#When he entered the fog the saw the men who he hated most running around

[ghcstcd]

Reposting this drawing from a year ago. I always wondered if Caleb Quinn knew who he was hunting in the fog.

Ko-fi and Artist Info

#dead by daylight #dbd #the deathslinger #deathslinger #caleb quinn #horror #fanart #western horror #bhvr #cowboy #my favorite part of this drawing is the eyes :) #if you look at his model in game (and many other killers) they're bright white. like the moon. #When he entered the fog the saw the men who he hated most running around #I don't think he hunting what he think he's hunting :) #and we KNOW he's not hunting Henry Bayshore in those trials :) #ghcstcd

[blue-velvet-valentina]

Untitled fliclitt:

Pairing: n/a it's a friendship between reader and Quan-Chi with him as the reader's mentor.

Plot: Reader is a medium who is learning how to have thicker skin against the dead and how to set boundaries with them. Quan-Chi is starting to realize there is more to life in Earthrelm, finding a friend in the reader.

TRIGGER ⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️ Blood, discussion of death, vegetarian characters (Yes I HC Quan- Chi is as sensitive as the reader) and a serial killer mention.

"We are almost finished, just one more spot and they won't come in without you inviting them." Quan said, comforting you as you spat up the last bit of bile mixed with the trickling blood from your nose. Just one more spot in your home, and the spirits won't approach without permission. No vile spirits trying to attack you to get one more kill in before moving on. You gasped a bit from the agony on vomiting, his arms aswell as Shang's supporting your body. You can feel they are rushing you to the last remaining place to enter your property. You hurried through the pain, running on fumes, adrenaline, and spite as you tripped into a half crawl. You still held onto the object that the two made to help you block them out.

It was not too long ago, maybe a month when you woke up to them covering your nude, shaking body as you gagged and coughed free from the bathwater in your lungs. The souls of the dead always seemed to approach you, making you look insane to the world around you. You often could tell the difference many of the dead looked exactly how they died. It made you take on a new diet when you started to hallucinate the meat infront of you as still raw and pulsing. The feeling after eating even just gelatin made you still feel the animal's treatment.

How the two met you was an odd one. Shang and Quan sensed a particularly vile soul near by and mistakenly thought it was you. Shang wanted to devour your soul, but saw just very close to you was the source of his hunger. It looked like a middle age man, most likely vicrorian, his front dripping wet as he followed you inside a hotel. As they followed you, they noticed an angry woman spirit of the same time, also soaked and blue from drowning. She screamed trying to grab the male soul, but it was futal before she cried in an errie echo. She could not speak, more water filled gargling before it clicked that the male drowned her and was hoping to attack the living woman.

They followed you, but the many spirits of the hotel grabbed at them,slowing their movements before Shang threw a glowing skull on the floor and with a flash the spirits screeched and disappeared except for a little boy much like Shang as a child quietly pointing to the door and he disappeared quickly smelling of burnt cloth and incense.

Using magic, they went through the door and heard splashing and struggling. The men went toward the bathroom, the woman was fighting for freedom from the water as it's tension was unbroken, your hand begging for something to hold onto. The man looked at you with sadistic glee before your hand slowly lowered and splashed back into the deep tub.

They fought him before Shang decided to just devour his soul, capturing it which made the water break its tension and the struggle ended. Your body was naked and limp, but they could tell you still had a tiny spark of light left in you as they used their magic to draw the water from your lungs and tried to make the spark brighter before you gasped to life.

You remembered their kindness, though many hated them and questioned your reasons for not feeling the same. You were nursed back to health and helped you learn how to not let the dead bully you. You are a lighthouse with a fog horn in the Netherelm, all there were attracted to you like a moth to a flame as she worked to control it. You didn't want to rule anything or anyone much to their confusion as to why not use your power, all you wanted was to live a normal life, and if you WANTED to, help the dead and living move on at peace.

You can't change their minds she knew that, but you always opened up yourself as a place where their burdens can stop. They felt normal, almost forgetting how they grew up. They became your friend. This act was them returning that kindness in turn when the dead still tried to haunt your sleep.

You finally got there the last corner and quickly rushed to perform the ritual you were taught. Your body ached as it felt like you were breaking apart at the seams. You were losing blood quickly as you finally sealed it. You breathed heavily and half laughed and half cried as you leaned back to yue point you fell into the dirt. You finally took a stand and made good on it as Quan walked to you with hands behind his back and smiled.

"You finally did it. You're free from them when you are home." Quan broke the silence. He never felt this level of emotion seeing your battered, broken, and bloody body contrasted by the wildly happy grin as you laughed harder a bit.

"I.. I guess I am. I look like shit don't i?" You finally asked him.

"Yes, but I can help you up, and we all can eat. We will heal your wounds...friend." He held out his pale hand, and you grabbed it, Shang grabbing the other hand, standing you up. You were tired, you smelled like so many disgusting things and you were weak from blood loss. But, you couldn't have picked better friends as they braced your body back inside for a hot bath, some healing, and some food.

Ack I hated this one. I felt rushed, but when the spark sparks, you gotta grab the gas, or else no fire will burn.

#mk1 #mk11 #mkx #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #quan chi #shang tsung #crappy fic

[mariamermaid]

I put a spell on you

Sherlock Holmes (19th century) x fem dancer Reader

Summary: After his brother´s persuasion, Sherlock agrees to go to the Ballet with him and is mesmerized by the dancer…

Words: 1.9k

A/N: This is more for the movies/ enola holmes movie, since it´ll take place in the late 19th century. I´m not too familiar with the ballet, so let´s ignore the accuracy.

 Halloween Masterlist

 Théophile Gautier´s ballet “Giselle” was an absolute success. Even years after the ballet was first performed in Paris, the London theater decided to bring the play back. An act that brought Mycroft Holmes into liberating excitement, much to his brother´s concern. The fog these days laid thick in London and Sherlock, who had just solved an exhausting case, that ended with a dangerous pursuit, in which he broke his arm, wasn´t practically excited. But the younger brother wasn´t left with many options. “God, Sherlock, what happened this time?”

Mycroft pointed towards his arm, hanging in a sling to his side, above his shirt. The jacket was loosely thrown on top of his shoulders, Sherlock shrugged not paying much attention to Mycroft´s needless worries. Around him were a few men gathered and Sherlock found himself falling for simple, but plain and boring small talk. Sighing, he followed his brother into the hall and braced himself for boring hours. But then, the classical music started, Sherlock expected it to be the best part, until he saw you entering the stage. It was the first act and you played the Giselle in the village. Giselle was portrayed as a young, innocent but endearing girl. The white long tutu graced your figure perfectly and throughout the act, you danced across the stage with ease. The forester Hilarion and the prince Albrecht are both in love with Giselle, but after Hilarion unmasks Albrecht´s disguise as a farmer, the girl is led into a disaster. Heartbroken after finding out about Albrecht’s true identity, she falls into his sword and dies. In that scene, Sherlock found himself clinging onto the seat and when the light went out to announce the break, he realized how hard he had grabbed the armrests. His tongue slid across his lips, trying to relax his jaw. He then joined his brother and his entourage outside at the bar for a drink, but the picture of you in the white tutu floating across the stage as if it was nothing, didn´t left his mind. “She´s stunning”, he admitted and the men around him nodded.

“Who? Y/n, she´s a natural”, Mycroft added slightly smiling. “You know her?” Sherlock asked interested and the men echoed in laughter. William Grey, a friend of Mycroft and well-known man in London, grinned. “Your brother, Mr. Holmes, is one of the many men running after Miss Y/L/N.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, he hated admitting that he failed. “I never ran after her.” To Sherlock´s despise, the topic was then dropped. He wanted, no he needed more information about you. While the men gathered for a second round of whiskey, Sherlock did what he did best; research and investigate. He unobtrusively glided through the doors leading to the rooms behind the stage. And there you stood, one hand against the wooden bar and practicing your posture. You had changed costumes, after Giselle´s death, you now wore a blood red tutu and your lips were painted in the same color. Sherlock felt goosebumps raising on his skin, in the soft light of the mere headlights behind the stage, the dry dust floating in the air, you did indeed like a ghost. But a stunning ghost, so beautiful, Sherlock just stopped in his tracks to stare at you.

A man, who worked behind the scenes and was just arranging a background piece, bumped against Sherlock. “Man, don´t stand around!” He eyed Sherlock suspiciously. “No spectators behind the stage”, he added and his low went low. “I…” He didn´t know what to answer, his eyes were still glued onto you. A man, as far as Sherlock guessed he was the regisseur, came to talk you and you nodded to whatever he was saying. You then turned to get your hair checked again, but you noticed the unknown man standing around. His tall figure with his neat clothes, his eyes meeting yours. For a second, you stood still, admiring his dark locks and his angular features. But then you remembered the work and disappeared within the crowd of people running around. “Didn´t you hear what I just said?” Sherlock jerked, as the man spoke up again, louder and clearly angry.

“Sorry, I must´ve taken a wrong door somewhere.”

As quick as he appeared behind the stage, he vanished again. Sherlock found his seat next to his brother, who eyed him confused. “Where have you been?” Luckily, the lights went out before he could think of an excuse.

 The second act started, the forester Hilarion waits at Giselle´s death bed, until the nature ghosts and their queen Myrtha appear to welcome Giselle in their realm. Sherlock couldn´t tear his eyes of you, you were pale with powder and your once white gown, was now black as the night. Albrecht finds the ghost as well and follows Giselle into the woods. Myrtha and her wilas, dance around Hilarion until he drops with exhaustion and dies. Myrtha shortly after finds Albrecht, but he is protected by Giselle´s love. At dawn, the queen loses her power and Giselle forgives Albrecht, before she vanishes.

The whole act was preposterous, the dance of the dead ghosts and in between them; you. Sherlock saw the light of life in your eyes glistening. You looked magical to him; he couldn’t describe any other way. The hall echoed with applause and Sherlock even joined in the standing ovation, your performance was outstanding. He then waited outside with his brother again; some men with wife´s went home, but Sherlock waited with anticipation. It was almost an hour later, when he finally saw you. The stage make-up was gone and you looked exhausted, but happy. You had a coat thrown over your shoulder and a dark red, rather simple dress. Your hair was loosened, but remained closed. People quickly approached you, congratulating on the success and praising your abilities and talent. But you had spotted Mycroft within the crowd, and with him the man who had caught your attention earlier. You slipped away and made your way to them. “Mycroft.” You smiled as he greeted you, leaning down and placing a delicate kiss on your hand. “Y/N, extraordinary and perfect as always.” A faint blush was on your cheeks, but then your glance wandered to Sherlock.

“Who is your companion, Mycroft?” It was almost awkward, how Sherlock couldn´t do anything but stand around and stare at you, his brother chuckled. The sight was rare, but welcomed for him. “You´ve heard of him, my brother Sherlock!” A grin crept on your rosy lips and you put out your hand to greet him as well. Sherlock could´ve punched himself, a lady like you holding her hand out first; what kind of gentleman he was! He took it softly and did his brother equal, placing a kiss on your hand. “Mr. Holmes, are you working on a case right now?” Sherlock stopped, raising his eyebrow confused.

“It seemed like you nosed around behind the stage in the break, are you looking for a thief?” The assumption you made was perfectly fine, but your tone stated differently. You knew he wasn´t there for a case and Mycroft snickered. “You have to excuse my brother, Y/n. Snooping around runs in his veins.” Sherlock breathed out, a slight annoyance rising. He didn´t like the way his brother was able to interact with you, not unless he was able to do so as well.

Mycroft changed the subject; “My birthday, Y/n, next week, I hoped you would come?” Your eyes left Sherlock and jealousy rose in him, a feeling he wasn´t very familiar with. “I have a performance, but I will try to sneak away afterwards.”

William Grey interrupted your group, saying his goodbye´s for the evening and you cleared your throat. “I´m going home as well, training and rehearsals are getting the better of me.” For once this night, Sherlock was quicker than his brother. “Can I walk you home, Miss Y/L/N?”

You grabbed your bag a little tighter, hanging over your shoulder and he noted how hard to read your expression was. “I don´t need a man to protect me, Mr. Holmes. But I´m willing to let you accompany me in exchange for some details about your solved cases, I´m quite a fan if you will.” Sherlock smiled and tilted his head proudly.

“So, you recognized the murderer due to his shoes?” You asked interested as the two of you walked through the dark streets of London. The light from the lanterns fell softly to the ground, but the air laid silent. It was late, barely any light left in most houses. Sherlock nodded, lurking down to you. “That´s fascinating, Mr. Holmes.” “You can call me Sherlock.”

For the first time, you actually blushed. “Willing to solve some riddles for me, Sherlock?” A shiver ran down his spine as you called him by his name, but he nodded. “When the water comes down, it rains. I go up, what am I?” Sherlock paused for a second, but a grin spread on his lips. “An umbrella.”

“I can fly but I have no wings. I can cry but I have no eyes.” “A cloud.”

"I dance as the night rises and a wooden pole accompanies me; what am I?” He chuckled confident.

“A ballerina.”

You stopped on the street and behind you laid a park, dark and the silhouettes of trees and bushes rose like giants in the night. “A witch, Mr. Holmes. A witch on her broom.”

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, behind you walked a black cat and the coincidence let him shiver. He usually wasn´t a superstitious type, but you were not to be underestimated; he was sure of it. He swallowed realizing how you had been able to distract him from the logical solution. “As far as I´m concerned, I have bewitched your mind, Sherlock.” From your coat you pulled out a notepad, his notepad. All notes on previous cases and current observations were written down. “How-“

“For a detective, you´re not very good at sneaking around, behind the stage.” You fell into his word, before he was able to ask questions. He wondered how on earth you had stolen his notepad, maybe due to his lack of movement with the broken arm? You were absolutely right however; you did drive him insane. Laughing, you held his notepad still up. “Don´t worry, you´ll get your notes back, if you solve my last riddle.”

His tongue glided over his lips. “A party, but the ballerina doesn´t want to dance.”

He anticipated more, but you closed your mouth, grinning. “I´ll see you next week, Sherlock.”

Sherlock hadn´t realized that you had reached your destination and you turned to leave him standing in the middle of the street. “How did you steal my notes?”

You laughed out loud as you hurried into a dark alley, he guessed that the entrance to your apartment laid there.

“I put a spell on you, Sherlock Holmes.”

He hurried after you, but as he entered the alley, a dead end as he realized, you were gone. There was no door and no windows at the wall surrounding him, you had basically vanished into thin air. Sherlock smiled in excitement; the evening turned out so much better than he ever imagined. He lit himself a pipe and strolled to his own home. A party, but the ballerina doesn´t want to dance, your words repeated in his mind. I´ll see you next week. Mycroft´s birthday party and you don´t want to dance. What does a lady do, that gets invited by someone, who she doesn´t want to dance with? She arrives accompanied by a different man.

#sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock imagine #henry cavill #robert downey jr #benedict cumberbatch #mariamermaidimagine #enola holmes

[theroomofreq]

“Are we on a date right now?” Chapter 3

First off I want to say thank you to the anon who sent me this prompt. It was the first prompt I had ever received, and I can’t believe it morphed into this. Wherever you are anon, I love you very much. Also thank you to all the lovely people who have read, commented, and shared this story -- I love you all so much! 

Read on AO3

Harry walked through the next few weeks in a fog, his head was swimming from emotional turmoil. There was the constant pressure from Dumbledore to retrieve Slughorn’s memory, the confusing obsession with Draco’s disappearances, and Ginny. 

Today, it was Ginny that was most difficult for him, she had returned to her laughing goofy self the moment she stepped out the dungeon classroom. Any emotion from their previously charged meeting seemed to have been forgotten. They returned to exchanging jokes in the corridors, swapping quidditch strategies, and playing exploding snap in the common room. 

Unfortunately the rest of the school hadn’t forgotten like she had. Harry still had younger class men coming up to him and asking him about Ginny, there were still people who winked at him when they walked together, and the pathetic look Hermione gave him was too much. There was a stab of grief every time it happened, and he hated himself for it. Not being with her when everyone thought she might be was maddening. 

Harry had immediately found Hermione and Ron after Ginny left him in the deserted classroom. He hadn’t told them everything that Ginny said to him or his stupid idea, but somehow they picked up on his misery. Hermione hugged him while Ron patted his shoulder and muttered apologies. 

So, he learned to ignore the questions, and the looks, and the whispers. Instead he spent his time worrying about prophecies, quidditch, and Slytherins. 

As he made his way through the common room one morning, on his usual brooding tirade, Ron stopped him in his tracks with a few words. 

“Brill!” He announced, “A Hogsmeade trip on my birthday.” 

The wheels in Harry’s head spun into overdrive. He whipped his head around the common room looking for a bright spot of flowing red hair. Ron was muttering something else to the side of him, but Harry missed the dialogue as he searched for the Marauders’ Map in his bag. 

He pulled it out and turned to Ron, “I’ll be right back” before tearing out of the portrait hole. 

If he wasn’t being so careless he might’ve tried to murmur the charm for the map, but instead he said it loudly as he walked down the corridor. His eyes searched the parchment hungrily until he found her name, the library. 

His pace increased into little less than a full out run toward her, as his mind went south. What if she already had plans? Or someone had asked her already? Or maybe she did really want to be just friends? 

As he entered the library he quickly saw her, surrounded by fellow fifth years, books, quills, and ink. At the moment she was twirling her quill in her fingers, which didn’t seem like a crucial revision. Although even if she had been in the middle of her O.W.L.S very little would’ve stopped him. 

“Ginny” his breathy but loud greeting was met with a harsh shush from Madam Pince. 

She looked up with a bright smile, “Harry, ever heard of a whisper before? It’s the norm here.” 

“Right yes, Can we talk for a moment?” He did absolutely nothing to change the tone of his voice. This was evidenced by Pince’s quick steps toward him, Ginny was faster however, as she took him by the arm. 

“We better get you out of here” she muttered as she pulled him away from the tight lipped librarian. 

Once safely in the hall Ginny turned to him with a smirk, before she could open her mouth Harry blurted it all out, “There’s another Hogsmeade trip next weekend. Just saw it on the board actually, and I know you said you wanted to be just friends. But, I don’t think I can do that any better than I could fake date you, which was a right terrible idea. Sorry for that by the way.. And I…” 

He was pulled out of his rambling by the tight squeeze Ginny gave him on his arm, her hand hadn’t released him after pulling him out of the library. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.” Her smile was small but genuine as she continued, “Just because we agreed to tell the whole school we are just friends, doesn’t exactly mean that’s how I want us to be.” She said the last few words slowly and deliberately. 

“Just friends idea was really as bad as the fake dating idea if you think about it” Harry said as he took a half step toward her. 

“I think that could be put up for debate Potter.” She said as her brow quirked at his sass. 

Ginny ran her hand down his arm stopping just in time for Harry to lace their fingers together, “Don’t you have something to ask me?” Ginny asked as she smiled up at him. 

“Yeah, Go out with me? For real this time?” Harry could feel his grin crossing his entire face, “The upcoming Hogsmeade trip in March?” 

“I’d love to” her smile reached up to her freckled cheeks, squishing them against her brown eyes. 

Ginny gave his hand a squeeze before releasing him and taking a few steps backward, “I need to get back, transfiguration exams are coming up and all.” 

“See you Gin” 

She sent a small wave his way before turning and walking back into the library. Harry waited for her to glance over her shoulder at him before waving back which Ginny returned with a wink. 

March 1st was going to be the greatest day of his life, he was sure of it. 

---

It turned out March 1st wasn’t exactly as he expected it. After shoving a bezoar down his best mates throat, Harry Potter now paced in front of the hospital wing. He turned so quickly on his heel he nearly ran into Ginny. It must’ve been his quidditch reflexes that stopped him from barging over her, his hands gripped her upper arm as he stopped dead in his tracks. 

The look in her eyes was piercing, why was it always him that had to put this family in danger? It took little more than her hands coming up to his wrists for him to explain everything that happened. They stayed locked together as he told her every detail, her eyes intense and searching on his face. After he finished she took a step back and gestured to the floor, “As you were” 

As if on impulse he began to pace again, around the fifth time he passed her, she spoke again, “Go on then, let’s hear it” 

“Well it wasn’t Slughorn so who was it?” Harry shook his head trying to make sense of the whole issue. “He meant to give the wine away, but can’t remember how he got it.” 

“No mark on the bottle, no way of tracing it?” Her words kept his mind moving fast, struggling to find the answers. 

“No, nothing, I just can’t stand being helpless like this. There’s nothing I can do.” He groaned as he spun again on his heel. 

“Right, save Ron? Check! What else is there to do now?” 

“Gin” He stopped again facing her from the other side of the door, “You know what I mean. I can’t help but think there is something bigger at play here.” 

“You don’t think it’s Tom do you?” Her eyes went cloudy when she asked the bitter question. 

“If he went after Ron?” The thought stopped him dead in his tracks. “I don’t know what I would do. I couldn’t handle it.” He felt glued to his spot, as she walked closer to him. 

“Something on the inside then?” 

“I always think it’s the same two people behind everything. This time I really can’t shake the feeling that Draco has something to do with it?” Harry pushed a hand into his hair, messing his hair around as if it would help him think clearly. 

“Maybe,” she was right in front of him now, “But we really don’t know enough about Slughorn. He has so many visitors and he is frequently at Hogsmeade, anyone could’ve given it to him.” 

Hogsmeade. The mention of the village brought him back to all the hope that he had for the day. How he wanted to spend his time with Ginny, being caught up in her laugh, and getting a real chance to make something happen. 

“This isn’t how I wanted today to go, Gin.” Harry collapsed against the hospital wing door and slid down to a sitting position. 

She followed him sitting close enough that their legs touched, “And here I was thinking it was romantic.”

“It’s the atmosphere isn’t it? The sterile smells and bright lights?” He laughed, half at her joke and half at how quick she was to make him smile. 

“I bet you take all the girls here, don’t you?” She gave a wistful sigh that he didn’t believe for a second. 

“Only the ones I’m really trying to show a good time.” Her laughter swelled in his ears and made him feel a bit dizzy. He thought about asking her to just spend the day with him tomorrow when a frenzy of steps broke his train of thought, as Hermione raced down the hall with her wand out. 

Hermione’s hair was billowing wildly around her, “Why aren’t you in there with him?” 

The look in her eyes was cold and fierce, Harry didn’t dare tell her, Ginny didn’t seem to be too worried though, “Pomfrey won’t let us in.” She explained. 

Hermione’s eyes went positively feral, Ginny and Harry dove out of the way just before Hermione tried to reducto her way into the Hospital wing. 

---

As he walked down to the quidditch pitch the next evening Harry’s mind raced with thoughts of Ron’s poisoning, Slughorn's memory, Draco’s frequent disappearances, the upcoming quidditch match which was sure to be… 

“McLaggen, really?” Ginny said as she caught up with him, her training robes fitted nicely around her frame. 

“Don’t remind me. ” Harry frowned, “He practically ambushed me on my way back from the Hospital wing yesterday.” 

“It’s going to be a real disaster isn’t it?” She asked, a smirk casting over her features. 

“Without a doubt” he tried to form a scowl thinking about McLaggen, but it was challenging to do so when Ginny was smirking at him like that. 

She laughed at him with a full smile on her face, and suddenly Harry couldn’t help but think back to his plans from yesterday. 

“Ginny, listen, could we...” He held back, unsure how to ask her for another date, another shot at being with her. 

“Maybe we aren’t cut out for this? The planning and setting up dates?” She bit her lip as she looked over at him, her shoulders slumped forward a bit. 

“I’ve always been rotten at planning.” He admitted slowly. 

“We could just let things work out? Be spontaneous and see?” She asked, still rolling her lip between her teeth. “I mean, we’ve got quidditch to worry about right now.” 

Her eyes motioned up ahead, and Harry noticed with disappointment that they had made it to the pitch. He nodded, “Yeah, okay”

“Great because I think today is the day that I’m going to outsprint you.” She lightly elbowed his ribs before taking off in a dead sprint toward the broom shed. 

Harry was only distracted by her swishing ponytail for a moment before he took off after her. He ran after her as quickly as he could but she did in fact beat him, and the celebration dance she did after she had was very worth the loss. 

Ginny laughed wildly as she danced around singing about beating him, he laughed as she spun around, which resulted in Harry becoming distracted enough that practice started later than usual. 

Harry’s lack of focus did not stop there, it continued throughout all of practice. He was impressed as Ginny excelled at the new play he had come up with and in every drill he had the team complete, his eyes followed her during the entire training session. She frequently made a point to fly near him when making her snarky comments, winked his way whenever she made a particularly good goal, and rolled her eyes excessively whenever McLaggen talked. 

As badly as Harry wanted to set up a good game plan for the upcoming match more than that he wanted to plan a spontaneous way to get Ginny alone and snog the daylights out of her. 

---

Harry rustled through the bed covers, sore as he’d ever been in his life. His head ached, but not in a Voldemort way. It was as if a bloody buggering fool hit him across the brain, and suddenly his memory came flooding back along with a great deal of rage. Luna’s commentary, McLaggen’s absolutely idiocy during the match, and a searing pain across his head. 

“Well look who’s finally up” It was Ginny’s voice that rang out. Harry scrambled to find his glasses and knocked over a glass of water in his haste. 

With his glasses righted on his face he turned to see Ginny perched on Ron’s bed, the girl smiling brightly while his friend had a deep smirk on his face. She lowered herself to the ground and hopped up on the foot of his bed without any hesitation. 

“Ginny was giving me a play by play of the match, you seemed to have a great run.” Ron said, Harry was tempted to walk over and wipe the smirk off of his face. 

“I’m going to kill McLaggen. The absolute nerve of him” Harry muttered scornfully under his breath. 

“Wait until you hear about the final score.” Ginny said with a twinkle in her eye. 

Harry turned his head toward Ron’s bed, “320 to 60, Sorry mate.” Ron said with a grimace.

Harry buried his face in his hands as he grumbled about giving McLaggen a skiving snackbox courtesy of the Weasley twins. A small snigger from the end of his bed pulled Harry out of his misery, he glanced up to see Ginny covering her mouth. 

“What are you laughing about? It’s your quidditch team too.” He said with a glare. 

“Come on Harry, Luna’s comments? And the ridiculous way that McLaggen goes on playing? All we can do about it now is laugh.” She rolled her eyes affectionately at him. 

“You could at least feel a bit more sorry.” He murmured. 

“What did you expect? Waking up to find me crying over your banged up head?” Ginny’s eyebrow was cocked up again. 

Harry felt his flush run across his face while Ron cackled. “Wouldn’t mind that actually” Harry admitted, he also wished the crying would be accompanied by a confession of undying love, but he decided to leave that part out. 

Ginny let another laugh fall out before speaking up, “Oh come off it, you know if anyone was going to be crying over you it’d be Ron.” 

While Ron threw a fist in the air and yelled, “Damn right!” Ginny reached forward and grabbed Harry’s hand, “And obviously I was worried about you. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

Harry felt warm at her contact but tugged her arm for more, gratefully she got the message and moved up the bed closer to him. She sat opposite him with her legs folded underneath her and pressing against his own, their hands coming to rest on her knee. Ginny glanced down at their hands before returning his bright smile, her eyes seemed to dip down to his lips for just a moment before landing on his face. Harry felt himself lean forward just as a loud retching sound broke the moment. 

Ron was making a disgruntled face as he scolded, “Well shit, don’t make me watch this go down.” 

No sooner had he uttered the words Ginny pointed her wand at her brother, whipping the curtains closed and casting a silencing spell on him. At the same time Harry had found his own wand, closing the curtains on his own bed and casting a silent muffliato spell. 

The two locked eyes and burst into laughter, Harry couldn’t help but think how easily they paired with each other. Within seconds they had accomplished the same purpose and almost equally as fast. 

“Thought I might make it a bit more intimate.” Harry said through his laughter. 

“You’ve really outdone yourself, just when I thought this place couldn’t get any more romantic.” Ginny managed to say through her own giggles. 

Harry wouldn’t exactly be able to pin down exactly why he did it. Maybe it was the intoxicating feeling of having Ginny alone and right next to him. It could have been the way her body shook with laughter and her grin lit up her eyes. Perhaps it was just the simple fact that he’d wanted to do it for so long. Whatever it was, it sent him surging forward to capture her lips under his. 

He swallowed her laughter as they collided and despite the way their lips moved together he could still feel her signature smile. His free hand came up to her face as she deepened the kiss, and Harry felt fully absorbed in Ginny. When her hand found its way to his hair his grin was too large for any further kissing to be done. 

The two pulled back, hearts racing, foreheads touching, and hands still interlocked. Harry looked into her eyes and saw a mischievous gleam along her flushed face. 

“Are we on a date right now?” Ginny asked.

He didn’t think it was possible, but his smile got even wider. “I’d say there’s been enough snogging to classify this as a date.” He answered before pulling her back in to cover her laugh with his lips.

#hinny fic #hinny #are we on a date right now #hogwarts au #hinny au #harry potter #ginny weasley #hbp fic #hbp #hinny fanfic #hp fic #roomie writes #my writing

[dragon-of-dreams]

Pieces

My Masterlist

 Part four to Cracking a Code; Previous Part

 Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader (fem)

 Warnings: Swearing, gaslighting, stalking, aftermath of noncon, noncon touching

 Summary: The next day can’t be real, can it? Or where y/n goes into work and gets hit by a strong sense of deja vu.

 Word count: 2k

 A/n: I’m so sorry that this a) took so long and b) has so much plot not much else, but well I promise it’ll get creepier next chapter!

 ~*~

The next morning you woke before your alarm clock, which was good because it gave you time for the world’s longest and most thorough shower.

And was also terrible because you woke up and it was still real.

It happened.

 The intensity with which you scrubbed down your body was straight out unhealthy and you only stopped when you realized how close you were to breaking skin. He’d hurt you, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hurting yourself over him. You were hurting enough as it was.

While that mindset stayed with you, you were also shaking the entire time it took you to put on clothes and get to the office. Leaving your apartment was harder than you had ever imagined it being. For the first time in your life, you could understand those people you sometimes saw on the television, who hadn’t left their homes in years. You’d give anything for a reprive of having to live what was now your daily life. You knew it wouldn’t end and hiding in your apartment sounded oh-so-appealing, if – in your case – completely useless.

You used the short elevator ride down to your apartment lobby for some breathing exercises, put on a smile for your doorman, and in front of the double doors leading out into the Brooklyn sunshine you froze.

You knew Steve wouldn’t be there to follow you around. No, he wouldn’t stoop that low. But then again, he didn’t have to. You were terrified as his words rang in your ears: Good thing I had Buck accompanying you home. As you stared out into the busy street before you, you knew without a doubt, in your heart, that Bucky Barnes, the fucking Winter Soldier, was out there waiting for you. Watching you. Never leaving you. You were fucked. There was no running away.

“Miss? Are you alright?” You turned your head to the porter approaching you from behind his desk where he kept guard over his proverbial sheep, unknowing that you’d been torn by the wolf already.

You forced a smile: “Yes, thank you, uh, “ your eyes flew to his name tag, “George. Work has been keeping me so busy lately I’m turning into the weird professor guy from the movies!” you laughed and George chuckled but eyed you worriedly. “I’ll see you later, Miss. Please take it easy at work today. Tell Mr. Stark to cut you some slack!” You smiled and nodded at him: “Will do. See you tonight” and with that, you pushed through the doors and the pit in your stomach. Out into the bustling life of New York City.

You didn’t look behind you as you briskly walked down the street to the subway, but you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you like the fog creeping in in early October. It was an all-consuming feeling, creeping in from the sea to swallow you whole.

But you kept your head up high. You weren’t a stranger to being afraid, to being bullied. You had been the smartest student in every class you had ever taken and men didn’t appreciate being beaten by a woman. You hadn’t backed down when you were a kid, you wouldn’t bow down now, not to Captain America and most certainly not to the Winter Soldier! You knew you were putting up a façade but if you didn’t you wouldn’t have made it out of bed this morning, maybe never have left it again, but that wasn’t you.

‘Oh yes, the times are changing and those boys better get with the program’, you thought grimly as you stepped into a subway car and crossed your arms, staring at the open doors, waiting for your shadow to make an appearance.

Bucky entered through the doors to your left. You almost missed him, but now that you knew you weren’t looking for blond and beefy but brunette and murdery it was a lot harder for him to play invisible. He was good, but you were better.

But by God was he confused when you approached him. “Good morning, Mr. Barnes. I don’t know what Steve told you about me, or what your involvement in all of this is, but here is what I am telling you: Fuck off. I don’t want to see you or him again, so make sure he gets the message?”

Before Bucky could reply you moved away from him and slumped down in between two elderly ladies, the perfect shield from anyone getting close to you. Even Bucky knew not to harass a woman in front of two NYC ladies. They’d beat him to death with their shopping bags. You smirked at the mental image you had created in your mind, escaping reality even if getting away was only temporary.

Once you were sitting, the pain you had ignored so diligently came back with force. Your lower half was cramping and sore and you wanted to cry from the pain of it, but no, not while Bucky was there. Not ever again, while any man could see. ‘When had you turned to hate men for what one had to you?’ you wondered.

Bucky disappeared one stop before the tower and you were relieved that he seemingly had realized how dead-serious you were.

The second you entered the tower, you were utterly, abnormally calm and finally stopped shaking. You didn’t have a plan yet, but you knew you’d have to get away, away from this place and Steve and all the pain he’d caused you. After all, you could barely move without hurting.

You could go and teach at any university in the country. They’d love to have you. All you needed to figure out how to quit without seeming suspicious. That was going to be difficult because Tony knew you loved your job. But you couldn’t tell him the truth. No one would believe you if you told them the real reason and you had worked too hard to now be labeled as a crazy fangirl/stalker-lady. You huffed. If only they knew who the real stalker was.

You smiled at your secretary, thanked her for the coffee she had bought for you on her way to work. You squared your shoulders and open the door to your office ready to start your day.

When you entered your office you were hit with a strong sense of déjà vu, you started to shiver again and felt all color leave your face. You almost dropped your coffee.

Steve was in your office again. But luckily – blessedly even – so was Tony. What the actual fuck? You cursed in your mind but tried to smile. It didn’t work judging by Tony’s expression.

“Y/n, are you all right?” he asked while crossing the room towards you. “You don’t look too good.” Before Tony’s outstretched hand could touch you, you took half a step back. “I think I’m coming down with something. The flu, I guess,” you mumbled.

“Then why didn’t you stay home?” said a sincerely concerned voice – Steve’s. Sincerely concerned? No, it couldn’t be! Your creepy-man-radar must just be off, right?

“I… I… I promised Jarvis to teach him about the code. I forgot yesterday” you murmured turning to the super-soldier, whose brows were drawn up in concern and he was leaning forward, looking you over as if to check for injuries or signs of your alleged flu. ‘What was going on?’

“Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen?” you asked. Steve smiled at you at that. His smile was stunning. So… open and kind. And WHAT THE HELL??? No! His smile wasn’t kind! He was your rapist! Except that it was. There was no denying that. If your entire body hadn’t been hurting maybe you would’ve started talking yourself into the fantasy that yesterday hadn’t happened, but it did. But his smile was nothing like yesterday. His smile made you want to trust him. 

“Well, y/n, I just wanted to congratulate you and Stevie here wanted to thank you for your speedy work. We were able to arrest 20 people yesterday because of the intel you decrypted.”

“Yeah? That’s great” you forced out and turned back to Tony, but your eyes kept straying to Steve.

“Were you working late again, Gaia?” Tony suddenly asked. Shit. Tony had been on your ass to get a life. “No, no, why?”

“Because you look, and please forgive me for being frank here, worn out and really sick. I told you to take better care of yourself. Work isn’t everything, you know?”

You were about to call Tony out on that, after all, he was famous for his work benders, but Steve never gave you the chance.

“Jarvis, when has Ms y/l/n left her office yesterday?” Once more he sounded concerned. ‘Oh, that bastard’ you thought. Steve knew - of course - that you’d lied to Tony. “At 9 p.m., Captain, 4 hours after her workday usually ends, Sir.”

You wanted to strangle the AI at that moment. 

“Well Tony, if you don’t mind I will take y/n home, then. She obviously needs to rest and I need to head to Brooklyn anyways to meet with Bucky.” Steve sounded offended that you’ lied, so righteous.

“Yes you do that, champ” Tony agreed, absentmindedly, not noticing that Steve had no right knowing where you lived. “Say hi to Buckeroo for me, will ya?” Steve nodded and added “Tony, you can’t work your employees that hard. We talked about this.” His voice was imploring, and a little disgruntled. What was happening?

“Well with this one it isn’t my fault” Tony replied flippantly as he walked to the door. “Take care of yourself y/n, okay?”

“Tony, I’m fine. I’m an adult, I can decide if I am fit to work or not!” You wanted to sound assertive, but you were rather aware that you begged. Tony just smiled at you and grinned: “What the Captain says goes, young lady, trust me it’s for the best.” And with that, he’d left your office, leaving you alone with your tormentor.

You were done for. You knew it. Steve would now pounce on you and break you to pieces and… fuck. You were getting wet. Your brain knew that this was a self-defense mechanism to your body, but your heart felt ashamed. There was no denying that the sex had ended spectatcularly.

You jumped a mile when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, ripping you out of your thoughts. “y/n?” Steve’s voice was soft. “It’s time to go home, come on.”

“Don’t touch me” you replied, your voice hoarse with unshed tears. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t catch the flu, you could even cough on me, doll.” Steve joked, as he took your coffee from you and placed it on your table. “Any aches, pains or other flu symptoms?” For the first time since Tony left you, you dared look into his face. He seemed so concerned that you couldn’t help yourself and nodded. “Yeah. “ You sounded defeated even in your own head. “Both.”

“It’s okay, angel. I’ll take you home and take care of you.” Steve wrapped his warm, strong arm around you and moved you out of your office. Everything started to blur together, as he called out to your secretary that you were sick and he was taking you home and he moved you into an elevator and finally maneuvered you into a car. You let him. You let yourself be manhandled. You still didn’t understand what was happening. Where was the man who had almost fucked you to pieces yesterday night? At the thought, more wetness gathered between your thighs and you blushed scarlet as Steve got into the driver’s seat next to you. If any of the rumors about his enhanced senses were true, he’d be able to smell you by now.

As Steve pulled into the crazy Manhatten traffic he said: ”Bucky told me about your little argument this morning” His voice was so soft it lulled you in even more, “and quite frankly darling, I don’t appreciate the language you used nor how unappreciative of my protection you are. I know this must all be difficult for you, but there will still have to be consequences for your behavior,” ‘he sounds like a well-meaning teacher’ you thought confused. “but for today, I think you earned yourself some aftercare for taking my cock so well yesterday.” You felt like you’d been hit by a truck. Steve still sounded absolutely casual, but you froze at the slight mention.

His right hand settled on your thigh. “Breathe, darling, deep breath. It’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna take care of you from now on out.”

#fanfic #dark!Steve #Captain America #dark!Steve x reader #marvel #Cracking a code #dark!fic

[redhoodssweetheart]

Captured

Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending

Relationship: Dick Grayson x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested: Yes (Anon, ONLY DC REQUESTS ARE OPEN. PLEASE REFER TO THIS POST IF YOU WISH TO REQUEST A STORY.)

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Swearing, blood mention, angsty

Description:  While out on patrol you are captured leaving Dick worried about your condition.  Can he find you or will you be lost to him for good?

It was supposed to have been an easy night for you and Dick.  For the past few nights its been relatively quiet, a few muggings, but that’s not uncommon.  What is uncommon is no activity from the darker unground of Gotham City.  There had been nothing for several consecutive days now.  Bruce, Dick, Damian, Tim, Jason, and you were all stumped by this.

Gordon was wondering if there was something more nefarious at work and there just hadn’t been any chatter in the underworld about it yet.  That sent a chill down your spine when you thought about it.  Was there something more going on that you all just didn’t know about?

“Falcon, do you see anything?”  Dick was on the rooftop adjacent from the one you were on.  You glanced over and saw that he was looking your way.

You shook your head and said, “Nothing.  I don’t like this, Nightwing.  It feels like this is just a precursor for something bigger.”  You looked back down to the street below.  The lamplight cast a yellowish glow on the pavement.  No one was below you as you looked around, most people not wanting to be out at this time of night especially in this section of the city.

“I’m going to head over a few blocks, keep close and keep your eyes open for anything amiss.”  He then began his journey across the rooftops, do stunts to get from one to the next which had you shaking your head.  Dick could be a real showoff at times.

You lingered for a few minutes on the roof for a few moments looking around to see if there was anything you had missed.  Too busy with checking the street below you didn’t notice the shadow figure that snuck up behind you.  After a moment there was a knife to your throat and a voice saying, “Hello Falcon.”

You knew that voice, “Cheshire.”  It had been some time since Cheshire had been in the area, you were a little surprised to see her.  “What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve been hired to capture one of you.  My employer wants to make the Bat hurt some, and what better way than to kidnap one of his little sidekicks?”

“Batman won’t go easy on you if he catches you.  He hates it when people fuck with his family.”  And he did, Bruce would not be happy when he found out that you had been taken if you couldn’t get out of this situation.

“Falcon?”  You heard Dick’s voice in your ear.  “Everything all right?  Where are you?”

Cheshire pulled the earpiece from your ear and said, “She’s a little preoccupied at the moment.”  Then she dropped it and smashed it under the heel of her boat.  “Looks like our time is up, sweet Falcon.”  Before Cheshire knocked you out you could have sworn you saw Dick running your way.

Dick was frantic as he shouted your code name.  He had only been a few buildings over, how could this have happened?  How had they not known that Cheshire was in the area?  Now she had you and Dick wasn’t sure what to do next.  He tapped onto his comm device and heard Tim say, “What is it, Grayson?”

“Falcon’s been captured,” he couldn’t think straight.  “Cheshire took Falcon.”

Tim cursed and began typing away at the computer in the Batcave, “Get back here so we can figure out our next move.  I’ll alert the others.  We’ll find Falcon, don’t worry.”

“Easier said than done,” he grumbled as he climbed down from the roof to get back to his motorcycle.  He would fee better once you were back in his arms again.

There was a loud clang and you woke slowly, feeling a slight headache from where Cheshire had hit you on the back of your head.  You sat up slowly and felt for the lump or any blood that might be there.  As your eyes began to adjust the first thing you noticed was the overwhelming amount of plants.

“Ivy,” you hissed when you realized who had taken you.

Laughter came from somewhere in front of you and you strained to see who it was.  Poison Ivy came out from the miniature jungle she had grown in the warehouse.  There was a pleased grin on her face, “I was hoping to get Robin or even Nightwing, but you’ll do just nicely.”  She wrapped her fingers around the bars of your cell.  “How do you feel little birdie?”

“Peachy,” you spat.  “Was wondering when one of Gotham’s filth would make a move.  Kinda surprised it wasn’t Joker, he doesn’t like to stay quiet for long.”

The smile slipped from Ivy’s face and she sneered at you, “Please that buffoon is worthless.  Plus I thought he was still in Arkham.”

“You’ll be going there soon enough so you’ll have to let me know if you see him,” you pushed yourself to your feet and strutted toward the bars of your cell so you could look at Ivy face to face.  “Tell me, do you plan to kill me or are you going to use me for some other nefarious purpose?”

“Oh darling,” Ivy purred.  “You’re no use to me dead.  I have something much more fun to watch you try and destroy your own team.”

You backed away slightly from the bars of the cell, “I won’t.”

A couple of Ivy’s men materialized beside her holding what appeared to be some sort of mask.  The doors to your cell were opened as the men stepped in.  You fought them off as best you could, but you were still groggy from the head wound and not in any shape to fight.  Ivy stood back and watched as her men managed to get the mask on you.

Dick, Damian, and Bruce had managed to locate you thanks to the tracking device in your suit.  You were being held in a warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham.  Some recon had led them to discover that Poison Ivy was the owner of said warehouse.  “This must be payback,” Damian said as he narrowed his eyes, there were a few guards on the outside of the building.  “We destroyed her greenhouse where she was making those humanoid plant monsters a few months back.  She wants you to feel the pain she felt when we did that.”

Bruce was in agreement with his son on this.  He glanced at Dick who had a worried look on his face.  “We’re going to get Y/N back, Dick.  Ivy has something big planned for this.  It’s why she had Cheshire take Y/N alive.”

Dick nodded, Bruce was right.  Ivy was going to use you for her own purposes before harming you.  “Let’s go,” he said before sneaking toward the warehouse with Bruce and Damian breaking off to go the opposite way.

The three of them managed to take out the guards on the outside, and Dick had the feeling that this was just too easy.  But his mind was a little too preoccupied at the moment, he was more worried about finding you and bringing you home.  As he entered the warehouse he tried to spot anything amiss but unlike outside there weren’t any guards.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Damian said lowly.

“Robin,” Bruce warned, he didn’t have a good feeling either, but he didn’t want it voiced.

Dick was about to say something when he was kicked in the back and sent stumbling forward.  He whirled and saw you emerging from the shadows.  You stood there before the three men, a mask secured over your face and nose.  Ivy was controlling you.  “Go,” Dick told Bruce and Damian.  “I can handle this.”  He pulled out his escrima sticks to help block your attacks.

Bruce looked like he wanted to protest, but Damian managed to tug him away from you and Dick.  The two of them hurried deeper into the warehouse while Dick faced off against you.  “Falcon, it’s Nightwing.  It’s your friend.”

You cocked your head to the side as if you were studying him as an actual falcon would.  “Ivy wants you to join her,” were the first words out of your mouth.  “It’s my job to make sure her wishes are fulfilled.”

“Yeah that’s not going to happen,” Dick grumbled.  “Listen to me Falcon, we’re friends.  We’re teammates.  I’m not going to fight you.”

You were quiet for a moment, Dick hoping that you were still in there fighting for control.  “Good,” you said before springing into action and lunging for Dick.

He ducked out of the way right before your arms could wrap around him and tackle him to the ground.  He rolled and popped back up to see you righting yourself and turning back to him.  This wasn’t going to be easy, but he wasn’t opposed to a challenge.  He twirled his escrima sticks and motioned for you to come at him, “Is that all you got?”

He heard you growl and you ran towards him, leaping into the air and going for a kick to the head.  He moved out of the way and grabbed your legs swing you around and tossing you to the ground.  He winced and promised to apologize for any bruises later.  Stalking toward you he put his escrima sticks away and grabbed your arm.  “Let go of me,” you hissed.

“Not gonna happen,” he said as he hoisted you to your feet.  He was reaching for the mask when you snapped your head back and hit Dick in the face.  He groaned in pain and his grip on you loosened enough that you twisted out of his grasp.

“Is that all you got?”  You mocked his earlier words to him and he glared at you.

He swiped away the blood that was coming out of his nose, “Falcon, I’m sorry about this.”

You furrowed your brows, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He pulled out what looked like a marble and tossed it at you.  You didn’t have time to react to it before it had attached itself to your suit and tased you.  You collapsed to the ground writing in pain, and one the electrical pulses stopped Dick stood over you and bent down to pull the mask off.  Once it was gone and the gas Ivy was using to control you stopped entering your system the fog began to lift from your mind.

“Nightwing?”  You questioned as he picked you up.

“Hey Falcon, let’s get you home, yeah?”  You nodded your head and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Did you really have to tase me, you asshole?”  

He chuckled, “Did you have to headbutt me?”

“Touche,” you conceded. 

Dick let Damian and Bruce know that he had you and he was taking you back to the manor to get checked over by Alfred.  They told him that they had things under control there and to just get ou to safety.

Alfred promised that no lasting damage had been done to you and that with a little bit of sleep you would go back to being your normal self in no time.  Dick, who had an ice pack on his nose, was relieved to hear this.  He pulled a seat up beside your bed and took one of your hands with his free one.  “You had me worried there for a little while.”

You grinned at him, “Gotta keep you on your toes, Dick.  I can’t make everything easy for you.”

He gave you a look that said he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be annoyed or amused with you.  “You never make things easy for me, Y/L/N.”

“Too true,” Bruce said from the doorway.  He was leaning against the door frame, he and Damian had returned a few minutes before and he wanted to come check on you.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you promised.  “I’ll feel good as new in the morning.”

Bruce nodded, “Then I’ll let you get your rest.  Come along, Dick, let’s let Y/N get her sleep.”  Then he was out of sight.

Dick leaned over the bed and kissed your forehead, “Sweet dreams.”

“Night Dickie,” you laughed when he turned to glower at you and then was gone.

You drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face, happy to be back home, but also planning retaliation for Dick tasing you in training one day.  You may have headbutted him, but that taser was no joke and he deserved whatever form of punishment you could dream up.

#Dick Grayson x Reader #Dick Grayson x Reader angst #Dick Grayson x You #Nightwing x Reader #Nightwing x Reader angst #Nightwing x You #Nightwing x You angst #Dick Grayson x You angst #Dick Grayson #Dick Grayson angst #Dick Grayson fanfic #Dick Grayson fanfiction #Dick Grayson Imagine #DC Comics fanfic #DC Comics fanfiction #DC Comics Imagine #requested

[wonderful-writer]

20 - Doomed

Summary: Despite the risk, Y/n and Bellamy sneak back into Mount Weather with Lincoln’s help, but the group gets split up when Lincoln receives the reaper drug and Y/n is recognized, leaving her with a dangerous and uncertain fate. 

Word Count: 2.29k

Based off: 02x10, “Survival of the Fittest” & 02x11, “Coup de Grace”

Feedback is always highly appreciated!

You left almost immediately after the plan was explained, and Lexa gave you clothing to make it look like you were grounders. You ventured out into the woods with the boys, Lincoln with a spear and you and Bellamy empty handed.

Sometime after dawn, Lincoln had killed a deer and used a knife to cut open its belly, confusing you and Bellamy. He stuck his hands inside the opening and spread blood all over his neck and chin, grossing you out a little bit.

“Okay,” Bellamy kneeled down to Lincoln’s height and started going over the plan again. “So we make it to the intake door without any of the real reapers seeing us. What happens then?”

“I kill everyone, you two slip inside. Limestone.”

You pulled the small pouch from your waistband and handed it to the man, who stuck his fingers in it and left 3 white lines on his face. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before dark.”

As you walked, you reminded the pair that you needed to know what happened after the intake door, seeing as no one actually knew, not even you did.

“They’ll remove your clothes.” Lincoln explained. “Blast you with boiling hot water and douse you with something that burns even worse. From there we were sorted. The others were tagged harvest, I was tagged Cerberus, turned into a reaper.”

“Cerberus, 3 headed dog that guards the underworld.” You and Lincoln looked curiously towards Bellamy. “My mom read Mythology to us all the time. Octavia loved it.”

You continued in silence for just a few more paces, then Bellamy spoke again. “You’re good for her. You made her strong.”

“She was already strong.” Lincoln noted.

“Hey, I need to ask you something.” Bellamy stopped walking. “You protected my sister before you even knew her. Why?”

Lincoln looked around before fully facing Bellamy. “When I was a boy, I saw a ship fall from the sky. Like Ravens.The man inside was hurt, his body broken. I couldn’t get him out.”

“Suicide by Earth.” You said. “My- I heard about it when I was younger; I didn’t know they were true.”

“I brought him food, water.” Lincoln continued. “I didn’t speak the enemy’s language yet, so I couldn’t understand him, but I wanted to. On the third day, I told my father. He made me kill him. The world has been trying to turn me into a monster for as long as I can remember. Let’s keep moving.”

The group atmosphere had dampened at Lincoln’s retelling. He continued on but Bellamy stopped him again.

“The parking garage where we found you; it’s north. That way.” He pointed to his left.

“There’s a mine entrance closer to where the reapers hand us over.” Lincoln said. “We’ll go into the underworld when we have to, not before.”

You followed and quickly closed the small distance between yourself and Lincoln. You made it most of the way there until Lincoln stopped to fashion restraints for you, giving Bellamy time to pull out Clarke’s map and look it over. He glanced up at the mountain before turning back to you and Lincoln.

“The mountain has many eyes between here and the tunnels.” Lincoln said as he shaved down a thick branch. “From now on, details must be exact.”

“What if we run into real reapers?” Bellamy questioned. “Won’t they wonder where you’ve been?”

“All they see is red. Once you take it, nothing else matters. Just how you’ll get more.” Lincoln assured you.

“How much do you remember from when you were on it?” You asked lightly.

“Everything.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine. He instructed Bellamy to turn around and Lincoln took one of the shaved logs and put it on his neck, placing Bellamy’s hands on each side and tying them up.

Once he was done with Bellamy he did the same to you, leading you towards the tunnels with chains. On the way to the mines, light rain started falling and fog covered the sky from your view, but you still made it.

Lincoln stopped at the entrance, hesitant. Bellamy encouraged him, and with a shake, he entered the dark tunnel and soon you were engulfed in blackness, walking down a tunnel that you couldn’t see your own feet in.

However, after a little bit, lights lined the tunnel walls, guiding you and the two men down to the intake door. Lincoln stopped and you asked why, following his line of sight to an almost empty vial on the floor. He stepped on it with hatred, crushing the glass under his boot.

“You okay?” Bellamy asked.

Lincoln took a deep breath and moved a bit closer. “As soon as the intake doors open, we attack. Do not let it close. Once they’re all dead, you go in. I’ll make it look like you escaped. Once you’re inside--”

“We know.” You assured your friend. There was distant shouting and firelight heading your way, Lincoln telling you it was a raider party. He hastily pulled off your ropes, telling you the only way was to go back.

“Go back? No way.” You protested.

“There’s 3, maybe 4. We can fight our way through.” Lincoln said hurriedly as he removed all ropes from your body and moved to Bellamy.

“We’ll never get a better chance than this.” Bellamy pleaded.

“I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” Lincoln admitted. “It’s over.”

“No, it’s not.” Bellamy refused to go back. “We can join them. Listen to me. When they bring out the red, you grab it, and you run like hell. The reapers will go nuts, the grounders will run, and the mountain men will have to deal with it. No one will be looking for grounders running into the mountain.”

With that, Lincoln ripped the log off of Bellamy and Bellamy shoved him, whispering to fight back, making it look like an escape attempt. He looked over at you and you attempted attacking him, too, but he grabbed you and pinned you to the floor with his knee as he pulled his knife and forced Bellamy to his knees.

“These two tried to wander off.” He told one of the reapers. After a bit more conversation, he brought you both up and brought you both to the large log that the other two were carrying.

A blindfold was placed over your eyes and your hands were tied over the log. Your breathing picked up but you tried to contain it, realizing how screwed you were now.

They blindly led you down the path and stripped you of almost all your clothes, leaving you in your bra and underwear. You were sweaty from the journey and layers, but the cold air wasn’t welcoming and you were starting to freeze.

They shoved you onto your knees and pulled off your blindfold. The light leaked into your eyes and you blinked to adjust to it, seeing Bellamy beside you and Lincoln standing near you. The door to your right opened and people in hazmat suits entered, playing that high pitched sound that you heard when you escaped.

You kept your head down, but you knew things were going badly when you heard Dr. Tsing’s voice. “Harvest.”

“Look up at me.” She demanded. Your heartbeat was out of control, you started to shake and she demanded you look up again. When you didn’t do so, a gun was pressed to your back. Even more frightened, you looked up, meeting Dr. Tsing’s eyes.

A smirk formed on her lips. “I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to come back, Y/n. Exodus.”

The word left her mouth with an unusually happy tone, causing you to fear what was next. The rest were made for harvest and you hated that you pushed to go in with Bellamy. Everything was going all wrong and there was a strong chance that you weren’t making it out of the mountain again.

“Harvest everyone except for the girl. She gets put with the other two.” Everyone was dragged to their feet except Bellamy. He tried to resist, but it was no use. They smacked him with the butt of their gun and dragged him inside.

What came next was horrible in every way. First, they put a collar around your neck, hands, and ankles to keep you from attacking or running, and then the water comes. It’s just as bad as Lincoln said, if not worse.

Your screams, along with everyone else's, filled your ears when they slapped you with powder that made your skin crawl and felt like it was burning. They washed it off of you and examined inside your mouth, forcing a metal tube into it and shoving a pill down your throat. You almost threw up at that alone. They scrubbed you down in burning water, the screams from everyone else making your ears ring.

And then you passed out.

You woke up to someone poking the bottom of your foot. As you became more aware, you felt how uncomfortable the position you were in was. With squinted eyes, you sat up and put your knees to your chest.

“Y/n, Y/n,” Someone was quietly calling out to you. You blinked and adjusted your eyes, getting a look at your surroundings. You were in another yellow hospital gown, shoved in a cage on the ground.

It was a little dark, but it looked like the harvest room. Except it wasn’t. The cages were empty and there was a wall where the drop would be. You looked over to your right, meeting Monty’s eyes.

“Monty? What are you doing here?” He panicked and used his hands to tell you to lower your voice, leaning closer to the barrier between you.

“They took me. I stopped Mount Weather from jamming us. How are you here?”

“We got your message. Bellamy and I we-- we volunteered to come back and take down the acid fog. Things went wrong and now I’m here and he’s not.”

“Is he..?” You caught on to what Monty was implying.

“Oh, no. Not that I last saw. He’s still alive, I know that.” You assured the boy.

You looked up and saw a sleeping Harper above Monty. “What the hell are they doing to us?”

Right after you asked that question, Dr. Tsing came into the room with someone, who woke Harper up and dragged her to the bed near the cages.

They cut into her leg and she gasped, begging for them to not do it again. They ignored her.

“Please stop. She’s too weak.” Monty pleaded as Tsing’s assistant handed her a drill.

“Hey. Hey, stop!” You shouted as she turned it on. Monty pleaded with you, shaking the cage as she lowered the drill. Right before it touched Harper, Dante burst into the room.

“Jasper!” Monty shouted and Jasper made a beeline for him.

“Jasper?” You asked, sticking your fingers through the cage. He looked at you and almost started to cry.

The guards released you and Monty and Jasper helped you out, bringing you into his and Monty’s hug. You ignored Dr. Tsing and her complaints about the ground, remembering that Bellamy was still here somewhere.

“Go back to the dorm and tell your friends to pack their things. You’re going home.” Dante told you. Jasper thanked him and Dante left to find his son, while you helped Jasper take Monty back to the dorm.

“How did you get here?” Jasper whispered as you got on the elevator.

“Not here. I’ll explain later.”

Once you were back in the dorm, you gathered everyone around you and told them everything, after Fox gave you a change of clothes.. “Listen up. There’s a lot of confusion going around about how I’m back, but there’s no time for me to answer it right now. But we’re getting out of here; so pack your stuff.”

“Wait, they’re just letting us go?” Miller asked.

“Yeah. Right now, before they change their minds.” Jasper answered.

“What the hell is going on?” Fox asked.

“They’ve been lying to you the whole time, about everything.” You answered.

“The ark is on the ground, and we’re not safe here.” Monty told the delinquents. “Do what she says.”

Everyone picked up the pace and began to pack up their things, ready to get out of this horrible mountain. You looked at Jasper and he looked at you, giving you a little smile. Everyone was almost done packing when the doors sealed themselves shut and alarms went off.

You ran towards one of the doors and Jasper went to the other, spotting Maya standing at the end of the hall. When you looked again, your eyes met Bellamy’s, and although you were relieved he was alive, you knew him being out there wasn’t good.

The hope that radiated off of the teenagers around you was now rapidly dwindling, and you decided you might as well tell Jasper what was going on.

“Listen to me, Jasp.” You sat next to him on the bed and talked as quietly as possible. “The guard with Maya, that was Bellamy. We snuck into the mountain together. We almost made it, but they recognized me and stuck me with Harper and Monty.”

“They’re coming. Us and the grounders have an alliance, they’re gonna help get everyone out of here. Bellamy is working on taking down the acid fog, then they’re going to get us out of here. But we need to help them as much as we can.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” You confessed.

All you could do now was wait with the rest of the 46-- now 47-- teenagers and pray that you make it out alive.

Taglist:  @soullessbabee | @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis | @dummythiccwitch | @sireddobrev | @gxvrielle | @hurricane-abigail | @holyhumorliteraturelight

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n #this is war series #the 100 rewrite

[lallemcnt]

without feeling, 2.6k words 🍃

lucas is a bit overwhelmed by quarantine. an elu social distancing drabble.

(or, 2.6k words of expressing all my feelings induced by social distancing through lucas.)

It’s cold outside.

It’s a little bit misty. The minaret of a mosque and spires of grand churches disappear into a grey-hued nothingness that catches the wind like a kite, spreading like acrid smoke, staining the sky in miserable doom: the red warning of traffic lights less vibrant and severe, less of a demand, an imperative to stop, and more of a weak sign of I still exist; there are still rules to follow. The sun exerts its will the hardest when usually it doesn’t have to do more than rise up from the horizon. Its potent presence and unmistakeable warmth is not quite so disarming. This is a first for the sun. Narrow beams of light puncture through where they might, at the weakest points of the fog’s intent: through slits of wooden floorboards, gaps in rusted blinds — hitting the edge of make-up smeared mirrors and feeding the forest-green leaves of succulents that create canopies on burnished-brown bookshelves.

And Lucas feels it across his bare back as he lies on the sofa in contemplative thought. No one thought plays centre stage, captivating this audience of one in a velvet filled old structure dedicated to entertainment. Or rather, on this blue velvet sofa upon which he is currently lying, stomach down, face resting on his hands as he stares out on the disappearing city. Curtains billowing around windows that have definitely seen better days and could do with a loving touch of paint.

The ocean waves. A fishing boat. The last time he had a cup of coffee. When he should realistically be doing laundry next. A slight head tilt shows an overflowing woven basket. Soon. When Eliott will be done with the commission he’s been working on for the past four days — Lucas is excited to see it. But he’s bias. Everything Eliott does is mesmerising in Lucas’ eyes; he falls a little bit more in love with him every time he sees the creations formed from such a brilliant mind. When will Eliott call the work day quits for today. He wants to see him, touch his hand, which he hasn’t done for the past six hours, because Lucas despises encroaching on Eliott’s space when he’s focusing and doing what he loves. Hates the idea of being a nuisance or disrupting a miraculous train of thought just for the ridiculous reason of him feeling needy and wanting attention.

What would it be like to experience the rain in a rainforest?  This thought snags.

It recalls a memory.

At age ten, Lucas’ class was tasked with painting a scene from this famous painting. He can’t quite recall the name, but he remembers a broad canopy of cobalt coloured umbrellas clutched in the hands of men in top hats and tails, and women in petticoats, hair tucked up into chignons under a furious downpour. By the end, each class’ section of the painting would form to recreate an entire tableau of mixed-media, a cohesive mess of blue.

It lends his thoughts to Eliott once more, and they won’t shift. Lucas glances at his watch: 17:33. A sigh. He drops his head back onto his hands and rolls over onto his back, disgruntled by the thumping feet of their upstairs neighbours on the ceiling which is beginning to look worryingly like paper stained by coffee. Their landlord would not be happy.

Stretching out his limbs, the weak sun strokes a long finger down his spine as Lucas climbs to his feet, dragging the ends of his joggers down his calves with his feet. He shuffles towards a small closet slash utility room, turned Eliott’s office, dragging his t-shirt from the back of the sofa with his hand as he goes.

Tiptoeing, Lucas leans in the doorway of the decidedly tiny room, shirt clutched in hand. Observing from a slight distance, holding his breath and his shirt to his chest in the hopes of not letting loose a single sound. As quiet as a moose. As stealthy as a wolf. Serotonin and endorphin boost at just the sight of him, causing the sides of Lucas’ mouth to lift at the human person hunched over a table they saved from a neighbour who dumped it in the bin building. Restoring it from a wood-chipped, faded white-yellow desk, abandoned and discarded, with broken draws to a moon-chilled silver with baby blue accents. The draws reconstructed on a productive Sunday morning after Eliott managed to get several defrosted waffles stuffed into Lucas and a cup of coffee, which Lucas detested but made a ritual of because it was a grown up thing and he always seemed to feel a little tired.

Now, he yearns to run his hands up Eliott’s back and kiss his freckled shoulders. Lie on the sofa, snuggled up so tight they became a sine organism with no way of disaggregating. Permanently etched together like quotation marks; the perfect fit. But, as slient as a mouse, Lucas aimed to be. Even as Eliott shifting in his seat and Lucas saw he had put on jeans of all things. Yes, they were stuck at home but...jeans? He felt a rumble of laughter hit his chest and dashed from the doorway trying to prevent its outbreak, and in doing so, was in all ways unquiet, feet hitting the wooden floorboards hard.

“Lucas?” A sigh was all the response. Though not an unhappy one.

Oh, the wonders a voice could do and make you feel. Sometimes feel never felt like a big enough, grand enough, expansive enough word to encompass what it really meant. Nor could anything compare to one’s name being uttered by the person who made the word feel feel too small a word. His very bones and nerves and fingertips were on fire, but then again that could be logically reduced to the fact that Lucas was quarantined with his boyfriend who he didn’t speak to much during the day — on his own accord and to the reluctance of Eliott — but was separated by a nimbly, hallow wall and he simply wanted to kiss his face off every second of every minute. It was simple really. Not much to it. Except his undying love, of course.

Another soft: “Lucas?”

The person in question returns to the little office and peers in expectantly. Eliott is resting his face in his hand, elbow on desk, hair ruffled and in need of a wash. As soon as Lucas appears his dazed eyes contract a more alert appearance, wistful and quite content with the sight he brings.

“You hungry?”

“Are you?”

“Kind of. I was thinking—”

“That we should have cheese toasties! Brilliant idea, Eliott. You finish up, if you’re ready? I don’t wanna rush you or anything, and I’ll be chefing away.”

“You’re not rushing me, and anyway, if you were, which you’re not,” Eliott replies, voicing rising slightly as he gets to his feet to move toward Lucas who retreats at the idea of imposing his presence on Eliott. “I would love you to rush me, because I’m sick of looking at it all. I’m tired. And I would much prefer to look at you instead.”

Reaching Lucas, Eliott runs his hands through Lucas’ hair till he’s cupping the back of his head, and then drawing it down the scope of his neck and shoulder, skimming lightly over collarbones — leaving an imprint in Lucas’ bones and muscles, a memory of a lover’s touch — and trailing down an arm lined with goose bumps until fingers are slotting together. A gift of warmth and blesséd touch. One Lucas is eternally thankful for. He is at his most appreciative when it comes to Eliott. For him, anything.

“Cheese toasties?” Lucas asks, face flushed from the loving caress of Eliott’s words that fall off his tongue as easily as they cost him nothing.

“Hm.” Eliott raises their entwined hands, lifting Lucas’ hand palm down so he can plant a sweet kiss onto it and then his knuckles.

“And then I was thinking...we, I mean, I, could paint your nails,” Lucas is almost, slightly breathless and it’s all a bit embarrassing. He rushes on, “It’s literally all I could think about this morning until my brain sputtered out from boredom.” He laughs a bit, self-conscious.

“Let me have a hug first, please?”

Lucas can hear the tiredness seeping out of every syllable, Eliott’s shoulder sink slowly down with each words like a deflating balloon left of all its oxygen. He reaches up to cup Eliott’s cheek, the skin soft and pimply behind his hand, he plants a quick peck on it before snaking his arms around Eliott’s hips and squeezing him just enough that he isn’t suffocating him but feels that steading presence of bodily contact, one t-shirt away from skin on skin. Lucas feels the reciprocation instantly, Eliott’s arms around Lucas’ shoulders, and then slipping a fraction further down as Eliott pulls him into the cocoon of his body.

“Ahhh.” Lucas can’t help the sigh of contentment. The verbal confirmation of satisfaction.

Warm breaths hit his neck, Eliott’s chest shakes marginally against his, and his arms tighten around Lucas who pushes at Eliott’s arms, because he is actually starving, suddenly, potently aware of it. He slides down and out of that particular safe haven and walks slowly backwards, eyes locked with the mystery of his boyfriend’s, the secret of their colour claimed by the first atoms of the world that created pigmentation. Sliding his t-shirt on he observes Eliott watching the last stretch of his abdomen disappear from, a slight hand clench is visible as he lifts his hand to rub over his face, and Lucas can’t help but laugh properly now as he enters the kitchen. Lucas is not a seductive person, but he does find pleasure in the way something small he does, not even consciously provocative can affect Eliott so.

Lucas spins around on his heels remembering that Eliott doesn’t, in fact, own a sandwich toaster so he improvises. Cheddar, four slices of toast and in the preheated oven. He’s gonna have to clean the oven afterwards, but it’s not like he doesn’t have the time for that: time he is in an abundant supply of these days.

While devouring their cheese toasties, Lucas and Eliott find themselves wrapped up in blankets on the sofa. Lucas is concentrating like a child trying their hardest to colour inside the lines of a picture as he sits bent over painting Eliott’s index finger a muted blue and his thumb a dusky pink. With a leg stretched over Eliott’s he inches forward as the former skips through a playlist on his phone sending the sound of bass and drums into the far reaches of the room, into the fissures and crevices of the walls decorated in black and white portraits and enticing landscapes of fruitful trees and sandstone buildings.

These photos shake Lucas a little at his core. Lucas dreams of running along cliff sides made of limestone, skimming his feet in the freezing loches of Scotland, picking mangoes from trees in Malawi during October, just before their rainy season commences. He’s been dreaming of far off places for days, wishing to escape from their confinement, daring to live a little wilder, further, deeper. Someday. Though this future he couldn’t quite make out in his head, secure behind a veil, much like the weather outside.

His eyes cloud over and he tries to focus back on the task at hand, sliding the side of his thumb down the corner of Eliott’s pinky finger where the brush veered off course. He wipes his left eye with the hand that was holding Eliott’s in place, trying to be subtle, because he feels stupid. He feels entitled and furious at himself. So he goes back to his task without a word, attempting to sink back into the motions and the music; the swipe of the brush, the sound of Eliott’s contented “this is it” as he finds the right song, settles into the melody of it and throws his phone to the other side of the sofa.

Social distancing has been at once soothing and triggering for Lucas’ anxiety. The beginning was a frustrating time, arriving when he finally thought he had some semblance of a plan formed. For his future. Then it all derailed and he was traversed into an existence of blissful indulgence in seven series TV shows and warm baguettes not reached lukewarm because he had somewhere to rush off to; waking up at 9 or 10am instead of his usual 7; walking around the block, stepping into a park for the daily fresh intake of vitamin c, watching fluffy creatures prance around the forbidden grasslands. Now, he knows he’s on the brink of a tumble downhill, a dip in a deceptively solid surface, and all he keeps hearing from online personalities, from friends and instagram stories is that “this is to be expected.” God, how tired he is of hearing that perfunctory sentence. Frankly, he wishes, fruitlessly, for someone to teach him once more how to cope, to be fucking okay. His ten week course of CBD ended the first week of quarantine and while he supposedly has the tools to rationalise, to acknowledge his thoughts and recognise some of them are to be untrue...it’s not quite so easy, because he can’t debunk them while stuck in a tiny city apartment. He is very literally restricted in space. So he’s on hyper alert for himself and Eliott, tainting the very air with his insecurities and fears. But that’s not quite right; he’s too consumed by himself, selfish, he thinks, you wouldn’t even notice the signs with Eliott. Sometimes he wants to be allowed, allow himself, to feel sad, dispirited, hopeless. He wants to lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of nothing but the way some areas are slightly raised. To sleep. But he hasn’t been diagnosed with depression, he’s not depressed, he doesn’t get depressed. Just sad and vapid, occasionally. The instances are few and far between.

He has his mum to reassure him. He wouldn’t call it comforting though she tries: “We’ll all get through this. You will, Lucas. That job is waiting for you, remember? Take a deep breath with me, okay?”

Today though isn’t as bad as it was two days ago, he feels himself getting out of this cave of darkness, this allocated place of sorrowful isolation, because he also has this. The security of these arms and this chest he rests his face against. That kiss on his head. And this person who can’t fight it all away for him, can’t always find the right words to comfort him, like Lucas cannot be a constant solid presence of stone in the flow of a rapid river for Eliott, he has to be patient and assume the pace Eliott sets.

They can’t always be the right answer, but they can try.

“I think you’re gonna need to repaint this hand, Lu.”

It takes him a moment to gather himself. He’s been resting here for some time, though time is inconsequential here so the length is lost to him. As he sits back up and his face disconnects with heart beat and muscle and skin, it feels flushed on the connect side and his eyes dry. He takes in Eliott’s painted hand, now smudged and clicks his tongue, shaking his head at the same time.

“Give me the polish.”

As Eliott reaches out to grab a mint-green bottle of polish, he responds in kind. “Try this.” Lucas shakes the bottle and glances at Eliott in askance. Eliott shakes his head, a small smile on his lips, not teasing. “Trust me.” No, not teasing. More in expectation of something good, something sweet.

And Lucas complies as he is wont to do, savouring those eyes and the hundreds of thousands of emotions they express in a single moment.

It tastes good.

Strawberries.

It tastes like sweetness.

#elu fic #elu drabble #skam france #tw anxiety #anxiety #my writing #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu #mine

[ninaahelvar]

With Flowers In Her Wake

Summary: Charlotte had been a goddess long enough to know what the underworld would look like. What she didn't expect was to find its king - Sidney Parker. (Hades/Persephone AU)

AO3

A/N: so i debated whether or not to put this up and i'm still incredibly nervous about it also, please let me know if you think this deserves more chapters! will probably work on it if enough people want more! 

Charlotte had lived for a very long time - immortal gods did tend to do that. She’d done her best at controlling her powers, restrain them where her mother told her to, but she loved the freedom of spring. She could let it all out like letting hair fall from a tight binding, finally able to unwind itself. Yet, after centuries of being the best at her job, providing only the basic care for spring as her mother saw fit - she had grown restless. 

Finally, she told her mother she needed time - she wanted her own life away from the restraints of her mother’s watchful eye, and to do her duty as she knew she could - she wasn’t a child. And so, Charlotte took to the mortal world and lived among them. 

She found that she thrived within their chaos, to be amongst them and struggle like the rest - just without the dying part. It was an advantage. Charlotte adapted, moved on from town to town, city to city, country to country, and it worked for her. 

Every spring, she came alive, bringing it to the world, and moving north or south where she was needed. Yet, for half of the year, she still struggled with being maintained and coddled, as though she were expected to be neat and proper. Charlotte had found that she liked the wild recklessness of herself. 

In her sanctuary of joy, Sanditon, she had built a flower shop. People would come for miles to get her flowers that shouldn’t exist year round, but do! What a miracle it was! It made Charlotte feel important in spite of her mother’s warning. 

It had been centuries since she had found Sanditon, a charming little village at first, before turning into a bustling seaside town with a load of charm to match. Charlotte had known the families of the town for years, most staying and enjoying the comfort of the sea, and others came and went. Her shop was quaint at first, a little cart that she had put on a corner one day, offering flowers for a shilling and donating the money to a children’s orphanage when she had saved enough. She had no use for money, it wasn’t as if she bought things anyhow - she liked being amongst the people and growing her own food to survive and thrive. 

Over time, she had built it into a thriving business, with regular customers and the ones that would travel half the country for a flower in bloom in the midst of winter. She’d lie, saying it was a family tradition of planting seeds that let them grow in the harsh weather, and most people would believe her. Others would roll their eyes and call her creations fake. It hurt, but it wasn’t as though she could change their mind - she was lying of course. 

As her business provided her with interpersonal interactions, she learnt of families and how they fit into the town. The Stringer family had been around since the beginning - generation after generation finding a home amongst the rocks and sea breeze. There was also the Denhams, a family that was a mix of hateful and snobbish people, as well as the kindest and most gentle beings in the town. It was the sea encrusted within them - calm, but brutal when need be. 

In all, she had her own home within the town. As each decade went on and she remained ageless, there were always excuses, but she found that many people didn’t care. They went about their business and assumed she was the niece or daughter of the previous owner. It worked. It was a breath of fresh air to never be made into a spectacle, though she very well could have been - even when children would whisper about her. When they finally approached her and asked about the little rumours that had spread, she’d spill her secret and they promised to keep it to themselves. 

A town with a goddess was something to hold onto, not throw away. 

When the mornings were quiet, and daybreak wasn’t for a while longer, Charlotte knew she could steal away from the town. It kept her away from people prying into who she was, and gave her a moment for herself and nature. She put on her black denim jeans, a simple floral shirt with an oversized tan sweater that hung over her form. 

Putting an alarm on her phone, telling her when to get back to the store, she ventured out into the morning. Charlotte had found the field of wild flowers a while ago, she found the dead things and brought them back to life once more, setting them to bloom and adding them to her collection. It was good for her to search out her flowers, producing them from nothing made her feel so tired afterwards, especially when winter was taking root. 

With the fog of morning still upon the moors, Charlotte was surprised to see anyone about. She saw two men, one walking in front of the other - the one following was a man she knew from town, Old Stringer, but she’d never see the man leading before. He was also dressed oddly, but she couldn’t tell from the distance between them. Curiosity taking hold, Charlotte pursed her lips and moved silently to follow after the pair. 

They didn’t walk far, moving down into a hole in the earth. It was wide, and the two men walked in without even batting an eye. In the pit of Charlotte’s stomach, she knew there was something wrong, that she should have gone back into town and asked young Stringer what could possibly be going on - but she was a god, she could help if need be. 

So, in spite of her fear, she moved to the hole, noticing it was different than she anticipated. It was as if it were a simple tunnel, it didn’t go very deep, more like a slow incline to make it easy to descend wherever they were going. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder, seeing the light of morning coming along the shore line, breaking onto the ocean’s reflective surface, and then she looked back to the depths of black nothingness. And she knew she had to keep going. 

She wandered, her hand on the wall, steadying herself and taking careful steps amongst the dark. Charlotte could see the glow of something in the distance, not too far off, but it guided her where she thought she needed to be. Her sneakers would catch on earth, but she knew she couldn’t stop, even when the air was so cold, it was leaving puffs of heavy air every time she breathed. 

When it finally opened up, Charlotte staggered back, seeing a dismal river that held mourners on it’s bank. Every structure that scattered the shore line was as though it was the soul of a fallen building - crumbled columns and half built walls. The sands were like copper - dust that had been stained with blood. It was as though went on for miles, no need to the shoreline - an endless bank to forever wander. In the end, it was only the river that would take them away from the waiting. 

In all her years, she’d never experienced the underworld, but upon seeing it, she knew that was exactly where she was. The atmosphere felt dead, like nothing could grow there, as if it wasn’t rich enough to grow a thing. Yet, as her nerves took over her, she could see small flowers growing around her feet. She tried to restrain herself, only for an earth rumbling growl to occur closeby. When she turned to her right, she saw it - the creature that so many feared - cerberus. Three heads, all growling at her.

Regardless of the warning in her belly, she edged closer to the spot, her hand extended out. It didn’t snap at her, but rather leaned down, still sniffing and growling in her direction. Then, finally it came to her hand and she ran her hands through the fur on Cerberus’ jaw, the growling stopped, and she felt no more fear. She giggled as she held him closer to her. 

“What a beautiful thing you are,” she smiled to the beast, only for her hand to be snatched away and whirled around. Charlotte was completely taken off guard, stumbling into the person that hauled her about. 

Staring up at him, she was lost for words. He was handsome, and he had to have been told, because it was quite obvious. He stunned her completely. 

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing here!?” He was dressed in regency clothes, as though he were a lord lost from a time that had long since passed. He scowled so deeply, he should have lines running along his face - it seemed to be a natural state of how his features. He wasn’t clean shaven like a regency man would be, stubble growing across his jaw and lip - he was old and tired. Yet, Charlotte could tell he was ageless - weather and time no longer touching his body. He was…

And it came to her. 

He pulled on her hand once more, grip tight and the time etched into the very skin that held her, guiding her back up the path she had entered through, rage in the hold he held her in. “No living being can come into this domain. You’ll wake and think this is all a dream, but dear gods, girl learn where you can and can’t go!” 

“You’re the God of the Dead, aren’t you?” she asked, and he stopped, looking down at her. The scowl that was once written into his face was gone, and the softness that she predicted was now leaving him like the god she knew him to be. 

“How could you possibly know that, girl?” 

“I have a name!” she snapped, unsure as to why she would provoke a god such as he. Yet, with all his authority over her, she felt the need to fight, not to be handled in such a way. 

“Well, speak it or you’ll remain here without one,” he snarled. 

“Charlotte,” she said, raising her chin, trying to stand taller, but he still loomed over her. 

“Well now, Charlotte, I’d suggest you head back the way you came, absolute fool you are,” he said, pushing her off again. 

“And a goddess,” she corrected, and once the word was said, his hand loosened, falling from hers. There was something cold after his touch was gone - an odd heat from a man that was stuck in such a place. She had found, in the short time he had held her - that his touch wasn’t terrible in the slightest. He was stunned this time, looking her over. “What? You weren’t expecting that?” she asked, batting her lashes as she rested her weight on one hip. 

“I know all the gods,” he said, as though the notion of her being a god was unbelievable. 

“Not I,” she said. She always felt as though she talked too formally to other gods - they were so old and talked like the ancient time when they were still worshiped. Charlotte barely grew when the worshiping was coming to its end. “Like you, I had many names. Kore, Persephone, Charlotte,” she rattled off, and he rolled his eyes. Charlotte looked back sternly. 

“Goddess of Spring. I should have guessed from the growing flowers in the land of the gods damned dead,” he scoffed, stepping back from Charlotte and extending his hand to the exit. “Get out,” he said, exhaustion in his voice. 

“What?” 

“You aren’t even supposed to be here, so get back to where you belong,” he continued, and Charlotte felt ... compelled to stay, even though it chilled her to her core to be there, she still felt comfortable there. 

“What should I call you, if I am to ever see you again?” she asked, walking slowly to the entrance.

“I would hope we never find ourselves in each others company. But if we are to meet, you may call me Sidney,” 

“Sidney,” she repeated, trying not to smile. She had to admit, it suited him more than Hades ever could. “You’re far too pale. Maybe some springtime sunshine will bring some colour out in you,” she said, words slipping and making him blink back in surprise. His hands went behind his back and a smirk fell onto his lips, stepping back into her space once more. 

“Or perhaps your mother will strike me down how she’s always wished,” he replied. Charlotte had to admit, when he wasn’t a raging bull, he made her feel like she was the centre of the world. That smile would be hard to say goodbye to, she assured herself. 

If she looked to her feet, she knew she’d see green, that her heart was racing and her power was becoming reckless. She would sprout a forest if he laughed, though she had doubts if he even knew how to do such a thing. 

“I may be younger than you are, but we are both gods, what is it fear another god?” she asked, trying to understand his mind. 

“A wise endeavour,” he quickly replied, raising one eyebrow, then his hand went out again, showing her the exit once more. “Now good day to you, Miss…” 

“They call me Heywood on earth,” she continued. 

“Miss Heywood,” he finished. Charlotte nodded as they parted and Charlotte moved off, only to stop when she realised something that she had forgotten. The reason she was there in the first place.

“Old Stringer, where is he?” she asked. Sidney turned, hands going behind his back once again.

“Ah, that’s why you’re here,” he sighed, looking down at the ground before looking back at her, “he died this morning.” 

“Oh no,” she whispered under her breath, “I have to go.” 

“Yes, yes, leave,” he sighed, ushering her off. Sidney turned, looking back at the realm he controlled, Cerberus looming over the god, glancing to Charlotte and whining in soft breaths. 

“You have a very lovely dog,” Charlotte called out, walking backwards as she parted from the realm of the dead. 

“Thank you. He’s a pain in the ass,” Sidney replied, hand reaching up to the dog and not even looking over his shoulder, as though the exchange were normal for him. Charlotte took off, not caring that she may trip if she weren’t careful - it didn’t matter, she needed to get back to the town. 

Climbing out, she got to the surface, seeing the sun in the near exact position as she had last seen it - the minutes and hours halted by her time within his realm. When she glanced back to the tunnel, it was gone, sealed up with grass back on top - as though it were never there. Charlotte wanted to tap on the earth to see if it would give way and she could see him again. An allure she couldn’t quite describe was hidden within him. 

Yet, she had other things to worry about. She sprinted back to the town, tripping every so often as she frantically made her way into the square, seeing the paramedics already going up the stairs to the Stringer home, James standing outside, pacing as grief was written into him. Charlotte sighed, making her way to him, and as they saw each other, embraced. It was the only thing she could think of doing for him. 

~

“Charlotte Heywood,” Sidney whispered to himself. The land of the dead kept itself true to its name, the trail of flowers that she left died the moment the entrance closed. Yet, a bright, white, little flower stuck out near Sidney’s foot, and he crouched down to it. 

He plucked up the flower that had bloomed in his land before it had the chance to wither with the rest. He hadn’t seen life in this domain since...well, ever. Nothing was able to grow, it was practically forbidden by the damn physics of the place. Yet, she let it grow. Sidney tried not to smile as he said it again. “Charlotte Heywood.” 

“You are quite the bore,” a voice called nearby. Sidney turned to it, seeing his life long companion - though, it seemed like a loose word, they barely tolerated each other on the best of days. 

“Hecate,” he sighed, irritated by her already. She pushed off the giant rock she was leaning on and walked to his side. She opted to also wear what the mortals would - choosing to keep up with the attire of the times. Sidney rarely saw daylight, so he had little reason to change. 

“I told you, the mortals call me Georgina. I prefer it,” she reminded, and he sighed. 

“As you prefer it, I will endeavour to keep using it.” Georgina wore a red suit, something that complimented her skin fantastically, but it also made a lot of the mortals in the underworld fear her. As she should have been. She was even older than he was, regardless of how young she appeared.  

“Why would you send her away? She’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to us,” she reiterated, and Sidney sighed, rolling his eyes and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. 

“To us?” he asked, still rubbing his nose before looking back to her. 

Georgina shrugged. “Well, you. But you’re my only source of entertainment and your life is rather boring,” she reminded. For the millionth time. Sidney had to remind himself that she was a very powerful god and not, in fact, the child that she acted like. 

“Go torture someone else, please,” he asked, waving her off. She poked at his chest, eyeing him down one last time. 

“Invite her back. For the both of us,” she said, almost as though if he didn’t, it’d end poorly for him. Georgina became the journey down to the river when Sidney stood in the perfect little field in the land of the dead. He smiled.

“Spring. We’ll go to earth in Spring,” he called, and he heard Georgina cheer. 

Spring. He could wait until Spring. He pressed the flower to his nose, inhaling the scent softly, and he sighed. 

“Charlotte Heywood. Persephone.” 

#sidlotte #sanditon #sidney x charlotte #my fics #sanditon fic #with flowers in her wake

[blankdblank]

Anaticula Pt 53

In the dingy streets under a layer of early morning fog on what looked to be another rainy day, Bellatrix said, “Cissy! You can't do this! He can't be trusted!”

Narcissa, “The Dark Lord trusts him.”

“The Dark Lord's mistaken.”

A knock at the black door on the building they had been sneaking to opened revealing Peter behind it, Bella pushed past him, “Run along, Wormtail.”

Narcissa, glancing at Bella’s back in her inspecting the things across the mantle in the study, said. “I know I ought not to be here. The Dark Lord himself forbade me to speak of this.” Making it clear just who forced her to come here to do this.

Snape, “If the Dark Lord has forbidden it, you ought not to speak.” Without turning around he stated, “Put it down, Bella. We mustn't touch what isn't ours.” Bella stuck out her tongue at the back of his head putting it down sideways. “As it so happens, I'm aware of your situation, Narcissa.”

Bellatrix eyed Barty in his stroll into the study with a cup of tea he was sipping on as he sat down peering at the group curiously, “You? The Dark Lord told you?”

Snape, “Your sister doubts me. Understandable. Over the years I've played my part well. So well, I've deceived one of the greatest wizards of all time.” Bellatrix scoffed, “Dumbledore is a great wizard. Only a fool would question it.”

Bellatrix, “I don't doubt you, Severus. You should be honored, Cissy. As should Draco.”

Narcissa, “He's just a boy.”

Snape, “I can't change the Dark Lord's mind. But it might be possible for me to help Draco.”

Narcissa, “Severus.”

Bellatrix blurted out, “Swear to it.” Then circled the pair of them, “Make the Unbreakable Vow. It's just empty words. He'll give it his best effort. But when it matters most...he'll just slither back into his hole. Coward.”

Snape rolled his eyes, “Take out your wand.”

Snape and Narcissa’s arms were locked and Bellatrix aimed her wand at them after a pointed gaze at Barty seeing the coat similar to one she’d seen you in before, “Will you Severus Snape watch over Draco Malfoy as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?”

“I will.”

Bella, “And will you, to the best of your ability protect him from harm?”

“I will.”

Bella, “And if Draco should fail will you yourself carry out the deed the Dark Lord

has ordered Draco to perform?”

“I will.”

Their hold broke and the Bella smirked her way over to Barty, “New jacket?”

Barty shook his head, “Nope.”

Bella, “It does look, familiar is why I ask.”

Barty smirked at her, “Didn’t think my wardrobe was that important to you. Should the Dark Lord be concerned?”

Bella glared at him, “Never. I am his most faithful.”

Barty nodded and stood with a smirk finishing off his tea turning to the door, “We can call it that, sure.”

Her hand reached out which he avoided with a click of his tongue saying, “Don’t damage the coat, it was a gift.”

Bella, “And just where is your lady? Saw you and her getting cozy at the Manor.”

Barty smirked, “I thought you hated your niece.”

She shook her head, “No it isn’t that. Merely a disagreement.”

Barty nodded, “Ah, normally my disagreements don’t trade punches for Cruciatus curses, must be just me.” He said strolling out of the room.

Narrowing her eyes she huffed and then looked to Narcissa, “Must have a date to prep for.”

Snape sighed stating, “We happen to be readying for our trip to Diagon Alley. Jaqi has been hired and will need fresh supplies.”

Bella’s chin tilted in shock, “Hired? As what?”

Snape, “My old position as Potions Professor. I have been shuffled around. So when you share with the Dark Lord you do not trust his judgment you can share that as well. One day after her first task she has achieved it. Will you question her loyalty too?”

Bella’s face fell and she turned to head to the door, “Come on Cissy.” Snape flashed Narcissa a wink making her smirk to herself and follow her sister while Snape made for the kitchen to meet Barty in the kitchen.

Barty, “That was fun. Right on schedule too.”

Snape chuckled, “She might be more terrifying if she wasn’t so predictable.”

Peter entered the kitchen saying in handing over a letter freshly arrived, “This just arrived, from Brazil.”

Snape nodded accepting it to break the seal, “Yes, found world of a rare breed of snake for Jaqi. Been pestering the Muggles, rather easy capture, and it seems it will arrive in a few weeks.” He said with a grin making Barty chuckle.

Barty, “No doubt she will love that.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle and Snape asked, “Any limit on how long you will push this suspicion of hers between you and Jaqi?”

Barty, “I figure, if she’s busy decoding her love life it might keep her from snapping and trying to piss Jaqi off again.”

Peter, “The suspicion in her is already making Riddle doubt Bella.”

Snape nodded, “No doubt when she passes on word of Jaqi’s new position the doubts will only grow.”

Peter, “All I have noticed is if Bella keeps pressing to learn what Jaqi is being used for, she won’t be alive much longer.”

.

Breakfast brought on a slew of letters, with it came worried letters from Viktor and Sebastian, both of whom had been concerned that Igor Karkaroff had gone missing. Furrowing your brows you hadn’t heard anything about any plans to capture or kill him leaving it all the more mysterious to you.

Though by the weekend the story had broken into the papers of it being blamed on all the other captures along with more and more Dementors had been broken out too around the image of the shack Igor was found in. The title story however was about the destroyed remnants of Ollivanders and Fortescue’s and with it came use of your fourth floor. More and more first years and others in need of wand had begun to trickle into your shop just down the street to ask if you had known anything about it. Each and every one of them were puzzled to be sent up to your fourth floor where they were relieved to have the men and their shops safe for hopefully generations to come.

…

Asleep across the couch in the Grimmauld sitting room your eyes shot open bright silver making Regulus nearly drop his book after having spent the day helping both Tonks and Remus prep for their first dinner together when a night patrol together left the sparks they had been ignoring far beyond ignorable. 

Straight through your door to the Hollow you sent glowing orbs with the Twins helping to ensure the home was empty while the others raced off into the tall reeds and grass while Bella, Fenrir and Rudolphus who fought with the others. In the middle of the living room floor you knelt after the clap summoning your draconic spell book.

Between your hands planted on the carpet you eyed the incantation to duplicate the house and began to recite it causing the words to glow etched across the walls that shrunk in around you into a tiny model inside a glowing bubble. Closing the book you stood feeling the weight of the spell on your body that had gone nearly a week without any substantial sleep causing you to wobble and weave your way to the open front door. Outside the door into the grass you fumbled your way to George’s back taking hold of his shoulder in watching Bella’s plume of smoke circle the home then crash through it making it burst into flames.

Soft gasps came from the Weasleys peering up at the house while Harry stared open mouthed at the house. A tap on Molly’s arm broke her teary eyed gaze at the house to move to the glowing orb you held out to her parting her lips. “Jaqi…” Around her the group all looked to the orb, all but George, who shifted to lift you in his arms when your body drooped against his side.

Fred moved closer to his mother saying, “Mum, I’ll swap it out.”

Her eyes remained on you for a moment until George said, “It’s a tiring spell Mum. She’ll sleep it off.”

Looking to the house the group all saw Fred wave his wand diminishing the illusioned building before he raised the orb and blew on it making it expand and float over to the foundations it nestled into once again warming their hearts while the glowing orb around it spread to the barriers around the property now camouflaging it to show the burned foundation stretching across their land in case they returned. Molly moved closer to you brushing back your hair to cup your cheek as she cupped George’s too saying, “Off to bed now.”

George nodded and leaned in to kiss her cheek saying, “You too Mum.”

Fred came over to hug and kiss her cheek too, “With that barrier, no one can cross it but us. Don’t you worry.”

Molly nodded and Arthur said, “Wouldn’t expect any less. Everyone, off to bed.” He said guiding each of the teens inside with stolen hugs for each, including Harry who was still staring up at the house.

“How-,”

Arthur grinned pulling him into a hug, “There are so many spells in this world we’ve all yet to learn.” Pulling back his eyes locked with Harry’s, “A book is a very dangerous weapon, a single library can conquer the world. That is why you must not squander your time in Hogwarts this year especially.” Harry nodded, “Get some rest. We’re safe now.”

Harry nodded and turned to head inside after another glance up at the bubble he could no longer spot and the protected home to head up to bed.

..

Train, sleep, train, sleep. In the usual pattern you stood in your sneakers, cut sweats and a baggy tank top over your sports bra. Inside the practice stadium for the Kenmare Kestrals you tightened the band holding your looped bun up high on your head as Oliver went over the usual workout the old team used to go through. You, the twins and Cedric, all dressed to train eyes the stand filing with reporters, all eager to post heir stories on how the team had recruited replacements mainly from Hogwarts. Your fellow chasers were nowhere to be seen so you got down to work.

Flashes milled with comments on why the others weren’t there to join the dedicated teens trying to earn the chance. Even the coach over in the office to the side readying the plays he wished to pass over to you to memorize and run through was impressed at how hard you were pushing. Through your baggy layers all your toned figures all made sense at the weight enhanced workout lasting even through the hour late entrance of your missing chasers Troy and Moran. Open mouthed they stared on lost for their effect they wished their entrance to have as you barely even noticed them. Yet the coach approached when you put your weighted balls away and you accepted the playbooks to look over the first one you each called your brooms to you silently with outstretched hands towards the wall they were propped up by.

For hours you pushed hard and did all you could to perfect your places on the team then retired for showers and lunch in the apartment building designated to you as rookies beside the veterans in the one next door. Around the table you ate your own helpings of food mumbling out comments on each play out on the back patio the others timidly came out to join. To their surprise there was no tension, no egos from your group, just focus on trying to make the best of what you could do against the fellow professional players across the world. And by the end of the week they both blended into your team dynamic perfectly and shared that their alternates would be arriving in a few days, seeing as they were both nearing their own ends of their careers after so many injuries and the wear it had on their families.

.

Three weeks you focused hard and between training days felt somewhat calmer as you spent the days in your shop. One by one students would peek into your shop and their parents would ask about another shop to procure wands and be sent up to your fourth floor. Heavy barriers guarded the openings to both Ollivanders and the ice cream parlor adding to your business as people would come to mingle inside flitting back and forth between your shop and theirs relaxing that the traditional stops could be upheld from years prior.

Between them were the curious Muggle Borns, all of whom heard whispers about you and caught glimpses of the articles about and interviews from you. All skirting around the questions they wished to ask, too afraid to bring it up they waited for you to and remained vaguely hinting at the subjects you would not answer unless asked directly for the public. More and more others would stroll by simply to ask for confirmation that you were in fact still going to be teaching this year.

A wave of calm spread and in your final days of practice you stood behind the counter hunched forward between conversations and confirmations to sketch out a calendar of your own to work out the dates. The games would be on weekends and the day practices could be handled easily as they were in the gaps of the days your classes weren’t three times a week. And for the shop Angelina relaxed having the full time work as long as she was to be asked along to each game on weekends.

.

Across the front pages of the Daily Prophet they had their smoke screen, interviews of you all, the now nearly half Puff team while Troy and Moran had both been Gryffindors like Oliver. Questions of nerves were common after your team, the Kenmare Kestrals, winner of the British and Irish Quidditch League Cup twice over and winner of the most recent Quidditch World Cup over Bulgaria’s National team against the Krum brothers. All you could answer was you all would try your best to be worthy of the chance. The first game against the Montrose Magpies would give them a better view of how your efforts had to be tested.

.

Fred, “Step up! Step up! We've got Fainting Fancies! Nosebleed Nougats!”

George, “And just in time for school... Puking Pastilles!”

Angelina offered a Cauldron loaded with the sick boxes, “Into the cauldron, handsome.”

Fred spotting Harry’s interest in a pitch black nook with shimmering clumps Harry lifted one of to inspect, “Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.”

George, “A real money spinner, that one. Handy if you need to make a quick getaway.” Adding it to his basket tucked in his elbow realizing what you had thrown in the Department of Mysteries.

The pair of them strolled over to Hermione and Ginny inspecting the love potion stand with a pink lotus bubbling pink smoke hearts near the other attraction charms, “Hello, ladies.”

George, “Love potions, eh?”

Fred, “Yeah, they really do work. Then again, the way we hear it, sis, you're doing just fine on your own.”

George’s eyes shifted to Cormac peering on at Hermione, whose brows scrunched up in her turn away making him pass her a yellow box from the orange flower stand next to it, “Small dab on your wrists each day after slipping him the taffy inside should keep him a good five foot minimum distance.”

She flashed him a weak grin, “Thank you.” Adding it to her basket while Luna eyed another stand meant to attract birds and butterflies she added to her basket Neville claimed one as well.

Ron held up a wrapped box, “How much for this?”

Fred and George both said, “Five Galleons.”

Ron, “How much for me?”

They looked at one another then repeated, “Five Galleons.”

Ron, “I'm your brother.”

They repeated, “Ten galleons.”

Ron rolled his eyes saying to Harry, “Come on, let's go.”

A curly haired blonde waved and bounced past the pair with a love struck grin, “Hi, Ron.”

With a nod he replied, “Hi.” Then continued on to look at another stand.

Harry, “How are Fred and George doing it? Half the Alley's closed down.”

Ron, “Fred reckons people need a laugh these days. I reckon he's right.”

Hermione sighed seeing the charred remains of the wand shop down the street, “Everyone got their wands from Ollivander's. Where will they go now?”

Angelina smirked and whispered into her ear spreading a quick grin onto her face as Angelina flashed her a wink and carried on with another display tray in hand to show to some first years. Turning around however Harry saw Oliver taking over for you at the register while you strolled through the first floor to the front door where Draco and Narcissa were waiting.

Ron caught his gaze, “Harry?”

Harry, “Is it me, or do Draco and Mummy look like two people who don't want to be followed?”

“Quibbler.” Luna strolling by with a bag of Quibblers smiled seeing Harry, “Quibbler.”

Harry accepted it looking over the cover page, “Lovely.”

Luna, “They've been known to sing on Boxing Day, you know.” Looking to a young girl she asked, “Quibbler?”

Cho passing by grinned accepting the one the girl avoided, “Oh, please.”

Harry showed Ginny his copy and she asked, “What's a Wrackspurt?”

Luna, “They're invisible creatures. They float in your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. Quibbler.” She turned to finish passing out the rest of her copies and Harry continued on following after you with his bag of purchases alongside Ron, Hermione and Ginny trailing after him.

Ginny, “Why are we following Jaqi and Draco?”

Harry, “I want to see where she’s going. Haven’t seen her all day, now she’s headed off to the shady side of Knockturn Alley.”

Hermione tapped his arm pointing to a side alley where Vincent Crabbe came out of with a snarl following after you as well, “Crabbe’s after them too.”

Ron, “Why?”

Ginny, “I thought he’d be more, I mean, Dad says Riddle wouldn’t touch her.”

Harry, “Perhaps he’s not over what his Mummy and Daddy did to Jaqi, and how they were punished.”

Ron, “Still, if he blames her-,”

Ginny, “Really what could he do?”

Harry wet his lips, “We’ll have to wait and see.”

.

Draco lowly asked in latin, “Why are we here?” He asked entering the open door of Borgin and Burkes.

Lowly you replied, “Reserving something to help sneak people in the school.”

His lips parted and you turned seeing Lucius next to a giant triangular wardrobe forged of old blackening metal coated in old runes, a pouch was passed over and hands were shaken in the promise of delivery and your head turned to a display case with old jewelry in it. Curiously your brows furrowed and you pointed at a necklace the shop keep behind the counter approached and brought out all you had pointed at. “Could I see these?”

In the end twelve various pieces of jewelry you felt you had to have were wrapped up and you slid them into your enchanted pouch and asked him, “Would you let me know if you find anymore pieces like this?”

With a nod he replied, “In fact, they are from a collection. A rare designer from France, sold off in bulk some decades ago from the Gaunts no less.”

“Who bought them?”

He shook his head and waved his hand, “Some obscure millionaire, at the time, now set on funding for a new wing on his manor.” His eyes looked over your face at the ripple of your hair from silvery blue to a deep midnight and back again, “He did say he wished to start with these, to test how well they would sell before handing over the rest. If you are interested I can send word you are interested,”

He wet his lips and looked to Lucius now at your side saying, “It would be fitting, seeing as she is the last of the Gaunt line.”

Parting the lips of the shop keep who nodded his head, “Of course, of course, how had that slipped my mind. I will write to him at once and then to you about when the rest could be purchased.” Lowly he added, “Mums the word on your lineage, to keep him from gouging your purse.”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

“Shouldn’t take long, he seemed eager to be rid of it.”

Lucius stated, “You have my address for the shipment, I can handle the transfer on her behalf since she will be away.” Earning another nod and you turned to leave making Ginny besides the other teens on the roof across the shop whisper, “What’s with the jewelry?”

Hermione wet her lips, “I recognized that blue one, it was her grandmother’s.”

Ron, “You think Lucius spotted the collection and warned her?”

Hermione, “Jaqi said the Gaunts were poor, squandered their wealth, part of why they must have taken Suzsienne.”

Ginny, “They used her, and sold off her things…Then what about the wardrobe?”

Harry shrugged, “Maybe it’s hers too?”

Ron inched higher seeing Crabbe rush in demanding something furrowing the keep’s brows in the start of an altercation ending with his magically barring the teen from the shop with the door slamming in his face and refusing to open for him again. “Looks like he won’t be getting what he wants any time soon.”

Ginny, “Good.” She pulled back saying, “Come on, we gotta meet Mum at the robe shop.”

…

In the dead of night when yet another dream came to Dumbledore sending another questioning glance your way in the halls at Hogwarts, not even as a Professor, memories back from when you were a student. If he didn’t trust you why was he doing this? Why had he hired you? Why was he letting you back in if not to draw the fire away from him? He fought Grindlewald, Yes, however, had he acted sooner Grindlewald would never have risen the height as he had. None of this made sense and the man himself you knew would refuse to answer you truthfully. So you needed someone who had no reason to lie, someone with nothing to lose.

Nurmengard. A tiny island prison in the middle of the stormy seas, silence ruled here. Between the incoherent babbling of those in solitary confinement for the rest of their lives the thick stone let little noise out save for the slots on the doors for food and other supplies. Deep in the depths of it inside the strongest cell of all sat a magically blocked Wizard seated in the corner of his cell staring up out the window of his cell at the tiny cloud billowing larger in the coming storm blocking his sight of the stars.

A flash of flames erupted in the corner and blinking through the sudden light the white haired Wizard with one bright eye and one dark watched at the white and blue Phoenix morph and take shape of the woman he knew that would come to him one day.

A simple bow of his head and his gravely hum of a greeting all but made your heart skip, “Your Majesty, I have been waiting a long time for a chance to meet you.”

“You know me?”

“Not from the papers no, they do not allow me papers, however whispers carry, and not nine years past I first heard whispers of you, and have had dreams since.”

“What sort of dreams?”

“Tiny fragments, your arrival here, you have a question for me my Queen?”

“I’m not a Queen.”

A horse wisp of a chuckle left him and his yellow smile was exposed raising his high cheekbones accentuating his sunken cheeks, “And I suppose you believe that Dark Lord holds a candle to you?” He shook his head clicking his tongue, “Never, that child knows nothing of true power. True pain. The agony of an ever bleeding heart.” Hastily he wet his lips and said, “All that another time. The guards will circle past in five minutes, what have you come to ask me. I have waited a long time to hear these questions.”

“I wanted to ask you something personal,” he nodded, “something about Dumbledore. I know he would never answer me truthfully.”

“No he would not. Not after knowing me. What would you like to know?”

..

It all seemed so odd, the twins hugged you tightly and swore to keep the shop together while you were off to Kings Cross Station. In the sea of students you were comfy in a pair of black jeans you topped with your tight grey sweater stretching to your thighs covered with a black vest holding your wand sheath in the pocket.

Through the crowds you joined the teens with a trunk of supplies on the cart shared with Neville and Draco while Ron, Harry and Hermione followed Ginny and Luna with theirs. The rest of your things was left at home as you would be commuting through your enchanted doorway each day linked to a closet in your class office. The chatter around you grew and heads turned when sight of you was caught by the students and parents around you stirring up comforting grins.

A shift from the ball of your foot to the heel of your favorite heeled booties eases your sock from its bunched position around the toes on that foot. Just enough time for an arm to loop around your back and for whispers to grow at Barty’s stating in a tilt of his head, “This way, Love. Me and Sev brought something called boggle.”

With a smirk you watched your trunk get loaded up and waved to the teens in your turn to stroll back to the teacher car. Though behind you Harry mumbled, “Love?” Looking to Ron he asked, “Did he say Love?”

Ron nodded, “Blimey, first Remus and Tonks and now them…Mad times, Harry. Mad.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Could just be an endearment you know. Fairly common. Either way, if she’s happy I’m happy.”

Ginny chuckled saying, “If they are she certainly does have an eye for picking ones who love their hair.” Making the group chuckle and Draco to steal a glance back at you slightly worried about what you had planned for this year to come.

.

Pt 54

#Barty Crouch Jr x oc #HP Crossover

[writeyouin]

Sinbad X Dean (OC) - Beyond the Horizon Part 2 of 2 (COMMISSION)

A/N – Hey, so it might just be that I’ve proof-read like a million times, but if you want any of this changing at all then just say, kay? Cos I have a feeling I mentioned the name Dean enough times to start a drinking game and that more could have been said in the end and less in the Dragon’s Teeth. Either way, if you want an edit, I’ll do it at the drop of a hat.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Word Count: 2443

The deck was filled with purpose as the crew of the Chimera prepared the ship to travel through the Dragon’s Teeth in the little time they had before the current picked up. Everything about the craggy mountains surrounding the passage warned of untold dangers that most sailors had only speculated about. In all the stories, two things were for sure. One, that the Dragon’s Teeth had long-since been abandoned by Poseidon himself, who could no more guide sailors through it than fish could fly, and two, that anyone foolish enough to go in never lived to see another day.

A muted breeze ruffled Dean’s hair, though it wasn’t the sea’s usual call to adventure or comforting caress. It was a whisper of death, creeping up his spine, letting him know that all was not right with the world. Just looking at the opening of the Dragon’s Teeth filled Dean with a dread the likes of which he’d never felt before. By looking at the faces of the crew he served with, he could tell the others felt the same.

Although everyone was working, there was none of the usual enthusiasm, only an almost silent comradery in its place. It didn’t feel right that the twins, Jin and Li weren’t making yet another bet on the crew’s survival, or that Rat wasn’t complaining as much as he usually did. Even Spike, the ship’s dog, wasn’t his normal energetic self as he sat down, letting out a low, fearful whine.

Dean stared at the entrance as the Chimera sailed slowly towards it. Tendrils of fog snaked from the ‘mouth,’ inviting the sailors in for dinner. If anyone aboard the ship had any sense, they would have rallied a mutiny and turned the Chimera around to Fiji.

Glancing behind him, Dean watched Sinbad. His face was set with a grim determination as he kept a tight grip on the wheel. Why was he doing this? For Proteus, a man Sinbad hadn’t seen in ten years before the misadventure with the Book of Peace? It wasn’t like Dean to feel jealous, but he couldn’t help it, knowing Sinbad was crazy enough to take the Chimera to Tartarus for a childhood friend he had no reason to be loyal to. Would he do the same for his crew? Would he do it for Dean? It was impossible to say.

Despite his reservations, Dean knew neither he nor the crew would mutiny. They were far too loyal to their Captain. More than that, Dean wouldn’t do it because he was in love with Sinbad, though he couldn’t bring himself to say so, out of fear of rejection. Most of the crew knew by now of Dean’s love towards Sinbad, but they kept mercifully quiet about it. Although everyone liked to mock one-another now and then, there were some things that were better left unsaid. It was an unspoken rule; if the crew never mentioned Dean’s secret, he would never bring up Kale’s past as a slave, Rat’s life as a street urchin in the colonies, or other such painful memories.

Taking a deep breath, Dean went to Sinbad’s side at the helm, where they both looked ahead, resolute in their fates.

“You’re sure about this?” Dean asked quietly. “It’s not too late to go to Fiji.”

Sinbad put on a false smile, hiding his insecurities, “Where’s your sense of adventure? Afraid of a few pointy stones?”

“Less of ‘pointy stones’ than what lies among them.”

“I’d say a few fish, maybe some moss, at worst an angry seagull or two. Nothing I can’t handle.”

There was a sudden change in the crew’s demeanour as the moment finally arrived when they would see what was inside the Dragon’s Teeth.

“Jin, easy on the main,” Sinbad barked.

“Aye,” Jin replied, following the command.

Upon entering the Dragon’s Teeth, Sinbad steered the ship slowly, letting the sea push it along at its leisure; anything more and the Chimera would be doomed. Other than the occasional order from Sinbad and a few warnings from Rat in the Crow’s nest, the only sounds to be heard were the gentle ripple of water, kissing the ship’s hull and the dripping of pebbles falling from the surrounding crags.

Micah and Kale held tightly onto spears in case anything came up from the water, but as the Chimera wound its way around the corner that didn’t seem to be a concern. Gutted corpses of ships with shredded sails were impaled on jagged rocks marking the watery graves of many. An ominous clacking alerted Dean to danger and he looked up, finding the skulls of men strung up like ghastly party decorations; not knowing what force put the up there was far worse than their presence.

Desperate to look away from the macabre scene, Dean found himself staring at a mermaid figurehead of another destroyed ship. Dribbles of water from above stained her cheeks, making it seem like she was weeping for the lost crews.

Dean knew he should have been sad at the sight, yet as a lulling peace came over him, he didn’t seem to mind anymore, nor did any of the crew. The most melodious of voices broke the quiet, making Dean feel safe and loved. Spike barked madly, standing on two hind legs to look over the portside and Dean found himself hating the dog for interrupting the very chorus of angels, or rather Sirens who finally showed themselves to their unwitting guests, dancing around the ship in a ballet of water.

While Sinbad flirted with the sirens, Dean couldn’t help joining in the beautiful dance, turning it from a solo into a Pas de deux, and flitting down the stairs of the helm, towards the centre of the ship. The Chimera lurched to the left, scraping against the cliff-side and throwing everyone off balance. Dean was thrown harshly against the mast, his face connecting against the hard wood with a sickening crunch. After a few minutes of nausea, he looked up, frightened by the state in which he found himself and the crew.

To Dean, the world was silent. He put a hand to his ear, finding a trickle of blood dripping down. Normally, he would have been afraid of going deaf, or worried whether it was permanent; he didn’t have time for fear however, as he watched Rat plummet overboard, dragged down by a Siren with the face of a goddess and the jaws of a demon.

Reaching out, Dean screamed Rat’s name, though he couldn’t here himself speak. He pushed himself up, staggering from one way to the other with a sudden lack of balance. He grabbed a rope connecting to the sails, and leapt into the icy water below. Grabbing Rat with his free hand, Dean pulled himself back up, practically dragging Rat over the railings with him.

Fortunately, while he was gone, Spike had the sense to tie the crew against the mast. Throwing Rat in with them, Dean tied of the rope so Spike was free to assist him.

“Sinbad,” he roared, looking up to the wheel and finding nobody there.

He whipped his head around, finding Sinbad pressed against the head of the ship, where a Siren was kissing him, intending to drown him from the inside with her watery form.

Half-running and half-staggering, Dean lurched forward. Without anyone to steer, the Chimera tipped over a steep waterfall. Dean’s feet left the deck and for a brief moment, he was soaring. Free of the waterfall, the ship corrected itself, landing roughly on the water below. Dean landed roughly. Out of control he scrambled forward, crushing the liquid Siren and taking her place against Sinbad’s chest. His lips crushed against Sinbad’s, and his eyes widened in shock.

Without the sound of the world around him, Dean felt as if he was living in a bubble comprised entirely of built-up fantasies. He could smell the wood treatment of mahogany his Captain used to upkeep the Chimera’s fine appearance. More than that, he could feel Sinbad’s beard rub against his chin as Sinbad wrapped his muscular arms around him, drawing him closer as the Siren’s spell bode him to.

Had Dean not come to his senses and remembered the impending doom, he could have stayed in Sinbad’s hold forevermore. As it was though, he regretfully threw Sinbad to the deck, calling Spike over to hold him down. Running back up the length of the deck, Dean threw a lever on the starboard side, releasing the ship’s blades to crush the remaining attacking Sirens and destroy and remaining ships that got in the way. After that, he promptly re-took the wheel.

The Sirens screamed in fury, throwing themselves against the Chimera time and time again to try and throw it off course; each time they tried, they were impaled, the water that formed them flooding the deck, almost drowning the crew. Finally, Dean saw one chance at escape, an opening in the left mountain gap and quite possibly the only exit from the Dragon’s Teeth. It was blocked by the remnants of an ancient ship but the wood looked so rotted, it wouldn’t pose as too much of a challenge for the Chimera’s blades.

Fortunately, somewhere during the journey through the Teeth, the Chimera’s sails had fallen open, lending the ship the speed it needed to make the jump. Dean spun the wheel quickly to the left, using all his strength to fight against the current and keep it there.

With a sudden burst of speed, the Chimera shot over a protruding rock, flying free of the Dragon’s Teeth and landing back on the open sea. Slowly, as if breaking free of a coma, the crew woke up one by one, freeing themselves of the rope that bound them. Sinbad got up, rubbing his aching head and staring at Dean, realising that the fresh-faced boy who’d set foot on his ship so many years ago had grown into a man, capable of protecting those he cared about.

“Whoa, what happened?” Jin asked, rubbing his aching head and looking at the now shirtless Micah in puzzlement.

“Sinbad saved us!” Li exclaimed.

Rat swung on one of his ropes playfully, “No, Dean saved us.”

The crew stared from Dean to Sinbad, mocking their Captain in their own mischievous way.

“Sure,” Sinbad pouted loudly. “If you mean by ‘saving us’ he destroyed HALF OF THE SHIP. Sure, fine, he saved us.”

Sinbad waited for a retort but when he looked back at Dean, he saw that Dean was distracted, touching a dried line of blood that started from his ear. Sinbad snapped his fingers, shouting loudly, “HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU. OVER HERE! DAMNIT, I SAID YOU DESTROYED MY SHIP!”

“Captain,” Kale murmured anxiously.

“Yeah, I know… All right, listen up,” he turned to address the crew. “I want this ship sailing smoothly to the nearest island for repairs, in the meantime, nobody disturbs me or the runt in my cabin. Am I clear?”

There was a chorus of ‘Yes Cap’n and Aye Sir’ all around while everyone marched towards their respective duties, less happy than they should have been at their recent victory for the price it had cost Dean. They all knew that when Sinbad told them not to disturb him, he was either furious, or one of the crew had gotten badly injured and he was going to treat them with the remedies he kept only for emergencies.

Storming up to Dean, Sinbad said nothing, instead pointing to his Cabin. Dean nodded sullenly, wobbling on his way over and worrying that his balance might never come back properly. When they were inside, Sinbad sat Dean down on the bed and began looking through the vials in a lockbox next to his bunk. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to wrap them in bundles of fabric so they’d be safe from the many adventures the Chimera had.

“Rough day for us,” Sinbad said, not caring that Dean couldn’t hear him; he simply had to talk. “Hopefully it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out, but I doubt it. A-ha,” He exclaimed, lifting a tiny crystal vile filled with a clear liquid. “I remember getting this with you, you told me it was stupid to try and get tears from a cyclops, but here we are and they’re supposed to cure just about anything. When you can hear again, I’m going to brag so damn much.”

Sinbad sat down, motioning for Dean to lie down on his side. Dean complied and waited for further instruction. Sinbad uncapped the vile, but before pouring the precious liquid into Dean’s ear, he sighed. “I just want to say, for the record… That was some kiss. Still, I think- It’ll probably be easier if- I don’t know… I guess I’ll just pretend I don’t remember it; none of the others do, for whatever reason. Heck, I don’t even remember anything but that. Was it a dream or did we really…? Never mind. The sea is no place for great romances, what if you got hurt again?”

Dean tried to make out what Sinbad was saying but with no practice at lip reading, he couldn’t tell one word from the last. Finally, Sinbad just shook his head and put a few drops from his vile into Dean’s ear, waiting a few minutes before switching to the other.

Then, the pair waited, Sinbad tapping an irritable tune into the bedpost until finally, Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. He tapped his ears a few times, “I can- I can hear! SINBAD, I CAN HEAR!”

Sinbad grimaced, “Yeah, so can I. Stop shouting.”

Dean blushed, “Sorry… Uh, what was that you were saying before?”

Sinbad rolled his eyes, “I was saying, you destroyed my ship. Now get back to work, you weren’t injured that badly.”

Dean nodded, practically shaking from excitement, “Yes, yes right away.”

“And shut the door on the way out,” He cried after him.

When he was sure Dean wasn’t going to come back, Sinbad sighed, laying back into his pillows, thinking about that kiss. Ever since the runt had boarded his ship, in his slightly too-big clothes, and uncontrollable brown hair that made him look like more of a puppy than Spike, Sinbad had hoped for something more. Nothing had ever happened of course; Sinbad didn’t fraternise with those he sailed with; it seemed like a sure fire way to get hurt or lose a good crew member. Then again, after what had just happened, Sinbad was hurting plenty. Unless something changed soon, he would be plagued with unpleasant thoughts of ‘What If?’ for many years to come.

#sinbad #legend of the seven seas #oc #not my oc #dreamworks #jin #li #spike #sirens #Beyond the Horizon #part 2 #chapter 2

[weareallfallengods]

Survival

Writing prompt:

If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?

I write for adults about adult themes with adult language. I try to tag possible triggers (but I know I'm not going to get all of them), so if violence or implied death or cussing bothers you, you'll probably want to find a different author.

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Somehow, that date came up again. Not quite sure how, but somehow, the number circled on my shitty wall calendar with the coffee splatter on it managed to be today. Again. It's been doing that for 5 years now.

At first I wanted to be a surgeon- save people's lives, make a difference, all that shit. Yeah, I was caught up in the hype for a while too. Just like everyone. Thought I'd make some ground-breaking discovery and change the world. Just like everyone. And then, at 22, I flunked out of med school. That was it. Dream over, kaput, fin.

When I opened my termination letter, it was like reading a death sentence. 10 years of prep and study down the drain. 3 years left. 3 years, and no idea what to do. No clue what I could do to save my own life after all those years learning how to save others.I drank for a solid month. I dont even remember that month now. My only memento from it is an entire skip of liquor bottles. It's a miracle I didn't die from alcohol poisoning. Not that I didn't try.

See, I was afraid. Scared, actually. Terrified would be more accurate, if I'm honest. I knew I only had 3 years left until they came for me. Unless I managed to do something extraordinary within the next 3 years, they'd come for me, and the only thing that would remain is a 2 paragraph obituary in the local paper, followed by a vacancy announcement. When you're suddenly forced to confront your own imminent demise, and see every dream, hope and aspiration you'd had evaporate, right in front of your eyes, its perfectly natural to drown that in a swimming pool of vodka.

But then, after a month of drowning, and a week of curing a hangover that would make Satan shudder, I got angry. Like Bruce Banner angry. As I was leaving an all night diner, the notice board caught my eye. Having nothing better to do with my life, I stood there for a while just reading every single card in detail, every single lost cat, every used car, every 5k charity run. And then I saw it. And I thought, "You know what? Fuck it, why not. I've spent all this time trying to do one thing that I've never actually done just whatever I feel like, had hobbies, anything really. Why the fuck not."

And that's how I ended up 2 days later in some shity warehouse district, rolling around on a mat with some dude I didnt even know, sweating and swearing profusely and having the time of my life. "Sasha's Self Defense" it said on the small, weathered and rusted sign on the brick wall out front, next to a door that looked like it had been transported straight from the proverbial gulag.

I'd naively thought this was going to be one of those Karate Kid knock offs for some reason when I first arrived. Sasha soon disabused me of that notion. In fact, when he saw I'd brought a new gi in a duffle bag, he laughed so hard he had to slap his ass down on a rickety folding chair just to keep breathing. Once he calmed his mirth at my expense, he let me know in a no-nonsense, 'I'm an old-timer and seen some shit in my day' heavily accented tone that this would be a class that focused on survival at all costs. "No bullshit wax on-wax off," were his exact words I believe.

And boy was he right. When I told him I'd set aside my year's tuition for lesson payments, well, wouldn't you know it, I became his most prized pupil; I quickly learned this was not a good thing. It meant 14 hours a day of the most humiliatingly punishing activity ever dreamed up by Moscow's Finest. I couldnt even move the morning after my first day. But somehow I limped my battered frame down to the bus stop and was only an hour late. Ha, only. Sasha seemed to take it as a personal insult. The only thing he hated less than sloppiness was tardiness it seemed. Apparently the 10th Circle of Hell was reserved for those who dared be late. And he made you earn your way out of that circle.

His only saving grace was fairness. If I had to suffer, at least I wasnt alone. Well, at first anyway. The few other students that suffered his wrath along side me doing slavic folk dances with wrist and ankle weights very quickly learned that this wasn't the type of class they had thought it was and soon I was alone with Sasha.

On the days I did well, I got treated to pierogies. Oh man, I lived for those pierogies. They were made by angels and served by someone I can only describe as if Jesus came back as a woman. Who was Russian. And spoke even less english than Sasha, if that was possible. His sister was as completely opposite to that sadistic maniac as it was possible to be and still be a human being. Where he was loud, she was soft. Where he was tough, she was gentle. Where he was strict, she was generous, even indulgent. Blonde to his brunette. Slim to his barrel chest. Cousin by marriage, I think they said. Well, relatives of some kind anyway. And she was the only one who could make him laugh. And when he laughed, the whole block knew! He was just that loud, that boisterous, with everything he did.

But I loved his little Anya. Just like everyone. But like in a wholesome, mom-ish kind of way. I loved her because I got to sit for an hour when she was around. Because she"d always tuck a to-go container of pierogies into my bag. Because she'd chide Sasha for pushing me too hard. In short, she was an angel.

But I have to hand it Sasha- in 4 months, he took a scrawny bookworm into someone who could pose for Men's Health. In 6 months, I could beat Ivan, his partner, in 5/10 sparring matches. In 7 months, I ran a marathon. In 9, he had me enter a triathalon. And I made it into the top 50 out of 500 entrants. Not too bad if I say so myself. In 12 months, I was beating Ivan almost every time.

And that's when the other Ivan showed up. After a year, Sasha decided it was time I learned weaponry. After all, no real fight was fair, he said. And Ivan (another cousin? Sasha had one heck of an extended family) instructed me on everything from broken beer bottles, to knives and pool cues. And my medical training paid off, because more often than not, I was the one stitching myself up if training got a little rough that day.

Eventually, I moved into the gym. Not sure how it happened, but I think I just got too tired to leave one day and never really left. Sasha didnt seem to mind since it meant I wasnt ever late again. Plus the coffee he imported was the best thing ever. Like it was so good that's probably the Extraordinary Thing he did to live as long as he had.

The days just melted together, into one long symphony of beautiful exhaustion and physical torment, as I poured myself into the first activity I could remember doing purely because I wanted to, something that numbed the dread of the finality of my life expectancy.

But then one day, one specific day, the one I'd been dreading in the back of my mind for a year came around.

They found me.

I guess they were a little slow in finding me, not surprising since I'd basically just disappeared from my old life, no forwarding address type thing. It wasnt intentional, it just sort of happened, what with me diving head first into something purely for me, without the thought of doing it for someone else. But they found me. Just like they find everybody.

See, it doesnt matter if you try to run, if you move, or change your name. They always find you eventually. I just hadn't thought about it in a long while. That year was the first time since I was probably 14 that I'm hadn't thought about the Gardeners. I guess that's why it surprised me so much.

Yeah, Gardeners. I dont know who came up with the name, in guess some misguided attempt at a positive PR spin bullshit to pass off squads of government assassins who's only job was to track down the NCs of the world and eliminate them. Sorry, NCs- Non-Contributors; the people who hit their expiration date without doing something noteworthy, something that was deemed to "advance or bolster the Human Condition" to borrow a phrase from the civics classes we had to take every fucking year of school. A cutesy sounding name that was supposed to make the government sound like a benevolent old couple pulling weeds from their garden of humanity. The worst lies always sound the sweetest, dont they?

And I was now 25.

It happened a few weeks after my birthday. Just another routine day for me, going for a light 5k run after my soak in a mineral bath. Light rain, most of the streetlights out, the few lights on in the warehouse district reflected beautifully off the streets. That's why I ran at night, all the colors changed that normally bleak neighborhood into something beautiful. It was just one little thing to balance out the harshness of reality, and I reveled in it.

I don't actually remember what happened exactly. I do recall seeing a suspiciously conspicuous homeless guy huddled under a loading dock awning, and then just a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. I think it happened really quickly; at least that's what Sasha said the next morning as he was making arrangements for me to visit another cousin of his "back in the old country". It could have been. God, after seeing the bodies around me in the aftermath, I hope, for their sake, that it was fast. 5 bodies. All still. I still remember my breath turning to blue fog, blurring the details of them. Helping me to be able to pretend I didn't see the blood mixing with the rain and oil, spreading out over the concrete like a macabre inversion of the cloudy sky above.

I'm glad they wore masks. It's bad enough having that scene burned into my brain forever, without specific people's faces being etched there as well. I'm glad I dont see their faces in my mind every time I close my eyes. I just wish I could still enjoy the rain. They managed to take that from me, even if I'm still breathing, so I guess they didnt completely fail. They just killed a part of my soul instead. But hey, there's plenty of people that don't like the rain, right? But I bet they don't smell blood when it does though.

And that was pretty much it. No sirens, no manhunt, nothing. Before I could process what was happening, I was on a bus, headed for "the old country", which, as near as I could tell, looked an awful lot like Pittsburg. Sasha's 'cousin' met me at the bus depot there, a man of very few words. Not as loud as his cousin, Zhena tended to communicate with looks, grunts and shrugs mostly. Same work ethic though.

And then the cycle repeated- 14 months this time before they caught up with me. Too bad that Zhena got caught up in it, he was a great guy. He and I didn't really become close or buddies or anything, but it still hurt to see what happened to him. To what was left of him anyway. The Gardeners definitely were trying to send a message with that. To quote an old wise man, "I didnt want to know, but now I do, and I'm telling you, you dont want to know." And that's coming from someone who was training to become a surgeon, so just trust me on this one.

This time, they were waiting for me. I think they'd planned on Zhena being enough of a distraction that they'd be able to take me out easily, but since since I woke up the next day on the floor of the sparring ring in a too large pool of blood that wasnt my own, I'd say they failed. The difference this time was I was on my own. No 'cousins' to call in favors from. No family I could call because I didnt want them getting a visit from the Gardeners either. I was alone this time.

Weirdly, I was actually OK with that. I'd been surrounded by family, teachers, advisors, tutors for so long that solitude was actually kind of nice. I could hear myself think my own thoughts for the first time in what seemed like forever.

I'm not ashamed to say that I took what little of value there was from Zhena's gym (I knew him well enough to know that Sasha was his only family) so that I could get a seedy hotel for a while. I did at least have the decency to let Sasha know, and that that would be the last he ever heard from me, to keep him out of trouble. Bad enough that 10 people were already dead, I didn't want Sasha or Anya's name added to that list because of me.

And so I vanished. Completely. Sure I travelled, kept studying and training like I had been, but never staying longer than a few months, never using the same name, copying other random people's habits and patterns so I didnt have one of my own for them to track down. Yeah it was cliche, but hey, I figured my dad watching all those spy flicks when I was young had to be good for something, right?

Sometimes I was a baker, sometimes a delivery driver, even a dock hand. Whatever it took to make a buck so I could eat.

I got really good at other things too. Like disposing of bodies. Not really a skill I ever thought I'd want or need, but Necessity is a harsh and demanding teacher. Sadly, my skill as a surgeon came in handy- bodies are easier to get rid of when they're in smaller pieces. And people are easier to turn into bodies when you know how they're put together intimately. Not what I had in mind for my life, but since it was the choice between this or dying, well, I guess I can put up with it.

I suppose that catches us all up to the present, more or less. OK yeah theres a lot that's gone down between Pittsburg and now, but it was all pretty much the same: lather, rinse, repeat. Literally sometimes. Those were the days it felt like there wasnt enough soap in the world to get all the blood off.

So here I am, I'm my single room in Kandahar, staring at the date that had somehow come up again. Every year, they send someone. Usually a team. And I survive. No matter how they come at me, or when or how many. I survive.

And I'm sitting here, staring at the calendar, steaming cup of espresso, just staring, as a light breeze fluttered the corner of the calendar page, sending the orchids dancing in the vase next to it. All I could think is, "How? How does this keep happening? I'm not even supposed to be here, not supposed to be alive."

As I raised my cup of espresso, something slid under my door. "OK that's weird," I said aloud as I stood.

The chair made an ungodly screech as I pushed it back and made my way over to where a small, cream colored envelope sat on the floor, a couple inches from the bottom of the door. It was heavy for it's size, but not because anything was in it, just the paper was that thick. Probably hand-made. It's odd the little things you notice in times of stress. Heavy, rough paper, no postmark, nothing written on the outside, just the flap tucked in, not even sealed. Reminded me of how my mother used to give out birthday cards. I always thought that was a little weird, but it was just one of her quirks that made her even more endearing to everyone.

I sat down a little heavier than I had planned and felt the chair crack a little. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded in half; I was right- handmade paper. But that wasnt important, what was important was the heavy, blocky hand-written message it contained.

"We've been looking for you for a long time. It has come to my attention that you may have something unique to contribute after all. We may have been too hasty in judging your Ability to be a Contributor. I believe you do actually have a remarkable Ability to Survive. I'd like to speak to you this afternoon in the plaza outside the Blue Mosque. I will be alone, and you can approach me, so as to allay your justifiable suspicions. I will have a silver coffee set on the table in front of me.

I believe we can help each other, if you're willing to listen to my proposition.

-Soon,

Baddar"

Well, this is interesting.

#writing prompt #short story #what if #what would you do #one shot #writeblr #death #language

[aphrorose]

Somebody Pray for Me Pt 1

This is my first ever BP fic so y’all be gentle. Let me know if you like it!!!! I ope y’all enjoy.

Living in Oakland’s roughest neighborhood did nothing but make my heart colder and my mind sharper. My momma told me she believed I would do something great and I made it my mission to prove her right. I woke up and looked at my alarm clock, it read 5:15 in glowing red. I knew I needed to get up ,but my body was protesting. ‘You’re my shining star’ are the words that whispered through my mind at moments like this. At my weakest my mom was always there for me. I got up begrudgingly and padded to the bathroom to complete my morning routine.Washing my face I look up at the guarded brown eyes that stared back at me. I sighed going back into the room and picking out my outfit, I didn't have much to choose from,but someday I would change that. I finally chose a brown flowy top and light wash jeans. Putting on my worn out Jordans I made my way to the kitchen to grab some fruit before leaving for the day.

“Who said you could touch my shit?” snarled a voice from behind me.

I slowly closed my eyes and pretended to be calm while inside I was frozen solid.

“Nobody.” I mumbled putting the apple back in order to keep his wrath at bay.

“So you just stealing now?” he said coming closer.

His breath was the first thing that hit me before I could even think of a response. He reeked of whiskey mixed with a little bit of beer. I knew immediately there was no diffusing the situation therefore you took a deep breath and waited for the hit to come. When the strike did come it knocked the breath right out of me. I fell to the floor whimpering in pain and knowing he was not nearly done with the beating. Knowing I couldn’t protect my body  I curled in the fetal position in order to protect my face. ‘Your body was already covered in bruises and lacerations what’s a few more’ whispered a dark voice in my mind. When I’m on the ground he lands a solid kick directly between my ribs that knocks all the breath out of me. I try not to make a sound knowing that that would only make the beating worse and I wanted to be able to move so I could make it to class.  All I can think is I hope he finishes before I pass out, I can’t miss a day of school. Surprisingly instead of continuing to hit me he crouches down and whispers low enough for my blood to run cold.

“Wait until you get home.” he blew his foul breath in my face and turned to leave.

I looked at the clock and it read 6 o’clock.

“I’m late, shit!” I ran out the door toward the bus I was supposed to catch. It sped off just as I was about to be at the stop. I immediately started to panic I told my brain to shut up so I could think I needed a level head if I was going to get out here in one piece. Looking around I saw two men ,coming towards me and I stopped breathing completely. I ran to the park that was close to my house to escape them. The park was run down and no children ever came to play here,but we did have a basket tied to a post as a faux basketball hoop. I hid in the slide area until I heard the shouting pass me.

“No no no no no.” I repeated the word until I could breathe again. I needed a plan I had to get to school I couldn’t miss a day if I wanted colleges to look at me. They had to know I was serious about my education, I needed to get out of Oakland like my momma wanted. I looked up and decided I would just walk the 3 miles it would take me. I heard the voice in my head whisper        ’Yeah bitch walk off some of that fucking weight and maybe you could get out of Oakland easier.’  I shudder at the voice knowing it wasn’t the voice of my momma anymore. I sighed again knowing the voice was right and maybe if I walked more I could be in better shape. With a shake of my head I started on my trek to the school. I was about halfway there when the sky decided to open the floodgates of heaven and start flooding the streets. Immediately soaked I ran the rest of the way trying to avoid cars and people. Entering the building I slid into my homeroom class with my heart pounding and gasping for air. Everyone’s head snapped to me as though they were observing a wild animal at the zoo. I felt my body heat up with embarrassment and made my way to my seat with my eyes glued to the floor.  As soon as I sat down Mrs.Jackson raised her eyebrows and with an evil look in her eyes she said“Nice of you to join us Alliyah.”

I rolled my eyes at her. She was one of those teachers that hated her job and took it out on her students. She didn’t like me in particular though because I was actually passing her class with an A.

“We’re taking a test on parabolas today you might want to study up on the subject before we start” she said with a smrk.

The whole class burst into giggles thinking that I had problems with the subject I just smirked knowing I knew the subject up and down before we even started studying it.

“Nah I think I’m good.” I said with a little more attitude than I would have if my day wasn’t so shit. She just smiled and turned to her desk to hand out the test. It didn’t escape my notice that she handed everyone a test from one pile and handed me mine from a whole other pile. I raised my eyebrows and held my breath as she placed the test in front of me. Peering down at it I realized it had nothing to do with parabolas at all and had advanced Calculus on it instead. I covered my wide smile with my hand and got to work. After homeroom school flew by and the next thing I knew I was walking in the opposite direction of where my bus sat waiting to take me to that poor excuse of a home. With my head down I walked to the library. On my way to the row of seating in the back I ran into a figure .

“I-I’m sorry.” I mumbled out so he wouldn’t get mad.

. He  had the shadow of well built muscle under his black hoodie and plain jeans. His hair was in locks that fell into his face framed by wide set reading glasses. While I was in La La Land checking the boy out he shoved me out of the way. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if his hands didn't push in the exact place of one of my most tender bruises. I cry out and a look of shock fills his face before he could mask it again. I regain my composure in a nanosecond.

“I’m fine, don’t touch me.” I snarled.

With that I pushed past him and took a seat getting ready to study for hours.

“I know you didn’t just bump into me then get an attitude.”the boy that I bumped into groused.

He grabbed the chair next to me and made himself comfortable in my personal space. I just looked at him for a second then turned back to my school work determined to not be bothered by him.

“So you ain’t talking now?”

Silence filled the space between you us. “Aight bet.”

I rolled my eyes while reading the same sentence over and over again. I looked over at him through my peripherals and caught him staring at me.

“If you gonna be in my personal space at least open a book.”

He chuckled and continued to stare at me .Finally I huffed in frustration and started to gather my books. A hand grasps my wrist before I could pick up my notebook.

“Where you think you going?” he drawled.

“That ain’t none of your business, I don’t know you and you don’t know me so just leave me alone.”

“I’m Erik.”

I just stared at him in disbelief. Did this boy, that looked like trouble in the worst way, just give me his name?

“I’m Alaina.” I said hesitantly.

“Yeah I know we have homeroom together.”

I looked at him one last time before my brain finally broke through the fog and told me it was time to leave. I turned on my heel and almost ran out of the library towards the exit of school. When I finally got a fresh air I was able to think straight again. How did that boy control my mind so easily? If I didn’t know any better I would say the intoxicating smell of Satinwood must have poisoned my mind and taken over my body. I shook my head and headed back to the park to set up camp for the night.Immediately I noticed a figure following me so instead of going in the direction I planned on laying my head I went the opposite way to the nearest store hoping whoever it was would back the hell off. When I heard the jingle of the bell behind me I knew I had no such luck.I turned around to look at the person tailing me and sucked in a breath of shock.

“What the hell Erik why are you following me around?” I said with a hint of sass in my tone.

“Do you know how rude it is to walk away from someone in the middle of a conversation?” he said casually.

I knew he was mad though because his shoulders were tensed and ready for a fight. I looked into his eyes for the first time and I saw a reflection of me. I looked horrible with bags under my bloodshot eyes.

“I thought we was done.” I said in an uncaring tone. He looked like he wanted to say more when another person entered the empty store.

“Alaina what is your ass doing in here talking to some boy? Daddy waiting for you back at home.” Javaris my big,dumb brother said.

“Okay hold on I'm coming.” I said forlornly. I feel Erik tense beside me as he sees the worry and genuine fear etched on my face. He reaches down and hands me a piece of paper before walking out eyeing Javaris the whole way. I walked behind Javaris dreading entering the house,but knowing I was safe at least until J left with his new girlfriend to the movies that night. Daddy never let Jarvis see him hit me and I never told him hoping to keep him out of it and us off the streets.

“So who was ole boy you was talking to?” Jarvis  said conversationally.

I knew I had to choose my words carefully cause just like any good little boy Javaris would deliver any information I gave to him to my dad in a heartbeat.

“He ain’t nobody.” I said hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

We walked in silence for the rest of the way. I knew we weren’t finished with the conversation but I was relieved that for the moment he was minding his own business. My whole thought process was focused on Erik and how he was able to so easily control my thoughts. I needed to focus on the punishment that I would receive when I got home. When I walked through the door I knew I was gonna be sorry I existed at the end of the night. There he was the man that beat me for eight years, my so called dad. He was rolling a blunt and had two scantily clad women draped over him. How could he behave like this in his late wife’s- my momma’s- house? She spent the better part of her life paying off this house. She would be rolling over in her grave if she knew the dead beat she married did what he did in her house. I knew I was about to make the beating worse, but I couldn’t help myself. I raised my eyebrows and scoffed at the trio muttering about how I hope he get something he can’t cure. I knew he heard me and I knew I would pay for it later. I walk into my room and flop onto my bed ignoring the pain in my body.

When I woke up there was a looming presence over my bed. I blinked a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. No. I realized,this wasn’t a dream it was a nightmare. I sucked in a deep breath as he held the belt  and came down onto my overheated skin repeatedly.I was shocked as this was the first time he hit me with anything other than his hands. It felt like liquid fire where the belt made contact with my skin. My whole existence was focused on the acute pain blanketing my body. I screamed out trying to alleviate some of the physical pain.When my screams started the evil glint in his eyes truly twinkled. Finally he relinquished the belt and moved on to using his fists to finish the job. The last thought that crossed my mind was ‘I’m gonna be with momma’. Then all the pain went away and there was nothing but darkness,

I woke up in a room that smelled like antiseptic. “What...” I couldn’t finish my sentence, it hurt to much to talk. In fact it hurt to do much of anything. Breathing was even a struggle. I moved my eyes around the bland room with its stark white walls, floor, and ceiling. There was a chair in the room ,but it was obviously just there for decoration cause there's no way it could be comfortable. I was the only one in the room at the moment giving me time to figure out why I was in a hospital to begin with. My brain slowly sludged through my memories until finally I remembered what happened last night. The brutality of the memory made my hands sweat and heart race as I relived all the pain I went through at the hands of the one person in the world who was supposed to love me unconditionally. I tried to calm myself when I heard a soft knock on the door. An elderly looking nurse walked in, she was beautiful with her short bob style haircut and caring brown eyes, She was slightly plump and wore glasses that you could have plucked right off a model in any magazine. What really caught my eye though was the slight smile she wore to greet me. I don’t remember the last time someone smiled so kindly at me.

“How are you doing sweetie?” came her soft slightly high pitched voice.

I blinked out of my reverie and opened my mouth to explain to her taat I’m fine and I didn’t need to be there any longer. Before I had the chance though a voice came from behind her.

“What happened to you shawty?”

I knew who owned that voice immediately even though I only talked to him once. I rolled my eyes the only thing I could safely do. I motioned to be sat up after I tried and failed to do it myself. The nurse quickly made her way over to me and after I assured her I was fine and comfortable multiple times she left the room giving Erik the stink eye the whole time.

“Erik what are you doing here?” I said slightly embarrassed.

He just walked closer inspecting my face before his eyes moved down to the numerous tubes sticking out of my arms and finally the bandages wrapped around every inch of my skin. Done with his evaluation he took a seat in the chair next to my bed. Finally he opened his mouth to tell me how he even knew I was here.

“I knew something was wrong when you weren’t in homeroom.” he whispered almost to himself.

“Erik I’m fine.” I said punctuating it with another roll of my eyes.

“No you’re really not. You are sitting in a hospital bed barely able to move.Don’t think I don’t catch the small winces you make everytime you move.Okay is nowhere near what you are get the fuck outta here with that Alaina.”

I gasped at the anger brewing deep in his voice. Instantly my hackles rose.

‘Why are you mad at me?” I say in the sharpest voice I could manage. Who did he think he was? I barely even knew him and he wanted to sit up on his high horse yelling at me. My life was hard enough without him trying to come in and make it more difficult. He looked me in the eye for the first time since he walked in the room. White hot fire was emanating from them. I immediately looked away to keep from embarrassing myself further in front of him.

“Just leave please.” I whispered softly.

I turned away from the chair expecting him to leave without an argument. Waiting a few moments I turned around to see him still there looking at me. Raising his eyebrow as if daring me to say something he got more comfortable in the chair. We sat like that for hours.

#erik killmonger x reader #erik stevens #oc #erikwithteshits

[hutchhitched]

Peace (MS2SL submission #3)

Peace is my third and final submission for @mores2sl‘s 2017 anthology. Special thanks to @sohypothetically for her hard work putting this together, those who contributed and donated, and @xerxia31 for the banner. Y’all are the best.

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 The sun slides into the water and floods the sky and beach with a deep orange hue that entrenches itself in my soul. I’m surprised there’s anything there for it to cling to. It’s been a very hard year—harder than anyone should have to endure, and I’m hiding out on an island in the South China Sea trying to figure out how to come back to life.

 I’m much too young to have given up already.

 Rebirth is a curious thing. The Phoenix regenerates through fire, and I’ve certainly endured that in the past few months. But that’s mythology, and I’ve always been a bit more fond of nature than what the Egyptians and Greeks believed a few millennia ago. That’s usually why I eagerly anticipate the end of winter, when the earth is dormant and animals hibernate. There’s nothing quite like the Appalachian Mountains in the springtime when the snow melts and green grass and the cream and violet of crocuses peer through the remnants of the dead season.

 My favorite day of the year is when I see the dandelions break out in their raucous yellow glory to pattern the ground in polka dots. It’s rebirth, which is what I need.

 I swallow hard as memories of my little sister and me making necklaces and crowns from the yellow flowers flood my mind. My heart clenches, and I press my eyes shut to stop the torrent of tears. She’s still with me. I must remember that. She’s living with her husband and family several hours away from our hometown. Just because her spouse hates me and decided she hardly ever needs to come home doesn’t mean she’s gone. Just because we rarely talk doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me anymore.

 The sky deepens to a navy blue and then to black with a sprinkle of twinkling stars. Heaving a sigh, I realize I’m not ready to go home. I need more time before I’m healed.

****

“What can we do to help you, Ms. Everdeen?” The man at the front desk was one of the nicest-looking people Katniss had ever met, and his charisma oozed through the phone line.

 “I was wondering if there’s any way I might be able to extend my stay,” Katniss stammered into the receiver. “I’m not sure how that works, and I know I’m supposed to check out tomorrow, but I’d really like some more time here.”

 “I’m certainly happy to take care of that for you, Ms. Everdeen. For how many days would you like to extend your stay?”

 Smooth, she thought, but it didn’t bring her any comfort. She wasn’t in the mood for charming. She just wanted to get better.

 “I’m not sure. A few days. Maybe a week. Maybe more. Is that a problem?”

 “No, Ms. Everdeen. That should be fine. I’ll make a note of the reservation change in the computer and place the applicable charges to the card on file.”

 “Thank you, Finnick.”

 “It’s my pleasure, Ms. Everdeen.”

 With a sigh, Katniss hung up the phone and sank onto the bed. A breeze ruffled the curtains so that they billowed into the room, and she studied the palm trees that swayed outside her balcony. She could just glimpse a strip of blue ocean before she gave into exhaustion and lay back so she could escape the world with a nap.

 It was close to sunset when she woke, and she grimaced as a bead of sweat ran down her neck and trailed between her breasts on the way to her bare stomach. Heaving a sigh, she rose and stripped as she meandered across her room and to the shower. It was her favorite part of the accommodations. Running half the length of the bathroom, the glass stall housed a massive rainfall showerhead that released a rush of water. Steam billowed against the walls, and Katniss doodled an abstract pattern before stepping under the spray.

 She was so caught up in the feel of water caressing her body that she didn’t hear the key in the lock or the turn of the handle. As she massaged shampoo into her hair, the man who’d entered the room called hello and crossed to the bathroom. When he saw the shadow of her form in the steam covered glass, he jerked to a stop.

 Why is there a woman in my room? Peeta wondered as he told himself he should look away. He couldn’t, though. There was something in the graceful twist of her body that commanded his entire attention. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit a pang of desire as he observed the feminine curves that hid behind the fogged glass and the arc of her neck as she rinsed her hair. His hands itched to run along the outline of her wet skin, and he swallowed hard as her hands wiped the soap from her torso before reaching out to shut off the water.

 “What are you doing here?!”

 He started at her shriek and backed away with raised hands. She grappled with a towel and covered herself as she peeked around the edge of the shower stall.

 “I-I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I—Th—this is supposed to be my room.”

 “This is my room!” she barked.

 “I’m sure we can figure this out,” he started, but the sheer panic on her face made him rethink his attempt at reason. Her dark hair was plastered to her head and hung over her bare shoulders, and he noticed her gray eyes shot fiery sparks at him in her agitated state. He was almost ashamed to admit that the rivulets of water running down her bare shoulders and legs were highly arousing. “You know what? I’m just gonna go. It’s clear there’s been a mix-up, and I can deal with the front desk to fix this.”

 “That would be wonderful,” she spat, and he backed toward the door before fumbling with the doorknob.

 “So sorry about this, ma’am. I, uh…really am sorry.”

 Katniss stood dripping in the shower, chest heaving with indignation as the unwelcome visitor stumbled from the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, she scurried across the floor, double locked the door, and attached the chain before collapsing into the armchair facing the balcony.

 “How did he get in here?” she hissed, her voice as unsteady as her hands. She heaved in a few gulps of air for reassurance and then dried herself quickly and dressed. She toweled her hair dry and had just woven it into a haphazard braid when the room phone rang. She grabbed for it and answered on the second ring. It wasn’t a surprise when Finnick’s voice came over the line.

 “Ms. Everdeen, I’m so sorry for the confusion,” he began in his most amiable tone. “I can assure you, it is not the policy of Panem Resorts to send unfamiliar men into single women’s rooms. I take full responsibility for the misunderstanding. When I extended your stay, I forgot to change the reservation for the guest arriving today. The problem has been remedied, and on behalf of the entire resort’s staff, I’d like to comp the rest of your stay with us.”

 “Umm, I…” Her indignation died on her lips as Finnick’s words registered.

 “I’d also like to offer food and drink vouchers for your use during the rest of your stay. They can be used at any of our restaurants and bars at your discretion. I’ll have someone deliver them to your room as quickly as possible. I’ve taken the liberty of extending your stay through the Monday after next. If you require more time or decide to leave us before then, please just let me know. I’m here to make your experience as pleasant as possible.”

 “Th-thank you,” she stammered and bid him goodbye, too stunned to complain.

 Flustered, she shrugged and finished dressing for dinner. If the food was free, she wasn’t going to turn it down. As she pulled a sundress from her suitcase, she pushed the blonde curls, blue eyes, and stocky build of the intruder from earlier out of her mind. His presence in her life was only a small blip on the radar. She was here to recover, and that’s what she intended to do.

 ****

 “Mr. Mellark, I’m so very sorry for the misunderstanding.”

 Peeta nodded at Finnick Odair, who he’d previously met at check-in and then again when he explained the room mix up with the raven-haired beauty he’d met briefly when she was wet and naked. He shook his head to clear his mind. It wasn’t right to fantasize about a woman who clearly hadn’t wanted him in her room, although he’d been sure it was his. Either way, he had more self-control than to mentally leer at a nude woman against her will. With an internal sigh, he forced himself to concentrate on what the resort employee was saying.

 “Ms. Everdeen recently extended her stay, and the change resulted in the mistake. I apologize for any inconvenience, and I’d like to offer a comped stay and meal and drink vouchers for your entire vacation with us here at Panem Resorts.”

 Surprised, Peeta protested, “That hardly seems necessary. I’m sure it was an honest mistake.”

 “Nonsense,” Finnick replied with a disarming smile. “I insist. I assume this room is to your liking? It’s identical to your previous reservation. Just a little further down the beach in District 12 of the resort.”

 “Fine. It’s completely fine,” Peeta murmured, exhaustion muddling his brain as jet lag caught up with him. “Thanks for taking care of this so quickly.”

 “It’s my job to make sure the odds are in your favor, sir. I’ll just leave you alone to settle. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.”

 Peeta sank onto the bed as the door snapped closed. He ran a hand through his unruly curls and squeezed his eyes shut. The image of the woman swam behind his eyelids, and he felt a tug in his groin.

 “Happy honeymoon to me,” he grumbled. “Left at the altar. Random unclothed woman in my hotel room. Desperately alone.”

 Giving into despondency, he allowed himself to envision the earlier scenario playing out differently. He unbuttoned his shorts and stroked himself as he imagined the towel falling from her and her welcoming him into her wet embrace. He grunted as he jerked, but no amount of lube made up for the isolation he felt as he masturbated.

 When he came, he felt no relief. He was supposed to be making love to his new wife, not spilling into his own hand. With a frustrated groan, he stripped and stepped into the shower. As he cleaned himself, he longed for his problems to follow the suds down the drain. Unfortunately, they met him in his dreams when he fell into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares.

 ****

 Katniss woke the next morning and stretched languidly. She’d enjoyed her dinner the previous night—fish and fresh fruit at a table on the beach with a few glasses of wine. The breeze off the ocean had smelled so good, she’d spent the hours after eating on her balcony in a gauzy swimsuit cover up that barely counted as clothing.

 There was something risqué about sitting outside in the dark in sheer fabric as the wind blew her hair into a jumbled mess. She wasn’t an exhibitionist in any way, but she’d felt a little reckless after recovering from the initial shock of finding an admittedly gorgeous man in her room as she stepped from the shower. His reaction to her had been obvious, although he’d proved to be as much of a gentleman as he could have considering the situation. It wasn’t his fault he’d been given a key to her room, and he’d been as apologetic as possible for someone who looked as wrecked with exhaustion as he had.

 She pushed him from her mind as she rolled onto her side. He wasn’t her concern. She was as she faced yet another day since the death of her father, her mother’s placement in a mental hospital, and abandonment by her sister. She had two friends, Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee, but both had their own problems and had done as much as they could to help her get through the crises of the past few years. She’d been in counseling long enough to know that she needed to learn self-care. She was terrible at putting herself first, and it had been a process to figure out how to do that.

 Moaning softly, she threw the covers from her and stumbled to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she braided her hair and pulled on her dark green one piece. Last night’s dinner on the shore had convinced her she needed to take advantage of the soothing power of the ocean while she was there. Grabbing a book, sunglasses, and sunscreen, she made her way to the beach and found a lounge chair where she spent the day when she wasn’t cooling off in the waves.

 For the first time since she’d arrived at the resort on Panem, she felt a hint of relief. It wasn’t peace yet, but she had another ten days before she returned to the emptiness of her real life back in the States.

 ****

 Peeta had just entered the restaurant when he saw her. Isolated from other diners by herself at a table for two in the corner, the woman looked much less like a drowned rat and more like a goddess. He hesitated for several moments before he decided it might be nice to clear the air.

 “Excuse me,” he said softly as he approached, “Ms. Everdeen?”

 Katniss startled at her name and glanced upward to see the man who’d walked in on her when she was in the shower. She shrank back imperceptibly but managed to answer with a clear, strong voice.

 “Yes?”

 “My name’s Peeta. Peeta Mellark,” he offered in explanation with an extended hand. “I’m so sorry again for the mix-up yesterday. It’s not my habit to walk in on women in any state of undress. Unless invited, of course.”

 She hesitated but shook his hand. He didn’t seem to be anything other than genuinely sincere, but she wasn’t looking for conversation. She only wanted a quiet meal on the patio.

 “Katniss Everdeen.”

 “Ah, Ms. Everdeen. Mr. Mellark. Are you dining together this evening?” Annie Odair, Finnick’s wife and head waitress at the resort’s finest restaurant, glanced between them speculatively. She motioned for Peeta to take his seat and waited to present them with menus. Unsure, Peeta started to protest, but Katniss waved her hand.

 “It’s fine. I’ve eaten alone too often this week anyway.”

 With murmured thanks, Peeta seated himself and smiled nervously at the woman across the table. Annie handed them both menus before explaining the specials for the evening.

 “Might I suggest the redfish. Cinna, our chef, is famous for his recipe.” When they both nodded their agreement, Annie took their unused menus and left them alone.

 “So…”

 Katniss looked at him, her eyes solemn, and he took note of the unusual color. Gray eyes marked by a few flecks of deep green stared at him. He saw a sadness that reached across the table and squeezed his heart, but that was much too intimate for a first dinner conversation. Clearing his throat, he clasped his hands and leaned his chin on them.

 “I’d love to do the old-fashioned thing where I ask you thoughtful, probing questions to get to know you, but maybe this isn’t the right venue for that.” At the spark of fear in her eyes, he continued, “Peeta Mellark from Charlotte. Recently left at the altar. I’m on a honeymoon for one. In other words, I’m completely messed up and am taking advantage of a non-refundable vacation to forget the past few months of my life. Now that you know how screwed up I am, you have no need to worry. I’m not going to attack you, and you can’t possibly be more fucked up than I am.”

 She blinked at him, taken aback by his transparency and haunted by a familiarity that made her long to open up to him. Saved from answering by the arrival of a complimentary bottle of Pinot Gris, she twisted her hands under the table until they were alone again. Taking a few sips for strength, she made a snap decision.

 “I’m from a small town in southern West Virginia. It’s been a rough couple of years, and I needed some time away from everything. My boss is more understanding than I deserve, so he gave me a month off work and told me to leave. I was supposed to go back a few days ago, but I changed my mind. As you know…”

 “I do know,” he agreed and smiled gently. “As shocking as it was to find someone else in my room, I can’t say I regret meeting you tonight. We don’t have to talk. We can just sit together and enjoy this if you’d feel more comfortable. No pressure. People say I’m fairly easy to get along with.”

 A light breeze ruffled his hair, and he motioned to the white sand that disappeared into darkness. The half-moon shone on the water, and palm trees rustled in the wind. Strings of soft lights decorated the patio, and piano music tinkled over the speakers.

 Katniss raised her glass to him. “Cheers to quiet dinner companions and a place to heal.”

 “Cheers to that,” he agreed with a clink and nod.

 The redfish was excellent, and so was the company. They spoke occasionally, but they mostly enjoyed a companionable silence throughout their meal. When they were done, he offered to walk her back to her cabin, and she agreed hesitantly. At her door, he kissed her on the cheek and thanked her for spending the evening with him. Before she had a chance to respond, he’d turned and faded into the darkness. It was the first night since she’d arrived that she didn’t have nightmares.

 ****

 Peeta cursed as his knee wobbled under him. He wasn’t used to such spongy ground on his hikes, but the jungle around the Panem Resort was too tempting not to explore. He was sweating, his t-shirt clinging in spotty patches against his chest and back. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d swiped at his forehead and smacked at mosquitos. Irritated, he sat on the boulder to the side of the path to catch his breath. A rustle from around the corner startled him, but it wasn’t long before Katniss turned the corner and saw him sitting there.

 “Hi, stranger,” he called. “What are you doing so far from home?”

 Katniss observed him as he bent and then alternatively stretched out his left leg. He grimaced slightly as he did so, and she wondered if he’d aggravated an old injury while he was hiking.

 She motioned to him and asked, “Taking a break? That’s not usually how a workout goes, you know.”

 He chuckled softly and threw up his hands in mock anger. “Way to call me out there. My manhood is completely offended. Getting shown up by a woman. Geez.”

 She sank down next to him on the boulder and wiped her face with the towel she’d slung over her neck when she’d left her cabin that morning. “I have a confession,” she whispered. “I’m completely exhausted.”

 “No! Say it isn’t so.”

 “Oh, but it is. I’m out of shape, and it’s hot as balls out here.”

 “As hot as balls, you say?” he asked with an arched brow and a pleased smirk. “How hot exactly are these balls of which you speak?”

 Fighting to keep a straight face, she deadpanned, “About 100 degrees and slick with sweat.”

 He snorted, and they dissolved into laughter together. It was amazing how easy it felt to talk to him, and she realized it’d been several weeks since she’d let go and given into full-fledged mirth. Their conversation was nonsense, but it was everything at the same time. He seemed to understand her hesitancy, her desperate desire to remain private, and he didn’t push. He just allowed her to be, which was exactly what her counselor had been telling her to do.

 When they stilled, she cocked her head and appraised him. Nodding sharply, she made a decision.

 “My father died four years ago. My mom’s since been institutionalized, and my sister’s husband hates me. We don’t see each other regularly. I haven’t been handling things too well, so my counselor suggested I get away.” When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “I thought maybe a hike would help clear my mind today. Instead, I’m a ball of sweat.”

 “We’ve covered that, already,” he teased.

 “Fair enough,” she laughed.

 “I thought maybe I’d sit for a while and listen to the jungle. See what it has to tell me.” His eyes flicked over her face, and he gave her a smile with just a hint of shyness. “You’re welcome to stay with me. I’m planning to go to the beach next and eavesdrop on the waves. I hear there’s a cove that legend says reveals secrets to lost souls.”

 “I think I’d like that,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Maybe we can watch the clouds a little too. Sometimes they have stories no one else knows.”

 Peeta nudged her shoulder with his and wiped his face again. “Now you’re getting the hang of it. I plan to spend the entire day that way. It’d be really nice to have some company.”

 “Shhh,” she hissed. “The jungle’s trying to talk to me.”

 He ducked his head to hide his grin and fell silent. Several hours later, he wandered back to his cabin, his mind peaceful and his heart full from listening to what nature had to tell him.

 Slow down. Stop worrying. Some people aren’t supposed to be with you forever. Others find you when you least expect it. Just be.

 When he woke the next morning, he realized he’d slept without nightmares. He hadn’t even done that with his fiancée. Ex-fiancée. Maybe there was something to the air in Panem. Or maybe it was spending time with Katniss. Either way, he felt better than when he’d asked Cashmere to marry him and she’d accepted his proposal. That had to mean something.

 ****

 She found him after lunch the following day sitting alone under a palm tree at the edge of the beach with a pencil and tablet. She realized he was sketching as she watched the tip of his tongue peek from between his lips and his eyes narrow in concentration. She waited patiently until he glanced up and waved. When he did, she crossed the sand and sank down next to him.

 “I thought maybe I’d do something a little less tame today. Still listening to nature but with a bit more flair,” she explained. “I didn’t know whether or not I’d see you today, but I wouldn’t be horrified if you decided to come along with me. You might like it.”

 “Wouldn’t be horrified… How encouraging,” he replied with a wink. “What is this gloriously dangerous activity you’re asking me to join? I can hardly wait.”

 “Parasailing.”

 “Parasailing? Like up in the air parasailing?”

 “Is there any other kind?” Katniss teased. “I hear it’s wonderful. Peaceful, like you’re flying. I’ve always wanted to be a bird. My father used to call me his mockingjay because I used to mimic everyone when I was young. It’s a fake bird, but it was a sweet nickname.”

 Peeta didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let her story hang between them so she could process it. After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “Well, in that case, I might have to take you up on the offer. I’m guessing I shouldn’t take my sketch pad with me. Might lose it over the Pacific somewhere.”

 She glanced at her wrist. “I have a reservation at three. You have time to take it to your cabin if you’d like. I’m happy to wait here for you. Let the waves have a conversation with me for a while.”

 “Decidedly tame,” he joked and scrambled to his feet. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

 She adjusted her sunglasses and toyed with the end of her braid as she waited for him. The steady sound of waves beating repeatedly against the shore assaulted her ears, reminding her that life is both stable and unpredictable. The waves were never the same twice, but they always came, one after another, as they pulled sand from the shore and deposited it from the ocean at the same time.

 She was almost in a trance when Peeta’s shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see his right hand extended to help her up from her seated position. She refused to acknowledge the charge that passed between them when his hand wrapped around hers and he tugged her upright. She didn’t have time for electricity.

 She did have time to fly, though, and that’s exactly what it felt like when she and Peeta were strapped in the harness and raised into the air. The first thing they both noticed was the silence. Once they were off the deck of the speedboat and a few dozen yards into the air, the sound of the motor faded away, and they could only hear the rush of wind as they were pulled along. The blue sea spread out beneath them, and black rocks peered through in outcroppings amongst the green mountains of the jungle.

 “This is breathtaking,” Peeta said, awed by the beauty before them.

 “It’s amazing,” she agreed and eagerly soaked in the sight.

 “Do you feel like you’re flying?”

 Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she reached for him. “Soaring like a mockingjay,” she answered.

 He squeezed her hand in response, and they intertwined their fingers until they were safely back on the boat. Later, she realized she hadn’t wanted to let go.

 ****

 They settled into a routine. One would find the other in the morning, and they’d spend their day together. Day after day until only a few remained until she was scheduled to leave. They talked, but they spent significant time being quiet together, listening to the wind and waves and finding an equilibrium both of them needed.

 “I hear there’s a swimming hole we need to visit before we leave,” Peeta told her over dinner three days before she was supposed to checkout and fly home. “Finnick said it’s absolutely gorgeous at sunset. Want to head there after we’re done eating?”

 “How long will it take to get there?”

 “I think it’s a twenty minute walk or something. Why?” he asked. “Do you need to take care of something first?” She grinned, and he waited for her response.

 “I just know we’re supposed to wait thirty minutes after eating before we swim.”

 He rolled his eyes and took a bite of his fish. “That was a terrible joke. Worse than any of mine. I expected better of you, Katniss.”

 “I’m hilarious. You know I am.”

 Peeta nodded and wiped his mouth. “I need to go change into swim trunks. Meet you at your room in a few minutes?”

 “I’ll be ready,” she agreed, and they parted ways.

 Back in her cabin, she rummaged through her things for a swimsuit she hadn’t worn fifteen times in front of him already. Her fingers snagged on a black strap, and she considered it for a second before pulling it from the drawer.

 It was a one-piece, but it might as well have been a bikini or nothing at all. She’d bought it on a whim when she and Prim had spent the day shopping together a month before her younger sister’s wedding. The straps were designed to wrap around her shoulders and torso and held the top and bottom, such as they were, together. She fingered the slick fabric and shrugged.

 “Might as well,” she mumbled as she slid it over her legs. It took several minutes of adjusting before it was on correctly, but the image reflected in the mirror reassured her she’d chosen well. She slipped a semi-sheer robe over her suit and waited for Peeta to join her.

 Peeta knocked on her door a few moments later, and he smiled at her when she opened her door. Her gray eyes glowed almost silver in the evening light, and he noticed she’d pulled her hair up into a topknot rather than her signature braid. It looked nice, a little dressier than normal, and he was pleased she’d made the extra effort. Whether it was for him or her, he still benefitted from her beauty.

 “Here we are,” he announced when they found the pool. It was deserted, which surprised them both, but neither would have wanted to share it with anyone else. Peeta stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it onto the rocks surrounding the pool. He turned just as Katniss untied her robe and revealed her suit.

 “Holy shit,” he whispered and tried hard not to gape, but it was no use. Her body, lithe and toned, was wrapped in black ribbons like a present, and his hands itched to touch her in ways he hadn’t considered since the first day they’d met.

 Katniss hung her robe on a low-hanging tree branch and moved slowly toward him. He licked his lips as the blue water lapped around her curved thighs. Sinking into the water, he hoped to hide his reaction to her, but he knew it would be severely evident when he had to leave the pool.

 “This is beautiful,” she murmured, and he agreed readily. He forced himself to turn away from her and watch the glowing sun sink behind the mountains. Dark pinks melted into a brilliant orange, his favorite color.

 “Are you ready to go home?” he asked and fought to curb his sadness that their time together was almost at an end.

 “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I needed this. I really did, but I kind of miss the routine.”

 “Understandable.”

 She hesitated, but she knew she wanted to admit what she was feeling. “I’m also a little sad I won’t see you anymore.”

 He sucked in his breath and held it. That was the closest thing she’d said that admitted her attraction to him, and he was afraid to ruin the moment.

 “Peeta…”

 He exhaled and turned to face her. Her lips parted slightly, and he reached forward to cup her jaw in his palm. Running his thumb along her cheekbone, he leaned toward her and brushed his lips against hers.

 She stepped into him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Tilting her head back, he kissed her until his head whirled. While the sun set, they held each other as their lips met repeatedly.

 That night, Peeta lay in bed, frustrated and alone. He’d kept himself in check almost the entire time during his stay at Panem Resorts, and now he needed a release. The memory of the black swimsuit against Katniss’ olive skin stirred his blood, and he groaned as his cock hardened.

 “Fuck it,” he grunted and reached for the lube he’d packed when he thought he’d be on his honeymoon. He squirted a liberal amount in his hand and reached into his boxers to grasp himself. “Oh shit,” he whispered and closed his eyes as he stroked.

 When he closed his eyes, he saw Katniss, still in her swimsuit and lying on her bed with her legs splayed. In his mind, she mumbled his name as her hand tucked into the scrap of material covering her mound and rubbed. Stroking faster, he matched his rhythm with his vision of her pleasuring herself. He squeezed tighter and pulled faster as she bit her lip and sent herself over the edge. He followed her; gasping and grunting as he came. When he was through, he sighed at how alone he felt. Katniss was so much better in person than in his imagination.

 ****

 “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up this morning,” Katniss admitted when Peeta knocked on her door and asked her if she wanted to grab breakfast.

 “Only two days left. Better take advantage,” he quipped and held the door for her as she exited her cabin.

 “Well, yeah, but…”

 “But what?” he queried as her voiced trailed into silence.

 “I just…I mean after the, uh, kissing…”

 “A little kissing wasn’t going to stop me from seeing my best girl on the island,” Peeta teased, and she blushed at his words.

 “Best girl, huh? I thought I was a woman.”

 “All woman from what I’ve seen,” he chuckled, and she leaned into him as they walked. He slipped his arm around her waist and squeezed her to him, and she didn’t pull away. Instead, she mirrored his action, and they arrived at breakfast wrapped together.

 After eating, Katniss suggested lounging on the beach with books, and he obliged. They read and chatted, swam and dozed throughout the day until Peeta suggested they dress for dinner. They dined at their usual corner table, but both felt the crackle of energy that sparked between them. When they were done, Katniss gulped down her fear.

 “Would you like to come back to my room tonight, Peeta? I thought we could watch the sunset from my balcony.”

 He scanned her body and studied her face. She wore a long black skirt that skimmed her ankles and a lowcut, backless coral shirt that exposed just enough cleavage to make him want to bury his face in the hollow of her olive skin. He knew what would happen if he went back to her room, and he needed a minute to figure out if she was asking what he thought she was.

 “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last word.

 “I’m positive,” she confessed. “Are you sure it’s what you want? You’re the one coming out of an engagement, not me.”

 “What engagement?” he joked softly. If he was honest, he’d known for a while that his fiancée wasn’t really in love with him the way he’d needed. The past several days with Katniss had proven relationships could be so much more than the shadow of what he’d accepted.

 “Come back with me,” she implored. “It was supposed to be your room anyway.”

 He rose from the table and helped her to her feet. He threaded his fingers through hers and led her back to her cabin through the sand, nervously shifting from foot to foot as she fiddled with the lock and finally opened the door. Wordlessly, she led him to the balcony and parted the curtains so they could step back out into the open air.

 “I’m so glad Finnick messed up my room assignment that first day,” he admitted tenderly as they stared at the palm trees that framed their view.

 “I…” she began but couldn’t finish.

 “Charlotte isn’t that far from West Virginia, you know. Maybe…”

 “Don’t,” she begged. “Please don’t offer something you can’t guarantee.”

 “What if we could, though? What if it could work?”

 “What if what we have here is all there is?” she challenged and turned to face him. Peeta tucked a loose lock of her dark hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

 “Katniss,” he breathed, his voice hoarse with longing.

 She swayed slightly, and he tilted her head and lowered his lips to hers. The moan that escaped her caused blood to rush to his groin, and she felt a tingling in her nipples that made her press into him. His mouth opened over hers, and she welcomed his tongue. The kissed languidly, slowly, thoroughly for what seemed like hours. His thighs pressed her into the balcony railing, and she reveled at the feeling of steel from both behind and against her pelvis.

 “So beautiful,” he sighed and captured her bottom lip between his teeth to tug gently.

 She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer so that nothing but the thinnest sliver of air and their clothing separated their heated bodies. He groaned as her breasts strained against his chest and trailed his left hand down her back to tuck into her waistband. Her soft skin felt like velvet under his fingertips, and he wondered how soon he could move underneath the hem of her skirt instead.

 Katniss threaded her fingers through his curls and tugged hesitantly until he grunted at the pressure. Emboldened by his response, she swept her tongue into his mouth and explored its depths with vigor. He leaned her backward until her back strained, and she pushed lightly on his shoulders to get him to pull back.

 “Peeta, that hurts,” she gasped before trailing her lips down his neck and nipping at his Adam’s apple.

 “Sorry,” he growled and spun her so her back was against the doorway to the balcony. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and captured her left breast with his right hand. He massaged and kneaded it for several moments before slipping the strap from her shoulder and tugging the elastic bodice of her shirt downward.

 She gasped at the sensation of the sea breeze on her bare skin, but that quickly segued into a garbled moan when he lowered his head and captured her peaked nipple between his lips. He licked and suckled her until her back bowed, and she squirmed against him.

 “Peeta,” she murmured, “that feels…”

 She trailed off when he lifted her skirt and ran his hand up her thigh to the triangle of cotton she wore between her legs. He teased the edges before slipping his middle finger under the elastic and tracing her slit. They groaned simultaneously—he at the moisture he found there and she at the electric shock that jolted through her when he teased her entrance.

 Peeta caught her pebbled nipple between his teeth again and worried it as he slid his finger into her. She mewled at the intrusion but clutched at his shoulders, desperate to bring him closer. Warmth and a dull pain radiated from her breast, and heat so intense it burned emanated from her core. His finger rubbed gently against her walls as he stroked slowly. Without her being aware, she raised one leg to hook over his hip, allowing him better access. He sucked harder on her nipple and added a second finger, which resulted in a loud groan that echoed in the doorway.

 “Inside,” she begged. “Peeta, we need to go inside.”

 He lifted his head and captured her mouth again. When she wrapped her other leg around his waist, he tugged her against him and walked them toward the bed. With his left arm around her back and his fingers still inside her, he lay her gently on the bed before lowering himself onto her.

 “Does that feel good?” he mumbled into her neck as his tongue traced along her jawline.

 She answered wordlessly, but the sounds she emitted were so loud they were almost embarrassing. He curved his fingers inside her, and she cried out as she shook. He straightened his fingers, pulled all the way out, and then thrust in again before curving into the same spot. She thrashed her head from side to side as he repeated the steps until she tightened and snapped. Her back bowed, and she pulsed as she sang his name. Her walls pulled and tensed around his fingers until she shivered and stilled.

 “Beautiful,” he whispered and kissed both eyelids before sliding down her body. He rolled her shirt down to her waist as he kissed her skin, pebbled with goosebumps and slick with sweat. When he reached her waist, he pulled her skirt upward until he bared her legs. He bit the top of her panties and dragged them down to her knees with his teeth.

 Peeta pulled his fingers free, and she sighed at the loss of the feeling of him inside her. She jumped as he kissed her inner thighs and spread them open as much as she could. When his mouth found her core, she cursed and bit her bottom lip. Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrated on living in the moment and enjoying the sensation of his tongue flicking against her clit instead of questioning how and why she was the recipient of such pleasure. Or what would happen when they left.

 He inhaled as he nuzzled into her. The smell and feel of her orgasm drove him wild as he licked her clean and traced the ridges of her pussy. His groin throbbed, but he wasn’t in a hurry to find release. Hearing her mewled cries were reward enough as he feasted on her. She yanked at his hair as her pelvis jutted upward. He sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue until he was rewarded with a release of tangy moisture that coated his tongue.

 “Fuck,” she squealed and twisted under him. “Fuck, Peeta.”

 He lifted his head to look at her and joked, “Is that an invitation?”

 “Take your clothes off,” she ordered weakly and then lifted her head to watch as he scrambled off the bed to do her bidding.

 He tugged his t-shirt over his head first, and she licked her lips at the way his chest muscles rippled as he moved. When he dropped the cotton into a pool on the floor, he flicked open the button on his trousers and unzipped them. His blue eyes blazed as he slipped them over his hips.

 “Holy shit,” she gasped at the sight of him. His bronzed skin glowed in the darkened room, and his erection jutted upward. He wasn’t huge, but he was certainly respectable. Long and thick with a well-maintained thatch of dark blonde hair at the base. His balls were round and even, and Katniss couldn’t wait to get her hands on them.

 Peeta reached for her, intent on undressing her the rest of the way, and she took advantage of his thoughtfulness by wrapping her hand around his cock and giving it a purposeful tug.

 “Don’t,” he ordered gently. “Trying to prolong it.”

 “You want me to drive it then?” she asked, so turned on and simultaneously relaxed that her words slurred.

 He nodded and lifted his hands to indicate he was at her command, and she motioned for him to lean against the headboard. He sat with his back supported by pillows and his legs spread out in front of him. She crawled toward him on all fours and ducked her head to suck on his tip. He hissed when she pulled him inside her wet mouth and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. As soon as she covered him, she let him go, and he peeked open one eye to watch her.

 “I’ve always wanted to try this position,” she murmured as she straddled his lap. She grasped him, and they both moaned as she ran his tip through the strip of her wet curls between her legs. When he was lubricated, she rose onto her knees and positioned him before sinking onto him.

 “Condom,” he gasped, but she shook her head.

 “No,” she hummed, “just us.”

 She threw her head back as she stretched to receive him. He groaned and grunted as she sank onto him so slowly it felt like ice melting and trickling down his cock. Her breasts bobbed in front of his face, and he rested his hands on her hips before sliding around to cup her butt.

 “You’re a goddess,” he whispered, in awe of her as she adjusted to his girth.

 She smiled softly and lifted slightly before sinking back down. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and she repeated her action several times before she slipped off him completely. Before he could protest, she slid down him again and rested on his hips.

 “Oh…” she moaned and lifted off him another time.

 Finding her rhythm, she began to rock against him, taking him in and then retreating. Over and over, she stretched and bucked until her movements became fluid, and his hips answered her gentle motion.

 “That’s it,” he grunted. “Fuck, this feels so good…”

 “Open your eyes,” she demanded. “I want you to watch me.”

 He obeyed immediately. His eyes dropped to where they were joined, and his cock twitched inside her as he watched her sliding up and down his shaft, slick with her juices. He fought to match her pace, and he grinned when she bucked out of rhythm.

 “Are you going to come again?”

 She nodded as she bounced on top of him. “I think so. Oh god, I hope so. This is… You’re…”

 “…everything I’ve ever wanted,” he groaned as her walls tightened around him.

 Her skin glistened, and she braced her hands on his shoulders. She basked in his admiration as his eyes scanned her body. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but it bordered on adoration if she had to bet. She undulated above him, stroking him and finding the angle that made her whimper for more.

“Peeta,” she gasped as she quickened her pace. She felt him expand inside her, and she fixed her eyes on his as he succumbed to his climax. His groan rolled from him in an elongated cry of surrender, and she milked him as he poured into her. The warmth from him, his sounds, her heightened sense of power…all of them combined to send her over the edge again, and she ground against him as she came with a triumphant shout.

 She collapsed against his chest, gasping for breath and completely sated. His arms moved around her to cradle her against him, and she relished the feel of him still sheathed inside her and the aftershocks that shot through her for several minutes after climax.

 Peeta brushed kisses against her forehead and temple and stroked her braid until it fell free and spread over her shoulders. His chest felt hollow as he held her, emptied of all the pain and frustration he’d felt recently. He was still inside her, although he’d long since gone limp. He wanted to shift her off him and lay her onto the bed so she could sleep properly, but he didn’t want to disturb her. She needed the respite as much as he did—more probably, considering all she’d told him about her recent crises. She sighed in her sleep and cuddled into his neck. With a contented smile, he traced her spine with his thumb until she stirred.

 “Hey, sweetheart,” he hummed against her hair. She smiled and stretched against him before murmuring her response.

 “Bathroom.”

 He helped her off him and grabbed a towel she’d left on the chair before they’d gone to dinner. He cleaned himself as best he could and sat on the edge of the bed as he waited for her to return. When she did, he was struck by her beauty. Her lithe body glowed from their earlier exertion, and she ran her eyes over his naked form.

 “You look pretty good in my bed,” she laughed. It wasn’t a lie. He did look good, tanned and muscled with tousled golden curls and sparkling eyes. He practically glowed post-orgasm, and she wanted to see it again the next day and then maybe the next after that. And maybe forever.

 “You’re way too far away from me,” he sighed and grinned as she crossed to him and slipped under the sheet. The feel of her satiny skin against his made him want to cry, it felt so good.

 She rubbed her leg against his and whispered in his ear, “How long will it take you to recover?”

 He rolled on top of her and pressed against her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was soft against her heat, but he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he was ready to go again. Not with her naked against him and her deliberately enticing him. He kissed her deeply for several minutes, pouring his heart into her, and she wriggled beneath him. When he finally twitched and hardened, she pled for him to enter her again.

 Peeta massaged her clit as he pushed into her, and he dropped his forehead to hers as she closed around him. “Katniss, Katniss, Katniss,” he chanted as he withdrew and plunged into her. She babbled as he lifted her hips and changed the angle. Her eyes were closed, and her arms fell limply to her sides as he slammed his hips against hers. She let him control the pace, helpless as he elicited feelings she hadn’t been sure she’d ever truly experience. Warmth spread through her, and she felt weightless, like she was flying.

 “Peeta,” she moaned, “I need you.”

 “I’m here, baby. I’m here,” he panted.

 Just be. Enjoy the present. Don’t think about the past or future. Be in the moment. Live in your feelings. Don’t shove anything away. Embrace now.

 Her counselor’s words rang in her ears, and Katniss obeyed. She wasn’t happy. That wasn’t the word, but what she felt was much more than that. She concentrated on him inside her, thick and ramrod straight and caressing her walls with every stroke. He smelled amazing, hints of cinnamon and an herb she couldn’t place and didn’t really care to know. The scent of salt water and ocean air filled the room, and she sighed with contentment.

 She opened her eyes and was met by his intense azure stare. His lips twitched, and his face was a mask of serenity and surrender. His abs rippled as his hips against her. A sheen of perspiration covered his skin, and she trailed her hand across the flushed skin of his chest.

 She breathed in and closed her eyes, and then it happened.

 “Oh shit,” she whimpered.

 “You okay?”

 “Oh shit!”

 “Katniss?”

 “Oh shit!”

 She snapped then, her body taut and then pulsing around him and floating as she came apart. She howled as her orgasm rolled through her, and he shouted her name and pounded against her.

 Peeta could hardly breathe at the sight of her coming apart underneath him. He wanted to watch it again and again, but he was quickly losing control. He wanted her so much, and everything in his life seemed to have existed for him to be in this room with this woman at that very moment. He closed his eyes and felt her squeeze him inside her as a rush a heat blazed through his groin.

 “I’m gonna come. Oh fuck! I’m…I can’t—” He garbled his words as he poured into her. It seemed to take hours to empty himself, and he gritted his teeth and breathed, forcing himself to feel every single sensation. The force of his climax shocked him since it was his second of the night, but he didn’t overthink. He just luxuriated in his fulfillment.

 When they were spent, they continued to writhe together for a few minutes, their bodies sweaty and sticky from their shared exertion. When he finally collapsed on top of her, he expelled an exhausted groan in her ear.

 “Katniss,” he murmured, “I can’t move.”

 She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed his jaw. “I only need to breathe a little bit,” she murmured and scratched her nails down his back. He rolled off her, and she followed him. Settling her head on his chest, she sighed as his arms closed around her.

 “It’s okay if I spend the night,” he stated more than asked.

 “Stay with me,” she murmured as her eyes drooped.

 She heard him mumble something in response, but she was much too tired to catch the content.

 ****

 The sun rises over the water as I slip from my room and onto the balcony. The sky glows with pastel pinks, oranges, and yellows that deepen into an inky blue as day breaks.

 Peeta’s still sleeping, exhausted and gloriously naked in my sheets. I wrap my robe around myself and listen to the waves as they lap against the beach. They’re steady but uneven, much like life has been for both of us the past few years.

 Somehow that doesn’t scare me quite as much now that I’ve found myself again. I’m sure some who know me will wonder if meeting Peeta is what healed me, but I know better. He was part of the process, but it was really my own insistence that I listen to the world around me, slow down and appreciate what most people are too busy to see, hear, or observe.

 The clouds have stories. So do the trees. The ocean will whisper secrets to you if you let it. The colors of the sky paint pictures every single day.

 I’ve been angry and sad, dead inside, for far too long, but the wind, sand, and water has helped soothe my burnt edges while in Panem.

 Although sometimes fire isn’t so bad. Not when it comes from a burning desire to connect with someone who really understands and makes you feel alive. One who makes you feel like you can fly.

 One who brings peace.

#peace #mores2sl #ms2sl #everlark #everlark fanfiction

[fluasch]

#Queen700followerchallenge

Prompt: „Did you really have to beat him half to death? I mean he was going to give you some answers.“

Warnings: ANGST, attempt of murder, hate result out of a relationship, mentions of break up.

Word Count: 2k

Characters: OC (Blue), Loki, Tony, mentions of the Avengers as Team

Summary: Loki found a way back in Blues life and she’s not amused at all about that.

A/N: This is for @your-highnessmarvel for her #Queen700followerchallenge. I actually plan a whole series around this but writing is hard and I have not enough time. Please enjoy!

It was a cold morning, the fog was thick between the streets of New York. Never the less Blue was wide awake. She ran from room to room; organizing, planning, shouting. Whenever Tony and Steve were on a mission – which was quite often these days – the woman was in charge of everything. Even when they were in the Star Tower Blue still cleaned up behind them. She wasn’t even one who liked to plan everything and manage everyone, no. She lived each and every day after the other. Organizing wasn’t one of her strenghts. It would never be. Still, someone needed to run this place and Blue found herself in this position.

So she rushed from place to place, barely rested. At midday she was completly ruined for the day.

She sat down in her room, strong breathing and feet hurting. Why was she in charge? Most of the team hardly knew something about Blue, let alone her powers. Neither has she been there for long, not even half a year since she walked in this ridiculously big tower right after Coulson. She was a secretary and she is still. She wasn’t in need to presence her powers to the world as for example Tony did.

„I am Iron Man.“ What a silly man to reveal his possibilitys. The world already started to hunt him down. „No thanks.“ Blue murmured as she stood up again to change her shoes into something more comfy. Sneakers were a much better option then heels. She didn’t care that she looked quite… interesting with her outworn sneakers and a skirt and blazer.

Blue tried to sleep a bit before the avengers came back, which would be in two hours, when her phone caught her attention. It shortly lighed up, left a message on the screen. Just a single, little picture left her breathless. Fury rised from her stomach to her head.

It was him, sitting on his couch in her apartement. Ravenblack hair blocked the view to her everlasting PC and there was only a little corner full of the emerald green couch but there was this bright cocky smile of his which showed perfect white teeth. It drove her crazy.

Blue changed into trousers but surely left the blazer on. She knew there would be some asskicking involved, and asskicking in skirts is difficult. But she didn’t care if she would hurt him in blazers or an hoodie.

She left the tower as fast as possibile and took the next train to the Bronx.

At this point, Blue wasn’t only angry. She was in complete and utteral rage. Who did he think he was? Well, yes, he was a god. But being a god didn’t give him the rights to be a dick. He had no right to break into her apartement. He had no right to play with her feelings, rip her apart and say „Uh it wasn’t the plan. I swear I tried to protect you.“ How could he lie to her? With eyes as cold as snow? How could he ever betray her like this.

Her phone rang. Blue wasn’t in the mood for talking. But it kept ringing. „Who the hell-“ She took her phone out of her jacket just to see Tonys name on the screen. For a brief infinty her body stopped working. Her heart ached, her hands clenched and her eyes didn’t saw the phone anymore, just bare black. Then she came back from hell into the train and found herself silently crying.

One single man had the possibility to built her world up only to tear it down again and Blue was left wounded, bleeding and in utter pain. This man, this monster now, was back, waited for her in her so called home and enjoyed himself. She would kill him if she got the chance to do it. If she wanted or not, she would do it regardless of the consequences for her and others. So she wrote to Tony who still tried to reach her.

On the way to my apartment. Try to stop me.

Send. It stopped ringing for a while. Then this annoying sound came back. Blue ignored it.

The train station was not far away from the house she used to live in. She walked. Pretty fast and ignored everyone who was in front of her. She was blind with anger.

The entrance was now in her sight and she started running. The only thing that kept her apart from bursting into thousand pieces was the little chance of satisfaction when her fist would hit his wonderful face. The chance of breaking every single bone in his perfect sculptured body. The chance of hearing him scream with his perfect pitched voice.

She entered the building with racing heart and shaking knees. Her legs worked their way up to the fourth floor where Blue found an open door. The door to her apartement. She slowed  down, silently opened the door enough to enter her flat. Yet he heard her.

„Ah! I didn’t thought you would be here so fast. I have whine for you.“ He called from the living room, which was also the bed- and diningroom. Only kitchen and bath were seperated.

With every word he spat out like gum her anger grew.

And he knew. He knew that she was dangerous and that he maybe would die trough her hands. He didn’t care though. He just wanted to speak and he was so naive that he thought she would join him. That she would just lay down her weapons and listen to him.

„What the fuck Loki.“ With those words she tossed him out two years ago. And with those words she met him again. He didn’t saw her coming, he sat with the back to the door. He was sure he would be superior to her altrough he knew her powers.

A bright smile was on his lips before her hands found the collar of his shirt. She tore him backwards. Whine splattered over the couch and on the walls and Loki found his self on the other side of the small room. His head hurt and his vision was blurry. He now reconized his mistake. Blue didn’t hesitate to beat the darkness out of him. And without darkness, he was nothing. He would simply vanish. That’s when his eyes caught hers. They burned with an hating passion to end him. How where they once lovers?

Loki feared for his life. He tried to stand up, to escape but Blues right fist hit his temples hard. His vision blurred more. She picked him up by his collar once more, held him up on eye level. „How dare you to step into my life once more?“ He didn’t reconized it but she cried. She cried without noticing. Tears rolled down her face. Eyes wide open and swollen. Mouth disorted. Face red. „I thought you’re gone forever. I thought I can be free from this pain. I thought I can forget. The thought of you kept me up every night. The eyes of yours left my stomach burning. The mouth of yours left my brain spinning. The touch of yours left me screaming in fear, anger and loss. And here you are again, exact there where I saw your real self for the first time. Did you thought I can forget that you betrayed me and my whole kind? I will never forget Loki. Never.“ With this words Blue dropped him once again. He fell hard on the floor, legs too weak to bear him.

Blue started to hit him again. Once. Twice. Before the third fist could hit his Body a voice appeared in front of him. A manly voice, full of stress and terror. He didn’t understand what he said but he felt that Blues appearance vanished. And with her his consciousness.

„Did you lost your fucking mind?!“ Tony was furious about the scene he found. Blue beating the crap out of Loki. A mortal beating a god to death. Blue left without a word.

She was thankful that Tony found her fast. Still, the anger remained.

There were agents on the street, people watching. Some took pictures, others just stared and tried to figure out why there were so many men and women in suits. Blue could escape before anyone noticed that she came out of the building. She needed some time off.

Late at night Blue came back to the Stark Tower. She didn’t felt like sleeping so she just stood on the balcony where the Quin Jets started and landed. She was freezing cold and she was shaking but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. Loki was back and with him all the feelings Blue tried to bury.

„Are you alright?“ Tony leaned at the frame of the large glass door to the bacony. Blue didn’t say a word nor move. She didn’t even look at her friend.

Through the time Blue was with the avengers, worked for and with them, she and Tony grew together even thought the beginning was quite rough. Tony tried to hit on Blue. It was just a joke from him but the woman took it seriously and didn’t spoke to him a whole week. He apologized and they started talking. He was a player for sure but he was able to be serious. And thats what Blue liked about him. Always a bit to sappy but in the right moment he was there for her. Like now.

He started walking towards Blue but she stopped him early. „Don’t.“ It was not more then a whisper of her but it was enough to let Tony stop.

„I… I don’t know if you knew but… Did you really have to beat him half to death?! I mean, he was going to give you some answers. Was it really necessary?“ Tony spoke carefully, trying not to be hit by the left anger for Loki.

Slowly Blue turned around. Tony couldn’t see her face. It was windy and dark and her blue hair was like a wave around her slender face. He remembered that he wanted to ask her where she got her name from. Where her parents just funny or was it a nickname because of her hair? He didn’t knew and he wanted it to ask it right now. There was this opressive silence between them.

Before Tony had the chance to even part his lips Blue started to speak. Sofly, crushed vioce fell from her lips. „He wanted to speak? To explain himself? Did he say that?“

Tony stopped breathing. He heard pain but he also heard danger. „Yes. He wanted to explain why it happened between you two. He didn’t say what happened but I think you know.“ Blues body trembled. „Tell him-“ Her voice broke. Tony heard her breathing, trying to control her voice. He wanted to help her, to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. But he remained where he was. Blue said no and he respected her choice. Even if it plagued him to see her suffer like this. He knew a lot of her secrets, of her losses and her everlasting pain. He saw her cry, he saw her screem and hit the wall and herself. But he never saw Blue like this. Nothing was left from her, not a single spark of personality. Just a never ending storm, eating her alive like vultures eating a corpse.

„Tell him I don’t care.“ She turned her back to Tony, signaling him to go. She wanted to be alone.

So he left with her words echoing in his head. „Tell him I don’t care.“

Whatever Loki did to Blue, Tony would try everything possible that it wouldn’t happen again.

#/a tale of light and darkness #prompt #queen700followerchallenge #original writing #/blue #angst #marvel #loki #tony stark #mcu #fanfiction #loki laufeyson #oc #avengers #loki laufeyson x oc #loki laufeysonxoc #writing challenge #finally finished aaaaa #I'm sorry for the writing mistakes tho