#just to be clear i think sidestep is 'the one with the black mask' in this case

[sidesteppostinghours]

i am being ENABLED. @idlenight this is on YOU 🫵

#anyways guys youre never going to guess what au ive been thinking of lately .#i know the correct way to go about this is make sidestep the main character but you see#i will not be doing that. and actually in fact i will not be following the storyline of persona 5 in the slightest. because lol#but morgana exists in this au purely because i dont think the others would survive without him explaining what the metaverse is 💀#the rangers are a team of detective for the public sector in this au#and dr mortum is an unassuming everyday scientist that should not peak the rangers interest in any way. at all#in the video game that exists in my head the player can pick between playing julia or ricardo#it doesnt change the storyline that much but it does make the character relationships funky so#in my head chen is best friends with julia and argent is best friends with ricardo#chen and ortega stumble into the metaverse together so if you pick julia its two best friends in a life or death situation#but if you pick ricardo its your sisters best friend+kinda your boss in a life or death situation which personally i find extremely funny#regardless of which ortega you play with the other one doesnt know about the metaverse until id say like. the end of the first palace? beca-#use thats when they start getting suspicious#and because this is ortega they follow them and find out about the metaverse that way#i dont think they become a phantom thief but i think they do end up covering the others asses irl#dr mortum still isnt actually a doctor but i think theyre the one providing medicine to them at the start of the game#theyre extremely wary of the rangers at the start and ortega can barely convince them to sell them things which they still charge-#-extremely high over. i think the turning point comes when they discover the metaverse because holy fuck they are So excited about it#both because of the implications and what the metaverse could be used For#chen is not thrilled about letting them know this but theyre kind of their supplier so its not like he can argue#i think mortum joins the phantom thieves eventually but as a navi#obviously its in their best interest to provide everything for free now that theyre part of the team but they still have to order supplies-#-so i think the way it works out in game is that theres certain days supplies can be ordered and you have to pay for it but the items can be#-picked up at any day of the week#but also i have no idea how that would work practically (its all in my head anyway so it doesnt actually matter but yk)#theres still more thoughts about this but im ✨running out of tags✨ and also i cannot organize my thoughts enough to explain it

my tags from the last reblog because most of the context is there (and also because i got yelled at to put it on post 😔). i ended up changing a few things but theyre gennnerally the same. n e way:

i dont know how to draw cats 👍

the twins!! plus morgana. i forgot to mention in the tags that ortega and chen stumble into the first palace like in p5 canon lmfao. morgana got roped into staying with them after he leaves the metaverse because 1. a detective would be a Massive help with finding his memories and 2. npc!ortega caught him talking with pc!ortega and chen and was charmed enough to adopt him. he couldnt stay with chen because quote, "i already have a pet. i cant deal with another one." morgana was Very offended at the implication he was a pet. like the outcome was Good, it was what he wanted, but come on man >:(

npc!ortega was v happy to have morgana over, i think other than their twin, he ends up being the person they basically rubberduck all their theories to. i kind of wanna make them basically the sojiro of this au, but also. the idea of npc!ortega getting into the metaverse and losing their beloved pet because thats A Person and not actually a cat is so good to me. i think if they do end up in the metaverse though, pc!ortega and chen would have to convince them not to join. gotta protect your sib and all that, but i think chens argument of "we need somebody to be our alibi while were in the metaverse" would actually win them over. theyre a good liar so i think they could keep them hidden for a While.

OH YEAH, speaking of chen, i think after escaping the first time, he Really didnt like the idea of going back to the metaverse. ortega had to be the one to convince him to go back and that was after hitting a roadblock with their own practical investigations.

smth i cant really figure out is if npc!ortega finds out at the end of the first palace, or around the middle, because i have this really clear image of them helping pc!ortega find supplies. theyve built up a pretty shady web of contacts– the result of years of trying to find leads for the twins private investigations– particularly, theres a little known scientist theyve heard about named dr mortum that might be able to lend their services.

concerning dr mortum, i dont think they join the phantom thieves until at Least the second palace, or midway through it. theyd be Fascinated by the metaverse, but id say theyd probably enjoy it better as an observer than being thrown into the thick of it. also, i think theyd find the vigilante work of the phantom thieves as risky and pointless, most likely the first person that really calls into question the morality of what theyre doing (not because they care about that sort of stuff, but as a way to neutrally point out their hypocrisy). ALSO. I JUST REALIZED THE SYSTEM I MENTIONED IN THE TAGS WAS NOT NECESSARY IN THE SLIGHTEST BECAUSE THERE IS SOMEBODY IN GAME THAT COULD ALREADY PROVIDE MEDICINE

the detectives probably have their own medical team they can go to right? but ortega and chen couldnt really go up and ask them for supplies without looking suspicious. but when dr mortum joins the team– well, im ngl to you, i dont think dr mortum would keep quiet about that to one of their closest friends. i have this scene where ortega and chen are getting questioned and about to have their cover blown when dr halabi comes in and saves their ass out of nowhere, after which the three of them have a Very illuminating conversation (wherein ortega gets extremely pissed that mortum kept this from them)

as for the rest of the rangers, i dont really have as much about them :') i havent thought about them as much. this is angie though!

she Knows something is up with chen and the ortegas, she just can Not for the life of her figure out what. oh, and i think daniel is the first one to find out about morgana being snuck into the workplace lmfaooo. he doesnt say anything about it but he Knows. hes the only one i have a persona in mind for– i think his would be hermes!

anyway, thats p much everything i have figured out so far. thank you for reading this far if you have!

...

oh, you wanna know about sidestep and anathema? nothing much to say. anathema was just one of the string of mysterious deaths out of nowhere. sidestep was a private detective the ortegas were fond of that disappeared around the same time it happened. presumed dead, but theres no body, so of course the ortegas are still trying to find them, the paranoid, hopeful fools. something about hollowground? whatever, its not important.

pulps law is that whenever i get insane enough about something, i will inevitably attempt to make a persona 5 au, regardless of whether or not i am successful at it.

[ipsen]

vtuber au snippet: kanae and eto

this is the vtuber au, i swear.

The black suits left after Aogiri appeared, led by one calling themselves the Owl. Cloaked in dark purples and wearing a terrifying mask, they and their fellows swept away any stragglers, then turned to the fallen, securing the area.

"Find anyone moving and get them up and underground," the Owl commanded in a deep, modulated voice. "Leave the rest."

With Master Shuu incapacitated, it was up to Kanae to speak up, even if his diaphragm screamed in protest. "L-Leave--?! No, you can't--!"

The Owl turned to him suddenly and tilted their head. "Oh. A survivor. You're welcome, by the way, for arriving when we did. You weren't going to win."

Kanae grit his teeth. "We were simply caught off guard."

"You were outmanned and outgunned. Your lack of preparation only worsened the results." The Owl came a bit closer, and each step was like ice cracking under pressure. "Has the Tsukiyama family always been so careless?"

Silence.

"If you answer, I'll reward you with these." They held up a desperately needed roll of bandages. "As an outsider to the situation, I would like to hear your opinion... Kanae."

His gaze shot up. "How do you--"

"I make it a policy to know who I'm working with." He couldn't see it, but he felt the Owl's smile. "Information is the most valuable thing in this trade, more than any weapon."

Much of the Aogiri grunts had cleared out, and the remaining ones, seeing the Owl attending Kanae, left them as well.

"I do not have time for this," Kanae said, struggling to get up. "Where are you taking Master Shuu? I must be at his side..."

"In your condition? I think not." The Owl grabbed his shoulder and sat him down. "It's a simple trade with a simple answer, Rosewald."

They even knew about that? How? When? Had the information leaked somehow?

"The factory must have been a terrible sight that day." They stood in front of him, looking down. "A simple visit, only to be slaughtered behind the gates... Do you know why that happened?"

"I have no need to answer to you, you filthy vogel."

"My, my— I just saved your life, and that's how I'm repaid? Touching." The Owl giggled and put the bandages away. "It's because you were weak. Your family was weak."

"You’re wrong..."

"Am I? When people are unhappy, they turn to their perceived betters. They ask for help, and blame them when it doesn't work. And you were considered 'better', weren't you? Your father and mother had taken up the helm of leader when your grandparents passed, as if it was their responsibility to look after blood."

"You stop this instant...!" But Kanae felt the pain from his wound start anew, and he was cut off.

"Do you know the phrase, 'blood is thicker than water'? It's meant to denote that one should look after their blood relatives because others are just that: other. They are not important. They do not matter. Not when compared to your biology. The circumstances under which you were born. It’s a phrase that says the things in life you cannot control are most important one.

"I've always hated it, and you should too. Your parents abandoned you, so why are you trying to salvage their legacy?"

"Y-You're wrong." Kanae prided himself on his family name. The sacrifice his parents and siblings had made for him. They wanted him to live; he refused to deny their last request. "They didn't... I wasn’t—"

"They did. And you were. If they truly loved you, they would have cared to give you a better life. They would have run things better, made the workers happier. The fire of a rebellion cannot be staked and maintained without wood or oxygen, and yet here you are, a quarter of a way across the world, running around where you don't belong."

"Shut up!" With what remained of his strength, Kanae lunged, only for the Owl to sidestep and for him to eat dirt.

They laughed. "The full phrase is 'blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb'. Much better, see? Skill trumps talent. Our deeds matter more than our circumstances. It’s our choices that make us who we are.

"So let's see those choices, shall we? Your family, your blood, decided that running their company poorly was the most important thing. More than their own survival. More than you. In so choosing that path, they created the very situation leading to you coming here, in this alley, with a wound in your stomach and half the Tsukiyama family servants slaughtered.”

”Stop it, stop it!” Kanae shouted, but his voice grew weaker. “They were noble… and, and…!”

“And fixated on profit. Yes, how noble. The end point of capitalism, where lives, even yours, are just another thing to be traded and risked— like shareholders and their precious stocks. Disgusting, don’t you think?” The Owl trotted over to him, hovering just behind him as he lay on the asphalt. “Your parents gambled with your life against your will, whether you like it or not. So stop looking at the rosy water and face the truth—"

They reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him up and making him gasp. They whispered in his ear as tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Your parents didn't love you."

—

After seeing to Kanae and the rest of the survivors’ wounds and transportation, Eto shed her disguise and returned to Kaneki’s apartment through the window (she said Kaneki’s because it was just a temporary arrangement; she couldn’t keep risking his life like this). It was late enough that he should be asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him unnecessarily.

She crept into the spare bedroom and stuffed the Owl into the corner before closing the door. On the opposite wall, on the stand with her computer, Papa’s head watched her, reminded her of her chosen path. Despite that, she leaned against the door and sank down, holding her head in her hands. She trembled as her speech about blood and water drowned her brain and spilled into her stomach, weighing her down with nausea.

”What’s wrong with me…?” she whispered, as if anyone would hear.

[bokettochild]

Day 4 - Trust Fall

Went with the prompt 'taken hostage' for this one, and I'm quite pleased. I might follow it up from another prompt on the list, but I quite like how it ended.

Suffer :)

There are many people who hate the Hero of Warriors.

It was a well-known fact, and something that had haunted him since the ends of the war, but he couldn’t exactly blame the folks who did. After all, it was for lust of the hero that Cia had killed so many, and there were families all across Hyrule who had lost loved ones because the hero had refused the affections of one lonely, corrupted woman.

Zelda had tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but that changed nothing; people had still died because of Cia’s lust, and still more had died because of his own over-confidence. So, when he walked the streets of Castletown and the people who wanted to thank him faded to the background as a single soul would stand and spit insults loaded with venom more poisonous than a deku baba, he would take their words and let them speak, never once challenging them, even when his men would protest and beg for permission to reprimand his attacker. Zelda had pleaded for him to stop, claiming that he lowered the moral of the army by not carrying himself strongly and with honor, but how could he rob someone of their voice when he’d already robbed them of everything else?

There was one upside to it all though; when Warriors met Legend, there was nothing the younger hero could say that could truly hurt him. Legend would huff and complain and tease and jab, but his insults were a gentle nudge in comparison to the hearty shoves into boiling lava that he’d seen from his own people, and he welcomed the verbal sparring with the other hero. It was nice to be able to speak back without having guilt rise in his chest, and he enjoyed getting to tease and bother the veteran hero in return.

In that manner, an unlikely friendship had formed between a hero who hated soldiers and a soldier who hated being a hero.

He was close to all of the others of course; Sky, Wild and himself would spend hours discussing their worlds and the systems of knights and training and the like. Time and Wind, his boys and the pride of his heart, would mess around with him and it warmed him body and soul to offer them advice or comfort after a long day (and having the two of them cuddle up when they thought no one was looking was an extra warm bonus on multiple fronts).

Four was- well, there was no words for the relationship he shared with the smithy. It was a relationship of exchanged looks and mutual silence. One of two brothers who knew each other as well as if they’d actually been born to the same mother, and who could read the others actions as if they were reading their thoughts. It was them flopping over each other and Four climbing onto his shoulders to reach things, it was him throwing the smithy bodily up towards high places and leaning on the top of his head when he was drained or feeling playful.

Wild and Hyrule were his baby brothers, the chaotic ones who he was helping to bring up right, the boys who needed a guiding hand and a firm voice to push them and guide them, but who reveled in warm hugs and teasing or encouraging words.

And Twilight? Twilight was his sparring partner, his closest brother and the one he’d probably end up socking in the face one day. There was enough said on that front. Legend very nearly made the same rank, except...

Except Legend was, truth be told, as much a kid as the others and despite their verbal battles, he didn’t think he could actually ever hit the kid for real, no matter how often he cuffed the pink head or pushed the short vet over in jest, he didn’t think he could ever cause the younger hero harm. Yeah, yeah, so maybe it was the big brother and father in him that said he wouldn’t live with himself if he hurt the kid, but it was also the soldier and captain that saw a reflection of every cocky recruit he’d ever trained and a certain mask wearing child in the vet’s painfully rare smiles and much more common snarky comments.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to hurt a kid in the first place.

No matter how much of an ass they were being.

“Seriously though, how have you not died?” Legend was scoffing, but the vet’s arms were wrapped tight around himself as the kid rolled his eyes. “I mean, one bokoblin? How is that the first time an enemy has ever grabbed your scarf?”

Warriors would have laughed it off with a tease about the vet’s lack of leg protection, but he could see the worry shining in violet hues and feel the tender bruising that wrapped around his own neck. He hardly remembered the last battle, adrenalin and the concussion had seen to that, but legend had been weirdly snappish with him since, yet simultaneously clingy in a way that was painfully uncharacteristic of their salty veteran. “Most monsters are just dumb.” He’d shrugged off at last, but Legend hardly looked contented, picking at his tunic and scowling at his boots as if there was something more he wanted to complain about or say, but he lacked the words to say it.

Oh goddesses, the vet really was like Mask, wasn’t he? All bashful worry and fussing disguised as insults and annoyance, but underneath just a kid who desperately needed the assurance that the people around him weren’t seconds away from death.

“I’ll be fine, you grouchy little bumblebee.” He scoffed, tugging at one of the vet’s long ears, just as he did with Time when the now older hero was getting to wrapped up in his head. “We’re in my world anyway and the monsters here are dumber than rocks.” Usually he’d just say ‘dumb as rocks’ but they’d met a talus in Wild’s Hyrule and he couldn’t honestly think of that phrase the same way since.

“Black blood makes them smarter.” Legend huffed, batting his hands away with a scowl, nose wrinkling up in an almost adorable manner as he sidestepped a swipe at his hair. “And I just fixed that thing for you, I don’t want to have to do that again.”

So much like Time had been, did the vet see it? Just like his middle kid and it was messing with his brain in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. How upset would Sky be if he gathered Legend in amongst his boys as well? The Skyloftian wasn’t particularly possessive of his descendants and he might not mind sharing responsibility over the vet. He’d have to ask, but only once he was sure Legend was out of earshot, the kid was barely tolerant of Sky coddling him, and even then, usually only when he was sleepy or scared shitless.

“Are you listening, Captain? I’m not mending that scarf again this week, you ass.” Legend flicked his ears, irritation at being ignored coloring his face with a scowl that quickly faded into surprise as a blue heap of fabric settled over his head and shoulders. Of course, the surprise disappeared too once Legend’s face was covered with the tail end of the scarf, and he had to grab the back of the vet’s tunic to stop him from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over the rocky path.

“What the heck, Wars?!” The teen squeaked, fumbling with the fabric as the captain let a laugh rumble up through his chest into his throat.

“You keep fussing about the scarf, yeah? Well,” He reached out to tug the loose end down, chest thrumming with warmth as the pout on Legend’s face beneath the scarf and a fierce blush. “So how about you keep it safe for me, just for a bit.” He shifted the fabric again, arranging it to lay better around the veteran’s thin shoulders. “You can give it back after the next battle, yeah? Then you’ll know it’s not damaged.”

The pink-haired hero rolled his eyes at that comment, but Wars didn’t miss how the kid nestled in amidst the blue fabric with a soft hum.

Oh yeah, despite all the teasing, it was clear Legend liked the scarf as much as his other boys. He hoped Sun and Sky didn’t mind sharing too much, because there was no going back now.

“Dramatic arse.” Legend huffed, but despite the vet tugging the scarf up over his nose and mouth he still saw the grin the lay beneath.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Time and Wind exchanging whispers while Twilight grumbled something exceedingly rude and fond all at once.

“Should we split up to find supplies then?” Sky asked, pointedly ignoring Twilight’s comment as he addressed the group as a whole, earning a thoughtful nod from Time.

“Probably best.” The man hummed out. “Groups of three, Hyrule and Wind, you’re with the vet, Four and Sky, you’re with Wars, Cub, Pup, I want you two with me, if something happens I want a responsible adult on every team, as well as someone who knows this Castletown well.”

Agreement thrummed over them as they split up, Wind catching his party members by their hands and pulling them off towards the tailor and apothecary shops so Legend could restock on thread and fabric and Hyrule could gather more healing supplies. Time’s group turned the opposite way, heading off into the main market square so Wild could restock on food stuffs and a new haversack for the traveler as Hyrule’s had had a hole worn in the corner that even Four doubted he could fix. Warriors himself led his team towards the fletchers and the forge, with the intent of buying more arrows and getting Four permission to repair a few of their weapons.

The chatter of the town was cheerier than usual, and to his surprise, not a single person spoke to him beyond the occasional inquiry about directions or an apology or insult after bumping into them. It was like he was invisible, or very nearly, and even those who made a point of calling out thanks or insults only waved cheerily to him as if he was just another passing soldier.

At the smithy, the Master Smithy, Gaepak, blinked in surprise for a good minute when Wars had approached to ask for use of the workroom. “Gen’ral? Is ‘at yew?”

He cocked a brow at the question. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Gaepak boomed a nervous laugh, motioning to his own short neck with a faint flush on his face as his ears twitched lightly. “’Ard to tell you apart from yer men wit’out that scaaf of yers.” The man apologized, and the apprentice at the blacksmith’s side nodded nervously.

He couldn’t help back slip into a disarming smile (although he had to fight not to slip into their heavy accent as well when he spoke). “Quite alright, gentlemen. I’ve just let it out to one of-”

“Yer boys.” the smith nodded knowingly, earning a snigger from their own short-statured smithy and a light chuckle from Sky.

Warriors flushed slightly. Really, the people of Castletown knew him too well. “Yes, one of my boys.”

“An’ a moighty fine father ye are.” Gaepak drawled with a grin. “Use the forge ta yer ‘eart’s content.” The smith added, moving back to his own workstation with a cheery wink. “Jist moind ye clean it up when ya done.”

Four had shouted something of a reassurance before moving to the offered work station with shining hazel eyes and fingers already flitting over the available tools to familiarize himself with them. In the meantime, Sky had shot him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling as the captain had flushed softly.

Four was deep into his work and the two of them had already finished a lengthily talk and a trip to the fletchers when Wind and Hyrule had burst in, heavy breaths heaving through the two and a healthy flush over two sets of rounded cheeks as wild eyes had turned to the two adults.

“Wind, you can’t bust into a forge! Four shouted over the clang of metal. “It’s dang-”

“Legend was kidnapped.” Wind blurted out, voice strained and barely holding onto the collected and controlled report method Warriors had drilled into all of his soldiers during the war.   Four’s hammer froze mid-air as the three had whipped around to face the two younger heroes, both knights stiffening instinctively as all laughter left their faces.

“What happened.” Warriors demanded, stepping forwards, jaw set and eyes hard as he met the sailor’s wavering gaze.

The aura of peace faded in instants, and soldier met the eyes of soldier as Wind snapped a neat salute. Unnecessary, yes, but trained into the kid by the other soldiers and probably a comforting sort of habit to revert to in the moment (Warriors felt the same about standing at parade rest as he listened to the kid’s report). “We were just entering the apothecary when a couple of folks approached Legend outside the door. He waved us inside to do our business while they talked, and Hyrule and I did as he asked. We gathered the needed supplies- that doesn’t matter though- the point is, when we were at the counter ringing up-”

“There was shouting outside!” Hyrule interrupted, fingering the strap of his faded satchel. “We thought it was just Legend being Legend, you know how he is but-”

“But then there was something of a scuffle and some bangin-”

“- and when we finished at the counter, because the man wouldn’t hurry up and refused to let us leave ‘till we’d been rung up-”

“Legend was gone!” Wind exploded, eyes shining with near panic as they met his own.

“Where were you exactly?” Wars demanded, mind already flitting across the list of people who were likely to have taken the vet. There weren’t many people the kid would have interacted with here, especially not alone, and saving the soldiers he’d accidentally embarrassed a couple of switches back (kid needed to wear some pants if he didn’t want to mistook for a girl) there wasn’t anyone he could really think of that would have cause to try anything. Sure, Legend’s winning personality might earn him a blow to the face from some of the rowdier townsfolk, but at worst he’d be left on the street on in an alley with a bruised face and a fractured rib or two, not taken away entirely.

As he considered, Four was already tidying up behind him only to have Gaepak wave them off with a worried look. “Moi boys will see to this ‘ere mess, don’t botha. Yew got a kid missin’ you go fetch ‘im, goodness knows Gen’ral that yew don’t need to be suff’rin’ that again.”

It was a bitter reminder, but he’d nodded his thanks all the same and grabbed ahold of Wind’s hand as he led the charge back into the street, Hyrule and Sky tagging along as Four made arrangements to come back later for the still cooling weapons before scampering out after them.

Searching Castletown’s streets would take hours, but after they’d run into one of his men, Bav, he’d filled the soldier in on the situation, and hardly had the words ‘my kid’ been out of his mouth before the other was nodding and agreeing to get the rest of the squadron to search the town. They’d found the others not long after, and the trio had dropped everything (even Wild’s slate for a hot second) to come rushing after them, their now two groups weaving in and out of alleyways and streets.

“Your wife?” A painfully familiar farm-wife had tutted. “First your poor daughter and now your poor wife. I’m sorry, luv, but I haven’t seen a thing.” Wind had crooked a smile at the groan Warriors had barely stifled as he led their group away, Sky and Hyrule both staring at the duo in confusion as they pressed further into the crowd.

Continued asking had brought up nothing, and after hours of trotting through the streets in a growing panic, Sky at his side and Hyrule nearly fluttering along with them, they’d finally been pulled aside by one of the soldiers and made to sit down in a guard-station long enough to drink some water and be caught up on the soldiers’ findings.

“Nothing yet, General Link, but we’ll keep looking. Until then, you should take a rest-” He’d moved to protest only to be cut off by a frown from one of his mates. “You’ll be run ragged by the time we hear word, and if the scamps intend harm of any sort, you’ll be in no state to help.”

He’d had to agree after that, but it hadn’t stopped him pacing while Sky held the other two close, rocking them softly and humming soft reassurances to the two smaller heroes that he’d bundled in his cape. The other four joined shortly after, Time demanding that Bav tell him what was happening and Twilight bundling over to grab Hyrule from Sky and curl up around him, the rancher’s nose buried in Hyrule’s curls as Four had settled between him and Sky, the smithies callused hands gently rubbing both their arms as he murmured soft reassurances to the others.

It was Wild that pulled him down to rest, flinty blue eyes sparking dangerously as the kid pulled him down to the ground and thrust something edible into his hands. Vaguely, he processed eating it, but his mind was too lost in spinning to take note if it was hot or cold or even what it tasted like.

When word finally came, it was with Bav’s face drawn and the entire guard having had to leave the post in wake of the nervous energy that flowed out from the exhausted heroes.

“Well?” He’d snapped to his feet, jostling Wild on accident as he did so and making the kid nearly toppled over with his sudden movement.

“An ultimatum, General.” Bav replied, clipped and carefully emotionless, even if there was pain in his eyes. “It’s addressed to General Impa, but-”

The note was snatched from waiting fingers before the other soldier had a chance to finish, and he was already breaking the seal as the man stepped back with a shake of his head and a murmured ‘poor man’.

The text that stared up at him stank, copper assaulting his senses as looping crimson script stared mockingly up at him. “General Impa,” The note read. “We have in our possession your branded puppet; the ‘hero’ of the war. We write to you now with a warning; should Hyrule and her queen not repay the debt owed to those fallen and forgotten, he will not be the first to pay the price.

“Repay that which is due, and release the prisoners who you hold unjustly under the claim of treachery. If this is done, your ‘hero’ will meet a kinder fate, and we may even allow you access to the corpse.”

The note was left unsigned, save a spattering of blood over where the signature ought to have been.

“A threat.” He choked, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “It’s only a threat.”

“I wish, sir.” Bav’s eyes were downcast. “But they sent this as well.” A bundle, already unwrapped by the soldiers was offered to him. “But based on your description, that kid- I'm sorry, Sir.”

Trembling fingers tore aside the stained brown paper as he stared at the contents within.

A blood-soaked blue scarf stared back up at him.

[verryberriess]

Whatever This Is | Chapter 1

READ PROLOGUE HERE!!

Whatever This Is

Synopsis: In which Jude and Cardan meet again after seven years, but not on good terms.

thanks to @maastrash for helping me edit LOL!!!! :D

CHAPTER ONE

The last time I saw Cardan Greenbriar was seven years ago.

Today, seven years later, we were a mere few feet apart. I’m unsure whether to feel relieved or insulted at his lack of acknowledgement. Relieved that maybe he has forgotten my face and I could continue along with my life, undeterred and unaffected as ever. But insulted, because, maybe he has forgotten me.

“Are you ready to order?” The cashier startles me. I didn’t realize that the line had suddenly quickened in pace. He must be new, since I haven’t seen him around the Torre’s until today.

Thankfully, I respond with my usual order without thinking. The cashier nods and I fumble my purse in search of my wallet. I’m able to quickly spot my cyan-colored wallet and unbutton its strap with haste, fishing for my credit card from the compartment with my nail. The card is stubborn, in a tight space stuck to two other cards.

“Sorry,” I look up and flash the cashier a tight smile, embarrassment coloring my features.

The cashier responds in turn, his green eyes alight in amusement. “It’s alright. That happens to me all the time.”

I immediately return to the war against my card, which finally relents. I slam it into the card reader, chip in first. While the payment approves, I smile and say, “Thanks for your patience,“ peering down at his name tag to add, “Beckett.” He is handsome and new, and on another day I would try to get to know him, but I am in a hurry, so I walk from the bounds of the register and head straight towards the door outside.

The door swings open in response to my adrenaline and haste. I curse inwardly at the crowd outside of Torre’s that seems to have gotten even bigger. As I mutter “Excuse me’s” and sidestep around the large number of people, I inspect the streets for an absurdly tall head of iridescent midnight hair. I am quickly astonished to see that exact head right in the middle of the large crowd, showering the thrall of excited women with a crooked smile.

Cardan stands in the middle. While he keeps his hands at his sides, his posture is loose and his torso leans in to angle himself for a selfie with another woman. The woman presses her back into Cardan’s again. He doesn’t seem bothered by this at all.

I zero in on the changes in his features. He has gotten taller, his face more angular. His style has been perfected, dressed in a dark suit and decorated in gold rings and darks and blacks while the midnight black hair atop his head seems unruly and untamed, as if on purpose. All these years and he seems to have perfected perfection, looking more horrifically beautiful than ever. I have forgotten this obtrusive charm I had once been fooled by, and even after all these years I am disgusted at myself for still being reigned in, captivated.

But all of a sudden, for a few seconds, he turns his head away from his surroundings and regards me with his eyes, looking as if he were noting my presence with the same disgust, and then quickly looking away. The exchange was so quick, I had barely registered it.

Yet, as I stand at the outskirts of this group, I am reminded of the past, and how I have gotten over this already. I have replayed scenario after scenario of reunions in my head after the first few months of my departure, but I had never really anticipated some overly-large crowd separating Cardan Greenbriar and I by just a few feet.

A few feet that might as well be an ocean. Or two.

I can’t help but marvel at how we were once more than acquainted with each other. That look had reminded me that everything is over, that he wants nothing to do with me. Seven years could be more, if I refocused myself. I could do that, I reminded myself. Seven years could turn into forever.

A twinge of sorrow worms its way into my gut. I squash it.

I turn around. My coffee must be done by now and I want to head to work before I’m late. I suppose the sidewalk will take some weaving around and being late was not on my agenda.

My steps are forward. I make my way back to the door of Torre’s, pulling open the door to step in.

But a familiar voice, ringed with the same distinct tone of arrogance and authority that I haven’t heard in years, ceases any of my movements.

“You need to back up.”

My grip at the handle falters, and another person shuffles out on the other side. They thank me for holding the door for them.

Instead of responding, I turn back around and face the direction of where the voice had called. The atmosphere feels almost different. Where the women had once been gathered around him, they now stand at a distance, clearing for the space he had requested.

I watch one of them snap a quick selfie while he is in her background. She leaves the group right afterwards. My eyes move back to where Cardan is, but he is walking towards my direction, uncaring of the people around him.

I pull the door handle hurriedly and slip inside into the safety of Torre’s. The chatter and ambiance of the coffeehouse usually offer safe haven from San Francisco’s morning bustles, but not today.

I could feel his looming presence right behind me, about to catch up to my stride. I’m not about to do this right now. I don’t think I can.

The choice is ripped away from me, however, when a gentle grip takes hold of my wrist.

“Jude?” The voice is soft, a complete one-eighty from that of authority outside.

I still immediately. I first turn to check the surroundings, discovering that none of the women from outside have followed him in. Then, I glance at the hand which still grips my wrist. I try to shake it off. Cardan’s hold is firm, but he reluctantly lets go. He removes himself slowly as if he is unsure whether or not he should.

Taking a step away, he stands and shifts awkwardly. He is too tall now, absurdly towering over me. Where he used to be only about an inch taller, he is now a few inches above my height. He is no longer able to slouch against me without adjusting himself as easily anymore.

The distance between us is off-putting. Though traits like his height and broadness separate us physically from our past selves, it is the other changes in our approaches and personalities that further highlight the obnoxious tension between us.

Why he suddenly acknowledges my presence is a mystery to me. Why he is here astonishes me. I am unsure if fate is cruel enough to have forced us to meet in this kind of circumstance, or if this was a making of pure coincidence.

Cardan stares at me with some deep intensity. I want to be rid of his scathing stare, grab my coffee, and disappear from this whole ordeal. Pretend that this stain of an encounter had not been inked upon seven years of spotless script.

“Cardan,” I say stiffly. Once acquainted, but now strangers. I am hesitant to say more, despite all the questions that rage within my mind and my wickedly cursed heart. Everything about this is full of uncertainty and unpredictability. A type of situation that I am not entirely familiarized with, since plans and strategy have always ruled my life. It is frustratingly tiresome.

Cardan eyes the row of occupied couches, and later the arrangement of empty rustic tables and chairs. He gestures out to the seats, “Why don’t we find a seat? I imagine that we have much to catch up on.”

I secretly consider his offer, but my brain votes to think of ways to escape his reach. Before I can make a decision though, I am led away to an open table. I am reluctant to make this encounter any longer than it should be, but I decide that I should at least gain some reasoning for his recent presence.

“I’m glad you’re so eager to see me again. After all, it’s been so long.” Cardan resumes his usual nonchalant character. “What an extraordinary coincidence running into you here.”

For a moment, I remark on his wording. I am glad that this turned out to be an occasion of pure coincidence.

Concern or indifference? I decided on the latter tone to respond with. “Yes, it certainly has been a while. But considering how we left things, I’m surprised that you even want to be near me.”

He raises an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Considering how we’ve left things, I’m surprised you’ve let me into your vicinity.” It doesn’t look like it, but the small twinges in expression reveal that he is thinking of what to say next. I am about to retort back, but what he asks next catches me off guard as he continues, softly, “Why did you leave for so long?”

My cheeks heat. At this, I am suddenly hyper aware of how close he is, of his overwhelming heat despite the violent cold that rages outside, and how he almost whispers his question, with a compelling mix of rasp and seduction. He towers over me, as if using his height to shield me from the world like he has done so many times those years ago, but in this instance, it feels as though he is also looking for something. Cardan is cautious though, leaving room for retreat.

If I am not careful myself, I imagine that I would fall into his chest, and take advantage of the closeness that I had secretly yearned for nearly a decade. Seven years be damned, my focused mentality would dissolve into dust.

I announce my resolve by taking a step back. The distance between him and I is lengthened. Although my heart curses at me, my mind is indiscriminate. I hadn’t expected this conversation to go about this way. Though, I also didn’t know what to expect. Everything was unpredictable at this point and many things have changed. I didn’t know what response he wanted, because he should’ve known why I left.

“... Because of you.” I say gruffly. I leave little context, wanting him to fill in the blanks.

For a second, a mixture of hurt and surprise leaks into his expression before it is masked again. In that second I can’t help but relish in a small sense of satisfaction that I had got to him. Hurt for hurt. An eye for an eye. Whatever game he is trying to play at this time will not rouse a fraction of feeling from me. Not again.

“I see.” Again, Cardan contemplates. He does not show anything, but his eyes start to roam around us, like he is taking in the coffeehouse setting again as if he wasn’t just here only a few moments ago.

“Excuse me?” The green-eyed cashier from before stands in front of us.

He looks between Cardan and I. Cardan, in turn, twists to the direction of the abrupt voice, and slowly assesses his form. I watch his eyes trail up and down the cashier’s physique, his face contorting in judgement before glaring at him, clearly annoyed by his abrupt intrusion.

Beckett turns to me instead, smiling brightly. His dimples deepen and his white teeth flash to me. He holds out a branded cup of Torre’s. “Hey, Jude right? We called out your name earlier, but I don’t think you heard us. I thought I’d bring your coffee to you before it got cold.”

“Thanks so much, I almost forgot.” I take the cup from him and gently set it down at our table.

“Of course.” Beckett still hovers over us, his attention only towards me. “Andrea told me you were a regular here. I should have known.”

“Yes, I come here often. But it’s okay, I noticed that you’re new here too. And it’s Beckett right?” I ask.

Beckett replies, “Yeah, it’s actually my second day.”

Beckett hovers over us. I notice that he is handsome, with close-cropped blonde hair that is slightly grown out. His green eyes twinkle as he observes me in return. He is well-muscled and tan from what I could see of his arms, which are mostly covered by his gray, long-sleeved uniform.

I take a quick glance at Cardan. His fingers tap the tabletop in a particular rhythm as he watches the exchange between Beckett and I.

“Well, I better get back to work now. If you need anything else, check your cup.” Beckett smiles again and walks away.

I look back at the coffee cup and peer at Cardan who eyes its side, a murderous expression set upon his facial features. His eyes are cold and his jaw is clenched.

As I take the cup in my hands, I inspect the sticker attached to the side of the cup. A phone number written in scrawly blue ink is scribbled onto the light orange sticker.

“​​I didn’t realize hand-serving customers was a part of the job description.” Cardan remarks icily.

“Well,” I clear my throat. “At least he’s done something you didn't have the balls to do seven years ago.”

A/N: i haven't been here in a while... hello! let me know if you want to be put on the tag list lOL

[hermesserpent-stuff]

also @lirabuswavi and @catch-all

Okay so my brain gets stuck on scenes on loop sometimes and I have no build up or reason but it goes like this. under a cut for blood, kidnapping, and dumbness

feel free to build off this

So spidey and shocker come flying through Tombstone's window. How? IDK u figure it out ig.

spidey rolls and cracks his head against a wall and his mask is pretty torn up. One of his fangs chips. Shocker knocked himself out taking the brunt of the hit and is also unconscious on the ground.

Tombstone takes a second to blink and then he rises from his desk to investigate. He notes that Shocker seemed to be protecting spidey. enough of the mask is gone that it does not really require him removing the rest.

oh. oh no. That's the kid that makes him want to go into defense mode. The kid that had once begged for help against norman Osborn. Tombstone suddenly gains a very clear understanding of things. This explains Montana's entire thing. He has to make a few choices here and goes for the greediest one. Keep the kid here and make Montana tell him everything.

I got another scene in my head is Montana waking up and trying and failing to push tombstone away from treating Peter's wounds. The cowboy finds his voice despite the daze and being pinned to a wall by one hand and goes like:

"you can't use stitches."

"the wound is fairly deep."

"I've been treatin' that child for a while. So I think I know a might better than you that stitches are a terrible plan."

So then Montana gets roped into fixing up Peter and trying to sidestep answering questions. He is very concerned to see the cracked tooth and worries about a constant flow of venom impacting Peter's stomach.

Tombstone has a really really hard time seeing Peter as Spider-Man and not as a scared kid desperate for help, and so Peter and Montana get locked up in the apartment of tombstone rather than some dungeon. Fun thing is everything is already reinforced! Including the windows. Lol.

I have a few other scenes in my head like Peter trying to take on tomby despite everything. Montana blacking out more than once, some sort of pained natural web shooter scene that involves some stuff that is too complex for me to write down here and probably tomby just using money to get stuff done.

May- housed

Peter- fed

Eddie- departed

Kraven- also murderized

Only problem is Peter has a lot of people who care and the Brice family is well known for grudgery. (To the point of inter city wars and that one time they set fire to three different counties and one minor country. )

my brain: but what if Tombstone kidnaps peter

Me: He would never.

my brain: Ignores me.

Me:Oh boi. oof.

[justcourttee]

Could I request when Marinette first meets the Batfam (One as Marinette meeting the Wayne's, one as Marinette meeting the Batfam, one as Ladybug meeting the Wayne's, and one as Ladybug meeting the Batfam)

I’m so so sorry it took so long. I loved this so much and grossly underestimated how long it would take me to do this prompt justice. I decided on a whole bunch of short stories that tied together and several days of editing and rewriting left me with this. 

I hope you enjoy it! @elements1999

The First Time

The first time Marinette met the Wayne’s was at a charity auction that she dragged Adrien too.

With her first year of earnings beyond her imagination, Marinette wanted to donate some to charity and who better than Bruce Wayne. She read all about his many donations and auctions, how he came to the rescue of orphaned kids and hospitals struggling to stay afloat. She might not know much about charity, but she knew this man would put her money to good use.

It didn’t take long for Adrien to wander off, his hopeless romantic self trailing after every beautiful person he saw. He advised her to find her own beautiful person, after all, this world revolved around connections, and she needed more than just Adrien.

She set her eyes on a prominent looking man around her age. His attention seemed fixed on the older men he was entertaining, their conversation dragging, but the more she watched, the more she could recognize his own boredom. If anything else tonight, at least she could save him from succumbing to social suicide.

“Excuse me sir, but I was wondering if I could steal a moment of your time. I had a question about, uh, the stocks of your business.”

His eyebrow cocked as a playful smirk pulled at his lips. He knew that she had no intention of doing such things with one glance. She was impressed. As he excused himself from his company, the man offered his arm which she readily took.

“Now Miss, what questions could I answer for you?”

“Hmm, well, we could start with how do you put up with such dreadful conversations for hours on end? You looked like you were five seconds away from passing out.”

Tim, she soon learned, was the business partner of Bruce Wayne and his adopted son. He mostly dealt with the partnership side of Wayne Enterprise which meant enduring boring old man for hours on end at these types of events. They continued on with small talk as they walked the ballroom, but eventually, Tim had to excuse himself to yet another group of old men.

Marinette shook her head, slightly amused at the sight of him putting on a game face. Maybe she could ask Tim to help her with the partnership side of MDC. Right now, her current co-owner was off making plans for an after-party, not a sponsor.

“This is outrageous! I have my invite right here, what do you mean not invited? Brucie gave me this,” he shoved the piece of paper into the guard's face, “this morning.”

“Sir, a paper that says, Jason, my favorite son, this is an unlimited pass, does not count as an invite. Sorry.”

“You know, something tells me you’re not really sorry.”

Marinette bit her lip trying to hold back her laughter. For the second time in one night, it looks like she would have to be the knight in shining armor stepping in to save the damsel in distress.

“Jason? I told you not to leave your invite on the counter!”

The man widened his eyes at her as she crossed her arms, a fake disappointment monopolizing her face.

“Excuse me sir, but this is my date. He didn’t arrive home on time for work, so I left his invitation on the counter! I didn’t think he would be dumb enough to forget such a small piece of paper.”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry babe, please forgive me?”

The security guard didn’t look convinced, but he sidestepped allowing Jason to enter. Immediately he threw his arm over her shoulders as he dragged them away from the entrance as quickly as possible.

“First off, thanks for getting me in small fry. Second, who are you? The guards aren’t that stupid, they know we’re not together, but for some reason, it only took one look at you and they let me right in. Are you like sleeping with Bruce or something?”

Marinette’s face paled as she tried to stutter out a denial.

“Oh God,” Jason bursted into laughter, accidentally dragging her down with him as they doubled over. “Oh god, I’m sorry. It was too good, your face was too good.”

Marinette landed a punch in the man’s side with a sickening thud, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he had the audacity to ruffle her pristine hair while wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Anyways, fess up, who are you really?”

Her time with Jason was much different from Tim’s. She honestly couldn’t believe that they were raised by the same man. Tim was constantly calculating his every sentence, watching her for signs of a slip-up or lie. He was composed the entire time, careful not to insult her as if she was a potential business partner. Jason? Not so much.

They traded insults and jabs at each other before turning their attention to the room insulting anyone who dared to step into their line of view. Marinette would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit disappointed when he had to leave to find Bruce.

She spent the next few minutes wandering around the room until another damsel caught her eye. To put things lightly, Marinette was a little confused about who she was saving. The smaller man was maybe a couple inches taller than her and while the taller man was looming over him. However, it was the look in the smaller one’s eyes that screamed danger.

“Hello sir, I seem to have wandered off from my group, would you happen to have the time? I wouldn’t want to be late to the auction.”

Whatever argument the two were engaged in instantly came to a standstill as they seized each other up before turning to face her. The taller one flashed her a blinding smile before introducing himself as Dick.

“My son here is Damian and I’m sure he’d be glad to show a beautiful woman like yourself back to the auction site.” He placed a hand on Damian’s head, giving his hair a ruffle for good measure.

“You are not my father Grayson, unhand me at once.”

Marinette covered her mouth slightly trying to hide her giggles. She knew these two. They were the few exceptions to the press rule, always doing interviews as a brotherly team, maintaining the loving family image.

“What is so funny woman?”

Marinette cleared her throat trying to swallow any remaining laughter.

“Oh nothing, it’s just, you all are so different than I imagined, it’s quite refreshing.”

Damian shot her a quizzical look as if he wasn’t sure whether to be complimented or offended.

“Well, if you like little bird so much, we should definitely get you back to the auction! This year, he graciously volunteered to be the surprise celebrity date.”

“Gracious is not the correct word Grayson. You all blackmailed me.”

“Details, details, so what do you say, Miss?” Dick waved off the accusation before offering his hand to her.

“Marinette and I would be delighted to save him from the woman here.”

They chatted idly as they made their way back, neither oblivious to the slight red tinting Damian’s cheeks. When the time came, Marinette made sure to place the first and last bid for Damian Wayne. And before the end of the night, she had four numbers to match her four new friends.

“Marinetteee, I didn’t find a single soul tonight that was there for a good time. What a bunch of sticks.”

Marinette chuckled as she slid into the limo, patting Adrien’s head with fake sympathy.

“A bunch of sticks indeed.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first time Marinette met the notorious Batman, she had gotten herself in over her head.

She had just wanted to find this new fabric shop that Jason had suggested, who would’ve known that one wrong turn in Gotham and she would end up in Rogue territory.

It had started just a handful of punks, intent on robbing her. Sure they had some knives, but she wasn’t worried at all. She only started freaking out when they seemed to duplicate right before her eyes. At the rate she was going, she was going to be overrun, no question about it.

At least until the man dropped from the sky. Marinette didn’t have time to process what had happened, instead she used the distraction to knock out the nearest goon. Even with the new help, they were still being overwhelmed.

“It’s time to get you out of here Miss, unfortunately, the two of us are not going to be enough for this guy.”

“This guy?”

Surely he wasn’t insinuating these masked men were one guy, right? He didn’t answer her as he pulled her into his side, sending his grapple into the dark sky. The landing was slightly rough as Marinette rolled to a stop, stumbling to her feet to get a good look at the man.

His suit was odd. Everything was fine from the coordinating red and black to the yellow robin perched on his breastplate, but what really did it for her was the spandex black hood covering his hair and eyes seemingly connected to his cape.

“My God, Is that connected to your hood?” Marinette pinched at the material covering half his head, amazed as it snapped back into place immediately. “You know you could really hurt yourself like this?”

She paced around him admiring the handiwork of his suit. If she had to make a guess, this was most likely Red Robin. Her eyes narrowed in around the neck, a small string almost unnoticeable sat at the base.

“Ohh I get it now, you pull this little string right here and it’s like an emergency relief. Okay, I’ll let the weird hood slide.”

He seemed to pay her no mind as he slipped the small device in his hand back into one of his many pockets.

“Ma’am, backup is on the way, I’m going to have to ask you to stay right here until one of us lets you down.”

“Hmm, would this be considered kidnapping?”

Red Robin stumbled over himself trying to explain that it was for her own safety, that Batman would never kidnap her. It took everything in her not to bust out laughing from his distress. She waved off his rambling as he watched him jump back down into the herd of men below.

Now that she was alone, maybe she could transform, help him. She turned from her spot only to come face to face with another superhero.

“Oh no, you can’t skip away, I’m pretty sure Red told you to hold your position.”

“Dude, I just really was trying to get to this 24-hour fabric shop that my friend told me about. I can’t help that danger just seems to follow me.”

The man clicked his tongue before reaching out to ruffle her hair in an annoyingly familiar way.

“Sorry small fry, just you and me until Red down there can relay a plan.”

Small fry? Only one obnoxiously fun person in Gotham City has referred to her like that and the more she stared him down, the more the gears started to turn in her head.

“Do I look good from that angle? Am I mesmerizing to you? Is the moonlight reflecting off my hair blinding you?”

If she had any doubts before, the ridiculous poses from the man in front of her only confirmed what she had thought. Before she could ask, the man quickly placed his finger up to his ear, his face dropping to deadly serious.

“Okay, so princess, I’m going to have to ask you nicely to stay up here. Robin should be here at any moment to make sure of it, but the situation just got a little bit more dire. Nice meeting you though, try not to fall in love with me when I save your life.”

Marinette wouldn't even respond as she leaned over the edge watching the fight ensue down below. Another two heroes had arrived, one in a blue and black suit, the thin mask concealing his eyes. The other?

“Oh mon Dieu, that’s Batman!”

“Are you always this obvious?” A hand barely touched her shoulder and on instinct, Marinette gripped it, pulling the attacker over her back and slamming them into the roof.

“Oh, oh, oh, I’m so sorry Robin. I guess I got a little spooked from the fight down below.”

The man stared at her with an unreadable expression before adjusting his hood, scooting a couple inches back before standing. He kept one hand on a small piece jutting out of his ear that she only assumed was a comm as if waiting for instructions.

“Hey, do you know the identity of the other’s down there?”

“Tt, of course I do, what kind of question is that?”

She shook her head, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Nothing much, just wondering. You know, Red Robin said something about those goons being one guy, does that mean you guys are looking for one person in particular to stop the clones?”

“How do you know so much about Multiplex?”

“I don’t,” she shrugged her shoulders as nonchalantly as she could. “I’m just trying to get a grasp of my situation. If you were to ask me though, they’re not going to find him in the crowd down there and even if Batman is looking for the direction they could be coming from, he has no vantage point to see.”

Robin paused for a moment as if he was going to regret the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Fine, if I were to ask you, where do you think the main copy is?”

Marinette pointed wordlessly to the building they were standing on. Reaching out, she grabbed Robin’s hand pulling him to where she stood.

“Unhand me wo-” Marinette placed her finger on his lips waiting for him to silence before motioning over the edge to where the alleyway entrance was propped open.

“When I first got here, that’s the direction the first three came from. Now if my theory is correct, this Multiplex guy doesn’t need to be on sight to create copies and once he creates a copy, that copy can multiply no matter how many times it’s beaten down. So him sending only three out, can make six men minimum, right?”

Robin simply nodded, but she could see the wheel’s turning in his head, matching her own.

“You’re saying that if I enter that door down there, he should be somewhere in this warehouse that we’re standing on.”

“I’m saying if we go down there with an inhibitor collar, we can help Batman.”

“Absolutely not Mar-Miss. It’s too dangerous for a civilian. You can stay right here.”

All it took was one reminder that she had flipped him on instinct and he was the trained one for Robin to bring her down with him. In a matter of minutes, Robin had taken down Multiplex, surprised that she was right.

They were in the middle of an argument when the others stepped through the door, all wearing the same shocked expressions.

“Miss, what were you doing here this late at night?”

Marinette paused, the sudden realization that she was indeed standing in front of Batman, arguing with his sidekick that she was more competent than he was, how embarrassing.

“I really was just looking for this 24-hour fabric store that my friend Jason told me about. Do any of you know anything about that? Oh, better yet, can someone take me there? I really have so much work to be done and so little time to do it in.”

The five of them exchanged glances as if they weren’t sure who should go. It was like watching an involuntary ‘nose-goes’ game.

“Robin will take you.”

There was a slight grumble, but even he couldn’t hide the blush peeking out from under his mask. It only took five minutes by grapple and as he sat her down on the pavement, Marinette pecked his cheek.

“I think you might need a new disguise little bird,” she sent him a wink before turning to enter the store, unable to hide her own blush forming.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first time Ladybug met the Wayne’s, she was in the wrong place at the right time.

She just wanted to drop off a new Lgeimat recipe that she had definitely not been trying to perfect ever since Damian mentioned his middle eastern heritage. So, you could imagine her surprise when she found Poison Ivy standing on the mansion’s doorstep.

Setting the plate on top of the call box, Marinette wasted no time transforming. Slinging her yo-yo, she pulled Ivy off her feet, landing on top of the woman as the door swung open.

“My lord, what do we have here?”

Alfred stepped backward, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him. Marinette wanted to shove her yo-yo into Ivy’s mouth to end the string of curses falling out. Honestly, it was enough to turn the tips of Marinette’s ears pink.

“Master Bruce, your visitor has arrived and with a friend,” Alfred called behind him, stepping out of the door frame only to allow Bruce to fill it instead.

“Mr. Wayne, I was patrolling and a young woman came running up frightened for your safety. She said she was on her way to surprise you when she caught sight of this rogue on your doorstep.”

Bruce looked slightly amused. Marinette wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried at that fact.

“What may I call you Miss?”

“Uh, Ladybug.”

“Miss Ladybug, Dr. Isley here was my guest tonight, not an enemy, but I can understand the confusion. We had a new arboretum to talk about. Would you please release her?”

Marinette was sure her face matched her suit. She quickly withdrew her yo-yo, offering her hand for Ivy to stand. The woman ignored her, still cursing under her breath as Alfred led her inside leaving Bruce to stand with her on the porch.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne. The young woman sounded frantic, I was only trying to help.”

Bruce waved off her apology, even going as far as inviting her inside. She politely declined, trying to escape before she could embarrass herself even further. But it was futile. They finally settled on a picture with his sons who all were apparently big fans from her Paris days.

Marinette tried to feign ignorance to who the boys were, but it was so hard as they fawned over her outfit, asking her a million and one questions about Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. Even Damian seemed impressed by her standing in front of him.

“Oh my, I almost forgot.” Marinette took off in a jog to the front gate. “The young woman asked if I could deliver these to the youngest Wayne and I’m assuming that’s you.” She returned, handing off the plate to Damian whose eyes instantly softened.

“Lgeimat” it was barely a whisper, but Marinette felt her heart flip at how fond his voice sounded over the fritters. “If you see her before I do, please thank her.”

Marinette nodded, too scared of her own voice to answer. Bruce motioned for them to gather together as he pulled out his phone, snapping several photos at once. When she left, Marinette was jealous that she could never ask for a copy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first time Ladybug met Batman she had accidentally landed in the middle of their meeting on top of Wayne Tower.

As soon as her feet hit the rooftop, all voices silenced, five sets of eyes landing on her position.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize this rooftop was taken, I’ll be on my way.”

She quickly unwound her yo-yo, ready to take off when a hand grasped her wrist, forcing her to stand down.

“Please, Ladybug, we actually have a few questions for you.”

It was Dick, no, Nightwing. She was sure without even having to look him in the eyes. No one else ever used such a soft gentle tone with her. Securing her yo-yo back in its rightful place, she nodded, walking over to where the rest of the group stood.

“Nice to finally meet you Ladybug, how long have you been in my city?”

The only thing holding her back from her theory that the Wayne brothers were the bat boys was the idea that this crude man in front of her was really Bruce Wayne. She had heard of split personality, but he took it to a whole new level.

“Quite a few months now. I try not to go out much considering this is your city to protect, but I had to out myself the other day to save a civilian. Turns out he didn’t need my help, but I figured it was in the open now that Paris’ hero was in Gotham City. Surprise?”

Red Hood looked like it was paining him to try and not laugh as she and Batman continued their staredown.

“When will you be leaving?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve started to grow fond of some people here, makes me want to settle down.”

She heard the hitch in Robin’s breath making her smirk stretch even further at the idea that he liked the thought.

“Would you be willing to reveal your identity to me? I don’t like unknowns in my city.”

“Only if you reveal yours first.”

She crossed her arms in mock defiance as Batman’s lips pulled into their own smirk.

“You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“You’re Bruce Wayne.”

There was a moment of silence where neither party said a word. The others seemed to be glued, unsure who was going to move first. With a great sigh, Bruce reached up, pulling back his mask to reveal his face. Marinette smiled as she called off Tikki, revealing herself in the middle of the rooftop.

“I knew it. See, pay up Timmy boy.” Jason threw off his mask before lifting Marinette in the air in a bone-crushing hug.

“I was dumb to bet against it,” Tim pulled off his hood, a smirk monopolizing his face.

Dick didn’t even bother to let her regain her footing before sweeping her into a hug of his own. As he sat Marinette down, she couldn't help the nervous chuckle that escaped her lips as she turned to face Damian. His face was unreadable as he pulled back his hood. Slowly he reached forward, his hand tentatively touching her cheek as if to ensure that she was real.

“I, uh, wanted to thank you for the dessert. Nobody has really gone that far for me before and I, uh, appreciated it.”

He took a step forward, his whole hand cupping her cheek sending the butterflies in her stomach into a frenzy. Just as she thought something could happen, an arm around her shoulder pulled her swiftly out of Damian’s reach.

“Okay lovebirds, not in front of his dad! Princess, you can’t steal this boy’s first kiss in front of his daddy.”

The first time Marinette cried in Gotham City was that night. Her laughter turned into tears of joy as she watched Damian and Jason nearly kill each other while Dick and Tim placed bets. It would be the first time she felt this kind of joy, but far from the last.

After all, surrounded by Gotham’s biggest idiots, her friends, there were sure to be many more firsts.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous

[adorehs]

undercover

Hello! Welcome to a very chaotic story.. I really cannot accurately describe all that happens. Heavy influences from Quantico which I have been watching and the American Assassin series which I have began reading.

For @majorharry​‘s #majorharry20k with the following prompts: “Should–should we kiss?” (6) and “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” (30)

Summary: FBI!Harry and Y/N work together to solve a crime and romance ensues. Enemies to lovers if you squint. (6k words)

Warnings: violence, smut (unprotected), mentions of death, use of alcohol, there is a lot happening

The gun felt cool against your skin which juxtaposed your body which was coated in a light layer of sweat. You were hyper aware of its presence under your dress, along with the wig on your head and the colored contacts you wore, making you feel entirely uncomfortable for the simple assignment you were given.

You sat in the backseat of a government SUV, eyeing the dashboard monitor at the front of the car. It’s view showed multiple angles of the casino you and your partner Harry were headed to. You watched as various members were let in under what seemed to be a heavily guarded building.

You glanced to your right to see Harry reading over his new persona, mouthing certain phrases to himself as he folded the alias card into a black handkerchief, tucking it into his suit pocket.

The two of you and your analyst Mitch were briefed on the mission a few hours earlier. There was a man and a woman, siblings, who were believed to have bombed a casino in London earlier that week. Now, you and a team were set to find and detain both siblings, along with disarming the bomb before it is too late. 

“Bellagio’s guest list for nights like this is pretty exclusive but they recently had some people added so we should be able to get by just fine but play off me if need be,” Harry spoke with a gruff voice, adjusting his collar to ensure his communication device was hidden properly.

You defensively shifted towards Harry, “I know my alias,” you stopped to wrap your radio harness tighter around the wire of your bra to hide it’s bulk, adjusting the receiver in your ear you continued, “I was supposed to use it last mission but I didn’t need to.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Okay, no need to get defensive.”

You look at him one last time before eyeing the camera footage at the font of the car again. You see a skip in the footage and scoot forward in your chair, “How do you rewind this?”

Mitch meets your eyes in the rear view mirror, “You have to call back to the cyber ops, we can’t do it from here.”

You nod, testing to see if your comm was working before asking the same question, prompting the security team on your case to rewind the footage. “There!” you point out, asking them to go back and pause it again, “There’s a cut,” you decide after seeing a frame by frame replay.

“No camera has him after that. It can’t be a blind spot, he just disappeared,” Harry agrees.

“Someone was probably waiting in a blind spot to take him,” Mitch informs, “They're five to ten feet, there is enough room.”

Having the camera back in current time, you watch as a cab pulls through one screen and stops before it reaches the next camera's sight, “So do you think that's them? Picking up whoever that was?” you ask, looking at Harry.

He sighs heavily, “Probably,” he hesitated. He didn’t want to have to follow the cab, “We can call someone to trace the cab though, right? So we still make sure shits good at the casino,” he replied.

Mitch slows to a stop as he approaches a stop sign, “Ask them to get their license number from another camera and find out who drives that cab,” he suggests, “Then whoever follows them can see what's going on.”

You nod, relaying the information to the analyst team assisting you all on the case. Your eyes follow the monitor as you watch the cab leave the building with an excessive roar of their engine. A crinkle forms between your eyebrows, “Why was that so loud? Wouldn’t that draw more attention to themselves?”

Harry sucked his teeth as he racked his brain for a logical answer, “It would,” he agreed, “Maybe it’s to derive our attention.”

You shrug lightly, “That could be it. We definitely need to get more people out here just in case, though,” you agree.

“It could go both ways,” Mitch reminds you, “They could be a step ahead, knowing how we think, and really be escaping and we would be too naive to realize.”

“This is so confusing,” you whine, “Why can’t they just pull a stunt we already know.”

Harry’s lips tug upward into a smirk, “We don’t have to know what they’re planning, we just need enough people to be ready no matter what,” he reminds you.

You open your mouth to reply but a noise in your earpiece stops you. “They’re headed south on Las Vegas Freeway,” someone comments, “Be ready to follow through once they stop.”

-

You and Harry approach Bellagio, arms linked. It wasn’t the original plan, but Mitch said it would be easier to go in together rather than to be seen leaving the same car fifteen minutes apart in a crowded area.

You both approach the bouncer, Harry giving the buff man his alias, “Oliver Irvine,” he speaks casually. The bouncer's gaze moves to you with an unimpressed gaze, “Maggie Greene, but also my plus one,” Harry speaks again. The man glances at the door and back at you with a grunt. You sigh softly, leaning closer to Harry while also shrugging your arm up to make your breasts look more pronounced, “We know the Russell’s,” you mention the siblings. You watch in amusement as his eyes widen slightly, panic visible on his face.

The bouncer’s face scrunches up in confusion, “We’re visiting from London,” Harry helps him remember your names.

He clears his throat, “Of course, I remember them mentioning Irvine now,” he nods at Harry. You bite your lip softly in attempts to keep yourself from laughing, “Head in,” he sidesteps and you wink at him whispering a soft thank you, making him smile slightly like a schoolboy.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and you let go of Harry’s arm. You make a beeline for the bar and immediately ask for a pale ale. The bartender eyes you up and down before returning slightly after with your beer. You thank him softly and look around the club, sucking your teeth with distaste at the bitter substance. You hate beer but you need to encompass Maggie Greene and Maggie likes beer.

You spot a man looking at you and you smile at him, giving him permission to come up to you. He approaches you with a smirk, “Hey, I’m Rob.”

You twist the hair from your wig around your finger carefully and you lean forward giving him a face full of cleavage, “Nice to meet you Rob, I’m Maggie.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You look down at your full beer and lift it slightly so he sees before laughing at him, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

He laughed back and with a stutter replies, “Yeah, I figured,” he paused. Looking at your eyes, you silently hope he can’t tell they’re not your natural color because of the dim lit building. “Sorry, I just don’t know how I haven’t seen you here before, I come here every few nights,” he explains.

You perk up at that, he probably knows someone, you think to yourself. “No, I’m new, I came with my boyfriend.”

He nods with his head down and a chuckle, clearly disappointed, “And who’s that?”

“Oliver,” you say simply, pointing at Harry who is talking to a guy towards the back of the crowd, “How come you’re here so often,” you counter.

“The owner is a friend of a friend,” he smiles, lifting his hand to meet yours. He takes the drink out of your hand and sets it down on the bar before speaking, “They’re coming later today, maybe I’ll introduce you.”

“Oh cool!” you feign enthusiasm. You're beginning to regret speaking to him. The more you talk, the faster he seems to go. “Who are they? Oliver was telling me about some of the regulars he met last time,” you trail off in hopes of getting something.

“My friend? Her name’s Jazzy. Jazzy Russells,” he tells you, “Heard of ‘er?”

You shake your head lightly trying to suppress a smile, “No, but I’d love to meet her,” you send him a lipstick sweet smile. You pick up your beer with a slight tilt towards your body spilling it along the hem of your dress “I’m sorry,” you gasp, “I need to freshen up. Would you mind holding my drink?” you ask with no intent of drinking anymore.

He smiles at you and nods, allowing you to rush to find a secluded area. You find a nook next to the bathroom where an occasional straggler looks near. You put your phone up to your ear so it looks more natural and press the button on your comm to speak directly to your team.

“A found a guy who said he’s meeting Jazmyn later today,” you speak in a hushed voice, “Said he’d introduce me,” you tell them.

“Great,” you hear on the other end, “Can you get Styles in with you?” they ask.

“Probably, yeah.”

“Okay. Styles meet Y/L/N and devise a plan,” they conclude.

You nod slightly in confirmation, texting Harry to meet you near the women's room.

When he arrives in a haste, he has a light lipstick stain on the apple of his cheek and smells strongly of a woman’s perfume- his own scent masked heavily. “Jesus, Harry, did ya smother her?” you ask, licking your thumb and attempting to smudge the lipstick off before deciding it’s no use. You sigh, “Go wipe it off in the bathroom, you look ridiculous.”

His face scrunches up in disgust, “Why’d ya do that?” he asks, using his handkerchief to wife off the lipstick and your spit, making sure to keep his alias card hidden.

“Because I told that creep I was talking to that you were my boyfriend so he wouldn’t try anything,” you whisper harshly as you see a woman approaching the bathroom.

His lips upturned forming a smirk, “I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t like you, you just need an in,” you remind him. “Seems like I’m the only one doing any work of value,” you complain, “By the way, that perfume? Doesn’t suit you.”

Harry groaned, “I ran into a drunk girl on my way here, she threw herself on me and kissed my cheek to get some guy away from her,” he explains.

You shake your head with a bitter laugh, “Whatever. Just know, you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

Harry looks at you intensely before breaking out into a grin, “Awww, Y/N, no need to get jealous. I promise I won't let anyone kiss me tonight if that’s what you want,” he teases.

You look at him unimpressed, “No, I don’t care what you do, just don’t blow our cover. What are we going to say when I show up with you to meet Jazmyn and you smell like another woman but I claim you’re my boyfriend?”

“Relax, I’m a professional,” Harry shrugs, leaning against the wall next to him.

You scoff, “Doesn’t seem like it,” you mumble.

Harry rolls his eyes in response, fed up with you, “What’s the plan?” he asks.

“So I was thinking,” you pause when you hear Harry grumble an oh great, “I was thinking when we meet Jazmyn we get her a bit drunk,” you shrug. You knew she wouldn’t just reveal anything to you. Especially sober. You meet his eyes, “Then you take her up to her room to take a nap or something? Or back to wherever she says she’s staying,” you shrug, “And from there you take her wherever you can that’s alone and you interrogate her.”

Harry nods, “Okay and Justin? He’s gonna be out all night we can’t just get one of them.”

“Well, if he does end up coming I’ll just flirt or something and get him alone. If he doesn’t, you have to get Jazmyn to tell you where he is or whatever.”

He hums, “Okay so when Jazmyn comes, we have to get her drunk then I take her back? That's it? That simple?” Harry was skeptical. He had done enough work in this field to know that simple plans are never executed to perfection.

“That simple.”

-

Getting Jazmyn drunk was proven harder than you both thought. First, you asked if you could buy her a drink since she just arrived but she insisted she plays better when sober. Then, Harry tried to hand her a drink while she was approaching a game of craps but she knocked it out of his hand onto some random man’s suit who was none the pleased. He sighed an insincere apology to the man as you suppressed a laugh. Harry then immediately found you to keep from drawing attention to himself.

Safe to say the plan was not going well.

On top of that, Oliver, the man you had met earlier, would not leave you alone and insisted on buying you drinks. You took them carefully and set them on a random surface when he looked away, but the inconvenience it gave you was not taken lightly.

You both were on the edge of giving up when Mitch told you through your earpiece that they had gotten Justin, Jazmyn’s brother, and he wasn’t talking. He kept saying his sister has it under control.

Harry looked at you briefly before walking off to find Jazmyn in a rush. He found her playing the same game of craps he left her at and she had just finished betting a push on her opponent when Harry whisked her away.

“Hey,” he breathed on her, voice steady.

“Hi,” she giggled back. Harry smiled, maybe he was getting somewhere with this. He watches as her opponent rolls a perfect twelve and she cheers quietly at her neutral state. “Think I’ve gained four hundred,” she speaks quietly.

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Impressive.”

“I make good bets,” she shrugs with a smile. Her hand finds his, intertwining them together, and Harry watches as her face falls. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Jazymn asks.

Harry smiles fondly and points to the bar, “She’s getting me a drink, ya want one?”

She huffs out a breath in frustration, “Sure,” making Harry smile.

You approach not a minute later with an old fashioned in hand and Harry transfers it to Jazmyn’s. She smiles at you and asks how your night has been.

You glance at Harry and back at Jazmyn, “It’s been pretty good, love getting tipsy,” you shrug. You lean into her, “I always find someone when I get him drunk,” you whisper with a wink.

Jazmyn’s eyes widened slightly, “And today?”

“Workin’ on it,” you shrug, “Why?”

She looks at you and sighs in frustration, “No particular reason.”

You smile to yourself. She’s interested in one of you, you just have to figure out who. “So, Jazzy, are you in a relationship?” you ask her a bit louder then intended.

She shakes her head sadly, “No, haven’t liked someone in a while.”

You purse your lips and nod slightly, “Well I’m sure we can find you someone here, come on!” you enthuse, “There are hundreds here.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve had my eye on someone since they’ve walked in,” she starts, “But it turns out they have a boyfriend,” she looks you in the eye.

You mask your surprise with a soft smile, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind- they don’t have to tell anyone,” you whisper.

Harry looks your way with a nod. His face is hardened and his jaw is clenched. He looks upset but you couldn’t put your finger on what. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” Harry paused, gesturing to the drink he sacrificed for Jazmyn. You nod in response, watching him walk off.

“They really don’t have to tell anyone?” Jazmyn asks once Harry is out of earshot.

You watch her carefully. For a moment you forget she’s a wanted criminal- a ruthless murderer. In a vulnerable moment, you almost forget that you are supposed to be trapping her.

“Maggie?” she asks. You look at her confused for a moment before remembering where you are and what you are doing.

“Don’t have to tell anyone,” you confirm with a sweet smile.

She smiles back, showing all her teeth. “When shall we go?” she asks.

“A bit forward are we?” you ask, taking the drink out of her hand and taking a long sip, keeping your eyes locked with hers. She shifts, slightly uncomfortable, as you hand the drink back and slightly push the glass up to her lips for her to follow your lead and take a sip as well. “Don’t wanna get to know me? Buy me a drink?” you continue your teasing.

She looks you up and down, “I know everything I need to know about you.”

You raise your eyebrows, slightly unimpressed but wholly not surprised, “Is that so?”

“You like hard liquor, you hate your boyfriend but he gives good dick, your game of preference is poker but you’re bad at bluffing,” Jazmyn trails off, her finger playfully tapping on her chin, “Oh, and you’re hot. I know what I need to know, now let's go?”

You chuckle at her eagerness, “Not all right but I’ll give you props. Not bad.” You begin looking around for Harry, who you find looking at you with an emotionless expression from across the room. “I’ll go get my room key and we can head up,” you wink.

You meet Harry’s gaze and keep it as you make your way across the casino to meet him. “I got her,” you tell him, “I need a key card.”

He nods and scrambles to find one he was given during the briefing, “Third floor, good job agent Y/L/N.”

You fake a gasp as you grab onto the card, “That’s a new one… a compliment?”

“I won’t say it again,” Harry shrugs, watching as you turn on your comm.

“I got her to go back with me. We’re meeting in the hotel room. What now?” you speak to your team.

“Y/L/N, bring her up to the room. We have it equipped with just about everything you’d need. Interrogate her if you can. If she won’t break just detain her and bring her back to us. Styles, you go follow in after ten minutes to help with whatever method is needed.”

You both murmur your agreements and Harry sees you off.

You meet Jazmyn back where you left her but this time she has two large men with her. You smile at both of them before leading the four of you to the elevator, “So you’re an important woman?” you ask.

“Very important. But don’t worry, they’re just here to keep me safe,” she replies, gesturing at the two men’s gun holsters.

You nod, selecting the third floor and waiting patiently as the elevator slowly moved up to the second and finally the third floor.

“Do they have to come in with us?” you ask innocently, hoping you don’t have to blow your cover so soon.

“Is that a deal breaker?” she asks sadly.

“Yeah.. not one for being watched,” you shiver in discomfort. She nods and tells them to wait outside your room and to not let anyone in. They nod obediently and you unlock the door, letting both you and Jazmyn into the large room.

She shuts the door quickly, nearly pouncing on you as you stand by the bed. Her lips meet yours briefly as you pull back in shock. “Would you like a drink?” you ask, turning around and heading towards the mini bar.

She sighs in frustration, “No, that’s okay. Just want you,” she pauses as she watches you bend down to get a drink.

You rise again, holding a bottle of wine. “You sure?” you confirm. She nods in reassurance and you shrug, “Okay, I’m gonna get a glass. Make yourself at home,” you gesture towards the bed.

You leave her and close the bathroom door. You hastily whisper that you are taking your comm off and to contact you through Harry and you detach the harness and tear off the earpiece. You return with a plastic cup, pouring red wine into the cup.

You take a sip, eyeing Jazmyn and you smile at her. You walk towards her slowly, watching as she straightens her posture at your presence. You smile at her intimidation and hold her chin with your forefinger and thumb. “What am I gonna do with you?” you tsk.

She smiles, “Kiss me.”

You set down your cup and lift her chin to meet your height. “No,” you whispered, “Let me please you.”

You were officially worried. It had only been about five minutes. Harry wouldn’t be here soon enough and you really didn’t want to have to do anything with Jazmyn.  

“Okay,” she bit her lip, raising her dress without a second thought.

You hid your fear with a sultry smile- helping her lay down on the bed and kneeling down onto the floor. You began kissing up her legs, her hands reaching your wig. You pulled away abruptly in fear but it was too late. Your wig had come off.

“What the fuck?” Jazmyn asks softly. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. “Who are you?” she sneers.

You stand immediately but you’re stopped by Jazmyn grabbing at the necklace you wore around your neck. The braid your hair was put in falls onto your back and she yanks it with her other hand, making you groan.

You growl, launching yourself at Jazmyn. “You bitch!” you scream, unhooking the necklace and using the chain to wrap her arms into a makeshift hold as she thrashes in your hold. You use all the momentum you can gather by a simple step forward and thrust her onto the ground using all your body weight.

You step on her hand with a heel but she sweeps your other leg out from beneath you with a swift kick. You fall onto your back and she untangles herself from your necklace, throwing it to the ground as you instantaneously try to stand up before she can reach any weapon.

You reach under your dress and grab the gun you held under tight with your stockings and you quickly point the gun at her. “Don’t fucking move,” you sneer.

“Shoot me,” she replies with a matching tone.

You lower the gun to her leg and attempt to shoot- but nothing happens. The gun wasn’t loaded. Your eyes widen in disbelief and she lets out a deep chuckle and stands for herself. “Good one, Maggie,” she mocks.

You hear a thud from the door and both of you glance at where the noise derived from. “Harry,” you whisper and Jazmyn lets out a “Fuck.”

You sigh in relief as you see Harry’s large figure make its way through the door, assertively pointing the gun at Jazmyn’s leg just as you did before. She chuckles, “Bet it isn't loaded either.”

Harry smiles in response, “Yeah, I bet.” He shoots her. She falls immediately, surrendering to the ground with a tight grasp on her thigh, as Harry speaks into the comm, “Rowland, wipe the cameras and get up here.”

You walk slowly towards Jazmyn, kicking her in the chest with your arms crossed, watching her head hit the carpet of the hotel room.

“What took you so long?” you asked Harry as you turned slowly, making sure to keep your heel on Jazmyn’s chest.

“Had to take out the guards,” he pants lightly, recovering from an adrenaline rush, “Why?”

“Took your sweet ass time, huh?” you ask, watching him roll his eyes.

“Don’t get pissy with me- you didn’t even go through with the mission. She almost got you and you had a gun,” Harry accesses.

“My gun wasn’t loaded!” you yell out of frustration, releasing the cylinder and removing the magazine. “No cartilage,” you show him.

“How the fuck did you not think to check if the gun was loaded?” he asks, his voice raising.

“Why would I check? When have you ever picked up an unloaded gun?” you defend yourself, your voice raising to match his volume.

“I check every time regardless!”

“I was never given a reason to!”

“You should know to! Come on! You were trained for months on this shit at the same academy I was!” Harry yells, “Do better, it’s your fucking job to work a gun.”

Your eyes meet his, “Don’t tell me to fucking do better,” you beg.

Just as Harry was about to reply, the door opens again, this time revealing Mitch. “You guys good in here?” He asks, immediately heading over to you and leaning down to tie Jazmyn’s hands together.

You remove your foot from Jazmyn’s chest and kick her onto her stomach making her groan in pain, “Fine,” you reply shortly.

“We’ll be down there later,” Harry nods as Mitch hoists Jazmyn up, leaning her body weight onto his. Her head falls down, chin hitting her chest at the lack of blood and energy in her body.

“I’m leaving now to get her back,” he gestures towards Jazmyn with his head, “I’ll send a car, though,” he speaks over his shoulder as he walks out of the room.

You sigh in relief of Jazmyn finally being off your hands. You walk over to the bed to sit down when something catches your eye. The necklace. You kneel down to take a hold of it, dragging it towards you on the ground, watching as the necklace falls into two separate chains.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “She fucking broke it.”

Harry's eyes widened, “So what, she broke your necklace. Big deal, you can get another one,” he shrugs dismissively.

You shake your head no, looking for the two rings you keep on the now broken chain. “No, fuck I need that,” you cry out.

Harry looks at you before asking again, “What's the big deal?”

Your eyes water slightly as you look at him, “They’re my ex-husbands.”

Harry sighs heavily and lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sorry.”

“Fuck’s right,” you chuckle, eyes closing in a prayer as you spot the rings that had fallen beneath the bed. You reach under the bed, retrieving the two rings, placing both onto your hand- yours on your ring finger and your ex-husband- Ryan’s- on your thumb.

“Why’d you keep the rings?” He finally asks.

You shrug, admiring the gems on the rings. You had just recently cleaned them in hopes of preserving their life, as they tend to get dirty and battered sitting on your neck during long missions. “He died on the field,” you swallowed harshly. You had been forced to talk about this multiple times with a psychologist during your preliminary training but it didn’t prove any easier as time went on. “Keep ‘em for luck. He’s the reason I got into this.”

He nods, “That’s nice.”

You let out a sigh and look at him, “Yeah, sometimes. Other times I wish I could forget.”

He watches you carefully as you stand up and retrieve your hardly touched wine from earlier. You drink what was left in your glass with a single gulp. “How can I help you forget,” Harry speaks after a long pause.

You look at him and with a longing glance you tell him, “The alcohol helps.”

“How can I help?” he asks again.

“You don’t need to help. You’ve done enough.”

“I think I could help if you’d let me,” he persists.

“And if I don't let you?” you ask, confused. Every assignment you had with Harry he had been nothing but cold. He spoke when spoken to. He paid no mind to you except when it came time to critique your performance. You didn’t understand why he was beginning to care now, when you already had a foundation of hatred thick on the surface.

“I’ll find a way myself,” he shrugs.

“I’d like to see you try,” you scoff. You had no reason to believe he had spent every mission analyzing you- how you reacted, how you spoke, how you moved. The way you went about your work was inspected to the motive and you had no idea.

Harry watched as you turned once more to the minibar, looking for a stronger alcohol. The mission was over and you were officially off the clock. You felt no guilt or shame and there was nobody in your ear telling you otherwise.

He watched as you turned with a mini bottle of crown royal and a can of sprite. “Come on now,” he said, approaching you with his arm out. “Hand over the bottle. No need to drink that much tonight,” he tells.

You defensively shift so your body is shielding the bottles, “Let me do what I want, I’m not working anymore” you argue, “What does it matter to you anyway, you hate me,” you mumble under your breath.

Harry sighs, “I don’t hate you.”

You look him in the eye before concluding he’s telling the truth. Slowly, you set the drinks down onto the small table beside you, “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? I think you’re pretty good,” he shrugs.

“Today is the first time you’ve ever said anything kind about my work in this field. Every other mission we’ve been on, you’ve told me where I could’ve been better,” you start, glaring at him with an accusatory expression. “Anyway, what gives you that right? You’ve only been here for six more months then me.”

“Because why be good when you could be great? I might have only been here for six more months then you but my position was higher six months ago then yours is now,” he reminds you. “I work smart. You work more. That’s not good in this field. You have to be quick on your feet.”

You scoff and turn around from him, “Okay so how does that prove you don’t hate me?”

“I want you to be the best. I think you could be.”

“So you’re a pretentious asshole because you think you can fix my performance? Cool.”

Harry lets out a sigh of frustration. You’re never going to understand how he cares for you and he knows that, yet he refuses to outright say it. “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” you argue back. He was getting on your nerves.

“I’ve also implied that,” Harry pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to confess to this now, but as you said, you’re off the clock. “I’ve implied that I think you’re attractive. Why can’t you notice that?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Stop playing with me. I know you haven’t implied that.”

“I have,” he nods, moving closer to where you are standing, “Like when I tell you I won’t let anyone kiss me but you? I mean it.”

You turn and look at him, “Should–should we kiss?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. Gently, unlike what you would assume, his hand finds your chin and tilts your head towards his before aligning your lips into unity. He shifts you with a grunt to a free wall and pushes you up against it with a thud. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you let out an elicit moan at the new sensation.

Your hands found their way beneath his dress shirt and crawled at his happy trail. Harry steps back to discard the clothes on his torso and he watches as you drop the slim straps of your dress down your arms, unhooking your bra, allowing your breasts to fall free.

His mouth finds its way to your hardened nipple and he flicked one, then the other, between his teeth and eventually he moved his fingers to help the dress past your hips. You moan softly as his mouth works at a steady pace, making your nipples sensitive and erect in their own capacity.

His mouth left your breast, leaving sloppy kisses down your body. Your hands find their way to his hair as your head knocks back in pure ecstasy. You squirm at the feeling of his lips on your hips and feel his fingers claw at your panties.

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. He looks up, nodding at you in confirmation of what he is about to do. You hastily nodded back and watched as he rids your panties and holds your hand softly as you step out of the clothing that had accumulated at your feet.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he sponged kisses back up to your mouth, biting gently on your bottom lip. Your hands find their way to Harry’s slacks, working quickly to unbutton and unzip them, pulling them down along with his briefs.

Finally, you take in the sight of the naked man in front of you. You involuntarily let out a gasp and Harry chuckles softly before he pressed his body close to yours again. His lips find yours and his erect cock presses into your stomach as your arms find their way into Harry’s hair.

You held him close to you, tugging him even closer when he tried to step away. That was all the invitation he needed to help hoist you up off the ground. Your legs legs around his waist and he keeps you steady with an arm under your ass, the other in your hair.

You kissed his shoulder repeatedly as he carried you onto the mattress, setting you down fully onto his lap. His hand left your hair to find his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up the tip with your wet entrance.

With short huffs of air out of swollen lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, allowing for a loud, erotic moan to leave his lips as your hips meet. He falls further back into the bed, stretches a leg out to prolong the feeling of warmth as you slowly start to move up and down on his shaft, releasing an immense amount of pleasure into both of your bodies.

He tugged your hair back, giving his access to your neck and jaw and he sucks harshly as you quicken your pace on his member, pressing down deliberately in an attempt to feel him everywhere.

Trying to keep your clit rubbing on his pelvis resulted in a series of hot and short breaths being released within the next few minutes. The pressure against his body was unbearable and you had never felt so full before in your life.

“I can’t,” you pant out, not slowing down your movements. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time so stopping seemed out of the question. You pushed deeper, pausing for a moment to catch your breath, before quickly moving against his shaft for the second time.

“Me neither,” he replies, just as dazed as you. He groans aloud as you squeeze against his cock, causing it to throb in preparation of its release. He tries to pull out but you push him down further into the mattress.

“I’m on the pill,” you barely get out before you come, shivering at the sensation. Harry followed shortly thereafter. He sighs in pleasure, helping you off his cock and into your lap before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you desperately.

You watch as he leans back, admiring your body. Your nipples were still erect from pleasure and your breathing was unsteady, short huffs attempting to bring you back to a normal state. There were accidental red marks adorning your neck and a hickey beginning to form on the underside of your chin, “Sorry,” he chuckled, swiping his thumb over the marks he left.

You laugh lightly, “It’s okay,” before rolling over onto your side. Harry stands up slowly, making his way to the bathroom, returning with a towel to help clean you up before he lays back down with you.

“So,” he starts, “We should talk about this…”

[writtingfiction]

Sylvan x blythe pleaseeeeeeeeee anything u want

Oh lord, if you leave it broad like this I will try too hard to think of what I could do, and when I do find out something to with it, it ends up being long...

pairing: Sylvain x Byleth

words: 2.6 k

Sylvain knows what he said to Byleth years ago doesn’t paint him in a very good picture, even though he said he was kidding, he knew that she didn’t think he was. Maybe that’s why he didn’t see her as often as he did after that. He wasn’t surprised with the lack of her presence despite her being his professor. Sylvain envied Byleth for her lack of crest until she got to the monastery, almost wishing he had the same life. However, the grip on his heart when he learned that she went missing during the battle against Edelgard’s forces, made him want to weep.

The shock and relief Sylvain felt when seeing Byleth again, his chest heated, finger gripping his lance harder and his mask ever steady on his face. He couldn’t show just how much her presence means to him, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy to see her. It’s when he gets the chance to see her up close that he realizes just how much he has changed since then.

The teal hair practically shines as the sun rises. She is as graceful as she was 5 years ago. She’s able to dodge the thieves attack smoothly. It’s almost as if she never vanished so long ago. When Byleth makes eye contact with him, he can only smile. However, when she approaches him during the heat of battle to check on him, he struggles to pull out words.

“Professor!” He grins as wide as he can. “Still looking as pretty as ever.” He gives her a quick wink. Sylvain doesn’t acknowledge the slight disappointment in her eyes when she turns back to fighting the thieves.

—— —

Sylvain hummed as he sharpened his blade. It’s been at least a month or two now since they’ve taken back the monastery without Edelgard knowing. Nonetheless, the further they went on their mission to take her down it wouldn’t be long before they found out. The various shouts he heard throughout the monastery told him that they were going out again. Letting out a tired sigh before he got up and joined his friends.

“Sylvain, there you are. I was just about to look for you.” Ashe said.

“Ashe, my knight in shining armour.” Sylvain said light hearted. Ashe can only grin wider.

“Y’know, have you kept up with your dancing skills?” Ashe said out of curiosity. “Professor did have you win the White Heron cup.” Sylvain could feel a groan in the back of his throat. Did he want to admit he did keep up with his dancing skills in private? When he knew no one would bother him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my friend.” Sylvain said. Ashe let out a laugh.

“I’m just saying, I have a feeling the professor might put you on dancing duty.” Ashe spoke and Sylvain felt the embarrassment climb up his chest.

“By the Gods, I hope she doesn’t.” Sylvain said.

“Hope who doesn’t what?” Byleth spoke. Both of the young men jumped.

“Professor!!” Ashe said. Smiling ear to ear. “Just discussing the battle plans for the upcoming battle.” Byleth nodded.

“I’m glad you were. In fact, Sylvain, I wanted to ask you if you still remember the dances from the White Heron cup? It has been 5 five years after all.” Byleth said. Sylvain wanted to eat his own armour.

“Of course I do, professor. How could I forget dancing with someone as beautiful as you?” Sylvain said, pulling out his charming lines.

“Do you want me to make you wear the outfit again? I’m sure there’s an extra outfit around here somewhere…”

“NO! I mean, no. That won’t be necessary.” Sylvain said. The former blue lion students could see the mischievous smirk on Byleth’s face fade ever so slightly.

“A pity, but I hope the armour is easy to move in.” Byleth said, waving the two boys along to follow her. “You’ll be doing a lot of supporting.” Sylvain let out a nervous laugh. He wasn’t this nervous for an upcoming battle for years and he didn’t like what it meant.

— — —

The sounds of panic shouting and rushed footsteps of a scout climbing the stairs to the counsel room should have been their first sign of how bad the news was going to be. The door burst open and Dimitri almost has half a mind to throw his lance at the scout who’s already winded.

“Your highness…! Byleth…! The empire… the empire is here with forces!!” The scout breathes out barely. The entire room is quiet, it takes a moment for the news to settle in before everyone looks to Byleth. Their trusted professor and now tactician to lead them through this. Sylvain sees the gears turning in her head, she wasn’t expecting this, at least not so soon.

“Ready the forces, take what civilians you can and escort them to the back of the monastery. Edelgard is not among them?” Byleth speaks. The scout nods.

“The emperor is nowhere to be seen. It’s only a small force however, General Randolph is leading the forces. We have about four hours.” Sylvain sees Caspar tense, he doesn’t know why but there must be a connection.

“Then we win this one. Ready who you can to fight, the rest can protect the civilians. Make sure anyone who can’t fight stays away from the scene of the battle. Ready what you can of the ballistae and the magic, we will need them.” Byleth casts out orders for the scout who’s only able to nod and run out the door. Byleth then turns to her former students. “I want the rest of you to prepare, I will call a meeting at the edge of the gates in two hours to propose a strategy. You’re dismissed.” Sylvain is almost too happy to leap out of his seat as Ingrid calls out Caspar for his tenseness from earlier. Sylvain wasn’t the only person to notice then.

“Wait—Caspar, do you know this General?” Ingrid said, raising from her seat. There was anger ready to be released behind her voice. Caspar on the other hand only gave a sheepish smile.

“General Randolph is my uncle through marriage, that’s all. It will be odd to fight against him is all.” Caspar said. There’s a heavy tension through the room. Annette speaks up.

“He is your uncle?!” It’s more out of surprise than anything.

“Can we trust a former black eagle?” Felix snarls. Dimitri stands and speaks.

“I will not have a traitor amongst my inner—“

BANG

Byleth’s hand hits the table. Everyone is quick to look over her and fall silent. Byleth stares at them all, nothing to give away what she felt. It was almost as if everyone has first met her again.

“I will not have animosity and infighting among you. If you have a problem, I will address the issue but I will not allow you to fight one another, is that clear.” Byleth said coldly and clearly. There were silent nods from everyone. “So, does anyone here think that Caspar has told the empire about us being here?”

No one spoke.

“Does anyone think that Bernadetta said anything to the empire?”

Nothing reached Byleth’s ears.

“Then you are dismissed. I shall see everyone in two hours by the front gates to reconvene.”

Sylvain walked out of the room, heart in his hand. He doesn’t think he had been so scared before by someone. He spares glances towards his friends and he can see the lingering fear among them. Dimitri almost seemed less scary even for a moment. Caspar and Bernadetta must have been horrified when Ingrid had called out Caspar like that, never mind the quick judgemental comments coming from Felix and Dimitri. He thinks he can hear Bernadetta cry as he heads down the staircase.

— — — —

Sylvain inhaled sharply as he muttered the words to a spell under his breath. Fire licked at his palm and he could feel the heat wash over him. It reminds him of the first he had cast the spell, dark and cold in the well he was thrown down into by his brother. The fire in his palm grows brighter and bigger. His eyes lift from the flame to the dummy in front of him. He is ready to cast the flame upon the poor dummy but loses his focus when Byleth interrupts him.

“Sylvain,” Byleth calls to him. The flame disappears as he looks at his former professor. “Time is up. Are you prepared enough to fight?”

“Yes, always,” Sylvain says with conviction. He could almost see the smile on her lips.

“Walk with me, we can flag anyone down as we make our way towards the gates,” Byleth said. Sylvain nods and walks with her.

The two of them converse with ease talking about his skills in magic and how he has improved within the last five years. Something seems to make his heart race the more they talk. He thinks it’s the battle that’s coming soon, but there’s a feeling that maybe, just maybe it isn’t that.

“Everyone here?” Byleth asks towards the group, and with a quick look around, everyone was in fact there. A small frown is on Sylvain’s face as he takes the mental note that Dedue is not there. “Good. Now, let me start with our defences and how things will unfold…”

— — — — —

Even with knowing the plan was to cast fire down upon the shrubbery, he couldn’t help but run towards her. Byleth was struggling against a heavily armoured enemy. He saw how she had cast magic against the enemy but had missed. Perhaps it was due to the exhaustion and trying to keep the plan together. Or, maybe because she wasn’t able to keep up with her former students turned friends as they rushed forward.

Byleth sidestepped the shining silver axe that came down towards her. Sylvain grimaced the way it had barely missed her. His arm raised and curled his fist into his chest as he chanted the words for the spell of fire. His palm warmed up before the heat crawled up his fingers, wrist, and arm. A red sigil appearing in front of his body glowing a bright red, a small but bright flame licks at his hand just as the sigil disappears. Just when the heat becomes unbearable he extends his hand towards the enemy, the small flame grows bigger and bigger heat reaching his face with how large the fire became. With one word the fire is sent towards the enemy, singing the grass as it flies through the air before hitting the heavy armour melting it against the enemy’s skin.

Sylvain could see the relieved sigh escape her chest. She turns to face him and he hears her say ‘thank you' but it’s short-lived as he sees a sniper release an arrow from the distance. He’s moving before he can say anything. His voice is stuck in his throat as he reaches her, pushing her away from where she stood as an arrow hits his shoulder. There’s just enough force from the arrow to knock him off his feet and send him to the ground. Sylvain’s hand goes to his shoulder grasping the arrow tightly.

“Sylvain!!” Byleth cries out.

His head swivels towards her, eyes just barely catching the second arrow coming towards him. A groan comes the back of his throat as he rolls onto his side not hindered by an arrow. The second arrow just misses him, hitting the dirt where his head was. His chest is beating against his rib cage. His eyes are wide as he realizes how he barely dodged death. Firm hands grab at him, lifting him up to his feet. Sylvain is moving swiftly in what he assumes Byleth’s arms and his head is spinning.

Sylvain locks eyes with Byleth and her lips are moving but he can’t hear anything. He could probably guess at what she’s saying as she’s tugging on him. Follow her? He’s taking steps forward and it seems to calm her a bit as she drags them towards the middle of the battle. He can feel the faint pulse of aching in his shoulder but it doesn’t hurt. The adrenaline must be coursing through his veins to hide the real pain.

Sylvain stays close to her throughout the rest of the fight, and before he knows it, the fight is over and he’s rushed off somewhere to be taken care of.

— —— —

He’s stuck with doing nothing for a solid two days straight before he’s cleared for the battlefield after his third day of rest. Sylvain lets out a pained sigh as rolls his shoulder, eyes barely lifting to the doorway when hearing footsteps approaching his room.

“Oh, Professor! Thanks for stopping by.” Sylvain says with a large smile.

“You–How’s the injury?” Byleth said.

“It’s healing well, I’m being cleared for service tomorrow. Besides,” Sylvain pauses, a smirk on his lips and a wink is sent her way. “I’ve got this scar to show off as a medal for keeping you safe.” Sylvain can see her brows furrow as she frowns.

“Didn’t you want to kill me?” Byleth says in such a way it makes his stomach twist. He looks down to the ground.

“I certainly meant it when I said it…” Sylvain plays with his fingers, an old habit he did when he was nervous or felt vulnerable. “But, when the thought came to mind that you could have died, I reacted without thinking. That doesn’t mean that I never stopped being jealous of you, though. You got to live your entire life without the knowledge of your crest, meanwhile, I went through so much trouble all because I knew and everyone around me knew. My brother giving me the most trouble.”

“I remember five years ago with the incident about the lance of ruin,” Byleth said. Sylvain lets out a dry laugh, hands curling into fists.

“Yeah, he was not happy to learn that I had a crest. He got cast aside, almost treated like an outsider. One winter, we were out and you know what he did? He pushed down into a well.” Sylvain explained and he could see the way Byleth grimaced. “Even as a kid, I understood why he felt to act as he did. Even all the girls that throw themselves at me as the years went by. They don’t care about me, all they want is the crest and nobility status that comes with it.”

“You’re wrong…” Byleth said. Sylvain shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I get you. Even though it might be a bit late to admit but, their empty praise is best served somewhere else. Besides, it was unreasonable to resent you. I’m really sorry professor and thank you for everything. Seriously, thank you.” Sylvain looks to Byleth and he sees something. A sparkle in her eyes betrays something but with all the time he spent around people and knowing their true intentions he still couldn’t tell anything about her.

“You’re welcome, take care of yourself properly now. We’ve got some dancing lessons to catch up on.” Byleth says it to lighten the mood and he can only laugh. Heart beating a little faster in his chest as she giggles with him.

“You got it, professor.” Sylvain gives her a smile, a real genuine smile. Byleth smiles in return, before waving goodbye but not before saying;

“You should smile like that more often, you look relaxed.” To say his heart was beating against his chest because of her this time wouldn’t be a lie.

[visionsofus]

Regarding Scarletvision prompts.....I’m such a sucker for the trope where one member of a couple goes apeshit and all protective/NO TOUCH when they think the other member is grievously hurt, maybe something like that with Vision instead of Wanda? With potential fluff/comfort once things are fine. Your fics are wonderful!!

anon you are totally speaking my language with this prompt!! I absolutely love this trope so much too (and was actually halfway through writing one where Wanda loses her shit). Decided to go with Vision for this because we don’t often see him lose his cool in canon. Thanks for this request!

Really hope you enjoy! 

| read on AO3 here | send me a scarlet vision prompt |

Wanda and Vision’s Mixtape Track #17: Can You Feel My Heart

One year into being a fugitive Wanda gets cornered, Vision sees the news in real time and runs to her aid. Aka Vision going apeshit when he thinks Wanda is dead.

Warnings: angst, references to guns and blood. 

“Vision, look at me,” Tony said waving a hand in front of Vision’s eyes in an attempt to get his attention. “You can’t go. You understand that right?”

Vision dipped his chin in acknowledgement even as his brain ran furious probability equations through and through again. But they came back low again, and again, and again. There was only going to be one option.  

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Rhodey said from his seat before the flatscreen occupying half the wall of the strategy room they had gathered in. “Tony, this looks pretty bad.”

Vision turned his head and his gaze to the lights flashing across the screen, a live news report of everything that was going down in New York.

Tony swore at the sight before them, and Vision put a pause to his maths in shock. The camera was tracking a hooded redhead through a crowded street, suddenly zooming in on the individual’s face as she turned her head to look over her shoulder.

“Wanda Maximoff has been a fugitive since 2016 when she was decreed an international criminal by the United Nations,” the news reporter said over more footage of Wanda blending in as best she could with the crowds of the city. “While Maximoff has evaded capture for over a year, authorities now believe they are close to apprehending her.”

At this Vision had to quickly let go of the chair he was sitting in, lest he split the arm rests in two.

“We go live now to New York. Please be aware the next clip could be distressing to some viewers”

Tony scrambled to turn the news off even as Vision overrode his authority, ordering the compound AI to keep the report running.

The scene changed once more, and Vision watched as the crowd parted around Wanda as she engaged in a close combat fight with a man clad all in black. Her red magic had him restrained immediately as she spun around, a clear attempt to identify her best exit route. From that moment Vision knew her chances of getting out unharmed were dismal. In those precious seconds another agent was at her back, smartly keeping his distance and instead engaging her with his taser. Wanda’s head snapped up as her body jerked, but she somehow managed to twist around and send the man flying away. All around her agents emerged from the throngs of people trying to get off the main street. They began to close in like a pack of predators.

“Vision—” Tony said reaching out, but he was too late. Vision had risen without thinking when he saw the first taser, his legs moving of their own accord so that he had phased through the wall and was flying out away from the compound in moments. He’d never pushed himself to see how fast he could really travel and now he’d need every ounce of power to get to Wanda’s side in time.

The world was a blur, even to him. The only thing that kept his worries at bay was her in his head, the closer he got the louder her cries grew. He didn’t know how she was doing it; she’d always needed direct physical contact for her voice to be this loud in his head. He reached the streets of New York with her voice as his guiding light.  

‘I need you.’ She was weaker now. ‘Hurry.’

He was close now, all she had to do was keep talking.

‘I hear you, I’m coming for you,’Vision thought back, but he couldn’t say for certain if his voice reached her.

It didn’t matter though, he had arrived.

Vision managed to slow himself down enough to land, though his feet shredded the asphalt beneath him. Bullets flew his way immediately but he sidestepped easily and used the mind stone to blast two agent’s guns to pieces in their hands. The few bystanders left at the edge of the arena now before them, realised this was their indication to leave. They were quickly replaced by what must have been a hundred soldiers.  

Another agent took a run at Vision, electrified baton raised but all it took was a well-placed foot to send him to the ground. Vision continued walking forward, reading for the next onslaught even as Wanda’s voice echoed in his head again. ‘You shouldn’t have come’.

That made him angrier. He didn’t blink as he took out the next three agents before disarming two soldiers who’d mistakenly decided to try their luck against his inhuman body and the power inlaid in his forehead. They’d had enough difficulty restraining Wanda with carefully directed electrified pulses that had her incapacitated, on her knees in pain. They tried the same, turning the pulsing weapons his way but the energy passed harmlessly over him as he phased, carefully avoiding it. He was almost at her now, if he could just get to her side and get her out of the square, away, safe, alive. It was all he could think about.

Someone must have figured that out because next thing Vision knew, all weapons were trained on Wanda.

“Stay right where you are,” a voice crackled over a loudspeaker from a waiting cop car.

Vision didn’t stop until someone took a carefully aimed warning shot and he heard Wanda cry out in pain as she was hit by something. He didn’t know if it was just another pulse or if it was something more final.

The loudspeaker crackled again. “You take one more step and we won’t be taking her into custody, she’ll be going somewhere much more final.”

Vision had been learning a lot about feelings in the last year with Wanda. He’d experienced joy, love, lust, longing. He’d discovered these were warm emotions. Now he knew what rage tasted like.

Rage was cold, so cold. Rage made him irrational. And he was about to discover what happened when he turned that rage against others.

Wanda was on the ground again, clutching at her knee. So, it had been a bullet then. Vision’s shoulders trembled with unrestrained rage as she locked eyes with him, and a bloody, desperate hand reaching out.

And Vision exploded.

Eye-witness accounts would later say it was like the street had come to life. Others would say they thought a Chitarui ship had broken free from beneath the city, that the street had risen from the ground like a huge snake. Others still, would describe the red man, who had supposedly faced down two hundred members of the defence force, as impossibly fast, the yellow energy crackling around him like lighting. They’d say it felt dangerous, it was an ancient power that made the hairs at the back of your neck rise and your gut scream at you to run in the opposite direction. Those testimonies would never reach the news because no one could believe them.

Vision himself couldn’t be entirely sure what happened. He only recalled that he acted without thinking, his movements entirely guided by the immensity of rage crackling through his blood, calling to the stone at his forehead.

The stone, which so often sat dormant at his forehead, acted without his control. The power spread throughout his body and in his anger, he raised his hands, the golden light phasing and crackling about his arms, and thrust them towards the ground with a cry.

The soldiers didn’t have time to use Wanda as bargaining tool as he did this. As the power hit the tarmac the street shuddered and cracked. It didn’t reach the surrounding buildings, restrained only to the street and those who tried to weaponize Vision’s lover. She’d already been used that way once; he’d never let her be trapped again.

With the armed forces in varying levels of disarray, some injured while others just stunned at what they had seen, Vision darted towards Wanda.

The news would later say that an unidentified man and woman arrived on the scene some point into the chaos, but they would never be able to identify the individuals. Something about their cameras conveniently cutting out just in time.

Steve and Natasha raced for Wanda, lying prone and vulnerable in the middle of the street. They’d sent her out for the regular grocery run but hadn’t anticipated her getting caught. Afterall, they’d been in New York often in the last year and had never had problems like this. Vision was quicker and again it was as though the stone acted on his emotions. It took him a moment to recognise Nat and Steve past the caps pulled low over their heads and the masks taking up lower half of their faces, but by then the stone had already done what he must have deemed necessary, at least subconsciously.

As he reached Wanda’s side, throwing himself to his knees beside her and desperately surveying her body for injuries, a barrier appeared crackling in the air around them. Whatever irrational part of him that had seen his old teammates as a risk, wasn’t going to quieten down until he was sure Wanda was safe.

Steve didn’t manage to stop in time and went flying off the barrier. Nat helped him to his feet even as they both hesitated behind the crackling ring of gold energy. Vision didn’t know how to lower the barrier, but at that moment it was the least of his concerns.

“Wanda,” he whispered lifting her carefully and drawing her into his lap. He supported her shoulders and laid a hand against her cheek even as her eyes cracked open. Her lip trembled even as she winced, trying to sit up.

“You weren’t supposed to come,” she said, coughing slightly. “I had it covered.”

“Evidently,” he murmured absentmindedly looking over her knee, glad it had only been grazed by the bullet. The rest of her was fairly scratched up from hitting the ground so many times, but she was remarkably okay. “You know I couldn’t stay away.”

“We promised,” she said, and Vision saw the tears welling in her eyes. “We promised we wouldn’t put each other at risk.”

Vision sighed, if she had the time to worry about him in her state then she really had to be okay. His relief was immeasurable as he dropped his shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers lightly, taking comfort in their shared breaths, evidence they were both still alive. He had thought the worst for a moment.

As he closed his eyes the barrier around them dropped and Steve and Nat were finally able to get to the pair.

“We need to leave, now,” Steve said with all the authority of the leader he had once been. “They’ve called for reinforcements and with the guns their bringing in, we won’t stand a chance like this.”

Vision helped Wanda stand but when she staggered on her injured knee, he immediately scooped her up.

“You understand the decision you’re making her, Vision,” Nat said as they started away from the scene they had caused. “There’s no going back now, are you staying or coming?”

“Staying is not an option anymore,” Vision said without hesitation. His decision had been made the moment he left the compound.

Wanda sighed sadly but rested her head against the crook of his neck in defeat. “You’ll lose everything.”

“As long as I never have to lose you.”

[etheralisi]

ᴛᴇ ɪɴᴠᴏᴄᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴛ ɪs ɢᴏɴᴇ

Perhaps she has hit the unlucky jackpot with getting Tamara as her roommate. What kind of reality did she wake up in to have to come home to a summoning circle?

Ao3

--------

 They were low on flour. 

 And it’s not as if they necessarily need it, per se. Not really, because hey, there’s a few snacks laying around, and their neighbor Marla’s built up a reputation from giving stuff out from bottomless pockets of sweets and chocolates that fits the picture book description of every five year old’s dreamscape to a t. 

 But Anthea’s hands are itching to do something, anything that isn’t homework, and as always, she’s drawn back into memories of large and steady palms pressing hers into dough, and the scent rising yeast in the oven — the furnace she’ll endearingly label as home. Even now, away on her studies, away from that little country kitchen, it’s that little piece of her past that’s trailing after her through the shopping aisle, Anthea mulling over the brands they have available.

 “You’re going shopping?” Her roommate had shouted from the couch when Anthea’s foot was half out of the door, holding it in place as she turned exasperatedly towards the other girl. “ Can you get me anything? Like, I dunno, gummy worms or something. Maybe some crisps. Oh, oh! See if they have any of those-” She snapped her fingers, a disappointed pout forming as she made a vagueish gesture. “Ah, you know. Those things.”

 “Sure, sure. Very helpful,” Anthea had said in drawl, fairly sure there are at least five possible contenders for what ‘those things’ may be from her past purchasing habits and, chances are, she’ll end up purchasing the wrong thing. So. You know. Helpful. “I’ll see what I can find, Tam. Pay me back later.”

 She’s gotten Tamara a good few bargains, and if she were any less of a person, Anthea would charge her full price for them and pocket a little extra cash. Like a certain someone — not naming names, but Tamara — had done a few months back in her ploy to ‘get rich quick’ after taking inspiration from a few life hack videos guaranteeing her ways to save money, though not as borderline fraudulent as she put into practice.

 So. Yes. What a wonderful roommate Anthea’s been blessed with. Truly an inspiration.

 (And to think that once upon so long ago, Anthea had been a sidestep and a jump from a breakdown, worrying if she’d be considered the weird roommate. The one people grumble about to friends over the phone.)

 After staring at the prices the flour is selling at — long enough she swears barcodes and prices are burned into her retinas, thin black lines and all — Anthea pulls out her phone, just long enough to send a text or two to Tamara. Just checking in, is all. Reminding Tamara of her half of the chores, and praying to every entity out there that she's not going to have to come back to their shared living space surrounded by firefighters because of a science project gone wrong. 

 (“Hey, I was just pulling apart my Magiorb to see how it ticked! I couldn’t have foreseen the fire. Or how couches aren’t fireproof. Uhh, what’s the cheapest fireproof furniture selling right now?”)

 Needless to say, there’s a very low bar in the terms of her expectations for her return. Very low bar. ‘World’s best limbo dancer can’t even hope to cross’ kind.

 Still. Somehow Tamara manages to bring a spade and tunnel right under this metaphorical bar until she reaches hell’s gates, because, well, Anthea’s pretty sure that everything you can find in a ‘ cultists starter kit to summoning demonic entities’ has been strewn across the room to the point that rather than baking, her hands are screaming for her to grab a fire extinguisher before house fire electric boogaloo can make a comeback. 

 Candles. So. Many. Candles. Over that little couch, over her bed. Why are they over her bed?

 Multiple pressing questions bulldoze their way down the fast-pass lane to the forefront of her mind, so pressing they may as well be full on slaps to the face like this whole nonsensical scene displayed out in front of her. Anthea hardly registers dropping the shopping bag, slipping from numb fingers now completely useless for pinching her awake from this living nightmare. 

  ‘Life hacks,' okay. Guess this extends to hacking away at their own lifespans too. It’s flashing before her eyes, disco party style, as they speak.

 “Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?” Anthea says with this tired sort of calm calm. Like the anger and frustration and fear are too big for her body and physically unable to manifest themselves into her tone. It’s just. Too much.

 “Your text told me to satanize the kitchen before you returned, and the other rooms if I could. Don’t worry, I did the kitchen too,” Tamara says like it’s a perfectly normal request and every bit entirely in character of Anthea to say, and not in the least worrisome to the point that Anthea doesn’t so much as want to think about the state of the kitchen. She knows the text. She knows what she sent. And yeah, pulling out her phone, Anthea’s now doubly sure that her request wasn’t nearly as demonic as Tamara has taken it.

 “I wrote sanitise, Tamara,” She corrects with not nearly enough stress on the name as she is feeling right now. Not even close. “Sanitise . And here you are with… with this pentagram…”

 “Summoning circle.” 

 “Oh, I’m sorry.” Anthea wants to laugh, really laugh, but she’s afraid she won’t be able to stomach something so bitter. “And how is that any better?”

 “I mean, it’s not the Satan on the line. I couldn’t get a hold of him.” And is it her, or does the slight pout of Tamara’s bottom lip make her look — dare she say it — disappointed. Demonic flames are no way to sanitise a home. Insta-cook it? Yes. But she just wants to bake. Not recreate hell’s kitchen.

 Anthea pinches or nose and lets loose a long, drawn out sigh as she tries to recall what optimism sounds like again when her half full glass has been shattered against a wall repetitively. 

 “Well that’s clear. If you had, I’d be coming back to nothing but the circle. Thank the stars you didn’t manage to summon him.”

 And by him, she means whatever alternative demon Tamara had turned to after her temporary setback. Anthea never really studied demons above the mandatory lessons where the overall takeaway was ‘ stay the heck away from demons unless you have a death wish for both you and your entire neighbourhood .’ And good old Mr Rivera had a knack for making even the most entertaining of things about as interesting as witnessing fifty coats of paint dry, the sound of his voice alone giving insomniacs the well needed rest they deserve, his droning on a magical cure-all. But she swears that the patterns ring some incredibly distant alarm bells amongst the fog of memories.

 “Ehhh…” Tamara hand wanders to the back of her neck, sheepish. “I mean...”

 Her stomach drops. Ten, twenty floors of an office building and into the plummeting void of ever present worry and why ever did she think leaving to buy flour would be a safe activity?

 “What,” Anthea says, fire encased in a cage of ice for a tone, “Did you do?”

 As if on queue — and perhaps so, because stage queues and flair have been attributed to their species for years — the answer makes itself known as the Dreambender himself, materialising into existence with a faint pop and waft of pine needles to mask the smoke.

 What.

  What the-

 “Oh, y̤͈̣̭̝͎̹o͖̝̻̲̤̪͇u͖͉̥͙’̥͖̟̗͍̮͡r̼̩̣̻e̞͔̝̜̹ ͔̺̘͈̰͎b̞̦͍͔͡a͖͜c͇̘k̛̮̙?̹̼͓̖͖̳̝ ” He grins, too many teeth. Far too many teeth. “And you’ve brought my gummy worms! Thanks!”

[hood-ex]

if you're still taking prompts.. dick, kori, and vic in a creepy haunted house and you decide who's scared and how much, if there are real ghosts or not etc.

“Why did I think this would be fun?” Vic said to no one in particular. He continued walking forward into the darkness of the haunted house, leaving Dick and Kory to trail in his wake. “I have thermal sensors. I can literally see everything that moves in here.” He looked to his left. “Heads up. Creepy little goblin lady at eight o’clock.” 

“You know—” Dick started to say just as the goblin lady jumped out and screamed right by Dick’s ear. To his credit, Vic’s fearless leader didn’t even flinch. Dick just readjusted his fake glasses higher up on his nose and cleared his throat. “Ahem, as I was saying, you could just turn the sensors off.”

“I could,” Vic agreed, “but then I’d be way more likely to be killed off first since I’m black.”

He eyed the barrel they were passing, realizing there was someone hiding inside of it. This time he didn’t warn his friends about it and was rewarded by the sound of Kory cussing in Tamaranean.

“The black guy was the last one killed in Night of the Living Dead,” Dick pointed out, not sounding affected by the jump scare. 

“Yeah, but he still died,” Vic stressed. 

“Dick!” Kory interrupted excitedly. “Look! There’s a Deathstroke in here!”

Vic turned to see what she was talking about, and sure enough, there was someone dressed as Deathstroke peeking out from behind the wall, his black and orange mask glinting under the dim lights. He was even holding a rifle and pointing it straight at them. The man brought his hand up and waved at them in an eerily slow fashion.

Kory waved back.   

“Uh, Vic,” Dick said somewhat hesitantly, “that’s just some random guy in a costume, right?” 

Vic snorted, amused that the only thing in here that would make Dick nervous was the idea of Deathstroke ambushing them. “Yes, Short Pants, don’t worry. The big bad mercenary isn’t going to pop out and shoot your head off.”

“I sure hope not,” Dick said. “In this kind of place, people would just assume my body was one of the props.”

“Dick!” Kory scolded. Vic heard a sharp pop that most likely came from Kory smacking Dick’s shoulder. “Don’t be morbid!”

“Don’t be morbid?” Dick repeated in a dazed tone. “Honey, look where we are.”

“Yeah, Kory,” Vic laughed, “read the room.” 

Kory grumbled something in Tamaranean that didn’t sound very nice. Dick said something back to her in sharp Tamaranean tones. Oh boy, Vic thought as they started to argue back and forth, now this is 100% scarier than the haunted house.

He sighed and sidestepped a man with a chainsaw. He knew he should have gone with Gar instead. 

[katealpha]

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crossover between Jurassic Park and The Lion King done before. At least not seriously (as seriously as you can make something like that I suppose). So this idea for a scene popped into my head a while ago and after developing it, I finally wrote it and had a commission made. The art here isn’t mine, but made by the outstandingly talented Genocide Knight, who’s link I’ll add here. A few ideas presented here I also got from the head canon of Kaze-Blue involving Kula and Malka.

Link to Genocide-Knight’s page

www.deviantart.com/genocide-kn…

He has my eternal thanks for making this beautiful cover, and I hope that it enhances the story you’re about to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~IT IS TIME~

Nala stomped her way back across the log that just a few moments before, was where she and Simba were taking a walk through this beautiful oasis, only to argue about his return to the Pridelands. She needed time to herself to think on what to do next. This wasn’t the Simba she remembered years ago when she was a cub, the Simba who wouldn’t ever stop going on about how he was going to be king one day. All the things he’d do. Now he was a shell of that. But why?

She shook her head as she walked through the dense jungle, her stressed thoughts wandering through her head. Whatever was happening with Simba, she had to get him to confront Scar. Who else would? Malka was driven out, her closest friends like Kula and Tama were either extremely pregnant, starving, or had left to find help as well, and Sarabi was too accepting of Scar’s rule. The sand colored lioness felt ready to have another headache, and mostly because of her hunger. Maybe a drink would help cool her nerves, maybe help her to talk to Simba again later and get him out of this funk.

The crystalline water of the large pond she and Simba drank at earlier stood still as Nala walked out of the bushes towards the water’s edge. She breathed in a breath of humid air, enchanted by the amount of trees around her. Once there, the lioness peaked down at her reflection and pressed herself down on her belly, lapping up the cool waters. It brought an unfriendly reminder of her childhood. How happy she was to hang around water like this with Simba and Kula, the latter of whom had turned from their chubby, bubbly zebra eater, to being gaunt, pregnant with scar’s cubs, and depressed. Her eyes clamped shut as she lifted herself up and whispered.

“I hope I made the right choice leaving you all…”

Nala’s troubled thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of what she could describe as a loud hooting noise that a bird would make. She assumed it was such as she turned her head back. That’s when she saw the bushes where she was coming from just before move. There was something in the jungle with her. Something bigger than just some squirrel or hare. Nala adopted a perplexed look and stepped forward.

“Simba? Is that you?…”

There wasn’t an answer, but the hooting sound was heard again in front of her. This wasn’t from above like she had thought. The hooting sound was coming from directly in front of her. She furrowed her brow as her voiced called out again, trying to sound intimidating to mask her instinctive nervousness.

“Timon?? Pumbaa?? This had better not be a prank like last time with the spider. I’ll rethink not eating you, warthog.”

A moment passed without another word from the figure in the bushes. That was until Nala took another step forward. That finally roused a response from what was hiding. Something big rose up and stepped out of the bushes in front of Nala. Something she’d never seen before. It was covered in an intriguing pattern of green, bumpy scales like the tiny lizards she ate in the pridelands to keep herself and the others from starving. This lizard was not tiny however. It stood slightly taller than her and moved its long neck, head, and it’s legs like a bird would, bobbing its head and bending its neck like a crane. The head of the creature was adorned with a double pronged crest, almost resembling a crown that was reddish compared to the rest of its body. It looked at her with a pair of beady yellow eyes, which also resembled the eyes of a bird. A bird of prey to be exact.

The creature approached her slowly, walking on its two bipedal legs and letting out a soft hooting cry as it made its way around her. Nala could only watch it in awe as she backed up to the edge of the clearing. She witnessed the thing bend over and lower its crested head to the water she was drinking. When she felt it safe, Nala cleared her throat.

”H-hello? Who are you? What are you?”

Once again, the creature didn’t reply, only lifting its head and bending its neck back to stare at her with a blank expression. Nala sighed, figuring that this was either a mute, or something that just simply didn’t understand how to speak. Nala turned her back to the creature and called out with her voice once more.

“Simba?? Timon?? Pumbaa?? You’ve got to come see this! I’ve found something! Or rather something found me…”

As soon as she said this, she heard the hooting again. Right behind her. Nala’s ears raised before she looked back to see the scaly creature standing in front of her, it’s yellow eyes looking into her own teal ones. It blinked once and chirped. Nala didn’t say anything else, waiting for it to make a move, almost not hearing the soft rattling down coming from it. When she did hear the rattling noise, it was far too late. A wide, bright and colorful frill spread out from the creature’s neck, shaking around and catching her attention. Nala’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped at the display before this strange animal screamed a raspy hiss at her. She took a step back from the startling sound before after another scream, a black sludge shot out from its mouth. A glob of it hit her in the face, on her nose. It smelled nasty, making her gag and stagger back. She looked back up and it screamed again. Another glob of black goo was shot at her, but Nala saw it coming and moved her head, making it hit the trunk of a tree.

This creature was no friend, Nala now knew. It stepped towards her with its pronated arms now reaching with sharp claws like her own, it’s frill deflating into its neck. Nala snarled and bared her fangs, jumping at the creature and swiping with her claws. It used its powerful legs to jump over her before Nala lunged forward to tackle it, making her miss the mark. The spitting creature unleashed its frill and hissed as Nala turned on a dime and ran over to fight more. They were in a stand off. The creature used its frighteningly bright frill too threaten another spit attack and Nala stood her ground, not backing down from this fight. Her instincts were guiding her now.

The creature made the next move, spitting another glob that Nala was quick to sidestep and launch herself at the beast, pouncing on it and sinking her claws into it as both animals landed on a deep slope. Nala gasped as she and the Spitter rolled down together in much the same fashion she and Simba did an hour before. But now she was trading claw swipes with a scaly monster that wanted her dead. Nala landed atop the creature and roared down at it. It didn’t look intimidated as its neck twisted up and its jaws snapped at Nala with needle like teeth. She moved her head back, causing her weight to shift just enough for the beast below to rise up and throw her off.

The wind was knocked out of her as she landed on her back in a bad spot. Looking forward, she saw the spitter get up and look at her, it’s yellow eyes narrowing in malice before it roared at her, flashing its frill triumphantly, then running towards Nala with its claws out. Nala got her senses back at just the right moment. As the creature was about to land atop her with its disemboweling foot claws, she lifted her back paws and pushed up with all her might, lifting the beast over her and making it slam into the tree behind her. She rolled onto her paws as it fell in her spot, landing on its side.

Nala wasted no time as she pounced again as it tried to stagger to its feet. Remembering her hunting, she pinned it down and after moving her head to dodge a few snaps of its teeth, she exploited an opened and wrapped her jaws around the base of its head where the neck net. She bit down hard and while still holding her weight over the struggling animal, she forced its head down and didn’t let go. She breathed deeply and her muscles ached fiercely as holding it down was no easy feat. However, after what felt like hours, the beast she had fought tooth and claw to survive against succumbed to her experience as a hunter, and her sharper teeth.

Once she was sure it stopped moving, Nala sat up and let out a huge few breaths as the limp animal laid motionless before her, mouth gaping and eyes wide. Nala moved her paw over and closed its eyelid, not wanting to see it staring at her again. The lioness took a moment to examine her bounty. This beast was truly like nothing she’d seen before. A perfect blend of bird and reptile, almost like they were one in the same. Her fascination ended when a deep gurgle roared from her belly. She glanced down to it and made a puzzled sound. She looked back at the dead spitter and remembered. She hasn’t eaten anything substantial in weeks, and Pumbaa was off the menu. Nala licked her lips and smiled. Maybe something nice did come from this encounter…

[fragmented-desire]

[ ginger ]

[ Memory Prompts ] - Closed

(( This memory is EXTREMELY long. ))

The flow and ebb of the unending dark and negative energy pulsed and hummed idly in the air, a reminder of that hellish space they called home. The soft click of open heels on obsidian tiles echoed through the dead space, occasionally broken by the sidesteps of lesser devils and dregs of the Dark Area. The hold that cradled and supported the Rookie was gentle and tender, and the smell was reminiscent of floral perfumes and candles. Attached to the beautiful, albeit veiled visage of the woman carrying her, it was comforting as she escorted her like an infant down the halls and through the grand double doors into the meeting chambers.

In the room's center along the outer edges of a lengthy table with a map overlaid, stoic and imposing figures all discussed tactics and plans for battle with a particular Lord at the head of it all, bearing a soft, yet commanding tone that immediately silenced and demanded respect of those in attendance.

"That will not be necessary, Guardian of Greed. Merely continue as necessary in the West until the situation changes. At this crucial stage of the effort, I will not have it all fall apart because someone moves out of line, that includes you, and that Prideful child."

A wizened old man with a golden mask bowed his head, albeit with a scoff, followed by a low, defiant growl of a figure in dark leathers, three crimson eyes staring to the apparent head of this meeting as clawed fingers tapped the table's edge.

"All this meandering and aimless skirmishing feels pointless, Olson. And you know how much I don't care for unfair slaughter of weaklings. How much longer does this need to continue before we can get to the point of all this?"

The Lord of Wrath glanced out from behind his dark helm and sighed, arms behind his back. "Be patient, warrior. You'll have your point. But for us to reach it, a grand cataclysm of sorts must needs be brought about. Thus, we--..."

His words stopped suddenly at the slight clearing of the woman's throat who'd stood patiently near the entryway, the bat Rookie in her arms half-awake following a deal of activity. The room went silent, all eyes falling upon the Lady. Olson locked gazes with his mistress for a lengthy period before waving a dismissive hand to all in attendance. "...You have your orders. Follow them for now. It will all pay off in due time. Go."

With little in the way of complaints, one-by-one, the various Lords departed in puffs of black mist, leaving the three alone in the empty chamber. Silence again filled the air before the woman, without much thought paced around the table with a huff. "You seemed almost too eager to call an end to that meeting...~"

There was another moment of nothing from the imposing, crimson-armored male, then a quiet hum, his heavy footfalls carrying him to the other end of the room to the balcony overlooking his territory beyond the fortress. To see over the fields violet crystal spires that dotted the landscape, or the glass-like sphere that rounded the domain as a whole, the woman falling in a bit behind him with the child in-tow.

"...I'm prepared to bear the burdens of the childish whims and impulses of the other of the Seven and whatever else may come to see our dreams be realized. But this war organizing and politics grows...tiring..." With an amused, sultry chuckle, the womon ran gold-tipped claws over his bicep, presenting the DemiVyremon to him.

"Speaking of, don't you think you spending some time with your actual child is overdue? She's had a long day, I'm sure she'd like to have her father spend at least the last few hours of it with her before bed..."

His obscured gaze peered down at the Rookie, and their large, crimson eyes peeked up at him in turn with a sleepy blink, their little claws rubbing at their tired eyes with a soft yawn. Hesitantly, a large, clawed gauntlet extended a finger to weakly scritch along their fuzzy cheek.

"...Surely your...softer nature and touch is better suited, no? Despite the airs I put on here...all I know how to do is break and damage what I touch. Besides, I've...no time. If left totally unattended, then the others..." He mumbled out, finger ceasing motion as the Rookie's wings lifted in a stretch, then folded their membrane arms around his massive hand, not even coming close to covering it. With a series of chittering squeaks, DemiVyremon's cheek pressed into his palm warmly in a slow rub, and the Demon Lord halted all words to stare. The woman's lips decorated in black lipstick curled into a pleased, soft smile.

"Well, seems she's made up her mind..." Her free hand reached to cup the side of his head, hidden as it was beneath the layer of Digizoid Chrome. The look she gave behind that silver-trimmed black veil was sympathetic and sweet, something uncharacteristic of one bearing her titles. "This war's gone on for decades. You can miss a few hours of it. You should take every moment with her you are able while she's still young."

Olson shook his head slowly, already trying to protest. "But then, who will--"

Once more she halted him with a soft series of shushing sounds, lowering her fingers to his other arm, guiding it to take the bat Digimon from her. "Shhhh-shh-shhhhhh. I can contend with the naughty children and old fools. Spend time with your daughter. She needs you more~." Sliding her claws from him and ensuring the task of holding the Rookie was securely transferred over, she stepped back and pressed back into the marble railing of the balcony, then dispersing in a cloud of bats that flittered and flew into the endless night, leaving them alone.

Silence overtook them once more as now there were two. He found himself staring out into the distance where his partner vanished, only to hear the soft whine of the little one in his arms demand his attention with a gentle pout. "Daddy...helmet scary..."

"My helmet...I see..." He replied softly, letting that statement linger for a short while before at last, with a weary sigh, using his left hand to lift and remove the menacing visage of the crimson helm, resting it on the balcony rail. His softer, albeit dark, shadowed features took time to manifest and adjust to being exposed, piercing, ghostly white eyes without pupils staring down at her. What might be described as 'hair' was but wispy strands of black dust that formed a general, mid-length shape suggesting such. "Is this more suitable then?"

For as conventionally unnatural and unsettling as his features were, this seemed to calm the little one. Enough for her to nod and scramble up his body, climbing her way to settle on his shoulder. "Can you...read for me again...? We never finished our story last time..." This request was almost pleading in tone, emphasized with a few spritely bounces on his pauldron. With little more than a brief blink, he carried them through the room, leading them to the edge where with a snap of his fingers, dark velvet recliner manifested itself in a brief flash. He turned and settled his bulky frame into the cushioned seat, pulling her into his lap while in his off-hand a small, red tome appeared.

"...We left off at...?" He began, his child with an impatient tapping of her talons at his arms excitedly replying, "The princess was sitting in the field with the monster!"

"Ah, yes, how could I forget. Let's see..."

-----------

As his low, nearly-whisper level voice read the tale of a maiden discovering the heart that laid within what seemed to be an angry, lonely beast, minutes passed, and minutes became hours. By the time he'd finished, he'd only just noticed that she'd long since dozed off, curled into a ball against his stomach with the slow rise and fall of her tiny breaths between gentle squeaks. Sighing, he closed the book softly to set it aside, delicately dragging his finger along her cheek in a slow, idle caress.

"Sound asleep...like you don't have a care in the world at all. Right, little one?" His tone, albeit just as calm and soft as ever sounded...somber, even...guilty. He allowed his full palm to rub tenderly over her sleeping head, resulting in her unconscious form smiling softly, nuzzling into his armored form. Something in his dead, cold form...ached at that moment. Made him briefly tense and shudder. Something of a realization came...or rather, he was reminded.

"...That's right. That's why I must succeed. For a world where you will never have to worry...my little Vyre..."

[havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong]

The Slimmest Chance — Run to the Light

An ally in the endless flame of Fuyuki — the lone survivors of the failed Rayshift, Cadence finally stumbled across an ally.

—

‘So, why me?’

A young Master sits just across from a genius.

The woman twirls a lock of her brunette hair, contemplating for only a passing moment before responding.

‘That’s simple. Your mana.’

...His mana. The coward knew his only talent — the only reason he’d be valued as a mage. An endless reservoir of mana, unable to cast anything save for the endless flow of mana his body forced out.

‘...Doesn’t Chaldea have more than enough of that to go around?’

But such a thing would be worthless for summoning. Even if he could summon a Servant with his own power alone — he could likely only use one. And would Chaldea even permit such a contract, when the consequences of letting an average Joe summon a Servant could be so large..?

‘That’s true enough. But, y’know, you were an oddity. I don’t think we’ve seen someone so specialized in such an odd task.’

The lady winked, as if he had some invaluable talent. All the coward could do was chuckle, and shake his head.

‘Yet I can’t cast a single spell. Not without a Mystic Code — even then, my only Mystic Codes are borderline worthless, Da Vinci.’

...Yet the genius didn’t even falter, even for a moment, at the cowardly Master’s words. She only shrugged and continued.

‘You never know, Cadence. Chaldea might fail at summoning, you know. And if that happens... Any Servant is better than no Servant. Let alone one held by a Master like you.’

...The coward breathed a shaky sigh out.

‘...I’m not cut out for this. I... I don’t want to fight like this.’

‘And yet you’re here now, Cadence, and I highly doubt they’ll be keen on letting you out. And chances are, you’ll probably be safe anyways, being in the reserves like this.’

The genius idly tapped her finger against the table between them, and tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the side.

‘Try not to worry, okay?’

—

‘So much for not worrying.’

It had to have been an hour by this point. Maybe more..?

Clear, non-teary eyes, and a calmer perspective, let me survey the area a bit better.

Burning, destroyed buildings, with rivets of wood and metal lining the ground. That smell of burning corpse hadn’t faded at all — if anything, it grew more prominent with every step I took further into the center of this city.

The fires of Fuyuki... That’s what this was, wasn’t it? They’d said something of this Singularity before the fated Rayshift. No matter what the place looked like — felt like — now, it was supposed to be a simple fire.

‘...A ‘simple’ fire.’

Compared to what I saw now, the original happenings were far simpler, huh?

Bones fell to the ground to my left, just as I turned to survey what I could see there — finding only the vast expanse of flame, and the remnants of a lone swordbearing skeleton that Kagekiyo made short work of.

“...These can’t be true Genji, Master.”

The being turned to me with a furrowed brow, dusting a bit of what seemed to be bone fragments off their shoulder, all as I forced myself to a stop.

“They go down too quickly. Their strategy is laughable. How do we know that we’re fighting the true danger here?”

...The ‘Genji.’ A term that still eluded me, in part. I could assume it to be in relation to the Minamoto clan, but...

...Now wasn’t the time to ask. I breathed out a sigh — carefully, as to not choke on the smoke — and began to form some sort of response.

“They don’t seem like the part. Frankly, who actually did this to us still eludes me.”

...The being sheathed their blades, and crossed their arms, matching my pace to walk beside me as I began to move towards the center once more.

“...How bothersome. The Genji have stooped so low as to send such weak warriors after us. Do they underestimate me as a warrior?!”

They lowered their hand to their blade, and seemed to grit their teeth. While making a sidestep just in case, my mouth opened before I could think.

“It’s probable that the Genji might have a role in this, if I’m understanding things right. And my guess is that they don’t know you’re here yet!”

‘...Damn me and my motor mouth.’

All that did was make Kagekiyo seemingly more angered — now, tapping their fingers quickly against the hilt of their blade, as if feebly attempting to hold back an ever-increasing rage.

“They don’t know?! Then we have to make sure they do! Fill the hearts of the Genji with fear as I slaughter their men!”

‘That has to be the worst possible plan. Making ourselves known would just make the perpetrator kill us now!’

My stomach had already tied itself in knots — a horrid feeling of nausea coming up, only suppressed by a rapid change of focus.

‘...If she’s keen on making herself public enemy number one, I probably can’t fight that. She’s an Avenger — I doubt she’d go for any other option.’

Panic wouldn’t help me — it’d only make our deaths more assured. Even as anxiety welled in my throat, I desperately moved forward, upping my pace to let out the excess energy.

“Master?”

The Avenger followed suit — even with the mask, I could’ve sworn I saw their eyebrow raise.

“...If we want to make ourselves known to the Genji, we can do it. But we can’t do it too bluntly, or else they’ll just kill me.”

...Kagekiyo gritted their teeth, but nodded in agreement anyways. Certainly, it would get things over with quickly — but we both knew that I was the weak link. There was no getting past that.

“...It’s only a matter of time before they realize their mooks are going down. Then, they’ll send their big guys after us. That’s when we strike.”

Our backs were against the wall. Even with no flame behind me, I knew each fight was my ‘last stand’ at survival, and it was the same for Kagekiyo by proxy.

Judging by their hand releasing itself from their blade, they knew that just as well as I did.

“...Understood. We let them come to us, and slaughter them.”

“Something like that.”

...Somehow, I’d felt my anxiety lessen — not strangling me, as much as simply tightly gripping me now. It seemed they weren’t unreasonable — not completely.

If only it stayed that way.

Mere moments after our plan was cemented, the scenery finally changed — we’d reached the center, or the closest thing to it. A place surrounded by burning, but still standing, buildings.

And in the middle of what might’ve been an intersection — a woman with a shield larger than herself, shielding a white-haired lady and an orange-haired woman from the strikes of a Servant shrouded in darkness.

‘...Should’ve knocked on wood.’

Something twisted in my gut — instinctively, I covered my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment as I heard Kagekiyo’s blades unsheathe.

“...Master?”

I swallowed what must’ve been bile — it felt like it, even if nothing was there. Taking a step back, desperately trying to steady my breaths, I managed a nod.

“Looks like that being... That’s our first target, Kagekiyo. Protect the three people defending against them.”

“...Understood.”

I knew full well I could not fight — only remaining nearby. Yet, I raised my hand, staring down at a Mystic Code I had on my right hand.

A silver ring, with an emerald gem on its front. The emblem of a lion set on the inside of it. Even with the blood of the summoning circle on it, its beauty remained.

‘...Ironic.’

Despite it all, I held that hand close, as Kagekiyo engaged — dodging a shadowy chained dagger that threatened to strike her arm.

The shadowy figure changed its opponent — from the lady with the shield to Kagekiyo. It approached, retaliating immediately after its first hit was evaded, with two chained daggers thrown as if to entangle Kagekiyo.

Even so — the being simply sidestepped the first chain, raising her foot to avoid entanglement, before jumping suddenly into the air to avoid the second chain.

Retaliation was quick, simple — both blades appearing to make their mark as the Avenger shot back down to terra firma behind the Servant. And yet—

“Kagekiyo!”

The Servant was prepared for such a move. Another chain flung behind them — even at such close ranges, the Avenger could at least move their chest out of the way, the dagger instead landing in their arm.

The Avenger only grinned, and allowed the second shot to pass right through the armour on their chest—

“Kagekiyo?!”

...Even as the dagger surely pierced their heart—

...No, it had surely hit its mark. The dagger, clean through Kagekiyo’s chest armour, was right where the being’s heart should’ve been.

But it did little more than make the being smile, as they snugly fit their katana directly through the throat of the Servant.

“...Eliminated.”

The lady with the shield remained, attempting to protect from a potential attack from the enemy Servant.

As the shadowed Servant faded away, I found myself running forward as if by reflex — sliding to a stop before my teammate, I looked them over in a panic.

...Nothing. Even raising the fabric hiding their chest armour, even despite the crack —

Not a hint of the wound remained.

“...Do you underestimate me, Master? If I died so easily, the Genji would have no reason to fear.”

‘...How..?’

But even after a moment — it made sense.

Kagekiyo was no person, were they? A ‘concept,’ a being that attempted to kill Yoritomo over thirty times. Not even death stopped them — they would come back every time.

...Even part of their legend — was that they were never truly gone. So long as hatred for the Genji remained, Kagekiyo would never die.

‘...I don’t assume they’re invulnerable — but...’

Off a hunch, it could’ve been the ceaseless anger of an Avenger itself that allowed their survival through a hit that could’ve put an end to their carnage.

“...Go figure.”

...After a moment, I heard the shield drop behind me.

“—Aren’t you..?”

A soft, kind voice. One followed shortly by a sharp, laidback voice of a Master I knew all too well.

“Cadence?! Goddamn, is it nice to see a familiar face around here.”

“...Ritsuka..?!”

Go figure. The person whose talent was that of physical alteration. I’d only ever seen them with the black hair and male form — no wonder their other visage wasn’t recognizable.

“Hey! Nice to know we’ve got an ally in all this. Me, Olga, and Mash were able to get in. How’d you get in here?”

Go figure. Someone like Ritsuka was exactly the sort to simply waltz on in to a place like this. They seemed at home in the danger — surely scared, but compartmentalizing it as if it were nothing.

“I can hardly remember in all the chaos. Hopefully a bit of company can help me remember.”

‘...If only I could take this that well.’

I had to shake the half-bitter thoughts from my mind. Disregarding those whispers of envy, I tried my best to keep myself upright — as my stomach took its sweet, sweet time unknotting itself.

“No kidding. We can bring you to the leyline to let Romani know we have another survivor, but we’ll have to be quick about it. And...”

The Master was very quickly interrupted, however, by the white-haired woman.

“—Why on God’s green Earth do you have a Servant with you?! You don’t have a link to Chaldea, do you? How can we trust him?!”

...Olga Marie. Only one voice was that rude, that moody. Yet, somehow, music to the ears compared to the rattling of bones.

I stuffed my left hand into my pocket, and raised my right hand — the summoning circle I hastily made no longer bleeding, only the cut-out circle remaining.

“Probably similarly to you guys. I tried summoning a Servant out of sheer panic, and...”

Kagekiyo stepped forward, cleaning their blades of what might’ve been blood before sheathing them in tandem.

“He drew upon the power of myself. I am Avenger.”

“—We’re his allies! Shouldn’t you reveal your True Name?!”

Almost immediately, Olga’s gaze changed to the blindfolded warrior, moving her terrified fury to them instead of me. While Kagekiyo gritted their teeth, I forced myself to interject before things got any worse.

“Avenger, we should probably do so once we reach a safe place. We won’t gain anything from revealing your True Name here, save perhaps giving the enemy the advantage. And, Olga...”

Her tone was intimidating. Terrifying. But it wasn’t drenched in poison — it was drenched in fear. Just like myself.

I could restrain my anxiety, a little longer.

“...It’s not a great idea to push an Avenger into doing something they don’t want to.”

...Olga retracted after a moment, furrowing her brow and balling her hands up; dropping the subject and turning to Ritsuka.

“Just... Just take them to the leyline with us! And if they try anything funny, Mash—“

“Yes, I know.”

...The shielder — Mash. A lady I rarely ever saw, but a kind lady from what I knew. How had she become a Servant..?

...Surely the answers would come later. Ritsuka, not wasting time, immediately started setting off in what seemed like an arbitrary direction.

‘...Then again, even if we had a map, any direction would still feel arbitrary.’

As Olga hastily followed, being sure to keep Mash and her shield between her and Kagekiyo, I followed suit in the back — the Avenger keeping pace with me.

“...And why must we stay in the back?”

“They don’t believe we’re allies yet. This is a new world, and for all they know, we could be the suspects.”

...Paranoia, ceaseless fear — I felt as if I could understand that. Seeing enemies where there only lay friends, harassers and thieves in the safest of places...

...It was no small wonder, in a hellhole like this, that Olga would find herself falling to such a fear.

“...Will they help us destroy the Genji?”

“Easily. If we want to win, we’ll need all the allies we can get. People don’t fear anything as much as a coordinated team.”

...The being nodded in approval — lacking the reluctance I’d seen earlier.

‘...In truth, it was all luck, wasn’t it?’

It was obvious — Ritsuka was the true leader. A smiling hero. Like a lead actor making themselves known in the very first scene.

...It was all luck, surely, to have re-found the few survivors, and to have formed a small team. To have found a leader so calm in the face of imminent death.

But surely, with this — our chances of survival grew stronger still.

[secret-engima]

Last one! - the future’s blurry (but the past is a trap)

Time-Travel fic!!!!! Hmmmm- what fandom what fandom so many lovely choices....

FFXV. Because that’s my mood right now (as ever).

COR.

Cor Time-Travel fic. Cor who lives to see the end of the Long Night, Cor who HOPES and dreams of helping Noctis rebuild the kingdom after he restores the dawn, Cor who is Noctis’s godfather, Cor who PROMISED Regis the first time he held the tiny sleeping infant that is now a brave and wise king that he would PROTECT Regis’s son-.

Cor who stumbles into the throne room to see three brothers sobbing over the lifeless body of their fourth and king.

And Cor ... Cor breaks. He hides in some random, rundown apartment in the empty city and drinks and drinks-

“So this is how you’re going to accept fate? By drowning yourself in a bottle?” Scorns a voice he’s only heard one time in his life but still sends him scrambling for his sword. He whirls, heart in his mouth, blade in hand and sees not a towering suit of armor with glittering eyes, but a ghostly version of a fire-eyed twenty-something adult. A towering man of nearly seven feet, board shouldered and scarred on one side of his face, dark brown hair and piercing amber eyes that mark the Amicitia line, “I had hoped for better.”

“Gilgamesh,” Cor rasps and wonders if he’s lost his mind in his grief, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” says the man with a sneer, “I should be moving on to the afterlife. I have been freed from my prison after all. The Prophecy is fulfilled.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

A pause, and the sneer, the confidence, fades away and leaves behind someone very tired and wrung out, “Because I have regrets, and you are the only one still alive for me to speak of them to. The Last Shield will not listen, he is lost in his grief and surrounded by the living. You are alone and you are open to my voice.”

Cor doesn’t like the sound of that at all, “You are not allowed to possess me.”

Gilgamesh laughs, short and sharp but oddly genuine, more animated than he ever was as a murderous suit of armor, “No. I have no desire for that.” Burning gold eyes lock with his, “I wanted to know if you still meant what you said that day.”

It takes Cor a minute to remember. Even if he knows what “that day” Gilgamesh means, it was years ago and he was an idiot at the time. Then Cor remembers, and his already broken mood sours, “I did. For whatever good it did. I’ve failed. They’re dead. Both of them.” Cor laughs and the sound is poison even to his own ears, “You were right. I am no Shield.”

“No. You are a Sword,” Gilgamesh corrects, “and you should have been treated as such. Instead you were sheltered and lied to, and those lies dulled your edge until you were useless to stop the death of those you cherished.”

Cor throws the bottle at the ghost’s head, listens to the shatter of glass as the ghost lets it phase right through him without a blink, “What do you want?” He roars at the ghost, fragments of his wild temper from his youth coming back to his bones.

“What my brother’s dear Shield is trying to say,” purrs another ghost that Cor hates even more, who also doesn’t blink when Cor draws his blade and tries to behead him, “is that we both feel terribly guilty. More than that, the rest of those who once were in the Ring feel guilty, and angry. We’ve also got a very spiteful and a very remorseful Astral respectively on our side in the matter, now all we need is a living human member of the conspiracy.” Ardyn Lucis Caelum, blue eyed and purified and just as dangerously mischievous as ever, grins at Cor as the human forms of Shiva and Ifrit manifest in his apartment, alongside far too many royal ghosts for Cor’s comfort (he firmly does not look at the ghost of Regis, sagging tiredly in a corner, the only one he recognizes other than Mors now that they are all human looking rather than giant statues with face masks).

“So,” The ghost of Ardyn purrs with a rueful smile, “what do you say to saving the world and your precious kings in one fell swoop and maybe spiting the Draconian along the way?”

And it’s a stupid idea. Cor probably isn’t even seeing any of this. He’s probably lying in the apartment, dying of alcohol poisoning and grief right now, hallucinating all of this as he goes. But if he isn’t.

If he isn’t...

“What do you need me to do?”

Their plan is simple on their end, and painful on Cor’s. They grab him and throw him back through time, drag him with them as one by one they use up the last of their magic and finally vanish, because for all Cor calls them ghosts, they are not. Living souls do not linger after they die, but memories can. Memories given shape and form by magic, and when that magic was used up and given away, the memories are shattered, turned back into the formless nothing they really were.

They carve open Cor’s being and pour their magic into it, Gilgamesh at the fore, leading the way through the howling abyss while each king and queen carves Cor open a little more and pours in the magic keeping him alive and sane as he plummets through time. Regis’s touch lingers longer than the others, a breath of apology on his brow before that memory too, shatters and falls away.

Mors’ fingers wrap around his wrist and Cor struggles for the first time as his blood burns under the king’s touch in a way the others had not, “Hold still,” snarls the man coolly, “I do this as a favor for my son and grandson alone. Hold still and let me work or you will die the moment you reach our destination.” Cor stills and his blood burns until Mors too shatters.

Then it is only Gilgamesh, Cor ... and Ardyn.

“Free me,” he whispers as he presses something into Cor’s hands (or maybe into Cor’s soul, it’s hard to tell where reality ended and magic began in this place), “Find my past self and free me, then give me this.” A chuckle, “Let’s see the Empire grow so strong without it’s Accursed to feed from.”

“What about Prompto?” Cor asks desperately, because he is here to save those he cares about, not condemn the man who was like a son to him to nonexistence.

“Have a little faith,” laughs the former Chancellor, “a King needs his Heart, and Noctis will have his. Now,” hands on his shoulders, a final yank from Gilgamesh, “Go.”

Cor wakes up.

He promptly rolls over and vomits onto the stone.

Gilgamesh, a towering suit of armor once more, watches him gasp and wheeze and shake under the too-sharp sensation of magic living in his veins and reality existing again after so much time falling through time and void without comment. When Cor is done and has staggered upright, Gilgamesh hands him a sword.

Cor leaves the Tempering Grounds unbothered by the things that lurk there and makes straight for the Rock of Ravatogh. He gains the waiting Infernian’s Blessing, then collapses in a caravan for the night after several days and nights spent walking without pause and sleeping on cold Havens without so much as a blanket.

After waking up and showering, he spends a good twenty minutes the next day cursing at a mirror.

He’s fifteen again. He’s fifteen years old when in the original timeline he would have been six (is six, somewhere out there the original Cor Leonis still lives and grows, unaware of an altered future counterpart).

He’s also not Cor anymore. His eyes are the same, icy blue and angry, his face shape is very similar-. His hair is not. His hair is black and thick and wavy, and under his skin, magic coils, deep and effortless and his, not a gift from another.

Those blasted ghosts turned him into a Lucis Caelum.

He thinks of Mors’ cold fingers on his wrist and burning in his blood, Mors’ angry demand he stay still if he wanted to “survive the destination” and swears louder.

Then he picks up his sword and disappears into the wilderness again. Let Shiva come find him. She had a talent for finding Lucis Caelums anyway.

She finds him in the Quay, as Cor steals a boat to make for Angelgard, she Blesses him and disappears, and in her wake is a winter mist that shields Cor’s journey to the isle from prying eyes.

He cracks open the prison with the magic he now has in excess, falters at the sight before him.

Ardyn looks a lot less like evil incarnate and more like a shivering, frightened, half-starved cat this way.

Also who hung up their prisoners on MEATHOOKS like some kind of slasher from a horror film?

Overdramatic Lucis Caelums, that’s who.

Cor hauls Ardyn down from his chains and carries the weak, disorientated Accursed outside. He can hear Ramuh stirring in the clouds as he takes the nameless Thing that Ardyn of the future gave him (magic, pure magic, an orb of it as bright as gold and the dawn) and crushes it against this Ardyn’s chest like he would a potion.

He sidesteps the black bile Ardyn heaves up like a drowning man ejecting water from his lungs, writhing and whimpering on the stone as Scourge smoke recoils off his body like it’s trying to escape, only to be burned clear by golden magic. Well. That was convenient. Pity he doesn’t have enough of those to cure the whole planet.

Ardyn stays silent, dazed and wide-eyed as Cor hauls him back to the mainland, steals some proper clothes and then bundles him in a caravan for the night. The man out of time flinches at every modern amenity, stares at the soup Cor roughly puts in front of him with confused eyes. Finally, tentatively, as if afraid of being struck (and that shouldn’t make Cor angry, it shouldn’t, this man killed both Cor’s kings and threw the world into darkness. He deserved whatever fear he felt, yet looking at him now Cor can feel nothing but pity and anger on the man’s behalf) he speaks, “Who ... who are you? You ... you healed me. I ... do not understand.”

And Cor pauses, because he ... isn’t Cor now is he? There is already a young Cor Leonis out there somewhere, and no one can know that Cor is one and the same person as that youth.

In the end he shrugs, “I don’t have a name.”

“...What?”

“I don’t have a name. I gave it up. It was the price for healing you.”

“Then why,” Ardyn asks incredulously, “did you heal me? I am a stranger to you, a monster.”

Cor scoffed. The Chancellor of his time was a monster. This man? This man was about as monstrous as a starving kitten, “Not anymore you’re not, so stop that.” At the sight of Ardyn’s frown, Cor rolls his eyes and says gruffly, “If it bothers you so much, give me a new one.”

Ardyn gapes, “You ... want me to name you. Just like that.”

“Is that a problem?”

The redhead stays speechless for a while and Cor busies himself polishing his sword and ignoring the fact that he’s now distantly RELATED to this man (and also, if he doesn’t miss his timeline, OLDER than Regis by several years. Thanks a lot Kings of Yore).

“Glaucus.” Cor twitched and looked up sharply, Ardyn shrank in his seat a little, “You don’t like it?”

It sounds too much like Glauca. But he couldn’t say that, and it was better than lots of other names Ardyn could have come up with. Even if he had no idea where Ardyn had come up with that name. Cor forced his shoulders to relax and went back to caring for his blade, “Do as you please.”

“Glaucus,” repeated Ardyn softly and Cor- Glaucus, resigned himself to having a name very similar to that of a traitor and imperial experiment.

Kind of fitting, considering the company he was keeping.

Glaucus set his sword aside and gestured toward the bed, “If you’re done eating, go get some proper sleep. We’ll be leaving once you wake up.”

“Where will we be going?”

Glaucus smirked and knew it was not a nice expression, “A place called the Tempering Grounds. There’s someone who owes you an apology.”

(anyway hi yes I have a new AU to keep. In it “Glaucus” is now an LC, specifically and according to blood test MORS’ kid and he’s about 4 years older than Regis. I shall expand on this new AU another time. Tagging @sparklecryptid @hamelin-born @a-world-in-grey @ean-sovukau @ertrunkenerwassergeist behold my newest insanity).

[daredevile]

A Second Here Another Gone

Summary: Blinded by the sweet raptures of a new relationship, Bucky lowers his guard around you - unaware of the real reason you found him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, bit of violence and one swear word

A/N: Hey! I know it’s been over two months since I posted something and I’m sorry! I was working on so many oneshots and never finished one until now. But, I promise I will try to update somewhat regularly from now on! Anyway, this one’s for Ayesha’s [ @browngirlmagic ​] writing challenge and my prompt was ‘Echo’. Please reblog if you like it! :)

An angry crimson. A so-called scarlet elixir of the living trickles from its hearth beneath as if screaming a symbol of horror and impending doom. It surrenders with grace and elegance - a droplet of fresh blood tainting pristine white floors, smearing the Parthenon of life and death with an intensity of wrath and violence and -

"Hey." The sombre tone in his voice draws you into his weary stature. It looks worse than he'd assured over the phone. Raging clusters of purple and blue spread across his arms, broken lip, black eye, his jaw cast a scarlet tint. Not to mention the slight limp he'd tried masking from your stares.

"Thanks for coming so fast. Would've driven myself but..." He motions to the cast around his right arm, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. A nurse approaches him with a sympathetic expression, repeating a list of instructions and medication requirements for a quick recovery. Though you know Bucky's not following a word she's saying - she must've realised it too - giving you a moment for any questions before returning to her station.

The conversation in the car is non-existent, only a couple of instinctive glances towards the rear-view mirror to gauge each other's emotions. Soft tunes twirl in the background, Bucky lowers the volume with a grunt as his muscles sting with the movement. A sigh escapes from his lips, he angles himself towards your concentrated form but, you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Y'know it's not as bad as it looks. Should've seen the other guy." He says with a constrained laugh. An honest attempt to relieve the tensed wind and the crease between your eyebrows, alas, it fails its purpose. He sinks back into the cushioned seat, lingering his eyes over the neon streaks of passing vehicles.

The road seems never-ending, both sides merely converging at a distant imaginary point ahead. The traffic dissolves and scatters into several busy paths as Bucky directs you through far too many left and right turns before arriving at a rather calm and vacant neighbourhood.

Once the engines lull back into a soft purr, you open the passenger door and gently grasp his arms as he lifts himself from the seat. He releases a breath in relief, thankful your silence is replaced by concern. The two flights of stairs is another journey on its own, exchanging mumbles of apologies and groans, even the close proximity of him curves past your thoughts.

Bucky stumbles into his apartment, careful to avoid the loose floorboard right at the entrance - pushing a horrible reminder to the back of his mind - and you follow his footing. A chuckle from him pulls your attention, determined he's capable on his own, he leans away from your hold, mentioning something about taking a shower before retreating into the furthest room.

His house is spotless, every single object kept in a place for swift and efficient access. Somehow he'd made a rather confined area appear more spacious. You notice how foreign and hostile he maintained his home - a supposed personal bubble. His belongings danced around the hazy line between bare essentials and other items. Almost as if he was caught in the process of moving in or ready to move out within a matter of minutes.

A sharp buzz from your phone stops you from observing the rest of the apartment. Without sparing a glimpse at the caller, you swipe the green button. An instant thrust of shouting greets you, attacking your senses with great vigour. And it's patience, you've learned, an offensive strategy to appease the monster into a human you could better tolerate.

"I need time." It's not forceful, however, lacking a timbre of the usual intensity your words uphold. The shouting continues, each syllable seething with fury, demanding more answers while your fist clenches at the vulgar threats he hurls from the other end.

"I need more time."

There's dead silence on both ends. And for a second, you believe that he's accepted the command. As fast as it'd ignited, the little spark of surprise disintegrates when his deep laughter is all that's pounding in your ears.

"You're here!" Bucky says, grinning as he spots you in the balcony, "Thought you left me alone."

His sudden appearance turns your blood cold and you can feel the precise second your heart trips over a beat, shoving the phone back into your pocket. His smile drops, immediately regretting how he entered as soon as he saw the pained expression written all over your features. He sighs when your eyes witness the red wounds and scars - some more jarring than others - scattered across his body.

"Look, I know this isn't a good impression. I don't want you to see me like this, trust me, I wouldn't have called if I had - " A pause. Hesitant as he swallows back the words. "Anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Bucky. This is all just... difficult." He nods, fumbling with the loose bandage tied to his other arm. A smile tugs on your lips at his frustration, you grab the free end and wrap it securely around the wound.

"Could you maybe stay? I mean... if you want to." He struggles to suppress a grin when you look up at his eyes. It's hope that lingers behind them.

"Of course."

But the side where you slept is cold and empty when he wakes up.

---

O N E  W E E K  E A R L I E R

The restaurant was crowded, located right at the heart of the city, overlooking several busy streets that seemed to sink under all the hustle and bustle. The world appeared an innocent umber through the dark hue of your sunglasses, shielding yourself from unwanted enemies. Or so you thought.

Time. Time was precious and no amount of glancing at your watch appeared to have quickened the circular orbit of the dials. But this time, you were unsure - caught between the dichotomous chasm of want and need - a feeling that unsettled you to the core.

"Hope you don't mind, darling." A deep voice came from behind, the drinks spilt over the glasses as he slammed his hand on the table. The elderly couple sitting to your left flinched at his abrupt action. A fake smile was enough to have satisfied them, he returned to face your blank expression.

"So tell me, does it usually take this long or are you fucking him?" It was almost a growl that promptly simmered to a smirk when a waitress passed by, unaware of the evil she'd encountered.

"He'll figure it out, I'm being careful." You said, oblivious to the scorching hot liquid piercing your taste buds. Any shard of fun and pleasure that had emerged from his features earlier crumbled at that very second, he leaned closer and you saw the strain on his face when his jaw clenched. Rumlow was not one to adjust and compensate. You learned that the hard way.

"Listen l/n, I saved you from Volkov 'cause you'd be useful someday. And now you owe me. Gave you a week to do the job, it's been two and I still got nothing. And you know I don't like waiting. Get me the information and finish him or should I remind you what's at stake here."

His voice was dangerously low as if cautious of people overhearing but, you knew it would take mere seconds for the scene to resemble a massacre. Yet, he was right. Your past record highlighted the speed and efficiency of completing assignments - just one hit then delivered to the client and you walked away richer. No hesitation. Unfortunately, this time it was Bucky who had a price on his head and had obtained confidential information.

A folder was thrown at your direction, containing photographs of innocents at different viewpoints through what was unmistakably sniper scopes. Rumlow mimicked the sound of a gun cocking before standing up. He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing while he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and walked into the sea of people. His last words were all that you breathed.

Barnes or your family.

---

Bucky sidesteps the soldier-like stance of a grumpy looking man, clearing his throat to alleviate the embarrassment of breaking under his penetrating stare. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, Bucky ignores the annoyed tsk that's clearly targetted at him. On any other occasion, a meaningless interaction with strangers would've flown over his head. But, today he's confused. Scared, even.

Less than two weeks ago, he'd encountered and been drawn to an enigma. Strong yet intricately pieced together. Delicate yet resilient. He just couldn't figure it out. After all, he thought everything became normal once he'd spoken and apologised last night. Expecting to be woken up by sunshine and ruffled sheets from a good sleep and you sleeping soundly, but you were gone without a word - and he just doesn't understand.

And now, here he is, shuffling through busy routes to follow a briskly walking figure who's intrigued him for half an hour. They seem to have no destination, simply taking sharp turns and descending into valleys of crowds and streetside markets. In a hurry, Bucky thinks. He picks up his pace, there seem to be fewer people in this area. It's darker and easily hidden between the lanes of houses.

He turns the corner and realises there are no other paths. A dead-end. The figure spins around, eyes flitting around the narrow path. He panics and begins to retreat, but the all-too-familiar cock of the gun stills his movements. Nothing. No moment in his entire life scared him more than the person standing a few steps away -

It's you.

He freezes when your finger curls around the trigger and the innocence in your eyes dissolve. Every single instinct in his body is telling him to run. But he can't. He wants to know more, to know why. And he realises you're thinking the same when your hand begins to tremble.

"Whose orders?"

It's a tone he's never heard before. Cold and detached. A machine programmed to do one's bidding with no second thoughts. He raises both hands, swallowing the agonising feeling latching onto his throat as your grip tightens.

"Don't lie to me, Barnes. Who ordered you to kill me?"

There's no choice. His heart is clawing the insides of his chest, waiting to be free. A whisper is all it takes to conquer your feelings.

"Volkov."

Bucky knows the moment his name is released into the strangling air between you, the gun falters. He sees the rapid and minute shift of your eyes, composing all the information together until -

Your voice staggers, pleading almost. "They have my family, Bucky. He'll kill them if you don't tell me where Volkov is. Rumlow - "

Bucky stops listening. Rumlow, a name he'd left behind, buried within the depths of conscience along with Hydra. He understands your assignment, a simple extract and kill. What Volkov had promised in exchange for your life - Steve's whereabouts - seemed too good to be true, maybe a possible reality in a utopian world. But, this is his life and it's not paradise. He takes a few steps until his hands hover over your gun, angling it towards his heart.

"Then save them."

He whispers the location and you try to zone out, lose control so you don't hear his words. It's too late, two snipers emerge from buildings on command, both taking positions on either side of where you're standing. The chill that runs down Bucky's spine doesn't go unnoticed as he spots the red skull badge on their sleeves. Rumlow knew you wouldn't kill him.

Bucky nudges your chin with the tips of his fingers, reaching into his jacket, he slips his gun into your hands. No words are spoken but you know what has to be done.

Taking a much-needed breath, you pull the trigger at him, not witnessing the wine coloured liquid spreading across his chest instead, taking cover before shooting one of the snipers lurking near a thin pillar. The other one begins firing near the car you are ducking behind. You sprint into his blind spot and kill him with a shot to his head.

Without wasting another second, you spot Bucky clutching his chest in pain. It takes a frozen second for you to dial 911, shaking with dread before Rumlow sends any more of his men and the chances of Bucky surviving vanish. A concerned voice replies to your incohesive string of words, you're barely making sense, the nurse ends the call ensuring 'they're on the way'. Bucky grabs your hand amongst the turmoil, light-headed and pale from the blood seeping through his clothes.

"This isn't goodbye."

And you run.

---

E I G H T  M O N T H S  L A T E R

Even after weeks of desperately searching for him, he was nowhere to be found. You'd gone back to the hospital, the nurse gave you a distressed glance, saying he hadn't mentioned anywhere in particular. That he was gone once discharged.

You didn't give up though - he'd sacrificed himself for your family in a sheer heartbeat. Bucky was the wind to your storm - a second here another gone. He was mysterious beneath the layers of kindness and affection, tender yet deep like the lyrics of a love song - words you've yet to discover, only hoping you weren't wrong.

A few of your old confidantes were able to carry out under-the-ground operations in exchange for Bucky's location: Edinburgh.

Under the chilly winter winds, you walk along the snow-freckled pavement. Sitting at a dark wooden bench inspecting calming patterns of skate lines etched across the river's icy surface, puffs of crisp air revealing themselves as you sigh.

"I was right."

His voice beckons a long-awaited smile on your face. Sharp blue eyes gazing at a few younger skaters wobbling while they glide along. You begin to stammer out an apology, but he shakes his head, still not meeting your eyes.

"You had no choice."

"Did you find him?" You ask eagerly as he takes a seat next to you.

"Pulled a few strings with some old contacts." Bucky turns to face you, a genuine smile he hadn't felt in ages tugs his lips. He takes your gloved hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours with a dazed look washing over his features.

"He's here."