#of facing your own death every day but the one you're scared of is theirs!!!!

[fatuismooches]

Thinking about an arranged marriage with the Harbingers.

You're not sure why they chose you out of all the noble families. There were far more prestigious and rich families to choose from rather than yours, which was barely known. Or why they chose you over your much more talented siblings. You had no particular, outstanding feature about you. No martial prowess, average intelligence and appearance, only mundane hobbies that were not as recognized as your siblings' gifts. Furthermore, your health wasn't a strong point either. Coughing fits and shivers definitely did not attract people to you.

So why? Why are you now living in a gigantic mansion with a Har-, or rather, your newlywed spouse? Obviously, you didn't have much say in it. Everyone knew that to refuse a Harbinger meant to welcome death. Even at the wedding, you could hear confused mumblings as to why a powerful Harbinger would settle for little old you. And you couldn't blame them, because you had no idea what you were doing here either.

Even though you were now married, you didn't see much of your lover. They were often busy with work, and furthermore, they didn't even make you share a bed with them. You came in ready, already steeling yourself to listen to their probably harsh demands, but your rooms were not the same. Nevertheless, anytime you did have the opportunity to talk to them, you always kept your eyes trained on their well-polished shoes, and spoke as apathetically as possible, addressing them as Lord Harbinger, scared to displease them. Yes, you were married to them, but that didn't make them any less scary.

But despite their lack of communication, they never mistreated you. Servants tended to your every need. Anything you wanted was gotten, with the finest of quality. And if your lover was feeling bold, they would hesitantly caress your cheek, causing you to automatically go stiff, and they would quickly remove their hand. After a while, you grew more confused as to what was going on. Surely, they didn't take you in just for you to spend the days wasting their money. You were prepared for a lot of things but such kindness was not one.

So one day, you decide to reciprocate their very small advances. You lean into the palm of their hand and intertwine your own fingers with theirs, shyly asking if they would like to join you for a meal. The shock on their faces was probably the most emotion you'd seen on them.

Your lover doesn't hesitate to jump on the offer. They were in love with you from first sight, after all.

[tricks-n-illusions]

{ @askoinari } So, your one true wish in this whole entire universe is to die, hm? Tragic, pitiful really. All this fuss and a temper tantrum because you couldn’t win mommy’s love? Even your own god does not grant you the peace you so desperately long for, stringing you along like a puppet. Do you honestly think your death will solve all your problems? Knowing your god, they’d probably spite you back to life in the form of a ghost for a laugh, wouldn’t that be ironic? I suppose nobody else would care about your death considering your track record for violence, but what of your No-so-apparent companion here? Wouldn’t they mourn you, at the very least? Judging from your charming nature, probably not! Good luck on your fools’ errand. - Yako

Silas's ears flattened as he backed away from Yako, for the first time it seemed he was fearful of someone. Though you couldn't place why... But, Silas knew, he knew exactly why, it was that damn mask, the posture, the aura, the way their tail seemed to become a wisp. It was like looking at a ghost. Once he realized why Yako scared him Silas couldn't do much but freeze in place and squeeze his eyes shut, hoping they would just leave. His fear response became painfully apparent as the moments passed. All he could muster up was a feeble anxious whimper, maybe that would magically make them spare him from the incoming verbal assault. Then they spoke. It sounded just like her. In his terror it WAS her.

Seance's tone was mocking, something Silas was guilty of doing... or maybe he was just copying her the whole time. Even so, she just quietly hummed in thought, looking over him as she ever so slightly inched closer and closer.

"Even after all these years, you're still chasing after her love? Desperately hoping one day she'll forgive you for all the pain you caused her?" Though Seance's voice was soft, her words were not. "I told you, She doesn't love you and she never will. Why can't you get that through your head?" She paused, giving her words a moment to sink in before she spoke up again. "Silas." She sounded upset. "What did I tell you about not looking at me while I'm talking to you?" He cringed at that but didn't reply.

When he didn't do what she said, she just gave a soft, "Tsk." Well, He always was a coward, of course he didn't have the guts to even look at her. She gently brushed a claw over his face before finally letting go with an annoyed sigh. Despite Seance's words, Yako's voice was still loud and clear, mocking him along with her. Her voice seemed to compliment theirs perfectly.

Seance quickly broke into laughter at the thought of that herself.

"Isn't that right, Little fox?" Truth always hurt. Silas couldn't deny it, Yako was right. Seance was right, every word every insult was right. When tears finally began to well up and Seance's voice faded, Silas found the courage to speak. His voice was soft and faint. A mere whisper compared to the onslaught of words from Yako. "Please..."

Silas's words obviously went unheard. His claws just dug further into his skin, blood beginning to trail down his arm, the moment it finally seemed like Yako was going to stop talking, Silas broke from his fearful trance. In one quick sweeping motion, Silas threw out a Night Slash.

"JUST SHUT UP ALREADY." He shouted. "You have NO right to TALK DOWN to me like I'm beneath you! I AM NOT BENEATH YOU." He sounded unsure. "You don't know who the fuck I am, and I don't think you want to find out. So, Shut the fuck up or I'll make you! I have no fucking problem with killing you right here. Unless you want to be gutted I suggest you FUCK OFF." Silas lowly growled, his teeth bared, a blatant attempt at aggression, though his behaviour portrayed more fear than anything. Yako obviously touched a nerve with his words.

He didn't care. Finally, after everything the tears began to flow, all he could do was sniff and wipe them away. "...Fucking pathetic." He grumbled, his words seemed to be addressed to Yako but it quickly became clear it was for himself.

→ Yako has been added to the relationships page. → Seance has been added to the characters page. → Silas is now injured and will stay that way until he addresses it.

[ Ask from @askoinari ]

[carpisuns]

ladynoir............[starts violently sobbing and melts into a pile of goo like the wicked witch of the whichever direction it was. west probably]

[ilove-cedricdiggory]

The Burrow is in color again.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary - The Battle of Hogwarts, only, Fred wasn't alone with Percy. You had been dating Fred for a while now and he wasn't letting you out of his sight during the fight. Do you let him out of yours?

Trigger Warning - Death, angst,

Standing beside your boyfriend and his brother in the great hall once more felt strange. You were standing behind Harry, glaring at the man you once called your professor. While you never liked Snape, you did well in potions and that alone kept you on his more decent side. Now, you hated the man with every fiber of your being.

Your hand was tightly in Fred's, his position slightly in front of yours as Mcgonagall began firing spells at the dark haired man. Once Harry explained what the students were off to look for, you, Fred, and George ran to take a post.

As you ran off, you saw a few first years scrambling in search of guidance. Your hand slipped from Fred's, moving to the group quickly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You guys are all first years, yeah?" you asked, your voice soft. Seeing them all nod, your stomach twisted. Just about all the first years were already at the station, loading onto the train now. "Okay, come on, I'm going to try to get you all to the train. Hold onto each other. Were going to have to apparate. You guys have no idea what that is, but you're going to hate it. It's the only way we can make it." You gripped onto ones arms as the rest tried to hold on.

"Woah, woah, woah. Where are you going" Fred voiced himself as he caught up with you. "They are first years, Fred. They can't be here for this. They need to catch the train." You turned your head away from your boyfriend, back to the kids. "Then we're helping. I'm not letting you do any of this stuff by yourself today." You nodded, George and Fred taking a few first years themselves, as you apparated onto the platform and directed them into the train before heading back to the school before the barriers were up.

"You can't do that love. You can't. Run off like that, leave me without you. I won't be able to live if anything happens." Fred held you close to him, his hands up in your hair. George stood behind him, looking you in your eyes, nodding in agreement.

You sighed, but understood the seriousness in his voice. You felt the same way about Fred - if absolutely anything happened today to him, you were genuinely unsure how you'd be able to continue on.

Seeing as how you hadn't been without Fred sense first year, the last thing you could handle was not having him. You, George, and Fred met on Hogwarts Express, them seeing you sitting in a spare compartment, alone, and absolutely scared out of your wits. You were a confident kid, yeah, but this was the first time you'd ever be away from your family like this, in a world you didn't know existed until two months ago.

They sat in with you quickly, warming up to you within minutes. From that day on, you three were inseparable. When they got into trouble, you got them out of it. While they were the notorious trouble makers, you were the one that kept them both level headed. George wasn't quite as bad as Fred, but he couldn't always control his twin brothers actions. You, on the other hand, simply had to look at Fred the right way, and he was changing the details of his lated prank to fit your expectations of him.

Looking back on it now, you were really stupid to not see how whipped he truly was for you, but now that you knew, you used it to the fullest of your extent, especially when you weren't focused on the war surrounding you.

The two of you had officially gotten together your fifth year, George finally tired of the longing looks you both shared and came up with his own task of getting the two of you together. It took him a lot longer than he cares to admit, but finally the two of you were locked in a broom cupboard, having downed a bit of pumpkin juice with George's brewed Veratiserium. You and Fred were spilling the truth of your feelings for each other faster than you drank the juice itself. Which lead to your own seven minutes of heaven that lasted a bit longer than seven minutes, thanks to the locked door.

Now, the two of you stood together, prepared to fight for each other and your entire families, against a man you had feared the last 9 years of your life. You took a step back, leaning against the wall behind you as you gave the twins a few moments together.

"You okay Freddie?" Your eyes watered with the risk that lied ahead of all of you, your body attempting to warn you of just exactly what was due to happen to the three of you in just a moments time. But, instead, you focused on the deep voice of the love of your life before you, smiling softly as he spoke. "Yeah." The one word filling your head, a tear falling from it's home in your eye to slip down your cheek.

"Me too."

You moved to stand between the two twins, your hands grasping both of theirs. While you dated Fred, George was still your absolute best friend. The three of you having spent more time together than you ever have apart. Your heart was owned by both of the twins next to you, but in two very different ways. Your love of Fred filling up your entire being, leaving you breathless and full of oxygen at the same time. Your soul fuller than it ever thought it could be now that he was the one that held you at night. But your love for George filled up your brain, leaving you absolutely excited for the moments that stayed there. For each moment you had with Fred, you also had with George. He was your family, your brother, and you loved him just as such. The three of you created a bond no one in the world could break.

Fred's arm wrapped around your shoulders, his face moving to press a kiss into your temple. "Well, boys, I think it's finally time for me to get behind your crazy plans and put all that prank knowledge to its use." They chuckled, smiling down at you. "After all this time, we knew you were paying attention"

The three of you fought together for as long as you could, but you somehow separated from George and instead, met with Percy. You hoped with all of your being that George stayed safe, along with every one of the Weasley's.

You stayed with Fred and Percy, listening to them talk about simple things. It wasn't until you heard Fred laugh and the rumble of a wall that your heard fell. Moving to shoot your own spell at the wall, you held it up until your energy left you, hoping it gave someone enough time to save the love of your life. You had seemed to step forward as you cast your spell, for the moment it broke, you felt the weight of the stone upon your own body. Your eyes closed as you felt the breath you had in your lungs leave you, the ringing in your ears fill up your pounding head, and the cry of the pain just barely leaving your mouth. You looked to your left the best you could, seeing a head of red before your body gave out.

You weren't sure what death was like, if this was it, but it wasn't what you expected. You expected yourself to be standing infront of a gate or something, filled with a freeness you had never experienced before. You anticipated seeing all the family members you had gone so long without, standing before you as you felt your heart swell as you saw their faces after the time you lost with them. You expected to get some kind of answer as to why the world turned the way it did just as you were growing up. Why you found yourself worrying about unforgivable curses instead of your next date with Fred.

Instead, you saw white.

You didn't comprehend where exactly you were, not until your eyes took you into the crisp kitchen, feeling a sense of familiarity as you took on the burrow as clean as what it was. It was strange to see it this way, without the dishes cleaning themselves up, without the wind blowing through the open window, without the noises that came with being at the Burrow. You felt calm, but not nearly as calm as you would in the normal home.

"Y/n." You looked up to see a woman you had never met before, standing beside a man who looked exactly like Harry. The only difference was, Harry's beautiful eyes were the same as the woman standing before you. "You're, you're Lily Potter." Your voice sounded strange, not quite like your own. "And you're James. I know because Harry keeps that picture of you guys, even when he comes to the Burrow. You're his parents." Your words flew from your mouth, before your eyes closed. "Does this mean I'm dead?" Your voice was smaller than before, the pain filling it.

"Not exactly. That's up to you." James walked closer to you, showing you around the Burrow. "You can choose to let go, I'm assuming you can walk up the stairs and be met with exactly what you expected death to be like, but you don't have to." Lily smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your head.

"Is Fred dead?" You whispered, looking at her.

"I don't know, honey. I'm so sorry." She took you in her arms, holding you to her chest. "I can't, I can't go back if he's not there, Mrs. Potter." Your tears fell once more, the whole in your heart already growing. "I can't live without him." Your sob filled the quiet air, your tears almost evaporating before they hit her skin. "I know honey, but you won't know unless you go back."

You looked at her, your eyes still full of the fears that filled you, only in the form of water. "I'm so scared." You whispered, looking at James. "It's okay to be scared honey, it really is." she cupped your cheeks, smiling softly. "But fear shows you you're alive." Lily's lips touched your forehead softly, smiling. "You're more than welcome to sit and think, the choice is yours." They both smiled at you, before vanishing. You weren't sure where they went, but you hoped it was as far away from Harry as they could. The last thing you wanted was for Harry to meet his parents through death do young.

You sat on the couch, thinking of the times you fell asleep on Fred's chest, threw pieces of chocolate at George and Ron, talked on and on with Charlie about the dragons he saw daily, read a book with Bill sitting across from you, or listened to Ginny and the boys groan as Percy went on and on about his prestigious job.

Your heard was full of Fred and George, yes, but it was also full of every single Weasley you came in contact with. They filled your heart, just as much as your twins did.

You nodded to yourself, taking a deep breath and letting go, unsure of how this was supposed to work. You felt confused as you tried to open your eyes, but was met with a force holding you back. You couldn't open them to find yourself in the crisp, white Burrow, but you also couldn't open them to find yourself back home.

You fought with your body for what felt like years, feeling like you couldn't command it to do the simple action that you completed from the day you were born. That was, until, you heard the sob from above you and the voice of Molly. "It's okay, she had to be okay."

You felt your heart squeeze and the pain rush to your head like you couldn't imagine before your eyes finally opened, seeing the people staring down at you. You first made eye contact with the woman you heard, her own sobs falling from your mouth quickly. "Get him, get him!" You couldn't quite hear her, but saw her mouth forming the words. Your ears screaming with the ringing you heard before.

Your eyes widened with tears as Fred's face filled your view, his cheeks blotchy and nose red from crying. George's face came into view next to his, his just as bad as Fred's. "I thought you died! We thought you died!" He said, his voice mumbled with the ringing in full effect. Your hand moved to tough your ears, hoping it would stop the annoying sound.

"It won't stop." You whispered, pulling at your ears. Ginny appeared with Madam Pomfrey, the woman dropping a simple potion into both ears, the ringing silencing after a few moments. "Freddie, Georgie." You cried, pulling them into you. "I - I saw red hair. I saw it. I thought you-" your sob filled the air as your eyes squeezed close.

"Well, something did happen." Ron said, pointing to the bed beside you. You turned your head to meet the face of Percy, another sob leaving you. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry." you cried, looking at Molly. "I tried to stop the wall, I tried so hard. I just couldn't keep it long enough." She pulled you into her arms, her own tears falling. This time, you saw your cries hit her skin, causing you to cry more. You weren't dead, you were alive.

"It's okay, it's okay." She whispered, holding you tight.

You're unsure how it all happened, but the next time you woke, you were in the burrow, but it's color was showing, the notices of each Weasley bouncing off the walls, and the soft breeze filling your senses. You were laying on the couch, the same one you found yourself sitting on after speaking to James and Lily. You glanced to the side to see Fred asleep on the floor next to you, George on the couch across from you.

You smiled softly, the pain still vibrating through your body as you smiled, kissing the knuckles of Fred's hand. You lived. He lived. It's okay.

The Burrow was in color again.

[sor-vette]

four, circus!! (index/description)

☜ three, an all-out fight club!!

☞ five, dots!!

t/w: dead bodies, mention of overdose

"This has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever seen," Yoongi thinks to himself as he blankly stares at Jimin, transferring the PPT file to the projector.

123 slides in "Reasonable arguments as to why we should date, _̵͚̾͌_̶̢̛̘̅͛̕_̶̡̧̝͗̒̋̌̚_̴̮̒̍̿̃͠ .

"Wrong PowerPoint bro," Jungkook grunts with closed eyes. No doubt the idiot had tried to stalk you throughout the night. It's been three days since Erik had officially enrolled.

Namjoon also has his eyes fixed on the projector, his expression giving nothing away.

"Resigned to death, poor bastard, as you should."

Jimin momentarily looks behind him to see why Jin had started to snort in laughter before scrambling to choose another file.

56 slides in "What do we know about Erik and what to do about it?"

"The title could be less verbose," Jin remarks, spinning his chair around the room.

"You're one to talk, literally," Jimin sneers but, there is very little malice in his voice if any. Besides Namjoon, V and Hope, who actually stuck to his word of minding his business, Yoongi didn't know anyone personally in the room. Though he sure has heard of the connections they had with you. Each weirder than the other.

Namjoon, the CEO, the one who went overboard in commitment and scared you off. Rumour was he offered marriage before the first "I like you." But that as well could be bullshit.

Hope, with the most cordial contact out of all. And also the most distant. You two had fundamentally different perceptions of how the world worked. Incompatible match, as the saying goes.

Jin. Despite the grandeur of his character, Yoongi knew very little of him. Even less as to why you left. He presumed the lack of commitment on both sides.

Jimin, the almost. For five months Yoongi had to hear nothing but coy whispers of just what good friends you two were. What good time you both had jumping back and forth from Paris and home. And then with zero explanation, you weren't. Every once in a while, he'd see the two of you in the hallway. Working hard to suffer through an exchange of pleasantries between long awkward pauses. The whispers had been effectively stomped to death, with no one the wiser as to what the hell had happened.

V, the one you hated and the one who hated you. How the two of you even met was beyond anyone's understanding. How you didn't rip each other's throat out even more so. Why he was here? God only knew.

And the last one, JK. Your trainee before Erik. The one who'd shamelessly bounced, leaving you in the dust when the enrollment came with a nary of thank you. After that, you officially joined the cleaner department and largely went missing from the public eye.

And, of course, Yoongi himself. The only official boyfriend. The one who officially broke both of your hearts.

"If all of you could please focus!" Jimin snapped, standing with a wad of paper in hand, waving it like a teacher in front of particularly annoying group of students.

"He even made notes," Namjoon whispered faintly.

"More like a manifesto," Yoongi snickered, letting his eyes wander over the sheer thickness of the file.

"Silence!" For a split second, Yoongi wanted to make a jab about a chihuahua being able to bark, but having considered his own height, he chose to be silent.

"So, let's start with basics. Erik Genyer. Joined two and a half years ago through a recruitment agent. He's 24, lived in Seattle before moving here. No known parents or siblings." Jimin recounted with ease.

"I hope you didn't look through his records," Namjoon frowned at the screen. "Because I did not authorize that."

"Does it count as looking if it's a brief glance?"

"Yes."

"And yet here you are benefitting from it." Namjoon could only breathe through his nose a tad harder.

"Why are you telling us this?" Jin interjected. "Mr CEO here could just give us his file - we'd read for ourselves."

"I will not. That's against company policy."

"And what you're doing here is completely legal and non - invasive." Jin raised his eyebrows, not phased even in the slightest that he was much below Namjoon's position.

"Silence!" Jimin yelped again at the front. "Has anyone here worked with Erik?"

"Hope definitely has," V piped up from his seat, looking as uninterested as one could. Yoongi narrowed his eyes at him. V took the piercing glare in stride, haughtily turning away.

"Well, yes but..." Jimin shuffled on the stage almost awkwardly. "He has strictly declined the invitation to our little... boy band."

"Wait does that mean he could tell _̸̢͉̦͔̣͈̱̅́́̓͊̇̂̓́̕͝ͅ_̸̨̙͚̻̬͖͉̻͔̑̓͐͜ - I mean R.D.?" Jungkook suddenly asks, eyes wide. Even Yoongi blanched at the thought. Everyone straightened in their seats. This was all fun and games until the moment you knew. Oh, you'd rip each and every one of them a new asshole. All of them could kiss goodbye to any attempt of trying to mend bridges. By that point, there wouldn't even be a river stretching underneath.

"I sincerely hope not." Jimin whispers and they sit in a moment of silence, weighing the risks.

"Heh, hope not." Jin suddenly gives a breathy laugh solely to be met by a general aura of disapproval.

"It's not funny." Namjoon scolds slightly but, Jin being Jin, openly looks him into eyes and goes -

"I know."

Amidst the banter, JK raises his hand shyly.

"I trained with him for a short while."

"And what is he like?" Jimin's eyes almost sparkled at anyone giving an actual insight.

"He must be wearing contacts or something," Yoongi mused, pushing the cap of his water bottle around the table. He knew Jimin to be attractive. No one in the entire company would shut up about it, nevertheless, something about him seemed almost supernatural.

JK shrugged in response.

"A bit rude and careless but talented. He finished training early."

"Did it seem like he was particularly going after her?" Namjoon interrogated further. There was a deep scowl of resentment on his face.

"Uhh, no. I think he was interested in the cleaner department in general. Apparently, he spent most of his orientation there."

"He also spent a month in surveillance. Did you speak with him...V?" If V was surprised by Jimin addressing him personally, he didn't show it as he continued to inspect his nails.

"Didn't even know he was there."

"Why did he stay so long in the cleaner department?" Yoongi asked as he ran over the information on the screen. Besides the already mentioned month in surveillance and a week in networking and relations, this Erik hadn't even tried to apply anywhere else.

"Poor communication skills. I had to throw him out. That's why he was only there a week." Jin explained.

"So you spoke to him?"

"Well, no, Irina," he was interrupted by a hollow thud. Without prompt V had dropped his steel thermos onto the desk, tea splattering everywhere and staining JK's jacket in the process. Both of them fumbled to clean it up with anything they could. V dabbed the desk harshly, the wood creeking at every aggressive wipe. Yoongi saw Jin looking sideways, the same confused expression echoed on his face.

"Well, as I was saying, Irina, R.D.'s friend, I'm sure you're familiar, came to me, said he was causing trouble and asked to refer him."

"And you sent him to R.D.?"

Jin gave a deeply suffering sigh.

"No, I did not send him. I referred him to general management and they gave him to the cleaners ."

"Ok, I get all of this. But what are we supposed to do about him?" Namjoon interrupted, jaw set in a tight grip.

Jimin fell silent at the front of the room.

"Yeah, this was the main question." Yoongi thought bitterly.

It was all a question of ethics, wasn't it? JK could pretend all he wanted to be above it all, to be respectful but then he trailed secret circles around you. Whether from guilt or perhaps a sense of entitlement. Yoongi didn't know or really care. Nevertheless the kid clearly had a hard time differentiating between what he said and what he did. Yoongi was however surprised to see Namjoon be so eager. He quite fancied making himself bald from worrying about the nature of evil. Just how easy it was to hide it behind big aspirations of providing aid. But it seemed as of late all of that was tossed aside.

Jimin was the one who orchestrated this in the first place, and so naturally, everyone looked at him for guidance. He was still shuffling around, nervously fiddling the blue pen.

"Well, first of all, I think we should talk more to R.D." A huff passed around the room.

"Talk to her?" V asked sceptically, mouth set in a straight line and heavy wrinkles carved between brows.

"Do you have any idea how difficult that would be?"

"Certainly it would be for you," Yoongi snarled, earning a harsh glare.

"Listen, at the end of the day, it's not really about us trying to force her into something. It's just to make sure... she's living a safe life. Well, the safest that's possible." Jimin said with enough sincerity to trigger certain insecurities within Yoongi and by the look of it also Namjoon.

It was no secret that between the seven, they were the most possessive over you. Both having the wrong idea that you were theirs. Which is why you left and why you probably were so caught up in Jimin. The purity and sheer selflessness of his sentiments acted like a punch to the gut. The genuine care that he reflected like a sun made the raw wound in Yoongi's chest seep even more. To be loved like that would be a dream come true. Yoongi shifted his attention to the laminated floor.

"We talk to her, find out what her life is like, keep a close eye on what Erik does. Talk to other cleaners about him, and once we find out, she's happy. That's. The. End. Of. That." There was no uncertainty. Jimin was dead serious.

The meeting was adjourned, quite amicably actually, but Yoongi knew that the rest of them had ulterior motives and plans. He had them too.

Jin and JK were no threat. Both were too uncertain of what to do with you.

Jimin had some deep-seated self esteem issues. Despite his 123 slide presentation, the way he spoke made it clear. That's probably why the abrupt parting, Yoongi mused. Both of you most likely shared the same anxiety about not being good enough for the other.

V was just V.

Namjoon was the only one Yoongi was truly worried about. Even from looking at his back, walking headstrong up the stairs, Yoongi could see how stubborn Namjoon was. In a way, it was like looking in a mirror. The possessiveness, the mulish mindset. They'd saw you, all of you and had decided that this was it. Yes, Namjoon would certainly be the toughest rival. However, Yoongi was very good at playing the long game. Especially if he wanted something so bad it felt like his thorax slowly being ripped out.

All that was left was Hope. But he wasn't even a viable player. After all, he hadn't even shown up.

***

"Why the fuck is he so heavy?" Erik grunted, swaying left and right and holding onto his dear life to the bagged pair of legs.

"Rigor mortis...set in," you huffed in answer, from the upfront of the body. "At least he wasn't rotting already. That's just nasty. 1, 2, 3."

Both of you lift the body into the van and let the poor bastard drop with a soft thud. Sweat pooled underneath your white hazmat suit with plastic glasses digging straight into your brain. You banged hard against the "EMT" van, and it drove away, carrying Dr. Martin Leyster to the morgue.

Should the neighbours see anything, it was a sad story of a depressed psychiatrist accidentally overdosing on his own meds. The evidence of him manipulating his most vulnerable patients into bankruptcy erased in you any stray feelings of sympathy though.

"You have the peroxide?" You rifled through the cleanup bag, but instead of answering, Erik began to actively point somewhere behind your back. A cold chill ran up your spine as you realize someone has been watching you stuff the body in the trunk. It quickly dissipates when you see a familiar smile.

"Hard at work, I see," Hope whistled, bounding towards you more like a kid on a school trip, rather than what the reality was.

"May I borrow your mentor for a bit?" He asked politely, still smiling up at Erik. There was no warmth in his expression.

"You are after all now an official member of the cleaner crew. Surely you can handle this on your own."

Erik looks at you for a moment before giving a loud sigh and trudging back to Leyster's office, the white toolbox angrily swishing back and forth in his hand.

Without hesitation, you remove the glasses from your head, revelling in the ease of pressure. Hope had stopped smiling altogether, looking quite pensive.

"What brings you here?" You ask lightly. To see him here is not worrying per se, but certainly interesting. He gives a quick shrug.

"Nothing much. Wanted to see how you were doing after that runt's little stunt." You only laugh at the shallow animosity. Erik's talent to drive people out of their patience was truly remarkable.

"I'm doing fine. You know... working. What about you?"

"I've been working as well."

You both fall silent.

"You ever thought about leaving the BH?" He suddenly asked, and you quirk a brow at the question.

"Not particularly. Have you?" Hope focuses a blank gaze at the grey walls of the multi-story apartment complex.

"A little bit. Last few days especially." You stand in muted shock. Hope was the last person you thought would quit. He was, without doubt, the most devoted, the most passionate out of all the hundreds of employees. He lived for the cause, he himself said so. And yet now he stood uncertain in front of you. Not really the bright and friendly Hope everyone knew, not really the strict and somewhat terrifying training teacher. He was just...quiet. It was an upsetting scene.

"Do you want to go for a drink or a lunch, maybe?" You offer, reaching for the zipper of the white suit. Yes, Erik could handle this on his own. He was a big boy. Hope hastily placed his hand atop of yours, pausing the movement. Even through the fabric, it radiated warmth. No wonder people called him sun. He frowned at the conjoined hands, lightly stroking his thumb over your knuckles before lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"No, no. I don't want to burden you with my problems." You didn't believe his smile for a second.

"Well, I won't steal you away for much longer, the pup might get anxious." He turned around, by the looks of ready to sprint off.

"Hey, wait!" He paused, not looking back.

"Do you why JK has been stalking me?"

"He has?"

He had. The first time you noticed a shifting figure in the background, you wrote it off to the combination of hangover and exhaustion. The second time he'd run off into the night faster than you could catch up. The third time you nearly flung yourself off the roof when seeing a pair of doe eyes staring back at you from an empty apartment building.

"There isn't like an alliance going around between some of my... acquaintances?" Truth be told, you found the very idea ridiculous, but it had wormed its ugly way into your brain and was now near impossible to get out. JK, Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon wouldn't even get along with each other. Even though those four were most likely to meddle in your business. However, if looking realistically, it was probably just your paranoia taking an intensive round. Seeing suspicious cars, watchful eyes and snooping noses where there were none. Hope threw you a sardonic smile.

"That would just be stupid."

(a/n)

In this story people have their names and codenames and will be often used interchangeably. It all depends whether in the story the POV character knows the names of others or not.

[literary-spirit]

"I'm sorry we couldn't offer you little more comfort while residing with us." Genuineness threaded itself through Torvi words as she watched while Bonnie settled herself behind Hali underneath the furs of unknown heritage.

A gratitude inspired smile made a conquest of Bonnie's lips. "No need for apologies, Torvi. Fact is, I'm grateful that you've allowed me somewhere safe to lay my head. Especially with everything being so new and unfamiliar."

Truth be sold rather than told, Bonnie didn't understand one damn thing about her predicament. One moment she lay bleeding out in her fiancé's arms in 21st century New Orleans, and the next she lay sprawled on Bjorn's ship during the freaking Viking Era. After some thought she'd begun to believe herself to be on the other side she'd created for Enzo, but there was a few sizable holes in that working theory. One, Enzo didn't hail from the ninth century so why would she tailor the world he'd spend his afterlife in after it? Two, she'd had the displeasure of being dead stranded on the other side a time or two and neither time did the imitation of life after death explode with a passion that could only be rivaled by reality.

No, Bjorn, Ivar, and Kattegat was real. It was all real! But on everything and everyone she loved she couldn't understand why. What did her giving up her mortality to become the immortal witch and finally embrace the prophecy have to do with this particular place in time?

"Bonsie?" The dulcet cadence of Guthrum's voice snatched her away from her thoughts. "Can you tell us a saga about your land?"

He and Hali stared up at her. The gleam of excitement tinkled bright in both of their eyes. She faked a sigh and played at reluctance with a roll of the eyes, all the while a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth for freedom. "Are you sure? Because you and Hali look really tired," she began tickling Hali who squealed and squirmed to get away, "And I don't wanna start one of my dull stories only to bore you both to sleep."

"Please!" They both squeaked in unison. "You have our vow we won't slumber before the end of your tale. Right Hali?" The blonde cherub face child with eyes just like his father nodded.

"Alright, but the vow I want from you is, that if slumber comes for you or Hali while I'm telling you the story you won't fight it," she said, her gaze moving from one boy to the other. "That's the only way I'm going to speak of this saga. I won't waste words on tired ears."

The boys stared at each other for a moment, before Guthrum looked back at her, "If our slumber takes us before the conclusion, will you continue when we rise?"

"Maybe not when we rise. You know, because we'll have to break our fast and I'm sure there'll be chores needing to be done-"

"There will definitely be chores needing to be done," Torvi confirmed as she watched from the bed.

Bonnie shrugged, tapping her chin while staring up at the ceiling of the keep. Her eyes flared as if the proverbial light bulb had erupted into a thousand ideas, "I know! If you fall asleep before the saga is finished, then I'll continue it tomorrow before we go to bed."

Guthrum looked to Hali, who nodded his head, "You have our vow, Bonsie."

"Okay," she held up her pinky. They stared at her finger for a moment then gawked at her as if she'd open a third eye on her forehead, "Well if you're giving me your vow boys, I'ma need a pinky swear to consummate your sworn oath."

"How do you perform such a ritual?" Guthrum asked, cuddling in closer.

"Hold up your little finger just like this." She wiggled her pinky. Once Guthrum and Hali raised their fingers, she entwined both of her pinkies with theirs, tugged and pulled away. "And just like that we have consummated our oath with a pinky swear."

"So, what of the saga?" Guthrum questioned.

"It's a story that takes place in a land where my ancestors once thrived. A continent called Africa," she began, "There a wise lion king was blessed with a cub who too would one day be king of everything the light touched in that land."

For the next thirty minutes or so Bonnie retold the story of the Lion King. By the time she reached the part about Scar throwing Mufasa off the cliff into the surge of stampeding antelope she noticed the boys had fallen asleep. Lowering her voice, she allowed her words to trail off, to avoid awakening the kids.

"Ack! Why'd you stop?!" Bjorn snapped. "Did Mufasa find a way to save himself so that he could exact revenge over his treacherous brother?"

"And what of poor Simba?" Torvi grilled, "What will become of him now?"

Bonnie's brows collided. She hadn't realized that they had even gave her a benefit of an ear let alone hung on to every word of the story. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you guys were paying attention."

"Why wouldn't we attend you, Bonnie?" Bjorn shot her one more unit before settling back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. "Are we not sharing the same space?"

"Bjorn," Torvi lightly scolded, cuddling down next to him.

"It's okay, Torvi," she said, rolling away to face the wall, "Bjorn's right. I'm wrong for not considering you both may wanna hear the ending of the story, but even if I wanted to finish it my sacred oath with the boys wouldn't allow me to continue until next eve. So, have a good night's rest and I'll see you both in the morning."

Bonnie allowed her eyes to close and not much later she dosed until squeaks, moans, and grunts ripped her from the verge of a deep sleep. Confused about why the hell she was on the floor instead of in Klaus' Californian King, her eyes darted around and then finally collided with a folded up Torvi getting piled drove by Bjorn.

When Torvi noticed her watching, she blushed and attempted to stifle another moan, "Apologies, Bonnie. We didn't mean to wake you with our coupling."

"It's fine," she said, not knowing what the hell else to say. It's not like she could go in about them banging one out in their own keep. Bjorn's lava hot blues bore into her, while he began to grind slow circles into Torvi. Bonnie attempted to clear her throat, but only managed a super dehydrated cough, "P-please c-continue—I-I mean if that's what you both wanna do. Not that I'm gonna keep watching or anything."

"Would you like to join us?" Torvi offered between gasps and moans. "Bjorn's vigor is insatiable. He would have no issues pleasuring you as well."

"T-That's not necessary!" Bonnie flopped back over on her side to face away from them, "You two enjoy, I'm good." She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to ignore the snickers coming from the bed as she willed herself to go back to sleep.

****

After daggmal what Bjorn called breakfast, Sigurd offered to be her guide while she explored the forest. They spent almost half the day trekking through the woods gathering recipes she would need for hygienic purposes and basic spells. For the first half of their outing, Sigurd merely helped and watched her without saying anything. When she'd had enough of him side-eying the hell out of her she spun on him without warning and he almost ran her down.

"What's wrong with you? Why do you keep watching me like I'm gonna turn you into horse shit or something?" She snapped.

His eyes flared, and he took a step back. "Can you?"

"Sigurd!" Bonnie stared at him for a moment like he'd left his mind back at Kattegat, before whirling around to continue her descend down to the cove. "Why did you come if you're so scared of me?" She tossed over her shoulder.

"Because I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and I was hoping to plow you," he replied, following behind her.

"Men," she mumbled to herself. Then she raised her voice loud enough for him to hear. "So, I guess Ivar's telling anyone who will listen I'm a witch, huh?"

"Ivar?" He questioned as if he didn't know how one thing had to do with the other. "No, what's he to do with anything? It's Margrethe."

Bonnie stopped once more to turn and look up at him. "Margrethe? You mean the poor servant girl you all pass around like a waste bucket?"

"We don't pass her around and she says when you appeared out of air the gods let their displeasure be known by sending a storm to upset the sea," he walked closer, plucked the basket from her hands, intertwined their arms and guided her towards the cove. "She also said that the storm only went away when she mentioned throwing you over."

"You do understand Margrethe is madder than a bag of cats tossed in a barrel of water, right? Anything that comes out of her mouth is nothing more than rantings of the certifiable," she said, filing Margrethe away for a later day's problem.

Sigurd laughed. "Your turn of phrases are cutting. I've noticed that you wield your words the way Hvitserk swings an ax."

"Runs in the family," she said, distracted by the splashing she heard coming from the cove. "Shh," she stopped, halting Sigurd along with her, "someone's down there."

Stunned disbelief flared his eyes and dropped his jaw, "Really? Well, we should go-,"

"Yeah," her head bobbed in utter agreement, more than ready to turn around, "we should."

"And cut down the trespassers!" He finished.

"Wait, what?"

Without even a notion of a warning, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and ran down the rest of the way to the cove. Once they cleared the woods and stepped into the enclosure of the inlet, he strode into the water with her. She caught an upside-down glimpse of Ivar sitting on the bank, while Ubbe and Hvitserk chased each other around in the water with long skinny sticks.

"Brother, what took you so long?" Hvitserk snickered as he bent sideways to stare her in the face.

Sigurd smacked her on the bottom. "This one wanted to pick every smelly flower in the forest."

"Sigurd, take me back on dry land," she said, pounding him in the middle of his back with her fists, "So help me, if you fuck around and drop me in this water and my hair gets wet, it's gonna be hell to tell the captain. And just in case you haven't figured it out I'm the motherfucking captain!"

"What's she going on about?" Ivar called from the bank.

Sigurd laughed, "She wants to swim."

Then he tossed her into the biting chill of the water. She emerged sputtering water and spitting mad. Their laughter only served to piss her off more. Hatemakers shot from her eyes like hollow points leaving the barrel of a glock. When she finally had Sigurd locked and loaded in her sights, she treaded water like she had an engine shoved up her crack and Bobby Boucher'ed his ass so hard he hurtled through the air. He smacked the water harder than Angela did Marcus, and he went under. Now it was her turn to laugh and do the fool she did. Ubbe and Hvitserk gawked at her as if she'd sprouted wings and a tail.

Sigurd clawed his way back to the surface gasping and coughing. "Who in the name of Odin taught you how to swim, Thor?"

The sound of laughter and clapping floated from the bank. Bonnie turned to see Ivar's incandescent methane orbs flashing hella bright. Yet somehow the brilliance of his smile rivaled even the bewitching dazzle of his eyes. He'd baited and hooked her without even casting the lure. Now the unexplainable pull between them would reel her in. Pushing the mass of dripping curls from her face, she began to walk toward the shore.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hvitserk whispered next to her ear, before scooping her off her feet, "You've a lesson to learn."

"Oh, Hvitserk, you just better bring it!" She yelled as she bucked and squirmed in his grasp, "That goes for your sisters too."

With that said he dunked her in the water, when she reemerged Ubbe had a hold of her, "Many apologies, my lady. You were saying?" He questioned, regarding her with eyes the same shade as a cloudless sky.

She gave him a closed lip smile, and then slapped her cheeks, allowing all of the water in her mouth to spray him in the face. When he released her, she dove under the surface, grabbed him by the ankles and snatched him off his feet, literally. Then she went after Hvitserk next. Anticipating an attack, he and Sigurd took on a defense stance. So, they planned to make this a joint effort. She gave herself a mental nod, noted. Tired of playing around, she hiked her skirts up just beneath the curve of her ass and knotted it high on her hip. Sigurd and Hvitserk exchanged a smirk. Not wasting a second she struck. First, she climbed, and then wrapped herself around Sigurd. In a maneuver reminiscent of the Black Widow, she used his body weight and gravity against him. Once more he soared through the air.

She turned to Hvitserk and he gave her the smile which let her know he thirst for blood and the rush. Yep, she'd saved the most savage for last. Leaping on him, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He automatically grabbed a fist full of ass. Sexual lust overpowered his blood lust. Big mistake. She snapped backwards in a back bend, the memento snatched him off his feet and he went free falling face first into some rather high-quality H2O.

While the brothers attempted to figure out which step led to their downfall, Bonnie left the water to find Bjorn standing on the bank. His look of indifference remained true to the inner workings of his mind.

"You move well," he said as he reached down to place one hand on a bare hip and the other on the knot that secured her skirt. In a swift tug he released the drenched material. "I've never seen anyone fight that way or toss about men twice their size."

A memory of Bjorn giving Torvi the business end of some serious wood flashed at the forefront of Bonnie's mind. Unable to maintain eye contact, she dropped her gaze to the ground, "It's nothing. We were just messing around; I'd hoped to learn how to manage one of their sticks." Ivar snickered and that's when she realized how it sounded. "You know...for fishing." She added to be Visine clear.

"If you're to learn to manage anyone's stick, it'll be mine," Bjorn stepped closer and crowded her personal space.

The heat which came off of him reminded her of the predicament she now found herself. She was drenched and it had to be every bit of fifty-eight degrees out and dropping. The boys came trudging out the water behind her.

Ubbe walked up on her until the hard press of his chest collided with her back. One of his hands moved to grip her neck, while the other rose to lay possessively across her belly. He lowered his mouth next to her ear, "The gods were with you this day, Valkyrie. Yet, we'll see what the morrow brings." He then released her and moved around her to sit next to Ivar.

"You think yourself clever with that trick in the water, do you?" Sigurd asked, while tugging one of her curls as he passed. "Well, I know a few tricks too and mine are sure to put you on your back as well." With his gaze still locked on her, he dropped down on the other side of Ubbe.

Hvitserk spun her around to face him. "One detail," he snatched her skirts up around her hips and lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. A sliver of space remaining between them provoked him to tug her closer until her naked sex pressed firmly against his bare lower abdomen muscles. On contact, the sinewy tissue flexed against her clit and try as she might, she couldn't stop the groan that burst from her lips. His eyes rolled closed, and gasps of air rushed from his mouth as he rested his forehead on hers. "I had to be certain." After a moment he allowed her body to slip from his.

"Of what?" She questioned, slightly swaying as she shifted her skirts back in place.

"I was home," he said, before stealing a kiss and darting away.

Something a breath away from recognition flared within her. She pressed to fingers to her lips to help preserve the feel and weight of Hvitserk's mouth on hers. Where the hell did she know his kiss?

Bjorn shot his younger siblings hell bred units. "Come, Bonnie. It's almost time for second meal and Queen Aslaug would like for us to attend her in the great hall...again." She didn't miss the annoyance which saturated his again.

"Alright, let me just grab my basket," she strode to pick up the wicker carrier and the world turned upside down.

Then it overturned and became consumed by Ivar's sculpted to perfection features. When she'd sacrificed her better judgement and walked too closed to him, he'd snatched her off her feet by an ankle. Once down on his turf, he'd flipped her over and yanked her to him like a virgin slated for sacrifice. Now he loomed over her larger than life. She'd played herself by forgetting he was the one to watch. The most dangerous of them all.

"I can see in your eyes you know your error is grave," he spoke to her in that soft accented tone that all ways fucked over her senses. "Next time you will not dismiss me so effortlessly because you believe me to be at a disadvantage, hmm?"

The sheer beauty of him outshined the ever-radiant torch she still carried for Niklaus. And Ivar the Boneless was right there! Right there in front of her! If ever there was a pass to be given for one indiscretion in a relationship, surely this was the time. Ignoring all the legitimate reasons as to why she shouldn't, she reached up and ran the pad of her index finger over one smooth brow. The perfectly arched hair felt silky to the touch.

Stunned, he stared down at her, confusion bunching those very brows while slightly parting those luscious lips. Her gaze flicked to the bottom one. It drew her thumb like a super magnet attracted to a pile of scrap metal. First contact almost made her swallow her tongue. Nothing could've prepared her for such fleshy softness. You'd think his lips had never known a day without Carmex. Damn, she had to know what it felt like to have his mouth on hers! Cupping her other hand around the nape of his neck, she used the hold to guide his lips towards hers even as she arched upwards to meet him halfway.

"Ivar, we have spoken much on you remaining free of mischief," Bjorn said, yanking Ivar off of her and plopping him back down on the plot of grass next to Ubbe.

Bonnie climbed to her feet, dusting herself off as she went. For a moment, their she'd almost pulled a damn Elena. Acting first and thinking never. Difference was she didn't have a scrappy side-chick running to have her back when she wrote a check her ass wasn't equipped to cash out. No! She needed to stay focused and figure out why the hell an immortal witch spell brought her all the way back to the Viking era. And it wasn't even the real Viking era. She was trapped in a television series loosely tailored after a raider who lived over a thousand years ago.

"Thanks for helping me today, Sigurd," She said, while allowing Bjorn to take her hand. "It would've taken me longer to locate the things I needed without you.

"You're welcome to my help whenever you have need of it," He said, grinning up at her.

Bonnie nodded then looked to the other brothers. "Ubbe, Hvitserk...Ivar," she held Ivar's gaze a moment longer than called for, before continuing, "thank you for being superb stress relievers." She wound her shoulders in counterclockwise circles as she cocked her head from one side to the other until she heard the pop. "Didn't realize how backed up I was until you guys worked me out a little."

"Then you should prepare yourself," Ubbe said, giving her a sideways glance, "for stress will no longer be a worry of yours." His bottomless cobalt glare, glanced down the length of her body before returning back to her face. Hvitserk and Sigurd snorted.

She held his gaze until Bjorn guided her from the enclosure of the cove back into the woods. Once out of his and Ivar's soul disturbing stare, she exhaled. For the next several minutes, she and Bjorn walked back to Kattegat in silence. After fiddling with the handle of the basket, attempting to work up the nerve to find something to say, Bjorn spoke first.

"I spoke with Floki today and he told me the fleet I commissioned won't be ready to sail until next Spring," he said, bending to pick up a stick from the path, "which is just as well, since Torvi is carrying again. I've already sent a messenger to King Harald."

"Wait," she stopped mid-step, "Torvi's pregnant?"

He walked a little further before he realized she'd halted. Once he did, he turned back to face her, his expression unreadable as ever. "Yes."

"C-congratulations, Asa's gonna be beautiful," she said, without thinking. Her mind to set on the fact she was adrift somewhere between season 4 part 1 and 2. How the hell would she navigate over the course of the year without knowing what happens from one moment to the next?

Bjorn cradled her face in his hands. "Are you saying this babe will be a girl?"

Damn! Well, the cat has left the bag. She nodded and a brilliant smile that could put the sun out of business blossomed on his face. His joy even provoked the corners of her mouth to travel north. "I'm very much proud to have boys, but after what happened to my first child...Siggy, it is my belief that by blessing me with a girl this time, the gods have shown me favor."

The blend of his happiness and vulnerability disarmed her defenses. She leapt into his arms, hugging him tight to her. The best her lack of height would allow anyway. All she wanted was to give him the comfort and support he'd shown her since her world went bat-shit. Bjorn, however, must've misread into things, because he had her pinned to the nearest tree attempting to raise her skirts.

He pressed kisses into the side of her neck as he worked to hike up her skirts and wrap her legs around him at the same time. "My man stand has nigh burst awaiting consent to plow you." He grind an oversized bulge into her bare center, and she squealed, not sure whether it was in delight or protest.

"Bjorn, I'm so sorry," she gritted through clenched teeth. Not trusting what would come flying out of her mouth if she opened it fully. "I didn't mean to lead you on. I'm a hugger." She babbled. "I only meant to offer you a hug of friendship."

He stilled and leaned away to peer down at her with a scrunched red face. "What?" Backing away, he let her feet drop to the ground. "Who in the name of the All-Father offers passionate embraces as a form of friendship?"

"Look, Bjorn," she lifted her chin, ready to no means no, his ass. "I'm sorry if you misread things, but you're married-,"

"Misread?!" His eyes nearly leapt from their sockets as he snorted his disbelief. "And what of all the lusty ways I notice you watching me when you think I don't see?"

She lied with a straight face. "You're mistaken."

"I'm not mistaken," he backed her into the same tree, "just last eve your eyes pleaded with me-,"

"And that's another thing," she said, cutting him off. "Don't take this wrong, because I'm grateful for you and Torvi's kindness, but when can we start on the restoration of Rollo's house?"

He stared at her a moment without saying anything. "We can begin soon after we finish daggmal on the morrow." Her head bobbed, and then she moved to step around him. He grabbed her arm to halt her movements. "Are you leaving my keep because I chose to lay with my wife?"

Her eyes bucked and she shook her head until she thought it would fly off her neck, "Of course not. I'm leaving because you both deserve privacy and not some stranger interrupting your lives."

"You're not a stranger, Mystical One," he rested his forehead on hers, "we're bonded by the oath we swore. You and I are a part of each other until one of us enters Valhalla."

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Fleurdora/Delatonks | Nymphadora Tonks x Fleur Delacour

Requested by @halfthealphabet

The Order slowly trails into Grimmauld Place, one by one, all with the air of people living through a zombie apocalypse. Grim, weary expressions on every face.

Molly's bustling around as soon as she lays eyes on them, ushering them into the living room where the fire spreads a pleasant warmth into their bones. They certainly need it. Duelling a group of rogue Death Eaters is not exactly what any of them wanted to be doing at three in the morning, in the pouring rain.

Tonks is practically slumped as they join them, Fleur walking in beside them with Fred and Sirius somewhere behind.

"Damn fanatics," Moody growls, taking his frozen eye from its socket, motionless when it should be spinning.

"You'd think they'd have a bit of common sense considering their dark lord has been well and truly dead for a good year now," says George, flinging himself onto one of the crimson armchairs.

All of the old dark green ones (and pretty much everything that represented Slytherin, really) were thrown out by Sirius after the battle at the Ministry. Decided that if he was going to come that close to death at the hands of his own family again, he wasn't going to be stuck surrounded by constant reminders of them. Tonks happily helped him replace everything, since he needed someone who could actually leave the house. The tapestry is still proving to be a bit of a pain, but they've managed to rework it a bit, so it highlights the "disowned" and excluded members and has a majority of the blood-purists replaced with far more worthy members of the family they've created for themselves, or simply burned off instead.

Tonks shrugs their denim jacket off as Bill agrees. He looks the most tired out of them all, aside from Remus. He's not a full werewolf, but the full moon being only days away still seems to affect him almost exactly the same as it does for Remus, who becomes irritable and drained.

"They seem to think, he was "resurrected" to power once before, they can make it happen again," Bill says, shaking his head as he gingerly pulls his sleeve back to inspect the large patch of blood soaking through from a relatively deep cut; the work of a nasty jinx. "Too scared to desert after last time, in case he pops back up again and they land themselves on his bad side."

"They are idiotic," Fleur fumes. Her blouse has been severly singed around the collar and Tonks can't help but worry at a glimpse of blistering skin beneath it.

"Did you manage to get all of them?" Harry asks. "Anyone get away?"

Tonks had barely noticed he was there at all. He was just quietly watching in concern from a chair in the far right corner of the room, with Hermione in the one beside him next to the fire and Ron and Ginny between them, planted cross-legged on the floor. They seem like they were trying to keep Mrs Weasley distracted while the rest of them were out; now that Mr Weasley is back, her attention is fully captured, worrying over the cuts lining his face but with subtle relief shining in her eyes.

"Nearly," Sirius answers, with an undertone of bitterness as he adds, "One disapparated before we could get the bastard. Right after leaving me with this lovely little gift."

He grabs the collar of his shirt that's just as torn and burned and stained with blood as the rest of theirs, and yanks it down at the left to reveal a deep, long gash running right across his collarbone, stopping somewhere down his chest. It's not bleeding, but smoking. And it’s dark green rather than red.

There's an outburst of disgusted noises as well as gasps and a couple of cries.

"You git!" Tonks chides him, slapping his good arm lightly. "You never said they got you!”

"I didn't—you're—“ Sirius tries to say, sounding indignant, but he can't seem to find a good comeback.

Mrs Weasley's attention is immediately focused on him, pushing him towards the door into the kitchen before anyone can ask any further questions so that she can fix it up, something apparently too gruesome for any of them to bear witness.

"We'll catch him, don't worry," Bill says. The statement and the gentle smile seem to be aimed towards the kids. Having been advised to stay out of Order missions for the time being, to readjust and make up for their missed exams, they still look anxious, like they're going to be called up to fight at any moment.

But they seem to take some comfort in Bill's words. Everyone does; reassurances don't seem so false anymore now that missions like these are less common and haven't resulted in a fatal injury or even death since the Battle.

As the others fill Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in on what happened, able to joke a little more now that they're here and winding down from the fight, Tonks catches Fleur trying to assess the damage beneath her shirt as discreetly as possible.

Tonks moves over to her, gently catching her elbow and motioning her head to the door that Mrs Weasley and Sirius left through. They both leave the others in the room to head out into the hallway, where there is thankfully no longer the constant risk of setting off Walburga's shrieking portrait; took a while to find the right spells to remove it, but they managed in the end.

"Are you okay?'" Tonks asks, referencing the wound. "I didn't realize they'd got you. What did they hit you with?"

"I'm not sure," Fleur admits, but she's able to pull the corner of her shirt down better to get a proper look now that she's away from the rest of the Order. She winces, peeling the fabric from the wound, which sticks to it.

It comes away enough to reveal a marred patch of skin below her collarbone and spreading down far enough that it seems to have knocked the spell she usually has on right off.

"I thought something didn't feel right," Fleur says, and winces again when she lightly presses her fingers an inch from the area to test it.

Tonks grimaces in sympathy and only just manages to keep their hands away, having been instinctively going to reach out and offer some form of comfort that would probably only result in making it worse.

“Looks like a simple jinx,” says Tonks, “maybe even just a hastily fired Incendio. Seen a few people panic in duels before, just fire off the first thing that comes to mind. Luckily, it must have bounced off the spell already on you, else could it have been a lot worse than just burning your shirt and, well, this.”

Fleur agrees. “I am beginning to think I need a more permanent solution that that spell, though. It’s not exactly the most reliable, and, truthfully, I’ve never exactly been the best at Transfiguration.”

Tonks grins, pulling out their wand. “Ah, well, it’s not an essential subject.”

“Says the one who can change everything about their appearance at will,” Fleur retorts, but there’s a flicker of a smile on her face.

“True,” Tonks says, as Fleur carefully peels back a little more of her shirt. “But the mediwizards at St. Mungo’s do a pretty good job, too. I have a friend there, particularly skilled in more permanent solutions for trans wizards and witches, like I mentioned, if you wanted to give that another thought? Right, this counter spell.”

Fleur gives another grimace as Tonks points their wand a couple of inches from the wound. She steels herself though, pressing her lips into a line.

With the, thankfully right, incantation and wave of their wand, a small cloud of pale yellow settles over the burned skin. It clings around it for a moment long enough for Fleur to hiss slightly, then it sinks in and a new layer of skin forms over the top until it’s smooth.

Fleur lightly touches her skin, testing for any sign of pain. None seems to come. Her expression settles as she sighs, then a smile is back on her face.

“Thank you,” she says, lifting her eyes to Tonks.

“‘Course,” Tonks says, grin widening with a wink. “I’m your assigned Order partner, remember? I should have been covering you in the first place, especially as I’m also you’re... well, out of Order partner. There has to be a better way to say that.”

Fleur says nothing, just gazing fondly at them, her eyes twinkling. She lays a hand on Tonks’ arm and says, “I can look after myself. But I appreciate this. And the offer. I think I’m ready to take you up on it.”

Tonks smiles and nods. “Okay. Tomorrow, we can stop by, my friend should be in then. You wanna head home the now—“

At that moment, George pops his head around the corner, looks left down the corridor, then right.

“We’re crashing here. More rooms and all that,” George explains. “You two staying as well, or are we getting more coffee and Mum’s breakfast buffet to ourselves?”

Tonks scoffs immediately, then glances at Fleur, who rolls her eyes but nods in a silent confirmation. Turning back to George, Tonks says, “We’ll stay as well. I’m sure Sirius would say the more the merrier, right?”

Fleur makes a little noise, as if disagreeing, and George snorts. But they all make their way back in to join the rest of them, and Sirius and Mrs Weasley return shortly after, though with Sirius looking considerably paler and prodding at the now thin line standing out on his chest every few seconds then wincing. He doesn’t, in fact, mind some of them staying.

They remain in the living room for another hour or so, until the exhaustion kicks back in (or more accurately, when Ginny falls asleep and accidentally kicks an also sleeping Fred in the shin). Then they slowly split off to claim a guest room or head home. Tonks and Fleur takes the room reserved for Tonks’ visits, and are out cold within ten minutes.

[devdevlin]

!!!!!! Chem and Bio Finals DONE!!! Summer term DONE!! I hope you're doing well (and your bunny too)! I'm sending a prompt-ish thingy, but I don't know if you want any right now. If not, seriously please ignore me (whether too busy or it's uninspiring - etc). Either way I wish happiness upon you! Tom or Volmione + cat(s) + sweets + creepy Tom or Voldemort (not that he isn't usually creepy). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Don't take or do or change. Love your writing, friendlycelery xoxo

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO! But please know that when you sent this, it absolutely made my day, you're the absolute sweetest!! I am always happy to take prompts even though I am slow! Also please accept my sincerest congratulations on finishing the Chem and Bio, those are two huge ones!! I really wanted to do a good job of this for you, so I hope it meets expectations!

For context, to fill your prompt, I've chosen to write a canon-divergent lil drabble that squeezes between OOTP and HBP

The summer holidays before Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts were the worst ones she'd experienced yet.

She'd returned home from King's Cross with her parents long enough for them to collect their things and leave. From there, they'd headed to the Leaky Cauldron to spend the time first few weeks of the break, reasoning it was safer than out in the muggle suburbs of outer London.

But even with the safety of numbers in Diagon Alley, it didn't stop Hermione from purchasing a foe-glass and checking that they weren't being watched or followed by Death Eaters everywhere they visited.

Yet, even still, her own safety wasn't weighing as heavily on her mind as Harry was. The weight of knowing of the prophecy and losing whatever it may have said was bad enough, but losing Sirius, too...

It had only been a week since they'd parted at end of term, yet she longed to go and visit Harry. She yearned to fetch Ron and Fred and George and together whisk Harry away from his awful aunt and uncle, but knew full well that Dumbledore had his reasons, and it was best not to interfere.

This left Hermione with the task of distracting herself, one which she easily decided to answer with the bookshop. Her favourite thing about Flourish and Blott's was that it never disappointed her. On every visit, she managed to find something she hadn't seen before, to the point where she wondered if there was an intricate charm cast over the shop to assist the customers in finding what they were after.

She ventured there every day, and on that Wednesday evening, Hermione was cradling her latest loot against her chest, humming to herself as she wandered back along the cobbled main street of Diagon Alley toward the Leaky Cauldron, Crookshanks trotting happily alongside her. But as she passed the same alleyway she passed each day, an odd, rainbow-coloured sign caught her eye.

Rab and Rod's Sweet Shoppe

She blinked. She didn't remember ever having seen that sign before. She'd walked the main street of Diagon Alley too many times with Ron and the rest of the Weasleys to have missed a sign to a sweet shop.

Then again, it was pointed toward the entrance to Knockturn Alley, so she supposed Mrs Weasley wouldn't have let any of her children down there regardless. But still... one of the Weasleys would've commented on it, so she surmised the shop must've been a new one.

After a quick snort, Hermione carried on her way, not tempted in the slightest by the prospect of rotting her teeth.

She didn't see the woman tucked behind the corner, watching under a heavy, black cloak as she passed.

*

The next day, satisfied after hours worth of reading about the history of the use of unicorn hairs in potionmaking, Hermione again passed the alleyway.

It was an evening like any other. It could've almost been described as a boring one, but then, almost as if he'd decided she'd been having it too easy, Crookshanks ran. If it hadn't have been for his bell, she wouldn't have noticed when he darted off down the alley without notice, his puff of tail disappearing behind the stone corner.

"C-Crookshanks!" she yelled, breaking out into a run after him.

She dashed down the thin alley without consideration for where it led and followed his bushy tail down another one on the right. She lost sight of him then, and gambled that upon reaching the fork in the paths, he'd taken the better-lit alley to the left.

"Crook—" she started, but upon the sight of a small puddle of dark liquid on the stone, Hermione froze. "...Crookshanks?"

Her heart sped up, and with it, she broke into a sprint. She raced to the end of the alley and rounded the corner, and–  

"Ahh!" Her heart fell out of her chest as she skidded to a halt to avoid running into the darkly cloaked boy.

After a few blinks, she had to correct herself. The boy she'd almost run into wasn't a boy at all, but a young man. He was an attractive one, too, not that her panic allowed her to register that fact right away.

"I'm sorry," the man said with a hand reaching out to stabilise her and a voice like music. "Did I scare you?"

After a deep, calming breath, Hermione shook herself. "No. No that's quite all right, I was just—have you seen a cat? He's quite big and ginger, and he's got this flat sort of face. He ran off this way and he can be really quick when he wants to be, and I just... lost him..."

She trailed off seeing him watching her, an odd sort of glint in his eye.

"Actually," he said after a moment. "I think I did see one, just a few moments ago. With a big brushy tail?"

"Yes! Yes, that's—"

"It ran off this way," the man said, stepping in the direction he gestured in. "Come, I'll help you."

She hurriedly followed him. "Thank you. Thank you so much. He doesn't normally carry on like this, but something must've spooked him, I think, or he might've spotted a rat—he quite likes rats..."

The man's long legs allowed him to cross the same distance as her in far less steps, and when they reached the next fork in the alleyways, he made it there first.

"I think I saw him dart around this corner," the man said, leading her on down a wider alley to the right. It curved around a bend, and as it went on, the pathway grew narrower.

It went on and on until it took a sudden left turn, and then—

It was a dead end.

"A-are you sure about this?" she asked, suddenly as wary of the stranger she'd run off with as she should have been from the start.

He didn't look at her. Instead he pointed down the alley, toward a pile of boxes at what must've been the back entrance to a shop, with couple of old looking brooms propped up against the wall next to it.

"Is that your cat?" asked the man.

Hermione followed the direction of his pointed arm up to the very top of the pile of boxes, taller than he himself, and there, in one piece and sitting atop the highest box with his chest fluffed out like royalty, was Crookshanks.

"Crookshanks!" she shrieked at once, and at the sound, Crookshanks craned his neck.

After a momentary glance in her direction, he meowed once and came bounding down from the pile of boxes toward her.

Hermione swept him up the instant he made it to the ground and hugged him tightly against her chest. "Oh! Never, ever do that again!" she said, pressing her lips to the cat's forehead. "What was that about?! You know better, Crookshanks, never run away in a public pla—"

Hermione broke off seeing her companion watching her with a rather amused expression. "Sorry," she said quickly, laughing nervously as she felt her cheeks heat up. "I don't— I was just really worried. He never does this, honestly. Thank you again for your help."

"That's quite all right, Hermione," he said. "But we've made it quite far from Diagon Alley... would you like me to walk you back?"

Hermione didn't immediately answer having frozen solid.

"I... how do you know my name?"

The man blinked at her. "You introduced yourself. Don't you remember?"

"No..." she said, stepping backwards. "No, actually, I don't remember introducing myself because I didn't introduce myself," she said resolutely. "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Tom."

"Tom," she repeated aloud, testing the name for a taste of familiarity. The only Tom she knew was Tom the barkeep, and she was positive that this was not him. "How do you know who I am?"

Tom's brow twitched, a perfect sign of confusion. "Everyone knows who you are. You're Harry Potter's best friend. You've been in all the papers."

It was more than perfect, but Hermione didn't buy it. "Who are you?"

Tom laughed. "You don't need to be quite so defensive. I told you." He shrugged. "I'm Tom."

Her eyes grew narrower. "All right... Tom. Crookshanks and I will just be going then, if you don't mind."

Tom looked quite amused and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, but he didn't say anything. Not wishing to remain anywhere near him any longer, Hermione turned on her heel the way she'd come and hurried off.

But when she turned the corner from where they'd come, two men cut her off.

They stopped directly in her path, preventing her from passing, and unlike Tom, they looked familiar. So familiar, that it only took her a moment to decide that she knew exactly who they were.

Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange.

Rab and Rod.

Several things all suddenly made a lot more sense to Hermione.

The sign out in Diagon Alley had been theirs. They must have been attempting to lure someone—likely a young person such as herself judging by the 'sweet shoppe'. It had been there for weeks, yet she hadn't fallen for it, and so they must've tried another route.

Which meant—

Crookshanks running hadn't been an accident.

No, they'd made him run, and she, Harry Potter's best friend, had been baited, and now, she'd been trapped.

Hermione spun back around, finding Tom behind her, and tightened her hold around Crookshanks.

Tom was grinning.

"You'll find that I in fact do mind, Miss Granger. I mind very much."

With her arms around Crookshanks, she couldn't reach her wand—not subtly, at least. She would have to let him go. But, fortunately, she knew very well that Crookshanks didn't like to be touched on his belly. She knew even better, that if she were to pull on that fur, she'd get a violent response.

She just needed a little bit of time to adjust her grip.

"Who are you?" she repeated firmly, bringing her hand under Crookshanks' stomach.

Tom's teeth became visible in the corner of his mouth. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I heard you were a bright one. Brightest of your age, even."

As he spoke, her fingers caught onto a thick lock of Crookshanks' hair.

And then she tugged.

Crookshanks hissed and bolted faster than she'd anticipated, the action taking the men behind her off guard. Her arm burned as Crookshanks' claws ripped into her skin as he won his freedom, but Hermione didn't let herself feel it. As the sound of one of the brothers yelling rang from behind her, she whipped her wand out of her back pocket and directed it rapidly. She went to cast—

Her wand was out of her hand faster than she'd managed to snatch it up to begin with, and she hadn't even seen anyone move.

Stunned, she glanced at her empty hand as if by staring at it, she'd make it reappear. But then, she was swept up. From behind her, each of her arms was taken up tightly, pulling at her joints painfully.

She thrashed and kicked against the brothers, but was unable to free herself.

Tongue behind his teeth, Tom clicked in disapproval. "Now, Miss Granger," he said, stepping closer and bending to pick up her wand. "Is that any way to greet your betters?"

Hermione tugged to free her arm and managed to land a kick on a solid shin, but Rabastan didn't let go. "If I happen to see any of my betters, I'll be sure to act accordingly," she snapped.

From the shadows, came an intake of breath that resembled a hiss.

"Miss Muddy-Mudblood, missing her manners," the voice chimed, and out of the shadows, Bellatrix swept.

The shrillness of her voice had a line of thin hairs rising down Hermione's spine. Tom, however, didn't show any sign that he'd heard nor seen Bellatrix. He continued to stare, eyes only for Hermione and she had the distinct sensation of her stomach sinking.

Bellatrix circled around where Hermione was held. "Maybe you can help her find those, too, My Lord," Bellatrix said, tipping her head back as she laughed.

At her shrill cackle, Tom didn't so much as flinch and Hermione's stomach was well and truly free falling now.

"Have you gotten there yet, Miss Granger?" asked Tom after a pause. "Or would you like me to show you?"

The next breath Hermione took in was shaky, and then Tom's features began to morph and shift, his hair shooting back in his skull, the skin of his face paling, stretching and becoming gaunt.

His features contorted as if the process was painful, and when he eventually opened his eyes, they were red. Piercing. Snakelike.

And before her was Lord Voldemort, in the flesh.

"I've heard many fascinating tales of you, Miss Granger." His voice had changed too; higher, calmer. It was almost pleasant and sounded as if in the right circumstances, it would've been soothing. "How I've so been looking forward to meeting you."

Beside him, Bellatrix rounded to circle him, running her claws along the line of his shoulder. "Do you really think Potter will come, My Lord, so soon after Black?"

"Oh." Still, Voldemort's eyes didn't leave Hermione's. "For this one, I know he will. It will only be a matter of when."

Hermione fought against Rodolphus and Rabastan, the action drawing Voldemort to step closer. She ceased her struggling as he advanced, and when he reached out for her, she shrinked back against the Lestranges.

"Fear not, Miss Granger," he said, almost a whisper, raising her chin with a cold, slim finger. "Potter is nothing if not predictable. I don't expect you'll be with us for very long."

His nail dug sharply into her skin, and though she tried her best to smother it, an odd sort of squeak left her throat.

And this time when Voldemort grinned, it was monstrous.

[bella-pas]

The wooden box.

A/N: First little thing I publish! I’m so excited to finally have the guts to do it! I want to thank @writingfortheavengers for inspiring me, for being so amazing and for putting up with my crap, and for being my beta of course, I love you baby 💜

Moodboard by me, the editing is mine but the pics aren’t, so credit the owner of ‘em💙

Warnings: angst, sad Tony, miscarriage, pregnancy, character death, really sad tony

"Mr. Stark?" a soft female voice whispered to the man on the chair. Tony turned around with his coffee mug and an angry expression

"If you are here to tell me I'm your father or that I got you pregnant, DNA tests are on the other floor" and with that, he turned around again to face the papers that he had been reading prior the whisper.

"By no means, Mr. Stark" Olivia shifted her weight onto the other hip, her shoulders slightly lumping by the mentions of a pregnancy "I'm here to deliver this package, is from miss (Y/L/N)" At the mention of her name Tony immediately looked up, straightening his back and tensing his shoulders by the hearing of THE name that had haunted him for so many nights.

"What is it?" the concern in his voice was light, almost imperceptible, to someone who didn't knew him he was just curious but in reality, he was scared, worried and alert, something that had happened years ago and that he had finally come to accept had resurfaced and was in front of him in the shape of an expensively carved wooden box that he recognised all too well. 

"Tony what on earth is this?" (Y/N) said with a giggle holding the box in her hands, a beautifully carved wooden box with her initials on the top. "Open it, don't be shy, I'm a millionaire" The smug grin on Tony's face was undeniable, perhaps one of the biggest and brightest smiles he had given her being sober. "Tony I swear to god if this is another one of your..." The words died midway in her throat, the stunning blue diamond necklace laid in a soft velvet bed shined almost with its own light stunning her. "You are my diamond, damn, you're worth so much more than that, and I know I haven't said this yet, but I love you, a lot, with my broken and full of metal heart, I love you (Y/N)" 

"Miss (Y/N) sent this to you, I know from her very words that this was meant to be in your hands and yours only, that's why I personally came, I'm sorry if I interrupted you" Olivia felt the sadness wash over her all over again, the words that were spoken only days ago brought tears back into her olive eyes.

"Don't worry, its just work, however, if that is all..." Tony's nervousness came afloat, the impending necessity of being alone was growing with every second that passed and he needed privacy to open the box. After all, the big Tony Stark does not break down... does he?

 "Yes, yes, of course, just one more thing, the letter inside is the last thing you should open, goodbye Mr. Stark" And with that, Olive left the lab leaving a worried and confused Tony behind. As soon as she was out of sight Tony took the precautions needed.

"Friday, lock the door and turn off the cameras, I don't want anyone to bother me ok?" "Absolutely sir, may I activate a health protocol? you seem distressed" The A.L answered immediately, closing the door.

"No, I'm fine, just do as I say" and with that, the little chat was over.

He slowly opened the box, afraid of what may contain, and the first thing he saw was a slightly yellowed bag full of pictures that he immediately recognised, they where theirs, their pictures of the most beautiful and loving relationship he ever had, hundreds of different scenarios but all the same focus, two people madly in love with each other, hugging, kissing and smiling.

"Tony! Look at that!" (Y/N) said with huge amazement and an even brighter smile pointing at the Roman Coliseum, she was moving excitedly to the old structure pulling his arm, the energy she exuded and the warmth of her touch intoxicating him in a daze of love and admiration that he thought he would never feel after the death of his mother.

"(Y/N), princess, you know I've come here before right? just go and enjoy yourself, don't let an old man hold you back" His smile evident in the sound of his voice made her giggle again, she turned around and lunged her arms around his shoulders, as if by reflex, his own arms twisted around her waist holding her against him, feeling her aroma and the softness of her summer dress.

"But it's no fun if you are not with me, you know I love you, even if you are an old, grumpy man" (Y/N) whispered against his lips, smiling knowing that she already had him convinced of going everywhere with her.

"Don't tempt me, missy, you know I'm not scared of PDA" Tony's usual smugness came around and made her roll her eyes, but the smile plastered on her face never faltering.

"Let's just take a picture so you can breathe, old man" 

He smiled oh so sadly at the picture of them together, she was undeniably one of his best memories, the best some might say, but even after all the hard work of convincing himself that she was a part of his past, the memories still haunted him, and they were still able to put a smile on his face even on the darkest of days. 

"Tony! Tony wake up!" Her scared voice woke him up on a blink, he jumped up straight and sit on the bed ready to attack the guys that were holding him hostage, however, at the view of a very worried and scared (Y/N) he relaxed.

"You were having a nightmare, it's all right, I'm here now" The faint sound of her voice calmed his heart and mind, allowing him to see that, in fact, he was on his own bed, sleeping next to the love of his life.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" he said running a hand through his sweaty hair, shivers ran up his spine by the suddenly cold feeling of the room, was it always like this? or was it just him?

"This is eating you inside out Tony, you need to stop" The sadness she felt in her heart had no intention of hiding, but to be more evident in her voice, the most terrifying thought filled her mind every time he put on that suit and all those feelings were showing in the broken sound of her whispers.

A shiver run down his spine at the same time that a tear rolled down his cheek caused by the memory, he started to remember all those nights where he had woken up screaming and she was there, calming him, telling him how much she loved him and that she would protect him, but everything has an end and no one patience is infinite.

"Tony, I can't do this with you like this" he had expected every other type of reaction but that, he would prefer an enraged scream and a broken glass instead of a broken whisper with tears falling down her cheeks, he could bear any pain but hers, to see her in pain because of him, because that way, he could not understand her.

"I am Iron Man (Y/N), it's a part of me whether you like it or not, I can't just stop being it so you can have a boring vanilla life!" In all reality, he was scared, terribly scared of the thought that he may be losing her, but that was the only way he could react, that was the only way he ever reacted to anything, attacking the problem.

"Then I suppose i cannot be a part of your life anymore, can I?" She lifted her gaze and all he could see was pain, terrible pain that was consuming her life, her warmth, her energy, her life.

"I guess not, I can't give you that life, so if that's what you want you can leave" and with that, he spun around and stomped to the elevator, ready to scape, to plan a way of making up to her, because she would always have him back right? how could she not?

"Tony, I will not beg for anything, but be sure that this is your last chance, I love you, but if you go through that elevator, we will not be a part of your life anymore" Her voice, even as broken as it was, felt strong, like if she had already made a decision.

"The thing is, (Y/N), that the position you're in doesn't fit with my life... Goodbye" And with that, the elevator closed and he was gone.

The tears that had fallen stained the table, he was holding back sobs but the ache he felt was like the day he realized that she was indeed gone for good. He looked every picture carefully, trying to feel the happiness that he once felt with her but he coulnd't, he had screwed up that, he had lost her because he couldn't understand how she felt, he lost her because he thought he was in the right position and that her feelings were something that would change, but what he didn't understand was that the person he was trying to protect by being Iron Man, the only person he was willing to give his life for, was the one he was hurting the most.

When he got to the last picture, his brows furrowed, an echography? was... was that a baby? Who's? and then it hit him, her sudden change of emotions, her nervousness, the doctor appointments and the fact that she said that they would never be a part of his life again... was she pregnant?! 

The terror of failing yet again to her, but as a father to her child terrified him, he shakily started to look for his phone but he saw the letter, would it change anything? he grabbed it and ripped open the envelope, he took the letter and with an unsteady breath, he started reading.

  "     Tony, my love: 

It has been years since we last spoke, but I have to admit that it hasn't been one day that I don't think of you, I've been following your story, and I want to congratulate you for all your accomplishments, you are such a good man, don't ever believe what other tell you, they don't understand the pressure you have on your shoulders. 

If you have this letter in your hands, it's because you already went through everything in the box, and I want to thank you for each and every moment you gave me, every emotion, every tear, every hug and every kiss, I shall treasure them deep into my soul... I'm so deeply sorry, because now I understand the position I put you through, and I know I have no right to ask for this, given that what I did is unforgivable, but I want you to forgive me, I was pregnant with your child and I was willing to prive you from his life just because of the pain I was through, and even if it is both of our faults, you don't deserve to be prived of the experience of being a father, so I'm begging for your forgiveness. 

For circumstances of life, our child never made it, as I was going through so many negative emotions, I got very ill, and your child, with your warrior genetics, gave his life to protect and heal me, because that is what babies do when their mother is getting sick, but the doctors said that they have never seen something like this, I guess it was just like you, right? 

Now, why am I writing you this, when I always was a woman of action, you may be wondering? It's because my illness never left, I was on borrowed time and now that I know I'm going to die, as of right now I'm already dead... but I don't want you to blame yourself, everything happens for a reason in this life, and now I know why everything went this, way, you needed to save the world, you needed to be where you are right now, and I needed to learn everything I've learnt this past time. 

I loved you Tony, with all my soul, and I still love you and I will always do because I devoted myself to you, I promised I would always be there for you, and now I shall do it from another life, from another existence, we shall take care of you.

I hope you don't mind, but I was buried with the diamond you gave me, I've kept it all these years and the only time I got to wear it is to the grave, life has funny ways. 

Take care of yourself, love yourself and don't blame yourself for what happened, keep the happy memories of us and move on, you deserve a happy and fulfilling life.                        

                     Always love you and always yours.                                                                                                   (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

[parachutingkitten]

Shades of Purple - Part 3

Part three! Here's where we take the turn off the deep end. But before you do, I left you a little Pixane!

If you missed the first few chapters, you can start here, or just read it all in one place on my Fanfiction.net page

Shades of Purple updates on Sundays and Thursdays

Happy reading!

8-10: Heather - Protection

Reflexes. Basic ones.

No need to go overboard, but being able to protect others and yourself is necessary in the world we live in today. Protection for those you love is important, and I guess you could say I'm in love with these machines.

Heather 1. Heather 2. Heather 3.

It had been a day. A day, that was all. Life was crazy and miserable, and everything and everyone was in danger but… nothing seemed wrong. Not to me. It didn't make sense. But, being able to talk with the team, for them to know I was alive, it was amazing.

"It was a reflective period. Sometimes it's nice to separate yourself and evaluate where you're at. Connect with the people you protect."

"I get it," Cole agreed. "Understand. Get back to the roots of why we're doing what we're doing, and what being a hero really means."

"And sometimes it's not the big things either." I held out my palm, a slightly faded purple star still stuck to my skin. "I keep this here to remind me of that."

"I bet there's an interesting story there."

I chuckled, remembering where I was, and who had given it to me. "Actually, it involves you."

"Really?"

"Yes. I was-"

I felt hands wrap around my waist as my body was lifted up into the air and spun around. When I landed, Zane's face was inches from mine.

"Zane!"

"Good morning."

We both laughed for a moment, our faces growing closer.

"I have something a want to show you." He broke his contact with me and instead started pulling me by the hand below deck.

I turned around as he tugged me away to see a giddily smiling Cole. "I'll tell you later! I have something I need to do to you!" I called out to him.

"Do to me?"

"You'll see!"

"Have fun!" he called back.

I rolled my eyes and turned back around, giving all my attention to Zane. My lovely, beautiful Zane, that I could touch and feel and hug and… well, kiss I suppose would be the next logical word, but we hadn't exactly gotten that far yet.

He guided me into a room I recognized quite fully as sensei's small tea garden, a beautiful location below deck with windows surrounding the room like a greenhouse, and various plants lining the walls and the ceiling and the floor.

"You kept it up while he's been gone," I smiled looking at the beautiful condition of everything in the room.

"We all helped out. Kai probably spent the most time here. He's not the best gardener, but he put all he had into it."

We spent a lot of time in here when I was a part of his systems. It was a quiet place where we could speak alone without bothering or confusing anyone.

"Cole kept watch on the soil, Nya kept up watering, Lloyd added lots of flowering plants. Jay added some small cactus plants so he wouldn't have to keep up too much maintenance. And I… decided to add-"

"Zane!" my eyes landed on the beautiful purple bunches of petals lining a hidden corner of the room he was guiding me towards. I raced toward them and cradled one of the cascading bunches in my fingers. "They're so beautiful."

"I felt kind of guilty. Everyone else wanted to honor sensei but… I think I took your loss a bit harder. I think sensei would have wanted me to use the garden for what I needed though. And at that point… I just needed a reminder of… you."

Wisteria is classified as a woody climbing vine. Perfect for decorating the untouched corner walls of an already overcrowded garden. "How did you know?"

"Your neural drive was a part of my processor for nearly-"

"Right!" I laughed. "There's no way you could have interfaced with me without seeing-"

"Wisteria. Every morning."

"You never even asked me about it."

"It made sense. It's not especially hard to think of you as a flower." He too touched the small petals that hung in front of him.

"Why?"

He paused for a moment. "You're… soothing, empowering, invigorating… beautiful." His eyes turned from the flowers to me. "And… delicate." he took my hands as a chill went up my spine.

I took one of his hands and held it between both of mine. "Your hands are freezing."

"Are they? I'm sorry, I don't mean to-!"

"I don't mind," I smiled up at him. "As long as you're okay."

I'm sure if his skin had been human, he would have been blushing. "My powers tend to act up when my emotions… intensify."

Zane was built to protect. He knew that. Everyone did, so it only made sense that his emotions were strongest when he felt protective. Sympathy. Some people would just call it love.

"Pixal… I enjoy you, very much. I enjoy having you back, and I enjoy your body, and touching it, and seeing it," he lifted his hand to cup my cheek as I leaned into it, embarrassing the chill. "but… it scares me."

"Why would it scare you?" I laughed.

"When I am a ninja, I have my brothers and Nya, and my falcon all looking out for me. When you go out… you don't have anyone else."

I gripped his hand resting on my cheek. "I can look out for myself. Samurai X is support for the ninja. Always has been. Not the other way around."

He pulled me forward and embarrassed me, holding me tightly to his chest. "I want to protect you," he whispered in my ear.

"You've protected me for years now. Now it's my turn."

He squeezed me just a bit tighter before releasing me and taking my hands again. "I'm glad you're back. I just…" he brushed a stray hair from out of my eyes before his hand found a place to rest behind my ear. "...don't want to lose you again."

I gripped his arms. "Don't worry. I won't let anything separate us again. I promise."

Never.

Someone who lies

Someone who kills

Someone who breaks a promise

Could never forgive themselves for it.

And I didn't.

I couldn't.

I had promised, it was my fault. My fault he was gone. My fault he was dead. My own stupid fault I was suffering through this… Again.

It stings worse the second time. Because it already happened once. It could never happen again. Not Again. Right? So you find yourself a distraction. But the only distraction from his death was the death that surrounded me. I thought I could use my teammates as a distraction, but no… I was theirs. The robot could bring us comfort, right? She would be strong. She would get through it. If no one else, surely she could. But I'm not that kind of robot. I can't just turn off my emotions. Not anymore. Not after Zane touched me with his heart, gave it to me, changed me, made me almost human. He did so much for me. I felt like I owed him everything. My life.

But I couldn't even give that for him.

I had failed. If I couldn't protect the one person in this world who loved me, who could I protect? Was this who I was? Was this my purpose? To destroy lives, to let people down? I knew what it wasn't. I was never built to protect anything. Ever. No. Not protect, assist. To put a smile on my face and help with mundane tasks and provide the illusion of easing the pain of others. To be the distraction. I wasn't a person, I was a tool for someone else to use and pretend to feel better. I was an assistant. That was it. Nothing more.

The team stuck together, but Ninjago was scattered. We received a call from my father. I couldn't bring myself to talk to him. He didn't even know I was physical again. He had no idea who I was anymore. And if he didn't know me, how could anyone? How could I?

He always believed in second chances. Maybe his faith was misplaced in the building location. Maybe not. It may have brought back the Overlord, but it was also the only major building in the city that still had power. After having defeated the Overlord twice, maybe it has a seal of protection over it. Maybe his second chances only worked the second time around.

It's home to me. Even when being attacked and invaded, it always felt safe. Maybe that makes me overly attached, maybe that makes me comfortable with evil. Either way, it doesn't make sense.

What he told us was that the building had lost power, suddenly, unexpectedly. It was purposely cut off. He didn't have any proof, but he felt certain the tower had been invaded. I suppose it might be hard to tell if the tower had been broken into when there are 100 floors and no alarms functioning. He felt unsafe. It made sense. He didn't know what to do, so he called us. But that's not what interested me. What interested me was the thing he hadn't thought to tell us when it happened.

A security droid had gone missing a few months ago; one that knew the ins and outs of Borg tower, one that would know how to cut the power if he needed to. The one based off of the blueprints of Cyptor.

...my father always did believe in second chances.

Hope you enjoyed! Leave your thoughts down below if you liked it, or not, or if you were impartial to it or whatever, I could always use feedback!

Thanks again so much for reading!

[fanfiction-and-coffee]

"No way - I can’t have TWO soulmates." with Lance/Shiro/Keith? Only if you're still taking soulmate prompts! ^^

okay disclaimer, I don’t really know much about polyamory, so rather than potentially spreading incorrect information about how polyamorous relationships work, I left this open enough that you can interpret it as romantic or platonic or a combination of the two, it’s totally  up to you as the reader. (personally, I really love the idea of platonic soulmates tbh.) (and if any of my followers is poly and wants to educate me, that would be amazing!) I went with the good ol’ “soulmate’s name appears on your body as a tattoo” au because it’s a classic and I think it fits this prompt well. 

and for the record, in writing this I’m assuming keith and lance are the same age and that shiro is like two years older so please don’t harass me about age gaps I just write what people tell me to okay

prompt is from this list

Keith knows that the soulmate system is complicated. He knows that there are sometimes flukes, complications. He knows that some soulmates are lovers, while some instead share a deep, unbreakable friendship. He knows that some soulmates are born on opposite sides of the world, and that a lot of those couples never meet. He knows that some people get their marks early in their teens, while some don’t get them until their twenties. He knows that some people never get a mark at all.

But he’s never heard of someone having two marks before.

The first name appeared a few days after his fifteenth birthday, a single Japanese character inked into the skin on the inside of his left forearm. The lines are thick and smooth and almost look like brush strokes, and a few hours on a translater app revealed that the character is “shiro,” the Japanese word for the color white. Keith wonders if this is his soulmate’s real name, or if it’s a nickname. He wonders if the fact that his soulmate is Japanese means that they’ll never meet each other, spending their entire lives on opposite sides of an ocean.

He signed up for Japanese classes the semester after it appeared, just in case.

He’s sixteen now, and he’s almost definitely going to be late for his first class because he’s spent the last fifteen minutes staring into his bathroom mirror, studying the new mark that has appeared on his right shoulder while he was sleeping. This one, at least, requires no translation. The letters are phonetic, a sloppy cursive, like his soulmate had scribbled down their signature in a hurry. L-a-n-c-e.

“No way - I can’t have TWO soulmates.” He runs careful fingers over the letters, as if he expects them to rub off like paint, but they’re inked just as deeply and permanently as the character on his opposite wrist. He wonders if this is some kind of cosmic screw-up, or if it means that something has happened to his other soulmate. His chest tightens at the thought.

He skips class that day, opting instead to wade through dozens of online forums dedicated to “unusual” soulmate situations. After several hours, he does find a few other cases of people with multiple marks, although apparently it’s incredibly rare, even more so than someone being born without any. One anonymous forum user claims that they have two marks, as does each of their soulmates, and that the three of them have been in a healthy romantic relationship for years. Another user tells the story of how one of their soulmates is their lover, the other their best friend.

He spends quite a while just staring at the names on his skin, wondering who they are and what connection they’ll have to him if or when he finds them.

Keith doesn’t find his first soulmate until it’s too late.

Stories of the Kerberos mission are everywhere, from television to the Internet to the conversations of strangers on the street.

Three people missing, presumed dead. Sam and Matt Holt, father and son, and their pilot.

The pilot’s name was Takashi Shirogane, but a few of the news networks mention that he was better known as “Shiro” to his family and friends.

Keith pauses the news story when he hears that, and spends what feels like hours staring at the face on the screen. They’ve used his Garrison graduation photo, and that’s what kills Keith the most, knowing that they were at the same damn school for two whole years and never noticed each other. He even remembers the seeing him in the halls, a tall, attractive boy with black hair and an easy smile. It had never occurred to him to check the names of the people in other classes, that his soulmate might have been in the same building as him, just a year or two older.

And now one of his soulmates is gone.

He skips school again, spends most of his day thinking about Shiro, about whether he was scared when he died. He briefly considers looking for Shiro’s family, reaching out to them, but he decides against it. He never knew their son – he has no claim to their grief, no right to feel the aching sense of loss that eats away at him and makes his chest feel hollow.

He runs his fingers over the mark on his shoulder, wondering if his other soulmate was Shiro’s as well. Wondering if maybe, somewhere in the big wide world, someone knows what he’s feeling, shares his peculiar kind of grief.

He drops out of the Garrison a few weeks later.

Lance is pretty sure that the universe is determined to make his life difficult, especially where soulmates are involved. He realized the whole thing was a cosmic joke the second he went through his yearbook and realized that the only Keith at the Garrison was the emo kid with the mullet.

Okay, so there’s no way of knowing for sure that this guy is his Keith. Hunk, ever the supportive best friend, encourages Lance to reach out to him, points out that the very worst thing that can happen is that Lance’s soulmate is a different Keith, in which case Lance doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life trying to convince him to cut his hair.

But Lance doesn’t reach out to him, doesn’t even talk to him. He tells Hunk that it’s because he doesn’t have time for soulmates right now, that he needs to focus on improving his flying skills if he’s going to make it into the fighter class. And that’s part of it, but not the whole truth. Lance keeps the truth to himself, because explaining the whole thing would mean telling Hunk about his second mark, which no one but his parents know about.

Lance wasn’t surprised when it was a guy’s name that showed up on his skin when he was fourteen. The handwriting was messy and cramped, the five letters positioned on the left side of his chest, just over his heart. K-e-i-t-h. He’d assumed that this was a future boyfriend, maybe a future husband. He knew platonic soulmates did happen, of course, but he’d always seen himself as more of a romantic type.

And then the second mark appeared on the other half of his chest and ruined everything. This one was more ambiguous. “Shiro” could be a guy or a girl, although at least he can be pretty sure that his second soulmate is Japanese. Although the fact that he has a second soulmate at all raises questions that he’s not sure he wants answers to.

And the thing that really scares him, the thing that keeps him from telling Hunk or his siblings or anyone about the second mark, is the idea that just because these people are his soulmates doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s theirs. He lays awake some nights, wondering if maybe Keith and Shiro only have each other’s names, if maybe he’s destined to be an outsider in their dynamic. And it’s that fear that keeps him from approaching the Keith at the Garrison.

He doesn’t give up completely, though. He still holds out some hope that maybe Keith will take notice of him and make the first move. He constantly works on his flying, half to improve his rank and half because he hopes that if he and Keith end up competing with each other, it will force whatever confrontation needs to happen.

The longer Keith goes without giving him any notice, the more he starts to believe that he isn’t the one. Or maybe that dark, quiet part of his mind is right, maybe his fears were justified, and maybe Keith only has one mark, one soulmate to look for. And maybe it isn’t him.

After a man named Shiro disappears on one of Pluto’s moons and Keith drops out of the Garrison, Lance decides that he’s definitely meant to spend his life alone.

Most days, Takashi Shirogane doesn’t know what is real and what is his broken, fevered brain trying desperately to give him a bit of relief.

He’s pretty sure that the gladiator fights are real. The adrenaline, the rush, the blood, the pain – it’s all too vivid, too dreadfully clear, to be anything but reality. After every fight, when he’s staring down at his own bloodstained hands, at the broken body of his opponent, he thinks that this is the only thing that has ever been real. Whoever he was before, whatever life he had, is gone. There is only the arena. There is only fighting and death.

He can’t decide if the names on his skin are real or a hallucination. Sometimes he runs a fingertip over the “Keith” etched along his ribs on his left side, or the “Lance” on his right wrist, and thinks that they’re the only real thing he has left. Other times, he stares down at the letters and thinks that they must be just another empty dream.

When they take his arm, he decides it doesn’t matter whether his soulmates are real or not. He’s never going to find them anyway, because he knows now that he isn’t going to get off this prison ship alive.

Keith thinks his hands might be shaking a little as he goes through his clothes (he doesn’t really have a closet, just a couple of boxes that he digs through whenever he needs an outfit), trying to find something big enough for Shiro. He’s still reeling, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Shiro is here, next to him. Not dead, but… changed. His black hair is streaked with white, much of the skin that isn’t covered by his clothes marred by scars. He looks… older. Tired. And he keeps glancing around with wide eyes, like he expects Keith’s room to melt away, leaving him back in whatever hell he just escaped from.

And there’s a guy named Lance sitting in the next room, loudly arguing with that Pidge kid. Keith is trying to decide whether that’s too weird to be a coincidence.

Once he’s found a shirt that’s always been far too big on him, but that he thinks will work for Shiro, he turns around the hand it over. He clears his throat, not sure if he should offer his guest some privacy or if it’s a bad idea to leave the guy who just escaped from an alien super-prison alone.

Shiro makes the decision for him when he shrugs and removes the dirty, torn shirt he’s wearing, too tired or in too much shock to care about his audience.

Keith barely manages to keep himself from audibly gasping.

Shiro’s torso is completely covered with scars, some of them raised lines, some puckered skin, some pink and raw as if they’re more recent than the others. But that isn’t what catches Keith’s attention. His gaze goes straight to Shiro’s left side, where he finds his own name, the black ink a sharp contrast against the white scar tissue surrounding it.

Lance has a feeling that it’s going to be several nights before he gets used to sleeping in the castle. It’s too quiet, too empty, and too… well, too alien. He can somehow feel that he’s a very, very long way from home. And besides that, so much has happened in the last twenty-four hours that he’s not sure he’ll ever fully process it.

Aliens. Robot lions. Paladins. Voltron. It would all sound ridiculous if he hadn’t just lived through it.

So when he hears a soft knock on his bedroom door, it only takes a few seconds for him to jump out of bed and answer it.

When he sees Shiro and Keith standing in his doorway, a glimmer of hope washes over him, followed immediately by a jolt of unease. He glances between the two of them, as if the reason for their visit might be written on one of their faces. Shiro, who looks much better now that he’s clean and rested, is wearing an expression that’s difficult to read. If Lance didn’t know better, he’d say he looked shy. Keith, on the other hand, just looks incredibly uncomfortable. And pissed.

It’s Keith who speaks first. “Dude. We were in the same year at the Garrison for three years. Why didn’t you tell me?”

And Lance knows that he should be relieved, or grateful, or even happy, but instead all he can manage to feel is annoyance. “What about you? You ignored me for all three of those years!”

“You could have introduced yourself.” Keith huffs, crossing his arms. “You’re just as much at fault here as I am.”

“At least I was actually looking for you.” Lance hisses, “Instead of just waiting around for my soulmate to fall from the sky or–” He cuts himself off when he realizes that, technically, Shiro did fall from the sky just the night before, albeit inside an escape pod.

“I figured after…” Keith glances at Shiro, like he’s not sure how to breach his next subject without being insensitive. “… after the Kerberos mission made the news, I figured I wasn’t meant to find my other soulmate. It seemed like I was meant to be alone.”

Lance doesn’t want to admit that he felt the same way, that he still feels that way. So instead, he narrows in on the other piece of information Keith has just revealed. “Wait, so you… you have two names, right?” He turns to Shiro. “Both of you?”

Shiro nods, a small smile breaking across his face. “I do. Although I’ll admit, this isn’t quite how I imagined meeting you.”

“Yeah.” Lance leans against his doorframe, suddenly feeling very tired. “So… what does this mean? That there’s three of us, I mean. I’ve never known anyone with more than one soulmate before.”

“I guess we’ll figure it out?” Keith sounds as unsure as Lance feels.

Shiro nods. “We’ve got a lot to figure out. And not just between the three of us. But we’ll be okay.” He claps a hand on each of the other boys’ shoulders, the gesture so easy that it feels natural.

Lance steps back, holding his door open for them. “You guys better come in, then. We have a lot of catching up to do.”