#chapter six

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Six

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Nights progressed onward, and Fireheart delightedly watched as his siblings and nephew climbed out of the nursery and wandered around camp with increasing confidence—especially Cloudkit, who waddled about like he was the leader of all the territories. He attacked Fireheart more than once, chomping on his tail or swatting harmlessly at his haunches.

“Is he our nephew, too?” Tawnykit asked one night, watching with Fireheart as Cloudkit led Aspenkit and Ashkit on a march to the elders’ den.

Fireheart blinked down at her. “I actually hadn’t thought about that. I guess he is! Isn’t that funny?”

Tawnykit squinted a little as Cloudkit clambered into One-eye’s lap, between her front paws. “Yeah. He’s older than us. S’funny.”

Fireheart regarded her sitting beside him, and then looked back at Bramblekit, who was being groomed by Goldenflower, then at Cloudkit again. Warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest, and his heart swelled with affection and pride, threatening to break out of him through his throat.

Family. What a beautiful thing to get to experience.

At this thought, a ruddy tortoiseshell with huge, pleading eyes, wet with fear, popped into his head. Not for the first time, but it still made him barely hide a jolt of guilt, fresh as it always was.

Fireheart hadn’t gone to see his sister in the Houses for a very long time. He’d had no news to share with her about the son she had given to him, since he couldn’t even visit the growing Cloudkit, and now that he was out and about, Fireheart had been trying to stay busy and spend time with his Clanmates, adopted family or just friends. Perhaps just because he was desperate to keep everyone’s spirits up, but still, he should have seen her way sooner.

She must be desperate for any news, he thought, and with that he stood up. Tawnykit watched him in surprise as he touched his nose to the top of her head, then turned to Goldenflower and said, “I’m going to go out and see if I can hunt.”

Goldenflower paused in her grooming and nodded. Bramblekit copied her nod, looking a bit puzzled as to what they were nodding for. Fireheart trotted over to repeat the nose-touch to Bramblekit’s forehead, and then pressed his own forehead to Goldenflower’s. She purred and waved her tail as he trotted away, heading straight for the entrance tunnel.

As soon as he was outside, he buckled down into a run just below sprinting speed, careful to not make too much noise as he rushed through the forest. The half-moon grinned down at him through the naked tree-branches; the leaves on the ground had all but rotted away at this point, leaving soft earth to greet Fireheart’s paws with every swift step. It was chillier tonight, but a nice sort of chill, the kind that made catching one’s breath almost pleasant.

Fireheart reached the border along the Houses and slowed down, taking a moment to breathe (and it was nice indeed) and eye the fencing that stood straight and narrow, a firm line between civilization and the wild. The grass that humans hadn’t clipped and watered were little more than yellow-brown stalks, scratching faintly at Fireheart’s pelt as he made his way up to a familiar part of the fence.

“Smudge!” he called as loud as he dared, half-worried a Clanmate would be out and catch sight of him. “Smudge, are you here?”

Silence for long enough that Fireheart started to turn away, then: the tell-tale click of a doorflap being pushed open and shutting again, scratching and scrabbling, and in a moment a friendly black-and-white head popped up over the wood.

“Fireheart!” Smudge hefted himself onto the top of the fence, tail dancing around. The rotund tom clumsily hit the ground and stumbled a bit before hurrying up to his old friend and greeting him by rubbing their pelts together, purring like a car. “Where in the world have you been?”

“Sorry.” Fireheart leaned a bit into Smudge’s shoulder. “It’s been a crazy time, I can’t even begin to tell you.”

“Well, you better, I’m curious,” Smudge said, stepping back a bit and looking Fireheart over. “You’re a little thinner than last time. Is the cold getting to you?”

Fireheart flicked his tail dismissively. “Oh, prey is thin around this time of year. Listen, I was going to go see Rosy and tell her how her son is doing. Wanna come with?”

Smudge gave him an amused look. “Of course I do. And on the way, you can fill me in.”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched grimly. “You’re not going to like it.”

The lazy cheer on Smudge’s face wilted a bit, but he simply cocked his head in an inviting gesture and turned with Fireheart to start walking down the road to Rosy’s house.

As they walked, Fireheart (praying that StarClan wouldn’t get angry at him) recounted what he hoped was a short and softer version of the past couple months. Smudge listened with growing shock and poorly-concealed horror, especially when Fireheart’s voice caught in his throat as he ended the former deputy’s story.

“And we’ve all just been recovering from that since then,” he said with an unsteady sigh. “The Clans don’t allow you to talk about cats who get their names taken away, or who did bad things like that. But now my mira had her kits, and one of them looks just like his father. Everyone gives him a startled look when they see him for the first time.” He narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes after that, too.”

“Good heavens.” Smudge shook his head in disbelief. “And here I thought the most danger you could face was from the animals out there, not your own colony. Well, at least you came out of it alive.”

Fireheart just hummed, his ears back.

Smudge looked at him, eyes now shaded with concern. Hesitantly, he asked, “Mind a nibble on your thoughts?”

Fireheart’s answer was delayed and so quiet he half-expected Smudge to not hear him as he finally gave voice to a thought he didn’t want to ever hear out loud. “…That tom was arpam to me, and I killed him. If– if I’d just kept my mouth shut, either time, he’d still be alive. Bramblekit and Tawnykit would have a father to be raised by. Goldenflower’d have her mate, and—”

“No, no, none of that.” Smudge stopped suddenly, and when Fireheart paused and looked his way, he had a very serious, stern frown on his face. “Don’t you get to feeling guilty for consequences that cat had coming to him whether or not you were there. He murdered and crippled your friends, Fireheart. You should be proud of yourself, if anything.” Fireheart flinched, and immediately Smudge’s expression and voice softened. “I know, you don’t want anyone to be hurt, but he deserved it. If he was still alive, your leader would be dead, and who knows who else. He could have turned on you, for all you know.”

“He wouldn’t,” Fireheart wanted to say, but it stuck in his throat. He swallowed the words back down and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting a tremble that tried to sweep through his body.

A very light weight rested itself on his hindquarters; when he opened his eyes again, Smudge’s tail was draped over his side and he was giving Fireheart a sympathetic look.

“Come on,” he said gently. “Chin up. You’re not responsible for anything but justice, even if it was to family. Let’s get you to Rosy, alright? Give you something happier to think about.”

Fireheart swallowed again, this time a much larger lump, and nodded. Smudge patted him with his nearest paw and withdrew it to start walking again, his friend slowly following.

By the time they reached Rosy’s house, Fireheart’s chest was looser and his stomach less queasy. He took the lead in leaping onto her fence and dropping down in her yard. Through the glass door, he could see his sister asleep in a little bed.

“Rosy!” he shouted, feeling half-guilty for waking her up.

Immediately, the yellow-green eyes flew open and her head lifted sharply. As soon as her eyes landed on him, she bolted upright and scrambled out of bed, her back feet kicking it hard enough to send it sliding halfway across the room. She belted through the door-flap and crashed into Fireheart, knocking him over.

“Sorry! Sorry!” She backed up just enough to let him get back onto his feet before pushing forward again and putting her head under his chin, purring almost as loud as Goldenflower. “Fireheart! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Before he could respond, she pulled back and looked around wildly. “Where’s Cloudy? Where’s my baby?”

Fireheart gave a low chuff and replied, “He’s still at home, growing up and being kept safe by my Clanmates. You should see him, he’s—”

“Ooh, tell me everything!” Rosy vibrated with excitement. “Where does he sleep? How’s he doing in training? All of it! Tell me all of it!”

With a calming paw-gesture for quiet, Fireheart’s eyes creased with affection. He’d missed his sister’s eager energy. “One thing at a time. First, he’s completely fine. He’s fat and happy and all of my Clanmates love him.” Except Darkstripe, but it’s hard for me to care about that at this point. “What I wanted to tell you first is that he’s gone from all-white to being white with this ginger patching on his ears and nose, and his tail too. Even some of his toes are starting to get it. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Oh!” Rosy straightened up even further with delight, somehow. “He’s like his father! Onion had grey instead, but he had the same thing.”

“‘Had’?” Fireheart tilted his head, his happiness faltering. “What happened to Onion?”

Rosy’s face fell into a melancholy disappointment - nearing a scowl, to Fireheart’s surprise. “I don’t know where he is now. He just strolled off without even asking about his kits, and I never saw him again.” The scowl turned more glum and solemn. “All of my babies went to different homes. They barely stopped nursing before they were taken away from me. I have no idea how they’re doing or where they are…” She suddenly shook herself violently and forcibly perked up, beaming at Fireheart now. “But I know where Cloudy is!”

“Well,” Fireheart said, relieved to move on to something happier, “he had a slight name-change. The Clan named him Cloudkit. When he’s an apprentice, his name will be Cloudpaw.”

“Oh! That’s right!” Rosy nodded rapidly. “The name-changing, I forgot about that.”

“Why does your Clan even do that?” Smudge asked, sitting a body-length away. “Gets real confusing, if you ask me.”

“It makes sense if you live there.” Fireheart looked at him now. “It helps tell you where a cat is in rank. Plus, it feels really rewarding to have a special name. It’s like everyone gets to see you say, ‘Look, I grew up and I proved I can be one of you. I earned my name through hard work and determination.’” His eyes unfocused as he reflected warmly. “And hearing your name be chanted by the entire Clan… it’s among the best feelings I’ve ever experienced.”

Smudge’s mouth stretched to one side in an amused grimace. “I’ll take your word for it, bud.”

“Well, Cloudkit then!” Rosy nudged Fireheart’s chest. “Tell me about him! Are you raising him?”

“Oh– no—” Fireheart shook his head. “Toms aren’t allowed in our nursery. He’s being taken care of by Brindleface. You’d like her, she’s very sweet—took to him immediately and adopted him without a word. He has two siblings, Ashkit and Aspenkit.” He snorted. “He’s always leading them around on pretend patrols. He can’t wait to get out and see the territory. And he loves our elders. He spends more time with them than he does me! And—”

He cut off his next sentence at the confused and slightly sad look on Rosy’s face. Her voice was much less eager than before. “He… has an adopted family out there?”

Ah. Fireheart nodded, trying to break the truth gingerly. “He’s had Brindleface, his siblings and me. That’s the family he knows.”

Rosy’s eyes fell and her energy dissipated like mist. “…So he doesn’t know me.”

“I…” Fireheart didn’t have it in him to lie so boldly. “No. I’m sorry. He’s too young to remember being brought out here by you.”

Rosy breathed out unsteadily. Her nose pointed down to her paws.

“I don’t mean to keep you a secret,” Fireheart said quickly. “When it comes time to make him an apprentice, I’m going to mentor him, and then I’ll tell him about you. When we can talk privately, and he’s old enough to handle being born an outsider.”

“Why can’t he handle it now?” Rosy asked, voice barely above a mutter.

Fireheart stayed patient and careful. “Remember that the Clans don’t really like outsiders. They barely accepted me when I first got there, and there was a debate on keeping Cloudkit after I brought him in.” He leaned in a little and spoke kindly, trying to get her to lift her head. “Telling him right now would be a lot on such a young mind. All he’s ever known is the Clan. He doesn’t know that it’s okay to be born elsewhere, so long as you’re loyal to your Clanmates. I promise, he will know about you, sooner or later.”

Hesitantly, Rosy looked up at him, cautious optimism on her youthful face. “And will I get to see him again? Will you take him to meet me? Or… can I visit?”

Bringing her to visit immediately peppered Fireheart’s mind with angry ThunderClan faces and potential fights. “He’ll come see you someday. I’ll bring him here myself. I can’t say when, but I know he will meet you for real.”

This got Rosy to sit up taller again, though slowly and with less enthusiasm than before. Fireheart gave her an encouraging blink, adding, “And until then, you can rest assured that he’s okay. He’s better than okay, really. Round and happy and energetic and bold. He’s a spark of sunset, even among the other kittens.” He purred. “Actually, with my mira and siblings, he’s got an even bigger support system—”

“Your ‘mira’?” Rosy echoed, tilting her head. “You’ve seen our mother again?”

“Oh, ha, no.” Fireheart’s ears went back sheepishly. “The matriarch took me in as her son.”

He didn’t expect Rosy’s face to fall again, even deeper this time. Her voice dropped the lowest it had been this whole conversation. “You have family out there, too…”

“Don’t be disappointed by that, Rosy,” Smudge said quickly. “It’s good that his Clanmates like him so much that they’d adopt him. And he still came to see you, didn’t he?”

“Right.” Fireheart nodded. “You’re my family, too. You’re by blood and they’re by bond. That’s all.”

Rosy took in a breath and copied her brother’s nod, but her face did not look any cheerier. “You have so much of a life, Fireheart. I hear you talking about all these things and I’m happy for you, but… it’s hard to not be a part of it as often as I’d like.” Fireheart’s face must have changed, because she hastened to add, “I know you aren’t allowed to come see me. That’s not your fault. I just miss you, you know? I miss Rusty, and sometimes it feels like I don’t even know Fireheart.” She exhaled with force and scrubbed her face. “Look at me, being selfish and dumb. I’m sorry. I’m grateful you came, and that you took Cloudy– Cloudkit. I’ll be happy whenever you bring him, whether he’s an apprentice or warrior.”

Fireheart leaned forward to rest his chin on her head. He had no idea what to say, beyond a soft, “You’ll see us both again, as soon as I can manage.”

Rosy said nothing, but he felt her faint purr through his throat.

“Well,” Smudge said with a clearing of his throat, “I do hate to interrupt this, but I’d say you ought to get back to your forest before any of your friends and family miss you.”

Fireheart turned his head with a puzzled frown. The tense look in Smudge’s eyes told him something—he wasn’t sure what, but he drew away from Rosy and said, “I should, yeah. I’m sorry. I’ll visit again when I can.”

Rosy, luckily, did not look too sad about this. Weary and resigned, but not sad. She nodded and yawned. “Please be careful out there. And… and make sure Cloudkit is ready to be the best apprentice in the world.”

“He will be.” Fireheart rubbed his cheek on his sister’s. “I can’t wait to show him off to you.”

This cheered her up enough to make her tail curl over her back. Fireheart waved his own tail before turning around and following Smudge to the fence. The two jumped over together, Fireheart landing smoother and first on the other side. They walked together in silence, until Fireheart was sure Rosy couldn’t hear them so he could lean in and whisper, “What’s up?”

Smudge’s mouth was thin and stretched. “I haven’t told Rosy yet, she’s been inside so much. There’s a dog loose somewhere around here. I wanted to get you out of here before it can find us.”

Fireheart stiffened and almost stopped walking. “Here? Really?”

“The rumor goes that it’s already killed a house cat.” Smudge looked to Fireheart, his eyes widening in realization. “You’ve heard about a dog too, haven’t you?”

Fireheart’s bones were ice-cold. “One of the other Clans’ leaders told us all that they’d lost a cat to a pack of them. But they’re easily more than a day’s travel from here.”

“A pack?” Smudge’s short fur flared in alarm. “And they’re even attacking your colonies?”

“And it sounds like they might be moving around.” Fireheart shivered, like that would make the frosty fear in his body go away. “Smudge, do me a favor and make sure you and Rosy and your friend at my house stay inside your yards. I have to tell my leader and deputy about this.”

“You might get in trouble for coming out here…”

“Then I’ll get in trouble.” Fireheart’s firm tone eased some of his chill. “I can’t keep this a secret. Bluestar knows about Rosy, she’ll take this the best. I don’t think our deputy will mind how I got the news either, when it’s this important.”

“You’re bold.” Smudge gave him a respectful look. “Then get to your camp as soon as possible. I’ll be fine walking home alone.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure. I’m more worried for you.” Smudge nudged him with his head. “Get to running, Fireheart. Be careful, alright? I don’t think even you could outrun a dog.”

“Good thing we have trees to climb,” Fireheart said, almost to himself. He nudged Smudge back and, after a confirming look to a nod, started off at a run.

Perhaps he was going faster than usual as he entered the forest, dodging dead ferns and fallen logs, but it certainly felt as sluggish as a nightmare.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #book three #arc one #charred legacy #chapter six

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Part 6

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader

Themes: Soft

Warnings: Mention of Elwing casting herself into the sea prior to the beginning of the story | Mentions of other character deaths prior to the beginning of the story

Wordcount : 3.1K words

Summary: Thranduil attends the feast held in honor of Angon taking Nitiel to wife.

Minors DNI

Masterlist

Thranduil’s POV

The feast Lord Thiliedir and Lady Annien held in honor of their son taking Nitiel to wife was a most splendid affair. 

Guests came from all over Amon Lanc. They poured through wide open doors leading to a vast garden, dressed in their finest furs and silks. Gold and silver, rubies and emeralds, glittered around the throats and lips and ears and wrists of many. Newly forged circlets rested amidst dark, crimson, and silver-gold hair that had been combed into intricate braids. Some of the visitors bore the marks of beasts and leaves and flowers along their arms and along their cheeks. Heralds called out the names of each new visitor, and attendants walked amidst the invited elves, their hands heavy with gilded pitchers full of wine and trays full of delicate pastries. Thranduil stood by his father’s side, observing lords and ladies joining an ever-growing line of those wishing to offer their felicitations to the newly wedded pair.  

“The marriage of Lord Angon and his lady has been well received.” Oropher nursed his chalice of wine, while minstrels kept to the grotto set aside for their use during the festivities. The music they played and the songs they sang drifted around the garden, barely heard over the chatter of elves and the clinking of glass. “I confess, I expected to hear and see quite the opposite when I was told the news.” 

“Were you hoping to witness the tearing of hair and the gnashing of teeth?” Thranduil whispered. He sipped his wine and then smiled. “Lord Angon’s lady mother and lord father are too well bred for such theatrics. So are their kin. If they truly are unhappy with their son taking a servant to wife, then they have taken great care not to show it.” 

“You are studying those who serve us,” said Oropher. “That is a good thing, my son. Continue it. It will serve you well should my crown pass on to you.” 

Thranduil shivered. His lord father’s demise was not a matter he wished to consider. “It will not happen,” he replied, “for you will live on for more ages than you could care to count, and then we will both take a ship leaving for the Blessed Realm so that we can be reunited with my mother.”

“That is my hope also,” his father returned. “But so long as Belegûr’s servants remain abroad, we must prepare ourselves for the dark possibility of my perishing in this land. Do you understand me, my son?” 

“Yes, father,” Thranduil told him, albeit reluctantly. 

Oropher clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Enough of such talk. Come! Let us join the throng!”  

The throng had grown in size by the time they joined them, and they had grown more carefree despite the late autumn chill. Golden lamps adorned the low-hanging branches of trees, their light limning all those who stood beneath them. Trestle tables had been arranged at the far end of the garden, with a raised dais facing them. Kitchen attendants were occupied slowly turning wooden spits and roasting wild boar and deer over a fire pit, basting the meat with honey and herbs until it crackled. The smell of freshly baked bread and pies wafted from the nearby kitchen. Even the tables themselves had large bowls placed in the center, all filled with wild berries, cheese, and olives brought in from Esgaroth. More wine was served, along with ale and mead. Thranduil joined his father while he spoke to the others, taking great care to listen to all that was being said and answering any question that was asked of him. 

It was an aspect Thranduil had long prepared himself for: the tediousness of everyday duties. He had to attend council meetings even when he wished to do nothing more than lay in bed; he had to hear out supplicants that came to him, begging for a listening ear; and he had to speak to elven nobles he had no desire to speak to, all while having a warm smile or a look of deep concern on his face. All of this he did splendidly well, which pleased his father greatly.  

“Now all you need is a bride who might one day make a fine queen,” Oropher said when they had a moment to themselves again. “Someone worthy of you, and of course, someone worthy of the crown that would rest amidst her hair.”  

‘Tis the same song as always, Thranduil thought. He forced himself not to sigh. “I will wed when my own household is ready, father,” he said through gritted teeth, and he set his jaw in determination. “And I will decide for myself whom I should marry. Me, father, and no other. Any command for me to bind myself to a stranger in a marriage of political convenience will be answered with a swift and certain no.” 

“I swear to Eru, my boy, you can be as stubborn as your beloved mother sometimes.” Oropher laughed. “And I understand the need to wait until your household is ready to receive a mistress. Pray tell me what is becoming of the halls our builders are making for you.” 

They spoke at length while they made their way to the dais. Angon and Nitiel had already taken the seats of high honor, and the king and the crown prince took their places on either side of them. Then the mother and father of Angon, and the mother and father of Nitiel, took their seats accordingly.  

Angon only waited a moment before rising, his cup in hand. “Let us drink!” He cried. “A toast, my friends! To Lady Nitiel! My wife and the companion of my life!”  

The others rose and lifted their cups. “Lady Nitiel!” They shouted as one. Nitiel flushed, and she bowed her head as a gesture of thanks.  

The first course was a dish of soup made of leeks and mushrooms, served in glazed green bowls. Lady Annien took the first spoonful to taste, and the others were served after she gave her approval. 

Lady Nitiel looks so different now, Thranduil thought. The lady who once served in the kitchens was dressed in robes sewn especially for the feast, and with colors that matched those on her husband’s tunic. Green velvet slashed with cloth of gold adorned her person. New gold caught the light of nearby lamps as they lay around her throat and around her wrists. More gold gleamed where it lay in her auburn hair. It had been combed into elaborate plaits and then arranged in a style he did not recognize.  

The gold and the robes must be gifts, no doubt, Thranduil thought, from her doting husband. The way her hair has been arranged, on the other hand…

“Forgive me,” he leaned in and said, “for asking this, but who arranged your hair?” 

Nitiel leaned in as well and lowered her voice. She did not wish for the king to hear what she had to say. “Y/n, my lord,” she said. “She helped me dress, and then she arranged my hair for me. It is the style favored by those who dwelled in a city called Alqualondë, she said, but without the adornments of shells and pearls.” 

Thranduil knew of Alqualondë, having heard the tales told by Lady Galadriel. “The style favored by the elves of Alqualondë?” he whispered, “and not the kind favored by her own people?” 

“She thought the sight of it might anger the king.”     

“Of course. It was wise of her to make such a choice. And it was thoughtful of her as well, to help you prepare for this feast.” 

The next course was a dish of sage and potato tarts, and the course that came after that was a dish of roasted boar and venison with stewed carrots and potatoes that had been boiled to a mash and mixed with cream. Thranduil ate with great relish, and he ate in silence.  

Y/n would have had to have learned the art of such arrangements from her mother, as she was born long after the first kinslaying. And it would have served her well during the years she spent wandering from one place to the next, perhaps even keeping her safe, as the few who served the sons of Fëanor and remained in the new land they had come to call home found little welcome wherever they went.  

There is the grandson, he remembered. Why did y/n not go to Lord Celebrimbor? 

It was a question he had asked when he first procured her freedom, and it was a question he thought of asking her himself, as those who held her could not give him an answer. Until the opportunity to do so presented itself, he would have to bide his time. 

A minstrel plucked at the strings of a high harp while another sang, her voice as sweet and clear as a bell. It was nowhere as lovely as Tinúviel’s otherworldly voice, Thranduil thought, nor was it as bewitching as her lady mother’s. Still, it was enchanting to hear, and a tear came to his eye when he remembered Menegroth in all of its glory. He harkened back to the days of his youth, when nightingales would make their nests in little nooks and crannies that dotted the great city of many caves, where flowers of rare beauty would bloom to life during the spring, where Daeron played the harp and Tinúviel sang, and they were sheltered from the darkness that tainted the lands beyond their own. Then the sons of Fëanor came to reclaim what was taken from their father, they had said, and to seek justice for the slaying of their grandfather.  

The sons of Fëanor came, Thranduil thought as he drained the last of his wine. The sons of Fëanor fought. And the sons of Fëanor perished. Thranduil set down his chalice when a dish of gammon pie was set before him. And the line of Melian and Thingol nearly ended because of them and that blasted Oath of theirs. 

Grief and bitterness gathered around his heart like a swarm of angry bees. Thranduil still remembered King Dior and his queen, Lady Nimloth. He remembered their sons, twins who were all of three when their father came into his inheritance, and he remembered the dreadful winter that brought about an end to Dior’s reign, the tragic fate that befell his sons, his queen, and the great city of caves they all called home.   

And then there was the daughter, the princess who was forced to abandon her own children as she was once forced to abandon her home, and cast herself into the sea after those who sought the Silmaril came for her. That too angered Thranduil—that swords were raised against those who fled the violence that fell upon their once-fair city. He remembered the dark words that were brought to them on a night with the moon and stars hidden behind thick clouds. Perhaps that was a sign, a portend of the dreadful message they were to receive. His father gave the order for their warriors to march, but by the time they reached the Havens, it was already too late. 

At least Elwing's sons lived, he thought, and I pray word of their living lives of great renown reached her ears in the Blessed Realm.  

He took the pie with both hands and bit into it. The meat melted in his mouth, as did the pastry that held it. And it tasted almost like ash against his tongue. Thoughts of the lives lost because of an Oath that could never be fulfilled tainted whatever joy the prince would have found in the food he ate. He waived away all further offers of refreshments, claiming that he was already full. 

I need to step away for a moment, he told himself, and free myself from such dark and dismal thinking.  

He rose and excused himself. “Pray allow me to take my leave of you all for a moment or two,” he said. “I will return soon enough.” 

“Of course, my lord,” Lady Nitiel said. Thranduil bowed deeply and took his leave of them. 

The air outside the manse was no less fragrant. This time, the smells that greeted him were of night-blooming flowers and not the scents of delectable dishes being brought to the table. He walked toward a nearby marble pond, listening to the little waterfall bubbling at the far end of it. There was no other elf to be seen. Most were at the feast. Others were keeping a watchful eye along the city’s high walls or tending to their duties in the palace itself, and there were those who had already retired for the night. Still, the absence of other elves was a welcomed thing, as was the cool wind that swept around his face and hair. Thranduil felt the anger and grief within him ebb away. He stopped and sat on the edge of the pond. 

Tis good to have a moment to clear my head, he thought. Tiny fish darted beneath the leaves of water lilies and around his fingers as he trailed his hand through crystal-clear water, their scales glittering with silver and gold whenever they caught the light of nearby lamps. He heard the sound of leather against stone. Another elf was walking toward him; the sound he heard was the sound of their slippers falling over polished cobble. Thranduil sighed as his peace was disturbed. Then he heard a gasp. The elf who came upon him did not expect to find him there.  

“Forgive me, my lord,” they said. “I… I was told this part of the city was empty at night.”  

“The one who told you this did not err on that score.” The prince turned to face the one who approached the pond. “This part of the city is quiet at night. And there is no need to ask for forgiveness, y/n. You have the freedom to walk about Amon Lanc; there is no one to hinder you from doing so. Pray why are you here, at such an hour?” 

“We were not needed in the kitchens.” Y/n dipped into a deep curtsy before rising again. “And the cook told me that I would not be needed on the morrow. I… I thought of seeing something of the city while the others were not about, my lord.” 

“Yes,” Thranduil smiled. “Amon Lanc feels like a city found only in fairytales when one walks about it at night. I will not say more, lest I spoil the beauty of the city for you.” He paused and decided now would be an opportune time to speak to y/n about Celebrimbor and why she did not approach him for shelter. “But I do have a question to ask of you.” 

“Go on, my lord,” said y/n. 

“That day when I procured your freedom, I was told you spent your days wandering. You put down no roots, not even with Lord Curufin’s son, Lord Celebrimbor. Why is that, y/n?” 

“Being the daughter of an attainted kinslayer made it hard for me to put down roots, my lord. And Lord Celebrimbor made it plain that anyone who served his father and his uncle would find no welcome in his home.” 

“Is it because of what happened to Lord Finrod?” 

“Yes, my lord. Lord Celebrimbor never forgave his father, nor his uncle, for that matter, for what became of Lord Finrod in the end.”  

“And so you kept away from his realm,” Thranduil said. He patted the space beside him.  

“Yes, my lord.” Y/n smoothed her skirts and sat a respectful distance away from him. Etiquette demanded it, for she was but a kitchen maid and he was the crown prince. “I did not have the stomach to bear the sight of another door closing on me, so I kept away.” 

The crown prince tried to envision what such a life would have been like: walking from place to place without a proper home to claim for oneself, selling what little possessions one had to keep oneself alive, having no friends, no family, and no one to turn to for aid. He shivered.  

Such a wretched life, he thought, and yet the lady is still here, enduring each hardship as best as she can. 

Enduring such hardships without complaint was to be expected of the Noldor; it was something minstrels waxed poetic about in story and song. Thranduil studied y/n discreetly. Her hair had grown a fraction longer, and already she looked less gaunt than she did before. The robes she wore were blue and gray, simple but well-made. A tarnished pin was all she had for an adornment. Its painted flowers had faded, and they were the likes of which Thranduil had not seen before. 

“The flowers on your pin,” he began, “are those found only in the Blessed Realm, yes?”

“Yes.” Y/n reached up and touched it. Her fingers trembled when they brushed against the filigreed silver. “My father had this made for me when I came of age. My mother painted the flowers you see in the center. This is all I have left of them.”

To have only one token left of one’s flesh and blood, and that too in a poor state, pricked at Thranduil. But it could still be saved, he thought. It could still be restored to its former glory.  

Ah, but would the goldsmiths agree to such an undertaking when the request to do so came from one such as her? Thranduil knew they would turn her away the moment they saw her standing at the door of their forge. A respected courtier who carried the order of the crown prince, on the other hand… 

“It must have great value to you.” Thranduil rose. He could not linger for much longer. The others would expect him to return to the feast without further delay. Nevertheless, he did not intend to leave until he spoke to y/n about what he had in mind. “And it can be returned to what it looked like when you first received it. Give it to Feren when you see him next. I will speak to him, and have him go to our goldsmiths. If there is anyone in Amon Lanc who could restore that pin to what it once was, it is them.” 

“I…” Y/n paused and hesitated. She lowered her gaze, took a deep, steadying breath, and then she dared to look him in the eye. A decision had been made. “Thank you, my lord.” 

Thranduil nodded. “And now you must excuse me. I must return to the feast before my father sends someone to search for me.” 

“Of course, my lord.” Y/n rose also, and curtsied to him again. “Good night, my lord.”  

“Good night, y/n,” Thranduil said. He looked back at her over his shoulder for a moment as he walked away. The sight of her beneath a spill of lamplight, her eyes sparkling as she turned to admire the fish in the pond, tugged at him in a way he could not describe.

tags: @deadlymistletoe @coopsgirl @lemonivall @tigereyesf @thranduilseyebrows @cupids-got-me @asianbutnotjapanese @kurochan3

#a better future #chapter six #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #Tolkien OCs #x reader #reader insert

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | Mattheo Riddle [6]

The end of the school year is approaching, and Y/N is trying to make a plan to flee from her house. Where could she go that the death eaters wouldn’t find her? Better yet, how could she manage her relationship with Mattheo.

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby

Warning(s): a few cuss words, mentions of sexual material, out of character Mattheo, soft! Mattheo, ooc theo. mentions of smoking.

vi. “what if all i need is you?”

Chapter Six

Note: Long time no see! I went ahead and tagged everyone who I had for my list, if you wish for your tag to be removed just let me know! If I forgot someone, just let me know and I’ll fix it. ☺️ I’m finally done with school; I took my last final yesterday. This means that I know have time to update so it should be finished by July! 🫶🏼

Word Count: 4k

*Not proofread or edited* — *Gif Not mine*

It had been a month or two since students came back to Hogwarts from their holiday breaks. Since then, everyone at Hogwarts had noticed a difference between Y/N and Mattheo. Their relationship seemed to flow naturally, and they did not look to be on edge. Everyone knew that things had changed during winter break, even Hermione had figured it out and confronted the Gryffindor group about it in front of the Nettleby girl. Y/N obviously told them the truth about how they had connected over the course of the break and had admitted that everything from two years ago to now was just in their feelings. It was safe to say that Hermione, Ron, and Harry did not approve and had nothing nice to say.

Y/N had taken off and headed towards the library knowing that finals were coming up soon and she wanted to give her friends time to come to terms with her having feelings for the Riddle boy. They needed time to adjust to the information and she was more than happy to give it to them when needed. She truly understood both sides of the people in her life. She knew the golden trio only seen her boyfriend as Tom Riddle’s son, the same way that Mattheo only seen Harry and all his friends as an enemy because of his father. She could see and understand the conflict from both sides, but she hated that she was in the middle of the battlefield.

Y/N was knocked out of her thoughts as a tall figure fell into steps with her, “Been awhile. I almost did not recognize you without your boytoy on your hip.” The voice of Theodore Nott spoke up as he made sure to keep up with her. She was not in the mood to deal with the stuff from her ex-boyfriend, usually she avoided him or let Mattheo handle to conflict as he knew how to take care of his friends. The last time she had seen Theo was when they were at the family dinner months ago.

Y/N Nettleby rolled her eyes and came to a halt to keep him from following her any further, “What do you want Theodore?” she asked annoyed, crossing her arms over her chest as the boy stepped in front of her.

Theodore made sure he was facing her and leaving little room between the two, “a little birdie told me that your relationship with Riddle was a ploy. A way for you to make me jealous.” He spoke with amusement in his voice.

Y/N let out a laugh while looking over her ex, “and you believe that because?” she asked and trailed off for him to answer her question. When he did not say anything, but still held himself with a smirk and arrogance, she knew that he wouldn’t leave without a fight. “Listen, if you’re still pissed about us having sex, get over it. It is MY body Theo and I decide who I want in it.” She snapped her anger growing at the tall boy in front of her. “… and who I don’t.” she added hoping to strike a nerve.

“If you honestly think your relationship with Mattheo is real, you’re sadly mistaken.” Theo replied dangerously low. Y/N could tell that he was angry, but she wouldn’t fear him or back down. She knew how to take on Theodore whether she acted like she did or not. “He told me himself that he doesn’t believe in love, that he doesn’t believe in relationships.”

Y/N shook her head, “People change Theodore.” She stated, knowing that his only fight would be to try and ruin what the couple had built. “The sooner you realize that he’s using you, the easier the heartbreak will be.” The Nott boy muttered to the girl in front of him. “Did he tell you why he dated you so easily, and do not say it’s because he “cares” or “loves” you” Y/N glared at the boy in front of her. What did she ever see in him, she didn’t know. “He wanted to get close to Harry and your friends. He is doing his mother and father’s dirty work, and he knows if he gains all your trust that you’ll give him the information he needs to know.”

Y/N’s heart was thumping, because she knew that Mattheo had his own reason to start the plan and what if her ex was right? It didn’t change what had happened over the break, but to think that she would agree so easily without knowing what he fully wanted made her nervous.

“What the hell did I tell you about staying away from my girlfriend, Nott.” The voice of Mattheo Riddle spoke up from behind the Gryffindor girl. Theo’s smirk never wavered as he took in his ex’s appearance in front of him. He knew that she was considering what he had said. “What do you want with her?”

Theo wasn’t startled by the boy who was talking to him. If anything, he expected it. He knew that Mattheo had feelings for the girl. Mainly because Riddle had never shown any kind of emotion the way he had around Y/N. “Just shedding some light for your sweet little Y/N.” He replied.

Mattheo took Y/N’s appearance into account before stepping in the small space between the two. Her body language was obviously uncomfortable, and her eyes were still glaring into her ex. “Whatever you felt the need to tell her is irrelevant. Leave her alone if you know what is good for you.” Mattheo snarled before grabbing Y/N by the hand and leading her towards the library where he assumed she was going.

The couple didn’t say anything, but Mattheo did take a detour, leading them out towards the black lake. Knowing that they could have alone time there and he also wouldn’t get in trouble for smoking. The couple sat on the ground making sure to face the lake. Mattheo had an idea of what Theo wanted to talk about, mainly because Enzo had come to the boy this morning and told him that Theodore was telling everyone that his relationship was fake.

“It wasn’t your smartest idea to bring me with you when you’re smoking.” Y/N mumbled as she picked at the green grass beside her. Her gaze quickly turning to the calm water in front of her, yet she knew what lingered in there. “Besides I have studying that needs to be done.”

Mattheo blew out a puff of smoke while analyzing her demeanor, “What did he say to you?” he asked softly noticing the way you were acting. It made him anxious, knowing that Theo knew some information that could make you think differently of him. He held out hope that you wouldn’t judge him if you ever found out because for the longest time, he just wanted to make his father and mother proud. Now he could care less.

Y/N’s gaze remained on the black lake while her boyfriend was smoking, “you know how Theo is when he’s jealous.” She shrugged, bringing her knees up to her and tucking them into her chest.

“You don’t have to be hesitant to talk to me.” Mattheo muttered looking away from the girl that he was starting to fall for.

Y/N sighed, “he just said that you don’t believe in love or relationships and that you’re just using me to get to Harry and my friends. He also said that he “heard” that our relationship was fake.” She shrugged trying to make it seem like it was nothing. Most of it was nothing, she was starting to fall in love with the boy beside her and she didn’t really care how it went. Riddle took an inhale of his cigarette before slowly exhaling while he processed the information that he had just heard. “You were the reason I didn’t do relationships.” He spoke softly and quietly. He avoided her gaze as he crushed his cigarette to the ground to stop it from burning. “I have been drawn to you since I met you formally at the Malfoys Christmas party five years ago. It took me almost a year just to start talking to you and gaining you as a friend. Sean had talked about his sister but for the longest time, but I never looked at anyone that wasn’t in Slytherin.” He started explaining and moved his gaze from the ground to the black lake. He could feel y/n’s eyes burning into him. “I liked you before we even became friends, but I felt as if I didn’t know you enough to feel like that, so I pushed it down and then we got close. I convinced myself that I was wrong for you, and you fell into the arms of Nott.”

Y/N carefully scooted herself over, so her side was pressed up against his, “what about after that night?” She asked carefully, wanting to know what went through his mind three years ago. “You avoided me, acted like you hated me, and then I got with Theo.”

The riddle boy wasn’t sure what to say. He understood why he did what he did, but when he thought about it, it was dumb and selfish. “I was worried that you would regret it, and I knew the life you were trying to make for yourself. It didn’t involve my dad’s army and I knew I wouldn’t have a choice. You deserved better and you still do, but I want you to do whatever makes you happy and if that’s being with me then I’m not denying.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, “I didn’t regret it. I love you, Teo. I know that you may not want to say that yet and that’s fine. I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere, I wanted you instead of Theodore this whole time.” She finally admitted. It felt good to get that secret off her chest, all those times that she had wished she were with Mattheo instead of Theodore.

Mattheo gently placed his head on top of hers, “I agreed to the plan for two reasons. I wanted to show you what being with me would be like and at first, I did think I could get close to Harry. But I wasn’t planning to use you or getting information out of you.” He told her honestly knowing that it was best to tell the truth instead of trying to dodge it.

Y/N gently pulled her head out from his and looked up at him, “thank you for being honest.” She whispered and gave him a small smile. Mattheo nodded knowing that as long as he’s honest with her that they could get through anything. Mattheo carefully leaned forward and captured her lips with his. Wanting nothing more than to be able to feel her next to him.

Off in the distance an angry Theodore watched the couple, knowing that the information about the said relationship being fake was untrue.

A few days later Y/N sat snuggled up on Mattheo’s lap in the Slytherin common room while the couple talked to Enzo, Draco, Pansy, and Sean. A couple of Slytherin’s had joined in on the conversation who everyone called Astoria and Daphne, Astoria was the youngest, and was only in her third or fourth year.

“Y/N, what’s your plans for the summer?” Pansy asked, everyone turning to the girl that hadn’t said much. Sean knew that she was trying to come up with a way to not return to their house. Knowing that the dark mark awaited her the second she stepped into the house.

Mattheo gave her a little squeeze from where his hand was sitting on her side, “I, I was thinking about looking for a place on my own.” She spoke after a few minutes of being silent. “I’m at the age of consent and we’ll be finishing up here soon.” She tried to make her plans sound casual and not like she was in a rush to leave her current living situation.

Just as she was hoping, no one thought much of what the girl had said and went into their own conversations. While everyone was arguing over their life and what they were going to do the next two months, Y/N and Mattheo had managed to sneak off and go towards the dorms.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but is Daphne always like that?” Y/N asked as Mattheo shut the door behind them. It felt nice to get away from the Slytherin friend group, while it was nice to see what her boyfriend and brother are up too, she missed her friends and, in some ways, it reminded her of them.

“She’s probably a bit tipsy.” Mattheo replied while shaking his head at his friend’s downstairs. “She’s had a bit of a problem since her boyfriend dumped her.” He added joining Y/N to his bed.

“Understandable.” Y/N nodding knowing that she would probably be tipsy most of the time if Mattheo left her.

“So… about you looking for a place in a few weeks.”

Y/N nodded knowing that he knew the reason, but she had yet to talk to him about it. “Yeah. I know running from my parents isn’t going to work forever but maybe it will for a bit.” She explained. It was going to be hard looking for somewhere to stay, but she knew that it was possible “Have you heard from your family?” she asked carefully, knowing how the boy in front of her hated talking about his parents. He acted cold and distant around school but deep down she knew that he just wanted to keep the intimidating façade up.

“She’s probably with my father.” Mattheo muttered loosening his tie due to him feeling like he’s suffocating just thinking about the plan they’re creating. “Just waiting for me to get home.”

“You don’t have to let them control you- “She started only to be cut off by a scoff from him.

“They’ll kill me, Y/N.” He snapped. He didn’t mean to get hostile but knowing he’d be back to school with the dark mark worried him about her wellbeing.

“You’re their son.” Y/N argued.

“That doesn’t matter, if they don’t want to do it his minions will.” Mattheo argued back with her.

Y/N stayed quiet knowing that he understood his father’s army better than anyone. Since he had stayed with death eaters his whole life. No doubt they were always looking for a way to bring him back. “You’re just going to take the mark? No fights.” She asked knowing that he would obey his so-called parents. Sometimes Y/N wonders how Mattheo turned out the way he did because he did not let his family define who he was. Yes, he acted like a dick around school but how he acts around his friends and the people he cares about was another story. Had Harry not described to her what Tom Riddle looked like in his Hogwarts days, Y/N would guess that his father was someone completely different.

Mattheo didn’t want to answer the question that she had asked him. Did he want to be like his father? No. Would he follow him? Probably. Not because he wanted to but because deep down, he was scared but he would never admit that. “The only thing I am going to promise you is that I’ll try my best to protect you from my family.” He whispered, not even knowing if he could accomplish that but he knew that he would gladly take any blame, curse, or punishment for keeping Y/N safe.

Y/N’s gaze softened at his promise, all her questions about his family gone. Knowing that it didn’t matter what happened, because overall, she wasn’t turning her back on the boy in front of her. “I love you.” She assured him. Again, she knew how hard it was for him to say any words of that sort, so she didn’t expect to hear it back. She just knew that he would need those reminders for the days to come.

Without letting him even consider saying it back, she gently placed her lips on his. One of the first times that she had initiated the kiss first, but she knew that he didn’t mind. Her hand came up and landed gently on his jaw line while one of his moved to the back of her neck and the other one wrapped around her hand that laid on his face. Y/N gently pulled back; her eyes still closed as Mattheo started trailing kisses down her neck. The boy gently pushed her back so she would hit his soft mattress and give him better access to all of her.

Mattheo hovered over her as he connected their lips again. It was clear to Y/N that he needed her in a way that he hadn’t had her for two years. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him like that as well. During their make out session, she helped him slide his blazer off and untie his tie. She had quickly gotten out of her clothes as well, making sure to be as problem free as possible.

“Good?” he asked carefully. Y/N knew what he was asking, because she knew that he sometimes didn’t get the right words out or he just wasn’t used to saying a couple words. No matter who he had been with, it had been consentful, but he always made sure before they removed the clothes. “Are you sure?” He corrected knowing that being with Y/N made him want to get over what he thought was weakness and showing emotion.

“Yes.” She nodded, being the green light for him to go further. Which was exactly what he was waiting for.

The aftercare had been just as great as the sex, at least to Y/N. She had fallen asleep laying on Mattheo’s bare chest, the sheet and blanket keeping them covered if anyone would dare to enter the boy’s dormitory. Mattheo was awake, smoking a cigarette because he didn’t want to wake her up from her slumber. He had kicked the habit of smoking in the dorm, but he was desperate, and he had waited until Y/N fell asleep because he didn’t want to leave right after.

Y/N had fallen asleep talking to the boy after that had done their activities and he was gently running his hand along her bare back. After taking his last puff of his cigarette, he used his old tray to squish it and quit the burning. He blew out the last of the smoke just as the dorm room door burst open. A Theodore that looked like a kicked puppy entered the room followed by Sean.

“You lose them how you gain them.” Sean told Theo not noticing the couple in bed yet. Theo went to reply to his friend but stopped when he noticed Mattheo’s bed was occupied. Sean followed his line of sight only to quickly cover his eyes even though nothing was exposed. “I’m out.” Sean muttered before turning and exiting the room. “Better not knock her up, riddle.” He joked on his way-out causing Mattheo to roll his eyes.

Theo avoided eye contact, but his eyes were raking over the parts of Y/N’s bare back that was exposed. The riddle boy was growing annoyed having his friends eye wonder over his girl’s body. He had finally gotten her after Theo screwed up and he wasn’t letting her go.

“Can I help you with something?” Mattheo asked in an annoyed tone. He tightened his arm around his girl that was laying on his chest. “I would appreciate it if you stopped loo- “

“Do you love her?” Theodore asked, moving his eyes to meet the one who used to be his best friend before he treated his ex-girlfriend like shit and pushed her into the arms of his best friend.

“That’s between us.” Mattheo stated his anger starting to show.

Theodore shook his head, “If you don’t love her, let her go.” He told the riddle boy knowing, well, thinking that he couldn’t love someone. “I know you like her, but if you can’t love her then she deserves someone who can.” The friend and ex knew that he was pushing boundaries, but he didn’t care.

Mattheo scoffed, “someone like you?” he grumbled.

Theodore shook his head, “No. I couldn’t love her the right way either.” He admitted watching the way Y/N’s breathing was smooth, showing sure signs that she was asleep.  “We both know the life that’s coming for us in a few months and she’s the only one I know from a family like ours that has a heart like hers.”

Mattheo couldn’t argue with that, considering her family were purebloods, Slytherins, and death eaters, she had the heart of someone like the Weasleys. She wanted to see the good in many people, but she kept to herself. It was a no brainer as to why the sorting hat chose Gryffindor because she was the farthest thing from her family. She was what they would consider an outcast because she wasn’t like them and didn’t have the wants and desires of her family.

“I do.” Mattheo sighed looking at the boy who he had hated the past couple of months. “I do feel like that towards her, and I just can’t bring myself to say it.”

“It’s because we’ve never fully felt it that way before.”

Once Theodore had left, Mattheo had sat in his thoughts. He knew that his friend made a good point, but he could say that he did in fact love the girl who was stirring in his arms. He did, every time he went to say it nothing came out or it was like his mouth wouldn’t move. Maybe because he had been told growing up that love was a sign of weakness and that Slytherin’s, especially Tom Riddle’s son, does not show emotion.

Whatever the case may be, the boy was knocked out of his thoughts by a low groan, “Why did you let me sleep?” A groggy Y/N mumbled when she woke up. She let out a big yawn before moving her head up to look at Mattheo’s gaze, “I should have studied after.” She mumbled relaxing again at the action of Mattheo running his hand along her back.

“Don’t worry yourself studying so much.” He muttered gently making sure to keep her comfortable. “You’re the smartest girl I know.”

“That’s Hermione.” Y/N argued in a tired voice.

Mattheo didn’t say anything, but he disagreed with her. She was by far the smartest girl that he knew and had he not been who he was, they could have been prefects together with how they acted. The fact that she was in the situation that she was in broke his heart, because he knew that it was his father’s fault. “What was your life like… before you were sorted?” He wanted to know if her parents had always favored Sean or if it was just because their daughter was in Gryffindor.

She sighed, “Not as bad. My parents thought that their kids would be following in their footsteps and when word got around that I was in Gryffindor, they acted colder towards me. My mom told me that I should be glad they have a reason to keep me around because I was an embarrassment to the family name.” She mumbled, her fingers drawing shapes on her boyfriend’s chest to manage her anxiety.

“Hey,” He stopped her hand gently knowing it was an anxiety tick. “No matter what happens we’ll be the last ones standing, together.” He promised. He had no authority to promise that, but he would make it his mission to make sure they were okay no matter what his father’s army did. No matter what they go home too and must turn into.

“I hope you’re right.”

*Not edited!*

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Again, if I missed anyone let me know! It has been a while and my old computer deleted the list I previously had written out. If you no longer wish to be tagged don't hesitate to let me know. 🫶😊

#mattheo riddle series #mattheo riddle x oc #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x gryffindor #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo fluff #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter series #harry potter #gryffindor #slytherin #gryffindor reader #mattheo riddle better than revenge series #better than revenge series #better than revenge #chapter six #better than revenge Masterlist #better than revenge chapter six #taglist #mattheo riddle x nettleby reader #mattheo riddle x y/n nettleby #y/n

[night-market-if]

Chapter Six is Live

Welcome to Chapter Six everyone! I really am hoping you enjoy this one. It's a bit different from the others but the district you have to go to is endlessly fascinating to me.

Along with this new chapter, there are also several bug updates to previous chapters, spelling errors that are now fixed, and codes that are a bit more cleaned up than before.

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or Ko-fi, or reblogging this to get the Night Market out there.

Hope everyone enjoys!

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨ 

Demo 🌿 Patreon 🌿 Ko-fi

#the night market #chapter six #twine if #interactive fiction #if wip #chapter six is live #belladonna malady #gabriel caine #milo next #hazel albright #malcolm albright

[alwoobles]

It’s so hard being a borumitsu truther in these borusara and borusumi times, let alone being a borumitsusara fan 🙁 y’all the girls are fighting and I hate it 💔 they’re supposed to be a team 👏

#borumitsu #borumitsusara #boruto #boruto blue two vortex #chapter six #boruto spoilers

[thenotebookwizard]

She-Ra | Defiance CH6: Into Darkness

Perfect art by the amazing @rhnalli! Many thanks to you for your work, encouragement, and stunning artwork. I could not have done this as well without your help!

The last day of the @spopbang, and the last chapter of Defiance until next week. I may have a present for you this weekend, though. We'll see!

Adora walks into darkness - and life without Catra - with Shadow Weaver behind her. Not everyone she meets in the dark temple is an ally, but not everyone is an enemy.

Time has moved forward, and we are now moving into regular, weekly updates. As I've said, probably Fridays.

However. There are some scenes, some moments in this story that never found a place. My outtakes may end up as side stories here and there. If that happens, I'll make Defiance a series, and post about it here.

This chapter is an amazing place to end. Not only is it a turning point in the fic. Not only do I get to bring in Scorpia (one of my favs) to my fic, but I get to introduce the first transplanted and borrowed character.

It marks the first time I've added a character to the tags. It will not be last, because if you've read the tags, you'll know there are a lot of important people from Etheria missing.

Don't worry. No one will be forgotten - but it may be awhile before we meet them.

As always, my deepest thanks to everyone reading this story. The comments, the kudos, the bookmarks - the subscriptions - the give me life and they make me want to write faster.

May your friends and your magic always stand between you and harm in all the empty places you must walk.

A paraphrase of the late, great Harlan Ellison.

(Anyone who can tell me, in an ask, where that quote is paraphrased from gets one spoiler.)

#fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my writing #my fanfic #she-ra #spop #she-ra and the princesses of power #she-ra fanfic #spop fanfic #spopbang #big bang #spop big bang #fanart #art #awesome art #She-Ra #SPOP #She-Ra and the Princesses of Power #Defiance #Chapter Six

[evanesdust]

you and i remain the same (WIP update - chapter six posted!)

cowritten with @sterekbros for the @sterekeverlasting's winter edition

Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Fix-It of Sorts, Mpreg, Getting Together, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Idiots in Love, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Eli Hale's Parents, Top/Bottom Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Explicit Sexual Content, Barebacking, Knotting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mentioned Past Relationships

Summary:

Stiles rolled over onto his side and reached out to turn off the lamp on his nightstand, leaving the room in darkness as he settled back in bed. “Promise me I won’t see you in two days…” Derek didn’t answer for a while, and when he did, he spoke quietly—almost a whisper. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.” Stiles took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wiping at his face and closing his eyes. “I’ll see you in two days then, Derek.” If Derek was going to get himself killed, Stiles promised himself he’d be there to try and stop it. Whatever it took. “Be ready.” “Stiles…” The way Derek said his name was almost pained. “Please be careful. I— Just be careful, okay?” “You know me,” Stiles replied, unsure what else he could say. *** aka what really happened after the raid and how they lived happily ever after.

#sterek #WIP #you and i remain the same #chapter six #sterekeverlasting #fanzine #holy shit i wrote something

[suzy-queued]

New chapter time!!!

Out of Nowhere, chapter 6

Ian adjusts to having Mickey on his property.

Read the new chapter here or start from the beginning here.

#out of nowhere #chapter six #gallavich fan fiction #ian x mickey #writing

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

coffee at midnight

chapter six: Look Up

emily and hotch go on their first date. sort of? not really. but sort of.

read on ao3

join my taglist

taglist: @hopefulfangirl24 @thebejeweledwatercat @platypus-whit-boots @luhwithah @cvtsbutcut3 @acetheticlytired @ccmattis-22 @duchessass @lucreziaq2001 @scorpiofangirl1109 @natasha-barton @lil-koala @themetaphorgirl @sequinsmile-x @emobabeyy@my-mummy-dust @section-chief-prentiss @psychicmuffinpandasludge @loriprentiss @unauthorizedaaronhotchner @smollro @dontemilyyyyme @daffodil-heart @hctchniss

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #coffee at midnight #cam #chapter six #look up #i love them your honour

[pendingfeels]

The Mandalorian—

1.06 CHAPTER 6: THE PRISONER

#edit #edits #the mandalorian #chapter six #the prisoner #pedro pascal #grogu #din grogu #grogu djarin #baby grogu

[darkness-and-books]

The Things We Do For The Fleet

Chapter 6: Clumsy Greetings

eventual Leonard McCoy x fem!reader

⚠️: minor injury, slight language

word count: 2,907

<-Previous-Next->

There was an incessant pinging sound coming from the living room, Why in god’s name would anyone be here before my alarm even goes off?!?. Leonard grumbled and rolled over when a yelp came from beneath him. “Oh! I’m sorry, darlin!” He nearly fell out of bed, and took the blanket with him trying to roll back to his own side of the bed. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get the door. You should get more sleep if you can,” Y/N encouraged as she walked out of the room to see what was happening out there. That’s nice of her, I coulda gotten it though, Leonard thought as he went back to sleep, seeing as he hadn’t been particularly awake to begin with.

Y/N opened the door to be met with Captain Kirk, she stepped outside the door and let it close behind her. “Good morning Captain, what can I do for you?” She greeted, voice still laden with sleep. “Have you seen Bones?!? I called him, but no one picked up, went to his quarters and no one was there! I’ve been checking rooms between his quarters and here looking for him!” Kirk rushed to explain in a single breath. “Why do you ask?” Y/N followed, fully aware of where the Doctor was, but not willing to give him away to the captain unless it was actually necessary. “For one thing his shift started fifteen minutes ago, and for another we have an injury on the bridge,” He explained to her in a voice that told her she probably should have answered the question instead of asking her own. “Aren’t there other doctors?” Y/N asked, fiddling with the cuff of her nightgown. “Yes, but-” Kirk was cut off by the sound of Y/N’s alarm sounding from inside her quarters. “Y/N what do you want me to do about this damned thing?!?!” Leonard asked, muffled by the door. The captain smirked, “I see, you’re keeping him to yourself. Just tell him I told him it wouldn’t be so bad and that he’s late,” Kirk pressed, continuing to walk away with a devious grin plastered to his face. She wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘it wouldn’t be so bad’, but she went back into her now shared quarters anyway. She took a stop in the kitchen and put the kettle on again before she walked back to the bedroom. As she stepped into the doorway of the bedroom she stopped to see Leonard up now and toying with the alarm to get it to stop. Y/N took him in, now seeing him for the first time this morning in all his early morning radiance: hair mussed and nightgown rumpled. “I guess you’re late,” Y/N announced, now making her presence behind him known. “Shit, am I really?!” Leonard asked looking back to the clock in his hands, he looked back up to her, “How did you know that?” He asked. “That was the Captain, he came to say you were late and that he couldn’t find you,” she relayed, “Gah, dammit Jim!” Leonard exclaimed as he ran to the closet for a uniform. Y/N giggled in his wake and grabbed a uniform for herself as well, opting to change in the bedroom since Leonard was already in the bathroom. “Bye, have a good day doing whatever you do!” Leonard shouted, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. Y/N was still tying her shoes when she heard this and giggled at the thought of him running down the hall. Maybe having a roommate will be fun. She walked out of their quarters with a pair of gardening gloves half tucked into the waistband of her pants. Y/N turned down the hall just in time to see the turbo lift doors close with Leonard behind them. Y/N decided on skipping breakfast that morning, something she knew she would regret later, but wasn’t worried about at the moment. She took the stairs down to the botany lab, a time consuming route she could afford to take because she was already early. She had a lot of reports to fill out on that Cotton Candy Flower, including giving it an actual scientific name instead of continuing to call it cotton candy. When Y/N arrived in the botany department she found it empty, something that wasn’t surprising as most botany personnel tended to be at breakfast right now. She sat down at the bench with her cotton candy flowers, tapped on her padd to turn it on and hit the audio recording button. She always preferred recording her notes as she went because the gardening gloves didn’t allow her to use the touch screen.

Leonard caught a glimpse of Y/N down the hall just as the turbo lift closed, he would have caught the door for her, but it was mostly closed by the time he caught her eyes and he wasn’t about to catch his fingers in the door just to be polite. Of course you overslept, you didn’t set alarm, He felt like an idiot, Leonard would have to do his best to avoid the bridge today. He walked into his office and fell gracelessly into his chair. Just what I always wanted, more paperwork, Leonard grumbled as he sat up to take a look through all of his newly acquired papers. If I just strap everyone on this death trap to their bed, then no one can get hurt, job done, Leonard thought to himself as he rifled through to find some of the most terrifyingly ridiculous injuries he’d seen. Nurse Chapel walked into his office, “The captain’s here to see you,” She informed and walked away without leaving room for him to argue with her. Today must be my lucky day, Leonard straightened in anticipation of Jim’s entrance. “So,” Jim started as he walked in and took a seat without being asked, “Enjoy yourself in Y/N’s bed?” He asked with a devious smirk. “My doings are none of your concern, and I’ll have you know she slept so far to the other side of the bed, I’m surprised she didn’t fall off,” McCoy retorted sternly. “Alright, alright, I get it. Grumpy cause you didn’t get any,” he joked with his hands up in mock surrender, earning himself an even stronger brand of glare from Leonard. “Did you come here for something other than to harass me?” McCoy asked venomously, “Just saying hi,” Jim defended, standing up, “Well you’ve done that now,” Leonard was absolutely not in the mood, not that he usually was, but today he already seemed worse than usual. Jim walked out of McCoy’s office, requesting that the rest of the medical staff leave Leonard alone unless it was an emergency. Clearly something was eating at him and Jim would hate for unsuspecting patients and staff to be caught in the crossfire. Leonard sank further into his chair with a hand over his face before standing up and leaving his office to check in on his patients. As he walked through the medbay the whole medical staff did their best to stay as far out of his way as possible.

Y/N stood from her station to get some petri dishes for soil samples, she put on her headphones before leaving the room, a habit she had developed in order to avoid awkward conversations. With her headphones on and her music playing as loud as was reasonably possible, Y/N headed to the supply closet. Opening the door and walking in she tripped over a plant pot, she let out a squeal as she fell forward. Y/N gritted her teeth in pain as she felt that her ankle had twisted in a way that it definitely shouldn’t be able to under normal circumstances. “Sulu!” Y/N called, knowing that in his spare time he liked to hang out in the botany labs. Nothing, he wasn’t there, Guess I have to do this myself. She gripped the door frame for support as she pulled herself up, Y/N stood leaning against the door for a moment more. Breathe in, breathe out, now walk She swung on the doorframe trying to keep weight off of her ankle and began to limp towards the turbo lift as she dragged against the wall. Of all the times to get hurt, I picked a time when somehow no one’s around Y/N heaved as she got to the turbo lift, she would have to step away from the wall to get in, and she really didn’t want to. Here goes nothing she braced herself as she stepped away from the wall, pain shot through her leg, she was starting to wish she had just waited for someone to find her in the supply closet. When the door opened she slowly moved in and fell against the wall, taking a breath of relief as her ankle was relieved of pressure, “Medbay,” Y/N groaned and tried not to think about her ankle or about the looks she would get when she got off the lift. The door opened again to reveal medical personnel in a sea of blue shirts, one looked over to see Y/N pulling herself out of the lift and rushed to help. “Here,” the girl said, taking Y/N’s arm to put it over herself. “How’d it happen?” the nurse asked, “Tripped over a planting pot,” Y/N answered, trying her best not to sound too pathetic. “Botany personnel or just stealing their supplies?” The nurse joked in an attempt to distract Y/N as she sat down on a chair in the waiting area, “Don’t worry, someone will get to you in a moment,” The nurse reassured before leaving to do whatever it was she needed to do. Leonard was walking back into his office, “Oh, hi Len,” Y/N waved with a smile. “Oh, hi Y/N,” Leonard greeted without looking up from his padd as he continued. He stopped abruptly, looking back at Y/N, “What are you doing here?” McCoy asked with a raised eyebrow. “Just thought I’d sprain my ankle for funsies!” Y/N joked downtroddenly with a quick look at her ankle. “Oh for the love of god,” Leonard murmured, “Come on,” He said as he picked you up. Leonard took Y/N into his office and sat her down, he left her in the chair and searched his desk drawers for a tricorder. “Well,” He said, reading the tricorder, “At least you didn’t break it, the best we can really do is wrap it and keep you off of it,” He told Y/N with a smile that disappeared in an instant. "You can stay there if you want," Leonard offered as he sat back down in his own chair behind his desk.

Looking up to see the clock, Leonard sees the time, “you hungry?” He asks, seeing as it’s almost noon. “Starving, honestly,” Y/N replies, remembering that she had yet to eat today. “Alright, what do you want?” Leonard asked, ready to bring back whatever she requested. "Whatever you bring back, I'm not picky and it's all replicator food," Y/N answered, trying to find a way to settle her ankle. "Alright then, but don't complain if I bring back something you don't like," Leonard warned. He tended only to do what he absolutely had to, but for some reason he found himself jumping at the chance to do something for Y/N. it was just that they had to live together indefinitely, he told himself this repeatedly as he left his office and went down to the officers mess for food. Leonard couldn’t actually decide what to pick as far as food, he tended to air on the bland side, that way he couldn’t be disappointed by the fact that the replicators very rarely got flavours right, they were always just a bit off. Y/N probably favoured sweeter flavours, Leonard thought as he found himself sifting through the dessert cartridges. Leonard didn’t think he’d ever felt so much anxiety over what food to pick. Is Y/N really a sweets person or is that just a silly assumption?, as he asked himself this footsteps came up behind him.

“Oh, hey, Bones! Fancy seeing you here,” Jim greeted as he gave Leonard a clap on the back. “Could you not?” He grumbled as he continued to pretend considering what he was gonna pick for lunch. “You don’t usually eat lunch. What’s up?” Jim lightly questioned, “Well maybe if you didn’t get so many people injured on away missions, I wouldn’t be too busy to eat!” Leonard shot back without regard for anyone nearby who might be listening, or really just within earshot. He opened his mouth to continue having it out with Jim when his ears closed in on the sound of uneven and inconsistent footsteps, accompanied by a more stable set of footsteps. Leonard looked away from Kirk and focused on where the steps were coming from. Dammit, why won’t anyone listen to me, he began to fume as he saw Y/N walking up behind Jim, supported by Christine. “What are you doing?” Leonard asked, a strange combination of anger and concern boiling inside of him. Y/N Looked up to him with a pained smile as she let go of Christine to wave at him. Jim looked behind him to see who McCoy was talking to and turned back to Leonard with a raised eyebrow.

“You said you would bring back lunch, but I didn’t think I would have to wait three to five business days for you to come back with it!” Y/N smiled, some of her sass, which Leonard hadn’t seen before, peaking through. Jim looked at Leonard with a pressing glance and a smirk, he shot back a ‘not now’ glare. “I couldn’t decide what I thought you might want,” He admitted, briefly looking down at the floor and stealing Y/N’s signature move. Y/N smiled deeper and attempted to move closer, only to lose balance of her weight and fell into Leonard’s arms. He readjusted her so that she was more comfortably resting her weight off of her bad ankle and leaning into his side. “I told you I’m not picky,” Y/N reasoned in a near whine, pressing even further into Leonard’s side to punctuate her point. Leonard briefly considered the idea of wrapping his arm around Y/N’s waist, in the name of keeping her stable of course. In the end he decided he had better not do it in case she didn’t like it or it made her uncomfortable. “Well you should have just told me what you wanted to eat instead, then I’d already have brought you food and you wouldn’t be here walking on your ankle,” Leonard added the last part rather sternly. “Well just grab me a Y/F/F smoothie,” Y/N said, turning around and nearly falling over trying to reach for the cartridge. Leonard quickly caught her with both arms caged around her waist, “Maybe just let me get that for you,” Leonard kindly offered as he put back the cartridges Y/N had knocked out of place and grabbed one for a Y/F/F smoothie. All the while keeping a hand firmly pressed into her side. “Alright, walk with me here,” Leonard said as he began to guide Y/N towards a table where she could sit down. He carefully lowered her onto the bench, making sure not to bother her ankle. “I’ll be right back with your smoothie, don’t move this time,” Leonard ordered as he walked back to the replicators, cartridge in hand. “Getting a little handsy over there,” Jim remarked while wiggling his eyebrows, “I can’t help that she’s too clumsy for her own good. Now get out of the way,” He said, shouldering Jim. McCoy stood in front of the replicator and waited a moment for the little door to slide up again to reveal Y/N’s smoothie. So I wasn’t entirely wrong with the sweets thing, he told himself rather proudly as he popped in the cartridge for his sandwich and waited again. Leonard walked back to the table where Y/N sat across from Christine, Sandwich and smoothie in hand. “Do you wanna try eating here or head back to medbay?” He asked, glancing at Y/N’s ankle as he placed the food on the table. She looked down at her ankle and then to the bench, “Back to the medbay?” She asked, seeming to have decided that it wasn’t worth the work to get her legs over the bench. “Whatever you like,” He said as he sat down next to you and put an arm around your waist. “Ready?” Leonard asked, Y/N gave a nod and prepared herself. “And up,” He guided her up in one swift motion. They stood still together for a moment, being sure of their balance, “Ready to try walking?” Leonard asked, looking down at her. “I think so, yeah,” Y/N replied. “Nurse Chapel,” He turned his head to look back at Christine, “Would you grab our food and follow us back to the medbay?” Leonard asked her as politely as he could manage. “Of course,” Christine answered, picking up the food and following behind them. The walk was slow, but not too uncomfortable for Leonard, although he was becoming tired of leaning so far to the side so that Y/N wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

I hit a brick wall like halfway through writing this chapter and dead stopped writing it for three days. 💀☠️

#star trek #bones #fluffy stuff #leonard mccoy x reader #star trek tos #New chapter #chapter six #the things we do for the fleet

[ericshoney]

The Mafia Boss ~ Chapter six

Y/n's POV

A month. Its been a month since I returned to my old friends for a catch up. I haven't been back since, nobody but Beatrix has messaged me, which isn't often, I presume Sunghoon monitors her phone.

But now, its about two am. I was cleaning the bar at work, the night has been fairly quiet tonight. Lia has already gone home, so it was just me dealing with the few customers we had. As I was cleaning the empty bottles away, I hear a glass slam on the bar counter. I turn around to see a very drunk customer.

"Hey lady! Get me another beer!" He demanded.

"Sir, your very drunk. I suggest you go home. Would you like me to call you a taxi?" I offer.

"No! Get me another beer, now!" He exclaims loudly.

"Your too drunk." I reply. He slams his fist down on the bar.

"Third time, woman! Get me another beer!" He shouts.

"The lady is right, your far too drunk. Now you walking out on your own, or you need a hand." I hear a deep, cold voice call. I look up to see Park Sunghoon. His exterior much colder than it use to be. I barely recognise him.

"Who the fuck are you?!" The man shouts, launching himself at Sunghoon, who pushes the man to the ground.

"Your worse nightmare. Now get the fucking hell out this bar, never return or I'll burn your body to the ground." Sunghoon growls, the man stumbles out the bar quickly.

"Umm.... thanks." I mumble, cleaning the bar, Sunghoon stands and nods.

"I saved you, now I need you to return a favour." I look up at him.

"Favour? For what? Some guy was harassing me and your acting like Batman. I don't owe you anything." I reply. He smirks and chuckles.

"I could have stood by and let that dirty ass man do something, but I didn't. Now your done for the night, come with me." He said, I look into his eyes and see darkness.

"Why should I?" I question, crossing my arms across my chest.

"I saved you. You at least owe me a chat." He answers. I sigh and check the time.

"Fine, let me get my stuff, any funny business and I call the cops." I said, glaring up at him, but he chuckles.

"I own the cops. Like they would do anything." He reply.

I turn on my heels and head off to get my bag from my locker. As I'm in the room, I look at the window, I know I could fit, but why bother running when its pointless. I grab my stuff and head out to see Sunghoon standing in the same spot.

"Lets go then." I said. He nods, pushing his hands into his pockets.

We begin to leave and I just wonder how and why he turned up when he did.

#kpop #au #kpop fanfic #kpop au #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen fanfic #xreader #female reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon #mafia #ocs #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #mafia sunghoon #chapter six

[starryhazerry]

#desperation was my sanctuary #unconventional sugaring au #chapter six

[guardian-angel12]

Experiment: Flame and Ash

Chapter Six

Previous Chapter

Unbreak the broken Unsay these spoken words Find hope in the hopeless Pull me out of the train wreck Unburn the ashes Unchain the reactions now, not ready to die, not yet Pull me out the train wreck Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out, ah Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out

2012

Tess had screamed and slammed the walls and threatened nearly non-stop since waking up in the cold box, even if she had no clue where she was and no way of figuring it out. 

She was feeling around the walls still, examining every wire and every inch of steel she could to find a way to open the doors that could only be automated with the way they had no handles. 

But she had never seen tech like this, not even at the factory she worked in when she would steal glances through the workspace windows. It was strange and seemed... almost futuristic. 

She sat back against the wall, fighting the tears that forced themselves into her eyes, and she angrily swiped them away. She had taken care of herself this long, she would figure this out. 

It could've been moments or hours before the doors were finally whirring open, and she stood up instantly, a cold breeze entering with the smell of antiseptic as three figures stood in the doorway. 

"Straight from Terra?" a pitched, accented man's voice asked. 

"Yes, Sire, and of no record, as our contact assured." a smooth, strange woman's voice said.

"Excellent, bring it in for processing. The investor will arrive shortly."

Tess backed up a little, her gut twisting with horror as she realized what was happening. 

Never had she thought she would fall victim to human trafficking, it had never crossed her mind as a possibility when—

Her eyes went wide as one of the figures in the doorway stepped in, they were unlike anything she had seen, their skin deathly pale, and a metal thing connected around their head that she had never heard of anyone having done before. But the worst were their eyes... she had seen the way corpse's eyes looked in the movies, and that was what their eyes looked like. 

Her breath hitched and she moved farther back, the strange person blinked slowly. "Get the hell away from me!" Tess snarled, hands balling up at her sides.

"Is there an issue?" that male voice asked, sounding irritated. 

"Of course not, Sire." they answered, and Tess realized that was the woman who spoke, then she moved forward, reaching a device out in her hand, supposedly to attach it to Tess. 

She was not about to let that happen, and swept her leg out in one hard movement, knocking the dead-eyed woman down, then she bolted, not even daring to look at the other two figures in the door as she threw herself between them and just ran. 

Her heart was thunderous in her head as she took in her surroundings; cages and metal and technology like she didn't know existed. 

She saw another room as she ran by it, a huge mass of black throwing itself against the thick glass as she neared it, and it was enough to distract her, some huge thing slamming down into her path and shoving her to the ground. 

She landed on her back hard, the wind knocking out of her. When she looked up, her head was spinning but she managed to focus her vision, and she stifled a scream when she did. 

There was a mutilated creature standing above her, looking exactly like those things portrayed in horror, only they hadn't been scary then—its face was like a glowing-eyed bird, a torso like it had been ripped off another creature and molded together, and standing at at least seven feet like a man. 

This... this was every bit and more as real and horrifying as fiction had tried to make it. 

She scrambled backwards on the ground, near sobbing as it stomped forward, listening to the commands of someone in a device on its head. 

She had heard the rumors, heard about the supposed man from space and the unbeatable green monster, heard the rumors of aliens, but she had never supposed she would come face to face with that. 

"Restrain the subject." that man was suddenly demanding from behind, and Tess jerked her head back to see a man in thick plum clothing, his face strange and stretched and unnatural. 

"No!" she practically shrieked as the bird-creature reached out a robotic talon, kicking up until it managed to snatch her arm in a crushing force, so hard that her bones did indeed snap, and she screamed when she heard the audible crunch. 

The stretch-faced man was approaching briskly, a stout man with the same look as the corpse woman shuffling beside him, Tess felt she would be sick between pain and horror as they got nearer. 

"You all will be killed for this!" Tess found it in her to scream. "There are people who stop people like you! They won't let this happen!"

The man who seemed in charge ignored her, and Tess bucked when the woman came right up to her, the creatures claws digging into the back of her neck to stop her from moving as a device was attached to her neck, sending so many pulses through her body she didn't know how her cells didn't burst.

Processing, as they called it, began promptly afterwards, only consisting of her being near-drowned by a burning liquid and injections by a dozen needles, the effect of each one worse than the last as her brain fogged more and more. 

- - -

She couldn't fight as she was brought back to her cell, collapsing into the corner and shaking hard as she tried desperately to hold onto conciousness, and herself. She could feel herself slipping through the fog her brain was infested with, seeming to disintegrate more and more each second. 

She took a scrap of sharp metal from the ground and scraped her name into the wall beside her, unable to think of what else to do but she already was forgetting things that felt so natural, her body finally succumbed to the foreign drugs in it, and she wondered if she would die alone here before tumbling down into the dark. 

- - -

Gladiator Ring. Unknown Planet, Years Ago. 

 A whip cracked again at his back, and he jerked to the side, teeth bared in defiance, spitting curses at the taller, armor-clad bastards above him in his native Centaurian tongue. 

They only whipped again, forcing him back into the cluster of other slaves to carry out  the routine that had been his life for as long as he could remember. 

He narrowed his crimson eyes at the other slaves, trying to hide the fact that he was already shaking, that horrible anticipation of what was to come in that fighting pit just like every other time. He would be put in with a bigger, stronger competitor, get beat half to death and left in the cage again, his owners waiting only so long for him to be able to walk or stand or even breathe right. 

Conditioning. That's what they said it was, said it was to get him ready for what was to come. 

But after ten years of being shaped up he was beginning to wonder what that thing really was. 

His turn was first, and he flexed his right hand a few times, trying to loosen up the stiffness in the still-healing bones from the last break. 

He squinted in the light of the hot sun above, and did a scan of the faces who were standing around the ring, waiting to see his progress, Kree slavers and potential buyers all around, although he knew they did not plan to sell him just yet. 

The contestant was about his size, and a species he couldn't name, their feet still chained like his as two slavers entered the ring, spears in hand, to unlock their shackles. 

He took a breath, feeling the sweat already coat his powder blue skin. 

The fight started with the shot of a blaster, and he acted on instinct and past knowledge for the half hour it took, fresh cuts and soon-to-be new scars covering him when he found his knees pressed into the other slave's shoulders, his hands landing blow after blow until they stopped moving. 

He had never won before. But a decade of training, year after year of fighting in these pits, then having to fight to survive just to get food and fend off the slaves who had either gone mad from their torment or even the adult ones who would use him if they could, fighting had been his life, though he had not killed. Not yet, at least. The ones who did were punished thoroughly. 

The Kree that was head of the fight stepped closer. "Kill it." he demanded. 

He heard the order, understood the order, but still froze for a moment. 

Two slavers cracked electric whips at their sides, a warning. 

Disobedience meant punishments, and punishments meant injuries, injuries that made the fights so much harder—so much easier to be killed. 

Self-preservation made him pick up a sharp bar from the side of the ring, walking slowly to the already-unconscious slave, standing over him as the one in control for the first time in his life, then he looked away as he shoved the metal down through the other slave's chest, hands squeezing it so hard they were white. 

He slowly straightened from his unmoving competitor, flexing his aching, bloody knuckles and turning his head towards the dozens of eyes watching, seeing that they were into some kind of conversation he couldn't hear, but knew was about him as they kept looking and casting soft gestures in his direction. 

He had just killed another captive, another helpless soul that hadn't asked for this. But something told him that was far from the last. 

That win was the beginning of a long future of losses, starting with his auctioning off to a new owner, being seen fit as a warrior during the battles raged against other planets. 

- - -

2012

She couldn't fight as her arms were shackled and secured by a chain only as long as her waist down to a hook in the floor, her one arm still broken, sending jolts of pain when she tried to move it, her neck sore from needles that left her sluggish and weak.

There were a few other prisoners lined up beside her, but she didn't recognize half of their species, the rest were human, like her. 

She was fighting the urge to start screaming—or at least try to—before the doors were opening and that man, Sire, as the dead-eyed ones called him, entered beside the two pale ones, but this time, he was trailed by the second-most horrifying creature—man?— Tess had ever seen. 

The very air around him seemed like death, his aura menacing and sadistic. His skin was a dark blue, with thick, black leather clothes that looked near-medieval, dark purple eyes sat under the shadow of his hood, his face set in a dark expression as he slowly paced towards Tess and the other captives. 

"This is the stock I told you of, Accuser." Sire said to the dark man. "Half Terran, half mixed specimens."

The blue man walked slowly down the line, examining each face. "Which is the strongest?"

"You asked for an assassin, and I suggest these," Sire gestured towards Tess and two others, one male and another female that looked human. 

"Those are not Xandarian?" the dark man asked with disdain.

"No, Terran, the best of the shipment."

"Terran are weak, spineless creatures, even more so than Xandarians. I demanded stronger species."

"Work has been done of all the strongest, even Asgardian have been reprogrammed, never a Terran. All I ask is a chance to work with them, I will breed your weapon, but I want it to be one of these."

"Why?" he growled. 

"I've managed to make the lesser species into greater, and if I could start with these Terrans, I believe I could clone the DNA for more, a faster, stronger species—out of the weakest." 

The other man seemed to consider it. "Very well," he walked over to the girl next to Tess and lifted her chin, gazing menacingly down into her bright purple eyes, then he grabbed Tess the same way, her own brown eyes widening in his hard grasp. "I will return in fourteen rotations, and I will be bringing something to numb their minds to my will, have them at least somewhat prepared, no delays." 

Tears rolled down Tess' cheeks, and the man curled his mouth into a distasteful sneer. "I want its emotion gone."

"As you wish." Sire said. 

- - -

Tess was gasping sharply as her limbs were strapped down, almost sobbing as she was secured tighter. 

The other two humans—Terrans, as these people called them—died mere moments after being put through the process, she knew because their bodies had been wheeled out as she was brought in. 

"Please..." she murmured, her voice too weak, but they weren't listening anyways. 

A strange tool was brought down, straight to her chest, and she felt in cut. 

She felt every single cut in not only her chest, but her arms, her legs... her skull. 

Strange, cold feelings taking over through the pain, and she screamed, but they never once stopped. 

"Get it quiet!" Sire suddenly demanded, sounding like her cries were a mere inconvenience even as she bled and shook. "Get it quiet and begin the alterations."

Tess was sobbing breaths, her head rolling to the side, she didn't know how she was still conscious but whatever they had put in her seemed to keep her awake. 

The needle that was brought down this time was two times the size of the others, and injected right between her eyes. 

Her body shook moments after it pulled out of her skull, and her chest heaved as something surged through her, something alien and powerful and violent. 

She screamed louder than she had before at the freezing, bursting pain through her head, ripping down through every fiber of her being, dismantling her very cells and reconstructing them into something no human should have ever been; her hair changing from a soil brown into metallic silver from the roots, her veins seeming to glow with power. 

"Yes!" Sire exclaimed triumphantly from where paced a little distance away. "It's shifting. A match, at last." 

She felt the most violent part of it tear through her, and though she didn't know it, her eyes split a bright, unnatural quicksilver from the pupils, taking over the brown and erasing it, looking like small cracks of lightning as they glowed and burned. Her whites turning ash-black.

She stopped screaming from pain, her mind feeling like it was no longer human, and she let out a snarling scream at an overpowering instinct, jerking herself with a new strength, like a savage snapped awake inside of her and destruction was the key to everything. 

- - -

Slave Camp. Kirex, Years Ago. 

He had been ransacking planets for them for years now, a new master followed the next and sometimes that was a small mercy—sometimes it was a curse. 

His well-developed strength had been his second-biggest curse, his Centaurian birth-given psychic abilities his biggest. The slavers putting that to their own use on both the battle field, and in the gladiator ring. 

Dozens of slaves just like him, died at his hands, and even more innocents on pillaged worlds that had their home and lives destroyed... Exactly what had happened to him. 

He didn't know how it happened, didn't remember what led to it, but he found his hands around a long spear, holding it above his head like he had a million times before, only this time his masters weren't the ones telling him where to aim—he was aiming at them. 

A few guards were circling, long prods in their hands as they readied themselves. 

This was not his first breakdown, wasn't his first time lashing out and at least trying to kill. And even though the last time he had simply attempted it without success he had barely suvived the brutal punishment and infection that followed, he couldn't control himself right now, eighteen years of torture and pain had thrown him over the edge, and he had no will left to live under their rule anyways. He would rather die fighting than of bloodloss, fever or malnourishment lying in a cage. 

He felt the beings around him, felt their intentions before they struck, and took down man after man, slaughtering them like they had made him do for years to people who may not have even deserved it. 

The spear's weight barely even registered in his hand, the sticky warmth of blood that now coated his hands and front of his body was phantom and normal. 

The bodies that kept falling didn't even faze him. 

His eyes near-empty and lifeless, breathing ragged. 

He spun at another two that came, stabbing one through the chest and the other through the leg, jerking his weapon back and stabbing into the last ones head for the kill, then repeating, again and again, snarls of fury and pain and sadness falling out like angry sobs—

White-hot pain seared through his lungs, burned against his skull, overwhelming his senses, and he collapsed into the dirt shaking, small crackles of electricity still crawling over his body as he gasped for air. 

There were a few more people standing above him now, staring for only a moment before rough hands on the front of his scarred and ruined throat jerked him up, but his eyes couldn't focus. 

He heard a blade unsheathe, and angry words in Kree tongue that were damning and merciless. 

Just kill me... Just kill me, I can die now... nothing for me to be alive for anyway...

He shut his burning eyes, hoping to have his altered-windpipe cut off by a swift blade and fall into that eternal darkness that he craved against the endless horrors, but that was not to be his fate. Not a quick and clean death, he knew when he felt the blade scrape above his brow, then swipe across, breaking through the sensitive membrane of his crest, and sending dizzying pain through him. 

He actually screamed, but too late as he felt his connection to the foundations of the galaxy sever, felt the hot blood run down his face, felt his spine burn, wet heat spreading over his back and relentless pounding against his brain. 

He couldn't fight back this time, his muscles seeming to shatter inside him, the grip on his throat finally letting go and he felt his body hit the dust. 

His senses were fading fast—not only from the loss of his natural-psyche but from the pain, the blood ran from his body as he curled his fingers into the dirt, trying desperately to get a breath into his lungs that were screaming for air, burning, it felt like. 

He looked up one last time before his vision faded to black, pulling him down into the dark.

- - -

2012

Her instinct was driving her near-mad, or maybe she already was. But she had to release the demon clawing apart her insides, the power crawling under her skin, biting at her nerves, pulsing in her veins like boiling water about to go over. 

"Effective," Sire crooned, walking along the other side of the glass chamber, hands behind his back as he watched his creation, watched a once-Terran girl rip apart every other test subject he had discarded like they were nothing, the screams not registering, their attempts to fight back futile as she ripped off their limps bare-handed or tossed them into the wall like porcelain dolls. "But tactics will need to be programmed into it, much too mindless."

He had never made many things that were of this fashion; brutal, animalistic, savage, but with the benefit of enforced platinum flowing through the fibers to keep the body from being too weak or fragile. 

"This is the next step in the evolution of higher beings." he said, sounding ecstatic and near-crazed. "A single strand of this DNA would allow an entire batch to—"

Tess slammed both palms against the glass between them, her eyes wide, the black where her white should be hazy, silver shining bright, devoid of humanity and filled with bloodlust. 

"Stand down, 42S." he said in a tone that commanded obedience, or at least was used to being obeyed. 

The glass spiderwebbed where she hit it, and he barely moved, but twisted his face into a distasteful expression, bringing two fingers up between his eyes. "Get a sedative brought in..." he sighed to Theel, and the man nodded quickly, shuffling off. 

She slammed it again, hands still normal, pale flesh, but silver glowing beneath. 

Sire watched her, in awe of her power, but disappointed there was little mind left. That could be fixed. Submission was vital if the Accuser would use her to claim his prize on Xandar. 

She let out a shrill, angry scream, both hands and arms bursting into glistening steel as she struck them against the glass, this time, shattering the wall to where it fell like a sparkling sheet of water, crashing to the ground with a high, echoing shatter. 

She was upon him in a moment, landing her bare foot into his torso and throwing herself onto him, snarling like a wild animal, getting her hands around his throat, poised to twist, to sink her fingers in...rip out tendon—

Electricity engulfed her raging frame, making her eyes burn and dull before she collapsed, twitching as if she were a machine on the ground. 

Sire lifted himself from the ground, panting in anger as his hand that held the weapon he had used to disable her remained outstretched. 

Theel returned with what he had been sent for, and looked wide-eyed at the blank-faced now-cyborg on the ground. "It escaped?" he asked, fear sprinkling into his voice.

"Unacceptable!" Sire shouted, pointing to her. "It's utterly uncontrollable!" he paced a little, then spun back around to his assistant. "I will not have another wondrous creation turn against me and be lost! Get it back to its chamber, then prepare my workspace, I want a weapon that will disable the microorganism's in its blood—and then, I want it conditioned."

- - -

The Starhawk, Deep space, years ago

"Come on, come with us!"

"I'm reading!"

"You're always reading!" R'han whined, crystal-blue eyes shining, grabbing onto his older-brother's arm and pulling. "Please! Even Kylen and Vaz are coming out! Momma said you would if I asked!"

"Yeah," Vaz said from the doorway beside his twin, Kylen, a metal sparring rod in one hand, and a full pack slung over one shoulder. "Come on, Martinex, all you do is read."

"But I have a test..." Martinex gestured to his studying materials, "It's really important." 

"But you promised!" R'han pouted, looking to all three of his brothers separately, clearly he wanted all of them to go on the trip. He'd wanted their father to go, too, but he wasn't able, so he obviously was trying to get his older brother to change his mind. 

Martinex made an apologetic face, seeing how big his little brothers eyes were—sky blue, like their mothers, the only one of them who hadn't gotten their fathers blazing gold—he truly hated to disappoint him, but this was important. 

"Ah, come on, Han," Vaz said, "He's a scholar anyways, not a survivalist."

"I can fight and all that, just don't want to." 

"Yeah, right."

Martinex squinted but smiled, his older brothers had always teased him about his love of knowledge, but he knew it was mostly good-natured. 

"Yeah..." R'han shrugged, but hugged his big brother from the side. Martinex felt his warmth and joy and love tingle up through his flesh, warming his soul. He could absorb the feeling of his sweet innocence forever. "Well, then pass the test, Marty, that way one day you'll be rich and famous and we won't just be going to the forests, we can get a big starship and explore the entire galaxy!"

Martinex laughed. His brother must have forgotten he was only fourteen. "I dunno about all that... but I'll try my best, just for you." 

The boy beamed. "Great! See you!"

"I'll see you in a week. Be careful!"

"Uh-huh!"

A few days later, It all happened, too fast to stop, too fast to act in defense... The Badoon had invaded Pluto and seemingly out of nowhere. 

Fire and smoke. Loud, crashing explosions...

"Run, Martinex! Now!" Father had screamed at him, and he had tried to get to that ship... tried to reach his brothers... the explosions and gunfire had just come too hard, breaking his arm, the chaotic energy pulsing up through him leaving him too weak. 

The feeling of death and terror had soaked into him more each second he breathed the air of war and destruction that was now Pluto, his home...

Why hadn't he just gone with his brothers? Maybe they would have had a better chance then...

R'han's shattered body, curled underneath Mother's... the ship's ruins...

He'd begged him to go... "Please, Marty—?"

"Marty?"

Martinex lifted his head with a  small gasp, eyes dull as they darted across the mostly-metal room, then froze at Stakar, standing over him with a slightly-worried expression. 

"You alright?" he asked in his drawling voice. 

The Pluvian swallowed the dryness in his throat, trying to melt the images from his mind, but they hadn't went away for seven years... "Y—yeah... fine." He realized his arms were crossed in front of him, that he must have fell asleep at his desk—as usual, books and holo-pads scattered all over. He sat back, rubbing both hands over his face. "Did you need me, Captain?" 

Stakar grinned softly, shaking his head in response. The kid was turning out fine. Loyal, honest, a damn good Ravager. He had needed training, still did, but already Stakar knew he was going to be first mate as soon as he was ready, even if right now it seemed like a matter of when he was ready mentally. 

"You should get some sleep on the bed," the captain said with a slight push to the young man's shoulder. "Better on the back." 

Martinex forced a smile, nodding. "Sure, Cap." 

"You know there's plenty of time to get that degree, right, Marty?" 

His eyes went dark, almost the color of brass as he looked down. "I need to get it as soon as possible." 

Stakar nodded. He hadn't asked much, but he knew there was something deeper that drove him for it, so he let him have the time and resources he needed. "Alright then. We're heading down to Kirex first thing, sweep op, gonna see what's worth picking up. You and Mainy are gonna stay behind for this one."

"Whatever you decide, Sir." 

Stakar entered his quarters quietly just in case Aleta had already fallen asleep, finding the space so dark he could barely see with only a few calming candles lit at the bedside. 

"About time." Aleta's night-breeze voice said. 

Stakar smirked as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. "Long day." he pulled off his jacket and laid down next to her. 

"You're thinking about the mission tomorrow." 

He didn't know how she could always tell but somehow he didn't even need to say what he was thinking or feeling for her to just guess. "Yeah..." he confirmed quietly, swallowing the thickness in his throat. 

Aleta reached to her side and gently pulled him close, prompting him to lie down the way she knew was comforting and calming, and he slowly laid his head on her chest, breathing deeply as she ran her hands up into his hair and gently stroked. 

"You don't have to keep doing this to have done enough." she whispered. 

"It'll never feel like enough."

She dipped her head down and placed a firm kiss on his head. "You've done so much already. I wouldn't be alive without you, or Krugarr, Charlie, Martinex... you started this, you started these Flames."

"Not alone, and I don't know if we're as strong as we could be."

"In time, my love. They'll rise."

He sighed deeply. "I hope you're right,"

"I'm always right." 

He heard the smirk in her voice. "Yeah, I know."

- - -

Kirex was nearly desolate. 

Only sand and rock and wind and bodies... Debris of battle, the tinge of smoke and metal in the air.

Stakar felt the huanting feeling he always did in these sort of situations, and was beginning to wonder why he followed the trails tyrants like the Kree, Skrulls and Badoon left behind. Trails that were never more than loss and bloodshed. 

This felt like Pluto all over again. 

His boot hit something slightly stiff, but it flexed enough that he looked down, and his throat instantly locked. An arm... a dismembered arm burnt at the end, the pale green skin covered in burnt blood. 

But too small to be have been an adult... that was the arm of a child. 

A flarking child... 

He knew the Kree used battle slaves, but he had been naive enough to believe they were adults. 

"Shit," Aleta murmured upon seeing it, looking away. 

Stakar cleared his throat and kept walking, knowing that was an image he would see in his sleep. 

"Found a slave encampment nearby, Captain," one of the men informed him, "Likely where they held supplies."

"Lead the way, Lieutenant." he answered. 

The rank smell that hit him upon approaching the tattered encampment reminded him of the night he had went to speak to Aleta for the first time, only this reek was stronger, more like the smell of death than anything.

"Sweep the area." was his simple command to the others, and as one they branched out and obeyed. 

Stakar walked the dusty paths between the rows of broken cages and remains of food and armor and weapons, most all of it in ruins. His gut twisting more with each corpse both large and very, very small curled into the corners of some cages. 

Slavery. If he could pick one thing he hated most in this Galaxy, it would be slavery, in every form; Slave drivers, children trafficking, prostitutes. 

He swore in that moment all were banned from the ranks of the Flame. The penalty of exile as punishment for any of the crimes. 

He had been so deep in thought he hadn't realized he'd come to the open area of the cages, the place he knew slaves were usually punished, a large stake put up in the middle and the telltale marks of different colored blood and slashes along it...

And a body lying near it. Blue skin... sickly thin.  

A cold sweat spread on him, and his legs started moving, kneeling down beside the broken frame. 

The smell of blood hit his nose and he turned a little, but he saw the bare back of the figure rising and falling, if very weakly, it still was. 

He felt his heart rate pick up. "Aleta!" he called out, a waver in his voice, then carefully reached out to move the body, and found it was a boy, young, his shoulder scarred badly, and dark navy-purple blood staining his face and running down his back from a violent gash across his skull and spine. 

Centaurian. 

Stakar felt sick, realizing his crest was gone, and whoever had done it had left him here to bleed to death. 

"Hey, kid..." he placed his hand on the slaves cheek, shaking a little. "Hey, come on... come on..." 

His eyelids twitched, barely slitting open to reveal dull, hazy crimson eyes beneath, a shuddering, weak breath pushing from his lips. 

Stakar swallowed and tried to find words, hastily sliding off his outer jacket to get it around the kid and hopefully clot some of the bleeding. "Stay awake, son, it's alright now. You're gonna live."

He knew the kid probably couldn't hear or focus on him, but he still tried, and nearly panicked when his eyes slammed shut again. "No, no, no, no... come on..."

"Stakar," Aleta was suddenly at his side, her hand actually finding its way up over her mouth at the sight of the horror of a body wrapped in her husbands arms. "Oh, Stars..."

"He needs to get to the med bay, now, or he's not gonna make it."

She fumbled for her comm and trotted after him as he quickly hoisted the boy up and started walking. "Mainframe, get the medic ready, we've got a critical." 

- - -

Martinex had been in the middle of a lesson he had been studying weeks for when Zira, the head medic, was commed by Mainframe, telling her to get to the med bay and immediately. 

He usually didn't question, but something felt...off. Something was tingling in his head as he briskly walked the corridors, wishing he hadn't waited so long to head down and see what was going on. 

He should have went with her. It had been an hour since Zira had been called off... What if it had been one of his closest friends that were hurt? What if it was Stakar or Aleta? His throat clogged and he picked up the pace, turning the corner and finding Mainframe hovering a little bit away from where the med bay was. 

"Mainy, what's going on?" he asked her, gazing down the hall where he could see Aleta pacing outside the op room. 

She made a noise in her circuits, then tilted towards him. "Captain brought back someone from Kirex. Critical conditions, that's why the med staff was brought in."

"Can I help?"

"Sorry, Marty, Captain said no trainees on this one. Doesn't wanna risk it."

He nodded, even if it bothered him to still be one. He was only twenty, and Stakar had told him time and again there was plenty of time to learn but he just wanted to be able to do something, he wanted to bring healing into a world of destruction. "How bad is it?" he found himself asking. 

Mainframe's green receptors rounded out. "I'm not fully sure. But when Aleta says it's bad—"

"You know it." he finished, and slowly started making it towards where she had stopped pacing as Stakar exited the op room, looking tired, and Marty could see he was covered in navy blood on the front of his clothes and his sleeves. "Captain," he addressed him as he came to a stop. "Trouble down there?"

"Just found someone who needed help." he answered, that tone in his voice that he was worried. 

"C—can I see?" 

The two Captains glanced at each other, and Aleta nodded almost indiscernibly, making Stakar give a tired nod. "Be quick, but maybe don't mess with anything, I...I dunno if he's even gonna make it." 

He flicked his eyes down, then slowly walked past them, entering the darkened operations room and gazing to the cot in the middle of a dozen machines, wires and blinking lights surrounding the thin body that laid over it, and the closer Marty got, the more his heart slowed down in sorrow. 

He was young, he could see it in his body, so frail, but looking like not one bone had gone without being broken at some point, his blue skin littered in near-white scars, some minor like anyone would have, and some violent and showing the remains of what could only have been a deadly wound at some point. 

His eyes were shut tight, eyelids flickering as the machine pumped oxygen into him through the cover on his nose and mouth, remnants of dried blood still on his cheeks. 

He had studied enough about other species to mark him off as Centaurian, only his trademark red crest—his tahlei, if he remembered right—was ripped off, leaving a horrid wound in its place. 

"What did they do to you..?" Martinex whispered, his voice so soft it was like the ringing of pitched woodwinds. 

He didn't think the boy would respond, even if he was awake Centaurians couldn't speak normally, but his eyes fell on the steel brace now on his throat, and the scars that crawled out under it. 

Oh... 

If he wasn't the lone survivor of genocide, he might ask how could anyone be so cruel?

Something about the broken boy laying in front of him seemed to seep down into his core, without even touching him he could feel his energy radiating off and soaking into his body, and it felt like it belonged... felt like the first real thing in so long since seeing his families lifeless bodies in the ashes. 

"You're not going to die." he said quietly. "You're not the type to let anyone ever kill you, I can tell." No response came, of course, but that beeping of a heart monitor was a promise in his ears. "And when you wake up, I'm going to be the one who makes sure you heal, I'm going to be there for you, forever." 

- - -

He had meant what he said. Seven years ago he had made a promise to R'han to become a healer, and now it felt like it had all come full circle and a new boy needed him. 

He knew he could work his way around medical matter and the inner workings of both machines and bodies, but never again would he be vulnerable in any way. 

The stiff metal hanging on a chain from the ceiling swung back and forth, beckoning as he walked to it. 

He had gotten stronger in the past years, learned to defend and fight and shoot and everything a real Ravager should, but the absolute overwhelming need to be able to protect wasn't giving him any room to have a weak point, so he slammed his fist against the unforgiving metal. 

Of course, it dented, but he didn't bleed, didn't bruise and certainly didn't break. 

He hit it again, and again, harder each time, wanting to feel pain, wanting to make it hurt and make himself sweat and bleed and bruise and scar...

He wanted to suffer his way into being everything his family had needed, everything his brother had needed...

Not just a scholar, a fighter. 

A survivalist. 

Because he didn't survive that war to never fight. 

He was grunting through his teeth with the pressure shocking up through his body, the pain that was coming but just from the force of his blows. 

Panting, he stared at his shaking hands, and despite himself was hoping for something, some kind of mark he'd tried. 

Men walked away from fights with at least a bloody lip, a black eye, a broken nose... 

Or, on some occasions, bodies so scarred it almost seemed deliberate. 

Maybe he wanted to break. If only to come back stronger...

- - -

The kid was moved from the op room to the infirmary that night, stable enough to be taken off most of the meds and just left to rest under a heavy sedative. 

Mainframe had been left on watch duty, Stakar and Aleta heading to their quarters. 

It wasn't long before Martinex heard Mainframe over the shared comm telling Stakar he needed to get down there, and Marty had moved first. 

"Mainy, what's wrong?" Stakar asked as speed-walked towards her where she hovered just outside the infirmary. 

"It's the kid you brought back,"

Martinex felt his insides go cold, felt Stakar have a similar reaction as Aleta caught up behind them. "His vitals drop?" Stakar asked in an empty voice. 

"No. He woke up, sir. He's unstable—lashing out."

"You say anything to him?" he started to walk by her, and found the boy pressed up into the corner by some miracle as he looked like he should barely be able to stand much less be hostile. 

"He won't listen to me, Captain." Mainframe's mechanical voice was worried, and she floated around Stakar to his side as he entered the infirmary. 

"Just get back, I've got this, he doesn't understand what's going on." his eyes never left the kid, who was standing with his knees bent in the corner like an animal, hands and arms clenched. 

His blood-red eyes were darting about, a snarl on his face but Stakar could see the tears glossing his eyes. "It's alright, kid, just calm down..."

"Get away!" he instantly snapped, voice rough to where it sounded like a forced whisper, like it was hard to talk—like he couldn't even breathe. "I won't go back there."

"I won't make you, just listen—" 

The kid grabbed the side of the silver tray that sat by the bed and hurled it forward, a tear finally slipping from his eye. 

"Stakar..." Aleta warned, Martinex stepping ahead of her and moving to get into the room with him. 

"It's okay." he answered, giving a quick look to her as he held out his hand behind him. "Marty, stay put." he told the young man as he was just about to cross the treshold. 

Martinex stopped in his tracks, but his dark-rimmed golden eyes were set on the sickly Centaurian before him, and his chest was locking up the longer he looked. 

"Hey, hey, no," Stakar said quickly but tried to keep his voice soothing as the kid snatched a fallen scalpel off the floor, holding like he had held a million knives before but couldn't decide what to do with this one, the way it angled near his own throat made Stakar's blood go cool. Watching the poor kid try to take his own life or succeed would be one of the worst he had ever had to witness. "Put that down, son." 

"I'll kill you!" the Centaurian whipped the knife towards him, hand shaking, then he made a swiping motion around. "I'll kill all of you!"

Martinex swallowed, sadness coiling around his heart. It was like seeing himself again, scared, survival-mode on overdrive, and so entirely alone. He just wanted to go to him and try to calm him down himself. 

"No, no, you don't gotta do that. We won't hurt you." the Captain tried again. 

The answer was a shaking snarl and a slight movemment forward like the boy was deciding whether or not to lunge, his eyes considering the other two behind, including the robot. 

"Stakar, he's scared." Aleta leaned herself forward as she emphasized the words. 

"I know," he caught himself from speaking too loudly, looking over his shoulder at her. "I know, Aleta."

"Captain—" Mainframe suddenly buzzed in alarm, and he whirled to see the kid had taken his chance, the scalpel coming fast for his neck. 

Martinex didn't think twice, only two steps he wasn't sure how he made so fast and he pushed himself between his captain and the boy, taking the knife to the side of his own throat, and the blade bent and broke in half against his skin, barely sending a hollow feeling of pain into him. 

Time seemed like it slowed to a near stop as the Centaurian's eyes went wide, darting to what should have been a killing blow and then back up to the Pluvian's shimmering-but-sorrowful eyes. 

"It's okay..." Martinex whispered so softly his voice came like a gentle breeze against soft wind chimes, carefully raising his hand to slowly take the handle of the ruined scalpel away from him. The second their flesh connected even a little he felt fierce tingles wave through his fingers, down his arm and into him, all feelings of fear and torment and confusion. 

He blinked to try and level out the new flush of energy inside him. 

The boy was trembling violently, and let go of the weapon, stumbling back a step as his eyes moved from Stakar to Martinex, then he dropped to his knees like they had given out, bowing his head. "Just do it." he breathed, a tiny sniffle in his voice. 

Martinex looked down, then slowly to the Ogords, both of them were shocked and silent, so he lowered himself down to be eye-level with the boy trembling at his feet, reaching out his hand again to lay it on his ruined shoulder, again that rush of pain and terror and anger coursed through him, making his heart beat quicker but his chest seem to lock around it. "I won't." 

As soon as he said it red eyes jerked up to his, a look in them that could only be described as shattered, but they were also full of question, and, maybe even a tiny relief. 

He did not understand any of this, waking up with his wounds closed, feeling even a little bit more vital, then the older man hadn't whipped or electrocuted or beat him for his defiance, then the Pluvian had not taken his life for attempting to take the other man's. 

He had had his back whipped into nothing but a mess of navy-gore for attempting that on his former masters, being promised the next time they would not stop until his blood drained then and there. They had tried to keep that promise... He remembered now. 

But he would rather that then keep on this way. If he were to die, he would go down with a fight, but it didn't seem like these people wanted to kill him, his trust fighting to form in the man before him that spoke like what he imagined shooting stars sounded like and looked like he was made of them, his crystal hand on his scarred shoulder making his body tingle. 

"Why..?" his voice broke between his lips. 

Martinex smiled a little. "Cuz I know what it feels like to be scared, and you don't gotta be. These," he moved his eyes to the side to put his attention on Stakar, Aleta and Mainframe. "are good people, they—I—won't hurt you. You don't have to hurt anymore."

"You're sayin'..." he swallowed and looked down, then back up with fresh tears. "I'm..." 

"You're free, son." Stakar stepped forward, getting on his knee beside the younger men and nodding. 

The kid shuddered, Aleta standing behind Martinex and giving him a soft smile as he kept moving incredulous scarlet eyes to each one of them.

- - -

Stakar had decided it was best for Martinex to stay with the kid after that—which was good because he didn't want to go anywhere. 

He had re-bandaged the Centaurian's wounds himself, them having been re-opened when he freaked out upon waking up. 

The boy hadn't said much of anything, but Marty didn't want to drug him too heavily, especially after the way he had flinched at the needles. 

It was after about ten minutes of peaceful silence the boy spoke in his clearly-underused raspy voice. "Why didn't ya do it?" 

He asked it so quietly Martinex barely heard him, but straightened up in his chair right beside the cot. "Do what..?"

"Shoulda killed me... What woulda been done if...if..."

"You aren't there anymore." he stood up, putting his hands on the side bar of the bed. "We don't do that."

"Then what..? What is this?"

"We're called Ravagers, Stakar and Aleta started all this, and they bring in people who had bad lives."

"So they..." he kept pausing like he had to think about the right words. "Sentiment on the weak?"

Marty took a moment to respond. "I mean... that's not exactly it, but they help people. Help the victims, kill the victimizers."

"Which am I?" his voice dropped into a lost little whisper. 

"The one that gets helped."

"Should be the one who gets killed..."

"How can you say that? Look at what they did to you..."

"Ya didn't see what...what I did..."

"That's not your fault."

"Had a choice, didn't I?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"What would you know about it, Sparkles?"

Something lit inside him, and he couldn't be upset about his sudden harsher tone, or the fact that he clearly had a rebellious heart buried inside. "Martinex," he corrected, "And I was a little like you."

His red eyes narrowed, and he turned to stare up at the ceiling. "Why you doin' this?"

"Which part?"

"Why ya want me to feel... safe? Why did ya defend me?"

His arouse eyes seemed to go back in time, then come back, burning again, and he shifted where he stood. "Because it's just in me I guess... to protect... I want to cure things... but I also...I want to destroy some, it's...complicated."

"Ya wanna kill to protect." the Centaurian said blatantly, or maybe he was speaking for himself. 

Martinex blinked, his jaw locking. It was too late to protect so much by now... "Yeah, I guess. And...when I saw you, I thought of someone, and I couldn't let you keep suffering."

His tired face seemed to soften, and he stared at the Ravager. "I don't get you."

"Me neither."

The boy actually laughed, a rough little sound, more like an exhaling breath, but it reached his eyes. 

"What's your name?" Martinex asked carefully, and instantly knew he asked the wrong thing when the light in his ruby eyes died instantly and he looked away. 

"Don't think I got a...a name..?"

"You've never been called something?" Damn he messed up again, he saw tears spread in his eyes now.

"Just... a... a number..."

"Okay, nevermind, don't think about that. We'll just pick one." he tried his best to ease him again, wishing he hadn't been so hasty to ask things. 

"Pick one?"

"Yeah, I know some... what do you think of Udonta?"

"What?"

"It was the last name of a Centaurian warrior thousands of years ago when the planet was born."

"Huh... And his...his other name?"

"His first name?"

"I guess,"

"Yondu.''

The boy seemed to roll it through his head a few times, then his eyes shone with a new hope. "I... I like that."

"Good, then you can have it. It fits, anyway, he survived when most no one else did, cuz he was strong and smart, and loyal."

"Don't know if I like it no more..."

"You are those things."

"Dunno..."

"It's your name now, I'm too attached to it."

He actually smiled a little. "Alright...then, I guess... How do ya know about that stuff anyhow?"

"I read about it."

"So you're one of them people who learn stuff,"

"Scholar?" he asked with a slight laugh. 

"Is that what it's called? Then, yeah."

"Is that so hard to believe?"

The boy—Yondu—stared at him for a few seconds, then turned to look back up at the ceiling. "Nah. Ya got the face like one."

Marty laughed again, one of the first real joyous sounds he had made in a long time, Yondu was still smiling, too, even if it looked like he'd never done it before. 

"You gonna stick around?" he asked quietly, and Marty heard the question in R'han's voice. 

"Always."

"You mean that?" he turned to meet his gaze again, and Martinex placed his crystal hand on top of his scarred blue one. 

"I promise you," In that moment, he felt some of the fear and anger dissipate in his aura, felt a new comfort light inside him and flow into his core, sealing some of the cracks inside both of them. He felt a bond flow between them, like metal melting down and hardening into place, Yondu's hopeful eyes were still locked on his shining gold ones, and Martinex smiled. "I'll never abandon you, Brother."

#guardians of the galaxy #kraglin obfonteri #yondu udonta #peter quill #rocket raccoon #tessa udonta #marvel #martinex tnaga #stakar ogord #aleta ogord #charlie 27 #mainframe #krugarr #drax the destroyer #nebula #mantis #gamora #ravagers as family #ravagers as a family #the ravagers #ravager brothers #chapter six #experiment:flame and ash #Fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #Spotify

[anglers1mp]

Chapter Six

#danny phantom #crossover #Fanfic #chapter six #dc x dp #danny fenton #new chapter #my writing

[hellishjoel]

The way I'm equal parts excited and terrified for cinnamon girl chapter 6 🥹 I just want our girl and Joel to be happy!!!

I feel so bad making ya'll so nervous (I don't, watching from behind the curtain is magnificent) but I'll share this with you for now <3

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms as you lean back in the booth.  He shakes his head, soft smile silently admiring you. “Y’do this little… happy dance once ya eat. When you’re hungry, ya sigh a lot and get real quiet. Tap your foot a lot when you’re real hungry. But then when you’re full, ya just..” Joel tries to mimic you, slowly swaying his body back and forth and shimmying his shoulders. You scoff and toss a spare fry at his chest.  “I do not look like that!” Joel only chuckles and eats the fry, shaking his head again with that gentle smile. One that he seems to only share with you.  “Don’t worry ‘bout it. S’cute.”

#fic: cinnamon girl #chapter six #joel miller #joel miller hella smut