#lena is unamused

[remosdeerica]

Lena Luthor: 😑

Jon Kent: 😐

Kon Luthor/Kent: 😃

#kon gets another sibling #lena is unamused #jon is awkward #the luther/kent sib dynamic i crave #superfam #superfamily #kon el kent #jon kent #lena luthor

[supercorpkid]

Quarantined.

Supergirl, Kara Danvers x Reader!, Alex Danvers

Word count: 3665.

“Oh, hey Kar.” You look up from your book when you hear a whoosh of air and your hair flies in front of your face. You’re way past being scared by her showing up like this, given the fact she does it all the time.

“Babe, you need to close everything.” Kara says, making you roll your eyes at her. She just got inside your apartment through the window and now is telling you to lock up. 

You finally put your book down, watching her cape flying behind her while she goes around closing the other windows. She doesn’t care if you live on the third floor and leaving the windows open doesn’t really cause you any distress.

“Don’t worry, babe, you’re the only person who usually breaks and enters.” You quip, deciding to keep the mood light with a joke.

She looks at you, brows furrowed, clearly unamused by your joke. “Don’t be funny.” Kara says, coming closer. “There’s a weird virus going around National City. We’re not sure what it is, so I came to check upon you. Please, don’t leave your apartment today.”

“What? What virus? How do you know about it?” You sit up straight, ditching your book to the side. Your face matches the worry in her voice, instantly.

“Some complaints have been going around. People are throwing up, noses are bleeding, and in some extreme cases we saw people fainting on the street.” You open your mouth to yell ‘oh my God’, but Kara comes closer, face easing up when she sees how scared you are. “Hey, hey,” Kara gently cups your face. “You should be safe as long as you stay inside.”

“Yeah, but what about Alex and Lena and –”

“They’ll be fine, my love.” She kneels behind the couch, kisses the crown of your head. “If you need something, or feel anything, you call me and I’ll be here right away, ok?”

“Kar.” You hold her arm before she moves away. She looks back at you, interested. “Be safe out there, ok?” She agrees with her head as a promise. “Keep me posted.”

“You too.” She looks back with pleading eyes. “Babe, I’m serious about the importance of you staying inside, ok? The symptoms are not extreme, but we don’t know what could happen if you’re over-exposed.”

“I won’t leave.” You raise your little finger to touch hers and she smiles and the promise pact you two have.

You started this when you first found out she was Supergirl. Let’s just say you weren’t too thrilled about the fact that she had lied to you for so long that she was both your best friend Kara Danvers and National City’s savior Supergirl. She had her reasons. You know that. You know it was all about protecting you and blah-blah-blah. Still, you didn’t like being lied to, so you two made a pact to never lie to each other again, and to cross fingers when you needed to make a promise.

She intertwines her pinky with yours, kissing your hand right after. “Alright. I’ll be back later to see you.” Kara is about to open the window to fly out when she hears her sister on the comm. 

“Kara.”

“On my way to the Tower, Alex.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Come to check upon Y/N, but she is safe so I’m heading over.”

“Don’t come.”

“What? Why?”

“Kara, the virus is affecting aliens too. Nia has fallen into a deep sleep and we can’t wake her up. Brainy is now a shade of purple –”

“WHAT?”

“And it has affected J’onn and M’gann ability to phase and fly.” Kara starts to whine, but Alex cuts her off. “Listen. It seems that its effect on aliens is worse. I need you to stay put while Lena, Brainy and I lock the Tower and figure this out.”

“But –”

“Sorry, sis. But you’re quarantined until further notice.” You can hear the smile on Alex’s voice when she adds, “have fun with Y/N.” 

You look up to Kara’s pout, and raise your eyebrows at her. “It seems that –” She licks her lips, looking terrified. “We’re stuck here together.”

And you wonder what she is scared of. Maybe she thinks you are going to turn her down? But, it’s not possible, she knows you would never, even if you had a good reason to (which you don’t). 

So you smile at her, trying to ease her mind. Then you settle for a joke, because that’s what you do best when you want to flirt and don’t have the courage to. “There’s one teeny tiny problem.” You force a smile as well while she furrows her brows worried. “I don’t think I have enough food in this apartment to feed a Kryptonian.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” But you see her scanning through your cabinets. “I’ve been wanting to try that new drone delivery. But, who’s got the time, right?”

“Well, apparently we do!” She smiles at that too, but you can tell she’s stressed about not being able to help. “Come,” you call her with your hands so she can sit next to you on the couch. “let’s watch TV.”

Kara changes out of her supersuit and back into her normal clothes, then flops on the couch next to you. She looks up from her lap, a cute confused expression on her face. “You know what I just realized? I only have this to wear. And we don’t know how long we’re stuck here.”

“Oh, yeah. About – About that.” You don’t look at her while you’re saying it. “I may or may not have a few pieces from your wardrobe.”

Kara crosses her arms on her chest, staring at you until you feel compelled to stare at her back. 

“You know, a few pieces you have let me borrow over the years.” You explain while also not explaining a lot.

She raises both of her eyebrows and holds back a smirk. You exhale heavily.

“They’re comfortable, ok? They’re big and comfy and I –” You mumble your next words because they’re hard to admit. “I like your smell.”

This time the smirk comes, and you roll your eyes at her smug face.

“Whatever.” You get up from the couch, and she follows you to the bedroom. “Here’s my Kara drawer. It’s all yours.”

“Tsk tsk tsk.” She pretends with her mouth, and you let out another huff at that. “You let someone inside your life, only to later find out they’re stealing your hoodies and college t-shirts.” She adds, while looking in the drawer. “This is a felony, babe.”

“Alright, you just broke into my house. Chill the hell out, Supergirl.” You say, earning a loud laugh from her. 

You go back to the living room, leaving Kara in your bedroom, still going through all the stuff you stole. Alright, ok, steal is a strong word. You borrowed with a huge time limit to give it back because it brings you comfort. Kara brings you comfort. Her smell and her big strong arms around you, never fail to make your day better. And when you can’t have that, then her big hoodie does the trick. 

You are going through some stuff in your cabinet when you hear a sneeze. You stop whatever you’re doing immediately. You didn’t sneeze. Kara never sneezes. Unless –

You run back to your bedroom, “you sneezed.” you state without letting her open her mouth to argue. “I heard.”

“No, I –” She sneezes again. 

“Oh my God, you’re sick.” You come closer, touching her face. She 's burning up. You look into her eyes to break the news with a sweet voice. “Oh Kar, you’re so hot.”

Kara’s face flushes red, and she gives you a little smile. “You think so? Well, I think – you’re hot too, babe.”

“What?” You furrow your brows, confused. “Your temperature is hot, my love.”

“Oh yes.” She is quick to say, adjusting the glasses on her face, face getting hotter and possibly more red. With that confused face only she can master to look so cute and so endearing, it makes you feel bad for making her think she is not, you know, hot. Which she obviously is. 

You clear your throat, ignoring your wish to say that she is hot in every type of way. “You must be without your powers. Should we check? Can you lift that nightstand with one hand, please?”

“Mhm,” But instead, she lays back on the bed, getting settled. “I’m sure I can, but I’m a little tired right now.”

She obviously doesn’t have her powers. You take the hair out of her face, kiss her forehead softly, earning that precious little smile you love so much. “Why don’t you rest a little?”

Kara agrees, or doesn’t. You’re not sure, but she falls asleep so fast, you think she probably didn’t even hear you.

You text Alex about her condition and she asks you to keep her posted in case of any weird development. And you set off to make her a chicken soup so she can get better. 

“Hey,” comes accompanied by three consecutives sneezes, a whole hour later. “sorry, sorry.” Kara says, noticing how your heart is racing. “Maybe I am a little sick.” She finally admits.

“Couch.” You point with your head, where a warm blanket is already waiting for her. She wraps herself in it, and you bring her the hot soup. “You know I’m not the greatest cook…”

She smirks, knowing this is an understatement, but she doesn’t say so. So thankful you made her something. 

“Chicken soup for my sick –” You bite your tongue to what you truly wanted to say. “ Superhero.” You point at the boiling-almost-green-watery thing you gave her in a bowl. Kara smiles, weak and a little bit scared. 

“I’m so weak.” She fakes, giving the soup back to you. Then she opens her mouth, and you chuckle, knowing exactly what she wants. 

So you feed her, and she compliments you on your weird looking soup, eats until the last drop, then flashes you a big smile. “Now ice-cream.”

“No, you’re not having ice-cream just because you’re sick.” 

Pout.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

She gets ice-cream.

And you get a thankful warm hug, comforting and overwhelming as always. So yeah, she absolutely deserved that ice-cream. Kara throws the blanket over your lap, you get the remote control and you decide together what’s worth binging. 

And day one is over just like that.

The next day she decides to write an article about the virus, and you work for 20 minutes tops, because she is distracting. So fucking distracting.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Kara puts her hands behind her back and gives you an all-teeth smile. “Just chilling – here. Go back to work, babe.”

1 minute later.

“KARA!” You close your laptop and catch her red-handed. “Put my journal down, or I’ll tackle you. And remember you don’t have your powers yet. You are going down.”

“I’m bored!” You only raise one eyebrow at her, and she huffs, putting the journal back where she found it. “Fine. Then let’s do something fun.” 

“We’re stuck inside this teeny tiny apartment, there’s nothing fun to do here.”

“That’s not true.” She sits in front of you, eyes soft and sweet. “You’re here, and if you give me enough attention I’ll just have the best of time.”

She can’t seriously be this flirty all the time. It’s not even fair. 

Kara starts using your toiletry products, which is a shame. You almost think it is worth going to her house during these turbulent times, to get her shampoo and perfume, so she can smell like herself again. Maybe you are addicted to her smell.

She kisses your cheek for too long every night. And begs you to share the bed with her because she is, cof cof, so terribly sick. Her eyes also shine so bright when she sees you waking up every morning. 

You easily fall into a routine. Too easy. As if you two are just supposed to be doing this ‘living together’ thing anyway.

When you wake up, Kara is already up and breakfast is always done. So you sit and eat together. Then she soaks up sunlight through the closed window and you do yoga. And you repeatedly have the conversation, ‘Kara, stop looking at my butt’, ‘Stop flashing it to me, then’. But you don’t, so she doesn’t either (hey, a girl gotta flirt somehow, ok?).

Then you two spend an awful long amount of time looking up recipes online with the ingredients you have available, before cooking. And when you two are finally done, it comes off a little meh. But you eat it anyway, and have fun doing it every time.

After lunch you both settle on the couch. Kara naps on your lap while you read or work without her distractions. When she wakes up, you watch tv or talk for hours, until she’s hungry again. You both go back to the internet to find something to cook, then give up midway and order something online to be delivered by drone. 

Alex calls after dinner, informs you of the situation out there and reassures you that they are getting closer. She says the same thing everyday, Kara gets hopeful and you think Alex is probably lying to keep her sister well-behaved.

After the entire pre bed routine, she lays next to you, kisses your cheek for a few seconds too long, making you feel hot and alive inside, tells you how lucky she is that you’re stuck inside together and falls asleep. And you obviously stay awake for another hour, thinking about all the ways she flirted with you that day, and how she makes you feel tingly on the inside.

Some nights there’s even more flirting going around. She blames it on her fuzzy sick brain, though she is hardly even sneezing anymore. 

“It’s going to be hard —“ Kara says one night. Doesn’t finish her thoughts, so you have to ask.

“What is?”

“Not sleeping next to you when this whole thing ends.” 

Then she falls asleep and you spend another two hours overthinking what she meant by that, while she lightly snores, hands tangled in yours under the same blanket.

“Alex, please.” You hear her one night, whispering in the bathroom, behind closed doors, as if she is telling a secret you shouldn’t know about. Which only makes you more curious because you’re not supposed to have secrets. “Send the Supergirl exosuit. You know it’s safe. I could go help you guys.” Alex answers on the other side, but you can’t hear her. “Just – I know. Yeah, look I – I can’t stay here anymore, Alex. It's getting too hard.” 

You furrow your brows, confused. Because you were thinking you two had fallen into a peaceful routine.

“It’s so hard being around her all the time. Just send the suit and I’ll go to the Tower to help you guys.” 

Oh.

“Ugh, fine. I hope you’re happy with making my life harder.” 

You bite the inside of your mouth, crushed. Heart shattering into a thousand pieces. Eyes full of tears fighting to come down, while you fight to hold them inside. God, you’re so stupid. You thought Kara liked you. Hell, you even thought she might love you! But all this time, all she wanted was a way out because you’re so hard to be around.

You don’t get it. How does someone who would do anything to make you feel loved and heard, that reminds you everyday how special you are to her, that can’t see herself not sleeping next to you in the future, cannot stand being around you anymore?

Kara leaves the bathroom, finds you face-buried in a book hiding your flushed face, “Hey, there’s a new episode of The Last of Us tonight. Wanna watch it?”

“No, thank you.” You swallow the tears and the lump on your throat. “You – You go.”

“I can’t watch it without you. It’s our show.”

“Oh, we don’t have a show.” You bicker, so mad with the fact that you were being lied to. Again. She promised you she would never do that again. “We don’t have anything. In fact, Kara,” you put your book down, staring at her with red eyes. “Why don’t you go be around someone you can stand, huh?”

“What?” So shocked, like she wasn’t just saying that in the bathroom. It fills you with even more anger.

“Yeah. Get your clothes, and go break into some else’s apartment,” You throw your book to the side of the bed and get up, “ask them to fucking feed you soup while you’re sick –”

“Babe, what are you talking about?” Kara takes a step back, while you take one forward.

“I’m talking about the fact that you are a liar, you coward.” You step into her space, holding the once-hers-once-yours-now-hers-again college t-shirt, into a tight grip. “One night you can’t see yourself sleeping without me and the next one you’re asking Alex for a way out of here.”

“Oh, no, babe, that’s not –”

“You fucking liar. Get the fuck out of my house with or without the exosuit, I don’t care.” But you care, and it is clear that you do, because you’re still holding her tight making it impossible for her to move away, while you sob into her t-shirt. “You’re a coward.”

Kara pulls closer. One hand keeping you inside her hug, the other tangling itself in your hair. "I'm a coward.” She agrees in a whisper. “I am. I am.”

And you can’t believe you’re allowing the woman who just said it’s hard to be around you, to comfort you! And you hate that her hug does that for you, even though she just broke your heart.

“I’m a coward because I can’t –” She steps away, looking at your tear-soaked face. “I can’t tell you why it is so hard for me to be around you.”

“No.” You stop her from moving away, by tightening the grip on her t-shirt. “No, you don’t get to run away! You owe me! You owe me the truth!” You’re crying and she’s crying and maybe you’re yelling too, you’re just not sure anymore. Everything is so quiet, like the world just stopped and held its breath to hear this. To hear her answer. “You owe it to me why you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” You almost scoff, but she rushes. “I don’t. I could never. I love you.”

“How can you love me if you can’t even be around me?” You argue, disgusted. “STOP LYING TO ME!”

“I’M NOT LYING!” Kara matches your screaming tone, then realizes what she did, and whispers again. “I’m sorry. I’m – not lying. I love you. I love you so much. More than I should. More than any friend would love the other. I –” She breathes out. Hand aggressively rubbing her forehead, desperate with the confession. 

Kara takes one step forward and then, as if she realizes she is too close to you, takes a step back. “God, I love you since the first time I saw you in that stupid eggplant costume on Halloween. I made a bet with Alex that you were a beanbag, and I lost 5 bucks, but I didn’t care because I got to talk to you. And you made me laugh, and you made my day so much better, and I – I loved you that day. And every day after that. And I loved you with burning passion every time I saw you ever since.”

You blink, so utterly confused. 

“So you wanna know why is it so hard to be around you?” You nod, even though you’re sure she is going to tell you anyway. “Because I’m a coward who can’t tell you how much I’m in love with you.”

You wait a beat. Then two. She doesn’t take back, doesn’t run, doesn’t urge you to say anything. You raise your little finger at her and whisper so low and, at the same time, so loud, in the quiet of the night. “Promise?”

She intertwines her pinky with yours, kissing your hand as a promise right after. And you pull her head so she can kiss you where you want, demand, need her to. 

It’s lips crashing and ‘I love you’s in breathless, hungry, truthful whispers. Then another kiss, and another I love you for good measure. I’ve always loved you. I’ll always love you. Mouths and hands and body parts, so keen and passionate and yours. All yours.

The easily set routine just becomes easier. Kisses during breakfast; sun and yoga and ‘oh wow, look at your butt babe’; laughing while making lunch; make out sessions between movies; slow dancing in the kitchen floor; shared pre bed routine; making love and feeling love and growing love; sleeping at the same time without having to overthink anything because it is, finally, all crystal clear.

When Alex says you can leave the apartment, that the air is finally clean and everything is fine, you smile when you think that the air has been clean and life has been more than fine for you for days.

You and Kara make way to the Tower to meet your friends and see if they’re all ok.

“So what happened while we were quarantined?” Kara inquiries. “How did you guys figure this out?”

“We just switched up the isotope to make the virus inert. But I do have to admit, it took us more time than it should’ve.” Alex says, looking at you and Kara with a soft smile. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a problem staying stuck in a small apartment with each other for a week.”

You and Kara stare at each other, secrets welling up and love overflowing, before shrugging. “T’was fine.”

#supergirl fanfiction #kara danvers #kara x reader #kara zor el #supergirl #alex danvers #reader insert

[rwac96]

It took awhile for Goku to realize that his son Gohan has a harem of Videl, Erasa, Yang, Makoto and Lena. How did he not realize it?

Goku: "They said they were helpin' him with Endurance Trainin'..."

Chi-Chi: *unamused, twitching* "Are you...are you that dense?!"

It took...two years...

#answer #answered #answer post #dragon ball #dragon ball shitpost #son goku #goku #chi-chi

[slightly-smarter-nat]

Betrayed || The Unknown Widow

ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Yelena Belova x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of the Red Room, mentions of killing, mentions of violence, dark themes, mentions of weapons, mentions of drugs, angst, explicit language, mentions of blood. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 4553 words.

Summary: Will Melina give you the answers you’ve always wanted?

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform) copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Masterlist

*Italics indicate the handwritten letter.

ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ

GIF not mine

Betrayed- The Unknown Widow:

I held the door open for Yelena and Alexei as we entered Melina’s Farmhouse. I took everything in with interest, admiring the decor of this beautiful home. The serenity it serves almost makes me forget why we’re here.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself at home.” Melina says as she guides us through her house.

The group splits off throughout the house as Melina suggests we have a drink. Feeling completely out of my element, I stick close to Yelena, knowing out of everyone here she’s the one I trust the most.

We walk through to the living area, the soft rays of sunlight cast a vivid glow around the room. Every detail looks perfectly placed. When I was in the Red Room, I could only ever dream of living in a place like this. Having a safe area where I could be free to do as I choose, I still have that dream. Hopefully one day I will be able to make it a reality.

I hear a scraping sound next to me as I realise Yelena has pulled out a chair at the table situated next to the window. She has a blank expression on her face, indicating she is attempting to absorb everything that is happening- coming to terms with it at least.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask her gently, knowing she can sometimes snap if her thoughts are disturbed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s you I’m worried about.” She says as she bows her head to look down at her lap.

I move towards the window, looking out at the trees as I attempt to come up with a valid answer that won’t have Yelena asking too many questions.

“I’m fine, just a bit tired is all. It’s a nice place huh?” I say, attempting to change the topic.

Yelena scoffs, “Have you forgotten Lara, I know you better than anyone, so I know when you’re lying. What is wrong?” I turn to look at her, noticing her unamused expression- she hates it when I lie to her.

I release a sigh as I lean back against the window sill, “Not now Lena, I promise I’ll tell you, just not now okay. Please?” I don’t want to get into a heavy conversation within Melina’s home. Especially since we do not even know if we can trust her yet.

Yelena shakes her head slightly, “Whatever, Lara.”

My stomach drops at her tone, I know her feelings will be in overdrive with this whole situation we are in but she has never spoken to me like that before. Then again, I’ve never kept anything from her before.

“Excuse me.” I say as I make my way to Melina’s bathroom, trying to mask my hurt.

I go to turn the door handle when I hear grunting from within. I raise my eyebrows in response; giving the door a gentle knock, “Are you okay in there?”

I receive more frustrated grunts in response, “Just give me a minute, I’m just finishing up in here.” I hear Alexei shout through the door.

I take a step back from the door, wanting to be far away from the sounds of Alexei’s grunting.

I look back over at the table Yelena is occupying, noticing that Melina and Natasha have joined her.

My gaze returns to the door in front of me when Alexei releases loud groans of what can be assumed as discomfort. In all honesty I dread to think what he’s doing in there.

I lean my back against the wall behind me, folding my arms across my chest. I then glance around the area, not looking for anything in particular. Mostly something to distract me from the sounds still emerging from the bathroom.

“Let’s drink.” I hear Melina suggest from the table, I am tempted to join them until I hear the bathroom door open.

Alexei emerges from the bathroom in his signature Red Guardian attire. I study the suit in shock- I didn’t even know it still existed.

Alexei looks over at me and motions with his hands to the suit for me to admire, I give him an amused nod in response.

Alexei clears his throat to gather the attention of the others at the table, they all look over as he leans against the doorframe.

“Still fits.” He says rather proudly.

I push myself forwards from the wall and give him a pat on the back as I move into the bathroom, “Looking good Super Soldier.”

Once inside, I close and lock the door; releasing a heavy sigh now that I’m alone.

I move towards the sink, staring up in the mirror at my reflection as I grip the taps. I look exhausted, I feel it too. The lack of sleep from the travelling won’t be helping, and even then any sleep I get is plagued with nightmares.

I gently turn the cold water tap on to allow a steady stream of water to fill the sink. I cup my hands together and place them under the stream to collect enough to rub onto my face.

As I rub the water into my skin, I attempt to remove the stress present in it. Trying to get myself relaxed enough to go back out and join the others.

I take another glance in the mirror, focusing on the water droplets cascading down my face. With a gentle pat on my face with a towel located next to the sink, I move to leave the room. Releasing an exaggerated breath as I do.

As I round the corner I can see that the others are deep in conversation, so I use this as my opportunity to slip in unnoticed.

I move around the table to pull out the chair next to Natasha when Melina says ‘No’.

I freeze in my actions, looking at the others for an explanation- they look just as confused as I am.

“You’re not sitting at my table, I won’t allow it.” She says after a few seconds. I remove my hand from the chair.

Yelena shifts in her chair to look at Melina, glaring at her as Melina chooses to send her harsh glare towards me.

“Melina, let her-“ Alexei attempts to back me up until Melina raises her voice once more.

“I don’t want her at my table and that is final!”

Natasha looks down at her plate awkwardly, opting to stay out of the conversation.

“You can’t treat Lara this way, what is your problem?” Yelena asks Melina with a slight wave of her hands.

“It’s okay Yelena, I’m not going to overstep any boundaries in her own home. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be down the hall if anyone needs me.” Before any of them could comment further, I walk away from the table, venturing further into Melina’s home.

I’m not completely aware as to why Melina has such hatred towards me, but all I know is the sooner we finish up here, the sooner we leave.

As I walk around, I notice a bookcase filled with dozens of books. I use my fingertips to follow the spines of each book, scanning the titles of each one. Melina must have all the classics, each one lines up the case in alphabetical order.

As I move along the books, I notice one of their bindings feels cold at the touch; almost metallic like. I lean up to pull it out, noticing it’s quite heavy, causing me to use both of my hands to manoeuvre it out of its slot.

As I place it down on the desk below, I notice it has the signature Black Widow 'hourglass’ symbol on it, causing my heart rate to pick up.

It's not a book, it’s a compact safe. Dreykov had them in his office in the Red Room. They’re used for high security files. The safe itself has a special way in which it opens, luckily for me I used to discreetly watch how the General opened them. If he had caught me looking, it would have been an instant punishment for sure.

I use my trembling finger to trace the outline of the Widow symbol, as the first step of accessing the safe. Then I place one finger on each point of the symbol, equally four fingers in total touching the safe. After a second I slowly use my fingers to turn the symbol clockwise until the positions of my fingers have swapped places from top to bottom. The symbol then produces a red light, causing me to return the symbol back to its original position. Once I remove my touch the symbol turns green and a small click can be heard as the mechanism is released.

If any of the steps are incorrectly followed, timings and all, the lock will never open. One of Dreykov’s special requests in order to protect the secrets of the Red Room.

I quickly look around to make sure no one is watching as I gently lift the lid of the safe. I know I shouldn't be looking at Melina’s private materials but at this point, I’m desperate for any clue that might lead us to taking down the Red Room.

To my surprise, there’s only one file in here- a large, brown envelope. Usually they contain more than one item.

I pick the file up and gently open it.

My eyes widen when I see a picture of myself clipped to the papers within- why would Melina have a file on me?

I quickly scan over the information provided on the pieces of paper secured together. It details every mission I have ever been on and my death count. That alone sends a twist in my stomach, it’s like they only cared about the number of lives I took in the name of the Red Room.

I flip through the pieces of paper until I see information of my early years listed.

‘Project ‘Lara’ is remaining successful. The subject seems to be enhancing every day. Constant monitoring is advised to ensure full potential is obtained before maturity is reached.’

I squint my eyes in curiosity, I’ve never seen evaluations such as these. I didn’t even know there were secret files on me from the Red Room.

The part that’s unsettling me most is the way I am referred to as a ‘project’, as though they made me. In a twisted way they did- into a monster.

I notice another piece of paper stuck in the file; which is smaller than the rest.

I place all the other materials down before I pull the piece of paper out. As I unfold it I notice it’s a handwritten letter.

ⴵ

‘I, Melina Vostokoff declare ‘Project Lara’ detrimental to the future of the Red Room. I greatly advise that the subject be terminated.

General Dreykov, I write to you to state that my previous findings and research into this project are not as accurate as one would have hoped. The Subject has taken on the desired traits, yes. However, the various rounds of chemical subjugation we have exposed the Subject to are failing.

I highly recommend that for the safety of our organisation we remove the issue before it becomes a colossal problem with unimaginable consequences.

I understand this reflects poorly on my own work, though I hope we can come to an agreement in which our next project is stronger than the current subject I wish to have terminated- immediately.

ⴵ

I throw the piece of paper down on the desk in anger. Refusing to read on. Melina has essentially made me a death warrant.

I try to regulate my breaths, taking a moment to close my eyes and gather my thoughts.

If this letter makes its way to Dreykov then he will release more Red Room kill squads to assassinate me- somehow more than the ones who are currently on my tail for working with Yelena and Natasha.

After all this time, Melina has been the one influencing my life in the Red Room. I know my control has been slipping over the last year or so, but I never realised it would equal my demise so quickly.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a plate being placed in front of me with food on it.

I look towards the figure who placed it there to see Natasha smiling at me.

“I had to race Yelena over here to give you this- wait, are you okay?” She asks, presumably as she sees the tears invading my vision.

“Look, if it’s about Melina-“ As soon as her name is mentioned my anger returns. I move the plate from the file found in the safe and grab the handwritten note.

I storm past Natasha and head to the living area where the others are sitting.

I slam the piece of paper in front of Melina, “Do you care to explain?”

She looks towards the paper, taking a sip of her drink with a blank expression, “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

Her lack of concern sends a wave of rage through me as I pick her up by her collar and drag her to the wall, pinning her up against it.

“Lara! Put her down!” Yelena says as she tries to make her way to me.

“I’m not in the mood for your shit, tell me why you have the file!”

Melina shoves her arms up between mine and spreads them to smack my grip from her clothing.

I quickly block her attacks as I grab onto her arm and shoulder to pin her against the wall once more.

“What does it matter? I never sent the letter.” She says as she breathes through the pain of the pressure I’m placing on her arm.

At this point I don’t think the others dare interfere.

“You produced the letter with the intention of my termination. I want to know why!”

Melina uses her other hand to strike my face, causing me to let her go. In an instant she swipes my legs from under me with her own and sends me onto the floor, harshly.

“To protect you. That letter was written to buy you time in order for you to escape, arrangements by myself were being made to ensure you left the Red Room on your termination day, safely. However, you decided to make your own plans of escape, hence why the letter remains in my possession.” She says as she takes a seat at the table again.

I slowly sit up, wincing from the pain and the room full of glares burning my way, “Why would you help me? You’re the reason I was being mind controlled-“

“To send you back to your family. Lara, I will not explain further to you. It is not my place to tell you why you were stuck in the Red Room in the first place. Now drop it.”

I look at Melina in despair, I was so convinced I didn’t have a family to return to. As I feel the tears run down my face, I quickly get up and make my way out of the door; in order to escape the conversation that would follow.

I walk through the overgrown area of Melina’s garden. Making a point to kick at every flower I come across to release some of my frustration.

Finally I make it to the edge of Melina’s property before I collapse onto the floor with my head in my hands.

After a minute or so I feel a hand being placed on my shoulder, I instantly know it’s Yelena so I gently guide her down to sit next to me on the grass.

A comfortable silence washes over us, every so often my sniffles fill the air. Yelena wraps an arm around me and pulls me close, knowing I only cry when I’m really hurting.

“Do you remember that time Dreykov sent me on a mission and I completely dissociated myself afterwards and you found me punching the sparring equipment till my knuckles bled?” I whisper sadly.

Yelena nods, “Yes, it took me twenty minutes to snap you out of it. You really worried me that day.” She says.

I take a deep breath in, “Well, it was Melina who patched me up after the mission.” I say as I look at Yelena’s face.

She snaps her gaze to me, “Are you sure?”

I nod, “It makes sense now, with the files and everything-“

“No, that’s a misunderstanding, I’m sure.” Yelena says as she stands up from the ground, shaking the dirt from her tactical suit.

I stand up in turn, “A misunderstanding? Yelena, you saw the letter. You heard what Melina said. Don’t you realise, this means I have a family out there somewhere, they could possibly be looking for me and I wouldn’t even know. All my life I’ve had no one, I’ve been a prisoner to the Red Room but now I have the chance to have a real family. To be part of something that really matters.”

Yelena scoffs, “Do you hear yourself Lara? You have me. You’ve always had me, and apparently that wasn’t enough. What, do I not matter?” She asks as she pouts.

“Of course you matter, Yelena! Why are you being like this? You know what I mean, you essentially had a family built for you Lena. I felt as though I had nothing, I mean even you can admit you hated me at first.” I attempt to defend myself against her.

Yelena shakes her head, “Oh so it’s my fault Dreykov assigned me to Alexei and Melina, oh how selfish of me to take away your chance of belonging to a family.”

I clench my jaw, “You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alexei making his way over to us, “Yelena, come inside, I need to talk to you.” He shouts over.

Yelena ignores him as she maintains eye contact with me, “What are you saying then Lara? Do you know what, fine, go and find your precious family. I hope they make you very happy!” Yelena turns to march across to Melina’s farmhouse, barging past Alexei in the process.

He looks over at me and gives me a sympathetic smile, before trailing after an infuriated Yelena.

Once they re-enter the house, I release a desperate sob. Yelena is right, she was all I had in the Red Room and I made her feel like she wasn’t worth anything.

I clutch at my chest, trying to work through the heaviness filling it. Each intake of breath feels like a struggle.

Yelena’s last words ring through my head, causing my heart to ache more.

I turn to take one last look at the Farmhouse before I make my decision to leave. I feel as though I’m causing more problems than I am solving here, maybe the team will progress better without me.

I start to make my way to the woodland surrounding Melina’s home, leaving the conflict behind me.

ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ

I haven’t been walking long, the house is still within a viewing distance.

I attempt to quickly make my way through the woodland area, cautiously stepping over exposed tree roots and rocks that litter the dirt lined floor.

The visibility is extremely low, mainly due to the sun setting, making it difficult to make my way through.

I take a moment to stop and think- what am I doing? I can’t leave them, we made a commitment to take down the Red Room together. It’s my responsibility too. I can’t let everyone down; whether Yelena likes it or not, I’m still part of this team.

After mentally scolding myself for even thinking about leaving, I turn back on myself and head back towards the Farmhouse. Until I hear an engine humming from up above.

I quickly take cover behind a tree as I watch it emerge from the clouds. It doesn’t take me long to register that it is in fact a Red Room Aircraft.

I don’t know how they’ve found us, but this really isn’t good. I instantly move out of the woods.

A shock of surprise is sent through my system once the aircraft turns on its ‘searchlight’, illuminating all of its surroundings.

“Shit.” I quietly mumble to myself, making my way discreetly back to the house to make sure at least Yelena and Natasha get out of there alive.

I use the outskirts of the land to run along, knowing the lighting system will not be shined over this way, since its focus is on the occupants inside the house.

As I near the house, I notice another aircraft come into view, hovering over the ground to release some Red Room guards.

They instantly move towards the building with their guns armed and ready.

Before they have a chance to get too close and spot me I instantly run to the back door in sight and open it as quietly and quickly as I can.

Once I’m inside I notice the blinding lights from the aircrafts flooding the rooms. I take my gun out of my holster and aim it in front of myself, not knowing what I’m going up against.

I use my training to move from post to post, avoiding detection. I lean around each corner to check I’m clear, which for the most part I am.

I move past Melina’s bedroom, I use my foot to move the door slightly.

That’s when I notice Alexei is passed out on the floor, the only reason I know he’s not dead is from the presence of several tranquilising darts lodged in his chest.

This just highlights that the Red Room isn’t here to kill us, but rather turn us in and I honestly don’t know which outcome is better suited.

I continue to take cover at each corner of the house, checking all my blind spots for possible attackers.

As I’m scanning my surroundings I spot Yelena on the floor unconscious. I sprint over to her and turn her over so she’s facing me, “Lena! Come on Lena, wake up for me.” I say as I desperately shake her.

As I attempt to wake Yelena up, I look to my side to see Natasha tucked away behind a doorway- unconscious.

Before I can even check on her I am pulled up by my hair and thrown backwards, causing me to crash into a piece of furniture. I yelp out in pain as I land, clutching my side as I try to get back up.

Though my effort is wasted as a brutal kick is delivered to my face, sending me down towards the floor again.

My vision blurs completely, as I hear muffled footsteps.

After a couple of eye squints and a moment to recover I see The Taskmaster towering over me.

My eyes widen as I scramble for my gun, though I am stopped once I hear a voice, “Stop. Move and I will shoot.” I put my hands up in surrender as I glance back at Melina, who is aiming my own gun at me.

“Take her to the aircraft.” With that, Taskmaster picks me up by the back of my suit, guiding me forward.

Melina holds her hand up to signal for The Taskmaster to stop.

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you.” I say bitterly.

Melina keeps her stoic expression, “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ

Melina attempts to catch my eye, to which I refuse to do. I’m not giving her the satisfaction.

She’s up front piloting the aircraft with a few other guards, meanwhile I’m tied to a chair and gagged.

I look between Alexei, Natasha and Yelena as they remain unconscious, hoping one of them will awaken soon.

Luckily for me, Alexei begins to stir as the tranquilliser lessens its influence on him.

He slowly looks around towards Natasha and Yelena who are on the floor of the aircraft. Then he looks up at me, displaying a confused expression, assumingly wondering how we got into this mess.

I nod my head forward towards Melina, causing him to move his gaze to her location, “Request clearance for landing.” She asks- being given the all clear for landing.

“Melina?” Alexei lets out, causing me to look back towards him. Part of me sympathises for Alexei, to him Melina is everything, and when someone like that betrays you, it’s the worst kind of pain.

Melina barely gives him a glance, resuming her concentration on the journey ahead.

“We’re touching down in one minute.” She announces.

“Then why are we still going up?” Alexei mumbles, still feeling the effect of the drug administered.

That’s when I notice a large structure reveal itself from the clouds- the Red Room.

“Now you’ll know how Dreykov stayed above the radar all these years.”

My worst nightmare has come alive, we’re being sent directly back into the Red Room.

One of the guards administered more tranquilliser into Alexei, knocking him unconscious.

I start to move in my seat, hoping to somehow free myself enough to fight back. My efforts are noticed by Melina as she instructs one of the guards to blindfold me, so I cannot see the process of the entry of the Red Room.

ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ

Once we land, I am released from my seat and dragged off the aircraft.

“She stays with me. Take the others to the General’s desired locations.” I hear Melina instruct the guards.

I feel a hand wrap around my arm, causing me to shrug it off. Earning me a smack to the head.

When the hand returns to my arm, I choose to keep it there.

Having the blindfold on reduces my ability to escape, I don’t know how many guards surround me, meaning if I attack, I will most likely be killed within seconds.

We come to a brief halt, as we were walking I heard a collection of stomping, which has now stopped.

Before I had time to think, I was being dragged forwards again.

When we stop again, I hear a click, probably an elevator button. My suspicions are proven right when I hear a ding and the sound of doors opening.

Once I am shoved inside the elevator, Melina peels the blindfold from my eyes. Allowing me to glare at her, “Don’t look at me like that, this is necessary.” She says, causing me to raise my eyebrows in false amusement.

“I’m just glad you’re gagged so I don’t have to hear your insults.” Oh if only Melina knew that I was saving them for as soon as this gag is removed.

Once the doors open we move out of the elevator. I freeze when I realise where we are.

The signature decor hasn’t changed in all this time, we’re outside Dreykov’s office.

Melina senses my panic and moves in front of me, “You need to trust me Lara, I can only protect you if you trust me. Can you do that?”

I look around with panic stricken features, before landing my gaze on Melina. She places her hands either side of my shoulders, awaiting my answer.

With no other options available to me, I give her a nod.

After all this time, I have to face General Dreykov again.

All that runs through my head is, ‘This will be the day that I die’.

ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ/./. ⴵ ⴵ

Taglist: @jeyramarie @sophie-reads-too-much @kamala-khann @houseofwm

#black widow imagine #the red room #yelena belova x reader #melina vostokoff #black widow movie #alexei shostakov #platonic fanfiction #natasha x yelena x reader #natasha romanoff x yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x you #yelena belova #part 10 #the unknown widow #scarlett johansson #florence pugh #black widow #slightly smarter nat #slightly smarter nat’s writing #marvel #marvel fan fic #mcu #natasha romanoff

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Gen V AU

Lena and Kara remain at odds for a good few weeks after Lena escapes with the superfriends' help. Lena doesn't trust Kara an inch, but she doesn't really have anywhere else to go so they stay in each other's orbits.

Kara is pretty quickly smitten, but Lena is prickly and distrustful, considering her a potential liability as they strategize to dismantle The Woods for good.

It's not until Kara and Lena are paired up for a mission that things start to change. Kara explains her perspective on that night she caused Lena to be recaptured, but also apologizes, making no excuses for her actions. She knows now she should have asked questions, instead of just blindly helping a squad of men in unmarked uniforms.

Lena doesn't really accept the apology, but they get the job done. Almost. They find themselves in a pickle on the way out-- chased and ultimately surrounded. They end up back to back as they fight for their lives and their freedom.

Kara is the one who sees the sonic weapon pointed at Lena, and quickly shoves Lena out of the way, taking the hit herself. It knocks Kara unconscious, and Lena reacts on instinct, knocking their enemies flat with a single burst of her power before scooping Kara up and flying away.

Kara wakes up on a couch in their secret hideout, and looks over to where Lena is sitting vigil with a scowl on her face.

"Don't ever do that again," Lena says, before rising to leave. She pauses at the door when Kara calls after her.

"Careful," Kara warns. She cracks a grin. "Sounds like you might be starting to like me."

Lena leaves with a huff, but Kara catches a roll of green eyes that isn't entirely unamused.

Kara sinks back onto the couch, satisfied with herself.

Yeah, she thinks. Things between them might just be looking up.

#supercorp #gen v au

[nuri148]

More Clarity [sorta] deleted scenes!

These aren't exactly deleted scenes. It's just that, after writing them, they were moved, so I had to edit them for continuity. Spoilers for all the chapters mentioned.

Connie's Visit: Chapter 8 to Chapter 9

I originally had Connie visiting the tea shop before the royal ball. Because that chapter ended up being super long, I moved the scene to the beginning of the next chapter (after the ball). The scene remained almost identical, the main difference is Lucy's piece of conversation. (small letters are non-deleted/changes parts)

“No, those are puffed sleeves. I'm talking butterfly sleeves, they just sort of... flare out.” Monday afternoons were always slow at the Tea House. That’s how Levi found himself as the much unamused recipient of Lucy’s detailed description of the dress she’d be wearing to the Royal Ball. 

“Name makes no sense, why butterfly? Butterflies don’t wear sleeves.” He was sitting on one of the barstools, as though he was a patron. The number four tea he was drinking was the one thing allowing him to put up with the inane chat. 

“Who cares, it’s just a name.” 

“A stupid name.” 

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I haven’t got any pink shoes, obviously, so I’m wearing the white ones from my brother’s wedding. They’re pretty flat, so I won’t be towering over you.” 

Levi snorted. “Like I give a fuck about that.” 

“The good thing is, being white, they’ll match with the Hizuru hairpin,” she concluded, very satisfied with herself. 

The door opened. 

“Captain!” 

There was only one person that still greeted him by his former title, despite his insistance not to. Levi turned around at once, as glad for the visit as for the chance to stop listening to fashion talk. 

“Connie! You finally deigned to drop by!” 

They patted each other on the back. 

“Hello, you! Lucy, right?” 

Girl talk: Chapter 12 to Chapter 11

Unlike the previous scene, this one got pulled forward, instead of pushed back. There were length issues too but, more imprtantly, it worked better. The original placing had Mikasa and historia talking after the main events of chapter 12, and Historia knowing about those made it much more difficult to give Mikasa the benefit of the doubt regarding her feelings for Levi - and his for hers.

“I can’t believe it’s been over a month since we last had lunch together,” Historia bemoaned, picking out the thyme twigs off her leek soup. Mikasa argued that the two weeks they’d spent in Hizuru they’d had at least half of their meals together, but the queen said that didn’t count. “There were always too many people around.”  

Mikasa couldn’t argue with that.  

After leaving the hospital, she’d spent a quiet two days of rest at home. She’d gone for lunch at Jean’s on the weekend, and she actually had a very pleasant time with Lena helping her organise the New Year’s party. The children had been pretty tame. Emma and Marco were very focused working on a “secret project”, which made Alex feel excluded, and so he’d push them to let him into it, which caused a series of arguments and cries that caused Jean to have to go yell at them twice; both times, as the fight became audible from the living room, little Helen had appeared waddling before the adults, shaking her tiny head and hand as if saying “I’ve nothing to do with that,” which made the mothers cackle.    

It had been a drag to return to work on . She was thankful for the many well wishes of her comrades, but after the respite of the last few days, going back to the protocols, and salutes, and discipline was like putting on a straightjacket. Hopefully a meal with her friend would help her lift her spirits and tackle the rest of the week more cheerfully.  

“Imagine,” Historia continued. “We haven’t even talked about the ball. It feels like it was ages ago.” Mikasa tensed for a second. Her memories of that night were... mixed. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yes,” she said, focusing on the first part of the evening. “The hall looked so beautiful, and the dinner was delicious. Those quails, the sauce... one of the best tasting dishes I ever had.” (...) They talked about the music and recounted the fun moments of the evening to each other through the first course. 

When Mikasa scraped the salt flakes from her roast lamb shoulder and Historia asked about it, she explained her ordeal of the previous week and that the doctor had told her to reduce her salt intake, at last for a while. Historia chided her: she should have told her, she would have sent her private doctor, she would have told the cook to make blander food... Mikasa thanked her concern, assured her she was alright and that everyone in the Royal Guard and the hospital had taken good care of her.  

“How did you do with Emma? Did you send her to Jean’s? You know you can always send her to me, right? We’ve plenty of extra rooms and Frieda’s nannies already know her...” 

“Yeah, that was the plan, but, in the end... She stayed with Levi.” 

“Whaat?” Historia’s jaw dropped in amusement and she stirred on her chair;  her glee was evident, as clearly the concept of Levi babysitting was a novel, terribly fun thing. Presently, though, her grin turned to a little purse and her eyes narrowed. “How did that go?” 

Mikasa merely raised her eyebrows, curving the pride and emotion she felt every time she thought about it. “Quite well, actually. And he left my flat spotless.” She took a bite and placed the cutlery diagonally on her plate, as she’d learnt to do to signal she’d finished. 

Historia graced her witty comment with a side smile, but remained pensive as the seconds dragged on.  

“What is it?” Mikasa asked.  

Historia made a gesture to the footman to leave them alone, then hesitated for a moment before asking, calm yet calculated: “It’s him, is’t he?”  

“Huh?” 

“Your mystery crush?” 

The flush on Mikasa’s cheeks answered for her. Historia sighed. 

“What are you waiting for?” It was a plea, rather than a question.  

“I...” Mikasa faltered. What was she waiting for? “It’s... ” What was it? Why hadn’t she said anything to him? What was stopping her? “I told you, he doesn’t see me that way,” (...)

“Keep lying to yourself.” Historia downed her wine.  

“What if I’m right, though? What if he doesn’t want a relationship?” (...) 

Mikasa hated to be running out of arguments. Or were they excuses? She couldn’t bring up Emma at this point. Historia had already voiced her thoughts on whether Minimin could accept the idea of having Levi as a stepfather. The word made her dizzy. Besides, she’d blown any chance to use her girl as excuse by telling he’d babysat her. Successfully. Maybe Historia was right. Maybe she should tell him. She had already regretted not telling him the previous week, when she thought she was dying. She’d wanted to tell him in the hospital, but they had an audience. That was another excuse though, wasn’t it? When she knew where he lived, what his number was, when she could perfectly arrange a meeting between just the two of them to talk things over.      

“Maybe I’m just a coward.” 

“No, you’re not...” Historia said meekly. “Sorry if I’ve been too harsh.” She rang the little bell to call the service. “Let’s have dessert and talk nice things, yes? Guess who’s coming to Jean’s New Years’ party?” she said, pointing both her index fingers to herself.    

#clarity tea house #writing process #levi ackerman #mikasa ackerman #aot fanfic

[illumins]

═════ஓ๑ ᴄʜᴘ.1 ๑ஓ════

The small manor's main hall was adorned with inexpensive wallpaper, its vibrant royal blue hue dotted with gracefully flying cranes. This ornate decoration spanned the entire space, casting a captivating ambiance upon the room. The manor, well-known to the residents of Lillon, a quaint port town nestled on the eastern side of the majestic Avalon mountains, stood proudly atop a lofty hill overlooking the tumultuous sea. The crashing waves resounded through the manor, harmonizing with the fervent shouts of its diligent butlers and maids.

Clad in a flowing white gown, Lena gracefully descended the grand u-shaped staircase, her every step a symphony of mischief. With each passing second, a mischievous smile adorned her face as the caretakers of the manor gasped for breath, cursing her name. The cold touch of the marble floor against her bare feet amplified a sense of liberation that coursed through her veins.

"Lady Lena! I implore you, please halt your advance!" cried out her butler in desperation.

And halt she did. Turning around, she couldn't help but snicker at the sight of her beleaguered butler, hunched over with a dress draped over his arm. As he looked up, his breath held, he cautiously attempted to approach her, but she instinctively took a step back. Extending her index finger playfully, she warned, "Nah ah, Mr. Freed. One step closer, and I may be tempted to test the full force of gravity by leaping out of the window."

Exasperated, Mr. Freed bent backward, his frustration palpable. "My word, Lena. Why must you always be so obstinate?"

"Why, Mr. Freed? Don't you find it amusing?" she asked, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

Meeting her daring gaze with an unamused expression, Mr. Freed's lips formed a pout reminiscent of a basset hound. "Not particularly. How do you perceive it, then?"

"A thrill," she exclaimed, her eyebrow teasingly raised, before darting off into the bustling kitchen. The chaotic symphony of two cooks and seven maids echoed within the culinary domain, their frantic movements tracing a frenzied path from one end to the other. The head chef, with a commanding presence, barked orders while deftly chopping freshly plucked vegetables from the garden. Amidst the flurry of activity, the Lady of the manor remained unnoticed, her presence inconsequential as the staff busily toiled to complete their culinary creations. It struck her as peculiar, but she saw no reason to dwell on such matters. Instead, she directed her steps toward the pantry.

Navigating through the industrious throng of workers, she gracefully evaded incoming plates, her hands tightly tucked by her side. Silently, she glided through the bustling scene until she arrived at the pantry's entrance. As she slipped inside, the sun's gentle rays poured through the glass dome ceiling, bathing the space in a natural glow. Illuminated before her were an array of spices, dried herbs, and tantalizing desserts. Her eyes widened as they fixated upon a glass jar brimming with freshly baked cookies, perched high upon a shelf. Wasting no time, she advanced swiftly, her steps careful and her arms outstretched. With a skillful maneuver, she managed to seize the jar, her heart filled with triumphant delight.

"Lena," a low voice cut through the air, causing her to startle.

Turning around, clutching the purloined jar, she chuckled nervously. "Ah, Vincent, you've caught me in the act. You nearly gave me a heart attack, old man."

“Don’t call me old.”

"Yes, sir," she hastily apologized, realizing her lapse in judgment.

Brandishing a knife stained with remnants of his culinary artistry, Vincent pointed at the jar of cookies. "That's the second jar this week."

“What can I say? You do god’s work.”

"Lena," he warned, his voice laced with a blend of admonishment and affection.

"Yes, sir," she relented, approaching him to hand over the coveted jar.

Stepping aside to allow her exit, Vincent's intentions were thwarted as an unforeseen impact jolted her backward.

"Oh, Vincent, please don't tell me you were concealing Lena again," Mr. Freed's composed voice broke through the moment of surprise, as both Lena and Vincent regained their composure.

Pointing his knife accusingly at Mr. Freed, Vincent grumbled, "And I distinctly recall instructing you not to run in my kitchen."

With a single finger, Mr. Freed gently pushed the knife away from his face. "Well, you should know that it's all thanks to this young lady. Her relentless chaos has pushed the maids to their limits, causing three of them to collapse from exhaustion."

Vincent cast a glance at Lena, who responded with a sheepish smile. "I had my suspicions," he remarked.

“Well, I will be taking Lady Lena to her room to be attended to so that when Sir Piermon arrives, he will be proud of the woman she’s become.”

Those words reverberated within her, rendering her motionless. Even as the butler firmly grasped her wrist, attempting to guide her away, she remained rooted to the spot. Father? Her mind struggled to conjure up a faint memory of a bearded man clad in fine garments—a tenuous connection to the man. The last time she had seen him, she was but a fragile twelve-year-old girl, trapped in a shadowy existence she could never fully escape.

The butler noticed the shock etched upon the girl's face, stifling an exasperated breath. "Lena, I understand that it has been a considerable time. However, we must prepare you for his arrival. Can you find it within yourself to comply? For us?"

Lifting her gaze, she comprehended the weight behind his words. Though she had not witnessed it firsthand, the murmurs circulating within these very walls had given her an inkling. Her father was not held in high regard within this manor, and perhaps not even in their hometown. Very well, she acquiesced, nodding her consent and allowing Mr. Freed to escort her away—from the kitchen, through the main hall, and up the ornate staircase.

They adorned her in a manner she had anticipated, to a degree that rendered the reflection in the mirror foreign to her own eyes. The maids, aware of her aversion to all things associated with femininity, had always outfitted her in modest attire, disguising her noble status. To an outside observer, she would have appeared as a commoner rather than a woman of distinction. Yet now, she found herself enveloped in a resplendent royal blue gown, intricate makeup adorning her features, her hair meticulously styled into an elegant bun, and a lingering fragrance of lavender clinging to her skin. It was all too overwhelming—a costume, she reassured herself, as she spun before the towering looking glass.

A pair of gentle knocks resonated through the chamber, prompting her to nod in permission for one of the maids to open the door. Mr. Freed emerged, bedecked in a fine vest, a shirt adorned with ruffled cuffs, and his meticulously groomed hair elegantly swept back.

"Your father has arrived, my Lady," he announced, his words evoking a disquieting sensation. The notion of having her father brought forth an unsettling strangeness she preferred to avoid. Nonetheless, she steeled herself, resolving to endure the encounter. "Very well," she responded with composed resolve.

Before stepping out of the room behind the butler, one of the maids intercepted her. Perplexed, she turned back, inquiring, "What is it?"

"Remember what you have been taught, my Lady—chin held high, shoulders back, and manners, Lady Lena," the elder maid gently hinted, prompting Lena to scoff inwardly at the absurdity of it all. Nevertheless, she allowed a smile to grace her lips and executed a graceful curtsy. "Very well," the maid approved, granting her permission to proceed.

Descending the grand staircase, Lena observed the mansion's staff, all bedecked in their finest uniforms, emitting an even more enticing fragrance than usual. They stood in rigid formation, forming a corridor of respect on either side of the imposing front door. From above, Lena glimpsed her father engrossed in conversation with Mr. Freed. Adorned in immaculate white attire, adorned with subtle yet intricate embroideries upon his coat, his wavy locks expertly swept back, and his piercing blue eyes exuding a chilling allure, he possessed an illusion of handsomeness.

Mr. Freed, sensing the hesitant presence of the young girl atop the staircase, introduced her with a reverent tone. "My Lord, may I present to you, Lady Lena."

Suppressing a heavy heartbeat, Lena felt her father's gaze lock with her own. A surge of desperation surged through her being—a desperate longing to escape the moment. With a forced smile etching upon her lips and her hands clutching at the folds of her blue gown, she embarked on the cautious descent down the curved staircase. Each step felt akin to a treacherous dance with mortality, as her eyes struggled to discern where her feet would find purchase. Finally, her feet touched the firm ground below, and she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Standing before her father, she curtsied with practiced grace, uttering a polite greeting, "Father."

His gaze lingered upon her for what felt like an eternity, suffusing the room with an icy chill. If it were within the realm of possibility, she believed she would have dissolved into a mere puddle under the intensity of his scrutiny. A tingling sensation prickled her fingers, and her palms grew damp with perspiration. Even Mr. Freed, standing nearby, appeared uneasy, fidgeting subtly in his position.

Breaking the frigid silence, her father's voice pierced through the air, slicing through the palpable tension. "I perceive that you have blossomed into the Lady of this House, Lena. It appears my apprehensions were nothing more than figments of my imagination."

Keeping her eyes averted from him, she offered a subtle nod in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Father."

At that moment, Mr. Freed interjected, addressing her father as ‘Sir Piermon.’ "Lunch has been prepared, and your chamber awaits, should you wish to rest after your arduous journey."

"No need; I have come to see Lena and convey a message," her father asserted, disregarding Mr. Freed's suggestion. The butler attempted to interject once more, only to halt abruptly as her father raised a commanding hand.

Curiosity and trepidation swelled within her, prompting Lena to question, "What is it, Father?" She couldn't suppress the hastiness in her voice, and a twinge of regret prickled at her.

Her father's next words pierced her with a searing blow. "Your mother has passed."

The numbness that accompanied thoughts of her mother was not entirely unfamiliar; there had been little of her presence to cling to. Lena harbored but a solitary recollection, a swirling concoction of emotions and confusion, one she had long chosen to bury deep within. Yet, an uncharted hollow suddenly bloomed within her, unsettling the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was merely hunger, she attempted to persuade herself. Nevertheless, that unyielding part of her being, perpetually stirring with unwelcome emotions and thoughts, adamantly disagreed. No, Lena, you are experiencing sadness. That is the essence of this emotion—a profound sense of sorrow and loneliness.

Her lips bore the mark of her bite, a feeble attempt to suppress the torrent of unwelcome tears that threatened to spill forth. With a deliberate inhalation and exhalation, she sought to regain composure. "When did it happen?" Her voice, though laced with a semblance of sternness, trembled subtly at its conclusion.

"At Saint Moray's, at the onset of dusk. The attending nurses discovered her lifeless form resting by the window," he recounted. "It was a sudden passing."

Her question, sharp yet vulnerable, pierced the air. "And what was the cause?"

"Her heart simply gave out. That is all the information I possess," he responded matter-of-factly.

Lena's gaze remained fixed upon her father, his countenance devoid of any emotion, as cold as ever. Nodding with measured restraint, she averted her face, purposefully evading Mr. Freed's gaze. For a fleeting moment, her eyes caught a glimpse of disbelief etched upon the butler's visage, but she swiftly shifted her line of sight, unwilling to succumb to the shattering of her fragile facade.

"However, that is not the sole purpose of my visit," her father continued, oblivious to her refusal to acknowledge him.

Lena remained motionless.

And he did not pause to wait for her.

"You are to be wedded to the Marquis of Li'Pold," he declared, the words hanging heavily in the air. Her eyes widened in profound disbelief, her throat constricting with the suppressed scream that clamored for release. This time, she did look at him, a single tear slipping past her lengthy lashes, tracing a trail down her delicate jawline.

"What?" she exclaimed, her voice betraying her distressed state.

"The arrangements have been made, and a carriage shall arrive by month's end to collect you," he stated, turning his attention to Mr. Freed. The venerable butler, his face etched with wrinkles that belied his modest features, appeared almost as anguished as she felt. "Ensure that all pertinent belongings are adequately prepared. Intensify her tutelage in the art of being a dutiful wife and instruct her in the responsibilities befitting a Marquess, until such time as she departs."

So this is your plan, in the wake of mother's departure—to rid yourself of the other. "And what shall become of the individuals here?" she inquired through clenched teeth.

"They shall be reassigned to various noble households that have taken an interest in a select few," he replied dismissively.

Lena's tone now bore an unmistakable edge, her words gritted between her teeth. "A select few? And what of those who do not fall into that chosen category?"

"They shall receive a month's worth of wages as compensation and be left to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Is there anything else?" His voice sharpened dangerously, a clear indication of his impatience.

Unbeknownst to her, her posture had gradually succumbed to a slouch, but now she straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back and elevating her chin with newfound resolve. "No," she replied, her voice carrying a tone of defiance.

A heavy silence engulfed them both, stretching taut like a tightly drawn bowstring. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Mr. Freed regaining his composure, clearing his throat as if to break the oppressive stillness.

Sir Piermon ran a hand through his meticulously combed hair, pivoting on his heel. "That is all I have come to convey. I shall take my leave then," he declared. With the same swiftness that had brought him, he departed once more, leaving behind a lingering chill in the air.

Above, a tempestuous storm raged, casting its shadow over the land. Tiny droplets of rain glistened like scattered stars, illuminated intermittently by the flickering lantern on her bedside table and the occasional bolt of lightning. The rain tapped rhythmically against the circular window, offering a backdrop to the vast expanse of hills upon which the manor perched, overlooking the vast ocean. By night, the view possessed an air of haunting beauty, but to Lena, it whispered of untamed freedom, an untapped realm awaiting her.

Nestled within her double bed, positioned toward the room's rear, Lena lay ensconced in the embrace of fine cotton sheets and her nightgown. Her meticulously brushed hair cascaded over her right shoulder, but the dampness in the air transformed it into a fluffier, more unruly mass than she preferred—a trait that irked her. Ever since her father's departure, she had retreated into an isolated silence. During lunch, she sat alone, unable to stomach even a morsel of the freshly prepared chicken and salad that Vincent had lovingly crafted. Soon thereafter, the maids ushered her upstairs to her chamber, where they removed her gown, bathed her, and readied her for bed in an atmosphere of tense silence. In their own way, they extended a modicum of compassion, granting the numbed girl space, unaware of the clandestine battle waged within her mind.

She remained uncertain as to which side had emerged triumphant—was the weight of her mother's passing substantial enough to unleash her grief, or did the prospect of departing from the place she once regarded as a prison, now her sanctuary, loom too large, rendering it a mere memory too soon? All these emotions surged and churned, trapped within the confines of her throat, clawing and beseeching her to succumb to one or the other, yet she found herself incapable of action. Confusion reigned. Loss pervaded. She... was adrift.

Lena rose from her bed, the frigid wooden floor chilling her bare feet, and made her way toward the window, leaning her head against the cool glass. Will I become like her? Whatever had propelled my mother into madness, does it lie dormant within me as well? I wonder what affliction led her down that path. If only I knew, then perhaps I could stop it from happening to me... She attempted to envision her mother's descent into madness—mumbling incoherently, fixated on imaginary visions, but the images refused to materialize. For the only memory she retained of her mother was not one of insanity, but rather one steeped in tragedy.

I don’t want to be a tragedy.

Then, an unrestrained sob escaped her lips, followed by another and another, the outpouring of emotions intertwining in a tumultuous dance. Amidst the swirling torrent, one sentiment emerged with crystalline clarity: fear. It seized her, causing her hands to tremble uncontrollably, and she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if seeking protection from the weight that threatened to crush her. It felt as though madness itself threatened to consume her, burying her under its suffocating grip.

From a distant corner of the room, her gaze fell upon the glimmering lights emanating from the coastal town below. Man-made luminance illuminated the darkness, a stark contrast to her desolate surroundings. Her eyes traced the graceful sway of three imposing ships battling the tempestuous waves at the harbor. In her mind's ear, she could almost hear the echo of laughter and the strains of music that surely accompanied the revelry below. Lena cast a lingering glance back at her barren room, where an oppressive darkness loomed, signaling a foreboding and uncertain future that had abruptly arrived. Turning her attention back to the window, she pressed the right side of her face against the cold glass, gazing downward at the town, then fixing her gaze upon the ships. Ships—a symbol of liberation and boundless possibilities.

Driven by a sudden surge of exhilaration, Lena hurriedly made her way to her closet, fingers skimming past opulent silks in various hues of purple, blue, green, and red, each fabric a proclamation of status. Yet, status was the last thing she desired. She yearned for inconspicuous attire, garments that would allow her to blend seamlessly with the common folk inhabiting the bustling town below. An idea ignited within her, igniting a spark of giddy delight. The maids—surely they possessed garments more suited to her purpose. Silently, she turned the knob of one of the two wide doors, slipping out into the dimly lit hallway. The manor assumed a more hollow and haunting ambiance during the nocturnal hours, with the relentless rain pounding upon the roof and the vast windows, evoking an eerie yet oddly serene sensation. Moving with careful steps, she descended the stairs, her footsteps tiptoeing across the marble, her anxious mind praying for their echoes to dissipate into the shadows. The grandeur of the main hall served as a stark reminder of how, mere hours ago, she had frolicked through its expanse like an untethered child, laughter reverberating through the air. Yet, it was within these very walls that her world had been shattered, the world she had painstakingly constructed.

She proceeded toward the kitchen, but her steps carried her further, past four doors lining either side of the hallway. On the right stood the quarters for the men of the manor, while on the left resided the women. However, those four doors were not her intended destination. Her purpose lay within the last door on the left, nestled farther down the corridor beside a lavishly adorned table. Passing through the threshold, she found herself in the laundry room, where baskets brimming with clothing flanked sinks and drying racks. Garments of various kinds were strewn haphazardly across the space, and she wasted no time in sifting through the discarded fabric. Each item she examined was promptly cast aside, her hopes set on finding a modest day dress, akin to the attire the maids would wear during their visits to town. Alas, none surfaced. It seemed that only men's clothing and standard uniforms remained, prompting a click of her tongue in frustration, as she begrudgingly accepted that the former constituted her sole option.

Exasperation welled within her, and with a heave, she discarded her nightgown, hastily snatching up a loose green cotton shirt and a pair of beige trousers that sagged at her waist. Her eyes swept across the laundry room, and a cry of triumph escaped her lips as she spotted a neglected belt hanging from one of the racks. Seizing it, she deftly buckled it around her waist, cinching the trousers securely. Finally, she seized a worn-out brown oversized coat, its weight settling upon her shoulders, while she struggled to keep the rolled-up sleeves from engulfing her hands. Completing her impromptu ensemble, she hastily slipped on a pair of socks and pulled on knee-high leather boots.

Emerging from the laundry room, Lena passed through the kitchen, her gaze falling upon a woven bag containing bread. Without hesitation, she claimed it as her own. Swiftly, she shrugged off her coat, slung the bag across her chest, and slipped back into the comforting embrace of the coat's folds. Now, standing before the servants' door, her hand rested upon the handle, poised to open it. A momentary hesitation gripped her, but a sudden lightning strike outside propelled her forward, causing her to fling open the door in a startle. The tempestuous storm greeted her eagerly, and a smile broke through the clouds of fatigue upon her countenance. The cold caress of wind and rain kissed her face as they tugged at her, urging her farther away. Squinting against the elements, she turned and closed the door behind her, embarking upon the path that led downhill toward the town, where the waiting ships beckoned.

From a distance, she discerned the town's melody, harmonizing with the symphony of the storm—laughter, shouts, and exuberant cries blending into a vibrant cacophony. Yet, as she stood at the epicenter of it all, the sounds seemed to belong to tales she had yet to experience. Excitement and nervous anticipation mingled within her, causing her stomach to bubble with a delightful restlessness. The fear that had gripped her back in her room now resided merely as a faint ache in her heart. Passersby smiled and engaged in lively conversations, while intoxicated men and women sang and bantered, carried away by the melodies emanating from taverns. The aroma of freshly baked delicacies wafted from every open door of taverns, inns, and homes. Children brandishing wooden swords played joyously, their voices filled with pirate slang as they leaped into puddles. Pirates, she thought, a giggle escaping her lips. Lena couldn't help but marvel at the lively spectacle unfolding before her eyes, for there seemed to be no corner of the town of Lillon unoccupied. Some of the men who passed by wore adornments of jewelry and swords hanging from their hips, their eyes shimmering with the same exuberant joy she had felt earlier.

Shaking her head, she released a breathy laugh, a soft sound escaping her lips. "The ships, Lena, the ships first," she whispered to herself, a gentle reminder, as she sought refuge beneath the sheltering roof of one of the stores. It was certain that they would not embark on their journey tonight. Her task was clear: she needed to unravel the destination they sought and devise a plan to clandestinely join their voyage. Easy... well, perhaps not so easily accomplished... hahaha. Strands of damp hair threatened to obstruct her vision, prompting her to deftly slick them away. Squinting once again, she directed her gaze towards the harbor and the docks, where slumbering figures lay undisturbed. How can they sleep through this storm? Lena watched in awe, momentarily captivated by their seemingly impervious slumber. However, she swiftly dismissed the thought, turning her attention elsewhere.

A woman, equally drenched by the downpour, hurriedly approached her, vigorously patting herself down to ward off the relentless raindrops. Shivers ran through her body as the winds howled around them. The adrenaline coursing through Lena's veins had momentarily caused her to forget the chill that clung to her, yet now, the sight of the woman's trembling form made her own body shudder in response.

“Oh darling, you must be freezing, huh,” the woman pointed out, her concern evident in her voice, as she continued her futile attempts to dry herself.

"Yes," Lena replied, a small laugh escaping her lips, though her teeth chattered involuntarily.

“Well, you should head home before you catch a cold or somethin’.”

"Actually," Lena began, adjusting her position slightly to face the woman directly, endeavoring to hold her attention, "do you happen to know the destination of these ships, ma'am?"

As the lady halted her movements, her gaze sweeping up and down Lena's figure, a sudden knot formed in Lena's throat. She had never ventured into this part of town, and these people knew nothing of her identity. Up in the manor, she was merely the daughter of a wealthy man, hidden away, decaying in her own solitude. This woman didn't know her. Of course not, Lena reassured herself, clinging to the hope that she would remain unrecognized.

“Don’t tell me a young thing like you got caught up with those men,” the woman sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of sympathy and exasperation.

“Well—” Lena began, intending to clarify her intentions, but the woman interrupted her, shaking her head in disapproval.

“You know, I get us women wanting to make a name for ourselves. But it’s not necessary with those savages.” She shook her head. “Do you know what it’s like being on board with twenty or more men on a ship?”

"No, but—" Lena attempted to interject, her words falling on deaf ears.

“Cause let me tell you, I do. Or at least my cousin’s girlfriend’s friend Genevive knows. Ooh, she told me some things that no woman should bear witness to or experience. She said it better herself, ‘Women can do it all but don’t need to lose the class they were taught,’ and every time I work with those men at the tavern, I feel that in my chest darlin’.”

Lena stood before the woman, her eyes blinking in a dazed fashion, her lips slightly parted as she struggled to process the woman's words within her fatigued mind. Leaning down to meet the young girl's gaze, the woman's concern was palpable as she spoke, “Oh damn, don’t tell me you’re already feeling sick. They do say small things like you get easily withered.”

Startled by the woman's proximity, Lena instinctively leaned back, offering a sheepish smile in response. "I, uh, no, I assure you, I feel perfectly fine. I apologize for the confusion. Working alongside them can indeed be draining. However, circumstances have led to my transfer, and I need to ascertain which ship is bound for which destination."

Acknowledging Lena's explanation with a nod, the woman adjusted her dampened hair and leaned over the edge of the shop's wall, directing her gaze toward the bustling harbor. “Well, I can’t tell you which is which since I don’t really step out onto the docks. But I can tell you the places they’re planning to go.”

“That’s fine,” I think.

“Well, from what I heard, two are planning to sail west to the islands of Canoga, and one is sailing to Pearl Reef.”

Expressing her gratitude, Lena suppressed the urge to curtsy out of habit. "Thank you for your assistance."

“Of course. Now, I must get a couple of things and head back. It was nice meeting you! You should head home and take a bath before you get yourself sick, though,” she finished before heading into the shop.

Lena offered a nod of acknowledgment before turning her gaze toward the three ships looming before her. Canoga was not a viable option, considering Li'Pold's presence there. This meant she had a single opportunity to choose wisely among the trio bound for Pearl Reef. Among the three vessels, the one positioned in the middle exuded a grandeur surpassing that of its counterparts. Adorning its bowsprit was a meticulously crafted figurehead, depicting a bird with its wings tucked gracefully. In her younger years, a maid would regale Lena with tales of sailing and ships, given her father's occupation as a merchant. While the intricate details and components of a ship hadn't been retained as vividly as the locations in those stories, the captivating designs of mermaids, maidens, and pirates that adorned the vessels had always held a profound allure. Each ship possessed its unique design, laden with symbolism.

I’d best get moving.

As Lena maneuvered through the undulating masses of swaying crowds and bustling vendors, her mind was awash with nervous contemplation of the words she would utter once she confronted the men who occupied the docks. Unbeknownst to her until now, the briny aroma of the sea permeated the air, permeating her nostrils and searing her lungs with an unfamiliar and putrid blend of salt and fish. As her feet made contact with the weathered wooden planks of the docks, a resounding creak jolted her senses, prompting her to cast a wary gaze downward, ensuring the integrity of the flooring beneath her.

Resting against one of the pylons, a man of similar age to Lena lounged upon a diminutive wooden stool. A brown cocked hat nestled upon his face, slightly askew to grant his left eye an unimpeded view. With his right arm, he diligently secured the hat, preventing the capricious wind from snatching it away. Nonetheless, his long black vest and billowing blouse danced with the breeze, threatening to become disheveled and dislodged from his brown trousers. Drenched by the rain as Lena was, he remained unperturbed in his repose, only mustering a glance as she drew nearer. Peering at her through the small opening afforded by his hat, he offered no inclination to alter his position.

"Yes?" His voice, groggy and brimming with palpable disinterest, reverberated towards her.

Lena raised her hand above her eyes in an attempt to shield them from the incessant rainfall, her voice carrying a trace of urgency, “Sorry, I was hoping to talk to the Captain who will be sailing to Pearl Reef.”

Upon hearing her request, he sat up, setting aside his hat as he scrutinized her with a discerning gaze. Raising an eyebrow, a smug smirk materialized upon his countenance, as he insinuated, “Are you one of his whores?”

His words elicited a mixture of disbelief and revulsion within Lena, causing her voice to escalate slightly, "His what?"

Unfazed by her reaction, he retorted, his tone tinged with sardonic amusement, “Don’t be ashamed; it happens. I’ve noticed that the ones who’ve accepted it tend to have a better time.”

“I am not a whore and certainly not his. I’m just hoping to speak to him.”

Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, he shook his head, his demeanor condescending, “Being desperate isn’t a good look on you. It won’t win him over, either.”

Oh, for the love of god— “Do you know where he is or not?”

A wry smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, divulging the sought-after information, “At the Greyson’s tavern. Perhaps singing another night away.”

She expressed a bitter gratitude to the man who had provided her with the desired information before retracing her steps through the town, her gaze fixed upon the carved wooden signs suspended above or affixed to the walls of shops and establishments. The weariness that had been steadily encroaching upon her finally overwhelmed her resistance, a relentless reminder of the discomfort that plagued her within the confines of these sodden, ill-fitting garments. They clung to her form with an ungainly persistence, exacerbating the chafed skin between her thighs. The ceaseless downpour only added to her plight, as her dampened hair adhered to her neck and cheeks, teasing her already hypersensitive complexion. "Just convince him to grant you a place within his crew," she muttered to herself, an incantation she repeated with increasing fervor. At long last, the sight of handcrafted lettering announcing 'Greyson's Tavern' above a sturdy oak door elicited a warmth that transformed her withered countenance into a grateful smile.

Externally, the establishment exuded an atmosphere of intimacy, imbued with rustic charm. Pillars hewn from both soft and hardwood dominated the outer facade, while the interior remained hidden behind glazed windows. However, the sounds and warmth emanating from within could be perceived even from the outside. The lively melodies and animated conversations spilled forth as the door swung open, permitting ingress and egress. The occupants within appeared dazed, inebriated, or otherwise under the influence. Lena followed closely behind one of the patrons, and as she crossed the threshold, she basked in the embrace of warm yellow light that enveloped the interior, the palpable heat radiating from the throng of bodies swaying and singing in unison. Her gaze momentarily lowered to the floor, besmirched by countless muddy footprints, spilled libations, and discarded remnants of food. Nonetheless, as she stood within the entryway, drenched and shivering, she reveled in the unfamiliar sensation of warmth, audibly releasing a sigh of relief as she finally escaped the clutches of the cold and damp.

Waitresses traversed the premises, dutifully attending to an abundance of drink and food orders. One of them bestowed upon Lena a fleeting smile as she passed by, though her attention was swiftly diverted to cater to another person. It’s not like I brought money with me, Lena thought wryly. The amalgamation of unfamiliar scents wafting through the tavern provoked a slight headache, but one she resolved to endure until she could board the ship. Above her, stout wooden beams provided support for the upper floor, while modest chandeliers adorned with rows of flickering candles illuminated the space. The walls were adorned with an assortment of mementos, each bearing the signatures of patrons who had likely donated them. Numerous long tables were occupied by what appeared to be the entire populace of Lillon, while smaller tables also accommodated revelers who reveled in their mirth, perhaps even to excess, if such a thing were possible. Even the bar stools were predominantly claimed, yet the close proximity seemed to elicit no discontent among the occupants. Amidst it all, perched atop one of the elongated tables, a man bellowed forth a sea shanty that served as a siren's call to the assembled crowd.

Lena quickly discerned that he held command over the sea shanty that had enraptured the hearts of all present; amidst the clamor of boisterous voices, his own resounded with unparalleled brilliance. Entranced, she watched him with unabashed fascination, unable to deny the handsomeness that graced his visage. His fiery red tresses tumbled untamed, cascading in playful disarray with errant strands framing his features. The remnants of rainwater adorned his bronzed skin, shimmering like liquid gems. It appeared that not a soul in this haven of revelry minded the rain's persistent assault, embracing the tempestuous conditions with fervor. A faint blush brushed his cheeks as he quaffed from a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. His pearly white teeth gleamed with each infectious smile that accompanied the fervent rendition of the next verse, eliciting spirited dances from his fellow merrymakers. Smudged black makeup accentuated his eyes, while golden jewelry shimmered seductively in the ambient light. As the song crescendoed toward its final chorus, he rose from his seat and meandered through the throng, leaning in to share intimate words and hearty laughter with the assembled company. A mischievous twinkle danced in his eyes as he serenaded a woman from behind, their playful exchange culminating in a twirl and a tantalizing tease. And as the melody reached its climactic end, he ascended a chair, lifting his bottle high while exclaiming a triumphant 'hoorah!' in unison with the raucous crowd.

The tavern erupted in a symphony of applause and cheers, reverberating through the air as glasses were raised in celebratory toasts to the renowned 'Captain Canerie,' who responded with a playful bow. Lena recognized that her moment had arrived, the opportune time to seize her chance. With each apologetic murmur, she navigated through the bustling crowd, diligently shadowing the vibrant-haired captain's every move. Amidst the sea of revelers, she felt diminutive, her gaze barely reaching the shoulders of those around her, compelling her to rise onto tiptoes intermittently to maintain sight of her target. Stay still, you idiot! she chided herself, though he seemed to flit effortlessly from table to table, engaging in flirtations with women and sharing hearty laughter with men who eagerly inquired about his seafaring exploits.

Finally, Lena arrived at the table where she had first spotted him. Nervousness and apprehension coiled tightly within her gut and constricted her throat, yet she steeled herself for this encounter. "Captain Canerie?" she called out, her voice rising above the clamor. He continued regaling his companions with laughter and tales, while a woman seated beside him leaned against his shoulder, fluttering her lashes coquettishly.

"Captain Canerie," Lena spoke again, raising her volume. At once, the collective gaze of the table's occupants shifted toward her, some with mouths full of food, others peering curiously from behind their drinks. The tavern's vivacity persisted, yet she felt an eerie hush settle over the world. Suppressing a nervous giggle, she met his amused gaze as the woman fed him morsels of bread.

“Apologies for interrupting your festivities, but I wanted to know if you are the individual destined for the voyage to Pearl Reef," Lena interjected, her words breaking through the jubilant atmosphere. All eyes remained fixed upon her, and she couldn't help but fathom the peculiarity of her appearance in their discerning gazes. Bedraggled like a stray, she donned garments that dwarfed her slender frame, while her fatigued countenance, tinged with unshed tears and the weariness of mourning, likely struck them as an oddity. If Mr. Freed saw me…oh god.

"And if I were?" he responded in a mouthful.

"I had hoped to join your company," she ventured, her tone forthright yet carrying with it hope.

A collective freeze gripped the table, the captain's hand instinctively halting the woman from feeding him. A hint of amusement danced at the corner of his lips, quickly spreading contagiously among his comrades.

“Thank you for the laugh,” he retorted, succumbing to laughter alongside others.

"It is no jest," she insisted, her tone shifting to solemnity.

His head recoiled in disbelief, a brow arching quizzically as he took a bite of bread offered by the woman. Swallowing the morsel, he spoke, "And why should I entertain the notion? Do you possess any riches or significant valuables to sway me?"

“No—”

“Then I don’t see any chance of you stepping foot on my ship.”

He took a sip from his drink, resuming his conversation with those around him, their collective indifference casting her further into a realm of trepidation and ire. Anger coursed through her veins, intertwining with the nervousness and fear she had already experienced.

"I was going to offer myself as payment," she declared, her voice carrying enough weight to quell their chatter, eliciting a chorus of intrigued murmurs.

He faced her directly, giving her a good look up and down before scoffing, “No offense, love, but you’re just not my type.”

His companions erupted in laughter, provoking a wave of disgust that knitted her brows together. "I meant for work. I am prepared to undertake cleaning and any other menial tasks required during the journey."

He was on the cusp of responding when a young man of her age, his tousled brunette locks framing his face, tapped the captain's shoulder and motioned for a private conversation. Whispering into the redhead's ear, his message elicited a radiant smile upon the captain's face as he redirected his attention to Lena.

“I don’t see why, but we do need an extra hand around after our last one fell overboard.”

Lena's eyes widened in astonishment. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she clasped her hands together, ready to express her heartfelt appreciation, but her words caught in her throat as the captain raised his hand. “But, you must first beat me in a drinking contest. Only fair, since you’ll be around a bunch of drunks.”

Her mind went still as she thought about the offer, I’ve never drank a drop of liquor. I just watched the workers back home have a swig of it late at night. It can’t be that awful, surely. The same man who had whispered to Captain Canarie pushes a large cup of beer across the table in front of her.

Gazing at the effervescent bubbles dancing atop the freshly poured pint, Lena found herself momentarily transfixed. She then turned her attention to the man who had presented her with the drink, a smile gracing her lips. "What is your name?" she inquired.

“Chenle, why?” he replied, his eyes fixated on her with an air of fascination.

Lena took hold of the cup, raising it to her nose to inhale the peculiar aroma, allowing its distinct scent to tantalize her senses. "Because it’s only right that I get to know my crewmate's name," she explained, before taking hearty gulps that swiftly emptied the vessel.

A chorus of cheers erupted in her honor, but the exultation intensified when she gingerly placed the empty cup back on the table and found herself seized by a fit of coughs and retches, her revulsion palpable. That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted, she confessed, her disgust evident.

“Seems like your first time, little dove,” he then emptied his cup and sets it down proudly.

Chenle refills her cup and hands it to her, “How badly do you want to be part of the crew?”

Rolling her eyes in a bitter display, Lena accepted the cup from him, downing its contents in one fell swoop. Yet, the experience failed to offer any semblance of refreshment; instead, it burdened her with a leaden sensation and heightened self-revulsion, surpassing even the discomfort she had endured in the midst of the rain-soaked storm.

“So, how will this go?” she asked.

“Easy, keep drinking until one gives up or passes out,” he finishes another cup and gets refilled.

“Fine,” Lena says bitterly and finishes hers.

The cycle persisted until Captain Canarie dispatched the young woman seated beside him to retrieve another pint. One of the crewmates even graciously vacated his spot, affording her a place to sit. The crew member who provided the seat refilled her sixth cup, introducing himself as Mark, the Quartermaster. Much like the captain, he bore smudged black makeup beneath his eyes and donned ornate silver rings adorned with intricate depictions of animals and human portraits. The life of a merchant must yield handsome rewards, Lena surmised, albeit hazily, amidst her inebriated state.

"Come now, don't lose your pace," Captain Canarie prodded, gesturing towards her newly replenished cup of beer.

Narrowing her gaze at him, she quaffed the contents of the cup and slammed it resolutely onto the table. "Your turn," she challenged.

And with a swift motion, he raised the cup to his lips, effortlessly consuming its contents in a single gulp. Lena couldn't help but be bothered by how effortlessly he drank, seemingly unaffected, while she struggled to maintain her composure. While he appeared invigorated, she found herself navigating the world as if through the tranquil undulations of calm waves, each movement weighed down by the heaviness in her limbs. Her words began to slur, a source of annoyance and frustration.

Mark poured yet another pint, extending it towards her. However, as her lips brushed against the rim of the cup, a halt befell her as Captain Canarie's voice resonated through the air. "Alright, I'm done for the night, boys," he declared.

Lena's ears perked up at his proclamation, and in a fit of intoxicated excitement, she slammed her cup onto the table, causing the liquid to spill and drench her hand. Rising from her seat, she clumsily pumped her fist in the air with uncharacteristic glee. Turning towards the captain, who was already sporting a knowing smile, she exclaimed, "I've won! I've won, and now you have take me to Pearl Reef!"

Rising to his feet, Captain Canarie took hold of the woman's hand beside him, delicately kissing the back of her palm. "Actually, no," he responded.

Lena froze momentarily, a slight stumble betraying her inebriated state, her hand instinctively gripping the back of the extended bench to steady herself. "What do you mean, 'no'?" she retorted.

“I mean, you won’t be sailing with us. Go home and get yourself cleaned up.” he asserted, his arms now enveloping the woman, his chin resting against her shoulder.

“But you said if I won, I could sail with you,” she scornfully protested.

He gave her scant attention, burying his face deeper into the woman's neck. “I did, and now I say ‘nay,’ and as Captain, my words go. Crew?” he called out, his gaze shifting to the rest of the assembled individuals, who responded with chuckles, continuing to feast and drink. Some even raised their cups in amusement.

Her heart twisted and ached with a potent mix of anger and burgeoning tantrum. While she had never been one to behave childishly, weariness and sorrow pushed her beyond her limits. Yet, she bit her tongue, allowing tears to escape, their silent descent an embodiment of her seething emotions.

"You are a coward and unworthy of leading this crew," she spat venomously, her voice rising to a height that caused the tavern to fall into an uneasy silence.

The captain, along with his crew, took notice, and he withdrew from the woman's embrace, striding purposefully toward the distraught girl, his imposing figure casting a towering shadow. Their gazes locked in a glowering exchange, the tension in the air growing palpable. With gritted teeth, she uttered her final words, seething with disdain, "You are nothing but a pathetic liar."

"Take... her," the captain's command was resolute and concise, and in the blink of an eye, two of his crewmates seized Lena by her arms, their grip firm and unyielding.

She fought in their grip, “You can’t do this! What you’re doing is illegal. I’ll make sure your licenses as merchants are revoked!”

Laughter filled the air, intermingling with the boisterous revelry that engulfed the tavern. Captain Canarie, immersed in the mirthful atmosphere, joined in the cacophony, his voice resonating above the rest. "Who ever claimed we were mere merchants? We are Pirates!" he proclaimed, his words reverberating through the room, igniting a thunderous response from the crowd.

𔘓⁩ ᵗⁱᵖʲᵃʳ

divider: @/saradika

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop ff #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic #ao3 #haechan fanfic #haechan au #mark lee #mark fanfic #jaemin au #na jaemin #lee jeno fanfic #lee jeno #jeno fanfic #renjun fanfic #chenle fanfic #jisung fic #illumins #myriadofourseas

[eqt-95]

“I brought Big Belly Burger!” Kara exclaimed from the open terrace door. Lena glanced back inwards to see Kara lifting a grease-stained paper bag excitedly from the depths of her office.

And Lena might have smiled back if Kara weren’t again blowing her own identity. 

“I didn’t know you wore contacts,” Lena lied, and she watched Kara’s eyes bulge and her fingers poke at her eyes in surprise before they plunged into her purse in frantic search for her resin-rimmed facade. She turned away from Lena like it had any impact whatsoever on Lena having seen Supergirl’s face in Kara Danver’s clothes.

The Big Belly Burger bag was abandoned onto Lena’s desk and another minute of muttered PG cursing and Kara hunched over her bag passed before the splotchy, fingerprint-marked frames appeared on Kara’s nose.

"Oops," Kara smiled awkwardly; nervously; panicky as she shuffled out onto the terrace next to Lena.

And Lena almost let the lie remain.

Almost.

"I know, Kara."

"You know? Uh-about… about what?" Kara asked, her aloofness finding unexpected interest in a tuft of fuzz on her sleeve.

"Kara,” Lena repeated, waffling between playing out this charade lightly and being CEO-blunt with her best friend.

"Hm?" Kara asked, fingers plucking at the navy blue dust bunny that was very much still a part of her shirt.

Ok, CEO-blunt, then.

"Will you just look at me?" Lena asked. She was one more eye roll away from ripping her retinas from her optic nerve, and she could not afford the recovery needed for whatever surgery that calamity would require. 

Finally the blonde lamented and fixed her gaze on Lena's unamused face. Because Lena had run out of humor when it came to playing along with Kara’s preposterously terrible acting.

"I know you're Supergirl."

"No you don't," Kara replied before slapping a hand to her mouth. "I - wait, no."

"Jesus Christ," Lena muttered, fingers squeezing the bridge of her nose.

"I'm not Supergirl."

"Seriously? Seriously,” Lena gawked in the most unbecoming way; a way that would certainly have every generation of dead Luthor rolling in their graves.

How. How had she kept this a secret from the rest of the world for so long, Lena literally could not comprehend.

"Supergirl is so, so you know, cool and strong and… she can fly! I can't fly. Have you ever seen me fly?"

"I'm not doing this,” Lena said simply, turning to look out at the skyline.

"Not doing… hey, what are you doing? Where are you… Lena? Lena. Lena, get down from there."

Because Lena was climbing onto a ledge. In a pencil skirt. And heels. It would have been the most reckless decision of Lena's life if Kara hadn't been so painfully bad at keeping her identities separate.

"Do you have any idea," she huffed, feeling her tights rip against the concrete ledge as she climbed to her feet, "how much I hate flying?"

"A lot. You've told me like, a million times."

"Wrong," Lena said, winded by her pathetic summit and the adrenaline of glancing down a seventy-storey building.

"Uh, I think I'd remember my best friend telling me about her biggest fear."

"No," Lena continued, wiping her hands together of the sandy sediment that stuck to her palms.  "I've told Supergirl."

"Psh," Kara scoffed, no more convincing than two minutes earlier. "So what, you've only ever told her?"

"Are you really going to make me do this?"

"Just come down from there. The burgers are getting cold," Kara said, her face a harmony of forced sunshine and unsettled horror. 

"Fine. I will-"

"Great!" Kara shouted, lifting a helpful hand to Lena. 

"-after you admit you're Supergirl."

"But I'm not," Kara exclaimed with a manic expression. The sunshine had been eclipsed entirely by unadulterated horror.

"I can literally see your suit under your collar."

"Wh-no, that… this?” Kara asked, yanking her shirt closer to her neck. “That’s just my swimsuit."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine. You know what? Fine," Lena called, lifting her hands in defeat. "You don't want to admit it? Fine. We'll do it the hard way."

And then Lena took a step.

She took a step off her building. 

It was a leap, really.

But might have also been considered an unglamorous tumble.

Befitting the adrenaline junky she very much wasn't.

Three thoughts raced through her mind as the earth whipped closer and closer and the first twenty stories flew by.

The first was that she wasn't sure she'd ever get used to falling off her own building, but that she was also certainly developing a tolerance for it.

The second was that she was glad to be wearing a pencil skirt. Anything looser would have swept up in the most revealing way.

The third was that it was taking Kara a hell of a long time to catch her.

She watched lazily as another ten floors flew past her, and she blinked away tears from the wind whipping against her eyes.

Nerves crept in during the next ten. The plummet was growing faster, and the street below was getting uncomfortably closer.

A sinking feeling clutched at her already somersaulting stomach when another ten zipped past.

Her eyes widened in actual honest to god fear when the signage of the retail at the ground level came into crisp view.

A shriek of horror expelled itself from her lungs as she cursed Supergirl and Kara and the insane choice she'd just made to literally walk the plank off her building to prove a point and oh shit why did she do this, she was going to die and it was all going to be Kara Danvers fault and-

And then suddenly the ground wasn't hurtling closer. Suddenly she was staring at the blue sky above and felt the strong, steady arms of Supergirl cradling her bridal-style.

"Are you ok?" Kara asked, cheeks flush.

"What the hell took you so long?" Lena asked, her hands thwacking against Kara's suit. "Was that funny to you? I could have died!"

"I uh… you know," Kara choked out. "I was across town when Kara Danvers phoned me to say you'd just jumped o-"

"Are you kidding me with this?"

"And she was just, you know-"

"Do you realize how preposterous you sound right now?"

"-worried about you, being her best friend and all."

"You know what. Whatever. Fine. Be two different people. I don't even care anymore," Lena sighed, stubbornly crossing her arms against her chest. "Just take me back to my office."

And Supergirl did. And of course Kara Danvers wasn’t there, but Lena couldn’t fathom caring to mention that small hiccup in Supergirl/Kara’s little story.

And then Lena watched Supergirl do a very Kara Danvers thing of shuffling around like a mopey puppy when Lena climbed gruffly from her arms. 

"Thank you Supergirl. That will be all," Lena said, dismissing the hero as she returned to her office.

"Uh, Lena?" Supergirl asked, a hand rubbing at the back of her neck.

"What, Supergirl?" Lena asked, tone harsh and eyes cold.

"Can I still have my Big Belly Burger?"

--

ao3

#sometimes our girls just need a good push #or unplanned leap #supercorp fic #supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers

[lhse]

Public sextape+Tracer:

Tracer was out on shopping with Sombra when a video started playing of her being a ‘helping hero’ for the homeless and poor.

"You know, Olivia. I wasn't really sure what to think when you said you've turned over a new leaf, and I'm real sorry for that. You're actually really nice!" The chipper girl exclaimed, enjoying her time with the hacker, who was leading her in an alleyway, claiming it was a shortcut to the mall.

"How nice of you, chica. Say, I've got a little surprise just for you. See that big screen on the building?" Sombra pointed to her, the giant screen currently playing a commercial for a fast food restaurant.

"Uh-huh? What about it?"

"I want you... To close your eyes and wait just a sec. Can you do that for me, amiga?"

"Sure! I don't see why not?" The brit said as she closed her eyes, while still facing the screen.

"When should I open my eyes?"

"Don't you worry your pretty head... You'll know when." Sombra said as she turned herself invisible, getting herself in a nice spot. Away from the potential dangers.

Tracer meanwhile, was waiting excitedly for her surprise, wondering what her new friend had in mind. Her imagination forced to stop in its tracks as she heard speakers playing very close to her position. While surprised by the sudden noise, Tracer kept her eyes closed, trying to focus on the sound. And what she could only assume was kissing?

Rather intense kissing at, the wet sounds of french kissing easily recognizable. Feeling a bit of second-hand embarrassment, oblivious to what the public was seeing, Tracer asked while her eyes were still closed.

"Umm... O-Oliva? Should I open the-"

"Is that what you Overwatch 'heroes' call community service nowadays, miss Tracer?"

Lena's eyes shot wide open as she recognized the man's burly voice, only to see her own self. Completely nude and surrounded by dirty old men. Her mouth switching between two as she made out with them. While her ass was being groped harshly by another pair behind her. Her whorish moans and moving hips making it clear she was loving it.

"Please... Just call me Lena... Or whatever you studs want~"

"No, no, no, no, no! T-this can't be happening! W-who recorded this?" Tracer asked herself, feeling her phone buzz in her jeans, quickly grabbing it to see many, many texts and calls missed from her friends, family and employers. Clearly meaning the whole world was now aware of her slutty outings.

Lena was unable to do anything but lower her cellphone and watch the big screen, reliving the supposedly secret night. Realizing with dismay how ruined her life was.

"You didn't answer the question, slut... Can we expect Mercy to come out from the sky and offer her holes too?" One of the men asked, as he spanked her ass, before kneading the reddened flesh. The young woman moaning happily as she pulled way to answer, a string of saliva still connecting her and the poor stranger.

"Ngh... Knowing Angela, I doubt that... It's just a Tracer kind of service~... After all, I love your fat cocks so much~..." Tracer answered hungrily, grinding her butt against one of the homeless men's crotch.

"That so? Get on your knees then, skank." The man kissing her said harshly, before spitting right on her hanging tongue. Making her moan happily at the degrading act.

"Aah~... Yes, sir, and thank you~!" Tracer complied easily, getting in position as she shook her shapely rear from side to side. Happy to finally get her precious cocks.

With ease, the poor man took her anus doggystyle, pounding her roughly as she squealed in bliss at the intrusion. Digging into her balls deep without warning nor preparation, her tight hole clearly used to taking dick.

"Aanh~! I love bums in my bum!" Tracer giggled almost crazily, her lust along with the rough dicking turning her brain to mush.

"Save that for later, slut..." One of them said, unamused by the pun, before muting her by plunging his cock in her throat. Skewering the British slut from both side.

The video continued, playing out the rest of the gangbang, with Tracer as the main actress. The live one, watching wordlessly, having no idea how to process this situation. Until, a familiar voice broke through the degenerated, muffled screams of pleasure.

"If you liked what you see, and want more. Enter the following address displayed on the screen if you want a piece of the famous Overwatch hero. If you're bad at directions, no worries, just follow the moans."

Right as she heard this, Lena could feel multiple hands groping her from all sides. The nearby homeless men, clearly having taken the public sextape as an invitation.

Tracer took one last look at her smartphone, noticing the few calls from her girlfriend. Before throwing on the ground, and stripping for her growing audience and throwing herself at them. Ready to accept her new life.

"Smile at the camera, amiga..." The invisible woman chuckled to herself, making sure not to miss the ex-Hero's reincarnation.

(hope this is what you had in mind with sombra, I honestly wasn't sure)

#not sfw #t(ow) #s(ow)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

This world's evil god sucks, I'LL SHOW YOU HOW IT'S DONE! (Chapter 7)

A Warhammer Fantasy Isekai

Chapter List

"I'll hammer all over this land!" - Harry the Hammer, famed Chaos Warrior before he proceeded to hammer undead to death.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Descriptions of Violence, Spooky scary skeletons, and Creatures of the Night: The Elderly.

Chapter 7 - "IT'S HAMMERING TIME!"

Noura had the others follow her upstairs for a brief moment, saying that she had a gift for Lena and Varxus. They were in her bedroom, compared to the tidiness of the rest of her home, it was a complete disaster. Clothes were scattered along the floor, copious amounts of alcohol and half eaten food stayed on her drawers, and Noura was making a somehow bigger mess, tossing things from her closet haphazardly.

“Hm, nope. Not that one. Come on, where is it…?! Oh, I needed that like a week ago!” Noura muttered to herself, tossing things behind her and almost hitting the others.

Mason sidestepped an oncoming skull, Lena had to duck before she was hit by an ominously glowing orb, and Varxus’s helmet slightly shifted when a book hit the side of it, making him grunt.

“How is it that the rest of this abode is spotless, yet your personal chambers are reminiscent of an Orc’s lair?” Varxus questioned, clearly annoyed and confused by the contrasting state of her rooms.

“Hm? Oh, well, I specifically order my minions to never come in here. Lady’s personal space and all that.” Noura waved offhandedly as she continued looking. “By the way, what’s an Orc?”

“You do not have them in this world?”

“No, that’s my first time hearing of them.”

“...Thank gods.” Varxus sighed a breath of relief. Finally, an area where he would not have to deal with the greenskin menace, he thought to himself. They were literally everywhere in his realm, this was one thing he was glad that did not carry over. “They’re annoyances, I will leave it at that.”

“W-Were you never expecting anyone to be in here, Miss Noura?” Lena asked concerningly, trying to pick up the items off the floor.

“Dear, the only men I expect in my company are skeletons and my husband’s disapproval of my room.”

“Disapproval is an understatement, Lich.”

His observation made Mason and Lena chuckle, but Varxus remained unamused, growing further irritated.

“Is this truly necessary? I sincerely doubt this Necromancer could withstand an onslaught of our combined mi-”

“It is, if you wanna actually get to cast magic!” sigh “At least there’s no bugs in here…”

“Maybe we can help look?” Mason offered politely, helping Lena by putting the tossed skull on a table.

“No, I know it’s in this clo…AHA!” Noura cheered, shifting through her closet even faster and finally pulling out two rings. “Here we go! Lena, Varxus, these are for you!”

Lena extended her palm as the ring gently fell into it while Varxus grabbed it from Noura’s hand, closely examining it. He could tell the ring itself contained magical properties, but as to what specifically, he could not tell. All he could decipher is that it was not of undead nature, considering the Chaos magics emanating from his armour were not getting dulled by it.

“Varxus, I will have to say, I’ve never seen magic like yours before. The properties are…unique, I guess is a way to put it.”

“My magics are powered by the Ruinous Powers of Chaos. Of the four gods I used to worship, Slaanesh, Tzeentch, and Nurgle allowed me to tap into the winds of magic.” Varxus replied.

“Hm. So you’ve denounced them since you’re stuck here, right?”

“Correct.”

“How are you still able to use them here, then?”

Varxus moved his mouth to give an answer, but found he had none. He looked at his palm and felt the numb sensation of his magic run dry. Varxus could not use it at the moment, but he knew for a fact it was still chaos magic that he was trying to summon forth…Why could he still use them if he was cut off from home?

“...I do not know that answer.” Varxus admitted, more to himself than actually meaning to answer Noura.

“Well, it’s no matter. As long as you can use it for your own gains, right?” Noura shrugged, turning to Lena.

Varxus was troubled by this thought, but then realised Lena was getting a ring, but not Mason.

“Here you go, dear! This should help you channel your innate magic a bit! We’ll do some more training when we get the chance.”

“You could have used magic this entire time?” Varxus turned to Lena, making her flinch.

“Um…W-Well, not really,” Lena replied as she straightened her back, getting used to the intimidating glare his helmet gave. “Elves innately can use earth magic in our world. At least, according to what father told me. But we need a lot of training to do so, and he never wanted me to learn.”

“Hm, that’s right. He wished for you to remain a farmer.” Varxus recalled. The fact he did made Lena slightly happy, something he did not notice himself.

Mason noticed that Varxus now turned his gaze onto him.

“Before you ask, milord, I can’t use magic. At least not innately like the Elves can.”

Noura sensed Varxus’s frown, which she cleared her throat to give him an answer.

“Saving the history lesson for another time, humans cannot learn magic themselves unless they find an artefact or an item to channel it, these rings for example.” Noura explained, one arm resting on her waist as she shook her other hand. “Elves and Dwarves can tap into magics from the word go, usually. Though sometimes, people like Lena here just need to be trained, since it’s something to do with their innate power.”

Varxus nodded, understanding the sheer power gap of the humans in his world and this one. The Empire of Man had colleges of magics, not everyone was gifted in it, but the ones who were could tap into truly destructive powers, at the risk of blowing themselves up. The fact that no human at all in this world could use them inherently was yet another alien concept to him. Knowing better than to think further on the comparisons, he instead looked at Noura.

“And you do not have mind altering properties in these rings?”

“Hah, no I do not, Varxus. Besides, those usually work on the weak-minded. I’m pretty sure you don’t qualify for that.” Noura chuckled. 

Lena put her ring on, and her eyes widened, clenching her hand over and over. Varxus moved to put the ring on himself and realised it was far too small for his massive gauntlets. Instead, he crushed the ring and his armour absorbed the magic, a surge of energy rushing through him as he sinisterly laughed. It did not restore him to full strength, but he could feel a part of his former power restored. He ignited a small blue flame in his hands and nodded. It did not feel like it was faltering anymore, which more than likely meant he could use the Blue Flames of Tzeentch far longer now.

“Are we ready to go now, Miss Noura?” Mason asked, twiddling his fingers anxiously. “I think we’re kind of pressed for time.”

“Yup! Let’s get to the stables and rush towards the town. You guys don’t mind skeletal steeds, do you?”

…

Rhys watched as the guards rushed to form a barricade along the towns’ entrances, shouting at each other and grabbing all sorts of torches and weapons. He simply watched for a majority of the time, answering any questions his men had about their orders, watching the civilians all escorted by Varxus’s men, much to their discomfort.

He could not help but focus on them, his fingers clenching.

“...Former soldiers of the Dark Lord.” Rhys’s own voice played back in his head. “Your new master, Varxus, has ordered me to retrieve you…But, know that you do not speak to someone who looks down on you. You speak to a fellow man who has broken free from the Dark Lord’s shackles.”

Rhys simply closed his eyes and sighed. If only they had been found by the queen like he had, maybe then they would not have to be under such a brutal man’s command. As much as he wanted to help them, he knew that would spell their death. Not to mention the townspeople were not nearly accepting as he and the city guard were. They had all been freed from the Dark Lord, but they dared not divulge that information to the general public.

“Commander!” One of the guards approached him, a torch illuminating the concrete they stood on in a warm light.

“What is it, Corporal?”

“Large amounts of undead approaching the vicinity, and the group you had sent out are returning!”

“Just in time it seems.”

Rhys walked towards the entrance of town and stopped when he saw a group of four riding on skeletal horses, leaping over the barricade with ease and landing right in front of them.

Lena was riding with a woman he had not seen before while Varxus and Mason had their own horses. Varxus was the only one that looked odd, as the horse he rode was obviously not meant for someone his size, looking more like a donkey of war than anything. They all got off their horse as the woman approached, politely bowing.

“Noura Mors, a pleasure to meet you, sir…?” She looked up, slightly tilting her head and gesturing for his name.

“Commander Rhys,” He replied, slightly hesitating. “...Are you…?-”

“The witch? Indeed I am. Though, not the one causing your current headache, obviously.”

He frowned at that fact and turned to Varxus.

“I see you have brought my men. Good. I have a plan to lure out the Necromancer so your men do not get overrun.”

“And what would that be?”

“I will not disclose the details, but position your men away from the townspeople.”

“What?!” Rhys shouted angrily, stepping towards Varxus as his fists clenched. “No, out of the question! I am not endangering the lives of my people!”

Varxus’s stance did not move, and his voice did not waver. It was the tone of a man completely assured of himself. He then turned to Lena and Mason who stepped forward.

“We’ll make sure that they’re safe, sir.” Mason politely nodded.

“Were you able to get the queen’s aid?” Lena asked, trying to comfort Rhys.

“...No, I was not. She says they’re busy trying to reinforce Dalery’s borders after the Dark Lord’s attacks on the outskirts. We are on our own.” 

“Tch, typical. Looking out for her own kind instead of everyone in their territories.” Noura waved off dismissively.

“You would do well to not speak ill of the queen, Ma’am.” Rhys sharply replied.

“And you have no other option it seems.” Varxus added.

Rhys gave an exacerbated sigh as his shoulders sagged, turning back to Varxus.

“Do I have your word that my people will not have a single scratch?”

“You do. I will not drag them into the open, if that is what you are concerned about.”

“...Fine. But you will give us a clear signal for your counterattack.”

Varxus slammed his right fist onto the left side of his breastplate.

“Your enemies will know terror upon our arrival.” Varxus left with his group and retrieved his men. He could not hear what they were saying, but they all vanished down the street and into the darkness of the alleys.

…

The guards heard the unmistakable noise of a shambling horde of zombies, all groaning as they approached the town’s entrance. The way they had barricaded Lindrow made it where only one way was possible to enter, and that was through the front door. In the centre of town contained the hiding civilians they were protecting, and no doubt this Necromancer’s target.

“Guards of Lindrow! Our enemies approach! Formation one, with me!” Rhys shouted over his shoulder, a line of seven guards rushed forward with swords and shields, while another line of seven stood behind them with halberds. Rhys himself stepped forward and unsheathed twin swords.

He had no idea what Varxus’s plans were, but it did not seem like he was the type to go back on his word, for better and worse. Focusing on his original plan, Rhys pointed forward with his sword.

“DRIVE THESE UNDEAD BASTARDS BACK TO THE HOLE THEY CRAWLED OUT OF!” Rhys charged forward with his men as they all shouted a battle cry, throwing themselves right onto the oncoming horde.

Rhys sliced apart a group of four as they all stuck their hands out to grab him, looking more like a whirlwind of death than a man. With a singular spin, he bisected all of them as their torsos fell onto the ground. The men accompanying him quickly shoved their swords into their heads, killing them for good and bashing the ones getting too close to the entrance with their shields. The halberd line stood a fair distance away, ready to cut apart any stragglers that slipped past.

Varxus watched from a distance inside one of the alleys, his arms crossed and silently observing. Lena, Mason, and Noura on the other hand were vocalising their thoughts.

“W-Wow, Commander Rhys is so fast!” Lena admired, watching as he dashed from group to group, rapidly slicing their limbs apart before moving onto the next, his soldiers quickly finishing them off in their wake.

“It is commendable,” Varxus admitted. If it came to blows between them, Rhys was almost as fast as he was. And that was impressive, considering he has nothing magical powering him.

“The other soldiers aren’t bad either, they’re pretty disciplined.” Mason commented, watching as the group moved as one.

“Something you wish to emulate, Varxus?” Noura asked teasingly. Sensing her tone, he simply shot her a glance and nothing else.

“It is something every force should have by default, if they wish to call them “Elite”. With what I’ve taught my men about formations, they’re now on a basic level of a town guard.” Varxus grunted. 

Rhys backed off as he decapitated another zombie, noticing an arrow whiz past his head, making him look for the source. In the distance was now a group of skeletons, all armed with swords and bows, and he knew more were on the way.

“The second wave is upon us, bring out the crossbows and fall back!”

Rhys and the soldiers quickly retreated with the Halberds switching out their weapons for shields, another formation reloading their crossbows and aiming. Many of the skeletons’ arrows embedded themselves into the shields, but some managed to catch a soldier’s arm or their helmet, causing them to stagger. The skeletons moved much faster than the zombies, quickly closing the distance and entering the town. Varxus noted they moved much faster, but were still out of sync with each other. They appeared to remain extremely fragile as only a few sword clashes with the guards caused them to shatter. But their sheer number started to drive the guards back, even with Rhys tearing them apart.

“Hmph, a classic strategy. Tire down the defenders with your chaff, then send in your heavy hitters.” Varxus nodded in approval for his attacker. That meant his quarry would be no mere foe for him to crush. It would be a worthy opponent indeed.

Finally, a battle was playing out how it should have been since the moment he entered this gods forsaken world. Both sides were a dangerous foe for the other, utilising their strategies and strengths to the best of their ability. The humans outmanoeuvred the slower undead, but they had the numbers to dwindle their stamina down.

“Be ready to shatter their lines. Follow me to glory.” Varxus’s usual annoyed tone was noticeably absent. Instead it was replaced with a type of excitement. An excitement to finally show what Chosen were truly capable of.

Rhys roared as he shattered yet another skeleton’s skull, dodging the arrows as his blades parried others that tried to attack him. His breathing became uneven as he struggled to catch it, under constant attack by the unending skeletons pouring from the entrance. Arrows constantly flew by him, driving his guards further back towards the centre, and ever closer to the townspeople in the building behind them.

He knew that it was a matter of time before they got overwhelmed. A fact that a cackling voice seemed to understand, as the skeletons suddenly backed off, and made all the guards look up. It was a pale man who was floating above them, his black cloak being blown back from the wind. He slowly came down, with many of the guards pointing his weapons at them.

“You’ve proven yourself quite the formidable opponent, Commander Rhys!” The pale man applauded, his hands clapping to Rhys’s annoyance.

“Who are you?” Rhys demanded, his swords still ready to attack.

“I, am Ebrexor! I come far from the dead lands to seek an army to overthrow this kingdom, and this town will make a fine addition to my collection!”

“Over my dead body!” Rhys shouted, charging straight at him.

“As you wish…!” Ebrexor mocked, gently waving his hand forward and having his skeletal legion advance once more, slowly overwhelming them. “Now where are my new subjects?-”

As if on cue, the building behind the guards had massive skeletal hands reach upwards and bring walls down, while another one held the roof up, exposing a massive group of people, all holding each other and screaming in terror.

“What in the?!-” Rhys shouted in surprise, a sword entering his arm as he was caught off guard, making him scream and fall over.

“C-COMMANDER!” One of the guards called out for him, as they quickly became surrounded by a group of skeletons that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I-Impossible, there was no way they could have gotten behind us!”

“HAHAHA! There are my subjects! Do not worry just yet my friends, you will get to join your families after I…” Ebrexor’s laugh stopped in his throat. 

The mortals were right. The skeletons had not broken through their lines, nor did he summon those hands. And his minions tried to break through the entrances, but they were far too weak. How did they-? Without warning, the skeletons surrounding the guards spun around and rushed their own kind, shattering them into pieces with each savage blow. One of them grabbed Rhys and threw him into the city guards, before one of the hands shifted and grabbed them, tossing them into the building like they were made of paper.

“T-The hell?!” The guards shouted. 

Before Ebrexor could get his own shout of surprise in, the hands closed in, forming an impenetrable wall of bone around the people. From the dark alleys, he heard heavy armour moving towards him, as if it was an entire formation.

“Who DARES?!-” His voice quickly died off when he saw a massive black-armoured man with horns sprouting from his helmet, stomping towards him with a two handed hammer. 

Beside him was a smaller soldier, sword and shield in hand, a small girl with a face of anger and disgust, and a well dressed woman, casually smiling as she strolled, completely dismissing the atmosphere of her companions. Behind them was a formation of the Dark Lord’s soldiers, though they did not act like the ones he’d encountered previously. These ones had their shields raised and slamming the hilts of their swords onto the front, creating an intimidating drum-like beat as they marched forward as one, shouting one word over and over that was completely unfamiliar to him.

“NORSCA!”

Ebrexor took a step back, slowly realising just how truly colossal the approaching warrior was, and he could sense magic radiating from him, something far more evil than his own, or even the Dark Lord’s magic. His eyes went wide as he swore he heard the laughter of four great and terrible beings, and the screams were beginning to intensify as the man drew closer. The aura alone was driving him to insanity, a concept he thought he had abandoned a long time ago. This stranger’s magic whispered in his head, it craved for violence to quench its insatiable lust, it hungered for his soul.

The man suddenly began to cackle maniacally, adjusting the grip on his massive hammer and looking straight at Ebrexor.

“SLAVES TO DARKNESS! BREAK THEIR BACKS, TEAR THEIR HEADS OFF, AND LINE THE STONES WITH THEIR BLOOD! WE SHALL EARN GLORY TODAY!” 

He broke out into a full tilt sprint, a speed that no man with that size and that armour should be able to achieve, slowly accompanied by the three with him. The elf and human raised their shields to deflect incoming arrow fire, while the woman simply yawned, flicking her hand up lazily as a wall of bones erupted and caught the arrows aimed at her head before it vanished again.

The soldiers all rushed in, screaming a mighty war cry as they clashed with the advancing skeletons, managing to hold their own as their adrenaline took over their instincts and began to savagely beat the skeletons to death. They looked more like a savage band of barbarians than the discipline they had portrayed a second earlier. Though something was off about them. They seemed inexperienced, frightened even. Not at all what their leader was currently portraying.

The leader took one swing with his hammer and blew apart eight skeletons' upper halves into tiny pieces, his speed still startlingly fast. The human and elf were striking with precision at their heads, dodging attacks and arrows while making sure not to get caught off guard. Notably, they were fighting together, blocking an attack that would hit the other. The woman made no gesture, but her eyes glowed a dark purple as her own skeletal minions dealt with the grunts, both of them tearing each other apart as she looked on the skirmish with a kind of apathetic expression. Only when she looked at her comrades did she begin to smile. The leader quickly raised his hand at Ebrexor, spewing out a searing blue flame that scorched the concrete in front, Ebrexor barely managing to raise a magical shield in time that redirected the flame. It incinerated the skeletons trying to reinforce their allies, turning them into a pile of dust, with the leader still cackling.

“Show me what pathetic sorceries you will use in vain to save your miserable existence! BECAUSE TODAY, YOU FIGHT CHOSEN!”

To be continued in Chapter 8

#original #fanfic #warhammer fanfic #crack fic #TWEGSISYHID

[emile-hides]

Because 2020 has been a year and Thanksgiving was a bit of a bust for my family, we decided to jump straight to Christmas today. We just got finished setting literally everything up.

We also watched The Polar Express, my personal favorite Christmas movie, and as my brain go brr, I’m now making a Polar Express Overwatch AU because I have no impulse control.

The main kid is Hana

The main girl is Lena or Lucio

Billy is Junkrat

The know it all kid is Genji because young Genji is so like that

Jack is the conductor

Gabe is the ghost hobo on the train roof

Reinhardt and Torbjorn are the Engineers

Ana is Santa Claus because really only she can pull this kinda thing off

Everyone else makes up the background kids only in this version they’re all important to the plot or smth

Bastion is the train

#Overwatch #AU #This is top brain go brr content #But my brain go full brr I just really like this movie #It's very pretty and it takes up all of my brain space during the Holiday's #The Hot chocolate guys are all Zenyatta dancing and singing around the cart #Orisa is one of the abandoned toys in that one cart #The conductor on The Polar Express has the best job in the world btw I love him so much #Hanzo is also on the train btw he's very unamused though #Lena and Lucio can both be the Leader girl she's really great #It feels like a Lucio roll but also I love Lena and want her to be there too #Can you tell this is my biased to the Youngster squad shining though? #Also a bunch of kids from different countries vaguely speaking English to one another is very good for brain functioning #Ultimate brain go brr is this low plot Christmas movie that's really really good animation and little to nothing else that I love #Happy Holidays y'all

[narraboths]

[thanks to the combined efforts of an incredibly homoerotic Bacchae moment and @ekingston‘s encouragement]

The captive is smiling when they drag him forth from the belly of the ship.

He only spares one look for Lena, a half for her crew, nonplussed by the remains of the carnage around them. Then he turns his face towards the sun, closes his eyes, and lets the pirates push and tug him across the deck as he soaks in the heat of the West Indies. He’s still beaming when they shove him down on his knees in front of Lena, face serene as a saint’s.

Lena feels a shiver run down her spine.

She doesn’t like this. She doesn’t like to find surprises of this kind on any ship – the extra squadron of guards, the cage hidden in the cargo hold, the irksome mystery of a prisoner so dedicatedly concealed, and she especially doesn’t like it on a ship flying the banner of the Alexandrian Trading Company.

It’s hard to see what could have marked the captive for such attention from brother dearest, though.

There’s nothing about him that looks extraordinary, no marks, no scars, nothing in the tattered sailor’s clothes that hang loosely around him. He’s young – Lena’s age or so, with a lean, comely figure and an almost arrogantly handsome face that had taken badly to imprisonment: there’s an odd green hue to his sickly pale skin, though it grows fainter and fainter the longer he basks in the sun. But there’s something about him still that gives Lena pause, something unsettling that she can’t quite put her finger on. A sense of power, of terror–

And then, he opens his eyes.

“Be not afeard.” His voice is soft, melodious. Lena’s heart skips a beat in the most embarrassing fashion. Startled, that’s all. “I mean you no harm.”

The laughter of her crew around her helps Lena find her footing again. She draws herself up, fixing the captive with an icy glare.

“You are in chains and at my mercy. I’m not the one who needs to be afraid, stranger.”

“You have struck down my prison’s guards and let me see the sun again,” the captive replies. He holds Lena’s gaze with infuriating calmness, his eyes blue and bright as the summer sea. “I could not have been delivered to better hands, Captain Luthor.”

His face seems to grow radiant as he speaks. Lena hates it. She prefers the men brought before her to be trembling in terror, not to smile and carry on as if they were chatting in a parlor or strolling in a garden, all genteel and civil. The deviation from that norm is most displeasing.

She keeps her face passionless, though, only raising an eyebrow, unamused. “You know me.”

“Your fame travels far and wide, my lady.” He seems delighted, somehow. “Captain of the Medusa, pirate queen of Nassau and enemy of the crown, with a bounty of ten thousand pounds on your head.”

“Oh, they raised it again,” Sam murmurs to her side. Lena smothers a snort, and holds her head a little higher as she stares down at the man.

“Introduce yourself as well, then,” she commands – to no avail.

“I have no such titles to offer.”

The captive almost sounds truly apologetic, but all it earns him is an even icier look as Lena crosses her arms, regarding the man with more scrutiny.

“You must be no ordinary manner of man for Lex Luthor to hold you prisoner.”

She doesn’t truly expect him to break and confess there and then – she just wants to prod and pry a little longer. The last thing she does expect of him, though, is what he bafflingly, audaciously dares to do: to laugh, gleeful and ringing, with such force that his shoulders shake and his eyes flutter shut for a second.

“I suppose you’re right,” he finally agrees, ever so polite. The crew’s amused snickering grows hushed, and Lena starts to suspect that Lex might have meant for this man to fall into her hands, just so he might irk her to death.

She’s not about to let either of them best her.

“Give me your hand,” she orders, and he obeys without question, offering his chained hands, palms upturned, his eyes never leaving Lena’s face. Unflinching, she takes his right, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Your name and nation?”

“El.” His heartbeat is calm, a slow, steady throb beneath Lena’s fingertips. Absentmindedly, she runs her thumb across his palm, feeling the smooth, unmarred skin there: no cuts or calluses that would mark a man of heavy toils. “I’ve no place to call home.”

A touch of sadness creeps into his voice, and Lena doesn’t roll her eyes at the elusive answer this time. She does take another look at his face, though, more scrupulous than before, lingering on minute details: the small scar next to an eyebrow, the rosy color of his cheeks, no longer so ghastly pale.

“Your trade?”

“Able seaman.”

His pulse stays the same, even when Lena’s grip tightens around his wrist.

“You lie.” A victory, however small. She allows herself a gloating smile. “But no matter. You will talk more aboard the Medusa.”

“With pleasure,” he nods, unperturbed. Lena sneers and lets go of his hand, but he keeps them raised still with a gentle smile. “I must ask, my lady – will you keep your brother’s chains on me?”

Yes, half the crew’s face seems to scream, and the back of Lena’s mind whispers it’s a stranger and a madman, some eerie beast of Lex’s.

“No,” she replies. “No man wears shackles on my ship. Sam, go find the keys–”

The captive beams.

“Thank you, my lady, but there is be no need.”

Lena does roll her eyes this time. Before she could ask what he means, though, or consider if he’s truly mad, the man wraps his fingers around the chain’s links. His eyebrows furrow for a second, the muscles of his exposed forearms tightening just so, and the you cannot seriously mean to do that freezes on Lena’s lips as the links of heavy iron clink, snap, and shatter like glass under a hammer’s blow.

He looks up, and smiles at her again.

Lena feels her mouth go dry. From the corner of her eye, she sees the half-drawn pistol tremble in Sam’s hand as the man tugs on the cuffs next, ripping them away with unnatural ease, without ever breaking a sweat.

And then, he rises to his feet.

Lena doesn’t back away. She feels her palms grow cold and clammy, the way her heart rattles furiously in her chest, but she raises her head, defiant, meeting his placating smile with a fiery glare.

“What are you?”

“I mean you no harm,” the man says again. Overboard, someone whispers behind her, but all Lena sees is the summer-warmth of his eyes, the iron-breaking hands now held out in surrender, and something deep in her knows better. She gives a curt nod, and El bows with a reverent smile. “After you, Captain.”

#supercorp #my fic #if you ask 'what the fuck aron' i must say. i simply don't know!

[certifiedskywalker]

A Lesson - Yelena Belova

It's Yelena's kind-of-day-off, yet she always seems to find a way to weave her work into her free-time. Sometimes, like this time, it works out in your favor.

“Come back to bed.”

“Shush,” Yelena waved a dismissive hand at you, her back still turned to you and the bed. “I thought I heard something.”

With a defeated sigh, you fell back against your pillow to wait for her eventual return. Early rays of sunlight peeked through the window of the room the two of you rented out the night before and shone almost directly into your eyes. To escape it, you pressed your face into the pillow and turned away from the light. As you moved, you noted how the glow exposed the less-than-lovely water stains on the ceiling and the fine layer of dust that covered the small table in the corner of the room. At the sight, your nose scrunched up as if to block the threat of a sneeze.

Despite that, the room was not the worst place you and Yelena had been housed in. Though, you had stayed at far finer establishments. At places where specks of dust were viewed as vermin to be exterminated. There were times where you missed the luxury that came with that level of care and cleanliness.

But you knew better than to ask for an upgrade. The first, and last, time you dared to question the quality of your and Yelena’s housing, Val shut you down with a mere glare. After that, you never even endeavored to ask why you stayed at a certain location. Granted, most of the time, the advantage was clear.

For instance, you once camped in the concrete skeleton of an abandoned apartment complex, situated across the street from Yelena’s mark. While you never quite grew used to the presence of rats, the target never saw the end coming. Yelena was able to watch him through the windows, stalking along the cement ridges and metal frames that would be deconstructed by a demolition crew soon after you left.

Then, there was the time you and Yelena slept in the silk sheets of a highrise suite. You don’t remember leaving that bed all too often during that mission. If you and Yelena did venture out beyond the edge of the California King mattress, it was to lounge on the balcony to listen and watch the life flowing through the city until sunset. Yelena always worked best in the dark.

There was no balcony at this motel, aside from the one that the stairs led up to reach the second level of rooms. You and Yelena were booked a room on the first floor, with a neighbor above you that insisted on stomping while they packed for their early morning departure. Even with one ear pressed against numerous layers of fabric, you could hear their thumping around.

“It’s probably the person upstairs,” you grumbled into the pillow.

Yelena shushed you again as she peeked inside the adjoining bathroom. A long, too quiet moment passed and you felt a shock of nerves settle in your stomach. Tentatively, you pushed yourself up and off of the bed. Fear guided your feet silently to the carpeted floor as you craned your neck to look for Yelena. It was too quiet.

“Lena?” You called out softly, your voice cutting through the sudden quiet.

When you got no reply, you padded closer to the bathroom door. Your fingers curled tight into your palms, creating a pair of perfect fighting fists. Yelena had drilled you on the proper form in the past. To defend yourself, she had said; though, back then, you never imagined a time where she wouldn’t be by your side.

Now, you were all too aware of how alone you were. Apprehension was your only ally as you called out again, firmer this time, “Yelena?”

Another long beat of silence surrounded you, overwhelmed your senses with nothingness, before the bathroom door suddenly flew open. The stopper on the wall met the metal handle with a loud thud that made you jump.

“What?” Yelena asked, face blank and unamused until her brown eyes fell upon your curled fists. Then, her lips quickly quirked upwards into a wide, mischievous grin. “Were you worried about me, dorogoy?”

Exasperated, you dropped your unclenched your fists, dropped them to your sides, and scowled. “You weren’t answering!”

“Izvinit’, sorry,” Yelena said as she stepped closer to you, her focus trained on your hands. “But show me the stance again.”

There was an edge in her voice that nearly sent a shiver down your spine. Luckily, Yelena seemingly didn’t notice as her fingers found yours and raised your hands up. When you met her eyes, you found her grin faded into a softer, less-teasing smile. Was it pride?

“Show me,” she echoed, her gaze unyielding. Her tone wasn’t forceful, but you felt yourself compelled to concede.

You raised your hands and closed them into tight fists once more, even going as far as to bring them close to your head. Between your raised arms, Yelena was perfectly framed. Her eyes drank in your stance, studied your pose, the placement of your thumb. You couldn’t help but smile at her intense attention to detail.

“What do you think?” You asked, putting on your best Russian accent. Yelena’s brow raised at your attempt and your smile widened slightly. “No good?”

“Your accent is terrible, beyond help,” she mused, hands reaching out to resituate how you held your arms. “But your stance is...it’s good. Could use some work, but it’s good.”

“Well, you’re the one who taught me, so,” you trailed off, leaving for words open as an invitation for training, for a lesson. Or a lesson. Yelena leaned back and gave you a knowing look before she began to circle around you, surveying you.

You could feel the heat of her eyes on you, analyzing your posture. Despite your desire to go back to bed and drag Yelena with you, you remained still. There would be time for that later. Plus, either way, you were with Yelena and enjoying time together. Either way, Yelena’s hands would be on you.

“You have to stand with your dominant side foot farther back and apart, so you can pivot when you punch. Here, scoot this back,” she said, tapping your foot with her own. You stepped back but Yelena shook her head. “No, too far. Now you’re vulnerable for a sweep.”

“A sweep? What is-”

“This,” Yelena interrupted, swinging her leg out to strike yours. There wasn’t any pain, only the feeling of your leg giving out beneath you.

Then, there was the falling. Red and dingey, the carpet of the hotel room floor rushed up at you. Just as a yelp of surprise began to slip past your lips, Yelena’s leg, the one that illustrated was a ‘sweep’ was, swung back around and bumped you again. With the strike, you were tipped backwards rather than forwards and to the side. Your change in direction gave Yelena the opportunity to reach out and catch you.

Her hands grasped your hips, pulling your body flush to hers. At the contact, your hammering heart slowed, calmed by the warmth of her arms around you. You fight whiplash to meet Yelena’s eyes and, when you finally met her gaze you saw that her grin has forced crinkles in the corners of them.

“That’s a sweep,” she beamed.

“Uh-huh,” you replied breathlessly, “I figured.”

Almost immediately, Yelena’s grin melted into an expression of concern. Her brow furrowed and her lips parted, while her hands squeezed your hips. “I didn’t hurt you did I, I was just-”

To silence her worry, you leaned forwards and kissed her. Your hands traveled up from Yelena’s arms to cup her face. The smooth skin of her cheeks filled your palms. That was what you loved most about her: she was soft despite it all. She loved and cared, despite being a Widow; despite being able to land you on your ass in an instant.

You pulled away slowly and smiled when Yelena’s eyes remained closed. “Thanks for the lesson.”

Yelena smiled then, her eyes opening wide enough to drink your look of pleased surprise as she lifted you off your feet and carried you back to bed, at last.

#yelena belova #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova imagines #yelena belova x reader #yelena fanfic #yelena fanfiction #yelena imagines #yelena imagine #yelena #yelena x reader #florence pugh #black widow #black widow fanfiction #black widow fanfic #black widow imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu imagines #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic

[cuaviaaceves1]

Evidence of trust

Lena knew what she was doing. This wasn't her first intel mission. Even if Alex kept saying she was a civilian. She was a Luthor, for crying out loud. And sometimes that was even way more dangerous than being a field agent.

Okay, no, she shouldn't be thinking that, there were many very brave agents risking their lives daily, working with the DEO to prevent dangers that never even reached public knowledge at all.

But still, she knew what she was doing. It was simple, really. Get close enough to any of the digital platforms the building had installed in every one of the labs, and get into the network, let Brainy do his thing, and voila, world saved for the hundredth time by the Superfriends.

She had gotten in thanks to the Luthor name, of course. Some people just were still willing to believe that the name meant being crazy with power no matter what. And it could be played to her advantage from time to time. Even if Kara wasn't as happy with the decoy idea.

But Alex had been cautious, there was a plan, there were alternatives and emergency plans over the original plan.

And Lena knew what she was doing.

The tour of the labs was boring and unimpressive, they felt antiquated compared with the upgrades she had done herself on L-Corp long ago. And the general idea of crazy scientist figuring out the next human evolution to survival of the fittest... just wasn't her speed.

But it allowed to sneak the little device in, no problem, on one of the digital ports that she was given access and time with to see some of the diagrams of the latest genetical experiment. They didn't had a clue of what they were doing, but she wasn't about to tell them that, right?

After that, the rest of the tour was all about waiting for the signal on the comms that Brainy had everything he needed, and getting back for the little device as to not leave any trails of what she had done.

Easy.

Until an alarm started all over the building.

"I'm sorry." Brainy said. "My bad. Got a bit curious and started going over the files before hand, and might have alerted their security systems."

What else could she do? Lena sighed, fisted the little device on her right hand and ran towards the closest open window she could find.

"Do show better restraint next time, Brainiac, I'm going out now."

"No... Lena, wait!" Too late. She was already out, going straight up towards the clouds, until she wasn't. But she would get there soon enough.

And so Supergirl did. Lena could only see a red and blue stripe against the clear sky, before she saw the very angry face of her unamused girlfriend.

"Got the evidence" Said Lena, before she could even hold on to Kara's shoulder still falling on the air.

"Couldn't you just have gotten out by the front door?!" Kara screamed still rushing to catch her.

"And where would have been the fun on that?" She said already settled comfortably on the super's arms and holding the little device close to her chest.

And that's when they heard Alex's voice, slow and a bit bored. "Did you catch her?"

"Of course I caught her!?" screamed Kara still trying to calm down from the scare she had. "Who do you think I am?!"

"My hero." Said Lena, right before pressing a kiss on Kara's cheek that left in bright red the outline of her lips. "I told you I knew what I was doing."

#Supercorp #Supergirl #Lena Luthor #Kara Danvers #Alex Danvers #brainiac #brainy #fan art #fan fiction #supercorp fan fiction #supercorp fan art #supercorp endgame #just a little thing I had to add to the piece I drew #Always fun to listen to these two and end up with a small story

[lazypeachsoul]

you messed with the wrong woman - y.b.

Warnings: this fic includes mentions of a creepy old man and a lot of cute girlfriend things.

Word count: 1,1k.

A/N: It's not actually a fic... it's closer to two headcanons...it's weird. But I hope you still like it 🌼 As always this was requested by and it's dedicated to @teenwonder and it's based on @imnotusedtobeingloved 's character scenario alphabet

Masterlist.

To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!

-

a - apple of my eyes. (when do they feel the need to be protective over their s/o and how do they express it?)

Being in a relationship with one of the best spies in the world was not what one would consider the safest. And somehow the constant threat of enemy attacks didn’t feel as threatening as other situations.

Nothing would stop Yelena from feeling protective of you when she could sense you were uncomfortable. Like at the grocery store when a creepy old man wouldn’t stop looking at you two.

“Can you remind me why we are here?” The woman’s voice was loud enough to be heard over the noises of the store but not to shift the attention to the couple.

“Because we need to eat, angel.” The response was short and lighthearted, but before Yelena could respond with her quick wits, you spoke again. “Real food, Lena. Not takeout, not pasta everyday...”

“But you love the pasta that I make!” Yelena’s voice rose, making people look at her funny.

“I do… but we need to eat vegetables and fruit and...rambutan?” You tried to reason holding the plastic tray filled with the pink and green fruit, something that was not helping your case to make fruit more appealing. Why was it hairy?

“Okay, rambutan...do you think it will taste good with ice cream?” Yelena joked, grabbing the tray from your hand and placing it in the shopping cart while trying to ignore your unamused look.

Life with Yelena was great, but with your work taking a lot of your time and her missions and secret things, domestic moments were not that common. Melina and Natasha had already talked your ear off about taking care, eating healthy and whatever. But you had taken to listening to Alexei who tried to say you are young and should just live your life.

Walking through the store trying to find ingredients for the meals you would try, and probably fail, to make should have remained an easy activity but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. Getting closer to Yelena she didn’t seem too surprised at your actions. Or at least until she saw the uneasiness on your face.

“Something wrong, malishka?” Listening to her soft tone should have calmed you down but you still had that same feeling.

“I think someone is looking at us, and not in a good way.”

Yelena looked around but the aisle full of cleaning supplies seemed to be almost empty, except for an older man looking at the floor cleaning products. She put her arm around your waist, trying to pull you closer when she caught the man moving to look in your direction. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it wasn’t because she saw him pull out his phone and tried to take a picture.

With a rapid movement she had pulled you behind her and moved the shopping cart aside, now standing fully squared up in front of the man. He looked almost excited to have caught the attention of your girlfriend until his eyes reached her face and he seemed to turn pale.

If he had only known he had messed with the wrong woman today.

She also felt protective of you after she received a threat to her loved ones during a mission. From that moment she knew she had to teach you how to defend yourself in case any of those useless threats became real. And she also knew she had to teach you how to hide, just in case the threat was too large, until she could come help you.

Countless afternoons were spent in the gym trying to learn basic self defense, only to turn into just play fighting to end up pressed against each other on the mat. Finally having to be trained by Natasha and away from Yelena to avoid distractions.

Yelena wasn’t completely on board with letting you train at the Avengers compound because she feared that any image of you entering the building would only put a bigger bullseye on your back. And she was probably right.

So now you were in god knows what part of Hell’s kitchen, in a hidden old gym that Natasha had somehow found, how you didn’t dare to ask. Everything smelled of sweat and rubber, but somehow the smell didn’t bother you as much as Natasha’s smirk when she lifted her fists in front of her.

You had tried to fight her but those damn girls were trained in the Red Room, there was no way you could compete with that. So when you tried to attack first and were quickly thrown to the mat, you could do nothing but groan in frustration and pain.

“That’s all you can do? You would be dead before you could attack them.” Natasha all but growled while pushing you further into the mat, making you let out a sound of pain.

“Natalia, stop.”

That tone couldn’t mean anything good. For as long as you had known Yelena you had never seen her speak in that voice, deeper and full of authority.

“You wanted me to train her and I will.”

“I asked you to train her, not hurt her. She’s not your pupil, she’s my girlfriend.” She spoke while moving closer to her sister and you in the centre of the ring. “And I will not hesitate to fight you if you hurt her again, I promise.”

Yelena extended her arm in your direction and you wrapped your hand around her forearm, using the strength left in your overworked arms to hoist yourself up. You shook your shoulders trying to relieve the stiffness and checked your hands to correct the bandages that had moved during the fight.

“Are you okay? You might need some painkillers tomorrow if you are sore…”

“Don’t worry Lena, I’m okay.” You placed your hand in her cheek trying to move her attention from your bruised hands. “That was really hot you know?”

She smiled, what seemed like a soft blush covering her cheeks, and moved to place a soft kiss against your lips. You tried to wrap your arms around her neck but were stopped by another voice you had almost forgotten was present.

“Training. That’s what we’re here for. I get it, you are very in love but knowing you two I’m going to stop it here before it escalates.”

Yeah, Yelena was a very protective girlfriend and It probably was in her nature trying to protect the one person she would never want to see hurt. But that didn’t mean you were any less protective of her. Because nobody could mess with your angel.

Taglist: @kyli314 @princessayveke @insanitybyanothername @evalynanne

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova imagine #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel women x reader #mcu #black widow movie #I'm kind of freaking out because so many more people wanted to join my taglist #myfic

[1237tnb]

The Tower (SuperCorp)

William and Kara stood in the tower awkwardly at the end of the night. Kara awkwardly held on to the love totem, which disguised itself as an unamusing figurine of a statue. The two intentionally refused to meet each other’s gaze as their cheeks flushed red.

“So…” The two of them seemed to say at the same time. Their blushes only deepened.

“The love totem…” William hissed uncomfortably as he clapped his hands together.

“The love totem…” Kara gave a sharp nod.

She didn’t know about William, but she was thoroughly embarrassed by the events of the day. She was embarrassed by how the love totem made her fall madly in love with the person closest to her, who at the time was William.

“And you’re Supergirl…?” William pointed at Kara, who was currently wearing her super suit. “Moreover, you’re Kara.” William looked around the cave. “And Nia is Dreamer?’ William gave a sharp, irritated, annoyed, and slightly embarrassed nod.

“I guess that’s how Nia and you always know what the Super Friends are doing, and why Alex, her girlfriend, and Lena are always hanging around.” William could kick himself. He felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. Especially, since Supergirl didn’t even wear a mask. “Does Andrea know?” William asked.

“No.” Kara shook her head quickly. “Of course not.”

“I just wish.” William grumbled more to himself, then to Kara. “That you had told me that you are Supergirl. I mean I spend so much time with all of you.”

Guilt began to wash over Kara. She remembered her experience telling Lena that she was Supergirl. Then she sharply shook her head. No, she didn’t feel guilty. She wasn’t going to do that to herself. It was her right to tell people, and everyone Kara knew didn’t have to know. Even though she wasn’t planning to reveal her secret to William, he now knew on her terms.

“I’m sorry William. I am, but I’m not. I did what I did to protect everyone here and the people I care about. Now, that you know, I trust that you won’t tell anyone else.”

Initially, it felt like a strong rebuke, but William accepted it graciously.

Kara felt awkward. She usually wasn’t so forward, but she was proud of herself.

“I am going to go put this away, so that it can never be used for evil again.”

“Actually, Kara wait...?”

At that moment, Nia walked up to the two of them, felt the uncomfortable tension in the air and quickly excused herself with a haphazard excuse.

“Yes… William…” Kara turned to face him.

“Even though, the love totem’s gauntlet created an infatuated sense of love within us for one another, it has helped me to realize my true feelings for you. Kara when you left to collaborate with Cat Grant, I started seeing someone else. However, I now see that I should have waited for you to come home. Kara Danvers I am stricken by how amazing you are.”

Kara’s jaw dropped at William’s confession. She was so mesmerized by his words that she didn’t even she Lena approach. It had been so long since Kara had been in a relationship. She had been single since Mon-El left. All of her friends had a special someone to share their lives with. The love totem left Kara wondering if she wanted that to if she needed that to. Was William…

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Lena’s presence cut through both William and Kara’s thoughts. “I wanted to ask Kara a… Never mind. I see that I had interrupted an important conversation.” Lena swallowed hard. Her eyes looked… misty to Kara.

Kara blinked as she looked over at her best friend. Lena gave a stiff, apologetic smile and left to find Nia.

“Ugh… William…” Kara took a minute to gather her thoughts as she looked after Lena. “I am so flattered, but after the love totem… I need sometime to think. I mean before I went to see Cat Grant. I mean no…” Kara shook her head. “I didn’t go to see Cat. I was trapped in the Phantom Zone. Before I was trapped in the Phantom Zone, all I could think about was you. After I got out of the Phantom Zone, I felt so guilty that I left you hanging without an explanation.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” William smiled softly as he stepped closer to Kara and moved to lay a hand gently on her cheek. Kara took a small sidestep away. William closed his hand and then lowered his arm back to his side. “If I had known that you were in the Phantom Zone, in danger, I would have done anything and everything in my power to get you back.”

“I believe you.” Kara smiled. “However, I need time to think through my true thoughts. I buried my feelings for you after you told me that you were seeing someone else.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you.” Kara flashed Willaim a tense, small smile. “Good night, William. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Kara.” William said, his heart skipped a beat as he felt partially victorious. He leaned in to give Kara a quick kiss on the cheek, but he thought better of it. He knew that they would have plenty of time for that going forward.

Kara looked around the main room of the tower. She felt so confused right now. All of her emotions felt scrambled because of the love totem. She found herself revisiting past romantic feelings for James, Mon-El, William, and even Winn. She, also, couldn’t shake feelings for…

“Lena.” Kara breathed in surprise as Lena quickly tried to cut through the observation room.

Lena chuckled. She looked embarrassed; her eyes were still misty.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you were still in here with William. I forgot my mother’s book of spells. I was thinking about just getting it tomorrow, but it’s the last piece I have of her…” Lena kind of trailed off.

“It’s okay. I understand” Kara reassured her. “Hey… I know it’s late, but I have to put this love totem away. I am planning to put it in the Fortress’ archives. Do you want to go with me?”

“Sure…” Lena nodded somewhat enthusiastically. “I can teleport us.

“Actually,” Kara shook her head. “Is it okay if we fly tonight?”

“Okay…” Lena blushed averting her eyes from her best friend, and Kara flew Lena and herself up to the Fortress of Solitude.

When they arrived, Kara was quick to put away the totem, knowing that Lena must be cold. She then un-snapped her cape from her shoulders and gently placed it over Lena’s shoulders so that she wouldn’t be cold.

“You’re cape.” Lena ran her hands over the high polymer fabric softly. Even though, Lena created Kara’s suit, she was shocked by how warm Kara’s cape was. “I guess now I can fly like you.” Lena joked.

“With all of your newfound magical abilities, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s true.”

“Yeah, but I think I’ll always prefer flying with you.”

A deep blush covered both women’s faces and made its way to their ears.

“So, the love totem…” Lena drew out slowly. “It stirred up a lot of feelings for William I see.” Lean fought the familiar stinging sensation in her eyes and her nose.

“Yeah… it did. It stirred up a lot of feelings for me as well.” Kara shook her head. “A lot of them have been hard to make sense of, but now one of them is really clear.”

“Oh really…?” Lena restrained herself from speaking and braced herself for what her best friend had to say. Earlier that night, Lena went to tell Kara how she really felt after all of these years. Although, after seeing her talking to William, none of that seemed to matter now.

“I love you, Lena.” Kara admitted without fear. “I just want you to know that.”

“I love you too.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“And your mine.” Lena smiled, feeling her heartbreak. Being friend zoned like this was just… It was too much after dealing with the love totem this morning.

“You make me feel seen like no one else.” Kara spoke firmly. “You make me feel heard like no one else. You make me feel held like no one else. If I am being honest then if I am not with you… Next to you is the only place I want to be.”

A sob broke through Lena’s chest as she became overwhelmed with emotions.

“What about William?”

“Yeah…” Kara nodded, “The love totem did make me consider my emotions for him. At one point, I did think that he and I could maybe be… together. Especially, when you and I were fighting, but you… You have always been the person that I have never wanted to lose.

“Kara…” Lena shook her head as she felt Kara step closer to her. “Before you… I didn’t know love or kindness. I didn’t know true altruism. All I knew selfish ambition, and I believed that I wasn’t a worthwhile person. Then you came into my life… You made me feel safe. You made me feel love. You made me feel brave. You made me feel hope. I don’t believe in anything like I believe in you.”

“Lena…” Kara smiled. Now tears were running down Kara’s cheeks. “When I see you, all I see is love, kindness, and altruism. You are so brave. You are so loving. I don’t know a better woman. I believe in you, and you make me believe in myself.”

“Lena…” Kara shook her head. “I’ve never felt this feeling with anyone else, and I don’t want to miss feeling this feeling with you just because we are both women. I’ve never considered myself to be attracted to women, but you have changed everything for me.” Another tear ran down Kara’s cheek, and Lena gently whipped it away with her thumb.

“Why didn’t you tell William how you felt earlier?” Lena asked softly.

“Because, I haven’t seen you all day, and standing in front of you now… It is all so clear.”

“I love you.” Kara breathed again as she closed the small space between Lena and her.

“I love you too.” Lena whispered.

With that, Kara firmly pressed her lips against Lena’s lips.

“Finally!” Alex exclaimed standing next to Kelly and Nia. “You guys have been driving us crazy for years!”

“How did you guys get here?” Kara asked Alex startled as she pulled Lena into her arms.

“We used Lena’s portal.”

“Why are you guys here?” Kara asked even more flustered.

“We had to make sure you didn’t make a mistake and end up with William!” Nia exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Alex rolled her eyes with a scoff. “We need to make sure that you didn’t have another Mon-El situation.”

“I mean don’t get us wrong.” Kelly chimed in. “We like William, but for you, we like Lena better.”

Lena bit her lip. She laughed and smiled in embarrassment. Kara chuckled as well. She bit her lip, leaned in, and enjoyed kissing her now girlfriend for the second time.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara x lena #lena luthor #karlena #kara danvers #kara zor el #love #lgbt #love totem #alex danvers #kelly olson #dreamer #fanfiction