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Wolf Song by AnsticeWolf

Now, I haven't seen 'wolf song' so i'm unable to compare this with the scene its inspired by. I'm gonna start by saying that I love the...

Scar- Internal wounds by TheColdSoulArts

This work is instantly an eye catcher. The golden colour of his eye compared to the dark sepia tones of the rest of the drawing is a gr...

This poem is simple, and yet so complex at the same time. It illustrates perfecty the cause and effect of self harm. You have made sure...


  • Mood: Sociable
  • Listening to: Korn
  • Reading: Harry Potter
  • Watching: Fear the Walking Dead
  • Playing: GTA V
  • Eating: Cookies
  • Drinking: hot cocoa
Hey everyone,

I've decided that instead of starting a new series straight away that i'm going to enjoy the freedom and start to write a ton of oneshots. I actually enjoy oneshots alot better then series writing most of the time as there is less pressure. 

If there is anything you would like me to write let me know and I'll see what I can do. These won't be official requests so i'm not bound by blood oath to do them, but I am open to suggestions. 

~Majestic Glory 
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” A voice called from the dark recesses of the old house you had just entered.
The house smelt stale as if it hadn’t been inhabited for many years. Sidestepping a large troll-foot umbrella stand you threw your water logged cloak over a dusty table.
“What, you thought I’d decline Dumbledore’s request?” you spat. Knowing just who was speaking to you from the shadows.
Sirius slowly materialized from the darkness, his face gaunt his once handsome eyes weary. “No,” He replied. “I thought you’d refuse to come here.”
You gazed at him, running a hand through your lank hair. “I’ll do whatever I have to for the order, even if that involves arriving at your house to make my reports.”

You had to struggle to keep your voice steady. Despite his looks having mostly faded your stomach still did somersaults. Sirius had been your boyfriend up until he had been convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and a large group of muggles. You had believed all of the rumours to be true and had turned your back on him despite his many letters begging you to see reason. As time went on his letters became depressing and aggressive and then finally ceased coming all together. You had hated yourself for a very long time after that. Because you knew you still loved him, in spite of the knowledge that he had been the one to betray Lily and James Potter. It had been an owl from Lupin that had notified you of Peter’s survival and Sirius’s innocence. But you hadn’t spoken to Sirius until today. All your old feelings had come rushing back the moment you caught sight of him. But you had betrayed him by ignoring his pleas of innocence. Yet still you searched his face for any sign that he may still care for you in some way.

He asked, “H-how are you getting along?” though his eyes skirted you completely.
“The ministry don’t suspect a thing. Kingsley, Tonks and I have convinced them that you’ve been sighted in Albania,” You replied still searching his face.  “What’s Lena up to these days?”
Lena was a pretty witch who, according to Remus had been hanging around the house often. He had mentioned that Sirius seemed quite taken by her, despite her shoddy jinxing skills.
Sirius’s eyes continued to roam around the room, never once flitting to you. “She’s been helping clean up around here, though she’s on guard duty at the moment.”
The way his voice swelled when he spoke about her told you all you needed to know about how he felt. He really did love her.
You nodded, feeling the inner corners of your eyes burn with tears. He couldn’t even look at you. He must have been completely disgusted by your very presence in the house of his childhood.  
“I-I’ve got to get back to the ministry now.” You lied.
“Of course, can’t have them suspecting you.” He replied monotonously.

You grabbed your sodden cloak from the dusty table. Not paying any attention to the grime now clinging to it. Throwing it over your shoulders you glanced at Sirius once more, before reaching for the brass door knob.
“Sometimes I can’t help but think back to all of the trouble we used to get up to while at Hogwarts.” He stated his eyes on the dark coloured floorboards.
You forced a smile, hand frozen on the knob of the door.  
He gave a small laugh. “Like that time when we skived off Divination, and spent the entire lesson in the shrieking shack snogging.”
You felt your cheeks flush and promptly covered your face with the hood of your cloak. “Yeah.”
“I miss it,” He glanced up at you for the first time. “I miss you.”

It felt as if your heart had risen all the way up to your throat. Swallowing thickly you tried to remind yourself to continue breathing. He said he missed you! Perhaps he did still care. Just maybe he could forgive you for disbelieving him. You could be together again! And then it hit you like a dead fish. He didn’t mean what he was saying. He didn’t mean it in the way that you wished. All he meant was that he missed Hogwarts, missed pulling pranks and getting up to mischief. Besides, everyone knew that he had moved on with Lena, that he may even love her the way he had once loved you. Your heart plunged from your throat all the way down to your stomach. You felt queasy at the thought of Sirius loving someone else.
“Don’t say that.” You only just managed to force the words through your lips.
He averted his gaze once again. Staring at a filthy curtain that you knew obscured his mother’s portrait. “_____, I mean it.”
Blinking at him you clutched your stomach, you felt as if you were about to be sick. “Sirius… just don’t.”
With a deep breath you twisted the knob and opened the door. You had to escape from the gloom of this home. You had to flee from the pain of past memories. It wasn’t fair that Sirius was doing this to you, giving you false hope.
“See you.” You muttered under your breath turning to glance at him one final time.
He had moved much closer then you had expected. Before you were able to react you felt his arms entrap you and pull you in. He smelt just the same as you remembered, a spicy scent that was somewhat like cinnamon.
He pulled away mere seconds later, a pained smile on his face. “Take care _____.”
“Yeah, sure.” You breathed before rushing out of the door.

Instead of returning to work, as you had informed Sirius you were going to do, you apparated straight home. How could you be an effective auror while your heart was breaking all over again? The moment you reached your front door the dam walls broke and tears began streaming down your face. Throwing yourself inside and onto the small shabby couch you hunched over, sobs shaking your entire body. Your head was full of memories of Sirius, some from Hogwarts and some much more recent. The one image that kept entering your mind was that final hug good-bye. An act of friendship, his way of saying that he did forgive you and that he had moved on. Sobbing loudly you grossly wiped your nose on the sleeve of your still damp cloak. You loved Sirius Black with all of your heart, but you couldn’t have him.  

*Sirius’s point of view*

I paced restlessly in the kitchen. If there was one thing I wanted more than anything it was to get out of this damned house. I hadn’t liked it when I was a child and I didn’t like it now that I was fully grown. It held too many memories, and none of them were good. I was on about my fifth lap when I heard the front door open. Eager to hear news, I began a jog towards the entryway but was met by a sight I hadn’t been expecting. I halted, my feet skidding on the dust coated floor.
The last person I thought I would ever see in my entryway quietly closed the door behind her. I hadn’t seen her since I had been wrongly accused of murder and sent to Azkaban. She had cut all ties with me then, despite my constant assertion that I was in fact innocent. It felt as if it had been forever since I last saw her, a whole lifetime even. My heart beat violently and I feared that she would overhear it thumping against my ribcage.
Licking my dry lips I forced words from my mouth. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She didn’t even jump a testament to her steel forged nerves. Instead she dodged the ugly umbrella stand and removed her cloak, carelessly draping it over a table I had yet to clear. Rain clung to her clothes, causing them to stick to her body which was even shapelier then I remembered. Her (h/c) hair was plastered to her face in thick strands which she swiped at irritably. Adulthood suited her better than I could ever have imagined.
“What, you thought I’d decline Dumbledore’s request?” She spat at me.

I flinched. I hadn’t meant to insult her, of course she wouldn’t have refused Dumbledore’s request. She is one of the bravest people I have ever met.
I stepped from the shadows, allowing the weak light from the overhead chandelier to brush over me.  “No,” I elaborated. “I thought you’d refuse to come here.”
“I’ll do whatever I have to for the order, even if that involves arriving at your house to make my reports.” She replied once again fiddling with her hair.
I felt uncomfortable here in this house, being scrutinised by her. With eyes so keen I had no doubt in my mind that she could see through my armour to the weakness within. Every time my eyes came to rest on her I felt them prickle. I couldn’t cry in front of her I wouldn’t I had to appear strong. I resolved to keep my eyes averted; it was the only way I could manage.
 I pretended to find interest in a tarnished serpent shaped candelabra. Of course, I had gazed upon it many times before and had always been repulsed. “H-how are you getting along?”

 “The ministry don’t suspect a thing. Kingsley, Tonks and I have convinced them that you’ve been sighted in Albania,” She replied professionally, her eyes still searching for weakness within me. “What’s Lena up to these days?”
I felt my heart give a jolt at the mention of Lena’s name. Lena was beautiful yes, and her company was better than none at all. But she was nothing to _______. If I was given a choice of any girl in the world I would be happy to choose ______ every single time. She was the only one I had ever felt complete with.

I replied offhandedly. “She’s been helping clean up around here, though she’s on guard duty at the moment.”
I tried to convey how little attachment I had with Lena through my words. I hoped that she would get it. That she would understand.
She gave a nod and then stated. “I-I’ve got to get back to the ministry now.”
The finality in her words struck me. She wasn’t interested. She was too busy to waste time talking to me. I just wanted to collapse onto the floor in a heap of tears. But I refused to cry in front of her.
“Of course, can’t have them suspecting you.” I replied trying to keep my emotions in check.

Without another word she collected her cloak, draping it over her shoulders. It still dripped steady streams of water on to the floor but she didn’t seem to notice or care. I didn’t want her to leave; I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I hadn’t even stopped loving her when she had ignored my letters. Her reaction had been entirely understandable. I saw her hesitate as she reached for the door knob. And I knew that this was probably my last chance.
“Sometimes I can’t help but think back to all of the trouble we used to get up to while at Hogwarts.” I blurted out, staring down at the grimy floor.
I saw her smile, her hand still tightly clasping the knob.
“Like that time when we skived off Divination, and spent the entire lesson in the shrieking shack snogging.” I reminisced with a small laugh.
“Yeah.” She covered her head with the hood of her damp cloak, obscuring her beautiful features. She was still going to leave.
“I miss it,” I forced the words past my lips, looking up at her. “I miss you.”
They were the very words I had been meaning to say since she had appeared at my door.
“Don’t say that.” She hissed at me.
I turned my face away, blinking away the tears that had begun to well up in my eyes. “_____, I mean it.”
“Sirius… just don’t.” Her reply told me everything I needed to know.

She wrenched the door open, letting in a gust of wind. It was cold and brisk a perfect rendition of how I was feeling. But I knew I couldn’t let these be our final moments. I would probably never love anyone as much as I loved her. I had to hold her again, one last time. Wiping a tear from my cheek I approached.
“See you.” She muttered under her breath, turning just in time to see me closing in. I used her moment of surprise to my advantage and threw my arms around her. The water from her clothes clung to me, seeping through my shirt. It was cold and uncomfortable but I didn’t care. I loved her and I needed to hold her, even if it was just for a moment.
I released her well before I wanted to, but I knew it was the right thing to do. “Take care _____.” I said with a very forced smile.
“Yeah, sure.” She mumbled in reply before rushing out of the door.

The moment the door slammed shut in my face I crumpled to the floor. The cruciatus curse wasn’t half as bad as heartbreak. If I didn’t know any better I could have sworn that I was being surrounded by Dementors. I let out a low whimper, burying my head into my hands. I had lost her. The only girl, the only person I had ever loved with all of my heart.
Sirius Black X Reader- Heartbreak
I've been re-reading all of the Harry Potter books just because I love them so much. So i'm in a real Harry Potter mood when it comes to everything at the moment. I've just been thinking about how easy it is to misunderstand people's intentions, so sort of wanted to explore the notion a little

This is set sort of in the middle of Order of the Phoenix when Sirius is probably at his weakest. Hope you enjoy. 
Steam rises from your mug of coffee, forming its own little cloud. You watch as the small tendrils converge only to repel each other in the next instance. Adding sugar and stirring the liquid around with a spoon you gaze into the little whirlpool you have created. Your friends are late, which is not an unusual thing. If there is one thing that you can expect from the women you associate with, it is that they will be late. You conceal a yawn with your hand, eyes skimming the faces of the patrons around you. The coffee shop that you have chosen for breakfast today is small and a little dingier then you know your expected company is used to. However it is in small coffee shops like this one where you are able to keep an eye on possible future clients. You are so absorbed in your surroundings that you don’t notice the imposing male figure approaching you until it is almost too late.

He is built like a bull; broad shoulders, short neck, muscular arms and legs, and has murky eyes that are a colour between grey and brown. His hair is the colour of swamp mud and hangs down to his shoulders in an oily tangle. He places his hands palm down on your table top and you notice that his knuckles are scarred from fighting. You blink up at him giving off an air of indifference. It is important that you stick to your carefully concocted façade.
“You _______ ________?” He grunts, revealing gold plated teeth.
Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear you avert your gaze. “Yes, is something wrong?”
He sets himself down on the chair opposite you and you get a waft of body odour and stale beer. “I have a message for you.”
“From who?” You question sharply.
“A mutual friend.” The man replies with a lopsided smile.
Your eyes bore into his. “I doubt we know the same people.”
“Isn’t that what you’d like everyone to believe,” The man chuckles withdrawing a piece of grimy paper from his jacket and sliding it over to you. “He expects you to be on time.”
Your lips pull into a thin line. Someone has uncovered your identity. “This isn’t how I do things.”
The man stands, hooking a thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. “It’s how he does it sweetheart, he needs insurance after all.”
“He’ll need medical insurance when I’m done with him.”
“The last person to say that ended up in the bottom of the river,” Unsettlingly the man’s words sound more like a warning then a threat. “Take care.”

You have fucked up. Arrogance is the destroyer of all things and you were getting arrogant. Just because you were able to escape batman once didn’t mean that you were impervious to being discovered. Raking a hand through your hair your eyes drift to the small slip of paper resting on your coffee table. You didn’t allow yourself to read its contents until you got home. It was important that you act normal during breakfast, and that was only possible if you didn’t know the details. After rushing through breakfast and arriving home the first thing you did was pull the soiled note from your pocket. As you had expected it was not good news. 3The note is decorated with childish illustrations of balloons and clowns and reads;

You are invited to a party at the old Ace chemicals warehouse. The party commences at precisely 2 AM  
All party crashers and late arrivals will be shot on sight
B.Y.O Torture devices
Sincerely yours,
Joker :)

For the first time in a long time you are actually scared. The Joker is one of the very few people in the world with the ability to make your blood run cold. It is because of his unpredictability. Your time in Arkham Asylum taught you exactly what to expect of psychotics and how to read them. They can be categorised and from there a detailed list of responses can be mapped out. For example two-face; He needs his quarter to make decisions, take that away from him and he’s virtually directionless. But The Joker is different, everything he does is for his own amusement and everything amuses him. A shudder runs through you. What role do you have to play in his next pursuit of entertainment?
*A few hours later*

The bright lights of Gotham’s various clubs are barely visible in this part of the city. It is a dark and derelict place where the majority of the buildings are now only home to vermin. Your boots crunch over a littering of broken glass, someone has smashed the window out of a small squat building. You feel exposed using the street; the rooftops offer you much more protection from prying eyes. However if The Joker knows your true identity there is no doubt in your mind that he also knows about your favoured method of travel. If he is Unpredictable so must you be.

It is ten to two when you arrive at your location. Large long dead fluorescent signs are attached to the front and rear of the dark brick structure. Dark foul smelling water laps at a rotting wharf. You wonder how many people lurk beneath those waters.  Neither light nor sound come from the building, it is so quiet that you can hear the sounds of traffic from the other side of the river. You adjust your gloves before pulling a serrated knife from the belt around your hips. There is another matching knife concealed in your left boot. You swallow the lump in your throat, bidding your heart to slow its rhythm. But it refuses beating as rapidly as ever. Gathering up every molecule of courage within your body you propel yourself forward and force open the heavy metal doors. The hinges groan and try to resist, their shriek echoing through the night. Anyone within the immediate area would have heard your entrance into the building.

The air smells of rust, dust and old chemicals. Each one of your footsteps echo nosily on the concrete ground. Moonlight seeps through dusty windows, casting dull white shapes on the rubble strewn floor. You pass a number of old dinted silos before you get the prickling feeling of being watched.
“There’s no use hiding I know that you’re there.” Your voice is loud and clear.
Laughter echoes throughout the room, seeming to rebound off of the brick walls and whirl all around you.
Lights flicker on overhead. Bright lights that force you to squint as your eyes try to readjust. The image of stunned cattle being marched into the slaughter house enters your mind. You are completely exposed, and stupid for just waltzing into the warehouse without scoping it out first. Then you see him. He stands on a narrow landing, hands gripping on to the thin steel railing that is peppered with rust. His green hair and purple suit is almost insulting in this building of brown, black and grey. You feel your heart flutter, but this time it is not because of fear.

“What is it you call yourself again?” He tilts his head as he speaks.
You stand tall, resting a hand on your hip. “Delirium.”
“Ah, that’s it,” He grins widely. “Nice outfit.”
“You did say this was a party,” You reply. “I thought I should look my best.”
He scratches his chin. “I may have stretched the truth a little when I said party, what I meant to say was job interview. But it just didn’t have the same ring to it.”
You cock your head to the side, trying to match your mannerisms to his. “Party, job interview, same difference to me.”
“You already know who I am I assume?” Although he still smiles, it is obvious that he’s getting down to business.
You shrug nonchalantly. “The Clown Prince of Crime.”
“My friends call me Joker.”
“And I’m not one of your friends,” You reply. “What do you want from me?”
His posture stiffens. “Word on the street is that you have a certain set of skills, that all of the recent assassinations can be attributed to you?”
You smile, feeling a surge of pride. “Perhaps.”
“Well all I want is to help the people of Gotham with their vermin problem.” He continues.
“Vermin problem.” You repeat.
His grin contorts his entire face. “Yes, there’s a certain flying rat who calls himself the bat.”
“You want, me, to assassinate The Batman?” You scoff.
“No,” He replies with a chuckle. “I want you, to help me.”

You cross your arms over your chest and pretend to think his offer over. “I don’t come cheap.”
“How does half a million in hard cash sound?”
“I make that in a week for doing nothing,” you reply with a scoff. “It is going to take more than that.”
He taps a finger to his pointed chin. “What’s to say that I’ll let you decline my offer?”
Your heart begins to race in your chest, but you know the secret to staying alive with the joker is to remain calm and light hearted.
“You won’t and that’s the point. You need me, and I am willing to help with the right price.”
He steps back from the railing. “A full million and that’s my final offer.”
You smile for real. “I’m yours.”
Fury stood strong and motionless as his single eye traced over each and every one of your team subjectively. Clint shifted beside you, playing with a piece of your damp hair as you crunched on an apple. It had been almost four hours since your dramatic return to the hotel and in that time you had managed to shower, report to Fury and catch some shut eye. Your body still craved sleep, and your muscles burnt but the small amount of rest had done you some good. Grief was heavy in all of your hearts, even the scientist who hadn’t known Maria recognized her sacrifice. Natasha sat closely beside him, her arms wrapped around her legs and her eyes turned to a torn gossip magazine that he was flicking through. You felt your brow furrow; Asher didn’t seem like Natasha’s type of person.

“My suit should be here within a few minutes.” Tony announced, rubbing at his blood shot eyes.
Everyone was exhausted. Any strength advantage that your team may have had in the beginning was as good as gone. Fury cleared his throat, a grating sound that immediately brought everyone to attention.
“We have had time to come to terms with the loss of Agent Hill,” He tried to sound indifferent, but you could hear the slight tremor in his voice. “And now is the time for us to continue on with our original plan. We may be the only people left in the world that are able to make a difference,”
You glanced down at the apple core in your hand. The world had very little hope if that was the case.
“We are waging a war against people we once called colleague, family and friend. Forget any ties you once had, all that matters now is securing the freedom of America and the world,”
His words pounded in your head, yes, you no longer had any ties with the man you once called father.
“The element of surprise is no longer an option; they have access to every single file about us. They know our strengths and our weaknesses, and even the way we operate. Our best option is to do the opposite of what they expect.”
“Attack them head on.” You mumbled.
Fury dipped his head. “Precisely.”
You felt Clint stiffen beside you. “Head on isn’t really what I’m good at, especially not like this.” He pointed at the bandages wrapped around his bare midsection.
Squeezing his hand you offered him a reassuring smile. “I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.”
The concern didn’t leave his features but he nodded all the same.
Fury made a small satisfied sound. “We leave at ten, rest until then.”

For the first time since joining S.H.I.E.L.D you felt like a soldier. Your heart beat to the same rhythm of your team’s footsteps as you weaved between stationary cars. Clint walked so closely beside you that you could feel his arm rubbing against yours. Somehow just knowing that he was so close filled you with courage and determination, you would stop your father together. Asher trailed behind your ranks, his narrow shoulders slouched and his head downturned. Natasha walked beside Bruce but paused every so often to ensure that Asher was keeping up pace. Fury took the lead, his voice low as he talked strategies with Steve, and both Thor and Tony had taken to the skies to ensure that your route was clear. Raking a hand through your hair you raised your gaze, the Whitehouse wasn’t much farther, and once you arrived you would be up for the fight of your life.

Fury had been correct in his assumptions. Your father had cleverly positioned a large battalion of guards across the front lawn of the Whitehouse. They meandered around the expansive stretch of lawn some wore grey and others navy blue. Two different uniforms that should have represented opposing sides, instead they worked together.  
Clint whistled, reaching for his bow. “I think I’m going to need more arrows.”
Your heart beat remained steady. “There aren’t that many.”
“No not at all,” Tony replied sarcastically. “Just a few hundred.”
You smiled. “I’d say the number’s closer to ninety-nine.”
“Can you take this a little more seriously please?” Asher snapped. “I mean, we could very well die today.”
Clint smirked. “Just another day in the office then."

The hulk’s roar was deafening as he crashed through the crowd of guards. He swiped people off of their feet as if they were nothing but ants. They screamed out firing their guns with sharp pops, but the bullets all seemed to rebound off of him. You had little time to watch as a wave of guards you hadn’t counted on advanced towards you. Clint swiftly fired multiple arrows striking his target each and every time. A petite girl dressed in a light grey leotard flashed you a grin before she came sprinting at you. Her hair was a fiery red tangle as she lashed out with a spiked fist. You narrowly dodged her attack, countering with an elbow to the jaw. She stumbled back and laughed as she spat out a mouthful of blood. Her eyes shone with an animal like craze as she dived at you for the second time. Her nails dug deeply into the exposed skin on your arms as her entire body weight was thrown on top of you. Gritting your teeth you managed to keep to your feet and smacked the heel of your hand into her stomach. She roared and threw a sloppy kick that you easily blocked. Reaching out, you wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed as tightly as you could. She coughed, eyes bulging and face turning red. You grabbed for a sai with your free hand and promptly lodged it in her stomach with a twist.

You had finished your first fight in mere seconds but everything seemed to progress in slow motion. Clint had distracted himself with taking out the guards armed with state of the art weapons and wasn’t watching his back as well as he should have. In the corner of your eye you saw movement, as an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent swung a scimitar. You cried out and threw yourself forward. You were in the air for what felt like hours, racing the agent’s curved blade through the air. Clint must have heard your cry for his head turned in your direction just as your shoulder connected with the agent. There was a sickening pop and sharp pain raced through your shoulder as you landed in a heap on top of the agent. He swore and reached for his lost weapon, fingers scrabbling blindly as he tried to hold you back. You swallowed back cries of pain as you jabbed your sai underneath the man’s arm and straight into his throat. He gasped and his eyes stared up at you for a moment. Blood spluttered out of his mouth as he fought to breath.
“Thanks.” Clint held out a hand.
You took it and let him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder throbbed painfully and you noticed the look of concern etched into Clint’s features. You scrunched your eyes shut, bracing yourself before you looked at your injury.

“It’s dislocated could be fractured too,” Clint’s voice was almost drowned out by the battle around you.
Your shoulder had already begun to swell and your scratched arm hung limply at a strange angle.
“Pop it back in.” You commanded through gritted teeth.
You saw him hesitate.
“Just fucking do it dammit!” You screeched tightening your grip on the blood slicked sai.
You looked up in time to see Tony hovering nearby, trying to hold off guards while Clint dealt with you. Clint wrapped both of his hands around your arm tightly and without much warning jerked it up. You screamed as tears leaked from your eyes and your shoulder cracked back into place. You held back your sobs, testing the use of your arm. It was still excruciating, but luckily there didn’t seem to be any breaks. You knew you would be able to fight through the pain.

Ensuring that Clint always remained in your sights you continued to fight. Despite being ridiculously outnumbered it appeared that your team was making leeway. Thor was an absolute machine, creating bolts of lightning and sending them straight through multiple targets. Unsurprisingly Steve could hold his own using his shield as a weapon and knocking guards off of their feet. Natasha and Fury were both keen marksmen and trained in the art of melee combat, however Natasha seemed too distracted by Asher’s incompetence to make any real dent. Tony was being Tony, taunting relentlessly as he fired beams into the hoard. You grinned as you saw Hulk charge through the last row of guards and straight into the Whitehouse.
You kicked a pistol out of the grasp of a young man. “I think now’s our chance.”
Clint wiped beads of sweat from his brow. “I’ll be right behind you, falcon.”

You put all of your skills to the test as you weaved in and out of the pack slashing, stabbing and kicking at whatever you could reach. A few blows struck your limbs, but they left nothing but a few minor bruises. Steve must have realized what was going on as he was soon beside you, taking out those that you had missed. A laugh bubbled up in your throat. Despite its ups and downs it was moments like these that you realized that this job really was the job for you. How could you go back and do something mundane after experiencing something like this? It was in your blood.

Inside the Whitehouse was just as you had left it. The bodies of your fallen comrades still lay in the hall, pools of coagulated blood surrounding them. You stepped over the body of Jeremy, the dark skinned man who had been the first to question Steele’s allegiance. It felt like it had been weeks since you had seen him crumple to the floor. You shook the memories from your mind. Things had changed since then. Steve looked as if he was about to check for survivors.
“Don’t bother,” Though out of breath your voice was surprisingly steady. “They’ve been here all night.”
You felt Clint’s hand wrap around yours and squeezed it reassuringly. Dimly you realized that today was the first time he had ever seen you fight for real. You looked up at him and were faintly disappointed to see that his eyes were turned elsewhere.
“Anyone else notice that it’s completely empty in here?” Clint asked.
“And silent.” Steve added, though you could still hear sounds from the battle outside.
You felt your heart sink; this was how it had been the first time. “Let’s keep moving, I don’t like it here.”

The oversized pot plant you had taken cover behind the day before, had been knocked over. Dark soil had been scattered all over the floor, mingling with pools of the solidified blood. The plant lay on its side, roots a tangled and broken mass of wood and clumped dirt.  
“The Hulk.” Steve stated as he passed.
As you progressed deeper into the building you came across even more signs of the hulk’s presence. Bodies lay in the corridors and holes the size of large fists marred the walls. Brief movement in an adjoining room caught your eye. You charged in without a single word, surprising both Steve and Clint. The room was carpeted and the walls were lined with old fashioned oil paintings. Two armchairs sat on either side of a small coffee table, and sitting in one of those chairs was none other than Andrew Steele.

“Hello _____.” He spoke calmly, dark eyes tracing over your body. He seemed to ignore the very presence of Steve and Clint.
“Where’s my father Andrew?” Your voice simmered.
He sighed, resting his head back. “If I tell you he’ll kill me, if I don’t tell you you’ll kill me,” He ran a hand over his face. “Not much motivation there.”
“He won’t get a chance.” You replied seriously.
“You really think you have a chance against your father don’t you?” Steele asked with a smirk. “You overestimate your abilities.”
Clint shifted beside you. “You underestimate her allies.”
He seemed to notice Clint and Steve for the first time. “And what of her father’s allies? What you see outside is nothing. Nothing but one meagre regiment, he has loyal soldiers throughout the country, throughout the world.”
“The disease will be cured.” You countered.
Andrew smiled at you sadly. “I wasn’t even factoring in the disease love.”
You touched a sai to his throat. “Just tell me where my father is, please.”
He looked up at you, his dark eyes seeming to bore into your own (e/c) ones. You hadn’t thought your positioning through and were now struck by just how close you were to him.
He licked his lips and his voice was but a whisper, warm breath brushing over your face. “The president’s quarters. He wanted to watch the battle.”
“Thank you.” You began to move back when he grabbed your arm.
“He will kill you _____, even if you are his daughter.”
Pulling your arm out of his grasp you sheathed your weapon. “Not if I kill him first, I’m no longer a child.”
“No you aren’t,” Andrew agreed before pulling a gun from beneath the seat cushion and pressing it to his own head. “But that doesn’t change anything.” And then he fired.

It didn’t take you long to recover from Steele’s suicide. Blood didn’t bother you anymore and you had gone in with intentions to kill him anyway. It was Clint who appeared to be the most shell-shocked. He kept trying to explain that Steele wasn’t a coward, and would never resort to such drastic action unless it was his best option. You didn’t understand how suicide could ever be considered the best option, but remained silent. As far as you were concerned there were more important things to worry about. Like whether you really would be able to kill your father. Because for all of the terrible things that man had done, he was still the same man who had raised you and taught you all of the skills you were now putting to use. You still loved him for the man he once was, and emotions like that didn’t just disappear overnight.

You were met with some resistance close to the President’s quarters. Three men and four women stood guard, barring any possible entrance. When you saw them a plan formulated in your head. A plan that you knew Clint would never approve of. The moment Clint and Steve engaged the guards you dashed towards the staircase. You dodged a guard’s outstretched hand, thankful once again for your speed. Clint called out after you, but you ignored him. Between Steve and Clint the guards would easily be disposed of, they wouldn’t need you. You needed to get to your father before he had a chance to escape. A man chased after you, his footsteps needlessly heavy on the stairs. You whirled around with your sais. One blade caught the guard in the chest the other in the upper thigh. He gasped but continued to reach for you. With a grunt you preformed a perfect low kick and knocked his legs out from underneath him. There was hardly a moment to watch him tumble painfully down the staircase before you were off again.

You were mildly out of breath by the time you reached the door. Your heart thumped against your ribcage and sweat rolled down your face. It wouldn’t be long until Clint and Steve were done with the guards, and then you’d be in trouble. Without much more thought you shoved the door open, unsurprised to find that it was unlocked. Arrogance was a family trait it seemed.

“I was wondering when you’d get up here.” Your father greeted you casually.
Shutting and locking the door behind you, you smiled. “I’m glad that you’re happy to see me.”
“I’m always happy to see you chipmunk.” His voice lacked affection.
He sat on a rather comfortable looking sofa, his booted feet resting on a richly coloured coffee table. It was as if you were a child having just arrived home from school. He was too relaxed for someone who was about to face an adversary.
Your mouth felt dry. “You don’t think I’ll be able to do it.”
“Kill me?” He clarified. “No, I don’t think you will. Not from a lack of trying either.”
You frowned, twirling your sais in your hands. “You underestimate me.”
Standing he stretched dramatically before unsheathing a beautiful Katana. “You might have had a slim chance yesterday, when you were uninjured and rested,” Running a hand through his hair he easily slipped into a familiar fighting pose. “But you look dead on your feet kiddo, and that shoulder sure looks sore.”

Mirroring his pose you forced yourself to remain calm. You had sparred with him before, when you were a child and had only won when he had wanted you to. That had been for training purposes, bruises had been the only risk but now you were gambling your life.
Your father smiled a smile that was completely sincere. It dawned on you that he had been hoping that he would get the chance to fight you all along. He wanted to implement the final test of his experiment. Would the subject have gained enough skill to overthrow her creator?

Your father made the first move. Moving with all of the grace of an expert swordsman he lunged forward. You narrowly dodged the tip of his blade and tried to counter with your own strike but you were battle weary and slower than usual. He deflected your sai with the flat edge of his katana and slashed at your face. You gasped, ducking low but were just a little bit too slow. The skin across your forehead tore easily, gushing hot blood down your face. There was no time to fret over your injury as his blade came in for seconds. Crisscrossing your sais you used them as a shield to deflect his blow and aimed a powerful kick at his leg. He stumbled backward and you advanced, blinking blood from your eyes. You twirled a sai around in your hand, using the hilt as a bludgeon and thrusting it at him. It collected him across the jaw, the skin splitting with the force. Without hesitation you followed through with the blade of your other sai, aiming low down in his stomach. He was ready for this however and his katana crashed against your blade with an earsplitting clang. The energy of the collision jarred your injured shoulder causing sharp twinges of pain to shoot up your arm. You gritted your teeth against the pain and took a swift step back, trying to open up some space between you.
He grinned at you. “Are you hurting baby girl?” His voice was full of malice.

A steady stream of blood continued to run into your eyes, blurring your vision. What was it with you and losing blood? You ran the back of your hand across the gash on your forehead, hoping to disrupt the flow. You were completely and utterly exhausted but you knew that you had to keep fighting.
“I’ve had worse, but you would remember that wouldn’t you?” You replied.
“Ah yes, Brasilia. If I recall correctly you acted like a child, screaming and begging for mercy.” He laughed, adjusting his grip on the hilt of his katana.  
A low animal like growl erupted from your throat as you charged toward him at full speed. You slashed out with a swiftness you’d never possessed before. Rage and pain fuled your attack. For the first time you knew with complete confidence that you would be able to kill the man in front of you, for this man was no longer your father. He struggled to block your blows as you persistently pushed forward, using all the strength that remained within you. The noise of steel against steel was deafening as your blades continuously crashed against his. To an outsider your battle may have looked like a dance. With your well timed spins and kicks and his artful sidesteps, but this was anything but. You attempted a roundhouse kick but your boot slipped in a small slick of blood, throwing you off balance. Your father used your blunder to his advantage and swung his blade in a high arc. With a gasp you threw up your reinforced arm to protect your head and neck and heard a telltale clank as the katana sliced through flesh and struck adamantium. In that split second all that existed were pain and the nauseating scent of blood. You stood paralyzed and pale as he extracted his blade and raised it once more. A whimper escaped from your mouth as the blade sparkled silver and red in the light.
“Sweet dreams chipmunk.” Your father whispered before bringing the blade down on top of you.    

Loud banging shook you from your trance like state. The katana was coming straight for you, and you were just standing there like a deer in the headlights. You twisted your torso, feet sliding on the polished wooden floor. Using the momentum you came down hard on your backside and kicked up at your father’s knee. His mouth fell open in a gasp as you threw him off balance and he stumbled backwards. Another loud bang followed by a crash disturbed the room but you didn’t glance up. The air around you whistled and you watched in surprise as your father’s torso was lanced with arrows. The katana fell from his grasp with a metallic thud and he tumbled to his knees.  
A firm hand squeezed your shoulder. “You should be the one to finish him off.”
You nodded dully and let Clint help you to your feet. He placed a loaded pistol in your hand with a grim smile.  Stumbling towards your father you tried to quell the grief in your heart. He gazed up at you under half-lidded eyes, small trails of blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth. He smiled as you half crouched half collapsed in front of him. The smile was so genuine so like the way he used to smile that you felt something crumble within you.
“The katana is yours,” He breathed. “Take it.”

Tears that had nothing to do with your physical pain ran down your face. You squeezed the gun so tightly in your grasp that your tendons began to ache. He had done so much evil, killed so many people and yet you couldn’t keep him out of your heart. You felt the presence of Clint close behind you, like an electrical charge. He gave you strength. It was all going to be ok once this was over. You glanced back eyes meeting with Clint’s, they were so full of love completely different to the way your father looked at you. Turning back you shakily pressed the barrel of the gun to your father’s head. In this moment you realized he hadn’t changed, he had always been this way. Cruel, calm and a good actor.  As a child you had mistaken his interest in your development as love. Those times you spent camping, sparring and just bonding had all been about making you into an elite super soldier. You really were just an experiment to him. You meant nothing to him so he meant nothing to you. You pulled the trigger and collapsed in a heap of sobs.

It had been three weeks since the world had fallen victim to Sleepwalker’s virus, as it was now known. Asher may not have been a great warrior but he was a brilliant scientist. Within forty-eight hours of the Whitehouse being regained he had an inoculation ready. By now more than half of the world’s population had been cured, the remaining few were confined to quarantine where they were carefully observed. S.H.I.E.L.D was still broken but on its way to being mended. Despite your injuries you were recovering fast, all of your wounds had been stitched and there was limited damage to any important vessels or organs.

“Are you ready yet?” Clint asked from the other room.
Pulled from your thoughts you allowed yourself one last look in the bathroom mirror. Today was the day you were to meet the president, you and the avengers were to be presented with medals for your efforts. You wore an orange bandage dress and some simple black pumps. You allowed most of your scars to be on show for today, wearing them like a veteran wears medals. Fluffing out your hair and grabbing your purse you clopped out of the room. Clint was slouched against the far wall arms crossed against his chest. Dressed in a tailored black jacket and a dark purple button up shirt he looked absolutely gorgeous. He straightened when he saw you, mouth falling open.
“Is it too much?” You asked worriedly “Should I cover up the scars?”
He recomposed himself and took you into his arms. “You look like a warrior princess,”
He kissed the new pink scar across your forehead. “Never cover them up they are part of who you are.”
You gazed up at him cheeks flushing and touched your lips to a place under his collar where you knew he had a small scar of his own.
“Mmm, if you keep doing that we aren’t going to make it.” He said huskily.
You smiled mischievously sliding your hands under his shirt. “It’s always good to be a little late.”
And late you were.
Hawkeye X Reader- Chapter 49 Final Struggle
This is it the end. I can't even believe that I've actually finished something. This is a very bittersweet moment. I started this for a friend with no intention of it being this well received ore this long. I'm not even friends with the person I wrote it for anymore. I literally cried when I wrote the final words but it's a relief that for once I have been able to share my plot in its entirety. Thankyou to everyone who has supported me and my unreliability. If it wasn't for some very amazing readers I know for certain I wouldn't have gotten this far.

I love you all <3    

  • Mood: Tense
  • Listening to: David Bowie
  • Reading: City of Ashes
  • Watching: Penny Dreadful
  • Playing: Batman Arkham knight
  • Eating: Ramen
  • Drinking: Chocolate milk
I was tagged by :iconmishabranquitanina:

  • No tag backs and must tag at least ten others
  • State ten facts about self
  • Answer and ask ten questions

Facts you don't want to know:

1. I only seem to be able to make friends who are older then me by 10 years. (i'm too mature for people my age)

2. I have never ever, ever been in love but apparently i'm good at writing about it

3. I second guess myself all of the time

4. I see writing as nothing more then a hobby, there is no way I think i'll ever be good enough to do it for a career

5. Trust is not something I give away freely, I refuse to tell any one person everything about myself

6. My biggest dream is to go to the Uk 

7. I seriously think I have an addiction to books, I have three full length bookshelves full and more scattered all about the house

8. Dates aren't my thing, i've been on only two and each time the guy I went out with ended up being just a friend

9. I did some 'alternative' modeling at one stage but hated it

10. I have had a total of 4 different stalkers. 

Questions asked:

1. Who is your favorite actor/actress?

I have quite a few, though on acting talent alone probably Tom Hanks. I'm pretty sure that he can pull off just about any character in the world. Johnny Depp is a close second though he's been a little off just recently.

2. What is your favorite character in Supernatural?

Probably Crowley. He has the whole calm evil thing down pat, but yet he isn't as bad a guy as he portrays himself to be. Though last season show that, that could be about to change. 

3. If you could date/be friend with one of the characters in Supernatural who would it be?

I would date Dean and be friends with Cas.

4. And why?

 It probably would have been the opposite a few years ago, but I don't know Dean is just my man at the moment. Cas doesn't seem as awkwardly cute as he used to be, and Dean is just his usual sexy self. 

5. What is your favorite song?

This changes depending on my mood, today it is Life on Mars by David Bowie. Though I'm usually a bit of a metal girl. 

6. If and only if you read reader-inserts, what are you favorite ones?

I actually haven't read any reader inserts in a while. Buut I love anything with some serious angst (don't know why but I like a story that can make me cry) 

7. Were you surprised when you found that Hawkeye was married?

I knew that in one series of the comics that he was married but I wasn't expecting them to go that way in the movie. 

8. What is you favorite Minion?

Stuart :D he's the cutest!

9. Did you saw Fast 7?

I actually haven't yet, though I was obsessed with the first two films when I was a kid. (I'm a car enthusiast) 

I'm not going to tag anyone because i'm  a rule breaker :p 

  • Mood: Sociable
  • Listening to: Korn
  • Reading: Harry Potter
  • Watching: Fear the Walking Dead
  • Playing: GTA V
  • Eating: Cookies
  • Drinking: hot cocoa
Hey everyone,

I've decided that instead of starting a new series straight away that i'm going to enjoy the freedom and start to write a ton of oneshots. I actually enjoy oneshots alot better then series writing most of the time as there is less pressure. 

If there is anything you would like me to write let me know and I'll see what I can do. These won't be official requests so i'm not bound by blood oath to do them, but I am open to suggestions. 

~Majestic Glory 


majestic-glory's Profile Picture
Artist | Student | Varied

I'm mostly focused on writing reader inserts, though also write alot of original work. (I just choose not to upload much of it) I also draw, but I don't like to share any of my sketches cause every artist on this site is 100 times better then I could ever hope to be.

My fandoms are as follows;

Doctor Who
True Blood
Game of Thrones
Harry Potter

That's all I can think of at the moment, though i'm sure there is more :c

I no longer take requests though I do, do offer commissions. Note me for prices ect.

If you for what ever reason wanna get to know me you're free to add me on Facebook…

I'm a proud slytherin, so no flaming the snakes when I'm around >:I


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EntirelyBonkers Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2015  Student Writer
Thank you for joining Writers-Assemble. 

If you have any questions, please ask.

Is there anyone you would recommend that I invite this group? Any authors you like?
JustNorthOfDreams Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hi, this is North, from ;D
majestic-glory Featured By Owner Jul 16, 2015  Student General Artist
oh hey!! :)
bf5kid Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2015
Do you think you could help me with this?…

It be a bif help to me.
LilAlisonAngel Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday~!
AnonymousMyself Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:cakerun:  Happy birthday~!Birthday cake  icon :iconsnugplz:
JaneWeller Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
love balloonsbirthday cake Happy Birthday!birthday cake love balloons
MishaBranquitaNina Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday :party::party::cake::party::party:
scrougeofares Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2014
Happy birthday!
majestic-glory Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2014  Student General Artist
thankyou :)
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