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morgansunflower · 3 years

Note

Hi i hope you feeling well 😊

I went to request dc x marvel batman x avneger wife reader y/n is trained in the red room with Natasha Romanoff and hero name is red widow with Wanda maximoff powers and Pietro maximoff powers and the kids admire the mother as the idol one day y/n had to go to New York because she had meeting with shield but she doesn't know that justice League and the titans are meeting with the avengers and the kids was surprise that their mother is red widow and can make if you part of this request please ❤️💕

I'm feeling well thank you for asking! Hope you are feeling well too. I had so much fun writing this! Thank you for asking me to write it! Hope you enjoy your request! Also I am not good at writing marvel so this may not be good but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: explicit language, suggestive content.

Words:1303

Middle of the night in Gotham. My hands glow red as I swiftly catch Damian from where he fell, with my power's and land him safely onto the ground. He stands next to me as more assassin's approach. I speeded taking each of their swords and take them out one by one. I return to my little Robin. He smirked to me, just like his father.

"tt must you take all the fun"

"sorry kiddo" I chuckled

I feel the ground shake gently and hear an explosion. Damian and I look the left side of black mask building up in flames.

"tt Hood must be home"

"Robin" I scold "don't be so quick to judge"

He rolls his eyes. I take my son into my arms and speed up the building onto the floor where the explosion had erupted. The debris settled with a few small flames. I let Robin down, he folds his arms

"still humiliating" he scoffed

I then see Spoiler aka Stephanie, Batgirl aka Cassandra and Red-Robin aka Tim.

"kid's you're here, Oracle send you?" I asked, I then hear on my intercom

-"well of course! They'd be lost without me... At least they didn't go to the wrong building this time" Barbara said

"you got that right" I replied to her with a chuckle

Steph softly scoffed "ok firstly that was a honest mistake and secondly, bout time you showed up. I think this has some-" I hear a voice cut her off

"don't even think about blaming me for this glorious shit" Jason said entering the room, he gently nodded to me "hey Ma"

"good to see you back Jaybird" I replied with a soft smile

Grayson suddenly jumps inside from his grappling hook.

"the gang back together and nobody called the boy wonder" Grayson exclaimed

"it took one explosion and were all here.." Jason groaned under his breath.

"oh don't pretend you didn't miss us" I told my son with a smile "does anyone even know what's going on here? Who started the explosion, or who wants Black Mask dead" I asked the room silent.

I use my power to remove the flames and debris with the fallen bricks. Black mask was revealed under a few tons of bricks. His head bleeding. He's long gone. I then kneel finding a cigarette holder....

"that bastard Penguin has something in for black mask" Jason said a bit bewildered

"well he was here to see is handy work" I look further seeing fresh tracks left by his "we just missed him.. Has anyone been in contact with Bat's?" I then hear my intercom, Batman. I touch my intercom "don't tell me, you have him tied up and he's confessed everything"

-"come see me on southwest side. Three buildings next to yours"

Bruce's P. O. V

With my back against the roof, I gently run my hands down my wife's face. She softly smiled our legs and fingers intertwined. I kiss my wife's soft forehead. With every inch of her body was a intense feeling of security.. Strength.. Love... Admiration. She places her hands on my shoulders. I kiss her deeply, she deepened the kiss. I hear her phone I reach over for it and hold it. She parts from my lips. If it's Stark, he's a dead man. She holds my hand with held her phone.

"five minutes" I demanded

She smirked "fine I can handle that, but no longer than that.. I know how much you like a second round"

Five minutes later.. My wife takes her phone and answers. I kiss her neck.

Y/N's P. O. V

I answered Tony on the phone "Stark.." my tone evident that, I'm annoyed.

-"hi Mrs. Wayne Mr Stark is busy right now and wanted me to answer.. so sorry to interrupt you, but every single Avenger as been requested to the base right now" I'd recognize that innocent voice anywhere

"oh hi Peter sorry about the tone kid. I'll be there asap"

I hang up, Bruce lays on his side gazing at me.

"anything I need to know about?"

"Peter answered so.. No details" I chuckled "I'll be fine"

He grunted, I speed and kiss him deeply. I then speed in my red widow uniform, that my children have never seen, to the base in New York. The base next to A. J. T. That stood respectfully stood for all, Avenger, Justice League and Titans members. With the exception of any helping hand's. The base was three rectangle buildings, and then the main building for all three organizations. The furthest left was Titans, then the middle is the Justice League and on the right stood the Avengers building. While the main building was in front that could hold up to over a thousand people. I step into the avengers building. Countless people were going different directions. Something is wrong. Where is my team?

"Red Widow, you are needed in the main building" Happy told me from the desk with a confusing tone "you know the big one in front" he stated obviously

What? "STARK!!!" I growled "I'm going to kill your boss!" I exclaimed, he's been joking about my kid's eventually finding out for years.

"you're paying for the funeral!" he said

I run to the main building only seeing members from the Avengers and a few Titans. I step inside. Little by little more members of each group came.

"meine Schwester.. Wo bist du gewesen?"

I turn seeing my first friend.. Natasha Romanoff. She had a soft smile with folded arms. I smile.

"Du wurdest sehr vermisst Schwester"

We both embrace tightly. The bond we formed together was unbreakable. We took care of each other. The red room was eery.. Fear for my own life and that of my sister's.

"Rote Witwe" Bucky said with a smile

My trainer and my sister's lover. The three of us went through hell together. We stood awaiting for the important news. Then my family arrived. Bruce smirked to me knowing my secrets are going to come to surface. Shit. I then watch Tony aka Ironman aka about to be Deadman. He steps onto the platform with the leader of the justice league, Jeff aka Black Lighting. The meeting was discuss a possible threat from Darkseid. First I feel Cassandra's gaze to me. I completely avoid eye contact. I know they all read the Red Widow files.. My real name was classified. I don't want them to know what I went through. I use my telekinesis.

"it's mom!" she whispered to them

Grayson gasped his mouth agape. Then they all looked at me. I take a deep breath feeling their eyes on me without looking at them. Grayson felt completely astonished and with worry for how I feel about my sad past. Jason feels shocked, admired, mixed with sympathy and he loved me no different. Barbara felt that I was someone she always aspire to be and what happened to me only made me more stronger. Damian felt admired and felt I was stronger than he originally thought, which he thought was impossible. Tim hated that I was brought up through pain, he wished that I was always happy but he admired I'm strong, he wish he could too. Stephanie was overwhelmed with joy thinking I was a bad ass, amazing, Soo inspiring and she wish I could have had a better life before. Cassandra felt I was the strongest person in the world not only physically but mentally and I gave her hope that she could be a good person too. I feared they'd think less of me.. How foolish was I. I was a wrong when I thought that I would never find love. I was wrong to believe I'd never be a mother. It never felt so good to be wrong.

First translation.. my sister where have you been

Second translation.. you are missed here sister

Third translation.. Red Widow

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Vampire Chris and jake get stranded in the middle of nowhere one night. Maybe a car crash or something. As they walk back the sun starts to rise.

CW: Car crash, bruising, seatbelt burn, vampire whumpee, caretaker turned whumpee

The moment of the crash is gone.

He opens his eyes to the aftermath.

Jake blinks, the world spinning, and his head drops back against the headrest of the driver's seat. The world is still lurching, sickeningly, in circles around him. Something is ticking, the engine maybe, slowly cooling down and shit, at least it's not on fire.

The air bag has a smear of terrible vibrant red against its pillowy white as it slowly deflates, and all he can do is stare at it until he realizes the blood must be his own.

One hand comes up to touch at his forehead, and his fingers come away wet and red, too. What he'd thought was sweat is a head wound, bleeding down one side, tickling his cheekbone and jaw. It stings, a little.

The pain seems distant, somehow, like it's being held at arm's length. As if he's looking at his pain from a distance further than he can close.

"Ch-... Chris, you okay, buddy?" He turns, and the passenger seat is empty. The air bag deployed on that side, but there's no blood.

The door is standing open, dome light still on. It takes a long few moments of staring before he can understand that the door is open because Chris forced it open, closed his hands on the metal and squeezed until it bent beneath his strength and let him out.

Jake's body aches as he shifts forwards, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt. All the pain is filtering into his senses, piece by piece as if he can only understand a wound once he sees it.

He can't remember the crash.

They were at a four-way stop, listening to some of the terrible pop music Chris loves about the modern world, and Jake had pulled through. They were laughing at some lyric that Jake had had to explain, that had made the little vampire boy flush a little at the definition.

Then there were headlights blinding him, overtaking everything. Chris had yelled something and Jake had yelled something and then-

The moment is gone.

So is the entire back half of his car.

He turns around with a hiss to stare right out a giant gaping hole where his backseat should be into the cool, clear night.

Parts of his car are strewn haphazardly across the road and the grassy ditch he's come to a stop in. As he looks, he can see the frame of a door, crumbled metal that must be his trunk, a tire. Another tire. The bumper on the ground. Glass and metal everywhere.

The stop signs at the fourway are all standing totally untouched, except for one bent at a hard angle, leaning like a man fighting a strong wind.

The sweater he'd been wearing when he got in the car - removed and tossed carelessly in the backseat to pick up later - is hanging off the bent stop sign.

It's fucking spotlessly clean still.

He blinks.

Blinks some more.

What the fuck?

He'd driven Chris up into the hills to go star-gazing, making the most of Chris's bubbly energy that only comes out at night and his classes being canceled tomorrow because of some issue with the campus water supply. This is countryside up here, with houses miles and miles apart. Remnants of old orchards and homesteads, still kept by the descendants of the men and women who traveled out here. Nobody drives out this way this late. It could be morning before someone finds him.

His phone. He can call for help.

Jake looks around, but his phone is nowhere to be seen. He digs around the footwell, what he can touch of it, and there's nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

His windshield is shattered, open to the outside, and he wonders if his phone flew out of it. It was on the dash, wasn't it? On Chris's side...

Shit.

It could be anywhere in the grass, and he's a fucking moron who keeps his phone on silent or vibrate 24 hours a day. He'll never hear it out here.

First things first, then.

He settles for trying to open his door.

It's been crunched, just a little. Enough that it won't swing out, and he has to throw his shoulder against it, grunting in pain, again and again until finally it nudges just enough for him to fall onto shattered tiny squares of safety glass on the ground. A water bottle is lying there. It's Dasani.

He hates Dasani water, but it'd been free at the gas station they'd stopped at if he bought a bag of chips, so...

Oh, right. His car is full of fucking gasoline.

He groans, scrambling away from the vehicle, trying to remember what a safe distance will be if his car catches on fire or fucking explodes in the middle of the night. At least if it explodes it'll get someone's attention, right?

Shit, he's going to throw up.

Jake lays there, waiting for his stomach to settle, and then crawls again. He makes it up to the road, to the rough asphalt and the gravel that lines the side. The little pebbles sting his palms, rub dirt and dust into the cuts, but he ignores it.

He makes it to the road, twenty feet or so from his car, and then... then he just lays down.

"Chris..." He can barely think. Where has the little vampire gone? Why isn't he here, creeping out of the treeline to ask if Jake's all right? Did he run? Maybe he has Jake's phone. Maybe there was no signal and he's gone to try and find some, to make a call.

Maybe...

Fuck, it hurts to think.

Even just taking a deep breath hurts - something's wrong with his ribs. Bruised or broken. When he pulls his shirt up, he can see the seatbelt burn starting to deepen in color, a diagonal stripe from shoulder to hip written in bright red darkening to burgundy bruising, soon to turn purple and black. If he hadn't been wearing a heavy shirt it'd have torn his skin open. One side of his neck is rubbed raw, he can tell when he touches it and has to pull his fingers away at the spike of pain.

There are spots of dark on his pale shirt, blood seeping through or dripping from his forehead.

But, shit. It could be worse. Looking at the back half of his car, it seems like a goddamn miracle that it isn't.

Jake pulls his legs under him and tries to stand up.

His right leg just won't fucking do it.

Rather than take his weight, it buckles with a spike of pain so bad Jake cries out and collapses back onto the road.

As if it were a dam breaking, all the adrenaline holding off the worst of the pain seems to wear away at once.

Everything hurts, suddenly, a sickening wash of pain breaking against him like he's nothing but a shell to be worn to sand. He aches when he breathes, when he doesn't. A cough makes him whimper as his ribs creak and crack. His head throbs, his hands sting, his leg is swelling even as he looks at it, a broken bone. Definitely a broken bone.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, rolling onto his side, his face pressing into gravel and safety glass.

Nat won't notice they're not home until morning.

No one's going to know he's out here until after sunrise, until he's not up to get ready for class and Chris isn't curled up in the closet to sleep in his nest of blankets and pillows. No one's going to know what happened, and where the everloving fuck did his phone go?

Time passes. He doesn't know how much.

Maybe Chris figured they can't protect him and took the fuck off. Maybe he's going to find somewhere new to crash, some new people to care for him. Maybe he's hunting.

Who the fuck knows?

He comes and goes, in and out of consciousness.

He can't stand, and sort of scooting and crawling around does nothing to help him figure out where his cell phone has gone. No one else drives by on this mostly-abandoned country road, and it was a stroke of seriously bad luck the asshole who hit them and ran was there at all.

Asshole was probably drunk, driving back from the bar, trying to use the backroads to avoid the goddamn cops.

Bad. Fucking. Luck.

Jake wonders if the asshole will even remember hitting his car in the morning, or if he'll wake up and discover the front of his vehicle all fucked up and have no idea how it happened.

He thinks he might pass clean out for a while.

That can't be good.

His head hurts worse when he wakes up.

He raises his head slowly at the sound of a distant rumble, an ancient truck engine coming closer. It takes more effort than he ever imagined just to get himself up to sitting, ready to wave down whoever it is - whatever fucking angel is on this road at what has to be 3 or 4 in the morning by now.

"Please," He whispers, dry lips scraping against each other. "Please, please don't run m'over... please..."

Headlights wash over the scene of the crash, fading everything to nearly black-and-white. Jake raises a hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly, as the blue-and-white Ford comes to an idling stop.

A door swings open with a creak and then slams shut again, boots crunching on the glass and debris on the road. Jake raises his eyes to see an old man in worn jeans and a grayish t-shirt staring down at him. "Well, I'll be damned," The man says, his voice low, a little rough around the edges. His hair's dark, but speckled with silver that's visible even in the night air. "You all right, son?"

Jake slowly looks back at his wrecked, ruined car, then back up at the man. "I'm pretty clearly not," He answers, then winces at his rudeness. "Sorry. I mean... no."

"That's all right. We all of us get a little more honest when we're bleeding from the skull. I'm gonna bet you aren't a natural brunette and I'm looking at a big old ton of blood there. What happened?"

"Guy ran the stop sign, hit me... drove off."

"Well, damn. What're you doin' up this way this late at night?"

"Would you... y'believe me if I said... star-gazin'?"

The man chuckles, but it's a low sound, and he moves closer. He pulls a heavy old cell phone out of his pocket - one of those goddamn flip phones that never dies or gets destroyed. It's like Captain Fucking America. Jake has to hold back a half-hysterical laugh.

"Hm, I might. It happens from time to time. Y'didn't come with a young lady, did you?" The man looks over the scene of the crash, searching for more people.

"No, no... just... jus'... I'm just here." He thinks of Chris, the open passenger door, the total lack of a vampire nearby. Is he hiding in the woods? If he's seen, or found out, he'll be hauled back off to be locked up somewhere, milked for venom for pharmaceutical drugs, treated like an animal. They can't admit he was here, he can't be seen. He must be hiding.

That's it.

Chris must just be hiding...

"Please, man, I-I can't find my phone to call for help-"

"I got you, son. I'll make the call. Likely your phone's just buried in the grass somewhere, we'll figure it out. You stay put right where you are, you don't want to move around and make any of it worse."

"Yes, sir." Jake stays where he is while the old man makes the call to 911, feeding him details when he asks, staring off into space when he doesn't.

They can pick Chris up when he and Nat come to get his stuff from the wreck tomorrow. They'll get him then. It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

The old man hangs up and heads back to his truck, pulling out a battered old first aid kit. "You're lucky I believe in ghosts, you know."

"What? Why? Am I dead?" Jake looks down at his hands. They're scratched and bleeding, and he's pretty sure dead people don't bleed like that.

"No, son, no. But I wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

Jake blinks. "I... I don't follow."

"Well, had a little ghost show up at my bedroom window and refuse to shut up until I drove out here. Redheaded boy. Kept calling for a medic. Felt like I was back in the war for a minute before I realized it was him."

"Which... which war?"

The man fixes him with a stare as he crouches, old knees cracking as he does, in front of Jake. He opens the box and takes out some gauze and adhesive, antibiotic cream, something else Jake doesn't recognize. "You need medics in every kind of war there is, son. It doesn't matter which one. I've fought in two. But this boy called for a medic like he's seen the need for 'em before and didn't have time to save someone. Some kind of old ghost walkin' these roads saw you and made sure I knew."

Jake exhales, almost a laugh, and feels tears burn hot in his eyes. He realizes he's going to cry from sheer relief and exhaustion and pain, and he's not sure he can stop.

A ghost in the window means...

Chris left and ran for help.

"Thank you," he whispers, and he's not really talking to the old man at all.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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ohparis · 2 years

Text

there’s a ton of the twist, but we’re fresh out of shout

buddie | 5+1 | rated t | 1.3k | ao3

Five times Buck has had it with New York City, and the one time Eddie makes it worth his while.

Buck doesn’t do this East Coast bullshit anymore.

He sits still, face down in the concrete, and thinks: I really fucking hate New York.

The city’s heat sticks to his skin the first time Buck is in town.

He is a freckle faced nine year old with chubby cheeks and chubbier calves trotting around Central Park, in a crazed whirlwind of Maddies.

“Maddie, look! This squirrel likes me!”

“You won’t believe how good this guitarist sounds, Maddie!”

“I think they’re filming a movie or something, Mads! Let’s go see!”

He tugs his sister’s hand as he runs from one park bench to another to read the inscriptions, digs into his pocket in search of coins to leave in instrument cases.

He can’t stop blabbering about Broadway tunes and how excited he is to go see Lion King, tonight.

It all comes to an end when his parents meet them at the Bethesda Fountain, matching frowns and rueful tone. They take one look at Buck’s scraped knee: his playground’s battle scars.

“This was a bad idea.” His father says.

They are back in the car by six pm, never make it to the show.

The second time, he is fourteen years old.

He and his classmates have bussed up from Pennsylvania to see an exhibition at the Museum of Natural History.

The West Side is glistening with Christmas lights when they make their way to the building, and Buck is determined to make the most of this trip. He squeezes his arm awkwardly around the shoulders of the first girl he ever really liked. Butterflies and all of that.

It’s pretty serious.

She is all smiles and excitement as she glances up to the skyscrapers, puts her nose against the glass of fancy shops’ windows. And Buck is right behind her, having eyes for one thing only. He feels like a million dollars. He feels like he might tell her how he feels. How she makes him feel.

They sneak out around lunch time, with no aim and zero idea how to navigate the subway system, so they just walk, stroll past the sixties and fifties until their feet hurt and they suddenly find themselves in Midtown. Rockefeller Plaza lights up a special spark, and under the Christmas tree, Buck confesses his love.

Sarah hugs him tight, smiles sadly, a little embarrassed, offers a broken apology.

“I just,” she sighs, red and green shadows playing on her face, “I don’t like you like that.”

His last visit to the Empire State, he manages to land a bartending gig in the Lower East Side. He gets roped up in the college kids crowd, because these are his early twenties and he might have been a college kid himself if things had worked out differently, if he had figured out what he wanted. Except these people are filthy rich and living on top of the world, with no real urge to figure out what they want when they can just take whatever, whenever.

When he’s doing body shots off some nameless philosophy major, though, it doesn’t really matter. It all feels pretty great.

They hit the Red Lion first because the NYU sophomores can enter without getting carded and crawl back to their dorms without getting mugged.

After that, it gets a little blurry.

One minute he has some guy’s tongue down his throat and the next he’s being dragged by his shirt, his nose bleeding, and he’s in the middle of a bar brawl he didn’t start, but is now hellbent on finishing.

He wakes up with a black eye and no wallet, and quits his job two days later, once he has recovered from the hangover. He swears New York City off forever.

This time around, he never even makes it out of the airport. He is at JFK, rushing to get to a connecting flight to Peru. He waits at baggage claims for half an hour for his bags to show up before he realizes they are, in all likeliness, lost. He glances at the clock: he has fifteen minutes before his flight, and you have to be fucking kidding me, he thinks.

He groans, and starts running towards the terminal. As he makes his way across the airport, he fights the urge to flip off the banner reading: “Welcome to New York”.

Buck is not used to this anymore.

New York’s barren cold seizing his bones, the wind moving fiercely through the buildings. He hasn’t bought a new pair of gloves in years, hasn’t seen a fireplace that’s not for decor purposes since he moved to California. And he likes the desert, he likes the warmth.

There’s snow sliding down his cheeks and onto the ground he hit with a distinct thud.

When he gets up, Eddie has somebody pinned against a wall.

“Buck, call 911”, he says calmly.

Right. The police. Because of course, of fucking course they land in this hell scape of a city and get mugged ten minutes into leaving their hotel. Or almost mugged. The perp tries to shit talk his way out of this, thrashing and turning and trying to escape, but Eddie is unmovable, presses his arm more firmly against his neck.

The cops are there a few minutes later, handcuffing the guy and taking their statements.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks once everything has been dealt with, “do you wanna go to the hospital? Make sure it’s not a concussion?”

Buck takes a minute to answer, because Eddie is fussing and concerned and has his hands all over him as he checks him for potential injuries.

“I’m good, got a thick skull” he jokes. Then, “it’s this city, man. I think it’s trying to eject me.”

Eddie frowns, drops his hands, “What do you mean?”

Buck shrugs, “Every time I’m here something shitty happens. Must be a sign from the universe or something.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, starts walking again.

“C’mon, let’s go”.

Buck looks at him, confused: “Where are we going?”

Eddie smiles, stretches a hand towards him, “I think it’s time New York gave you some happy memories.”

+1.

Buck used to think there were pieces of his heart scattered around Manhattan (all over the world). He used to think they would be sitting crumpled on a corner for everyone to see, everyone to ignore as they went on with their busy lives, walking past vendors and street artists and the living, beating proof of Buck’s pain. He used to think New York was a really accurate way to describe how he felt, alone in a crowd of people. And he used to be wrong, about all of that, because his heart was never laid out on any corner of this city, never lost in the South American sand, never anywhere, really, but between the hands of the man standing in front of him.

“Go slower… Slower!”

Eddie grips his hands tighter, panicked.

“I swear, Buckley, if you make me fall.”

Buck laughs, slides his hands up Eddie’s arm to keep them steady as they glide across the ice. He thinks, god, I hope I already did.

“I can’t believe you can’t ice skate.”

“I’m from Texas, you asshole.”

His eyes are pointedly staring at their feet, trying to gauge his next movements. His face is tinged with winter flush, his hair pushed down by a thick wool hat, and Buck loves him so very much it’s almost funny.

“That’s no excuse. I’m teaching Chris when we get back.”

“Be my guest,” Eddie mutters, “just don’t get me involved.”

They take a few more steps, each one bolder than the previous one, and Eddie predictably loses his balance, clutches his hands to Buck’s shoulders.

Buck grins at him, takes in the warm breath against his face, the chest heaving against his.

He kisses Eddie’s cheek once, twice.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They walk through Central Park, hands tangled, take cheesy pictures to send Chris in front of the Christmas tree, eat dinner and get wine drunk at a poorly lit restaurant downtown. All the places in which Buck had ached, Eddie reclaims as his own. He makes New York just one more place where Buck feels found.

#buddie fic #buddie #evan buck buckely #eddie díaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buddie fluff #5+1 fic

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goodgirlofglory · 3 years

Text

Three times Steve defended you, and one time you defended him / One-shot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 5,5k

Warnings: 18+ content, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, light descriptions of smut, light descriptions of injuries, light descriptions of violence, some description of blood, kind of slow burn but not really at all.

Summary: Three times during your initiation into the Avengers agents program where Steve came to your aid and defended you, and one time you defended Steve. Along the way you find each other.

Author’s note: This one has been a personal pleasure to write. I love thinking of Steve and Y/N as having a hank for banter with each other, at the same time as they appreciate and admire each other. I’m just a real sucker for respect, y’all<3 (Not been proofread by anyone but me, so all mistakes are mine)

Part 1

Fire was raining down around you, the blood pumping in your ears as fear and adrenaline coursed through your body.

You had told them it was far too early to bring you on a mission, but Steve had insisted after you’d done so well in training, quickly climbing the ranks despite being just a recruit.

Besides, this should have only been an intelligence gathering mission, in stealth, during a time of which no goons were supposed to be on the drug cartel base.

Clearly not, you thought as you crouched behind a pillar, bullets chipping away at the stone.

You could hear the fighting around you, but panic clouded your mind in a hazy fog so you couldn’t pinpoint where, your body stiff as you curled in on yourself.

This was all wrong. You were going to die on this hellish mission, and more horrifyingly, disappoint Steve, who’d put his trust in you.

Actual tears blurred your sight as you clutched the gun in your hand.

“There’s one left, he’s coming towards you, Y/N,” you heard Steve call through your earpiece

Then, through your tears you saw a figure peer around the corner, gun in hand.

You knew you needed to shoot him, but your body didn’t obey you.

You heard your name shouted as the goon pointed his gun toward you and the ear thrumming sound of the gunshot jolted your body. Your eyes shut tightly as you saw your life flash before you.

But the pain you expected didn’t come, and instead you heard the distinct zing of Captain America’s shield flying through the air. A few grunts followed before you tentatively opened your eyes.

The goon lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless, and before you Steve was kneeling, dressed in the stealth suit that made his baby blue eyes pop. He was looking at you with worried eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?” he asked, breathing hard.

You nodded, about to answer when you noticed the bullet hole in his suit. Your hands shot out in panic, forcefully groping at his abdomen, going to apply pressure.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, not that

“Oh my god, Captain, no, no, no,” you rambled, thoughts racing, eyes wide.

He gently took your hands in his and caught your wild eyes with his, gentle and calm.

“Don’t worry. Bulletproof, remember,” he said, nodding calmly, and you nodded furiously, your mind trying to calm itself through your panic.

He smiled fondly at you, and you noticed how everything was silent around you, the fighting finally over. Then it hit you.

“Steve, you took the bullet for me!? You shouldn’t, you idiot! I-I’m just a recruit, I..” you rushed out, guilt screaming inside your head. If Captain America died on some pointless mission protecting you, some no-name recruit, you would never forgive yourself.

He was chuckling now, your hands still in his.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. I think I know what I’m doing, I’ve been doing this for a while, ya’know,” he said, not sharing any of your worry, but looking profusely amused by it.

“Plus, I was the one who pressed you into this mission. I am responsible for you,” he added seriously, and your stomach flipped at the words. You tried to swallow the fluttering of butterflies.

He was your mentor and your trainer, nothing more, but his words still lingered on your mind for days.

Part 2

The earth-shattering explosion ripped you from your dreams of baby blue eyes, and a split second later, the floor gave out under you.

It took a moment to remember who the hell and where the hell you were.

It was in the middle of the night, and you’d been sleeping peacefully in the recruits lodging area of the compound, in the room you shared with four other girls.

You fell down, the floor crumbling and falling with you. The bed hit the floor beneath your level with a thud that had your head whipping backwards painfully. You had fallen down into the recruit sparring gym, empty at night.

The wooden bed split in half with a loud shriek, and you slumped down the crack, only cushioned by the mattress, your cover having been blown away by the force of the explosion.

Another searing jolt of pain shot through you as a heavy piece of concrete landed on your leg, and you screamed in pain. Above you, you heard your roommates shout your name, but the rumbling of the building verging on collapse was overwhelming and deafening.

“GET AWAY! GET OUT!” you shouted up at your friends, tears in your eyes now.

They disappeared and you tried with bloody hands to move the boulder. It wouldn’t bunch even a bit. Around you the whole building shook and rumbled. You could feel that it wasn’t long until it would crumble.

You realized you were stuck, bleeding and about to be crushed by a thousand tons of concrete.

“Y/N!” you heard a familiar voice from above shout.

Looking up at the hole in the ceiling above, you saw Steve standing, his shield on his arm.

You weakly protested as he jumped down, landing on the bed beside you, carefully avoiding the boulder pinning your ankle.

You could feel your mind blurring over in pain and shock, barely registering as Steve knelt down close, a warm and steady hand on your shoulder.

“Stay with me, Y/N, I’m gonna get you out of here,” he assured you hurriedly, his voice the most worried you’d ever heard him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, trying to reach out to him. He grabbed your hand in his, and in a move that was so surprising it snapped you back to consciousness, he kissed it. It was quick, barely there and kinda panicked, but you were sure he did it.

The deafening rumble of the building dying snapped you back to urgency.

“I’m sorry, this is gonna hurt,” he said as he released your hand and reached down to the boulder squeezing your leg. He heaved it off, and a scream ripped itself from your lungs.

He was quickly on you again, dragging you by the arm from where you lay squeezed between the two pieces of your cracked bed.

You wrapped your arm around his broad shoulder, noticing for the first time that he was shirtless, only wearing a pair of grey joggers and his shield, barefoot. He wrapped a strong arm around your waist, his body a soothing, warm presence against yours.

“Hold on,” he shouted as the ceiling cracked open, and then he was jumping through the window to your right, glass shattering around you.

You hurled through the chill, night air, Steve landing gracefully on his feet on the ground, one story below where you’d jumped out. Your feet dangling in the air, he held you close to his body as he ran across the lawn, and you heard the building crashing down behind you, the noise getting alarmingly close.

He threw a look back before stopping to a halt. Disposing you on the ground, you landed on your ass, looking up at his standing form. Behind him you saw a dust cloud charge at you. He kneeled down, holding his shield above his head as he curled you in against him with an arm around your shoulders.

He was shielding you with his naked upper body as the cloud enveloped you, and deep in your chest, through the shock and fear, astonishment and a whole lot of admiration bloomed.

You curled into his embrace, putting both hands up to support the shield as stray rocks and debris hit it.

You stayed like that for a while as the building settled in a collapsed ruin behind you, the dust cloud slowly dissolving. Your faces were so close, panting at each other, chests heaving. You remembered suddenly, you were only wearing a tiny tank top and panties, and despite the situation literally being a life or death matter, you blushed.

Steve put down his shield, throwing it on the ground as his arm released its grip around your shoulder.

You locked eyes with him, and in that moment he was everything. Tears of gratitude spilled forward as his hands held your shoulders, your own hands spread out on his naked chest, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage.

“You saved me,” you whispered, “thank you. I don’t know how to thank you, Steve, you saved my life, ” you continued, whimpering.

“Are you alright? We need to get that leg looked at immediately,” he said, averting his eyes slightly, the tips of his ears pink. But that’s probably due to the exploding building, you reminded yourself.

As soon as he said it, the pain in your leg shot to the front of your brain, and you looked down to find a long, bleeding gash along the front of your ankle. You tried to move it and a startled, pained cry left your mouth.

Steve flinched at the sound, before quickly scooping you up, one arm under your knees and the other under your shoulder. You moaned in pain as he got to his feet.

“Your shield,” you said weakly as he started walking towards the compound again.

“It’s not important,” he said without a beat, catching your eyes in an intense look that had your heart fluttering.

You later found out Bruce Banner’s Hulk had caught him off guard as he’d worked in the lab two stories under the gym, which had led to the entire wing of recruit lodgings collapsing. There had been no casualties, though, miraculously - you and Steve being the closest.

Again he had saved your life, ridiculously risking his own in the process. You had thanked him over and over as they wheeled you into surgery, grabbing his hand and kissing it like he had yours, hoping he understood how grateful you were.

Your friends giggled as they huddled around your hospital bed. It was your eighth day in the med bay.

“You know he came straight to our room, right?” Helena said, giving you a giddy smirk.

“Oh come on, he was certainly checking on everybody,” you dismissed.

“No no, Dean said he saw him sprinting up the hall, barely even telling people to get out before he reached our room,” Sandy corrected, and the girls giggled again.

You were blushing profusely, trying so hard to fight the thought that Captain America, Steve Rogers had come specifically to check on you once there was danger. You were kind of a special protegé, as you’d earned the privilege of sparring with him one on one, but he had been nothing but professional towards you. Suffice to say, you didn’t feel like that justified him coming for you and only you in times of danger.

“Yeah, and I saw how he threw himself down that hole to you. Like nothing else mattered,” Cindy added dramatically.

“You guys, stop it, now you’re just hyping the story up to something it wasn’t,” you tried, but you were giggling with them. “Our room was at the end of the hall, closest to the lab. He probably just figured that was the part that would collapse first,” you added, forcing yourself to believe it.

“Oh well, I don’t know, he’s been here every day since you were admitted, right?” Sandy pushed, and now you were the one giggling, glancing at the flowers in the corner that he’d brought you the day before.

“Yes,” you admitted, “so you better scatter, for he usually comes around this time,” you told them pointedly, swatting Helena’s ass.

They kissed you on the cheek before skipping from the room, but you heard them greet “Captain” up the hallway.

Your heart fluttered as Steve Rogers appeared around the corner, smiling fondly as he let himself in.

Part 3

The music was loud, the room cheery and filled with talk and laughter.

Your recruitment was finally over, and you were officially agents-in-training, which was cause for a huge, fucking party.

Everyone was there, including several members of the Avengers. Natasha was sipping on a beer in the corner, surrounded by a crowd listening intently to a story she was telling.

Sam was playing pool across the room, crushing every guy that tried him on.

But most importantly, Steve was there, wearing a ridiculously gorgeous blue button up, the two buttons on the top undone, making your mind raise with promiscuity. You had finally bitten the bullet and admitted your feelings. To yourself, that was, and no one else.

Your eyes met three times over the crowd before he finally came over.

“Good evening,” he greeted you cheerfully.

“Hi,” you answered, suddenly all hot and bothered.

“Great party,” he said as he took a stand next to you, looking out on the sea of happy partiers, drunk off their asses.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re here. Isn’t Golden Girls having a rerun tonight?” you teased.

He looked at you with playful annoyance.

“Yeah, and I suppose it’s past your bedtime, young lady,” he answered and you threw your head back in a surprised laughter, not expecting him to banter back.

He was looking at you with a fond smile when your laughter turned to a giggle. A moment passed as you looked at each other, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze.

“Did you get my flowers?” he asked then, and you blushed at his abruptness. You’d been nervous about bringing it up.

“Yeah, and you really don’t need to keep sending those. It’s been a while since I got out from the med bay now,” you said, trying not to reveal how flustered you were.

“I know, I know. I just seem to keep getting you in trouble,” he said, looking down at the beer in his hand.

“Steve, you’re the one who’s always saving me from trouble,” you said, putting your hand on his wrist to catch his attention again, “I hope you know how grateful I am,” you added, trying to convey how genuine you were.

His eyes met yours with such emotion, your breath caught in your throat. The room suddenly felt empty, the music fading to a lull.

You swore he inclined his head slightly before you abruptly removed your hand, straightening yourself. He snapped back to himself, clearing his throat awkwardly before looking around. You did as well, relieved when you saw no eyes on you. You did miss Natasha's knowing eyes peek at the two of you from the corner of the room.

“Excuse me,” you murmured as you stepped away, flustered, your heart hammering in your chest.

You found the balcony out from the party empty, the cold autumn air cooling your suddenly flushed skin.

Was he about to kiss you?!

You stood by the railing, enjoying the fresh air when you heard someone come out on the balcony. Your heart skipped a beat.

“What do we have here?” a slurring voice shouted, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head when you realized it was Jason, a fellow recruit from your year; mediocre fighter, arrogant asshat.

“And how are you tonight, Jason?” you asked, not bothering to mask your annoyance at his presence.

“Checking out the meat, sweetcheeks,” he answered, smugness dripping from his voice.

Before you managed to turn around and give him your best death stare, a hand reached up your bare thigh, pushing the flimsy black fabric of your minidress up. You yelped and spun around, smacking his hand away.

“Oh, don’t be like that, pretty girl. I know you were checking me out earlier,” he said, pouting sarcastically as he moved to pin you against the railing.

You squirmed at his intrusion into your personal space, mild shock settling like a sting in your chest. His breath stunk of booze, the rest of him of sweat and a nauseating amount of body spray.

“Jason, back off. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’m not interested,” you tried to tell him authoritatively, but you sounded so small. This had never happened to you before, and your head swam with thoughts about what you should do.

“Then why are you looking so sexy tonight, teasing me in this little dress,” he said with a sneer, ignoring your discomfort completely.

You were about to lash out when a hand on his shoulder had him pausing, his hands trying to pull yours away from where they were covering your chest.

“She said back off,” you heard Steve say, and the tone of his voice told you he wasn’t pleased.

Jason chuckled bitterly, turning on stumbling feet to look up at Steve, towering above him with a scowl on his face. His expression sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had never seen him this angry before.

“Why don’t you back off and let a brother get some,” Jason answered, seemingly stupidly unaware of the deathly aura emitting from Steve’s looming form.

“I’m only going to say this once: Get lost or you’re out,” Steve said, stare cold as ice, tone dead serious.

Jason seemed to get it then, and with a pathetic huff, he scurried away.

“Whatever,” you heard him mutter as he entered the party again. A few eyes from inside were on you, paying attention to the perceived standoff happening between a simple recruit and THE Captain America. Over you.

You released the breath you were holding as soon as the door slid closed behind Jason, and Steve’s expression softened to one of mild concern.

“You okay?” he asked, and you could barely look in his eyes as you collected yourself.

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve. I could have taken him though,” you tried to lie. Steve let you keep the lie.

“I don’t doubt it, but somehow it didn’t feel right that you should,” he said gravely.

“Maybe, but that’s life,” you stated.

“Well, not when I’m around,” he answered after a moment, and you lifted your eyes to his. They shone with something akin to protection, and you felt warm again under his gaze.

“You wanna get back to the party?” he asked, breaking the building tension. The air seemed so intense between you two tonight, sizzling with something new.

“No, actually, I think I wanna turn in. Kinda tired,” you excused, but really you were burning inside from a new found hunger for Steve you knew you couldn’t keep in check much longer.

He nodded, biting his lip slightly.

“Walk you back to your room? I don't like the way Jason looked at you,” he said, voice heavy with suspicion, and before you could think, you nodded.

You were sort of panicking as you trekked the empty hallways together. Everyone had seen you leave together, and you were sweating bullets as you walked in silence, Steve’s broad figure a sizzling presence to your left.

He kept the smalltalk sweet and light, and you knew you were being irrationally nervous.

Outside your new dormroom, the tension grew thick again.

You bit your lip, looking up at Steve as he bid you goodnight with a charming smile.

“Eh, Steve,” you called out as he turned to walk away.

He turned back with a quizzical look.

You stepped up to him, and he seemed acutely aware of your presence as you came close, your hands landing tentatively on his forearms as they hung at his side.

“What’re you…?” he started, but trailed off when he looked into your eyes.

You inclined your head slightly, not even knowing what you were doing anymore.

He inclined his head just the tiniest bit in response, and then you were both leaning in.

Your lips met in a gentle, tiny kiss, your eyes falling shut as the breath was stolen from your lungs.

He was actually kissing you.

Slowly, so slowly, his hands reached up to cup your face, and then we was deepening the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

A small sound escaped you as his tongue swept into your mouth, mingling eagerly with your own. He pulled his lips away suddenly, but kept your face in his hands as his eyes scanned yours.

“Is this alright?” he asked intently, but he was panting, and his eyes were blown so far there was only a small rim of light blue around the pools of black.

“Yes. God, Steve, yes,” you panted, hands coming up to clutch the shirt on either side of his torso, twisting the fabric with desperate hands. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” you added despite embarrassment burning on your face at the confession.

“Glad I’m not the only one,” he chuckled against your lips.

He was back on you in a split second, and you stumbled into your room in a fierce liplock. You suddenly remembered what a mess you’d left your room in earlier as you’d tried on everything you owned before the party. Plus, you still lived with four other girls, but they were thankfully still at the party, and judging by your knowledge of them, they probably would be for hours still.

You straddled Steve’s lap hurriedly when you’d led him to your bed, and he kissed his way down your neck as you fumbled to undo his shirt, longing for his bare skin. The last time you’d felt it, a building had fallen on your ass, so you hadn’t really taken the time to relish it, though it had been at the back of your mind ever since.

He fucked you sweetly that night, and then roughly, and then sweetly again as you took a shower, going down on you as he knelt between your legs.

You’d never felt such pleasure before, Steve plucking orgasm after orgasm from your body with deft fingers and a wicked tongue, before his honest to god thick as fuck cock fucked you raw. He sounded like a god when he groaned his release. You were sprawled out limp on the bed by the time he pulled his clothes back on with a quirk in his step, looking at his watch a bit nervously.

“Should probably get out of your hair before your girlfriends return,” he said, bending over your spent form, giving you a sweet peck on the lips. You gripped his hand as he straightened, and pulled him down again to devour his lips with your own possessively. He hummed appreciatively in response.

“What if I told you I never want you to leave?” you asked against his lips, knowing you were pushing your luck.

“Then your poor friends would never get any sleep, and neither would you, missy,” he said matter-of-factly, booping your nose with his finger as he tore himself from your grip. Your core clenched at the notion.

Then he looked at you, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain.

“What?” you asked.

He glanced at the door before he sat on the edge of the bed, a hand coming up to lovingly stroke your cheek. You hummed at the touch.

“Are you sure about this? It isn’t forbidden, so we won’t get in trouble. But I’m afraid the rumours can be pretty bad around here. It won’t exactly be easy,” he said mournfully, and you knew he expected a rejection.

You sat up and grabbed his hand in yours.

“Fuck what anybody else says. I’m sure, Steve. I adore you, and I want you by my side from this day on,” you said. The shining, relieved devotion in Steve’s eyes was all you needed to be sure of your choice. Not that there ever was a choice.

You’d go to the ends of the earth for the man.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, and you peeked over at it.

“Coming back now. You better get loverboy outta there ;)” the text message from Helena read. The girls were gonna have a field day with this.

“Except for now. The girls are coming back, you better go,” you said as you pecked him once on the lips before pushing him off the bed.

He huffed an amused laughter, looking back over his shoulder one last time as he slipped from the room.

Part 4

“Hey, what did you just say?” you called out at him as he sauntered away.

“Y/N, don’t, it’s not worth it,” Steve said tiredly, trying with a gentle arm to turn you away.

You swatted softly at his hand and looked in his eyes. You were fuming, and his grave expression only fueled your fury. You could see Jason’s words had gotten to him, and that made you see red.

“Steve, I won’t let him talk to you that way,” you said lowly before taking a few steps forward.

“Why don’t you repeat yourself, Jason. We all know how much you like to hear yourself talk,” you called at him. He paused. Of course he would, you knew which buttons to push.

There had gathered a crowd around you now, mostly recruits from your own year, but also some from the year below, plus an odd officer here and there. In the far distance you spotted Natasha Romanoff sipping on a coffee mug as she leaned on a pillar.

He turned around with that ugly smirk. “I’m not sure you can handle it, Y/N,” he called back.

“No, come on, I wanna hear you say it again.“

He started sauntering back, arrogant ass fuming with cockiness.

“I said; the old man goes for the recruit. That’s what happens when the only pussy he could get is a hundred years old and dead,” he repeated, puncturing every word with a tone he would use for a child, seething with his arrogance.

“I’d rather have an old man than a boy, Jason. Funny how you come down on Captain Rogers when you haven’t gotten laid one, single time since we started. How many of us are there? 3000? Well, it does make sense, I mean, look at you,” you said, hearing the crowd around you gasp and “oooh” quietly.

Oh, you were just getting started.

A flicker of self-doubt flashed behind his eyes and you revelled, adrenaline flooding your system. In truth, Jason was a pretty easy target. Just tackle his weak masculinity and give him a taste of his own medicine, and he would crumble easily.

“But that’s not why no one likes you, Jason. It’s because you act like a child. A child who hasn’t gotten his candy, and is throwing a tantrum in the grocery store for everyone to see. And it’s not that we don’t feel bad for you either, Jason. We pity you in fact, as we witness you embarrassing yourself and your mother,” you stated calm and slow, walking up to him, standing a few inches away now.

He tried to speak up, but you easily interrupted him.

“And I get it, it must feel kinda bad to realise no one respects you. Not your peers, not your superiors, not even those inferior to you. Because we all see through this display for failing masculinity,” you continued, gesturing to him vaguely.

He was about a foot taller than you, but had steadily shrunk in on himself as a mortified panic settled in his eyes, fists clenching at his side.

You stepped to the side and stretched out an arm towards Steve, who stood where you’d left him, brows furrowed, arms crossed over his chest, a neutral expression of his face.

“That is a man, Jason, and quite frankly, the opposite of everything you are. Now I know you suffer from the extreme lack of balls, but I actually had no idea you lacked brains also. Because if you had the cognitive ability above a fucking cockroach, you would see that man as the ally and mentor he so gladly offers to be - not that you deserve it - and you wouldn’t be in this situation.” You patted his shoulder twice with your hand before stepping away.

Your senses tingled suddenly, and you dodged the swing of his arm as it came from the left. The crowd around you gasped.

Oh no, he didn’t. Did he really think he could take you on after having trained personally with Captain fucking America? He wouldn't catch you off guard again…

You spun around, dodged his right arm, and gave him a clear slap across the cheek with a flat hand. The smack was crisp, making the crowd around you draw in a collective breath. He grunted and swung again, keeping up the same, predictable move. You dodged easily, spun around him and gave him another slap, this time on his ass. The crowd laughed. He gave a pathetic roar before spinning and lunging on you. You bowed and flipped him easily using your back, and he landed with a hard dunk on the concrete floor of the hallway. Getting up to his knees, you gave him a closed fist punch across the face for your own enjoyment (you knew Steve would reprimand you later for being unnecessarily callous).

That’ll do it for now, you thought as you quickly immobilized him by tripping him over on his stomach on the floor, straddling his ass and pinning his arms on his back. He groaned in frustration as you kept him in the tight grip, not relenting. The crowd around you cheered, and peering over your shoulder you could see the clear amusement shining in Steve’s eyes, along with his pride. You almost giggled.

Bending down, you whispered in Jason's ear.

“Cause if you keep up this little class-act caveman thing, this is all you’re gonna see for the rest of your life. Disgust on the faces of the women in your life, and pity on the men’s. Now kindly fuck off, Jason, I’m tired of looking at your face.”

You let him go and he grunted weakly at you.

Deciding this was your mic drop, you returned to Steve and you fell into step as you resumed your walk up the hallway. Steve let you lead in your victory as the crowd kept cheering loudly behind you. It was exhilarating, but what felt best was knowing you had defended Steve for once.

As you rounded the corner at the other end, Steve abruptly and quickly pushed you up against the wall, his mouth attacking yours. You yelped into his mouth, but melted into his body as it pinned you to the wall. He pushed his thigh between yours and you felt the rock hard bulge in his pants press against your belly. He was frantic as his hands roamed your body, possessive and hungry.

You broke the kiss in amazement, seeing his lust blown eyes.

“Did you like that?” you asked, and you knew you had the most doofy smile on your face.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, panting a bit from his kiss. “I had to fight myself to not take you then and there, God, you’re so fucking sexy when you’re fiesty,” he said, admiration and lust clear in his voice and you bit your lip as his words sent sharp sparks of arousal down below.

“You know I was right. He’s a man-child, and a dick, and has nothing on you,” you said, needing to know Steve wouldn’t take what he said to heart.

“I mean, there’s a reason I didn’t break it off. The guy has had it coming for a long time, I’m just glad I got to watch,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him, still pinned between his body and the wall, your hands running up his back.

“And because it was me, right?” you asked teasingly, a hand coming down to cup the prominent tent in his pants.

“Yes, but strictly for pedagogical reasons. I needed to see if you’ve mastered the tricks I’ve taught you,” he said, trying to be nonchalant and failing as the last words ended in a groan. You were moving your hand steadily over the bulge now, eliciting soft pants from the man.

“I want your feedback on some tricks in the bedroom, Captain Rogers. Could you oblige me?” you asked, giving his chin a lithe kiss.

He groaned deep in his chest, and for a split second you actually got nervous someone would find you if he kept those noises up.

“Lead the way,” he whispered against your lips.

You did, almost running.

Author’s note: God, this one cheers me up. It was exhilarating to be able to live out my childhood dream of beating up bullies through this text lmao. Sorry if your name’s Jason lol<3

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x Y/N #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

Bar Fight Wedding {Fensterin}

Happy birthday, @the-regal-warrior! This Fenrys x Asterin fluff is for you. I hope your day was as lovely and fabulous as you are. Love you tons.

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Fenrys looked in the rearview mirror of his old, beat up truck and sighed. There was no way he was hiding his swollen, split lip from his fiance.

It wasn’t that he had done anything too crazy. At least, not too crazy for a bachelor party.

He blamed it on his friends.

They were the ones who had planned the entire evening, considering Fenrys was getting married in a week. Asterin’s girls weren’t taking her out until the night before the wedding, but, thinking that Rowan, Lorcan, Vaughan, Gavriel, and Connall would take Fenrys to do something stupid that involved ridiculous amounts of alcohol, Asterin had asked them to make their big boy’s night out at least a week before the wedding.

She had been right, of course.

It was a good move.

Considering it was nearly four in the morning and Fenrys looked like he got hit by a truck, there was no way he could get married the next day.

Hopefully, in the next week, Fenrys would no longer look like he’d gotten in a fight with a grizzly bear.

Which he nearly had been. At least, that’s what it felt like.

At least he wasn’t drunk, though.

He’d had a few drinks, but kept himself in check, which is more than he could say for some of his friends.

Rowan would be getting his ass kicked when he got home, without a doubt. He looked ridiculous. He'd gotten so drunk that he’d lost his shirt at some point during the night and went home without it, and only one shoe.

That part was Fenrys, though.

He had stolen Rowan’s other shoe while he was knocked out cold in the back seat and hid it, just because it amused him greatly.

Lorcan was the worst, though.

He hadn’t even made it out of the bar before he had passed out, and the others had to lug him to the car. Gavriel had brought him home, and he had sent out a text not long ago that read, Elide laughed so hard that she started to cry. I think it was the sharpie mustache that got her.

Another reason why Fenrys was happy his wedding was still a week away - Lorcan’s sharpie mustache, courtesy of Vaughan, would not have looked good in the pictures.

As for Fenrys’ swollen, split-lip and bruised cheekbone, alcohol had nothing to do with it.

No, his idiot friends had taken him to an ax-throwing bar. Which, he thought, would be fun as hell. He’d never been, had always wanted to go, and was pumped as he walked through the doors.

Until his friends entered him in an ax throwing contest.

Until he won, and the second runner up, who was a little drunk himself, decided that he did not like to lose.

Which is how Fenrys ended up getting into a fight, in a bar that also involved axes.

He supposed it could’ve gone worse.

At least he didn’t get an ax thrown at him.

Fenrys looked back in the rearview mirror and shook his head. “Maybe she’ll be asleep,” he muttered, turned off the light in his truck, and hopped out, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. After walking up the drive, he unlocked the front door, and took his time closing it with a quiet click.

He paused, waited to see if he heard anything, and continued on. All of the lights were off, and even the television in their bedroom was off, too, it seemed. Fenrys walked up the stairs and down to the end of the hall, where their bedroom door was cracked.

He peeked inside and swore under his breath.

Asterin’s head jerked up, but Fenrys was backing away, across the hall, into the bathroom.

“Fen?” she called.

“Hey!” he said, shutting himself inside of the bathroom. He flipped on the lights and cringed. He looked even worse in the full light.

On top of his swollen, split lip and bruised cheekbone, there was a cut on his eyebrow and his eye was slightly swollen. Considering his entire head hurt like shit, it had been difficult to tell where all the pain had been coming from.

Now, he looked even worse than he had thought.

He pulled a washcloth out of the cabinet and got it wet before wiping down his face. It did no good.

“I thought you’d be sleeping,” Fenrys said, through the door.

“Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were home safe,” she said. “Reading.”

Fenrys made a muffled sound of understanding. “Why don’t you turn off the lights and I’ll be there in a second?”

There was a pause. “Did you just tell me to turn off the lights?”

“Yeah, we’re going to bed, lights off,” he said, turning off the bathroom lights before opening the door.

Asterin was not turning off the lights. Instead, she was sitting in the middle of their bed, her eyes on Fenrys as he crossed the threshold. Her arms were crossed, and the lamp by her bed was very much still on.

Fenrys cleared his throat. “Time for bed?”

“Come closer,” she said.

“I’m tired-.”

“Into the light, Fen,” she said, her pointer finger up, motioning him forward.

Fenrys pursed his lips. “Is that my shirt?”

Asterin looked down at the old t-shirt she wore. “Pretty sure this is our shir- wait, you’re changing the subject. Into the light.”

With a sigh, Fenrys stepped forward. As soon as he came into the light, Asterin’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

“There was a….bar fight.” He mumbled the last two words, and Asterin’s brows rose.

“Sorry,” she said. “What was that?

“I got into a bar fight,” he said, plopping onto the bed. “They brought me to an ax bar, I won a tournament, some sore loser jackass was pissed that he lost and picked a fight. I...stood up for myself.”

Asterin blinked. “Fenrys. We get married in six days-.”

“It’ll heal before then,” he interrupted.

“You look like you got trampled by a herd of angry hyenas!”

Fenrys blinked. “Hyenas? That was the best you could come up with?”

“They’re vicious,” Asterin snapped. “Haven’t you ever watched The Lion King?”

“Yeah, I have, and I’m pretty sure Mufasa’s death didn’t happen because he was trampled by hyenas,” Fenrys shot back.

Asterin was rubbing her temples. “Be serious, Fenrys, you look-.”

“Handsome?” he finished.

“Like shit,” Asterin said. “Handsome, but like shit.”

“It’s not that big of a deal-.”

“You got in a bar fight,” Asterin said, shaking her head. “Fen, our wedding pictures are going to be all we have from our wedding-.”

“And they’re going to look incredible,” Fenrys promised, tugging on the hem of her shirt - his shirt - until she was straddling his waist. He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her, softly. He tried not to wince, thanks to his split lip, but held onto control until Asterin pulled back. “What’re you really worried about?”

“What do you mean?” Asterin asked, quietly. “Fenrys, you got into a bar fight-.”

“And I’m fine,” he said, chuckling. “You’re awake at almost four in the morning a week before our wedding.” He nodded to her nightstand. “That’s your wedding planner. You’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” she protested.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Fenrys asked, suddenly alarmed.

“What?” she asked, taken aback. “No! No, I just...there’s so much left to do, yet, and so little time. And now you look like a human punching bag.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Your lip is bleeding, Fen,” she said, sighing.

With a groan, Fenrys rolled them over, and he was suddenly on top. “I’m fine,” he promised. “I know the wedding is a lot to handle, but it’s almost done with.”

Asterin snorted. “It’s almost done with? How romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” Fenrys said, kissing her nose. “Why don’t we sneak down to the courthouse tomorrow and forget about the wedding?”

It was a joke, and Asterin knew that, but a small smile appeared on her lips. “Okay.”

Fenrys stilled. “Sorry, what?”

“Let’s do it,” Asterin said. “You, me, and the courthouse. Let’s do it.”

“I repeat....,” Fenrys began. “What?”

She took his face into her hands and shook her head, slowly. “I’m so stressed about this wedding, Fen. Let’s get married, have the perfect day doing whatever the hell we want, and the wedding will just be for...everyone else. All pressure is off of us.”

Fenrys watched her for a long moment before saying, “You’re serious.”

She nodded. “I’ve never been more serious in my entire life.”

He pursed his lips. “But, look at my face, I don’t know if the photographer at the courthouse will approve-.”

She nudged him in the shoulder and laughed. “Shut up.”

Fenrys’ grin was contagious. “You tell me when and where I can make you my wife, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.��

Asterin’s eyes softened as she leaned up and met Fenrys’ lips with her own.

The next morning, they would go down to the courthouse, only telling their closest of friends - even though half of Fenrys’ would be hungover as shit.

Manon would take the photos of the entire event, with Asterin in a little white sundress and Fenrys with his busted lip and swollen eye.

Even so, it would be the most magical and memorable day of their entire lives.

The day that they finally became man and wife.

With absolutely no stress at all.

#the alyssa tag #fensterin #fenrys #asterin #tog #fanfic #oneshot #drabble #HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALYSSA

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lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 2: Della [ao3 link]

She didn’t trust the lady. Not for one second. Not for one teeny tiny eenie meenie little extra small second!

Not when Uncle Scrooge would always come home looking like he wanted to cry or scream and he’d mutter Goldie’s name under his breath and then lock himself in his room for the rest of the day. Visiting him was supposed to be exciting and cool and fun and if they had the terrible timing of coming by right after Goldie, then the trip was basically pointless.

Not that she wasn’t also sad to see her uncle sad! That also sucked a lot.

Last time they’d seen Goldie, she’d stolen their map and left them behind in some woods in the middle of Iraq. Sure, she’d oddly left them a clue to help get into the ziggurat safely, but that didn’t make up for the betrayal of stealing their stuff! And Donald was so sour about it for days and days. He really thought it was his fault, as if Miss O’Gilt wasn’t always stealing and leaving. It was pretty much her whole thing.

She tried to convince him that but he just grumbled and sighed about it. He was really hung up on how he called her “Aunt Goldie” when she’d told him not to. So what? They always did things adults told them not to do. It didn’t usually make them run away like little babies. And Della was confident that that wasn’t the reason why Goldie left them behind - not like the lady needed a reason, she clearly just did it for fun - so she knew she’d have to convince Donald of that so he’d stop being so mopey.

Conveniently, Goldie visited the manor again only a few months later. They were at the dinner table with Duckworth when they heard a suspicious sound coming from upstairs. Uncle Scrooge and Duckworth made eye contact and then started walking towards the stairs, so Della and Donald followed out of curiosity.

As they reached the source of the sound, which started as some kind of stomping but had turned into maybe a sliding? And Della could’ve sworn she heard a groan? Anyway, Duckworth opened the door and Uncle Scrooge peeked into the room for a half-second before suddenly shouting “GOLDIE?!” and running in.

Duckworth followed him, but Donald and Della stayed at the door and just looked inside. They could see Goldie was on the floor and Scrooge was some mixture of tending to her and yelling at her because, and Della wasn’t yet an expert on this but she’d had some experiences, there was definitely a pool of blood underneath her. Goldie muttered something and Scrooge muttered something back but neither she nor Donald could understand what they were talking about.

The twins made eye contact, silently agreeing to head inside, when Duckworth suddenly exited the room and closed the door behind him, leaving them out.

“You two should go finish your dinner.”

“What? But what about…” Della motioned towards the door.

“Ah, he’s right, Della,” Donald muttered softly, accepting defeat too easily for Della’s liking. “It’s not like we can help.” He started to walk away, looking just as bummed as he had been for the past few weeks.

Della pouted and thought about how she was hoping to improve Donald’s mood when Goldie returned, but of course the old lady had to make it more complicated than it needed to be. As Duckworth gently pushed them towards the stairs, she turned her head and looked up at him. “Is Aunt Goldie okay?”

Duckworth raised an eyebrow at her and decided not to comment on the name. “Goldie O’Gilt is harder to kill than a cockroach. She’ll be just fine.”

The kids chuckled at his comparison and rushed back down to eat. As soon as the kids were gone, Duckworth sighed and walked towards the bathroom, knowing he could find one of their First Aid kits in there.

The rest of their meal was quick, both kids just wanted to finish so they could go back upstairs and find out what happened to Goldie.

“I’ll bet she was fighting a sea serpent over a single gold doubloon and it just completely tore her arm off!”

“No way! She probably got into a back alley knife fight when she tried to rob a guy that was too tough to rob.”

“Oooh, or maybe she was making her way through an ancient tomb when all the traps went off and she’s just got a ton of arrows poking out of her, leaking her blood all over the floor and the side of the mansion while she climbed up the wall!”

“Ew, Dumbella! That’s so gross!”

“How is that grosser than her arm getting torn off?!”

“I dunno, it just is!”

They argued over Goldie’s potential source of injury for a few minutes as they finished their food. As they agreed to head upstairs, Uncle Scrooge came down and plopped himself and his cane right in the entranceway so they couldn’t leave.

“Kids. I’m sure you saw that Goldie’s here.”

“Yeah, kinda hard to miss,” Della said with an eyeroll. “Did she steal anything from you yet?”

Scrooge blew out some air and tapped his fingers at the top of his cane. “Not yet. And yes, she probably will. But...it might be a few days.”

Donald and Della looked at each other incredulously. “Days? Like...more than one?”

“Probably at least a week.”

“Wait, what?” Donald stepped towards his uncle, looking concerned. “Is she, like...actually really badly hurt? What happened?”

Scrooge looked up towards the second floor when he thought he heard a noise before sighing and looking back down at the kids. “She hasn’t given me all the details, but she’s...she’s not in the best shape. She’ll need a few days to recover.”

Della was already thinking back to her guesses for Goldie’s injuries. She’d been kidding before, but maybe she wasn’t too far off?

“You two don’t need to do anything, Duckworth and I can take care of her just fine,” Scrooge said softly. “But we might need to postpone our trip to Svalbard until she’s better.”

“Boo!” Della whined. “Aunt Goldie ruins yet another adventure! Can’t we just leave her here with Duckworth?”

Scrooge’s eyes widened and he sputtered a bit at her words. “I-I, um...no, she’s...what?”

“C’mon, Della, it’s just another week,” Donald commented, not noticing his uncle’s discomfort. “Uncle Scrooge probably wants to make sure she doesn’t steal anything while we’re gone.”

“Um...right,” Scrooge muttered, still not over what he just heard. He remembered Donald referring to her as ‘aunt’ the last time they’d seen her, but he kind of thought that was just an odd little one-time thing. Now if Della started doing it, too, then he didn’t know how to handle that. Goldie would absolutely lose her mind if she found out. “You two shouldn’t bother her so just stay away from the guest room two doors down from mine.”

The kids shared a look before looking back up at their uncle simultaneously. “Okay, Uncle Scrooge!”

As Scrooge nodded and walked away, seemingly headed towards his office, Della and Donald quickly rushed towards the stairs so they could go bother their new houseguest.

They peeked into the room together and saw the mess of blonde hair strewn across the pillows. Goldie definitely looked like she was asleep, which was very disappointing, but they decided to walk into the room anyway and see if she was just faking.

She didn’t react to them coming closer. Della leaned towards her brother and whispered, “She’s sneaky and sharp, right? So she probably knows we’re here even if she’s asleep!”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Donald whispered back. “Look at her arm! She’s probably just really tired and hurt.”

Della followed his pointer finger and saw that there were bandages all over Goldie’s right arm - from her wrist up past her elbow. Clearly she’d been pretty badly hurt from something and Della desperately wanted to know what it was. She took a deep breath and walked the rest of the way towards her bed, ignoring Donald’s shocked protest behind her.

“...are you awake?” Della asked quietly, not sure how she should approach this.

Goldie didn’t respond, which just made Della pout.

“Aunt Goldie!” she said suddenly, at slightly-higher-than-normal volume. “What happened to your arm?!”

That time, Goldie’s eyes were wide open, but she was simply staring up at the ceiling and taking deep breaths. Donald noticed and joined his sister at the older woman’s bedside.

Another few seconds passed and Goldie closed her eyes again. Della wondered if she thought they were just a nightmare she was having. Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Aunt Gooooldie!” Della smacked her little hands against the top of the bed. “Did you get bitten by a shark? Or stabbed by a guy on the street? Or shot by a laser?”

“Or did you fall from a tower in the sky and land on your arm and it got all gross and beat up?” Donald added, feeling his sister’s contagious enthusiasm.

Goldie groaned and opened her eyes again, clearly wishing the kids weren’t really there. “Is there any way for me to get you two to go away?”

They just smiled at her innocently.

“...if I tell you what happened, will you let me sleep in peace?”

This time they nodded, completely in-sync. Goldie would��ve felt a little creeped out if she wasn’t used to them mirroring one another.

She turned back towards the ceiling and sighed. “I got burned. Badly.”

“Burned?” Della and Donald said together. Neither of them expected that. “Then what was with all the blood?”

“I wasn’t careful enough on my way here,” she said casually. “Burns got scratched up, started to bleed. Hurt like hell.”

Della climbed onto the bed, plopping herself down far enough from Goldie that the bed didn’t shake but close enough to get a better look at the bandages. They were definitely a little red and her arm looked inflamed. “So how’d you get burned? A dragon?”

Donald leaned onto the bed. “A flamethrower?”

“It was some kind of magic.”

“Oohh,” Della crooned. “Did you meet Magica De Spell? Uncle Scrooge complains about her sometimes.”

“She sounds scary.”

Goldie closed her eyes for a second before looking over at the kids. “It wasn’t my first time crossing paths with her, but yes. She had some stupid fancy magical artifact with her and caught me off guard and now I’m stuck here ‘til I can remember if that healing spring was in Caladrion or some other dimension that starts with C!” She started to move her arm and then hissed in pain before setting it back down. “I’ve got enough vicodin in my system to keep me from remembering the name but not enough to stop my arm from hurting. Great.”

Della and Donald looked at each other again. “...Aunt Goldie?”

“Please for the love of God, stop calling me that,” Goldie groaned, closing her eyes once again. “What do you want now?”

Donald took his sister’s hand and tugged her off the bed. “Do you want any tea or anything?”

Goldie froze momentarily before turning to look at the kids again, seeing surprisingly innocent looks on their faces. She almost felt bad for snapping, but god was she tired. “...no. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Donald said quietly. “We’ll leave you alone now. Right, Della?”

Della nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sleep tight, Aunt Goldie!”

They headed out the door as Goldie groaned one last time and tried to get back to sleep. Donald shut the door behind them and glared at his sister. “She said to stop calling her that!”

“Yeah, but I wanted to get a reaction outta her!” Della responded, putting her hands on her hips. “You said it made her run away last time, but this time she’s still here!”

“She doesn’t exactly have a choice,” Donald muttered, crossed his arms over his chest. “I bet she’d be running if she could!”

“Nah-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Nah-”

“Della, Donald.”

The twins turned to see Duckworth standing at the end of the hallway, giving them a suspicious stare.

“Miss O’Gilt is trying to get some sleep so she can recover faster. Perhaps the two of you could continue this argument somewhere else?”

The kids nodded sheepishly and rushed past Duckworth on their way to another room to argue and play in. Duckworth watched them over his shoulder for a few moments before turning back towards the room that housed their current uninvited guest. He thought back to the last time Goldie O’Gilt had stayed in the mansion and how Mr. McDuck’s mood was lifted and then subsequently crushed when she inevitably left in the middle of the night.

Though he thought this time would probably be no different, having the kids around would make her stay a bit more interesting, he was sure of that.

#ducktales #goldie o'gilt #della duck #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #duckworth #scroldie #fic #fics #not your aunt

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

lost in the echo

A/N: this was supposed to be posted some time later before the actual release of Rule of Wolves, but it’s been released early so :>

or me just finding an excuse to write demon Nik going feral after seeing Zoya hurt :>

Word count: 3591

The King continues to fight his battle with his own demon. After seeing his General hurt in the war that they had fought tooth and nail for, Nikolai is one step closer to letting the darkness consume him.

Pain.

It was something that Nikolai knew so well and yet he could never get used to it. Whether it was entirely physical or emotional, it was always there, lurking and lingering like his own shadow.

Why?

The question came to his mind as another shout tore from his throat. It sounded almost like a wail, a desperate call for help. For himself? For his people? For everyone else that died in every war the country had been under for centuries?

For Ravka?

A head-splitting ache hit him, and he doubled over. He held onto the feeling, that one fleeting moment he felt the ground under his hands, before he was back to trying to regain control again. But despite the war for control in his mind, he realized that for once, there was one thing he and the demon shared the same sentiment—revenge.

For what?

Images flashed in his eyes. A shade of blue rushing towards him. A crack of gunshot. Blood. The excruciating pain in his chest.

Then nothing.

You cannot even protect and save her, young king.

There was another piercing pain in his chest, and this time, it felt like his heart was being torn out from his chest as he remembered looking at Zoya’s frail, bleeding form in his arms—

Zoya? Did something happen to her?

At that, the demon pushed back for control. The urge—the need—to destroy everything in his path was suddenly stronger than his will to get back to himself. Fury was the only thing driving him forward. Nothing else mattered.

Yield, demon king, there's nothing else you can do for her, the monster said. Let the darkness come and take over.

Nikolai closed his eyes and calmed.

Let go.

He felt the monster’s claws on his shoulders, its grip tightening as the shadows slowly shrouded him in a veil of hushed whispers and angry voices. It felt almost natural, like welcoming a long lost friend after being apart for so long. Because in reality, he never really got free from the darkness the Darkling inflicted upon him; it chose the right time to let itself show again, when he was backed in a corner without any means of escape aside from accepting the demon that lurked within his heart.

Perhaps it was the main reason why it never left him, so he would have a last resort to turn to when things left him with no other choice.

All else faded to a blur, and then to darkness, his thoughts flitting away as if they were mere leaves easily carried by the winds until there was nothing left other than rage.

Talons extended from his scarred hands again, followed by the sound of an inhuman growl coming out from his lips. His wings burst from his back, and he braced his feet on the ground to launch himself in the air—

Giving up so easily, King Wretch?

He froze. That voice—it sounded so familiar. Where had he heard it? He was sure he knew it.

A heavy feeling stirred in his chest, the nagging sensation of something begging to be released, to be free. He held on to that, a small speck of light amidst the endless darkness. For a moment, his mind quieted. Even the demon stayed silent, lurking. Listening.

It came again shortly after. This is not who you are.

But who was he? The nagging feeling became heavier and stronger as if something was forcing its way out and trying to escape whatever confines caged it down.

An irritated hiss escaped his mouth. It had come from the demon, the sound coming out like it was in pain. The question still lingered in his mind. Who was he?

The claws around his shoulders loosened, the shadows started to dissipate. He could still feel the monster reach out for them, but this time, he himself was holding back.

Who was he?

Come back to me, Nikolai.

Then there was like the sound of a glass shattering, and everything came rushing back to him.

Nikolai opened his eyes and fought back.

As he had expected, the monster tried to pull him back, its grip on him becoming much stronger than before. Still fighting the losing battle, young king?

He gritted his teeth. He knew the monster was goading him, throwing him off by telling him he was already losing. But he also knew it was starting to get weaker fighting against his sudden, newfound strength that allowed him to resurface again.

And it definitely didn't know how many times he had been backed to a corner and yet still found a way out.

Yield, the demon demanded again.

"I am the King of Ravka," he said, his voice hoarse from the demon's control but it was nevertheless his. "I do not yield to anyone."

But then the monster decided to show him his failure: Zoya taking the bullet that was meant for him.

For a moment, his will faltered, and the demon grabbed the chance to push the knife deeper into his resolve—into his heart.

You cannot do anything for her.

A shout of pure anguish tore from his throat as his mind focused on the person that mattered the world to him.

Zoya saving him from falling in the Fold. Zoya staying up with him most nights to grudgingly help him with the ton of correspondence. Zoya defending them from the dukes that dared to insult them during political gatherings. Zoya staying in his chambers and holding his hand tightly when his fears got the better of him.

Zoya, always Zoya.

And yet you failed her.

The shadows overwhelmed him again, suffocating him. He knew he must fight them back but his resolve started crumbling again.

It was no use. He failed her. He failed her like he had failed Dominik, and then Alina.

Now everyone else.

And yet a small part of him still pushed back and never believed Zoya was gone. Because he would know. She was the other half of his soul, the other end of the red string tied around his wrist. There wasn't a single thing that she wasn't to him.

She was all and everything more.

"She's still alive," Nikolai growled, and he felt the demon flinch like it had been burned. "I have not failed her. Only at the untimely end of my short life will I ever stop protecting her, then I will continue doing so in the next one I’ll live."

The monster cackled, and it could only do so much as its grip on him loosened again. He pushed back, feeling its clutches around him go weaker and weaker.

Come back, her voice from the day he took the thornwood to his heart echoed in his mind again, and he held onto it like his lifeline. Promise you'll come back to us.

Come back to me, Nikolai.

"I will."

The demon let out an angry hiss, the last threads of its ties around him snapping, and it grudgingly shrunk back to whatever darkness it hid.

Then there was nothing.

***

There was still pain when Nikolai finally opened his eyes. But it was more of the physical rather than the one inside his heart.

His vision swirled as it slowly adjusted to the surroundings. The sky was bathed in a bright orange glow, the first signs of the approaching nightfall. It was when he realized that he was lying on the ground somewhere in the middle of the woods.

He sat up, but immediately regretted it when pain shot up to his side, making him stop his movements. Where was he? And how did he get here?

As if to answer his question, his head throbbed, and it hurt enough for him to double over to his side. Everything tilted sideways again.

"Saints," Nikolai groaned. He blinked several times to clear his vision, and when it adjusted again, he stopped.

Amidst the dimming light from the sky and the dark scars on his hands, he saw a single thread of a blue ribbon clutched in his palm.

The memory flashed back in his mind. Zoya fighting beside him. Zoya pushing him out of harm's way. Zoya bleeding in his arms. Zoya's hand falling from where she touched his face.

Zoyazoyazoyazoya—

"Zoya." Nikolai's voice trembled when he called her name. "Zoya!" He looked around wildly, as if she would appear in front of him, alive and well, scowling at him and demanding him where he had been. But she didn't.

Tears fell from his eyes. Find her. He pushed up to his feet, forcing himself to stay upright, though his surroundings were swaying.

Find her.

Tying the blue ribbon around his wrist, he limped forward. And even when his body screamed in pain, he continued on. There was no assurance that he was going in the right direction, but it was better than staying put and not doing anything. Nikolai would trust his instincts.

Find her.

The woods seemed to be endless, the cluster of trees becoming thicker as he walked deeper into the forest. He didn’t know how long he had been walking—minutes? Hours? Days? He didn’t know. His foot found an uneven surface on the ground, and Nikolai stumbled forward. "She's alright," he hissed through the pain that shot up to his hands when he fell. With another growl of frustration, he repeated, "She's alright."

She had to be. He didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t.

“I’m coming back to you, Zoya,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried not to think of the worst case scenario that made another wave of tears fall from his eyes. He tried to push back up to his feet, but the images of Zoya looking so small and so frail in his arms kept appearing in his mind, and it made him feel weaker than he already was. “I’m coming back to you.”

Get up, then, he chastised through his lamenting. Get up and find her.

Whatever strength he had before was slowly fading, dissipating into the thin air. The thought of seeing Zoya again was the only thing driving him forward. He wasn’t going to let go of that smallest sliver of hope he had in his heart, but its spark that continued to light his path was dwindling the more he tried to stay optimistic.

Optimism was his strong suit, but it could also be the one to bring down the axe and shatter his heart for being too hopeful.

“She’s alright,” Nikolai repeated, but the saints knew how it was getting harder for him to convince himself that she was. His next words came out in a desperate, begging sob. “Zoya, please.”

The blue ribbon around his wrist caught his gaze, the sight of it causing another sob from his throat. He clutched it to his chest as the sobs continued to rack out from his body. The helplessness he was feeling overpowered his logic. This wasn’t the time to grieve over things that he wasn’t sure of yet. But for someone who had always used his heart over his head, he could only do so much not letting his emotions take over.

It’s not you to let your guard down and quit, Lantsov, her voice came again, steady and strong like her will to set things right, the personality that Nikolai had grown to love dearly. Oh, how he wished to hear her voice again. Up on your feet, Your Highness.

A huffed laugh escaped his lips through his tears. Even in his imagination, she lingered. He really was a goner for her.

With the last ounce of strength he had, he willed his tears to stop and forced himself back up to his feet. He would come back to her. He would always come back to her, even if it meant fighting another thousand lifetimes and wars. Anything for her.

Nikolai took the path forward again. He hadn't gone that far when there was a rustle of leaves somewhere nearby. There wasn't a time for him to find a place to hide when there were suddenly people coming out from the bushes in front.

One moment he was standing upright, then the next second he was doubling over, gasping for breath. He fell down to his knees with his hand braced on the ground and the other on his chest.

"What—" He stopped. Grisha.

There was a series of clicks that followed, and the feel of the barrel of a rifle being trained at his temple.

"Identify yourself."

If Nikolai wasn't being deprived of his ability to breathe, he knew he still would stop breathing when he heard the voice. Tears stung his eyes, and it wasn't because of being suffocated to death.

Could it be—

He lifted his head up. His current state made it very difficult, but he forced his way through the restrain.

And when his eyes met with the familiar blue ones that always appeared in his dreams, Nikolai felt as if he could breathe freely again.

Her grip on her powers faltered, and he drew in a breath when his airway cleared.

She's alive.

The soldier holding the gun to his head sprung back, going down on his knees instantly with his rifle to the ground. His other First Army companions followed suit, but Nikolai couldn't acknowledge them, not when his mind had tunneled to focusing on her, and only her.

Tamar and Tolya stood their ground, relief obvious on their expressions, though there was still a lingering suspicion in their eyes.

His legs trembled as he slowly stood up. She's alive. Tears stung his eyes again, and he didn't bother to hold them back. He didn't care if the King of Ravka was crying openly. He didn't care if it was in front of his soldiers that expected him to be the tough figurehead he was supposed to be.

There was only one thing that mattered to him right now.

Nikolai took a step forward, his heart in his throat. His voice trembled when he called her name. "Zoya—"

Tamar held out an axe and pointed it at him, making him stop abruptly. Confusion clouded his mind when he stared back at the woman, and then at Zoya.

Her eyes were bright, the longing in them not unnoticeable by him, who had been too blind to see the same looks being sent his way ever since he announced his engagement. What an utter fool, he was.

Zoya lifted her chin, the stoic face of the General of Ravka returning, and her voice was shaking when she said, "How do we know it's you?"

Nikolai huffed a laugh. Of course, precautions first before anything. He gave her a grin through his tear-stained face. "Is there any other king this handsome and idiotic and also afraid of spiders in suit?" he said. It was nonsense and he didn't know what else he could say. He just desperately wanted to run to her and pull her in his arms. "Should I retell the time I once tried to butcher geese?"

There was a short silence, and then he heard Zoya let out a disbelieving breath, but there was only an obvious relief on her expression. She looked tired; her bloodshot eyes gave away the worry she’d seemed to have since he disappeared, and her slightly pale skin and strained only meant she was still reeling from her injury.

And yet when he looked at her, he couldn’t think of anything else to describe her other than beautiful.

Tamar let out a light laugh and lowered her axe. Her face softened when she gave him a smile and a nod, mouthing, "Good to see you, Your Highness."

He mirrored her smile with his own before he turned his attention back to Zoya, his heart reaching out to her, the missing piece he had been finding for a long time. But she was already running towards him, her steps rushed as if the world would crumble down under her feet if she didn't reach him fast enough.

Nikolai met her halfway, his arms wide open as their bodies collided in a tight embrace, and finally, his heart was whole again.

She’s alright. She’s breathing. She’s alive.

“You’re alright,” he said, burying his face to her hair. He felt her arms tighten around his neck, and the feel of her warmth against him only made it clear that this was real. Another sob racked his body when he said, “Oh, saints. You’re alive.”

Zoya let out a tired laugh. “You’re a mess,” she said against his neck as her hand came to clutch at his back. “You were gone for most of the day so I guess it’s only fair.”

Nikolai pulled away just enough to look down in her eyes, seeing the old fire that never stopped burning even at their worst times, the same one that he thought was extinguished when she saved his life. She had always been the light to his darkness, the healing to his pain, and he vowed he would keep it that way even if he had to give his life over and over again.

He reached a hand to her cheek as his eyes searched her face. “I thought I lost you,” he breathed, his voice coming out broken when another wave of tears hit him. His vision blurred. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face to his palm, her fingers coming around his wrist to rub soothing circles to his pulsepoint. “You worry too much,” she said. There was a smirk on her lips that she usually had, and it washed away the worry off her face. But the moment was short-lived, because she was suddenly heaving, her eyebrows knitting tightly together as if she were in pain. Her hand tightened on his wrist as a tear fell from her closed eyes. And then in a broken whisper, she said, “I thought I lost you too.”

“I guess we both worried for each other so much today,” Nikolai murmured, resting his forehead against hers. He brought his other hand to her face and closed his eyes as well. “I’m here now.”

“You weren’t there when I woke, Nikolai,” said Zoya. Tears he never thought he would see her shed again fell freely from her eyes. “They said you were gone and I couldn’t do anything—”

“Zoya, Zoya, my love,” he said, tilting her face up to his, and she opened her eyes. There was both fear and desperation in them, the same one she had when her amplifiers broke in the Fold. He gave her reassuring smile. "You saved me. Just like always." He gently wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "You did everything you can, and it gave me another chance to live. Never forget that."

Zoya searched his eyes frantically, possibly to see if there were some underlying lies in his words. But if there was something Nikolai didn't want to do, it was to lie to her. They had faced enough problems to fill up for their next lives, shed blood and tears fighting for their forsaken country, for them just to let lies hang between them as their thread to keep them together.

They were the King and the General. The Too-Clever Fox and the Stormwitch. Nikolai and Zoya.

They were two halves of a whole, the one wouldn't function well without the other.

Together, they completed each other.

Without any more hesitation in her eyes, Zoya pulled him down to her level and pressed her mouth to his.

It was like coming home, the warm and light feeling in your chest when encountering something so familiar, and it was all Nikolai could have dreamed how kissing Zoya Nazyalensky would be like.

Years of longing stares and stolen glances and conversations that had hid their true feelings flowed through their kiss, the love they had been trying to hide burning brighter than any light that shone in the night.

Nikolai was aware of the people around them, of what they could have been thinking as they witnessed the king and his general crossing the line they had set for themselves, and yet he didn't care. Neither of them did. He buried his hand to her hair as his other arm snaked around her waist to pull her even closer to him, and Zoya responded by kissing him deeper, her lips opening under his.

The war was still ongoing but they could have this one stolen moment for just the two of them.

A moment that had been long overdue.

When the need for air became stronger than the taste of each other's lips, Nikolai reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead back to hers. She still had her eyes closed and he could feel her breaths ghosting on his lips.

"I love you," Zoya said, and it left him floored in euphoria after hearing those sweetest words from her mouth. She opened her eyes to look back at him. "I love you so much."

He huffed a laugh, feeling as if his heart would burst with all his love for her any second. This was more than he could have asked for. With a contented sigh, he said, "I love you too, General."

And when he met her halfway as she pulled him down to kiss him again, Nikolai finally felt the one thing he had always longed for.

Peace.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #my writing #DEMON NIK #anyways will post this now before ROW completely shatters my soul (hopefully)#nik going feral bc of seeing zoya hurt #:>#i just think that's neat #unedited we die like men #this has become longer than necessary #but no regrets #HAVE THIS MESS FROM ME PLS #MAY WE ALL LIVE AFTER ROW

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weirwoodking · 3 years

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i know we are on a got hate hiatus so this is a mockery meant as a joke it's not even rage filled. maybe you don't remember this because of how random and utterly hilarious that benjen saved jon snow from.... something... (? i wanna say wights) in s7. like he came back from the dead in s7, had a different hair colour (for some reason his hair was a horrendous red/orange??). so he throws jon on his horse, saves the day, maybe he dies but i'm not sure, and it is never explained what happened to him during the six seasons he was gone and his different hair colour. it's the funniest mystery i've ever witnessed. benjen stark deserved better <3

Firstly, we are never truly on a GOT hate hiatus, even if we’re not openly talking about it as much. Also, Benjen deserves better, present tense. And he’s gonna get that better story, in the books.

IIRC what they did with Benjen was turn him into the Coldhands figure in their version (even though GRRM has explicitly stated that Coldhands isn’t Benjen). Their explanation was like... he got attacked by wights and he was brought back by the singers as half-wight/half-human, and he can’t go south of the Wall so he’s just been hanging out up north since book 1 (apparently never caring to get in contact with anyone in the Watch, not even during the Great Ranging). And then in season 7 during that episode that made even casual show-watchers start to realize how ridiculous the writing was, he turns up at the last second to save Jon after he almost drowned and then he swings a little fireball around at the zombies (sacrificing himself) and sends Jon off on his horse. I don’t remember the hair color change, but it wouldn’t surprise me. They really did like giving the Starks the wrong hair colors.

Now, you’ve prompted me to go on a little rant, because what really pisses me off about that deus ex machina-Benjen moment is that Jon was somehow miraculously okay. So... he goes out on an expedition beyond the Wall (with no hat/scarf/clothing for his head or neck) and they immediately lose all their food and water. Then he’s stuck on an island in the middle of a frozen lake surround by the literal fucking gods of winter who “bring the cold”, so it’s probably sub-zero (Fahrenheit, I’m American) temperatures. Then he fights a battle after having not been eating or drinking water for like at least 12 hours. Then he falls into a frozen lake in multiple layers of heavy fur, somehow he gets out on his own (with his sword in his hand), and then is immediately put on a horse while still in sopping wet clothes and rides off into the cold wind. And then hours later he arrives unconscious on the horse (how exactly was he holding on?).

By the time he gets back to the Wall... excuse me but his organs are failing if they haven’t failed already, and, IIRC (I’m not looking up the scene to rewatch it), he wasn’t shivering when they got him off the horse, which means that his body is no longer trying to regulate his temperature and you’re not going to be able to fix this shit with just some blankets and the magic of wishful thinking. So, unless you’ve got some medieval form of heated IV saline and warm humidified oxygen, HE’S DEAD. VERY, VERY DEAD. Oh, and apparently he suffered no frostbite, not even on his nose or ears. Big shift from the books, where Jeyne Poole gets frostbite on her nose from the escape in the snow. (Also, if you want to try and make the excuse of “well maybe the power of R’hllor made him cold-resistant” or whatever… no. It’s not stated or implied that that’s what happened. Post-res Jon in the books may react differently to temperature, but in the show he was presented as just being a revived human with an unaffected body.)

The show is just all-around absolutely ridiculous in the portrayal of injuries, especially since they constantly talked up how much they prided themselves on the “gritty realism”. You’ve Jon getting shot like three times in the back and somehow not getting a punctured lung (and recovering fast enough to lead another ranging beyond the wall before the wildlings arrive from either side). You’ve got Arya getting deeply stabbed multiple times in the stomach and then jumping in a dirty canal (if the blood loss or organ damage doesn’t kill her, the infection definitely will). You’ve got very little or no armor (see: every Jon battle scene) and no appropriate cold-weather clothing. You’ve got Jorah having all the dermis (and hypodermis too, I think) flayed off his entire upper body. You’ve got Jaime somehow surviving getting tackled off a horse into a lake/pond in full battle armor and somehow coming out the other side completely unscathed and un-sunk to the bottom. I never saw 8x5 but weren’t a ton of main characters in KL as it was being burned? And no one felt any effect from the dust and smoke inhalation? The most fantasy-like part of the TV show was everyone’s miraculous plot armor against any sort of bodily harm. Unless, of course, you get stabbed once in the stomach with a dagger when you’re a woman getting put down like a dog, then you bleed out and die in 20 seconds.

The most infuriating thing is that the books are comparatively on a very strong level of realism with injuries. Just using Jon as an example (because he seems to be George’s personal punching bag), he suffers second degree burns from his right forearm to his fingertips, and he has to constantly flex and move his hand to keep the muscles from stiffening up. When he gets shot in the leg an entire chapter revolves around it being treated, and the injury has lasting effects on him, he has to walk with a crutch for weeks. When he gets assassinated, he thinks of himself as only having been “grazed” by Wick’s knife, but blood immediately wells between his fingers when he puts his hand to his neck, and the next moment when he tries to reach for Longclaw he’s suddenly too weak to grasp it. So we can infer that the slash wasn’t just a graze, the knife probably hit his carotid artery.

GRRM puts so much care into making the physical traumas and their consequences realistic, just like he does with the mental trauma of his characters. I know we joke about stuff like “the more she drank the more she shat” but I personally love that GRRM was like “nope, if you drink unclean water it’s not gonna end well for your digestive system”. The show just full on winged it and made different standards for reality wherever and whenever they felt like it, failing to portray physical trauma just as badly as it failed to portray mental trauma.

#i have a really specific pet peeve about medical/injury unrealism in media #like no matter what genre your story is in (fantasy. dystopia. etc) the human body needs to react to everything in the way a human body does #and if what you’re going for is ‘gritty realism’ then it better be fucking realistic #unless there’s a direct clear explanation. like dany hatching the dragons and being fireproof only for that special magical process #and then she ends up getting burned the first time she rides drogon! no fireproof plot armor #ask #anon #anti got #long post #edit: adding these tags #tw gore #tw gore mention #tw injury #tw injury mention #tw medical trauma

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talesofsonicasura · 3 years

Text

Broken Toys

Chapter 1: Bleed, I must be dreaming

Tragedy can give rise to many things. Rumors, change, legends than just suffering and heartbreak. One such creation had very bizarre habits in the eyes of a particular noodle shop owner. Warning: minor blood, slightly description of death and injuries, extraction of harmful object(goes with the minor blood), mild swearing, and one super creepy child. Prologue

'The Great Megapolis Raceway Disaster. On April 7, 20XX, an semi-annual street race had their route improperly marked and blockaded. As a result, the racers end up turning down a street full of people instead of an empty road.

The result was all 12 cars crashing into various buildings and bystanders as they tried to come to a halt. 30 injured with 7 being the drivers and 25 dead as 10 victims had succumbed to their fatal injuries. Strangely, 10 year old Qi Xiaotion, a child who was hit directly by the lead racer's car, body has subsequently vanished.

Police haven't found the missing child or any possibility he could be alive except for the remains of a Monkey King Plush and what is assumed to be the child's right arm and lower torso. Search is ongoing and any future updates are unknown.'

This national incident was widespread throughout the community of Megapolis for two reasons. One was that some of the victims had been either high up or related to powerful corporations throughout the city. A few of the casualties were rumored to be descendants of both well known demons and even some celestials such as the Yellow Wind Demon but also rumored Jade Emperor for some of his soldiers were said to be seen in the city.

Some speculated this was a planned terrorist threat but no evidence had been found. The second reason is the creation of an urban legend known as the Broken Toy Phantom. On that very day, the body of a 10 year old child had gone missing. After that, sightings of a strange entity began to crop up.

Witnesses said it looked like a child but had cotton coming from open stitches and sharp blades out of their skin. Whenever the Broken Toy Phantom was spotted, the chance of a large monster in the form of a destroyed children's toy would be there. It is said that if you meant no harm should you encounter this phantom, it would leave you alone.

To try and harm the phantom was met with the claws of the broken toys that protected the child. Only warning one had if they were in the presence of the Broken Toy Phantom is the vague image of a monkey plush that held glowing red eyes.

Pigsy's Noodles

It was a warm early morning for the city of Megapolis. The last dredges of Spring were slowly dwindling as Summer was almost here. A time of year for the popular restaurant Pigsy's Noodles to begin changing their menu in preparation for the hottest season.

This modest establishment known for its delicious noodles, homely and comfortable atmosphere was also a precious treasure to the owner. A pig demon nearing his 40s named Pigsy, this short and stout man was not only the store's owner but also the cook.

Every dish he made was handcrafted with strong dedication and passionate based skill that could be felt through every bite. So imagine the 5'2 tall pink skinned and dark blue eyed demon's face when he went to open up his shop for today. Lying at the front by the side of the door was a child.

A young boy probably around 10 years old who sat around 3'7 in height. Long wild dark brown that haven't seem to be washed in days, soft tan skin with a large stitch under his right eye alongside some on his arms from the man could see, an orange shirt with violet sleeves and red collar that were stitched on, black pants with the bottom half blue jean material that were also stitched on, violet sandals made from leather, polyester and felt fabric sewn together, and the creepiest doll he ever seen cuddled in the boy's arms.

It looked like one of those very rare limited edition Monkey King collectible plushies that his friend had been ranting on about. The only difference was the gold thread eyes were replaced with bulging white plastic eyes and the flat face instead had a large openable muzzle bearing large white felt teeth.

Despite laying on solid concrete, the young boy was comfortably fast asleep almost if used to doing such a thing. A bit confused and worried, Pigsy placed his keys in the breast pocket of his white polo shirt then walked up to the child. For a second, he thought the toy's bulging eyes went from looking at the ground and by proxy his black dress shoes and black work pants to stare the pig demon straight in the face.

Whatever the case, it didn't matter as the child began to wake up. Chocolate brown eyes looking straight at Pigsy, a look of nervous embarrassment came across the boy's face. "Heh heh… Looks like I overslept a bit." In seconds the child had jumped to his feet faster than any normal person could.

The nameless boy clutched the ominous Monkey King plush closer and put on a nervous smile. "Sorry about that sir. I'll get out of your hands now so you can open up shop without an issue." And before Pigsy could say anything, the child skipped away into an alley just as quickly.

The restaurant owner could only frown before heading into the shop. Homeless people weren't anything new, especially in a big city like this, but it stung more when a child is forced to survive on the harsh streets. All Pigsy could do at the moment was wish the young man good luck.

Next time the middle aged pig demon saw the mysterious kid was once again by his restaurant. It was nearly closing time when the bell of the shop's door rang. The establishment isn't anything grand, a few booths, stools set up at the front near the register, some potted plants and pastel white walls decorated with a couple photos.

Pigsy had poked his head from the back of the door to see that very kid walk in warily. Once again, he felt the eyes of the kid's plush looking straight at him. The restaurant owner had a feeling the doll was magical as the kid spotted him in seconds.

"Hello there. Welcome to Pigsy's Noodles. Please sit down and I can get you a menu." Pigsy put on a soft smile since he really didn't want to scare off the poor kid. The unknown boy nodded before sitting himself at one of the bar's stools.

When the restaurant owner had come back with a menu in hand, the kid's Monkey King plush was sitting on the table almost perfectly. By perfectly it meant that the doll didn't slouch and sat straight with the same dexterity of a living being.

Pigsy shrugged the oddness off and gave the kid his menu. "How are you doing today?" The restaurant owner's question had the boy look a bit from his menu. Shrugging at the inquiry, the child answered. "I'm doing fine. May I have a bowl of chicken lo mein please?"

Pigsy didn't take the menu just yet but had gone to the back to fix the boy's food. As he made the order, the demon could hear his customer talk from outside the kitchen. Or sing to be more accurate. "An old toy sat on the desk watching the day go by. Missing cotton, tons of stitches, a cherished plaything looked to the sky. The toy said: I may be damaged but I am beloved. Even broken toys like me can be loved."

The restaurant owner paused for a moment. He never heard a nursery rhyme like that before. It was strange but in an endearing sort of way. Pigsy had come back with the kid's bowl of lo mein to see the child was shuffling a deck of cards in his hand.

The man didn't recognize the brand or had a good chance to look when the boy had placed them in a deck case and deposited it into a sewed-in pocket. "One fresh bowl of chicken lo mein, enjoy kid." Rubbing his hands happily, the child grabbed a pair of chopsticks and dug into his food.

Pigsy cleaned up the remaining dishes while his young customer ate his food in silence. Once the demon had come back, the child and plush were suddenly gone. Not even the doorbell had moved an inch almost if the boy just vanished. In his place was some money alongside a note.

"Thank you for the meal, it was delicious. Have a good night and sorry for sleeping in front of your shop the other day. From MK and my little buddy Guarn." After reading the note, the restaurant owner had softly smiled before taking both the paper and cash left behind.

It was the only beginning of a MK's nightly visits. Near closing time, Pigsy was greeted by the child and his peculiar plush. At first, the boy wasn't much of a conversationalist. Something worrying since most kids the pig demon saw weren't this quiet even around strangers.

MK was also never without his plush Guarn. Pigsy had a suspicion that the plush was magical as he always felt that those plastic eyes were very aware of their surroundings. Whenever the restaurant owner felt like the doll was watching him out of the boy's view, MK seemed to know his presence. Almost like a separate pair of eyes.

He didn't know the child's situation other than homelessness and maybe magical plush but he had a feeling there was more to it. MK will open up when he is ready and Pigsy was a patient person. The demon did add some extra portions to the young man's bowl though.

A growing child needed proper nutrition or their growth would be stunted. He may be rough but the restaurant owner was far from heartless. In less than two weeks, MK began to open up more. That was the same time one of his regulars had also come back.

This 'customer' was one of his human friends known as Tang. A raven haired man who considered himself a scholar of sorts, and didn't really pay for the noodles he kept eating. Normally Pigsy would chase any dine and dashers out of his establishment but Tang was someone he could trust.

The scholar had gotten him out of some nasty jams in the past and someone he could talk to whenever the demon's stress reached its peak. Now you can imagine Pigsy's surprise when he saw Tang chatting animatedly with MK. The child who rarely talked was now chatting the spectacle raven's ear off.

Once again, the feeling of the Monkey King plush or Guarn came apparent as the child faced the restaurant owner with a sheepish grin. "Hey Pigsy, I didn't know you had a kid." That one sentence from Tang had both the demon and kid sputtering in seconds.

Between the two of them, MK had found his words. "No Mr Tang. Mr Pigsy is just a very nice man who gives me extra food when he thinks I haven't noticed. Plus, I'm pretty sure he hasn't filed any adoption papers yet." MK said, that sheepish grin becoming mischievous as he made Guarn blow a kiss.

The scholar laughed at the restaurant owner's further flustering face almost if the whole thing was planned. Something that was plausible considering this was Tang of all people. "Very funny you little minxes. What were you guys even talking about since MK doesn't really talk much around me?"

Pigsy's question was met with the little boy shaking his head. "I didn't want to bother you since you were probably tired and closing up shop. Mr Tang and I were talking about different legends like the Monkey King for one." The pig demon blinked his eyes in surprise.

So the reason MK was so quiet is because the kid didn't want to bother him? How considerate. "I appreciate your concern but you don't have to be silent all the time. Whatever topic or thing that pops in your head, you can talk about it. Might not always answer but that doesn't mean I'm not listening." Pigsy explained, the child nodding thankfully at his words.

That was one mystery about the kid out of the way. Only for Tang to bring up another. "Do you know that little MK here is an incredible craftsman? Show him that design you were working on." Smiling, the kid pulled something out of his pockets.

It was an incomplete small red tapestry depicting a peach tree that sat above a collection of clouds. The restaurant owner could only gawk at the masterful detail and skill that could easily be seen throughout the work. Every detail was as accurate as a photograph and not a single thread out of place.

"Holy moly kid! You made this?! I'm pretty sure you just put every seamstress from the Celestial Realm to shame." MK beamed happily at the restaurant owner's compliment. The kid was definitely a hard worker and that showed through his craft.

Even though culinary and weaving were different crafts, Pigsy could see the hard work, skill and dedication of a fellow artisan. "Thank you! I also make clothing and toys in my spare time. A good way to earn money so I can enjoy more of your tasty food."

From seeing the tapestry alone, both adults had a feeling that MK's clothing and dolls were made with equal skill. It did raise a question though. "Is your outfit like a fashion statement then?" Tang gestured to the boy's patchwork clothing.

Pigsy hit the scholar on the elbow for the offhanded inquiry but the child didn't seem bothered. "It actually is. You see I make all my stuff from mostly scraps rather than fresh materials. 'One man's trash is another man's treasure' type of ideology. Also recycles a lot of stuff people throw away that can still be used." MK flashed them a big toothy smile alongside his explanation.

Both men hummed at the answer. Like any big city, Megapolis had an issue with littering so the place was practically a gold mine for crafty people such as the kid. "Let me take your guys' order, and MK… you don't have to come by so late all the time. Come whenever you can and if anyone gives you a problem then I'll handle it."

Pigsy could only smile at the ecstatic look in the kid's eyes before the child ran over to both men. After that particular night, MK began visiting sometimes around mid day. On occasion, the boy would bring some of the crafts that he made.

Beautiful red ribbons decorated with gold dragons, a jade green cheongsam that held a silver depiction of a nine tailed fox, some plushies consisting of a gray rat with a heart in its paws, an ornate doll that wore a beautiful crimson Chinese dress and a white rabbit with a mallet used to make moon cakes.

Every piece was extremely well made alongside a story that MK would share with Pigsy or Tang. The rat plush beared the story of a fallen rat who was given a chance to relive their last day, the ribbons were of two dragons that strive to be with each other for eternity, and cheongsam was for a prince who escaped the life of royalty to live with a earnest farmhand that won his heart.

It only made both adults wonder how a talented kind child like MK ended up living on the streets by their lonesome. On a warm summer night, Pigsy was cleaning the front of the shop. The little boy wanted to help out around the restaurant so the demon let him wash the dirty dishes. Tang was also in the shop regalling a particular urban legend around Megapolis: the Broken Toy Phantom.

"-the Broken Toy Phantom must be a type of poltergeist. A very rare occurrence that poltergeists would roam with their haunted possession but the information all leads up. I even speculate that the phantom could have been brought to life after the Great Megapolis Raceway Disaster." Pigsy kept quiet while cleaning the tables but listened to the scholar's theory tangent.

The restaurant door suddenly opened with a loud slam, the restaurant owner turned around to be met with a gun aimed at his head. Pigsy didn't have to look to know that Tang had his hands up in the air since the scholar was now silent. Of course the pig demon needed a robbery once in his life.

From the looks of it, there were only three armed robbers with two being men and one woman. A white deer mask, black ski mask, and a turban paired alongside a thick bandana hid their identities. Right now Pigsy was praying to Guanyin that they don't find MK.

The kid wouldn't be able to survive a bullet should these bastards get trigger happy. "Alright, you two fuckers better listen to our demands right now. Give us everything you own and Porky here can open the register." Spoke the deer masked robber, poking the barrel of the gun to the restaurant owner's back.

Reluctantly Pigsy walked over to the register and took out the key. He was about to open up when… BANG! Horrified blue eyes watched as Tang fell to his knees, blood pouring from a bullet hole in his leg. The pig demon saw Tang's phone on the ground before the turban wearing robber stomped it to pieces.

"Call for help again then the next shot will go through your head, Four Eyes." Spoke the black ski mask who cocked his gun to reinforce the threat. Pigsy wanted to run over to Tang, treat his wound or help him up. However, he couldn't unless both of them were looking to get shot.

And the two hostages felt their hearts drop upon one single sound. "Excuse me." Standing on top of the bar table was little MK. Strangely, Guarn wasn't in the kid's hands as both were crossed against his chest. A large frown and judging chocolate eyes of the unnaturally calm child were aimed at the three robbers.

"What are you doing to Mr Tang and Mr Pigsy?" MK's once kind lively voice was now dead and cold like a grave. Neither the scholar or restaurant owner couldn't help feeling unnerved at the sudden change in the kid. It felt so wrong. Something that none of the robbers had noticed.

"It's a robbery little dipshit!" A haunting laugh came out of the kid, MK's eyes were alight in a twisted glee paired alongside a malevolent smile presenting unnaturally sharp teeth. "I know what a robbery is, you sad excuse of human scum. What I'm asking is why none of you haven't left yet?"

All three of the criminals were caught off guard by the little boy's taunt. None of them felt the child's ominous aura unlike Pigsy and Tang. What stood before them wasn't the same little boy that they've gotten to know over the past two months.

This was Death in the form of a 10 year old kid. "You barely have any mercy from me after this whore shot my friend in the leg. Lucky you that I was in a good mood, leave now or suffer the consequences. Know that you only have one chance between all three of ya cowardly worms!"

Offended by MK's threat, one of the robbers, the turban-wearing woman, aimed her weapon at the child. "Say goodnight brat! You have no power over us! That petty threat will be your last!" Finger on the trigger as she was ready to shoot the boy.

MK, still unfazed, shook his head almost if he was disappointed at the woman's choice. Then his smile grew so wide that it nearly tore the sides of his mouth, an insane look burned in now orangish brown orbs. "I warned ya. Davy Jones." With no warning, two long violet tentacles shot out from the darkness behind MK.

Both appendages wrapped around the woman and the man who shot Tang as the third deer mask robber watched in growing horror at what stood before them. Standing behind the 10 year old with two of the robbers wrapped in thick violet tentacles was a giant 15 ft violet plush squid.

It's squid capped head had four of those cap ridges with red stripes but also three mini tomahawk blades on the center top, black squid eyes that positioned on the sides of the mouth which held sharp teeth and a pair of glowing magenta eyes within the darkness, six small light cyan underside violet tentacle bearing some tomahawk blades, and two triple sized tentacles that had a black armband bearing a white skull n bones on the larger right.

"YARRRG! Those who dare trifle with Captain MK shall face the blades of Davy Jones!" A gruff, lightly deep, and growlish male voice ripped the monstrous toy's open mouth. Both caught robbers let out a strangled cry from the tentacles tightening their grip.

Immediately the remaining robber quickly went to shoot the monster plush or MK only for his weapon to be snatched from his hand's grip. Deer mask slowly looked down at the floor to see his gun in the paws of a particular bug eyed Monkey King plush.

Tang, Pigsy and the robbers saw a pair of glowing red eyes stare at them from within the small toy's mouth. Guarn then bit into the barrel of the weapon, felt teeth easily tearing through the metal and plastic like a hot knife against butter.

The immense shock nearly made the scholar and restaurant owner almost miss MK delivering a jump kick to the deer masked robber. Enough strength behind the blow to not only shatter the robber's mask but knock em fully unconscious. Davy Jones tightened his grip further until the two snared robbers fell limp like their comrade.

Pigsy immediately ran over to Tang once knowing they were now safe. The little boy followed suit, his ominous aura gone while the large plush kraken harshly dropped the two robbers. "Mr Tang, please bite on this while I get the bullet out." MK handed the raven a red plush oven cloth.

Pigsy had to put the rag in the scholar's mouth as he was too busy staring in shock at MK's fingers. The index and ring fingers of the boy's hands were torn apart by black claws growing from inside. Tang let out a harsh muffled scream when those sharp obsidian claws dug into the wound.

After a few seconds, MK pulled out the bloody bullet. He dropped it to the ground so he could pull out a sewing kit and needle. "I'm guessing you're the Broken Toy Phantom." Pigsy spoke for Tang while the boy began to sew the wound close. The little brunette merely nodded as he thread the needle through the scholar's leg.

"Yep! Although I'm not really a poltergeist, just a newly minted toy demon. Didn't think I had to bring out any of my Frightfur family so soon. Honestly, I hope that I had more time to figure out how to introduce you guys." MK tore the thread off the needle once it was sewn tightly.

Neither adult said a word since the kid did have a point. A giant plush kraken bearing razor sharp teeth and tentacles that ended with large tomahawks wasn't exactly friendly looking. Or the implications that MK had more than one of these peculiar beings.

Both men's thoughts on the subject were derailed in surprise when the sewed up bullet wound shrunk until unmarred skin was left. "Healing Suture Thread, perfect for minor to serious injuries. It works on humans too rather than just Frightfurs, Fluffals or Edge Imps." The little boy turned to see Davy Jones finish tying up the three attempted robbers.

Guarn waddled over to the brunette, climbing up the kid's clothes then situated itself on MK's shoulder. Tang took the rag out of his mouth and suddenly hugged the toy demon much to the latter's surprise. "We're just glad you're okay. You gave us both a heart attack back there with that stunt."

Davy Jones let out a hearty laugh from the flustered look on his smaller companion's face. Pigsy couldn't help the chuckle that came out of his throat to the little boy's further surprise. Soon enough, MK found himself laughing with them as he hugged the scholar back.

If this was a dream, then he didn't want to wake up. Moments like this should last as long as they can.

And that's it! MK has officially met Pigsy and Tang. I can say that the MK you are seeing at the moment...is more than he seems to be. Something that will be looked over in the next chapter.

Tang and Pigsy are going to take more fatherly roles involving our newly minted toy demon. A factor being MK's age and situation when they first met.

MK will be 21 when I get into the LMK series and there will be changes to particular episodes or plot pilots. Any major changes will have the episode title be replaced with a song.

Now people have been wondering MK's actual age in canon out of general curiosity and a certain pairing called Peachnoodles for certain artists and writers have been frowned upon. The driving law in China requires the person to be 19 in order to legally drive, so MK has to be 19 or a bit older in canon.

I hope this clears stuff up for ya curious folk.

The song used for this chapter is 'Bleed, I must be Dreaming' by Evanescence. Actually thought of using Evanescence's Imaginary but this felt more suited.

Will be going over the remaining Fluffals before we reach the next chapter for Broken Toys! Stove Novas next chapter is in the review stage so be on the lookout for that next! I'll see you guys back at Megapolis.

Song used👇

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lailoken · 3 years

Text

“Stones of Power:

The Flints which find their way to the surface of the land are beautiful and varied but nevertheless quite small. The few larger stones which are found around Norfolk are mostly glacial erratics. Due to their relative rarity, such stones are considered remarkable and are rich in history, often having been meeting places where significant decisions were taken. Unsurprisingly, they have much magical lore associated with them and retain considerable power, which can be drawn upon for magical purposes. This sometimes involves spells but is more often a means of developing our understanding of unwritten history. After all, the memory of stones is deeper and denser than the Mercurial gifts of pen and ink of of the whispered word. The sonorous voices of these stones have a language of their own, unfettered by grammar and vocabulary. They "speak’ to one another across the landscape, maintaining, not only their ancient kinship, but also an intricate pattern of silent power lines. The following examples represent just a small selection. There are more which can be sought out.

The Cowell Stone

This stone is to be found on Swaffham Heath, about 150 yards from the B1122 road to Downham Market. It stands at a truly liminal spot, marking a hundred boundary, as well as those of the parishes of Swaffham, Marham and Narborough. Part of the Icknield Way, marked as Peddersty or Saltersty, and the East-West Fincham Drove, which is a Roman road, pass very close to it (Clarke and Clarke, 1937). Its magic draws together the footsteps of the many who have trodden these paths and lived and died in the surrounding parishes.

The origin of the stone's name has a number of possibilities. Ben Ripper (1979) suggests it is named after Cow Hill, or a corruption of coal, since the stone once guided pilgrims to a beacon hill near Colkirk (Coalchurch). The stone used to be situated in a field nearby, where workers sat on it to eat their dinner. However, in the 1980s, it was moved by two local historians, Ben Ripper and Peter Howling, as it was considered to be at risk of damage from ploughing. The move seems not to have disrupted its energy in any way, perhaps because it was conducted with respect and honourable intentions. It has a warm, welcoming lenergy, one which encourages the seeker to both broaden and deepen their quest for knowledge, not just of stones, but of all aspect of the magic of the land.

The Merton Stone

The Merton Stone, nestled in a shallow marl pit, just off the Peddars Way near the boundary of the parishes of Merton and Threxton, is thought to weigh between twenty and thirty tons and to be the largest glacial erratic in the United Kingdom.

Some people say that to stand on it is a chilling experience, where the presence of malevolent spirits can be felt. However, on a warm, sunny day it is more likely to be a very pleasant, and indeed healing experience. It is well known that, continuing a centuries-old tradition, young ladies wishing to fall pregnant still sit on the stone and find its magic effective. The plants around it, especially the Mugwort, seem to derive extra energy from their proximity to such a powerful character.

There is a long-held local belief that, if the stone is removed, the waters will rise and cover the entire Earth (Clarke and Clarke, 1937). Moving the stone was apparently attempted by the 5th Lord of Walsingham, one of the ancient de Grey family. He assembled all the local men and women, together with much beer and many ropes, but the failed attempt ended in an "erotic debauch". Another attempt to move it, in the 1930s or 40s, this time using a large rotary plough, was equally unsuccessful (Burgess, 2005b), although I have been unable to find out whether this ended the same way as the previous escapade.

The Stockton Stone

The Stockton Stone currently stands on the raised grass verge of a lay-by on the A146, between Beccles and Norwich, just outside the village of Stockton itself. This lichen-covered, sandstone glacial erratic weighs several tons and is said by some to have been an ancient track marker. According to Michael Clarke, it marks the old meeting place of the Clavering hundred, possibly the place where the 10th century Danegeld was paid, although Geldeston, near Beccles, might be a more likely candidate, given its name.

Like the Merton Stone, the Stockton Stone has a curse upon it that anyone who moves it will fall victim to terrible misfortune or death. Much to the consternation of many local people, it was indeed moved, in the 1930s, to accommodate the widening of the road. Not surprisingly. one of the workmen involved collapsed and died.

In spite of its unfortunate location, so close to a very busy road, this stone retains an amazingly powerful energy and people still leave small offerings there. While paying our respects recently, a group of us found a rather attractive blue stone egg, which looked as if it had not been there for very long. Moved by the moment and by the atmosphere, one of our party suggested that we should hold hands and dance around the stone three times, which we duly did, much to the amusement of passing motorists!

The Great Stone of Lyng

This is another erratic brought to us by the glaciers of the Ice Age. There are many local tales surrounding this mysterious Stone, which is said to bleed if pricked with a pin. Some claim the blood is that of victims from a time when the stone was used as a sacrificial altar, while others are of the opinion that it is the blood of those who fell during a ferocious battle between King Edmund and the Danes. Others tell of treasure hidden beneath it and how the landowner has never been able to move the stone to unearth the spoils (Burgess, 2005a).

The grove in which the stone stands, almost hidden beside the path, does have a rather unnerving feel to it. One can "see" all too easily soldiers struggling up the steep escarpment and the bodies of the slain sprawled on the bank to the other side of the path. Rod Chapman informs me that, not so very many years ago, some of the children of the village had to walk through the grove, past the stone, in order to get to school and, in the winter, these children were allowed to leave school early so that they could walk through before it was dark. This is completely understandable. On climbing out of the hollow to the fields above, the atmosphere suddenly changes completely. There is almost a sense of relief and a feeling that one no longer needs to speak in hushed whispers.

There is a recent tale of a brave, tough, yet inexperienced witch who was determined to camp out for a night by the stone, in order to become better acquainted with the ghosts and spirits of the place. He pitched his tent right near the stone and was confident that he would have an interesting and informative night's vigil. However, he became so frightened by the eerie sounds and the terrifying atmosphere that he was forced to run from the place and ring a fellow practitioner to come with their car and rescue him! The stone does look something like a Dragon and has a hole in it just where the eye would be, which is deep enough for an adult to insert their entire arm. Quite a few people I know have done this and come to no harm, although it is not a pleasant experience.

Not far from the grove, in the middle of a field, are the ruins of a nunnery known as St. Edmund's Chapel, which was said to have been built to honour those who died in the battle.

It has been suggested that Blood's Dale, between Drayton and Hellesdon, on the slopes leading down to the River Wensum, where the Danes are also said to have fought the Anglo-Saxons, may have been the site of King Edmund's death in 896 CE. Abbo of Fleury (870 CE) tells us that King Edmund died at Hellesdon, and Joe Mason (2018) argues convincingly, that the unusual number of churches dedicated to St. Edmund along this stretch of the River Wensum is significant. The survivors, having found the King's severed head with the help of the Wolf, could have taken his body upstream to Lyng, to the aforementioned chapel. Although not fully excavated, some pottery dating from the time of King Edmund, has been found there. Furthermore, an old tithe map refers to the Grove as King's Grove and a map published in the Eastern Daily Press in 1939, names the Great Stone as King Edmund's Stone. Perhaps this would have been a suitable burial place for the miracle-working king? (Mason, 2018) Some of us would like to think so. Certainly, the Ash keys collected from a tree growing on the ruins of the nunnery are particularly effective in assisting those who wish to speak with spirits of the dead.

The Aldeby Rune Stones

Not all our standing stones are ancient, and just as exciting are those being erected now for the benefit of ourselves and of future generations. Aldeby, in South East Norfolk, is a wonderful such example. Here, seven standing stones have been carved with runes and with Christian symbols, and placed around the parish boundary as part of a Millennium project, known as "Pathways in Stone". The runes spell out the name of the village but are also related to the powers of the stones themselves. The Stone of Dawn, for example, features the Day Rune (dagaz) and a Medieval symbol of the World and the four Elements, while the Stone of Wisdom has the God Rune (ansuz) and the square and circle symbol for the material and spiritual worlds. One stone, the Stone of Destiny, combines all the symbols found on the outlying stones, with the addition of the othel rune, symbolizing ancestral land and heritage. The stones are carboniferous limestone, so had to be brought in especially for the project, but in spite of having been in place for a relatively short time, some of them are already giving off some very interesting energy.

These stones form a pilgrimage walk around the village and are best seen in the Winter when they are not obscured by vegetation.

The Druid Stone of St. Andrew's

When Ray Loveday pointed out to me his "Druid Stone", at the North-east corner of St. Andrew's Church, in the centre of Norwich, I was astounded that I had walked down St. Andrew's Hill so many times, admiring the cleverly-knapped Flint of the church wall, without noticing this stone. It is another of those magical items which are hiding in plain sight, but once the attention is drawn to it, the remarkable ancient power it holds becomes apparent. This stone, at least what can be seen of it above ground, is not large, and has a fairly flat top with a number of circular indentations which are often filled with' water, and work well as scrying pools. Ray is unsure whether they are a natural feature, were deliberately carved out or have developed over centuries as a result of water dripping from the church roof. There are several smaller, less well-rounded dips too, which tend to get rather muddy. The stone, which has a very feminine feel to it, welcomes small, discrete offerings, such as a ring of twisted Periwinkle stems or a little Daisy chain; nothing too elaborate or containing any artificial materials. It certainly deserves respect and attention, as it appears to form part of the magical foundation of the city.”

—

Chapter 2: ‘Sacred Places: Stories Within the Landscape’,

Of Chalk & Flint:

A Way of Norfolk Magic

by Val Thomas

#of chalk & flint #Val Thomas #Norfolk Magic #Norfolk lore #East Anglian Magic #holy stones #sacred stones #traditional witchcraft

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

Text

Paper Cut | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood, describing pain, seemingly near-death experience and talk about death, probably some cussing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia.

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Every injury your soulmate receives, you also receive. When you finally meet your soulmate, you have a few bones to pick.

A/N: Hello! This is the first imagine I’ve written on this blog, so I decided to do something a little more light-hearted for our favorite just king. I’m also a sucker for soulmate aus. There will be a part 2 for this story :D Feel free to leave requests :) Also, I’ve never been to Cambridge University so please take everything I say about it with a grain of salt lol

Part 2 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

It’s a common courtesy to try and be as careful as you can when it comes to your body. Not for your sake, but for your soulmate’s. Every papercut, cramp, broken bone, and even every itch you feel, your other half does as well. So, it was common sense to try to be as careful as you could to not inflict pain on them. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. She spent her whole life dodging anything she felt could cause her harm. This included “normal kid” things like playing on the playground, rolling down hills, jumping off things, or playing sports. Her heart was always in the right place, even if her friends and family called her a stick in the mud for declining their “fun” requests. She could not, and will not, injure her person. When she was around 8, she had been playing with a paper airplane and it just barely sliced her finger. It left behind a pesky papercut that stung. Bad. The small injury left Y/N guilty for days afterward. She has assumed that her soulmate was on the same page as her for the longest time. Aside from a few skinned knees (they were kids after all,) Y/N was left unscathed. She went on her days carefree until she was about fifteen.

It seemed as though Y/N’s soulmate had completely changed their deminer overnight. It started with a bit of road rash on her palms. Y/N assumed they had fallen accidentally. Annoying, sure, but it was more than manageable. Then, her lip split open and bled for almost 15 minutes.

As the week went on, large bruises started appearing on her legs and hips. Maybe the road rash fall was worse than she initially thought. Again, she just rode it off as clumsiness. It wasn’t long until her fingertips started to turn purple. This made Y/N panic.

“Ma’am?” Y/N interrupted her science teacher in the middle of her lecture, “I think there’s something wrong with my hands.” The purple started to spread down her fingers towards her knuckles. They also proved to be getting harder to move.

“Oh, dear, you’re freezing.” Ms. Adamson remarks, taking Y/N’s hands into her own.

“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Her entire hand was now numb.

“I don’t think so, Miss L/N, but, it’ll help you and them out if we warm you up.”

Her toes suffered the same fate, she discovered during a visit to the school’s infirmary. (Which wasn’t even worth visiting in Y/N’s opinion.) The nurse at Y/N’s school didn’t have the “jurisdiction” to help Y/N properly, so she had to settle for a wet paper towel that was warmed in the microwave. Y/N just wished to be sent home instead. By the time she was finally set free, the purple had faded but her skin tone was not back to normal. Hopefully, the paper towel did something for her soulmate cause this sure as hell wasn’t Y/N’s fault. Her parents were flabbergasted when she got home, mostly upset that they made her miss so many of her classes. Neither had any explanation but tried to offer unhelpful comforting all the same.

When Y/N awoke the next morning, all of the fingers in her hand had gone back to normal and she regained feeling. Finally, her soulmate was finally safe.

She spent the day coming up with ridiculous reasons as to why they had almost given her frostbite. Maybe they got locked in a freezer at an ice cream store and had to wait for the store to reopen to let them out. Maybe they live in Antarctica and they got locked out of their house in their underwear. Maybe they were trying to win a bet to see who could stay in ice water the longest. The daydreams were cut short as she was harshly awoken by a searing pain in her abdomen.

Ms. Adamson dropped her whiteboard marker and panicked when she heard Y/N scream. It wasn’t a normal teenage girl scream either. No, this scream was filled with pure agony and distress. It echoed against the walls and vibrated the desks. It sounded as if she was getting murdered. Y/N fell to the floor and landed in a big heap. The scientist hurriedly ran towards Y/N and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the teen’s blood pooling on the linoleum floor. It appeared she had been stabbed, by the looks of it.

Pointing at various other students to do various tasks, call an ambulance, call the office, and to go get another teacher, she took hold of Y/N’s hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” She whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me.”

Y/N felt very odd. Was this what dying felt like? She felt as though she was underwater; she could hear Ms. Adamson but her voice was muffled and she couldn’t make anything out. Y/N felt dizzy and sick at the same time, all she wanted to do was shut her eyes. So she did. Relief filled her as quickly as the pain. Her wound felt cold as if someone was pushing a damp cloth onto it. The pain lessened and lessened until there was none at all.

Five years later she had almost forgotten about what had happened. Almost. In the years that followed the incident, severe gashes and bruises had become a normal occurrence. Her body was riddled with what seemed like battle scars, and she was almost always on edge. She had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her, nor when it was going to happen. This felt really unfair. She had been so careful for them, but they treated themself like a rag doll.

Much to her delight, when she hit eighteen all of the injuries suddenly stopped. The last injury she had received was a dark black bruise that covered her entire side, then nothing. It had been two years and all she got were papercuts and burned tongues.

“Take a break,” Y/N’s roommate grabs the pen out of her hand and places it on the desk. “You’ve been working on that for ages, come get coffee with me.”

Y/N was currently in her third year at Cambridge University, working on her undergraduate biology degree. For her degree, she had to take organic chemistry and it was, in simple terms, kicking her ass. Her professor is shitty, the work was hard and Y/N was losing motivation.

“I can’t. If I stop I’ll fail the final, then fail the class then never graduate.” Y/N mumbles, picking up her pen again and scribbling something down.

“That’s not true, just come with me. Please?” “I said no, Y/B/F/N.”

“What if you take your books with you? A change of environment might help you study.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and looks up at her roommate. Maybe she had a point, it might do her good to get out a little bit. She packs her things and the two make their way to the coffee shop.

The coffee shop on campus was small and always packed. The school preferred to call it “cozy,” but still, it’s small. Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside.

“Most people must’ve already left campus for break,” Y/B/F/N said, seemingly reading your mind.

Only three of the tables had students sitting at them. One in the far corner had a girl who looked to be a very frustrated first year, huddled over a croissant and an English textbook. A few tables down sat four boys and one girl. Each had books open and pens in their hands, but by picking up snippets of their conversation, they were talking about whether Voldemort or Darth Vader would win in a fight. Finally, near the window, sat a boy who was staring straight at her. She recognized him from a few of her general education classes. Y/N had never talked to this boy, but he was rather cute. He was wearing a crimson sweater and ripped jeans with converse, hair messily tossed to the side. Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not he was staring at her or was in a very deep thought so she waved. No wave back.

The two girls get their coffee and sit down a few tables away from the boy.

“Do you know that guy?” Y/B/F/N asks, moving her head towards crimson sweater.

“Not officially, I recognize him. Oh, what’s his name? I knew it at one point…” Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out her books again, placing them on the table. As if it were a habit, she immediately starts studying again. She glances past her friend; the guy was still staring at that one spot.

Time passes fast for Y/N but slow for Y/B/F/N. She tried to speak with you but ultimately gave up. So, bidding you goodbye, she left to go find her boyfriend. Y/N was kind of relieved, she can finally study in peace. The big group also left, after fighting about whether a time turner should be illegal or not, so the cafe was left with an almost eery silence. So silent that you can hear every pencil scratch, every tap of a keyboard, and every gulp of coffee.

At some point, the boy had gotten up to get another cup of coffee and passed by Y/N. He was wearing a shit ton of cologne, so he left a scent trail wherever he went. Making his way back to his table, he tripped and spilled his coffee all over Y/N’s chemistry notes.

“No, no, no, no, no!!!!!” Y/N screeches, wiping away the coffee with her bare hands. The drink splashes onto the boy’s pants and shoes.

“Oh as- oh fuck, I am so sorry!” He grabs a wad of napkins and tries to blot the paper. She had worked on that study guide for hours, and now it was ruined. There was no way her professor would take it now. Thank god her laptop was still in her bag.

Panicked, Y/N picks up her notebook and starts flipping through it. Her pen marks were bleeding together and there was no way to save them. Coffee crimson boy grimaces and picks up the notebook.

“I don’t suppose this was an art class and you could turn it in as an abstract piece?” He says in a serious tone, though the words were highly sarcastic. Y/N lets out a single laugh.

“I wish it were, but no. O Chem,” Coffee crimson’s face contorts even more.

“Ouch, um, do you have it backed up anywhere?”

“Ah yes, I have my notebook backed up.” The previously broken ice was discarded and Y/N was frustrated again.

“You should have done it on your laptop.”

“And you should watch where the fuck you’re going.” Y/N snatches the notebook from his hand. Coffee crimson notices your tone and quickly backtracks.

“Hey, let me redo it for you then,” He glances at the textbook casually. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“And why should I trust you? I don’t know you and my grade is riding on this.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” His smile was warm. “I’m Edmund Pevensie, I’m in the prelaw program.”

“Oh, perfect, a law student that’s going to attempt my organic chemistry homework. Wonder what could go wrong.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out. Law is hard, maybe a different kind of hard, but still hard. I can do hard.”

“Take a shot every time sweater guy says hard. I feel like I’m at a frat party.”

“I’m trying to fix my mistake here,” Now Edmund is the one that looks frustrated. “Here, take my number. I’ll text you updates and meet you back here tomorrow.” He looks at the clock. Damn, he had a gorgeous jawline. “4:32 pm. Exactly 24 hours from now.” Edmund scribbles his number onto a napkin and hands it to Y/N. As he writes, she can’t help but notice a long, jagged scar running the back of his hand. She scrunchs her eyebrows.

Edmund actually kept his word. Every hour until four am that night he sent Y/N updates. Goofy pictures of him googling stupid questions or him writing. He sent a video that gave Y/N a perfect shot of the scar. Curiously, Y/N looks down at her own hand.

The next day, his photo updates started coming again. This time they were more serious, showing the study guide. He ended up putting his own commentary in the margins; some funny some that made her think of the material differently. Y/N could really tell he was smart, even by his handwriting.

He sent a picture to Y/N at 4:25 of the table in the coffee shop. “I’m early” was sent at the exact moment Y/N opened the door.

“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Y/N sat opposite of him and smiled. He was wearing the same (coffee stained) jeans as yesterday and a button-up shirt.

“I wouldn’t do all that work for nothing,” He smiled again and handed Y/N a new notebook she had never seen before.

As she gripped the pages, the corner dug into her palm and cut her.

“Ow!” The two said at the same time. They both had a thin cut in the middle of their palms. His large brown eyes met Y/N’s and they stared for a moment. Y/N then grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the scar going up the back of his hand. Y/N couldn’t look away from his skin; just as she had thought, it was identical to hers.

Meeting his gaze again, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her hand rested right above a large, jagged scar that didn’t seem to heal quite right. His eyes followed the line of her arm.

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #soulmate #soulmate au

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somecunttookmyurl · 3 years

Note

Just to show you what this power looks like in your inbox. I present to you, my immortal, in it's entirety.

Chapter 1.

AN: Special fangz (get it, coz Im goffik) 2 my gf (ew not in that way) raven, bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da story and spelling. U rok! Justin ur da luv of my deprzzing life u rok 2! MCR ROX!

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Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Ebony!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

“What’s up Draco?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

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AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me fangz!

Chapter 2.

AN: Fangz 2 bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da chapta! BTW preps stop flaming ma story ok!

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The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some blood from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was hot pink velvet with black lace on the ends. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant MCR t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather dress, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

My friend, Willow (AN: Raven dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long waist-length raven black hair with pink streaks and opened her forest-green eyes. She put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation and black eyeliner.)

“OMFG, I saw you talking to Draco Malfoy yesterday!” she said excitedly.

“Yeah? So?” I said, blushing.

“Do you like Draco?” she asked as we went out of the Slytherin common room and into the Great Hall.

“No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted.

“Yeah right!” she exclaimed. Just then, Draco walked up to me.

“Hi.” he said.

“Hi.” I replied flirtily.

“Guess what.” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“Well, Good Charlotte are having a concert in Hogsmeade.” he told me.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I screamed. I love GC. They are my favorite band, besides MCR.

“Well…. do you want to go with me?” he asked.

I gasped.

Chapter 3.

AN: STOP FLAMMING DA STORY PREPZ OK! odderwize fangs 2 da goffik ppl 4 da good reveiws! FANGS AGEN RAVEN! oh yeah, BTW I don’t own dis or da lyrics 4 Good Chralotte.

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On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels. Underneath them were ripped red fishnets. Then I put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back and front. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I read a depressing book while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some GC. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn’t put on foundation because I was pale anyway. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.

I went outside. Draco was waiting there in front of his flying car. He was wearing a Simple Plan t-shirt (they would play at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

“Hi Draco!” I said in a depressed voice.

“Hi Ebony.” he said back. We walked into his flying black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 666) and flew to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to Good Charlotte and Marilyn Manson. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Good Charlotte.

“You come in cold, you're covered in blood They're all so happy you've arrived The doctor cuts your cord, hands you to your mom She sets you free into this life.” sang Joel (I don’t own da lyrics 2 dat song).

“Joel is so fucking hot.” I said to Draco, pointing to him as he sung, filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Draco looked sad.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.

“Hey, it’s ok I don’t like him better than YOU!” I said.

“Really?” asked Draco sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

“Really.” I said. “Besides I don’t even know Joel and he’s going out with Hilary fucking Duff. I fucking hate that little bitch.” I said disgustedly, thinking of her ugly blonde face.

The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Draco. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Benji and Joel for their autographs and photos with them. We got GC concert tees. Draco and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Draco didn’t go back into Hogwarts, instead he drove the car into……………………… the Forbidden Forest!

Chapter 4.

AN: I sed stup flaming ok ebony’s name is ENOBY nut mary su OK! DRACO IS SOO IN LUV wif her dat he is acting defrent! dey nu eechodder b4 ok!

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“DRACO!” I shouted. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Draco didn’t answer but he stopped the flying car and he walked out of it. I walked out of it too, curiously.

“What the fucking hell?” I asked angrily.

“Ebony?” he asked.

“What?” I snapped.

Draco leaned in extra-close and I looked into his gothic red eyes (he was wearing color contacts) which revealed so much depressing sorrow and evilness and then suddenly I didn’t feel mad anymore.

And then…………… suddenly just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my bra. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! ” I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my pale body became all warm. And then….

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!”

It was…………………………………………………….Dumbledore!

Chapter 5.

AN: STOP flaming! if u flam it menz ur a prep or a posr! Da only reson Dumbledeor swor is coz he had a hedache ok an on tup of dat he wuz mad at dem 4 having sexx! PS im nut updating umtil I get five good revoiws!

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Dumbledore made and Draco and I follow him. He kept shouting at us angrily.

“You ludacris fools!” he shouted.

I started to cry tears of blood down my pallid face. Draco comforted me. When we went back to the castle Dumbledore took us to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall who were both looking very angry.

“They were having sexual intercourse in the Forbidden Forest!” he yelled in a furious voice.

“Why did you do such a thing, you mediocre dunces?” asked Professor McGonagall.

“How dare you?” demanded Professor Snape.

And then Draco shrieked. “BECAUSE I LOVE HER!”

Everyone was quiet. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall still looked mad but Professor Snape said. “Fine. Very well. You may go up to your rooms.”

Draco and I went upstairs while the teachers glared at us.

“Are you okay, Ebony?” Draco asked me gently.

“Yeah I guess.” I lied. I went to the girl’s dorm and brushed my teeth and my hair and changed into a low-cut black floor-length dress with red lace all around it and black high heels. When I came out….

Draco was standing in front of the bathroom, and he started to sing ‘I just wanna live’ by Good Charlotte. I was so flattered, even though he wasn’t supposed to be there. We hugged and kissed. After that, we said goodnight and he reluctantly went back into his room.

Chapter 6.

AN: shjt up prepz ok! PS I wnot update ubtil u give me goood revows!

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The next day I woke up in my coffin. I put on a black miniskirt that was all ripped around the end and a matching top with red skulls all over it and high heeled boots that were black. I put on two pairs of skull earrings, and two crosses in my ears. I spray-painted my hair with purple.

In the Great Hall, I ate some Count Chocula cereal with blood instead of milk, and a glass of red blood. Suddenly someone bumped into me. All the blood spilled over my top.

“Bastard!” I shouted angrily. I regretted saying it when I looked up cause I was looking into the pale white face of a gothic boy with spiky black hair with red streaks in it. He was wearing so much eyeliner that I was going down his face and he was wearing black lipstick. He didn’t have glasses anymore and now he was wearing red contact lenses just like Draco’s and there was no scar on his forhead anymore. He had a manly stubble on his chin. He had a sexy English accent. He looked exactly like Joel Madden. He was so sexy that my body went all hot when I saw him kind of like an erection only I’m a girl so I didn’t get one you sicko.

“I’m so sorry.” he said in a shy voice.

“That’s all right. What’s your name?” I questioned.

“My name’s Harry Potter, although most people call me Vampire these days.” he grumbled.

“Why?” I exclaimed.

“Because I love the taste of human blood.” he giggled.

“Well, I am a vampire.” I confessed.

“Really?” he whimpered.

“Yeah.” I roared.

We sat down to talk for a while. Then Draco came up behind me and told me he had a surprise for me so I went away with him.

Chapter 7. Bring me 2 life

AN: wel ok u guyz im only writting dis cuz I got 5 god reviuws. n BTW I wont rite da nxt chapter til I git TIN god vons! STO FLAMING OR ILL REPORT U! Evony isn’t a Marie Sue ok she isn’t perfect SHES A SATANITS! n she has problemz shes depressed 4 godz sake!

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Draco and I held our pale white hands with black nail polish as we went upstairs. I was wearing red Satanist sings on my nails in red nail polish (AN: c doez dat sound lik a Maru Sue 2 u?). I waved to Vampire. Dark misery was in his depressed eyes. I guess he was jealous of me that I was going out with Draco. Anyway, I went upstairs excitedly with Draco. We went into his room and locked the door. Then…………

We started frenching passively and we took off each others clothes enthusiastically. He felt me up before I took of my top. Then I took off my black leather bra and he took off his pants. We went on the bed and started making out naked and then he put his boy’s thingy in mine and we HAD SEX. (c is dat stupid?)

“Oh Draco, Draco!” I screamed while getting an orgasm when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Draco’s arm. It was a black heart with an arrow through it. On it in bloody gothic writing were the words………… Vampire!

I was so angry.

“You bastard!” I shouted angrily, jumping out of the bed.

“No! No! But you don’t understand!” Draco pleaded. But I knew too much.

“No, you fucking idiot!” I shouted. “You probably have AIDs anyway!”

I put on my clothes all huffily and then stomped out. Draco ran out even though he was naked. He had a really big you-know-what but I was too mad to care. I stomped out and did so until I was in Vampire’s classroom where he was having a lesson with Professor Snape and some other people.

“VAMPIRE POTTER, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” I yelled.

Chapter 8.

AN: stop flassing ok! if u do den u r a prep!

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Everyone in the class stared at me and then Draco came into the room even though he was naked and started begging me to take him back.

“Ebony, it’s not what you think!” Draco screamed sadly.

My friend B’loody Mary Smith smiled at me understatedly. She flipped her long waste-length gothic black hair and opened her crimson eyes like blood that she was wearing contact lenses on. She had pale white skin that she was wearing white makeup on. Hermione was kidnapped when she was born. Her real parents are vampires and one of them is a witch but Voldemort killed her mother and her father committed suicide because he was depressed about it. She still has nightmares about it and she is very haunted and depressed. It also turns out her real last name is Smith and not Granger. (Since she has converted to Satanism she is in Slytherin now not Griffindoor. )

“What is it that you desire, you ridiculous dimwit!” Snape demeaned angrily in his cold voice but I ignored him.

“Vampire, I can’t believe you cheated on me with Draco!” I shouted at him.

Everyone gasped.

I don’t know why Ebony was so mad at me. I had went out with Vampire (I’m bi and so is Ebony) for a while but then he broke my heart. He dumped me because he liked Britney, a stupid preppy fucker. We were just good friends now. He had gone through horrible problems, and now he was gothic. (Haha, like I would hang out with a prep.)

“But I’m not going out with Draco anymore!” said Vampire.

“Yeah fucking right! Fuck off, you bastard!” I screamed. I ran out of the room and into the Forbidden Forest where I had lost my virility to Draco and then I started to bust into tears.

Chapter 9.

AN: stop flaming ok! I dntn red all da boox! dis is frum da movie ok so itz nut my folt if dumbeldor swers! besuizds I SED HE HAD A HEDACHE! and da reson snap dosent lik harry now is coz hes christian and vampire is a satanist! MCR ROX!

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I was so mad and sad. I couldn’t believe Draco for cheating on me. I began to cry against the tree where I did it with Draco.

Then all of a suddenly, an horrible man with red eyes and no nose and everything started flying towards me on a broomstick! He didn’t have a nose (basically like Voldemort in the movie) and he was wearing all black but it was obvious he wasn’t gothic. It was…… Voldemort!

“No!” I shouted in a scared voice but then Voldemort shouted “Imperius!” and I couldn’t run away.

“Crookshanks!” I shouted at him. Voldemort fell of his broom and started to scream. I felt bad for him even though I’m a sadist so I stopped.

“Ebony.” he yelled. “Thou must kill Vampire Potter!”

I thought about Vampire and his sexah eyes and his gothic black hair and how his face looks just like Joel Madden. I remembered that Draco had said I didn’t understand, so I thought, what if Draco went out with Vampire before I went out with him and they broke up?

“No, Voldemort!” I shouted back.

Voldemort gave me a gun. “No! Please!” I begged.

“Thou must!” he yelled. “If thou does not, then I shall kill thy beloved Draco!”

“How did you know?” I asked in a surprised way.

Voldemort got a dude-ur-so-retarded look on his face. “I hath telekinesis.” he answered cruelly. “And if you doth not kill Vampire, then thou know what will happen to Draco!” he shouted. Then he flew away angrily on his broomstick.

I was so scared and mad I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly Draco came into the woods.

“Draco!” I said. “Hi!”

“Hi.” he said back but his face was all sad. He was wearing white foundation and messy eyeliner kind of like a pentagram (geddit) between Joel Madden and Gerard Way.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No.” he answered.

“I’m sorry I got all mad at you but I thought you cheated on me.” I expelled.

“That’s okay.” he said all depressed and we went back into Hogwarts together making out.

Chapter 10.

AN: stup it u gay fags if u donot lik ma story den fukk off! ps it turnz out b’loody mary isn’t a muggle afert al n she n vampire r evil datz y dey movd houses ok!

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I was really scared about Vlodemort all day. I was even upset went to rehearsals with my gothic metal band Bloody Gothic Rose 666. I am the lead singer of it and I play guitar. People say that we sound like a cross between GC, Slipknot and MCR. The other people in the band are B’loody Mary, Vampire, Draco, Ron (although we call him Diabolo now. He has black hair now with blue streaks in it.) and Hargrid. Only today Draco and Vampire were depressed so they weren’t coming and we wrote songs instead. I knew Draco was probably slitting his wrists (he wouldn’t die because he was a vampire too and the only way you can kill a vampire is with a c-r-o-s-s (there’s no way I’m writing that) or a steak) and Vampire was probably watching a depressing movie like The Corpse Bride. I put on a black leather shirt that showed off my boobs and tiny matching miniskirt that said Simple Plan on the butt. You might think I’m a slut but I’m really not.

We were singing a cover of ‘Helena’ and at the end of the song I suddenly bust into tears.

“Ebony! Are you OK?” B’loody Mary asked in a concerted voice.

“What the fuck do you think?” I asked angrily. And then I said. “Well, Voldemort came and the fucking bastard told me to fucking kill Harry! But I don’t want to kill him, because, he’s really nice, even if he did go out with Draco. But if I don’t kill Harry, then Voldemort, will fucking kill Draco!” I burst into tears. Suddenly Draco jumped out from behind a wall.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me!” he shouted. “How could you- you- you fucking poser muggle bitch!” (c is dat out of character?)

I started to cry and cry. Draco started to cry too all sensitive. Then he ran out crying.

We practiced for one more hour. Then suddenly Dumbeldore walked in angrily! His eyes were all fiery and I knew this time it wasn’t cause he had a headache.

“What have you done!” He started to cry wisely. (c dats basically nut swering and dis time he wuz relly upset n u wil c y) “Ebony Draco has been found in his room. He committed suicide by slitting his wrists.”

Chapter 11.

AN: i sed stup flaming up prepz! c if dis chaptr is srupid!1111 it delz wit rly sris issus! sp c 4 urself if itz ztupid brw fangz 2 ma frend raven 4 hleping me!

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“NO!” I screamed. I was horrorfied! B’loody Mary tried to comfort me but I told her fuck off and I ran to my room crying myself. Dumbledore chased after me shouting but he had to stop when I went into my room cause he would look like a perv that way.

Anyway, I started crying tears of blood and then I slit both of my wrists. They got all over my clothes so I took them off and jumped into the bath angrily while I put on a Linkin Park song at full volume. I grabbed a steak and almost stuck it into my heart to commit suicide. I was so fucking depressed! I got out of the bathtub and put on a black low-cut dress with lace all over it sandly. I put on black high heels with pink metal stuff on the ends and six pairs of skull earrings. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Then I looked out the window and screamed… Snap was spying on me and he was taking a video tape of me! And Loopin was masticating to it! They were sitting on their broomsticks.

“EW, YOU FUCKING PERVS, STOP LOOKING AT ME NAKED! ARE YOU PEDOS OR WHAT!” I screamed putting on a black towel with a picture of Marilyn Mason on it. Suddenly Vampire ran in.

“Abra Kedavra!” he yelled at Snape and Loopin pointing his womb. I took my gun and shot Snape and Loopin a gazillion times and they both started screaming and the camera broke. Suddenly, Dumblydore ran in. “Ebony, it has been revealed that someone has - NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he shouted looking at Snape and Loopin and then he waved his wand and suddenly…

Hargrid ran outside on his broom and said everyone we need to talk.

“What do you know, Hargrid? You’re just a little Hogwarts student!”

“I MAY BE A HOGWARTS STUDENT….” Hargirid paused angrily. “BUT I AM ALSO A SATANIST!”

“This cannot be.” Snap said in a crisp voice as blood dripped from his hand where Dumblydore’s wand had shot him. “There must be other factors.”

“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY!” I yelled in madly.

Loopin held up the camera triumelephantly. “The lens may be ruined but the tape is still there!”

I felt faint, more than I normally do like how it feels when you do not drink enough blood.

“Why are you doing this?” Loopin said angrily while he rubbed his dirty hands on his clook.

And then I heard the words that I had heard before but not from him. I did not know whether to feel shocked and happy or to bite him and drink his blood because I felt faint.

“BECAUSE…BECAUSE….” Hargid said and he paused in the air dramitaclly, waving his wand in the air. Then swooped he in singing to the tune of a gothic version of a song by 50 Cent.

“Because you’re goffic?” Snap asked in a little afraid voice cause he was afraind it meant he was connected with Satan.

“Because I LOVE HER!”

Chapter 12.

AN: stop f,aing ok hargrid is a pedo 2 a lot of ppl in amerikan skoolz r lik dat I wunted 2 adres da ishu! how du u no snap iant kristian plus hargrid isn’t really in luv wif ebony dat was sedric ok!

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I was about to slit my wrists again with the silver knife that Drago had given me in case anything happened to him. He had told me to use it valiantly against an enemy but I knew that we must both go together.

“NO!” I THOUGHT IT WAS HAIRgrid but it was Vampire. He started to scream. “OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!” and then….. his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites.

I stopped. “How did u know?”

“I saw it! And my scar turned back into the lightning bolt!”

“NO!” I ran up closer. “I thought you didn’t have a scar anymore!” I shouted.

“I do but Diabolo changed it into a pentagram for me and I always cover it up with foundation.” he said back. “Anyway my scar hurt and it turned back into the lightning bolt! Save me! then I had a vision of what was happening to Draco…………….Volfemort has him bondage!”

Anyway I was in the school nurse’s office now recovering from my slit wrists. Snap and Loopin and HAHRID were there too. They were going to St. Mango’s after they recovered cause they were pedofiles and you can’t have those fucking pervs teaching in a school with lots of hot gurlz. Dumbledore had constipated the cideo camera they took of me naked. I put up my middle finger at them.

Anyway Hargrid came into my hospital bed holding a bouquet of pink roses.

“Enoby I need to tell u somethnig.” he said in a v. serious voice, giving me the roses.

“Fuck off.�� I told him. “You know I fucking hate the color pink anyway, and I don’t like fucked up preps like you.” I snapped. Hargrid had been mean to me before for being gottik.

“No Enoby.” Hargrid says. “Those are not roses.”

“What, are they goffs too you poser prep?” I asked cause I was angry that he had brought me pink roses.

“I saved your life!” He yelled angrily. “No you didn’t I replied.” “You saved me from getting a Paris Hilton p- video made from your shower scene and being vued by Snap and Loopin.” Who MASTABATED (c is dat speld rong) to it he added silently.

“Whatever!” I yelled angirly.

He pointed his wand at the pink roses. “These aren’t roses.” He suddenly looked at them with an evil look in his eye and muttered Well If you wanted Honesty that’s all you haD TO SAY! .

“That’s not a spell that’s an MCR song.” I corrected him wisely.

“I know, I was just warming up my vocal cordes.” Then he screamed. “Petulus merengo mi kremicli romacio(4 all u cool goffic mcr fans out, there, that is a tribute! specially for raven I love you girl!)imo noto okayo!”

And then the roses turned into a huge black flame floating in the middle of the air. And it was black. Now I knew he wasn’t a prep.

“OK I believe you now wtf is Drako?”

Hairgrid rolled his eyes. I looked into the balls of flame but I could c nothing.

“U c, Enobby,” Dumblydore said, watching the two of us watching the flame. “2 c wht iz n da flmes(HAHA U REVIEWRS FLAMES GEDDIT) u mst find urslf 1st, k?”

“I HAVE FOUND MYSELF OK YOU MEAN OLD MAN!” Hargrid yelled. dUMBLydore lookd shockd. I guess he didn’t have a headache or else he would have said something back.

Hairgrid stormed off back into his bed. “U r a liar, prof dumbledoree!”

Anyway when I got better I went upstairs and put on a black leather minidress that was all ripped on the ends with lace on it. There was some corset stuff on the front. Then I put on black fishnets and black high-heeled boots with pictures of Billie Joe Armstrong on them. I put my hair all out around me so I looked like Samara from the Ring (if u don’t know who she iz ur a prep so fuk off!) and I put on blood-red lipstick, black eyeliner and black lip gloss.

“You look kawai, girl.” B’loody Mary said sadly. “Fangs (geddit) you do too.” I said sadly too, but I was still upset. I slit both of my wrists feeling totally depressed and I sucked all the blood. I cried again in my bathroom and put the shades on so Snap and Loopin couldn’t spy on me this time. I went to some classes. Vampire was in the Hair of Magical Magic Creatures. He looked all depressed because Draco had disappeared and he had used to be in love with Draco. He was sucking some blood from a Hufflepuff.

“Hi.” he said in a depressed way. “Hi back.” I said in an wqually said way.

We both looked at each other for some time. Harry had beautiful red gothic eyes so much like Dracos. Then……… we jumped on each other and started screwing each other.

“STOP IT NOW YOU HORNY SIMPLETONS!” shouted Professor McGoggle who was watching us and so was everyone else.

“Vampire you fucker!” I said slapping him. “Stop trying to screw me. You know I loved Draco!” I shouted and then I ran away angrily.

Just then he started to scream. “OMFG! NOOOOO! MY SCAR HURTS!” and then….. his eyes rolled up! You could only see his red whites.

“NO!” I ran up closer.

“I thought you didn’t have a scar anymore!” I shouted.

“I do but Diabolo changed it into a pentagram for me and I always cover it up with foundation.” he said back. “Anyway my scar hurt and then I had a vision of what was happening to Draco…………….Volfemort has him bondage!”

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SPECIAL FANGZ 2 RAVEN MY GOFFIX BLOOD SISTA WTF UR SUPPOZD 2 RIT DIS!11111111

HEY RAVEN DO U KNOW WHERE MY SWEATER I

Chapter 13.

AN: raven fangz 4 gelpin me agen im sory ah tok ur postr of gerard but dat guy is such a fokin sexbom! PREPZ STOP FLAMIGNG!

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Vampire and I ran up the stairs looking for Dumbledore. We were so scared.

“Dumbledore Dumblydore!” we both yelled. Dumbledore came there.

“What is it that you want now you despicable snobs?” he asked angrily.

“Volsemort has Draco!” we shouted at the same time.

He laughed in an evil voice.

“No! Don’t! We need to save Draco!” we begged.

“No.” he said meanly. “I don’t give a darn what Voldemort does to Draco. Not after how much he misbehaved in school especially with YOU Ebony.” he said while he frowned looking at me. “Besides I never liked him that much anyway.” then he walked away. Vampire started crying. “My Draco!” he moaned. (AN: don’t u fik gay guyz r lik so hot!)

“Its okay!” I tried to tell him but that didn’t stop him. He started to cry tears of blood. Then he had a brainstorm. “I had an idea!” he exclaimed.

“What?” I asked him.

“You’ll see.” he said. He took out his wand and did a spell. Then…… suddenly we were in Voldemprt’s lair!

We ran in with our wands out just as we heard a croon voice say. “Allah Kedavra!” It was……………………………….. Voldemort!

Chapter 14.

AN: fuk off PREPZ ok! Raven fangz 4 helpin agen. im sory ah kudnt update but I wuz derperessd n I had 2 go 2 da hospital kuz I slit muh rists. PS im nut updating til u giv me 10 god revoiws!

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WARNING: SUM OF DIS CHAPTA IS XTREMLY SCRAY. VIOWER EXCRETION ADVISD.

We ran to where Volcemort was. It turned out that Voldemort wasn’t there. Instead the fat guy who killed Cedric was. Draco was there crying tears of blood. Snaketail was torturing him. Vampire and I ran in front of Snaketail.

“Rid my sight you despicable preps!” he shouted as we started shooting him with the gun he Then suddenly he looked at me and he fell down with a lovey-dovey look in his eyes. “EbonyIloveyouwiluhavesexwithme.” he said. (in dis he is sixteen yrs old so hes not a pedofile ok)

“Huh?” I asked. ”Enoby I love you will you have sex with me?” asked Snaketail. I started laughing crudely. “What the fuck? You torture my bf and then you expect me to fuck you? God, you are so fucked up you fucking bastard.” I said angrily. Then I stabbed him in the heart. Blood pored out of it like a fountain.

“Nooooooooooooo!” he screamed. He started screaming and running around. Then he fell down and died. I brust into tears sadly.

“Snaketail what art thou doing?” called Voldemort. Then…… he started coming! We could hear his high heels clacking to us. So we got on our broomsticks and we flew to Hogwarts. We went to my room. Vampire went away. There I started crying.

“What’s wrong honey?” asked Draco taking off his clothes so we could screw. He had a sex-pack (geddit cuz hes so sexah) and a really huge you-know-what and everything.

“Its so unfair!” I yielded. “Why can’t I just be ugly or plain like all da other girls and preps here except for B’loody Mary, because she’s not ugly or anything.”

“Why would you wanna be ugly? I don’t like the preps anyway. They are such fucking sluts.” answered Draco.

“Yeah but everyone is in love with me! Like Snape and Loopin took a video of me naked. Hargrid says he’s in love with me. Vampire likes me and now even Snaketail is in love with me! I just wanna be with you ok Draco! Why couldn’t Satan have made me less beautiful?” I shouted angrily. (an” don’t wory enoby isn’t a snob or anyfing but a lot of ppl hav told her shes pretty) “Im good at too many things! WHY CAN’T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT’S A FUCKING CURSE!” I shouted and then I ran away.

Chapter 15.

AN: stup flaming ok! btw u suk frum no on evry tim sum1 flams me im gona slit muh ristsz! fangz 2 raven 4 hlpein!

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“Ebony Ebony!” shouted Draco sadly. “No, please, come back!”

But I was too mad.

“Whatever! Now u can go anh have sex with Vampire!” I shouted. I stormed into my room and closed my black door with my blood-red key. It had a picture of Marylin Manson on it. He looked so sexy in a way that reminded me of Draco and Vampire. I started to cry and weep. I took a razor and started to slit my wrists. I drank the blood all depressed. Then I looked at my black GC watch and noticed it was time to go to Biology class.

I put on a short ripped black gothic dress that said Anarchy on the front in blood red letters and was all ripped and a spiky belt. Under that I put on ripped black fishnets and boots that said Joel all over them with blood red letters. I put my ebony black hair out. Anyway I went downstairs feeling all sad and depressed as usual. I did sum advanced Biology work. I was turning a bloody pentagram into a black guitar. Suddenly the guitar turned to Draco!

“Enoby I love you!” he shouted sadly. “I dnot care what those fucker preps and posers fink. Ur da most beautiful girl in the world. Before I met you I used to want to commit suicide all the time. Now I just wanna fucking be with you. I fucking love you!.” Then……………. he started to sing “Da Chronicles of Life and Death” (we considered it our song now cuz we fell in love when Joel was singing it) right in front of the entire class! His singing voice was so amazing and gothic and sexxy like a cross between Gerard, Joel, Chester, Pierre and Marilyn Manson (AN: don’t u fink dos guyz r so hot. if u dnot no who dey r get da fuk out od hr!) .

“OMFG.” I said after he was finished. Some fucking preps stared at us but I just stuck up my middle fingers (that were covered in black nail polish and were entwined with Draco’s now) at them. “I love you!” I said and then we started to kiss just like Hilary Duff (i fukin h8 dat bitch) and CMM in a Cinderella Story. Then we went away holding hands. Loopin shouted at us but he stopped cuz everyone was clapping by how sexy we looked 2gether. Then I saw a poster saying that MCR would have a concert in Hogsmede right then. We looked at each other all shocked and then we went 2gether. Chapter 16.

AN: u no wut! sut up ok! proov 2 me ur nut prepz! raven u suk u fuken bich gimme bak mah fukijn swteet ur supsd 2 rit dis! Raven wtf u bich ur suposd to dodis! BTW fangz 2 britney5655 4 techin muh japnese!

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We ran happily to Hogsmede. There we saw the stage where GC had played. We ran in happly. MCR were there playing ‘Helena’. I was so fucking happy! Gerard looked even sexier than he did in da pictures. Even Draco thought so, I could totally see him getting an erection but it didn’t matter cuz I knew know that we were da only true ones for eachother. I was wearing a black leather minidress and black leather platinum boots with red ripped fishnets. Draco was wearing a black baggy MCR t-shirt and black baggy pants. Anyway, we stated moshing to Helena. We frenched. We ran up 2 the front of the band to stage-dive. Suddenly, Gerard pulled off his mask. So did the others. We gasped. It wasn’t them at all. It was.,……………………….. Volsemort and da Death Dealers!

“Wtf Draco im not going to a concert wid u!” I shouted angrily. “Not after what happened to me last time? Even if its MCR n u no how much I lik them”

“What cause we…you know…” he gadgetted uncomfortbli cause guys don’t like to talk a bout you-know-what.

“Yeah cause we you know!” I yielded in an angry voice.

“We won’t do that again.” Draco promised. “This time, we’re going with an ESCORT.”

“OMFG wtf/ Are you giving into the mainstream?” I asked. “So I guess ur a prep or a Christina or what now?”

“NO.” he muttered loudly.

“R u becoming a prep or what?” I shootd angrily.

“Enoby! I’m not! Pls come with me!” He fell down to his knees and started singing ‘Da world is black’ by GC to me.

I was flattened cause that’s not even a single, he had memorized da lyrks just 4 me!

“OK then I guess I will have to.” I said and then we frenched 4 a while and I went up 2 my room.

B’loody Mary was standing there. “Hajimemashite gurl.” she said happily (she spex Japanese so do i. dat menz ‘how do u do’ in japanese). “BTW Willow that fucking poser got expuld. she failed al her klasses and she skepped math.” (an: RAVEN U FUKIN SUK! FUK U!)

“It serves that fuking bich right.” I laughed angrily.

Well anyway we where felling all deprezzed. We wutsched some goffic movies like Das niteMARE b4 xmas. “Maybe Willow will die too.” I said.

“Kawai.” B’loody Mair shook her head enrgtically lethrigcly. “Oh yeah o have a confession after she got expuld I murdered her and den loopin did it with her cause he’s a necphilak.”

“Kawai.” I commnted happily . We talked to each other in silence for da rest uv da movie.

“OH HEY BTw, im going to a concert with drako tonight in Hogsmeade with mcr.” I sed. “ I need to wear like da hotset outfit EVA.”

B’Loody Mairy Nodded ENREGeticALLlY. “Omfg totally lets go shopping.”

“In Hot Topic, right?” I asked, already getting out my spshcial Hot Topic Loiyalty carde.

“No.” My head snaped up.

‘WHAT?” my head spuin. I could not believe it. “B’Loody Mary are u a PREP?”

“NOOOO!NOOOO!” She laughed. “I found some cool goffic stores near Hogwarts that’s all.”

“Hu told u abut them” I askd sure it would be Drako or Diabolo or Vampire(don’t even SAY that nam to me!). Or me.

“Dumblydore.” She sed. “Let me just call our broms.”

“OMFFG DUMBLYDORE?” I asked quietly.

“Yah I saw the map for Hogsmeade on his desk.” She told me. “Come on let’s go.”

We were going in a few punkgoff stores SPECIALLY for the concerts in Hogsmeade. The salesperson was OMG HOTTER THAN GERARD EXCEPT NOT CAUSE THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE and he gave me a few dresses. “We only have these for da real goffs.”

“Da real goffs?” Me and B’Loody Mary asked.

“Yah u wouldn’t believe how many posers ther are in this town man! Yesterday loopin and snap tried to buy a goffic camera pouch.” He shook his head. “I dint even no they had a camera.”

“OMFG NO THEIR GONNA SPY ON ME AGAIN!” I cried, running out of the changing room wearing a long black dress with lots of red tulle coming out and very low-cut with a huge slit.

“Oh my satan you have to buy that outfit” The salesperson said.

“Yeah it looks totlly hot.” said B’Loody Mary.

“You know what I am gona give it to you free cause u look really hot in that utfit. Hey are you gonna be at the concert tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah I am actually.” I looked back at him. “Hey BTW my name’s ebondy dark’ness dementia TARA way what’s yours?”

“Tom Rid.” He said and ran a hand through his black-dyed hair. “maybe I’ll see you there tonight.”

“Yeah I don’t think so cause I am going there with my bf drako you sick perv!” I yelled angrily, but before he could beg me to go with him, Hargrid flew in on his black broom looking worried. “OMFG EBONDY U NEED OT GET BACK INTO THE CASTLE NOW!”

huh. my immortal is shorter than i remember

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