost grip of the gun, and the weapon dropped to his lap. His chest drew up sharply with each breath as he tried to control his rapidly beating heart. Steve sat on the edge of his bed.

"It's fine Buck, you were yelling, so I came in here to see if everything was alright."

"I should be fine."

"Okay, I'm going back to bed and try to get some sleep before my morning exercise." Steve sighs, getting up from the bed. He wasn't getting any sleep at all, but he didn't want to tell Bucky that.

"Steve?" Bucky called before he could leave out the room. Steve stopped in his tracks looking at him.

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me and watch Legally Blonde? I was supposed to watch it with Ch-Charm when we came back, but..."

"I'll stay Bucky; I don't mind."

Bucky gave a small smile getting out of bed, grabbing some pillows and the comforter. Steve grabbed his laptop from the desk to find the movie. 5 minutes later, the two super soldiers were lying on the floor, eyes glued to the computer enjoying the movie.

-----

Awe this is a filler and it's long so bonus.

Give feedback plsss😂. If this is cringy let me knoww!

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Next Chapter: Eternal Flame

stay slutty my friends!

[snowgoldwaylon]

Ring of Fire - Alex Mason X Reader

Mason saves you from an apartment fire. Are you happy? No. But, did you just meet a very attractive man? Yes.

TW: Strong language, fire, eventual fluff!

"Alex Mason! Meet me in my office please!' Is what Mason heard after a long, hard, and hot training.

Mason felt anxiety by the way his drill sergeant spoke to him like that. So, Mason hauled ass to the office, and stood professionally until the drill sergeant finally came in.

"Ma'am" Mason said with confidence, in attention.

"At ease Lieutenant. Now, take a seat. I have something to discuss with you." She said, sitting down and pulling a file out.

Mason took a seat, and watched her pull a thick, yellowish file from her desk. She opened it and layed out several pieces of paper in front of Mason so he could see everything. He took a closer look and saw something for the local fire department, a look of confusion clouded his face.

"Lieutenant Mason, you are being asked to take part in giving a hand to the Fair Banks Fire Department. Their chief has been layed off for a while due to a recent building fire, and they need men. And you just so happen to be the perfect candidate for helping out!" The drill sergeant said, pulling out a cigarette.

Mason was hesitant, he didn't know how to feel. He was afraid that he might fuck up and get someone hurt. Or worse, killed. But, he already worked in that part of the field. One mistake and it means death.

"Drill Sergeant Rivers, I don't have the proper training for this kind of thing. So why am I being picked?" He questioned.

She hit her cigarette and exhaled. She shot a glaring look back at him, while reaching for a pen nearby.

"Mason, they wouldn't just send you in with no training. They are offering on the job skills training and certification. You provide won't even be working there for very long anyways, they just need help until the Chief comes back. So that means, you'll be chief Alex Mason for a whole three months!" Rivers spoke, ashing her cigarette.

Rivers slid him a pen, and gave a devious smile. She pointed to the words on the contract as she spoke.

"We'll still be paying what you make here hourly, and they will also pay you for the position. You'll receive a work vehicle, and housing options if you are interested. But, if you will, please sign here, and here. And then finally, date this at the bottom."

Mason sighed, and grabbed the pen.

"I really hope this isn't a stupid idea, Drill Sergeant Rivers. I'll still have my position here in the Marines, right?" Mason asked.

"Of course, Lieutenant. You are the best of the best. Besides, I don't think Frank would last very long without you." She said with a chuckle.

Mason signed the papers, and slid them back over to Rivers. She quickly and carefully tucked them away safely into the left pocket of the folder, and set it off to the side.

"Thank you, Mason. The Fire Department is going to welcome you with open arms, and everyone is going to greatly appreciate what you are doing. Now, why don't you get on out of here and head over to the Fire Department. The director is anticipating your arrival at 0700 hours. You are dismissed."

Mason stood up, and quickly saluted Rivers. He turned on his heel, and gathered his things. Woods come up to him and patted his back. Mason looked back at Frank.

"Man, what was that about? Sounded like you were in some hot ass water. Did she find out about last weeks breakout?" Woods asked with a smirk.

Mason slapped him, and told him to stay quiet. Mason rolled his eyes, and started walking. Woods followed close.

"No, she didn't. I actually have gotten assigned to something new all together, but just for 6 months. So it looks like you'll be a lone wolf until I get back." Mason said.

"Wait, where in the fuck are you going? And when the hell are you comin' back??" Frank asked as they stepped into the elevator.

Mason clicked up, and the doors shut. It took them up to ground parking.

"I'm filling in for a Fire Chief for a while, I got personally hand picked for the job is what I got told."

"Well brother, you can't argue with that. We are still gonna have boys night on Friday's, right?" Frank asked, before getting out at where the elevator stopped.

Mason laughed, and nodded.

"Of course man, as always. Bring a 30 pack this time!" He shouted to Frank as the door closed.

"My ass!" Frank called out.

Mason patiently waited as it took him up. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. He walked to his pickup truck and got in. He slammed his door shut and laid his head back onto his seat.

'I hope I don't fuck up.' Was all he repeated to himself.

Months later......

Mason was heading to his office with a newly made friend, Dixon. Dixon was a higher up who worked with everyone, so he frequented Mason. They had coffee in hand, and were ready for safety reports.

"Oh shit, Dix. Do you remember any information on the structure at the controlled burn on the corner of Euclid and Odin we did? I need details for my JHA but I can't recall shit for some fucked reason." Mason asked as they both sat down.

"I can tell you that it had 5 stories, and over 50 apartments in it. Oh, it stood next to Crane Run Bakery. The ignition was faulty wiring, right?" Dixon responded.

"No, it was a gas line pipe. The faulty wiring happened at that bowling alley on Curtis Avenue. But thank you, hopefully I can get this JHA filled out how I should!" Mason said.

Dixon went on with Mason for about 30 minutes about baseball and football. Mason filled out his paperwork, ordered new parts for gear and trucks, and inspected everything with a fine tooth comb. It was a normal night shift for the fire crew, until the alarm system began to wail.

"We have a structure fire on Linden Ave, at 26435 Linden. Possible civilians trapped." Dispatch called through the speakers.

Within minutes, the whole shift was suited up and already in the truck and headed Northbound. Mason was behind the wheel, lights and sirens at full blast. The roads were dead at this time, minus the few cars that happened to be out at 2 AM.

"Dispatch, tell me what we're looking at. I have another truck enroute to said location, and about three ambulances. How high are flames?" Mason asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Dispatch here, we have flames about 20 feet up and rising. Recommend you get here quick."

"10-4." Mason responded.

They reached the fire within minutes. When they pulled up the fire was quickly engulfing anything in it's way. Mason knew what needed to be done. But right now, they needed a buidling sweep for any possible trapped people.

"Dixon, set up a crew to stay on hoses, bring about four out and hookup. My team, your with me! We are going in!" Mason said.

Mason put on his face gear, and quickly looked around for a way in. He spotted a perfect way in through a safe looking way. He quickly pointed his team that direction, and headed in. He always made sure to go ahead of his crew so he could determine what was happening.

He got in, midst the hot heat, heavy flames, and the small mist screen of water he'd feel periodically. He lead the way, and began to check every corner and possible place to hide he could. They swept the buidling for a grand total of 30 minutes before Mason determined it was clear.

"Head back everyone. Everything is clear, no indication of anyone." Mason said through the radio.

Everyone headed outside, Mason being left so he could check more. By now, the flames were out. The only thing left was smoking ruble and hot ashes. Mason carefully looked around, and looked even closer at a piece of burnt wood that was beginning to move.

Without thinking, he pulled it back, and revealed a small door that had shut, but by either luck or circumstance, hadn't been burned. Mason soon heard pounding on the metal door, and he went to open it. But it was behind blocked by something.

He struggled to open it completely, the pounding was now more frequent. He pulled with all his might, but it wouldn't budge. He could hear the sounds of a female crying, and begging for the door to be opened. Mason's adrenaline kicked in at this moment.

"I found a live one! Bring in a large ax for me, this damn for isn't opening!" Mason shouted into the radio.

"Miss, I'm going to need you to step away as far as you can from the door! We are going to cut it open! Shield your face until I get you!" Mason yelled.

He took out his small ax, and began to chop away at the hinges. But, the small ax could stand no chance against the hard metal. Instead, he quickly turned and saw Dixon with the industrial ax. He took it, and with brute strength, he swung done with control and accuracy.

The hinges slowly began to break away, until finally the door popped right off. Mason gave the ax back, and quickly threw the door off. He looked back down inside, and saw a girl about his age, coughing her lungs out. He wasted no time, and held his hand out.

She took it, and Mason lifted her out. He quickly adjusted her so she'd be against his back, to where he kept a good grip on her and carried her out. She was covered in black ash and soot, and was damp with water and sweat from the heat.

Once they were out, Mason quickly sat the girl on the gurney and took his respirator off. He secured it around her face, and up to her mouth and nose. The fresh oxygen would help her with breathing, seeing as if her lungs just went through extreme stress.

"Are you alright? Is there anybody else down in that basement?" Mason asked once her breathing returned to normal.

She looked at him, and slipped the mask off.

"No, it was just me. I was just trying to do my laundry for work, and that's when the door slammed shut and I couldn't get out....."

Mason felt a pang in his heart for this beautiful lady.

"Well, you are alright now. We are going to have EMS check you out, and ride you to the hospital to run standard tests." Mason said, giving a smile.

He took his respirator back and turned on his heels. He walked away to regroup with his crew, and Dixon. They cleaned up best they could, and headed back to the station for a shower and change of clothes.

Months After....

Mason sat in the town sqaure, drinking a coffee in his uniform. He was sat on one of the square benches, reading the paper as he waited on Woods. It was Friday, they were going to play poker after a long, exhausting week.

"Excuse me, sir? May I sit with you?" A voice said.

Mason looked up from his paper, and confusion hit him. A familiar looking face flooded his view, but he just couldn't place it. Her face had small bandaids, and a few purple bruises.

"Well, of course. Do I know you?" He questioned.

She sat down, only then did Mason notice the green box in her beat up hands.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, you actually saved my life in a fire on Linden street, I talked to a man named Dixon at the fire house to where I could find you.....I have something for you here." She said, handing it to him.

"No Miss, I can't take that. I was just doing my job, I don't need a reward. Seeing you alive and breathing is reward enough." Mason said.

She pushed the small box towards him. The smile on her face was warm, and made Mason feel butterflies.

"Please, I insist." Was all she said.

Mason took the box and opened the lid. Inside was a beautifully made chocolate cake, all kinds of different snacks, and a check of $15,000 dollars.

"Miss, no, I can't. This is way too much money, I will not take it." Mason said, putting it back.

"Please sir, I don't mind. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. It would mean so much to me. If anything, please donate it to your firehouse." Y/N said.

"I will do just that then. We've been needing new parts for months...."

Mason looked back up at Y/N, and smiled.

"I'm Alex Mason by the way, I'm glad to see you are recovering well. Maybe I could take you to dinner sometimes?" He asked slyly.

You chuckled, and nodded.

"Of course, I'd love that.

Taglist: @smokeywhalee @kapanovangswife @americas-monster @wennbergbabe @direwolfspostsrandomshit @kazazure @draw-with-eri @scumbagg @silomotism

[saviorinsilk]

Right Hand Witch

Words: 2 810

Ship: Cordelia Goode x female reader

It was a moonless night, the sky a deep pit of darkness that seemed to go on forever. I yanked the front gate open and walked up the stairs of Miss Robichaux's Academy, my relatively slow pace annoying one of the women behind me.

"Hurry up bitch!" Madison spat as she pushed past me, her designer dress soaked in the down pouring rain. I didn't pay much attention to her or her comment, my mind stuck replaying the events of tonight over and over until it made me sick. The horrible images flashed in my eyes, blinding me with pain. I had never seen that much blood in my life and smell of his breath still lingered in my nostrils. I desperately craved the heavenly scent of Cordelia's perfume, her aroma had always calmed me and right now I could use a bottle of it. Madison left the front door open and Queenie and I walked through as she shook her head, the water spraying everywhere. The short walk from the taxi to the house had left us drenched. I lazily kicked my flats off, each one falling perfectly beside the other, on the grey shoe match. I made no effect to get any of the water off me, making a mess was truly the last thing on mind. I just wanted to crawl into bed with my sweet Delia and snuggle my face into her glorious blonde hair, the floral scent of her shampoo coaxing me to sleep.

As Queenie shut the door, I hung up my soaked black jacket as well as my matching hat on the brass coat holder and I started down the hallway. I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing under my breath as Misty came darting down the large staircase, the panic in her filling the air. I had wished that I could have just pretended that tonight hadn't happened but Misty knew and if Misty knew, she knew too.

"Oh, Darlin come here!" Misty cried as she slammed into me, knocking the wind out of me in the process. Her warm arms held me tightly to her heaving chest and she planted a big kiss on my forehead.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you." Misty sniffled through tears. I hugged her back, melting into the silky material of her shawl and was about to tell her that I was fine when the loud clicks of high heels sounded down the stairs and my heart sank. I had never felt as connected to another human being as I felt to Cordelia Goode. In some circumstances, it was a joyous gift. Our intimate moments were like something out of fantasy but when either of us was in despair, this gift of ours sent aches through the heart and soul of the other. Tonight Cordelia's heart was breaking and I felt it more intensely than I had ever felt anything, good or bad.

I squeezed my eyes closed, still hidden from her sight in Misty's hair, I knew this peaceful moment wouldn't last for long.

"Miss Cordelia was so worried about you Y/N. She had a vision. She saw him kill you." Misty whispered in my ear. I didn't want to let go of my best friend, I knew I had messed up tonight and being aware of how much agony I had caused Cordelia made me even more ashamed.

I finally faced the facts and I pulled away from Misty and glanced over her shoulder. Cordelia reached the bottom of the stairs at that moment and I took her image in. She was in her long, light pink robe, the cream nightgown she wore underneath poking through the bottom. Her hair was messy at the front and her beautiful pale face was red and puffy from the numerous tears she had cried over me. If it had a cheerful moment I would have chuckled at the black high heels she wore. No matter what time it was, or was state she herself was in, Cordelia always liked to look presentable and even though it was late into the night, she walked towards me with them on. I could imagine her saying to me something along the lines of, "What if one of the girls got up for water and saw me? I got to make sure they always feel safe and secure, even if I'm falling apart."

Since it wasn't a time for laughs and giggles, I look at my hands, avoiding her eye contact. I normally wasn't like this. I stood up for myself no matter who was against me and I always challenged Cordelia, even if it got under her skin sometimes. Right now though, I watched as I fiddled with my fingers nervously, every ounce of fight I had left in me vanished with the sight of her mournful eyes.

The room filled with silence and Cordelia simply nodded at the others. I heard their footsteps carry them up the stairs and into their bedrooms. Misty ran her hand gently up and down my arm, trying to offer what little comfort she could. After a few agonizing moments that seem to last a lifetime, Cordelia's voice sliced through the silence, sorrow laced with her words.

"Misty dear, could you please give me and Y/N a moment alone?" As she asked she disappeared into the living room and I was genuinely surprised. I had thought she would run to embrace me, as I would have with it had been her stumbling in from a storm late at night. As Misty pulled away, giving me a sympathetic smile as she left, I was filled with dread. Delia had just walked away without a word to me and the only time she ever did that was when she was angry. I gulped and somehow convinced myself to follow her into the open area of the room in which she was in.

There she was, standing in front of the fireplace, which was light on the cool rainy night. I stepped closer to Cordelia, as she wiped her cheeks free of tears, sniffling loudly.

"Delia, baby I'm so s-" She cut me off with a booming voice before I could properly apologize.

"HOW COULD YOU!? I have told you over and over again that I don't want to you going to Bourbon Street at night! Not only did you go there, but you also left and went off on your own!" Cordelia's anger shook me to the bones and my bright blue eyes welled up with tears. I knew I deserved whatever she was going to give to me but what I really needed her to do was to hold me, to feel her skin against mine.

"I know. I was stupid. Queenie and Madison wanted to go out and get a drink. I told you were just going just out for a late dinner because I know you worry so much and I really didn't think anything would happen. I just wanted to save you so stress. I left the bar because I was really hungry and all they had there were super spicy wings and you know I hate spicy food. There was a diner across the street and down a few blocks so I went to just get some friends and an ice tea." I tried to explain but as the fiery only grew in my women dark eyes I cursed in my mind, wishing I had left out the part of me not wanting her to worry.

"YOU DIDN'T WANT ME TO WORRY!?" She shouted. I knew half the house was awake by now and I wished I could punch myself for the idiotic act I had committed. Cordelia never got this mad, never even raised her voice much at Madison. I had awakened the beast deep in this beautiful creature.

"I thought you were dead Y/N. I watched that hunter silt your throat as he laughed, but I couldn't do anything about it because your mind was blocked from me because of his voodoo relict." Fresh tears streamed down her sunken face and I had to fight back the urge to stroke them gently away with my thumb.

"I'm sorry Delia I-" I tried to say but once again Cordelia interrupted me as if she hadn't heard my timid voice at all.

"You risked your life for fries? Fries, really Y/N? I'm sure one of the girls would have gone with you if you were really that hungry. You shouldn't have even been there in the first place. When are you going to start listening to me instead of Madison? All this time you're spending with her is causing her bad traits to start to rub off on you." She spat, her voice shaky with dark emotions. She knew that would hurt me but she wasn't holding anything back. Something went off in my head at that moment. I was nothing like Madison and no amount of time spent with that spoilt, ungrateful witch was going to change that. As anger pumped through my veins, my eyes darkened and with a pulse of energy that shot from me like a bullet, the flames inside the fireplace soar to impossible heights, it roaring loudly. Cordelia's furious expression shattered and her eyes flickered for me to the flames my anger had caused.

"I am nothing like that inconsiderate bitch. I left because I was uncomfortable staying where I was. Some drunk asshole groped my ass and pushed me against the bloody wall when I was trying to find my way from the bathroom back to our table. I begged the girls to leave, telling them what happened but Madison just blew me off, saying maybe a good dicking would turn me straight. Queenie was too busy talking to one of the guys that Madison had dragged over to our table while I was gone. I wasn't going to stay there, plus because of their new "friends", there wasn't even a chair for me anymore. I had seen the diner when we arrived, so I figured it was a good option for me. You know how I get when I'm mad. I can't control my abilities as well as you Cordelia. I told them where I was going and they said they would come to pick me up when they were done. I got there fine but when I reached for the door that's when he grabbed me. There were people around, I should have been fine but as he dragged me down the back ally, no one even looked our way." I stopped speaking and held my hand to my mouth as a soft sob broke through. I couldn't stop the tears now and they flooded my face like a city below a broken levy.

All traces of anger vanished from Cordelia's face at that moment. She hated seeing me cry, even if she knew I deserved the self-loathing I was putting myself through. I took a few steps towards the couch and I lowered myself down to it with shaky legs. I hadn't noticed how cold I was until now, it felt like the chill had eaten away at my flesh.

Cordelia moved quickly, grabbing a white plush towel that was draped over the armchair that sat beside the couch. She wrapped it around me snuggly but gently and practically fell to her knee in front of me. Her slender hands cupped my flushed cheeks, running her thumb along my cool skin in a soothing circular motion. I sighed at the contact and leaned into her touch.

"I know I should have listened to you. I wasn't thinking. I never am. I thought I was going to die." I frantically apologized. My lips were silenced by Cordelia warm, soft set of lips. Her lips were wet with salty tears and they slid against mine wonderfully. The desperation we were both feeling poured out in that kiss and my breath was taken away as Cordelia kissed me as if it were the last time she ever could. Which was probably something that earlier in the night she thought she would never get to do again. This kiss spelled that out as clear as day. When she pulled back, she wiped my tears under my eyes again with her thumb, gazing lovingly into my eyes.

"I know you are. I'm sorry for losing my temper. I just never thought I was going to see you again." She spoke, her voice hitching when she got the words that caused her the most pain. I brought my hand up to her face and I wiped her tears as well, my fingers sliding over them like a hot knife on butter.

"You are my everything Y/N. I couldn't go on without you. Death would be better." She cried. I shook my head and kissed her softly again.

"Shh my Delia, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere I promise," I mumbled against her pale rose plump lips that I so desperately wanted to devourer with mine once more.

"Are you hurt? What did that bastard do to you?" She asked, pulling back. She began tracing every inch of my exposed skin with her eyes, searching for injuries. When they settled on the superficial cut that ran across my neck her expression dropped, her brows furrowing. She traced it with her finger and she opened her mouth slightly, her eyes fluttering closed.

I felt the wound begin to tingle and I knew without seeing it that the cut that had once circled my neck was gone. Since Cordelia had become the Supreme there was no lid to contain her jaw of powers. If she could imagine it, it happened. She looked up at me once more and I gazed back at her as I spoke.

"If it wouldn't have been for Queenie feeling someone was wrong and coming to look for me, the slice would have a crimson stump." I shivered at the thought. "She made sure he died in the exact way he had been ordered to kill me. She had brought a knife from the bar with her and she slit her own throat but instead of her own blood flowing it was his." I had heard about what Queenie could do but I had never experienced it with my own eyes and as satisfying as it had been too see the hunter bleed out from wounds she inflicted on herself, I had never had a strong stomach. After I puked my guts out we jumped in a taxi and left, the crime scene being noticed by none of the drunk crowd that litters the street.

"I'm so grateful she was there," Cordelia whispered, pressing her forehead against mine. After a moment and intimate kiss, Cordelia had laid me down on the lush couch beneath us and had lowered herself down as well so that I was cuddled between the back of the couch and her. Her body protecting me from the world. The towel still covered me and as we laid there, her fingers caressed my face and slowly ran through my tangly hair. The heat from the fire was reaching us easily and the warmth from it, plus the warmth radiating from her body, left me warm and dry a few hours later.

As my eyes struggled to stay open, sleep trying to seduce them, Cordelia kissed me slow and gently, pulling back slightly so she could look into my dazed eyes.

"I couldn't be Supreme without you by my side." She whispered sweetly, her voice relaxing any tense muscles in me that had held on.

"Your my right-hand woman," Cordelia said with a smile. I couldn't help but shoot her a toothy grin as I came up with something better in my head.

"I'm your right-hand witch," I stated with a giggle. Cordelia rolled her eyes at me, scoffing but no matter how hard she had tried to hold a smile back she couldn't and she chuckled softly, and a gorgeous smile spread across her now calm face.

"Right-hand witch. I can't believe no one has thought of that" She said in a hushed voice. Cordelia Goode plastered me with gentle kisses all over my neck, chest, forehead and then finally my lips.

That night I drifted off to dreamland snuggled into Cordelia, the floral scent from her hair filling my nose as I buried it in her warm chest. Safe and loved, right where I knew I needed to be and no dream that night, or any night, in fact, would ever be as sweet as the life I would wake up to tomorrow.

To the women who loved me.

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[wilhelmjfink]

Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 — Pt. 3

Clearly, this is no longer a Drabble. I have no self control. This has been sitting in my documents for months, and I really like it, so why haven’t I posted it? Because my life is a fucking mess, y’all. It’s not very long, but you don’t care.

Who wants to guess how many more parts of this I will add over the next fucking fifteen years I make you wait? Who knows. Enjoy it now. Or don’t.

—

You’d half expected him to take off when you made it back to the campsite you shared — if you could even still consider that after the events of the night — but were instead surprised to see Rick, Lorie and Herschel had made their way into camp and stood around the glow of your campfire. Rick and Lorie were armed, their bodies stiff and uncomfortable and on edge it seemed, and they both turned at the sound of you and Daryl approaching in sync before lowering their handguns with their features softening in recognition.

“There y’all are,” Lorie exhaled with relief, tucking her pistol back into the holster resting on her hip. Still buzzed, you couldn’t help but notice Rick’s revolver remained in his grasp. “What in the world is going on?”

It was then you realized that you hadn’t come up with an adequate excuse for why exactly you and Daryl had literally been running around in the woods; and also the exact moment you realized how fucking stupid you felt, running after Daryl when he stormed off as if he — of all people — would do something careless and manage to get into trouble. And then what? You went after him like you would be able to save him from any danger. As if you didn’t just drag him into a dangerously idiotic situation that could’ve easily been avoided if you weren’t acting like a drunken frat girl, calling him names and spitting lies to hurt him and only then acknowledging your true feelings after you thought you may have pushed him away for good.

And as if you weren’t already embarrassed enough of course Daryl had you covered while you blindly fumbled the metaphorical football and tripped over your own feet, opening his mouth before you could manage to choke out some half-assed story about a stray walker in the night.

“Thought we heard somethin’ crawlin’ around,” he replied, smooth as the whiskey he (always) vaguely smelled of, once again just reminding you that, Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip — what is this, middle school? “Found a straggler outside the next pasture — fell over the fence or somethin’.”

You turned to look at him, to see if maybe he would be looking back at you and somehow convey to you what the fuck you were supposed to say or do or feel right as Rick decided to speak up.

“We heard screamin’, his expression was unreadable in the flickering glow of your slowly-dying campfire. “You alright?”

You could still feel your head spinning and the boney fingers intertwined in your hair and pulling your scalp but you were determined now to prove something, literally anything, to Daryl that you made sure to answer for yourself before he could try.

“Yeah, it got the jump on me,” you blurted out, almost before he even finished his last word, then dropping your gaze to the ground shamefully. “It just — y’know, scared me. But... Daryl got it.”

You were briefly self-conscious that you’d tried so hard to casually add on that last bit that it came out as bitter and immature as you really felt, and you forced yourself to swallow down the nausea that rose along with the shame and the flush of warmth from your chest to your cheeks.

“Well, good, but next time...”

Daryl waved a dismissive hand as he broadly stepped past the sheriff’s wife and closer to campsite. “Won’t be no next time. ’Sides, it ain’t nothin’ I couldn’t handle myself. Didn’t need to alert the whole damn village.”

Lorie — god damn Lorie, of course, who could never just leave things alone and always has to poke and prod opened her mouth to argue. “Still. We shouldn’t — “

“Man, enough with this fuckin’ ‘we’ stuff, alright? Ain’t no ‘we’ here — no ‘us’ — so give it a rest ‘n leave me the hell alone!”

You were left in silence, the wake of Daryl’s rage burning a trail behind his heels that violently kicked up dirt and rocks at you where you stood whilst watching him storm off. It was a very familiar sensation, the onset of tears threatening to fall, but you always knew when wanting to withhold them back would prove futile and instead of wasting the last of your energy trying, you hung your head and instead focused on trying to keep them as quiet as possible, at the very least.

“We’ll have to make a lap around the perimeter,” Herschel added nonchalantly, unbothered by Daryl’s emotional outburst and the fact that it had you choking back sobs as you stood in front of him. “Make sure all of the fencing is still holdin’ up okay. Maybe add some barbed wire or electricity or somethin’.”

You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and stiffened, but saw Lorie standing at your side with her head cocked curiously and somehow pitifully at you. She offered you a tight smile.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” she agreed softly. “Let’s get back to bed. Why don’t you come sleep in the RV tonight? Carl can — “

Harshly shrugging her palm from your shoulder you straightened up, trying to remember how the current state of your own camp might be — you’d left it behind with a bottle of whiskey in tow to cross the few hundred yards between as you had the previous few nights, but that all seemed like a lifetime ago in retrospect. “No, I’m fine. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

As you strode away you could almost feel Lorie reaching for you, surely to add a comment of some sort or offer at least an escort back to your own camp, but you were extremely thankful to whatever it was that had convinced her to just keep her mouth shut for once in her fucking life.

The campfire was low now, the embers burning brightly within the logs they intertwined but with very little of the once roaring flames left. It smoked, the scent still somehow comforting to your soul even after the last few months of hell you’d endured — and once foolishly thought only possible within cheap horror flicks — managed to taint the long-gone memories of camping for fun instead of a dangerous lack of secure shelter. You wouldn’t have met Daryl if it weren’t for having lived through all of those nightmares. And, yet somehow, that thought still managed to scare you in a way that monsters and zombies never could.

Torn from your thoughts by the unmistakable sound of your boot crunching glass beneath your foot, you stopped. Just a few hours ago, those boots had been insignificant to you, tossed carelessly to the side of Daryl’s tent where they lay for the rest of the night. Light purple socks draped over them, just as quickly forgotten — it was a small luxury, but one almost instantly you’d grown to cherish when your life suddenly became full of long, taxing walks through all the various terrains the state of Georgia had to offer during the dog days of summer. You had only been a shot or two deep, but you were already basking in the sensation of thick, luscious grass against your bare feet once again.

“Shouldn’t be barefoot out here,” Daryl had quipped harmlessly from where he knelt opposite of you, stoking the workings of your campfire in the evening glow. You opened just one eye, content to relax where you were, but your body instantly began to sit up, already working to get up from where the tree stump you were sitting on and make its way to your discarded socks and boots.

“And why not?” You responded curiously. Of course, you were acutely aware of several reasons you shouldn’t be barefoot in the beginning chapters of what you safely assumed was the end of the world as you knew it — the only thing you were curious about was the nagging voice in your head you were struggling to ignore that made you realize you just wanted to hear him talk. Didn’t matter about what, apparently.

Instead of a gruff explanation about how you realistically needed to be prepared to jump up and run for your life at any second, Daryl had just shrugged half-heartedly. “Fire. Glass. Bees. Ya know.”

Doubled over you were already retrieving your socks and boots from up off the ground. “Fireglass bees?! That sounds awful!”

There was the soft snap of a twig and then the feeling of it bouncing off of your back, tossed playfully by the archer as he continued to break kindling over the growing fire.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when ya get a shard of glass lodged in there,” he’d said lightly. “Shit hurts.”

You chanced a quick glance around the fire pit and proximity of the camp. “I don’t see any broken glass around here.”

“Well, yeah, nobody ever sees it before walkin’ on it. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose, y’know.” He pauses. “Smart people, anyway.”

You vividly remember the way his mouth quirked up into a smirk; the way you felt so relaxed and relieved that he seemed to feel the same way. The glass at your feet was the shattered remains of the once full bottle of whiskey that you liked to assume was solely responsible for how things had gone wrong that night. You don’t remember who dropped it, or even hearing it break.

But there you were, on your hands and knees in the dirt as you hunted for it’s pieces using what little light remained of the dying fire beside you. You didn’t know why you were doing it, either — as if you could somehow actually retrieve every last bit of the bottle, you could glue it back into its original form, a fragile vessel too pure for any leaks or cracks or chips that could compromise its integrity, and then maybe you could do the same to the deeply complex relationship you had with Daryl that you had managed to destroy in literal seconds.

Heavy tears obscured your vision and you blinked them away furiously, heart pounding in your chest, trembling hands instinctively clenching into fists to subdue the sudden need to just fucking hit something all the while simultaneously closing around the collection of glass pieces you’d gathered in your left hand over your last few minutes of absent-mindedness.

With a hiss of pain you released your grip, several shards falling from your grip but some remaining by way of stabbing themselves into the soft flesh of your palm.

Ironic, you thought, that Daryl had never warned you about getting glass lodged into your hand.

Then again, he shouldn’t have had to. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose.

Smart people, anyway.

[sarah-bae-maas]

Rowaelin AU! chapter two

AU! where the valg wars never happened, but Rowan and Aelin still stumble upon each other anyway

Chapter 1      Ao3       Masterlist

***

This was the worst possible thing that could have happened.

Rowan stood beside the king and queen, completely taken aback by the sight of the princess. When Rowan had gotten roaring drunk the night before and decided to sleep with a seemingly perfect stranger, he could never have imagined that the woman he'd bedded would be the one standing before him now. She was exquisite, and even through the haze of his hangover he knew her to be beautiful.

And to be a colossal mistake.

He was just glad Lorcan wasn't here to witness this embarrassment; he would never live it down.

"Princess Aelin, might I please introduce Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, your new mentor."

Either she didn't recognise him, or she hid her expression perfectly. She had the snake smile of any royal plastered on her face, a unique expression in a humble court. The slight tilt of her lips was acknowledging, but nothing else.

"He comes to highly recommended my dear," her father, King Rhoe, said, beaming at his daughter. "Your Uncle Gavriel was the one who told us he would be perfect."

Rowan considered fleeing so that he didn't have to face the wrath of Gavriel if he ever discovered Rowan bedded his niece. Rowan had been saddened that he wouldn't see the male until Gavriel returned from assignment, now he was grateful. He had the chance to wash the scent of the princess off before anyone could notice he was slathered with her.

"He has been a teacher for Doranelle for over a century; he trains their army and is a leading commander."

Aelin's smile tightened, although Rowan didn't think anyone would be able to notice.

"And why would such a high ranking commander come to Orynth to help train me?" Her voice was melodic, and oh so incredibly fake. Did no one else see it?

Rowan looked over the courtiers gathered. He knew Terrasen was a prosperous kingdom, and it showed in their nobility. It was always obvious when wealth and health had been faked, but Orynth really was a dream for its inhabitants. Inhabitants who looked at their princess with concern - not for her, but for themselves. They were afraid.

Interesting.

"Aelin, please," Queen Evalin's voice was taught. "This could help you, don't you understand? We're running out of options, and after-"

"What your mother means to say, my dear, is that Prince Rowan is the best of the best, and we're thrilled to have him here with you. We believe that you could grow so much from this." King Rhoe turned to Rowan, a friendly smile on his face. "You have my full trust with my daughter."

Rowan tried to smile back, as if he hadn’t already devoured the woman he’d sworn to help. How he was going to fix this mess, he didn’t know, but one thing was for sure. He could not, under any circumstances, be involved with the princess.  

___

Rowan was wrapping his hands as he waited for Princess Aelin. At first, there was expected to be an audience to their training. He dismissed them thoroughly, or, in the words of Lorcan, aggressively. Now, his commanding officer was the only one in the room, and he was grinning like a banshee.

"This is the best thing to happen to me all day."

"Shut the fuck up, Lorcan."

"I take you here for a break. I give you lots of space to be a moody little shit, and just when it's looking like you might smile again, you have your first one-night stand with the worst possible person."

"You tried to fuck her too."

"Yes, but I was unsuccessful."

Before they could continue bickering, the door to the side of the courtyard opened. They were in a square, outdoor space lined with columns. Behind them were mazes of paths, and high hedges to keep out wandering eyes. It would be an ideal space for physical training, which is what Rowan would start with. If the previous night was anything to go by, she had little control. She could use some refinement - her movement was too wild. Even in the throne room, she was practically vibrating.

The princess walked in with two men at her helm. One man was a brunette human, two swords strapped to his back. The other was a fae male, and Rowan would recognise him anywhere. It was Gavriel's boy, the one that made him leave Doranelle all those years ago. Rowan didn't begrudge him that - Gavriel was head over heels with his woman when they discovered the pregnancy. And as forgiving as the Ashryver's tend to be, they could be archaic in the worst ways.  

"Princess, I have requested that there be no audience for our training sessions," Rowan said, voice as impassive as he could make it. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster.

"This is Aedion and Ren, they insist on following me wherever I go." She smiled, taking a step towards him. "They're very needy."

She was talking to him in the same voice she'd used last night, the kind of voice that made you think she was divulging her deepest secrets. It was as if she thought this whole situation was humorous.

Rowan would soon let her know that it was not.

"Prince Aedion, Ren." Rowan nodded at them. "I do not need babysitters, I have been training the most ruthless fae since before you were even a thought in your parent's mind. Lorcan, if you could escort them away while I train the princess."

"That's not happening," Ren smirked. “You may have come highly praised by Gavriel, but you are still a stranger.”

Aedion looked thoughtful. He tilted his head, and Rowan ignored the princess and her guard to take him in.

Gavriel had clearly raised the boy in his image. Everything about him - his defined muscles, scars on his body, posture - spoke of a well-trained soldier. He observed Rowan the way that Rowan looked over him, and he seemed displeased with what he saw. That, or he had quite the poker face.

“I’ve heard stories of you and him,” Aedion swept his hand in the direction of Lorcan, “my entire life. You could be the worst thing that has ever stepped foot into this court if you wanted to be. I know the best things about you, but I’m also well aware of the shittest. I suspect the only reason you are held in such high regard is because, so far, you have been on the same side as us. For only my trust in my father, I’ll leave you with her.” Aedion stepped around the princess, his gaze feral as he approached Rowan. “But if you cross her, be warned that it will be a signature on your death warrant.”

With that, the boy turned and stormed away, Ren following him after a quick scowl in their direction. As soon as they were out the door, Lorcan opened his big fat mouth with a rapturous laugh. “The unwarranted confidence on that boy is astounding. He couldn’t step an inch in our direction before he’d be dead.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Leave, Lorcan.”

He looked at him aghast. “Why?”

“I told you, no babysitters. Piss off.”

Lorcan bowed theatrically to Rowan and winked at the princess before escorting himself out, leaving Rowan alone, finally, with her.

She wore loose clothes that would help her body breathe in the heat. Her shirt was short sleeved and white, and dipped just to the top of her chest, hinting at what may lie beneath. A brown belt was at her waist, a few knives casually hanging from it. Her hair was up in a tight bun on her head, making her now-human face longer and sharper. This must be her animal form - how curious. A light breeze blew through, and he could still smell his scent on her. Any fae who came across them both and was worth their weight would know what had transpired between Rowan and the woman before him.

He was unsure of what to say now that they were alone.

“So, this was… unexpected,” she breathed, her face finally showing something other than indifference. “When I was told they were shipping someone in to train me, I expected some old bastard.”

Rowan swallowed hard. “I can assure you Princess, I am the best.”

“Aelin, please call me by my name.”

He ignored her plight. “Princess, stand with your legs shoulder width apart. I want to see what you can do.”

___

His offer had sounded sexy at first, but Aelin soon found out that he was gruelling. There was no chit-chat, certainly no flirting, and he pushed her to her limits. He handed her weapon after weapon and kicked her ass every time, assessing her skills in each. In hand to hand combat, her favourite, he’d had her on her back barely able to breathe in seconds. It was a far cry from the night before, when she had been breathless for very different reasons. Any time she tried to speak, he would invent some new way to torture her. More surprisingly, every time her flames rose to the surface of her skin and started to burn, she would feel a blanket of magic smother it.

“I don’t understand,” she said five hours into their session. “Why can’t I use my magic?”

He clicked his tongue. “The magic will come, but right now, I want to see what else you can do.”

She gritted her teeth and continued, pushing through the burning pain in her limbs. It was another forty minutes before Rowan finally called it. He looked barely affected while she was covered in sweat and barely able to breathe.

“An ice bath will help with the pain. I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow. At the behest of your parents, I’ve placed wards on your room so that your fire might be contained in the event of an accident. They won’t stop anything if I’m not there, but they’ll slow it down.”

“When did you go in my room?” she heaved, her knees and hands shaking. Blisters littered her hands, and if she didn’t think it would make her look weak, she’d run to the healers and have them soothe them.

“I did it from your balcony yesterday afternoon, I was told you were out with Dorian.”

“So you’ll call him Dorian but you won’t call me Aelin? Are you punishing me for forgetting to ask you name last night.”

Rowan was packing up the equipment they’d used, cold in his movements. Facing away from her, he said, “Gavriel may have given me a reason to come here, but it was your father who approached him, to ask if the rumours about my abilities were true. He’d heard about me from King Dorian the first, after I helped his son. That’s how I was able to get here so quickly, I came with him from Adarlan.”

“So you’re what, friends?”

“Some might say that.”

“Two friends for two countries.” Her lips tentatively turned up, hoping that even without her flame she could warm him.

Rowan didn’t smile back like she was expecting. He had been hard during their training, but she thought that was just because he was in instructor mode. She was still struggling to put the two Rowan’s she knew together. The one from the night before, that was playful and enticing, and the one here, who was a talking statue.  

“So, a blacksmith?” she teased, wondering why he had lied about his profession.

“It’s a hobby. You aren’t a pianist.”

“I really do play every week at the theatre. I’m doing a solo tomorrow, if you’d like to come and watch.” What she didn’t say if that shewould like him to come. She felt inexplicably drawn to him, but that could just be from a false sense of connection driven by her horniness.

“I’ll be busy.”

“Next week, then.”

He sighed deeply, turning his face to the ceiling as he finished putting away the last sword. “Princess, last night was a mistake, one fuelled by alcohol and anonymity. It won’t happen again.”

She scrunched up her face. “I wasn’t asking you to sneak into my room and fuck me, I was asking if you’d like to see me play since we’ll be spending so much time together. We may as well get to know each other.”

“I’m not interested in knowing you. You’re a job. An obligation. I’m here as a favour to an old friend, and because your parents think you’re an incompetent heir who is more likely to burn her kingdom down than rule it.”

Aelin flinched at the words, knowing they were true. Not just his total lack of interest, which by now was starkly apparent, but also why her parents had brought him here. She saw it every time they looked at her, the love, but also the fear that she would destroy them all. Her eyes burned, and she blinked hard. Gods, what a pathetic picture she must have painted.

“Noted.” Aelin pressed her lips together and got up, striding off. She made sure her back was straight and shoulders were up, feigning so he didn’t know how much his words affected her. With her hand on the doorknob, she asked one last question before she would sequester herself away. “What kind of magic do you have anyway?”

“You may be fire, but I’m all water and air - everything needed to obliterate you.”

As soon as she was out of his sight, she violently vomited.

[the-omni-princess]

Blood Bound [Chapter One]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Vampires and witches have been known enemies since the dark ages. Backstabbing, secrets, and magic turned supernatural brethren again each other. As a natural-born witch, you grew up on these stories, your own monsters under your bed. What happens when one of those sworn enemies claims that you are his blood mate, the vampire equivalent of a true mate? Will you give in to this man out of time? Or destroy him for the sake of your Coven?

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: descriptions of pain and death and violence, witchy and vamp stuff

A/N:

First chapter! :D hope you guys like it. I rewrote it like 8 times lol.

-

[Series Masterlist]  [My Masterlist]

----

Excruciating pain. That’s the first thing a newborn felt when they were being turned. Bucky could just blame the vampire venom coursing through his arteries and veins, but it probably was a mixture of two things instead of the one. One, the way he died. Human death sucked. Being shot in the head, in a foreign colony, surrounded by people you didn’t know? That sucked even more. Two, how vampire venom affects the living. It knitted his wounds back together, burning pain as every organ in his body went through organ failure. Even though the bullet that killed him took his memory of his human life, it didn’t take the memory of his transition. When he woke up in the middle of the Spanish colony Florida, he wasn’t sure whether to thank Steve for turning him or kill him for cursing him with that pain.

Pain. That’s all he had known since he woke up in a field in 1703. Pain and hunger. Ravenous hunger that tore into his throat like barbed wire. Only sated by blood. Only another’s pain could ease his own. But it never disappeared completely. There was always a gaping hole in his chest after he fed, his hunger sated and yet something was always missing. He just couldn’t figure out what.

Decades of running, hunting, building a pack of vampires. It was more dangerous that way, but Steve wouldn’t abandon him; then when they found Sam during the American Civil War, bleeding out and crying out for help, they couldn’t abandon him either. Small packs were useful. They were family.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember his human life. Steve wasn’t much help either. He apparently knew him as a human, but only a few years before he turned him. Bucky had been running from something or someone but wouldn’t tell Steve. So, when he turned, with only flashes of his past to determine who he once was, the blonde could not even tell his friend about his life.

He was running again, abnormal speed, enhanced agility, jumping over rocks and fallen trees as he chased his prey through the woods. He couldn’t quite see what he was even chasing but he knew it was there. Its heart was racing, adrenaline pumping as it tried to outrun him. Foolish. Nothing could outrun him. Not even his own pack that was hiding a few miles away, deeper into the woods.

A sick craacckk made his pace falter. Pulling. Tugging. He stalled, allowing the creature to run away and into the shadows. Something more important was calling to him. The very hole in his chest that has haunted him for years was yelling at him with an impatient longing to move towards the sound. A flash of a memory passed across his eyes. Burning sage incense, a laughing girl, then a piercing scream. That caught his attention, memory flashes were rare for him, and he would take what he could get, already feeling the memory slip away from him.

Against his better judgment, Bucky listened. He stood at the edge of the tree line, just within the shadows to stay hidden. The Coven was rushing into a cottage, but his attention was diverted. You. That’s what the urge in him wanted. Her. His inner mind spoke, making it intentions known. As the winds shifted, your scent wafted straight into him. He involuntarily let out a whimper. The smell of your blood, a rich mix of honey and lavender, invaded his senses, and the inner voice preened again. Yours. He knew what this urge meant. He heard it from a few of the other nocturnal creatures. Bonded. The mortals called it soulmates, but it was deeper than that. Extremely rare, and most definitely the only explanation he had for wanting to fall to his knees in front of you. Bindings made nocturnals weak, the one thing you could use against any of them. Yet two powerful nocturnals bound together were a force to be reckoned with. A power only described by the ancients scrolls that were burned down in Alexandria. The world hadn’t seen true bounded mates in centuries.

He looked out towards you, using the self-control it took him centuries to perfect to not rush towards you. He might be attracted to your scent, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. He could smell exactly what you were in your very blood. Earthy tones, sparks of flame, and salt from the sea mixed faintly into your scent, just hiding behind the honey and lavender. Oh god. He wasn’t just blood bound to a mortal. No, he was blood bound to a witch.

---

The Coven was freaking out. Okay, well, Wanda was freaking out. The next day after what you referred to as ‘the event,’ all of you were in the cabin, in various states of calm and panicked, and sprawled out on the couches. All of the nearby contacted Covens felt the extreme power last night, yet none of them caused it. The Coven to the North hadn’t responded yet to Wanda’s calls, prompting her current freak out. The storm had blown in from the North, and now they were MIA.

Wanda paced up and down the carpeted floor of the living room, mumbling possibilities as to what had happened to the other Coven. “I’m sure they’re fine, Wan, can you please calm down? Your negative energy and attitude will only make you feel worse,” Natasha spoke up.

Carol sighed softly, crossing her feet as she sat on the rug at the base of the couch. “Y/n, how was the location spell?”

You shrugged, leaning back on the loveseat you were sprawled out on beside Maria, your calico cat Sasha on your lap. “It failed. More exploding crystals, more mess for me to sweep. Yey,” you sighed unenthusiastically. “Protection oil is brewing in the kitchen for another protection spell, was going to make a second batch later.”

“That’ll really help,” Maria muttered bitterly.

Glaring at her, you practically growled, the tension in the air thickening as your powers came to the surface, begging to lash out. Sasha felt the difference immediately, jumping off your lap and dashing into your bedroom. Natasha was quick to place a calming hand on your arm, her emotional powers calming your elements. The storm surrounding you calmed before dissipating entirely. “Well,” you took a deep breath, feeling your powers’ yearning to be used quiet down completely. “If you have any better ideas, I’m all ears.”

Carol stood, stretching her arms above her head with a groan. “Finish making any protection spells you can, all of us need to. The Council isn’t helping until something major happens so for now, it’s just us. Wanda, keep trying the nearby Coven. Everyone else, get to protections and identifications, we need to find this threat before it finds us.”

Natasha gave you a look at that, she was the only one you told about the red eyes at the edge of the woods. You even told her about the impulse in your chest to move towards it. She gave you another pointed look before following Wanda out the door, Carol and Maria following close behind.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky, just peaking behind the trees. Streaks of pinks and oranges filled the sky just as you walked outside your protected home. You knew what you saw, and now you had to see what it was. The itch in your chest was back, and you followed it, letting it tug you towards the woods. I feel like a horror movie cliché. Yet unlike the first girl to die, you could protect yourself. Well, you hoped you could.

A shadow crossed your eyesight just as you explored further into the trees. Swallowing back your fear, you placed your hand on your chest, letting yourself grip your charm necklace through your shirt. “I’m not scared of you,” you called out, trying not to flinch as another shadow passed into your vision. This one was much closer.

“Liar,” a voice declared beside your ear, making you jump away from the deep and gruff sound. There was no one there, but you had most certainly felt the voice’s breath fan across your neck. Only one creature was that fast, and the very thought made you shutter.

“Vampire or not, I’ll kick your ass,” you snarled, challenging it. “I am not scared of you,” you insisted, despite it being a complete and total lie. Vampires were, coincidentally, one of the few things you were scared of. But, that probably was because of all the horror stories your mother told you when you were younger, the whole ‘they are backstabbers never trust them’ thing.

“I have no doubt you’ll try, little one,” the voice sneered, now sounding like it was coming from your left. You spun on your heels to face it, but the voice echoed behind you the next time it spoke, he was toying with you. Despite your fear, you hated feeling helpless and not in control more; you loathed being played around with. “Yet you are afraid. Your heartbeat alone tells me that. If you’re so scared why come out here without your Coven?”

You gulped, practically feeling him behind you. He was painfully close, and the feeling in your chest grew; your heart beat against your chest, begging to be closer to the voice. “Last night,” you didn’t dare turn, knowing the vampire was a foot away from you, his fangs could rip you open within seconds. “You were there, well here I guess. Was that sound you?”

He chuckled, “And here I thought it was you, little witch,” his voice was inches from your ear, making you shudder.

“Something’s coming. You can sense it too, can’t you?” you wrapped your arms around your chest, letting your eyes close. Despite the stories you grew up with, your very soul felt at ease in this killer’s presence, and that lack of control worried you.

“Regrettably so, little one,” your eyes shot open and you spun, effectively catching him off guard.

“Stop calling me that!” You froze, now face to face with the vampire. Oh god, he’s hot. Hazel hair, deep blue eyes, a sharp jawline with a cleft in his chin. He was just as stunned that you had turned towards him. It was a stupid move, really, but Natasha tended to call you hotheaded. God, even his eyelashes are pretty. Are all vampires this pretty?

He quickly caught himself, giving you a smirk, his fangs just poking from his pink lips. “Why? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

You gave him a pointed look, digging your feet into the dirt as you tried to make yourself look bigger by squaring your shoulders. “I’m not. And that has nothing to do with the fact that I’m not little!” You hissed, letting your powers nudge towards the surface. The air around you electrified, little sparks running up and down your body.

The vampire couldn’t help the small smile on his face. His witch was more powerful than he thought. “It’s a term of endearment, I thought you might like it more than simply ‘witch,’ or some witch name like Sabrina,” he tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms as he regarded you.

You visibly relaxed, but you tried not to show that, “Why would you care what I think? Aren’t vampires supposed to hate witches?”

He chuckled, his laughter sounded like rich velvet, warming your insides as you tried not to squirm. “I guess they are, but you’re no ordinary witch, are you? Besides, aren’t witches supposed to hate vampires?” He shot back, letting his fangs take over his smile.

“We do, bloodsucker,” you sneered back at him, wanting to punch his smug face despite the tug in your chest. “And you are probably sensing my natural born abilities.” You weren’t quite sure what made you divulge that information, hell, not even the Council knew you were a natural born witch. Natural born witches were more powerful, rarer. They were dangerous. Only your Coven knew what you were.

He gave you a small look, letting his arms fall, suddenly seeming small. You thought he might seem nervous. “Do you not feel this tug then? The Binding longing to be near each other?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, blood sucker,” you tightened your arms around you, but with your suspicions that this pulling was a two-way thing being proved correct, you were a little less wary of the creature.

“James,” he quickly supplied, “My name is James. Are you sure you don’t feel it? That absolute needto be near the other?” He didn’t quite know why he was so fast to give you his name, but he did anyway, giving in to that feeling in his already dead heart.

“No,” you hastily snapped.

He merely chuckled, and you could feel your heart race at the sound. “You’re a terrible liar, baby doll,” he took a step closer, slowly placing his right hand above your heart, you didn’t move. “I can hear your heartbeat, I can hear the stutter in your voice, I can see your slight movements to get closer to me. Not to mention,” he was now inches away from you, and the pulling in your chest seemed to heighten, yet when he placed his hand to cradle your cheek it waned, calming. “Your powers have stopped trying to kill me.”

You blinked a few times up at him in confusion before sparing a glance around you. Shit, he was right. Your powers had lessened, now only a faint crackle in the air. Chancing it, you looked back at him, holding your breath at his blue eyes. Were they that blue earlier? They seemed familiar. You brushed that feeling away, deflecting. “Well… you’re not what I expected from a bloodsucker,” you countered.

His resulting smile sent your heart in a loop, and you inwardly groaned, knowing he probably heard it stutter. “We aren’t all evil, little witch. These good and evil vamps, just as there are good and evil witches, and those that walk the line in between.”

You bit your lip, definitely noticing the quick look he gave towards your lips. “This need, this ache. You called it a Binding? How do I know you’re not just using your vampire enticements on me?”

He smiled a toothy grin; the sight of his fangs sent a chill down your spine. “You felt it when I was still in the woods, and you were at your home, did you not? Enticements do not work that far. Has no one taught you what a Binding is, Sweetling?”

You shook your head, fighting against the impulse to lean into his hand, and also ignoring the petname. He was a stranger, a dangerous killer, and yet, you could feel the pull to just let him have you.

“Bindings, they are what the humans would call soul mates. A perfect other half. A person to complete your flaws,” he leaned in closer, “A perfect mate.” He was close enough you could smell him. A rich mix of vanilla and mint, with the scent of death and coppery blood hiding just below that. Humans couldn’t smell that though, only other supernatural creatures.

You gulped, quick to pull away. “You’re a vampire. You can’t be my other half. We call it something different, but I amnot bound to a bloodsucker. Any situation of witch soulmates was just that, between two mortals, not a vamp.”

“You know, I was human once, this feeling is just as strange to me as it is you, yet I do not want to stop it.” He admitted, taking the hint and stepping backwards. “It’s getting late, little one. Whatever is out there, I will not let it hurt you.” He let his eyes turn red, the blue swirling away to give way to crimson and burgundy.

“I don’t need your protection,” you tried to growl but it sounded more like a strangled whimper.

Your throat constricted faintly, and he just took a deep breath. He was using his vampire enticement to calm you, something you did not want to admit was working without too much effort from him. “I know, little witch, but I will protect you, Council and Coven and Packs be damned. You are mine, and I protect what is mine.”

And just like that he was gone, leaving you just as confused as when you stepped foot into the woods. Despite the more rational part of your brain telling you he was a killer, a creature you were supposed to hate, you couldn’t help but trust his word. Whatever this Binding was, it was compelling him to protect you, and though you didn’t really want to, you couldn’t help but feel intrigued and curious about what that would mean in the future.

---

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[the--sad--hatter]

The Cupcake Hostage Situation: Phase Two (Bucky x Reader)

Read Part One Here 

BEWARE, READER, FOR HERE BE SMUT! ONLY THE VERY THIRSTY MAY ENTER....

The Cupcake Hostage Situation: Phase Two

“Nat, I need a favour.” You told her, walking into her room after knocking and being called in.

 “Who are they and do you want them dead or just hurt?” She asked immediately.

 “Tortured, but I’ll be the one doing the torturing. I just need you to help me acquire the weapon.” You said with a positively evil smirk.

 “I’m listening….” She said, giving you her full attention.

 By the time you’d finished explaining what you needed from her, she was grinning as evilly as you were.

~~~~~~~~~~That Evening~~~~~~~~~~

 You: I need you.

 You: Sorry, wrong person.

 Booty Barnes: What the hell?

 You: Don’t worry about it.

 Booty Barnes: Who do you need? Why do you need them?

 Booty Barnes: Where are you?

 You: I meant to send it to Stark.

 Booty Barnes: Stark?!?

 You: The heat was broken in my room, it’s too warm. Steve fixed it.

 Booty Barnes: Oh ok. Well I’m coming to double check it, Steve’s useless.

 “It’s fixed, the knob was just stiff.” Steve told you and you raised an eyebrow at him.

 “Yeah, I know… too easy.” He sighed.

 “Thanks Cap, I was melting in here.” You said, smiling sweetly at him and waving as he left.

 As soon as your door closed you leapt to your feet and started tearing your clothes off. You heard Bucky greet Steve just outside the door and managed to pull the oversized t-shirt over your head and fling yourself onto the bed just as the door opened and Bucky walked in.

 “Wow, It is warm in here.” He agreed, before coming to an abrupt halt in front of the bed.

 You smiled innocently at him as his eyes raked over the light blue shirt you were wearing.

 “What the fuck?” He snarled.

 “What?”

 “Is that Steve’s shirt?” He demanded.

 “Hmm, does it look like Steve’s shirt?” You asked playfully.

 He recoiled, eyes taking in your bare legs and position on the bed.

 “Are you sleeping with him?” He asked, looking pained.

 “Bucky, I wear your shirts all the time and I’m not sleeping with you, am I?” You said.

 “Are. You. Sleeping. With. Steve?” He asked again, slowly.

 He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw while he waited for you to answer. You smirked and sat up, crawling along the bed until you were knelt in front of him.

 “Look at me?” You said softly and he opened his eyes, staring at you with a mixture of anger, pain and lust.

 “It’s my shirt. Natasha bought it for me today.” You told him and he immediately exhaled forcefully, the tension melting away.

 Your shoulder shook with barely restrained laughter and he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.

 “You did this on purpose to annoy me.” He accused.

 “Yes.” You said without a shred of shame.

 “Was the heat even broken?” He asked.

 “The heat controlled by the super intelligent AI in the futuristic compound built by Iron Man?” You scoffed.

 His eyes went impossibly dark as the depths of your ruse sunk in.

 “What the hell are you playing at?” He snapped.

 “You’re amusing when you’re jealous.” You explained.

 “Jealous? You’re damn right I’m jealous. I don’t ever want to see you in another mans shirt again doll. You wear mine and only mine.” He decreed.

 “Look at you getting all possessive. I don’t belong to you Bucky.”

 “Don’t you?” He asked.

 “Do I?” You countered.

 He looked like a deer in the headlights, frozen with fear. The flirting had been kicked up to a higher level and he was at a crossroads, it was make or break time.

 “Do you… do you want to? Be mine?” He asked nervously, his mouth suddenly dry.

 “Yes. God, yes.” You said immediately, your reaction making it clear just how much you meant it.

 He’d been unwilling to push the flirting any further in case it was as far as you were willing to go, afraid of making a fool of himself. But you’d backed him into a corner and made him admit what he wanted, because you wanted it just as badly and that realization smashed through all the walls he’d put up. He surged forward and kissed you with finally unbridled lust, his lips bruising yours in his urgency.

 You gave it back just as desperately and the second your lips touched his, the fire in your blood burned out of control. His teeth nipped harshly at your bottom lip and you gasped at the sharp sting of pain, a gasp that melted into a breathy sigh as his tongue swept across the ache, soothing it. And then he was pulling back, pulling away and shaking his head.

 “No, this isn’t right. It’s all wrong.” He said.

 You sat back on your heels, confused and hurt but before you could question him his fist grabbed the shirt, the material bunching around his metal fingers. He looked at you questioningly and you nodded, realizing it was the shirt that was wrong and not you. He ripped the material off of you, shredding it violently like it had offended him (you supposed it had) and tossing it across the room into the wastepaper basket.  You heard the hitch in his breath as he realized you hadn’t been wearing anything under the shirt. His hands ran along your arms, tenderly rubbing your skin in a show of gentleness that was the polar opposite of how he’d treated the shirt. His pupils expanded until his eyes were nearly black as he painstakingly studied every inch of you with his gaze until you were squirming uncomfortably.

 You pressed your thighs together, desperate to do something to sooth the building ache between them as he took his time memorizing and mapping your body. When his eyes finally met yours he saw the hunger in them and smirked. He reached behind his head and pulled his own shirt off with one hand, the way that only men seemed to know how to do.

 “Put it on.” He commanded, holding it out to you.

 You obliged all too happily, pulling it on quickly and shivering as his scent enveloped you. He reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up so you were pressed against him and rested his forehead against yours.

 “That’s better.” He sighed.

 You hummed in agreement and wrapped your arms around his neck so you could kiss him again. This time it was softer, slower and sweeter. The roaring flames of passion were less like a wildfire and more like a smouldering, slowly consuming blaze as he nudged your lips apart with his own and his tongue pushed past them. The way he kissed you was nothing short of filthy, his tongue exploring your mouth and his hands sliding under the shirt to grab your ass.

 “I wanna be real clear doll, unless you ask me to stop, I’m gonna fuck you. That ok with you?” He asked.

 “Yes, please fuck me James.” You pleaded and he growled.

 “Say that again.” He demanded.

 “Fuck me James.”

 He grinned wolfishly and smacked your ass, kneeling down slightly to sling you over his shoulder.

 “What are you doing?” You yelped as he carted you out of the room.

 “When I fuck you I’m going to do it on my bed, I’m going to fuck you into my mattress. When you come, you’re going to be grasping at my sheets, screaming my name into my pillow.” He informed you.

 His words were so spine-tinglingly sexy that you didn’t even think about what would happen if anyone saw a shirtless Bucky carrying you over his shoulder, in his shirt, through the halls. He more or less kicked his door open and slammed it closed, only putting you down when you were at the bed. He leant over to deposit you gently on the mattress, his lips diving straight for yours. His body hovered above yours as he held himself up, so as not to crush you but it wasn’t enough for you. You needed to feel him.

 Without breaking from his kiss you ran your hands down his back, fingers tracing his spine and his skin was hot to the touch. Your hands found their way to the waistband of his jeans and you blindly found the button, popping it open. A low rumbling sound vibrated from his chest when your hand slid under the denim, brushing against his hardness. Even without seeing him, you could tell he was well endowed, far to big for your hand to wrap around him but you gave it your best shot, palming him through his boxers. He lost his rhythm, breaking from the kiss to look at you and pant heavily when you pushed your hand down further, cupping his balls and his resolve broke.

 “Babydoll, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll never even look at another man again.” He vowed, standing up and pushing his jeans down.

 You sat up and smiled sinfully at him, your lips swollen and red from his kisses.

 “Bucky, I haven’t looked at another man since I first laid eyes on you.” You told him truthfully.

 He held his hand out and you took it, letting him pull you to the edge of the bed. He swept your hair to the side and exposed your neck, holding you in place with his hand tangled in your hair he licked a stripe across your skin, from the hollow of your throat to the tender spot beneath your ear. His teeth nipped at your earlobe before his lips whispered the word that nearly had you coming apart in his arms.

 “Mine.”

 Your scrabbled to push his boxers down his thighs while he softly bit into your neck, sucking at the skin harshly. You knew he was leaving his mark on you and you weren’t at all offended. He held you there, in place and marked you as his for all to see, his ministrations become more frenzied when you wrapped your hand around his cock and stroked it, using your thumb to smear his precum over the swollen head. He made a strained growling noise when you squeezed your fingers around his shaft and started slowly pumping your fist.

 “I wanna taste you.” You intonated.

 His mouth moved away from your neck but his hand stayed tangled in your hair as he took a step back and pushed your head down. You looked up to see him watching you with an ironically predatory look and keeping your eyes locked with his you swirled your tongue around his tip, savouring the taste of him.

 “Fuck.” He groaned, throwing his head back and you took advantage of the momentary distraction to wrap your lips around his head, and took as much of him into your mouth as you could.

 His fist contracted, his fingers pulling at your hair until your scalp stung and he moaned loudly, swearing when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. You relished in it all, the salty taste of his precum, the hardness of him filling your mouth, the sounds he made. It was all divine. You bobbed your head, pushing down on him until he hit the back of your throat and wrapping your hand around what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You could have happily done this for hours, uncaring about the ache in your jaw but when he felt his balls begin to tighten he pulled you off of him with a lewd, satisfying pop.

 You whined softly, petulantly, but he ignored it and pushed you backwards, sending you sprawling onto the bed. His hands gripped your thighs and forced them apart and you were exposed to him. The cool air hit you for no more than a second before he enthusiastically buried his face between your legs, forgoing all teasing. He was too impatient to taste you as touchingly as you’d tasted him.

 Your throaty moan echoed in the room as his tongue dived between your folds, licking a long slow stripe along your pussy. You leaned on your elbows, desperate to see him and his eyes flicked up to look at you. He smirked and let go of one of your thighs with his bionic arm, watching your face carefully as he carefully pushed his metal index finger inside you. It slid in easily, your ample wetness making it a smooth penetration.

 “Fuck, Bucky!” you keened loudly, you head hitting the mattress with a thump as he slowly added another finger.

 He cautiously moved them in and out of you, ensuring you were ready for it before he flicked his tongue across your clit, sending you into a vocal state of bliss while he fucked you with his metal fingers. They rapidly moved inside you, and his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, sucking it. It took less than a minute of his unrelenting actions before you were trembling, almost ready to come. With one last thrust of his fingers, the dam broke and you came with a long, drawn out moan of his name and just like he’d promised, you grasped at his sheets.

 His mouth never left your cunt as he licked every last drop of wetness from you, until you were too sensitive to be touched any more. Only then did he pull his fingers from you and sit up, kneeling between your legs.

 “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen doll, you coming undone like that for me.” He whispered reverently, his hands gliding over your hips and pushing his shirt up your stomach.

 He leaned to the side, opening his bedside drawer and extracting a box of condoms. You snatched the box out of his hands, making him chuckle as you practically ripped it open and pulled a foil packet from it, tossing the box back in the drawer. You tore the foil open with your teeth.

 “Eager are we?” he said in a strained voice that betrayed just how eager he was as well.

 You didn’t answer vocally, you pinched the end of the condom between your fingers so there was no trapped air in it and positioned it over the head of his cock and he sighed softly as you unrolled the condom down his shaft.

 “You sure you want this babydoll?” He asked, eyes searching yours for even a trace of doubt.

 “Fuck me James, make me yours.” You begged.

 He didn’t need to be told twice and without hesitating he lay on top of you, holding his weight on his metal arm as he used his flesh one to guide his cock inside you. As soon as his tip pushed inside you, your spine arched and your hands grabbed his shoulders. You were no virgin and even with the orgasm you’d already had, there was still a sting as he pushed inside you but it was a beautiful kind of pain and rather than take anything away from the pleasure, it fed it.

 With every inch that he slowly worked into your dripping core, his eyes frantically watched you. When he bottomed out, your moan of sheer pleasure assured him you were happy to have hic cock buried inside you and he let out his own grunt of satisfaction. He stayed there for a long moment, for his own sake as much as yours. You were so tight and warm around him that he needed a second to adjust or this would be over far quicker than he wanted.

 He rolled his hip gently in an experimental thrust and you whimpered softly, happily. Your own hips responded encouragingly, rolling with him and he continued to move against you slowly until you couldn’t take it anymore.

 “God, fuck me, please!” You demanded.

 “With pleasure sweetheart.” He said and pulled almost all the way out before he slammed back into you.

 You screamed loudly, your legs wrapping around his waist and he did what he’d been dreaming of doing since the very first moment he’d met you.

 His hips drove into you relentlessly, fucking you into the mattress as promised. You couldn’t match his super human pace, as hard as your tried. His hands pinned your hips down, holding you in place while he thrust into you, his cock dragging in and out of your cunt at an unrelenting speed. Your nails pierced his skin hard enough to draw blood but it only seemed to spur him on. He shifted his angle, just ever so slightly so that every time he slammed into you, his groin would meet yours, brushing against your clit. He shoved his face into the swell between your neck and shoulder and muttered obscenities into your skin as he fucked you into oblivion.

 “James, James… I’m gonna…” You whimpered.

 “I’ve got you doll, come on.” He groaned.

 His name tore itself from your lips in a frantic scream as your orgasm bulldozed through you, ripping away any last shred of coherent thought from your mind and you came while he continued to impale you on his cock, his thrust growing sloppier until he couldn’t hold back his own release any longer. The muffled roar of pleasure he let out into your neck had you instinctively digging your nails into his skin again as he collapsed on top of you, only just managing to hold himself up enough to not crush you.

 It was a long, long time before either of you could speak. You panted as you tried to relearn how to breath and he eventually managed to move enough to pull out of you, wrapping his arms around you and rolling to the side so you ended up sprawled across his heaving chest while he lay on his back.

 “You never wear another mans shirt again, promise me.”

 “I promise.” You laughed breathlessly.

 His hands tugged at the damp, sweat drenched shirt you were still clad in and he grinned.

 “Mine.” He growled.

 “Yours.” You agreed.

[jellydishes]

The first time Alistair met Bethany Hawke, she thrashed him so thoroughly that he saw enough stars to make a few new constellations.

Admittedly, he'd gone into the sparring session with a few preconceived notions. The Warden Commander had told him in confidence that Bethany was a green recruit fresh out of Kirkwall, and, well… He'd have never said so to her face, but Alistair may have pulled the first few couple blows, just to test her limits. Anyone who actually knew anything about circle mages -especially those from the Kirkwall circle- knew that they were deliberately taught weaker magic to keep them in line and under control.

In hindsight, Alistair suspected that maybe the commander was trying to get him back for something. Either that, or they had a very sick sense of humor, because that ‘green’ recruit of hers came at him like a… well, like someone who knew what she was doing. And what she was doing was handing Alistair his ass.

He began to suspect that maybe Bethany was working out some aggression the second time she twirled that imposingly bladed monstrosity of a staff and brought it down, sending out a ring of flames that forced him back on his heels. Maybe it was the battle cry, or the way she was glaring at him, or maybe it was the way she spat a few curses at him that he'd have to remember for later.

The woman was like a whirlwind. She threw out magic faster than he'd expected from a circle mage (and wouldn't he be kicking himself about that assumption later), and he had to act fast to lash out with his shield. She went skidding back, giving him some breathing room from that staff of hers. Even without her magic, Bethany was quicker with it than she had any right to be.

He'd muttered that last part to himself, resisting the urge to rub at a few sore spots as she shifted his feet wider to brace himself. He held out a hand to prep a dispel using his templar abilities, but before he had the chance to finish it she'd already closed the distance and swung the flat side of her staff at his legs, knocking his feet out from under him. Alistair yelped as he tumbled down in a flailing heap of arms and legs and clattering armor.

Maybe that's why he was breathless as he looked up into the closest thing he'd seen to golden eyes since the last time he'd locked gazes with Morrigan, and quite forgot what he'd been going to say. Something extremely suave and clever, obviously. Unfortunately, what actually came out was, “Oh, wow. Wow. Are you- wow!”

Bethany was panting as she pulled her staff back from where the pointier end had been aimed at his throat, and looked at him with a dumbfounded expression that twisted the birthmark stretching over her nose. “Did I hit your head a bit too hard?” She asked him. Now that she wasn't cursing, it was a lot easier to make out her accent. A Ferelden girl then, eh? Interesting.

He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until she started to laugh, probably at him. And he was very okay with that idea. He wouldn't mind hearing it again, actually, and again after that. Her laugh wasn't musical or like bells or however a woman's laugh was always described in the songs, he noted; Bethany Hawke possessed a deep, raspy chuckle that turned into a snort at the end, and he'd never been more enamored of a laugh in his life. He also decided it was a better and altogether wiser policy to stare admiringly at her face just now, not least because he wouldn't get beat up again. Not that he'd mind that so much. Something about being on the other side of a beautiful woman who could rip you a new one was very intriguing, and flames, had he said that last part out loud again?

She paused, making him nearly groan aloud. Then she held out her hand to him, clasping his forearm in the way of a fellow warrior as she pulled him to his feet with a strength that told him ‘apostate’ just as much as the callouses on her hands. “I don't know what I am anymore,” she said with a rueful expression that he understood very well. “I'd have said Fereldan not too long ago, but…”

He smiled at her, feeling some kind of pang in his chest that he decided not to examine too closely just now. “It's alright. You don't have to be anything but a warden, now. At least,” he added more gently, “that's what the man who recruited me probably would have said. I think he meant that you can decide who you are as you go along. The wardens are good for that, among other things.” She had a strange look on her face, one that made him feel a bit of that old self-consciousness. “Something I said?” He laughed, scratching at the back of his head.

“No, it's just… I suppose that I'm not really used to hearing that sort of thing. Everyone’s always been so certain of who they were, except maybe for my twin brother.”

“Sounds like we'd get along famously, me and this brother of yours. I hardly know who I am after breakfast, let alone in that big metaphorical scope of things. Soul searching is exhausting, and I get tired just from maintaining my train of thought!” He laughed at himself the way he always did, but she didn't match it the way he expected.

“I think you would have,” was all she said, and Alistair winced as he realized just how badly he'd put his foot in his mouth this time.

Good going, he thought sourly, but his smile was still in place as he rubbed a hand at the back of his head. Anxiety scratched, scratched, scratched between his ribs but he did his best to ignore it as he said, "I know what it's like to lose someone important to you," he said slowly. "It clings to everything you do, doesn't it? After a while though, it…" He laughed humorlessly, wishing he were anywhere half as talented at speaking his mind as somebody else he knew. "What am I talking for, you already know. Probably better than a lot of people think. The quiet types aren't underestimated at just the one thing, are they? Again, not like I would know… Can't quite manage the knack of keeping my mouth shut, can I?"

Bethany didn't answer, didn't seem to know how, and he supposed he deserved that. He gave another smile that hung at an odd angle and hoped to the Maker that it looked genuine, then made to go on his way. “Did you mean it?” She asked him just as he was turning away, and Alistair looked back with his eyebrows raised.

“Of course I did. But just in case I need to recall this for ah, posterity, what are we talking about?”

“When you called me beautiful.” That rueful look was back, and so was that twist behind his ribs. “I've been called that before, you understand, a lot. Usually when people say it they don't really mean it as a compliment. So I guess what I'm trying to say is… What did you mean when you said it?”

He hoped his expression hadn't gone as soft as it felt like it had, but his luck was predictably bad. He could physically see her drawing back from him again, and he hurried to say something, anything, to fill that gap in the conversation that somebody who was better at this than he was would have used slightly better. Slightly. As it was, he had no idea what he was going to say until he said it. “I suppose I meant that you looked like you shone brighter than that fire of yours. All passion and skill and… you know,” he added with another one of those laughs that didn't actually hold humor so much as uncertainty, “bravery.”

“Bravery?” She sounded skeptical.

“Oh, definitely. You might not know who you are in words, but you threw yourself at it anyway. That takes a lot out of a person, being angry. Not everybody's good at it.”

“And you think I am?” She asked with a twist to her mouth that could've meant a lot of things, most of which Alistair was familiar with from his own mirror.

“Wouldn't be brave if you were,” he lifted a shoulder and let it fall in a lopsided sort of shrug.

Bethany laughed, and he couldn't help watching it with a different sort of ache in his chest. “I'm trying to decide if that was a compliment or not,” she said.

“I do hope it was the first one but ah, let me know when you figure it out, will you? I'm always unintentionally insulting the wrong people and not insulting the right ones. It's a real problem.”

“And which one am I?”

“Oh, you're the right one. At least, I um… You know what?” He said instead of the words building up on the edge of his tongue, “I'm going to go be embarrassed over here for a few minutes and pretend it's official business with the warden commander.”

That earned him a startled burst of laughter. Bethany had a peculiar way of laughing behind one hand that made him nearly burst with the urge to tell her that she shouldn't have to feel like she had to hide her happiness from anybody, but i stead he swept himself away in a hurry. He was already blushing up to the tips of his pointed ears. No need to embarrass himself any more than he already had.

[thinkyoureholy]

Opposites Attract [1]

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Pairing : Park Jimin / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Enemies to Lovers!AU, Fantasy!AU

Words : 1.8k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

-16 Years Ago; Y/N’s P.O.V-

I stared in awe as I watched the boy create fire out of thin air. It was the first time I had seen anyone create anything other than water. Everyone here in the Poseidon faction could create and manipulate water, my father could even freeze it but I wasn’t allowed to talk about that. The boy did some fancy moves with his hands before outstretching his right arm, fire shooting out of it. Without thinking I applauded and cheered for him loudly, drawing his attention over to where I was. From where I was sitting I could see a blush rise to his cheeks, his eyes on the ground in front of him in embarrassment.

“That was so cool!” I exclaimed, running over to him and jumping up and down in front of him giddily.

“When you went like whoosh and stretched out your hand and the fire just went like boom before shooting out like ssshhh!” I all but yelled, mimicking his moves from before and adding sound effects.

The more I talked the more I saw him loosening up until a huge grin spread across his face, a giggle slipping passed his lips. I grinned at hearing the giggle, pausing my rambling for a second.

“What you do is so much cooler than what my people can do.” I said with a pout, staring down at my hands.

“What faction are you from?” He asked with a tilt of his head, curiosity swimming in his eyes.

I didn’t say anything, deciding to just show him. I waved a finger in the form of an ‘s', opening my palm, having it face upwards as the water formed at my command. He stared with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape.

“Woah...you’re from Poseidon?!” He asked, poking at the ball of water I had made, fascinated that it held its shape.

Before I could get another word out I heard my brother calling out to me. I groaned before turning to face him, “Coming!”

I turned back to face the boy again, a frown now on my face, “I have to go...I’ll see you later…”

I turned to run over to my brother after that but stopped midway, turning on my heel and running back to the boy, man was I doing a lot of turning. He raised his eyebrows, curious as to why I came back, his brows shooting up higher when I stuck out my hand to him. My father always taught me to extend a hand for the other person to shake when introducing myself, said it left a good impression...or something like that.

“I’m Y/N by the way.” I said with a grin, that grin growing wider when he shook my hand.

“I’m Jimin.”

-8 Years Ago-

“Park Jimin your ass is grass! Get the hell over here!” I yelled, shaking off the water from my sleeves before running after him.

I had been practicing gathering as much water as I could in one go. I had gotten it to be as big as a kiddie pool when the grass a few feet in front of me had suddenly caught on fire. I had been so preoccupied with focusing all my energy into keeping the water as uniform as possible. Suddenly having the grass catch on fire had a small yelp leave my lips, my concentration broken. All the water that I had collected came raining down on top of my head, soaking me from head to toe. Jimin had doubled over in hysterics, clutching onto his stomach as he tried but didn’t succeed in controlling his fits of laughter. When he hadn’t heard another peep out of me after seeing me get drenched he finally looked up at me, his eyes wide as he noticed how angry I was.

As soon as I started yelling at him he began running. I let out a groan, running after him but he was too fast so I gathered as much water as I could as I ran. I had just enough to make a makeshift rope out of it, stretching my arm out towards him. The rope of water latched onto his ankle and with a tug he came tumbling down. Before he could get up I straddled his waist, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them above his head. With my other hand I made a small ball of water before letting it fall onto his face.

“Not so funny now is it?” I asked, a smug grin on my face.

He glared up at me, his hair slicked back by the water. The longer I stared down at his face the more I felt myself getting hypnotized by his eyes. It had been eight years since I met Jimin when we were both seven now at the age of fifteen we had both changed significantly but I hadn’t really noticed until now. The baby fat he had was still there on his cheeks but it wasn’t so much compared to when he was seven. His jaw had started to look a little more chiseled as well but then again he still had that boyish look to him. What had changed the most were those eyes of his. Just before I got sucked in I snapped myself out of it, shaking my head. I got off of him, not noticing the slight blush on his cheek. Grumbling to myself I threw more water at him, now drenching his entire body.

“Hey!”

“Now this, this is hilarious.” I said with a grin, leaning back on one hand while the other pointed at him.

He glared over at me, the water that coated his skin turning to steam as he rose his body temperature. I glared at him, knowing he wasn’t even going to offer to dry me off. He smirked, his clothes already halfway done drying. With a roll of my eyes I waved my hand in front of my body, sucking out all the moisture from my clothes, leaving my hair wet. Looking at the water I had collected from my clothes I smirk, throwing it in his face once more before getting to my feet and running off.

“See I’m telling you it’s comedy gold! Someone should pay me to be a comedian! I’d make millions!” I yelled over my shoulder, running away as fast as I could.

I caught a glimpse of him, seeing that he was still sitting on the ground but he had a smile on his face instead of the frown I expected. With a grin of my own I turned to face him, waving my hand high above my head.

“Bye for now Jimin! I’ve gotta go meet up with my father, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” I asked, hopeful.

The grin on my face grew at seeing him nod, waving back at me.

[Later that same year]

“Father! Father!” I yelled out, putting the fighting techniques he and Levi had taught me to use.

I looked over to where he was, frantically trying to reach him. I could see him struggling against the man he was fighting. The Hephaestus faction had been fighting for the right to rule since the Zeus faction ruled a hundred years ago. Seventy years ago the crown had been passed to the Gaia faction, forty years ago it was passed to the Zephyrus faction, and ten years ago it was passed onto the Poseidon faction, the Hephaestus faction never being allowed to rule due to their past. Since my father was our leader it only made sense that he was the one they were targeting.

Levi and my mother had begged me to stay away and hide but knowing that all three of them were going to fight I couldn’t just stay and do nothing so I lied to them. I told them I’d stay behind but snuck away the moment they were out of sight. I had to be with my family through this fight, I just had to. When I had arrived the fighting was going on full force. It took a few seconds for my brain to kick in but when it did it was all muscle memory. Everything Levi and my father had taught me was being used to its full potential. I knew it was just a matter of time before any of them noticed me but I didn’t care, I wasn’t going to run away.

What I didn’t expect to see was my father fighting against a man I did not know from Hephaestus. The state my father was in had a lump forming in my throat. Half of his shirt was totally burned off, the burn marks very visible even from where I was standing. Knocking the woman I was fighting off her feet I ran to my father, the panic spreading across my entire body. I could see how fatigued he was, his legs shaking as they had difficulty keeping him upright. Before I could even get close to him I felt an arm block my path, the hand connecting to said arm grabbing a tight hold of my shoulder. I looked up to see that the arm belonged to Levi, his eyes glaring into my own. Before he could scold me I yelled out for my father once more, having seen him falling to his knees from exhaustion. The tears were streaming down my face as I watched the man he had been fighting creating a huge ball of fire, the flames were so uncontrollable that they slapped the ground a feet few from where we were. The heat was unbearable. The man raised his arm high above his head, my mother’s screaming being heard somewhere to my right. And like what he did to me Levi reached out to grab her, stopping her from going any further. The both of us fought against his hold, trying desperately to reach and save my father.

“Woosung!”

“Father!”

Within the next second the man had flung the fire at my father. Before I could see the fire engulf his body Levi brought me into his chest. I screamed and cried out for my father, hearing my mother do the same. The only thing that let me know Levi was even effected was the shaking of his body. I clung onto my brother, sobbing into his chest. I knew...I knew there was no way my father would have survived that as defenseless as he was in that last moment. I could hear my mother yelling at Levi to let her go, the desperation in her voice clear.

“No! I’m not losing you too...I’m not losing anymore of my family today!” He yelled, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his cheeks.

I let out another sob, closing my fist around the fabric of his shirt as I buried my face into his chest.

-

It wasn’t until years later that I learned that the boy I had befriended out on that field was the son of the very man that killed my father.

[snarky-badger]

Hello, i love your work! so may i resquest a prompt with a badass/sarcastic girlfriend for eddie, like Something happen to us and eddie and venom to protect her but she kick some ass too and their shook because they want to protect her but she protect them from someone i dunno i hope that give you a better idea than mine !

This… didn’t come out the way I wanted. I rewrote it twice. Still not totally happy with it, but I’m worried I’ll ruin it if I tweak it any more.

Since Youtube doesn’t like links, copy/paste this into your browser to hear the music that inspired the fight scene: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ac4J9344s2s (It’s ‘I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight’ by Hidden Citizens)

You grinned as you stepped out of your office building and spotted Eddie leaning against a street light. He jerked as it poked, his gaze rising from his phone, a warm smile spreading over his lips when he spotted you.

Smiling, you wove through the mass of people, heels clacking on the pavement as you made your way over to him. “Hey, you! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Steel blue eyes flickered a little as a white shadow flit across them before Eddie’s smile stretched into a grin. “Thought we’d pick you up for an early supper,” he said, reaching out to take your messenger bag from your shoulder.

“Aw, you’re sweet.” You rose up on your tiptoes to kiss him, slipping a hand in under his jacket to touch his ribs, chuckling when you felt a symbiote tendril curl around your fingers and squeeze. “Lemme guess, someone’s hungry?”

“When is he not hungry?” Eddie chuckled. You snickered at the thin black tendril that rose up from his jacket collar to flick at his left ear. “Vee - not in public!”

A soft laugh left you as you pulled away. “Hi Venom. Steak or Sushi?”

“Steak,” growled out of Eddie’s throat, the man coughing a little once the alien had relinquished control of his voice.

“Steak it is,” you chuckled, smiling again when Eddie hefted your bag onto his shoulder before taking your left hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours. “So, what’d you do all day? Eat anyone interesting?”

A laugh left him. “Nothing nearly that exciting. Just lots of research for the next article the editor tossed at me. A pharmaceutical group recently upped the price of some cancer drugs by a thousand percent.”

“Ugh. Gross.”

“Yeah. Assholes. And you?”

“Oh, yes, because I lead a glamorous life as a Human Resources lackey,” you snarked, rolling your eyes. “The new program they installed is shit, to be honest. It keeps crashing and causing problems.”

“So they fixed it until it broke?”

“Yup. And it’s breaking in an fantastic way. Half of the people I talked to today haven’t been paid in three months, others got seven times their bi-weekly pay in one lump sum, and three had funds taken out of their accounts… which, technically, should be impossible, but the new program is apparently a ‘huge success’.”

“Bureaucracy at it’s finest,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes, and you chuckled as you nodded your agreement. “Well, we’re here to distract you! Good food and then a quick wardrobe change at the apartment and we’ll head down to the fair that just got set up.”

“Oooh, yay! Dibs on the shooting games! I need to shoot something.”

Eddie laughed at your enthusiasm, hand releasing yours so he could relocate his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body for a hug. “Deal.”

“Target acquired!”

“Wha–”

You and Eddie both turned towards the shout. You caught a glimpse of a trio of heavily armed people standing in the middle of the intersection before the one on the left rose their arms, silver gauntlets on their wrists glowing a little before noise, a shrieking, screaming, wall of sound hit you.

You dropped with a cry, hands clamping over your ears. The sound, horrible, high pitched, making your bones vibrate uncomfortably as it cut through your skull. People all around you clutched at their heads, some falling, some crawling for safety - though there was none to be found.

All the windows around shattered. Cars, buildings, store fronts, all exploded, sending glass flying everywhere, pelting everyone on the street and sidewalks with shrapnel.

Eddie howled in pain next to you, dropping to the ground, writhing. Blackness boiled around him as Venom uncoiled, the symbiote convulsing as the high pitched sound cut through it. Venom’s own scream, feral, raw, rose in counterpoint to Eddie’s and you could only watch, tears streaming down your face, as the ones you cared about thrashed in agony on the pavement.

The silence that followed that sonic barrage was complete and still, and you spent a moment trying to remember how to move, muscles still vibrating from the blast. Finally, you managed to shakily crawl over to Eddie, who was breathing shallowly, Venom a weakly twitching puddle beneath him.

“E-Eddie?” You saw the three start to approach out of the corner of your eye and shook your boyfriend, voice sounding distant and tinny to your no doubt damaged hearing. “Eddie!”

All around, people were scattering, running, a group nearly stampeding over you as they bolted from the trio that were slowly walking down the street, bits of broken glass crunching under their boots as they approached.

Hands shaking, you stumbled to your feet, one shoe missing. You kicked off the other pump, glass easily cutting through your pantyhose covered feet as you grabbed Eddie under the shoulders and started dragging him under an parked SUV and out of sight

The panicking group of people around you helped to hide your motions, enough that the attackers paused when they reached the spot where Eddie had fallen. You were shaking, laying flat on the dirty street under the SUV, Eddie on his back next to you, half-conscious.

“Can’t have gotten far,” one of the attackers growled, and you watched armored boots move around the side of the SUV you were hiding under. “Alien should be out of commission from that blast.”

“Thought you said it’d take him out with one blast! Where’d he go?”

“Look, I don’t know everything okay? Just what was in the portfolio. Weakness to sound and fire, that’s all it said.”

“Shouldn’t have taken this job, Mark. It stinks.”

A new voice growled out: “Fuck that. For five million dollars I’d take out my own grandmother.”

“That’s cuz you’re batshit insane, Jonah.”

You chewed on your lip, eyeing Eddie where he lay beside you as the obsidian puddle that was Venom slowly reformed around him. He moaned, eyelids fluttering, and you slapped a hand over his mouth to silence him, attention going back to watching the three sets of boots mill around as they started searching the street.

It wouldn’t be long before they spotted you. You frowned, your free hand curling into a fist, hating the lack of options.

Eddie suddenly jerked awake next to you, and you shifted your hand from his mouth to his chest, pushing him back down.

“Shh,” you hissed, meeting his gaze before glancing to the nearest set of armored boots.

He tensed, but stayed silent, tilting his head back to watch as the man stomped past the SUV, moving to investigate an alley. “When we say ‘run’,” Eddie rumbled into your ear, his voice a low growl of mixed human and alien. “Run.”

You nodded, mutely. Watched as blackness rose to cover him, Venom’s face forming close to yours, pale, opal sheened, eyes and a mouth with too many fangs settling into place.

“READY MORSEL?”

“Yeah.”

“GO.”

You scrambled out from under the SUV at the same time that Venom lifted it off it’s wheels, bolting for the shelter of a parked bus on the other side of the street. There was an unearthly roar of anger, followed by yells and screams from ‘Mark’ and ‘Jonah’, and a crunch of a car being thrown.

Glass sunk into the soles of your feet as you jumped and slid across the hood of a car in the middle of the street, the vehicle abandoned by it’s owners. You landed on the opposite side, hunkering down. Blew a loose strand of your hair out of your eyes as you peeked over the hood, watching as Venom closed a taloned hand around one of the attacker’s throats and lifted him off his feet.

A roar of pain left him seconds later as a flash grenade detonated at his feet, bits of the symbiote flaring away a little before reforming. Venom turned, and threw the man in his grasp at the one who had thrown the grenade, the two males crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Fire filled the street as the third attacker ran into the thick of things, and you winced at Venom’s shriek as flames licked at his body, bits of his symbiote form flaking off, like ashes. He leapt out range, used a tendril to rip a newspaper box off it’s moorings, then threw it.

When things started to get too close for comfort, you sucked in a breath and darted away from the car, ignoring the sharp pains cutting into your feet as you ran for the safety of an alleyway a block away.

Took cover behind a dumpster, crouching there, closing your eyes when another blast of sound made the fillings in your teeth vibrate.

You hoped Venom could handle himself. Technically, you could have done something, but fear of reprisal held you back. You didn’t think the repercussions would come from Eddie or Venom. No, you were worried about bigger things - like your life.

When you’d turned thirteen, you’d developed the ability to move things with a thought. Your parents had been horrified. Had instilled in you the knowledge that if you ever let anyone know what you could do, that you’d be taken away. That you couldn’t under any circumstances, use your powers, no matter what. So you’d kept what you could do a secret throughout high school, and then college, and then your adult life.

Now, with the Mutant Registration Act in full swing, you feared for your life. You knew what humans did to mutants: had seen far too many beatings and anti-mutant protests and hatred. The ‘Friends of Humanity’ patrolled the streets like a wave of physical hatred.

Fear kept you from trusting anyone. Fear kept you restrained.

So, you huddled, hiding, as the sounds of the battle got louder. People screamed and sobbed as Venom and the Trio fought, stragglers darting around, some stupidly taking photos with their phones while others right ran for their lives.

With every scream of the sonics, with every whoosh of fire and loud explosion of grenades, with every roar and scream of pain from Venom, you jerked as if physically hit. Guilt knawed at you, and you clenched your eyes shut, the heels of your hands pressing into your temple.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the ground, sending you to your knees in the grime. Bits of buildings, bricks and mortar, clattered to around you, and you curled over, hands rising to protect your head as another series of booms and bangs rattled everything. It sounded like the end of the world, like a nuclear bomb going off.

People screamed again, cars lifting off their tires, some flipping onto their sides. More sound shook the air, drowning out your own shriek of fear as everything went to hell around you. The ground rose, then slammed back down, and you cried out again as you landed hard on your chest, the breath whooshing out of you.

Distantly, as silence and stillness finally returned, you heard the sounds of triumphant whooping.

“HAH! Got ‘im! Told you land-mining the street ahead of time was worth it!”

Panting, shaking, you pushed yourself to your hands and knees, palms bloodied from scraping on the concrete. Your pant were torn at the knees, covered in grime, and you stiffly shucked out of your blazer, loosening the top three buttons of your blouse as you tried to level out your panicked breathing.

Numb, ears ringing, you stumbled to your feet, then staggered towards the street, side stepping around bits of debris. The street was decimated. Huge holes lined either side of the road, bits of concrete and asphalt peppered the ground, along with more glass. Some stores looked like they’d imploded, others were missing completely. A building across the way was missing the whole front of it - it had simply caved in. Some cars had been flattened by debris, one was one fire, and a few were blaring their alarms.

Shivering, you braced yourself against a still standing wall, and peered around it. The trio were standing in around a figure on the ground, and your heart sank when you realized that it was Eddie, his left leg broken, his right arm bent at an unnatural angle. Venom was pooled under him, trembling, and you growled when one of the thugs aimed a flamethrower at the leading edge of the symbiote and literally burnt it off with a burst of fire.

Your life, or the life of the man (and symbiote) that you loved?

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails cutting into your palms as your knuckles went white.

You didn’t have the luxury of fear anymore.

Eddie groaned, pain, sharp and white hot, bombarding him. One leg was definitely fucked up, and one of his arms was just a blur of agony. Things weren’t too good with his head either, he had trouble focusing his eyes, and his thoughts seemed decidedly… slippery.

The place where Venom usually lived in his brain was frighteningly quiet, and he frowned, tasting blood as he licked his lips, voice croaking out. “V-Venom?”

A voice snorted laughter at him. “Sorry, asshole. Your alien buddy is down for the count.”

Another chuckled. “Easiest five mil I ever made.”

He groaned again, trying to sit up, good arm shaking as he tried to heft himself up, only to cry out when the butt of a gun smacked into his forehead. Stars and blackness exploded across his vision, consciousness wavering, and Eddie felt hands grab him, felt new pain as he was dragged down the street. His still working hand slid through a familiar viscous mass, and he curled his fingers into the symbiote, slurring Venom’s name again.

“Wait. What the fuck is that?”

“What the fuck is what?”

Dimly, Eddie felt it. The ground, vibrating, like an earthquake, but more drawn out. As if a train was rumbling by. He rolled his head on his shoulders, blinking through the blood in his eyes, and joined his three attackers in trying to figure out what was going on.

He caught sight of you before they did. Blinked again, trying to focus, as you kept walking towards them, slowly, steadily. Your business outfit was torn, blood, dust, dirt and grime marring your clothes, feet bloodied from walking on bits of glass and debris.

“Who’s that?”

“Who the fuck cares? She’s a witness. Fry her.”

Eddie thrashed, trying to get loose. Howled when the one on the left returned the attempt with a kick to his head. His skull rebounded against some debris, vision going black, and he groaned, curling into himself, good hand rising to cover the bleeding gash he’d just gained.

“Hey there, sweet thing,” the one with the flamethrower leered as he stepped forward. “You look a little hot!”

“No!” Eddie screamed as fire exploded from the odd gun the thug was holding, washing forward like a tsunami. Saw it engulf you, the flames hot enough to made the paint on nearby cars turn black from the heat and start to peel. He fought, screaming obscenities, lashing out with his good leg and making contact.

The goon with the sonic gauntlets went down with a curse when his knee was kicked in, landing on Eddie with the intention of beating him senseless. Rage took over as Eddie fought back, grappling, beating on the other man with his good fist, until one of the others still standing kicked his broken leg right where it had snapped in half.

His vision went black from pain. Heaving, Eddie curled into himself, receiving a knee to the ribs as the thug he’d kicked gave him a final hit before staggering to his feet again.

He heard a curse of surprise, heard more footsteps. Managed to crack an eye open in time to see the trio start to back away. Frowning, he tilted his head back as far as he could, blinking through his swollen eyes in shock.

You were standing in the center of a circular unburnt patch, the only signs that fire had been involved the chaos around you, burnt cars, smouldering asphalt that was partially melted from the heat.

Eyes narrowed, you stepped forward, ignoring the sizzling stench of your skin burning as you walked across hot concrete. Everything vibrated around you as your powers uncurled from you in waves, making bits of debris rattle on the ground.

Eddie blinked up at you as you reached him, pausing to look down at him with glowing eyes. “B-Babe?” he croaked, shivering when the glow faded a little, as you gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile before raising your gaze back to the Trio, breathing deep as you stepped in front of Eddie’s crumpled form.

The Trio didn’t bother with any quips or conversation. Merely opened fire, flames and the scream of sonics filling the air.

Eddie grimaced, bracing himself for more pain, eyes widening when you rose a hand to the side, fingers curling a little. A heavily damaged car rose off it’s tires and flew between you and the oncoming attacks. Metal groaned, the frame buckling inwards, as it acted like a barrier, absorbing fire and the sonic barrage. 

You waited for a lull in the attacks before making a shoving motion, sending the car flying forwards. It cartwheeled through the street, sending the Trio diving for cover. You sent an SUV and a pickup truck after it, aiming to crush the opposition outright, eyes narrowing as you reached down, into the ground.

More concrete buckled, ripping free, chunks rising into the air as you took hold of them. Another thought had slivers of glass gathering together into sharpened spikes, your makeshift weapons floating in the air around you, held aloft by your thoughts alone.

Only two of the attackers rose out from the destruction from the vehicles, and Eddie propped himself up on his good arm as you took aim, sending a chunk of concrete after the one with the flamethrower and three spikes after the one with the sonic gauntlets.

Fire was useless against rock. The concrete flew through the wave of flames aimed at it and hit the man right in the chest. He died seconds later when a razor sharp spike of glass sunk into his face.

The other man had thrown himself to the side, rolling out of the way of the spikes you’d sent after him, and Eddie watched as you made a gesture, one of the other chunks of concrete floating nearby shooting forward. It forced the thug to abandon his hiding spot as the heavy chunk flattened the small Mazda he’d been hunkering behind.

He darted across the street, arms raised, more sonics screaming out from those odd gauntlets he wore. You mentally wrenched a nearby car door off it’s hinges, seeing the metal buckle as you used it as a shield. The second the sound stopped, you sent half a dozen spikes at him; five at chest level, one at his feet.

He deflected five, but not the sixth that sunk into his right foot, pinning him to the ground. Finally still long enough for you to focus on him, you mentally reached out and snapped his neck, his head spinning all the way around before he dropped, dead, to the ground.

“That’s quite enough of that.”

Eddie grimaced as he jerked his head to the side, following your startled gaze as the two of you stared at the third goon, and you grit your teeth when the man rose his arms, the pair of sonic gauntlets he wore glinting in the light before he activated them.

Being hit point blank was like having a bomb go off in your head. You screamed, dropping to the ground, your telekinetic hold on the concrete chunks and shards of glass failing as the shriek of sound cut through your brain. Eddie convulsed next to you, the symbiote boiling and undulating in agony.

Panic took over, and you lashed out.

Everything exploded.

The thug died on impact as the blast picked him up and sent him flying across the street to impact with a building wall with bone breaking force. Recurrent waves of power rolled off of you, over and over, concrete buckling, cars being sent flying, buildings cracking on their foundations. Garbage and debris swirled around, forming an impassable barrier.

Eddie groaned, reaching out, fingers touching your arm before curling around your wrist. Everything beyond a ten foot radius around the two of you was falling apart under a constant barrage of unfocused power, the ground cracking and splitting under the stress. “Babe. Babe, s’okay. S’over! Babe!”

The shout, along with the grip on your wrist, jolted you, eyes snapping open, blinking a few times before you focused on Eddie’s bloodied face.

As soon as your mind calmed, everything settled. Cars slammed to the ground, debris dropping all around you like rain. You gasped, breath hitching in your throat as tears gathered in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I didn’t– I lost control–”

“It’s okay,” Eddie rasped, forcing a smile when you crawled over to him and leaned down to press your forehead to his. “You kick some serious ass when you’re pissed.”

A watery laugh left you, and you kissed him, gently. “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit, too.” A grunt left him as he forced himself to sit up, and you frowned as you helped him, your gaze landing on the mass of black, viscous, symbiote under him. “Ahhh shit. Ribs.”

“Venom– I-Is he?”

“No clue. Can’t feel him.” He reached down into the obsidian puddle under him, frowning as he sank his fingers into the mass. Felt it vibrate a little against his skin, and look up at you with a crooked smile when the symbiote slowly, painfully slowly, sunk into his skin. “Down but not out.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Sirens caught both of your attentions, and you frowned as police, fire trucks and ambulances appeared at the intersection. People appeared from everywhere, sticking their heads out of stores and alleys and doorways before mobbing the response teams.

You looked away and refocused on Eddie, who was pale under the patina of dirt and blood. Sighing, you dropped down to sit next to him, leaning your head against his when he slumped against you. “Don’t think Vee’s going to appreciate hospital food though.”

He managed a tired, weak, huff of laughter. “That’s because it’s not real food.”

A smile tugged at your lips for a moment before fading. “Think I’ll get arrested?”

“Don’t know. Though if anyone connects me with Venom, I might be joining you.”

“Shit.”

“Yup.”

“I’m sorry… for not telling you,” you murmured as the throng of police and EMTs neared the two of you. “I should have. You trusted me, and I was too much of a coward to reciprocate.”

His good hand sought out yours and you shivered when his fingers curled around yours tightly. “S’okay. Promise. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Overruled.”

A tired laugh left you. “You’ve been watching too many court dramas again.”

“Vee’s fault.”

“Of course it is.”

[quinzelade]

Making One’s Bones (chpt 14)

Chapter List

--

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park's throne? Well...at least she'll have experience.

--

Hello, everyone! Welcome to my newest fanfic! While this is technically a ‘sequel’ of By No Constraint, you don’t need to read BNC to read this. It can be read as standalone.

--

Famous Last Words

--

“Hey, asshole! You're listening to Raider Radio. Don't like the name? I don't give a shit!”

Gage saw Bossanova visibly wince as RedEye’s voice crackled out over a radio on a nearby table. She stopped dead and stared at it, as if trying to will it to explode.

They hadn’t spoken a word to each other all the way down the stairs—Gage was furious with her for picking up the stray, and she was mad at him for his—justified—treatment of the kid. But his annoyance quickly made way for curiosity as Bossanova continued to stand and glare as if the radio had personally offended her. “What’s up with you?”

Bossanova glanced towards Gage, anger etched in every line of her ravaged face. She jerked her thumb towards the battered old radio. “I hate that man.”

“What, RedEye?” Gage frowned. “He’s a dumbass, yeah, but you’ve never met him.”

“I don’t have to meet someone to hate them for narrating my entire trip through the Gauntlet.”

“Oh.” Gage started to snicker. “Oh.”

“It’s not funny!”

“Well, I mean, it really is.”

The idea was Colter’s originally. RedEye, who already gifted Nuka World with his terrible Raider Radio show, had been drafted in to give commentary to all those stupid enough to fall into the Gauntlet’s trap. Fight their way through or die. And with RedEye making quips along the way, the whole thing had been genuinely entertaining for a while. Up until the point where Gage realised Colter was never going to move on and actually take the rest of Nuka World.

Still. The radio show wasn’t as bad as it could be.

“...got some news for you all,” RedEye went on, his voice rising in pitch as it always did when he was excited. “Word’s getting around that the Overboss has been seen meeting up with the head honchos for each of the gangs. No one's told me shit yet, but doesn't take a genius to figure out—”

“That was weeks ago,” sneered Bossanova. “He’s not exactly quick on the uptake, is he?”

“—we’re taking the park! The whole damn thing—”

“I would love nothing better than to kill him,” she said, toying with the hilt of her sword. “Introduce me some time, won’t you?”

“You just wait—this new overboss is the real deal, man. Getting shit done!”

Gage scowled. “Why bother? You’ll just pussy out at the last second or regret it afterwards.”

She frowned at him, and he knew he’d gone too far. But he wasn’t going to apologise. She’d let the stupid kid take his damn belt.

“I kill people who deserve it,” Bossanova said, just loud enough to be heard over RedEye’s babbling. “And when they deserve it, I enjoy it. It’s a skill; art, almost. And considering where we are, there are plenty of people who deserve it. You’ll get to see me in action soon enough, I’m sure.”

She turned on her heel and stalked off towards the front door, but Gage wasn’t letting this go without a fight. “So why the kid, huh? What benefit is she for us?” He lowered his voice as he followed her into the open. Never knew who was listening.

Bossanova was finally heeding his warnings about the other raiders, because she lowered her voice too. “She could keep things in order while we’re away. Like a servant.”

“She’s a slave, not a servant.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One knows its place, the other doesn’t.” Gage shook his head as they walked around the swan pond. “She’s useless, and if you keep her, the other raiders will think you’ve gone soft.”

“The girl could be an asset,” Bossanova insisted. “I’ve met her before. She followed me all through Nuka Town without me spotting her until the very end. And if we keep her loyal, she can squeeze into places we can’t, find information on people. No one pays attention to a slave. And the other slaves will think she’s on their side.”

Gage studied Bossanova for a moment. Her face was defiant, set, and absolutely full of shit. “Quit trying to kid yourself. You’re doing this because of Oswald.” Bossanova blanched and he knew he had her. “You feel bad for killing him, so you’re trying to make up for it by looking after the girl. It ain’t gonna work. You’ll never be able to trust her. She’s already proven that by stealing my belt, even if you don’t believe it.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she’s taken it,” said Bossanova casually.

“What?” He didn’t trouble to lower his voice, and a group of raiders looked around at him. “What?” he hissed again, sticking his face close to hers. “You figured she had it, and you didn’t try to get it back?”

“I didn’t want an argument,” she replied with a shrug. “And besides, that old thing was looking a bit tired. Treat yourself every once in a while.”

“But the grenades—”

“I think Sarah’s sensible enough not to use them.”

The Fizztop Grille exploded.

Glass rained down on them as fire roared from the windows, furniture and body parts scattered into the open air before landing in the pond with a series of loud splashes. Gage slowly turned to look at Bossanova. She sheepishly met his eye as a crowd of raiders began to gather around the burning tower.

After a few seconds of painful silence, Bossanova said loudly, “Someone must have finally set off the traps I installed. I was wondering how long that would take.”

Gage blinked at her, thrown for a second, but then understood when the other raiders began to mutter amongst themselves about the ‘traps.’ Bossanova was covering her ass and making sure no one got any bright ideas about setting up bombs in the future.

“Let’s go see which idiot raider got too big for their boots,” Bossanova went on in the same loud voice. She strode back towards the main door, kicked it open, and disappeared inside. Gage jogged after her, hoping the smoke wouldn’t be too bad.

“Sensible my ass,” Gage snarled as they ran up the stairs together. “I knew she had my belt.” Secretly, he thought the grenades might be worth it just to get rid of the girl. But now was not the time. For all he knew, the building was about to come down and that would be an absolute shitshow.

The top floor lobby was a wreck. Black soot coated the walls, and the double doors leading to the outer patio had been blasted off their hinges. Smoke was billowing through, making Gage’s eye sting, but most of the damage seemed to have been contained to the outside. He picked his way through the mess, watching as Bossanova pulled a large red canister with a nozzle attached off the wall, turned to the nearest fire, and a jet of white-grey vapour engulfed the flames.

“The smoke’s bad enough without you spraying shit everywhere!” Gage yelled, coughing. He backed away.

“It’s a fire extinguisher!”

“What?”

“A fire—extinguisher!” Bossanova bellowed. She gestured to the wall behind him. “Get the other one and help me before this gets out of control!”

Gage blinked. The fire extinguisher—or whatever it was called—did seem to be doing the trick. He nodded and sprinted over to the other canister, wrenched it free, and fiddled around with the nozzle. “How do you—?” His question was cut off by a jet of white gas hitting him in the face. From across the room he heard Bossanova laughing, and after a second he managed to get control of the spray and direct it at the fire instead.

The fire flickered and disappeared, revealing a small figure pinned beneath the rubble. “Boss, there’s the girl.”

Bossanova whipped around. “Free her. I’ll carry on with the flames.”

Gage did as he was told, pushing and hauling the broken furniture, ceiling, and pieces of wall off her. Despite the chaos around them, the kid looked relatively unscathed. He spotted his belt on her immediately, and saw one of the grenades was missing. “There we go. Told you the little bitch caused this.”

Bossanova ignored him. “Is she alive?”

He checked her pulse and found it strong and steady. “Yeah.”

“Good. Move her to the stairwell.”

Gage grabbed the girl by the arm and began to drag her carelessly across the rubble out of harm’s way.

“Properly, Gage.”

Gage grumbled and sighed, but obeyed, picking her up carefully and walking away. He was surprised by how light she was, how fragile she felt in his arms. It occurred to him he couldn’t have been much older than this when he left home.

A wonder I didn’t die.

He set her little body down in the stairwell and checked her over. Bossanova would just give him shit if he didn’t. A cut on her head suggested she’d hit it when the explosion went off, but otherwise she seemed okay. Remembering one of the quick fixes Connor taught him, Gage took out a stimpak, lifted her head forward, and injected it where the back of her skull met the neck. She shuddered, and he did another one for good measure. Bossanova was living proof he’d need twice as much medicine to get the job done.

Sarah’s eyes flickered open, and she stared up at him, wide-eyed and trembling. “Where am I?”

“Stay still, asshole,” Gage snapped. “Or you’ll make your head worse.” He got to his feet. “I’m gonna go help the boss. Move from this spot, and I’ll bring you back up here just to throw you out the window again. Got it?”

Sarah nodded.

“Stop moving your damn head!”

The girl bit her lip, blinking quickly. Gage took this to mean she understood and he stomped off back to Bossanova, picking up his extinguisher and helping finish the job. He answered Bossanova’s searching look with a grimace. “She’s fine. I've given her some stimpaks.” The boss didn’t reply, but set to work on the fire once more with a look of relief.

The flames slowly died. Within ten minutes, the Fizztop Grille merely smouldered. Bossanova wiped her sweating brow, panting, and turned to him smiling. “Good job.”

Gage frowned, but didn’t reply. They wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place had Bossanova not brought the kid back.

“Gage,” Bossanova said, peering at him. “Stop sulking.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ sulking,” Gage muttered sulkily.

“Sure you are. Is it because of the girl, or because you doused yourself with the extinguisher before you actually managed to—don’t you dare!” Bossanova shrieked as the white gas engulfed her.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Gage said blandly, his extinguisher nozzle pointed at her.

“I swear to Jesus and Mary and all that is holy, if you ever—”

Gage sprayed her again, grinning as her screams for him to stop turned into hacking coughs. Finally, the gas ran out and Bossanova emerged from the cloud holding her own extinguisher like a minigun.

“Porter Gage, you goddamn—!” She emptied her extinguisher at him, chasing him all round the Grille, and then threw the empty canister at his head for good measure. He easily ducked it, his sides aching with laughter.

It was odd, having fun without killing anyone. Gage savoured it while it lasted. Bossanova wiped tears from her eyes, grinning at him, despite herself. Then the situation—the smoking ruins of her den all around her, the implication behind it all—seemed to slide back into her thoughts, and the smile crumbled into a frown as she glanced past him. “You sure Sarah’s alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, not knowing or caring if it was true. Glancing back to the stairwell, he saw the kid was sitting up, watching them warily. There was something bothering him, and as he stared at her he realised what. “Boss...one grenade wouldn’t cause all this damage.”

Bossanova wore a grim expression. “That’s what I was worried about.” She walked across the lobby to Sarah, kicking aside rubble and dislodged furniture as she went, and crouched down. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Sarah’s eyes flicked towards Gage.

“The boss is askin’ you a question,” he snapped. When she still didn’t move, he added, “Talking won’t mess up your head, idiot.”

Sarah flushed red and glared at him. Despite himself, Gage bit back a grin. Most of the other slaves wouldn’t so much as look at him. Guts was always admirable, even if it was misplaced.

“Raiders came in and planted a bomb,” Sarah said, scowling at Gage, while Bossanova’s face paled. “They were going to kill you, so I climbed up into the ceiling a dropped a grenade on them.” She smiled triumphantly. Bossanova looked horrified.

“Yeah, using my grenade belt, you little shit,” he growled.

“Don’t speak to her like that!” Bossanova cut in, shooting him a death glare.

Gage snorted. “She's just a slave.”

“She's a child!”

“Even worse.”

Sarah unbuckled the grenade belt and dropped it to the floor, kicking it towards Gage. “There,” she said, glowering at her knees. “If you won’t share.”

“It’s ain’t about sharing,” Gage retorted, wondering why he was trying to justify himself to a ten-year-old slave, “it’s my goddamn shit. I earned it. And I know how to use it properly. You just blew up half the fucking Grille.”

“No. The raiders did that. I just made it happen before you guys got back.”

Gage and Bossanova glanced at each other. The kid had a point, not that he’d ever admit it. He picked his belt up, noticing she’d gouged out a huge hole in the leather just so she could wear it. “Great. Fucking ruined.” He dropped it on the floor again and stormed off back towards the outer section. The damage was worst here, so the bodies of the raiders would be around. With any luck, it would be just one gang. If not, and the gangs were working together, they were in big trouble.

Now he was looking closely, Gage could see the body parts scattered around the mess. He picked the pieces up, dumping it all in the centre of the room, and then pawed over it, checking for tattoos and clothing to see which gang was the latest problem. He could have asked Sarah which gang members she’d seen, but he didn’t want to ask the little shit for help unless he absolutely had to.

“Body paint and stupid colours,” Gage said eventually, holding up a leg with a fluffy pink scrap of fabric clinging to it. “We’re dealing with the Pack.”

Bossanova approached, a muscle jumping in her jaw. Even in the poor light, she looked and tense. “They tried to kill me...again?”

“You’re surprised?”

Bossanova said nothing for a moment and then gave a small nod. “I thought I had everyone where I wanted them. I thought I had control.”

Gage rolled his eye. “How many fucking times did I tell you this ain’t like the Old World? How many times?” His voice was rising, sharp and full of condemnation. He knew he shouldn’t be this angry, but it was Colter all over again. Why did no one ever listen to him? “The raiders don’t trust you. You’re a ghoul and so far you’ve done fuck all to keep them in their place.” He threw the leg at her feet. “I told you. But you knew best, obviously. And I was stupid enough to believe it.”

Bossanova stared at the leg for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was low and quiet. “It seems I’ll be giving a demonstration sooner than I thought.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She ignored him, striding across the room, throwing open a surviving drawer, and pulling out a singed meat cleaver. “Get the bodies out of here. Toss them from the window for all I care. When you’re done, you come with me. We’re going to pay Mason a visit.”

--

The Bradberton Amphitheater screamed with the roars of the Pack. Mason lounged on his throne as Bossanova strode through the crowd, Gage at her heels. He admired her audacity, but wasn’t sure if balls of steel were going to be enough to waltz through this situation. Then Gage remembered the bomb and his temper flared. These fuckers needed to be taught a lesson.

“Get up!” Bossanova bellowed as she strode towards Mason. “Up, now!”

Mason raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move. Instead, he waved his hand towards one of his Pack—a tall boulder of a man with long dark hair to waist—and the raider stepped in front of Bossanova, baring his teeth.

“The Alpha don’t want to see—” he began, but Bossanova pulled out her sword without breaking her stride and drove the hilt into the man’s stomach, catching him by surprise. As he doubled over, she slammed her elbow into his temple, sending him toppling to the ground with a thud.

There was immediate uproar. Mason rose to his feet practically frothing at the mouth.

“Good Alpha,” Bossanova shouted, making her way up the stairs and kicking his throne backwards off the podium. “I like obedience.”

Gage had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing, settling for a grin instead. He wasn’t sure where her attitude had come from, but he liked it. Mason, on the other hand didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He was easily two heads taller than the boss, but it was obvious she didn’t fear him. He moved down the steps slightly as she strode towards him, blade in hand, forcing him to look up at her.

“Boss,” Gage said sharply, noticing the anger rippling through the crowd. Weapons were being drawn, guns being readied. It didn’t matter how badass she was, even Bossanova couldn’t dodge lead.

“I defeated Colter with a sword,” Bossanova called out, turning to face her audience with her arms held wide. “I took him down in his power armour with this.” She held her blade high into the air and then gave a mocking bow. “What makes any of you think you could do better?”

No one answered.

Like Gage, Mason knew this wasn’t strictly true. The water, not her fighting prowess, had given Bossanova the edge over Colter. But the others didn’t know that, and most of them were too stupid to explain it to. Mason looked furious. Gage did his best to keep his face straight.

“Now,” Bossanova said, snapping her head back in Mason’s direction, “some of your little beasts thought they’d try and rig an explosive in the Fizztop Grille. They’re dead of course, but there needs to be payment for this transgression.”

“Payment?” snorted Mason. “What payment? None of us have shit and you know it. We’ve been stuck here for over a year, and judging by what you’ve been doin’, boss, we’re gonna be stuck here a little longer.”

Gage thought Mason had a fair point, but trying to explain the two areas they’d been to were still infested with gatorclaws and ghouls would probably be pointless. The gangs wouldn’t care that things weren’t ready—they only wanted results.

“Not money.” Bossanova paused, staring out over the crowd. She pulled back a layer of clothing to reveal the meat cleaver in her belt and met Mason’s eye. “Your people tried to kill Gage and I. Two lives, two fingers. They’re your pets, so you’re responsible. Pick someone for the debt, or I’ll just pick you.”

Gage frowned, feeling a little disappointed. Two fingers was tame considering they’d nearly blown her up. But she’d said he’d get to see her in action at some point and this was his chance. He decided to keep his mouth shut and see how it all played out.

Mason sneered at her and waved his arm around the amphitheater. “There’s a room full of us, bitch.” His words were met with a cheer, the Pack on the stands and the floor banging their chest plates and stamping their feet, throwing back their heads and howling to the sky.

Bossanova waited until they quieted down and smiled pleasantly. “Yes, but I only need two fingers.” She tilted her head and folded her arms. “Hurry up and make your choice, whelp.”

Mason flinched, the colour rising in his face. Gage thought she was pushing it, but couldn’t deny he was enjoying watching the prick be challenged in front of his own people. Mason gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers, his face going from red to purple as his eyes flicked between Bossanova and her sword.

“Haze!” Mason bellowed, turning to the stands suddenly. “This was your fucking idea! Get over here!”

A scuffle broke out in the crowd, followed by muffled screams as a lone figure was thrown into the clearing. He was a big man with purple hair and wearing a bright blue vest. He tried to back away, but met a wall of bodies pushing him towards Bossanova.

“Excellent.” Bossanova removed the cleaver from her belt and ran her finger down the blade lovingly as she stared at her prey. “Put your hand on the step in front of me. Now.”

The raider hesitated, staring at Bossanova’s placid face. She looked at Gage and gave a small nod.

Elation filled Gage’s chest as he strode over and snarled, “You heard what the boss said. Now!” He kicked the raider’s legs out from under him. Haze yelled in surprise, but Gage was too quick, taking his hand and forcing it onto the step at Bossanova’s feet.

“Choose your least favourite fingers.” Bossanova crouched down and stared into the man’s face, gently touching his cheek with the cleaver. “If you keep struggling, I’ll take your whole hand. I’m not picky.”

Her victim trembled, his eyes wide with a fear that made Gage’s heart sing. Finally Haze submitted, setting two of his fingers on the stone step and looking away. Bossanova trailed the rusted blade lovingly over the man’s knuckles, pressing in slightly so that he whimpered and tensed. The amphitheater was deathly silent.

Bossanova raised the cleaver in a sudden, violent movement and brought it down with a sickening clang. The raider’s scream was drowned out by the delighted yells of the Pack, a few howls piercing the din.

“Gage,” Bossanova yelled over the uproar as she picked the fingers up off the floor, “hold his mouth.”

Gage grinned, seizing the shrieking, writhing raider’s jaw and forcing it open. Haze hit out at Gage, blood flicking everywhere, but a second later his cries were muffled as Bossanova forced the fingers down his throat. He gagged and Gage let go, his teeth slamming shut with an audible snap.

Bossanova kicked Haze carelessly down the stairs and the crowd howled and whistled with appreciation, while Haze clawed at his throat, his face slowly turning as purple as his hair. She turned to Mason. “Save him if you want. You have my permission.”

Mason gazed down at the dying man, his expression one of intrigue and wonder, before looking back at Bossanova with renewed respect. “Nah. Fucker was no good anyway.”

She nodded and drew close. “If either myself or Gage are threatened again, you’ll be the next to kneel. And I’ll make sure something more valuable than fingers ends up down your throat.”

Mason didn’t seem to have an answer to this. Bossanova smiled, turned on her heel, and stepped smartly over the choking raider on the floor, tossing the cleaver carelessly away. Neither she nor Gage gave him a backward glance as they left the lair of the Pack.

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Thirty-two - Declaration of Intent

A/N: Hey, everyone, and Happy… Monday. Sorry for the delay; my in-laws were coming for dinner yesterday and I felt the need to clean obsessively, and a busy week beforehand didn't leave much time to write. But hey, there's a chapter for this week and we're soooooo close to the end! It's gonna be good, so stay tuned. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

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

Chapter Thirty-two - Declaration of Intent

UNINHABITED ZONE, JADAD, ISHVAL 0117 HOURS, APRIL 30

The massive open space had all the earmarks of a cave: darkness that lay thickest in the deepest corners, a dankness in the air and faint, occasional dropping that bespoke some water source nearby, a faint green cast to the meagre light that evoked imagery of algae and bioluminescent plants.

Lying over it all was the musty scent of decay, an earthy kind of stink reminiscent of wet dead leaves and loam that clogged his sense of smell the moment he came through the doors.

Pausing just inside, letting his eyes adjust, Kimblee slowly scoured the room for any sign of habitation. He stood in a kind of foyer, with one set of double doors closed behind him, and another set ahead, open into the huge atrium beyond. He stepped forward, taking care to make no noise, and emerged into the wide open space.

A wide walkway ran the perimeter of the room, surrounding a long rectangular depression in the floor. Steps led down into the shallow space at several points, the surfaces of both the walkway and sunken area tiled in squares of flat grey stone the size of his palm. At several points around the outside of the walkway stood open-topped braziers filled with smooth, fist-sized rocks, a basin and ladle mounted to the wall beside each one. Overhead, a multi-paned skylight twenty feet wide rose into a majestic dome that filtered moonlight down to provide a ghostly, ethereal light.

Ah, he thought, beginning to recognize the layout. A bathhouse. How archaically quaint….

He moved forward to the edge of the walkway, looking down into the empty pool. Water had recently flowed over the slate tiles, judging from their slightly damp appearance. The pool had likely been drained sometime in the last day or so, otherwise the vast space would smell dusty and dry, just like everything else in this forsaken landscape.

"I would think," he said to the room at large, "that since the Flame Alchemist can no longer use alchemy, his fear of water would have evaporated."

"Who said I was afraid?"

A silhouetted figure slinked out of an open archway on the far side of the long atrium, likely one that led to a change room. White clothing seemed to glow in the dark, the shadows falling away as Roy Mustang stepped forward into the light, moving with the purposeful grace of a pacing wolf. Deeply purple eyes glinted with challenge behind the fringe of his bangs.

"Long time, no see, Kimblee. But not nearly long enough for my money."

"Mustang." He said the name with the cold contempt of nobleman addressing a leper. "Our dear Riza had finally deemed you fit enough to come out and play, has she?"

He sensed the anger rolling off the other man even at this thirty-foot distance, anger that Mustang swiftly brought back to heel, damping it like the coals of a fire. "If only so that she doesn't have to look at your despicable face herself," he answered, his own tone cooling considerably. "After all that you've put her through, it should be understandable why she wouldn't want to see you again."

He laughed, a short, sharp bark that reverberated from the walls. "Please, she saw me less than a week ago and showed no inclination then of running off voluntarily. Of wanting her personal space, certainly, but not outright avoiding me." He grinned, showing his teeth. "She wouldn't dare leave her sire. Not permanently."

Mustang folded his arms across his chest, standing with his feet planted in a stance of defiance. "She would if she herself was mistress to someone who outweighs you in importance," he shot back. "And even before she turned me, I was more important to her than you can ever hope to be."

"It isn't a question of importance." Taking a step forward, Kimblee watched the other man tense, anticipating the oncoming fight. "It's a question of mastery."

"Something of which neither of you has when it comes to your emotions."

She emerged from the same archway, her blonde hair and white abaya ghostlike in the dimness. Where Mustang had moved with the wild intensity of a wolf, Hawkeye walked with the lithe, easy step of a panther. She slid a hand up his back to grasp his shoulder, her free hand rising to his chest as she stopped beside him, though her eyes remained fixed in Kimblee. "The first contact you have with your kind in days, and the first thing you do is get yourself baited into a dick-measuring contest? So much for a vampire's patience and self-control."

"You speak to me of self-control?" he countered. "When the two of you can hardly stand to keep your clothes on around each other for more than a few minutes at a time?" He eyed their pure white outfits critically. "And for the clothes themselves… was white really the best choice you could make? Creatures of the night ought to blend in with their surroundings, not stand out like beacons."

"Just because we drink people's blood and are the embodiment of anti-death doesn't mean we need to dress like we're going to a funeral every day," Roy countered. He tugged at the front of his knee-length dishdasha, the white fabric edged in gold embroidery. "And when a lady goes to the trouble of stealing me something so nice, it'd be a shame not to wear it."

"And when it gets covered in bloodstains from your prey?" Kimblee countered. "Or do you plan on stealing new wardrobe items whenever you need to?"

"Barring accidents, we eat far more neatly than you do," Riza answered, her voice carrying a note of distaste. "And we won't need to steal anything, before long. Everything we could want will brought to us in tribute when we claim dominion over the city."

Kimblee went still, his eyes narrowing as they rested on her utterly calm face. Dominion… tribute…? Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. "Ah… so this is why you wanted to keep the citizenry as a sustainable food source. Why you wanted to grow your strength… why you've allowed me to come to you." His smile pulled his lips wide, the tips of his long canine teeth showing. "Your commander's ambition has rubbed off on you. It's not enough for you to merely stalk the nights of this city. You want to rule."

"Why not?" she countered, her right should shoulder rising and lowering in an insolent shrug. "It's ever so much easier to sustain yourself when you have servants to either bring the blood to you, or else just lie down and let you feed on them." She smirked. "No one refuses a queen."

He gave a soft snort. "I see. And in this delusion of grandeur, which of us is king? Mustang, or me?"

"Delusion or not, the answer remains the same." Rising slightly on her toes, she pressed a kiss to Mustang's jawline, then rested her head against his cheek as he turned a smug look on Kimblee. "He's always had the drive to assume leadership; all you've ever done is destroy. And I don't want half my subjects being vaporized before I even get a chance to call for my coronation."

"You're a loose cannon, Kimblee," Mustang said, with what was probably supposed to be an apologetic air. It sounded more… contemptuous. "There's no room in the new monarchy for someone like that; if the Queen dictates you're out, you'd best be out of the city by sunup."

Rage boiled in his stomach, working its way up his throat like bile. "You can't kick me out of this place," he growled, his vow low, and full of menace. "Without my influence, you'd still be living your boring, pathetic human lives, both of you. I made you the way you are, gave you strength, gave you power… and now you think you can turn aside from the destiny I created for you?"

He threw his head back and laughed, the eerie, madness-tinged sound reverberating from the tiled walls to ricochet around them. "Without me, you're nothing! I am the sire, and if anyone here is going to claim rule over these worthless sheep, it's me!"

Riza's voice was soft, but carried easily in the open space. "Big words for a prisoner."

It took him a heartbeat to realize what she had said, and another to formulate his question. But before he could do more than open his mouth, there was the sound of a door being flung wide behind him. The words 'what do you mean' died before they reached his lips, and he started to swivel toward the door.

At the same moment, both Mustang and Hawkeye streaked off in separate directions, elongating into bright white streaks to cover more ground. Kimblee whipped back around to them, looking first in Mustang's direction, then giving chase after Hawkeye. Whatever was happening, what trap they had so evidently sprung, she was his ultimate goal.

She materialized a few metres out from the far wall, turning to watch him speeding in her direction. He hadn't shifted into his long, ropy form, and he came at her with his hands outstretched, levelled at her neck. Her amethyst eyes were impassive, watching him close the distance, making no move to defend herself –

His hands hit some hard surface and his arms folded in toward his chest. Unable to slow his momentum, he cannoned face-first into an invisible wall, and rebounded to sprawl, stunned, on the damp tiles at the bottom of the empty bathing pool.

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

She watched with a sense of gratified smug superiority as Kimblee picked himself up from the bottom of the pool, spluttering in surprise and rising anger at the indignity of having been knocked flat on his ass by a wall he could not see. His purple eyes landed on her, narrowing at the broad smile on her face.

"What have you done?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing, echoing off the walls. He paced slowly across the tiles in her direction, ignoring Roy's quiet snickering behind him. "Tell me! I command it!"

"Feeling a little claustrophobic?" she taunted, not flinching as he approached, not backing down. "You shouldn't have to ask me what's going on. You've come up against a wall like this before." She reached out, tapping on the invisible barrier like a child with a fish tank. "And besides that… I'm not the one who actually did the trapping."

The scuff of a footstep on the tiles near the entrance brought Kimblee's head whipping around to glare at Scar, crouched low on the tiles in front of the final symbol he had just etched to seal it with Miles standing just behind him. The warrior glared right back, his right hand curling into a fist where it dangled from the arm resting across his leg.

Riza tapped the toes of her right foot beside the symbol nearest her, the mark only visible as a thin white scratch on the tile floor. "We had some concern whether or not you would notice the markings when you came in," she commented off-handedly. "If you had, our entire plan might have been derailed, so I appreciate you walking so willingly into your own downfall."

"Mine as well as your own," he snapped, turning back to her. "So this is your true plan, is it? A fool's errand if there ever was one. You know as well as I do that once I'm gone, your own powers will fade and you'll lose your abilities and vampire persona entirely."

Ah, the crux of the matter. This was the aspect of her personal plan that Riza had to play extremely carefully: hiding the fact that she and Roy had no intention of letting Kimblee be destroyed. They all wanted the old, boring Riza back, the one who loved her paperwork, her dog, her firearms, her boss… but unfortunately, that particular girl was gone, and her replacement was going to have a find a way to stick around. She and Roy had spoken with deliberate quiet when outlining their plan for dominance so that Scar and Miles, sneaking closer, wouldn't hear; hopefully, they hadn't.

"You win some, you lose some," she answered airily, as much to herself as to him.

Climbing to his feet, Scar glanced between the two vampires on his side of this little conflict. "That's the first circle. When should we close the second?"

"Not quite yet," Roy spoke up. "It's really just a backup in case he should break out of the first one, so if he starts showing signs of doing that, then go ahead." He stood with his hands in his pockets, regarding Kimblee with cool contempt. "Until then, let him stay in there and wait for sunrise."

"Sunrise?" Kimblee repeated, his face set in a suspicious glare.

"Sunrise," Roy confirmed, before pointing upward… the skylight directly over the centre of Kimblee's imprisoning circle. "That serves a double purpose. On the one hand, it brought light in so that anyone using the bathhouse wasn't doing so in total darkness. But on the other… it concentrates the sunlight so that it helped warm the water."

His eyes came back to Kimblee with fierce satisfaction. "Seeing as you can't run, or hide, you'll be incinerated like an ant under a magnifying glass."

Kimblee was still gazing upward at the object of his eventual destruction. "I see. You did this as a boy, I take it? Burned ants on the sidewalk for no other crime than carrying on with their nature?" A faint smile touched his lips. "Just as you would now burn me for following my nature. Rather hypocritical, isn't it? Given that you have the same nature yourself, now."

"Whether it's hypocritical or not is hardly up for debate," Riza cut in sharply. "I would think, given that you have only a few hours left on this earth, you'd like to spend it more productively than debating philosophy."

"Philosophy in itself is a worthwhile way to spend several hours," he countered, then shrugged, settling himself cross-legged directly under the skylight's apex. "But, have it your way."

Riza watched with barely concealed distaste as he closed his eyes, sitting straight with his hands in his lap, the very picture of peaceful meditation. She was aware of Roy glancing in her direction from across the circle, then beginning to move around the perimeter to where Scar and Miles stood, also watching. Pushing thoughts of the sire from her mind, she focussed instead on the rest of the plan, and started around the edge of the circle toward the others.

"We can recall the others from hiding, now, I think," Miles was saying as she arrived. "Now that we have him trapped, everyone should be on hand here in case something goes awry."

"Doesn't make much sense for them to be waiting about in the dark for someone who's already here," Roy agreed. "Go ahead and give the signal."

Miles moved back toward the open entrance of the bathhouse, stepping out onto the front stairs. Putting two fingers to his lips he gave two short, sharp, piercing whistles, and waited. Seconds later, there was an answering whistle, and he nodded in satisfaction. Neither he nor Scar showed any indication they knew what was really being planned… meaning the time was right to set it into action.

"In the meantime," Riza added, "perhaps we should seal the second circle." She looked doubtfully from the inner set of symbols to the outer. "Call me crazy, but something about this doesn't feel near as safe as it should be. Maybe it's some kind of vampire sixth sense, but… there's something about this that bothers me." She looked back to Scar. "I think I'd feel better if the second circle were sealed."

He watched her carefully, hesitating. "… You and the Colonel will be stuck inside if it is," he cautioned. "Is that something you want?"

She took a carefully choreographed deep breath, then nodded. "There's not much else for us to do. And if he does break out of the first circle, we're here to take him down physically."

Roy glanced over at her. "Would you feel even better if we checked the symbols around the edge of the first circle? If this is a legitimate vampire sense, that something's wrong, could be that's the trouble."

"Yeah, all right."

The two of them circled off in opposite directions, walking slowly with their eyes on the ground, studying each holy glyph etched into the tiles… or at least, pretending to. Riza half-watched out of the corner of her eye as Scar crouched, scratching the last, sealing symbol into the outer circle with the point of a ceremonial stone knife. The thing was tiny in his huge hand, but a weapon nonetheless she would have to rid him of if they wanted to have any kind of chance.

Her gaze switched to Roy, directly across the circle from her, and caught his eye. She gave the smallest of nods.

"Wait, hang on a second," he called a moment later, coming to a stop with a frown. "This one might be it. Looks like the symbol's all there, but its on a rougher piece of stone and the knife might've skipped over some of the bumps. The circle works, but this section might be a little weaker." He looked up. "Miles?"

The Major crossed the invisible barrier of the outer circle, his unadulterated humanity allowing him to do so. Riza kept her own eyes on the ground, moving slowly until she was another five feet along before coming to a stop.

"I've got one over here, too," she called. "Same sort of deal. Scar, could you come take a look?"

He, took, crossed the barrier with no trouble, checking the outer glyphs as he came toward her, just in case. Riza indicated her suspect symbol with a pointed finger, stepping aside to allow him closer to it. "That one, there," she lied. "Just a rougher piece of shale that would have been more difficult for the knife to scratch."

He went to one knee for a closer look, careful to keep his head back from crossing the inner barrier. Red eyes searched the pale white lines for any discrepancy. "I don't see what you —"

Her weight landed across his back before the sentence could finish leaving his mouth, knocking him off-balance. Throwing his hands out to catch himself on the tiles, he didn't waste breath asking just what the hell she thought she was doing; he could tell. The cord around his neck was pulled upward, the pouch rising to press against the underside of his chin. He thought, for a moment, that she meant to strangle him with the thing… but then the charm was yanked from around his neck and went flying off into a dark corner of the room.

Scar pushed to his feet, the vampiress dangling from his shoulders like a small child wanting a piggyback ride, and practically ran backward, slamming her back-first against the invisible barrier.

Riza's breath left her in an angry hiss, the warrior's wide shoulder blades digging into her ribs, but she held on. If her vampiric strength couldn't help her win against this musclebound stoic, then what good was it? From across the room came the sounds of Roy engaged in his own struggle, but she ignored it. Her fight was here.

Wrapping her arms around Scar's neck, she dragged herself higher on his back, gasping a breath, gripping with her knees and using his own pressure against her to keep herself in place. Hooking one arm around his neck, she grasped her wrist with her free hand and squeezed, focussing on trying to compress the two arteries either side.

Bet Armstrong wishes he hadn't taught Riza all those holds when he finds out about this, she thought grimly, gritting her teeth as Scar's neck muscles tightened, trying to fight the sleeper hold. She retaliated, snugging her arm tighter around his neck. In a last-ditch effort, Scar abruptly pulled away from the wall, turned ninety degrees, and dropped flat to his back, trapping her beneath him.

The air rushed out of her lungs once again, but she kept her grip against the 200-plus pounds of muscle bearing down on her. Her lungs burned, her body needing air even at the reduced rate caused by the vampirism. She just had to stick it out a little longer… just a little longer….

Finally, she felt the great body go slack.

Riza gave it another thirty-count in her head to make sure he was well and truly out, then shoved him to the side and sprang up, ready to defend herself if he was playing possum and came after her. Scar lay still, breathing shallowly, but clearly unconscious. With a hunter's pride in victory swelling her chest, Riza turned to where Roy was just stepping back from where Miles lay limply on the ground, his hands raised in a boxer's stance.

"Is he out?"

The former alchemist looked up, flashing a triumphant grin. "I clocked him on the jaw and he went down like a sack of bricks," he reported. "I'd call this half of things a success."

Kimblee had opened his eyes when the scuffling began, and now sat watching the two of them with curiosity, his head moving back and forth. "Just what are you two up to?"

"Nothing that'll work if you don't keep your trap shut," Riza snapped. "Just sit there and don't move, will you? We're trying to figure this so that all of us might survive tonight, so just let us work!"

Bending, she caught hold of one of Scar's thick wrists, beginning the arduous task of dragging him to the far side of the circle, away from where the rest of the vampire-hunting crew would be coming through the entrance. Her sharp hearing began to pick up faint sounds of conversation, the occasional sand-shuffling footstep, and she redoubled her efforts.

When the group came through the front entrance two minutes later, she and Roy were standing over the two unconscious Ishvalan men, both of them bound with their own waist sashes, ready and waiting.

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

ABANDONED BATHHOUSE, JADAD, ISVHAL 0158 HOURS, APRIL 30

Rebecca hesitated on coming through the doorway, stopping just at the edge of the second circle of markings. In the centre, looking calm and unearthly as he sat bathed in a shaft of moonlight, was Kimblee… though a very different Kimblee than her own faint memory. He was ghastly pale, the effect strengthened by his dark suit and hair, his long, white fingers folded meditatively in his lap. His eyes watched her with bland disinterest, as though she were nothing more than a pigeon crossing his path.

Behind him, slumped together in a two-person pile of apparent unconsciousness, were Scar and Miles. Her heart jumped in alarm at the thought that Kimblee must have gotten to them before he had been contained… and then she saw Mustang and Riza.

The Colonel was standing with his arms folded and legs spread, watching the group enter with all the solemn menace of a bouncer at a nightclub. His eyes shone a faint, dark purple in the reflected moonlight behind the half-curtain of his bangs, and he stood with an impossibly perfect stillness that betrayed his current preternatural state.

But it was Riza that made her shiver.

She stood with her hands folded demurely in front of her, watching the group enter with quiet aloofness; a royal duchess watching her guests enter for a party. Glacially calm, she glanced from one to the next with only the motion of her eyes, not turning her head in the slightest, not acknowledging the two men at her feet, her superior in the place of deference behind her left shoulder, or the vampire imprisoned before her.

Rebecca swallowed hard as those cold amethyst eyes landed on her, feeling a chill start to spread outward from the pit of her stomach as Riza smiled. In all the years she had known the other woman, a full smile had been rare, and a smile that showed teeth had happened maybe twice. Now, for the first time, she wished her friend — or the thing that occupied her friend's body — would never smile again. She simply didn't want to see those teeth.

"Welcome back," the female vampire — Hawkeye, Rebecca corrected in her head — purred. She raised one hand, gesturing to her prisoner. "I'm sure you all remember this face. Former State alchemist and federal prisoner Solf J. Kimblee, current vampire sire." She smiled again, and Rebecca fought the urge to shiver again. "Even more current prisoner."

"So the plan worked," Breda commented, though Rebecca could hear the note of trepidation in his voice. "Good. What happened to Scar and Miles? Did he —"

"Oh, no. Not at all." Folding her hands again, she gave him a knowing smirk. "They're merely necessary for the next stage of the plan, and we needed some way to keep them under our thumb until that part was over."

"Wasn't the next stage of the plan to wait for daylight to weaken Kimblee enough that we could… remove him?" Falman asked, more than a little hesitantly.

"That was your plan," Hawkeye corrected, sounding for all the world like a schoolteacher lecturing a particularly dense pupil. "My plan was to trap Kimblee here and then simply leave him trapped so that I can carry on in the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed."

"Your plan?" Mustang echoed, sounding slightly reproving.

"Oh, sorry, love." Turning, she reached back and patted him on the arm. "Our plan, not just mine. And so that we can carry on our lifestyle. I'm sorry, I just got caught up in the thrill of the moment."

"Wait, what did she call him?" Fuery whispered, sounding vaguely scandalized.

"Forget that," Rebecca muttered back. "What the hell is she talking about? 'Their plan?'"

Hawkeye's head whipped back around at that, and she stood still a moment, like a spooked deer listening for further sound. When no one spoke, she turned fully to face the group. "I'm sorry, this must be so confusing for all of you," she said, her tone conveying no trace of true apology. "Listen, I know this is probably going to throw a wrench into things, but… the plan you all thought we were following has changed."

"Changed how?" Armstrong asked, his blue eyes wary and suspicious above his moustache.

"Changed in that instead of destroying Kimblee to free us from the so-called 'vampire curse,'" Mustang chimed in, "we'll instead be shutting him away in some dark little corner and keeping our vampire forms."

"You know how sometimes, people go on vacation to a new place, and they find they really like it, so they buy a summer house? That's kind of like what this is," Hawkeye explained. "We've decided we really like having control over human bodies, despite the whole 'can't be in daylight' and 'have to drink blood' parts. And, just like any other sentient creature…" Her eyes hardened. "We'll fight to stay alive."

"You can't do that," Rebecca burst out, immediately regretting the probably futile words. "You stole those bodies; you don't get a say in whether you get to stay in them or not."

The blonde woman snorted derisively. "What, and you do? Listen, sister, the only two people who could possibly stand a chance at knocking me out of control of this body are right here." She placed a foot on Scar's shoulder where he lay, just beginning to stir, on the ground in front of her. "And they're a little… tied up, at the moment."

Red eyes cracked open, and the scarred man visibly tested his bonds as he lay on his side, glancing at the group standing several feet away, the vampire still imprisoned in the centre of the room, and finally at the one looming over him. "…What have you done, witch?" he growled, rolling onto his back to see her more clearly.

"Vampire," she corrected, almost off-handedly "And the only thing I've done is ensure my own safety. Riza remembers you being something of a spectacle with those arms of yours, and while I doubt you'd go so far as to explode my — and by extension, her — head, you could very likely still cause some damage." Bending, she patted his cheek with a beatific smile. "Now, just lie still, and I won't have to choke you out again. Fair?"

She didn't wait for an answer, standing straight. "The rest of you, if you would be so kind as to separate out of that little knot you've got yourselves in, and stand at least four feet apart around the room." When nobody moved, her calm expression dissolved into a fang-baring snarl. "I said move."

Slowly, carefully, the five remaining members of the vampire hunting team began to spread out along the front wall of the atrium, no one taking their eyes off of Hawkeye or Mustang. The two of them were as alert as a pair of guard dogs, and probably twice as bloodthirsty, given the chance.

Literally bloodthirsty, Rebecca thought, suppressing another shudder. Best that we play along for now, and look for an opening later.

"Just what are you hoping to accomplish here?" Armstrong asked, his rumbling bass voice echoing off the tiled walls. Hawkeye's eyes shot in his direction, and her lips curved, but he kept speaking. "Are you hoping to take on all of us? Restrain us like you have Scar and Miles? Or something more… permanent?"

Her earlier ire was gone now, replaced with a look of motherly fondness so sickly sweet that it had to be fake. "Oh, Alex, you don't need to worry," she soothed. "We're not going to harm so much as a hair on any of you… unless you give us reason to. And in that case, I think it'd be fair to call it self-defense, don't you?

"As for what we're planning — Miles, please stop squirming, it's distracting." At her feet, Miles, who had been shifting slightly as he regained consciousness, went extremely still as Mustang leaned warningly over him, holding a finger to his lips for quiet. "As for what we're planning, it's all very simple. I'm hoping that in as little as two days from now, we will have secured our rule over this city, its citizens, and any other refugees that arrive looking to find shelter here."

"Your plan… is to declare yourself ruler over the Ishvalan remnant?" Falman clarified, sounding stunned.

"They'll never go for it," Breda added, frowning deeply. "Even if you weren't trying to take over by force, you're still outsiders. They'd never accept you as a leader even if you were human."

"Who said anything about force?" Mustang said casually. "The only force we've used in this takeover so far is to subdue two people who stood the most likely chance of stopping us before we began. Now that the path is relatively clear, however…." He stepped forward, sliding one arm possessively around Hawkeye's waist, sending a smirk to his shocked former subordinates. "We'll be approaching the Ishvalan leadership tomorrow night to inform them of the change in hierarchy."

Shaking his head, all Fuery could manage was a baffled-sounding "Why?!"

"It's case of symbiosis," the vampire explained patiently. "We need blood on a regular basis in order to thrive. The Ishvalans need someone to rule to guide them through the reconstruction and into the future where they can also thrive. So, in equivalent exchange, they will provide us with blood — which we will take very carefully so as not to turn or kill anyone — and we will promise to be good, benevolent rulers and help them grow back into the prosperous nation they were before the civil war." He grinned. "Everybody wins."

"You think you can just unilaterally declare yourself King and Queen of the Ishvalan people?" Miles snapped from his place on the floor. "Even before your country annexed ours, we never had royalty."

"Yeah, well, you do now," Hawkeye retaliated calmly. Her eyes turned to the row of people in front of her. "Now, what do you do when you're before the Queen?"

For several long, terrible seconds of dead silence, no one moved. Rebecca could feel her heart pounding in her throat, partly out of fear, but mostly out of shock. Things had gone so drastically sideways in such a short amount of time. We never should have agreed to work with them, she thought bleakly. We thought that we could handle any hidden agenda they might have… but I guess we were wrong….

The battle on the Promised Day seemed small and insignificant in the face of this personal battle of wills. It went against everything she felt to submit to these two strange creatures… but defiance would only earn her injuries or worse. This was not a situation Rebecca Catalina, firearms specialist, could fight her way out of with a gun. Armstrong's muscles might help, but he wouldn't be able to bring himself to fight two former friends. Falman's memory, Breda's brains, Fuery's technological know-how…. All of it was useless in this moment. They would have to bide their time, wait for an opening. And to get a chance at that opening….

What did one do when they were before the Queen? They bowed.

Rebecca sank slowly, cautiously to one knee, her gaze on the tiled floor in front of her. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the others' heads turn to stare… before they reluctantly did the same.

When she looked up, the smile on the vampiress's face confirmed a dread fear: the Riza she knew had no say in this. Her friend was terribly, conspicuously absent.

[luisaaronopez]

I don't know if these dreams are telling me something or not. I would deny it, but these are the kind of things that can get anyone worked up. I noticed that the train is no longer underground and is now on a bridge, heading towards the city. As I look out the window, I saw the courthouse at a far distance. "Almost there." I whispered. Suddenly we all heard a loud thud, and the train stopped. Everyone is wondering what happened. We all stood quiet. Then we hear a clinking sound coming from above. Someone or something is on the train. Ooh, I hope its just a bird. But that thud sounded pretty big. I think its either an eagle or a falcon. As I look to my left, I see a homeless man shivering at his seat. The man starts shouting "A GIANT BUG! It is huge and greenish and its drooling green substance! It looked at me with a grin! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE ME-HEE -HEE!!!" I wanna assume this man had too much liquor, but.....curiosity got the best of me. As I look out the window. I saw something that made me fall off my seat. A huge bug is sticking its head at the window. When the passengers faced my direction as I was screaming. "THERE IS A GIANT BUG!!" I shout. They looked at the window and saw nothing. Some people laughed at me but an old lady said "Aww poor deary." A man in a suit just rolled his eyes. I'm seeing things. At least I thought I was until the bug was at the window again but this time it was ramming the the train. Everyone began to panic. "AAGH! ITS THE GIANT BUG AGAIN!!" The homeless man shouts as he points outside. This time everyone sees the bug flying outside. It looks like a mothman. Just like the one from the Magical Island tournament. The mothman rams the window again, but this time it broke inside. Everyone started screaming and running to the opposite corner. The mothman was giving the old lady a hungry smile. I threw a flame at it before it had the chance to strike her. The mothman starts to shriek and it flew out the window. I ran up to the old lady and she thanked me. But the mothman is still not done with us. Its still trying to push the train off the rails. We were VERY high up that we barely can reach a view buildings. I will fight this insect. I climbed out the window and hopped on top of the train. I can hear the people shout at me. "Are you crazy?" "Get down from there!" "Don't let it touch you! You'll get a disease!" "Kick its ass!" Said the old lady as everyone stared at her with perplexed expressions. I love this old lady already. But now's not the time for jokes. The mothman flew right in front of me and it...spoke to me in a robotic voice. "It seems that you humans will never learn from your sins. Beasts are superior than the human race and will rule the universe once our ruler succeeds His plans. Once we do, humans will be extinct and beasts will live forever! Now fall like the rest of the puny humans we devour." For some reason the train starts moving again. While I'm in the middle of a match. The mothman kept flying all over the place, making it hard to hit it. It starts vomiting green substance. I realized its toxic and it burned a huge hole on the ceiling. I can hear the passengers still screaming. Then it threw mothballs. But unlike the mothman on Magical Island, the mothballs from this mothman can come to life. The little moth balls grew wings and a body. Now they're mini moths. They all flew at me. I threw tiny fireballs and hit each of them. Aww, but the sounds they make, its sad I had to burn them. GAH! Snap out of it! I don't wanna find moths cute, they're ugly. Okay, maybe the mini moths are "ugly cute" and that's it. Then the mothman dives at me with blinding speed. All I can do is duck and cover Now the train is moving way too fast. I nearly fell off the train and now I'm hanging with one arm. The mothman laughs as it tries to knock me off the train. But every time it got close I would throw a fireball at it or kick it with my high heels. I climbed back on again, but I need to take off my high heels, because not only they're hurting my feet but that was THE reason why I nearly fell. Its hard to balance on a moving train with high heels. Especially fighting a giant bug. The mothman laughed and said "Being a stubborn mule huh? You humans are all alike. You can't face death with dignity!" "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME!?" I shout. "A stubborn mule. That's what all humans are." "I dare you to come closer and say it to my face!" I demand As the mothman got close to me it taunts "Stubborn mule. Stubborn mule." I smiled and said "You fell into my trap." The mothman just looked at me. I kicked the giant bug in the air. While its in the air, I took a deep breath, raised my arms and unleashed a powerful fire move. It was a fiery vortex that traps its victims in like a real tornado and it also burns them. Duh. Don't worry, the mothman is touching the clouds, so my fiery vortex dosen't burn the train. As the flames disappear, the mothman falls onto the train. The mothman is on the ground. It can barely move. I jumped into the train again. Everyone in the train were happily cheering for me. Then the mothman still spoke "You're too late....just one more stop and you all crash onto the bomb that'll destroy you all!" I got so mad that I kicked the mothman off the train and it fell into the ocean. Everyone starts shouting "A bomb?" "This young lady was right all along!" I ran into the control room and spoke onto the microphone so everyone on the train can hear me. "Attention everyone! You all need to evacuate as soon as possible. There's a bomb awaiting us on one more stop! Make sure you take all your belongings and parents with children, make sure you don't leave them behind. I repeat, there's a bomb awaiting at the last stop and everyone must get off the bus immediately." Everyone quickly ran for the doors pushing each other. The doors began to close. But me and the homeless guy grabbed each sides of the door to kept it open. After a few minutes, I checked if the train was empty. I was about to leave until.... I see a little boy crying next to the door. "Mommy!" He cried. I ran up to him and said "Come on little fella. Let me take you to your mommy." "My mommy left me here!" He cried harder. This stabbed my heart. What kind of mother would abandon her child on a train with strangers? I can't leave him here. I hold his hand and just as we're about to head out, the doors close and the train starts to move again. Why!? Not when I have a lost boy with me! To Be Continued