#its the final resting place of three US soldiers

[lem0nademouth]

if you ever wonder whether humans actually love and care about each other just remember that the guards at the tomb of the unknown soldier in arlington wear special fatigues with no insignia so they do not outrank the unknowns interred or commemorated there

[wileys-russo]

the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

its missing jenni hours, little mini series incoming the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

"sí sí sí i am forever in your debt león. happy?" you laughed, phone wedged between your ear and shoulder as you weighed your carry on, breathing a sigh of relief when it didn't breach the limit for your flight.

"i will be happy when you finally come home!" your best friend whined making you roll your eyes. "my ass is on its way maría, and tu culo better pick me up later!" you warned, muting her for a moment as you stepped up to the front desk and gave your details, boarding pass printed and handed over.

"no i am not thanking you, i was getting my boarding pass. my stuff is all accounted for sí? it arrived safely?" you frowned in worry, this entire process having been anything but smooth.

"sí amiga, just like i told you yesterday and every other day you've asked everything is in boxes ready to be unpacked once you move, and there is just a few things and files and boxes still in storage at your old place in the garage." mapi promised as you exhaled, hovering by the security check knowing you'd need to hang up before going through, promising mapi to call her the moment you landed before ending the call.

you'd grown up in zaragoza, a few houses down from the dirty blonde you'd been practically attached to like a siamese twin almost your whole life. as you got older you'd moved to madrid to go to university, and then to barcelona for better career opportunities once you graduated.

though for the last three years you'd been living in portugal, a dream job when it arose far too tempting to pass as much as it hurt you to move away from your life, friends and family all still scattered around spain.

you of course returned home to visit but once you'd fallen in love the visits had been few and far between, your life becoming split in two as you had anchors tying you down in either country, admittedly maybe allowing the one in portugal a little too much influence.

which is why it hurt so much when that anchor was suddenly cut loose, almost drowning you in the aftermath of what you'd describe as your first real heartbreak.

so licking your wounds you found yourself with a choice, to stay and soldier through the tattered remains of your life in portugal or retreat back to spain with your tail between your legs and into the arms of the rest of your support circle.

the choice was one you probably made a little too fast once your best friend sweet talked the right people and popped up on her weekend off with a job offer and a plan, more than ready to drag you back home.

it hadn't been the easiest of processes, you'd given your two weeks in at your job which turned into four and then into six so you could adequately train your replacement and smoothly handover your client list.

right after the breakup mapi had convinced you to let her rent out your old place in barcelona for some extra income while you weren't sure how long you'd still be in portugal, your now ex quite the well respected lawyer meant you'd come off with much less than you deserved in assets after the split.

you were crashing with a coworker and slowly shipping your belongings home to meet you whenever you could finally leave all this mess behind you.

though really your old place was too large for just you and though you were returning home you wanted a fresh start which meant a new place, mapi offering for you to stay with her while you searched for the right one.

between her and her girlfriend they technically had an apartment each in the same building, though they spent majority of their time in ingrids which was set up best, mapi's used more as a storage locker which is why she was more than happy to let you stay there temporarily.

and with all sorts of tourists flocking to the warm beaches of barcelona for the summer it made sense that you wring out a little extra money from your old place before putting it on the market.

so now finally free from all that tied you to portugal bar a few friendships you suspected may eventually die out with the distance, and almost all of your belongings safely back in spain, it was time for you to join them.

"estás bromeando." you snickered in disbelief as you exited the terminal, spotting the sign and balloons right away and praying they weren't for you. but of course knowing your family, no such luck.

"i am suddenly wishing i lied about which flight i took." you called out with a shake of your head, a cheeky grin and a blur of tattoos and tan skin darting in front of you before a body was slamming you nearly to the ground.

"hola amiga." you exhaled happily, squeezing the footballer just as tightly as you gave her girlfriend a wave who was hanging back with a smile. "mejor amiga." mapi corrected, pulling away and sloppily kissing your cheek making you grimace and push her away.

"you drove all the way here to pick me up? i told you i could come see you on the weekend!" you laughed at your parents, knowing it was almost a four hour journey from your childhood home where they still lived to the airport they were stood in now.

"it has been many years we have prayed for this day hija, let us enjoy it." your mami smiled warmly as you hugged them both next, exhaling happily at the rapid spanish which floated around the air.

you greeted ingrid next, having met the girl many times despite no longer living here, often teasing your best friend that should they break up you'd actually take ingrids side since she was so lovely, but really you adored seeing her so loved up and well treated by the norweigan.

"welcome home from prison? maría!" you groaned, the defender hiding behind her girlfriend making both yours and ingrids eyes roll. "it was his idea!" her finger reached around and pointed to your papi who shrugged with a smile that said it all.

~

"and you told her i was coming to grab some things?" you clarified with mapi who hummed in confirmation. the footballer had been doing the majority of the communication with your tenant in your old place considering until now you'd been in another country and she had set the whole thing up anyway.

you'd tried to offer her some money for all of her help which all that earned you was a firm punch to the arm and a warning not to be stupid, reminding you that family always helps family and doesn't expect anything in return.

"sí sí she said she wouldn't be home anyway, and you are only needing to access the garage so you will not be entering the house." mapi assured as you nodded, telling her to text you what she wanted you to grab from the market on your way back before ending the call.

stupidly mislabeling a few boxes had meant you were missing a large amount of clothing, and though both ingrid and mapi assured you were free to wear anything of theirs you already felt like you were asking too much of them staying with them anyway.

besides a lot of your more work appropriate clothes were what was missing and due to start this new role in a few days time and anything but a patient woman you were quite eager to get your ducks in a line.

"oh come on!" you grunted, having twisted the key in the garage door but struggling to pull it open, something that had pained you for years. a waterfall of curse words fell from your lips as your frustration grew and you strained to tug it open, hope fasting fading.

"you know robbers do not usually make so much noise?" you jumped at a voice behind you, dropping the door and spinning around with a startled expression.

"lo siento. i am not a robber, i am-" you tried to explain but the taller girl waved off your words. "the owner, sí? i spoke to mapi this morning." she smiled charmingly, pearly white teeth bared in amusement.

"i am jenni, your tenant." she added on with a grin holding out a heavily tattooed hand as you nodded in understanding and properly introduced yourself. "trouble with the door? there is a trick." she held up a finger and nodding for you to move aside.

you frowned curiously but did as she asked, watching as she twisted the key and popped her shoulder into the door, your eyebrows shooting up nearly as fast as the door was opened. "fácil!" she winked and gestured inside.

"i lived here for nearly five years and-" you mumbled with an annoyed huff. "-and i live here for a few weeks and know all the tricks." jenni laughed, hovering just outside as you squatted down and began to move through boxes.

"something like that." you sent her a smile over your shoulder. "i promise i will get everything out soon, my car is still in portugal and its the last thing to come back and-" you stopped yourself realizing a complete stranger would be the last person to care.

"and i do not need to be wasting more of your time, lo siento." you shook your head, finding the box you needed and tugging it up and out. "no need to apologise. you are from barcelona?" jenni asked curiously as you shook your head.

"zaragoza, but i have been living in portugal for the last few years." you answered with a polite smile. "mm then how did you end up with a house in barcelona?" jenni questioned, lips curled upward and eyes scanning you up and down.

"my mami taught me not to talk to strangers." you teased making her laugh. "so did mine but here i am letting one into my garage." jenni pointed out as you now laughed. "my garage, technically." you shrugged, noticing a large motorcycle in the corner of the garage.

"pulling the landlord card querida? vale vale. well i have paperwork we both signed though that says for another four and a half months it is my garage." jenni reminded with a grin to which you couldn't argue.

"do you ride?" you asked nodding curiously toward the bike. "what happened to not talking to strangers? i cannot ask how you ended up in barcelona but you can ask me about my bike?" jenni gasped mockingly as you rolled your eyes.

"well you just answered my question anyway." you smiled picking up the box of clothes and moving back outside as jenni effortlessly reached up and grabbed the roller door to bring it back down, something you needed a ladder for which was oddly attractive.

jenni herself was quite attractive, the way her bright eyes followed you and rose pink links curved into an alluring smile, not to mention each of her long limbs covered in even more tattoos than mapi as she was wearing only a pair of shorts and a plain white oversized shirt.

you opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a second stranger who came storming out of the house, flipping the girl in front of you off and practically diving into a car speeding away making you frown as the other girl in front of you rolled her eyes.

"friend of yours?" you asked with a raised eyebrow as jenni shrugged. "something like that. would you like to come in for a drink?" the abruptness of her question catching you off guard as you opened and closed your mouth.

"i don't think-" you started, placing down the box as jenni cut you off. "you know if you have a drink with me, i will not be a stranger anymore. didn't your mami also teach you about manners and hospitality?" jenni challenged making you scoff but smile.

"my plans for the evening just ditched me, i already started dinner. it is rude to make someone eat and drink alone you know!" jenni tutted, stepping forward and picking up the box for you before you could protest.

"vamos, i promise i am a good cook and an even better host."

~

and as you woke up that next morning in a bedroom both familiar and unfamiliar, you knew her words to be true.

you could smell coffee as you rubbed your eyes and sat up, you heard the door open and tugged the covers up to hide your naked chest, jenni strolling in with a steaming mug.

"how did you know?" you smiled, always starting your day with coffee as the taller girl gave you an add look. "how did i know i wanted coffee?" she chuckled taking a sip as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your assumption.

"what time is it?" you asked with a stretch, bending down and snaking your shirt from the floor, slipping it over your head. "eleven, you really slept in." jenni hummed, leaning against the doorframe as bright green eyes drunk you in.

"sorry." you chuckled, completely missing the slightly awkward silence in the air as jenni stepped forward. "your box of stuff is by the door, get dressed and you should go." the girl shrugged, turning on heel and heading out of the room as your mouth opened in shock.

none the less you hurried to collect your clothes, pulling them on and following after her.

"you know landlords should not really sleep with tenants." jenni tutted with a smirk, pulling herself up and onto the counter as you forced your eyes not to roam her half naked body, flashes of last night where it was pressed against you flickering through your mind.

you scoffed and crossed your arms, opening your mouth to let her have it but she spoke first. "whats wrong bebé? not the normal coffee and breakfast waiting for you afterwards that you are used to? i am not that type of girl." jenni chuckled sipping from her mug.

"but last night we talked about so many things and-" "had sex? sí, and we both got something out of that no? now you should really go, technically a landlord cannot be here without the tenants permission." jenni smirked as you could only scoff.

not gracing her with another word you turned on heel and headed for the front door, hearing her footsteps pad after you as you made a swift exit. you paused as you heard a sharp whistle, slowly turning around.

"did you just whistle at me like a dog?" you asked in disbelief crossing your arms and making her chuckle where she leaned against the door. "you forgot your box." she nodded downward at her feet as you stiffened, swallowing your pride and making your way back toward her.

you glared at her as she simply smiled charmingly, sipping at her coffee as you picked up the box and turned again, storming down the path.

though a second wind brewing as you reached the end you shook your head, spinning to give her a piece of your mind but it was too late, the front door already clicking closed as you heard the turn of the lock.

"puta."

[mellowsaturns]

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would��ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

[yeosbbm]

Mine, All Mine

starring: idol! seonghwa x long distance gf! fem reader

genre: straight up smut, established relationship, possessiveness

summary: basically seonghwas been on tour and you finally see him and y’all SMASH !

warnings: barely any plot or dialogue, seonghwa is possessive, indirect dom - sub dynamic, breeding, face sitting, unprotected piv + riding, breast play, slight overstim

A/N: Something short and sweet also I opened up my request and ask question thing so if y’all have anything you’d like to ask/ask for y’all can go ahead and use it, also I might do a social/face reveal

You and Seonghwa haven’t seen each other in so long. So long being…three weeks. There are couples that go months apart even YEARS, but you know you weren’t the strongest soldier.

Since he’s been on tour you two have facetimed as often as possible, texting whenever you have the time to, send each other cute/funny vids you two like to cheer each other up about the separation. But there’s needs you two have that can only be resolved in person.

Physically…emotionally….sexually…I mean come on you two can only have phone sex for so many times.

However luckily…..you got a plane ticket to their next destination. As well as their managers agreeing with you tagging along as long as you don’t make a scene or attention to yourself whilst with them.

You joined the group with a team dinner at a restaurant. Sat next to Seonghwa you listen in and occasionally bring your own two cents into the conversation. However, there’s a problem in the mix. Seonghwa is already feeling so possessive and in need of your attention since it’s been so long, but Wooyoung and San haven’t made it better.

“You look absolutely gorgeous tonight by the way (y/n).” San says staring at your dress.

“Thank you San I appreciate it, Hwa bought me this dress.” You reply smiling at Seonghwa.

Wooyoung’s gaze is caught on your figure as well but he shifts his eyes to everyone else so he isn’t caught ogling.. “Yea she looks good enough to eat doesn’t she.”

Hongjoong steps on his foot under the table. “Manners Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung bites his lip avoiding yelping at the pain. “Yea my bad just got a little carried away.” He says strained.

San unfortunately adds fuel to the fire. “Just a shame you got to her first Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa gives a pained smile and sucks his teeth before his grip on your thigh tightens. Uh oh. While the guys are back chattering to each other about something he leans into your ear. “You really do look good enough to eat…wait till we get to the Hotel.”

You squeeze your thighs together and harshly swallow at his words. Despite what just left his mouth..Seonghwa is all smiles and giggling at the table.

————————

After dinner, the group was doing a YouTube live in Hongjoong’s hotel room. Well, minus Seonghwa. The boys were talking about the performance as well as the sight seeing they’ve been doing during this time.

Then they notice the comments questioning Hwa’s absence.

Hongjoong adjusts his glasses before saying “Ooh concerning Seonghwa….we all went to a restaurant with our staff and he told us he didn’t feel well after eating so he’s currently resting in his hotel room.”

Yunho chimes in “Wish a speedy recovery for Seonghwa please !”

Little do they know….Seonghwa was really having you sit on his face. Making you press all your weight onto him, not letting you lift your hips up in the slightest.

His tongue made its way back in forth on your slit. Starting with it circling and lightly dipping into your drenched entrance while his tongue trails its way to your clit…flicking and rubbing the tip of his tongue right on your pearl. His arms are wrapped around your thighs holding you in place.

“So sweet for me baby…” He mumbles against your folds before fully bring his tongue into your hole. Rolling and waving it inside. This makes you tense in pleasure, your hips attempting to lift up to ease the intensity but his grip keeps it from happening. He needs to see you squirm more, he goes back to your clit and sucks and slurps at it with no mercy. Mindlessly you’re grinding across his mouth. “Hwa I’m so close..fuck please please please.”

You don’t know exactly what you’re pleading for knowing he won’t deny your release. Or maybe you were just pleading for the release itself “Cum for me…cover my face with it..make a mess .” You rock on his tongue quickly before your legs spasm. Moaning and letting out signs of relief. Naturally…your hips rise up…but to your surprise Seonghwa brings you right back down.

You gasp in shock feeling Hwa wriggle his tongue across your cunt again. Slightly nodding his head to add to the stimulation. “‘S so much Hwa.”

He smiles against your cunt before tongue fucking you. Soon he takes his thumb and relentlessly toys with your clit. You’re shaking, your abdomen tense. Seonghwa is just staring intently as you fall apart. Your hips try to lift but he’s pressing you farther into his mouth. You cum again,,legs now jelly,,,cunt throbbing especially with Seonghwa lightly licking the last bits of arousal you left behind for him. You’re minds in a haze, a stuck dumb state until you feel Seonghwa scoot up under you..

You can feel the hot oozing tip of his cock rub against your already sensitive heat. You rock your hips again, needing him to satiate the final bit of aroused ache residing in you. “Let me get a condom baby…unless you want it raw..” The thought of him fucking you raw has you both hungry for more. He already knows.

“You want me to stuff you full of me don’t you…” You need him now..he needs you just as much. “Please…please stuff me full.” He moans before fucking up into you, he lets you ride him as much as you please. “Get off on me, use me.” You’re bouncing up and down his dick chasing your own high. Seonghwa just as much,,, while he reaches up to grope your breast and teasing your nipples. But you can only ride for so long, soon he can feel you slow down losing your own energy to go up and down. “You need some help hm baby ?” You nod. He holds on and starts bucking his hips up into you. The impact of you two’s hips has you seeing stars. “So fucking pretty so mine…”

You can feel him bully his cock into you. He trails a hand up touching the marks he left on you earlier…sweet red and purple blotches. You’re so his. You’re consumed by him. “You’re mine…this pussy is mine..Fuck. Fuck. Your hearts mine.” You’re lost in ecstasy and the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim. “All yours..all….yours Hwa.” He smiles…proud that only he can see you like this and make you feel like this. “Nobody else can even get close to this….” You can feel your next orgasm building up in your stomach. “Only you..it’s only you.” He can feel his cock twitch, he’s on the same verge of cumming as you are. “Cum on my dick..let go so I can fuck my cum into you.”

You and him both whine and moan during your releases. You can feel his cum filling you up. Moments later he pulls out and his cum slowly making its way out until he lazily takes his fingers and fucks it deeper into you. You’re in subspace or something like it. Mind in a complete quiet state.

Seonghwa takes you into the hotel bathtub. He helps you wash up with the faintly fragrant hotel soap and dry off. He sits you on his hotel bed and helps you put on your sweet smelling lotion he loves and adores. Carefully rubbing it into your skin and massaging where you might be sore in the morning.

He helps you fix your hair while kissing your forehead..He lays in bed with you holding you close until you fall asleep. Once you finally drift off,, he heads to the bathroom to take his own shower that’s when he realizes a text from Hongjoong.

“Did you two forget I’m in the room next door you sick damn perverts.”

[maximoffwitch]

Heart on Fire: Chapter 4 (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

chapter summary: You wake up from surgery, your body littered with fresh scars, and Wanda has some realizations.

warnings: canon typical violence, talk of grief

word count: 1.7k

a/n: oh my god...two years later and the final chapter (not including the epilogue) is here! thank you to everyone that has stuck with me and i am so sorry that i left this series hanging for such a long time :') i hope it was worth the wait?? p.s. this was not proofread lol so ignore any mistakes

SERIES MASTERLIST

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Groaning, you opened your eyes to blindings lights. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You blinked several times, trying to adjust to consciousness. 

“Where am I?” You croaked, your voice hoarse and scratchy. 

“You’re in the med bay of the Avengers tower.”

You turned towards the voice, wincing at the pain that shot down your back.

“Wanda?” You moved to get up, but her hand on your arm stopped you.

“Don’t move,” she warned as she brought a straw to your mouth. “Here, drink some water.”

Too tired to protest, you took a few sips, the lukewarm water soothing your dry throat.

After placing the cup back on the side table, Wanda turned her attention back to you.

“You gave us quite a scare,” she whispered, gently brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face.

“What happened?” 

“What do you remember?” Wanda asked.

You closed your eyes, trying to recall the events that landed you here.

“All I can remember is fighting off some HYDRA agents and then a bright flash of red,” you admitted.

“You saved me,” Wanda mumbled as she played with a loose thread on your blanket. 

Wanda was too busy fighting off three HYDRA soldiers to notice the large canon-like weapon being aimed at her. 

“Wanda!” She heard you scream, her eyes widening when you grabbed her by the waist. 

Wanda watched in horror as your face morphed into a tortured scream and you dropped to the ground.

“(Y/N)!” She screamed, fear building up in her body. Her terror was quickly replaced with anger when she noticed more HYDRA soldiers advancing towards them. 

Mustering up the energy she could, Wanda released an immense shock of red energy, sending the soldiers flying in the air. Once she saw the area was clear, she rushed to your side, not bothering to wipe the tears flooding her eyes.

“(Y/N)?” Wanda gingerly cupped your face, resting your head in her lap.

“(Y/N)!” Natasha came sprinting from behind and immediately fell to her knees. 

In your state of delirium, you mistook Natasha for your sister. “Sofya?”

Natasha choked back her tears at the name as Wanda’s eyes remained focused on you.

“Nat,” the young witch whispered. “Her back.”

Natasha moved to get a glimpse of your injuries and cringed when she saw. Your back was completely charred, the weapon burning your flesh and leaving a huge open wound in its wake. 

“We have to get her to the quinjet.” Natasha cleared her throat, going back into Avenger-mode. “Wanda, you need to move her with your powers. We can’t risk carrying her ourselves and infecting the wound.”

“Okay,” Wanda sniffled and wiped her eyes. The two women ran to the quinjet as quickly as they could with Wanda floating you into the ship.

“What the hell happened?” Steve yelled when he saw your state. 

“There,” Wanda hiccuped as she and Natasha cleared a table to put you on. “There was a blast a-and (Y/N) shielded me.”

Sam started the jet and they were soon on their way out of Russia’s winter. 

As you faded in and out of consciousness, Wanda set by your side, Natasha hovering close by.

“I’m so cold,” you stuttered weakly. Wanda’s heart clenched, as she knew how warm you ran. 

“Shhh,” she cooed, taking your hand in hers. “Save your energy.”

You watched Wanda carefully as she recounted watching you fall to your knees—your back an entirely different color—the painfully quiet quinjet ride, and waiting for you to come out of surgery. Scanning her face, you could tell the other woman had been crying.

After a brief moment of silence, as you soaked in all the information, Wanda whispered, “Why did you save me?”

You frowned at her question. “Did you expect me to just watch you die?”

At that, Wanda had no answer. 

“We’re a team, Wanda.” You took her silence as an opportunity to continue. “I knew I would survive the blast. My body handles heat and energy differently. You on the other hand…”

You trailed off as your throat tightened, not wanting to even voice the possibility of what could have happened.

“Plus, I couldn’t let you die without beating you once in sparring,” you huffed in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Wanda’s face remained solemn.

Another moment of stillness passed between the two of you, Wanda examining your face, the fresh stitches across your forehead reminding her of your actions.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her raspy voice broke the silence.

“Tell you what?” You frowned, confused as to what she could be talking about. 

“About your sister.”

“Who’s Sofya?” Wanda asked her mentor as the two of them waited for you to come out of surgery. 

Natasha let out a large sigh, lifting her head from between her knees as she sat upright. “Sofya was (Y/N)’s sister.”

Wanda didn’t miss the way Natasha referred to the girl in the past tense with a twinge of sadness. 

“Was?” 

Natasha gulped down the knot in her throat. “She died,” she said, clearing her throat. “The Red Room. They killed her.” 

Wanda felt her heart ache as she remembered how she snapped at you for bringing up Pietro. You were only trying to help. Thinking back to all her interactions with her, Wanda winced at the way she treated you. Now, as you fought for your life after saving hers, Wanda feared she would never get to apologize or tell you how she truly felt. 

“I know you recently lost your brother,” you mumbled tiredly. “I didn’t want to remind you of him if you weren’t ready to talk about it.”

Wanda was quiet for a moment. She took a deep breath and extended the olive branch. 

“Does it ever go away?” She asked. “This pain?”

You lifted your hand and gently placed it on top of Wanda’s, which rested on the edge of the bed. 

“No, it doesn’t,” you admitted truthfully, causing Wanda’s eyes to widen. “There will always be an ache of grief within you, reminding you what you’ve lost and what could’ve been.”

You paused with a fond smile, the images of your sister flashing before your mind. 

“But that grief is just all the love you carry with you, because what is grief is not love persevering.”

Wanda smiled, tears glossing her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” she said. 

“For what?” You frowned as you circled your thumb on the back of her hand. 

“For making you think I hated you. For being so cold with you,” she muttered and looked down at your interlaced hands. 

“Good thing I’m warm enough to deal with a little chill.” You tried to joke, mustering just enough energy to warm your hand and hers. 

“(Y/N), I’m serious,” Wanda scolded, though she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from twitching up. “There’s no excuse for the way I treated you. You were always so kind and trying to reach out to me and I just shut you out.

“I was just dealing with a lot of change. First, losing Pietro and joining a team of superheroes in a completely new country. And then just as I was starting to get used to the team, you showed up and it was a lot for me.

“I’m sorry.” She moved her other hand so she was now clasping your hand between hers.

You smiled softly, pulling your hand out of Wanda’s grasp to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

Wanda leaned into your touch, an incredulous glint in her eye. “Why?” She croaked. 

Your heart broke hearing the despair and disbelief in Wanda’s voice. Forgiveness was so clearly foreign to the witch that the idea of her being worthy of such redemption was one she couldn’t fathom.

“Because I understand being angry with the world and with change. We should not be defined by what has happened to us, and we are all humans who react,” you said. “You are worth of forgiveness, Wanda. And of friendship.”

Wanda searched your eyes, a wave of realization washing over her. “What about love?” She whispered so quietly you barely heard her over the faint buzz of the medical wing.

You furrowed your brows, not understanding her question, as the drugs and injuries clouded your mind. Before you could process what was happening, Wanda was leaning forward and tentatively pressing her lips against yours. You sighed into the contact, Wanda flooding your senses completely. You knew fire and flames but this was a different warmth entirely.

Before either of you could deepen the kiss, a familiar laugh caused the two of you to separate.

“Well, well, well,” Natasha teased as she moved into the room, fast food takeout bags in hand. “What do we have here?” 

“Shut up, Romanoff,” you cursed your friend in your mother tongue, rolling your eyes. Wanda quickly sat back in the chair, her cheeks flushed with a rosy tint. 

“You two lovebirds finally figure it out?” Natasha plopped down in the other chair across from Wanda. 

“Was it that obvious?” Wanda asked sheepishly. 

“Please,” Bruce scoffed, interjecting himself into the conversation as he checked your vitals. “You could cut the tension between you two with a knife.”

You went to protest with a snarky quip but before you could, Steve entered the room, a concerned look on his face. “How are you feeling, (Y/N)?”

“Better now,” you answered with a dopey grin, sneaking a glance at Wanda, her face warming as the three other Avengers glanced between the two of you.

Steve’s worry turned into amusement as he realized what was going on. “About time, ladies.”

“Shove it, Steve,” you said without any real bite, your energy starting to drain. “Natasha told me how it took you—,”

“Okay,” Natasha quickly interrupted, saving Steve (and herself) from any embarrassment. “I think it’s time to let (Y/N/N) get some rest.”

“But…” You pouted, turning to Wanda with your best puppy eyes. You wanted to spend more time with the other girl—maybe even talk about what that kiss meant—but your eyes had another idea as they began to droop.

“Rest, malyshka.” Wanda stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You hummed contently and let sleep take you, unafraid of the darkness, knowing you were safe.

--

taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @when-wolves-howl @gaywalkersworld @iliketozoneout @lightwhoranoutoflight @bibliophilicbi

[s-4pphics]

moth. (e.w.)

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞��𝓤𝓔

SYNOPSIS: knights of the devil, you all are to be conquered. 

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: vampire!ellie, vampirekiller!oc, a lot to come FUCK, violence… so blood(drinking), death, murder, gore, suicide, religion briefly, cult-ish bindings, ellie's coven is so cunt, mentions of witchcraft, future tags: hypnosis, abducting, crazy smut

teaser.

1927

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

The cycle formed over the last decade has revolutionized you. It is all you know; the only remainder of solace you have in this dastard domain. The older you've grown, the more burials you attend. For strangers, for comrades. For children who have been brutalized and left to rot like swine. All enacted by the Devils that lurk in darkness. Radicalization overcame your senses; first writhed beneath your bones at the age of thirteen when intent to kill the Earth’s torturers flourished within you. Welcomed your stout standing with an offered, sharply angled wood. You have read. You have fought. You have been scarred and beaten bloody by the Overseers; suffered numerous nights of unrest due to the wails of your comrades under their scrutiny. 

Another burial, another Overseer. A prime Hunter that controls your underground dominion, trapped trenches below civilization that beam with only candlelight and the creeping rays of the flaming sun.

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

The lines you march alongside your comrades are congruous; heads covered with black hoods, dozens of silver-soled heels echoing against the tunnel walls. Not one Hunter out of place. Gruesome symmetry. The narrow halls of the tunnel spread into a perfect sphere near its end. Hunters due their promotion disperse along the widening space, encircling the flaming Crest in the center of the chamber. Both rows of teeth are inseparable; a dull ache in your jaw. 

Your heartbeat is reminiscent of drums. Each step is calculated. A second of delay, and… your brain cannot fathom the consequences. 

Rows of comrades enclose and tighten, standing strong before the risen floors where the Overseers inspect their battalion, hoods removed and insignia burning through their black capes. You sneak glances at them despite the rules of a downcast gaze in their presence; no longer than a second. Their years of battle have overtaken their appearance; gray drapes of wool that cascade their shoulders, creases by the eyes and mouth, hands that tremor. 

“Rise.” 

Necks crane until straightened. Palms raise for the Uncovering, hoods pushed until they lay flat at the peak of spines. The first time your heads have seen the unnatural light of the underground. Your Overseer from your recruitment has been replaced with anew; woman, tall and eyes as kind as a doe, but just as ruthless, just as conniving as he. Her lips spread around her white teeth, somehow more venomous than the ghouls that taunt the lands. 

“Welcome to the commencement of our Prodigies.” 

Despite you being only three rows from the raised platform, the Overseer sounds miles away. The rushing in your ears; the thumping in your chest is intruding. 

“You are all here to be recognized for your efforts. You should be proud of choosing the path of righteousness. Your dedication does not go unnoticed, and today marks the finality of your attainment.” 

“We bless you all with our thanks. For this night embarks society’s next generation of Hunters. You have all accepted your duty as a protector. A leader. A virtuous soldier for our Lord.” 

“The battle against Demons will be unkind… Many will be lost, but after years of sacrifice, use this night as a celebration of your bravery…” 

Silence. Then a seized breath. Faulting from an Overseer is unforeseen. 

“It may be your last chance to witness a night of peace… Of unity.” 

Her sudden somber timbre jostles your comrades, backs stiffened under their cloaks. Empathy: considered a display of weakness from your leaders. 

The winds of the tunnel shifted, aimed to suffocate. 

“Live as kings for this last night. Eat, drink… dance if you must. Because come dawn, you will abandon comfort, and return to the higher lands where anguish awaits.” 

One overseer, the man closest to the orator, extends a black, velvet pillow to her. A silver chain dangles from her wrinkled hands; a Hunters pendant, bordering a lit flame. 

“As the world’s Hunters, you will be honored with our sanctuary’s Crest. This will be your protection against the Lustful… They have demonstrated a great deal of power as they develop… Their spread is alarming… To even us.” 

“Do not fall victim to their allure. Their only desire is our demise. Deceit is their only weapon… But it will never compare to the light in your hearts.” 

Rumors have spread through the training grounds; ones of Hunters, Overseers, being blinded by their darkest desires. Controlled by the Devil’s knights to turn against each other. Entranced by pleasure, by riches. By immortality. Their desperation of becoming the rulers of society, tyrants of the land, past the seas… Brought them to their end. Many believed they were created to birth disarray — distrust between comrades. You, still, are not sure what to believe. 

“… All of your souls are blessed… Even in death.” 

Your palm rests over your pounding heart in oath recitation, promising to die for the cause of freedom. For humanity. The remainder of the ceremony hazes as cloaked patrons emerge from the depths of the cave as the Overseers disperse, dressing prideful Hunters with their pendants. They hang perfectly at the center of the sternum, the flames roaring the closer it lays to the heart. 

Your eyes do not wither from the ground, even with the silver shoes before you that penetrate the dirt. An Overseer is not often chosen to promote a Hunter, but she — the orator — blesses you. The heft of your pendant weighs heavy on your shoulders. You sigh a breath of relief at the glow behind metal. 

“Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.” You say, dismissing your shock with a hand on your chest.

“Guarded, you are…” 

Her declaration is barely a whisper. She pauses, trembling pupils entangled with the glow of your chain, hypnotized by its glimmer. 

“Child.” 

You remain indifferent at her condemnation, against the gulp from your throat. She inspects your stance with the strength of a stalking lion before vanishing, cape gusting up dryness from below. 

“Someone’s special.” 

A hushed snark airs from behind you. Made to be a laughingstock for your comrades once again. But you are not 13. All naivety has been torn from your consciousness, and your vacancies are filled with revenge. 

The cave, for the first time since your recruitment, is undisciplined. Bass from the celebratory drums. Laughter… Laughter from your comrades, Overseers, patrons you recall from passing as they cheers with the finest wine. Intimidation and constraint are no longer. And still, you take no part in true fellowship. Jollity is forbidden. Leisure is forbidden. Benevolence is forbidden. You, and others amongst —children— were trained to hunt. To slain those who left the world in shatters. A morphed weapon of justice.

A laid hand on your shoulder makes you jolt, left frozen when you're met with the orator from the commencement. 

Come, she whispers, and you follow her path through the tunnels of the cave. She retrieves a lantern from the cavity floors and leads you to its corners, deep and untouched. Never once have you seen an Overseer smile, but she is. A pitiful one. 

“Why do you worry, Child?” 

“I do not worry,” You bite more than needed, “And I am not a child.” 

She takes no offense, “Pardon me. Why do you worry, Hunter?” Her tone is mocking, and your blood churns. 

One slip of tongue could earn a blade in your chest. You self-soothe with the foggy air expanding in your lungs. Your agitation calms, only briefly. 

“I do not worry,” Easier on the ears, “I am believed to be more than prepared—“

“There is no preparation against the Devils.” The hiss of a viper, her mouth turned down in dissatisfaction of your attitude. Your brows pinch. 

“Why have you brought me here?” 

Her chest rises and falls and her hands interlock. 

“Do you know your history, Hunter?” 

“It is all I’ve ever known, Master.” You retort with similar irreverence.

“Not the history of the Devils, you imbecile. You. Do you know of your lineage?” 

Your head rattles, “Surely not… A-All outside knowledge of history is forbidden. That is all we’ve ever been taught—“

“Shame on your mother for leaving you useless.” 

Her slander resonates through the tunnel and your conscience dissolves. The blade you always wield in your sheath presses against the throat of your superior, indented around the aged skin.

“I did not follow you to be defamed,” You rebuke with bared teeth, “Do not speak of my mother.” 

“What spirit…” Others would not blink twice at the mention of their family, dead or alive. 

“The Devils starve, Child.” She whispers. 

“What.” 

“They starve… Desperation grows within them as they migrate. They kill anything they can.” Distress grows in her face as she blathers. “Black magic. I have seen its bounds before my eyes. They have tormented and feasted on the blood of your ancestors! The controller of all Devils… She waits to enslave the last of your name—“

“I HAVE NO NAME!” 

Why must she lie? Why are you only hearing of this now? She lies. A shout that cracks through the underground. 

“Your lineage is most susceptible to the curse! You…” 

Tears hang from your lashes before splintering your cheeks. Panic-struck heaves hit your leader’s, her flyways brushing against her nose.

“They’ll torture you, Child.”

Sympathy. Survival. There is no difference. 

“What does it matter?” You whisper painfully, and your blade drops to your side, weeps unmasked. “So many have died before me. I-I do—“

“Your mother was one of us.”

Her wails are quiet and urgent.

“Ask… pray for her guidance.” 

“Mas—“

The Overseer advantages the weakness of your wrist; snags your blade from between your fingertips and glides the edge across her jugular, maroon coating her hands as she chokes on her own blood, her eyes glazing as she slides down the wall. You holler, knees weakening when her gargling form collapses into your arms. Life drains from her eyes with every exclamation you throw to the Heavens. You shout for help, but the depths are too narrow. 

No one comes. 

-

-

-

You, by the grace of your Lord, somehow managed to flee the concaves without being spotted by your commune, cloak submerged in blood that is masked by its darkness. Anxiety forged in the pit of your stomach; unable to return to your base for the last peaceful rest, you ran. You cowered. Just when you believed it was out of your nature. 

An Overseer committed suicide, and you were the only witness. 

You went to your chambers after the accident—warning? — stuffed what you could into your satchel, and escaped the iron gates of your former home. Scaled them like a rabid hyena until your bandaged soles combined with tall greenery. The scene of never-ending land doesn’t ease your nerves, but you sprint until your lungs burn and your legs give out. 

Your path is blind, but your end is near. 

All fingers point at you. 

The greatest form of betrayal. 

The lifeblood of the wealthy always curdles: from concealed shame. From ego. From both; It always leaves a sour film over her tongue. Despairing times. The rosewood floors are bathed in red as the last breaths of her victim shake through her bedroom. A beautiful one, she was; dressed in skirts and stockings that ripped at the lightest touch. 

Blood drips down from Ellie’s mouth to the collar of her unbuttoned shirt, stains seeping into the crew of her undershirt. Barely any effort was needed to lure them all in. Desperation makes obscenity much sweeter. 

A knock erupts from the other side of her door before a sugary utterance echoes, “May I come in?” 

Ellie scoffs at the pester. 

“You may…” She replies.

The door opens, and she’s met with soft eyes twinkling with brown and burgundy. 

Her brow arches, “Not.” She concludes.

The raven-haired girl squints playfully and shuts the door behind her, “Hush, now,” Her strides are strong and assertive, puddles of red soaking the bottom of her heels. 

“Quite the mess,” she mutters at the scene with an upturned nose, “It smells.” 

“Who am I to complain?” 

“The only one that complains,” Her soft hands land on Ellie’s shoulders, and she sighs, taking in the worn appearance of her partner: under eyes darkened and sunk in, dry lips, voice hoarse.

“I bare news.” Dina whispers. 

Ellie curls a tweel of black hair around her finger, “Hm?” 

Dina leans in close, arms locking around the back of her lover’s neck, lips brushing Ellie’s ear. 

“Our little flower is on the loose.” 

Ellie’s body locks, and pressure grows in her fangs. “Liar.” She gasps.

“Nuh uh,” A kiss is planted to the corner of her stained mouth, “Word is she’s fled the sanctuary. Searches are apparently ongoing.” 

“Where.” Ellie presses. 

“Not sure… I came to ask if we should plan for her… arrival while the ladies are away.” Dina suggests with a conniving smirk. 

Ellie’s lips curl dangerously around her sharp teeth, a blinding white. She lifts her darling off the ground, spinning her in celebration as she squeals, droplets of evidence seeping deeper into the floorboards. 

“Absolutely.” 

wittle taglist :3 HIII DEAR: @elliewilliamsblunt

[crisiscutie]

The reunion at hand may bring us joy. Pt 1

Pairing: "Fluffy" Sephiroth/Pregnant Darling

A wee distant prequel in the alternate Domestic AU, back when Darling was still on the run from Yandere Sephiroth with the boys.

You gently touched your slightly swollen belly, shaking your head as you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror. There was no denying it now - you were pregnant with your fourth child. This revelation shouldn't have come as a surprise. Something had to result out of those nightly sessions you had with Sephiroth months ago.

Yet with the familiar symptoms and signs, you had acted like nothing was different since you and the boys went on the run. Now that your baby bump had begun to form, ignoring your greatest worry was no longer an option. You covered your eyes and let out a soft sob as you anxiously deliberated your next steps.

You could should be able to handle this one. After all, ten years ago, you had been pregnant with triplets. One more child in the picture was no problem.

But you couldn't even bring yourself to explain to your precious boys why you all had to leave that fateful day. The horrifying atrocities and the monster their father had become were things they shouldn't and couldn't comprehend. So how the hell could you explain to them that you're pregnant while being on a special mother-sons expedition, celebrating your degradation mysteriously curing itself? The boys were already concerned when you had bouts of morning sickness, but you diverted their attention by promising to take them to the Gold Saucer, since they had begged to visit it during the journey in Corel.

They're smart like Sephiroth, though. You won't be able to hide this from them for long. Maybe you could tell them at the amusement park during a quiet moment? You pulled your wool sweater down and slipped your black jacket on for even more cover. It's bad enough being an ex-SOLDIER on the run with three kids. No need to make it obvious that you're a pregnant ex-SOLDIER on the run with three kids.

When you were about to leave the restroom, you heard a groan of distress from behind. You turned around and came face to face with a woman dressed in tattered black robes. She looked to be on the edge of death. Her lifeless, baggy eyes, sickly complexion, and brittle hair nearly sent you into a panic. She looked like you when your degradation was at its worst. She stumbled towards you, losing her balance. You immediately reached out and caught her, allowing her to rest her head on your shoulder.

"Miss... are you okay?" you whispered. You couldn't resist the instinctive desire to hold her tightly, as if she were a precious jewel for safekeeping. Perhaps it was your natural empathy and decency for a fellow human. Or it's just your pathetic projection.

You tried to support her upright, but in a swift second, the woman summoned all her strength to push you against the bathroom wall, her small form transforming into the towering visage of your dear husband, Sephiroth.

In slow, robotic movement, he lifted his head from your shoulder. You could feel his soft, silver tresses sliding over the fabric of your jacket as his gaze met yours. His slit pupils were devoid of the soft, almost-catlike gaze he usually wore. Instead, there was only the stare of a snake watching its prey.

He cupped your chin. "You dare to run away? With my children? After all I've done for you. For them," he hissed. You couldn't respond. Were you already beginning to lose your mind? How did he know your location? How is here? As he caught the flicker of fear and shock in your eyes, his slit pupils constricted. He then smirked and slid his gloved hand down your body, opening the jacket and lifting the wool sweater to expose your slightly swollen belly.

"I will reclaim what's mine," he declared, his gloved hand resting on your belly. These were his final words before the robbed woman retook her place. She groaned in your ear once again. A nurse burst into the room and quickly approached the two of you. She pulled the robbed woman away from you.

"Excuse her. She's not feeling well because of the mako poisoning!" the nurse hastily explained to you, shortly lecturing the robbed woman afterwards. You stifled a gasp at them before fast walking out of the restroom. Your gaze darted up and down the streets, clutching your bag close to you.

Fuck. Fuck. The boys. Where are they!? You all can't afford to stick around much longer. But you don't see them anywhere! They should've been here, waiting outside of the bathroom as you ordered. Your panic increased tenfold when you rushed down the dusty road, seeing the bodies of dead Shinra grunts scattered about. You forced your head to keep looking forward, not even noticing the black feathers on some bodies.

Time passed slowly until you found a platform with a gondola, hoping your boys were near since you quietly searched everywhere else. You then heard the familiar whisper of Kadaj calling out to you from behind.

"Mother, we're over here!" He said. They were hiding in small bins, with a white lid over their heads nearby an abandoned clinc.

"What happened?" You asked.

"We don't know... Those men were running after us, so we hid in these bins when they lost sight of us," Yazoo explained. The three came out, their hair and clothing a bit rustled, but no signs of physical injury. But their eyes said it all. They were shaken. Afraid. All supposedly under your watch. Poor Loz was crying silently, keeping his hand over his mouth to keep quiet. You ruffled his hair, giving him an apologetic gaze.

The three hugged boys hugged you tightly, afraid to let you go. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't left you three alone..." You said. Kadaj lifted his head, about to say something before the sight of your uncovered pregnant belly caught his attention. The other two followed after, their fearful gaze turning into utter confusion and curiosity.

Shit. Of course you didn't bother to fix yourself up after that bathroom encounter with Sephiroth. "Boys... I-"

"They can't be far! Split up and search the alleys!" a voice from a distance ranged out, with a tone you recognized to certainly belong to a grunt captain. With quick thinking, you ushered the boys into the nearby gondola and closed the door.

"We'll discuss this later. Just stay quiet for Mother please..." you uttered, maneuvering to the controls. Your sweet triplet boys nodded, immediately sitting down and observing you silently. Thank the planet that they knew when to get serious and follow directions. But alas, mayhap this be evidence of them growing up too fast. Any other child at their age would still be shaken, frantically asking questions, begging for assurance. Just how much more horrors did they witness in your absence?

You slapped the control panel in frustration, which seemed to make it work. The gondola creaked and drifted along the cable lines. You peeked out of the tinted window, seeing more Shinra troops scouting the streets. Thankfully, no one seemed focused on the gondola. You sighed in relief and wiped your forehead as you sat down, sitting opposite of the triplets.

They were still staring at you, their intense catlike pupils constricting as the silence persisted. It was too difficult for you to not think of Sephiroth at this moment. This peculiar aura was all too familiar. Each one was so so similar to him, in each and every way.

Your lips curved into a forced grin, as you leaned forward, talking in your light tone.

"You know, this itinerary of Corel told me about a very special attraction nearby." The boys broke out of their peculiar observant trance, their slit pupils now dilating in anticipation as they leaned forward themselves, meeting you with excitement.

"I-Is it the gold saucer?" Loz asked. You nodded.

"Mhmm!" I was thinking, 'Maybe we could go there sooner.' What do you boys think?" The boys collectively hollered in excitement, littering you in gratitude and requests to go to a specific attention first. You chuckled, sitting back and watching them argue with each other about who gets to where first. Good thing you got them focused on something else for now.

Though your amusement ended quickly when you spotted a black feather stuck in the window's crevice, reminding you of your duty...

Oh, why can't something be easy for once?

[book--brackets]

Her Majesty's Royal Coven by Juno Dawson (2022-present)

Hidden among us is a secret coven of witches. They are Her Majesty’s Royal Coven. They protect crown and country from magical forces and otherworldly evil. But their greatest enemy will come from within.

There are whisperings of a prophecy that will bring the coven to its knees, and five best friends are about to be caught at the centre. Life as a modern witch was never simple … but now it’s about to get apocalyptic.

Gormenghast by Mervyn Peake (1946-1959)

Starts with the birth and ends with the first birthday celebrations of the heir to the grand, tradition-bound castle of Gormenghast. A grand miasma of doom and foreboding weaves over the sterile rituals of the castle. Villainous Steerpike seeks to exploit the gaps between the formal rituals and the emotional needs of the ruling family for his own profit.

Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson (2021)

The dead of Loraille do not rest.

Artemisia is training to be a Gray Sister, a nun who cleanses the bodies of the deceased so that their souls can pass on; otherwise, they will rise as spirits with a ravenous hunger for the living. She would rather deal with the dead than the living, who trade whispers about her scarred hands and troubled past.

When her convent is attacked by possessed soldiers, Artemisia defends it by awakening an ancient spirit bound to a saint’s relic. It is a revenant, a malevolent being that threatens to possess her the moment she drops her guard. Wielding its extraordinary power almost consumes her—but death has come to Loraille, and only a vespertine, a priestess trained to wield a high relic, has any chance of stopping it. With all knowledge of vespertines lost to time, Artemisia turns to the last remaining expert for help: the revenant itself.

As she unravels a sinister mystery of saints, secrets, and dark magic, her bond with the revenant grows. And when a hidden evil begins to surface, she discovers that facing this enemy might require her to betray everything she has been taught to believe—if the revenant doesn’t betray her first.

The Unwritten by Mike Carey (2010-2015)

Tom Taylor's life was screwed from go. His father created the Tommy Taylor fantasy series, boy-wizard novels with popularity on par with Harry Potter. The problem is Dad modeled the fictional epic so closely to Tom's real life that fans are constantly comparing him to his counterpart, turning him into the lamest variety of Z-level celebrity. In the final novel, it's even implied that the fictional Tommy will crossover into the real world, giving delusional fans more excuses to harass Tom.

When an enormous scandal reveals that Tom might really be a boy-wizard made flesh, Tom comes into contact with a very mysterious, very deadly group that's secretly kept tabs on him all his life. Now, to protect his own life and discover the truth behind his origins, Tom will travel the world, eventually finding himself at locations all featured on a very special map -- one kept by the deadly group that charts places throughout world history where fictions have impacted and tangibly shaped reality, those stories ranging from famous literary works to folktales to pop culture. And in the process of figuring out what it all means, Tom will find himself having to figure out a huge conspiracy mystery that spans the entirety of the history of fiction.

Leven Thumps by Obert Skye (2005-2009)

Fourteen-year-old Leven Thumps (a.k.a. Lev) lives a wretched life in Burnt Culvert, Oklahoma. But his life is about to change and his destiny be fulfilled as he learns about a secret gateway that bridges two worlds -- the real world and Foo, a place created at the at the beginning of time in the folds of the mind that makes it possible for mankind to dream and hope, aspire and imagine. But Foo is in chaos, and three transplants from that dreamworld have been sent to retrieve Lev, who alone has the power to save Foo.Enter Clover, a wisecracking, foot-high sidekick; Winter, a girl with a special power of her own; and Geth, the rightful heir to Foo. Their mission: to convince Lev that he has the power to save Foo. Can this unique band of travelers help Lev overcome his doubt? Will Lev find the gateway in time? Or will Sabine and his dark shadows find the gateway first and destroy mankind?

By the Sword by Mercedes Lackey (1991)

Granddaughter of the sorceress Kethry, daughter of a noble house, Kerowyn had been forced to run the family keep since her mother's untimely death. Yet now at last her brother was preparing to wed, and when his bride became the lady of the keep, Kerowyn could return to her true enjoyments - training horses and hunting.

But all Kerowyn's hopes and plans were shattered when her anscestral home was attacked, her father slain, her brother wounded, and his fiancee kidnapped. Drive by desperation and the knowledge that a scorcerer had led the journey which would prove but he first step on the road to the fulfillment of her destiny.

Dungeon Crawler Carl by Matt Dinniman (2020-present)

It's the most-watched game show in the galaxy!

In a flash, every human-erected construction on Earth--from Buckingham Palace to the tiniest of sheds to all the trucks and cars--collapses in a heap, sinking into the ground. 

The buildings and all the people inside, they've all been atomized and transformed into the dungeon: an 18-level labyrinth filled with traps, monsters, and loot. A dungeon so enormous, it circles the entire globe.

Only a few dare venture inside. But once you're in, you can't get out. And what's worse, each level has a time limit. You have but days to find a staircase to the next level down, or it's game over. In this game, it's not about your strength or your dexterity. It's about your views and your followers. It's about building an audience and killing those goblins with style.

You can't just survive here. You gotta survive big.

You gotta fight with vigor, with excitement. You gotta make them stand up and cheer. And if you do have that "it" factor, you may just find yourself with a following. That's the only way to truly survive in this game, with the help of the loot boxes dropped upon you by the generous benefactors watching from across the galaxy. 

They call it Dungeon Crawler World. But for Carl, it's anything but a game.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi) by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (2016)

Wei Wuxian was once one of the most outstanding men of his generation, a talented and clever young cultivator who harnessed martial arts, knowledge, and spirituality into powerful abilities. But when the horrors of war led him to seek a new power through demonic cultivation, the world’s respect for his skills turned to fear, and his eventual death was celebrated throughout the land.

Years later, he awakens in the body of an aggrieved young man who sacrifices his soul so that Wei Wuxian can exact revenge on his behalf. Though granted a second life, Wei Wuxian is not free from his first, nor the mysteries that appear before him now. Yet this time, he’ll face it all with the righteous and esteemed Lan Wangji at his side, another powerful cultivator whose unwavering dedication and shared memories of their past will help shine a light on the dark truths that surround them.

The Unicorn Chronicles by Bruce Coville (1994-2010)

As each chime sounds, Cara climbs faster up the steep bell tower. Eleven! She must be on the roof when the next bell tolls. Twelve! With a deep breath, and only half believing she will survive, Cara jumps off the church roof and into Luster, land of the unicorns.

In Luster, Cara meets many wonderful creatures, but the most magnificent of all is Lightfoot, a rebellious young unicorn. Cara's band of friends comes to include a hairy creature named the Dimblethum and the monekey-like Squijim. Together, they set out to reach the Unicorn Queen before the mysterious man who is following them does - to prevent the destruction of all unicorns forever.

The Saint of Steel by T. Kingfisher (2020-2023)

Stephen's god died on the longest day of the year...Three years later, Stephen is a broken paladin, living only for the chance to be useful before he dies. But all that changes when he encounters a fugitive named Grace in an alley and witnesses an assassination attempt gone wrong. Now the pair must navigate a web of treachery, beset on all sides by spies and poisoners, while a cryptic killer stalks one step behind...

[matan4il]

can we get a. like i dont even know what to call it anymore but can we mention Michel Nisenbaum, an Israeli-Jewish man who was killed on oct. 7th and had his corpse held hostage until really recently. it's ok if you're too busy to do it or if im overstepping a boundary but its just that his story has really been weighting on me recently

Hi Clawdia!

You don't even have to ask me, it's a given I would talk about them, it was just a matter of when. There's so much to say, to share, to debunk, when every aspect of our existence is misunderstood, distorted and/or lied about...

The IDF has returned the bodies of three more hostages who were murdered on Oct 7, and their corpses were kidnapped. The intel which allowed the soldiers to locate and rescue the bodies was uncovered in the last few days.

With your permission, I'll go through the above pic in the order in which we read and write Hebrew, from right to left...

42 years Chanan Yablonka was a father of two. He was last seen in security footage from the Nova music festival, walking through the parking lot, but hasn't replied to his family's calls. They knew that all of the four friends who had been with Chanan in the car in which they tried to flee the scene had been murdered on Oct 7, but no one knew what happened to him. It took 90 days to find the intel which changed his status from "missing" to "kidnapped." IDK if people understand the nightmare that not knowing is for the family. Now they do, and can bring him to his final resting place.

30 years old Mexican-French Orion Hernandes Radu was Shani Louk's boyfriend. They met abroad, and were together for almost a year. He was also the father of a little girl, and a musical producer of parties who worked all over the world. On Oct 7, his dad got a message in Arabic from Hamas, saying that Orion was alive, well, and kidnapped to use him for "political trade." He and Shani went to the Nova music festival together, and the vid of her stripped down, raped, abused body being taken to Gaza, to where people were celebrating in the streets and a boy spat on her still bleeding corpse was the first thing I saw of the massacre on the day itself. Now we know they were both murdered then, kidnapped together, and their bodies were returned to Israel one day apart.

59 years old Michel Nisenbaum was a grandfather, and on Oct 7, at his daughters' request, he went to get his 4.5 years old granddaughter from a military base in the south, where she was spending the day with her dad, an IDF officer. On the way to the base, Michel came across people fleeing the massacre, and as a volunteer paramedic, he helped several of them. When his son-in-law realized terrorists had invaded Israel, he called Michel to tell him not to come, but Hamas terrorists were the ones who answered the phone. One of his daughters said that from the moment she learned about the terrorists replying to her dad's phone, she knew life would never be the same again. At his funeral today, his former wife thanked Michel for the family that they built together, for an extraordinary friendship they had, for the way they learned to deal with everything life had in store for them, and promised him she'll keep guarding all that they had between them.

May their memories be a blessing. </3

The current number of hostages in Gaza is 125, and 39 have been determined to have been killed, which means there are 86 living hostages at most there.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Queen of hearts Pt II

She wanted to teach her manners, and tea parties and croquet first, how to balance fierceness and poise, control and fun. She wanted dresses and lace and softness to give to her. But what Queen Mary wants and what Yuu needs are to different things.  

The Overblots will keep coming, they are sure of it. Once is an accident, twice a pattern, but three already? Yuu must learn how to fight, and dodge and finish a brawl quickly. She must learn the rules of combat.  

That is how the two of them train together, throwing axes until her shoulders are sore, dodging spears and learning stradegy from the great Bloody Mary of Heartsland.  

It's not what she wanted, but its what Yuu needs.  

Yuu pants under an apple tree, resting her head on Mary’s thigh. Taka works more on her stretches during these weeks, building up her concentration and flexibility. They'll give her a day off soon though, time with friends and away from mirrors. Away from them so she can be silly and goofy with the little card soldiers and the other miscreants.  

“Queen Mary?” Yuu asks, looking up at her. “I still don’t quite understand how the fan hides like that. It’s like, as soon as I throw it, either here or out there, it becomes the battle axe. But when I pick it up or tuck it underneath my uniform it’s light as silk.”  

“Ah, that would be the illusion magic dear. Illusion magic is a specialty of Underground Natives, but you’ve been inheriting mine slowly. That’s why you’ve been needing extra rest and food.”  

“Do you think I could try and practice that some? My arms are about to fall off.”  

“Hohoho!” Queen Mary laughs, “We do have the basics covered for both, it may be good to take a break from this for a bit. How are you doing with your color theory?”  

Illusion magic was a hybrid of color blending, transportation, and nature-based magic. Being able to blend yourself and your magic into Wonderland, painting the place you wanted to go so vividly within your mind that you end up there, and the natural sway of Wonderland itself. Creatures of Wonderland, like the Cats, had more of a natural movement with transportation, but the Royal family was good at transmutation. Growing bigger or smaller, faster or longer, but the longer one held a mutation, the harder it was to control. Potions and substances certainly helped, but you could do it without.  

Mary certainly wasn’t starting her on any of the potions. She would monitor those heavily.  

She would not see this one go down the way her son did.  

Yuu was a bright girl though, didn’t overindulge in much, but rather that was lack of resources or not was difficult to say. She trusted Scar to keep an eye on her though, he was one of the few who had children as well and had that instinct to keep them safe.  

It was nearing sunrise when she finally brought the lessons to an end, letting her mind process everything with a light game of cards.  

Yuu scampered off to school, and Queen Mary updated Taka on what they had worked on.  

“Ok, progressing a bit quicker than planned.” He commented, leaning against the staff. “Do you feel like she’ll be able to release you soon?”  

“I think so. Little Braveheart is quick witted, strong too boot!” She smooths the lace on the cuff of her sleeve. “I worry for what’s to come. I worry if she’ll be ready.”  

“You and I both. But the more of us out, the more reinforcements we can put in. Besides with as much time as she’s spending in Heartslabyul, something tells me she’s getting extra practice. She reeks of your Blood roses.” He huffs his nose, as if he can smell it lingering.  

“Oh, she’s safer among the Roses and Cards than alone!” she puffs, “Besides, you are simply jealous that she feels safe amongst my subjects!”  

“She sought Leona’s help when she was homeless, let’s not forget that. She can have her fun with your hedgehogs, but she knows to go to the Lions for protection and strength.” he smirks, knowing that she can’t reach him through the mirror. He only laughs more as the roses in the mirror start dripping red, her hands clenching around nothing.  

When she gets released from here, they are sparing, she swears, and she can remind him exactly why that battle axe was her favored weapon.  

[havenscribes]

Only Warriors - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Wakandan!Regent!Reader - Chapter One

Word Count: 2250-ish words Warnings: reader is kinda cocky, MCU level violence, mentions of death and blood, Shuri is our cousin

The River Seine sparkles through the windows, moving like a lullaby back and forth. If teen aged me could see my life now, she wouldn’t be surprised at all. This is my destiny, my birthright, to be wined and dined like a queen, to give speeches in important halls and make real change. Even with the heartbreak of recent losses, I still manage to get up in the morning and make the world a better place. I will always rise to the challenge. Wakandans don’t fail.

Even in front of an audience of more than three hundred glittering royalty and their politician lapdogs, my smile never falters as the photographers flash their cameras at the reclusive Wakandans. Queen Shuri stands before a podium, draped in a silver robe and I sit to her left, surveying for possible threats. Her safety was entrusted to me, finally, as I was promoted from only an apprentice to an advisor, and I intend to be there to protect every one of Wakanda’s leaders. We will never again lose a life because of American foolishness. My nation and I have lost too much to trust in even the rest of the world’s best.

Shuri waits with a quiet distinction for the reporters to quiet their clamor. As the rest of the patrons take their seats, she taps her fingers onto the glass, eyes darting through the crowds just as I was. Smart. Her eyebrows furrow, and she clears her throat to begin.

“Good evening, everyone.”

The crowd murmurs back the greeting and she lifts and sets her jaw, as if he’s preparing for battle. 

“Tonight is a momentous occasion, is it not? The world opens its arms to Wakanda, and little by little, we can give more and more to the world, starting with our genius.”

A part of me hates how cocky she makes us sound, but the majority knows that it's not unwarranted. We are the most technologically advanced nation on Earth, so much so that the rest of the world can’t even begin to fathom the marvels of Wakanda. This is how it always goes, she drums up the passion and I turn that passion into action, usually in the form of donations. The only thing more powerful than the affluents’ selfishness is their desire to one-up another, so after a few drinks, the mouths and pockets of French and English dignitaries get dangerously loose. I may have to dodge a few flying martini glasses and shoes, but within the crossfire, real progress is made.

My job is… complicated, but in a good way. I go to sleep every night knowing I did my part to make the world a better place for kids who look like me, but there’s little time to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I spend most of my time traveling, bouncing from expensive hotel to hotel, meeting with ambassadors and beneficiaries to produce a new public image of Wakanda. With the birth of a new Black Panther comes a need for reinvention, and T’Challa’s most recent endeavors were connection with the outside world, so we focus our efforts on youth outreach. I’m not a miracle worker, but I won’t stand by silently as society casts aside another Erik Killmonger.

I feel myself zoning out, scowling at my thoughts and quickly smile a little too pointedly at one invitee. Hidden in plain sight, his eye-contact sends a chill down my spine: the Winter Soldier is here. Draped in a simple black coat with a t-shirt underneath, it appears as if he’s trying to blend in. He nurses something iced and golden, staring back over the rim of his glass, before raising it to me and offering a small smile. I don’t return it. Something about him, the way he struts in any room he pleases holding his head high unnerves me.

Nowadays, he goes by Bucky Barnes. He may have changed his name, but the dark countenance and his strong frame can still make anyone’s blood run cold. Other guests don’t make eye contact even as he weaves through the crowd to his seat, instead gawking at the treasonous metal arm. I can’t help but notice, he’s cut his hair. It turns him from a wild animal to something… approachable. Without the shadows around his neck and shoulders, his skin looks delicate, unprotected. Maybe I could imagine myself touching him, just to know what it felt like. Maybe, he’s not as monstrous as he was made out to be.

At the back of my mind, I feel a shame, ogling him like this, as if I would give him the time of day. Who knows what kind of ulterior motives he’s got, and I don’t have time to set myself back for some kind of fling. My suspicions rise as I look him up and down, but neither of us look away. He may be an acquaintance of Shuri’s, but he and I will never be courteous. No man who has caused that much pain will ever be served at my table.

I remember his face, half obscured in the blurry security camera footage. The videos of the destruction, the disbelief. Our king, my uncle, the leader of the very ground I walk on, gone. Just like that. Taken from me by some terrorist without even the courage to admit his name and reveal himself. The beginning of the end. The transition that we still must heal from, he may not have committed, but he made his first impression on civilians with. And years past, he frees the man who did it? My nostrils flare with rage, but I can’t be swept by anger, not today. The elders and the work I do require my full attention.

“Now, before I leave you all in the capable hands of Wakanda’s Youth Outreach Advisor, I’ll ask you one more question: What have you invested in your nation’s future?”

Shuri gracefully turns away from the audience, smirking smugly like now, you try. I roll my eyes playfully, and stand, straightening my blue chiffon dress. She’s a tough act to follow, but I can give speeches ball-gagged with my eyes closed. I pull her in quickly for a hug but whisper in her ear:

“A bit pretentious, no?”

“They love pretentious.” She hisses, a little too loud if we weren’t away from the microphones. “It makes them feel like they’re winning something when we let them donate money.” 

I make a face like if you say so. She throws her head back in a loud laugh and pats my back hard, leaping down the steps to greet guests. I don’t see this side of her often, but she is the life of the party. The models and young royalty flock to her, begging for any piece they can get of the enterprising new queen. Before I step up to the podium, I use my last moments away from the spotlight to really identify the guests in the crowd. Not just so I can make out the threats, but because tonight is my night. I can’t prove myself to be capable if I have undercover Dora Milaje interspersed throughout the crowd, or, Bast forbid, another Black Panther.

The Winter Soldier still watches, hands pleated at his front, and his head is tilted back some. The light shows me every single one of his staggering features and he’s looking straight at me. Now he’s not just waiting in the wings, he seems invested. Despite myself, I can’t help but wonder, or hope, that I’m what he's interested in. Under his gaze, I start to turn into something else, someone less confident. For a second, I can’t remember my opening statement. My mouth opens and closes fast like a fish, as my eyes dart from my hands on the podium to the ceiling. This is so… strange. I never agree to speak anywhere without rehearsing for weeks on end, but as soon as I get in front of one man, the whole speech ceases to exist?

I can feel the disapproving eyes on me and finally remember to smile and brush it off.

“My apologies, everyone. That bar can make one hell of a martini.” Polite laughter echoes through the hall and my breathing settles. Good. Nothing I can’t fix.

“Thank you all for the applause, even though I hardly feel like I deserve it. Celebration is nice, but securing the futures of children world-wide is more valuable to me than any accolades.” The words come back to me now, faster and faster. “And the beauty of the Wakandan Youth Outreach mission is the collective effort done by educators everywhere, who partnered with us to connect our resources to their needs.”

A slide presentation to my far right features our Shanghai location’s junior art programs. Next, our most recent class of American grade three students learning marine science on glass bottom boats, all with big smiles on their faces, some missing teeth. Secondary students in front of their exotic gardens. I stop for a moment to turn and watch, relishing in our accomplishments. We’ve come so far from the beginning, still reeling from the loss of our beloved king, just a few public servants who no one really expected anything from. But with the support of our Wakandan business owners and the Tribal Council, we’ve blossomed into a task force ready to fight for Black youth all across the world.

“We as adults must do our part in priming our youth to enjoy life to the best of their abilities, and the fastest route to a life full of success is education. Unfortunately, after the Blip, educational systems were the first to take a major hit. Studies show that impoverished children were neglected the most in this time of reconstruction. Many of them felt like the best decision they could make would be to quit trying to learn and get a job, because the schools they attended were too ill-equipped to teach them properly. But with the contributions of quite a few patrons here tonight, we were able to raise a minimum of $55 million dollars to distribute within American Title 1 schools.”

I give a proud smile and nod to my co-director, Patrice. She’s sitting a few tables back, blinking back tears at the progress we’ve made. If anyone should be giving this speech, it's her. In the beginning, when no one else could afford to work anything more than part time, and I could barely afford to pay her, she stayed on. Once we earned the trust of our benefactors, she was able to take a step back and hire her successors, and I’ve seen her reap her good karma ever since. Recently, she’s gotten engaged to her partner, Robert, who she spent all of tonight cuddling up with, and I couldn't be happier for her. Romance was always something I loved from afar, enjoying it through others, but I’m moving too far, too fast to slow down for a partner.

I might not even want to slow down for myself. I could never retire. You don’t retire from learning and admiring humanity. Sometimes you lose love for it, sometimes it seems like an impossible feat to find the good in it, but if you stay hopeful and continue hard work, it can open up to you. And it’s gotten me here, speaking to the world’s most powerful people in the Louvre, thanking them for their help.

“Wakanda has received a number of challenges in the past 10 years, but we refuse to give up on the world. Eight years’ worth of work has gone into building the relationships you cherish now, and I hope to see many more. To educators and their supporters everywhere, we thank you. Goodnight.” The crowd stands and claps, sending out loud cheers through the room as I’m led down the steep stairs. Shuri waves proudly from a cloud of suits, but my eyes wander over to the black sports coat still sitting in the back corner. However, his attention is shifted, and I feel a pang of jealousy towards whatever lies outside of that window. 

All I can see is the water, but the light on it… It’s unnatural. Like the water itself is avoiding the streetlights. A floating object, then two, then three. They double and triple, and I can’t tear my eyes away, even though I think I know what’s going on. When Namor and his subjects attacked, I had only heard of the sirens. Never seen them walk up from the midst of the water, chanting the song that kills. Shuri’s looking over now, and I think she says something, but I can’t hear her. All I can hear is their music, that humming and vocalizing taking me out of my thoughts. I can make out a few figures now, but I want to get closer. I have to get closer.

“Y/n! Get down from there!” 

Shuri grabs me from up against the window. I whip my head around, bewildered, and quickly cover my ears with my hands. On the ground I gather into a fetal position, trying to will my body to stay put. She pries my eyes open, pointing to her Kimoyo beads, and puts them in her ears, motioning for me to do the same. Once I do, it’s like my brain was strapped to a treadmill and only just got off. But before I can react out loud, tens of thousands of gallons of water explode into the exhibit.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 25 - When Death Waits Just Beyond The Horizon

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It’s more than tense as the eleven of them walk beneath the open portcullis and into the outpost. It’s empty and the atmosphere is off, off beyond the fact that Genevieve walks a solid ten paces to the right of the rest of the group, her hand protectively clamped around Violet’s wrist as if one of them will snatch her out from behind her and drag her down to lying, venin hell. 

“What the hell?” Garrick strides across the courtyard in the center of the structure, looking along the gathering spaces that should line the interior just like they did in Montserrat. 

“Stop,” Xaden orders, and Genevieve pauses with the rest of the group, her eyes still narrowed. “There’s no one here. Divide and search.” He glances over at Genevieve. “You don’t leave my side. I don’t think this is a War Game.”

There’s no point in arguing, the whip of the wind through the open gates does nothing to quell the anxiety in Genevieve’s throat. The only sounds in a fortress that should house more than two hundred soldiers are the footsteps they fell on rocky ground—and Xaden’s right. It feels off. 

“She stays with me.” There’s a finality in Genevieve’s tone that he’s never heard before as the rest of the squad—minus Liam, who has become Genevieve’s shadow once more—split into groups of two or three, climbing various staircases. Xaden nods, not bothering to argue. 

“This way,” Xaden says, beelining for the southeast tower. They climb and climb until they’ve finally reached the top of the fourth floor, where the door leads them to an open-air observation point that overlooks the valley below, including the Poromish trading post. 

“This is one of the most strategic garrisons we man,” Violet says, looking for any sight of the infantry and riders who should be here. “There’s no way they’d abandon it for War Games.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Xaden looks out over the valley, then narrows his eyes on the trading post a thousand feet below. “Liam.” 

“On it.” Liam moves forward, leaning on the stone battlements as he focuses on the structures in the distance beneath them. The trading post is just a few roofs hiding several buildings that just poke out above the circular stone wall of its defenses, a drift of gryphons and their fliers approaching from the south. 

Xaden turns his eyes to Violet, and the look in his eyes is anything but welcoming. “What did Aetos say to you before we left? After Gen- Genevieve decided you would be coming.” 

She blinks trying to remember. “He said something like…” She searches her memory. “I’ll miss you, Violet.” 

His body goes tense. “And he said Genevieve was going to get you killed.” 

“Yes, but he always says that.” She shrugs. “What would Dain have to do with emptying an entire outpost?” 

“I have something!” Garrick calls from the southeast tower, holding what looks to be an envelope as he and Imogen cross the thick rampart, coming in their direction.

“Did you tell him about my trips here?” Xaden’s attention is back on Genevieve. She rolls her eyes, placing a hand on her hip. 

“I told you already, I can keep a secret when I’m trusted with it,” She drawls, her tone venomous. “And besides, I hate the guy. Why would I ever tell him?” 

He draws back, his gaze shifting left and right as he thinks before settling on Violet again and widening. “Violet,” he says, his voice low. “Did Aetos touch you after Liam told you about Athebyne?”

So Violet did know. Violet knew about the weapons and Violet knew about the supply runs. 

“What?” Her brows furrow, and she shoves an errant strand of hair out of her face as the wind swirls around us. 

“Did he touch you?” He asks one more time, leaving no room for lying or hiding anything. 

“Yes, but I would know if he read my memories,” She sputters. “He would never…”

“No, Violet, you wouldn’t,” Xaden’s face falls, and his words hold a resignation that hurts what’s left of Genevieve’s shattered heart. 

Genevieve holds Violet’s hand tight, her thumb running over Violet’s knuckles, her shoulders thick with tension as she stands silently, watching. 

“It’s addressed to you,” Garrick says, handing the envelope. Xaden drops back and breaks the seal. Genevieve can see the handwriting as he opens the missing. 

War Games for Xaden Riorson, Wingleader of Fourth Wing. 

Genevieve recognizes the handwriting. How could she not, that handwriting was on the report of Quinn’s death. The only handwriting on the report besides General Sorrengail. “That’s from Colonel Aetos.” 

“What does it say?” Garrick asks, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s our assignment?” 

“Guys, I see something just past the trading post,” Liam says from the battlement. “Oh shit.”

Xaden’s face drains of all color, and he crumples the missive in his fist before looking at Genevieve. “It says you failed your mission,” he pauses, then turning to the rest of the squad. “And our mission now is to survive if we can.” 

Genevieve’s stomach twists as Xaden’s words hit her like a punch. You failed your mission. It was as if every moment she spent bearing the secrets was finally crashing down on her all at once. It was her mission to report what was going on in Athebyne, the supply runs, the weapon drops. And Violet had unknowingly told Dain, which in return told Colonel Aetos and General Sorrengail that Genevieve was double-crossing them. 

Xaden and his squad may be being sent to their death, but she’s being executed too, all because the leadership knew Xaden would rather die than leave her behind and not have her in his squad. Now, staring at the crumpled letter in Xaden’s hand, Genevieve realized the magnitude of her failure. 

She hadn’t reported a single thing, and never spoke a single word of what was going on underneath their noses. Hadn’t returned the favor of information for her freedom. 

“That’s not…” Garrick shakes his head. 

“Guys, this is bad,” Liam shouts, and Imogen races to his side. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Xaden says, and Genevieve can’t tell if he’s assuring Violet or reminding Geneiveve, and then he rips his gaze from hers and turns to his friends, who are running down the ramparts to join them. “We’ve been sent here to die.” 

Xaden hands Garrick the missive, and the rest of them rush to the battlements to see what they’re up against, but Genevieve can’t spot any threat in the valley below or in the plains that stretch beyond for miles before the Cliffs of Dralor. 

“Something is off,” Tairn says. “I felt it at the lake, but it’s stronger here.” 

“Can you pinpoint what it is?” Panic has already flooded through Genevieve’s entire body. If Dain’s dad knows Xaden and the others have been supplying weapons to the gryphon fliers, there’s every chance this is their execution, too. 

“It’s coming from the valley below.” 

“I can’t see shit down there” Bodhi says, leaning over the edge of the masonry. 

“Well, I can,” Liam replies, “and if those are what I think they are, we’re fucked.” 

“Don’t tell me what you think they are—tell me what you’re sure of,” Xaden orders. 

“The letter says this is a test of your command,” the section leader reads behind them. “You have the choice of abandoning the village of our enemy or abandoning command of your wing.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Bodhi reaches back and takes the letter. 

“They’re testing our loyalty without saying it.” Xaden folds his arms over his chest, going to stand beside Genevieve who immediately moves backwards, taking Violet with her. “According to the missive, if we leave now, we’ll make it to the new location of headquarters for Fourth Wing at Eltuval in time to carry out our orders for War Games, but if we leave, the trading post of Resson and its occupants will be destroyed.” 

“By what?” Violet asks. 

“Venin.” Liam responds. 

“You’re positive?” Xaden asks. 

Liam nods. “As sure as I can be without having actually seen them before. Four of them. Purple robes. Distended red veins spidering all around bright red eyes. Creepy as shit.” 

“Sounds about right.” Xaden’s weight shifts. 

“I liked it better when we just delivered the weapons,” Bodhi mutters. 

“Oh, and one guy with a giant-ass staff,” Liam continues. “And I swear to Dunne, one second the plain was clear and the next they were just… there, walking toward the gates.” His eyes are wide, his pupils blown as he uses his signet to see the bottom of the valley. 

“Red veins?” Imogen asks. 

“Because magic corrupts their blood as they lose their souls,” Violet murmurs, looking at Genevieve, wondering if she remembers what that book on the first Life Weaver had said. “Nature likes everything in balance. It’s why Genevieve has such big drawbacks.” 

Every head turns in her way, except for Liam, who is too focused on the ground below. 

“If the fables and books are true, at least.” 

“Seven gryphons have landed next to us,” Tairn tells Genevieve, and everyone else stiffens, no doubt receiving the same message from their dragons. 

“The guy with the staff just—“ Liam starts. 

An explosion sounds, echoing up the sparsely treed valley, followed by a plume of blue smoke. 

“Those were the gates.” 

“How many people live in Resson?” Bodhi asks. 

“More than three hundred,” Imogen answers as another boom cracks through the valley. “That’s the post they do the yearly trades at.”

“Then let's get down there.” Genevieve says and turns, but Xaden steps back, blocking her path with an arm outstretched. “Are you seriously stopping me?” 

“We have no idea what we’re walking into.” Xaden’s voice is the same as the first day after Parapet. He’s commanding right now. 

“Genevieve’s right. You're saying we should just stand here while civilians die?” Bodhi questions, and everyone tenses. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Xaden shakes his head. He has to choose. That’s what the missive said. He can abandon that village or his command. “This isn’t a fucking training exercise, Bodhi. Some—if not all—of us are going to die if we go down there. If we’d been assigned to an active wing, there would be far older, more experienced leadership making this decision, but there aren’t. If we weren’t marked with rebellion relics, if we hadn’t been aiding the enemy,” his gaze darts briefly to Genevieve’s. “We wouldn’t even be here with this choice. So, all command structure aside, what are your thoughts?” 

“We have the numbers,” Soleil says, narrowing her brown eyes on the field and tapping her bright green nails rhythmically on the stone of the battlement. “And air superiority.” 

“There are four venin and eleven of us,” Garrick says, walking away from the edge of the battlement. 

“And the book on Life Weaving mentioned that nothing can survive the pull of a Life Weaver, so neither can venin. They’re still alive.” Violet points out. “At least there aren’t any wyvern.”

“Uh. What?” Bodhi’s eyebrows rise. 

“Wyvern. Fables say venin created them to compete with dragons and, instead of channeling from them, they channel power into them.” Violet explains, hoping that the fables were wrong and wyvern don’t actually exist. 

“Yeah, let’s not borrow trouble,” Xaden says, shooting a sideways look at Violet. “And let's not bank all of our man-power on Genevieve either. We haven’t tested how many lives she can take before it overwhelms her.” 

“We have the weapons to kill them,” Liam says, turning his back on the valley. “And Deigh told me seven gryphon fliers—”

“We’re here,” the older brunette from the lake says, striding down the battlement from the southeast corner. “I left the rest of the drift outpost once we noticed your outpost seemed to be abandoned.” She glances over at the rampart at the clouds of smoke rising from the valley beneath with a look of resignation, her shoulders dipping. “I’m not going to ask you to fight with us.” 

“You’re not?” Garrick asks with a raised eyebrow, and Genevieve can no longer remember which of the three of them—Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—are actually related. They all have the exact same mannerisms. It’s almost creepy. 

“No.” She gives him a sad smile. “For of them is a death sentence, even with a Life Weaver. The rest of my drift is making peace with our gods.” She turns toward Xaden. “I came to tell you to leave. You have no clue what they’re capable of wielding. It only took two of them to bring down an entire city last month. Two of them. We lost two drifts trying to stop them. If they’re four down there…” she shakes her head. “They’re after something, and they’re going to kill every single person in Resson to get it. Take your riot and go home while you can.” 

Genevieve’s heart squeezes in fear, but she knows at her core there is no way she is leaving. It goes against everything she stands for. These are innocent people, defenseless, oblivious to what is coming for them. 

“We have dragons,” Imogen says, her pitch rising. “Surely that has to count for something. We’re not afraid to fight.” 

“Are you afraid to die? Have any of you seen combat?” the brunette’s gaze sweeps over them, and suddenly Genevieve feels young as they reply with their silence. Only Xaden and Garrick have seen combat. “Thought not. Your dragons do count for something. They can fly you far and fast. Dragon fire won’t kill them. Only the daggers you’ve been bringing, and we have those.” She looks at Xaden. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. You’ve kept us alive these last couple of years and given us a fighting chance.” Her gaze shifts to Genevieve. “And I’m truly sorry about the death of Quinn, she was a formidable ally.” 

Genevieve cannot bear to look the woman in the eye. She just learned how Quinn died. For all she knows, this older brunette may have known her sister better than she ever did. 

“You’re going down there to die,” Xaden states. 

“Yes,” she nods as another explosion goes off in the distance. “Get your riot out of here. Fast.” Pivoting on her heel, she strides back down the rampart, her head held high as she descends the tower and disappears into the distance. 

Xaden’s jaw clenches, and Genevieve can feel an unbearable heaviness settle in her stomach. 

If they leave, they’ll all die. Every civilian, every flier. She wouldn’t have been guilty in their deaths, but she’ll be complicit all the same. She has the power once more. She could give these people a fighting chance at seeing tomorrow. 

If she fights, she’ll likely die with them. 

But she cannot back down. In no world would Genevieve Hale live as a coward rather than dying a fighter. 

Xaden’s shoulders straighten, and the rock in Genevieve’s stomach turns into cold, hard determination. He’s made a decision. She can see it in the lines of his face. But even if he says they’re turning back she will not leave. She will stay and fight. 

“Sgaeyl says she has never run from a fight, and today will not be the first. And I’m not going to stand by while innocent people are dying, either.” He shakes his head. “But I’m not going to order any of you to join me. I’m responsible for all of you. None of you crossed that Parapet because you wanted to. None of you. You crossed it because I made a deal. I’m the one who forced you into the quadrant, so I won’t think less of anyone who wants to fly for Eltuval instead. Make your choice.” He tears a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you in harm's way.” 

In a perfect world, that would be everything Genevieve needed to hear. But she’s too stubborn for her own good. “If the others get to make a choice, then so do I.” 

His jaw flexes. 

“We’re riders,” Imogen says as another explosion sounds. “We defend the defenseless, that's what we do.” 

“You saved every single one of us here, cousin,” Bodhi says. “And we’re thankful. Now, I’d like to do what we’ve trained for, and if it means I don’t go home, then I guess my soul will be commended to Malek. I wouldn’t mind seeing my mother anyway.” 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I did after War Games our first year when we decided to start smuggling out,” Garrick says. “You kept us alive all these years; we get to decide how we die. I’m with you.” 

“Exactly!” Soleil says, drumming her fingertips just above the dagger sheathed at her thigh. “I’m in.” 

Liam steps forward so he stands at Violet’s side once more. “We watched as our parents were executed because they had the courage to do the right thing. I’d like to think my death would be just as honorable.” “Agreed.” Imogen nods. 

They all do. One by one, everyone agrees, until there’s just Genevieve and Violet. Xaden captures the Sorrengail’s gaze first.

“I’ve been defenseless,” She tells him, lifting her chin. “And now I’m a rider. Rider’s fight.” 

He nods, and then his eyes lock with Genevieve’s, pleading for her to run, pleading for her to back away and never return, fly to safety and away from this place where he saw a mirror image of this exact girl die not even two years prior. 

Genevieve’s voice is steady, but her heart pounds in her chest as Xaden stares at her, pleading with his eyes, begging her to turn back, to leave the death that waits below. His expression hardens, a muscle twitching in his jaw but he doesn’t speak. His silence is louder than the explosions echoing from the valley. 

“We’re born free,” she says, each word laced with defiance. “All of us.” she shakes her head, determination blazing in her eyes. “If you win, you live. If you lose, you die. But if you don’t fight—you never have a chance to win.” 

Xaden’s gaze darkens, the weight of a thousand unspoken fears hanging between them. He knows. He knows what awaits them down there. She can see it, he just told her—he’s seen this all before. The battlefield, the blood, the bodies. He’s seen people just like her die for causes just like this. And he’s not ready to watch it happen again. 

But Genevieve was raised to not back down. Not now. Not ever. 

“I will never back away from a fight,” she declares, her voice rising with a fierce finality that cuts through the air like a blade. “Not when innocent lives are at stake. Not when I can make a difference.”

The others shout in agreement. A thousand emotions cross his face, but Xaden only nods as he walks toward the battlements. “Liam. Give me a report.” 

His foster brother moves to his side, and focuses. “The fliers are engaged, all seven—six of them. Looks like they’re trying to draw fire away from the civilians, but damn, the Venin are wielding a kind of fire I’ve never seen among riders. Three surround the city and one is making his way toward a structure in the middle. A clock tower.” 

Xaden nods, then divides the eleven of them according to objectives. Garrick and Solene will do a perimeter sweep for reconnaissance while the rest of them target the Venin on various sides of Resson, keeping an eye on the advance on the clock tower as they near it on each pass through town. “The only way to take them out is by dagger.” Xaden states, finalizing their positions.

“That means we’ll have to dismount and fight once we get the townspeople to whatever safety we can find,” Garrick finishes, his face set in grim lines that make him look far older than he is. “Don’t throw your only weapons unless you’re certain of your aim.” 

Xaden nods. “Save as many people as you can. Let’s go.” 

They make their way down the steps and through the silent courtyard, Xaden leading the way. When they emerge from the outpost, their dragons wait, all perched on the edge of the ridge line, shifting their weight in agitation as they survey the trading post below. 

Genevieve walks to directly to Tairn, not glancing at Sgaeyl or her rider. 

“I knew that despite your anger at Xaden, you would make the right choice.” The blue dragon says, glancing towards where he approaches with Liam, their footsteps dangerously close to the cliff side. “He did, too. Even if you hate him, he doesn’t like you putting yourself in danger, but he knew you would.” 

“Well, he knows me a great deal better than I know him.” Genevieve lifts her brow at him. 

She blinks, tilting her head to the side. “You’re a far cry from the imprisoned child you once were. I approve.” 

“I wasn’t asking for your approval.” 

She chuffs, and nudges Tairn’s head with hers, but he’s solely focused on the trading post. The rocky terrain crunches under Violet’s boots, but every step of Genevieve’s is masked by the new growths of grass, a testament to the stress and anxiety that exudes from her body with every moment. 

A screech rends the air, and an enormous gray dragon emerges from the valley two ridge lines to the South across the Poromish. It tucks its… two legs under its massive body as it flies away from the group, heading straight for Resson. 

“Violet, that dragon…” Genevieve starts. 

“I know,” She whispers back. “I saw.” 

“Do we have a riot nearby?” Liam asks. 

“No,” Xaden answers. 

The dragon shrieks again, spewing a streak of blue fire down the mountainside, setting some of the smaller trees on fire before it reaches the plains of Resson. 

“Violet!” Genevieve says one more time, her voice rising in panic. That was not a dragon. 

“Wyvern.” Violet’s heart launches into her throat. “Xaden, it has two legs, not four. It’s not a dragon. It’s a wyvern.” 

Holy shit, Violet was right. This was what leadership has been redacting. This is what—

“Well, there went out our air superiority,” Imogen says across from them, and then shrugs. “Fuck ‘em. They can die, too.” 

“They have created abominations,” Tairn growls, a low rumbling in his chest. 

“Did you know about this too?” 

“I suspected. Why do you think I’ve been so hard on you during flight maneuvers?” 

“You and I are going to have a long chat on our communication skills if I survive this thing.” 

“Guess we know all the details now,” Liam says. 

“Anyone want to change their minds?” Xaden asks down the line, no one responds. “No? Then mount up.” 

Genevieve strides toward Tairn’s shoulder while Xaden approaches. 

“Turn around, Gen,” He orders, and she pivots looking up at him with indifference on her face. She looks like there was never anything between them, and this time it’s his heart who feels like it may be shattering in his chest. Not when she threatened to kill him, or said that she hated him, but now, knowing that in the face of death, she would rather keep her mask of emotions firmly planted than look at him with honest emotions. He unsheathes one of his daggers and slides it in the empty spot at her ribs. “Now you have two.”

“You’re not going to lecture me about staying close to Liam or staying safe in the outpost?” She asks, her emotions rioting at the look of hurt on his face. This was not his time to feel hurt. He was the one who lied. 

“If I asked you to stand behind, or hide behind Liam, you would put me six feet under.” His eyes bore into hers. “I try not to pick fights I know I can’t win.” 

Her eyes flare. “Speaking of knowing you’ll win fights, General Melgren will know what’s happened here. He’ll be able to see the outcome of the battle even now.” 

He shakes his head slowly, and points to his neck, to the rebellion relic snaking around his throat. “Just trust me—because of this, Melgren can’t see a fucking thing.”

Her lips part, and she remembers Melgren saying he liked to lay eyes on Xaden once a year. “Any other secrets you’ve been conveniently hiding from me?” 

“Yes.” He cups her neck and leans into her space, his mind racing at the fact that she hasn’t pulled away or punched him in the nuts yet. “Stay alive, and I promise I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

She clenches her fist, suppressing the fact that no matter how angry she is, she knows that if push comes to shove she will trade her life for his. “I need you to survive this so I can beat your ass when this is all over.”

“I can live with that.” A corner of his mouth lifts, but the humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The weight of the moment crushes any lightness he tries to force. Xaden’s hand lingers a second too long on her neck, as if he’s memorizing the feel of her skin, the pulse that quickens beneath his touch. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, are clouded with an emotion he refuses to name. 

Genevieve swallows hard, fighting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between them. But she can’t—she won’t. Not when he’s lied to her, deceived her, kept things from her when trust was the only thing keeping them from splintering completely. Yet here they are, moments away from charging into battle, side by side as they always are. As they always will be. 

Her face is unreadable, like one beneath the battle-weary surface, and it sends a painful twist through his chest. He wants to say something else—anything that will make her stay for just a moment longer. But the words sit heavy on his tongue, unmoving, just like her gaze that no longer meets his. 

Genevieve pulls away and turns back to Tairn, who rumbles low in his chest. His scales glint against the sky, and what seem like clouds roll in from the south, matching the turmoil swirling inside her. As she reaches for the pommel to mount Tairn, her hand shakes—just barely—but she forces herself to still. There is no time for second guessing, not with the wyvern shrieking and the venin purging the life around them. 

“Genevieve,” Xaden’s voice comes from behind her, rougher now, as if he’s barely holding something back. 

She pauses but doesn’t look at him. “What is it?” 

His silence stretches out long enough that she almost mounts Tairn just to escape it. But then he speaks, and the words he says feel like a dagger plunging into her chest, and twisting with each syllable. “I don’t need you to forgive me,” he says, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “But I need you to know that I never stopped caring about you. No matter how much you hate me, I never stopped.” 

Her breath hitches, and before she can stop herself, she blurts, “Then why did you do it, Xaden? Why keep things from me when you knew—” She bites her lip, stopping herself from saying too much. 

“When I knew you’d hate me for it?” he finishes for her, his voice thick with regret. “Because I didn’t want you to carry the weight of it. You carry enough. And because I’m a selfish bastard who couldn’t stand the thought of losing you completely. Even if it meant keeping you in the dark.” 

Genevieve’s chest tightens at his words, a mix of anger and sorrow swirling within her. She wants to scream at him, to hit him for being so infuriatingly noble and so devastatingly broken. But she can’t. Not now. Not with everything hanging by a thread. So instead, she just nods, her jaw clenched. 

For a split second, her hand tightens on Tairn’s back. Her pulse quickens, but she refuses to let him see that his words have any effect on her. Not when everything between them is broken, perhaps beyond repair. She takes a deep breath, her throat tightening. “That’s not what matters anymore, Xaden. You made your choice. Now you deal with the consequences.” 

His footsteps crunch closer. She can feel his presence, the warmth that he always radiates a comforting presence behind her, and for a fleeting moment, she wants to turn around, to let herself lean into the hurt and the love and the confusion that tangles between them. She wants to fall into his arms and let the sun warm her, and to feel like she’s the world in the center of his gravity. But that’s not who she is—not anymore. 

“I know,” he whispers. “But I couldn’t go into this battle without saying it.” 

She closes her eyes, fighting the sting behind her eyelids. He always knew exactly when to push, to dig under her skin and pry her emotions from the cold, dead hands of fear that fester in her chest. She wants to scream at him, to tell him that his feelings don’t matter when everything else is at stake. But her heart, traitorous as it is, doesn’t agree. 

After a long pause, she finally turns to face him, her mask cracking just enough to show the glimmer of pain she’s buried deep. Her voice is low, barely more than a warm breath on a cool winter day. “Don’t make this harder than it already is, Xaden.” 

But Xaden can’t let her go like that—not without saying the one thing that’s been clawing at him ever since his entire world crumbled to ashes. He grabs her arm, and when her eyes meet his again, there’s a desperation hiding behind his deep, black eyes she’s never seen before. 

“Gen, if we don’t make it—” he starts, but she cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. 

“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you fucking dare.” her voice cracks, and she feels the hot sting of tears threatening to spill. She blinks them back furiously. “You don’t get to leave me. Not like this. Not without—”

Her words falter, and Xaden’s hand tightens on her arm. He pulls her close, so close that their foreheads nearly touch, and for a moment, the world around them fades—the wyverns, the dragons, the venin, the impending battle. It’s just them, standing on the edge of a cliff, with everything and nothing between them. 

“I love you, Genevieve,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the wind. “I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve had any right to. And I know I’ve messed up, I know I’ve hurt you time and time again, but if this is it—if this is the last chance I have to remind you, then I need you to remember that I do.” 

Her breath catches in her throat, and for a second, she can’t move, can’t think. She stares at him, wide-eyed, as his words sink in. They cut through every layer of her porcelain mask. 

And then, without thinking, without caring about the consequences, she surges forward, closing the space between them, her lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s as desperate as it is bittersweet. It’s a last goodbye, holding everything that neither of them want to say. A kiss that holds all the pain, all the anger, all the love they’ve been drowning in. 

As they pull apart, their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the tense silence between them. 

“I hate you,” she whispers, but there’s no venom in the words. It’s a lie, and they both know it. 

“I know,” he replies, his lips brushing against her forehead. “I love you too.” 

The truth is written in the way his hand trembles against her skin, in the way his breath catches when she leans in just a little closer. The truth is in the silence that stretches between them, heavy with all the apologies the two of them are leaving unsaid. 

“You need to remember, to know, that even if we die today, you were always more than a soldier to me. More than just a spy.” 

Her throat tightens even more. Damn him. Damn him for doing this now, for making her feel when she needs to be numb. When she needs to be focused. “Stop.” her voice trembles, and she hates it. “Just stop. That kiss was a mistake.” 

“I can’t.” his voice is a broken whisper, and his eyes search hers as if he’s looking for something, anything, to hold onto. “I can’t stop.” 

Her breath catches. She feels the pull, the temptation to fall into him once more, to let herself believe in something other than duty and survival. But there’s a forest of lies and secrets between them, and her ax is dulled. 

“You should have thought of that before.” Her voice is cold, harsher than she intends, but it's the only line of defense she has left. “Before you kept things from me. Before you made choices for me.” 

His jaw clenches, and the hurt in his eyes intensifies, but he doesn’t argue. He knows she’s right. 

Another screech splits the sky, and they both turn to see the wyvern in the distance, circling closer now, its massive form blotting out the sun for a moment. The world snaps back into focus, the impending battle rushing in between them like a flood. 

She takes a step back, severing the threads that she left tying them together. “We have a fight to win, Riorson. Focus on that.” 

He nods, though his expression remains haunted. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “We do.” 

With one last glance, she turns and mounts Tairn, her body tense as she settles into the crook of his back. She can’t afford to look back. She can’t afford to care about the way Xaden still watches her as if she’s the only thing keeping her anchored to this world.

Tairn shifts beneath her, sensing her turmoil. “We are not at our best when distracted, little soldier. Please try to keep yourself alive.” 

“I’m trying,” she mutters under her breath, her gaze locked on the horizon where the dark shapes of wyverns begin to close in. The sky is painted in hues of gray, the dust and smoke from blue flames covering the glow of the sun, casting an eerie glow over the ridge. There’s a chill in the air, the kind that settles in your bones and doesn’t leave. 

And somewhere, just beyond the horizon, death is waiting.

--------

hey everyone! holy shit, what a long week (for me at least. what do you mean its wednesday, i need sleep.) My first quarter of the school year just ended and term grades are due friday so I am grinding to get everything done. omg.

so, what did we think about this chapter? Xaden and Genevieve having their moment, saying their last goodbyes? and what about Genevieve acting like how xaden was around violet in the original fourth wing and iron flame. girly will not allow violet out of her sight and I love that.

anyways, i've started writing the second book at this point, up to my own chapter three, which is about chapter 4~5 ish in iron flame, and I've started to write my own original story called Regalia Forge, so i'll keep you updated on that!

as always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I'll be back on saturday with chapter 26!

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97

[refigiowen]

Untitled Project (Scrapped): Scene 1 "The Tomb of The Nameless"

The wounded soldier crawls down the stairs leading into the dark tomb, the blood coming from his wounds leaving behind a trail. Left and right are bodies of previously deceased men, all having died as nameless nobodies. Soon, the soldier knew, he will join them too. He can barely see a thing as he finally reachess the main hall, a single large pile of corpses filling the room. He approaches the pile and with the last ounce of his strength he throws himself onto it, slowly awaiting his final breathe.

In his final moments he begins to recite a prayer:

"I give mine body and spirit to those who wisheth to let this world prosper. Oh Three Brothers, i give mine soul to all of you. Let the beauty of our home continue to shine.."

"..and us men thrive." Says an unknown voice from within the shadows of the room.

"All which came here to find peace have spoken those words, all died thinking their prayer would aid their beloved lords. And yet, their prayers met none for their target had already left them centuries ago. Your life was like everyone else's, one of bloodshed, despair, hunger and fear and death. Born and raised in a world where men are but animals, feasting on one another while praying for a better world - begging like children without ever trying to achieve their goal by themselves. That ignorance, oh that blissful ignorance.. It's a work of art, the way your ignorance shines through your very heart!

You all ask and beg for your precious lords to grant you your wish, not knowing that they too have abandoned you all, and refuse to try and take matters into your own hands.

I find that funny. I find that amusing.

I have been observing you. I have been awaiting you. This world was built on betrayal, lies, and illusions among broken promises. I wish to build this world anew. And to hunt down those lords, those which lied to all of you. They have taken my arm, my face, so i waited. And waited. And waited for someone so unspecial, so... nameless. So that when i meet them, they shall feel the despair, the hatred, of their children through the eyes of someone so little, so worthless... Do not think of me as a saviour.. i am as bad as they are. My path will be one of death. Those who deserve it and those who don't... all will die and their blood will be what gives birth to a new age."

The voice slowly reveals itself, half of its upper body missing, allowing one to peek into its hollow insides. On that same side of its body an arm is missing, the other having a claw for a hand. Its face was ripped off and has healed in a way that its white, almost marble like, skin has become utterly smooth - almost like a mask. This being has only one eye.

In some aspects it resembles a man and a woman, its facial features seem feminine, its long hair too. Yet the rest of its body was that of a man.

"Prehevil, yes.. that is what they called those who believed in my words all those years ago. Through you i shall take my place as god of this world. Be not afraid.. for you will wake up in a sunny meadow, surrounded by flowers, warm rays of sunlight bathing your body in a warm embrace."

[mara-tevith-solo]

One Enchanted Evening

Just a little Adam Warlock fluff. This MFer restarted my Will Poulter era and I stg... man’s too good for this world

Pairing: Adam Warlock x Ex-Avenger/ Guardian!Reader

Warnings: It’s fluff, mentions of drinking, Blurp being adorable, flirting, established relationship, making out

Rating: 18+

Words: 1.1k+

"C'mon Y/n! Let's go get pretty boy wasted for the first time! Drax, Nebula, and some of the others will be there!" Rocket called from the front door, sounding way too enthused with his little side quest as Adam smiled brightly, and innocently, beside him.

"I can't, I have to take over for Ullette tomorrow; her daughter is coming for a visit." You apologized with a breathy laugh, shaking your head at the two. "Don't poison yourself, Rocket. I'm betting a quarter mil that his alcohol tolerance is about as good as Steve's."  

"I'll take you up on that bet!" He laughed with pride and little foresight.

"Who's Steve?" Adam asked, cocking his head to the side slightly. There wasn't any jealousy there, just pure curiosity.

"He was one of Y/n's Super Soldier Earth pals, worked on the same team together for over a decade, stopped the world from ending a few times, we all reversed the Snap together about three years back. Good guy. Was hung up on a broad he used to know."

"What's a broad?"

"Its a term for a woman, though it's not so respectful. Y'all better get going before Drax pre-games too hard."  

"Alright alright, I'll keep lover boy out of trouble, swearsies."

Adam shifted on his feet, looking at Rocket's retreating form before looking at you like a puppy who didn't know which way to go. You placed your hands on his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt soft under your palms as you raised up onto your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek "Don't let them drink too much. Last time a challenge like this happened, Drax had to have his stomach pumped."

"Should I be worried? Because I'd be more than happy to just stay home with you and we could finish that show and--"

"It'll be fine, Adam. Go have fun with the others. I'll still be here when you come back." You smiled teasingly before pushing him the rest of the way out the door, Rocket's crossed arms and exasperated expression in your peripherals, shaking his head at the two of you.

"Don't have too much fun without me." He finally conceded with a cheeky wink before turning and making to leave with the Raccoon.

As soon as the door closed, Blurp let out a soft little whine, making you turn back towards him with a small pout that turned into a frown as soon as you saw the sadness on his little face, the worry in his eyes that was always there whenever Adam left without him. You swooped up the little fuzzball and nuzzled your face against his "Oh, come on fluff, you can help me make some ice cream sundaes for us." You hummed as you began dancing to a phantom melody only you could hear, his eager agreements nearly busting him loose from your arms. You laughed as you set him on the counter, motioning for him to sit and stay while you went for ingredients.

It wasn't the first time the two of you had done the late night treat, the F'saki watching as you began making two bowls, his topped with Orloni jerky with strawberry sauce while yours was just a simple vanilla with hot fudge sauce. He was vibrating with anticipation as you picked up both bowls and began leading the charge back to the living room, being careful to not trip you on the way. He'd done it once, and only once. He'd gotten too excited and had zipped over your foot while you were beginning to take a step, resulting in you faceplanting into the hard wood covered cement floors, breaking your nose in the process. He'd felt so bad about it, and hadn't zipped anywhere near your feet since. He sat by the couch, tall and pretty as he waited for you to put his bowl down "There ya go, buddy. Enjoy!" You giggled softly as he dug in with a happy chirp. You curled up on the couch to enjoy yours. Afterwards, you didn't bother with the dishes, suddenly too exhausted, laying down just a bit to nap until Adam returned. Blurp was all too happy to join you, cuddling up on your stomach with happy little purrs, falling asleep well before you did.

"Y/n!" Adam's whispered shout pulled you out of a light doze, still curled up on the couch with Blurp, an excited Adam leaning over you both. Blurp didn't even flinch, just grumbling softly in his sleep as he curled up tighter, much like a sleepy, disgruntled cat. "Sorry!" He giggled, still whisper shouting "I figured it out!"

"Figured what out, handsome?" You hummed groggily, smiling sleepily up at the golden man who was smiling ear to ear at the endearment, a dreamy gleam in his eyes.

"Drax helped me figure out why my chest burns whenever I think of you... and when I'm around you... when we're apart... any time you're even mentioned really. He said that's how he felt about his Ovette. He called it 'love'." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing where the conversation was going. "He said that I need to make sure you know how I feel about you, that you never doubt how much I love you. And then he cried... a lot... he's very drunk..."

Your heart felt like it was soaring as you reached up and cupped his cheek, your fingers then moving to trace his jawline and his chin. He moved down with you, like he didn't want you to stop touching him, an intoxicated warmth to his eyes that wasn't from the liquor. When your lips touched you could swear it was unlike any kiss before, it was electrifying to your very core, your very soul. It made your breath stutter as one of his hands planted firmly on the couch by your shoulder as the other gripped your hip. "I love you too, Adam." You murmured against his lips, your voice feather light, just for his ears. His kiss became hungry, devouring everything that you gave him like a man starved, some of his hair falling into your face, the tickling sensation making your toes curl and your heart splutter.

He almost closed the distance between you, but Blurp squeaked in protest on your stomach, almost pouting up at him like you'd both mortally betrayed him "Sorry Blurp. But I need to borrow my love." He was gentle as he picked up the F'saki, usurping him of his position. The fuzzy being only huffed and went to steal your bed. Adam didn't give you a moment to laugh at the situation, swallowing the sound eagerly as his tongue begged for entrance, his hard length making its presence well known against your thigh. He moaned loudly as your tongue came out to play with his, your hips bucking up into him, begging for friction "Y/n, oh gods." He moaned, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss and nip at his neck.  

[awkward-tension-art]

Viral Vector Chp.3 (Echo x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

Data

TW: Tarkin being an ass, Omega being cute, Galactic Empire, Swearing, mentions of a fight, reader insert, mentions of medical procedures, Reader is gender neutral, Reader a medical scientist, Echo x Reader, a bit of a slow-burn though

You were in a rush. 

Live rounds. LIVE ROUNDS!? IN A TEST!?

What game was Tarkin playing?

You had been resting, finally closing your eyes to sleep when Echo commed you. They had been tested rather than punished. But that test had turned potentially dangerous when the training droids started using live rounds. 

Wrecker had been hurt, a bolt hitting him square in the shoulder. 

You gathered some bandages and bacta and made your way to the squad's barracks. However, your steps finally slowed. Down the hall was Nala Se, Lama Su and Tarkin, behind the former was Omega. She kept pace, following closely behind them.

You followed, keeping your head down. There was an intense drive to keep that little girl safe. 

And she wouldn't be safe anywhere near Tarkin.

The three of them had turned, entering one of the Cloning wings. Before the doors closed, you slipped inside, pretending to do work. Your datapad was up to your face, and you acted as though you were inspecting some of the developing clones in their tubes. 

“Extraordinary, aren't they?” The Kaminoan scientist spoke, voice flat and calm. 

“That remains to be seen,” Tarkin responded, looking directly at a developing fetus in its tube. He then turned, facing those behind him, “Tell me about Clone Force 99.” His admiral kept his hands behind his back. 

Nala Se answered him, “They are medically defective clones whose cellular mutations enhanced traits desirable in a soldier.”

Your eyes were on Omega, she was technically a clone. How far that mutation went, you didn’t know. So far, the only difference is that she was a little girl. 

But sometimes, when she turned, or spoke, or moved, you saw the cadets in her. When she grew up, she’d be capable, just like them. 

There was a sense of pride in your chest.

Tarkin’s cold eyes went to Omega, “How many of these enhanced clones do you possess?”

Nala Se answered again, “Five are all that remain.”

Now, there was fierce protectiveness in your heart. Stay away from her, you hydro-snake. You thought bitterly. 

Lama Su stepped forward, now deciding to speak, “They could be an asset to your new Empire.”

Tarkin didn’t seem convinced, his stare was now on the Prime Minister, “Yet reports indicate they exhibit a concerning level of disobedience and disregard for orders.”

“A side effect of their mutation.” Nala Se cut in, trying to reason with him. 

Omega looked between the scientist and Admiral. She seemed so out of place among them. 

“Yet one that has never hindered the completion of their missions.” Lama Su stepped forward as he explained. 

“Then they executed Order 66?”

Rig. 

Your lungs tightened. 

“Since both the Jedi General and Padawan on Kaller were eliminated, one would assume.” The Prime Minister seemed nervous. Clearly he was anxious about the idea of Kamino being unneeded by the new Empire. 

“Assume nothing. Only the general's death is confirmed.” Tarkin interrupted him, “A counter-report, filed by one of their own, says the Padawan escaped.” He turned back to the tube containing the growing clone, “Let us see where the loyalty of these clones truly lies.”

Omega looked nervous. And so were you. You had to warn them. Silently, you slipped from the Cloning Facility. Once you were in the hall, you rushed to their barracks. 

“Live rounds? They used live rounds! On us!” 

You heard Wreckers voice through the door. He was angry, clearly. There was a bang, sounding like he slammed his fists on the table.

“We were there, Wrecker. We know.” Tech chimed in.

Echo spoke next, “I tried to warn you about Tarkin.”

Your hand hit the button and it opened, revealing all of them looking worse for wear. 

“Who's that Imperial snake think he is?” Wrecker huffed, pausing when you approached with your bag of medical supplies. 

Crosshair rolled his eyes as you began to check the larger clone over, “Stow it, already. You got shot. It happens all the time.”

“There's a fundamental difference between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice.” Tech interrupted, facing the sniper.

Hunter finally spoke, “Are you alright, Doctor?”

Your eyes must’ve given something away. You shook your head as you secured a bacta patch to Wreckers shoulder, “Something…is wrong. Seriously wrong.” You responded, “Tarkin is trying to do something with all the clones. But I don’t know what.”

“What do you mean?��� Echo asked, taking a step closer to you. 

“He wants clone medical files. And now he’s talking about a test of loyalty.” Your words were shaky, “I..I don’t know what's going on.”

Why couldn’t you calm down?! Ever since the clone troopers turned and shot Rig, your body has been on fight or flight. 

The ARC trooper put a careful hand to your back, “Do you think we’re in danger?” 

You nodded, looking at your trembling hands, “I think he’s targeting you all…I don’t know why.” 

Echo moved his hand from your back to hold your hand. His grip was strong, yet kind and reassuring. You looked up, and his pale brown eyes held concern, “That explains the live rounds during the test.” He mumbled.

“Let it go.” Crosshair practically groaned in annoyance. 

“Hey! We aren’t dummy droids.” Wrecker snapped.

“That much we agree on,” Tarkin’s voice caused your heart to drop. 

Echo swiftly let go of your hand and stood at attention like the rest of his squad. 

You scrambled back, staying out of the way. Luckily, the Admiral didn’t seem to pay you any mind. 

“That was quite an impressive display.” Tarkin stated flatly, walking down the small steps into the barracks. 

Hunter watched him carefully, “Didn’t have much choice.” 

“Our new empire may have methods which seem a bit unorthodox, but so does this squadron.” The older man inspected each of the clones, “Both certainly have their merits.” He turned to nod to Hunter before carefully looking over Wrecker, “Nala Se speaks quite highly of her five enhanced clones. She claims you're more capable than an army.”

Understatement. You thought to yourself silently. 

The squad’s leader did well to pick up Tarkin’s intentions, “You have a mission for us, sir?”

“Indeed,” The slimy Admiral turned around to speak to him, “We have tracked a group of insurgents to the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with.”

Echo perked up, “What sort of insurgents?” Already he was mentally preparing for the mission. 

“Separatist forces intent on keeping the galaxy at war.” Tarkin explained bluntly, “If you neutralize this grave threat, you will be looked upon most favorably as I assess the needs of the Imperial Army.” He stated, rather coldly in your opinion. He didn’t even bother to bid the squad farewell before stepping up the stairs and walking out to the hallway. 

Once he was out of sight you visibly deflated. 

“We need to gear up,” Hunter nodded to you, “Try and find out what you can.”

“But keep yourself safe.” Echo chimed in, “We can talk when we get back.” He put his hand on your shoulder in comfort.

You missed how Tech perked up, noticing the ARC troopers change in attitude with you. He remained silent however, not finding the benefit of saying anything.

“Just…be careful,” You looked up at him, “Please…”

“We can handle it.” Hunter put a hand on his hip, “Whatever gets thrown at us.” he motioned for his team to follow. The squad couldn’t waste anymore time. They had to gear up and go on this mission the Admiral wanted. 

You bid them good luck and returned to your clinic. Once you were at your desk, you furrowed your brow. Your gut was telling you this was wrong. 

Everything is so….wrong. 

Tarkin wanted clone health files…

Why? What could he need them for? Assessing the clones' health? Their genetic data? See how useful they could be to this new Empire? What if he found their health lacking? Would the clones be decommissioned? Reconditioned? 

…you refused to give them to him.

Your hand opened a drawer and wrapped around a datachip. You had plenty of them, you were a scientist after all.

There were nearly countless health files on the clone troopers. Beyond millions. You’d need more than just the one chip in your hand. Not to mention the couple years of your own research into anti-aging medicine. 

You got to work. The first set of files you saved was everything involved in your clinic. Those would be the easiest to get afterall. That was your system. They were your patients. Everything was yours.

Next was your research. You’d be damned if Tarkin got his slimy hands on your work. 

Your clinic doors opened, causing you to jump. 

Omega approached, “What…are you doing?” Her brown eyes were on you, wide and curious.

You looked at her. She was so innocent. So naive. But could she feel the danger? The anxiety? 

“I’m saving all the data I can.” You stepped away from your desk, kneeling to her eye level, “I don’t trust Tarkin. I don’t trust Nala Se…So I’m saving all the data I can on these datachips.” Your palm opened, revealing the pieces of pure data and files, “Omega…Go to Clone Force 99…warn them. ask to go with them. Tell them I sent you. Get off of Kamino.”

They’d think you're paranoid. But you couldn’t risk this little girl. Every cell in your body told you there was danger around.

She nodded, “Ok…But what are you going to do?”

“Whatever I can.” You responded, “Now go.” 

Once she was out of your clinic and you were alone, you returned to your desk. There were still some files you needed to save. Halfway through the download, it hit you.

How far were you going to help the clones?

If you stole this data, you’d be arrested.

You weren’t one of them. You treated them, yes. They were your patients. But you were a scientist. You weren’t a member of the GAR. You would always be an outsider to them. 

…Echo never looked at you like an outsider.

Oh…Echo.

You liked him. Cared for him deeply. There was affection for him you didn’t have for the others. A feeling in your heart whenever he looked at you. A certain happiness whenever you saw him smile.

Download complete. 

You paused before grabbing the datachip. 

How far would you be willing to go for Echo?

Your hand wrapped around the chips and you put them in your pocket.

[petra-creat0r]

Chapter 5 Secret Boss Prediction

Ohohohoh boy! Finally got to this one. I've been just sort ruminating on this boss for a while. The only thing I knew for the longest time is I'm at least 60% confident that chapter 5 will happen in the Flower Shop? But then what could be abandoned, discarded, or unwanted in a greenhouse/flower shop? Weeds? Mushrooms? Well I guess? Lotta flowers and though the mushroom idea was enticing at first, I couldn't wrap my head around a good idea for it. There was also the thing with this boss likely having the blue soul mode, and possibly having a reference or allusion to Papyrus (or Sans ig but Paps uses the blue soul mode first). But then also also with this being Asgore's flower shop and Asriel possibly being involved, there's the chance it could be based on Flowery, but then- And you can start to see why this took me so long.

EVENTUALLY, I came up with the idea of an abandoned toy soldier, lost among the plants and eventually taken over by them. There was also some talk about it being a nutcracker or garden gnome instead, but toy solider won over. Nutcracker felt too similar to Spamton and I just couldn't really get the garden gnome to vibe right. Anyways! Like two, three weeks ago I managed to sketch a design I kinda liked before trying to think on it more. Still not the boss I'm proudest off, but everyone, met The Great and Mighty Veratus! (Name subject to change if I can find a better one.)

(Once again, theme commissioned by my good friend @kierangecko)

Veratus, from verrat (German for traitor), ratus (latin for rat) and a corruption of veritas (truth). I think the thing I was struggling with for the longest time was the name. It needed to fit with the other names, and also sound good with the title of "The Great" (because Papyrus reference). Like I mentioned before though, that name is subject to change if I come up with something better.

Like I've mentioned with the other two, I know this is no where close to what we'll actually get, but all of this is just for fun and so I have some secret bosses to draw my Junior Secret Squad kiddies with. Once we DO finally get chapter 5, Veratus will likely just become one of the secret bosses of Fool's Fate.

Now, backstory under the cut.

A solider from a distant land, Veratus found himself stranded in this dark world after the Great Divide. His king and fell soldiers in arms falling back and leaving him for dead. At the mercy of the Flower Kingdom's new ruler and its army.

Luckily for Veratus, the Knight chose not to bother killing the lone soldier, thinking that the side effects of the Divide would render the rat to stone soon. Yet for some reason, Veratus did not become stone...

Alone and outcast in a world not his own, Veratus was eventually found by a man. A strange someone whom some had theorized brought forth the Great Divide. The man cast pity on Veratus, and offered the stranded soldier his help. The opportunity to blend into this world and infiltrate Knight's army in exchange for his loyalty and help getting close to Knight. Veratus agreed.

Veratus's fur became overtaken with moss and his body with vines, though it might have been painful it did make him look like a rather convincing part of this floral Dark World. In addition to this transformation, the man also opened Veratus's mind to the reality of his existence, as the man had with the rest of his pawns.

Veratus was able to infiltrate Knight's army and climb up the ranks thanks to the assistance of the man, only to be left behind and forgotten once again once the man was able to get close to his true target. Disappearing and leaving a Roaring Knight in his place. Without the man, the cracks in Veratus's facade began to show and it didn't take long for the rat to be ratting out as a rat. the Knight's army tried to kill him, but something kept him from falling. The plants consuming his body wouldn't let him die. So instead, the opposing army cast the lone solider out. Exiling him back to a life of solitude.

Until another knight and their friends arrived in the kingdom...