#until it overpowers the coldness and the hatred.

[daffodil--lament]

look i figured out how to put this post underwater

my personal opinions and interpretations of a piece of literature are incoming. this is me nitpicking but: by the end of the first ghost scrooge is already ashamed of himself and looking toward change and when the third ghost comes he assumes that theyre looking upon a future in which he has changed so he's terrified and devastated when he sees the reactions to his death because he doesn't know if the scrooge they know in a year's time is one who has changed, or one who has changed enough.

like yes i do think that seeing his own miserable lonely celebrated death is vital to the man he becomes on christmas morning BUT. it's not just that. scrooge's fatal flaw isn't just greed, it's isolation and indifference. seeing that there is tenderness and love in this world not far from him is as important as watching his own kin disregard him as lost and loathsome.

that's why, in my mind, seeing how loved tiny tim is, understanding the love and faith and perseverance of the Cratchits as well as his own hand in continuing their poverty and illness, and being struck with the abject tragedy of tim's (really quite preventable) death changes him as much as the businessmen's jokes about him do.

i think what the point one might make here comes down to the fact that it isnt until scrooge is confronted by the reality of the suffering he is enabling that he understands how badly he needs to make a change. he knew Bob Cratchit is poor, I'm sure, but he was able to ignore that fact until the spirits show him the Cratchits' home and their malnourished children. Healthcare CEOS see that every day, they arent ignorant. healthcare companies actively fight to keep people in poverty and sickness. so maybe they're way more evil than Scrooge, who's to say

[hotteokyu]

Ice on her Lips

Synopsis ~ Gifted with the curse of immortality, you are the northern princess that each kingdom desires to grasp. You hide within the northern army as an infamous general, fighting for your kingdom's treasure with ease... until a soldier from the east kingdom, whom you can never overpower, discovers your identity. The water is warm, but his lips are warmer, and you suddenly never want to return home. Even if you give your greatest enemy your sacred gift, you wish to stay in his enchanting hold.

Pairing ~ enemy!seonghwa x enemy!princess!reader

Word count ~ 5.3k

Genre / warnings ~ historical-ish, fantasy, romance, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, enemies-to-lovers, violence, war, blood, suffering, reader has white hair for plot, kissing, outdoor / semi-public sex, underwater play (?), the cave makes his soft noises really loud, he tries to gain control but he's a mess, unprotected sex, they almost get caught, oral sex (female receiving), hand job (hardly), he cums on his own, he cums untouched once, they're very mean (´‸`), desperate sex, just read it

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! ! !

a/n ~ please enjoy! mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

     You fight for your kingdom. You fight for its treasure which thousands have fallen to protect. You fight for your precious life, and that is why you are regarded with the highest rank and greatest respect.

     Because you fight for the kingdom’s treasure. 

     Because you are the kingdom’s treasure. 

     Your men don’t know you’re the princess that they are meant to die for. Your enemies don’t know you are not the general they desire to kill with every fiber of their being and dignity as a soldier. 

     It is your greatest amusement, watching your enemies fall at your feet with such hatred in their glare at the one thing they desire so greatly.

     You are the princess of the northern kingdom. Your skin is cold as frostbite, but warm blood streams healthily throughout their vessels. Your hair is white as the snow leopard which hides deep within your icy soul. You are a beauty, and you have the one thing all men wish to obtain. Immortality. 

     Although that term is very misleading, it is more or less true. You are gifted with everlasting youth and health until you die by a sword to your frozen heart. You have the ability to give any one being your gift. 

     Your northern kingdom wishes to let you live as any princess would until you pass peacefully. They believe immortality should not be brought upon any man or woman. Again, they do not realize it isn’t quite immortality. Nonetheless, the four kingdoms are at constant war, fighting to obtain the princess or protect the princess from the wrong hands.

     “Where are your men?” 

     You don’t turn your head, your eyes focused on pulling your warm gloves over your bruised hands. You recognize his voice, the man whom you happen to come across at least once a week in battle. He’s a general from the east, dressed in complete black from his long, bunned hair to his horse. 

     “I’m on vacation today,” you say softly, leaning back on your hands as you peek over at him. “Didn’t you hear? The princess died. Fight’s over.” 

     He huffs a laugh, smiling as he glances over at the entrance to the cave you’re resting in, sitting atop your beautiful white horse. 

     “Your men are missing as well,” you point out, eyeing the entrance. There’s no commotion or presence. He’s alone.

     “I came here to rest,” he says.

     “I doubt that,” you sigh. “Did you follow me here? Think I’d undress? Per-”

     “I think it’s time one of us dies,” he interrupts. “Men are falling at our sides and yet here we stand unharmed. We must fall alone for the sake of what will come of this war.”

     You tilt your head. How virtuous. “And what if you fall?”

     “So be it,” he answers confidently. “But I will not.”

     “I don’t think you understand why I’m so good at what I do, Park Seonghwa,” you whisper. Your tiny voice echoes throughout the cave, and your footsteps bounce from the walls as you dismount your horse.

     He comes down to your level, his boots clacking softly against the wet rock. He towers over you, but he doesn’t look so intimidating off of his stallion. He reaches out and taps your helmet curiously.

     “Is it this?” he asks. “You hiding something under there?” 

     You smile softly. “Let’s fight to the death,” you say. “Then we’ll find out.” 

     Seonghwa overpowers you with his pure strength, but you have an immaculate technique to counter. He’s good with his sword, but he’s so predictable. It’d almost be boring if not for his constantly trying to run at you and put you down. What kind of strategy is that? It’s pathetic. I guess he’s trying to use your weakness, but, really, let’s be serious. 

     But brute strength and better technique do balance out a little more than you’d like. It’s been hours of back-and-forth jabs and deep slices, and you’re both bleeding puddles onto the rocky cave ground. You’re panting, bent over as you clutch your trembling arm. You’ve lost your sword at this point, your fist curled tight as if you could deal a punch on this man while you weren’t about to pass out. 

     Seonghwa isn’t much better, but he’s standing tall, his sword snapped in two at his feet. He’s dripping streams of blood from his limbs, but he puffs his chest out in a laugh. He takes a trembling step forward, his expression remaining calm despite the tremors of his limbs. He reaches out slowly, and you can’t find it in you to stop him.

     As your helmet crashes to the floor, the metal clanking and echoing aggressively until it rolls to a stop, your hair falls into its natural place, covering your face from his faltering gaze. His fingers gently touch a strand, slowly following it to its tip without disturbing its soft delicacy. 

     “You understand now?” you choke out, trying to hide your fear. Seeing what you desire most practically in your hands could drive a man mad. Fuck technique, he could take you right now, and you won’t be able to stop him. It’ll all be over. 

     “I understand,” he says quietly. You lift your head in choppy, trembling movements. “Your kingdom does not understand your gift’s beauty, so they have thrown you to the one place where you can die.” 

     You clench your jaw. He’s hardly holding your hair between his fingers with any determination, but it feels like a tight leash. You can’t back away. “You don’t understand, then,” you say.

     “Princess.”

     Your leg shoots up to his face, and he grabs your calf, a deep scowl running over his soft features. He pushes your leg away, but you push harder until he slams into the ground. He grips your hair, pulling you with him with a harsh tug, and you immediately slam your hands into his throat, sitting your knees on the deep slashes on his arms. You dig your broken fingers into his neck, his eyes wide and arms useless. He grits his teeth, desperate to breathe as he squirms under you. His eyes never leave yours, his pupils contracted to thin slits of livid warning. As you eye the shards of his sword, preparing to end this once and for all, you hear a roar of footsteps coming from outside the cave.

     You grunt, throwing yourself away from him and sprinting further into the cave. You hear him cough and gasp, stumbling pathetically behind you as you escape into the darkness.

     You’ve been hiding behind a waterfall for hours. It’s cold, your clothes soaked in blood and mist from the splash of the water. You’re far from the cave, having found a small hole to escape from. You’re hidden carefully where no one should find you. 

     And you don’t know what to do.

     You’re cold and hungry. You’re too cautious to go out to find food. You’re too injured to move much anyway. You’ve wrapped up your cuts with strips of fabric from your clothes, but that’s all you can do. Your satchel is back with your horse. You think you should call for help. But… What if Seonghwa was right? Your kingdom had always expressed their hatred for your gift. You had wanted to be a soldier since you were young, but… normally kingdoms don’t let their princesses go to war, do they? 

     You sigh, resting your head against the damp rock behind you. “I don’t know,” you mumble, gazing out through the gentle stream of water at the entrance to the cave. 

     You hardly hear the gentle rustling of the flowers beside the pond, but you quickly scoot yourself deeper into the darkness when you see two black boots appear. It’s Seonghwa.

     “Are you kidding me?” you say through tightly gritted teeth. 

     He’s standing there, but he doesn’t look like he sees you. He looks calm, eyes gazing at the soft ripples of the water. His hair rests gently against his neck, wavy and thick, almost reaching his shoulders. He runs his rough fingers through the top, ruffling it lightly. He won’t see you. He’s off guard now. He’s alone. 

     You sit up slightly. He’s alone, off guard. You should kill him. You look around with your eyes without making any sudden movement. There’s hardly anything around you. No loose rocks or sticks. It’s all just… You spot a sharp rock from you. He’ll definitely see you. There’s no way you can reach it without him seeing you. Anyway, there’s no way you could muster the strength to crawl over there. You’re involuntarily limp. You should just pray he leaves. Don’t get into a fight. 

     But you eye him and start to panic when you spot him dipping his bare feet in the water, his shirt gone, and his hands working at the strings of his pants. How did he get undressed so quickly?? Is he seriously going to bathe in the middle of his enemy’s land?? 

     He pauses, though, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief, your shoulders releasing their tension slowly. His muscles and scars flex as he turns slightly, his head tilting back into a small roll, stretching his stiff neck. He looks tired, his lips parted softly, eyes closed gently. He’s certainly doing better than you, but you definitely made him too weak to fight for a while. He lets out a soft sigh, and your ears perk up at the sound, the slight vocalization of his low voice rumbling gently through his chest. 

     “Princess…”

     Your ears fall, your expression blank. You don’t breathe, don’t think. 

     “Let me treat your wounds,” he says, tilting his head forward as he eyes the stream of water protecting you from his view. Or perhaps not. 

     But you remain still. Why would you go out? Even if it’s petty, you won’t give up. Even if it’s useless, you shouldn’t just hand yourself over.

     “Or will you watch me undress and bathe like a pervert?” he asks, and it gains him a scurry of trembling legs against the slippery cave floor. 

     You’re not just giving yourself to him… He’s going to heal you, and then you’ll run away. You won’t fight him. You won’t let him take you. You’ll run far…

     You can hardly climb down onto the soft grass, and you land harshly on your hands. Your arms fail to prop you up, so your face lies against the fluff of the damp green. He’s slow and cool as he walks over to you, kneeling beside you. He doesn’t touch you or say anything. He gazes at you for a second, your white locks stained by the puddles of your blood. Your bandages have done nothing to stop your bleeding.

     His fingers graze your hair before he lifts your head slightly. You groan, your head pounding as he lays it atop a soft fabric. 

     “Just lay here,” he says quietly. “I will take care of your wounds.” 

     His touch is so delicate. As much as you want to push him away, you want to pull him closer and have him caress your poor body like this forever. As much as you want to run away, you want to sink into the grass and fall asleep to his gentle breaths. 

     Your eyes open drowsily, hardly able to roll back into place, as you’re surrounded by warm, gentle water. The lake envelops your stinging limbs, and it numbs the feeling that you’re so used to. It should enhance the pain, and yet you feel weightless, skinless, boundless, yet still calm and sleepy. 

     “I used an ointment from the east,” he says below his breath, so quietly. “It’s very efficient,” he takes a soft breath, “and it’s lovely.” His voice is beside your ear, and you know his body is touching yours in familiar, intimate ways. But his voice is enchanting, lulling you to a hazy clarity of calm. “Are you hungry, princess?” he asks.

     One of his arms wraps around your waist, which is bare, as his skin directly slides along yours. Your cushion is his lap, but that is clothed as it should be. As he reaches for a basket along the grass beside the water, his chest leans further against your back. You gaze down with a warm, slow breath. Your chest is covered. He’s a kind monster at least.

     “Here,” he says, holding a container of fresh water up for you to take. Your hands tremble but can hardly move. Your head tilts to the side in a weak frustration. Your head is so fuzzy. It doesn’t hurt any longer, but you can’t seem to take control of any of your movements. Perhaps you’ve lost far too much blood. “Princess,” he whispers, and you hum in weak acknowledgment. With a sigh, he brings the container to your lips, but you can hardly form any shape with them, and the water flows quickly to the pond beneath the target. He takes it away with a soft grumble. Then, he brings it to his own lips, takes a small sip, and his other hand lifts your chin gently.

     His lips barely touch yours, just slightly to open your wide enough for the water to pass through. When he leans away, his fingers close your jaw, and you swallow weakly, your brows knitted together in relief as your horrible thirst is finally starting to be quenched. 

     He takes another sip and repeats, his head tilting slightly in something you would hardly call a kiss. But as you swallow, the sharp pain in your throat begging for more, your useless fingers claw gently at his side, and he pauses in his tracks, his eyes searching for what’s wrong. You can’t speak. You need more. He needs to hurry. 

     Your head trembles as you lift it slightly. “M-more,” you mumble. You should just drink it yourself. Fuck, you need more.

     He hurries to take another sip, and you meet him in the middle, smashing your lips against his. His body lifts a little as you push forward. You swallow the water quickly, and he tries to go away, but he’s going too fucking slow. Your lips move desperately against his, your throat burning with need.

     “P-Princess,” he gasps, turning his head away quickly. He grabs the container and takes a larger sip, bringing it back, and you’re on top of him before he can turn completely. Your wounds are healing fast with this lovely ointment, and your hands can finally move as you grab the back of his neck and pull his lips down onto yours. There’s more this time, and you swallow hard, pushing your tongue into his mouth to find whatever you can before he has to leave again. “There’s-” he gasps, “no- more-” 

     Your fingers slide through his damp hair, soft and thick against your rough hands. He’s curled over you, your back arched as you pull him desperately closer. Fuck, you’re hardly even thirsty anymore. His taste, his gasps, his vulnerability, and his kindness. You need more. As your fingers slide through his hair, he groans softly. It probably feels good. Someone like him has never felt such love, such care and affection. You want to give it to him so bad. You should repay him for his kindness. 

     You break away, panting and flushed. His eyes are hooded, his lips puffy as he leans toward you. His cheeks are a light pink, hair disheveled. What a beautiful sight.

     Your lips find his jaw, feeling it clench as you trail soft pecks down to his neck. His skin is soft here, untouched. You nibble lightly on the skin and listen to his gentle shiver as you give kitten licks to ease the sting. You graze your teeth against him as you open wider, teasing the skin as you press lightly down. His hands slide across your thighs, squeezing them as he lifts his chin a little more, giving you more access. 

     Thumping footsteps make both of you jump, and a deep, obnoxious voice calls out, “Seonghwa!” He pushes your head harshly under the surface, and everything else is muffled for you. His hands quickly gather your hair and hold your strands tightly so they won’t float everywhere.

     You open your eyes slowly, listening intently to the voices above. Seonghwa is looking behind him, speaking, but you can’t make anything out. You won’t die or anything, but, if you run out of air, you’ll pass out. You really don’t want to deal with that right now.

     Pressing your lips together tightly, you lower your eyes to his body to occupy your mind while you wait. Fuck, his bare, hard chest and defined stomach sitting right in front of you... He should really thank you for this body. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Really, it’s because of you he’s had to train so hard. 

     His… oh…? You raise a brow as your eyes land on his crotch. He’s wearing black briefs, his thighs thick and hard, but not harder than his cock. The bulge is big and hard to miss, straining against the fabric. It doesn’t leave much of anything to the imagination. The tip is outlined, the shape of him defined in detail just for you. How is he so worked up from a few innocent kisses? 

     You glance up, and he’s taking his sweet time talking to those men. You’re going to run out of air soon, but this fucker doesn’t care, does he? He thinks because you’re immortal you can just sit under water like it’s nothing. 

     You huff, a small bubble of air floating to the surface, and you grab his cock. He jumps, his hand tightening around your hair and pulling lightly in warning. But you don’t let go. He’ll get them out of here, or his dick is gonna fall off. 

     It’s heavy in your hand, though still covered by the fabric. You wonder how thick it’d feel out of the water, just resting in your hand. You wonder how he’d sound if you gripped it hard and stroked him until he came with a pathetic whine. You swallowed hard, feeling it pulse in your grip. 

     Feeling newly frustrated, you look up, and he’s still talking. What the fuck is there to even say? You grit your teeth and grab the band of his briefs, pulling them down until his cock slowly comes out, floating to hit against his stomach. He pulls more harshly on your hair, and you groan. It doesn’t hurt underwater. Everything feels numb and weightless. It just tickles a little. Maybe it’s because you’re losing air, and your head is feeling foggy, but you want to push him further. You want him to hurry, but you also want to torture him just a bit. 

     You wrap your hand around him, your fingers almost able to touch but not quite. He’s so hard, twitching in your hold and shivering as you slowly glide your hand up to the tip. You watch his stomach tense up at every subtle movement. He sinks a bit further into the water as your thumb brushes over the slit. He’s throbbing at this point. Maybe being watched is getting him off. Maybe he likes the thrill of possibly getting caught. 

     You stroke him slowly, feeling every vein and unique shape, mesmerized by how his entire body shudders when you do something he likes. Fuck, you want to hear him. He’s so stern and confident, but, look at him, he’s trembling just for you. 

     You stroke him a little faster, your air running thin quicker and quicker and time moves fast. He grabs your wrist, and suddenly, you’re lifted from the water. 

     You gasp for air, coughing and taking long, deep breaths. He pats your back as you grasp his shoulders, wiping at your eyes as you try to see again. Fuck, your head hurts. That was close. You really thought you would pass out there. 

     “Fuck, Seo-” He grabs your body and lifts you over his shoulder. Your upper body hands against his back as he holds you there by your thighs. Your wet hair dangles into the water, floating along the surface like a spider’s web. “What are you-!”

     He grabs the waistband of your pants and pulls them down, discarding them somewhere, and suddenly your ass feels very fucking cold. You squeak pathetically as his hand digs into your flesh, his fingers slipping slightly into the wetness of your core. 

     “Since you seem to like games like this, we should keep playing, right?” he practically growls. You feel a thick finger slowly slide through your slick, and you shiver. It slips through your soaked lips and teases your hole before moving away completely. “Who knows who might come and see us, princess?” he says, his voice low and thick with anger. 

     You try to spout something back, but he slams two fingers into your hole, and a long, pathetic moan is all you can utter. Your legs try to spread wider, but they can’t move, and it makes everything so tight. Fuck, he’s ramming his fingers against your walls, and you tremble, your moans airy as you struggle to breathe and absorb the pleasure at the same time. 

     “Someone could be watching right now,” he says. “Maybe it’s your men. They’ll watch their great general cum on their enemy’s fingers.”

     His teeth graze your side before biting down on your flesh. You whimper, his every word and- No, no, what the fuck are you doing? You let him have his way as soon as he gave you something good. You groan as you reach into the water and search until you find his cock. You grab it tightly, and his pace falters.

     “Princess,” he warns, but both of you stop as soon as you hear a slight rustling in the woods.

     Your body is slammed into the water, and he follows right behind this time. He urges you to swim toward the waterfall, and you get there before him, pulling him to the surface quickly, and his hand wraps around your mouth as you go to say something. 

     “I swear I saw her come this way!” a young man shouts. “Look! She must have been here!” He must be pointing to Seonghwa’s bag, which was beside the river.

     Seonghwa is pressed against you, your back to the rock path which you had been resting on before he found you. The cave is dark and silent as you both listen intently. 

     “She’s most certainly been captured,” a deep, nasty voice declares. You know that voice all too fucking well, and your eyes grow wide. The king. “Follow the river to the northern kingdom. It is where she must be!”

     There are too many footsteps to count as his army does as they’re told. Everything goes silent again, and you release the breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. You should have called out for them, but it hardly even crossed your mind. Why? 

     Turning back to Seonghwa here, you don’t even care about going home.

     Neither of you even question it. You don’t care.

     He lifts you onto the rock and spreads your legs, your hips right against the edge. His warm breath fans over your thighs as he gazes into your eyes. Your cheeks are so hot despite the cool air against your wet skin, and you lean back onto your hands with a soft sigh. You watch as his gaze fixes on your pussy, a low groan tingling your ears. 

     One of your hands comes to his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses your inner thigh softly. His lips press against your slick, and you whimper, biting your lip as his brows lift at the taste of you. His eyes roll to a close, his tongue licking a thick strip from your hole to your clit, and you tremble, your ears twitching as the wet sounds of him against you are enhanced by the cave walls. 

     His hands grip your thighs as he sighs, his lips moving like a kiss against your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit and tasting your sweet slick desperately.

     “Fuck ngh~” you whine, your hips grinding against his tongue. “S-Seonghwa, Seonghwa~” Your words are airy and slurred, your eyes shaking as they roll to the back of your head with every suck and lick against your clit. His breathing is getting heavier, and you notice the lack of one of his hands on you. “Seonghwa, Seonghwa, sstop, I’ll h-hellp yoou,” you mumble, pushing his head away, but he doesn’t move. His lips move faster, his tongue burying deep in your hole, and your back falls to the rock, your legs trembling as he fucks your soaked hole with his tongue. “Hhwa, Seonghwa mm~ Hwa, llet me, pleease,” you beg, feeling his rhythm pick up, the heat and pleasure building quickly. “No, no,” you whine, a tear slipping down your burning cheek. “I’m gonna cum, fuck, Seonghwa.” You grind your pussy against his lips as your body trembles in pure ecstasy. You let out a desperate moan as he flicks his tongue over your clit, riding out your orgasm until you’re limp, shaking under him. 

     “Good girl,” he mumbles, leaving a peck on you as he backs away.

     “Shut the fuck up,” you growl, grabbing his hair. You sit up, closing your legs with a huff. “Fuck me. Right now.” His eyes grow a little wide, and you quirk a brow. “What’s wrong? Did you already cum?” He doesn’t answer, and you tug on his hair harder. “All on your own?” You laugh in disbelief. “Get out of the water.”

     He climbs onto the rock, and you push him onto his back, straddling his lap. Suddenly he’s so quiet. Suddenly his dick isn’t a hard, throbbing mess. You scoff, gripping him and pressing your pussy against him. He groans, his brows furrowed as you grind slowly. 

     “That wasn’t very nice of you, Seonghwa,” you spit, humming softly at the little bits of pleasure your clit gets. “Especially toward a princess.” You feel him growing harder in your grip, and you smile. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

    He’s silent, his soft breaths the only answer.

     “Of course, not,” you say. “Cumming all on your own. I didn’t even get to see your pretty face.” You reach out and push back the little hairs covering his eyes. You grab his chin harshly and pull him toward you. You smash your lips against his, grinding your hips harder as you feel him grow stiff. He whimpers against your mouth, his hands grabbing your hips and trying to still you, so you drop him with a huff. He groans as his head hits the floor, but before he can recover, you're lining his dick up to your hole. 

     “P-Princess,” he whimpers, his eyes rolling back as you sink onto his thick cock. Your lips puff out as you stifle a moan, his tip rubbing just the right spot, so deep inside you. You place your hands on his chest, your head hanging as you get used to the stretch. 

     “Y/n,” you whisper, afraid your voice will fail you if you try to speak. “Say my name,” you whine, “please, say my name, fuck ngh~”

     His cock twitches as he suppresses the need to thrust into your tight, soaked hole. “Y/n,” he gasps as you lift your hips slowly and drop back down. “Y/n, y/n, princess, do that again, fuck~” 

     As you lift your hips again and slam them back down, you collapse onto his chest with a soft cry. You let your hips do the work, your mouth devouring his as you fuck yourself on his cock. His hands grip your hips, pushing you down faster when you lift up. He wants to melt into you, this feeling making his entire body shudder with pleasure. His cock rubs against your walls and hits you just right, and you’re literally drooling into his mouth as you moan his name. 

      “Y/n, Y/n! Y/n, baby, you’re so tight,” he moans. “Are you gonna cream on my cock for me, princess? Come on, I know you’re close.” He plants his feet and grabs your hips, thrusting up into your pussy as you slam down. He picks up the pace and your head falls to his chest, your body limp as he fucks you desperately. “Come on,” he begs. “I’m gonna cum~” He hiccups. “Together, baby, come on, please~” He bites your shoulder as he tries to stop his moans, but his voice only gets louder as his thick, warm cum fills your pussy. Your eyes roll back as you feel him stuff you full, but it’s just not enough to make you cum. You can’t see his beautiful face. 

     So you lift off of his cock, his cum spilling out of you quickly, and you straddle his head, sitting your pussy against his lips. You watch his hazy eyes spill soft tears as he laps at you, drinking his own cum and your sweet slick. It doesn’t take much as he fucks you on his tired tongue, your pussy grinding on him at your own pace, for you to cum, whimpering and gasping as your body shakes with bliss. You watch him tremble as his cock spurts again, his face contorting beautifully just like you’d wanted to see. 

     You sit beside him and admire his beauty, completely limp on the rocky floor. He’s wet with tears and cum, and his stomach is messy with his release.

     You lean down and lick from his stomach to his soft cock, cleaning his cum off of his body. He shivers gently until you’re done, and you lay beside him.

     Your clothes have all dried, the sun warm against your skin as you both lay in the grass. There’s a comfortable yet questioning silence in the air. What now?

     “I don’t think I want to go home,” you say, gazing at the thin clouds and gentle sway of the trees. 

     Your answer is obvious. You want to live freely. But you know there’s no possibility of that ever happening. You know, whether you go home, where you’re resented for your gift, or go with Seonghwa, where you are desired for your gift, you will never be free. 

     “You were right. What you said when we had our duel.” He quirks a brow. “They sent me out to die.” 

     “Shall we just kill the northern king, then?”

     You whip your head toward him, his smile teasing as he gazes at you. 

     “You’re joking,” you sigh, turning away. 

     “I’m not.” He sits up with a small grunt. “Let’s take over the northern kingdom.”

     “Hell no,” you spit, propping yourself up on your hands. “Seonghwa, you're an eastern general. I’m not starting shit with you.”

     “So what do you want?”

     He looks at you silently. There isn’t a word in his eyes, and it forces you to think. What the fuck have you been doing your whole life besides killing to protect your fucking immortal gift? And the northern king refuses to use it. He wants you and your gift dead, but… what do you want? 

     “I want the fighting to stop,” you say. “I want men to stop dying for their greed.”

     “What do you want, princess?” he asks again. “Forget your gift. What do you want?” 

     You glance down at your clothes, dirty and old. A man’s clothes which you never really wanted to wear. The thrill of the battlefield is what keeps you moving, but you’ve always desired what could’ve been without your immortality. 

     “Shall we?” you mumble, gazing up at Seonghwa. “Shall we just kill him?” 

a/n ~ thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thoughttt~ ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू)

Taglist ~ @peachyy-jooniee @everyonewooeverywhere @gillianallen79 @bigpooperer @djanqxv @vegetarischewurst @iwantleonsarmsaroundmyneck @kcf4e @bluemoonfloower @hyxciinth1206 @ceriseribbonz @metzzz99csan @sunshinemingkii @strawberrystarcakes @akijoong @appleschre @deathmetalreaper @yeoyeoland @pukupukupowpow1117 @tashmonellloveskpopboybands @dogmom-1990 @joongscheese @domfikeluva @monbebeluv1103 @eggsocccs @litolmochi @nairobi22 @moremoons @eternalmei @deerieme @animedraws3 @altijdanouk @ultchanrose-blog @bluesunpurplestar1117 @blushpink00 @peachy-jooniee @berry-peachy @daniela-f-uwu @vivrtual @kpop-nct @robertsbbygirl @danitzyam @cassagathariver @anibelx @hyunstxns @geeznena @anoooon13 @cloudysannie @winc1ty @sinforsuccubus @slashervalley @mingisbaby @mazzystarrysky @here112 @mimifairytales @lewliett @klllerwaifu @cherrychristie

[captain-tch]

Anchor (Logan Howlett x GN!PlatonicReader)

Logan finds you when the memories of the past threaten to swallow you whole Warning: mentions of self harm, implied suicidal thoughts below the cut

There was so much blood. Tents where you once huddled with your friends, laughing, talking, bonding were in ribbons, the poles keeping them upright having been ripped from the ground. One of the poles was skewered inside a body, the face hidden by the red spray masking their features. Fire pits where you once warmed your hands and toasted marshmallows had been destroyed, the thick smell of ash consuming all of your senses. A charred hand reached towards another, mere inches from touching each other. The makeshift laundry lines had been broken, leaving clothes strewn across the ground, muddied footprints and blood stains marrying the materials. And then there were the bodies.

So many bodies. 

You knelt in the middle of it all, unable to move a single muscle. Your friends, your family, all dead. You were the lone survivor. 

It didn’t feel fair - what made you different from the others? What made you worthy of being alive, whilst your knees sank into their pools of blood and their skin grew cold around you? 

You didn’t even move, or speak, as you heard footfalls behind you. You didn’t look up as people descended upon the crime scene, where you most likely looked like the perpetrator. You just prayed that those who caused this harm had returned to finish the job. However, the horror was only beginning. 

“Hey, we missed one!” 

You stared at your reflection with venom in your eyes. Your gaze honed onto the jagged scar running from the corner of your mouth all the way down to your collarbone. Similar wounds ghosted down your body, but this was the one you could never hide from. The feelings rushed you like a wave - rough hands shoving your shoulders into the ground, their hands leaving bruises, a menacing grin leering down at you, the coolness of the blade as it was first caressed against your skin. The fiery hot pain that lit up your entire being when the knife was plunged into your skin. The feeling of hot liquid rushing out the wound, the overwhelming taste of iron hijacking your senses. 

A bubble of anger and hatred began to boil in your veins. The memories kept flooding you, until you couldn’t remember where you were or what was happening or when you were. All you knew was the pain and the terror and the hate.  

A scream ripped out of you. You grabbed the nearest thing your fingers landed on, a small metal bin, and hurled it with all of your might to the mirror. The crash was like music to your ears, the shards flying around you in slow motion. You didn’t feel them slice at your skin. You didn’t feel the blood well or the liquid slip down your skin. You felt absolutely nothing at all.  

It wasn’t enough. You could still see their faces, frozen in death. You could still smell the fire and ash and burning flesh and you couldn’t stop feeling like you were standing back at your campsite all over again and - 

Your fist flew at the shattered fragments. A delicious fire consumed your knuckles. The images fizzled slightly, then overpowered you. You became starved for that feeling of relief, craving the sweet moment of ecstasy where all your brain could focus on was the agony rippling through your hand. 

Again and again you sent your fist flying into the glass, the hits becoming less coordinated as blood coated every surface you could see.

Bodies burned to a crisp. 

Hit. 

A singular shoe discarded in the mud. 

Hit. 

A knife glinting in the light, glowing brighter as it got closer to your face. 

Hit. 

You were so absorbed in seeking relief you didn’t hear how the thud of your fist matched the one coming from behind, until yours was the only thuds once again. You didn’t hear the tirade of swear words leaving their lips, or your name being repeated over and over again. You weren’t in this reality anymore, too deep into your nightmare of memories to escape. 

A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your chest, dragging you from the mirror. A sob wracked through you - now the images were hitting you ten fold, and no matter how much you struggled in your captor's grasp you couldn’t escape. In the jagged remains of the reflection on the wall, you saw Logan behind you, concern painted over his face. 

“Ssh.” A voice soothed in your ear. You thrashed against them even harder - you didn’t deserve comfort, you deserved to be with your family. 

“Let me do it.” You begged, unsure what exactly you were asking for, only knowing you wanted the leaden guilt and torment to be erased from your being. “I just want it to stop.”

“This is not how it’s done.” Logan held you tighter, gently leading you away from the bathroom. You tried to fight back; god, you were so tired. You were tired of fighting back the memories, or pretending to be okay. You were exhausted. 

You crumpled in his arms, leaning heavily into him. His body didn’t falter, only grasped you tighter. You turned to bury your face in their shoulder, trying and failing to stop the images of terror and agony from flashing across your retinas. 

“What can you see?” His gruff voice asked. 

You froze, the words sinking in. Your brows furrowed, struggling to comprehend what he was asking. “What?” 

“Name five things you can see.” 

Your breathing quickened. “Broken tents -” 

“No,” Logan grabbed your shoulders, firmly pulling you away from his neck. He held you at arms length, staring deep into your eyes. “Here, now. What can you see?” 

“Um,” you sniffled, gently pulling your attention from him to the rest of the room. “Glass. A toilet. Shower. Tap. You.” 

“What can you touch?” 

You sought your senses, reaching out to all of your nerves. “Your flannel, the floor, my clothes, my blood.” 

“What can you hear?” 

Forcing your eyes to close, you tried to turn off your other senses, focusing on your hearing. The distant dripping of the tap snatched your attention. Logan’s steady breathing. Faintly, you could hear shouts and playful screams of children from the hall. 

“What can you smell?” 

The answer flew out of your mouth without even needing to think - it was the smell of safety, the first thing you smelt after you escaped from death's clutches. It was what you smelt as you were carried away from the cemetery that was once your home. “Cigar smoke.” 

“What can you taste?” 

Your lips turned slightly at the corners. “Scott’s shitty bolognese.”

Logan kept you at arm's length, taking you in. Your breathing was laboured, but it was evening out. Your eyes appeared more focused and he felt you could actually seem him now.  

“You good now?” 

You contemplated it. The guilt still lay heavy on your shoulders, and the memories were always playing in your brain, except now it was muted enough that you felt like you could cope. Your heart rate had resumed its usual pace and you didn’t have the urge to smash glass.

“That’s a stretch,” you sniffled, wiping at your nose. “But I’m better. Thank you.” 

“Let’s get you to the infirmary.” 

“No!” Your hand shot out, snatching at his shirt, smearing blood on it. “Please, no.” 

His brow quipped. 

“I don’t want them to see me like this.” 

Logan sighed, assessing your injuries and thinking for a beat. “Fine, but you can’t complain about my bedside manner.”

He wanted to go get a first aid kit; he didn’t want to leave you alone. He used his best judgement, hoping the cuts he could see were as minor as they appeared, grabbing a rag and running it over a faucet, being careful to avoid the glass. He came back to your bed, where you sat on the edge staring after him. He knelt in front of you, opening his palm flat to you. You moved your hand into his, wincing at the sight. Your knuckles looked like they’d been massacred, red coating so much of your skin you couldn’t even see the cuts. Without warning, he dragged the fabric across your wounded skin, a flame of pain following in its wake. You tensed up, squeezing your jaw tight to keep the hiss quiet. 

“You know, this isn’t the best way to deal with your feelings.” Logan’s eyes darted up to connect with yours. 

You scoffed. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on you - many times you had walked into the gym to see him destroying the boxing bag, blood being flung in every direction. “Coming from the expert, clearly.” 

“I can heal.” 

“That’s so not the point.” 

He grunted, dismissing your argument. He carried on his work, his grip on you tight but gentle as the blood disappeared wipe by wipe, revealing the skin beneath. Your skin was littered with cuts; thankfully they seemed minor, them having already stopped oozing blood. 

“Look, kid, you ever speak to anyone about what happened?” 

“Did you?” Logan huffed, frowning at you. You ignored his reaction, watching as he finished cleaning one hand and started on the other. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

Logan stared pointedly at you. “I’ve lived over a century and survived a war - you can’t fool me.” 

“Honestly, I’m fine.” 

“The mirror says otherwise.” 

A bubble of anger exploded in your gut. Your words were flung like knives, their edge sharp. “Why does everyone have to keep asking me about how I feel? Is it really that important to have feelings? Why can’t I just bury it deep down til it disappears?” 

“I wish that was how it worked. Stuff like this doesn’t go away overnight. You shove it down, it gets ugly, infected. It’ll turn you into a different person.” 

“Is that what happened to you?” 

A few beats passed, then some more. You worried you had crossed a boundary - this man saved you, and was saving you again, and here you were opening up his wounds whilst he helped clean yours. 

He surprised you by breaking the silence, his voice so low you had to strain to listen. “...Something like that.” 

“No offence, but why should I take advice from someone who clearly doesn’t take it themselves?” 

“Take it or leave it, that’s your call. It changes nothing for me.” He shrugged, wiping away the last bit of the blood. He evaluated his work, carefully turning your hand left and right, assessing for any further wounds he couldn’t see.  

“Either way, it’s going to destroy me, isn’t it?” 

He paused, eyes flitting to yours. He surprised you yet again, sending you a small smile. “Great thing about destruction - it leaves room for something new.”

“Hm.” You pondered it for a minute. “That was very wise of you, you’re starting to show your age.” 

Logan brushed off your attempt at humour, his face turning serious. “Let’s just get one thing clear - this,” he gestured to the bathroom, where the glass still lay shattered on the floor. “Is not going to be a habit.” 

“Why do you care?” 

“Because I only have a few shirts and you’ve already stained two of them.” 

You looked at his white top, cringing. It had smears of red, marrying the immaculate white. “Sorry.” 

Logan waved it off. He threw the rag to the floor, bringing himself up to his full height. He towered over you, yet you felt no fear at his size. You felt at ease, enjoying how his shadow fell over you. 

“What do you suggest instead?” 

“Find me. We can spend some time working on your god awful fighting form.” 

“It’s not that bad!” 

“Whatever you say.” He smirked. A warmth blossomed in your chest. 

Maybe you wouldn’t feel like this forever. Maybe the memories would overwhelm you less and less with time, but they would never disappear. They would always haunt you, lingering in the back of your consciousness. But the man in front of you, your friend, would help keep you grounded. He would be your anchor. And he’d never admit it, but you’d do the same for him too.  

marvel masterlist

[chanelnumbermine]

too hot to handle | paul aron x fem!reader

summary: the hot italian summer proves challenging for all the wrong reasons. testing your self-control around paul has never been harder

warnings: none, suggestive content.

having been from estonia, a country forming part of the nordic states, one of the colder places in europe, paul treasured every drop of sunlight a day gifted him. he didn't mind getting sunburnt, never complained about the heat and never missed a chance to tease you about your hatred for the sun. so when he offered you a place on his yacht for a cruise around the mediterranean, you were reluctant to accept. paul was an extremely active person, some would say his energy could rival an eager puppy. always swimming, running around the boat to adjust the course, laughing about something with his friends.

you were complete opposites. when he brimmed with excitement to climb a mountain and watch the sunset from the peak, you dreamed of a lazy evening. when he wanted to explore another island, you were craving ice cream to battle the excruciating temperature. he was sunbathing on the boat deck and you were swimming in the sea. it wasn't about your lack of energy or lack of interest in spending quality time with your best friend. it was quite the contrary.

paul had a certain affinity - or lack thereof - for shirts. being a young man confident in his body his outfits consisted of him wearing swimming trunks or short shorts, exposing his muscular chest and strong arms. even the slightest of moves made his muscles flex and he wasn't shy about showing it off. which was fun for him, but considerably less for you. sure, he was a sight for sore eyes. and you couldn't help but stare.

it was wrong, you kept telling yourself. to look at your best friend and think of tracing the tan lines, moving your nails along his muscles, feeling his warm body tensing underneath your touch. to feel his arms tighten around your frame and inhale the scent of his hair, wet from the salty water. to run your hand through his curls, caressing his face, from his cheekbones, to the swollen pouty lips to his strong veiny neck. and, well, with each passing day it was getting harder to control yourself. whereas paul was getting bored of the usual tasks and was increasingly frustrated with your demeanour. the harder you pushed him away, the harder he pulled. and today was the day he has had enough.

you left breakfast early. dressed up in your favourite bikini and dove into the sea. jumping far into the water, the cold enveloping your body, taking away the burning from your skin and the unnecessary thoughts from your head. you dove deeper, treading the waves until you were out of breath. were you running away? maybe. just for a second. usually nobody bothered to disturb your morning swim, but today a tall figure was standing on the edge of the deck, his body corded and a shadow of a smile lingering on his lips. unbeknownst to you, paul was been following your every move.

he dove into the water and quickly caught up with you. pushing through the waves, he swam under your body and reappeared just in front of you. "hey." he said and put his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. you yelped ans tried to push him away, water in your eyes blinking you, the sudden contact unsettling you. his voice did little to calm you, unleashing a bunch of butterflies in your stomach. but his grip proved too strong. you pushed your knee against his chest, hoping to overpower him. he just moved his palms to your lower back and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

your voice died in your throat. "hey." you said weakly, as his eyes bore into your skull. lost in the moment, you failed to notice how close your bodies became. his hands almost on your hips, your lips millimetres away from kissing his forehead. your crotch rubbing against the rubber band of his swimming trunks. his head buried in the valley of your breasts. but he was staring right into your eyes.

"you're not easy to get hold of, you know?" he complained, breathless. you wanted to throw your head back, scream, bury your face in his chest. whatever, as long as you wouldn't have to stare into his puppy eyes. you were glad for the water surrounding you, as he couldn't feel how sweaty your hands were becoming and couldn't hear the blood rushing through your veins. so you just swallowed and smiled awkwardly. "what do you mean?" he moved his right hand to the center, the other one now holding your thigh.

he sighed. "really, now!” a wave trashed on to back, the water dripping on his curls and getting in his face. you chuckled and moved it to the side. he murmured a soft thank you and looked up at you again. "just missed you, that's all" he admitted bashfully, which made you to laugh softly. that was paul's charm. not the flirty demeanour nor the confidence when he drove a car. it was moments when his facade cracked and the he laughed innocently. how you loved that laugh. so you did what you weren't supposed to do. you leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

when you leaned back and saw the shock in his eyes, you panicked. let go of his body and tried to swim away as far as humanly possible. you kicked him softly in the stomach. your cheeks and eyes were burning. the embarrassment being spread through your bloodstream instead of oxygen. god, what the hell was that? you wanted to swim to the bottom of the sea and bury yourself in the sand and never face paul again. you swam with all your might, driven by adrenaline and remaining pride.

the poor blonde barely collected himself, fighting for every breath, struggling to piece together what just happened. and he couldn't. with you out his sight, his hands empty, thoughts rushing through his head. he bit his lip, looking around for the familiar figure. he gasped, finally seeing your head resurfacing meters away. he didn't think twice, he started chasing you again. he was trembling with emotions, his eyes lost. he caught you ankle and wrapped his hands around your frame tightly. you didn't fight back. just laid your head on his shoulder. "im sorry" you whispered.

your breath tickled his neck, he laughed quietly. he tilted his head so it was resting on top of yours. "you scared me, now" paul pressed a small peck into your hair. "can't promise i won't do it again, darling" the nickname made you shiver and you slowly pulled away from him. he pressed his lips together and looked into your eyes, panicked you would get away again. so he did the only thing he could think of looking at your flushed cheeks and watering eyes.

he kissed you. breathless and scared, full of unspoken desires and muted feelings, he kissed you. as if it was the first kiss in his life. this time it was him who pulled away quickly, swallowing his pride and groaning internally. you were shaking. "fuck, im sorry" his voice broke "i don know wha-" he didn't manage to finish the sentence, because your lips crashed into his again. latching onto his lower lip hungrily, your teeth grazing his tongue when he kissed you back, invading your mouth. your hands on the sides of his face, his fingers buried in your hair. your could feel the salt on your tongue, was it the water, your tears? you pulled away when it became hard to breathe.

“i don’t feel sorry at all now”

“neither do i”

masterlist

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 10.7 K Warnings: ANGST! Use of the unforgivables, bIood, major and minor character dеath, major sad moments, mental breakdowns, taking characters to their breaking point, pain, griеf… I’m really sorry. Prompt: What happens when you hear something dreadful happening, will you stand up for what's right? Will you stay quiet for the greater good? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

A/N: This chapter is getting shadowbanned no matter what I change so please like, reblog and comment so it does not go under the radar.

Chapter 44: No One But You 

A hand above the water An angel reachin' for the sky Is it raining in Heaven? Do you want us to cry?

Where the hell is the alcohol in this party? You wondered as you stepped out of the room, dealing with Arkalis and Evan was more than enough for the rest of the night. If only you could find a corner, pull out a book and focus on that without being bothered by anything or anyone else, you’d be satisfied. Of course, that could not be the case, could it? 

“Well look who’s here?” Barty said with a smile as he blocked your path. 

“Oh, Barty!” you said as you tilted your head. “You should probably go look for Evan, he seemed like he needed… a friend.” 

Barty’s eyes seemed to burn when you spoke, but you stood your ground, even as he approached you with ferocity. He might be as tall as you were, even if younger, and he might have been able to overpower you in the past, but he was not about to make a scene in the middle of the party, he wasn’t dumb, he had never been. And clearly, he wasn’t important enough for the deatheater clique to be at the private dinner, he didn’t need unwanted attention. 

“If you did something to him again…” he said, voice low and threatening.

You blinked calmly at him, “Barty… in this party, you should be careful with the things that come out of your mouth.” He grabbed onto your wrist, anger clearly seething from him. “I didn’t touch him,” you said as you looked down at his hand and then back at his face, “I’d suggest you’d have the decency of doing the same.” 

Then you felt a hand on your shoulder, Barty finally let go of his hold on you but stayed in his place, glaring now at the person standing behind you. 

“And I would suggest you turn the fuck away before I hex you again. Remember where you are Crouch. This might be Arkalis’ dinner, but my father was the one to invite Tom here.” 

Barty gave you another look of hatred and then stormed off. You sighed and turned back to look at Regulus. 

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, eyebrows softly knit in concern.

“No,” you said as you shook your head and moved your hand a little bit, it was the same arm Evan had latched onto you earlier, but frankly, after having fallen from your broom, punched by bludgers, dragged by water spirits and scratched by werewolves, this felt like nothing. “Is there Firewhiskey here?”

“Firewhiskey?” Regulus asked in disbelief. “You want to drink?” 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never sneaked out Firewhiskey from your father’s stash.” Regulus gave you a look in return that was answer enough. “So, you’ve never drunk?” 

He shook his head and you laughed at that, “Such a good boy,” you teased. In response, Regulus pushed you to the side, which only made you laugh a little more. “Let’s find some,” you said with a smile, Regulus tilted his head to the side disapprovingly. 

“It’s a terrible idea to do it here,” he responded. 

“Come on, Reg, there’s no way you want to see whatever the hell those people consider to be a show, do you?” 

Regulus averted your gaze, and you narrowed your eyes at him. Does he know something…

A glass of cold water over your dress diverted your thoughts. “Oh, sorry,” the girl said, she had a streak of white hair pulled back behind her ears and looked far from being sorry. 

Your dress was black, so whatever she had poured, certainly didn’t ruin the look, even if it was fucking freezing you now, “Whatever, I’ll just use a drying spell,” you said as you pulled your wand out and waved it over your dress. 

“You’re Silas’ daughter, aren’t you? You were sitting next to Lucius at the dinner.” 

You turned to her with a small frown, she was the girl talking to Barty earlier, the one that looked like Sirius and Regulus. You extended your hand politely, “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.” 

She seemed irritated at your lack of recognition. “This is my cousin Narcissa, Cygnus’ daughter,” Reggie said, introducing her to you.  

Cygnus’ daughter… Where had you heard that name? Right, Andromeda’s sister, you thought. You hadn’t spoken much to Andromeda Tonks, though Sirius and Remus had shown you some of her letters. As far as you knew, she had been kicked out of the family in the same way Sirius had, and her sisters had done nothing to help them. But then again, Regulus hadn’t helped Sirius either and you didn’t hate him for that. 

“Nice to meet you,” you added, she gave you a look before actually shaking your hand. 

“You’re dating Sirius,” she added, her tone making it clear that she looked down on you for it. 

“Cissy,” Regulus said in a warning tone. 

“I am, he’s delightful, you should know since you grew up together.” 

She scoffed. “Sirius is a disaster. He would always spark chaos and make stupid pranks on the parties, I’m glad he’s not invited anymore. He wears that awful leather jacket all the time, pretending to be a muggle or whatever and he’s insufferably loud.” 

“All of which I find absolutely charming,” you replied with a nonchalant smile, “You do not?” 

Cissy, as Regulus called her, scoffed again. “Just stay away from Lucius,” she added before leaving you and Regulus behind in favour of talking with someone else, her long hair flipping behind her in a rather majestic way that you would have praised had she not been a total bitch to Sirius. It must be in their genes, you thought, the Blacks have amazing hair.

You turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “The hell was that about?” 

“Lucius is her fiancé, she must have seen you talking to him at the dinner,” Regulus said. “You… looked very interested in whatever he was telling you.” 

“Oh, that?” You asked with a smile that turned into a smirk, “I was trying to piss Evan off.” 

“I figured.” 

“Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an offence.” Regulus raised his eyebrows at you and you gasped in disbelief. Then you spotted someone serving themselves a drink over in the far corner, it was the bar. You smirked, “Come on Reg, I’ll teach you how to drink.” 

“I don’t need to–” 

“Just come,” you added and pulled him along with you, you managed to convince the house elf there to give you a half-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey after telling them Arkalis had asked you to take them to him and pulled Reggie along towards a balcony. 

“It’s cold,” he said as the two of you stepped out, you could see the puff of condensed air blowing from his mouth as he spoke. 

“This’ll warm you up,” you said as you offered him the bottle. He gave you an exasperated look that was an awful lot like Sirius’ but took the bottle in his hands anyway, taking a small sip and scrunching up his face as he felt the bitter taste. Then he coughed and covered his mouth with his arm as he returned the bottle to you with a disgusted frown, you were laughing so much it took you a second to lean closer to him and place your hand on his back. “You all right?” 

“No wonder they call it Firewhiskey,” he said as he managed to catch his breath. You laughed again, still rubbing your hand over his back, he shook his head as he stood straight. He was a deal taller than you now, it hadn’t quite settled back in school, but it was evident now. “Why would you even drink it?” 

“Do you not feel warmer?” you asked as with a raised eyebrow, he seemed to think about it for a second. You were now taking your own sip of the bottle. 

“A warming spell would for sure do the trick.” 

You sighed and leaned over to look at the sky, you could see Sirius’ star up there, shiny and beautiful, just like him. Walburga and Orion might have been awful, but they definitely had a good eye for picking out names, even if they were just copying those of the stars. 

“Yeah, but it would take away the fun,” you said, head still tilted up and looking at the sky. You heard a few whispers from the inside, and you leaned your head over the window, there were people crowding a certain area of the room. Regulus stepped in between you and the window. 

“How’s school going?” 

You gave him a look, that was a stupid question. 

“I mean, I saw you at the Slug Party, you’ve been doing good at potions, haven’t you?” he pressed. 

“Haven’t I?” you asked with a frown, allowing your gaze to turn back to him. “It’s all thanks to my partner, he’s really good?” 

“Sirius?” Regulus asked, he had never heard of his brother being remarkably good at potions. 

“What? No, my potions partner, Remus.” 

“Ah… of course,” he said, now he had heard how good his brother’s best friend was. He was even a prefect. 

“But I’m shit at transfiguration,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t think Minnie and Horace are friends enough to discuss such things, though.” 

“I could teach you,” he offered. 

“Thanks, but I’ve already got a tutor.” You tilted your head to the side to try and see inside and then he moved, blocking your line of sight again. “Regulus?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, playing dumb. 

“You know what’s happening there, don’t you?” 

He swallowed thickly, “Nothing you should be concerned about, it’s adult stuff.” You shook your head as that and motioned to move inside but he stopped you again. “Please!” He sounded desperate. “Let’s stay here, and drink a bit more, I’m… I’m not looking forward to seeing my parents again.” 

You sighed, you knew how delicate it was for both Regulus and Sirius to deal with Walburga and Orion, and perhaps you shouldn’t have listened, you should have followed your instinct and walked inside, but there was something about the pleading expression Regulus had made that convinced you. You huffed out a breath and turned back to him. “How’s school for you? Messing with Severus didn’t put you on the spot, did it?” 

Regulus shook his head and carefully moved to the side, pulling his wand from his pocket and secretly casting a spell towards the doors so the sounds from the inside wouldn’t filter to the outside. You were looking at his face, so determined to figure out his emotions that you failed to notice what he was doing.   

“Not at all,” he responded. “Severus thinks it was all your fault.” 

You pouted at that, “How could it even be my fault, he’s the one that ate the snacks, I didn’t even offer them to him.” 

Regulus laughed at that, “So you had nothing to do? No emotional manipulation involved?” 

“What do you take me for? A housemate?” 

“Haven’t you been saying you ‘missed the whole indoctrination’ part by getting to Hogwarts so late?” 

“Doesn’t change the fact the snakes can be very manipulative. You know the muggles think they’re to blame for losing paradise.” 

Regulus huffed as he shook his head, he was just proving your point right then and there, “Well, I’ve never met a snake with ‘Vixen’ as a nickname.” 

“You know about that?” you asked in disbelief. “How do you even know about that?” 

“The entire school knows about that! Potter isn’t exactly subtle when he calls you. To be honest, I thought he was pissed the first time I heard it, and then I was surprised you weren’t insulted by it.” 

“It’s an inside joke.” 

“I could tell,” he responded and then smirked, almost imperceptibly, “I think it fits.” 

“Ass,” you said with a laugh and pushed him lightly. He laughed along with you. 

Talking with Regulus was fun, he told you more about the Slytherin common room, he mentioned seeing the giant squid through their window once when he was in his second year studying for a quiz late at night, and he told you about the time he had done the quidditch trials, back when Dorcas was still in the team. He asked you about the race, and you told him that’s when you and Sirius got together. 

You also told him about some of the fun things you had done with the boys, like picnics near the lake and even sneaking out at night to get books from the forbidden section. He asked you to teach him the disillusionment charm one day, and you promised you would. 

While the rest of his family was a piece of work, you thought Regulus had come out as nice as Sirius, even if a little more stuck up. You didn’t mind though, it was part of his own charm. He’d make a great brother-in-law…

“And then Solacis added the last ingredient of the potion, and it blew up on their faces…” he told you with a smile, mimicking the explosion with his own hands. The alcohol had warmed his cheeks and made him a lot more expressive by now. You laughed along with him. 

“Yeah? And what did Slughorn do?” 

“Nothing, he was being distracted by Nox so they wouldn’t fail the both of us,” he explained. “Nox added dragon breath to his potion and it clogged the entire classroom with purple smoke.” 

“For real?” 

He nodded excitedly, it was nice to see Regulus more relaxed, “Nox thought it was amazing and tried switching the ingredients around, he now knows how to make smoke of almost any colour, we’ve used it on parties so many times since then.” 

“I had no idea Nox was that into potions…” 

“Oh, he loves them! Slughorn doesn’t like him too much though, he’s always doing his own experiments in the back of the classroom instead of focusing on the class, and often ends up changing the potions around and–” a harrowing scream cut through his words. 

Your head snapped towards the inside and Regulus blinked a couple of times. His spell! It had worn out. 

But I’m not that drunk, he thought, he was certainly having fun, but that was just a consequence of hanging out with you.

“What the hell was that?” you asked as you looked inside, but he stood in between you and the door in a second.

You gave Regulus a stern look but he shook his head really fast, he looked nervous, like a kid that had done something terrible and didn’t want his parents to find out. 

“Regulus,” you said as you tried to look over his shoulder, but he moved to block your sight again. “Regulus, what’s going on?” 

“Nothing. You… you don’t want to know, just trust me.” It was more a plea than anything else. 

You took a step back, “Have you been distracting me?”  

Regulus swallowed and then nodded, “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” You asked, voice dry. 

“I don’t want you to see what’s happening in there.” 

“And…” 

“Your mum might have implied I’d be better this way as well.” 

You nodded, you weren’t angry at Regulus, at this point you understood why he did most of the things he did, and you knew whatever he was doing now, it was because he wanted to protect you from his parents and whatever it was they were doing. 

“Will you tell me what’s happening inside?” 

“Will you promise not to enter if I do?” 

You sighed, “You know I cannot do that, Reg.” 

“It’s dangerous.” 

“Yeah?! For me or for the person screaming?” 

“If you do anything reckless–” 

You squared your shoulders, determined. “Regulus, let me in.” 

He didn’t move. You tried to move to the side and he moved along with you, effectively blocking your way again, you scoffed, slightly exasperated. 

“Regulus, I–” You were interrupted by another harrowing screaming, and then a silence so eerie it chilled your very bones. You looked at him, straight in the eyes, his eyes were red-rimmed and shiny, you were about to ask him what the hell was going on when a cheer erupted from the inside. All of the wizards were clapping, as if whatever had happened was cause for celebration. 

Regulus winced at that which only made you worry more about what was happening inside. 

“You don’t need to see that, trust me,” he repeated. Thunder came from above and then a smokey green skull appeared in the sky. There was a snake protruding from its mouth, slowly swirling around the skull. You swallowed, you knew exactly what that was, Seraphina had shown you pictures, and she had told you that one of the reasons they’d cast that spell was because… they had just murdered a muggle. 

You swallowed thickly, the scream, the silence, the cheering. It all made sense now. They had been tоrturing someone and you had been distracted, you weren’t even given the chance to stop it. But then again, could you have stopped it? One person –nay, a 6th year– against an entire army of deatheaters, you might have been a good duelist, but you weren’t narcissistic enough to believe you could take them all down by yourself

Perhaps it really was better to be out here, avoiding the reality that was inside and hanging out with the one person in this entire party that you’d actually want to talk to. You didn’t appreciate being tricked, you hated that Regulus had decided to keep you in the dark, but at the same time, you were thankful. He had spared you from having to witness whatever horrors were being committed inside. 

You were just a kid, why was it your responsibility to stop it? Why was it your war to fight? It was fucking unfair. 

“Trust me,” Regulus said, “stay here, it’s better this way.” 

You swallowed, and there was another scream, you shut your eyes and turned your gaze to the side, you could feel tears prickling in your eyes. 

“It’s not your fault, you won’t be able to do anything, even if you witness it.” 

You turned back to look at him, your teeth pressed so hard against each other it hurt, “They’re kiIling muggles,” you whispered. 

Regulus sighed, his eyes were just as glassy as yours, “We can’t do anything about it.” 

You huffed and looked at nowhere in particular. There was another scream, and then another one, and then there was silence and cheers. You sank down to the floor, the snake in the sky was still crawling around. Your breath was slow and controlled as if you were trying to keep it together. The first scream, you couldn’t have blamed yourself for it. The first one out? You had no idea. But this one? 

You already knew what was happening and chose to stay outside with Regulus. You chose to ignore it and an innocent had diеd. Were you any different from your father now? He had sacrificed Sirius and Regulus for his political means –and he hadn’t even gotten them kiIled– and now you were letting those innocent people diе. 

For what? To be the perfect daughter? To play the part they asked you to play and then pretend like nothing had happened? To write a letter to Nightshade and Dumbledore telling them everything that had happened tonight and becoming a valuable asset? A spy? Was that what you wanted to be? Was that what you were meant to do? Was it worth it to let all these people diе, in order to win the war in the future? Were lives exchangeable like that? One life for a hundred, does that… make it worth it? 

There was another harrowing scream and then silence and then more cheers. You dug your head on your knees. 

You

Were

Heinous

As much as you considered your father to be.

Was stopping a war, winning a war, any different from the way he coveted power? Was it any difference in doing things for the greater good to doing things for power if the casualties were exactly the same? People were dying, and you were too much of a coward to do anything about it. Hiding behind a mask of righteousness and pretending it was all for the greater good –It was, but it didn’t feel right.

Sacrificing innocents was never okay, not even for the greater good, and yet… you were here, crouching on the floor, and wishing you were somewhere else, wishing you hadn’t heard that first scream, and that Regulus was still telling you about Nox and how good he was in potions and so on. You wanted to feel like things were normal, like there wasn’t a war; like you were a normal teen, not one being trained to be a soldier, a spy, a warrior.  

Was it selfish to wish for all of this to go away? To wish to be elsewhere? Were you selfish? And if you were then, for what? 

For letting innocents diе or for wishing you were ignorant about it? 

There it was, the eerie silence again. And then a wicked laugh. “Would you look at that? the little witch has claws?” 

The what she said?

 You turned your head to Regulus and the look he gave you in return made you instantly know that whatever was going on inside was as much of a surprise to him as it was to you. 

“Reg wha– What does she mean by witch?” 

“I–” he stuttered and turned to look back, there wasn’t much he could see, except for Bella’s black hair bouncing around as she said something else. “I’m not sure but–” 

“Filthy mudblood!” the same voice roared and then there were screams. 

But there was something about those screams, they were different from the rest… And not because it was a witch but because… you gasped when the realisation hit you –you knew that person.

“Nina,” you whispered. 

“What?” Regulus asked, confused. 

“That’s Nina!” you repeated as you stood up and tried to get inside. 

Regulus squared his shoulders to block your path, and then gently placed his hand on your arm, “There’s nothing you can do, forget it.” 

“They have kilIed muggles, Regulus. What’s stopping them from doing the same thing to her?” 

Regulus shook his head, “You cannot intervene, even if you know her.” 

“Even if I– Regulus, Nina’s my friend! Like you, like James! I would intervene for you, even if it did nothing.” 

“It would be stupid,” he replied, there were tears in his eyes, you could tell his mental struggle ran as deep as yours.  

“If it were me, would you just wait and let me diе?” 

Regulus closed his mouth, looking down while not being able to give you an answer. You weren’t sure you wanted to hear it either way. 

“Let me through, please.” 

“I wouldn’t let you diе,” he said, panic filling his voice, he felt like he had to reassure you, he wasn’t the evil one here, he just wanted to protect you. “But I’ve known you for years, you’re my brother’s girlfriend, it’s different,” his voice was filled with panic. 

“It’s not different for me,” you said as you shook your head, a sombre tone adorning your words. 

“I can’t let you go in,” he replied, his voice breaking towards the end. “I’m sorry.” 

You pulled him into a hug, you could sense him relax into your hug the second you did. She understands, he thought. 

 “I’m sorry too,” you whispered with a sad smile, he didn’t have enough time to react, “Petrificus totalus.” 

You caught him as he fell, his entire body leaning onto yours as you tried to hold him from hitting the ground. Regulus was a lot heavier than he looked but you managed to open the door again and drag him back inside. You smiled awkwardly at the person who spotted the two of you and lifted the bottle as an excuse. If they thought Reggie was passed out drunk, they wouldn’t think you’d charmed him to get in. The person nodded as if completely understanding and you dragged Reggie to a chair. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, accommodating him to look asleep. 

And then you walked as fast as you could towards her screams. 

It took all your strength not to break down at the sight, there were people –not people, their bodies– on the floor. They weren’t covered with bIood or anything like that, it wasn’t gory, it was just… harrowing. At least 7 of them, all of them on the floor, horrified expressions on their faces. They probably had no idea why they were there and had been hexed and tоrtured till the light escaped his eyes.

The scene enraptured you so much the screams in the background almost faded out, especially when you saw someone you instantly recognized. The lady at Kings Cross, the one that had hugged Nina, she was there too, you sobbed. You had allowed that to happen, you had allowed them to kilI Nina’s mum because you were too scared to intervene. 

“Crucio!” you heard the woman scream again. 

You turned your face away from them and towards the turmoil, there were many people crowding around her and Nina, so many that you could barely see the top of her blonde hair, and the only reason you knew Nina was still there was because of her screams. You spotted Tom, Arkalis and the man you now knew as Rodolphus Lestrange all sitting and chatting at a faraway table as if none of it was happening. Tom would often turn to see what was going on, smile and then go back to the conversation with a pleased expression.  

You shuddered and tried to find a way through the people. You had to push a few wizards around and got an angry elbow shoved in the rib at some point but you pressed on. Eventually, you reached the edge of the circle, and you had to hold back the tears threatening to spill out as your young friend squirmed, her long hair sprawled all over the floor, and tears in her eyes. She had her mouth determinedly closed and her brows furrowed, she was trying to resist screaming again, all to avoid giving the woman the satisfaction. 

“I’ll find a way to help you,” you mumbled as you looked around for possible solutions. If you had had more time perhaps you could have used a mist bomb to create a commotion, if you had more time to think of a solution, perhaps you would have burned the curtains down with incendio or caused some other kind of distraction to drive people away from Nina and sneak her out. But you had no time, and your mind was filled with the stress of seeing poor Nina on the floor, with that heart-wrenching expression on her face, and the soft whimpers that she couldn’t help but let out as she continued holding her cries and the woman with curly hair twisted her wand to inflict more pain. 

If you had acted earlier, if you hadn’t let fear and cowardice drive you away from the incident, perhaps things wouldn’t have ended up the way they had, but you had been selfish, and you were now facing the consequences of your own decisions, them being mainly the mental strain and the stupidity of the action you were about to commit. 

“CRUCIO!” the woman shrieked again. “Come on luv, don’t be shy, we want to hear your cries.” 

She twisted her wand and Nina let out an agonising cry. This can’t continue, she’s not gonna last. 

“Come on little mudblood, cry louder!” the woman said, enjoying herself so much you felt like you wanted to puke. “Entertain us!”

You stepped forward, “Stop!” You shouted. 

The woman turned to you and, surprised you had spoken and twisted her wand again, Nina cried, but the moment she spotted you, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes. 

You raised your wand at her, “I said STOP!” 

“Silas’ daughter?” she asked, clearly diverted. “Thought you were snogging my little cousin Regulus somewhere in a corner.” 

You held her gaze, “Last warning,” you added. 

She laughed haughtily in return, “You think you could do anything to me? What are you? A 4th year?”

You were so focused on the woman and Nina, that you weren’t paying attention to the things surrounding you, at least you had gotten her attention enough to have her stop torturing Nina, who was now struggling to catch her breath. 

In the far corner, Orion and Tom had turned to look at the scene with a perturbing interest, as if they wanted to see the bIoodshed that your stupid disobedience would cause. Evan had gripped onto Barty’s forearm and pulled him away from the circle and both of your parents were rushing towards you as fast as you could, but the crowd, which seemed just as interested in the situation, was making it harder for them to reach you. 

“None of your fucking business,” you replied. She turned her wand back to Nina and you stepped in her way in two long strides, she laughed again. 

“You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you? There’s no way a Slytherin would be so recklessly stupid.” 

“Let her go,” you said sternly. “She’s a witch, just like you.” 

The woman laughed again. “She’s as much of a witch as the rest of them,” she said with a smile and pointed at the pile of bodies behind her, “Muggle-borns are abominations that shouldn’t exist. So weak they need real wizards to defend them, don’t they, Luv?” She said the last bit looking at Nina, she was still on the ground, eyes shiny with unshed tears but she held her head high. 

“I’m only making things even,” you replied, “do you really feel superior when you need thirty-plus wizards for torturing a 14-year-old?” 

The woman scoffed, “Do you even know who you’re talking to?” 

“No, but I bet I can guess,” you replied. “Dark curly hair, pretty but dеadly, a little crazy –I assume due to inbreeding– and you were sitting next to Rodolphus, which makes you one of Cygnus’ daughters. I met Narcissa today, and you’re definitely not Andromeda, which leaves out… Saiph? No wait, wrong star, it’s Bella, isn’t it?” 

She gave you a deranged smile, “Bellatrix.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you responded. “Now let’s leave this nonsense behind, and–” 

“Crucio,” she said pointing her wand behind you, Nina cried again. 

“Stop!” you shrieked. “Confringo!”

Bella barely managed to stop your spell and turned to you with rage, “Can someone take care of her?” she asked to no one in particular. Suddenly there were several wands pointing your way, but no one cast a spell. No one was brave enough to attack Silas’ daughter directly. 

Bella smiled and pointed her wand towards you, “Expelliarmus,” she said with a smile, your wand left your hand faster than you could react. 

She gave you a wicked grin as she pointed her wand at Nina again. She looked like she couldn’t take another moment of it, and you were running out of ideas. “Stop! I have a better prey for you.” 

Your father said your name sternly as if he could read your thoughts. 

You ignored it completely, “Why bother with a muggle-born when you could be torturing someone who’s mixed-race.” 

Your father screamed your name again, but Bella seemed interested enough to lower her wand and look at you, she wanted to know whose life you’d propose instead of Nina’s. 

“A mixed-race you said? Whoever could that be?” 

“Me!” you said and took a short breath, “I’m part-fairy.” Several gasps echoed in the room followed by whispers of the crowd.

“She’s lying!” your father spat.

“I am not!” You added quickly. 

“She’s trying to buy time.” 

“I can prove it!” you said desperately. “Use diffindo,” you told one of the people next to you. 

“Do not dare to touch my daughter!” your father roared. 

You looked around, trying to find Barty or Evan, since you knew neither of them would think twice before hurting you, but they were nowhere to be seen. Worst time to be fucking absent, you thought. No one dared to do it. 

“Fine then, bunch of cowards,” you said looking around before bringing your arm to your mouth. You had never done this, but you had practised half transfigurations, you focused all your energy on your mouth and managed to turn your canines into Vixen’s, and then you bit onto your skin and dragged your arm, slicing through it, you didn’t even wince. 

“That proves nothing,” Your father said. He was still trying to reach where you were.

“No, it doesn’t,” you responded. You could feel the metallic taste of your bIood in your mouth, you wondered if you looked as deranged as Bella did now. “But this will,” you said and focused your gaze on the cut you’d made, “Revelio.” 

A single drop of bIood fell from your arm, everyone witnessed it change colour and clash onto the ground in a shiny, silver drop. There was another collective gasp. Bellatrix cackled and your father looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a mix of desperation, rage and disappointment.

“Well, well, well,” a voice boomed from the back of the room, “what an interesting little plot twist.” The crowd parted to allow the dark lord to walk towards the centre of the room, he seemed pleasantly entertained. “Silas,” he said as he turned to your dad calmly. “Anything you care to explain?” 

You turned to your father, being thankful that everyone’s attention had turned the other way, and looking for someone distracted enough for you to do your next move. 

Your father was about to say something but was quickly interrupted by your mother, “He didn’t know! I lied to him.” 

Your head snapped back towards them, Why is she–? 

“Is that true? Silas?” 

Your father stood straighter, looking indifferent. “I had no idea,” he lied blatantly, “I wouldn’t be married if I did.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit–” 

“Silence child,” you were interrupted by the dark lord who was staring at your dad with interest, he hadn’t said the words to the spell, but your tongue was tied, and you couldn’t emit a word anymore either, “the adults are talking.” 

You moved towards them when you realised you wouldn’t be able to speak. “Incarcerus,” Tom’s voice boomed and a set of ropes appeared from thin air, binding you to the spot you were currently on. His spell was much stronger than Evan’s had been, it was as if the more you moved the more the ropes tightened around your arms, digging into your skin sharply. Tom turned to your mother. “Elaborate.” 

“I met him, I knew he wouldn’t like me if he knew of my heritage so I lied and hid it from him.” 

“Well, I find this is the perfect little set-up for you to prove your loyalty,” Tom said with a simple smile. “Torture her.” 

What? You thought, head snapping towards your mother sharply, forgetting about the ropes entirely. 

Your mother and father exchanged a look, your mom nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then your father raised his wand against her, “Crucio.” 

There was a wicked laugh from Bellatrix as your mother sank to the ground and started screaming. You stared at the scene as if petrified. If there was something you had never doubted in the past, it was the love your parents had for each other. How could he– how was it even…

You turned back to the ropes and started to desperately fight against them. When you realised it wasn’t working you went for plan B, you turned into Vixen and jumped as fast as possible, snatching a random wizard’s wand from their hands as you turned back. 

Of all the terrible ideas you’d had today, this might have been the worst. You barely had enough control over the spell with your own wand, but you had to do something. You took a deep breath and pointed your wand at Bellatrix, “Pestis Incendium.” 

A giant fire exploded out of the tip of the wand you had stolen, prompting the people around you to step back several metres as the fire turned into a massive Chimera. Fiendfyre was a dark and dangerous spell, and you had only practised it in a controlled environment with Nightshade watching your back. But the Chimera you had formed now was bigger and angrier than anything you’d ever created, she was dеadly. The massive winged lion-goat was burning everything in its way as people ran to the sides and attempted to apparate the hell away from the room. 

But Evan’s house was charmed against apparitions, a few of them were caught in the fire as they attempted to run, others tried to fight against it, with water spells, but they seemed to do nothing against the angry beast you’d created. The heat quickly filled the room, smoke from burning things wafting through the air and making it harder to see. You searched for your mother, but you couldn’t spot her at all, so you turned back to Nina who was looking at you with an awed struck expression. You picked up a wand from the floor and handed it over to her before helping her up and casting a disillusionment charm around the two of you. 

“We need to get out,” you whispered, as you grabbed onto her hand and pulled her along with you. You sped through the running crowds as the curtains and furniture started to catch on fire and remembered you had left Regulus petrified. 

You ran towards him, pulling Nina alongside you and finding him still unconscious in the place you’d left him. “Finite Incantatem!” you said and Regulus opened his eyes hastily. He looked around confused and opened his eyes wide when he spotted the giant Chimera behind you, being even more confused when it completely ignored him and turned to the other side. You grabbed onto his arm, leaving traces of bIood over his white shirt, “Get out!” 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

“I won’t be able to control it for much longer, get out!” you repeated and pushed him towards the window before you pulled Nina to the side again. 

She used her wand and started hexing people as you sped through the crowd and toward the window behind the snack area. If you could reach the hedge maze, you’d have enough time to think of a better way to get the hell away from there. 

Finally, you spotted your mum again, she was right in front of the Chimera, using relashio in an attempt to slow her down. You raised your want towards your fiendfyre to drag it away from her but there was a spell cast in your direction. 

“Stupefy!” Bellatrix said as you fell to the ground, you lost control over the Chimera completely and the beast used one of its paws to crush your mother. You could hear your father’s scream ringing in your ears alongside yours, followed by a sob as tears welled up in your eyes. Bellatrix smiled, “Well, well, well, would you look at that, one little fae gone, and one to go,” she said as she pointed her wand towards you. 

You were on the floor, still trying to get a grasp of the situation and attempting to gain control over the Chimera again but it was pointless, she was doing whatever she wanted. Bellatrix smiled and raised her wand towards you, “Avada–” 

“Crucio,” Nina shrieked next to you, and Bellatrix instantly fell to the ground, with a cry. Nina’s curse was so strong that the woman continued to scream madly as she pulled onto her hair. “CRUCIO!” Nina repeated. You looked at her in amazement and she gave you a half smile, fear hidden behind her eyes. “She’s not going to touch you ever again,” she reassured and extended her hand your way, you took it and she helped you up. “Ferrum Incarcerus,” she said and suddenly a set of chains bound Bellatrix Lestrange, “Flagrante,” she said next and the woman started to cry in pain as the chains started to heat up and burn. “Call me a Mudblood again, you bitch!” Nina spat, and you recast the disillusionment charm around the both of you. 

Clutching to each other you walked all the way to the snack table “Bombarda!” you shouted, the window blew into pieces, and your Chimera went wild, growing wider and wider. You looked back once more, Bellatrix was still crying over the chains. There was a tall man, Cygnus, you assumed, trying to help her out of them, but Nina’s spell was strong and whatever he was doing wasn’t working properly. 

You spotted your father clutching the burned remnants of your mom and you stared at the scene almost petrified. You had done that, you had murdered her. 

Nina looked at you with tears in her eyes and decided to avoid staring at the pile where she knew her mother’s body would be, focusing on you, and on getting the hell away from that damned hellhole you’d ended up in. 

“Come on,” she pulled onto your arm. “We have to go, come on!” 

“That–” you said, still looking, the Chimera was bigger now, angrier. “They’re gone.” 

“I know,” she said somberly, but then the urgency came back to her, “Come on, they’d want us to get out!” she added as she pulled onto your arm again, this time much stronger, you didn’t move at all. “Hey, look at me!” she added and grabbed your head in between her hands to force you to look at her, Nina might have been younger, but she seemed so much wiser than you at that moment. “This is awful. Things are awful, and it’s unfair. But two things are true: It was not your fault, and we need to get out.” 

You tilted your head to the side, she didn’t know, she didn’t know you had ignored her mother’s cries. Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, what a terrible person you were. “Okay,” you managed to say and allowed Nina to pull you alongside her and both of you managed to exit through the window. 

The cold was the first thing you noticed, white snow melting into puddles close to the house due to the fire. Messy mud on the floor making the pristine white layer of snow look brown and messy.

There were already Wizards outside, Regulus stood next to his mother and Narcissa, who kept looking inside as if waiting for someone to come out as well. Reggie too was looking around nervously, the last time he saw you, you were still inside and things were chaos. 

You took a small stone and threw it towards him, when he turned around you said “Vermillious,” and from the tip of the wand you had stolen, faint red sparks appeared. People weren’t looking your way, and they had been so faint that they were nothing in comparison to the amount of light that came from your blazing Fiendfyre, but you saw Regulus smile and nod your way. You turned to Nina, somehow much more composed than seconds ago. “You like puzzles, don’t you?” you asked her as you nodded towards the hedge maze. 

She smiled and gave you a nod, “Let’s get out of here,” she added, and the two of you walked inside. You ran through the maze, staying as close to each other as possible, and jumping from dеad end to dеad end. It truly was a headache, but Nina was as determined to get out as you were, so you followed her lead and continued walking behind her. 

“We can’t be too far from the way out, the magic stopping us from apparating is losing power the deeper we go, can you feel it?” 

“Yes,” you replied with a smile, and end to the nightmare, finally. 

“You can apparate already, right?” 

“Kind of,” you replied. “I mean, yes,” you reassured, you’d figure out a way, you’d both get out, you had to.

“Finite incantatem,” someone said when you rounded a corner, and both you and Nina raised your wands against him.

“Would you look at that, charming little butterfly and her mudblood friend,” The man said with a wicked smile, his silver hair flowing behind him. “You really thought you’d get away after causing so much havoc? My fiancé’s father is dеad because of your little ruse.” 

“Obscuro,” you spat, ignoring his remark and going straight for defence.

“Protego,” he returned. “Stupefy!” 

You blocked his spell with practised ease. “Nina behind me!” you said with determination, “Depulso!” 

He blocked as well, “Confringo!” 

You ducked and pulled Nina alongside you to the ground. His spell went straight to one of the hedges and things started to heat up, quite literally. The snow surrounding the area behind you melted and mixed with the dirt beneath, making mud similar to the one just outside the house. 

Lucius taunted and attacked with increasing ferocity, while you fought desperately to defend both yourself and Nina. Spells flew back and forth, lighting up the night with bursts of magic. With each passing moment, the intensity of the duel escalated, fueled by adrenaline and desperation. 

There was constant shouting and blocking. The more time passed and the more time you stood your ground against the man, the angrier he seemed to become. And you were tired, the amount of magic you had used up to conjure the Fiendfyre and the fact that she was still distracting and burning things back at the house, even if out of your control, was draining your energy –and magic– at worrying speeds. 

Combining that with the charred image of your mother that you desperately tried to bury in the back of your mind, you felt closer and closer to losing your grip and concentration, but you refused to give in, if there was something that you were, even in cases of life and dеath, was stubborn. 

“Getting tired, butterfly?” he asked with a cocky smile when he noticed you had almost tripped on a spell. 

“Opugno!” you responded, ignoring his taunting. Suddenly the branches of the hedges seemed to come alive as they went straight to get him.

“Deprimo!” he shouted before the spell hit him, and the floor started to shake, both you and Nina managed to step out of the way, on time, but the hole in the ground had now trapped the two of you in a dеad end. 

“Reparo!” you shouted, your previous spell had been strong enough to distract him while you attempted to build the ground back up so you could continue. 

“Impedimenta!” he shouted, and you were locked in place. When did he even get out of the hedges?

You tried to focus on shaking the charm off while he pointed his wand at you again. You were tired, but you had fought against Nightshade’s impedimenta several times before, and Lucius’ curse was much weaker. Despite that, the amount of magic you had already used had debilitated you and it seemed to require even more concentration than it had done in the past. That didn’t make it impossible. 

You were just getting a grip on the knot of magic that seemed to lock you in place when Lucius smiled, still bound by the hedges but gloating at the way you struggled. 

“Stupefy Maxima!” he shouted. You braced yourself to receive the spell, but instead, you felt a push from the side and ended up cornered against one of the hedges as Nina fell to the ground right in front of you. 

“Nina!” you shouted and dropped to the ground next to her in an instant, then you saw another spell leave his wand. You stared at the red bolt coming straight at you with watery eyes, thinking of all the things you wouldn’t be able to do, of all the things Nina wouldn’t be able to do because you had failed to save her. Anger and sorrow filled your thoughts as you stared at dеath straight in the eyes. 

But she didn’t stare back.

Instead, there was a bright, blinding light that lasted no more than half a second, and Lucius was thrown back against one of the hedges. It was as if his wand had backfired the spell on him. You stared at the scene confused, your bafflement increasing only when you spotted Barty Crouch shooting a stunning spell in Lucius’ direction. 

You turned back to Nina as the two of them fought the other, “Nina,” you said softly as you placed your hands around her face, her cheeks were cold but there was something gooey and warm behind her hair. As you pulled your hand back to look at it better you realised what it was. You shook your head and as you stared. “No, no, no, no...” you repeated over and over again as you leaned down only to realise she had fallen onto a sharp rock. “No, no… Nina, look at me,” you said, voice wavering. 

Her weary gaze turned to you, her eyelids were heavy and tired, but she smiled faintly when she saw you. “You’re okay,” she sighed. 

“No, no, no,” you repeated, tears already blurring your sight as you stared at her. 

“Go!” she said softly, reassuringly. 

“No!” you said again, voice cracking near the end. 

She nodded soothingly, “It’s okay, you have to go.” 

“Nina, please!” you begged. “We can do something, we can find a way to–” 

“Go,” she interrupted you calmly, more secure now. “You’re all right,” she said and smiled, “I can go happy knowing you’ll be alright.” 

“You can’t! I won’t leave, not without you,” you replied stubbornly, shaking your head as you said it.

“You can’t stop her now, the bargain’s made, the deal’s done,” she said simply. 

“No, please,” you said as you leaned onto her chest and allowed the tears to stream down your face, the girl somehow managed to place her hand over your hair and played with some of the strands with the little strength she had left. 

“You know… I’ve been bles-sed,” she said, her breath caught in her throat. “Blessed that you were the last thing I got to see,” she added with a smile, “thank you for saving me.” 

You felt her hand go limp over your head and you heard the last beat of her heart boom against your ear. “No!” you cried and stood back up to look at her. She had a pleased and peaceful expression on her face, contrasting completely with her stained blonde hair, and the rapidly changing colour of snow, no longer white, but scarlet. “Rennervate,” you said pointing the wand at her. Nothing. “Rennervate,” you repeated, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Rennervate, Rennervate, Rennervate.” 

“Stop it!” you heard Barty say from behind you. 

“Rennervate!” you said again, completely disregarding the boy. 

“Hey! You need to get out of here, people are coming.” 

“I don’t care!” You snapped. And turned back “RENNERVATE!” 

“You’re going to diе too! Her sacrifice would be for nothing!” 

“Go to hell!” You responded. You felt him trying to pull you away from her. “Get your filthy hands off me!” 

“Re- rennervate,” you repeated, it was more a whisper than anything else, a desperate cry, a futile attempt to cling onto something that wasn’t there anymore, that wouldn’t be there no matter what you did. Perhaps you had used up your magic, it was a stunning spell, not a kiIling curse. 

But it had also been the fall, and the rock.  

“Listen to me!” Barty said as he hauled you up by pushing you against one of the hedges. “She’s gone, and if you don’t move, you’ll be the same! Your stupid spell will do nothing to bring her back!”

“She’s my friend!” you shouted angrily as you tried to pry his hands away from your arms. But Barty was still stronger than you. “She’s my friend, and she’s struggling because of me. I won’t give up on her!” 

“THERE IS NOTHING TO GIVE UP ON! SHE’S FUCKING DЕAD!” 

Rage filled your gaze as you managed to focus on him again, you tried to push him off of you again, this time with much more determination. When he realised, he smiled and loosened his grip. 

“What?” you asked in disbelief. 

“Wrath is more useful than desperation,” he retorted. “You need to get out of here.” 

You gave one last look at Nina, her pleased expression made her look as if she was sleeping, soft and simple and happy. Could you trick your brain into thinking she was just sleeping if you tried hard enough? 

You turned back to Barty wearily, “Why– why are you helping me?” you asked with a wavering voice, emotions raw and unfiltered at this point. 

“Evan told me what you did for him. He’s taking care of Lucius and I’m much better at apparating than him.” 

You swallowed, distrusting, and turned to the side, Evan was indeed in the distance, performing some kind of spell on the man that had murdered Nina. Your mind was spinning with conflicting emotions. You wanted to lash out, to scream and rage against the unfairness of it all. But there was no use, Nina was dеad and no matter how much you cried about it, you wouldn’t bring her back.

“Look! If it makes you feel better you can hit me–” His words were cut short as your fist connected to his face. “Fuck! I’m trying to help you!” he winced as he reached for his nose. Your fist stung, but clearly, his face did just as much. 

“You’ve been an asshole to me for months.” 

“And I’m trying to do a good deed, bIoody hell!” he replied with a frown, you glared in return. “Come on, we need to get out.” 

“I don’t want to!” You said in a stubborn whisper, you wanted to lean against her and cry until the snow covered both of your bodies and you could forget about it all. 

“But she wanted you to,” he replied, there was bIood streaming down his nose, but there was an honesty in his gaze that you didn’t think Barty was capable of. “Allow me to help make her last wish true.” 

You swallowed, giving the boy one more weary look, “Can you try?” 

“Try?” he asked, confused. He was trying.  

“To save her.” 

“It’s pointless, if you couldn’t do it–” 

“My magic’s weak,” you admitted, despite yourself, it didn’t matter anymore, you didn’t care if Barty or Evan used it against you as long as Nina came back. 

The boy sighed, clearly thinking it was pointless, but leaned down next to Nina either way “Rennervate!” he said steadily.

Seconds passed by, agonisingly slow but nothing happened.

You let out a defeated breath, your mind was suddenly empty. You realised if you didn’t want to end up like her, you’d have to pull yourself together somehow. Barty tried again, even if you didn’t ask him, but the result was the same. You placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Fine, let’s get out,” you said with a nod. Barty stood up and you tighten your grip around the wand you were holding, taking in a deep breath before pointing it at Nina. “Papilioscorpus,” you said, focusing all of your attention on that one spell.

Suddenly Nina’s body transformed into a heap of small blue butterflies. You held back the sob that threatened to escape by sucking in a breath as the small creatures broke off Nina’s body, one by one until there was no more of her, but hundreds of them. 

How unfair it was, that Nina had to diе because she wasn’t a pureblood, you thought, even if Nina would disagree. She didn’t diе because she wasn’t a pureblood wizard, she didn’t diе because they tortured her to dеath, she didn’t diе weak and defenceless and in despair, you had spared her from that fate. No, Nina diеd to save you, and she was pleased with the choice she’d made, simply because she wouldn’t want to live in a world where you didn’t exist. 

They flew up, circling you for a second before continuing their path, way above the hedges, and leaving behind the bIoodstained snow in search of somewhere warm. 

Barty turned to you with a soft expression and then raised his wand to the butterflies, “Irascor,” he said simply. A protective charm, so they would be safe, even if Nina hadn’t been. 

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble, as you saw them leave, not allowing yourself to wallow in the hopelessness you felt at such a stunningly beautiful sight. The snow-covered landscape, the stars shining above in the sky, the small snowflakes falling softly on the ground, all contrasted deeply with how you felt, how broken and in pain you were. You blinked back the tears and turned back to him. 

He nodded and cocked his head to the side, indicating you to follow him. It was slow at first, steps into a different direction, away from the bIood, now being covered by a fresh layer of snow, away from Evan and unconscious Lucius. 

Eventually, Barty started to pick up speed and you matched his pace, a welcome heat to the cold that had now chilled your bones. The dress you had, while long-sleeved, wasn’t exactly snow-friendly. Your heels long forgotten, left as you took faster and faster steps. The white cool of snow against your heels, helping you focus on anything other than all the previous events. 

Barty seemed to know exactly where he was going, and you followed him blindly. The traces of your steps had been long erased by the constant falling snow. If he was leading you to safety or back to the house, what difference did it make at this point? 

But then you felt it: the barriers against apparating were gone. “Where should I take you?” He asked softly, softer than you’d expect him to, the two of you breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. 

You blinked, looking around like a lost puppy. You had no mother, your father was a deatheater or something, and your home was probably not yours anymore –not that it had felt like one in the last few years. “I have nowhere to go,” you said the words as you realised their weight. 

Barty sighed, he knew what it was like to not belong. To feel lonely and forgotten and like he had to be outstanding to be cared for, to be worthy. He knew what it was to have no place to call home, but he had Evan now. He knew what that felt like, and for the first time since he’d met you, he empathised with you. “Sirius?” he offered, he might not like him, but he knew Sirius was as special to you as Evan was to him.

“He’s with the Potters, you cannot apparate there, you don’t know where it is… It would be too dangerous, for the both of us,” you said steadily, emotionlessly, trying to cling to your analytical side. If you blocked the emotions threatening to boil out of you, if you hid them so deep within your mind that they wouldn’t bother you then perhaps you’d be able to keep moving. 

“Secret hideout?” 

“I–” then you remembered. “School! Take me to Hogwarts!” 

“You can’t apparate there…” he said with a frown. Hogwarts was a brilliant idea though, it would certainly be safer.

“No, but, you can apparate on the Shrieking Shack! You’ve done it before.” 

“You want me to take you back, there?” he asked, disbelief laced in his tone.

“Yeah!” you said with a confident nod. 

“Are you… sure?” he asked again, perhaps the emotional toll of the night was getting to you. 

“Yes! I can get to the castle from there,” you repeated. 

He looked at you as if analysing the situation, you seemed pretty sure of yourself, so he nodded, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you closer, Barty was as tall as you, still growing, so you assumed he’d be taller. You ended up hugging each other in the most awkward way possible (a weird sort of hug where neither of you seemed to want to touch each other) before he apparated just outside the shack. 

You felt a sense of relief when you spotted the snow-coated building. You had made it this far, against all odds. But was it worth it? With how much it had cost? 

Barty gave you one last look, “Can I have the wand?” he asked in a relatively polite tone as he pointed to the wand in your hand. He was being considerate, even for his standards.

“Pardon?” You asked as your grip on the wand tightened. 

“I’m going to say I tried to stop you but you apparated away, you’re talented for your age so it’s believable enough. Evan is obliviating Lucius. We’ll try to get your actual wand back–” 

“Nina’s,” you said as you handed him the one in your hand. He frowned. “Get Nina’s wand, it’s more important.” 

“Why?” 

“I can buy another wand, but she… she can’t,” you said, trying not to let your features betray the emotions you felt. 

“But it’ll be useless to–” You gave him a mix between a pleading look and a glare, and he stopped his words, “we’ll try,” he conceded.

You smiled weakly, “Thanks.” He was about to leave. “Wait!” you stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, he turned to you, movements soft and calm, he knew you were on edge. “Priori incantatem, they will know you tried to bring Nina back if they check.” 

“Give me the wand,” you said and he did as told. “Now take it.” 

“Expelliarmus,” he said and the wand you had stolen flew from your hand to his, he caught it in the air with ease. It was surprising how fast he’d caught on to what you meant, but you already knew Barty was brilliant, even if he used said brilliance for evil deeds more often than not. 

“And now stun me.” 

“What? Are you daft? I’m trying to save you,” he protested with a frown.

“And this is my way of thanking you, you put up a fight against me. Stun me softly if you will–” 

“Stupefy!” 

Your body reeled back against the gate and ended up on the floor. It had been soft, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Either way, the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the grief that threatened to consume you whole. 

“Payback for punching me in the face,” Barty said with a smile as he offered his hand. He was joking. 

You scoffed and pushed his hand away, deciding that sitting on the snow was comfortable enough. “Get the hell out before I punch you again.” 

His smile only grew wider and he had the nerve to send you a wink before he apparated again. You stared at the empty space he’d left for a while, there was snow all around. Falling and falling in a stunningly, slumbery sort of way. So peaceful and quiet in comparison to how loud and hectic things had been just seconds ago. Even your heartbeat, which had been blasting against your ears, was slowing down. 

You stared at the cold white snow, and let your head fall back onto the gate as one of your hands fell on it, pulling some of it up and staring at the way it fell from your fingers lazily. You remembered playing in the snow with the boys, how happy you had been that day, you wondered if you could ever be that happy again. 

Ah… how tired did you feel, things were calm now, you weren’t in danger anymore, you sank deeper into the ground, adrenaline dissipating with ease and exhaustion washing over you in waves. You closed and opened your eyes wearily. 

The shack, why did you have to get to the shack? You wondered, everything was so peaceful where you were, you liked it, the cold of the snow soothingly numbing the pain, all the pain, not just the physical one. You let a faint smile coat your lips, who’s that in the distance? You wondered, it looked like someone you knew, but paler. Could it be… Nina? 

And then you closed your eyes. 

And so we grace another table And raise our glasses one more time There's a face at the window And I ain't never, never sayin' goodbye…

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @somewereinthegalaxi @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @mothraantics @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: This chapter is getting shadowbanned no matter what I change so please like, reblog and comment so it does not go under the radar. They're only flyin' too close to the sun

Read more Marauders Fiction

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

Not an ask for the critters but for the mod running this ask-blog:

I’ve seen this blog a lot recently but I’m prettyyy late to the party so I’ve missed a lot. Could you give a small summary to catch me up on whats happening please? Thankss !!^^

Oh of course! Buckle up it’s a bit of a long story-

So basically it started with Hoppy finding a monitor with communications to the outside world inside of the councilors office back at Playcare. At that point, she was open for questioning. She was leaving the councilors office when she was attacked by Picky. She managed to run back to the cable car in time, but not before loosing her foot. Inside of the cable car, one of the anons (a friend and I call them static anon) made a deal with her that in exchange for gaining her foot back, Picky would know where she was at all times and would be able to hunt her down. Once that deal was made, Picky was open for questioning. Once Hoppy left Playcare via cable car, she headed to an employee’s break room, where she, Bobby and Crafty had been staying at. Bobby scolded her for leaving without telling her and was open for questioning. She then found out Picky was hunting Hoppy, so they grabbed Crafty (who was then open for questioning) and left. Meanwhile with Picky, she had just got off the cable car when she was met with Kickin. He revealed that he followed her by flying behind the cable car due to CatNap ordering him to bring Picky back. Picky refused and continued on her search, so Kickin followed her. It was also revealed on the cable car ride that Picky believed DogDay had abandoned them all in cold blood, sparking her hatred for him. It was later also revealed that awhile ago and before anyone had left Playcare, after Picky had taken a few nibbles out of Bubba while unconscious, Hoppy didn’t tell her that she, Bobby and Crafty were planning to leave Playcare. That also made Picky pretty much hate her as well. Hoppy also tried to get Kickin to come with them, but he refused, claiming it was too dangerous and insisting she stay behind. Eventually, Kickin ended up informing CatNap of their escape plan, who ripped off Hoppy’s ear and gave it to Kickin as a reward. Picky ended up eating the ear. While all this was happening, Bubba was in a coma due to an overdose from the red smoke. When he woke up awhile later, he wasn’t able to function properly, so Kickin has been taking care of him since. Got a bit off track- sorry it’s my ADHD lmfao.

So basically going back to Picky’s search, she eventually crossed paths with Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty. Before Kickin could even do anything, Crafty smacked him in the head with the monitor, knocking him out. It was a bit of a fight until Hoppy and Bobby managed to get Picky knocked out as well. They brought them back to their home and tied them up, before Bobby realized Crafty was missing. She left to go find her and Hoppy was left alone with Picky and Kickin, who were now awake. It was around this time Kickin was open for questioning. I think I forgot to mention that Crafty had her arms off for trying to attack CatNap for red paint. Crafty had been made a deal by Static Anon that if she injured another bigger body by taking their arms, she’d be able to get her own arms back. So she was heading to the Game Station to do so. She ran into Mommy Long Legs, who is currently taking care of her.

Bobby followed her to the Game Station but ran into Baby Long Legs. Baby brought her to Daddy Long Legs, who revealed that he hadn’t participated in the Hour of Joy. Bobby revealed that she had, and as of current in the story, Daddy is insisting that he does not want anything to do with her.

Back to Hoppy, Kickin and Picky. Kickin managed to trick Hoppy into freeing him and overpowered her. He revealed that he had a plan to bring her and the monitor back to CatNap in exchange for DogDay’s freedom. Forgot to mention that Kickin ran into DogDay in the Playhouse, and got blinded in one eye as punishment. Kickin keeps insisting that Hoppy won’t be harmed because CatNap will want her loyalty. Both Picky and Hoppy think his plan is the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard of. Picky is going along with it because she wants to see Hoppy suffer. Hoppy is pretty sure she’s going to die. She managed to convince Kickin into not handing the monitor over to CatNap yet, but that was the best she was able to do. Right now, they’re on the cable car and headed back to Playcare, and Hoppy has lost basically all chance of escape.

*collapses* I DID NOT REALIZE HOW MUCH THAT WAS GOD DAMN-

Edit: Okay gang we got some more stuff now-

Anyways so Kickin made a deal that any pain Hoppy feels he will feel too. After that, the cable car landed in Playcare. Catnap was waiting (not so) patiently for their arrival, and immediately scruffed Hoppy and carried her away before Kickin could explain why the hell she was there in the first place. Of course, this causes him to freak out because oh my god Hoppy might actually die now because CatNap has no context, but you know 😋

Anyways so CatNap brought Hopster to the prototype, who basically said “nah, this one sucks, I can’t do anything with her. Do whatever you want Idc” so CatNap scratched her and gassed her. He also named dropped her-her names Rebecca-and no, not like the stupid bunny from Peppa Pig. Also Kickin got injured from that scritchy scratch too because of that deal FYI.

Back to our favorite bear and unicorn- well Daddy Long Legs sorta insulted Bobby’s entire bloodline and then so she stormed out bc she was mad, and immediately yelled for Mommy to show herself and give Crafty back to her. She came down and did give Crafty back, but refused to let them leave, even though Bobby is aware Hoppy is in danger. So yeahhhh, girly is kinda stuck lmfaooo

Okay hopefully I remember all of this. So CatNap put Hoppy under Kickin’s surveillance. Birdbrains flew her up to a nest that he had made on one of the fake Playcare clouds. There they had a little fight and Kickin went a bit wack, before he took a step away to go grab the monitor. While he was gone, Hoppy went through his stuff. In his stuff, she found a diary. You can read the entries right here, but be wary of the trigger warnings. So obviously she read some messed up things, and Kickin walks in on her reading it. He screams at her and basically kicks her out and makes Picky watch her instead. Both of them are grumpy about it and they are passive aggressive messes towards each other. Picky locks Hoppy inside of a room in Home Sweet Home, not wanting to risk her escaping and getting her ass whooped. Kickin’s just up on his nest crying his white girl tears.

Okay now with Bobby and Crafty. Mommy kinda sorta threw them in a room and locked the door, saying she’ll be back. Bobby and Crafty freak out and are just kinda talking, before someone mysterious (it was kissy missy lol) unlocks the door and just leaves. Crafty picks up some papers that she found on the desk that look important before following Bobby out the door. While they’re walking, Bobby gets a deal. Rip off either Baby, Daddy, or Mommy Long Leg’s hands and Crafty will get her hands back. Of course Bobby doesn’t want to do this, and so Crafty cutely insults her entire bloodline. Anyways then Kissy Missy finds them and tells them to follow her. Crafty asks them to take them to where Baby or Daddy are and Bobby is like hell no and Crafty is like yeah well we’re going anyways. I’ll update this when there’s more I prommy 😋

[thesandsofelsweyr]

For the guessing game: blood, pet, and/or collar

(from Fanfiction WIP Guessing Game)

These three are excerpts from early drafts of fics in My Arkhamverse series 🙃

Pet:

The room is filled with sunlight. He’s still lying on a cold, hard floor. But it isn’t the filthy floorboards of his cell. There’s a pillow under his head and a blanket draped across him. As the fog of unconsciousness lifts, his mind starts to clear as he takes in his surroundings. He’s lying in front of a toilet. Remembers trying to eat some food, real food—how much it had hurt to chew with broken and missing teeth—and immediately puking then passing out. That’s when the fever took him. He doesn’t know how long he was out of it. Tries to sit up too fast. Head is spinning, throbbing, and he winces as a piercing ringing noise fills his ears, drowning out all other sounds. His hand immediately slides into his hair, over the scar where the bullet grazed his skull. He applies pressure, breathing shallow until the ringing and pain both subside. Terrible memories flood over him. He fights the instinct to crawl in a corner and hide, breathing deep, reminding himself that his tormentor is thousands of miles away, that he has finally escaped. But as always, thinking of escape brings back Joker’s terrifying warning of the consequences he’d face, the mutilation he’d suffer. Panic starts to creep in again, illogical panic fueled by the months he spent as a prisoner. Joker had beaten it into his head—physically and mentally, literally and metaphorically—that he was an object, not a human being. That Jason was his pet: his puppy, his “little bird”...

⚠️ cw: smut, mild dubcon (⚤)

Collar:

Aww, that’s adorable, little bird. You think she actually cares about you.  It’s not the Clown speaking. It’s his voice. It’s him.  A part of him. The part that crawled out of the pit, not the one who fell in. He sounds so much like the psycho who tortured him for over a year of his life. Who taught him everything there is to know about pain. Who taught him how to hate.  She’s using you. Oh God but it feels so fucking good.  Taking what she wants from you. She’ll leave you all alone. Broken. And you’ll just let her do it because you’re too weak to say no.  It was always easier to submit, to obey.  Look at her. She’s beautiful. And what are you? Just a miserable failure covered in scars. She knows it too. She knows you’ll follow her around like the pitiful little puppy you are.  The dog he trained me to be. He even gave me my own leather collar!  The memory makes him burn with rage. He digs his short, ragged fingernails into her flesh. Look at how little she is. How easy it would be to overpower her.  You could make her do whatever you want. She’ll be helpless to stop you. You remember what that feels like.  No one’s going to want me… Hurt her like she’ll hurt you—you know this will never last. Take what you want before she abandons you. Just like everyone else. 

Blood:

“Are you okay?” That voice again. Softer. Concerned.  The Clown is there, doubled over in a fit of raucous laughter. “Leave me alone!” He shouts, voice dripping with anger, hatred, pain. At the Clown. At her.  “Please, let me help you…” “GO AWAY!” He roars He still can’t breathe. Can’t catch his breath. Vise is still firmly locked around his skull. The invisible hand is still cranking it, tighter and tighter.  He runs a trembling hand through his wet hair, feeling for the scar, the bullet hole, feeling for but not finding fresh blood. He’s desperate to escape this misery.  The agony is weighing his body down so much he can’t even crawl. He’s dragging his body across the floor, pulling himself with his hand. Where? Somewhere, anywhere, to escape the pain.  “Oh, little bird, this is too much! Even I couldn’t couldn’t come up with comedy as good as this!” “Someone actually wanted you and you’re screaming at her to leave!” “A beautiful broad pops your cherry, and here you are, curled up on the floor, boo-hoo-ing like she hit you with my crowbar.”  “Comedy GOLD I tell ya!”

[lullabyofthesnow]

Let´s train

Vergil Sparda x gn!Reader

Warnings: People are wounded, demon attack, suggestive, no romance (yet)

You had met Vergil after the Qliphot incident, dragged to the Devil May Cry office by Dante. You had taken care of the office while Dante had been absent. They were almost gone for an entire year and their reapperance caught you off guard. Especially since Vergil had decided to join his brothers business. It meant that you started to not only work for Dante but his older twin brother as well.

You lived in red grave and your little sister fell victim to a demon, with that your hatred for demons started. You tried the demon hunting lifestyle, until one day you were overpowered by one. Thats how you meet Dante, he saved you. He then offered you to join Devil May Cry and you accepted without any hesitation and regret, feeling like you owed him something. Even though Dante only needed someone to help him pay the bills of the Devil May Cry office, explaining the job offer, you were grateful for it.

At first you couldn´t stand Vergil after everything you heard about him. He was also really stand off-ish and cold. Not very friendly character traits in your opinion. But your opinion of him quickly changed. Vergil had started managing Dantes finances and his bills were finally paid in regular time stamps. Thanks to this there was a constant water and electricity flow in the office. He sometimes even started conversations with you when you were in the office. They weren´t long or about anything important but it showed you that maybe he was not so bad after all.

The phone on Dantes desk started to ring and since he wasnt in the office, you picked up. A paniced woman was on the other line. She started to ramble about some kind of demon attack and that they needed help. You looked around and started to panic. The only demon hunter in right now being Vergil and you. You wrote down the details and started to call him. As quickly as always he appeared behind you, asking quickly what was wrong. The distress in your tone telling him that something was indeed wrong. You explained what was going on and that you two would have to leave quickly. Vergil was level-headed and calm during your whole interaction and as soon as you were finished packing your equipment, you left via portal.

The feeling of traveling via portal was weird. Never had you done it before, never having a reason to do so. Upon arriving at your destination you found a horrific scene before you. Many people wounded, everything was beaten to a pulp, blood splattered everywhere. The house was almost destroyed, many walls shattered and the roof completly gone. A demon was feasting on an innocent person. You only exchanged a look with Vergil and knew what was supposed to be done. Vergil started to fight the beast, while you started to drag the people out. As soon as everyone was out, you started to tend to the wounds of the wounded victims. Your hands were covered in blood and sweat formed on your forehead. There was not a lot you could do for the victims since you lacked medical training. You tried bandaging them but to no avail, they had to be sewn shut. There was so much blood and the whining of the victims made it almost unberable for you to do anything.

Suddenly a inhuman scream was heard, the demon had been slayin. Vergil stepped out of the house completly fine as if he never fought anything. Tears slowly formed in the corners of your eyes.

"Help me Vergil. We need to get them to a hospital." You sobbed out, desperate. Killing demons had never been hard on you, seeing them in pain even deleighted you. Human pain on the other hand filled you with horror, it always pained you and made you frezze up and unable to think properly. It had reminded you to much of your sister. Vergil put a hand on your shoulder and turned you around, away from the victims.

And from there on you couldn´t remember what happened. You sat there in trance, unable to move or do anything. Vergil once more placed a hand on your shoulder and spoke.

"Lets leave." Looking up at him it revealed nothing to you. Around you there was nothing left of the people that had lain there before, only their blood remaining there. it made you shudder, you felt weak. It was the first time something like that had happened to you. You started to follow Vergil through the portal, still not saying anything. The shock from before still not completly worn off.

"Maybe you should resume your training, that was not quite you-."

"How can you handle seeing all of that? That was complete madness all those people hurt." You started to sob once more completly ignoring his statement from before. He started to talk once more, "The horrors I have already witnessed can not compare to anything you could imagine. It is now something that I am used to and have to life with."

The tears would not stop from running down your cheeks. "I don´t want anyone getting hurt anymore. Help me, help me become stronger so that no one is getting hurt anymore." The tears would not stop from running down your cheeks.

"I don´t want anyone getting hurt anymore. Help me, train me." Vergil was caught of guard by that request.

"You want me to train you? If I do I will not go easy on you. I hope that you are aware." He stared down at you, looking for something in your eyes. What he found was determination under your tearful eyes.

"Fine, we start tomorrow." With that he left you there on the floor of the Devil May Cry office. You did not know, what he did to get help for the victims of the demon attack but deep inside you knew he did the right thing, while you were unable to do anything. You were thankful.

Just like he said training started the next day. Vergil stood before your bed at 5 in the morning, scaring you so much that you let out a scream. Dante appeared out of no where, making sure that nothing happened. What he saw before him satisfied something in him.

"Damn Vergil, didn´t think you were a pervert." Vergil glared at his brother like he wanted to murder him.

"Foolish." Vergil looked away from both of you, a hint of pink on his cheeks. The bickering between them two started, while you just let your head fall back onto your pillow. Slowly getting irritaded by their "lovely" conversation, you demanded that they both left so you could get yourself ready.

Vergil stood at the roof of the Devil May Cry office building, looking as menacly as ever. You were instantly intimidated by this, cowering before him.

"Before we properly start, we need to correct you stance. Everytime I see your stance in a fight, its unsure and easily breakable." You stared at him, understanding his point but at the same time unable to execute it differently. This irritaded him and he stood behind you correcting your stance.

The closeness made your head fill with blood and you practicaly melted into him. Everything he said right over your ear. It made you not pay attention to what he was saying, until he pointed something out.

"Don´t be so flustered about my closeness. The art of fighting is a close one by default."

"I did not think that it would be this close though." You turned your head around while saying that, in order to see him. You were now face to face with him, you felt his breath on your lips. He seperated from you, making distance. You saw his blushing cheeks as he retreated from you. He picked up the yamato that he had put down before you arrived.

"We will continue training some other time, I still have some other business to attend to. Get to rest." Vergil sliced an portal open before dissapearing. This so called "training" would take an interesting turn in the future.

[camping-with-monsters]

Considering what I’ve just posted is pretty vague, I wanna talk a little more about their deal. So here’s the basic gist and the beginning:

A lot of Tags of Whistlegrimm’s cast have always been mishmashes of different fairy tales. In Duck Duck Goose, I mostly stuck with one’s most are familiar with. But in Blind Man’s Bluff, my plan is to branch out a little more and include some universal representation.

Case in point, Robin, Nightingale, and Snow’s first idea came from a Native American folktale called “The Robin and The Bear”, which tells the story of a persistent robin trying to ignite a fire for a freezing tribe against a bear who keeps blowing the fire out at each turn until the Robin’s fire overpower’s the bears ability to blow out— in turn, this is how the robin got it’s red chest. The choices of how I could apply this to already existent fairy tale characters were not hard picks. The robin as Robin Hood, of course, and the bear being represented as Snow White, considering the cold winter the story took place during. Nightingale is the fire the robin continued to ignite.

Considering this disdain the robin and the bear kept against each other, Robin and Snowie were depicted as strong enemies who wanted nothing more than the other dead for reasons we may never get the full picture of. But what starts their story? How do they get forced upon each other to create the rest of the plot?

These two are ruthless, and despite what anyone may assume, are both generally unlikable people. Not the ripest of the bunch for sure, and it’s almost like these two are trying to eliminate the other to be the least likable person in Whistlegrimm! Which is… props to them? But is trying to kill the other over their differences really optimal?

The plot will be sure to say otherwise.

Against their hatred for one another and how often they find themselves going at each other’s throats, their wandering battles enter some pretty risky territory… that of royal territory, of course. You know, where you’d typically see the king. Well, they make an awful mistake that day. One of the tenders of the garden catches wind of the scene and runs in to attempt to disperse the two or otherwise figure out what the issue is and why bring it here at the kingdom. But in the process, the two are so focused on getting the upper hand that neither suspect the oncoming patron, and when they do catch up, it’s already too late to react when both attack so mercilessly and the unsuspected incomer gets mutilated in the crossfire, and dies on the scene.

Now in shock, the two realize what’s happened, and there’s no time to react before they are immediately pinned by the guards and presented to the king for their tyranny.

Lord Whimsical Whistlegrimm (yes, that is indeed his name) is skeptical of why this would be necessary. Upon allowing the two to argue, he’s quick to decipher that the death was not warranted by either, and was completely by mistake, actually aiming for the other. Lord takes some interest in this strange set of circumstances, and orders the two be locked away until he knows what his next course of action is. When presented to the warden, he makes a special request that they be in the same cellar.

Robin, Nightingale, and Snow are all pretty helpless. Their desires to kill the other seem futile as they’ll likely be beheaded for their crime anyway. They can’t bring each other to fight the other at this moment, and when Lord returns, he has… a proposition. These two are curious and he wants to see if they really value their own lives as much as they hate the other’s. Lord informs them of a concoction they can create— one they need a plethora of ingredients for that are scattered around Whistlegrimm’s Wonderlands, that is spoken to raise the dead— to revive the innocent gardener they mistakenly slayed. And if they can create the tincture, their punishments will be severely lowered if not retconned.

But considering in Whistlegrimm that actual magic is rare and a risky practice, the two are skeptical of the authenticity. But who are they to question the king? If it means living a little longer— maybe so they can actually succeed in outliving the other— who are they to refuse? They take the offering that’s given, but not without a special catch. The king provides a little bit of magic for each— magic in the form of a durable red string that wrings around the necks of the trio. If they want to be at each other’s throats so bad, than so be it. The string will only remove when their end of the deal is confirmed— and they have to be together to do it. If they get careless and one of them perishes during the journey… they’ll have to carry the weight for the rest of their lives, figuratively and literally.

Lord is asked about what his prediction will be about this. Can he be so sure they won’t come back empty handed or come back at all? Ah, Lord cannot confirm either… he almost feels bad.

So off these two go to erase their debt. But it’s not going to be simple considering the predisposed hatred they have. Protecting each other is not going to be fun when all this time they’ve known each other they’ve been actively trying to end each other. But… if this means fixing their mistakes to the kingdom, they only have one way to go— onward!

[writingpencil]

Dear Every War We Waged For Tomorrow

Screaming rang outside, echoing in the ears of everyone around. Galloping of horses and shouts of men soon followed the feminine scream. Chaos ensued. Soldiers from the ruler himself had come and begun their raid on the small town where Samuel Don Phoenix resided. In his humble home is where he sat in the rocking chair, listening to the screaming from outside. His calm demeanor was the complete opposite of how he felt. Samuel - Sam to his friends - focused on his breathing as best he could. He listened until the screaming started to blend with the soft music box that played near his child’s crib. Samuel could only be relieved that his son was asleep during these hours of chaos. 

The door had burst open, but Samuel made no motion to get up. He watched his son with a parental eye. His son only stirred, keeping to his slumber. Samuel gripped his loose white shirt as he heard the soldiers raid his home, closing his eyes to calm himself. Samuel didn’t own much in the first place, but he would own even less after this monthly raid. One of the proud soldiers opened the door to the small nursery. Samuel opened his eyes slightly and looked at the soldier from the corners of his eyes. 

The soldier glanced around, but he would only find makeshift toys and a single father watching his son. The soldier nodded respectfully to Samuel.

“Don Phoenix.” 

“Evening…” Was his quiet reply. 

The soldier was silent for a few more moments, then left when his superior called a command to leave. Samuel watched them leave, catching the superior’s cold, blue eyes - full of nothing but fearless glee. The superior’s face drained of all happiness when they caught Samuel’s own orange ones. Guilt. Not enough to change a heart, but guilt nonetheless. 

Soon; it was just a single father and his son. The music box being the only noise around.

On the other side of town was a brave soul who fought a soldier to protect his family’s possessions. There was none who showed their utter hatred for the soldiers and the ruler himself then Nikolas Thyphainne. Just barely reaching eighteen, and working in the printing press, Nikolas could barely hold his own against the soldier. It was only when another soldier slammed the butt of his rifle against Nikolas’s face did the young man cease to fight. Nikolas laid on the wooden floor of his home as the soldiers took everything they wanted. From crops that were for winter to anything that remotely looked valuable.

The soldiers walked out - one spitting at Nikolas - and left the young man to be tended by his sister. His sister, only a year older then Nikolas, raced from their bedroom to Nikolas’s side. Their mother had a worried look on her pale face as she brought her daughter whatever she needed. A dark bruise formed on Nikolas’s cheek, a small bit of blood mixing with the spit of the soldier and the tears of the young Thyphainne man. He scolded himself quietly for crying - he was supposed to be strong for his mother and sister - but Nikolas couldn’t hold it in. He wished he had done more. He wished he had the strength to overpower a soldier with just a single hand. However, only the best of the best joined the soldiers. Nikolas had failed the entrance exam. 

“Niki, that was foolish.”

“I know, Melissa, I know.” Nikolas leaned into his sister’s gentle touch as she washed away the blood with the rag their mother dipped in warm water. “I want… I want things to be better… Someone needs to stand up for us…”

Melissa shook her head. “Hold still.”

“Yes, sister.”

In another part of the small town was a couple who were recovering from a pair of particularly nasty soldiers. Fiances who dreamed of being united legally, but with no such luck. The man had held his Lady Eleutheros close as she drew her sword to counter the soldiers. She knew how the soldiers operated from experience. Sadly, even her attempt at a saving grace was nothing but a distant fever dream. She fought bravely, but the soldiers had grabbed her lover, threatening his life. She had no choice but to drop her sword and surrender. 

The soldiers took little from them, even with the lady attacking. The lady was once a well-respected general, high in the ranks. Taking much from her would be a death wish from the ruler himself. She was respected by him, meaning they had to respect her. Taking only a bit of currency and a few valuables like jewelry, the soldiers had finally left. 

“Bianca. . ?” The lady looked to her love, who wore a sorrowful look. “They… my love, they took our rings.”

“You are not serious… are you, Arlo?”

At the sight of her lover’s nod, Bianca was filled with rage. Her fire-red curls practically gave away her thoughts of anger. Their rings of all things to take. Bianca clutched her blouse to control her temper. It was Arlo who calmed her down, by cupping her face and planting soft kisses. Bianca wanted nothing more than to fight the nearest soldier until he was bloody and begging for mercy, but such thoughts were impossible when she had Arlo showering her in love. 

“Please, my dear, I am just as upset as you are… but our anger only causes more problems.”

“One day,” The lady swore. “We shall have freedom from these raids.”

“A soldier you were, my dear, a general even, but they are stronger then all of the people in this little town combined. We can’t fight them. His majesty has a thousand upon thousands of guards and soldiers who are but ruthless beasts without the charm.”

“My love… that is why we have to fight them.”

The evening was spent cleaning up and recovering. Bianca joined the people who counted the injured and dead. There never usually were deaths during the raids, but Bianca had the unfortunate to come across a bloody body lying in their bed with their half-beaten pup. Bianca shook her head and slowly approached. The pup tried to let out a bark, but it came across as a whimper. Bianca took off her jacket and wrapped the gentle cotton around the pup. Bianca turned away from the body and walked out of the room, calling for one of the other people. When someone else took over, and the person closest to being the vet took over to recover the pup, Bianca went across the small town to meet with her friends.

“Bianca…” Nikolas smiled in relief. “You are alright. How’s Arlo recovering?”

“He’s salvaging anything we have to give to everyone else. It won’t be much…” 

“Whatever you can give is enough, Bianca. You’re a saint enough as it is.” Nikolas took Bianca’s hand and pulled her into a quick hug. “Sam is still in the nursery. He has practically nothing. They even took Lamaria’s…” 

Bianca shook her head in disbelief. “Sam is not going to be able to cope with losing her…”

“I know, which is why I’m thankful you came.” Nikolas ran a hand through his black hair. “I can clean the place, if you check on Sam.”

“Already on it.” Bianca went inside and headed to the nursery. Samuel still sat in the rocking chair, head tilted towards the ceiling with silent tears streaming down his face. Bianca felt a wave of melancholy take over seeing her friend in such a state. She approached and knelt by his side. “Sam…”

“They took her, didn’t they…?” Samuel’s voice was slightly hoarse, holding back from sobbing. “I - I didn’t think… I thought it… I thought I had time - “

“Shh, Sam, Sam, it’s not your fault - “

“To Hell it isn’t.” Samuel wiped his tears. “I should’ve… I should’ve just… she’s gone… my Lamaria...”

The resting boy in the crib started fussing, crying out for his father. Samuel practically shoved himself out of the rocking chair to pick up his baby. Even in his own grief, Samuel was quick to be at his son’s side. Bianca wished, silently, that she could understand that parental feeling. She wished she could assist Samuel further, but the soft brunette knew more then her. 

Samuel rewinded the music box and sang along with it. He sang without lyrics. His deeper voice, while contradictory to the light notes of the music box, blended well with those same soft notes. The mahogany colored box soon ceased it’s song, and the child of Don Phoenix was calm. Samuel took a deep breath and sighed softly, smiling at his little baby. His little sunshine.

“It’s okay, Sunny, daddy’s here. Daddy’s here…” 

Bianca stepped out into the hall and saw Nikolas cleaning what he could of Samuel’s bedroom. The room itself was small, practically empty, except for the bed with the sheets and old, worn out blanket. Bianca felt her stomach flip seeing that blanket. Nikolas caught her eye, frowning. Bianca walked over, hugging herself. The wall, once a simple white color over the wood, now was torn and bashed up from the rage of angry soldiers who couldn’t find anything worth taking. 

“We… can fix it.” 

“I’m sick of fixing it!” Nikolas suddenly shouted out. “I’m sick of it, Bianca! It’s that hellish dictator! It’s all his fault He could call off these raids anytime - but no! No, no, no, no, and no! I say we give it to them! I say we give them their karma and do it with the fury of generations of suffering!”

Bianca was silent for a moment. Then a determined grin appeared on her face. Such a grin seemed much more natural on the redhead then any neutral expression.

“You wanna know what I say, Niki?”

“What do you say, Bia?”

“I say,” Bianca flew her hand up like an actor on stage. “I say we start a revolution. We bring freedom to our town.”

Nikolas shared Bianca’s grin. The young man cracked his knuckles, a surge of wanting revenge struck Nikolas. Bianca let out a little chuckle, amused by the younger man’s enthusiasm. 

“In my house you plead treason.” Samuel entered his bedroom, joining his two friends with little Sunny in his arms. “And without me?”

“Sam, you devildog!” Nikolas wrapped an arm around Samuel’s neck. “I was concerned you gone royal~”

“As if…” Samuel said, leaning down slightly for the shorter man. “I don’t benefit any more than Bianca.”

Bianca scoffed. “The only benefits I have is that only my coin is stolen.”

“But think of this, my dear Bia.” Samuel set a hand on her shoulder. “A flag waving in the wind, overlooking our town - free from tyrannical rule. We would be able to govern ourselves. No more raids. No more pain and death.”

Bianca’s grin only grew. “Freedom.”

“Freedom.” Samuel said, rubbing a thumb over Sunny’s back. “Freedom for our children. Freedom for the children birthed from our legacy, gardens planted in parts of town we would never dreamed to have gardens, freedom for the couples who never have to hold a weapon, freedom for the children who will never have to bear the burdens their elders shared...”

“Sam, it all sounds lovely.” Bianca’s face suddenly dropped, her lover’s words coming to mind. The weight of such words dawned on her. “... there’s thousands of soldiers… and I know for fact that most of the people in town cannot fight even Niki.”

“Hey!”

“We are outnumbered.”

“Outnumbered…” Samuel mumbled. He sat on his bed, Sunny pressed against his shoulder and chest. The blonde haired baby looked up at his father. He saw the analyzing look, although not understanding it. Sunny shared Samuel’s orange eyes, but one pair was full of innocence. The other pair were deeper in thought than any fish could dive in the water. 

A few careful knocks alerted the people inside, and it was Nikolas who went to answer. The black-haired man was greeted by another friend. A fellow black-haired man with curls that loosely dangled over his light brown eyes, whom’s smile held sunshines and optimism. While not living in the town, Giles Fevers was certainly the wealthiest of all the friends - and even the town itself. 

Nikolas yelped as Giles pulled him into a tight hug that, Nikolas swore, would break his spine one day. The jolly Fevers man patted Nikolas’s back, pulling back to give Nikolas a small smile. 

“I came at a bad time?” Giles asked.

Nikolas shook his head. “No, no, we are simply… recovering.”

Giles nodded. “Apologies, dear friend, I can do what I can.”

“Actually, Giles, would you join us?”

“It would be an honor, Niki.”

Nikolas smiled and brought Giles to where Samuel and Bianca had begun a conversation of revolution. Plans. Specifically: defense plans. Giles looked at his friends, confusion on his tan face. Nikolas now wore the smile, and he wore a strong-willed one at that.

“What… is going on?”

Samuel and Bianca looked at Giles, then at each other. Both shared a smile, and Bianca nodded. Samuel turned to Giles, smirking. “Freedom.”

Giles slightly tilted his head. “Freedom…? You mean -”

“From the ruler himself.” Samuel pushed back hair, his smile widening.

Giles nodded slowly, thoughtfulness on his tan face. “...But, my dear friends... who would uproar the revolution?”

Samuel did a slow spin to look at everyone in the room. He nodded slowly and looked back at Giles. “I see a ragtag bunch of adults who are more then ready to start a riot.”

Giles looked among his friends. “It’s that bad here, huh?”

Nikolas pointed to his face, sneering slightly.

“Alright! Alright!” Giles thought for a moment. “I think I can assist. What do you need me to do? I’ll cross a thousand miles if it means my friends can rest.”

“You mean it?” Nikolas asked.

Giles pounded his fist against his chest. “For the revolution, my heart is guided only by the songs of victory! My money is yours, my dear friends, supply yourself all you need to. Give that dirty rat bastard of a king all of Hell and twice the rage!”

“You won’t have money to give if you sprout those words in the kingdom!” Bianca laughed at the embarrassed Fevers. But the redhead set a hand on Giles’s shoulder. “A kind man was born today, was he not?”

“Oh ho, as a wise young lady once said,” Giles set his opposite hand on hers. “If my kindness bleeds into what is in my heart of hearts, and my kindness allows my crimson blood to be bled, then I hold my head up high and there would be no greater pride. There is no other cause that I would feel proud to lose my head for.”

“Saphielle Malevojynn.” Nikolas named the poet Giles referenced. The young Thyphainne explained himself immediately afterwards: “Mother has a copy of her work. Melissa would read them to her and I just, eh…happened to be… in the same room - I don’t like them or anything! Of course not… never… poetry is girly…”

Bianca huffed, annoyed as Samuel humored Nikolas with a small nod. Giles only chuckled, jolly as ever. Nikolas set his hands on his hips, whistling slightly as he looked away from the others. 

“Well…” Samuel said, after a moment. “Money is good, but we are still outnumbered. We don’t have a proper plan either, just ideas… People are recovering, we only have a month… A month is not enough time! We need to have security, train our people, arm our people! That’s not enough… we can’t do that in a month…”

Samuel set a hand over his mouth. Anxiety rose in him, blooming faster then he could process. He was terrified of that possibility: nothing would be complete. The soldiers would have more to destroy and people could end up dead. The dictator himself would come and punish the town, perhaps even burn it. Samuel could imagine the look on the dictator’s face when he sees the walls, the people attempting to defend themselves. He would laugh at them. Laugh at them like they were mere jokes. Samuel averted his gaze from the floor to his son, whom’s orange eyes stared at his father curiously. 

“Sam.” Nikolas said. Samuel looked at his younger friend, who’s own eyes were full of determination. “We either get our freedom or we die trying. There is no more waiting. None. Never again. I refuse to wait! This is everything to all of us here! If we don’t start today, right here and now, then who will?”

Softly, the Don Phoenix whispered: “I’m afraid…” 

“We all are.” Bianca lowered her head, her face contorting into one of anger. “But to Hell with fear, to Hell with second guessing. Sam. We fight today, so our children can live tomorrow.”

Samuel looked around the main room of his little house. It doubled as a kitchen and living room, although the living part has yet to be replenished. He imagined raising Sunny in this very house, one he and his wife built just for him. He remembered all of his blood, sweat, and tears that stained the wood, the paint, the floor. He remembered Lamaria’s. Her smile was clear as day when the house was complete. Vigorously, Samuel nodded, all anxiety and doubt pushed aside.

“Freedom.” Samuel declared. “We will have our freedom. If they need a riot to hear us, we shall be louder then all the fireworks in the sky!”

“Yes Sam!” Bianca cheered. “I say we weaponize ourselves. A wall is only good for so long, you know? We train ourselves and we will give those soldiers a trip to the hospital if not the morgue!”

Nikolas turned to Giles. “How many weapon shops are in the kingdom? Please say a lot, I want to visit one-”

Giles shook his head. “Apologies, dear friend, the king and the army hold all weapons imported or made. All blacksmiths are kept under tight watch… any nobility with weapons are kept under tighter watch, forced to write how many times the weapon was used and why. If the king doesn’t like a way, the noble shall be fined or jailed.”

“What about the Medora Dynasty out North?” Bianca asked. “Most of your shops are set up out there. Surely there must be some sort of shop…”

“I cannot say for sure, I never looked for such things.” Giles forces a chuckle. “If given two weeks, I’m sure to find something.”

“Two weeks?!” Nikolas hissed. “That’s absurd! We need to utilize the four or five we have, and we can’t wait two of those for weapons!”

Giles held up his hands, defensively. “One week there, another week back…”

“Niki, down.” Bianca glared, and the younger backed off. “Sam should go with you, Giles. With me here leading, you two together can cover all of Medora in a day and be back before the revolution even starts.”

“Can I bring Sunny?” Samuel asked, shifting the little baby to his other shoulder.

“A fresh look of the countryside should do wonders for the boy!” Giles exclaimed, excited for the opportunity to spend more time with his friend and his friend’s son. “But, I will warn you, dear friend, two weeks is a lot of time. If you wish to bring Sunny, be reasonable about what you bring.”

Samuel nodded. “Understood.”

The friends looked among each other, an agreeable silence passed between them all. As Giles and Samuel discussed plans for Medora, Bianca and Nikolas exited the house and took a small walk around town. The two took mental notes of everything they could, all the information they would need when the time came. Nikolas, however, was not the silent one among the two. The young Thyphainne talked, loudly, of a flag that he would wave high on top of the town’s walls. 

Bianca listened, amused by her friend’s fantasy. She listened as Nikolas described how he would hold up the burning flag of the kingdom, waving the town’s own flag to declare victory. He would stand tall on that day, Nikolas swore, and have his first shot of whiskey as well. 

“And it’ll burn my throat, and I’ll say that I’m dying, but I survived through Hell, I can survive a little bit of whiskey- … Bia? What’s wrong?” 

Bianca’s smile lessened, turning into one of pity. Nikolas lowered his head, halting when Bianca stopped walking. Then, he saw it: Her pity came from a background of experience. Nikolas has heard her say, time and time again, that young soldiers like him were the very first to die. And if they didn’t die, they rarely slept again. Ignorance gets overwhelmed quickly in a war.

“You’ve got your passion, you’ve got your pride…” Bianca said, beginning to walk again. Nikolas kept up with her, watching the redhead intensely. “But… you know that when the truth is told… We may not live to see tomorrow. We may not live to see today.”

“Bia, I’m ready. I’ve been waiting my entire life to fight, and I’m ready!”

Bianca hushed him. “Slow down, you crazy child…” 

“I’m not a child! I’m ready to be a soldier, Bia! I’m ready, I am, you can’t deny me this-” Nikolas took a step back when Bianca outstretched her hand, to cup his face. Tucking her hand behind her back once more, she shook her head, those red curls bouncing as she did. 

“You’re so ahead of yourself…” She whispered, sweetly, like a mother to her child. “You can’t be everything you want to be before your time…”

Nikolas spoke against her, anger swelling up in him. “I’m not a child… You fear for me so much, let me fear for myself for once… I’ll train myself until I can barely breathe, I’ll march everyday until my legs give out, I’ll fire and fire and fire my gun again and again. I’ll wave our town’s flag until my fingers are bleeding and bruised! I’ll sew the flag myself if it means I can wave it in pride! You, and Sam, and Giles, you all second guess yourselves. You need someone to help you stay on the right path! This is for our future! And I have no second guesses about it.”

Minutes seemed to go by, but Bianca nodded at Nikolas. 

“Quickbelle shall be our legacy.” Nikolas promised.

Bianca nodded, smiling. “Well… you’ve got so much to do, and only so many hours in a day. Chop chop.”

“Wh- okay! What do you need me to do first?”

“I need you to ask Gwendolyn to make us a flag. And be sure to have a bell on it. Understand, soldier?”

Nikolas’s eyes became wide and full of stars, his determination grew and he nodded quickly. The young Thyphainne took off towards home, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement. Bianca watched him go, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Diligently, she continued her walk around town. This was going to change the way people of tomorrow viewed their history of today. Bianca’s heart grew heavier and heavier with each step she took.

Were they even ready for tomorrow?

In the next two days: Bianca had managed to rally the people of Quickbelle together. Many were on board with revolution, and many aiming to fight. Bianca could see the surge of vengeance cloud the eyes of those who shouted their anger. The redhead listened, closely, to each word she could. Every voice was singing with the pain of losing family, of losing people, their lives, and all sung in harmony. Bianca was silent as she listened, bringing the crowd to silence when she needed another moment to speak. To them, she sang the plan. Walls, and weaponry, and fighting until there was nothing left to fight for. 

“They expect a slaughter!” The Eleutheros lady cried. “We give them a war!”

People cheered. While Bianca wanted nothing more then to celebrate with this enthusiasm alone, she knew this was time for work. First, she decided, was creating the wall itself. While the people continued to gather themselves, preparing all they could, at Bianca’s request, Bianca travelled around Quickbelle’s outer buildings. Pencil and journal in hand, she sketched the buildings diligently. However, everything was sloppy in numbers. For all the strategies and the glory of her fighting, Bianca was no mathematician. The Eleutheros let out a small sigh, returning home on the sunset of the third day. Arlo offered her comfort, insisting Bianca should eat when she refused to.

Three tender knocks interrupted their dinner. Arlo excused himself, kissing his lovely lady’s head, before opening the door. Standing there was Melissa Thyphainne, head held high with her dress being pulled up off the ground. Arlo nodded to her in respect, as Melissa slightly bowed to him.

“M’lady Thyphainne, come in, please. You’re no stranger in our home.”

Melissa let her dress fall as she entered. “Thank you, sir.”

“Will you be staying for dinner? I’ve made mandarin and strawberry cheesecake for dessert.” Arlo offered his sweet smile.

“Your generosity is unmatched, but no, I wanted to speak to Ms. Eleutheros.” Melissa smiled in turn, though hers was much smaller. 

Bianca stood from her spot, approaching Melissa with her best hospitality attitude. “To what do I owe the pleasure of, m’lady?”

“I hear of revolution, no?” Melissa began to clump the fabric of her dress. “I, well, to be blunt… I wish to offer my services where I can. I am no fighter, ma’am, but I can write like no other. I can organize, and sort, and keep things in line. Give me a math equation and a pen, you will have your answer…”

“Rich schooling?” Bianca asked, cheekily.

Melissa shook her head. “No, ma’am. Just a father who gave everything he could to me. He gave me his mind, and if that can help in any way possible… I am here.”

Bianca looked between Arlo and Melissa, then settled on the Thyphainne girl. “Could you, perhaps, calculate a wall? Specifically… Quickbelle’s one for war?”

Melissa nodded quickly. “Give me a few hours. You’ll have your blueprints.”

“It’s settled.” Bianca held out her hand, which Melissa gladly took. “You know, I would’ve never guessed you to be one to step up for war.”

“As Yoxy is my witness, I will not give those soldiers, nor their king, the satisfaction any longer. My brother is a fighter, but every Thyphainne is born stubborn. I’ll be the most stubborn secretary they’ve ever known.”

Bianca laughed heartily. “You all have passion.”

“Father taught us well.” Melissa smiled a little more. “I think I’ve bothered you folks enough. Just wished for that quick conversation, I’ll be on my way-”

Arlo stopped Melissa before she could leave. He gifted her a small basin pot, filled with warm soup, and a plate with cheesecake covered in thin plastic. Melissa curtsied to Arlo, thanking him immensely for his kindness. Thus, Melissa left, not bothering to care that her dress would be getting dirty. 

Moonlight guided Melissa home, and the colder night air had her breathing heavily. She walked slowly down the streets, controlling her breathing as much as possible and glancing occasionally at buildings that surrounded her. Soft golden lights illuminated the interiors, laughter could be heard, which surprised Melissa. She couldn’t say the last time families could be heard laughing, especially so soon after a raid. The black-haired girl was bewildered when she heard amused giggles from inside her own home. Her soft blue eyes widened when she entered, seeing her mother and brother together. And sewing.

Their mother, Gwendolyn, was showing Nikolas how to do a perfect stitch, telling a story in her native tongue of Yoxician. Nikolas burst into laughter, messing up and poking his finger. The needle stuck, and he wheezed like a tea kettle as Gwendolyn pulled the needle out, laughing also. Melissa closed the door quietly, announcing that she was home. Nikolas looked up, then looked back down to quickly finish up the stitch. He then stood and held the flag up with a flourish, pride in his blue eyes.

Melissa admired the flag: The silhouette of a bell was placed in the center, with a white stripe on top behind it, and a beautiful mossy green beneath the white. The black thread could be seen holding the white and yellow together, yet it was perfect. Melissa nodded in approval, expressing how impressed she was with their work. Nikolas had little time to express his excitement, as Melissa moved on to dinner. She handed the soup to Gwendolyn, setting aside the cheesecake for later.

“A spoon for you, and me, and you as well.” Melissa said, speaking in her native language. “Mr. Newcombe gave it, out of his own generosity. The cheesecake as well. Mandarin and strawberry.”

Gwendolyn nodded to her daughter, humming. Then turned to Nikolas, requesting he speak of Yoxy for them. Nikolas shook his head, insisting that he wished to excuse himself. When Gwendolyn offered for them to wait, Nikolas called that they didn't have to and left for his room. The young Thyphainne locked his room door, pressing his back to it and sliding to the floor. He rubbed his face before hugging his knees. Nikolas stayed like that for minutes, waiting and debating with himself until he knew they were done. One minute of saying thank you to Yoxy. One minute of traditional Yoxican blessings. Thirty seconds of remembering saints and prophets. A final thirty in silence. Many times Nikolas counted. Even years ago when his family travelled thousands of miles, did he count. Pushing back his black hair, Nikolas sighed and stood. He put on his most genuine smile, returning to his favorite women for dinner.

And when dinner was done, and the night became quiet, Nikolas Thyphainne found himself reading in bed. He found himself enamoured with the work of Saphielle Malevojynn once again. Delicately, Nikolas followed his finger as he read over each and every letter with dedication. Her bountiful poetry of fallen heroes, challenging the waters of black and white morality, and the consequences of unbecoming in the company of gods - all of it kept Nikolas entertained. His pale lips gradually curled into a more defined smile as one poem turned into two, and two turned into eight, then sixteen, then forty seven more, until the door swung open and Nikolas promptly hid the book as he screamed in fear.

It was only Melissa, leaning one arm against the doorframe as her other hand rested on her hip. From the apron delicately resting against her, she was just finishing up dishes. Although amused, and partially charmed, by her brother’s jumpiness, Melissa tilted her head as she spoke. “Mr. Don Phoenix is heading out with Mr. Fevers, he wished to say his goodbyes before leaving.”

“So late-?” Nikolas got up, throwing on a jacket over his pajamas. “Aye, tell him I’m coming. Thank you, dear sister.”

Melissa nodded, looking over her shoulder towards the front door. “He said he’s coming. Please, make yourself at home.”

“No, no, no, I’ll meet you outside! Excuse me-” Nikolas ducked under his sister’s arm, rushing to the door. Samuel perked up seeing his friend, his gentle orange eyes lighting up like stars. “If I knew you were leaving so late into the night, I would’ve made plans to stay up a little longer.”

Samuel held back a small laugh. “I apologize, my friend. But, knowing you, you’re probably writing some romantic poetry for a lovely individual.”

“You don’t know me then, cause you’re dead wrong.” Though no malice graced his voice, Nikolas threw out a hand in defense. “I do the things I want to do, and the only romantic poetry at the moment is picking up a gun and-”

Melissa cleared her throat. “A truly, truly humbling display, brother dearest, but please be mindful that our mother is in the other room. If you wake her up, it’ll be your head on a mantle before one of the king’s soldiers.”

Nikolas held his hands up. “Apologies…” 

“I won’t be long, m’lady.” Samuel promised, then turned to Nikolas. “Wish us luck… I will admit, I am… nervous. I haven’t left Quickbelle since… Lamaria and I…”

“You’re incredibly strong, Sam, you’ll be here and back before you can recite Quickbelle’s national anthem.” Nikolas patted Samuel’s shoulder as the brunette gave them a confused look.

Samuel glanced between Nikolas and Melissa. “Do we have a national anthem?”

“No, sir.” Melissa said. “However, I can compose one-”

“You’re already constructing blueprints,” Samuel twirled his hands around each other, slightly raising his shoulders. “We can’t put everything on your shoulders on the first day. I don’t believe the Medora Dynasty was built in a day.”

Melissa shook her head slightly. “I can guarantee it was not.”

“We won't win this war in a day either.” Samuel bit his cheek. “That would make things easier if it was the case…”

“Agreed, sir.” Melissa bowed slightly. “I’m turning in for the night. Safe journey.”

“A restful night for you, m’lady.” Samuel nodded towards Nikolas. “And to you as well, good sir. Giles waits for me.”

The two friends hugged, before parting. Samuel waved to Nikolas as the brunette walked to where the wagon was resting. Giles, waiting patiently for Samuel, held a tired Sunny, attempting to have the blonde baby sleep before his father returned. Samuel smiled at his friend, thanking him before taking Sunny and heading to the back of the wagon. Samuel paused a moment, setting a free hand against the bonnet stem, taking the opportunity to remember the plan. If they were ever stopped by guards of the king, or anyone with the Leones crest, Samuel was to move part of the blanket that laid on the floor, then open the secret compartment. It would be barely big enough to fit himself and Sunny, the two friends tested it much earlier in the day. 

“The roads should be clear tonight,” Giles promised, noticing his friend’s hesitation. “We will only be able to travel fifteen miles the first day, if nothing goes haywire, of course. But, my darling Icarus is the most trustworthy, most stable of horses. Old girl will get us to them Medorians, won’t you?”

The white and grey horse huffed, stomping her hoof with impatience. Samuel smiled a bit, sitting down in the wagon carefully. “I apologize, Miss. Icarus.”

Icarus nodded, like she was accepting his apology, yet also being annoyed at having to receive one at all. Giles chuckled, picking up the reins. 

“Away, girl, down the usual.” Icarus rolled her eyes and pulled the cart with her. 

Samuel watched Quickbelle slowly grow further and further away, eventually becoming another dot in the distance. Confirming that, yes, he wasn’t going to receive the adrenaline to run home, lock himself inside, and never go back out again, Samuel laid down. He rested his head on the pillow Giles brought for him, staring up at the underneath of the wagon’s bonnet while Sunny snored on his chest. It was no replacement for the stars. Samuel, in his stubbornness to stay awake, tried to imagine the Medora Dynasty.

The brunette remembered Lamaria’s stories about the place, from when she was a little girl, living among the lower class with the other orphaned children. Even in a lower economical position than most people in Medora, Lamaria’s tales were never depressing. Festivals were never exclusive, food and bare necessities were cheap, sometimes worth nothing if a desperate soul came looking for asylum. People treated each other like people - human or fae or hybrid, even the demons and cryptids, were all welcomed. Truly, Samuel remembered telling Lamaria, it sounds too good to be true. Lamaria would laugh at him, but agreed with him.

“It sounds too good to be true because you come from Leones.”

She was always wise. In life, she was wise. In her writing too, she was wise. In his Lamaria’s head was an endless library, a vast nothingness of ever growing potential. She could recount stories like a bard, and write new ones like the life would drain from her if she didn’t. Samuel smiled, holding back laughter as he remembered the long nights, where Lamaria would hunch over her desk with a quill; her golden hair tied back, messily, with ink covering her nightgown, but Lamaria had the widest smile on her face. Perhaps, in the dawn of the next morning, she would reread her work and find that she didn’t like it. Sometimes, she would toss those disliked pieces out. Other times, Lamaria would keep them and give them to Samuel, while she worked on the writing she did like. If Samuel could recall correctly, he had those pieces somewhere.

In his daydream, sleep lulling his eyes to shut, Samuel hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until the blinding sun was peeking into the wagon - shining in her infinite glory. Samuel covered his eyes, scrunching up his nose in surprise. The brunette sat up, a small moment of panic surged through him when Sunny was not laying on his chest. However, the fear subsided when Samuel saw his little one sitting in the front with Giles, attempting to whistle as the raven haired was. Instead of whistling, Sunny’s attempts were more blowing raspberries in between his giggling and clapping. 

“Good morning, my friend!” Giles said as Samuel crossed his arms over the top of the driver’s box, resting his head. “I see you’ve slept long.”

“Did Sunny eat?” Sunny looked over at the sound of his name. The blonde baby giggled, grabbed Samuel’s fingers, and played with his hand. 

Giles waved his hand. “Oh, but of course! I’d never let my friend’s child starve-”

“It’s just that…” Samuel considered his wording. “I know you are uncomfortable with children, young ones at least.”

“Pish, posh.” Was Giles’s reply. “It’s strange children I don’t like. Ones I have never met are the ones who scare me something awful. I don’t know what they need or why no one is taking care to make them stop crying, but it’s awful, dreadful. I know Sunny, and I know his father too. At least I know what he wants.”

Samuel nodded in understanding, picking up Sunny. “When is our first stop?”

“If I remember correctly, there is a tavern - a bed and breakfast sort of place, run by one Miss. Allura Charmed.” Giles smiled, just a little wider. “A lovely hybrid woman, if I dare voice my opinion on her.”

“Hybrid?” Samuel asked, letting Sunny nawm on his finger. 

Giles nodded. “Those people born from a fae and a human. If Bianca and Arlo had a kid, they would have a hybrid.”

“I hope I don’t seem ignorant for asking that…” Samuel rubbed the back of his neck. “Leones isn’t exactly open with everything involving the fae… And I think Bianca is the only fae in Quickbelle.”

Samuel tossed thoughts between his hands, then quickly steadied Sunny before he fell. “A shame, really… Though, I wouldn’t blame any fae who isn’t thrilled to join our town. It is… a mess.”

“Soon!” Giles suddenly shouted. “It shall be less of a mess, and the beginning of something brilliant! A poem Saphielle Malevojynn would write about! It shall be spectacular! Immaculate! Completely changing history!”

“You all and Lady Malevojynn.” Samuel rolled his eyes, playfully. “But, tell me about this Miss. Charmed. Does she have your heart, Giles?”

A flush of red arose in Giles’s cheeks, and the man stuttered. However, Giles, not as smoothly as he would admit, changed the direction of the conversation to something supposedly dire. Giles tried to make sense of the figure walking on the road ahead. Samuel sat up, trying to see as well. The dirt road wasn’t entirely straight, and often some parts of the trail were blocked from sight, so it was no surprise that neither men noticed the figure until the path straightened out. In the sun, the person walked, their identity concealed in the clutch of their ebony cloak. The closer the wagon inched towards the individual, the louder their whistling became. 

Samuel ducked down, hiding Sunny as well, and Giles corrected himself to appear less stressed. The wagon approached, and the stranger stopped whistling to face the wagon. Samuel could hear Giles greeting the person, asking them where they were heading.

“If I knew, I would’ve already been there.” A soft voice responded. Surprised by the answer, Samuel peaked to see the individual.

Giles chuckled, awkwardly. “You’re heading towards the Medora Dynasty.”

The individual slightly tilted their head in muted surprise, looking towards the road ahead before looking back at Giles. Their dark blue eyes, hidden behind circular glasses on metal strings, matched their wild hair, and their beautiful brown skin complimented the blue perfectly. Besides their ebony cloak, and the clothes on their back, they seemed to be carrying nothing. No crests or give-aways of loyalty.

“Would you take along a traveller?” The individual asked.

Giles glanced back, catching Samuel staring at the stranger. It was not a look of distrust, rather curiosity. Giles turned back to the individual, nodding to them before smiling with teeth. “Yes, yes, but of course… I am Giles Fevers, and you?”

The individual hummed, quietly. “I am Kosame.”

“Kosame… did I say that right?” The individual nodded, slowly. Giles smiled, shifting his smile to something much more welcoming, warm. “Welcome aboard!”

Kosame nodded, taking the invitation to sit beside Giles. Silently, they took down their hood. Samuel blinked, sitting up slowly. He stared at Kosame, the strangest feeling rising in his chest - familiar, but distant, cold, something left behind long ago. And when those dark blue, unreadable, eyes met his, Samuel felt heat in his face. Kosame nodded, respectfully, to Samuel, or was it to Sunny? Samuel could not tell, but his mouth hung open and stuttered a hello. Sunny also babbled a hello, and Kosame softly smiled, mumbling a small greeting.

Sunny clapped, making grabby hands. Samuel shushed him, softly, taking Sunny’s hands and kissing them. Kosame tilted their head, offering their hand. Sunny squealed, gladly playing with Kosame’s fingers. 

“Oh…” Samuel mumbled. “Thank you.”

“It is nothing,” Kosame squished Sunny’s cheeks between their thumb and middle finger, copying the fish lips. Sunny giggled, and their smile widened a bit. Kosame released Sunny’s cheek, then squished them again. “Heh… cute kid.”

“Thank you,” Samuel, carefully, set Sunny down. With the lack of restrictions, Sunny happily crawled to Kosame. The blue-haired individual looked at Samuel, and when they found no hint of tensity, picked up Sunny. Samuel watched, making sure that Sunny was comfortable, though Samuel doubted that Sunny would be hurt in the first place. “He seems to… like you.”

Kosame took off their glasses, keeping them out of reach from Sunny. “My father said I always had a way with children… I guess certain traits aren’t forgotten in the span of a person’s lifetime. Only in history books.”

Samuel blinked back surprise. “A… admirable… quote? Who said it?”

“I did, just now.” Kosame showed Sunny that they could fold their tongue, chuckling softly when Sunny tried to copy. Samuel, slowly, nodded. He couldn’t quite pin them down, yet they seemed so familiar. The way they spoke, the way they entertained Sunny, even the way they used words. He held back a laugh. He could compare them to a writer. 

“So,” Giles interrupted Samuel’s thoughts. “Why are you heading towards the Medora Dynasty, sir… ma’am?”

Kosame glanced at Giles. “Today is they and them for me. Mx, please.”

“Mx. Kosame it is!” Giles’s smile widened, perhaps Kosame’s did too. Samuel couldn’t tell. “So, you said you didn’t know where you were heading? Is Medora Dynasty the best direction for you?”

Kosame nodded, slowly, as they gently bounced Sunny on their leg. “Yes.”

“How so?” Samuel knew Giles was making light conversation, but there came an uneasiness that wouldn’t leave with each question asked. Samuel thought himself paranoid. 

“I hear it's a good place to rest.” Kosame looked between Samuel and Giles.

Giles nodded. “Indeed it is! Have you heard of the festivals? I fall in love with the Berry Festival every spring. All the delicious strawberry pastries, and delicious grape jams, and I cannot forget the raspberry and lavender teas Miss. Charmed sells at her tavern when I travel over.”

“Allura Charmed?” Kosame asked. When Giles nodded, Kosame chuckled a bit. “I remember her.”

“You know of her?” Giles became instantly more interested. Kosame nodded, but didn’t continue speaking. Samuel watched as Giles attempted to ask questions, failing each time, with the words barely dripping from his lips.

Kosame noticed this as well. “She’s a brilliant woman, marching to her own song, even if she doesn’t make sense.”

“When was the last time you were there? Did she ever mention me?” Giles covered his mouth slightly. “Pardon me.”

“It’s alright,” Kosame adjusted their glasses. “Truthfully, I cannot remember the last time I visited. It’s not one of those things that I tend to remember… Fevers, right? I’m sure I heard Allura say your name once or twice, maybe during our games.”

[envihellbender]

Teenage Mads first killing someone, dark older Declan is v proud

OCs: Mathias “Mads” Iversen, Declan Gerritz

Mathias caught a glimpse of his face in the dark window of a closed down shop front. His light grey hoodie covering his pale blond hair and a white face mask covered his soft pink lips. It was partially to disguise his appearance, but also soothe his anxiety when it came to blood splattering in his nose and mouth. He felt a twist of paranoia build into his stomach as his eyes flitted to the CCTV camera that followed his moves down the street. Declan was watching him, he tried not to think about as he took a deep breath and kept following his target. The man was short and stocky, one who could easily overpower the fragile, skinny teenager but Mathias was fast and quiet. The job was easy really, he had been delivering drugs for a dealer who went by Cian for a couple of months now and he was finally being trusted with bigger jobs. Mathias tried to tell himself that it wasn’t because of Declan’s influence.

When his target ducked into an alleyway, Mathias picked up speed as this was his chance. He wasn’t even out of breath when he caught up to him, and either he was quiet enough that the target didn’t notice him or the victim was that oblivious. Mathias saw the man hang his head as he lit his cigarette, the wind blowing out the flame in his first couple of tries. He didn’t notice Mathias getting closer to him, it wasn’t until the cold metal of the blade sliced into his neck that he realised anything had happened at all. Mathias hit an artery, and the blood splattered on to his hoodie and his face mask. He winced and felt himself dry heave as he screwed his eyes shut, he tried not to think about all the bacteria clinging to his clothes. Instead he sighed and tried to focus on the job he’d completed. He had a small satisfied smile, as he pulled off his face mask and hoodie. He screwed them up and shoved them in a nearby wheelie bin. He took his victims lighter and hurt his thumb flicking it on. He threw it into the rubbish and watched the flames grow. He knew Declan would deal with the body, and make sure the video got to Cian - proving Mathias’s actions. Thinking about Declan resulted in Mathias’s neck snap upwards as he locked eyes on the alleyway’s CCTV camera.

Mathias wasn’t surprised when he saw that the camera was pointed directly at him. As soon as he stared into the hollow black screen and blinking lights, he felt his phone vibrate in his hoodie pocket. His fingers shook as he picked it up and read the latest message from Declan: “You did so well, baby. Proud of you 💚” . He was so relieved that his mask hid his warm cheeks and smile, he shot that down immediately. He couldn’t allow himself to let Declan control him, he had to keep his hatred of him alive. No matter what.

[buryustogether]

the truth of the matter

lycan/werewolf!heisenberg x f!reader

read part one here part 2 part 3

summary: the beast takes you to extract your vengeance upon those who took advantage of you

warnings/tags: mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore, violence, murder, sexual tension, religious references

author’s note: yeah i know it’s not as good as the first one but the next part will have smut so

inspired by mary on a cross by ghost

‘ and the truth of the matter is

i’ll never let you go. ”

The beast’s coat smelled of him.

The sticky scent of pine, the greased stench of oil, the faint tinge of blood - they made up the unique, enchanting aroma that encased you in a secure embrace as you followed the man before you back to the village. Your teeth had stopped their chattering since he draped the fabric across your shoulders, yet your fingers still played a game of numbness, and your lips refused to work in the way they should upon trying to form words.

The cold seeped into your bones like lake water pulling you under, latching onto your very marrow and yanking you beneath the surface. Yet you resisted. You did not collapse to the ground just yet, despite the ache in your lungs, despite the throbbing of your wrists where the metal shackles had kept you tied to the offering pedestal.

Instead, you drove yourself onward, following the footprints of the towering man that trekked slightly ahead of you. Your rage was not yet frozen through. Your fury had thawed. Your hatred and need for revenge and vengeance overpowered any natural instinct your body sent screaming through your veins. Your friends, your parents, your neighbors… they had simply stood by and watched as you were violated. Dressed like a doll. Left to be ravished, then slaughtered.

And where were they now? Warm in their homes, eagerly awaiting what the beast would bring them in exchange for your blood.

“You don’t have to come with, you know.”

You lifted your head upon hearing the beast’s words. Heisenberg. Karl. He’d stopped just ahead of you, gazing over his broad shoulder at your small, hunched form. The corners of his eyes, darkened with his silvery irises, peeked out from the edges of his shades. You wondered where he’d gotten them; the only specs you’d ever seen were the ones made by the carpenter in town for those with poor eyesight. But those were not tinted, as his were.

“No,” you grunted out and quickened your pace to fall in step beside him. You were forced to crane your neck to look up at him. Your exhausted gaze was met with that unreadable expression of his, eyes hidden behind those panes and his mouth set in a thin line. “I want to. I…” You panted slightly, your mind racing. Then your rage resurfaced. “I need to,” you added and set your jaw. “They’re monsters, the whole fucking lot of them. I want to see them suffer.”

Your own words surprised you. Even when you were small and your playthings had been stolen by the other children, you had never been one to resort to violence. And yet when you thought of what they had done to you, without an inch of your consent… it made you want to drop to the frozen ground and howl and scream until your lungs gave out and you succumbed to the elements.

You watched as Heisenberg’s mouth quirked slightly at the corner. His beard twitched with the movement. Again, there came that fluttering and leaden sensation that dropped from your stomach to the space between your thighs.

“And here I thought I was the only beast in the woods,” he rumbled. He cast a thoughtful gaze down the path to the village, then took a step closer. Upon instinct, you inched backward. Yet you stilled yourself, afraid and enraptured all at once. “It’s still a mile or two to the town. Your choice, princess, but take it from me - a wounded animal never makes it far.”

You looked down at the hand he’d extended; gloved in leather; no claws; warm. A flash of memory panged into your head like an empty shotgun shell, freshly fired. You recalled the feeling of hands upon you, restraining your wrists, lifting your skirts, digging with sharp nails into your thighs and pushing them apart. Dirty fingers digging through your most intimate places. Would his hands on you feel like that?

Somehow, in some way, you knew they would not.

Silently, you looked up at him and nodded your head once. Then, with a grunt, he wrapped one arm around your back and the other beneath your legs, and hefted you into a bridal-style carry. At once, your heart skipped a number of beats. You watched the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, felt the murmuring of his heart as the side of your body pressed against his chest. Warmth radiated from his chest like a hearth, and suddenly you were wrapped entirely in that scent of his. It settled your racing nerves.

When you reached up to secure your arms around his neck, a few strands of his grey hair were caught between your clamped fingers. He jerked slightly, releasing a rumble from the pit of his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured and released his tresses.

To your surprise, his lips curled upward to show off the whites of his teeth. Again, you imagined his canines growing into jagged blades. “Don’t say sorry for something I liked, sweetheart,” he said.

To avoid his gaze, and perhaps distract him from the sudden uptick in your pulse, you turned your head away.

“Nervous little villager, aren’t you?” he said. He carefully adjusted your weight against him, then began the trek toward the town once more. “Don’t worry, honey.” His voice was suddenly at the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning against your temple. “Nothing’s going to hurt you like they did now that you’re mine.”

It seemed he was aware of the effect his words, his voice, simply his presence, had on you. He relished in the way your grip on him tightened slightly, in the way your breath hitched in your throat and how you squeezed your legs together. Yet all he did was smirk that agonizing smile to himself and tramp along through the snow.

You shut your eyes to the blinding whiteness of the snow in the late afternoon sun, instead tilting your forehead to rest against Heisenberg’s collarbone.

A man had never touched you like this before - well, before today. You’d craved this kind of touch in the past, but the boys in the village were always far too pushy or clingy or cocky to woo you into letting them come any closer than was proper. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t tried; as one of the only young eligible women in the village, it was known you would marry soon and begin to grace the town with the new generation. Every boy that was not already committed to another girl practically tried to jump you.

They invited you to attend service with them, asked you advice for gifts for their mothers and sisters, paid you for the stitching and embroidery you’d made a small hobby of. When you watched over the younger children in the school while the teachers stepped away, they would be sure to bring their little brothers and sisters, just to have an excuse to speak to you.

Some were sweet. Others were downright heinous. And yet your answer had always been no. You were content without a man; and while you, of course, had carnal urges no one could suppress, you did just fine on your own. Yet there were things you wondered about…

“Here.”

Heisenberg’s voice brings you tumbling from your thoughts. He’s stopped at the tree line surrounding your village, stood atop a small hill overlooking the church and the small rows of houses. Inside windows, fireplaces roared and children played on hearth side rugs. Stragglers hurried through the streets in order to get home before dark. Each and every one of them was wondering what great reward they would be bestowed for their sacrifice.

Your grip on the beast tightened yet again without your permission. A small bit of disappointment overpowered the fear for a moment when he let you down to stand on your own. Within your head, a tiny, devilish voice whispered, ‘Soon. He’ll hold you again soon. Make you feel safe again. Touch you like he did in the forest. Soon.’

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said as he began to pull his gloves tighter over his massive hands, “you might want to stay here while I go and pay your people a visit. This might get a little messy.” He cast you a glance. “Messier than even what you had in mind.”

“But -“

“Don’t you worry.” He swept close, taking your chin under his thumb in that way he does. His lips were inches from yours, a mere breath away. If you leaned forward just slightly, you’d be kissing him. “I’ll make them hurt for what they did to you.”

With that he was gone, sauntering down the hill toward the town. He walked with a sort of swagger that brought out his rather wily personality, and yet demanded respect all at the same time. You remembered how frightened you were when you first laid eyes upon him less than an hour ago - hell, how frightened you were now watching him leave - and imagined the terror that would fill the village when they realized just who he was.

You stood at the tree line, still huddled in the beast’s coat, watching. Waiting. So much time passed you thought nothing happened.

Then a scream, shrill and horrified and filled with pure, raw terror, ripped through the air. It rose the birds from their hidden perches in the trees, seemed to shake the ground beneath your feet. Slowly, more howls and shrieks followed the first. You saw the tiny figures of villagers scattering, scrambling for cover as some unseen force sent them all running.

A roar tore through the ravine. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard before; the trees seemed to shake upon their very roots and the clouds threatened to tumble down from the heavens. It was animalistic in its nature, wet and guttural.

The beast.

Suddenly you were filled with that same urge you’d felt when first released from the chains, when tramping through the snow - the urge for vengeance. For revenge. To take the justice that was rightfully yours after what they had done to you.

Despite the cold still controlling your bones, you found yourself stalking down the hill, your footprints following Heisenberg’s larger ones. The image of them fueled you with courage. Knowing he would be there, knowing he would protect you… it made you feel powerful beyond compare; something you had never experienced in your lifetime.

It seemed both an eternity and just moments later that you reached the village. You knew you would not like what you saw, and yet you continued on anyhow. You would not be some martyr, some victim, some nameless sacrifice to them.

You would become their worst regret.

Screams and howls of terror filled your ears, became your whole world, as you turned the corner of a building and laid eyes upon what was your home just this morning. A number of bodies - all men - lay scattered about the snow, each and every one torn near apart with gigantic claw marks. Some’s necks were barely still hanging onto their shoulders, shredded by rows of blade-like monster teeth. The white had turned red, the cobblestones flooded with blood. Women fled into the nearest buildings with their children, wailing for their lost loved ones. One girl prayed before a fallen body and rocked herself on her heels.

They were far too distraught to pay you any mind.

There came a new commotion - from the church - that drew your attention. Some large, ground-trembling force shook the small building in its very foundation. The bell in the tower overhead rang gently, sadly, helpless to do anything but sing its mournful song. You followed its melody. Your boots stamped along the front steps you were dragged up this morning, through the open doorway, and into the threshold.

The sight waiting for you inside was one that nearly brought that sick, sadistic smile back to your painted lips.

The beast had cornered the village priest - the one who had called your name and assaulted you in checking your virginity - in one of the front pews. The man was a bloody, torn-up mess. Blood cascaded from a wound in his shoulder and his nose looked to be broken in two different places. One eye was swollen shut. Scarlet dripped from his mouth and down his pant leg, to where one knee was bent the wrong direction. There was also a wet spot at his crotch.

And the beast - well. He had truly become the beast you’d heard in the legends growing up. He’d become the monster, the savior, the god. Teeth that had once looked just like yours had grown into razor-looking things, the tips and his lips and his beard stained with still-warm blood. Claws had stabbed through his gloves, near six inches each. His shades were gone, allowing that once star-like gaze to become a wicked yellow that burned like rum on fire. Teeth bared, chest heaving, expression torn into one of fitful rage, you feared momentarily that whatever curse or blessing he’d been bestowed upon at birth had overtaken him.

And yet still, in some way you could not understand, you felt safe.

“I beg of you, great one,” stammered the priest as he squeezed up into the pew, “have mercy upon our souls. We meant not to anger you.”

“Don’t speak to me about mercy, you fucking weasel.” Heisenberg reached out a clawed hand and easily lifted the man by his throat, then turned and slammed him back against the pulpit. The wood cracked and splintered beneath his weight. “How many times did that girl beg you for mercy? How many times did mercy cross your mind while you waited for your reward?”

The priest cowered against the pulpit, blood staining the carpet beneath him. He gurgled slightly before pulling his words together. “We wished to appease you!”

“With a fucking human being?!”

His eyes wide enough to drink from and his body bruised and bloody and broken, the priest’s gaze shifted from the creature before him and toward your figure in the doorway. He gasped and sputtered, his terror now tripled.

You relished in his fear. He knew what he had done was wrong, and now he was awaiting your judgement.

The beast followed his eyes with a snarl, jowls curled to show off his teeth, before his golden gaze landed upon you. He watched as you reached around the doorframe of the church and produced an old, warped axe; kept there for emergencies in case of a blizzard. Or an attack. His smile grew into something far more sinister and he stalked - practically on all fours - around the side of the pulpit so that he could peer over the top. What an ironic scene before you; the priest, upon his knees begging for reprive, and the beast you once worshiped as a god braced upon the pulpit.

What a sick, twisted sense of humor the world had.

The priest stammered your name as you slowly approached him, your weak arms struggling to carry the axe with you. “We - we didn’t know…! I told them it was unjust. I tried to stop them…! The council -“

“I once looked up to you,” you seethed, blue lips now moving upon their own accord. The blunt end of the axe dragged upon the floor as you walked, filling the air with the metallic sing of its contact on wood. The beast watched silently, curled around the pulpit, that gaze upon your body and those lips curled into an amused sneer. “I trusted you as a child. I trusted you today. What have I done to deserve this?”

“The council -“

“Coward!” you found yourself shrieking. Your throat tore itself apart with your scream. “You are the council. You are the village! You did this to me!”

“Our God demanded -“

“The truth of the matter is, Father…” With a grunt, you hefted the axe further into your arms and secured your frozen fingers around it. The man before you began to cry and beg. The beast waited. “There is no God.”

The axe swung, propelled by your strength and momentum and grief, and came to rest with a wet, sickening thud. Blood spattered upon your face, your skirts. The priest’s protests silenced. Scarlet slowly, ever so slowly, began to spread in an almost-pretty pool at your feet. When you let the handle go, it stayed put, the blade buried deep in your attacker’s head.

For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing but the still-warm body before you and the rising bile lurching in your throat. Gradually, your rage and need for vengeance melted to horror. You felt your hands drift to your mouth to cover it, your eyes wide and your legs suddenly crooked and unstable.

Before you fell, large, strong arms wrapped around your form and near scooped you up against a warm wall. You inhaled slightly, and you were met with that same scent that enveloped you while walking through the forest. The beast. Heisenberg. Karl.

“May his soul never find the peace he prayed for,” you heard him rumble. Again, those arms lifted your legs so that he was carrying you once more, your feet hanging limp as he turned and brought you to the doorway. Cold reached out for you with thin, spindly arms, carrying with its wind the scent of blood. It was on your face. Your clothes. Your hands.

A small noise must have escaped your throat, because the beast tilted your head slightly so that your face was pressed into his collarbone once more. “I know, honey. Just rest now.” Your hands closed into fists around his shirt, your nose pressed into the nape of his throat. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” And then, right beside your ear as you found yourself drifting away into the darkness behind your eyelids, “No one will fuck with you now that you belong to me.”

tags: @robzombzie @dingusdingusio @syd-vixious @inesalexandra1995 @sincerely-gi @cowsrcool123 @makenten @call-me-magpie @lawlesshedgehog @harley777q @mixx-ie @all-mights-wife @uwu-i-purple-you @ifindyourlipssokisssable @stitchmiku @demodemonio

[rebelwrites]

For Jax 🔪 ☁️🛏

I can’t wait to see what you’ll do with this ♥️

Sorry this has taken so long 🥺 hope you enjoy and it was worth the wait.

Wrapping your fingers around the door handle to the hotel room you let out a breath of relief. You loved coming up to see your Dad but there was always the issue of being around a certain blonde asshole. No matter how hard you tried to ignore him, he always managed to get under your skin, he knew it and so did everyone else. So when the idea of a road trip was brought up everyone jumped at the idea but you really didn’t want to spend three days stuck with the devil himself.

There was one condition about this trip, you got a room of your own.

As you pushed open the door to the room you were instantly on alert, pulling your knife out of the waistband of your jeans. No one else was meant to be in this room, this was your room, so why was the shower running?

Letting your eyes dart around the room, you tried to find clues on who was taking a shower. The moment your gaze locked onto the pair of crisp white Air Force ones haphazardly discarded in the middle of the room you felt your blood run cold, knowing exactly who they belonged to. The more you looked around the room following the trail of clothes it became obvious that Jax was the intruder.

Ever since you were kids you and Jax were always at each other’s throats, especially when you started taking an interest in guys and they took interest in you. The moment they got close Jax threatened them before they could ask for your number. Every guy was chased off by the blond and it angered you for years until one night you blew up at him during a SAMCRO party, when you found out he was the one to start the rumour of your boyfriend at the time cheating causing your Dad to beat the living shit out of him.

“Hey, Darlin’,” he said with a large smirk plastered on his face.

Narrowing your gaze at his jugular, you tightened your grip on your knife. Thoughts of sinking your knife into his neck swimming through your mind but more importantly trying to keep your gaze from drifting to his extremely toned body that was glistening with water from his shower. You knew you always had feelings for the blond standing in front of you but your anger and hatred overpowered those feelings, or so you thought.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” He hummed, taking a few large steps across the room closing the distance between the pair of you. “Cat got your tongue? It’s not like you to be speechless.”

“The fuck you doing in my room, Teller?” You spat.

“The hotel fucked up and didn’t book enough rooms so someone had to bunk with you,” he chuckled, reaching up brushing his knuckles against your cheek causing you to flinch at his touch. “So I took one for the club and said I’d bunk with you.”

“Of course you did.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his comment, the grip on your knife tightening even more.

Finally you broke from your daze, pressing your palm flat against his pec trying to ignore how his skin felt under your touch. With one quick motion you had shoved him backwards, trapping him between your body and the wall of the room. Lifting your arm up, you pressed your elbow against his collar bone holding the knife against his soft skin. Your touch was firm enough to tell him you meant business but light enough so the sharp blade wasn’t breaking the skin.

“I always knew you were into some kinky shit, Princess.” He growled, looking down on you due to the height difference.

“I will make you bleed.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Darlin’,” he hummed, wrapping his large hand over yours, pulling the knife and your hand away from his neck. “Let’s be adults about this situation, there’s only one bed and I know neither of us wants to crash on the floor so do what you need to do and get your ass in bed.”

“Asshole.”

“I know.” He chuckled, watching as you moved around the room, keeping his gaze planted on your ass. He knew this was a dangerous game to play spinning the lie about the hotel fucking up when he was the one who purposely booked one less room. But he was done with this game of cat and mouse that had been going on for years. He had feelings for you and now he had admitted that to himself he wasn’t going to stop until you were his girl. “Now, hurry up, I'm tired.”

After half an hour you were both lying in bed with a pile of spare pillows creating a barrier between the two of you. You could hear the smirk on Jax’s voice as he spoke softly, but all you could focus on was how fast your heart was beating as you laid here with Jax, praying that he couldn’t hear it pounding against your rib cage.

“Fair warning if you try anything whilst I’m asleep, I have my knife under my pillow and am not afraid to use it.” You said softly as you finally gave into sleep.

The sound of his chuckle was one of the last things you heard as you drifted off, questioning if you heard him right as he whispered the words “I love you”

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @jomariekirby @i-love-scott-mccall @pascal-reyes @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Even Stars Burn Out

As he enters the Jedi temple, reinvigorated by a new, unspeakable purpose - Anakin Skywalker feels nothing.

There are no thoughts in regards to the countless lives he is about to snuff out in his mind. There are no feelings of remorse or hesitation in his heart. He has already decided, he has already weighed the lives of his former fellow Jedi against Padmé’s. It was never a contest, there was never any question as to whose life mattered more. Anakin keeps his lightsaber in his hand, his loyal 501st battalion have his back. Order 66 is nigh, the termination of each and every Jedi the rule which he must obey.

Do the Jedi deserve such a grim fate? Anakin thinks being part of the order, a constitution that has molded and used him for years, is crueller.

Do they deserve to die? Anakin thinks death will bring relief, as the misled become one with the Force.

He strikes down the first meager padawan, and still he feels nothing. No guilt, no remorse. Only anger.

His rage burns red hot, his hatred thrumming like the rhythm of a drum within his chest. The pounding of his heart is the only beat he follows, as he strikes down another familiar face. And another. And another. Until the faces all blend into one, until blaster fire and the buzz of clashing plasma blades overpower his senses.

They fall. They all fall.

Anakin is powerful, he has always been powerful. Talented, the Force syphoned within his very cells so much more than that of his peers. He has less training, yet he outmatches each and every one of them. Master Cin Drallig proves to be some competition, but even he must fall at the swipe of Anakin’s blue saber.

Master Jurokk stands no chance.

Shaak Ti is caught meditating, unaware of the one time hero of the Republic coming to end her life. Anakin stabs her in the back, and she slumps limp to the side as her light burns out. Anakin keeps no count, he has no idea how many bright eyed young men and women he has struck down. They seem to him like spider-roaches; like an endless flood of vermin pouring from each and every entrance like spider-roaches from a damp crack in the wall. He deals with them with the same dissociation, with the same emotional dissonance. His master's words echo in his head; his praise and his promises. The Sith Lord will aid Anakin in his crusade to save Padmé, and Anakin is desperate.

The hall seems serene, a clean slate save for the heaps of fresh bodies stacked along the ornate stone floors. Their hollow eyes stare at Anakin, locked in horror and what he feels might be accusatory glares. They will judge him, and he accepts that fate. Their thoughts of him matter little.

Anakin closes his eyes, senses further life forms. Senses Force signatures that are unstable; some weak, some fluctuating. Some reeking of fear and confusion. Youthful. He knows what must be done.

Only now, does Anakin take a moment to weigh his options. Only now, for a brief second in which clarity finds him, does he stutter. The moment passes, almost as casually brushed aside as if the doubt was naught but thin air. He ascends the grand stairway, makes a well aimed leap to the second suspended level. The pale, tear stricken faces of the hidden younglings greet him as he enters the juvenile training hall. They have hidden behind the scarce furniture provided. Anakin senses their terror, and he tries to relish it. He takes a deep breath, steadies his trembling hands.

Do these children deserve to die? Anakin knows they will be hunted relentlessly by the clones, and by his master, should they be left alive. Him killing them is a blessing, it's a mercy that he will take such pity on them.

Sors Bandeam approaches, the blonde boy barely even a toddler. He speaks, but Anakin hears none of it. He shuts out the hushed whispers and murmurs, and acts. He thinks of Padmé, of the child she is carrying. He tries not to picture the face of his daughter or son in the place of the younglings' as he strikes them down. Padmé must live, nothing else matters. These younglings would have grown to develop the same traitorous, poisonous views as the Jedi council. They are merely the next generation. His master asked him to spare none, and Anakin obeys. He will always obey.

When it is done, he doesn’t linger. He doesn’t dwell upon his heinous crime. He exits the chamber, leaving the children as they lie. Helpless, hapless, innocent and forever suspended in time. They shall never age, they shall never reach adolescence. They have found peace.

When Anakin exits the smoldering Jedi temple, there are no survivors. Thick black smoke billows out of the giant construction, his trusty platoon of clone troopers left behind to guard the tattered remains of what was once Anakin’s home away from home.

Bodies litter the exterior stairway. Anakin steps over them with little reverence. He smells only the ashy, pungent stench of death and embers.

He thinks he can sense Padmé’s distress from afar. Something in him tells him to go to her; to reassure her, to feed her any lies necessary in order to soothe her pain and fear. She is distraught, as he comes to her. He is disheveled, still numb and empty and hollow inside. He thinks only of her, as he kisses her lips and strokes her cheek, and offers her what he hopes is an affectionate smile. She is unconvinced, fretful, and he cannot stop her wandering thoughts. He tries, he explains what little he can. He has further duties, his master expects him to follow through with his mission. He can’t stay, despite her pleas.

The flight to Mustafar is quiet, solemn, and stifling. Anakin blocks out his barrading thoughts, thinking only of Padmé’s beautiful but sad face. He thinks of her swollen belly, thinks of the baby kicking as he presses his palm to its curve. He does this for her, for their child. For them. Only them. Only her. He lands, resolute. The separatists must fall, like Count Dooku before them. The war must end, a new era is about to dawn.

The heat of the lava planet is pressing, sweat pouring down Anakin’s furrowed brow. His reception party is confused, and he smirks at them. He quips, voice dry with sarcasm as he adds two more lives to his conscience. He is focused, clear headed and determined. His strides are fast, and the Neimoidian viceroy Nute Gunray of the Trading Federation appears bemusingly shocked as Anakin interrupts the meeting. Whatever his master promised Gunray was a lie, and the viceroy realizes this. Anakin hates Gunray, he hates the Trading Federation, he hates everything they stand for. That unbridled hatred feeds his rage, and steers his saber.

If Anakin felt nothing killing his fellow Jedi, he feels even less slaughtering the ring leaders of the faction he has spent years of his life battling. War has changed him, desensitized him and he slices through their hideous bodies like butter. Like paper, they rip and tear and break. Gunray pleads for his life, and if Anakin were a cruller man he might have relished in it. Instead, he finishes the job.

An eerie silence once more overpowers him, as he reports to his master. The now Emperor Palpatine praises him, but the compliments ring hollow. They are meaningless, and Anakin knows this. He accepts this as par for the course. His master has never been honest, and deep down, Anakin has always known this.

Still, the solitude is claustrophobic. The walls seem to be closing in.

Anakin finds himself desperate to move anywhere at all. He paces the room, avoids making eye contact with the dead as they glower at him - mocking him, just as the fallen Jedi had. The balcony suspended sixty feet above the rivers of scalding lava below becomes his refuge. He fixes his eyes upon the mesmerizing molten rock; yellows, browns, reds and oranges capturing his attention. The river twists and warps into random shapes and patterns, and its roar seems to bring to mind cries of agony and misery.

Anakin shakes his head, the anger dissipating bit by bit. In its wake, there is pain. Clawing at his insides, clutching at his heart. Padmé must live, he thinks. Nothing else matters. But Anakin knows he can never go back. The moment he agreed to aid his master's vicious scheme, he was lost. The stricken faces of the younglings flash before his eyes; little Sors' big blue eyes full of admiration. Expecting to be saved, to be taken away and kept safe by one of the biggest heroes of the Republic. Instead, his frail body now lies cold and lonely lightyears away.

What might Padmé think, if she knew?

What might Padmé say, if he ever told her?

Anakin’s hands tremble, and he wraps his arms around himself to still their treachery. The Sith yellow of his eyes, a sickly hue that had overtaken them as he allowed darkness to engulf his being, fades. It is the last time it will ever fade.

Pale blue eyes regard the lava river, even as they are clouded with tears. Anakin thinks of his mother. He thinks of her kindness, her love, and her demise. He thinks of how heavy her withered body felt in his arms as he brought it home, thinks of how he failed her. He will not fail Padmé. He will not bury Padmé.

There is guilt now.

Guilt so raw, so blunt, so immense that it tears Anakin’s heart in two. He feels conflicted. He feels lost. He feels alone, and afraid, and disgusted. He feels hurt, and used, and enraged. He feels small, and helpless. He feels powerful, and untouchable. He weeps, and he allows himself to mourn the Jedi. He weeps for them, and for himself.

Cin Drallig.

Shaak Ti.

Jurokk.

Sors Beam.

Anakin will forget them, eventually. Their features will fade, as his memories disappear into oblivion. Only Padmé remains a beacon of hope, only Padmé can save him now. Anakin cries, and he sheds a piece of himself with each scalding tear. He cries, and he willfully suppresses the disappointed, horrified faces that comes to mind.

Mother.

Qui-Gon.

Yoda.

Windu.

Ahsoka.

Obi-Wan.

Padmé.

Anakin dries his tears, holds his head high. There is no use in weeping over what has been done. His future lies ahead, bright and open wide. He forces himself to believe in this mantra, forces himself to discard rationality and reason. What else can he do?

Then he loses everything.

He loses the battle. He loses his limbs. He loses his sight, his hearing, his voice, his soul. He loses Padmé.

And for what? What was his sacrifice all for?

Master was right, it is ironic. Anakin never betrayed the Jedi for Padmé. He did it for himself, and he loathes himself for it. Anakin is alone, locked in a prison of his own making. Anakin is but scraps of the man he used to be; a traitor, a coward and a monster. He suppresses himself, relying solely upon his hatred. There is an endless supply of that, now. He is despicable, and thus, there will forever be a steady stream of loathing to feed off of. He needs no one, he deserves no one.

Does Anakin deserve such a fate? Yes, his brain whispers. He deserves all of this, and more.

Does Anakin deserve to die? No, the same voice concludes. Death would be relief, a sweet blissful slumber to save him from his demons. He deserves no such relief, he must be punished and tormented.

Anakin killed Padmé, and this is his reward. He knows this. He accepts this. Anakin burns in his own flame, he has flown too close to the sun. He has snuffed it out by his own hand, and all he is left with is an endless night. All his fears have been realized. All his dreams have been crushed. He has done it himself.

Anakin feels nothing. He is a husk of a man, more cybernetics than living flesh. He has no autonomy left, he lives only to serve his master. He locks away his past, refuses to look at it, refuses to sifle through it. It brings only agony and suffering. He refuses to retread his steps, to reconsider his choices. If he did, the guilt would eat him alive. If he did, he would succumb to his own unbearable, irrefutable remorse.

Anakin Skywalker is consumed by regret. In his heart, he knows this.

Anakin Skywalker deserves no less.

***

You can probably tell I was very much inspired by Matthew Stover’s writing style in the RotS novelization, though much less poetic. I had fun however, and it was nice exploring a different style. Hope you enjoy it too! It’s an addition to The Mask of Death  series on Ao3, link below.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/navigate

[legolasbadass]

Heart of Gold, Chapter 23

Characters: Thorin, Dis, Thrain, Dwalin, Balin, Original Characters

Relationship: Thorin x OFC

Setting: Post Azanulbizar, Pre Quest of Erebor

Notes: Hello everyone! I want to apologize for the insane and inhumane amount of time I have made you wait for this update; life has been pretty intense these past few months. I also want to thank you all for your support of this fic. You all inspire me and give me the strength to keep going, so this chapter is dedicated to all of you! 

This is the 23rd chapter to my Thorin Oakenshield fan fiction, Heart of Gold which can be read in full on ao3. Go check it out there to read from the start! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter and if you are enjoying the story so far!

⚠️Warning: Angst. Lots of guilt and self-blame. 

Word Count: 4.3K

Chapter 23 - Choices

"You make it sound like she threatened you," Dís said dubiously after a long moment of heavy, harrowing silence, welding Dania's guilt to her heart like the immovable head of an arrow.

Dania had related to Dís the entirety of her conversation with Ester while Lady Adis was out in the hallway. It had taken only a few moments for the whole court to find out about the attack — or so it seemed. Lord Ygnvi and Lady Vigga had been roused from sleep and brought to their chambers. Even at night, in the absence of her brigade of ladies-in-waiting and imperious jewelry, Lady Vigga's presence was overbearing, and she seemed to look upon the whole situation as a nuisance. Dania suddenly found herself thinking about the sleep pattern of vipers, and she wondered if perhaps they had disturbed it.

After a few more visits, including from Master Groin to confirm that Dís had suffered no serious harm, Lady Adis pushed everyone out of the sitting room, citing Dís' urgent need for rest as the reason for her less than courteous dismissal. Dania wholeheartedly agreed with this decision, but she could not have waited until morning to expound the details of her confession while Lady Adis was busy stationing guards in front of the door and at every end of the hallway.

"That's exactly what she did," Dania replied, bent on keeping her voice calm and soothing even though hatred and betrayal clouded her mind. "And looking back, she was not subtle about it at all."

"But, Dania ... think about what you are saying," Dís spoke in a low voice, her eyes fixed on the floor, "I cannot stand Ester anymore than you, but is she really capable of such a thing?" Dania shrugged, her desire to believe otherwise battling the cold and harsh facts. "And why would she do that?"

"Thorin and I danced together at your wedding," Dania began slowly, thinking of everyone's eyes on their joined hands, "she saw us—and she made it very clear to me that she despises me for it."

"You think she knows about you and Thorin?" Dís questioned in an agitated whisper.

"I don't think she knows the extent of it, but she knows Thorin feels something for me—and she's desperate," Dania said, recalling the conversation she had with her father a few weeks ago. "She knows we are—er, I don't know—rivals in this, so she attempted to get rid of me."

A ragged breath escaped Dís' lips as she finally looked up to Dania. "She cannot have meant to murder you!"

"That's not what she wanted, is it?" Dania retorted, shaking her head. "If that had been her intention, you would be —" she froze instantly, the thought sending an overpowering ache in her heart. This time, it was Dania who avoided Dís' eyes, feeling sick at the thought that she might have been the cause of such a tragic end.

"Then what was the point?" Dís questioned, clearly exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Dania felt another pang of guilt, but she had to keep going. With a shrug, she slowly began speaking until suddenly she could not deny the truth behind her words. "She must have ordered that man—whoever he was—to . . . rape me . . . she must have thought that that way, I would be 'spoiled goods,' and Thorin would not want me anymore. . . ."

Dís watched her with deep, troubled eyes as she muttered, "That sounds like Ester."

At last, Dania slumped back against the sofa and buried her face in her hands. Everything had been going well between her and Thorin up until the wedding; she wanted to scream for being so foolish. Thorin often acted on impulse, for he felt everything strongly, but Dania was meant to be the practical one. She had to stop them both from drowning in the storm of their passion, even if it meant burying it in the abyss of her mind. Ester was right; Dania could have refused to dance with Thorin—she should have refused. If she had, they might not have found themselves in this mess. How strange it was that their secret relationship was hardest to keep hidden when they were apart.

"What are you going to do?"

The question took Dania by surprise, and not least because she was filled with naught but an all-consuming desire to scream at everyone who had ever wronged them, even if that meant screaming at Mahal himself.

"I have to confront her about it," she spoke after a moment, "and when she confesses I will let the whole world know what she did. She will pay for this."

Dania was again surprised when Dís let out a low chuckle. "Sometimes you are just like my brother."

Frowning, Dania asked, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you are being stupid!" Dís snapped as she placed a gentle hand on her friend's clenched fist. Dania had not even realized she was holding her hands that way. "You cannot simply expose her true nature to the world."

"She can't get away with this!" Dania exclaimed incredulously.

"Dania, open your eyes," Dís said, holding onto Dania's now unclenched hand more firmly, "if you speak up she will tell everyone about you and Thorin, you can be sure of that. And even if she does not, then do you not think people will want to know why you are so sure Ester is responsible? Either way, unless you remain silent, your secret is exposed."

Dania had no time to reply as Lady Adis entered the sitting room. Even if she had had time to answer, Dania would not have known what to say. As much as she wished Dís was wrong, Dania knew everything she had said was true. But how could she expect Dania to remain silent?

"I think it is time we all went to bed," Lady Adis said as she caressed her daughter's hair. "You both need to rest."

Rest was the last thing Dania would be capable of at the moment, but she nodded nevertheless. After all, there was nothing more she could say to Dís in the queen's presence. She wished them both goodnight as they made their way toward Dís' bedchamber, but she remained on the sofa, unable to will her muscles to move, just as she was unable to will her mind toward a decision.

She could not allow any more suspicion about her and Thorin to travel through the court, which would undoubtedly happen if she spoke out against Ester. Yet, she could not allow Ester to walk free either; Dania felt nauseous at the very thought. More than this, Dania hated herself for being the cause of all of this. Ester had meant to act against her, but it was Dís who now suffered her supposed friends' betrayal in silence. Dania had promised Thorin she would keep his mother and sister safe, and instead, she brought onto them only pain.

Perhaps it was not only Ester who deserved to be punished.

"Dania?" Lady Adis' voice pulled Dania away from the darkness of her mind. "What are you still doing here?"

Clearing her throat, Dania replied in a frail voice, "I, er, I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I tried; I have too much on my mind."

Lady Adis offered her a warm but pained smile. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to Dania on the sofa.

Dania could only nod in response, but once Lady Adis sat down next to her and wrapped her arms around her, Dania could not hold in her tears any longer.

"Oh, Dania, shhh, everything will be alright," Lady Adis murmured gently against Dania's hair, caressing her back in a protective, motherly way.

"I feel so guilty," Dania blurted out before she could think twice about it, her voice muffled against the soft fabric of the wrapper Lady Adis wore over her nightgown.

"But why?" Lady Adis asked, gently forcing Dania to look up to her by lifting her chin. As their eyes met, Dania's lips trembled, but she quickly bit them to suppress any additional flood of emotions. "The fact that you were not there to stop Dís from leaving her chamber does not mean it is your fault."

Those words only made it harder for Dania to control herself. Lady Adis was being so kind—as she always was toward Dania—taking the time and energy to comfort her when she herself was undoubtedly overwhelmed with worry for her daughter. And for what? Dania was to blame, in more ways than one, and her dishonesty toward one who did nothing but protect and defend her was inconceivably dishonourable. At that moment, Dania hated herself just as much as she hated Ester.

All of these emotions tore at her insides with such intensity that she would not have been surprised if her skin had borne scourging scars, yet all she could say was, "Dís would not be suffering if it was not for me."

"On the contrary; you saved her. I will be forever grateful to you for that," Lady Adis whispered, a slight quiver on her lips as she gazed at Dania intently with her bright blue eyes. Thorin's eyes.

Dania tore herself away from Lady Adis' gaze, incapable of bearing the gratefulness in her eyes which she did not deserve.

"You should go to bed now; you need to rest," Lady Adis went on.

Dania wanted to scream; shout at the top of her lungs why Lady Adis should not have been so kind to her, so concerned. It would certainly break her heart, but at least Dania would not be deceiving her anymore; their relationship would not be based on lies. But she could not do it to her, and she certainly could not do it to Thorin. As much as Dania loved Lady Adis, she was his mother, and no matter how much her whole body ached with the weight of her guilt, Dania would never allow her love for Thorin to harm his relationship with his mother. So all Dania could do was nod and let Lady Adis guide her to her bedchamber.

For a long while, Dania stood in the near-total darkness, blinking back tears; she did not want Lady Adis—who probably still remained in the other room out of concern—to hear her crying. Dania had already taken more comfort from Lady Adis than she deserved. Only when her feet began to hurt did Dania walk toward the other side of the room, where a chair and bed stood. It was nearly impossible to tell in the darkness, but this room, with its tapestried walls and detailed gilding, was the richest Dania had ever slept in, even though Lady Vigga had described it as not fit for much better than a closet when she had first shown them around the rooms. Despite her distaste for the room's dimensions, she had still been utterly appalled at the thought that Dania would sleep here instead of in the servants' quarters where she belonged. Now, even the memory of Lady Vigga's disapproval could not lift Dania's spirits.

Slipping beneath the soft duvet, she reached for Thorin's tunic, which she hid beneath her pillow. A wistful smile graced her lips as she recalled the moment he had leant it to her, already a month ago, during their last night together.

Pulling the furs up to her chest, Dania smiled, looking up to Thorin as he walked across the tent to grab his waterskin, wearing nothing but the scratches she had left on his shoulder blades. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she allowed her gaze to travel down the expanse of his well-defined form; his broad, sculpted back, the narrow dip of his hips, his firm buttocks, and his large, solid thighs. Every detail of him made her understand where the legends of Dwarves having been carved from stone might have come from. Perhaps a poet of old had been blessed with a lover as handsome as her Thorin.

"What are you looking at?" Thorin asked as he turned around to face her, smirking in a way that informed her he knew exactly what she was looking at.

"Am I not allowed to admire my husband?" Dania replied, returning his playful smile as he walked toward her and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Not if you are going to allow those furs to shield you from me for a moment more," he said while seductively pulling down said furs, slowly caressing her curves at the same time. "I want to admire you for as long as I can before the morning."

The spell was broken immediately. Before the morning — before he would be forced to leave. As much as Dania tried not to let her pain show to avoid ruining this moment, Thorin knew her too well.

"I am sorry, amrâlimê, I did not mean to — "

"It's alright," Dania interrupted him, raising a hand to cup his bearded cheek. "I'm just — I don't want to sound like a damsel in distress by saying that I will not survive without you but . . . I know for certain I won't be able to sleep in your absence."

"Really? I would think my absence would actually allow you to sleep for once," Thorin said, causing Dania to frown. "We do not do much sleeping in this bed, after all," he added with a wink.

Dania chuckled and rolled her eyes, lowering the hand that had been resting on his cheek to slap his shoulder playfully. Thorin immediately took hold of that hand and raised it to his lips to press a lingering kiss there. Then, looking deep into her eyes, he trailed his lips up her arm, along her shoulder, until he reached her neck and nuzzled her softly, causing a giggle to escape her.

"Alright, point taken," she said, her voice now light like a morning Summer breeze caressing grass. "I simply meant that your presence is comforting," she went on, struggling to form words as he continued to drag his lips over her neck leisurely. "I've grown used to the heat of your body against mine; your smell . . ." she trailed off as he began sucking on a particularly sensitive spot, sending shivers down her spine that took her breath away.

"My smell?" he asked as he lifted his head to look at her. "What do I smell like?"

Letting her hand wander to one of his temple braids which she had plaited that morning, Dania thought for a moment, then said, "You smell like pine needles, leather, and sometimes woodsmoke, and there is something else I can't quite describe; something deep, but misty ... I would know that smell is yours even if there were hundreds of people around."

Thorin watched her for a moment before asking, "Do you know what I love?"  When Dania shook her head, Thorin lowered himself next to her and rested his head atop the pillow to face her. "When your scent lingers on me after a night of lovemaking."

"Thorin!" Dania giggled in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks heat up as she pressed her face into the pillow.

Laughing along with her, Thorin closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers, allowing her to drown in his taste and smell. Their lips performed a leisurely dance, moving slowly before Dania bit on his lower lip, then twisted her tongue against his. When they were both desperately in need of air, they pulled apart, and Thorin rested his forehead against hers so that her vision was filled with his beautiful blue eyes, his long hair tickling her cheeks.

"If you say my scent helps you sleep, perhaps you can keep one of my tunics while I am away," he said, looking away momentarily. "I know it is not much, but . . ."

"Thank you," Dania said earnestly, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look back at her. "I would like that very much."

"Alright, then," he nodded, then returned to their embrace, kissing her even more passionately than before. It did not take long before he lay atop her once more, and the tent was filled with their quiet sounds of passion for the rest of the night.

Now alone in a strange room, Dania had to forcefully close her eyes to try and fall asleep, hugging Thorin's tunic and burying her face in it, memories simultaneously breaking and reknitting her heart with each inhale of his smell.

***

Plagued by nightmares, Dania barely slept that night. Every time she managed to fall asleep, blood, darkness, and betrayal ravaged her mind. She saw Dís, still standing in that hallway, crying out as that strange man held her. Shouting her name, Dania would try to run toward her, but with every step she took, Dís only slipped further and further away, the whole hallway stretching out before her until Dís was but a point in the distance. Then everything would become blurred, and she saw Thorin. His back was to her, but she knew he was crying from the way his shoulders quaked. She would try to comfort him, but as soon as her hand touched him, he would slip away. She never saw his face.

It was still early when Dania forsook any further attempts to sleep and rose from the bed. She shivered from the cold that had seeped into the room once the fire had gone out. The duvet was all crumpled at the foot of the bed due to her tossing and turning; only Thorin's tunic had remained to keep her warm.

Dania knew she would look only half alive even before she took a look at herself in the small mirror above the washstand. Groaning, she washed her face with cold water and braided her chestnut hair, then made quick work of dressing, making sure to tuck Thorin's clasp safely beneath her bodice, hidden from sight. She hid his tunic with the same care as she made the bed, then finally stepped out of her bedchamber. She had hoped to take a long walk in the woods outside, to sit in silence in the clearing where she and Thorin had wedded in secret on that warm, blissful night, but instead, she was greeted by Lady Adis and Lady Vigga conversing quietly in the sitting room. Biting back the urge to retreat, she smiled at them as they turned to face her.

"Good morning, Dania, did you sleep well?" Lady Adis inquired with a warm but sad smile, as though she knew Dania had barely slept.

Dania did not get a chance to answer, as Lady Vigga immediately cut in with her viciousness. "You were still in bed? My maid is always up well before dawn so that she may properly serve me," she sneered, sending thousands of tiny daggers of irritation under Dania's skin.

"We all went to bed very late because of what happened," Lady Adis spoke in a tone that left no doubt as to how annoyed she was by Lady Vigga's words. "Dania has done nothing wrong."

The guilt which the night had pushed away returned at once, piercing through Dania's heart with such force that she felt a tightness in her throat that no amount of swallowing could dislodge. She was acting wrongly. She was lying. She had betrayed their trust.

"Will you join us for breakfast, Dania?" Lady Adis asked, her voice even softer and her eyes even kinder than before.

Lady Vigga grew even more outraged. "For Mahal's sake, there are limits, Lady Adis!"

At once, Lady Adis turned toward the old viper, her eyes wide and furious. "How dare you — "

"No, it's alright!" Dania was both grateful and ashamed of how adamant Lady Adis was to defend her, but ultimately, she knew how unwise it was to anger their host. Besides, Dania could not deny that their relationship was unusual. "I must go and attend to Lady Dís," she said, careful not to let familiarity slip into her speech.

Striding across the room, Dania avoided looking at the two dwarrowdams as she knocked on Dís door. After a moment, fuelled by anxiety and irritation, Dania stepped inside even though no answer had come.

And yet, Dís had heard her, for she was wide awake, and she now stared blankly at her friend. For the first time since they were children, Dania was unable to read Dís, and she now feared that she might have trespassed some invisible boundary by walking in as she had.

"How did you sleep?" Dania asked tentatively.

"I did not," Dís groaned, turning so that she now lay on her back and stared up at the canopy. "You?"

Dania shrugged, only to realize Dís was not looking her way. "I had nightmares — not important. How are you feeling?"

"I feel ... dirty," Dís said, still looking up, "and a little bruised." Raising her arms above the duvet, she showed Dania the dark bruises that covered her arms where that man must have been holding her.

"Dís, I am so sorry — "

"It is not your fault," Dís interjected, though she continued to avoid Dania's gaze. She closed her eyes as though attempting to rid herself of an unpleasant thought. When she opened her eyes, a few moments later, she patted the empty spot beside her on the bed and said, "come here."

Dania obliged immediately, settling in beside Dís somewhat awkwardly, unsure what to say or not say.

"You must promise me you will not speak out against Ester," Dís said, slowly raising herself and looking back at Dania at last.

"Dís, I have to; I must avenge you!" Dania replied in a breathless voice. "And Thorin and Víli will feel the same way when they find out!"

"Then perhaps it is best if they do not know the truth."

"No," Dania breathed out. "I am not lying to Thorin!"

Dís sighed, as though she found Dania's response silly and annoying. "Fine. Then I suppose we will have to find a way to convince them both that silence is our only option."

"Dís — "

"When you chose to tell me about you and my brother, you entrusted me with your biggest secret," Dís began, the intensity in her eyes sending a cold ache deep in the pit of Dania's belly. "And you trusted me again when you confessed to having wedded in secret. That day, I promised that I would keep your secret safe — that I would keep you both safe. You know as well as I that if you accuse Ester of orchestrating the attack, she will move against you once more. And you will only be adding fuel to whatever rumours have been spreading since your little dance at my wedding. There is nothing I can do or say to enact revenge that will not also bring harm to you and Thorin. I have accepted that; I made my choice when I welcomed your love for each other."

"But Dís — " Dania opened her mouth to speak but found the words in her throat to be as constricted as her heart was.

"I know," Dís said, reaching out and gently squeezing Dania's hand.

A fresh wave of guilt flooded Dania. Throwing her arms around Dís' neck, she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"I know that, too," Dís replied, wrapping her arms around Dania's waist.

They remained in that embrace for a long moment, neither saying a word, instead letting their presence express their love for each other and their devotion to protecting each other at all costs.

The comfortable silence that had at last settled between them was only broken when, with a chuckle, Dís said, "I am trying to find something funny to say that might make you feel better for an instant, but that has never been a skill of mine."

Dania pulled away just enough to see Dís' face. "I should be the one trying to make you laugh."

After a moment, a wistful smile appeared on Dís' face. "Frerin would have known exactly how to do that. He always did."

Both of them fell silent once more, memories of pranks, laughter, and innocence coming back to the surface.

"Mahal, why is it when something bad happens my mind starts to recall everything that has ever made me sad?" Dís mused. Dania could only nod, that feeling all too familiar to her.

"Shall I let you rest or would you like me to fetch you breakfast?" Dania asked tentatively.

"No, I have had enough of being in here," Dís, tossing the duvet off her body as though to prove her willingness to get out of bed. "I would like to go for a walk outside. Will you join me?"

Dania offered her a genuine smile. "I would like that."

After braiding Dís' hair and helping her don her dress — a beautiful light yellow gown that brightened up her pale complexion — they made their way out of the now-empty sitting room. The hallway was much more crowded than usual, and by the way that everyone turned to look and whisper as Dís and Dania passed by them, Dania knew precisely why they lingered here. Feeling Dís' discomfort mounting, Dania intertwined their arms, even though she knew it was much too familiar a gesture for a public space. Making sure that Dís felt safe was much more important than any rules of etiquette.

At that moment, Dania's eyes landed on Ester, who stood to the side of the hallway, her bright and richly embroidered gown making her stand out even though her face blended into the shadows between two sconces on the stone walls. When their gazes met, Ester's eyes widened, and Dania glared at her intently, tightening her hold on Dís' arm. Recalling Dís' screams and the look of fear that had marked her face, Dania knew that she would struggle immensely to keep silent.

—

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie​ 

let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

[oksana-moods]

Supernova

Summary: As the seasons passes you by, it is inevitable for you to watch the fall.

A/N: This is an AU requested by the darling @multi-muse-transect and you might find it in here. This request filled me with joy and worries at the same time, because it was hard to create a visible story in my head before trying to write it down. But I really enjoyed all the research about Nova Corps, hence it took me a little more than intended.

Warnings: Language, marvel’s canon violence… if there is any other that I should mention, please, let me know.

“You take my breath away. You're a supernova and I'm a space bound rocket ship and your heart's the moon.”

#not my pic

Carol is at a window looking at the sculptures and other buildings of Hala, she’s just arrived from a mission against Kree insurgents. ‘They're like weeds’, she thinks. No matter how hard she fights or fights back, they always come back and never learn that against the Empress they will never succeed.

The lights are beautiful in Hala, but they will never compare to the lights of the Old Earth. She takes a look at the latest reports of her home planet's reconstruction on the table beside her and sighs, knowing that New Earth will soon be ready.

Years ago, Ronan attacked Earth with the intention of destroying Carol and he did, in fact, destroy her heart. Even though she could absorb and redirect energy, she failed to destroy all the missiles before they hit the ground and then it was over. And the beginning at the same time.

Completely possessed by the grief of losing her home and loved ones, Carol went hunting for the Kree and, more importantly, for the Supreme Intelligence and, one by one, Carol brought down her tormentors until she became the Empress of Kree, residing in Hala.

Her patrols to different galaxies have been reduced as she monitors the Kree group responsible for rebuilding the Earth, chases mutineers and still rules the Empire. Her Empire. There's not even time for karaoke, she thinks, as her eyes follows a shooting star across the night sky of her capital.

Her eyes narrow when said shooting star seems to take a route, rather than a random path, because it is a celestial body without navigation. This shooting star is, in fact, very different, she observes. And, almost a second late, she notices that someone is heading right for her.

Taking her by surprise, you hit the balcony glass as if it were nothing and saw Carol's body hurl against the wall with the impact of your body. Not even spending a breath, it's your turn to be hurled against the wall when Carol fights back even harder than you.

You fight, exchange punches and blows. You notice that she's slightly surprised to find a worthy opponent, something that's still unheard of. Until today. Until you.

And that intrigues her, how could someone be so powerful without her knowing?

"Did the Kree insurgents send you?" She asks after you collide on Hala’s sky, the noise and vibrations being felt even in buildings far away from the fight.

"No." You answer. “I was sent by Nova Prime to deal with you” You barely finish your sentence, and you attack Carol again, but she's confused. She had heard of Nova Prime when she was still a Kree soldier. When she fought for the wrong side.

She then looks at you once more. She takes in the clothes you're wearing and your helmet, which covers your eyes with a blueish light but leaves your chin bare. The symbol that resembles a star painted in red on your golden helmet indicated what you are. Nova Corp. You are a corpsman.

A bright, gold insignia in a form of three circles linked in your chest shines even in the dark, showing her that you’re not an ordinary corpsman, but a Centurion. You are Nova Corps’ Commander. Okay, that explain why you’re so powerful.

"What do you want with me?" She asks without the slightest pretension to continue fighting and for the first time you don't attack, you stop and look at her. Wow, the reports of her strength and agility were consistent with what you see, but there was nothing about her beauty. Shaking your head, you answer it.

"Justice." Seeing the confused expression on Carol's perfect face, you continue. "You are crushing the democracy that existed for the inhabitants of this planet, the countless reports of an empress overthrowing entire communities have crossed galaxies."

"Justice, you say." You see her eyes flash with anger and hatred. "And what justice does Nova Prime intend to give Earth?" She approaches dangerously and you have to remind yourself to not cower under her glare.

"The Kree have destroyed my home, so I won't give them one until the New Earth is rebuilt and populated." The threat in her gaze, in her posture, was tangible. "And nothing and no one in the universe will make me concede freedom to this barbaric species."

"Being a barbarian yourself?" You turn your head to the side in a questioning tone, but she takes it as irony. Maybe it was. “An eye for an eye, as earthlings are fond of saying. Or should I say, used to like?” A kind of roar was the only warning before her fist collided with your face.

"Wash your mouth before you talk about Earth, soldier." She patched up a string of blows you couldn't get out of. "Nova Empire has always fought the Kree, why they want to protect them now?"

She was strong; you've already figured that out, but like many other very powerful beings in the universe, they tend to think they're the only ones with powers. Absorbing most of the blows and directing the energy against the empress, you use your power blast and with that, once again, Carol is hurled against the wall of her palace.

As an automatic response, Carol uses the powers of her fist and you feel the force of a thousand cannons throwing you backwards into space, grunting right after with the impact of Carol's body, engaging the fight once more.

You could tell that she was angry and, according to your studies, humans tended to be guided by such frivolous feelings. And that was something you intended to use to your advantage.

Being two beings bestowed with stamina, the fight would go on for hours until someone got tired, but if she uses her powers erratically and drenched in rage, she will be drained quicklier.

“I am the Empress of the Kree Empire! Answer me!" The tone of voice in which she addresses you makes it clear that your goal of getting under her skin is working. With a smirk, you respond.

“Nova Empire takes care of the galaxy and has balance as its main goal, your highness. To overpower other species is not our intention.” Your response seems to enrage her even more and the only reaction you got from her was more blows and more blasts in your direction.

You dodge, you block, and you realize she's getting careless then letting her guard down. And that's where you come in with quick jabs almost powerless, only to enrage her more and more. Just to remind her that even an Empress has weaknesses.

You hit the ground and certainly the people throughout the city felt like it was an earthquake. Something was off and before you could react, Carol hits you with a blast right in the middle of the chest, throwing you meters and meters into a random building.

This time, you start feeling the impact on every wall you hit. You feel dizzy, your hand is shaking, and you find yourself bleeding. ‘What's going on?’ You think as you watch Carol's figure to grow in your field of vision.

The smirk on her face is ridiculously sexy, but you barely have time to make any comments before her voice reaches your ears. "Apparently, you're not that tough without your helmet on, are you?"

You look at her hand that is carrying what was once your helmet, now just broken shards and she drops it into your lap. Without your helmet you are ruined, as is your mission.

The smirk and one last punch were the last thing you remember before she knocks you down cold.

---

Your head was about to explode inside your skull, and you blink at the light entering your cell. All that brightness was not helping your headache at all.

It's been a few days since you've been taken prisoner by Empress Carol Danvers and whether Xandar knows or has noticed your disappearance is something you have no idea of. And when Nova Prime sends reinforcements after you it won't be pretty.

Before proceeding on your mission, you had already been informed that all diplomatic avenues had been tried but completely closed by the Empress. That way, Xandar wouldn't try negotiations to try to get you back. Perhaps this would trigger a new war.

A war you couldn't afford. Certainly, you didn't want the weight of being the trigger or the spark in a cold battle of inflated tempers on your shoulders. Carol had a very short fuse, as you witnessed firsthand, while Prime could be an slayer when the situation called for it.

Days passed, becoming weeks and your monotonous existence is only interrupted by the Empress's daily visits. Visits that you don't know why she still keeps, when it's pretty obvious that you have no information to provide.

You are a member of the Nova Corp and have been sent on a solo mission to "dissuade" the Empress from continuing to rule her own empire with an iron fist. There were no ulterior motives, no espionage or reinforcements waiting in the moon not far from Hala.

You were a single, last resource. There was nothing but you and your broken form. A failed soldier.

You were standing, watching the sun shining on buildings across Hala through the small window in your cell, admiring the dots circling farther down the street, almost forgetting that each dot was a person. You wonder if Carol forgets who they are.

"Um, admiring my city, I see." You spare her a brief glance before you return it to the window. She was in a red robe with local designs, and you can't shake off your head at how beautiful she is. How beautiful she looks in red. Or any other color.

You don't exactly know why Carol still comes to your cell, but you can't lie to yourself that you don't like it. You do. But you convince yourself that any company is better than the solitude of these walls, just that and nothing else.

She is an empress after all. A Sovereign, considered by many to be evil and tyrant. But each gentle gesture towards you reminds you that her hands are stained with blood. Like yours. Your conscience doesn't seem to know which side it should be on.

"Forgive me if my boredom is exacerbated, your city is the only thing I have left to admire." You answer still looking ahead, afraid to look at her and be mesmerized. The Empress was a mystery that captivated you, as her answers were never what you would expect them to be. Just like now.

“I could end your boredom. Hala’s Summer Trade is famous across the galaxy, have you ever tasted Pluot Fruit?” Your head swivel towards her so fast it feels like a whip.

"Summer?" Quickly you do the math in your head, in this solar system the days and seasons were longer than in Xandar, so... "How long have I been kept in here?"

"Too long, Nova." Nova? What kind of nickname is this? Shaking your head, you question her. "Nova? This is not my name." She giggles and moves closer to the energy field that makes up your cell door, she’s one yard away so you can smell her perfume. White jasmine.

“I know it isn't. But I decided to abbreviate the title of Nova Corps to Nova, besides, I own this place…” she opens her arms to emphasize what she's talking about. "I can call you whatever I want, prisoner."

You decide to play her game and with a smirk on your face you respond. “Prisoner? Now, seconds ago weren’t you inviting me for a walk, your highness?”

You lick your lips when you see her face contorting in a mix of anger and something else, but what, you don't know. “You abuse my benevolence too much. Your precious Xandar never tried to open a ransom deal, you are of no use to them or to me.”

Her words crash into your chest, and you feel your heart break a little more. Months have passed and there was no sign of another corpsman coming to your rescue and now she tells you that Nova Prime didn't even try to negotiate your freedom.

You close your eyes and with small, defeated steps you walk to the window. A lifetime dedicated to Nova Corp and Xandar, to be abandoned like a stray dog ​​lost from its owners. Like someone worthless.

Defeated and hopeless, you ask Empress Carol why she still keeps you alive. Standing in the hallway leading to the dungeons hall she smiles triumphantly and speaks. "For my entertainment, prisoner."

--

"What do you think of the Pluot?" Carol's voice breaks your train of thought.

"Strangely delicious." You respond by referring to the strange appearance, as if it was a dried fruit and not completely juicy right after tasting it.

As with the fruit, such was your surprise to see Carol's interaction with her subjects. Many of them kept their distance, paid their obeisance and respects to the Empress, and continued on their way with their heads low.

However, a reassuring number of people seemed to genuinely like or even admire Carol and not out of obligation. Doing a 180° turn in the opinion you once held of the Empress, she was extremely adorable when interacting with children.

Who knew the fearsome tormentor of the Kree empire would be so… human? How can someone, who keeps a prisoner just for her own pleasure, be so kind? You wonder if they were the same person at all.

She smiles in response to what you said and you smile back, completely unsure of the reasons why you do.

After the Hala market tour went without incident, that is, without any attempt to escape on your part, Carol has granted you the right to stroll through the inner gardens of her palace. As much as you want to hate the way she plays as if you were a puppet, you can't.

You try to hate her, but each day you spend in her company makes it harder for you to deny the feeling that, gradually, grows in your chest. Then, you find yourself desperate to hang this passion before it's too late.

Your morning walks allow you to see autumn slowly approaching, little by little, with each leaf touching the ground. And if you used to enjoy Carol's garden alone, over time, the Empress's company became part of your routine.

"Why are you still keeping me alive, Carol?" You rarely addressed her by the title of empress or nobility, and she never forced you to use it, she seemed not to care whether you recognized her power or not. Nor did he seem to mind when you used it ironically.

"I like your company." She answered and that made you look directly into her eyes. "It isn't every day that I find a match." Her answer made something boil in your chest and you had to force your heart to understand that she was probably referring to the fight.

"I'm not a match for you, your highness." You spoke. "Everything special about me came from an enhanced helmet." A sad smile danced on your lips, remembering how powerless you felt when you saw it broken in her hand. You remembered how broken you felt yourself.

“Everything special about you comes from your heart, Nova.” Her tone was low and as much as you wanted, there was nothing to grasp in it. She spoke this sentence as if she were speaking about the weather but for you it just set your heart on fire.

--

Between stories from a lifetime ago, when Carol was only a human being without a single clue that the universe was bigger than her world and stories from her time adapting and training in Hala, you felt yourself slowly but surely falling for her.

The change for you was visible and you prayed it would be visible only to you. If before you thought she was beautiful, now she’s extremely attractive in your eyes. Even when choosing simple robes, Carol was always dressed impeccably.

After spending so much time together, it was only a matter of time before you realized that the Empress was possessed of vast intellect and knowledge about many different things.

But what strike you most was how funny and mundane she could be, yet, she still had that special something in her eyes that never failed in make you weak. You were a prisoner, indeed. A prisoner of her eyes.

Unlike many extremely powerful beings, Carol was humble enough to listen to your stories, and even encouraged you to tell more details about yourself. She never quite understood, but something about you drew her as if you were a magnet.

The sparkle in your eyes as you spoke about your homeland, friends, or your passion and honor in serving Nova Corp thrilled her. There were many things in you that stirred emotions in her, as well as aroused feelings that she thought she was no longer capable of feeling for a long time.

And so, without realizing it and at the same time fully aware of what was going on beneath her skin, the Empress fell in love with her Prisoner.

--

Winter at Hala marked when your quarters were no longer a cell but a room in Empress's palace. Larger than your home in Xandar, the room was beautifully decorated with art, and you could discern some Xandar artwork. You wonder if it was coincidence.

Despite being as warm as a star, Carol suggested that both of you should trade your walks in the garden for spending time in the library available at the palace. And that's how you began to be the Empress's company during her meals.

It started with lunch and then evolved into dinner and now Carol finds herself waiting for your presence before even touching her plate. ‘I shouldn't allow myself such weakness’, she thought. However, she couldn't bring herself to change or to avoid the need of your company.

--

"I beg your pardon?" You speak, barely able to avoid spilling your soup. The increasingly warm but shy rays of the sun and the many animals strolling in the courtyard tell you that spring is just around the corner. And that's exactly what almost made you spill the soup, in first place.

Carol cleared her throat, promptly speaking again, as if you had not heard her from the first time. “I’d be delighted if you grant me the honor of your company for the Spring Ball due in two weeks.” She looked at you expectantly.

Your mind was swirling as to why she would want you as her company, out of all people. She was the Empress; she could have anyone she wanted by her side. Yet, here she was, asking you to be her date.

The time in Hala flew slower as it did in Xandar, but it felt like the opposite, for the Ball came faster than you thought it be possible.

And here you were, walking down the entrance stairs in a beautiful golden gown with Carol’s arm locked with yours. Her deep green dress was marvelous and when you saw her welcoming you with that pretty smile of hers you thought you could melt.

Much to your dismay, Carol could sing just as she’d told you she could, but you never believed in her. It wasn’t hard for you to realize that you were free falling in love with her even more than you already were. If it was possible, you fell in love again. You’d be her prisoner, forever.

As the night went on, you were mesmerized by the ball, the music, and the way of life in Hala. It felt like a different life, one that very much resembled prince and princess’ tales that you heard when you were a kid.

A life that didn’t quite belong to you but looking into her eyes it made it feel like everything was possible, reachable, as if her power could create a different world. Just as she did. As ruler of the Kree empire, she created a new kingdom.

Standing in the balcony, you welcomed the cold air hitting your skin that was inebriating your senses, previously flooded by the Empress. The stars illuminated the sky of Hala making the city bellow you even prettier.

A soft touch in your hand brings your gaze back to its owner and a small gasp scape your lips when you see how close she is, even more so when you wish she were closer. “I never told you how beautiful you are tonight.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“You flatter me, your highness. You’re flawless yourself.” A small smile creeped up her lips and you forced yourself to keep your eyes locked with hers, proven to be a hard task when she started to lean into your ear.

“There is something that I wanted to tell you for a while ago.” Her hands on your waist made it difficult for you to pay attention to her words, along with the feel of her cheek touching your cheeks made your knees weak.

“You’re no longer a prisoner and you can leave Hala if you want to.” Her thumb drew patterns where it touched you and you could feel your skin burning. “You’re free, but I wish you’d stay here.” She backed down and now her eyes were boring into yours.

“I wish you’d stay here with me.” She stressed.

Your heart and head were running thousand miles per hour in completely opposite directions. The rational part of you wanted to take your freedom and go back to Xandar, even though you should find it suspicious that, almost after a year, she’d let you go. Specially after you’d learned so much about Hala. About her.

However, your heart’s been slowly giving itself to this woman right in front of you, and there was nothing that you wanted more than to stay here with her. Surely, you felt left behind by Nova Prime, but it still stings in you that no one came after you. Not even a fellow corpsman.

‘Not one that you know, for that matter.’ You shook your conscience’s voice away and gave in to your heart. The rational part of you broke at the exact same time as did your helmet.

“Carol, I…” You begin but she interrupts you by placing an oh so soft lips on yours and there is no voice to hear anymore. Nor rational, nor emotional. There are only her lips pouring her heart into a kiss and you do just the same.

Right in that moment you felt as if your heart was about to melt, maybe it would, if she hadn’t broken the kiss and rested her forehead in yours.

“Tell me you’ll stay and rule by my side.” Before the true meaning of her words could sink in, the sky of Hala suddenly shone as if thousands of stars appeared right in that moment, drawing the attention of you both.

Not long until you realized that it wasn’t stars, but thousands of spaceships painting the night over your heads, and you’d recognize those ships anywhere. Xandar was here. And a voice that you’d never forget was heard above all noise.

“I am Nova Prime and Xandar declares war to Empress Carol, accused of murdering Nova Corps’ Commander.”

‘Why are they accusing her of murder?’ You thought to yourself. It does not make sense that she’s being accused of killing you when you’re alive. Unless…

“Carol, what did you do?”