#lion’s den part 11

[imaginedreamwrite]

Lion’s Den: Part 11

A/N: trigger warning for some derogatory comments about women, mild swearing (tbh I don’t want community standards to get me even though it’s mild)

The second hand. The second hand was mocking you. Every tick tick tick of the sleek silver prong behind the sharp glass was mocking you with the passing time that aggravated you with its knowledge that you couldn’t sleep.

It was a tool to drive you temporarily insane with the repetitive sound that echoed with the weight of war drums. Every tick was the sound of an ash and holly cipin banging against the side of a bodhrán.

You couldn’t turn your mind off, you couldn’t close off your auditory system to the sound of father time’s incessant beating. You couldn’t stop the endless course of thought from rampantly keeping sleep at bay.

Every time you closed your eyes you saw them. Every time you thought the gentle clasp of sleep would find you, you heard them.

Bronx & Queens, dead.

Bronx & Queen, the two guards hired to keep you safe were killed rather grisly.

You hadn’t seen the entire set of pictures, those were in the sole possession of Steve & Bucky. They have hidden away in a near destruction-proof safe while you were given the meagre knowledge that they had died and it was grim.

And you had a sick sense that something, everything, was going to go up in fire and smoke. It was a dull ache in the back of your mind, an incomprehensible fear that was reminiscent of the feeling of being watched. The underlying notion was that something was on the cusp of happening and you were complacently standing idle while the inner workings of this uncontrollable tactic were being perfected behind closed doors.

Tick, tick, tick.

You rolled onto your side, trying as best as you could not to disturb the alphas down the hall from your room, the two men who had hyper-tuned their instincts to detect the subtlest disturbance in the night would have heard you if you weren’t careful or quiet. With the urgency to be as subtle as possible, you slowly kicked the blankets off and pushed yourself to sit up on the edge of the bed, your feet touching the cool hardwood floor.

You count under your breath and started to stand, one hand pressed against the bed to keep yourself steady, and as you had gained your balance you started shuffling forward. It didn’t take you long to cross the room, though with every step you were cautious as to not wake Steve and Bucky, given that it was such a fight to be able to sleep on your own without them pressed tightly against you.

Hours before had been the catalyst that kicked their protective instincts into a whole new intensity, you were lucky to have a room to yourself tonight. You didn’t need them to know that you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t them to be overbearing about your inability to sleep well.

Once you thought the coast was clear, you slipped from the room and kept to the left side of the hallway, moving as silently as you could with every intention to curl up on the couch and watch some mindless movie to keep your mind busy.

Whether it was underlying guilt that was keeping you awake or the self-destructive anxiety that told you it would be better if you slipped out the front door rather than become some tool to cause Bucky and Steve pain, the result was the same dullness. You were unable to sleep, you were unable to turn your brain off.

And time was mocking you with every passing second that descended the night into further darkness.

“I can’t sleep.” You whispered in passing as if they could have heard your excuse for why you were awake, and then you kept on your trajectory toward the living room.

Your descent to the leather seat of the sectional was slow, and you had waited a moment to stretch out and relax against the cool material. After you had truly sunk into the surface and curled in on yourself, you raised your arm and reached behind you to grasp hold of the blanket draped over the back edge and yanked it down toward you. It took a few moments for you to straighten it out over yourself, and a few more to arrange yourself in the position you wanted.

Using your phone tucked into your hand, you used an app downloaded on your phone to turn on the television and used the same app to open one of the streaming networks. Your choice wasn’t a complicated or lengthy process, if anything you had chosen something unassuming that you wouldn’t have to pay any particular attention to.

As the opening scenes started to play, you dug deeper into your bed on the couch and tucked the blanket under your chin. Your eyes had been trained on the screen, your head tucked into a comfortable position and your legs were tucked into your self and with the addition of the background noise to drown out the ticking clock, you finally felt as if you could sleep.

You woke to the feeling of your phone vibrating against your thighs, the buzz jerking you from some kind of twisted and vague dream. Your hand clutching your phone had dragged it from under the blanket and as your vision became clearer, you had rolled onto your back gauging whether you wanted to answer the call or not.

It wasn’t an unknown number that demanded to be denied, it was your sister’s name that flashed on your screen and although you had negated any connection with her since she tried to have you fucked over with Marcus, your curiosity was almost entirely directed you to answer the call.

Without much thought, you accepted the call and held it up to your ear, listening to the egregious sound of someone having sex from the background. There were steady and hyper-sexualized grunts that were animalistic and had been followed by high-pitched squeals and fake moans that stirred your ire. You had almost hung up the phone and tossed it away from you until you heard her voice.

“You caused this you bitch,” your sisters’ curd attempt at insulting you was nothing if slurred and broken by drunkenness, “you fucking whore! Marcus took another omega because of you! If you would’ve just-“

“I told you he was a piece of shit-“ Your attempt to negate her concerns for her alpha and potential mate had been overshadowed by the sudden turn of sexual pleasure and your sister’s drunken tyrannical rage focused on you, to the sound of someone crying and Marcus’ cursing.

“I told you to get me the fucking bitch. I want the bitch not these useless whores-“

“I can’t-“

The phone was pulled from your hands and the call was immediately ended, your eyes raising to meet Bucky’s own intense gaze. Without saying anything, he had crouched by your side with his hand still clutching your phone and used his free hand had cup your chin in order to hold your gaze steady.

His eyes had met yours, holding your attention while his thumb brushed against the edge of your jaw, a soft hum reverberating in his throat. His natural scent was heady, and it was clear that Bucky was projecting to keep you calm after the phone call that hadn’t just affected you but had triggered something dark and dangerous within the two alphas.

Whether it was their natural reaction to become predators when they were threatened, or they had rooted themselves in the primordial darkness that came whenever their omega was threatened, the result had been the same.

Despite the colour of their eyes remaining relatively unchanged, there was a surge of deleterious intent reflected in their irises. Steve and Bucky both, had taken this threat and this stupid drunken mistake made by your sister as a chance to finally find the fucker permanently. They had shown some measure of mercy by allowing both your sister and Marcus the right to live, although there wasn’t even a measurable question of whether that chance would be ripped out from under them.

After tentative silence, and Steve approaching the two of you the reflection of destruction he would inflict with his bare hands had been a fine mist that seemed to hover around him. It almost appeared like a glow, something illuminating the sheer and powerful size of this alpha who was not to be fucked with.

“You’re leaving the city, and we’re finding Marcus.” Bucky had addressed you with finality, less of a request and more of a complete alpha command, one that would not allow room for arguments. “You’ll get another new phone tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand had dropped from your chin and the comfort from his hand had dissipated, leaving you to feel chilled as if someone had sucked all warmth from the room. It took a shiver running down your spine to get you to sit up, the blanket dragged with you as you used it like a shield to obscure your body from their view. You watched them move around the penthouse apartment while you were in a daze, settled into a place of here and there.

Steve and Bucky were a unit, they were calculated in every step of their journey throughout the apartment. Whether it was one or both of them packing you an emergency bag, or gathering a kit that was designed for interrogation, albeit one where the victim may not live, they moved synonymously.

It had only taken half an hour between the phone call ending and the two alphas preparing to leave with you in tow. Your ascent to the front door had ceased when you took note of the four black duffle bags set by the sleek front door, each bag had a small circular tracking device locked onto the zipper. The first bag closest to you was the largest and seemed unassuming at best as if it was another piece of designer luggage that they could have afforded. And although it had looked to match the rest, with the same kind of onyx stitching and leather bound handles, you had a sense that there was something illusive tucked inside.

“Where are you going?” You raised your head, questioning the two of them with guilt and remorse hanging at the back of your mind. It was a slow-acting poison that countered every other normal thought, the counteracting notion that this was all your fault was affecting your composure.

Tick, tick, tick.

Tick, tick, tick.

“You’re going somewhere safe,” Steve’s hand, heavy on the back of our neck, steered your attention away from the locked front door to himself. He had drawn you in with a steady hold on you, pulling you into his chest in order for his lips to crash against yours, and with every possessive stroke of his tongue against yours, he had overshadowed your scent with his own.

Steve was holding you as tightly as he could to his body, he was effectively overwhelming you with everything he had, both as a temporary goodbye and an act of utter control and desperation to mark you as his.

As Steve pulled away, Bucky had taken over. Tongue and teeth met, and his fingers dug into your hips almost hard enough to bruise as an indicator that you were theirs and they were yours. In place of a mate mark that you hadn’t gotten yet, their scents overloading yours and the weight of their hands on your body would have to be good enough.

“And you?” You mumbled against him, your eyes fluttering closed when his lips moved to your forehead, and the soft dusting of his kiss against your flesh was another sweet goodbye. “You and Steve?”

“We’re going to find him.” Bucky had pulled away and opened the door for you, three alphas on the other side, one of which was Ari.

“Guard her with your fucking life, if it comes down to you and her-“

“I could say the same to you.” Ari alluded coolly, mutual respect and need between him and your alphas, there was an understanding between the three powerful alphas, and you felt as if you weren’t the only omega trapped in the centre of it all. “Y/N-“

“I don’t want him to breathe,” you turned on your heel, your eyes sharp as you looked between Steve and Bucky with a demand of your own, “fucking kill him. Snap his neck, throw him off the Empire State Building, just…”

“He’s not coming out alive, we promise.”

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[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 11

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Happy Father's Day and early Juneteenth! In honor of the holiday weekend, here's an early chapter update. 😘

Word Count: 4,000 Tags/Warnings: Violence and peril, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Part 11: The Lion’s Den

“Where is she?” Ben asked, once he and Frank were loaded in the car. 

Loco and his team had to stay behind as their distraction for escape. If they weren’t slaughtered, they’d be taken into custody. 

Ben knew he could’ve wasted all of them, Butcher, his team, the CIA, but the nuclear power in his chest had refused to cooperate…

Anyway, Black Noir hadn’t been there. So it was all the more useless to stick around. The real plan was with you, and he was very surprised that you’d stuck to it…but maybe he shouldn’t have been.

“She was brought to the Tower,” Frank informed him.

Ben smirked. “Good. But pretty fucking stupid of Stan to stick around there when he knew I’d be coming.”

He looked over and noticed Frank’s frown as he drove. 

“Unless he’s not at the Tower,” Frank said. 

Ben’s smirk fell. Why would that prick take her there if…

“We have to be open to the possibility that his Chief of Security is taking the matter of his daughter into his own hands,” Frank said. “Or she’s improvising.”

Ben frowned. 

That didn’t change when they arrived at the Tower, and attempted to use the entrance through the back garage to avoid attention. But it didn’t matter. 

The entire squad of Vought security, included what looked like some added muscle (hopped up on what smelled like V24), met them when they reached the lobby of the building. Now that the Seven had been disbanded, there was no pretense of “good guys vs. bad guys.” It was just defense and siege. 

And in front of them all was Black Noir. 

“There you are,” Ben said, but the other supe didn’t even tilt his head in greeting. He was a still statue, an attack dog given a single mission. 

When Noir surged forward, Ben ran to meet him. It was a clash of blade to shield, fist to fist, grappling and reflexes that only Compound V could endow. The match tore through the lobby, then up the large staircase as Ben continued to fight his way up to Stan’s office. 

Frank was already on his way up to you, but it would take him time with Vought security crawling all over them. He was good, and temporarily a supe, but he was still just one man. 

Meanwhile, Ben and Noir’s fight spilled into the upper floors, through walls and offices and screaming employees trying to get out of their way. 

Once they reached near the floor below Stan’s office, Ben got an arm around Black Noir’s neck, and with his free hand tried to unmask him. He wanted to know for sure what lied underneath it, if it was actually the Noir he knew. Or if it was something else entirely.

But Noir twisted with superior reflexes and flipped Ben hard over his shoulder. In the process, he ripped off Ben’s helmet. His brown hair hung over his brows as he pushed to his feet, deliberately taking his time.

When he turned, Noir was standing there with the helmet crunched in his hand. Rolling his neck, Ben prepared to jump back into the fight, but a new sound reached his ears. 

He heard you on the floor above. And you were fighting someone…

Ben pressed a finger to the comm in his ear. 

“Frank, you got eyes on her?”

V24 had endowed the man with x-ray vision. A moment later, Frank patched through while he struggled and fought.

“She needs help,” he said gravely.

Ben took his hand off the comm, gritting his teeth. Black Noir was still waiting on him, attuned to Ben’s every move as the other supe brandished one of his blades.

Shit, Ben thought. He needed to end this. 

Right fucking now. 

That resolve helped him take a deep breath, then summon the energy inside him. He focused with the aim of blasting a clean stream of power at Black Noir; not enough to take out the whole building, but enough to take out just him.

His insides felt molten when the power collected, and finally released at his target.

Noir covered himself at the last moment with a piece of fallen debris (a half-crumbled wall), but it only created a small buffer. The force of the blast itself pushed him down the hall and through the side of the building.

Meanwhile, you were holding your own…but you were also getting beat to hell. 

You were battered, with blood dribbling down the corner of your mouth from a particularly bad hit. 

You were still standing though. 

“You’ve gotten soft,” Jon remarked. He’d broken a sweat, had some bruises, and was panting for breath just like you. But he was more in control as he swatted a well-aimed, yet ultimately weak fist as your strength waned. He used his own to smack you down again. 

“I gave you time to come around, and this is what you did with it,” he said, shaking his head. “Disappointing.” 

When you tried to stand on shaking legs, he kicked you in the dead center of your chest. You felt your ribs crack as you fell back into the glass coffee table. 

You gasped for breath, turning onto your side as glass pricked at your back, your sides, your arm. You coughed, wincing at the agony of knife-like pain near your lungs. Blood flecked from your mouth onto your arm, and for a moment, you stared at it in a daze.

But then Jon was above you. You tried to swipe at his face, but he bat your hand away, his brows furrowed angrily. He turned you back onto your back and wrapped a hand around your neck. Your eyes flew wide with panic. 

He squeezed with enough pressure that it wouldn’t crush your windpipe, but it was sure to knock you out eventually. You slapped and clawed at his hand, but he only shushed you. 

“What you need now is what you’ve always needed. A firm hand,” he said. “But I’m going to help you. I promise, I will.”

The fight drained out of you as it became impossible to breathe, and harder still to block out his words from entering your brain. 

But then, the vice around your throat was gone. Oxygen poured back into your lungs as you gasped, then coughed again when your fractured ribs protested. 

Your eyelids fluttered open in time to see your father thrown hard into the far wall. You heard the sick crack and breaking of bone as he landed.

Still, you struggled to breathe. 

Tears leaked from your eyes when you looked up and found Ben. His helmet was missing, and he wore a furious, steely frown. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out except for more coughing, and more blood.

To your surprise, he tucked his shield on his back and bent down to scoop you up into his arms. 

You cringed, uttering an agonized sound when he tried to move you. 

Ben hesitated. Looking down at you, some of his anger drained. He made a slower ascent as he straightened to his full height. 

And without a word, he carried you out of the room and down the ruined hallway. All the while, you stared at the side of his face. His jaw was still clenched, his brows knitted, his eyes set dead ahead. 

You wondered why he had to wait for moments like this to show you who he truly was. 

“What are you, some kind of hero?” you managed to quip, offering a small smile. 

Ben glanced down at you, and gradually smirked. “Something like that.” 

When his foot slipped on a piece of debris, he righted himself quick. But the jerking movement jostled you, eliciting another pained whimper. Your hand gripped at his chest, digging into the grooves of his suit.

“Hold on,” he murmured. His lips briefly pressed to the crown of your head. “We’re getting the fuck outta here.”

Your eyes closed at the tender touch, and a few more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“He…knew,” you managed to say. “Knew I was lying.”

“I know,” said Ben. “I should’ve fucking known better.”

You marveled at that near apology. Your lips trembled as you rested your head against his chest. You just couldn’t help it anymore.

“Was my idea,” you admitted.

“Yeah, well, evidently not all your ideas are aces,” he said. 

You could’ve gotten angry, but you saw the way he moved with care, trying not to slip again for your sake. You tried at a smile. 

“Guess not,” you said, though you bit your lip at the pain that seemed to radiate through your entire body. Ben seemed to notice. 

“Just relax,” he said, a deep rumble. But there was a soothing note to it, you thought. Or maybe, you just liked the sound of his voice. 

Then silence fell between the two of you, both comfortable and tense as Ben focused on potential threats in his surroundings. 

All the while, you continued to rest your eyes. Instead of your pain, you tried to concentrate on his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek.

“It’s about fucking time,” you eventually heard Ben grouse. 

You opened your eyes and were relieved to see Frank exiting the stairwell to meet you and Ben. His face and black tactical gear were splattered with blood, but he looked fine, more or less. His gaze roamed over you with his usual stoicism, but you thought you saw a glint of concern.   

“I take it Stan Edgar isn’t here,” said Frank. 

“You could fucking say that,” Ben snarked. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

“Sir.” Frank saw something ahead, behind you. Ben turned to find Black Noir silently standing in the middle of the hall, with a large, suspicious-looking gun in his hands.

Without taking his eyes off Noir, Ben gestured to Frank. He came up beside you, and Ben passed you into Frank’s arms.

“Get her out of here,” Ben ordered. With a nod, Frank carried you back the way he came, towards the staircase. You tried to peer over his shoulder.

“He shouldn’t face Noir alone,” you said, even though every breath was a challenge with the sharp pain in your chest. 

“He’ll meet us after,” Frank told you. But as soon as he started down the stairs, a fresh team of Vought security and police came to meet you.

Meanwhile, Ben stared down the hall at his opponent. Black Noir activated the strange gun, which lit up with a blue energy. 

“You can bring out any kind of fancy artillery you want, but it’s not going to stop me from killing you,” Ben taunted.

Noir remained silent, of course, but he aimed the gun and fired. It shot a potent, crystal blue beam of energy that ate through Ben’s shield, and eventually hit him in the chest before he could finish revving up his own power. The blast from the gun, it wasn’t hot. 

It was ice cold. So frigid that it extinguished the heat that had been building in his chest, but it wasn’t diffusing his power completely…it just made it even harder to control. 

And the resulting backlash was overwhelming.

Ben woke slowly, like wading through molasses. Usually his mind was sharp, even when he woke from a booze-induced coma. Now he felt groggy, and it was hard to focus or even force his body to sit up on the hard cot he was laying on.

Glancing down, he realized he’d been changed out of his suit. He was dressed in a plain gray shirt and matching pants, no shoes. He knew a prison outfit when he saw one, just as he now knew where he was: a white padded cell. 

Fuck.

At least it was better than a frigid coffin…but in his mind, not by much.

He slid his legs over and managed to push up onto his feet. 

Why’s it so fucking misty in here? he thought, waving his hand through the smokey air. And why was he so tired?

He soon got his answer when he realized who stood at the large window at the front of his cell. 

Stan Edgar. 

The man himself, dressed in a well-tailored navy suit, was watching him with crossed arms. 

“We did hope you would remain on sabbatical,” said Stan. “But I had a feeling you would return, and come directly to us.”

Stan gestured to the large cell. “This was our contingency plan.”

Ben made his way, with difficulty, closer to Stan, who pointed at the air vents above that were pumping in a gas of some kind.

“A light mist of Novichok,” Stan explained. “Enough to keep you docile.”

“And if I’m not?” Ben asked. His voice was edged with grit, and the promise of retribution. 

“We can up the dose, put you to sleep indefinitely,” Stan replied. “But you have my attention. What would you like to discuss?” 

“The conversation I planned on having was…a little different,” Ben said darkly. “But first, let’s start with what you used to clone Black Noir.”

“I suppose there’s no real harm in telling you,” Stan said. Even his voice was grating on Ben’s ears, the smug prick. 

“We kept some of Homelander’s blood as an insurance policy. But, we’ve learned from our mistakes.”

“Right,” Ben scoffed. “How’s that?”

“This Noir is not a carbon copy, but nor is he a megalomaniac. He’s under our control,” Stan said.

“Until he isn’t,” Ben snarked. If he thought about it, that was something you would say. Maybe your penchant for smart-ass remarks had gotten into his head.

“And that new gun?” he asked. “Don’t tell me your little lab rats put that together just for me.”

Stan’s lips made a wry turn. 

“It was a breakthrough project. Temporarily destabilizes the energy you generate when you charge up like a Power Puff Girl.” Stan thought for a moment, then inclined his head. “A reference, I realize, which may be lost on you.”

“So what’s the play here?” Ben said. He was getting impatient. “You know, when I break out, things aren’t gonna be pretty.” 

Stan didn’t seem bothered by the clear threat. 

“In the meantime,” he said, “you won’t be alone.” 

Stan stepped back and revealed the cell right across the hall. Through the window, Ben could see you, lying unconscious on a shitty cot in similar gray pajamas. His brows crunched as he narrowed his eyes, trying to peer in closer. You looked like you’d been bandaged up, at least.

“You also managed to put my Chief of Security in Intensive Care, but his daughter should be fine…if a bit worse for wear,” Stan informed him. 

Ben glared back, his lips curling. Sloppy of him. He should’ve made sure that bastard was dead. 

“That’s cute, considering he’s the demented fuck who beat her to hell,” Ben said. 

Stan rose a solitary brow. “And at whose behest did she enter the lion’s den?”  

Ben had nothing to say to that.

You woke with a pained groan before your eyes even opened. Your body felt like a walking welt. 

Your brain pounded like bongo drums, your chest felt tender with every infinitesimal movement, but you realized that you’d been seen to medically, at least. Your head was bandaged, and you felt that the blood had been wiped from your face and arms.

You looked up and found, with a sigh, that you were indeed in a cell. But you softened when you found Ben through the large glass window, in a cell of his own. He was sitting on his bed, arms crossed, with his back against the wall. His eyes found yours, and his lips twitched.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He sounded off. Tired, you thought. And you noticed a steady mist being piped into his room. 

Shit. Novichok, you surmised with a frown.

“You okay?” you asked. 

Ben chuckled a little. “You’re the one who looks like hell.”

“Why, thank you,” you replied wryly.

There was a pitcher and a cup of water on a tray, a small paper cup of what you assumed were painkillers, and an ice pack next to you on the cot. 

You hesitated on the pills, but in light of your incredible pain, you had no choice. You took the pills, drank the water, and grabbed the ice pack, pressing it against your sternum. You sat up all the way with a slow gait and a pained groan.

“Go slow,” he warned. “Bet you’re missing that Temp. V right about now.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“How’d you get caught?” he asked.

That succeeded in dimming your mood. You explained that Frank had been forced to set you on your feet when you were confronted by more security and a police squad. 

The man had been a one-man weapon; hopped up on V24 as he was, he managed to fight his way down to the garage, where you slowly, painfully crept down there.

You and Frank had almost reached his car, but you held him back. You were stubborn about waiting on Ben, even considered going back for him.

That was when the shot rang out, hitting Frank point blank in the chest. 

Before you could even bend to help him, you were taken, dragged back into the building, and knocked out before you could take your captor’s gun. 

You tried in vain to wipe away fresh tears while you retold the story. 

Bottom line: Frank’s death was your fault. Though while he frowned in disappointment, Ben didn’t seem to hold it against you.

“Good on ya, Frank,” Ben murmured. “You went down fucking swingin’.”

“What about you? What happened with Black Noir?” you asked after a moment. Sniffling, you met Ben’s eyes.

He eventually told you about the strange gun Vought had commissioned just for him. And the more you listened, the deeper your frown became. It sounded impossible.

“Makes you wonder what else they’ve been cooking up in that lab,” you muttered. 

“Other than Noir?” Ben quipped. He told you about that too. 

“We can figure this out,” you said. “If nothing else, my team, the CIA, they’re looking for both of us…if for different reasons.”

Ben scoffed at that. “A silver lining there. Make no mistake, we’re getting the fuck out of here. Just…need a minute to think.” 

But he was starting to wane. It was taking all his energy to concentrate on your voice, to even keep his eyes open. The steady stream of gas being pumped into his cell made it damn near impossible, and it was frustrating beyond belief. 

Because if he fell asleep now, there was no telling when he’d wake up. And fuck if Ben would ever admit to the panic he felt welling up into his chest.

“Aaah, fuck!” he growled, pounding a fist against the wall.

You noticed, biting your lip in concern…until an idea made you smile. It was something you used to do to distract your sister when she was little. 

“Why are colds bad criminals?” you asked. 

Ben just blinked at you. “What?”

He asked not because he understood what you were doing, but because he was genuinely confused.

“Because they’re easy to catch,” you said, making a drumming motion with your hands. “Buddum-ch.”

Your neighbor just stared back at you, unimpressed.

“Okay, not a fan of that one. Let me see…okay,” you raised a finger. “What does a baby computer call its father?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t tell if you were serious.

“Data!” you said, biting your lip at an embarrassed smile. It curved Ben’s lips, but he was stubborn.

“Why was 6 afraid of 7?” you asked. 

“Jesus Christ, enough…” he muttered. 

“Because 7’s a dick, that’s why,” you said. And your straight face lasted for all of three seconds before you ended up giggling. It hurt your bruised body, but it lightened you to see the reluctant smile tug its way onto Ben’s face. 

“All right,” he said at last. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to remember a joke he’d heard Loco tell. “How do you make a pool table laugh?”

You smiled. “How?”

“Tickle its balls,” Ben said. Your answering snort deepened his smile into a smirk. 

“Playing bridge is just like sex,” you said. Ben shook his head. His grandmother used to play fucking bridge.  

But regardless, he took the bait.

“How’s that?”

“If you don’t have a good partner, you better have a good hand,” you said with a smirk. 

Ben made a sound of amusement, though it wasn’t quite a laugh. You traded these back and forth, each trying to make the other crack with progressively dirtier jokes (though you suspected Ben was just trying to disgust you). 

You considered yourself the winner when Ben finally chortled a deep, belly laugh that showed his charming smile. 

It made you smile in return. 

Ben rested a hand on his chest, but when his mirth died down, he realized just how tired he was. Still, he wasn’t ready to let go of this. His connection with you tethered him to reality, even if reality sucked dick right now.

His gaze met yours. “Why don’t you sing something, crooner?” 

You bit your lip once again. “Like what?” 

Ben’s eyes closed.

“You know the one,” he said. A softer smile graced your lips, though he couldn’t see it. 

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age,” you teased. He chuckled. 

“Just sing, for fuck’s sake.” 

His brows were knitted, like he was trying all he could to stay awake. You took pity on him.

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say…” you began to sing softly. “If I didn’t care…would I feel this way?”

Every extended note was painful, but it was worth it to see his face relax.  

Stan Edgar’s lips pursed, and he set down his cell phone on his desk. Victoria was screening his calls.

Disappointing, he thought, but not unexpected. He surveyed the cleanup crew wiping up debris, glass, and blood from the lounge area with a dispassionate gaze. 

This was going to take a while.

So after drumming his fingers on the mahogany surface, Stan decided to push up from his desk and head downstairs via the elevator. It took him all the way down to Level 0, the home of one of Vought’s most secure R&D labs. 

There his most trusted scientist, Dr. Tonya Baker, was at the helm with her team at work on various projects. Most of which were not sanctioned by the government. 

Stan folded his hands behind his back and reached her side, and she set down a beaker filled with a green, buzzing liquid. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted. 

“Tonya, you know what I’m about to ask,” he said. She bobbed her head and turned to face him in her rolling desk chair. 

“We’re still working on solutions. Without his cooperation, safely extracting Soldier Boy’s DNA is a tricky thing,” she said. 

“You don’t say?” Stan said dryly. “What are our options?”

“Well, needles will only break, as you know,” said Dr. Baker. “The scientists in Russia found that only Soldier Boy is strong enough to break his own skin.”

“And I doubt he’ll open a vein for us,” Stan said, “even if we threaten to put him to sleep.” 

He didn’t even think leveraging with the girl would aid, more than complicate their goals. While it was something to consider, Stan would rather find the path of least resistance here. Soldier Boy was…volatile at best. 

“How much of Homelander’s blood remains?” he asked. 

“None,” the doctor replied. “We used the last of it to clone Black Noir. And a hair sample is not enough to create additional subjects…at the very least, a urine sample. Even Dr. Vogelbaum managed that.”

Stan sent her shrewd look. If only he still had Dr. Vogelbaum in his employ. If only the man were still alive.

What a waste of a talented, resourceful man.

“That will be a problem,” Stan said. 

“Not necessarily.” Dr. Baker adjusted a monitor screen at her desk. It displayed the feed from Soldier Boy’s cell. 

She pointed to the toilet in the corner of the cell. Then she called over one of her assistants.

“Tell Maintenance to cut the water, and then a section of the pipes.”

AN: Okay. 😅 I know I'm gonna get some mixed reviews on this one (Let me know what you thought!).

But despite the teaser, I think you'll enjoy where the story's headed next...

Next Time:

They wheeled in what looked like a large metal casket. You had only seen one of these in pictures, but it had to be a cryochamber.

A doctor in her mid-fifties accompanied them, giving directions on how to safely enter Ben’s cell. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted.

Panic trilled down your spine as the guards fitted themselves with special suits and gas masks. The doctor turned toward you as the guards led you out of your cell and into the hall.

“You’re being transported,” she informed you.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[shojizbae]

JJ Dating a Kook

JJ picked up a job caddying at a golf course

He makes good tips for the first two months

One day he is assigned to a caddy for a mother, father and daughter

He expects some rich little 9 year old with her head up her ass

Enter you, beautiful, graceful, kind, and damn good at golf

He blushes (for the first time since he was 12 and found his dads nudie mag) when you accidentally brush his knuckles when he hands you your nine iron

Your dad, who’s the typical rich overprotective Kook dad, noticed this and tries to stiff him on a his tip

You noice that he only hands him a 50 for putting up with your parents nonsense for four hours

You point out one of your dads work buddies and your parents drift over to chit chat

You grab your dads wallet and pull a handful of twenties and shout that you need the rest room before you leave

You run over to JJ where he’s parking the golf cart he’d just driven y’all around on when you approach him

He jumps up and removes the course company hat to greet you

“My dad’s an asshole, here’s the rest of your tip.” You hand him the hand and he numbly receives it

“Thanks,” he chuckles and puts his hat back in his head. When he gets home and counts it he realizes that you had tipped him $240

“I feel like I’ve seen you at a bonfire,” he looks up for the wad that he was trying g to approximate

“Yeah, I go to most of them,” he takes his eyes down to the salmon skort you were wearing, it matched your hat

“I hope I’ll see you at the one this Saturday,” you giggle and skip away leaving him stunned

He does see you that Saturday. You were standing my the fire in black sweatpants and a royal blue bikini top. arms crossed with a red solo cup loosely held in your fingers

The fire made you look so radiant

He down the rest of his PBR and grabbed two more. The lion enters the den.

“Whatever that is looks like shit,” he hands you one of the beers he’s holding.

“Kinda” you throw back the final swig and toss the cup into the flames. You receive the glass bottle with half smile and look back into the fire to watch the cup melt “Thanks JJ”

His heart sings you remembered him!

You going golfing again soon?” It’s the only thing you two have in common so far

“No, I don’t get out often. My parents don’t want me out of the house without supervision. They have no idea I’m here, think I’m at the gym.”

“At,” he checks his phone “11:40?”

“Yeah,” you bite the cap of your beer off and spit it away from JJ “they’re kinda naive”

You spend the rest of the night huddled up to his furnace like body cracking jokes about pogues and kooks alike

Surprisingly you’re back at the golf course 3 days later. This time donning a shorter navy blue skort and a gray polo. You request explicitly for Jj to be your caddy

You had convinced your dad to let you go alone.

You flirt with him the whole time he’s driving you around the course. Purposefully grabbing his hand when he hands you a club. Resting your hand on his thigh as he drives. Readjusting the company hat he’s wearing. He may have cute hair but he can’t hide his cute face with it.

When you're in a secluded part of the course, you make out against the golf cart for a few minutes. Having accidentally hit into some surrounding woods

[ourloveisforthelovely]

The Family (Part 1)

Regulus Black AU

Request: Can you write a story where Regulus and the reader have been best friends for years. After Hogwarts, they move to France and get married without telling The Blacks? After being away a few years, they come back and surprise everyone.

Parings: Regulus Black x Reader

___

“You know that my family isn’t friendly…right?”

You looked up from your dressing table. Regulus sat on the bed looking at you with a slightly worried look.

“Like I’m concerned. I can be unfriendly too. Let fire meet fire.”

You chose to ignore the little wince that your “husband” gave you. It was no secret that Regulus was worried about facing his parents after eloping. This was the most “un-Regulus” like thing that he had ever done in his life. Meeting the repercussions of his actions was now beginning to worry him.

It had been nearly three years since Regulus had seen or talked to his family. The two of you had been hiding out in France. After moving back to England, it was time to face the proverbial music.

“Y/n, I really don’t think that you know what you are getting into. My parents aren’t like your parents. Mine are deranged and…chaotic.”

You put your brush down before moving to settle yourself on Regulus’ lap. Reaching out you twirled your fingers around one of the curls that was about to fall into his eyes.

“Regulus, we have been best friends since we were 11. I know all about your family and their…ways. It's going to take a lot more than I am the almighty Walburga Black to scare me off. Granted, I do wish that I could have a mother-in-law to do fun things with but, hey, you get what you get. You, my love, are worth whatever those nutcases have to throw at me.”

You were relieved when Regulus smiled. It wasn’t often that a smile graced his face but when it did, your heart melted.

“Maybe, if I’m l lucky, mother will fall over dead from a heart attack and the rest of the family will just spontaneously combust.”

Regulus commented with a smile. He knew what he was getting into. Regulus knew that his family was about to have a fit when he brought his new “wife” home. He knew that evening’s dinner was bound to be a fiasco. You were the absolute last person that Walburga wanted Regulus to marry. She hated the fact that the two of you were best friends. The literal only reason why she finally shut up about it was the fact that you were a Slytherin and a pure blood.

“If you must be friends with that girl, fine. It isn’t like you are going to marry her one day.”

Regulus had never forgotten that comment from Walburga. He had been 13 at the time and told his mother that you were his friend. He had no intention of stopping being your friend. It didn’t matter how angry it made his mother. Regulus had banked on his “being his mother’s favorite” card to keep her from beating the stuffing out of him after that comment.

To Regulus’ relief, Walburga stomped off muttering to herself about wondering why her sons were so obsessed with the Potter children. She just couldn’t understand what was so fascinating that Regulus and Sirius couldn’t say no to. At the moment, that was enough for Regulus.

Now, however, things were different. Regulus had fallen in love with you. After a completely “innocent” kiss at 15, he was hooked. There would be hope in Regulus ever wanting to stay away. He couldn’t…not even if he tried.

The following years were full of Regulus keeping you away from any member of his family. No matter how many times you told him that you were ready to officially meet them and rip the “bandage��� off, Regulus always said no.

“Reggie, I hate to break it to you but no one will be dropping dead of any heart attacks. Besides, your mother should expect something. We are always together. One would think that with as smart as she “claims to be”, she would have figured out that we have been together since 5th year. Like it or not, she will just have to get over it.”

“I hate knowing that I am taking you into that lion’s den.”

Leaning forward, you placed a soft kiss on Regulus’ lips. You hoped that some kind of physical contact would calm down his raging mind.

“Regulus, I want you to hear me. It will take a lot more than your family to scare me off. I knew what I was getting into when I said, I do. I know your parents aren’t like my parents. They will just have to accept that we are in love. If they can’t…then that is on them. That won’t be our problem.”

“But we have two things that will be their problem.”

Regulus commented as his grey eyes flickered to the corner of the room where your twin daughters sat playing. Both girls were not the least bit interested in the conversation that their parents were having. You looked at your daughters sympathetically before turning back to Regulus. He didn’t have to say it for you to know this was the other source of his panic.

“Maybe knowledge that they are suddenly grandparents will take them out.”

You suggested with a smile. Regulus couldn’t help but smile as you got off of his lap.

“I have to keep them safe from mum and dad. I don’t want them pushing their ideals on Matilda and Rose.”

Both girls looked up and gave Regulus matching little smirks before going back to their toys.

“Regulus, I have known you for a long time. I know that you won’t let them hurt the girls.”

Regulus was quiet a moment as he watched Matilda and Rose play. He coudln’t help but wonder why his own father wanted absolutely nothing to do with him until he had gotten older. Regulus wanted nothing more than to be a part of whatever it was his daughters were doing.

“What if being around them makes me act like…him?”

Regulus questioned. You moved to stand beside your husband. Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his and squeezed gently.

“The fact that you are even worrying about it tells me that won’t happen. If it were your father, he would never even have that thought. He would just be uncaring and believe that children are to be seen and not heard.”

Before Regulus could comment, the doorbell rang.

“That will be your brother.”

Both twins' heads popped up as they stood up to toddle out of the room shrieking Sirius’ name.

You moved to walk out of the bedroom to answer the door but stopped to look back at Regulus.

“I mean it, love, you are nothing like your father and you won’t become him. Now let's get this exciting evening over so we can have something to laugh about later.”

Walking downstairs, you smiled seeing Sirius holding both Matilda and Rose. Both twins were trying to look through his shirt pocket for the lollipops that he always brought them.

“Mine!”

Matilda shrieked before taking the lollipop out of Rose’s hand. This resulted in Rose screaming “mine” right back at her sister. Sirius looked between both toddlers and sat them down. He handed each girl a lollipop before shaking his head.

“You both get one. No need for the yelling.”

“Thank you”

Matilda muttered before going to sit down at the little table in the corner. Rose patted Sirius’ leg and went to join her sister as Sirius started trying to wipe some sticky substance off of his face.

“I don’t want to know what that is.”

He commented as you handed him a wet cloth. Chuckling Sirius cleaned the gooey spot off before giving you a smirk.

“I never thought in a million years that my neat-as-a-pin brother would be open to being a father. I thought he would barf the moment that a kid drooled on him. So…are you two really going to subject yourself to a delightful dinner from hell with Norma and Norman Bates?”

You nodded.

“Its best we get this over with. The quicker we totally rock their words the faster it will be over>”

Sirius winced.

“I don’t think it will be that easy, love. So, how is Regulus handling it?”

“Like I’m about to fall through thin ice on a pond.”

Regulus commented as he walked into the room pulling on his suit jacket. Sirius turned to face his brother and gave him a sympathetic expression.

“Maybe she will have a heart attack? I mean telling her that you married Y/n and that you have kids will be a huge shock. What if she just kills over at the dinner table? Are you just going to leave her or will you call for help? Reg, what if dad kills over too? Wouldn’t that be great?!”

Regulus only wished that he could have Sirius’ level of enthusiasm at the moment.

“I’m not that lucky, Sirius. Look, the twins go to bed at 8. Try not to hype them up on sugar this time. The last time we didn’t get them to sleep until after 11.”

Sirius gave Regulus a cold scowl.

“Look last time, they asked for ice cream. Try saying no to those little faces.”

As if on command both Matilda and Rose gave Regulus their signature “I’m cute” face.

“Love you daddy.”

Matilda muttered. Rose nodded eagerly but didn’t give up a moment with her candy. Regulus shook his head.

“Love you too, princess.”

He turned back to Sirius discreetly giving him the middle finger.

“And you’re teaching them to suck up knowing very well that I can’ say no to them.”

Sirius chuckled to himself before moving to sit on the couch.

“Well, you’ll be okay.”

Glazing down at your watch, you turned to Regulus.

“We better get going if we want to make our appearance as planned.”

Regulus groaned.

“Damn.”

The two of you moved to kiss your daughters goodbye. Sirius gave you both a final look.

“If you need me, I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“I’ll remember that. You should pray that I don’t kill her.”

Regulus replied before following you out the door.

A moment later, you stood beside Regulus outside of Grimmauld Place. Neither of you moved to knock on the door. After a moment, you turned to look at Regulus. His handsome features were set into a hard scowl.

“Reggie, remember what I said. You aren’t your father and are nothing like your family.”

Regulus nodded. Hearing those words come from your mouth always seemed to make him feel better. Right now, it was especially helpful because he felt as if he was throwing his family into the lion's den.

“We should get this over with.”

Regulus commented before knocking on the door.

A moment later, Kreacher opened the door. The elf’s eyes got huge seeing the one person that he loved most in the world.

“Master Regulus, you finally came home. Kreacher is delighted to see you.”

Kreacher turned his attention to you and frowned. He knew exactly who you were after hearing Walburga fuss about you for many hours. Regulus had followed Kreacher’s gaze and took a breath.

“Kreacher, this is my Y/n. I want you to treat her with respect.”

The elf didn’t look thrilled by the comment. He held back the vile comment that he wanted to make about the Potters being blood traitors. If there was one thing that Kreacher wouldn’t do, it was upset Regulus.

“Yes, Master Regulus. Please follow Kreacher. Dinner has just been served.”

Regulus tightened his hold on your hand as the two of you stepped into the house.

You had never been inside Grimmauld Place before. After stepping in the door it was as dark and gloomy as you expected. Nothing about this place screamed warm and welcoming.

“This makes me love my family all the more.”

You thought as you followed Regulus and Kreacher down the dark and gloomy hallway. At least, with your family, the home was always warm and welcoming. No one had to worry about being hexed over the dinner table.

Your thoughts stopped the moment that you stepped into the dining room. Just as you expected, the room grew silent. Multiple sets of cold eyes were initially upon you. You squeezed Regulus’ hand as Walburga stood up looking furious.

“Regulus, why is that girl here?”

Regulus took a breath. He didn’t expect much of a greeting from his mother.

“Hello, mother.”

He glanced to where his father sat. Orion was watching him with a hawk-like expression while his grandmother and grandfather took sips of their wine. Cygnus and Druella both were giving each other hesitant expressions as if to say “here we go.”

“I asked you a question, Regulus. It's been three years since we have seen you and you come home with this girl.”

Regulus swallowed, suddenly remembering just who the hell he was. If his mother wanted to play hardball then so could he.

“Yes, Mother it has been three years. Furthermore, this girl has a name, and its Y/n. I expect respect for my wife.”

Both Walburga and Orion went pale. Cygnus and Druella’s mouths dropped while Arcturus and Melania tilted their heads.

“Silly of me, but did you say wife?”

Walburga finally choked out.

“Yeah, he said wife. My name is Y/n. Just so you know, Walburga, I match people’s energy. You be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you. If you want to start shit, you better be ready to dance. That goes for all of you lovely people. Now, we are here in goodwill. We aren’t here for this to turn into some muggle soap opera-level crap.”

You watched as Walburga quickly began to stutter. She clearly did not expect that to come out of your mouth. Orion, meanwhile, was looking at you with a look of amazement.

“You wanted to see us. We are here but play your cards carefully. Remember that I’m the heir to this family.”

Regulus added in a calm even tone. Walburga continued to blink before turning to Orion. Orion gave his wife a cold glare before turning back to his son.

“I see that you couldn’t be bothered to tell us about any of this.”

Regulus smirked.

“Sorry, Father but we have been rather busy in France. There is more you should know. We have twin daughters. If you have any interest in seeing them, the lot of you will agree to my terms.”

Walburga sank back in her chair before grabbing Orion’s arm.

“They have children. Oh heaven help me, they have children.”

Orion didn’t say anything immediately as he glanced at his wife. He knew Walburga would kill him later but he had a feeling that she would do exactly as her son asked. In private, Walburga had been a wreck since Regulus moved away. There had been multiple times that she had shed tears over the subject. Of course, Orion would never tell Regulus this.

“Yes, we have children.”

You replied. Melania turned to her grandson with a gentle expression. Regulus had always been her favorite. Now seeing him as a husband and father made her extremely pleased. While she still could see the darling little boy that Regulus was, it was clearly time to see him as the man that he had become.

“You didn’t bring them with you, Regulus.”

Regulus’ cold expression softened as he addressed his grandmother.

“No, grandmother. I didn’t with reason. Our family has a talent for losing our tempers and acting out of places of anger. My daughters don’t need to be exposed to that. Before any of you lay eyes upon them, you’ll listen to what I have to say and agree to my terms.”

Orion leaned back in his chair with a scowl.

“We’re listening.”

___

@geeksareunique @jessyballet @knreidy1 @dumbbunnys-safes @siriuslyceleste @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @readtomeregulus @i-love-scott-mccall @iluvthe-marauders @justfinishthis @fific7 @woohoney @abaker74 @regulus-black-223048 @saramaple @missgorldafirst @f4iryluvy @s-we-e-t-t-ea @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-m @ivybeeloved @i-love-scott-mccall @panpride @bennyberry @gugggu6gvaii @jag9000 @quinis @haroldpotterson @mentally-unstable-hoe @daddyslittlevillainx @goldensunshineshit @marichromatic @melaninnbarbie @ravenhood2792 @play-morezeppelin @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @rubyroscoe1 @brokencasbutt67-writer @un-lovesherself @emiwrites3reads @padf00ts-l0ver

[sunriseabram]

Serial killer Andrew please!

- @aftgphoenix

Serial Killer Andrew | Part 5 | 20/11

“I will not disappoint you,” Andrew promised

“Cockiness is what gets you killed.”

Andrew scoffed. He flipped the knife around in his hand like a toy. “The Butcher’s son is nothing but a coward.”

It was bravado, but Andrew refused to let his fear show. He was not afraid of dying; living was worse. Even so, going into the lion’s den was nerve-wracking. He hadn’t been in this business long enough to lose his human instincts. Every bone in his body told him that the Wesninski manor was a terrible place to go, akin to stepping into a coffin and sealing it shut.

He would go anyway.

If nothing else, it was an opportunity to test how skilled he’d become under his father’s tutelage. The Butcher’s son, Nathaniel, was only a little younger than him and had been trained in combat his entire life. Their respective fathers ran neighbouring mafia territories, and it was likely that both one day would lead them. Maintaining such relationships was important.

[novelmonger]

The first time I watched The Wild Robot, a cynical part of me was skeptical when all the animals set aside their instincts and started working together. What are the predators going to eat if not the prey animals? This isn't Zootopia, where they can go to the grocery store and buy vegan burgers or whatever. The movie had already established very bluntly that some animals eat other animals, so they can't just brush something like that under the rug, right?

I was willing to suspend my disbelief, though. It's a kids' movie about talking animals; even with the dark humor peppered throughout the movie, they weren't going to have these lovable characters literally eat each other, and that's okay. There are plenty of other movies that do the same. And it's not really the point of the movie anyway, so fussing about it is just going to ruin a good time.

But as I thought about it later, I suddenly remembered that passage from Isaiah 11:6-9:

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the cobra, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder's den. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

In other words...the state of the island at the end of the movie is the way things are supposed to be. The way they will be in the end. Predator and prey living together, their young lying down in safety together (like they do in Roz's hut), no longer hurting or killing each other.

The island at the beginning of the movie is the way it is, full of death and fear, because of the Fall. The animals' very nature has been corrupted so they are incapable of seeing the possibility of life without killing and hunting. Until someone from the outside comes and shows them a better way. Someone who dies because of love, comes back to life because of love, and eventually leaves with the promise of returning one day. And now that island is forever changed, a model of the heavens and earth that is to come.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.1

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: childhood trauma, emotional/psychological abuse

Words: 3816

Summary: A little mouse surrounded by ferocious lions? It didn't look to be a good situation, even if those lions happened to be your family.

Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire

This was one of my first really big fanfics that I posted on my original tumblr.

Posting it here again for shits and tickles

You could never compare to your older sister Cersei. She was like the sun, bright and beautiful with her mass of gold curls and seemed to possess the world in her hands. She was outgoing and fearless, what every Lannister should be; while you were shy and quiet. The very opposite which was why your father Lord Tywin Lannister didn’t invest too much in you, preferring his enigmatic eldest daughter. Cersei teased you about how meek you were and that you weren’t a lion at all, that you were instead a mouse. There was no fighting against her, she was bigger and louder than you were. Your mother and Jaime were the only ones to stop her cruelty when they saw you were near tears. Cersei would leave in a huff while your mother was left to take care of the damage. Joanna would clean your face with her sleeve and smile sweetly at you. She would say how much she loved her sweet cub and would go on to tell you that you should never change the way you were. You were kind with a gentle heart; Joanna said that was all that was important. She loved each one of her children equally but always had a soft spot for you. You weren’t made of the tough material that seemed to be the Lannister trait. She loved that most about you. Cersei may be like the sun but you were like a candle flame; beautiful in its own way as it illuminates the dark.

Even with your mother’s love you felt lonely though. Jaime more often than not preferred the company of his twin. They would always have that unbreakable bond that only twins could have. You would ask your mom why you hadn’t been born a twin. She would laugh and tell you it wasn’t in the gods’ plans. You wondered what the gods had in store for you.

You may not have been very talkative but you did listen and observe others. Especially your family. You heard your mother and father talking about how she wanted to separate Jaime and Cersei. That they were too close. The very next day Jaime’s chambers were moved to the other side of the castle. You asked your mom but she merely shook her head and changed the subject.

You soon forgot about it as children often did and went on about your young life. Your mother became pregnant again and you were overjoyed to know that you would have a little sibling. Since your mother was great with child she had been confined to her room to rest.

Cersei, uncharacteristically, asked you to play with her and Jaime. That should have been enough of a warning for you that something was up. She never asked you to play with them. She was possessive of her twin brother, even when it involved her own sister.

How could you have known at that age what was to come?

In your childlike innocence you followed them into the bowels of Casterly Rock. You were so desperate for companionship that you would follow them anywhere. They held your hand, possibly to prevent you from running away, when you saw cages filled with lions.

Growing apprehensive at the sight of the caged beasts Cersei explained to you the game her and Jaime always played. Each would see how close they could get to the lions, like a dare. As the twins climbed on to the cages you stayed rooted where you were, scared of even taking a step forward.

Cersei laughed at you, calling you a coward and a mouse. Jaime on the other hand gave you words of encouragement. Somehow you managed to clamber up on top of the cage. You thought the worst was over until Cersei dared you to touch one of them. She tried to comfort you saying that they were chained to the bars and wouldn’t be able to get you.

You learned the hard way not to trust Cersei.

She had opened the cage and pushed you inside; hastily shutting the gate as you cried.

*

You jolt awake, panting and looking around your dark room.

That had been three years ago yet it was branded deeply into your fragile mind. You had been six at the time, only a year younger than your siblings. It was enough to permanently traumatize you. If it hadn’t been for Jaime’s change of heart you didn’t know what would’ve happened to you.

You wiggle out of your bed, far too big for a nine year old and open the door of your room.

“Little lady, what’re you doing up?” A guard passing by kneels down to look at you.

“I had a nightmare. I wanted to go see my brother.”

The guard smiles gently. “Then I shall escort you, my lady.” Once he made sure you were safely at your brother’s door the guard bids you goodnight.

Quietly you walk inside to peer over the crib. You smile softly at your baby brother Tyrion. He was so tiny with such a large head, you were always surprised that his neck didn’t snap from the weight.

Gingerly you caress his round cheek with your index finger. Your mother had died giving birth to him. This spurred hatred from your father and sister. Of course it had devastated you too but you still loved your baby brother with all your heart. It wasn’t his fault. He was just a baby. People treated him like he was the plague. His wet nurses had always cringed when feeding him and would sooner be done with it than to hold him a minute longer. Tyrion was left sequestered in his room most of the time. You alone kept him company. Everyone was so focused on your older siblings that they forgot about you too. That was alright. You had Tyrion now. And every once in a while Jaime would pay a visit. He didn’t act like everyone else. Jaime loved Tyrion too and treated him like a human being unlike many. Those times you would grow closer to Jaime and he would tell you how Cersei had dressed up like him, fooling everyone. You listened to his stories eagerly even if many did involve Cersei. At least the two of you were bonding. In that room Jaime was your’s. Cersei never bothered to step foot into Tyrion’s nursery unless she was going to torment the helpless three year old.

Grabbing a spare blanket and a cushioned chair you curl up next to your brother’s crib and fall asleep.

“What’re you doing in here young lady?” Your septa glowers down at you with her hand on her hips.

“I had a nightmare last night. I wanted to be with Tyrion.”

She tsks and grabs your arm. “We must get you ready for the day.”

You follow her like the obedient girl you had been raised to e. There was a big event that everyone in Casterly Rock and Lannisport had been preparing for. People were bustling and trying to get things ready for the great tourney in honor of the birth of Prince Viserys Targaryen. You and your family (excluding little Tyrion) would travel to Lannisport just for the occasion as it had been your father’s idea. The best seamstresses in Westeros made you and your sister’s gowns so that you would be at your finest in front of the royal family. While Cersei was ecstatic you were quite nervous. Your father didn’t often parade you around especially not after your mother had died but people asked about the youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister. You would have to force yourself to be like Cersei, although that in itself was a great feat. You didn’t want to disappoint your father though. You would try your best to be like your big sister yet the voice of your mother always came back to you.

“Why would you want to be different (y/n)? You should never change the way you are.”

She was dead though. No one was there to tell you you were fine just the way you were.

Before leaving for the short journey to Lannisport, you give Tyrion a big hug and a kiss as you depart. You prayed that he would be taken care of. You were more of a mother to him than a sister.

You knew you should’ve been happy to go to the tourney with your family, but you couldn’t help constantly worrying about Tyrion. Your attitude got on Cersei’s nerves.

“We would all be better off if something did befall on that little creature.” Cersei mutters as she glances out the window of your litter. She had wanted to ride horseback beside Jaime but she had to ride in the litter as per order of Tywin. Like usual she took her bitter resentment out on you. “Why has he lived this long?”

Gnawing on your lip you bite down so hard you could taste the metallic zing of blood. You wanted to say something, to stand up to her for once in your life. Then you remembered her trapping you in a lion’s cage. Anxiety seized you and render you speechless. You stayed quiet for the duration of the trip until you reached the gates of Lannisport. Leaping out of your litter, happy to finally get away from Cersei, you await for everyone else before bounding to look at all the colorful tents that were being erected in the field. Excitement actually bubbled in your tummy at the prospect of watching the tourney.

You hear Jaime chuckle behind you. “Excited?” At ten years old you knew in a few more years Jaime would be a heartbreaker. His hair shared the same hue as the gold that made up the Lannister’s wealth. Jaime was growing into a handsome young man that looked every inch a knight like in the stories your mom used to tell you. Yet he couldn’t be a knight. He was Tywin’s heir, expected to carry on the Lannister name.

“I actually am! Are you gonna participate Jaime?”

He smiles down at you. “No they probably wouldn’t let me. I’m still too young.” YOU catch his clear green eyes gaze out at the field. You knew he probably wanted to join the older boys to show off his own skill. Even at such a young age Jaime wielded a sword like it was one with his arm. He beat all the other cousins that were around his age and even some of the older ones. One day he would make a great Lord of Casterly Rock.

A gentle hand on your shoulder, he steers you back to the group where your father was already giving orders. Trunks and luggages were being taken down to the field so that your family’s tents could be set up alongside the other noble families. Normally you would’ve taken residence in the castle of Lannisport but your father insisted that the royal family have the castle to himself. You figured that it had something to do with Tywin’s growing dislike for Aerys. From the servant’s gossiping you heard about what King Aerys had said about your poor mother’s passing. It wasn’t something you liked to think about. You didn’t blame your father for wanting to be as far away from the king as possible.

“Come along.” Tywin tells you and your siblings. You took your place between Jaime and Cersei as you had been taught to do. Although your sister didn’t very well like you separating her and Jaime. Either way she didn’t seem too bothered this time. She actually seemed to smile at you. It definitely set off alarm bells. You had learned quickly to mistrust Cersei’s smiles. They held your hands as Tywin had instructed the three of you to do in front of the other lords so that everyone could see how perfect his children were. It was your own little fantasy too. You wished your sister was genuinely sweet and loved you. You wished that you had a big brother who would take your side every so often and protect you.

Your family made their rounds around the camp, greeting other noble families. Cersei gobbled up all the attention, absolutely loving how the lords called her beautiful.

A few commented how you were adorable but you knew that you dimmed in comparison to your older sister.

Finally King Aerys and his eldest son Prince Rhaegar made their appearance. You didn’t see Queen Rhaella among them or the newborn Viserys. The King’s Guard flanked them as well as dozens of retainers and servants to the Dragons of Westeros.

And there in all his glory was seventeen year old Rhaegar Targaryen. The first born son. Heir to the Iron Throne. Long powdery white hair fell off his shoulders and framed a strong, handsome, face that he had to push strands away every so often. Hyacinth eyes like those of the flower looked over your family and he offered up a small smile.

He had stolen your breath. You had always heard Cersei whispering about how handsome the prince was, but you never thought he would be so much so that you’d forget to breathe.

Whatever your father was saying went in one ear and out the other as you and Cersei stared unabashedly at Rhaegar.

At least she had more tact to smile and curtsy while you gaped with wide eyes.

“It is such a pleasure to meet you, your Grace.” She says to the Targaryen rulers, more so to Rhaegar.

It was King Aerys that snapped you out of your stupor. Where Rhaegar made your heart stop, Aerys made it beat with terror. He had the signature violet eyes and silver hair but lacked the beauty that Rhaegar had. Perhaps he once had been handsome but he wasn’t now. He looked half crazed with his long nails and wild eyes that searched for invisible enemies everywhere.

His smile was even worse than his frown and you unconsciously tighten the hand that held Jaime’s. “Thank you for hosting such a grand event, my friend.” Aerys’ words seemed to hold a double edge to them that your father was sure to take note of.

“But of course. The whole of Westeros should celebrate the birth of Prince Viserys.” Your father replied with that tight lipped smirk of his. There was ice in his voice that you picked up on.

They exchanged ingenuine pleasantries as you continued to look for Queen Rhaella and the infant prince. After Tyrion had been born you realized how much you liked babies. Tyrion had fit perfectly in your arms.

On your tippy toes, you whisper to Jaime “Where’s the baby?”

Before Jaime could whisper back to you Rhaegar seemed to have noticed your inquisitive looks and his once stiff smile softens as he addresses you. “Do you like babies (y/n)?” It makes your father and the king turn to look at you.

Uh-oh. You definitely hadn’t meant to draw attention. Blushing you clam up and nod stiffly. “Y-Yes. . . I have a little brother at home. . .”

That makes Aerys chuckle. “Yes. The dwarf.”

Your cheeks blaze as you shift your eyes down to your shoes, biting down on your lip and your ears ringing. You had said too much.

“We’ll be seeing you tomorrow. We still need to settle down and prepare for the tourney.” Tywin clears his throat.

“Of course. We’ll be seeing you.”

When they were out of earshot Cersei dropped your hand. “Why did you have to mention that little beast?”

“I-I didn’t meant to. . .

“Cersei, she was just answering the prince.” Jaime says, still holding onto your hand.

She turns on Jaime. “A simple yes would’ve sufficed! She’s embarrassed us by even bringing up that shame of our family!”

Tywin decides to step in. “That’s enough. I will not have you bickering. Not while we’re here.”

Cersei presses her pouty lips together, her fingers curling into her palm.

Turning his gaze onto you, Tywin simply sighs. “Try not to slip up again, okay?”

You nod. You feel absolutely sick. You want to go home where you didn’t have to talk to anyone. Where you could be with Tyrion and play games with him and tell him stories.

Having seen you trying not to cry, Jaime lets Tywin and Cersei walk ahead while he stays behind with you. “It’s okay (y/n). It was an accident.”

“I want to go home.” You murmur quietly and swallow back your tears.

Sympathy. Jaime was actually treating you sympathetically. He kneels down in front of you. “We will. Sooner than you think. The tourney will go by quickly if you try and have fun. Just think about tomorrow! You’ll see all the knights in action. It’ll be fun.”

He was probably trying to get you to quit your belly aching and not cause too much trouble for your father. Either way you would take it.

You were forced to share a tent with Cersei and her hand maids. They ignored you, choosing to giggle and gossip on their side of the tent. Her companions, Melara Hetherspoon and Jeyne Farman, squeal at Cersei’s description of Prince Rhaegar. Cersei grinned and continue to fawn over the the fair Targaryen prince.

“He’s even more magnificent in person!” Cersei brushes a golden lock of her hair off her shoulder.

“I wish I could’ve met him! But we had to stay behind.” Melara pouts.

Uncomfortable being in the same room as them you leave without either of the girls paying attention to you.

The night sky was clear without any clouds or moon but was littered with thousands of bright, tiny, stars. Laugher was heard all through the camp as everyone drank to the newborn prince and celebrated with merriment.

You weaved between the many tents, not having a particular destination until you heard the most beautiful sound. The rhythmic plucking of strings. It lead away from the camp however. Timidly you look around. No one had noticed you yet. Then again everyone must’ve been drunk. A wandering child was hardly their concern. You nervously followed the music until it grew louder and louder. The pale fingers of Rhaegar Targaryen was the source.

“It seems I have an audience.” That gentle and warm smile he had when he talked to you graced his face.

You would’ve rushed away had he not pat the spot next to him.

“It’s okay. Come and listen.”

If you messed up, if you accidentally said something you weren’t supposed to in front of the future king, your father would skin you alive.

The Silver Prince was inviting you to listen to him play though. It would be rude to decline such an offer.

With trembling legs you sit near him although careful to keep enough distance between the two of you. Rhaegar goes on to play that beautifully crafted silver stringed harp of his. It was a lovely melody that made your chest ache. It was the sound of your loneliness.

You hadn’t been aware that you had been crying until the end of his song when he handed you a handkerchief. You didn’t dare ruin any article that belonged to him and used your sleeve instead. “That’s beautiful. The most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m happy you enjoyed it. You looked so nervous earlier and I apologize if I may have inadvertently caused any trouble for you with your family.”

Rhaegar had noticed. You flush out of horror. If he had noticed how uncomfortable you had been who knows who else had seen. You tried and failed to act like a Lannister.

Quietly you simper in your spot beside him. “It’s alright. . . If it wasn’t this it would have been another thing. . .”

“Would you like to hear another?”

You nod.

He was definitely much more than handsome. Rhaegar was kind and gentle, treating you far better than your family has since your mother died. You found comfort in his company. Comfort you had only found in Joanna and Tyrion. You felt safe in his music.

After a while, Rhaegar sets his harp carefully beside him and looks up at the stars. “Sometimes I wish I could play the harp without any interruptions. No duties. Just be able to play music for eternity.” There was sadness in his tone. A sadness you knew well yourself. It portrayed loneliness. He may be next in line for the Iron Throne but it must’ve been a lonely road ahead for someone like him. You had heard that Rhaegar preferred literature over battle maps and music over the clanging of swords.

“Are you lonely your Grace?” When it slipped out of your mouth you could’ve ripped your tongue out for such insolence. “I’m sorry! I was out of line! Please don’t tell my father!”

“Ssh.” Rhaegar holds his hands up indicating for you to calm down. “It’s alright. You did nothing wrong (y/n).” The brush of his slim fingers on the back of your tiny hand made you jolt. “It’s okay.”

You definitely weren’t a Lannister. Lannisters never apologized. They never lost their composure especially in front of the crowned prince.

Rhaegar’s features are calm with a small smile. “Lonely huh? I suppose I am. Just a little. How did you know? Are you lonely too?”

“You won’t tell my father?”

The corners of his lips turn up. “I promise.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m. . . always by myself at Casterly Rock. Even before my mother died. My older siblings prefer the company of each other and leave me out of a lot of things. Cersei says I’m no Lannister lion. That I’m a mouse. Even my father prefers Jaime and Cersei. I only have Tyrion but he’s only three years old. . .”

“You know, I’ve always preferred mice over lions. They’re much cuter.” Rhaegar delicately smoothes the hair on top of your head in a caressing manner. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“My family thinks differently.” You rub at your irritated eyes that threatened to spill over with tears. “I try to be like Cersei, but I just can’t do it.”

“It’s their loss then.” Rhaegar simply sighs. “They’re missing out on a lovely young lady. You shouldn’t try to be anyone else except yourself. I think that’s what your mother would want.” He gets up with ease and holds out a hand to you. “It’s getting late and there are certain little girls who should be in bed.”

Meekly smiling you take his hand and notice how warm it was.

Once outside of your tent, Rhaegar kneels down to look you in the eyes. “Now don’t forget what I told you, okay?”

You nod and thank him, watching him walk away with his harp in hand.

[mybelovedwoo]

Long Journey - Chapter 11: In the Lion's Den

Life hurts a lot, that's just how it is. At least that is what Destiny thought, living a life where living hurts more than dying. But one day everything changes when an unexpected guest appears. What does this long journey hide behind? Will it be worth it to be alive again?

"Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends!"

ateez pirate au, fluff, angst, smut

??? x named reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood injuries, trauma, smut, sa, pa, abuse specific to this chapter: violence, fighting, cannon fight, nudity

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Destiny was led through the dark, narrow corridors of Captain Black's ship, the Iron Reaper. The air was thick with the scent of salt and sweat, mingling with the faint, acrid odor of gunpowder. Each step she took felt heavier than the last, the reality of her situation settling in like a cold, oppressive weight on her shoulders.

As they reached a small, dimly lit cabin, one of Captain Black's men pushed her inside. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing ominously in the confined space. Destiny took a deep breath, steadying herself. She had made this choice, and now she had to live with it. The cramped quarters were a stark contrast to the openness of the deck she was used to, making her feel more trapped than ever.

Back on the Treasure, the atmosphere was equally tense. Hongjoong pored over the map, every line and marking analyzed with meticulous detail. Seonghwa and Yeosang stood nearby, their eyes flickering between the map and their captain.

"What's our next move, Captain?" Seonghwa asked, his voice a low murmur.

Hongjoong's jaw clenched. "We need to find a way to get her back. This map is worthless if we lose Destiny."

Yeosang nodded, his mind already working through possible strategies. "We should gather as much information about Captain Black's ship and crew. There has to be a weakness we can exploit."

Meanwhile, San stood at the edge of the deck, staring out at the Iron Reaper. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. Mingi approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll get her back," Mingi said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "We can't let them keep her."

San nodded, his eyes never leaving the ship. "I know. And when we do, I'll make sure they regret ever laying a hand on her."

-

Wooyoung sat alone in a corner of the galley, his head in his hands. He had found out about Destiny's situation when the crew returned to the ship, and the news had hit him like a punch to the gut. He felt helpless, trapped by his past and his own fears.

"I can't keep running from this," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "I have to do better. I have to save her."

He stood up, a newfound resolve hardening his features. Wooyoung made his way to Hongjoong, determination etched into every step.

"Captain," he said, his voice steady. "I want to be part of the rescue mission. I need to make this right."

Hongjoong looked at him, a mixture of surprise and respect in his eyes. "Are you sure, Wooyoung? This isn't going to be easy."

Wooyoung nodded. "I'm sure. I owe her that much. It's time I acted."

Hongjoong placed a hand on Wooyoung's shoulder, nodding in agreement. "Alright. We'll need everyone at their best for this."

-

Back in her cabin, Destiny sat on the narrow bunk, her mind racing. She couldn't help but wonder what Seonghwa would do in her situation. She pulled out the dagger Seonghwa had given her, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light.

"What would Seonghwa do?" she thought, picturing his calm, steady demeanor. He had always been her rock, his unwavering confidence a source of strength for her. She could almost hear his voice, encouraging her to stay strong, to keep fighting.

Seonghwa wouldn't panic. He would assess the situation, find a way to turn it to his advantage. Destiny held the dagger close, her resolve hardening. She needed to channel that same calm determination, to think clearly and stay focused.

"I'm not a captive," she whispered to herself, her grip tightening on the dagger's hilt. "I'm a survivor."

The hours dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, the door creaked open, and one of Black's men entered, his leering grin sending a shiver down her spine.

"Captain wants to see you," he said, motioning for her to follow.

She stood up, tucking the dagger into her boot. As they made their way through the ship, Destiny steeled herself, ready to face whatever came next.

Captain Black's quarters were lavish compared to the rest of the ship, filled with treasures from countless raids. He sat behind a large wooden desk, his piercing gaze fixed on her as she entered.

"So, the brave little bird has come to roost," he sneered. "I must say, you have more guts than most of my crew."

Destiny met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "What do you want from me?"

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "We'll see about that."

Destiny's eyes narrowed, her resolve unshaken. "You underestimate me, Captain. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

He leaned forward, the cruel smile never leaving his face. "Brave words. Let's see if your actions match."

As Black turned his attention to a map spread out on his desk, Destiny saw her chance. She subtly shifted her weight, ready to pull out the dagger hidden in her boot. She needed to distract him first, to buy herself just enough time.

"I wonder," she said, her voice steady, "how many of your men would follow you if they knew the truth about El Dorado. About what you've sacrificed for a legend."

Black's eyes flickered with anger, and he stood up, towering over her. "You think you can undermine me with words? I've dealt with bigger threats than you, girl."

Destiny's heart pounded as she slowly reached for the dagger, her fingers grazing the hilt. "Maybe. But you've never faced anyone like me."

Just as she was about to draw the dagger, Black's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. "Nice try," he snarled, his grip like iron. "But you'll find I'm not so easily fooled."

He twisted her arm, forcing her to drop the dagger. It clattered to the floor, and he shoved her against the wall, his face inches from hers. "You think you're clever, don't you? I'll show you just how wrong you are."

Destiny struggled against his grip, panic rising in her chest. As Black's intentions became horrifyingly clear, a deafening explosion rocked the ship. The walls trembled, and the sound of splintering wood filled the air.

Black's eyes widened in shock, and he released Destiny, stumbling back. "What the—?"

Another cannonball hit, shaking the ship violently. Destiny's heart leaped with hope. "Hongjoong," she whispered.

The sounds of battle erupted outside the cabin—shouts, gunfire, and the clash of steel. Black's crew was caught off guard, scrambling to respond to the sudden attack.

Destiny seized the moment. She kicked the dagger towards her, scooping it up as she bolted for the door. Black lunged after her, but she managed to slip out, racing down the corridor.

The ship was in chaos. Flames flickered along the deck, smoke billowing into the sky. Destiny dodged through the confusion, making her way towards the main deck. She had to find her crewmates, to let them know she was alive.

On the Treasure, Hongjoong stood at the helm, barking orders. "Keep firing! We need to breach their defenses!"

San and Mingi were among the boarding party, their faces set with grim determination. They had one goal: rescue Destiny and take down Captain Black.

As Destiny emerged onto the deck, she spotted San and Mingi fighting their way through Black's crew. Her heart soared with relief. "San! Mingi!"

San's head snapped around at the sound of her voice. "Destiny!" He fought his way towards her, his eyes blazing with fury and relief.

Mingi covered his back, his sword flashing in the sunlight. "Get to her, San! We've got this!"

Destiny ran to meet San, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "San, I—"

"Thank God you're okay," he said, his voice rough with emotion. He glanced around, his expression hardening. "We need to get you out of here."

Just then, Captain Black burst onto the deck, his face contorted with rage. "You think you can just take her from me?" he bellowed.

San stepped in front of Destiny, his sword raised. "What do you want from her?" he demanded, his confusion mirroring Destiny's own.

Black's sneer deepened. "She's paying her father's debts. She's going to be my wife."

Destiny's blood ran cold at his words, and she could feel San's fury boiling over. "Over my dead body," San growled.

Black's cruel smile widened. "That can be arranged."

Before he could advance, another cannonball struck the ship, sending debris flying. Hongjoong and the rest of the crew pressed their attack, creating an opening for their escape.

"Go!" Hongjoong shouted from the Treasure. "We've got them on the run!"

San grabbed Destiny's hand, pulling her towards the edge of the ship. "Come on!"

They leaped across the gap between the ships, landing on the deck of the Treasure. Mingi followed close behind, covering their retreat. As they reached the relative safety of their own ship, the crew rallied around them, cheering.

Destiny's legs gave out, and she sank to the deck, overwhelmed with relief. San knelt beside her, his face softening. "You're safe now."

She looked up at him, tears of gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, San. Thank you all."

Hongjoong approached, his expression fierce but relieved. "We don't leave our own behind. Ever."

As the Treasure sailed away from the burning wreck of the Iron Reaper, Destiny realized just how far she had come. She wasn't alone anymore. She had a family, a crew that would risk everything for her. And she would do the same for them.

-

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the deck of the Treasure. The crew was busy securing the ship, but a sense of relief and quiet triumph hung in the air. Destiny leaned against the railing, watching the waves lap against the hull. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Wooyoung standing beside her.

"I heard how you helped with the rescue, with the cannons," she said softly. "Thank you, Wooyoung. I owe you my life."

Wooyoung smiled, though his eyes held a hint of lingering sadness. "You don't owe me anything, Destiny. If anything, I owe you."

She frowned slightly, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, looking out at the sunset. "Being part of this crew, getting to know you... It's helped me more than you can imagine. You've helped me start to heal from everything I've been through, all the things I've done."

Destiny felt a surge of emotion. "I never realized... Wooyoung, I'm glad you're finding some peace. You deserve it."

He gave her a grateful look. "So do you. You've been through so much, and yet you keep fighting. It's inspiring."

As they stood there, a comfortable silence settled between them. It was Wooyoung who broke it, sensing the presence of someone approaching. He turned to see San walking up, his expression unreadable.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Wooyoung said, giving Destiny's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking away.

San came to stand next to her, his eyes following Wooyoung as he disappeared below deck. "How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Destiny sighed, looking out at the darkening sea. "I've been better. But I'm alive, thanks to all of you."

San nodded, his face softening. "We couldn't have done it without you, either. You were brave today, Destiny."

She turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "I had to be. But San, I was so scared."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers. "We all were. But we faced it together. That's what matters."

Destiny felt a lump in her throat. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come for me. I thought... I thought I'd never see any of you again."

San's eyes softened further, filled with an intensity that made her heart ache. "We'll always come for you, Destiny. Always."

She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "San, I'm sorry for what I said. For doubting you. For everything."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "We all said things we didn't mean. What's important is that we're here now, together."

Destiny looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to be strong enough to help. To not be a burden."

San gently lifted her chin, making her meet his gaze. "You are strong, Destiny. Stronger than you know. And you're not a burden. You're one of us."

She felt a tear escape, rolling down her cheek. San wiped it away with his thumb, his touch warm and comforting. "Thank you," she whispered.

San gave her a reassuring smile. "The crew is gathering on the deck to celebrate our victory. You should join us."

Destiny managed a small smile. "I think I'd like that."

San nodded, taking her hand gently. "Come on, let's go."

Together, they walked towards the main deck where the rest of the crew was already starting to gather. The atmosphere was markedly different from earlier in the day—lighter, more relaxed. Lanterns had been hung, casting a warm glow across the deck. Someone had started a fire in a small brazier, and the smell of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filled the air.

Hongjoong stood at the center of the group, a mug of ale in his hand, his face illuminated by the flickering light. He raised his mug as Destiny and San approached. "To Destiny, our brave and determined crewmate," he announced, his voice carrying over the chatter. "Without her, we wouldn't have made it this far."

A cheer went up from the crew, and Destiny felt a surge of warmth and belonging. She looked around at their faces, seeing not just comrades but friends, allies who had risked everything for her.

Jongho, who had been relatively quiet throughout the celebration, suddenly spoke up, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "We should officially initiate Destiny. We have a tradition that every new crewmate has to do."

A few of the crewmates exchanged glances, some looking a bit uncertain. Yeosang, always the voice of reason, was the first to voice his concerns. "She's been through a lot today, Jongho. And besides, out of respect... she's a girl."

Destiny, feeling the need to prove herself and solidify her place among them, stepped forward, her chin held high. "I want to do it. I want to be part of this crew, this family."

Jongho grinned, clearly pleased by her response. "That's the spirit! It's nothing too crazy, just a bit of fun to welcome you properly."

Hongjoong, who had been watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression, finally nodded. "Alright, if Destiny's willing, then let's proceed."

Destiny squared her shoulders, ready to face whatever challenge they had in store for her. She was expecting something like steering the ship or perhaps a small physical test. Instead, Jongho's grin widened mischievously.

"How about a skinny dip in the water?" he suggested. "It's been a tradition of ours since the beginning."

San's eyes widened in surprise and clear disapproval. "Jongho, seriously?"

But Destiny, determined to prove herself and feeling a rush of adrenaline, nodded. "Alright, I'll do it."

Hongjoong looked at her with a mix of surprise and admiration. "You don't have to—"

"It's fine," Destiny interrupted with a confident smile. "A tradition is a tradition."

The crew gathered at the edge of the deck, respectfully turning their backs to give her privacy. Destiny quickly shed her clothes, feeling the cool night air against her skin. Taking a deep breath, she approached the edge of the ship and, without hesitation, dove into the dark water below.

The splash signaled her entry, and the crew turned back around, cheering and applauding her bravery. Hongjoong and Jongho exchanged approving glances, while San kept his eyes on the water, concern etched on his face.

Destiny surfaced, grinning as she swam back to the ship. "That wasn't so bad!"

Jongho laughed. "Welcome aboard, Destiny. You're one of us now."

-

taglist: @dinossaurz @tiredlittlevirgo @everythingboutkpop @abibliolife @k-zuzu @ateezswonderland

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Persevering Afterlight - 11. Six Hours

Summary: When spending time and associating with vampires, peaceful times can only last for so long. Perhaps this evening was a reminder of that. Either way, the time has come for you to do your job once more.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 2222

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I fell silent after Leona’s answer to my question. Because it was beyond obvious from just those words that I’d misjudged him. 

He cared more for his clan than I’d realized, and, with a small smile, I realized that was one of the reasons that the fact that he was a were-lion fit him so well. He seemed lazy and uncaring at first, but was beyond loyal to his Pride.

Though how he’d become a were-lion of all things was beyond me.

The doors opened suddenly, causing both of us to turn and see Jack standing there, slightly out of breath, with Ruggie shaking his head exasperatedly behind him.

Jack stared with wide eyes, looking from me, to Leona, and then back to me while both of us just stared back at him. Me, in confusion, and Leona with an unimpressed expression.

Ruggie let out a long-suffering sigh, not unlike one an exhausted parent might use when dealing with a child, before he fixed Leona with an almost judgmental stare, “Well, are you going to be helping Y/n out, or nah?”

Leona’s ears twitched slightly, and he leaned back in his chair before answering nonchalantly, “Looks like it.” 

Though he was answering Ruggie, his eyes remained on Jack, who noticeably perked up at his words. The fluffy tail behind him beginning to wag in a steady rhythm that he seemed perfectly unaware of.

I felt a smile slip onto my face as I realized Jack had been worried about me and was now relieved that me and Leona were going to be working together. 

I’d already realized, from our idle conversations, that Jack respected Leona, but I hadn’t realized that he cared about me to much of any degree. 

Jack was on my side, Ruggie seemed to be accepting of me, and Leona was willing to help. And it was relieving. 

But I didn’t get to rest in the pleasant realization that I was, in no way, alone. 

Instead, a crash from outside had me all but levitating from my chair while the others whirled, ready for action in an instant. Perhaps a side effect from living their entire life in the world of the night.

Not that I could say I was really very different from them now. But at the moment, that hardly mattered beyond the fact that my reaction time was far slower than theirs.

I had to trot to keep up with the three young men as they surged towards the door. Jack and Ruggie parting to let Leona through before they hurriedly followed him. Leaving me to scurry after them

More crashes rang out through the hallway, and it wasn’t long before we reached the source of the sound.

A large man, throwing vases and slamming into walls as he snarled and snapped at the others who tried to subdue him. Throwing some of them off him before whirling to glower at them with bared teeth.

I’d barely made it over to where I could actually see what was occurring from around Jack before shouts began to ring out through the corridor.

“LOOK OUT! He’s gonna-”

The cry was cut off by the man ripping his way free of those who’d just grabbed onto him with a purely feral howl before he tore off down the hallway. Headed towards the front of the building without a single care for what he destroyed on his way there. Be it inanimate or living.

“BRUCE! What’s going on?!” Leona’s voice carried over the den, making it immediately obvious why his brother had left him in control of the clan as he took command of the situation.

I was only briefly distracted by Leona before I saw a young man, whom I recognized as the one who’d first led me and Sam through this building when I’d first come here, come running over.

The young man towered over the people around him as he answered, half out of breath as he shook his head, his moose horns barely missing the light fixture that hung overhead, “He’s gone mad! He just snapped all of a sudden and started throwing things! I don’t know what-” He flinched as he was cut off by another crash that sounded suspiciously like doors being broken through. 

Jack spoke over my head, his voice solemn, “I’m pretty sure he’s one of the ones who-”

“He was,” Ruggie interrupted, his large eyes narrowing and darting towards where I stood before he looked back towards Leona, whom everyone seemed to be looking towards right now.

“He was one of the ones that’s been following Y/n and Jack from a distance.” Ruggie finished flatly, his tone almost frigid as I felt myself go similarly cold at his words.

That explained why I’d felt so uncomfortable these past days. One of the vampires really had been following us, or rather, me. 

Hunting the hunter I supposed.

Leona’s gaze briefly flickered to where I stood before he twisted, opening his mouth to say something before I finally managed to push my way past Jack, “He can't run around the town; he’ll just kill people.”

I paused, as I noticed the way everyone was now staring at me. But this was how it was to be now. I was the Hunter and I would hunt the vampire, as was my job. Even if I knew what that meant.

 “I’ll go after him, but I’ll need to get my stuff. While I do that…” I trailed off as I finished, looking towards Leona meaningfully.

His gaze held mine, his face expressionless before he slowly nodded. Catching what I meant in a moment even as the crowd of vampires remained silent. But I couldn’t blame them. 

  I was a hunter going after one of their own kind. They all knew what it meant, even if they didn’t know about mine and Leona’s deal.

Leona would have his time to catch up to the vampire and stop him, and I genuinely prayed he could. Because if he didn’t, I knew perfectly well what I’d have to do. And this time I wouldn’t have Rook looking out for me.

“Jack, you go with the Herbivore. He already knows their scent,” Leona spoke lowly, his voice uniquely commanding as he looked towards the young man behind me. My guard for now, I suppose.

“Ruggie, you’re in charge until I get back,” Ruggie nodded, his eyes finally leaving me from where he’d been staring at me like I’d done something impossible. 

But perhaps this was the first time any of them had really viewed me as the resident vampire hunter since I’d first come here. And I couldn’t blame them if that were the case. I hardly fit the part.

But at the moment, goodness of fit didn’t matter.

Leona looked back towards me, his gaze holding mine for a tense moment before we both somehow managed to turn and walk down the hallway toward the doors at the exact same time. Our pace perfectly matched without even the slightest bit of hesitation from either of us.

Vampires parted around us as Jack and Ruggie followed. Flanking us as we hurried in silence through the building. 

We hardly even paused to look at the doors. Torn through with incredible strength that reminded me of exactly what I’d be facing in just a few moments.

A vampire that was far stronger than I was or any average human could be and that would not hesitate to kill me.

“How much time until sunrise?” Leona’s voice was still low as he looked towards Ruggie once more.

The smaller man glanced at a clock, frowning slightly even as he answered, his voice far more solemn than I was used to it being, “Six hours. You’d better hurry.”

I chanced a glance behind us only to find the rest of the clan staring at us. Some of them looked horrified, while others were just gravely serious. 

And all at once, it was like I was the monster here. And perhaps I was, but I would dwell on that another time. Because maybe, I was just a necessary monster.

I swallowed as I looked away from them and stepped through the door. Pausing only to glance Leona’s way as we both turned to head in separate directions.

“Good luck,” My voice was painfully soft, but my words were genuine. I truly hoped he succeeded in whatever he planned on doing.

Leona paused as well, glancing my way with a subtle nod before taking off. Running with inhuman speed in the direction directly opposite from the one I’d be taking.

I looked towards Jack, who shifted awkwardly as he looked down at me. I was almost touched that he was able to meet my gaze without even the slightest bit of hesitation when so many of the other vampires now seemed afraid of me, at best, “We don’t have much time.”

I started to speak but didn’t even have to finish as Jack nodded, unhesitating in his response, “Tell me which way.”

I pointed, not entirely sure what to expect until he scooped me up like I weighed nothing. Causing my entire body to tense in surprise as he glanced over at Ruggie, “We’ll be back soon.”

With only those words as my warning, he darted forward. Causing the city to practically blur around us as he raced forward.

I had been pulled along by Epel before, but I’d never been carried like this before, and until now I hadn’t realized exactly how fast vampires could move.

I gasped slightly as I wrapped my arms tightly around Jack’s neck as he continued to run forward, not even breaking a sweat despite our impossible speeds.

We would reach my apartment in no time at all, which was good. Because if Leona wasn’t successful, I needed to handle this as quickly as possible.

Otherwise, who knew what tragedies might occur.

It didn’t take Jack long to reach my apartment though, and, similarly, it didn’t take me long to get ready. All I really needed was to grab my bag. 

I kept it packed since I never knew when I’d need it, and I’d been wearing the necklace from Vil every time I’d left for the Savanaclaw Clan. It offered a modicum of moral support, after all.

Jack remained at my window, looking uncomfortable as I collected my bag and turned to face him. And I smiled at him sadly, “You only have to take me to where they are. After that, you can leave.”

I couldn’t make him stay for what might very well turn into an execution. It was bad enough to have him bring me home to collect what amounted to murder weapons.

He shook his head firmly, straightening almost determinedly, “No, I’ll stay. You might get hurt otherwise, and-”

“Jack. This is my job, and I have been trained. I’m not going to make you stay. Not with what I’ll be doing,” My voice was firm, and I watched as Jack faltered. His ears and tail both drooping at my words.

And I almost felt bad to turn down his assistance, but I wasn’t going to put him through watching, much less helping me. 

I sighed though, relenting slightly, “Here. Take this to the address I write down on it. Tell them that I sent you.”

I scribbled out what I was doing along with an address before handing the paper to him. Jack eyed the sheet before looking up to me like he wanted to ask.

I stood in front of him silently though, not sure whether I should identify the location to him or not. I still didn’t know the specifics of clan politics, like whether or not they hid their headquarters from each other.

Telling him that was where the Pomefiore Clan was could be breaking some taboo I didn’t even know about.

But time was a-wasting. I needed to get to where the vampire was quickly. Just in case.

“Can you take me to where the vampire is?” I questioned Jack softly, but there was no hesitation in his reaction. Even though he knew what I would be doing. 

If I’d doubted him before, I certainly didn’t now. I could trust Jack implicitly.

“I can smell them… that and blood.” I grimaced at his words, but nodded. ‘Them’ meant Leona had caught up, and I could only hope that was a good thing.

“Then we’d better hurry,” He nodded at my words, turning so I could get on his back this time and lock my arms around his neck once more before he jumped from the window.

He landed firmly on the cement below, hardly even hesitating before he took off, despite the fact my breath had practically stopped at the two story fall we’d both just experienced.

I swallowed thickly though, forcing myself to recover and focus as Jack raced down the streets. 

Our path was lit only by the moonlight and flickering street lamps as we quickly entered the poorer parts of town.

And as I kept my eyes on what lay ahead of us, feeling my bag bounce hard against my hip as my necklace threatened to slip out from under my shirt, I prayed silently that I wouldn’t have to do what I feared was coming.

If you would like to read more:

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[dailyanarchistposts]

LET.ME.DIE.

1. One cannot, and therefore does not beg freedom from tyrants.

2. Yet she may walk alone deep into the depths of The Lions Den, facing only death, and demand it.

3. The demand itself is in and of itself a demand for death- and certainly the tyrant will be forced to appease it. Allowing blasphemes to live has never boded well for such people.

4. In the moment of demand, freedom and death are inseparable.

5. Domination has inscribed itself upon, around and inside of us; such that the destruction of the totality is also the destruction of the self- the death of the being.

6. Whether or not a new, none self, an individuality will rise from the dying can never known before one crosses the threshold- but does that mean one should not try?

7. To allow oneself to dream of a self after society is almost as dangerous as dreaming of a society after society- No Future is not merely an expectation or an understanding of the current reality; but also a direct threat towards it.

8. The desire for world ending should not be confused with the desire to change or better the world. To destroy civilization, is to end the world, not to fix it.

9. Similarly the demand to embrace death, to be allowed to die should not be confused with a suicidal one; but rather understood as a desperate grasp towards the possibility of truly living, as an inseparable part of the struggle for life beyond the walls- for freedom.

10. The truly suicidal, are those who believe in the possibility of continuing life inside civilization- to accept existence on the terms of others is also to relinquish autonomy over it.

11. To be incubated inside a civilization which selectively: breeds, contains, murders, controls, confines, denotes, shapes, constructs, directs, influences, absorbs, identifies, and domesticates free wild life is to never really have lived at all- to die, on ones own terms, in such a condition is a form of refusal; a rebuttal of the logic of the whole which demands the maintenance of sterilized life.

12. In demanding death, on ones own terms, one demands something outside of the regular state of things- outside of the every day logic of domination; a demand that can never willingly be met only begrudgingly gifted in the process of war/decomposition.

13. One must look towards arming the 'Death Drive'[14], to all out war on the self and society; and through this process bring about an ending (one way or the other).

14. This process is not a revolutionary one, neither one which wishes to make a revolution- a revolution is something creative; there are no guarantees that revolutions bring endings and more often than not they bring tyrants.

15. For want of better words, one might call it insurrection, or anti social war; or at least it can be said that one who speaks with these words speaks of something close to the pursuit of death.

16. It must be said that there are no victories to be had in such a pursuit and one must not hope to be a winner. The nature of such a process implies many losses- though not all loss is to be lamented.

17. One must seek out the joy in loss, in the beauty of abandoning the self and the society- to accept that victories are the play things of warlords and generals and to embrace the act of doing without hope or reward is perhaps the first step in unbecoming,

18. Attack will reveal new roads along which the careful traveler may traverse reality.

19. The traverse may prove an endless, life long struggle, or it may pass rapidly face down in a gutter.

20. If done correctly it will, if nothing else, expose the true horrors of the civilized as its defenders rush to crush those in dissent.

21. Being crushed is preferable to being smothered.

22. Death is not a goal but a process.

23. Endings are not confirmations but negations.

24. Turn off the machines.

25. LET.ME.DIE

[this-is-a-love-story-isnt-it]

Ok, so as I said in my post about that article where Kurtzman basically said that filler episodes should be avoided in Star Trek, I started talking about Farscape in the tags, but it started getting too long, so I want to make a separate post.

I was thinking about "filler" episodes in Farscape, and as I was looking through Farscape episodes, I realized that a lot of Farscape episodes can be considered "filler". I've recently started calling them "stand alone" eps, though. It sounds more accurate. I noticed that most of the time in Farscape, the major plot advances are in the multiple-episode arcs a couple times per season. Like, most of season 1 was what you would call standalone eps. Did it further the plot of "the peacekeepers are after us and John has wormhole knowledge that Scorpius will do anything to get?" mostly no. We see it in Nerve/Hidden Memory, and then at the end of the season in Family Ties. Then in Mind the baby (2x01) they're still inside of the main story arc of dealing with the peacekeepers who are after them and putting Talyn in danger also. Episode 5 is important for a lot of backstory (but also character driven). And then we don't get into any more major movement of the plot until the Look At the Princess trilogy (s2 eps 11-13).

And then the next time the plot gets moved forward is in the Liars, Guns, and Money trilogy (s2 eps 19-21), and then in Die Me, Dichotomy and Season of Death (s2 ep 22 and s3 ep 1).

And then Self-Inflicted Wounds parts 1 and 2 (s3 eps 3-4). Then ep 6 (Eat Me) is critical to the storyline of the rest of the season.

Actually, I'm looking at the season 3 eps, and season 3 is a pretty equal balance between plot advancement and character/relationship development. But especially with the multi-part episodes like the Infinite Possibilities 2-parter, and the Into the Lion's Den 2-parter there's plot advancement.

The season 4 eps 2-3 are major plot episodes. And then no more plot-heavy eps until Unrealized Reality, Kansas, and Terra Firma (eps 11-13). and I guess the rest of the season is actually pretty plot heavy except for ep 14. It doesn't sacrifice the character interaction and development, but the plot is moved forward or is key to the overall arc for the rest of the series after that.

So really, only less than a 3rd of Farscape episodes further the overall story along. Most other episodes are important for character development and world building. Some of them are true stand alones in that there isn't really a lot of character development, either, just kind of like a fun ep (Like Through the Looking Glass or John Quixote).

So idk, it's kind of like there are 3 types of episodes in a lot of shows. I'm thinking of Farscape, Firefly, Fringe, and Star Trek here (like TOS, TNG, VOY, DS9). There are plot heavy episodes that contribute to the overall plot or main story arc, episodes that develop characters either in relation to the plot or just backstories, and then eps that nothing really happens except a fun adventure. With Firefly I actually don't really know if they developed a min storyline yet, except for the whole thing with River. I guess that was supposed to be the main arc? But most episodes were kind of standalone eps. Like adventure of the week kinds of things which allowed for character development and character interactions/relationship development. Fringe had a bunch of "monster of the week" episodes. Some of them gave character backstories or expanded what we know about the characters, but didn't really push the arc forward (or at least you didn't realize it at the time, but like 10 episodes later it turned out to be something significant lol).

But shows like Gilmore Girls... I guess shows like that are character driven most of the time. Most of the story arcs had to do with relationships. And there were arcs like Lorelai and Sookie opening their own inn, and there were a couple episodes that almost fully revolved around that. But it doesn't really have one main storyline or arc. Even sitcoms are like this. the story arcs are usually relationship related and each ep is kind of stand alone.

I'm thinking this main storyline and filler episode thing is unique to scifi shows, actually??? Specifically the "old" ones before they started making shows that only have 6-13 episode seasons.

New Star Trek series like Picard and Discovery are 98% plot and 2% character or relationship stuff. Same with a show I watched recently called Emergence. Character relationships were developed, but every episode contributed to the one storyline. Also currently watching Containment and it's the same way. Both of those shows had 13 episodes.

[zepskies]

Series Masterlist - Break Me Down

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: **Rated M. (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

BMD YouTube Playlist || BMD Spotify Playlist

BMD Music Playlist Posters

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Did you like this series? If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue the BMD-verse, you can:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Become a Patreon Member 🌟

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

One-Shots:

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Wanderlust** Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.

Love Actually** [MINI SERIES] Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system. At least, you hope you can, before he meets the rest of your dysfunctional family on Christmas Day.

Series Complete!

Wake Me Up** [MINI SERIES] A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Series Complete!

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Sleigh Ride Yet again, you convince Ben to indulge you in a new Christmas tradition.

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

This One's For You Late one night, finding no other recourse, Ben sings to his infant daughter to help her sleep.

Lesson Learned** There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you. (Sequel to This One's For You)

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Imagines:

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game.

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you.

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a “twist” ending…

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to “Ben loses you.”]

Headcanons

Inspiration behind the Part 17 plot twist. It has to do with my love of Smallville. (Spoilers for BMD Part 17.)

How many kids would you and Ben have? The answer is...

Ben's reaction to his daughter Lila's first crush (vs. his son's). The double standard here is ridiculous!

How Ben would react when Lila gets a boyfriend (or girlfriend). Dad!Ben is pretty much what you'd expect...

How Ben reacts when his daughter (Lila) is dating an asshole. He sees an unfortunately "kindred" spirit.

What if Lila caught Ben on a bad day? Featuring reactions from young!Lila and teen!Lila.

What (BMD) Soldier Boy/Ben Would Say to His Younger Self Ben has the opportunity to meet his counterpart from the 1980s. What advice would he offer?

Imagine Soldier Boy (Ben) "Sliding Up" to You in the Club Despite what you might think, he's got moves...

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

"But you move me, baby. All my livin time..."

"A fight for love and glory, a case of do or die..."

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[clickerflight]

Crestlen Universe Masterlist

Main master list

A series of hero and villain whump stories, specifically in the city of Crestlen. The city was once three cities, so smashed together that the leaders finally decided to make it one, in the process making hero work much harder and giving villains and ill intentioned organizations and scientists a perfect playground while the heroes are tied up in red tape.

These stories do not have to be read in order and you can read just one and not need to read the others. However, the series are placed in chronological order.

Dragon's Den A resource sniper has a very bad time before being scooped up to become a coleader of a dangerous gang that is quickly taking over Crestlen.

Finished

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Extra Voltober: Hate Lives in a Small Town

Fallen A villain's old henchmen finds him in a cell while on an undercover mission, but after rescuing the villain he finds himself forced to take the villain's place in being broken and trained to be a superweapon for the government.

Ongoing

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Prestory/Bonus content VTB:Goodnight, Demon slayer VTB: Better Than You VTB: Captains All Art: Kolt's design, Ivan in the jar

The Lion and the Mouse A vigilante finds out that a hero team is keeping a low level villain with shrinking abilities as their torture toy and finds a way to get him out, even if he has to put himself in danger.

Finished

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4: Art

One offs

I didn't know where else to go - villain shows up on detective's doorstep injured

[benzjr]

Sorry Can't Save Me Now, Chapter 5: What Is It About Them?

It's all heating up fast in the new chapter of Sorry Can't Save Me Now! Josh Carter enters the lions' den -- the Hemmingtons' house party. But his friends realize it's not all it's cracked up to be, and Josh's unfounded hubris could be this night's undoing.

I'll warn you now that you'll be left in a little bit of suspense; this is the first half of a two-part arc, as is becoming a little common in my more recent stories. The scene this night sets needed a little longer to play out than the size of one of my usual chapters could really provide it.

Clean version of the chapter art under the cut.

Previously in Sorry Can't Save Me Now: 1 2 3 4

A Future Super-Something, the first story: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Perfect Disasters, the second story: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Over and Out, the third story: 1 & 2 3 4 5

Diamonds on the Rebound, the fourth story

Reminiscence, the fifth story

A Hero’s Prelude, the sixth story: 1 2 3

Dancefest, the seventh story: 1 & 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

[imperialpatriot66]

TLK Headcanon(s): Sarabi lives! 

TLK Headcanon(s): Sarabi lives! 

Um so yeah, thought this blog(or whatever this is called) would first be about my obsession with Star Wars and the fics I made for that. However I have been on a Lion King high at the moment and read a lot of Lion King fanfiction and I thought I would give it a go as well. For that there comes headcanons and mine is that Sarabi lives! 

In my headcanon Sarabi lives on but gets hurt by Scar when he hits her(in the scene where Simba returns to the Pridelands) she also suffered a lot during Scar’s reign due to the drought and famine and has problems moving later in life. It’s why she is not present at the presentation of either Kiara or Kion(if he got a presentation? But he probably did). However, she was not that old to not be present at some events like the Ukumbusho Tradition when Kion’s guard played.

(The Front Lioness in The Upper Left Corner has been theorised and it’s my headcanon to be Sarabi.)

(Chart over size and age of lion cubs)

However, I needed to know how long the characters were for my story which is set roughly 4 years after the end of TLK2. If we go back to the first Lion King according to this chart(above) and a Buzzfeed article Simba is around 2-months old when we first see him. Then a couple of days later his father dies fully grown and looking at pictures of adult male lions I’d say he is around maybe 6 years old which is what I’ll have Sarabi as well(since they were probably betrothed to each other from birth). Simba’s time in the jungle takes place till he becomes a grown adult, maybe 5 years old. So Scar’s reign lasts five years and by that time Sarabi is 11 years old. Which is old but the average lioness lives to be around 17 so not super. The entirety of TLK2 we see Kiara grow up to be a sub-adult(real term) so she is around maybe 3 years old. This makes Sarabi 14 years old. My story then takes place 2 years later which makes Sarabi 16 years old which is still a realistic age as she is taken care of despite her injuries. In my fic, she can barely stand anymore and spends her time in her own private den which is a part of the main den. She also has some trouble with her memory but still can recall her son, granddaughter and great-grandson(Oh! OC mention!).

For the other characters I imagine Simba being 10, Kiara 5, Kovu 6(but still quite close in age but Kovu is older since he was borned during Scar’s reign and Kiara was born around 120 days after Simba came to power), Zazu 15(since an adult Red-horned hornbill is over 3 years old I assume he could be around 5 years old at the start of TLK).

Sources:

[ddelline]

fic OST | circulus vitiosus (salva mea)

blurb | bc it’s me ofc there’s a fic OST to be had! posting this in the wake of publishing part 1, despite having 2 more parts to both write & post. well. anyway: hereby the music which serves as the inspirational foundation for circulus vitiosus (salva mea), or as it’s colloquially called: time loop!fic. may contain vague, conceptual spoilers for what’s to come in parts 2 and 3 (though not that much bc everything herein is pretty consistently dark & foreboding, lol) what | 30 tracks which may or may not be arranged according to in-fic events & which fail to stick any sort of genre-bound landing, feat everything from broken beat avant garde electronica → triphop → psychedelic rock → classic r&b, plus some delicious instrumental electric guitar bits playlist → spotify tracklist | under cut

01 | VTSS — why we don’t deserve nice things

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02 | tzusing — 戴綠帽 (wear green hat)

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03 | aphex twin — formula

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04 | the dead weather — will there be enough water?

will there be enough water when my ship comes in? water when my ship comes in? will there be water when my ship comes in?

05 | gustavo santaolalla — the hunters

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06 | wax tailor — ungodly fruit

perhaps those who may be among us for the first time may be wondering what is going to happen now

07 | djuma soundsystem — les djinns (trentemøller remix)

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08 | DJ shadow — what does your soul look like, pt. 2

in a few moments you will have an experience which will seem completely real it will be the result of your subconscious fears transformed to your conscious awareness you have five seconds to terminate this tape five, four, three, two, one

09 | nicolas jaar — john the revelator 

now who art worthy, crucified and holy bound up for some, son of our god daughter of zion, judea’s lion

10 | ethel cain — two-headed mother

I’ve loved before, I’ll kill again you’re just the worst of all my men I’m not gonna pull you out the den

11 | regis — broken on the wheel

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12 | restive plaggona — lonely people after midnight

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13 | shudan — jiangshi

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14 | teeth of the sea — field punishment

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15 | parrish smith — fader

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16 | thom yorke — harrowdown hill

did I fall or was I pushed? did I fall or was I pushed? and where’s the blood? and where’s the blood?

17 | TENDER — machine

you cut me open, and pull me apart a hollow chest instead of a heart control, control me you do what you want with me, baby till I am spent, I’m so content

18 | BANKS — 27 hours

it’s been twenty seven hours since we even saw the sun

19 | deaf bones — only lovers left alive

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20 | parrish smith — sex, suicide & speed metal

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21 | low — poor sucker

some poor sucker at the bottom of the lake took the wrong way up when the ground began to break it’s a long way back that’s the price you gotta pay

22 | sade — long hard road

there’s a long hard road ahead but a voice inside me said said there’s something that you need to know it’s gonna to be alright

23 | massive attack, tricky & 3D — take it there

we’ll take it there, but take your time we’ll take it there, you’ll lose your mind

24 | plaid & björk — lilith

the moon it guides me on baby there’s absolutely no doubt

25 | sneaker pimps — lightning field

hope’s the child of what luck brings points to faith in higher things ask me now fire at everything at once strike me down

26 | mew — one flew over, one was destroyed

do you remember what made you fall? and does it matter to you at all?

27 | amor satyr — que dançar?

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28 | manni dee & akiko haruna — frowzy

a couple hours means nothing in the dark in the end the choice was never ours

29 | faithless, rollo armstrong & sister bliss — salva mea

I wanna take a look at the world behind these eyes every nook, every cranny reorganize realize my face don't fit the way I feel what's real?

30 | hozier — first light

the sky set to burst the gold and the rust the colour erupts you filling my cup the sun coming up