#❖ ⦙ what if i weren't invisible ⦗ out of cloaking ⦘

[yanderes-galore]

Requests open? RAAA 🦅

May I request a yautja x reader oneshot if that's okay :3 couldn't decide on a yandere prompts so sorry

Hm, I wasn't sure what to do for plot so I chose a basic stalking plot since Yautja spend a lot of time stalking their prey. It's short as I was exploring how to write them.

If anyone wants me to make a Yautja OC I can probably make that work :)

Prey Analysis

Yandere! Male! Yautja Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Yautja/Human pairing, Thoughts of kidnapping, Violence, Murder, Possessive behavior, Mentions of "Mate", Forced relationship.

Weak prey is not worth the kill. Yautja typically look for armed humans as their prey to kill, that is what is considered an honorable kill. If that was their way of life...

Why was this one so insistent on a weaker human?

Perhaps the young Yautja hunter himself wasn't sure. For some reason during his hunt he found you. There was no urge to kill you as you weren't armed... but he couldn't stop watching.

You appeared to be some sort of medic in a group of armed humans. He could tell that you weren't the violent type and simply tended to those who were. Vulnerable prey out in the middle of a hunting ground.

Even if you weren't physically strong you still were seen catering to those who were. You expressed concern when your fellow humans went missing. You appeared caring... yet even that isn't what caught his interest fully.

When he was sloppy with his work due to being a newer hunter, you tried to confront him. The Yautja could tell you were no match for him. Despite this... you showed bravery and determination to fight the foreign creature before you to save your friend.

The Yautja saw this trait as respectful... desirable. He still took away your friend as the hunt must go on, but not before pushing you out of the way. You had tried to attack him with a small blade and grapple him... unfortunately he towers over you and quickly made his escape.

Not without a few scratches, however.

The Yautja reflected on this as he hid away again. Ever since he collected his new trophy and tended to his wounds, he's watched you. You are no warrior... but you have commendable traits.

After your first encounter the Yautja always lingered near. Cloaked in invisibility he watched every movement you made. You noticed you try to suffocate your fear and reassure your fellow humans, yet your bravery was quickly shaken when he stole another away.

Part of the Yautja felt prideful at his work. Hunts were normally exhilarating. Although, this one felt different.

The Yautja wasn't quite sure why but he felt rage when you were close to other humans. Killing the humans around you and taking their trophies felt better than the usual kill. Pretty soon... you may be all that's left.

Which makes the prideful feeling swell again.

The Yautja knew at some point he'd have to depart this planet. His hunt was coming to an end and he's collected enough trophies. However... his gaze continues to linger on you.

By the final day of the hunt he knew he couldn't just leave you here. No, there was one final trophy the Yautja felt he had to claim. A human pet... or maybe even a human mate?

Either way... the Yautja knew he had to have you and take you home.

Before you know it the final hunt begins. You gather what weapons you can as you expect the monster to come back. After that, you're on the run.

Then he gives chase.

Internally the Yautja gives you praise for trying to fight. Unfortunately, you just don't seem to be the type. Your shots sometimes miss and he's too fast.

Even when he corners you... you still try to make him bleed. You fight him like cornered prey should. That fight of yours has potential....

He'll definitely be keeping you.

By the end of the hunt your fight dwindles. When the Yautja has you in his grasp your struggling becomes weak. Like a sack... he hangs you over his shoulder and looks for his ship again.

The Yautja considers this hunt successful.

Not only does he have many trophies as proof of his capabilities...

But he also has a worthy human to do with as he pleases.

[joka13]

Hiya feel free to ignore this if you’re not doing requests but i was wandering if you could do a george weasley x reader where they’re in a secret relationship and maybe one of George’s siblings outs that the reader has a crush on George in front of them both then george kind of teases the reader for it afterwards ?

Thank you :)

Hello, I do take requests! And thank you for requesting; this was so fun to write! I hope you won't mind that I added just a few more background details to what you specified😁 Enjoy!❤️❤️❤️

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Dear Reader,

As you may or may not know, I post extensive, multiple part fanfiction stories. I must remind you or clarify that I do not consider any requests I write as parts of those stories. Thank you for reading❤️

FANFICTION (REQUEST): George Weasley x y/n Malfoy

WARNINGS: passionate kissing

It had been a long while since you began your concealed, romantic relationship with George Weasley. It was a rather difficult situation to maintain, but it definitely had its advantages. You're a member of the Malfoy family and wouldn't be caught dead associating yourself with a Weasley, for if you were indeed caught associating yourself with a Weasley, it'd be the end of you. Your father, the infamous Lucius Malfoy, viewed every one of them as nothing but muggle-loving blood traitors. You once considered briefly the possibility of your father accepting George as your boyfriend because George was, still, technically a pureblood. But, in the end, you decided to play it safe, to stay quiet about the whole thing. Your father wasn't the only person you worried wouldn't take it well. You greatly admired your older brother, Draco, and feared you would lose his respect forever if he ever learned of your feelings for George. And so, when George Weasley expressed his similar feelings for you and you couldn't bring yourself to reject him, you promised to be George's girl as long as he did his best to keep it a secret.

George was entirely willing to pay the price. He'd been aching to have you for so long; there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. You enjoyed it immensely as well. Butterflies came to life in your stomach every time he took your hand and led you away to some new corner of the Hogwarts castle when no one else was watching. You'd kept secrets before, but this one was different. It was shared, special, personal, and intimate. But there are just some people you can't keep secrets from forever.

You and George played a silly game you called "Straight Face" while lounging on the couch in the Gryffindor common room (this would have been self-sabotage if it weren't for George "borrowing" Harry's invisibility cloak, under which you both sat; it was also late at night when everyone, including the two of you, should've been in bed, so there wasn't much risk of getting accidentally sat on). The goal of the game was to simply get the other person to smile and keep yourself from smiling when it was their turn to try and get you to smile. George almost won every time you played against him, though it didn't really matter to you. The end always resulted in at least one person smiling while the other won the game. It was, almost literally, a win-win situation.

It was your turn, so you pulled a funny facial expression. The corner of George's mouth twitched slightly, but he did not smile. For his turn, George performed for you a rather accurate voice impression of Professor Snape that easily broke you.

"Oh, bugger!" you laughed as George grinned smugly. "You're too good at this game!"

"Alright, alright, it's your turn. Show me what you've got," George chuckled.

George returned to his blank stare while you thought of something to do to make him smile. You then shook your head with a knowing smirk as an idea formed in your mind.

"You've left me no other choice," you sighed, looking up at him through your lashes. George raised a red eyebrow curiously, but otherwise didn't budge. You glanced down at his lips.

You, very slowly, leaned forward towards George as if you planned to kiss him. Then, just before your lips could touch his, you froze in place. When you observed no reaction from him, you looked up to find George staring coolly down at you.

"Come on. Where's that handsome smile of yours?" you encouraged quietly, giving him your own best smile. You slid your hands gradually up his arms, feeling his muscles flex in anticipation. Touching was actually against the rules of the game, but George wasn't complaining, so you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck.

"He's a little shy," George replied. His face might have been blank, but you could tell he was enjoying himself.

You chuckled. "Well, then what's it going to take to have him show?"

You pretended not to realize how fast your heart was beating when you moved to sit on George's lap, still holding your face so very close to his. As you settled in, George exhaled heavily before placing his hands around your waist. He didn't verbally reply to your question, but looked at you in a way that said, "You know what."

And so you kissed him. You kissed George and was taken to cloud nine when you felt his lips smile against yours. He chuckled, then began to kiss you back earnestly.

George's hands cradled your body, laying you down on the couch cushions behind as he smoothly advanced toward and onto you. You giggled helplessly when he moved his face away from yours to nuzzle his nose affectionately against your neck.

"I love you, y/n," George breathed, and his words meant the world to you.

Suddenly, something sort of like a gasp sounded from the stairs to the Gryffindor girls' dormitories, causing your stomach to drop with dread. You couldn't see what was happening from your position, so you watched George's face as he slowly propped himself up higher above you to get a look at the intruder.

His eyes widened, and George glanced down at you. "It's Ginny," he mouthed silently, then looked back up. You and him both remained quiet and unmoving, hoping Ginny would eventually go away.

You heard some shuffling footsteps, and then Ginny spoke. "George? Fred? Who's there?" her voice sounded closer now, much too close for comfort. You gripped the fabric of George's sleeves absentmindedly in fearful suspense.

"Aha!" Ginny exclaimed, and you knew you'd been caught. "You're using Harry's invisibility cloak! And you've left your foot uncovered." You saw a small hand reach over the couch's arm rest, over your face and grasp a fistful of Harry's cloak. George's expression was more annoyed than fearful as Ginny yanked the cloak off of the two of you and gasped in alarm once more.

"Malfoy?!"

George moved off as you quickly sat up. "Er, hello, Ginny," you chuckled gingerly.

Ginny looked back and forth between you and George in shock. You thought for sure she was going to faint or scream, but an ecstatic grin quickly filled her freckled face.

"My brother and y/n Malfoy!" Ginny squealed, clapping her hands together cheerfully.

George shushed her. "Pipe down!"

Ginny lowered her voice. "Sorry, sorry. Merlin's beard, I can hardly believe my eyes! Well, now I can." She giggled and waved the invisibility cloak about. "I was beginning to think you'd die alone, Georgie! How long has this been going on?" You and George looked at each other uncertainly, but before either of you could answer, Ginny continued to spout.

"I'm guessing it all began three months ago. That's about the time I started noticing Fred standing all by his lonesome. It must not have been much of a bother to him, though. He's had his fair share of slinking off with that Johnson girl. Am I right? It doesn't matter. I'm just so happy that you found someone... even if she is a Slytherin, let alone a Malfoy..."

"Ginny!" George scolded. You merely shrugged. You had expected a much worse reaction.

"I'm only joking," Ginny laughed. She sat down on a nearby ottoman. "Honestly, I think it's the perfect match!" Ginny turned to you. "I've always thought that if Fred and George weren't sorted into Gryffindor, they would have been put in Slytherin," she chortled.

You laughed, "I've said the same thing!"

Ginny laughed with you while George rolled his eyes, smiling.

"I know I probably don't need to say it," George said. "But if you wouldn't mind keeping quiet about y/n and I..."

"Of course!" Ginny scoffed. "Anything for you, George." She stared at you and George contently.

After a moment, George cleared his throat. "It's 'bout time you got back to bed, Ginny."

"Oh, if you say so," Ginny sighed, standing up reluctantly. "I know that you two will just go on snogging again."

George snorted.

"What'd you come down here for anyway?" you asked quickly to change the subject.

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for reminding me." Ginny went over to the side table, opened its single drawer, and pulled out a tattered, black book. She tucked it under her arm. "Goodnight, you lovebirds!" Ginny said, then headed back up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

You and George sat in silence for a short moment before he began to chuckle.

You blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I just can't believe how scared you were," he snickered. You shoved George playfully, causing him to laugh harder. "Terrifying, little Ginny!"

"I didn't want to be discovered, same as you!" you giggled, slightly embarrassed. Your smile drifted away as concern filled your mind once again. George stopped laughing when he noticed your mood faltering. "You really... you really don't think she'll tell anyone?" you asked timidly. You had a suspicion that Ginny might be one to gossip.

George smiled caringly, lovingly, and pulled you closer into a warm embrace. "Yeah. I trust her. And..." He stroked your hair as he carefully chose his words. "I've been meaning to... this was good timing. I think it's about time you met my family anyway."

You pulled away slightly so you could look George in the eye. "Do you really mean it? Even if you don't meet mine... just yet?"

"I do," George replied, then sweetly kissed the top of your head.

[fatalitysficbakery]

𓆰♡︎𓆪 NEVER Trust The Love Interest. —

Samantha Carpenter x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst | fluff | SMUT.

warnings: listen to 'What a wonderful world' by Louis Armstrong while reading, ghostface!sam, sub!sam, soft dom!y/n, praise, oral (reader giving), slight!fingering, soft ‘reuinited’ smut, sub worship.

synopsis: legacies make franchises.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu #2 𓆪.

❦ ⌫ ❦

An unsettling silence plagued the halls, so quiet you could hear a mouse squeak, but who could blame anyone in the complex for leaving after what had happened in only two weeks.

Nobody wanted to believe it was happening again until the bodies in the morgue began to pile up, and the first mask was found next to the third victim, it was almost a taunt. No...A greeting.

Ghostface was back in business.

The Carpenter sisters were on immediate alert, but it didn't take long for someone to throw a big party, the perfect opportunity for new victims, and for some unknown fucking reason no one seemed to be concerned with the outcome that Samantha and Tara could sense a mile away like clockwork.

Tara stayed home, luckily. But that's not who Sam was worrying about right now as her phone went to voicemail for the 20th time that night, Sam was quick to grab her keys. There were many ways this could go south but with her being radio silent? Sam couldn't care less about the consequences than the idiots that had willingly gone despite the risks. On her way out the door, she texts Chad, Tara, and Mindy to warn them of her whereabouts, gun holstered and knife in her boots.

Never too armed. There was a mace and taser in her purse for backup.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

The scene was a bloodbath, the moment you entered the place there were bodies and puddles of red as far as the eye could see and Samantha was quick to unholster the gun resting on her hip, there wasn't a lot she was afraid of anymore, hell blood had become so normal to her, she stepped over the bodies like they weren't there.

If anything everything in sight had become invisible to her eyes, her thoughts solely on the one person she was hellbent on saving, on protecting. Nearing the staircase, she hears distant voices, and murmurs.

'C'mon, Y/n. Not today.'

Rounding the corner, her heart nearly beat out of her chest when the voices only got louder just for to realize.

'I see trees of green, red roses too..'

She grunts a hiss of air out when her eyes land on an old stereo. With her jaw set, she pushes on, determination filling her gaze like it had only done when Tara was the one who needed her protection. Her head cocking slightly to the side when a new gaze meets hers; pointing the gun directly between the males eyes, she crouches next to the figure.

"Travis. Where's Y/n?" She asked quietly, the sight of her bestfriends boyfriend hidden in the same room she'd gone into putting her on high alert. There was blood on his collar. She scoffs when he doesn't answer. "Trav, c'mon. I need to find her. Keep her safe, that's what you want, no?"

Travis trembles from his spot on the floor, and Sam spots a puddle forming beneath him. The empathy in her eyes left just as fast as it had come, eyes moving down his neck to his hands; Bloodied.

Sam clicks her tongue, standing up from her spot next to him.

"Or at least, that's...that's what you should want, Travis. I mean look at you, lying in wait while your girlfriend gets possibly murdered. Jesus...That's cold-hearted."

Travis squirms from his spot on the floor, eyes frantic and body trembling like a fish out of water. Samantha just watches as he grows more inconsolable, attention on him only diverting when she turns to find a cloaked figure.

Stu's mask on their face.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

Samantha barely manages to dodge the knife aiming for her abdomen, stepping out of the way at the last minute, her movements fluid and clean as she does like it's a choreographed dance she'd obsessively learned the steps to.

Her strangely calm demeanor shifts slightly when she looks back at Travis, who only seems...confused.

"You really are a little bitch, Travis. That's what's sad. You date a close friend of a Carpenter sister...but you never thought twice, did you? Don’t you know the rules?"

Holstering her gun, she sighed and kneeled down next to the bed while the cloaked killer worked on dragging Travis to the middle of the room, both his kneecaps had been shot out, rendering the poor thing immobile and utterly useless.

Her fingers brushed against the mask, a shudder running down her spine at the feel of sheer power beneath her thumbs, a legacy she was tired of running from, one she'd been so desperate to get rid of. One that she was now even more hellbent and desperate on keeping alive.

'Do it, Sam. Put it on. You've earned this' Billy's voice plays in her head like an echoing cave, and with every fear the old Samantha held in her heart of hearts...She uses it to drive her; Billy's knife in her boot and his mask in her hand.

Her lips quiver the moment she bites the bullet and puts it on again, this time...to be used as her father intended it to.

'Atta girl, Sammy. Now. Do me proud, kid. Flood this fucking town RED!'

"Sam."

A voice cuts through the hallucinations, snapping Sam out of her stupor, she looks up at the cloaked figure standing over Travis, nodding to herself; a confirmation to herself that there was no going back after this. Standing up, she takes her spot next to the person in Stu's mask, cutting on the voice changer, she feels a spark traveling down her spine, breathing it all in.

Samantha Carpenter meets Samantha Loomis.

"There are rules, Travis. And you broke one of the biggest. Now the sad thing is...I can see it in your eyes. Shifty. Maybe I was wrong, maybe you do wanna save Y/n. Is that what you want? To save her?"

The tears that gathered in his eyes bring a smile to Samantha's face from underneath her mask, neck craning to the side, her eyes meeting her partners just as Travis finally whimpers out a pathetic pleading "Yes".

"You wanna tell him? You do the honors."

Stepping back, Samantha allows them to the front, their voice disguised as well when speaking, a crackling robotic tone sounding through. "It'd be my pleasure. I've really been waiting all night for this."

Dragging his body to a sitting position, they go to lock the door, the radio being turned up just a tad louder to drown out the incessant whimpering, squatted beside him now, they slowly begin removing the plastic Halloween mask.

Travis's eyes widen the moment he's aware of what's underneath.

The tears, oh how they freely fall down the apples of his cheeks.

❦ ⌫ ❦

The radio, it repeats, and it repeats, keeping time with his rapid heartbeats. She straddles his lap, knife grazing his skin, forcing him to look in his eyes.

The tears, oh how they freely fall down the apples of his cheeks.

'I see trees of green, red roses too...I see them bloom for...'

"Y/n." He breathes out shakily.

'Me and you.'

With the voice changer resting underneath her lips, her knife, she nods, pulling a gun. Stu's berretta, from her pocket, whistling quietly.

"And I think to myself..." She leans in closer, a soft smirk curving onto her lips, "What a wonderful world. Hi baby. You know what this is right? Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. We're just talking, right? Just talking. Don't cry."

Samantha's jaw sets watching the scene, her body itching for a kill. Specifically this one.

"What is this? Huh?" She repeats, waving the beretta at him like a nice greeting, or in this case, maybe a solemn goodbye.

"The...The gun you shot me with? I-I don't know, Y/n please...W-why?"

"I'm getting there. Patience. I mean, you're not wrong. I did shoot you with it, but you know...I also shot that bitch you were cheating with. Junie? Her favorite scary movie was weak. The nun. Ugh. No. This? is Stu Macher's gun."

"J-junie's dead?"

"As a bitch, Travis. As a fucking bitch. You know, Sammy's right. You did break a rule. Two actually."

"One, you cheated and told Mindy of all people. My sister, really? You never could handle your fucking liquor." Rising up, she points the gun at his thigh and pulls the trigger, relishing the way his screams align with the music. "You trusted the love interest. Sammy?"

'I see skies of blue and clouds of white...'

On cue, Samantha walks ahead of Y/n, kissing her cheek as she does so, Billy's knife tightly gripped in her hand.

'The bright blessed day...The dark sacred night...'

"I guess you're even, Trav. I mean, she was cheating on you too. Bestfriend? You could say we're close. The only problem is..." Samantha drops down into his lap, but there's nothing erotic about the plans she has for him, her knife to his neck; she removes the old mask, a shit-eating grin on her face, "Only one of you cheated with a goddamned Loomis."

'And I think to myself...'

Without a second word, his throat is slit, and she blacks out. His body riddled with stab wounds when it was all over she could hear Y/n's heeled boots against the floor, looking back to see Stu's berretta pointed at Travis's head though he'd taken his last breath seconds before; smoothly Samantha rolled out of the way, allowing Y/n to deliver a swift shot to the head.

'What a wonderful world...'

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

After all was said and done, Y/n leaned her forehead against Samantha's taking a deep breath at the next steps, her eyes staring deeply into hers, "I'm ready."

"Baby, we...we don't gotta." Sam reasons, but she shakes her head, a bittersweet smile spread across her cheeks, she whispers to Sam, eyes glossed over with tears. "I won't die. I'll be fine. It's for you, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure? Completely?"

"Completely."

There's a replica knife, one of Billy's that Y/n had crafted herself, one she'd stabbed Junie with before shooting her, one she'd stabbed Samantha's ex-boyfriend with, and you know the people that came to the party, it was easy to do so when not many dared to arrive due to the restart of the killings and being the only one with a gun helped too, of course.

She passes it into Samantha's gloved hand.

"Do it. And after you do it, I need you to go. Okay? Go, and don't call me. I will call you. Understood?"

"Understood." Samantha takes a deep breath. It had been all too effortless to kill Travis, to kill Gale but the thought of hurting you only slightly was one she hated.

"Now, Sam, NO- AH, FUCK!" As soon as Y/n cries out, she's pulled into Samantha's arms, careful to mind the abdomen wound she'd just given her girlfriend, shushing the poor thing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...Shh. Shh, I got you."

As much as Y/n wants to hold on tighter, she just whispers one word in Samantha's ear, sliding off her cloak and handing it to Samantha to get rid of. "Go."

Samantha nodded, pecking Y/n's lips before grabbing the cloak and ducking out of the backdoor they stood by, leaving Y/n to call the police, though she didn't know just how far Y/n would go to protect her until she heard a pained yell inside and a gunshot and as if she could sense Sam's concern, another "GO" is yelled out from inside.

Sam goes.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"She's gone, Sam. She's gone. There's no true love for a Loomis, remember your true love. Pick up the knife, Sammy." His voice grows increasingly aggressive, brows knitted together waving the infamous dagger in front of my face, like bone to dog and it almost physically hurts to not reach my hands out, wrap my fingers around the handle -- Let the electricity liven me.

Her being mentioned is the only thing that breaks my attention away, and I can see his face fall into something blank when he realizes I wasn't budging on my stance, it isn't until I wake up with a jolt, looking at the clock and very predictably my phone, itching to see if she'd called or messaged.

She hadn't.

It wasn't until that afternoon that I heard from her, waiting with bated breaths to see if she was still breathing, if we'd gone too far and she was a part of the carnage, the gunshot still rang fresh as day in my head, her voice the only thing to cut through the thoughts, through my father's taunting. I could hear him now, there was no love to be truly had regarding what we were, but I refused to let him be right. Not when it came to her.

"Spare key. Earth to my beautiful girlfriend?"

I think my jaw goes slack, my lips slightly parting themselves and I'm almost in denial. I'd almost let my father ruin love for me, and though I hadn't budged, that moment of dread I felt when I considered the possibility of her having died ran so deeply that it was almost like seeing a ghost when she's finally within a foot or two in front of me, that familiar cheeky smile stretching from ear to ear.

God, she's as beautiful as I remember and though it's only been a mere half a day apart I find myself scanning her from head to toe, analyzing and trying to scope out if any of the little details that she was made up of had changed; To my relief, the only things out of place are the stab wound near her side, and the cast on her wrist which must've been the beretta's doing.

Other than that...It was her, it was my lady that stood in front of me.

↳

"Oh thank fuck. You're alive." Samantha's hands find my waist so naturally it feels like it's instinct for her, to pull me into an embrace without the slightest thought to it. I can feel her body shudder, eyes pricking with tears; She squeezes me so tight I have to tap her a few times to let her know her hold is a bit too strong, and even then she seems reluctant, as if I've just dealt her a...disrespectful request.

"Not for long if you keep squeezing me like this, sweetheart. I shot myself in the arm, hit nothin' vital. Again there's nothing I wouldn't do to see you get out of this without being caught. Best damn Ghostface there ever was. Y'know that right?" I can't stop staring, though I'd never been able to, not since we'd been friends. Sleepovers almost always ended with us talking about everything and nothing while staring into one another's eyes until the moon made way for the sun.

She nods, but I can tell she's wary and I take no time to bring her into my arms, brushing her hair from her face, a small whisper of a "Hey" spoken through the silence to hush her worries. "I'm alive, okay? Wouldn't leave my favorite girl alone."

"You could've been seriously hurt." Sam nuzzles herself against me, arms gripping around my waist protectively as if she thought I might disappear into thin air.

"But I didn't and if I did? It would've been damn worth it, I don't regret a damn thing." I'm sure of this, I know it to be true. I bring my hand up to her cheek, keeping it there until I'm sure she trusts that it's real, that she's real. I hear her chuckle but there's zero humor behind the sound, it breaks my heart to see her so scared when she whimpers, letting go and allowing herself to be picked up and carried upstairs to her bedroom relenting like she'd never hesitated.

We climb the stairs in a comfortable yet tense silence, making our way to Sam's bedroom. I push the door open with my foot and gently kick it closed all the same.

"Do you trust me?" I ask, sitting her on the bed and coming to take place between her legs, hands cupping her face. I tilt her chin up to look directly into her chocolate-brown gaze.

It's a brief moment before I hear her voice again, I forget myself within one smooth motion, my right hand moving to her lips and a kiss pressed upon the back and if that isn't enough, her words press their own soft kisses to my ears. "I think you might be the only one aside from my sister that I trust right now, Y/n."

Lying her back on the bed, I feel myself aching in ways no one has ever made me ache and I hadn't even touched her yet. She was just that good. I chased the high every time. "Then let me take care of you."

Standing over her, I reached for the hem of her shorts, only hesitating on my movements just to gauge her reactions and make sure this was okay. She had this look that could get her anything she ever wanted and when she flashed it at me I knew to do exactly that.

Those pretty little eyes of hers, she gave me that stare and I was turned a slave for her love, she had me in only one night and she still had me now.

She was always so reluctant to be vulnerable, to allow herself something so human. No one could blame her, she'd gone through a lot to get here. I see it in her though. That fighter. — She still deserved to let those defenses down every now and then and I was more than honored that I'd become trusted with such realities in which Sam just got to be Sam.

"I gotta hear you before I go any further, baby. Speak up for me?"

The poor thing's words must've been caught in her throat for a second or two but I allowed her the chance to gather herself before my lips were on her inner thigh, I swear I did but I know that if I were a lesser woman my self-control would've been stripped the before she uttered a damn word. "Just...touch me."

Now that I didn't need to be told twice.

I think one of the most fascinating things about Samantha is her power to seduce and addict, and she had me absolutely sprung. My lips ghost over her thighs before actually meeting the skin. Call me slow but I loved seeing her reactions and keeping myself between her legs at all times, letting her know how appreciated she truly was.

She looks down at me, her abs taut as I bring up the tank top she's wearing, exposing her muscled physique to my hungry eyes. That dark hooded stare is intense on me, and it's a damn shame she has to work tomorrow. I'd be here all night if I could.

My lips had wandered everywhere, neglecting Samantha and themselves while straying away from its intended target until finally, we'd both had enough. She lets out a frustrated whine and I'm too far gone to keep denying myself so I settle our collective woes when I wrap my lips around her bud, her body flinching only to end up running further into my tongue. One hand gripping her thigh in a firm hold.

I bury myself within the temple that is Samantha Carpenter's body, her slick coating my lips, my cheeks, my nose. Drowning in the scent and taste of her all I feel is a simple man's greed. Right now I am that simple man, and I have only one thing on my mind.

Making her sing. I always told her she had a beautiful voice.

Her moans egg me on, legs hoisted up on my shoulders. Her gaze is still locked in on me heavy, and when I pull away for air I can see a small hint of disappointment. "You seem disappointed. Have I disappointed you, my love? Don't be afraid. Speak your mind."

"You're an assho-" I shush her with my lips, giving her a taste of the liquid heaven that rests between her thighs, a moan slips out of those beautiful lips and the sound gets me high. I pull back, my mind back in that simple man's place as I lower myself back between her thighs. My tongue finds her slit and runs the length, revelling in the way she shudders each time.

Once upon a time, I told her my favorite thing was making out with her. I didn't clarify that I meant that in every sense of the word my mouth engaged in a heated makeout session with Sam's cunt. I'm not ashamed to admit it but after the night I had that ended with my arm in a sling, this felt like a reward. I'd gotten to the finish line. My prize was in front of me, and I was happy to take it. More than.

It wasn't long before I recognized those telltale signs that meant she was close to climax. The way her eyebrows knitted and she bit down on her lip harshly trying not to show just how good she was feeling, as she attempted to keep some semblance of that signature Samantha stubbornness; She failed miserably again and again. It was amusing to watch, and I was more than willing to...but granting her the serenity of hiding in the end was something that was completely off the table.

I let two of my fingers graze the edge of her hole, eyeing her reaction when I plunge the two deeply into her pretty pussy. If I wasn't so occupied I think I could've smirked a little.

The reaction this garner is as precious as it is delicious. Her legs squeezed themselves around my neck, her hands gripping the sheets and her back arched, eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm wracked through her body.

Her taste is something I couldn't quit if I tried, and I had no intention to. No, in fact, I locked my lips around her, fingers pumping in and out with her cum coating my tongue. Every little drip came from paradise and god was it heavenly.

And listen to that melody in which she sings my name.

"Y/n...B-baby, I can't-"

Fucking beautiful.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"Do you think we could ever live a normal life?" She asks while her girlfriend lathers her hair up with shampoo, sitting behind her in the clawfoot bathtub. She can still see flashes of the carnage they left behind and she wonders just how much of her father she'd absorbed from the real-life cases to the movies her friends liked to binge repeatedly, and now she was continuing his legacy. A killer.

Y/n can practically see the overthinking inner battle Sam is having, and she immediately stops her movements. She pulls her in, one arm wrapped securely around her waist and the other tilting her head up to face her. She presses a brief but sweet, gentle kiss to her lips. Her forehead is against Sam's when they pull away.

"I'm gonna be honest, my love. I don't know. But what I do know is that I'm damn well gonna fight for one for us. Do you hear me? I want you to fight too. I...need you to fight too."

Her voice cracks on her last words until she feels two hands grabbing hers. Sam's eyes move over her and it's like she's falling in love with her girlfriend all over again. "Hey. I never said I was giving up."

Y/n stops in her tracks, taking a deep breath and nodding in agreement. "You didn't..."

Sam shakes her head, a smile slowly crawling onto her lips. She leans in to kiss Y/n again, head back against hers. "I didn't."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

A/N: Listened to Fiona Apple and Cowboy Carter high while I wrote this. 10/10 would recommend.

[aanoia]

You (pt.2)

Remus Lupin x reader words; 3477 warnings; werewolf, murder part one here I'd suggest reading part one first! again, I wrote this on my phone so thats my excuse for any mistakes :) i will most likely be making an alternate ending type deal sorta thing because an amazing human gave me an awesome idea so that will be linked to this when it comes out (comment if u wanna be tagged in it) i made you a lion because why not and i made you close with Severus as well

“Professor!”

I smiled as I walked through the doors, “Harry, why it’s almost dinner, what are you doing?”

“He's recovering from the dementor.” Hermione said matter-of-factly and Ron groaned. 

“We weren't supposed to mention that, Hermione.”

“Dementor?” I asked Harry. Obviously I had read the papers and obviously I knew Sirius escaped. Why else would I be late on the first day?

“Yes. Because of Sirius Black.” Harry explained as we all walked to the Great Hall. “You knew him, didn't you?”

“Why would I know Sirius Black?” I asked with a laugh.

“Well, you guys were in the same year.” Hermione stated.

“We're we?”

“Indeed.” We walked into the hall.

“Oh, well, I'm not sure I remember him much. I wasn't a very out-” I froze and the three looked at me in wonder.

“Is everything alright, Professor?” Harry asked. 

Remus made eye contact with me and his eyes widened. He didn't know I worked here. I didn't know he worked here. He must've been hired for the DADA position after Lockhart was fired. 

“Yes, of course. Sit down, you three. I supposed Dumbledore would like to start his speech soon, now that his entire staff has arrived.”

“Right, okay.”

I walked quickly up to the teachers table, flashing McGonagall a smile as I passed her. I sat next to Severus and leaned over.

“Okay so why is Remus here?”

Severus glared at me, “I'd rather not talk to you right now.”

I scoffed, “Oh shut up, you love me. We're best friends.”

He rolled his eyes, “I'm definitely your best friend.”

“Shh, Dumbledore is starting his big speech.”

“A galleon he says something inspirational.”

“I knew we were friends. You're on.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Now, I’d like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled with our excellent feast. As I’m sure you all know from their search on the Hogwarts Express, our school is currently hosting a few dementors from Azkaban, they are present for Ministry Business.”

“Apparently Harry passed out.” I mumbled to Severus who hid his grin, I rolled my eyes.

“They are stationed at every entrance, so, for your sake, I tell you that no one is to leave the castle without permission. Dementors are not easily fooled by tricks or disguises - or even invisibility cloaks.” I glanced at Harry who shrunk in his seat.

“I warn each and every one of you to not give them an excuse to hurt you, they don’t take well to pleading. Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, make sure that no students run afoul of the dementors.”

“But, you know, happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times.” I groaned in my seat as Severus’ face became smug. He held out his hand. “If one only remembers to turn on the light.” I slapped a galleon into his palm begrudgingly. 

“I hate you.”

“On a happier note.” Dumbledore continued and everyone visibly deflated. “We are all pleased to welcome two new teachers to our staff tonight. First, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, please welcome Professor Lupin.” I sat up straight in my seat as Remus stood with a smile. 

He looks different, of course, yet exactly the same. He had new scars and old scars, the one right below his eye he's had for years. He hates it, I've always loved it. I still love it. 

I glanced at Severus to see him glaring at Remus. I understood completely, sometimes I wondered why he ever forgave me for the years of torment I let my friends put him through.

“A picture would last longer.” I whispered to Severus who huffed.

“I could say the same to you.” He sneered, looking at his food.

“I am sorry to announce that our previous Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn, has retired in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. However, it is a pleasure to make it known that our very own Rubeus Hagrid will be filling his place, along with his usual gamekeeper duties.” I clapped loudly with a smile, Hagrid was my favorite. “Well, I believe that's all of importance. Let the feast begin!”

“Excuse me, Y/n.” I ignored Remus as I walked faster, hoping to avoid him as I weaved between students. He latched onto my arm, “Y/n.”

I turned around quickly, a stern look on my face, “I apologize, Professor Lupin, but teachers do refer to each other as Professor. I'm afraid my first name is simply not suitable for you to address me by, as we are colleagues, and nothing more.”

A look of hurt crossed his face and my heart tugged, “I'm sorry, Professor L/n.”

“I must be going.”

“Can we have a conversation?”

I shook my head, walking away. “I'm afraid I'm very busy with my plants and lessons.”

“Professor L/n.” Severus’ monotone voice called out. 

I turned my head, “Yes?”

“May we speak momentarily?” He asked and I nodded.

“Of course.”

“What?” I heard Remus mumble before I walked into Severus’ classroom. 

“Thanks for that.”

Severus walked to his desk and began writing on parchment. “For what?”

I sat down at a desk, throwing my feet on top of the table. “Saving me, duh.”

Severus glanced at my feet, “Are you a child?”

“I wish.”

“You can leave now.”

I sighed, levitating an apple from his desk to me silently and taking a loud bite from it. “Nope, he's probably waiting outside to jump you.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.” He mumbled and my smile dropped.

I moved my feet off the desk and sat up straight, “I'm sorry for never stopping them. They made your time here terrible, and it wasn't okay. Even if you deserved it sometimes.”

Severus looked up from the paper, his face softened from the usual sneer. He gave me a small smile, and it seemed to hurt him to do so. I laughed. 

“What?”

“When was the last time you smiled?”

His sneer came back, “Get out.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile, “Okay okay, see you later, Severus.”

“Bye, Y/n.” I froze for a second before leaving with a smile, he's never called me by Y/n before.

“Right, yes, you may have a week extension. I expect your paper no later than Friday.” I said with a smile and the girl's face brightened.

“Thank you so much, Professor. It'll be in by next Friday, I promise.”

“Now go, the group for Hogsmeade will leave soon.” She nodded and walked off, smiling and blushing at Harry as she passed him. “Hello, Harry.”

“Hi, Professor.” Harry said, his cheeks red from the cold.

“What do you need?” 

Harry looked nervous as he held up a piece of paper.

“Could you sign this for me, possibly? Please, Professor?”

I sighed as I looked at Hogsmeade permission slip, “I'm not your guardian, Harry.”

“You're as good as.”

I smiled, “While I appreciate the compliment, I'm still not. You'll have to stay behind today, I'm afraid.”

“Okay, it's okay Professor. I'm gonna go say goodbye to Ron and Hermione.” Harry walked out, nodding to someone as he passed. “Professor.”

“Do you think that if we could've taken Harry, we would've stayed together?” A deep voice asked and I tensed, shutting my eyes tightly.

“I'm not sure. I guess you'll have to ask yourself. You're the one that left, in case you don't remember.” I said coldly, staring out the window of my office to avoid eye contact.

“You won't look at me.” Remus shoved his hands in his pockets.

I shrugged, “You'll survive, I'm sure.”

“Did you help Sirius escape?”

I looked at Remus, bewildered, “Are you actually asking me that?” I stood from my desk. “The audacity you have, Remus.”

“You didn't answer me.”

I stared at him, “No, I didn't.”

“Then how is he out?”

I laughed sarcastically, “Lord if I know. You should go, I don't want to talk to yo-”

He cut me off by slamming a piece of folded parchment on my desk. I gasped at how close his face was before glancing down at the parchment.

“The Marauders Map.” I whispered, softly brushing over the paper I spent so long working on with my best friends. “I haven't seen this in years.”

“I haven't either, until I caught Harry and Snape in the hall. Harry was holding the map, he said something interesting.” I looked up.

“What did he say?”

“He said he saw Peter Pettigrew on the map.”

My eyebrows furrowed, “Peter's dead.”

Remus reached into his pocket, “Well, that's what I thought.”

It was silent while I thought before I pulled open my drawer and rummaged through papers.

“Ron he has a - uhm, he has a rat. It's a family pet, they've had it for years. Ron said it was twelve. That's awfully long for a rat to live, isn't it?”

“Twelve years? Yeah, that's long.”

I pulled out the daily prophet from the summer, the one with the picture of the Weasley family in Egypt.

I pointed at Ron, who was holding his rat, “I knew it looked familiar.” Remus leaned forward and studied the animal.

“We need to ask Ron to see Scabbers.”

I shook my head, “We can't, Scabbers ran off. Ron thinks Hermione's cat ate him.”

“Peter better wish that cat did.”

“You said you found the map with Harry and Snape. What was going on with them?”

“It's quite funny actually. Snape was trying to see into the map and instead it insulted his nose.”

My face dropped and I sat back down with a sigh. “Leave Severus alone. You can go now.”

“Since when did you call him Severus?”

“Since he was there when you weren't. I said, you can go now.”

“Are you going to kill me, Harry?” I heard Sirius say and I glanced at Remus before he burst through the door.

“Expelliarmus!” Remus yelled, causing Harry's wand to fly from his hands. I caught it midair, holding onto it tightly. Remus nudged his head and Harry squirmed away. “Well, well, Sirius, looking rather ragged, aren't we?’

I scoffed, “I think you look fine as ever, Pads.”

“Must you always argue with me?” Remus scolded and I rolled my eyes as he looked back at Sirius. “Finally the flesh reflects the madness within.’

“Well, you'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you, Remus?” Remus lowered his wand and smiled before helping Sirius up and pulling him into a tight hug. I yelped as Sirius grabbed my shirt and pulled me In. Sirius began to cry, “I found him!”

“We know.” Remus reassured. 

“He's here!”

“We understand, Siri.” I said softly. 

“Let's kill him!”

“No!” Hermione yelled and my head snapped to her. “I trusted you!” She y

screamed at Remus. “And this time y-you’ve been his friend.” She turned back to her friends angrily. “He's a werewolf!”

My eyes widened, “Wow.”

“That's why he's been missing classes.”

“How long have you known?” Remus asked, stepping towards her.

“He really knows how to scare them.” I muttered to Sirius, who nodded. 

“He's one for the dramatics.”

“Since Professor Snape set the essay.”

“Well, well, well, Hermione. You really are the brightest of your age I've ever met.”

“And you!” She pointed at me and stumbled back slightly. “We loved you! Since first year you've been like a mother to all of us! But you're with him?” She said defeatedly, glancing between Sirius and I. 

“Hermione, things aren't the way they seem. I trust you to believe that.”

Sirius threw his hands up impatiently, “Enough talk! Come on, let's kill him!”

“Wait!”

“I did my waiting!” He screamed.

“Sirius.” I said softly, gently grabbing onto his arm.

“Twelve years of it… in Azkaban!” The floor creaked loudly as we looked back at the kids. Harry stepped back slightly.

“Very well. Kill him.” Remus decided, handing Sirius a wand. “But wait one more minute. Harry has the right to know why.”

“I know why!” The boy said angrily. “You betrayed my parents! You're the reason they're dead!”

“No, Harry, it wasn't him.” I told the boy.

“Somebody did kill your parents. But it was somebody who, until quite recently, I believed to be dead!”

“Who was it then!”

“Peter Pettigrew! And he's in this room! Right now!” I glanced at Scabbers who squirmed in Ron's hands as Sirius yelled. “Come out, come out, Peter! Come out, come out and play!”

I gasped as Severus came in, wand up and pointed at Sirius, “Severus, don't!”

“Expelliarmus!” The wand in Sirius’ hand clattered on the ground. “Ah, vengeance is sweet.”

“Severus, you don't understand.” I tried but he ignored me.

“How I hoped I'd be the one to catch you.” 

“Severus, it…”

“I told Dumbledore you were helping an old friend into the castle, and now, here's the proof.”

Remus looked confused, “I haven't been helping Sirius.”

I took a step forward, wand in the air, “It's been me.”

“Brilliant, Snape. Once again, you put your keen and penetrating mind to the task, and as usual come to the wrong conclusion.”

I rolled my eyes, “Sirius, shut up. You've tormented him enough.”

“What?” Sirius glanced at Remus who shrugged.

“Severus, we can talk about it.” I yelped as Sirius shoved me back, Remus grabbed onto my arm to stop me from falling. 

“If you'll excuse us, we have some unfinished business to attend to.” Snape pointed his wand at Sirius’ neck and Remus gasped, holding his hand to his mouth.

“Give me a reason. I beg you.” 

“Severus, don't be a fool.” 

“He can't help it. He comes by it naturally.”

I glared, “Sirius, I said shut up, for fucks sake.”

“Oh, shut up yourself, Y/n!” 

“Oh look at you two, quarreling like an old married couple.”

“Why don't you run along and play with your chemistry set?” Sirius sneered and Severus dug his wand deeper into Sirius’ neck. 

“I could do it, you know. But why deny the dementors? They're so longing to see you.” Sirius’ face flashed with disdain. “Do I detect a flicker of fear? Oh, yes. A dementor's kiss. One can only imagine what that must be like to endure. It's said to be nearly unbearable to witness, but I'll do my best.”

“Severus, please.” Remus begged as Severus pointed out the door.

“After you.” Severus nudged his head at the teens, urging them to leave. My eyes softened, he wanted to protect them as much as he wanted revenge on Sirius. I lowered my wand.

Harry took a step forward, raising Hermione's wand and pointing it at Sirius. Sirius grimaced before Harry turned it to Severus. 

“Expelliarmus!” He yelled and the spell hit Severus straight in the chest, shoving him back into the old bed.

“Severus!” I ran over to the bed and levitated the top off of the man. I looked over him quickly, he seemed fine, just knocked out cold. 

Ron and Hermione yelped in surprise as Harry pointed the wand at Remus, Sirius, and I, “Tell me about Peter Pettigrew!”

I sighed to myself as we walked out of the Shrieking Shack. Ron cried about his leg as Sirius apologized for it. Peter squirmed in between Remus and I. 

“Y/n, may we have a proper conversation?” Remus asked quietly.

I gave him a soft smile. “Once we get outside.” He nodded and smiled back. 

“Y/n, my dearest friend-”

I whacked the man with my wand, “Sock it.”

“In fact, James more than once suggested that I make the change permanent.” Sirius said. “The tail, I could live with, but the fleas are murder.”

I snorted, “Tell me about it.”

“You're an animagus too?” Harry asked, glancing back. 

I nodded, “Of course, I am. Illegal though, so that's why you've never known.”

Once we got outside Peter began begging to be let go. 

“Ron, I was a good friend, a good pet! You won't let them give me to the dementors, will you?” He asked and Ron grimaced in disgust, he turned to Hermione. “Oh, sweet girl, clever girl. Surely you won't let them-”

Remus pulled him away, “Get away from them.”

“Remus.” I called and he turned to me as I walked towards him and the trembling Peter. “Let's talk.”

Remus sighed, “What I did was-”

“Vile? Cruel? Totally dim witted?” I suggested with a smile. 

“Yes, all of those, definitely the last one.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We went through something no one should have ever. Neither of us were very close with our family, all we had was our friends, and they were all taken from us in less than a month. We should've gone through that together, we should have had each other. And I'm sorry for taking that from you.”

“Remus-”

“No, it was wrong of me. I love you, Y/n. I've never not loved you.”

I glanced at the shining moon slowly coming up over the mountain, “No, Remus-"

“You don't need to forgive me-”

“Remus the moon!” I cut him off, pointing behind him.

“Harry!” Hermione called, catching the attention of the boy and Sirius. 

The moonlight shone brightly on our faces, and fear settled in my stomach as I watched Remus’ pupils dilate. 

“Sirius!” I called as the man rushed over. 

“Remus, my old friend, have you taken your potion tonight?” Sirius questioned, coming up next to me. We held onto Remus tightly as he groaned in pain.

“You know the man you truly are, Remus!” I tried.

“This heart is where you truly live!” Sirius placed his hand on Remus’ heart. “This heart, here!”

Remus moaned loudly, pain overtaking his body. His wand dropped to the ground as he doubled over.

“This flesh is only flesh!”

“Remus!” 

Sirius and I held tightly onto the man as he pushed against us. His body transformed into the ugliest of creatures as he yelled painfully. His yell slowly turned into a growl. 

I turned to the kids, “Run! You guys, run and don't stop! I'm serious, now is not the time to be a hero! Go!”

Remus growled, his full form taking shape as he threw Sirius and I back. I yelled in pain as my shoulder hit a rock. 

“Ah, shit.” I looked up at Sirius. “Are you alright?”

He groaned, “I've been better. When was the last time you were a lion, dear friend?”

I shrugged, “It's been a while.” My head snapped as I heard the werewolf howl and Hermione yelped. “They didn't run.”

Sirius smirked, “Did you really expect them to?”

I shook my head as he took his dog form and sprung ahead. I sighed and tried my best to become my animagus. It's been quite a while. I smiled to myself as I felt my features change and my senses become sharper. I let out the loudest roar I could muster, before jumping to help Sirius.

I watched quietly from a tree as the sun came up over the mountain. The werewolf grumbled and let out a final howl before its human form took over. 

I jumped down, walking over to Remus’ body and nuzzling it with my head. He woke up, rubbing his eyes tightly. 

“Y/n? Is that you?” He asked, his voice hoarse. I growled quietly, dropping a blanket into his lap to cover up before turning around, suggesting he get on my back. It'd be easier to get him to the castle as a lion, rather than a girl. 

He sucked in a breath, likely gazing at the large gash across my neck. 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, his fingers grazing the cut before carefully getting onto my back. 

I carefully ran up to the castle, taking a secret passage to his office. He hid completely under the blanket as I sauntered up to his room. Once we got there he carefully got off, and I immediately transformed back into a human. 

I groaned at my aching muscles and went to crack my neck, but instead I was met with a sore, wounded neck. 

“Ouch.” I muttered, glancing at Remus who was putting clothes on. “Are you okay?”

Remus looked at, his eyes immediately finding the wound on my neck. I felt self conscious.

“Are you?” he asked quietly, walking towards me.

I shrugged, “I'll survive. Also, I forgive you.”

Remus’ eyes softened, “You do?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I got over it.” A certain sadness came over his face. I stepped forward, our faces almost touching, “You know what I've never gotten over though?”

He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing mine, “What?”

“You.” I whispered, before kissing him. It was soft, and passionate. It made up for all the kisses I've missed these past twelve years.

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Oooh! I think I got a fun one. Can I have some headcanons for the lamb? He was walking around one day and encountered a tall human who wears a cloak with lamb horns? He doesn't know their human until they remove their hood (Also the reader is nonbinary because gender gets boring sometimes :]) (Also I headcanon that humans are either nearly extinct or the all of them live underground.)

- Kneecaps Anon

Aw I adore this idea!!

Also this will take place in the early days of Lamb's cult (where they're still getting the hang of managing followers, rituals, etc...definitely long before slaying and indoctrinating all the bishops)

...........

While Lamb was crusading through an unknown part of the Old Faith, they came across the ruins of a village that looked most peculiar. Much unlike previous ones they've discovered.

The homes, although desecrated, were far bigger than ones Leshy's followers would live in. They could barely reach the doorknob!

So they continued to investigate, before noticing someone emerging from the bushes with a bag and bloody dagger.

It's you, a mysterious tall figure wearing a cloak and sandals. But what intrigued them the most were the horns that poked through your hood.

They were unmistakably a lamb's horns.

At first they were hopeful that another one of their kind survived the slaughter...although when they called out to you, you stopped and stared at them in bewilderment.

"W-Were you talking to me?"

"Of course! Are you a lamb, too?"

"...ah...I'm sorry to say this, but no. I am not." Realizing who this was upon seeing the Red Crown, you uncovered your hood, revealing that you were in fact human. "I can understand why my "horns" led to you to believe that."

"That's too bad.." They frown, before expressing surprise that a human was still living in these lands...believing that they've all gone extinct.

But you politely corrected them on the matter.

"There used to be a lot of us, living in villages just like this. My ancestors had treaties with the Bishops until they were attacked by the One Below. And for whatever reason they chose to take their anger out on us, demanding that we go live in their domains or perish. Obviously we refused and, well...now this little village is the only proof we ever existed here."

"I see.." Lamb grimaced. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you the only one left?"

"Yeah. This place thrived for generations, invisible to the eyes of the Bishops, but all my friends and family either died off or fled to some other land, unable to cope with the constant feeling of danger all around us. Though I wanted to stay because I didn't want those false gods to scare me away from my home." You end your somber tale with a determined huff, still smiling. "But yeah...it sucks, but I've managed to survive for this long...so.."

Seeing as your views aligned with theirs, Lamb immediately invited you to join their cult, promising you safety and better living conditions in exchange for your devotion.

But unlike the more simple-minded animal followers they've wrapped around their finger, you weren't so easily convinced.

Although you admired lambs, you didn't like how this one was basically giving you the same ultimatum the Bishops once did to your ancestors: Join or perish. It seemed quite hypocritical.

In the end, you request to see the cult first and decide for yourself.

They oblige..but unfortunately for them, that means they can't just warp you there and use omnipresence to return to the temple grounds quickly.

But they knew they'll have to earn your respect and make a good first impression--and dropping you through a demonic portal's not exactly the best way to do that.

When you finally arrived, you were impressed by the architecture and the temple...

As well as all of Lamb's followers who flocked to you, awestruck at a newcomer like yourself. Some were familiar with your species, others have never seen anything like you before.

Regardless, they shook your hands in greeting, being fascinated by your cloak and how your hair looked, asking you so many questions that they nearly overwhelmed you.

You haven't gotten this much attention in years!

Lamb was lowkey jealous and pushed them all back to give you some breathing room.

The adorable creatures won your heart over, and you agreed to follow Lamb's teachings faithfully.

They simply changed the colors and symbol on your cloak to match those of the followers. You still kept the horns, as they found no reason to get rid of them.

Afterwards they showed you around, only to realize that you'll need some major accommodations if you were going to spend the rest of your life here.

You couldn't exactly take the mattress from your village here, and the little beds/shelters were too small for you to comfortably sleep in; and grassy gruel and berry dishes weren't going to sustain your hunger for long.

Nevertheless, they vowed to meet your needs, though they also worried about how well you'll fit in and get along with everyone--considering you're the only human.

Later around sundown, you noticed one follower (the only one who didn't greet you this morning) sitting in front of a makeshift grave with a depressed expression.

Lamb explains they've been stuck that way since their indoctrination several days ago, being the sole survivor of a massacre. The grave was that of their lover, who was murdered right in front of them by one of the Bishops themselves.

The sheep learned what happened via mindreading..but apparently it was so traumatic, they spared you from the details.

However, they expressed frustration in failing to convince this follower to move on and start contributing to the cult.

They've exhausted every possible effort at motivating them: inspiration, random gifts, even a funeral service was conducted (and for someone who wasn't even in the cult)..but nothing worked.

Lamb was starting to get angry, but quickly calms down and just reassures you not to worry, instead trying to show you where you'll be sleeping.

"Wait, do I have permission to approach them, Leader? Maybe I can help them out."

"....I doubt it. It's like talking to a piece of stone....but you have my permission to try." They allow you to go, wondering what you'll do differently.

You just went over to the follower and introduced yourself, sitting beside them for a few minutes in the hopes your presence would comfort them.

At first Lamb thinks you're wasting your time, but somehow....you got that silent follower to actually talk about their lover and all the good memories they had together, getting choked up by the end.

You offered them a hug, which they accepted as they buried their face into your chest, sobbing their little heart out and wailing over the cruelty of the Bishops.

It filled you with both sorrow and anger, wanting nothing more than to see their blasphemous empire crumble because of the grief they brought upon this one follower alone.

Meanwhile, Lamb's standing there just..completely shocked, especially after you calmed down the follower and bring them over to them.

"F-Forgive me, my Leader, if...I was being a nuisance by not listening to you." They apologize. "If you want me to start working right now, then I shall. I feel okay enough to do so. Whatever you need, just say the word."

"Wha...??? But....n-never mind. You're forgiven, [F/n]. For now just get some rest." Lamb dismissed them, and only after they've gone to bed do they turn to you with comically-wide eyes. "By the One Below...how did you do that???"

"Dunno." You shrugged. "I guess all they needed was a hug."

"...then why didn't they just ask me for one???"

"They probably didn't know they needed one until now. But I figured your mindreading powers would've anticipated that."

"...are you insulting the might of the Red Crown!?"

"I mean no offense, Leader." You chuckle, patting their wooly head. "Now, where will I be sleeping?"

Although a little irked, Lamb quickly got over it, relieved that you were able to help that follower...how ever you managed to do it.

You had a selfless heart, and that was a good asset to have in the cult.

Why were they ever worried? You'll fit in just fine.

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧

royal reader x royal guard Yeonjun

Warnings: descriptions of punishment that are akin to torture, mentions of wounds, I think that’s all but please let me know if not!

Note: This is kinda all over the place and not much happens really but it’s something to read? I've been sitting on this since February and I just want it out of my drafts lol. Inspired by a scene from my favourite book series.

Word count: 833

It had been somewhat of an ordeal to be standing on the outside of the castle gates this night. It had involved sending the personal guards posted outside your bedroom on a wild goose chance for invisible intruders and outsmarting the watchers who patrolled the great gates. You had gone to a lot of trouble to leave the castle walls, but with urgent cause.

The night was chilly, the freshly fallen snow covering everything in a layer of white that glowed in the moonlight. Beneath your cloak, however, you were stiflingly warm, with both the stress of your mission and the pace you had set, though your heart was pounding at a much quicker speed than your boots on the cobblestones. There were few people on the street at this late hour, but you did not wish to attract the attention of those that were—you would surely be recognised if anybody stopped you to enquire of an emergency.

Once you had passed the light of the tavern and slipped into an alleyway, you felt assured you were safe from curious eyes and broke into an almost run, careful still of the frosty surface beneath your feet. You weren't all that concerned with your own safety at this time, but still aware that if you were to slip and break, say, your neck, your little expedition would not go unnoticed.

As the alley came to an end beside the baker's shop on the corner of the square, the scene unfolded before you just as you had imagined it. Still, it stole your breath more than the exertion and the cold air combined. In the center of the square, on one knee, arms shackled outstretched above his head like a bird's wings prepared for flight, was your oldest companion and object of your heart.

You had grown up beside Yeonjun; your fathers were the closest of friends and he had been the only other child inside the castle walls. The two of you had shared everything, been there for each other through everything - from the death of your mother to the the loss of his father, from his initiation into the royal guard as he followed in his father's footsteps, to your father marrying again and, most recently, his death. Yeonjun was the only person you knew was a genuine friend. He never asked anything of you, always told you what he really thought, only ever saw you for who you were. There were no pretences.

As you approached him your concern grew stronger. His raven hair hung in his face, his head drooped low against his chest. His shirt, too thin to be of any use against the dropping temperature, was stained with blood and torn in places, revealing shredded skin. The evidence of his punishment, forty-eight hours of penance in the square and one hundred lashings. Your mouth grew dry at the realisation that these were only the injuries you could see; most of the lashings would have been delivered to his back.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stirred, his head lolling to the side to see who might be coming—his punisher or a sympathizer. You lowered your hood, and it seemed to take a few moments before he recognized you—or maybe that you were really here—having gone without food for so long and likely being in a great deal of pain. His arms, which had been shaking, suddenly stopped. You knew he was trying to protect you from seeing the state he was in.

Yeonjun's eyes focused as you stood in front of him, and you could tell that his lips had been bitten right through; blood glossed the otherwise dry skin, and you imagined they weren't only dry from from the cold air but from panting and gasping with pain. He looked pale even in the soft glow of the warm lamps that lit the square. You knelt so he wouldn't have to strain his neck any further to look at you. His breath came out in a fog as your heart wrenched. This was just one more thing the queen had done to break you.

“I thought I might see you here,” his voice was gravelly, not the one you were used to. This was the most ragged you’d ever seen him. "Though I had hoped I wouldn't. You shouldn't be out here alone—"

"I'm in better shape than you," you quipped, trying to lighten than the mood. He always put your wellbeing above his, but in this situation you couldn't bear to hear it.

He tutted, but his eyes looked a little brighter. “You always are. Where’s your new guard?”

“I outwitted him,” you replied, proudly.

Yeonjun scoffed. “I knew I should have gotten the job. You’ve never been able to outsmart me.” It was good to see that in this condition he still had his good humoured nature about him.

Your mouth twitched with a smirk before you changed the mood with solemn words. "I would've been there. I tried to come to the trial as soon as I heard, but Stepmother had me barred.” You watched as Yeonjun awkwardly tried to bring his other leg forward to take his weight, noticing the holes that had formed in the knees of his pants from kneeling all day. "I tried to talk to her but—“

Yeonjun’s eyes flashed with worry. “You need to be careful around her."

"I know," you said quietly, looking away from his eyes while trying not to look at his wounds. “What did she sentence you for? Nobody would tell me.”

“I spoke against your betrothal," he sighed, more fog filling the air between you. Your eyes met his again hearing this. “I thought I was in good company, but I guess even friends can betray you for the chance of earning the queen's favour." Now he was the one to look away. “Forgive me, princess."

"There's nothing to forgive. You know how I feel about him.” Glancing around to check there was no one close by, you placed your hand on Yeonjun's knee. It was freezing and the skin that peeked out through the ripped fabric was almost at breaking point. You wished you could have brought something, even just a blanket or some food, but coming here was a risk in itself. It was more than likely that if anyone helped him in any way, Yeonjun would be the one punished for it.

"I was gone for some days. I knew there was a chance that…”

Your hand gently patted above his knee. “I’m still as indifferent about him as when you left." A hint of a grin flickered in the comer of his mouth.

Yeonjun had been chosen by the king, your father, to be one of the guards to escort his coffin to the royal crypt. Your father had always had his own love for Yeonjun, as if he was the son he never had. He was favoured among the guard, and the other men knew it. They also knew he held your favour.

Your stepmother, the queen, on the other hand, held no affection for him. With your father gone you were her bargaining chip to forge alliances with. You would marry whoever she saw fit, whoever offered the most advantageous union. It was clear she held no love for you, either. But of course, your heart belonged to Yeonjun. You were certain he knew, deep down. Sometimes you were sure he felt the same. But then he would switch to his professional persona, completely change his demeanour and leave you second guessing yourself.

“We should both be more careful,” you thought aloud.

You realised his arms had begun to shake with the strain again and you wished you could do something, anything, to soothe him. You wanted to reach for him further, but you thought better of it.

"Yes," his voice was serious again now. “You shouldn't be alone with a man, especially at night."

A burst of laughter broke from you and you spotted a flash of the whites of his teeth. “You’re not a man, you’re the boy I’ve spent my whole life with. Besides, what are you going to do? You can't move your arms.”

“You always aim for the low hanging fruit,” he chuckled.

A rush of wind came, causing Yeonjun to tense and wince, closing his eyes tightly. You moved your hand from him, afraid of adding to his struggles. "Is it unbearable?”

He looked up at you under the tips of hair that the wind had tousled into his eyes. "Not while you're here."

The sound of laughter came from a nearby establishment as the door opened, capturing both your attention. The light that spilled out from inside was warm and inviting, and you turned to see your dearest friend’s eyes laden with longing, probably picturing the blazing fire in the hearth, as were you.

You looked up at the long board that held his wrists in shackles. You had seen it before, of course; it was a permanent fixture in the square since your father had married that terrible woman and submitted to her views on punishment. Perhaps these punishments had never been necessary before she became queen, as nobody had ever had any treasonous feelings towards your mother or father, and neither of them were the kind to use torture as a method of penalty. You had never attended these new dealings of punishment, always scheduling your tutor at the same time to be in order to avoid being made to go. Thus, this was your first time seeing a person in this position. “I wish I could get you out of here.”

Coughing brought you from your thoughts, racking Yeonjun’s exhausted frame. “Only, what? Thirty-six hours to go? I’ll survive.”

“You’d better,” you quipped, doing your best to keep the worry from your voice as you felt you needed to keep up with his humour to help him through.

“Was it terribly boring without me?” The question was delivered with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yes,” you looked away casually. “There’s been no excitement whatsoever. Except the queen making plans for celebrations we can’t afford and firing staff who have worked in the palace since before I was born.”

Yeonjun wasn’t only trembling from the stretch of his position but also the cold of the night; his breathing beginning to shudder harshly. The thought came to you—the only thing you could do. Grabbing the ends of your cloak between your fingers, you knelt up to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled yourself in close to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, voice sounding both caught off guard and tired.

“Body heat,” you replied. You were thankful he couldn’t see your face as you said it. This was the closest you had ever been to each other, pressed so flush together this way.

He hesitated for a second before dropping his chin to your shoulder. You heard him sigh, before playing it off as a cough, ever the stubborn one. “You’re so warm.”

It was obvious that he wasn’t putting much of his weight on you, though he probably needed the relief after holding himself up like that all day, still on bent knee for the queen long after she’d gone back to the castle and gone about her day.

“I would stay with you all night if I could.”

Though the words had not passed between the two of you, you were certain he knew how you felt. Sometimes you were sure he felt the same way; adoring eyes and inside jokes, a hand lingering on your own longer than it took for you to step down from a carriage after your father had lead ahead. But then doubt always whispered in your mind. Could these not be the feelings of a close friend? A brother to a sister? A subject to royalty?

“I’m sure a princess has better things to do,” He teased over your shoulder. Suddenly his body tensed slightly against you. He pulled himself away from you, breaking the circle of your arms around his neck. “You’ve got company.”

You followed Yeonjun’s eyes to see the man who was now named your guard entering the square, the cloak of those in service to the queen recognisable even in the dimness of the moonlight. “Drat.” It took quite an effort not to roll your eyes as you turned back to your friend with a regretful air. “I’ll come back tomorrow night.”

“I don’t want you getting in trouble.” His eyes, full of sincerity but with that familiar sharpness that conveyed he really meant it, followed yours as you stood.

You wanted to make a joke, but you couldn't find it in yourself to lighten the mood at this moment. Instead, you simply nodded your head to show you understood, making no promises. Then you steeled yourself, gathering the strength to hold a neutral demeanour as you head towards the guard who would lead you back to the castle, hoping against hope that your stepmother had not been informed that you had been out of its walls. She would know without questioning that you had been to see Yeonjun. You didn’t let yourself look back as you left the square, though every part of you begged for you to turn around just once.

Back in the castle, guards posted outside your door, you couldn’t rid yourself of the shivers that wracked you. It wasn’t the cold—your chamber was still toasty from the fire the attendants had set earlier in the evening, still crackling gently at this hour—but the reality of the situation that weighed heavily on you after your outing. Looking around the room you were engulfed by an emotion you could not name—anger, guilt, sorrow?—on finding yourself amongst warmth and luxuries while he endured the bitter cold and harsh penalty beyond these walls.

Maybe the queen could sleep soundly tonight, but you would not. You couldn’t face the bed, the sight of the plush blankets and pillows tightening the ache in your chest that had only intensified with your visit. Shaky hands untying the cloak around your shoulders, you set yourself down on the floor, pulling it over your frame as you stretched out, your arm the only semblance of a pillow. The cloak was still wet where it had dragged through the fresh snow, but you didn’t care. Staring vacantly into the glow of the fireplace, your mind replayed what you had seen. You couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning of your troubles, as if you were on the precipice of something you were set to fall from. You would not let your stepmother take Yeonjun down with you.

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

[lunaredgrave]

The Legacy of Cressidia Part 3 - The Exile

Part 1: A Day of Normalcy

Part 2: Whispers of the Past

Summary: You finally come face to face with your stalkers, but they are not what you were expecting.

Themes: Fluff, angst, romance, adventure, mentions of abuse, trauma and loss

You kept walking into the dark alone but deep inside, you hoped Astarion was following you.

It was time for you to uncover whether your intuition was correct, or you were just paranoid.

You deliberately took the more desolated areas to truly lure them in if you were indeed followed. And hoped to the gods that if you truly were watched, they weren't too many in numbers.

You kept walking, holding your rapier tightly. The amount of street lamps started to dwindle as you got closer and closer to the forest near the village.

You kept walking, hearing your own footsteps in the night. But eventually, a few other footsteps followed.

You stopped and listened.

Then suddenly, behind the trees, an elf and a dragonborn appeared, wearing all black with their weapons drawn.

Bandits or something else? you asked yourself, as you scanned them.

Suddenly right behind you, a voice in the dark cut through the night like a dagger.

“Took you long enough to realize you've been followed.” the voice of a woman said.

You turned your back. The woman with the hood you saw at the tavern and two other humans were waiting. You were surrounded.

“The Hero of Baldur's Gate, but couldn't even notice a measly little rogue behind her tail for two months. Is this truly the daughter of the famed Isidora Blackstrand, the Empress of the Flames?”

You froze in your place and your eyes widened in shock when you heard that name. Nobody ever knew who your mother was. You never told anyone, not even your teachers in the bard academy knew.

Your heartbeat got quicker and you felt blood, rushing through your head.

“Who in the hells are you?” you asked.

The woman continued as she laughed, “I can't believe you made yourself walk towards an ambush.” She said and snapped her fingers “Just like that.”

Suddenly an arrow flung through the dark, hitting the elf behind you right in the shoulder. The elf screamed in pain.

Everyone was suddenly surprised by the attack. But you smiled. Astarion was saying hello, in his own way. He was around and invisible.

The woman wagged her finger and chuckled, “Ha! Should've known your little friend would follow.”

You took out your rapier and smirked, “Well, I always say starting conversations with a few drinks and a few nice words is better than following someone around for two months. But I suppose you were too shy to ask me out.”

The woman looked at her men. “Ease your weapons, lads.”

The men dropped their weapons and the woman got a step closer to you.

“I have no intentions to kill you.” the woman said seriously.

You shook your head in disbelief, “Yeah, that's not really believable, is it?” You showed the men standing around you, “I mean, if you look at this picture right now.”

The woman just sighed, “Well, It's been 26 years. I had to know what you've become, your morals, and your mindsets. I needed to know if I could trust you.”

“Will you tell me who the hells you are, or should I signal my friend to send in another arrow through your head?” you growled.

To your surprise, the woman slowly got on to her knees and removed her sun shaped brooch that held her cloak. Then, she removed her hood from her face, revealing an older human lady. Her face was covered with scars, yet she had beautiful and elegant features. She had long, curly chestnut hair with a lot of white strands.

You were set aback by her sudden kneeling down. Was this some kind of a joke? Why the hell was she kneeling in front of you now?

“You know me. But you do not remember.” she said, shaking her head slightly in sorrow.

You took a step towards her to see her face more clearly. There was familiarity, but also a complete strangeness.

She smiled while hiding her grief behind it, “You were young. Innocent… She took everything away from you, just as she did to me.”

“How do you…” you couldn't finish your sentence.

“I used to braid your hair and put flowers all over it. You loved it so much. We used to sing all the time… Gods, you’d never stopped singing. You'd make a song about everything.” She kept smiling at you.

Suddenly, a chill ran down your spine. You knew this person.

“N-no way… You're dead!” You exclaimed. You slowly held the clothing in your chest, tightening it to calm yourself down. “No… Impossible…”

The woman slowly got up.

“Not dead. Not yet anyway. Exiled. Although I suppose she wanted me to die in exile.”

You looked at her blue eyes, the same as your fathers. The same as one of your eyes.

“Ellira… Aunt Ellira…” You finally said.

She smiled but her lips tightened with pressure, trying to hide their trembling. She was trying not to cry.

“You were lost for so long. Gods, I waited for your return for so long.” She said.

She came closer to you. But you were taken aback by shock so much that you just couldn't move. Questions rushed into your mind.

How in the hells was she alive? Why did she appear now? Why the hell was she following you for so long?

You only managed to ask one of those questions.

“W-why were you following me?” you stuttered.

Ellira shook her head again, “I told you already. Because I needed to trust you. You were only eight when your parents died. And you were taken by a Drow, for gods’ sake! How was I supposed to trust you? After I saw your name all over the Gazette 9 years ago, I had to find you. But you were always somewhere else. Needless to say, it's hard to track someone down when they are never staying in one place. Also, I can't set foot in Baldur's Gate, I'll be killed on the spot. But you… Everybody knows your name, but nobody remembers you, do they?”

Suddenly a more familiar voice broke the conversation.

“Will someone please tell me, what in the hells is going on?”

You suddenly flinched and looked where the voice was coming from. Astarion's invisibility magic fainted and he was standing on the top of a tall rock, ready to shoot anyone with an arrow.

You forgot he was there in the heat of the shock.

“Sorry!” You smiled slightly nervously. Astarion came down and walked closer to you, but he was still holding his bow, just in case.

“Well our family meetings are surely something else, aren't they?” You told Astarion, remembering the time Cazador's spawns ambushed you in your camp.

“This is my aunt. Ellira Cressidia. Auntie, this is…”

Ellira straightened her back and smirked, “Astarion, yes, your partner. I've been following you, remember?”

Astarion raised his brow and glanced straight at you, “Empress of the Flames? Taken by drow? Followed by your aunt?! And who the hells is this mysterious ‘she’ you're talking about? You have a lot of explaining to do…” he said, both confused and annoyed. “...darling.” he added, emphasizing the word a bit to show you his frustration.

And gods, you had one hell of a story to tell…

[magswrite]

five minutes

prompt: injury (august 28th). 580 words. @jegulus-microfic

As James stepped out of the portrait-hole, he felt the familiar shiver of the castle's nighttime cold fall over him. Around his shoulder's was his invisibility cloak, kept just-in-case, though he'd wandered the castle without it many times.

And he knew his way to the hospital wing like the skin on the back of his hand, all the little twists and turns you needed to take to get there, even in the dead of night.

It'd happened earlier that day, the fall. One second, Regulus was flitting through the air, perfect and poised on his broom as he chased after the snitch in a dive. The next—it'd been harrowing—he was falling through the air, arm clutched from the blow of a bludger.

James had watched it from the stands, feeling helpless.

Regulus had hit the ground, and hadn't moved for five minutes until Madam Pomfrey'd tried a new spell and he'd come-to, gasping.

This was the only time James had been able to sneak away, and now, as he crept through the castle's halls, he couldn't help but feel as though he was about to find Regulus dead, still lying there in one of the hospital beds, just as he had been on the pitch.

Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen when he swung open the door, and so he went directly to Regulus' bed. He was sleeping, eyes shut, body limp.

The panic crept back up.

He normally wouldn't have woken Regulus, but even the slow rise and fall of his chest wasn't enough to convince him. He had to see Regulus awake—hold him.

"Reg," he said, softly, nudging his shoulder.

Slowly, his eyes opened, blinking away. One of Regulus' hands came up, to wipe away the sleep. "Jamie?"

James sat down on the bed next to his legs. "I just—wanted to make sure you were alright."

"'M fine. Pomfrey even said I could go to classes tomorrow," Regulus said, voice sleepy.

James' heart swelled. "You were down for a while. Out there. Five minutes."

Regulus' eyes widened. "Like I said, James, I'm fine. Broken arm, Pomfrey had it fixed in minutes."

James hummed. "Still. I was worried. What if—"

Across from him, Regulus' eyes were burning. James could feel his own watering, tears nearly springing up. Regulus reached a hand out and grabbed onto James' shirt.

"I told you, I'm fine. Not going anywhere. Very much still here."

James rolled his eyes. "I thought for a moment you weren't."

Regulus went quiet, at that.

"I thought for a moment nobody would know, about this. That you wouldn't know—"

James cut himself off. Regulus looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"That I wouldn't know what?" He asked, voice soft again.

He swallowed. Then, it came spilling out of him, like water. "That I love you."

"Oh."

Regulus was very still on the bed, for a moment. Then, he pulled again at James' shirt, pulled him a little closer.

"What're you—"

"—Stay. Please? Just for the night?" Regulus asked.

James nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course."

He curled onto the small part of the bed not occupied by Regulus' body, then wrapped an arm around Regulus' shoulder.

"Ow—fuck." James moved his arm away quickly. "J'st sore there," Regulus mumbled.

"Sorry," he replied.

Then, just as Regulus was about to drift off, James heard him mutter, "Love you too. By the way," in a barely-perceptible voice.

James hummed, satisfied, and then fell into sleep himself.

[ladyhallen]

Outsider POV/Sanctuary Snippet

Ron Weasley

Ron's brothers told him, years ago, that there was an exclusive clique in Hogwarts.

If it was the twins telling him, then he wouldn't have believed them. But since it was Bill & Charlie, he took it more seriously.

"A clique?" a young Ron would repeat. "Like, an exclusive club of friends?"

Bill and Charlie exchanged glances. "A bit like that, yeah. If you don't like them, at least be polite, okay Ron? Those guys have a reputation."

Ron had thought an exclusive group of friends seemed kind of strange to be scared about. Then he got to Hogwarts himself and realized that his brothers might have a point. In his first year, when he'd been a bit oblivious, he hadn't really noticed. Then, Hermione Granger got involved and suddenly, he was friends with her and Harry Potter.

That was when he noticed the group of friends who weren't exclusively bound to any house and were strangely invested in Harry's grades.

At least, he thought it was just Harry's grades. When Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban, he thought he saw a rotation of them watching over them. Specifically, Harry.

"You're not imagining things," Hermione said, looking thoughtful. She would have sounded sour, but she was too curious for her own good. Ron knew she could handle things, but he had heard the rumors that his brothers had thought they could keep away from him.

Rumors of bullies suddenly going quiet. Kids personalities changing after being dragged away by one of Them...

Ron knew Hermione was capable, but he liked her the way she was, bossy and smart.

"Hermione, I know you're curious, but..." Ron tried to say but she ran off to the library.

Ron exchanged glances with Harry. "Or we could just ask?" Harry said, sounding uncertain. "Mom always said we can ask if we don't know. No need to seem stalkerish and stuff."

Ron knew from Harry's stories about his home that Lily Potter's relationship with James Potter was fraught with misunderstandings of stalking. To be fair to James Potter though, Ron thought privately after he heard about it, if he had an invisibility cloak that good, he'd probably do something worse with it.

So, before Hermione could be dragged away to have her personality transplanted with a houseplant, Ron and Harry resolved to ask Them what that was all about when the opportunity arose.

.

.

This is just a misunderstanding, but lmao. Sanctuary kids giving out free therapy to bullies and unhappy kids and getting misunderstood.

[avengerthoughts]

When The Sky Falls - Pietro Maximoff x Reader

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Authors Note: Hello! I honestly had a lot of fun writing this, and it's been in my drafts FOREVER, so I hope you like it ! At first I intended to write this into just a single shot, but then I got carried away with actually writing it, so it'll have to be a multi-part series. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Non-Graphic mentions of past torture, general sad backstories that comes along with villain origins. Tony's kind of an ass in this, I'm soRRY !!!! kind of star-crossed lovers ????

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Prompt: Like the twins, you were a HYDRA experiment; your powers focus mainly on healing and wound transferring. Your past is a dark secret for Tony, and what happens if he finds out when it's too late?

Words:  4,783

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War.

That's what united the three of you. Having not only Ultron in common, but also HYDRA as well. You had arrived at Hydra first, but the memory of how you wound up there, or anything predating, was nothing but a dark abyss. The only memories that managed survival were early memories of experimentation. Injections, tests, so many that there isn't even a number anymore.

The twins arrived at the same facility years after you had, and since they were kept in the cells next to you, friendship was inevitable. You never got to see them while you were kept captive by HYDRA scientists, but you had little things. Small cracks in the walls, holes that were barely big enough to fit a finger through and sometimes even smaller than that. It may not have been much, but it was enough, and the happiness it provided was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You'd never really had a friend before, then.

Naturally, those within HYDRA weren't too fond of the yapping you three did, and you had found out the hard way the first time they overheard a conversation between you and Wanda. As a consequence for disobedience, they had punished you harshly as a result, despite the pleas and the apologies that left your mouth as they dragged you off.

They had done such a number that you couldn't see properly for a week straight after, and could barely move enough to retrieve your daily food rations. After that, you three learned to only talk when night fell. While no one kept prisoner within HYDRA's walls were ever privy to the beautiful night sky, it was easy to tell when night had fallen. The staff would thin out, and what staff remained would be more focused on their 'important work' than three measly prisoners in the corner.

Still, on their first days you managed to give them a quick run down on things before they had caught you that day. When the best time to sleep was, what to look out for in their meals in case they tamper with it, and how if they ever got hurt too badly all they had to do was sit beside one of the finger-sized holes in the wall and you'd be able to heal them by just touching them. Your first punishment though is what prompted them to ask why you couldn't just heal yourself.

Truthfully? It was the one question you could never answer, and neither could HYDRA. Whatever powers ran through your veins went completely null whenever you used it on yourself, except for the psychic shields. That was the only thing, so it sort of balances out, in a way, but after that they felt a bit more protective of you. The three of you have been inseparable ever since. Along with your healing abilities came an ability to, of course, use psychic shields (or force fields as they're more commonly known by), but also light forms of telekinesis, and an ability to transfer a persons injuries to your own body.

HYDRA was currently training you in the ability to provide a cloak of invisibility to another person within your psychic shield, something that was proving a little more challenging to learn. Transferring wounds, however, is something you often did with the twins when your healing magic wasn't working right that day or you couldn't muster the energy for it, and they only figured it out when Wanda noticed a slight difference. When you actually healed them with magic, your hands would glow white, like an angel, and when Wanda had caught notice of it she was sure to ask you.

After that, she only let you heal her if you could with magic. In part because she couldn't stand the thought of you taking on her injuries, but also because she knew her brother was worse off, and that there was no way in hell that she'd be able to talk you out of transferring his wounds, not in a million years. However, it wasn't a one-sided friendship either, the three of you were there for one another in a way that nobody else could. Not even Bucky; even with his own experience in HYDRA, it still wouldn't be the same.

Wanda, Pietro, and yourself all lived it together, and that set the foundation for an unbreakable bond. It was no surprise when they broke you out of the facility after being released themselves, and it was even less of a surprise when you had followed them and joined forces with Ultron. Their own trauma was separate from yours, and while you may not know what it's like to sit three feet from a bomb for two days straight, but you knew rage.

You knew anger.

And you were angry for them.

When they finally broke you out of the facility, it was the first time you had actually were able to see their faces, and them your own. It was also then that Wanda had granted you with memories of the past, and the memory shards she had when she uncovered a bit about your past on her own (lots of face-punching got her those memories). Pietro was gentle with you then, giving you the biggest of hugs. While Pietro already had a special spot in your heart, your time together with him solidified it.

You knew you were in this together with them, no matter what. You fell for him, and you fell hard, but you always focused on giving your friends the revenge they deserved.

What you didn't know, is that Pietro knew.

Well...

Kinda.

He's not exactly the smartest guy around when it comes to dating.

He thought your crush was more superficial, like you didn't REALLY like him, like you just thought he was hot and that you were just looking for fun.

Did that make any sense? Did you even show any signs that you were even interested in that kinda stuff?

Absolutely not, he's an idiot, but, ya'know, he's your idiot.

He makes up for being an idiot by being a fucking gremlin (read: he makes it a personal hobby to tease you a TON, and to see just how much he can make you blush like an idiot in a day. Shared idiocy, if you will, just a town over. Idiotcity, and idiotvile.)

Wanda has tried many (many, please just pay her for her matchmaking services at this point) to explain things to the both of you; explain to her brother that you like him for more than just his stupid biceps, and explaining to you that her brother is an idiot (but a sweet idiot. Most of the time-).

The thing is he likes you too, more than he lets you see, more than he's even told his sister, and every single day he fights the urge to just sit you down and spill everything to you even though he thinks you won't return his feelings to the same degree. And everyday you do the same.

A weird love limbo (that sounds weird, maybe not a limbo, maybe like....love purgatory??).

It got worse when you had fallen into a style you liked; practical in nature, for all the fighting you'd be taking part in, except for all the white. White leather pants so you could move without worrying about anything showing that shouldn't be, but you kept your top small and skin-tight, because running raises body temperature, and you're more of an agile, keep-dodging-swings-like-a-roach-you-can-never-kill person than someone who drenches themselves in combat.

And boots that actually were practical boots and not New York Fashion Week boots. Your sleeves were detached from your actual top; starting at your elbow in a silver cuff, translucent fabric hugging your forearm comfortably to a tie around your finger, while the other part of the sleeve billowed down to your side, sort of medieval royalty style, and boy did you look like fucking royalty to him.

Even now, he still can't help but stare at you, captured by how beautiful you look. In all white like an angel, but decorated in silvers and blues like an elf.

Elf angel?

Heavenly elf?

He doesn't know, all he knows is that you're drop dead gorgeous, and he loves the way you look so divine, and the way your top hugs your--damn it. Don't look there Pietro, are you a fucking idiot? (yes.)

That being said, he flirts with you.

A lot.

Sometimes just because he can, but mostly because he really really (REALLY) likes you, and can't help it. Naturally, you actually flirt back.

That's how your damnation into the love limbo purgatory was birthed, really. It put the both of you in this odd place of no PDA has actually been exchanged, but you flirt often enough that Wanda has to make fake throwing up sounds to get you two to stop half the time.

The thought of you actually being in love with him never actually crosses his mind with any substance, not even when Wanda tries to explain it, he's always thought it was more of a superficial crush because....well, frankly, he doesn't think he's good enough for you.

It sounds crazy, he knows, The Amazing Pietro (cue muscle flash here) insecure?? Feeling something more than just thinking you're cute, more than just....liking you as a friend. It's a strange feeling, strange enough that it's not like anything he's felt in the past. It's real, this love he feels for you, and maybe....just maybe....he's scared of losing you if he says anything.

It shows prominently when The Avengers meet the four of you in the Salvage Yard. Since you didn't have that excellent of offensive powers, you had hidden in the shadows, kept a psychic field on Wanda to make sure nothing hurt her, and just when Ultron was giving a speech from a place of deep seeded hatred, Tony had showed up just in time. Cracking witty jokes, as if everything was just peachy.

"This is funny? It's what, comfortable?" Pietro had questioned as he stepped forward, and you kept a precautionary field around him, "Like old times?"

"This was never my life." Stark had defended, and you narrowed your eyes as you stepped forward in turn, but stayed behind Pietro.

"No?" You questioned, "But you supplied it, you funded it; took black-tie pictures next to the military officials that were peddling the devastating weapons you created; caring more about the girls around your arm than the families you were killing." You tilted your head, knowing you were getting into his.

It didn't take like for all hell to break loose, and in the chaos Captain America had sent his shield flying at you when you had made a move to use your psychic shield around Ultron. While Wanda was quick to use her own powers to take him down, it wasn't in time to prevent the shield from crashing into your abdomen and breaking a rib or two, and the subsequent piece of metal you crashed into as a result of the shield's velocity.

A broken rib and a gash in your side might be enough to take a normal person down, but HYDRA has done worse to you. Still, Wanda helped you up and made a mental note to check back in on you when all this mess was said and done. Thanks to your time with HYDRA you'd grown used to tuning out the pain for small waves of time, and combined with the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you had no problems putting a psychic bubble around Pietro as he fell to the floor below, just to be sure he wouldn't get hurt.

When Wanda left to do her mind tricks on the Avengers, you jumped down to a slightly dazed Pietro, and Cap giving him blow and telling him to stay down. A strong emotion of protectiveness overcame you and the next thing you know, you're encasing him in a psychic shield and flinging him across the room.

"Pietro!" You exclaimed, rushing to his side, "Pietro, are you okay?"

"Ah," Pietro sighed, shaking his head a little to try and center himself again, "Yeah, yeah I'm good." It wasn't until he had actually moved his head to look at you that he saw the blood staining the white of your attire, and his eyes widened in both worry and fear.

"Princessa," He uttered out, moving closer to you, hands already at your side to inspect the gash "What happened? How bad are you hurt? Which of them did this?"

"I'm fine, silly boy," You shook your head, placing your hands on top his, "When the shield hit me, I fell onto something sharp, that's all. I'll be fine. A rib is definitely broken, but Hydra has done far worse to me, it's nothing I can't handle. I am a tank, very strong." You jokingly flashed your arm muscles to lighten the mood.

Pietro had looked at you skeptically, not fully believing that you were as okay as you were making it seem. There was a good amount of blood still staining your otherwise white top and he couldn't help but question whether or not you were telling him the truth, and the little jump of fear in his heart got the better of him. He held eye contact with you as his grip got just a bit more firm.

"Promise me you'll watch out more, okay?" Pietro practically begged with puppydog eyes that tugged on the strings of your heart just right, "You cannot heal yourself, but you can still use your shields. Care for yourself as I care about you, I've lost a lot, I can't lose you too, okay? Just...promise me?"

"Hey," You spoke softly when you noticed his eyes pooling a little, even as he tried to blink them away, and you moved one of your hands to cup his cheek, "I promise, okay? I'll be more careful."

In all the time you'd shared together, he'd never actually saw you injured before, not even in Hydra. Sure, he could hear it, hear your screams from down the hall, hear your groans of pain when they threw you back into your cell, but he never actually saw anything, and seeing that large cut in your side and all that blood staining your top? It struck a chord in him, and he realized he couldn't live without you.

He also realized he couldn't live without getting to punch Captain America in the face for that whenever he got a chance to.

Which he did, after you two had both gotten up to help Wanda make sure she could spin her webs of fear.

It's a good thing that HYDRA managed to successfully train you in that invisibility thing before you were broken out, because it came in handy when cloaking Wanda from Thor after she had finished putting her spell on him, and Natasha so she wouldn't hear her coming, but you weren't there in time to protect her from Clint. Pietro got there first, literally flinging him across the room after seeing him hurt Wanda (and winning a Best Brother Of The Year Award), and quickly took Wanda to safety to recover.

What Pietro didn't know was that you had lingered behind to bend down to Clint and let him know that it was very mean to electrocute unarmed foes.

"That wasn't very nice of you," You scolded with furrowed brows, "Were you just going to electrocute her to death? I believe that's illegal in what, at least 20 states."

"No offense, but I'm not taking lessons on morality from back alley Shee-Ra." Clint groaned, "Maybe next time if you got the cape on."

"Shee-Ra?!" You nearly screeched with excitement, "You really think so?! I love Shee-Ra--wait, old stuff or new stuff?"

"What?"

"The old Shee-Ra or the new Shee-Ra?" You asked before sighing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, old man. I'm the original Shee-ra and you, my not-friend, are healed."

What are you-" Clint questions as you put your hands on him, healing the rib he was recovering from. "What?"

"There. That wouldn't have healed on it's own, not properly," You explained calmly, standing back up, "I don't want people dead, I just want my friends to have justice. Please do not do that brain thing again, we are not prisoners on Death Row."

You moved to leave the office you both were in, ready to leave a very confused Clint questioning your motives and true nature, when darkness hit you. Ultron had decided to take you out himself when he saw that you had healed the enemy. From there you were taken onto the jet with the rest of the team; in part to question you, but also to do you the same courtesy you did Clint. If you'd been left there, you would've been killed by Ultron himself.

Clint had explained the whole....encounter to the team, and while they were all wondering why you were really with Ultron then if you'd been so willing to heal Clint, they still kept you in handcuffs. But they put the seatbelt on you too. When you woke up, it was the next day and while everyone had already emptied into the 'Safe House', you were kept in the jet. Naturally, being the enemy is reason enough, and there was no hope for release until one of them came in and started the interrogation.

Wiggling out of the restraints was pointless too, and it hurt. Now you were reminded of your wounds, and as a result their pain now that you didn't have the adrenaline to help. They even parked the jet so they could leave the door open without you actually seeing the house. Nothing but sticks, grass, and branches as far as the eye can see. In the silence, you wondered if your friends made it out okay, if they completed their plan, if they were missing you, what Ultron would tell them both.

Would they forgive you?

Would they kill you if they saw you?

Would Ultron lie?

Was what you did truly so awful?

If you don't get out of here soon you'll never know, you'll die from an infection first. And you were hungry, starved (quite literally). Would they even feed you? Probably not, right? I mean what's the reason to? You're the enemy, allied with people actively trying to destroy them, if anything they should kill you after interrogating you. That's not the style of The Avengers, though. They'll just let you rot either in prison or in a SHIELD cell, where you'll probably be experimented on like you were at HYDRA.

Thor was gone, Natasha was pretty much out of commission, and Tony had been sent to fix a perfectly working tractor, it was left to Steve to question you. Thankfully, Steve came with lunch though, so it made it less anxiety inducing to see him walking up to jet's ramp to set the plate in the seat beside you.

"I know you must be hungry," Steve speaks, releasing you from your handcuffs so you could eat, "When we're done talking, there's a medkit inside, whether you go inside to get it or it's brought to you, depends on you."

You eyed him suspiciously, quietly, wary of his kindness when you should be held prisoner right now. What angle was he working? Was this something that was going to be held over your head later? That's what HYDRA would do. Then they would kill you. Or they would kill your family in front of you, maybe pluck out an eye, and then kill you. The polite smile he offered didn't help either, and you couldn't help but slowly put the plate into your lap, eyeing it for any suspicious activity before returning your gaze to him.

"Why?" You question, not taking a single bite of food until you know for sure it isn't poisoned, "You're being kind. Nice. Why?"

"You don't want to hurt people. I mean sure, you're with the bad guy," Steve shrugs casually, eyeing you, "but...you don't do what the bad guy does. The only time you engaged in combat was when I had hit that guy, and Clint hit Wanda, you were only on defense because you care about them. You weren't hitting to kill."

"You could've thrown me into a sharp pole, or killed Clint when he was down, but you healed him, helped him. Why?" Steve continues his questioning and you look down, pushing the broccoli around.

"You may not have hurt me, mister Rogers, but my friends are angry with you....so I am angry with you," You had begun, "We shared time together, in Hydra."

"Hydra?" Steve questions, and sympathy is written on his features.

You nod.

"Yes. Wanda and Pietro joined of their own accord, but....I didn't." Your brows knitted together, setting the plate back on the seat it was previously on, "They put....things, in me ran tests on me, experiments, I was their Guinea Pig. A rat in their maze. Then Pietro and Wanda joined, and we just...bonded. We went through everything together."

"So you feel obligated to help them?" Steve questions, but you shake your head.

"No." You begin, lifting your head to gaze at the trees, "I mean yes and no; we're friends, so of course I do, but it isn't my only reason. Do you know how horrifying it must be for two kids to sit mere feet from a bomb? Children. Children never deserve to experience that kind of horror, and Stark funded the military's selling of weaponry on the black market for so long, whether he knew it or not is a different story."

"Then what's the other reason?" Steve asks, and you're silent for a moment.

"It's....complicated." You tried to reason when faced with the idea of unpacking everything.

"I was alive during the second World War, and I don't look a day over 30," He spoke, trying to lighten the mood a little before looking at you a bit more sincerely, "I promise, no matter how complicated it is, I've got you."

"Well...Truth be told, for the longest time I didn't have memories before being in Hydra," You confessed, turning your gaze back to the trees, "I couldn't remember who I was, where I came from...who I came from, nothing. All I could remember was Hydra, and all the pain they've caused. I still don't know how long I was kept there, you could tell me I was in there for a thousand years and I'd believe you." You offer a soft chuckle, looking back down at your hands.

"I'm sorry," Steve says sincerely, voice stern, brows knitted together, "You didn't deserve that, I'm sure your family will be happy to know you're okay."

"That's the thing, mister Rogers," You paused for a moment, tears stinging your eyes as a sudden wave of emotions flooded you at the memories you'd been trying hard to forget again this whole time.

It's a bit ironic; you'd been wishing for years for even just a small fragment of a memory from your past, anything before your time in HYDRA. Anything, even just something as simple as a playground in summer, a sandwich made from your mom, anything. You would've killed for it. And now? Now you'd do anything forget them. When you wished for your memories back, you didn't think they'd come with so much pain, so much sorrow.

You were thinking you'd get happy memories; ones of getting an ice cream with your mother on a hot day, or a high school graduation, your mom taking you dress shopping for prom, attending a holiday dinner with family...Instead, what you got were memories of why you were taken in the first place; your mother spending most of your childhood trying to keep you in hiding, and the memory of hearing her screams as you were dragged off into a van before a gunshot was heard.

"Wanda--the witch, when her and Pietro had managed to secure my escape, she..." You took in a deep, shaky breath, "She has many powers, and she's not evil, she's not bad, she's so sweet," You nodded, mostly to yourself, as you looked back up at him, "She helped me remember, gave me my memories back with a single touch, and then shared with me the memories she had when trying to dig up information on my past for me."

"That was...awful nice of her, I'm glad you could get them back." Steve said quietly, hanging onto your every word.

"It was, it is," You nodded again, blinking back tears, "Can you imagine how much it hurts, to wait so long to remember your family, wait with the hope that if you ever escape you can see them again, just to find out they're dead?"

Steve was silent, but his gaze flickered down to his lap for a moment, taking in a breath, before looking back up at you, "I'm sorry, really, I wish it were different for you."

"Me too," Your tears fell freely now, "My mother spend my entire childhood trying to hide me from the men of Hydra, worked herself to death to move us so often, to keep me fed and clothed, and you know who my father was? The person who could've stopped it all?"

Steve was silent for a moment, trying to do the math himself, "Who?"

"None other than billionaire, playboy, philanthropist himself, Tony Stark." You finally confessed.

"You mean-"

"Yes. I mean." You took in another breath, "She tried to talk to him in person, and you know what he did? He had his security throw her out. She tried calling, sending letters, even emails, and guess what the genius of our time tells her?"

Silence fills the air as Steve simmers in shock, trying to take in everything, trying to reason his way through things like he always did to come to his own conclusion. He didn't think you were lying, he's too kind-hearted for that, and your tears of pure agony told him you were truthful. What he was trying to do was figure out if Tony really would do all that, or if maybe it was just a series of misunderstandings.

Steve has a habit of trying to see the best in people who aren't actively trying to destroy the world, and Tony was no different, even despite their differences. He knew HYDRA was serious business, and by extension he knew how difficult it must've been for your mother to keep you hidden from them for so long, and how incredibly strong and intelligent she must've been for doing so.

His brows furrow together as he thinks. No matter what the case is, misunderstandings or not, that's a horrible thing for a kid to live through and an equally horrible thing to be told. He couldn't imagine how it must've felt to be a single mother, trying desperately to keep her child safe from those maniacs, just to be thrown out by the same man who helped bring that child into the world in the first place.

"What does he tell her?" Steve asks, and he almost doesn't want to hear the answer.

"He comes to the apartment we were staying in and tells her that she's crazy and needs serious help. He tells her to stop contacting him, hits her with a restraining order, and then he takes one look at me and then look my mother dead in the eyes and tells her that there's no way a kid like me could've come from him. Says 'that thing isn't my problem', and that if she calls contacts him again he'll have her thrown in prison."

Steve is silent.

"My mother died trying to protect me, to save me from the horrors of that place. She never contacted him again. Stark never bothered to take a DNA test either. So my family is dead, and yes, I have my own motivations for wanting to see the his fall."

"That...That wasn't right, I'm sorry, for everything." Steve says, and steals a glance outside before returning his gaze to you, "Look, you're free to leave the jet, okay? Med-Kit is on the dining table, and Tony's out working on a tractor or something right now so you should be able to dodge him for now. I'll make sure the team knows you're good, okay?"

"Thank you." You speak quietly, returning the smile he gives you before leaving the jet himself.

Leaving you questioning many things, but most of all, what will you do now?

[fics-a-plenty]

A First Hunt (Part Two)

Yautja x Human!Reader (Both GN)

Word count: 1,016

Okay, so this wasn't at all what I had planned got part 2, and I kind of got carried away. So I'm currently working on a part 3. And that will (hopefully) be the last part of this little blurb.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The air was tense as you exited the ship. It was different from Earth, but you couldn't describe exactly how. The knowledge of what was gonna happen once you left the safe area sent chills down your spine. You eyes looked up at your mate next to you, their now masked eyes looking back. With a simple nod, their invisibility cloak enabled, and you watched as their body disappeared from view. You could still feel their presence, and that was a small enough comfort for you.

Your eyes turned back to the thick trees before you. Taking a deep breath, you took a step forward and made your way into the forest. You couldn't see your mate, but enough training and time together let you hear the faint signs as they followed behind you. As much as you wanted to focus on them, you knew that you needed to pay attention to the world around you instead.

You tuned into your surroundings, listening to the strange calls of what you would assume to be native birds. You could hear a water source nearby, and you decided on checking it out to see if you could get an idea on the type of wildlife in the area. You honestly weren't even sure what was out here that the Yautja had decideed was good enough for you to hunt. They couldn't have thought you would be able to take to on the same things as Yautja hunters your age, right? You gave your head a quick shake, trying to get rid of the idea. You trusted that your mate wouldn't put you in that sort of danger, especially without giving you some sort of warning. They seemed so sure that you would succeed that it couldn't be something that hard.

You were able to position yourself on a small ledge above the river you found, sitting silently as you watched the water flow. Like the air pressure, the movement of the water just seemed off from what you were used to. You assumed that they were linked, but that's wasn't important at the moment. Along with the movement of the surface, the murkiness if the water made it impossible to see if anything was waiting just under the surface, which is why you had chosen to keep your distance. Your attention went back to the task at hand as you watched something, that your brain logically linked to a deer, step out of the trees. It was fairly small, much smaller than the things your mate and their fellow hunters would bring home. It wouldn't be the most magnificent trophy, but if it got you back to the safety of the ship, you would take the chance.

Of all the planets you had been able to visit at your mate's side, this one was the most off-putting by far. If you had taken a photo from an Earth jungle and compared it, the two would look incredibly similar. It was those slight differences though that were currently putting your brain on edge, leading you to just want to get off this planet. So, you reached to your waist to grab the combistick from it's holder, deciding that to just get the hunt over would probably be the best. As you went to pull the weapon way from your hip, the feeling of pressure prevented your movement, your eyes darting down to see lines like heatwaves holding your hand down.

You looked up, confused, at where you knew your mate's head would be, wondering why they would stop you from taking the shot. It was then that a loud commotion from the river drew your attention back. Your eyes made it back in time to watch a large, crocodilian creature dragging the deer into the water by it's head, the poor thing probably having gotten to close to take a drink. You panicked and pain filled sounds squeezed your heart, but you couldn't look away from the gorey scene. At least not until the surface of the water had returned back to its previous state, with the addition of a large red cloud that was currently running its way down with the stream.

"Good to know that we don't go into the water around here." You muttered to yourself, quiet clicks of agreement coming from your side. "Okay. So is there something specific I'm supposed to hunting for this? Am I supposed to be going after that... thing?" You asked, glancing back over in their direction after you didn't get a reply. "Oh right. The whole, you can't help or interfere, or else."

You were about to lean against them and groan until a shrill scream echoed through the trees, making your skin tingle. The growl next to you didn't help bring your heartbeat down, since it meant whatever made that sound wasn't something that had planned to run into during this. You instinctively moved to follow your mate as they began to move towards the sound, seeming to have forgotten about the current situation. You felt slight panic when you realized that the two of you would need to cross the river you were just observing, but your mate was quick to grab you by the waist, holding you close as they climbed into the nearest tree and used the branches to get across.

It wasn't until you were across the river that you began to notice the sounds that was passively vibrating for your mate's chest. You had never hear this mixture of excited and panicked sounds coming from them. That coupled with the fact that they were still carrying you though the trees made you worry even more.

"What are we heading towards? What made that sound?" You asked, trying your best to keep a good grip on them. Your hair seemed to stand on end as your felt your blood chill under your skin. The sound that had come from your mate would have been vaguely familiar, but the translator in your helmet saying the word was what had sent the fear through you. Xenomorphs.

[bigdvmnhero]

summary:

Mikey was turning twenty-nine and something in his chest was falling from a long height. Why weren't his brothers here, ghosting his cot, phasing through the walls, throwing his stuff around to mess with him, like they all agreed to do?

Haunt me, every part of him was crying out. Fucking haunt me already!

(Or: Leo and Mikey, in the bad future timeline)

words: 4036

—

The point is to look, it said, always at the edge of his periphery. Whatever it was, Mikey had a distinct feeling that this thing loved him, but one could never be so sure, in daydreams like these. You listening, pizza-for-brains? The blue flame licked into the air. What you pay attention to grows. And then Mikey jolted awake, and he was alone.

—

Three rules Casey knew by heart, at the not-so-tender age of sixteen:

Never travel alone

Spiderwebs lead to a safe haven, but someone will always come to collect a price

Nothing was more dangerous than a bored Michelangelo

Two months since anyone last saw him, and another more if Casey lost him now. Barely halfway into the memorial before the shadow turned heel, brushing past soldiers in their ceremonial garb and disappearing in a jangle of chains. Let him go, Case, Leo said, though the look in his eye said otherwise, said he would overlook this small betrayal, just for today, and Casey was sixteen now; what else did Leo want from him?

The sky here was a terror. The air stung Casey’s eyes. In the distance, Mikey’s cloak flickered between the crags like a fiery tongue.

Even further below, where the desert split down the middle, Kraang tech bled into the dunes like a half-sea. There were dozens of those monsters in that divide. But only one was important enough to pull Mikey’s attention. Casey knew it was special. That Mikey knew its name, the way it knew his.

Casey broke into a sprint.

There went rule number 1.

When Casey caught up—a miracle; there were no words for the way Mikey glided across the ruins—Mikey didn't turn. “Go home, Casey.”

Casey didn’t answer, because Mikey looked less bored now, more something else entirely. There was a new weight in his eyes. Casey followed, at a distance, and Mikey didn’t stop him after that; not when two Kraang ambushed them around the crag and Casey sprung forward to tear through their torsos—they were earth-born, tender, easier to dispatch. Oh, us as teens? We were terrible, Leo had told him once, we used to break into these gas stations, right, and uncle Mikey—he'd move things around the shop with his mystic stuff, pretending it was haunted, an absolute menace—Mikey pressed himself against the rock pillar, peering into a fist-sized mirror he’d summoned. Inside it, the Kraang were oblivious. But we were kids, you know? Kids are supposed to mess around. And that's what I want for you, too, Casey, at least, when this is all over—

A bird cawed overhead. “Some ceremony, huh?" Casey tried.

Mikey sighed. "Listen, Case. I’m not Leo. Wanna tag along on this field trip—fine. I won’t stop you. But that one?” Mikey licked his lips. Widened the mirror so Casey could get a glimpse. “That one’s mine, capiche?”

Casey was a second too late—rule number 4: always assume there's more; he kept forgetting that one—as another Kraang speared its body between them, some half-alien, half-machine horror. Mikey’s face remained unchanged. He flicked his free wrist once, and chains snaked around the Kraang’s hissing face, its torso writhing as muscle and cable alike bulged out.

We spoiled the hell out of him, 'specially Raph—the things he got away with, Case, I swear, like one time—but that's the baby brother, you know? It's in the baby brother contract. He could doom the world with his freaky mystic stuff—Leo gripped an invisible ball in his hands and squeezed—and it'll be just another Tuesday . . .

Finally, Casey found his voice, which cracked wonderfully down the middle. “We shouldn't—Leonardo-sensei said not to go alone." Chains tightened. The Kraang made a panicked bleat. "It’s dangerous to engage without—”

“Tell Leonardo-sensei,” Mikey said, the weight in his eyes sharpening into a spearpoint, a wild throw, “finder’s keepers.”

His fist closed. POP! Leo was saying, booping a young Casey’s nose.

—

Mikey was eighteen today, and Raph was still dead—two years going now—and as the birthday boy, he’d finally get to cuss to his heart’s content. Not that it was a particularly notable desire—he had plenty of those: a new kitchen; peanut butter, the chunky one, for it had been years; paint; pizza; pillows; Raph. When it happened, he was so sure his heart would stop, like those birds that one day just dropped out of the sky. But weeks later it was still there, still wanting things and wanting things.

Now it wanted to say motherfucker. Because it felt like a solid place to start. Crazy, but not too crazy. Because he'd never had a mother. Because Raph wasn’t here to give him shit for it, and he was eighteen and alive in an apocalypse for crying out loud; Mikey could do what he wanted.

He blew out his candles.

(Candle, singular. Donnie adjusted its angle on the moldy pastry. It was the last one Leo could find. Once, it had been dusted with powdered sugar for some girl's wedding, and Mikey loved it, to the point of hating it, something he never thought was possible.)

He cleared his throat. “M-motherfucker.”

Then he looked to his only audience, who nodded as if to say, go on.

“Ass,” Mikey continued. “B-bullshit.”

Leo politely stifled a grin.

“Dick.”

“A classic,” Donnie said.

“Crap. Um. Ass.”

“Already said that,” Leo pointed out.

“Bastard.” Mikey touched his own cheek; Splinter's spirit hadn't obliterated him yet. “Cunt. B-bitch.”

“Bitch,” Leo and Donnie echoed, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“Um… Damn. Hell. Douche.” He was on the cusp of something. With every profane word he released into the air like a bullet, his brothers’ faces split wider. “Horsehit. Moron—” They were all grinning now; a three-way mirror. “—Wanker. Crap. Shithead—” Like a switch, it began streaming out of him, a torrent no one could stop. Not even his brothers, who had stopped grinning and started gaping instead.

“FUCK,” Mikey added, with full feeling—that one was for Raph, who always wanted to say it, and Mikey’s heart lashed violently at the thought. He said it again. In one rapid-fire row. Tried screaming it. His brothers were still staring, but his heart poked its beak out his chest. It was doing that thing again. Wanting things: peanut butter, paint, Raph. Mikey wished Raph was here, so he could wash his goddamn mouth with some goddamn soap. Wished he could tell him everything. Or at least the highlights: Mikey was eighteen when he said fuck for the first time. He was 19 when he learned the joys of an ice-cold Asahi Super Dry after a Kraang beatdown. Or that he was 22 when Draxum finally took him under his wing, then 22.5 when Leo returned with a scraggly-looking kid and a shadow on his body where his arm should be; or how even later, at 28, when Donnie died—

—

When Donnie died—

—

After the annual memorial, the coffers opened and people passed around cups of rice wine, mochi, purple yam; the only time in the year they could splurge. It started with Splinter, who despised meaningless showy affairs when his family starved, then with Raph. Now all around came the sound of bottles cracking open in the name of Donatello Hamato.

Mikey felt his mouth go dry. He had the distinct feeling they all should’ve been underwater—something about his primordial turtle brain, something Donnie would say—but how would Mikey know, when Donnie didn’t haunt him, like Mikey desperately needed him to?

He pushed past Leo—he would ask Mikey to stay again, visit his brothers, maybe give a speech for the new recruits, but Mikey was never any good at speeches, that was Leo’s thing. Mikey’s thing was blasting every nasty Kraang within a mile radius of their hideout, disappearing for months, and disappointing his brother. He was getting pretty damn good at all three.

Casey—his hair all his mother’s, clumped with ash and oil—was watching him by a group of huddled civilians. Mikey offered a smile, but it was too late; kid looked scared of him. So he kept walking. “Mikey,” Leo called again, but Mikey kept his eyes ahead, already elsewhere, where Draxum was waiting in his hidden lab deep in the ruins of Mystic City. Mikey was turning twenty-nine and something in his chest was falling from a long height. It was still going, and until it stopped, how could Mikey ever stay? Those tombs were empty. And if they weren’t, where were his brothers? Why weren't they here yet, ghosting his cot, phasing through the walls, throwing his stuff around to mess with him, like they all agreed to do? Haunt me, every part of him was crying out. Fucking haunt me already!

—

The point is to look, Draxum said, at the thirty-second try. The plan was to summon enough chains to build the bridge for their supply route. No matter how much Mikey willed it, the braid never held. In minutes, his chains shattered in a shower of gold. The flames sputtered out for less.

Draxum slammed his staff on the ground. Again.

Mikey squeezed his left wrist; he was a livewire, power surging through the open channels every time he asked for it. Always too much but never enough. Something flickered in his periphery once, vestigial blue. Then it was gone. Maybe he was losing it.

His fists met the ground. One more time.

Draxum held his hand out. Before him, a patch of dead earth was peeking through the shattered floor. Nothing. And then: a green stem, curling like a question mark. The sound rasped through the walls. Then a pillar of mystic-enhanced vines mushroomed into the air.

Look beyond the blank page, Draxum instructed—Mikey had heard this spiel before, but it looked like Draxum would beat it into him until Mikey fried his arms to get it right. Dutifully, Mikey repeated it back: to use mystic power is to metamorph. It is seeing what can be borrowed, what is and has always been there. So do not be afraid of the empty page. See the nothing. And then—create.

—

“My turn!” Mikey squeezed past Leo to push his own head against the storm drain. For now, this was their turf; Donnie and Raph had returned to the lair. Humans partied for what seemed like days on New Year’s Eve, but rules were rules—didn’t matter that Mikey was now nine, Leo ten; bedtime was four hours ago. Rules, Leo echoed, that didn’t apply to them anymore, it was a new year, baby, and didn’t Mikey wanna see what was out there?

Of course Mikey did; the lair was getting smaller and smaller by the day, though he was never going to tell Splinter that. A parade was rumbling over the surface, confetti falling between the gaps of the drain. Too risky to open it all the way. But just watching was enough.

“Look, Leo!” Mikey held out the piece of blue paper he caught. Leo liked to play it cool, but he was wearing Mikey's same dopey, awestruck smile. With a jolt, Mikey realized he was looking at a mirror. “Omigosh. Are you seeing this, dude?"

“For the hundredth time, yes Mikey, I see it, I’m right here with ya," he said, more reverent than annoyed. Their shells bumped in the small chute. Their feet strained on the rungs, but this was practice, living in the not-yet-here. Mikey swooned, thought: someday, someday. He was nine and in love for the first time. Under his breath, Leo began to whistle along. And the city danced ahead, unaware of their affections.

—

The Kraang connected every brain to their system. Every dead soldier was a security risk. No one could know their hideout. “Whatever you need to do, do it. You can’t let them have my body." With his last breath, Donnie clasped Leo's neck and smiled. "Guess this officially makes me the cooler twin, eh?" And then he died, so Leo couldn’t argue.

Soaked with gore, baby Casey in the other arm, he met Mikey’s eyes back in the lair and instantly Mikey knew. Something terrible died in his face. The air around him cracked once, and then—a supernova. Even now recruits whispered about it. The Kraang fleet still burned behind Leo’s eyes, ash blowing across the ruins like fresh snow, where it would enrich the earth. In this way, they had new crops before the winter.

If Mikey hated him now, Leo couldn’t blame him. Let him think Leo callous; but the Resistance couldn’t fall, no matter what. He’d sentenced himself to its service a long time ago.

But maybe he should’ve explained things better. Maybe then he’d still have a little brother, who now walked the world searching for things that were no longer. Going places Leo couldn’t follow. After Raph, Leo remembered promising Mikey: never again. And then of course it happened again. Leo stopped promising things after that. How did you prepare for loss like this? The kind that left no trace—no body, no blood; a kind of unending death?

Leo wouldn’t blame Mikey. But if he had a do-over, he’d tell Mikey what really happened, like he did most things; that Donnie was magnificent, magnificent to the end; that he’d cracked one last stupid science joke before cleaving that Kraang fucker in two; that the bastard had hid an injury until it was too late, and that way Leo didn’t have to choose between him and the kid; that he’d choked out a, Mikey, you take care of Mikey—and of course Leo would take care of Mikey, did his brother know him at all? That he loved him and hated him all the same? Not like this, Dee, Leo begged, anything but this, but it was done.

—

Like Mikey said it would, the bridge was magnificent. It took a little less than 100 interlocking chains, each three feet in thickness, withstanding any kind of detonation or anti-mystic technology for at least half an hour. Their troops funneled in and out the supply route, unscathed.

Mikey reappeared in Draxum's lab after the mission soon after. He gave his piece, and the hair on Draxum's arms rose.

"Surely, you jest," he said, but Mikey didn't flinch. Something had shifted. All of him was an open channel, and Draxum could see now the chaotic churn of energy whipping around his elbows, transmuting everything it touched. It took a second for it to sink. Had they arrived? The glory that Draxum had prepared him for?

He’d mastered the kusari-fundo at fifteen. How to weaponize mystic energy at twenty. But a timegate? A timegate would take a hundred years, give or take.

“A hundred?” Mikey laughed, like this was a thing Draxum did, telling jokes. “Barry, come on.” Then he sat cross-legged on the floor, like they always did to start their training. “We’ll do it in ten.”

Staring into the sun of his face, Draxum realized Leo had been right. That Mikey had been spoiled by his brothers, the kind of sugar that was good for nobody. It was clear he wasn’t used to hearing no.

Mikey patted the ground in front of him. What was he seeing, that Draxum did not? These wretched turtles, playing god; they would be the death of him. Probably got that from me, he thought, sullen, and Mikey grinned at him like he'd read this mind, the kind of grin that belonged to someone about to get everything they wanted.

—

Before Mikey could leave again, Leo grabbed the edge of his cloak.

“There’s a kitchen. Oven’s working, I checked. We could use some real meals.” When Mikey only gaped at him, Leo winked. “Think you can manage something in an hour?” And then he disappeared in the pandemonium behind the portal, leaving Mikey alone in the empty university kitchen that the world forgot, where mold ate into the pipes and weeds sprouted between tiles, but Leo was right.

The oven worked perfectly.

He had bread rising in twenty. He would smell like butter for days, and wasn’t that a miracle.

A few minutes over an hour, Leo returned. They didn’t speak of the gore on his shoulders. Mikey passed Leo a rag and watched him wipe his odachi clean. Then he presented the sack of bread rolls without fanfare.

“We could feed a whole city tonight!” Leo laughed, then choked as Mikey shoved a piece without warning into his mouth while it was warm. Leo wasn’t slick; Mikey saw his mouth water, how he ducked into his own quarters when they passed the food basket around. “This is really good," Leo said, chewing thoughtfully. “Missed having you around, Mikey," he added.

There he was again, the brother Mikey didn’t recognize. A few years ago Leo would’ve blushed and spluttered and made an awful pun before saying anything as incriminating as that. Now it was Mikey's turn to choke at words. Life was funny that way; they were both thirty-something now, older than their eldest brother had ever been, and they were strangers.

Mikey dodged his eyes. “Been working on the gate. Won’t be too long now.”

“Why don’t you stay for a bit?”

“I—”

“Just,” Leo said, “just for a bit. Help me pass around the rations? We haven't had anything as decent as this in... well. It's been a while.”

Leo was beaming, hopeful, and Mikey felt it pull at his own chest. His shoulders loosened; muscle memory. When he followed Leo into the portal and stepped out, it was too late to realize the trap.

“No.” Mikey shook his head. “No, Leo. No.”

“I’m sorry, Mikey.” Leo tied the sack to his waist. “But we can’t afford not having you here, not anymore. I thought things would get better with time, but I shouldn't have just let things drift between us. I’m not going to ask again,” Leo said, the resistance’s Leonardo-sensei, the world’s greatest strategist and last hope. But for a flicker of a moment, he was Mikey’s brother again. “Can you do that for me, Mikey?” He thumbed Mikey's cheek. “They’ve been waiting.”

“Leo—I don’t want to be here,” Mikey said, but Leo’s hand was slipping, he was walking back into the light of the portal to leave Mikey alone with the lanterns that swayed from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the floor, rows and rows of lit candles lining the stone path, and Mikey knew, without looking, that on the walls behind him were pictures of April in her graduation toga, Donnie drooling on his lab desk, Raph and Splinter shoveling sushi into their maws; those young, impossible years and their even younger faces, the light dancing on them.

Mikey crumpled to his feet. “Please, I can’t, I can’t, please.” He wept and he raged for what seemed like hours, but no one would come. Not Leo, not with the anti-mystic seal barring him from the inside. He felt cored out, something hateful. But something else was animating him now, gently lifting his chin so he could look over his shoulder. His head was the heaviest thing in the world. But he lifted it anyway, into that empty and unbearable, and he looked.

—

It was a wasteland for miles, and Kraang Two was alone—exactly as scheduled.

Leo had been planning this pincer attack for months; they had to kill her now, or it would be another year of warding each other off. Casey took up the left flank, while April commandeered the right. At the center, the chaos winked through the fog of twilight, and for a moment Mikey was nine again, blinded by the bright blue of the world beyond the sewer.

The Kraang would come to him, Leo promised. In the meantime, Mikey gathered the sun in his fist.

This kind of fire always ended in scorched, hurting palms, but he knew better now. He'd gathered hundreds of fine-linked chains, almost thread-like, to wrap around his arm, one after another like chainmail. Still, the fissure ran like a needle down his wrist. Then it dug into his elbow, into his arm, but this was fine, it would be worth it.

He jammed his eyes shut to focus the flame. Then the pain was sucked back.

“Looked heavy,” Leo explained. He was holding a hand under Mikey's, sharing the weight. The fissure traveled up Leo's own fingers—up his arm, cracking his shoulder into a hundred fine pieces.

“I got this, Leo," Mikey hissed.

“I know you do. Thought I’d give you a hand anyway." And how did Leo make it sound so simple? He scanned the distance, watching their soldiers fight, watching Casey, the way Raph watched them when they were young and rowdy and impossible to watch; Mikey missed him so much his heart nearly gave out. Leo jerked his chin. “Check it out.”

Kraang Two stood over the carnage, giving a warning shriek as April's troops broke through her kraangified mob. A flock of birds soared over the field. As it passed, all their wings dripped ink-black, necks lolling to the side as they dropped one by one from the sky.

Mikey whistled, despite himself. “Awful weather today.”

"You’re telling me." A flash of steel. The full scorch returned to splinter Mikey's hand, until Leo was back to pull up the slack, something awful splattered on his sword. "Gonna do something about it?”

“Why? Gonna let me?”

Leo chuckled. “I don't know. Should I?”

“Your call, leader,” Mikey said, surprising himself. "Wherever you throw me..." The Kraang wasn't coming yet, but he'd dropped into a space where miracles were possible. The point is to look. So Mikey did, and when he turned he saw his brother, weary from the years and still so much a stranger, but the shape of him was still there, and oh, that was his brother. That was his brother. And Mikey laughed, because he missed him, because they needed showers, because they loved this world and it had failed them both. They would have to make a new one.

Their eyes met. Mikey nodded. They sunk into the portal together.

As they emerged, Kraang Two giggled from her safe vantage point. “Leonardo-sensei. Michelangelo." Fully armored, she towered over them both. “Or was it Mikey? That was what the purple one called you, wasn't it?”

If Mikey wasn't so focused on building his bomb, he would've said he had a nickname for her too. Not that it mattered. After this, she'd be nothing but a footnote.

“Another visit for little old me? I’m touched, I am.” She moved, and Leo blurred instantly, meeting her halfway with a screech of metal. The pain that plowed into Mikey's arm was apocalyptic. More chains slithered to protect him from the flame. Leo snarled. Mikey's arm burned white-hot. And just when he thought it was too much, it was suddenly not at all.

A flicker, just from the corner of his eye. Then something was smoothing over him, like cool water on stones, sealing the cracks in his arm. In his hand, the small ball of flame pulsed once, before it blazed to twice its size with a delirious cackle, and Mikey nearly toppled back.

Leo gaped; he was seeing it too.

A wet laugh fell out Mikey's throat. Finally, Donnie seemed to say, his hand working under Mikey's own like he was widening the valve for the flame. Then Raph's voice came, and Mikey's heart snagged around it. We doing this or what?

"I did quite miss this." The Kraang plucked Leo's blade from her thigh. The red blaze glanced off her armor, her eyes wild and wary. "You funny little turtles. Come closer, won't you?"

“Careful,” Leo said, laying his hand on theirs, the final piece of the puzzle. "I heard it bites back." And the flame shrieked with unholy laughter as they brought it down together, the sun itself, and by then Mikey had forgotten his own comeback; he was busy watching the sky shift, basking in the blue dream of it; the new world they were going to create.

[pickinglilahs]

Blackeclipse for the soul

The real reason there had to be two moons over break AO3 link if you prefer to read there Part 22; Part 23; Part 24; Part 25; Part 26

For breakfast, they asked the elves for another picnic and took it, along with Remus' new cushions, to the Shack. By 9 o'clock, the 3 of them were snuggled up and munching on an assortment of fruit.

They had to stay inside the Shack this Full, even with most of the student body absent. There was too much of a risk that someone would be wandering the grounds. So, they wrestled and played downstairs.

By the time the Full set, they were covered in dust and dirt. They brushed off and sent cleaning charms at each other before sitting down for a late lunch.

The cushions were stored in a chest to keep them clean, and the empty basket was shrunk to fit in James' pocket. They made their way back to the castle, where Poppy was waiting for them in the Entrance Hall.

She gave Remus a once-over, before nodding and sending them on their way. So, they returned to Gryffindor Tower, took turns showering, and lounged on the bed to wait for the feast to start.

~~~

Remus was taking his time packing up, waiting for everyone to leave so that Regulus could take the cloak off. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one waiting around.

Snape was lingering off to one side of the room. Remus, not wanting to deal with him today, made to leave; they could find some other empty classroom.

Naturally, as Remus neared the door, Snape cut him off. The room was empty now; the door swinging closed on its own.

Remus could feel Regulus' hand tighten around his wrist, but he just shook his head. "I don't want to deal with this today, Snape."

Sneering, the greasy git cut right to the chase, "I know what you are."

"What I am?" Remus laughed, not even hesitating. "And what am I, exactly?" The best way to deal with Snape was avoidance, he was almost certain the boy was trying to make him give something away.

"You're a werewolf." Snape managed to look both disgusted and gleeful. "Don't even try to deny it, I've been watching you."

Regulus' invisible hand disappeared from his wrist as Remus smiled pityingly at the other boy. "You've been 'watching me'? And you think I'm a werewolf?" Remus brought his voice down at the end, making his disbelief—and slight concern for the boy's sanity—clear.

"I know you are! You used to disappear every Full Moon, but now you just get tired which is a side effect of the Soulbond. You weren't at the castle during break, but you also weren't on the train. Those days also happened to be Full Moons. Not to mention your scars are indicative of a werewolf's tendency for self-mutation when locked up for transformations. The only thing I can't figure out is why you aren't mutilating yourself anymore. Even with the Soulbond, you would still need to spend time in the Hospital Wing and acquire new scars."

Remus blinked at him. Sticking with his avoidance tactic, he kept his voice soft and pitying, "You really are obsessed with me, aren't you? I can't imagine why. I always thought you were after James because of his pursuit of Lily." Remus paused, exaggerated his revelation, then, "Though, I suppose if it was James you were after all along, it would be natural to come after me because of our bond."

Snape was sputtering now, face turning red.

"Have you confronted Regulus as well? Is he a vampire? Or maybe a Siren? He is beautiful enough."

"This is not about Potter," Snape snarled. "This is about you being a disgusting monster."

He couldn't hide the flinch at that. He was a monster, and even if he could walk away from this without confessing, Snape could still tell people.

How many people would believe him?

Even with James and Regulus helping with the symptoms, he was still absent while the moon was up. Deciding this conversation needed to end, Remus sighed.

"What is it you want Snape? Are you going to run to Dumbledore? Tell the whole school I'm 'a big bad monster'?" He made sure to keep his tone mocking and discrediting.

Snape paused; Remus was getting to him. There was uncertainty in his posture now, even if his face was still set.

Remus took it and ran. "Look, I'm flattered by the attention, really, but why do you think they'd let a werewolf into a school full of children? I'm sure the board of governors and the Wizengamot would have something to say about that."

The spark of righteousness in Snape's eyes faltered.

"I suppose I can't stop you from telling the whole school, but I doubt anyone would believe you. Seeing me during the next Full Moon is all it would take for people to know you're lying."

A plan was already forming in Remus' mind; so, when Snape started to sputter again, he gave the git one last pitying look and stepped around him, knocking into Regulus.

He must have positioned himself in between them just in case. Remus smiled and rolled his eyes to himself as he went to the door, feeling Regulus' hand close around his wrist once more.

Down the hall, Remus glanced around and pulled Regulus into a broom closet.

It was occupied.

By James.

He was tucking the map away as Regulus shed the cloak. Remus threw locking and silencing spells at the door, sighing as James pulled him into his arms.

"What happened?"

Regulus' answering growl came as he too wrapped himself around Remus from behind, "Snape knows."

James stiffened and Remus was quick to add, "I don't think he'll tell, but we are going to need some polyjuice."

He could feel both boys' confusion and quickly went on, shifting around so he could see Regulus as well, "In that book you gave me for Christmas, it says they did a study with polyjuice. The person who changes into the werewolf isn't affected by the moon at all. I assume that, should anyone really look at that study, it will become illegal for anyone to turn into werewolves trying to hide their status. Not that there are a whole lot of people who would be willing to do that to help people like me but..."

James had already caught on. "Sirius."

Regulus seemed about to ask, but understanding lit his face as well. He shifted gears, "We don't have time to brew it."

"We don't need to; Slughorn has some in his office." James' pranking brain was whirling; eyes unfocused and hands twitching against their backs like they were working with something only he could see.

Once he started muttering to himself, Remus laid his head on Regulus' shoulder. "This might take him a minute."

He could feel Regulus' chest moving with a silent chuckle. He brought a hand up to brush Remus' hair behind his ear, dropping a kiss to the top of his head before resting his chin there, "How are you feeling, Moonbeam?"

Remus hummed, considering. "Exhausted, but more from the conversation than the Full, I think."

Remus felt Regulus' hum more than he heard it. As dysphoric as his height made him, Remus loved when Regulus held him like this.

Still, he turned his head into Regulus' shoulder, grousing, "It's not fair that you get to be so tall."

Regulus huffed, "Well it it's not fair that you hardly ever bleed; so, I think we're even."

An annoyed, disgruntled sort of sound came from Remus as he nuzzled further into Regulus' shoulder.

It was then that James snapped back into himself. He tightened his hold on both boys and grinned. "Lunch?"

Remus and Regulus rolled their eyes, allowing James to herd them out of the closet and towards the Great Hall.

~~~

Operation Discredit Snivillus

Regulus stays during the week randomly

Steal Aquire polyjuice from Slughorn

Warn Dumbledore of Snape and ODS

Tell Kinzie (and Siri)

Diversion Prank (Peter and Benji)

Check Thursday class schedule

Alibi for me and Reg (polyjuice girls?)

Monitor the rumor mill

Confer with Poppy

~~~

"Check Thursday class schedule?"

"Polyjuice girls?"

Remus only intervened on stealing the polyjuice, otherwise, he had left James to his list. Now that he had pushed it over for Remus and Regulus to inspect, they knew he was ready to explain.

By way of answering Regulus' question, he only said, "Next one's on a Wednesday."

Remus and Regulus nodded in understanding before Remus asked again, "You really want to bring the girls into this?"

James smiled deviously, "No. We bring the girls in for the Diversion Prank."

Regulus looked around Remus to James, "And what is this Diversion Prank?"

Impossibly, his smile got more devious. "Up to Peter."

Remus groaned and dropped his head on the table.

Regulus winced at the loud 'thunk' and cast a weary look at James. "I'm missing something."

Sirius, who had been engrossed in his conversation with Kingsley, turned to his brother, "Peter comes up with the...strangest pranks."

Regulus arched a brow at his brother, the marauders had done quite a few strange pranks over the years.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Like, remember when the quidditch pitch was wrapped with ribbons and bows? Or when there were all those bouncy balls on the stairs?"

James jumped in, "Or when all of the desks in the potions hall were stuck upside down and the chairs were stuck to the ceiling?"

Remus picked his head up and turned to Regulus, "It's not that his ideas are the strangest; it's that they're always the most involved."

"Ah."

Peter sat down beside Sirius with Benji, "Whose ideas are the most involved?"

Remus gave him a look and Peter smiled down bashfully and started to load his plate.

@starchasersunseeker @poetrypirate @niad4827 @bradley-95147-blog @shyshadows430

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

(part one >HERE<)

Part TWO of…. three?

aka: the Unstable Molecule Suit

Once more, as always, I say—

closeups under the cut:

—🕸️—

the unstable molecule suit... i posted the blue one already (f4 suits post) but the rest is new.

context: in 2015 (when peter and co are in their late 20s) johnny will design a special fantastic four suit out of unstable molecules (third gen) for peter, but they didn't get around to giving it to him right away cause life stuff, man-spider, other shit... (which reed uses as an opportunity to test some (stealth) features since no one's wearing this one)

(this was my first concept doodle for this before putting it on my shiny new spidey bod template i made recently)

(updated to lesbian reed version)

"Blue" (all the unstable molecule suits have codenames for voice commands lol)

check those milky white lenses... i particularly like that look actually. hard for me to draw but looks good

Peter gets a pop of red on account of being spidey lol (everyone else's soles are black and white) - you can see the blue is smooth and matte but the black is slightly textured.

i decided beside all the white glowing in the dark that they're reflective as well. you know, for safety.

and cause it looks cool

anyway

in 2016 Johnny dies. lol. and it's after that when the family gives peter his suit, after johnny's will and so forth... so peter never wears the blue one in the end (at least not more than once or twice), just the white/black ones... (actually he mostly mains the black version, mourning etc.)

reed designs the FF suits mostly by himself and if johnny weren't dead he would say they're fugly (there's no accounting for taste i guess):

"FF"

Here's the basic white and black version. Chose to go the glossy latex-look route for the blacks cause I think it looks nice, added a honeycomb texture on the white to make it look Cool and Futuristic (lol) This white version is the "off" version, aka, no stealth whatsoever. It's just the basic suit mode to replace their blue suits after Johnny's death.

shoes… split color soles for fun.

and all the white bits on this reflect too, again, for "safety" aka i just think it looks cool and it makes them hard to photograph.

lmao

anyway the black version:

"Stealth"

This is this universe's version of the stealth suit, and if anyone knows me they know two things about me: 1) I hate Dan Slott's writing and 2) I think the Big Time neon suit is sexy. So some of the logo design here is inspired by the logos Ramos designed for the Big Time stealth suit, which I think matches the aesthetic well. In the full version you can see one of the major things i took from the big time suit (aside from lighting up) for both black and white versions of my FF suit is extending the spider's legs to the tops of peter's thighs, as well as parts of the back logo.

feeties again.

Aaaand here it is, me 100% on my bullshit: obviously this is drawing directly from the Big Time suit, in being shiny black and lighting the fuck up, but in my case I adjusted the colors' purposes very slightly. So, when unlit, in its most mild stealth mode, it's just regular old reflective white, and it only moderately cloaks the wearer, mostly just making it a tiny bit easier to sneak. ironic considering it is hi-vis reflective but I love irony i guess.

red (...tbh, orange, really) is audio damping/muting which is basically exactly what it was in slott's comic, though it has mild visual cloaking.

green is the opposite and is mostly visual cloaking/invisibility, but has mild audio damping as well...

and the biggest difference here is the blue-white glow. afaict in the comics that just means it's like... off... lol but in this case i'm assigning it a special function which is as a radar/radio/sonar/etc. scrambler and signal jammer, so... signal cloaking.

three kinds of stealth!

also i didn't draw it but, like the big time suit, peter's mask allows himself to hear and see himself (actually not entirely true, he can't hear anything when it's red 90% of the time, reed's still uh... ironing some kinks out) and the suits use contact mics instead of traditional mouthpieces to help w/ comms in this regard... (not that it works when signal jamming is on)

the others also have goggles like the ones felicia has in the big time arc, that can be... materialized via the magic of unstable molecules lol and those do basically the same thing as peter's lenses.

the difference is mostly just that reed designed it instead of peter (but i'm sure peter is poking around in there anyway, and later on pete will be designing and coding his own suits into the unstable suit without reed's assistance no problem) (he took a programming class in college, you know)

(oh i also made a mod of the black one for the PC version of Marvel's Spider-Man Remastered, which is on the nexus: link

(it glows)

(i modified the chest logo slightly for this mod and i think i actually do like that shape better so i might update my timeline drawing to reflect that)

—🕸️—

SO

red and blue.

obvs the furthest left red and blue is just his standard suit, I put that there for comparison, and included the emergency mask w/ aluminized lenses which is also on the first post with his handmade suits of course

But there's also an updated version Johnny designed that's very very similar to Peter's handmade suits:

"Classic"

This updated version coded into the unstable suit is a slightly sleeker and slightly modified design w/ opaque high-tech lenses (w/ an internal HUD) but otherwise almost identical. One major difference is that it's totally seamless, and also the spiders are slightly different as well.

i just used a halftone brush to slap some texture on there, it's not a specific kind of fabric i had in mind or anything...

slightly different boots too. This design is actually basically just my previous/usual design I've used a lot for Peter, which you can see all over in my miscellaneous spidey fanart, with the arms and the boot shape and stuff, and i figured unstable molecules was a great excuse to bust it out again...

Bonus reflectivity:

And then is Civvies.

This is just regular civilian clothing for the suit to take the shape of when not in use etc. Johnny designs and coordinates the entire outfit down to the socks and underwear, for Peter, around the time he designs the blue suit for Peter. (aka like 6 months before he dies)

The watch serves essentially the same purpose, being a way to disguise the suit very discreetly in a way that lets Peter wear it at work, walking around etc. with any outfit he wants.

It's a Baume & Mercier Clifton Complete Calendar – starburst blue face (10057) – introduced in 2015 at around $5000 which... for a fancy watch is not too bad but is still $4990 more than Peter would ever willingly spend on a watch. Luckily it's low-key enough that it doesn't scream "I'M WORTH FIVE GRAND"

well technically it's a bootleg anyway since it's a techy fantastic four contraption inside, but it LOOKS like that watch and it's a nice match for peter's sense of style.

Now, anyway, wrt to the lining in the leather jacket, you may be thinking, hang on a second that secret spider and color scheme looks familiar—

No biggie it's just the jacket Peter gets gunned down in (you know, to death)

I would say I'm not doing that plot but technically that would be lying.

It's not the SAME but I'm def drawing some inspiration for later in Peter's life from this—but not until he's 49, and right now he's only 28 lol. So until then it's just a snazzy leather jacket his dead best superhero friend gave him posthumously.

Which brings Peter's leather jacket count up to I think... possibly 4 by his late 20s? 3 or 4, I'm not sure. He had the symbiote able to become a leather jacket at 17/18 but iirc he replaces that with a real moto jacket at some point... he has a shearling coat which is a leather of sorts, and he has flash's ESU letter jacket (wool and leather) by this time for sure, which flash gave him because peter's the one that graduated and flash stopped wearing it after dropping out freshman year like ten years before this lol

anyway

I think it's quite handsome. Normally Peter's not this uhhhh Hip and Fashionable, with the acid wash jeans and whatnot (typically wearing like, slacks, khakis and sweaters) but Johnny is much more stylish than him while still getting into Peter's kind of foxy bad boy underlying aesthetic.

Obviously it's fairly low profile externally since it's meant to be worn as real civilian clothing, so it can't have a bunch of spider-man crap on it if peter's going to wear it with his face exposed.

I drew some inspiration from racing-styled jackets since Johnny is the one who designed this outfit in-universe, so that kind of shape and cut made a lot of sense to me. General color scheme and, as mentioned, the spider embroidered onto the lining. is based off of Spidey's last stand though.

Acid-washed jeans, chelsea boots, more Johnny influence on taste here... well partially. I think Peter would like chelsea boots since they are understated, slip-on, and cover his ankles. Less relevant when it's all unstable molecules cause he doesn't have to worry about things like red tights or quick-changing his shoes after this, but, it's one of those things I think becomes ingrained in his style as he grows up.

Also every piece of the civilian outfit can be worn individually, combined with other real clothes etc., it's just convenient to have a whole outfit on standby.

The red briefs are Calvin Klein. just... fyi.

oh i just noticed i forgot to color in his leg scar on this one lol oops

anyway

"Super Slut"

aka...

the latex thong:

and peter's tits

Johnny thinks this is SO FUNNY and then he DIES before he has a chance to actually laugh about it.

even though it's a dumb joke this whole thing just makes peter kind of emotional lol.

Anyway you can also see that Peter has some remnant fuzz on the nape of his neck and part of his back from The Curse of the Man-Spider which is set almost exactly a year before Peter gets the gen 3 Unstable Molecule suit(s).

The happy trail and chest hair was always like that though.

A fun benefit of including this joke outfit is that I got to draw Peter's gnarly burn scar (which i also tossed onto the lineup w/ peter's fire resistant suit).

He ALSO has scars on both sides of his ribcage from Man-Spider btw

from the auto-amputation.

they look kinda like bellybuttons.

anyway that's it for the basic unstable molecule suit-suite :)

part 3 will show peter's later unstable molecule costumes that he codes into the suit himself, which are mostly black...

it's like. two suits. but i haven't drawn it yet. i'll toss a link into the comments when i do.

post three (Peter's suits after his aunt dies) is >HERE<

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Hi, I was hoping you could clarify something for me, I can’t remember, and I don’t have my hp books with me to double check. The Potters cottage in Godric’s hollow did that originally belong to Dumbledore? Were they just using it as a safe house? Where do you think the Potter’s are originally from?

The Potters' cottage is the Potters' cottage as far as we know and I don't think it was a safe house.

It's not exactly clear how the Potters were protecting themselves since Harry's birth seeing that the Fidelius charm is cast only a week before James and Lily's death. I would imagine a situation similar to the Burrow in HBP. You would think that without the Fidelius charm, they would use a house in a very difficult place to find but Godric's Hollow doesn't seem to fit the bill, therefore I believe we can easily assume they already lived there.

We also know the Potters are friends with Bathilda, and somehow I don't think the existence of that friendship would make much sense if when James and Lily arrived in Godric's Hollow they were already trying to hide Harry.

It seems to me like James and Lily's choice of living there was quite a free one.

What we need to remember when it comes to the Potters and Godric's Hollow is that the Potters are an old pureblood family, and Godric's Hollow has a strong presence of wizards. From the Dumbledores to the Abbotts (two of the sacred 28). It is obviously the place of Gryffindor and it's also where the first Golden Snitch was forged.

There are also ancestors of the Potters buried in Godric's Hollow so it is reasonable to believe the family is somehow connected to the place, at least very distantly. I feel like it may also be a bit unreasonable the idea of James and Lily being buried there if it were simply a place they were hiding in, if it weren't a place that had some meaning to them. This is especially true when you consider how easy it is for wizards to move things through long distances and that their grave isn't some sort of mausoleum in honour of their sacrifice (in that case it could have made sense for it to be in the place they died in).

Now, as for where the Potters are from, Godric's Hollow is in the West Country of England, so that may be a first clue. I would also imagine that James is English or Harry would have probably pointed out how his father was from a completely different part of the UK to his own and reflected on how differently he would have talked if he grew up with him (all supposition obviously, for a story with a main character that values family so much, Harry's family is criminally unexplored).

Though I'd like to point out that Fleamont and Euphemia died after James and Lily got married, so there should be another Potter house somewhere where most likely James grew up (I doubt it was sold considering all the shit James had going on at the time) and there's a good chance it's not in Godric's Hollow. Harry doesn't see his grandparents' graves in DH but who knows, maybe when he goes back there he is going to find a bunch of Potters. But then I would also wonder if it is reasonable for Dumbledore and Grindelwald to not find out the Potters had the invisibility cloak if they were a family of Godric's Hollow.

We also have some information about Potters being inventors or taking part in the political scene. While wizards can live wherever they want because they basically have teleportation, the fact that people like the Blacks, who are such big muggle haters, would have a house in London between muggles makes me think there might have been some considerable advantages to living in London, and that people like the Potters, apparently so active in society, would have been attracted to the city.

Even if Rowling also wrote this:

"The Potter family is a very old one, but it was never (until the birth of Harry James Potter) at the very forefront of wizarding history, contenting itself with a solid and comfortable existence in the backwaters. [...]"

So who knows...

I think we can safely say the Potters are English, from where specifically in England I'm not sure.

Also, it is surely important to keep in mind that Potter in the context of Britain is an English surname that arrived with the Norman conquest in 1066.

[rainyfestivalsweets]

My walk rocks.

Yep. Rocks I pick up when I walked last year. Now collected into a pretty jar and doing pretty jar things.

I woke up from a nap and should be feeling great. Instead I woke up sad, and kinda grumpy.

The thought of the day that I would like to pull at is: being fat has been a coping mechanism so that I can be invisible to people.

Initially I wanted to say that I think I got fat because it kept me invisible from men. specifically, men. As I grew into lesbian relationships and extreme long-term partners, I think it also kept me invisible from other women. People weren't hitting on me all the time.

Now, a lot of this stuff has some really deep seated, family of origin-religious trauma stuff associated with it, so buckle up.

I'll be dealing with that on a different day I am sure. Right now, I am trying to get my thoughts out of my f****** head so that I can go back to work and work the last 2 hours of my day [before I have company this weekend. Surprise!]

So this invisibility cloak that I've been wearing for 20-25 years: I want to take it off.

I know that I want to take it off.

Yet when I get to a certain point, it feels like it's sticking. It is going so slowly, and I have also been rebounding- which I do not want at all.

I was recently down to 229, and as of today, I'm back up to 240. I am so frustrated with frustrated with myself.

What is going on? I keep running for snacks I know I shouldn't be having. I get this urge to eat when I shouldn't really be hungry.

I should be well nourished within a decent calorie range. My protein is higher than most I would guess.

So I need to figure out my mental state & what is stopping me.

I woke up from my nap kinda grumpy. My thought was if I am going to be invisible then I am going to be invisible and free. I love my girl but we don't have sex at all....and that is very confusing. I thought I was super hot for a bigger gal and I just don't get it. And let's be honest, she hasn't been invited to the party because a girl can only handle so much rejection. So that is a conversation I will have to be having, fuck.

I have always struggled with being invisible to people I wanted to date. But I am literally wearing an invisibility cloak. Why?

Take it off! Who cares? No one! Just take it off. No one gives a shit. You deserve the love you are giving to everyone one. Love yourself first!

You are not going to turn into a fucking sinner but losing weight. You still have the ability to say no and can utilize that. You can say no to everyone if you feel like it.

You never have to date again if you don't want to!

You are not required to date. Or get partnered again.

Or do anything.

But do this one thing for you.

Just for you. Doesn't matter the reason why you want to do it. It is ok if it is vanity. There are worse reasons. AND news flash- you are allowed to take pride in your appearance!