#I just want to watch a train wreak

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[sunnami]

❝we can't be friends (wait for your love.)❞

[credits to @artofpan for the lovely art! title is taken from ariana grande's song, we can't be friends.]

summary. fortune favours the bold, so they say. but you're an awkward ravenclaw in yearning.

pairing/s. poly!marauders x reader (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

word count. 11.4k

tags. childhood friends to ex-friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like remus and tonks, also a bit of spice ;3

note. asdhjf while im working on the last part of the time traveller au pls enjoy this fluffy piecee ueueue

‘TIS THE SEASON OF raucous jeering and gaudy paraphernalia in the corridors, the unmistakable scent of overly-polished brooms, mud trekking through the cobblestone floors, and jerseys soaked in sweat, rain, and grime after hours of vigorous training. The dreaded second week of school where arrogant fledglings end up in the infirmary on account of broken noses, dislocated shoulders, or sprained wrists.

In other words: Quidditch tryouts. 

You’re just not fond of the havoc wreaked in every corner and alcove of the castle. But to your relief, the library remains untouched through it all. 

Needless to say, you absolutely hate Quidditch. 

It is a fact you simply will not elaborate on. The skies are blue, the grass blades are green; you and the Marauders are as different as night and day. 

On your way to the library, the last bastion of academia, you weave past the crowd in the courtyard corridor, ears ringing from the shouting match earlier in the Great Hall for breakfast—something about the Cannons versus the Magpies. There’s a pile of books shoved inside your leather satchel, painfully bumping into your hip with each step you take. You traverse through the Romanesque architecture, blissfully unaware of the misfortune to come. 

“If I study for Charms now, I can take a nap for the rest of the day,” You say to yourself, pensively tapping at your chin. 

“Watch out!” 

You barely have any time to react before a Quaffle comes crashing straight into your face. 

“Merlin’s hairy arsehole—fuck!” There’s a sicky sound of bones cracking, a dizzying flash of white before your eyes, and something viscous trickling from your nose down to your lips. Your hands fly to your face—instantly flinching when you catch a glimpse of your fingers dipped in blood. Your eyes grow wide in panic, chest rapidly heaving—it’s only now that you realize that you’re sitting on the ground, textbooks laying haphazardly around you, shoulders quivering from the adrenaline. The crowd’s concerned murmurs are lost in the cacophony of hysteria. 

“Move!” 

To your rescue, is Alice Fortescue, a fellow prefect. She cuts through the onlookers of petrified first-years and nosey fifth-years. You have no doubt this incident will grace the school’s gossip column for the next few days. She grabs your arm and wraps it around her shoulder with ease. You’d write poetry of her gallant display, but you were too busy moaning in agony. She utters a few incantations to stop your nosebleed from worsening, though there’s not much she can do to help with the possible concussion. 

“Did you know Bludgers used to be called blooders?” You mumble languidly, nearly crashing into one of the knight statues. 

“I do now,” replies Alice, tightening her hold on your waist, the ghost of a fond smile on her face. (She’s missed you, actually—three and a half years of radio silence. There used to be a time where running into you in the Gryffindor common rooms was an everyday occurrence. Even the Ravenclaw prefects knew where to look first if they wanted to find you.)

After what feels like an eternity of trudging through the castle, you finally reach the infirmary. The matron, Poppy Pomfrey, shrieks in alarm at the sight of your soiled blouse and blood stained lips. She gently ushers you into her hold, guiding you to a vacant bed. Alice hangs back, awkwardly shuffling her feet, gaze worriedly trained on you. 

“You may return to your classes, Miss Fortescue, thank you,” says Madam Pomfrey, tipping your head upwards and grimacing.  “Oh, good heavens, what happened?” 

Your head droops in her palms, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth—you must have bit your tongue earlier. You blubber pathetically, “Got hit by a stray quaffle.” 

Wordlessly, Madam Pomfrey summons a vial from her stash in the cupboards. She hands the small bottle to you, uttering various healing spells under her breath with a deft expertise of someone who’s been doing this for years upon years now. “There,” says Madam Pomfrey, lips firmly pursed. “That should help with the fractured cheekbones.”

With—what?

As your eyes bulge out of your head, Madam Pomfrey looks over you once more, a floating quill at her side hastily scribbling on a parchment. “Concussion, mild blood loss, fracture in the cheekbones, broken nose cartilage.” She illuminates the tip of her wand, and moves it left and right in front of you. “Hmm. Any nausea at all, dear?”

“There’s a six point four chance I’m going to get amnesia,” You whisper solemnly, head hanging low as your voice cracks from the unbearable pain. “I don’t want to get amnesia.”

“There’s no need for you to worry about that while you’re under my care.” Madam Pomfrey gently nudges you to lay on the pillow. She hands you a folded blanket. “Rest now. We’ll keep you here until the morning in case your condition worsens.”

“I can’t.” You groan, sitting upright—Madam Pomfrey pushes you back onto the bed with a stern glare. “I’ve got to study.”

“And I’ve got three other students to tend to. Mister Lockhart has been dealing with food poisoning all week.” Madam Pomfrey places her hands on her hips, sighing sharply. She jerks her thumb behind her back—that’s when you notice that three certain people are staring back at you. Sirius Black and James Potter squeezing together in one chair—and miserably failing—and Remus Lupin, resting cozily on the infirmary bed with bandages around his arms and head. “And don’t even get me started on this one.”

“You love him, Poppy, don’t lie.” Sirius grins wolfishly at the matron. You make out the sunken bags underneath his gray eyes, pale lips and his unkempt heap of dark curls. 

Pomfrey huffs exasperatedly. “It would be easier to wrangle a hoard of Hippogriffs than to keep you three out of the infirmary past visiting hours.” She spares you one last glance, nodding when she deems you safe and healthy—as can be, anyway. Gilderoy Lockhart rolls out of his bed, his cries echoing around the room, threatening to barf up his entire breakfast, and Madam Pomfrey is gone in an instant. 

There is an awkward silence that envelops your side of the room—you roll over on your left, desperately ignoring the three of stares burning intensely into your back. 

THE STORY GOES like this: 

You know their names more than you know your own. Each morning finds them at the Ravenclaw common room’s doorstep—while waiting, Lily, Sirius and Remus try to figure out the password as James attempts to brute force his way in. (He had actually figured out the riddle minutes ago, James would just rather play along with his friends.) The blue-tied prefects watch endearingly as one of their first-years rush out of the tower, squealing deafeningly, and jumps right into the lion cubs’ embrace. (It’s not that Inter-House friendships are rare, it’s more common than one would think; usually, it just takes more time for the eaglets to break out of their shell.) 

“I got a hundred and twelve!” You exclaim merrily, hair in disarray and eyes puffy from having just woken up. Lily grabs your hands; together, the both of you jump up and down, excitedly giggling in celebration of the success of your History of Magic essay. (You had ignored them for a day to focus on your homework—Sirius did not like that at all. It wasn’t as fun to play if one of their friends were missing. Gone off to study, of all things.) 

The tale of your friendship may be an unsolved mystery to some, but to you, it’s like finding jigsaw pieces that perfectly fit together. Magic isn’t only centaurs in forbidden forests, or ceilings bewitched to look like the night sky—sometimes it’s stumbling into a random train compartment and shyly offering your bag of assorted treats. Next thing you know, Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon are constantly with you in the library, oohing and aahing over pages of the fantasy novels Lily had brought from the muggle world. 

There’s rarely a day where you aren’t spotted in a sea of red and gold. Except when you’ve studied yourself sick—and the Marauders are never fond of that. 

(“I’m sorry, she can’t come down today,” says one of the fifth-year prefects, Lalita Burman, a rather tall girl with intricate curls, brown skin, and eyes that stare into one’s soul. She wakes up to banging on the tower entrance, not even eight o’clock in the morning yet—on a Saturday. It doesn’t come off as a surprise anymore when she opens the door to five red-faced children. “She’s come down with the flu. Most of the firsties have, actually. Madam Pomfrey says they’ll get better by tomorrow but Alex and I have been running ourselves ragged looking after them.” 

James Potter narrows his eyes at her. “Okay. Then we’ll go inside.” 

“Maybe we can help,” says Remus. 

Lalita holds up her hand to stop them from barging in. “That’s really sweet, but we can’t risk any of you getting sick as well.” 

Sirius stands on his toes to spy past Lalita’s shoulder, frowning when he finds nothing of importance—or really, when he can’t find you. He couldn’t wait to call you stupid for getting yourself sick—you just missed out on frog hunting. “That’s alright.” He huffs, shoulders slumping dejectedly. “Our immune system can take it. Will you let us in now?” 

Her eye twitches. “Come back tomorrow.” 

With that, she slams the door in their faces. 

The Marauders then declare you are never, ever allowed to get sick again.) 

Your second year in the castle creeps up on you without you noticing. 

“Remus Lupin, I am going to kill you!” 

No one bats an eyelash when you stalk up to the Gryffindor table, twelve years old and on a mission, fresh from the summer holidays. You slam your hands down onto the table, eyes ablaze as Remus stares at you, head resting on his palms, shaggy blond hair falling over his brows—no thoughts, head empty, just sheer adoration. 

“Hello there, stranger,” Remus says, grinning fiendishly. “You look rather lovely—did you have a good holiday?” 

You scoff, pointing an accusatory finger at him—Peter watches at the scene with wide eyes, slowly chomping on his shepherd’s pie, not an inkling as to what was going on. “Don’t try me, Lupin!” You exclaim sternly. “That book you gave me—you said it would have a happy ending! Tell me why I stayed up until bloody five o’clock in the morning crying me eyes out! You. . . you—!” 

“Wanker, dingbat, berk, git,” Lily supplies helpfully with an innocent smile, pulling you down to sit with her. “And my personal favorite—toerag.” 

You gape at the pretty redhead, jaw falling to the floor. “How do you even know these words?” 

She hums nonchalantly, spreading blueberry jam onto her buttered toast. “A lady must arm herself with the necessary ammunition.” Lily points to a certain pair of boys—James and Sirius are currently engaged in an eating contest, shoveling pancakes after pancakes inside their mouths; so far it looks like Sirius is winning. Lily sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, “Especially if she wants to survive that kind of company.”  

“Him, even more,” says Lily, gesturing to Remus. “He may be Professor McGonagall’s golden boy but I see right through him.” 

“What can I say?” Remus smirks, helplessly shrugging his shoulders. “I’m a monster.” 

Lily glares at him. 

Then, you turn thirteen—the dreaded age. Suddenly, you’re dealing with oily skin, acne, body odor, hair growing out of places you didn’t even know could grow hair, hormones messing up the way you look at everyone else—something awakens in you the day you see Dorcas Meadowes in the Quidditch pitch wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck—and hormones messing up the way you look at yourself. 

Everything is starting to change. 

You usually never blink twice when James wraps his arms around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder. Except this time, he’s gone from a gangly bean sprout, to a heartthrob with perfectly messy hair, newly defined muscles from his countless hours of Quidditch training, charming smile, eyes that one could get lost into for hours, and a tantalizing scent of mint and bergamot. 

“Are you really not going to our game this Saturday?” James whispers in your ear—the five of you had been hanging out in the library. 

You sigh. “Can‘t. Sorry.” 

“Scared your House is going to lose to us, pet?” Sirius teases from where he’s sitting backwards on the chair next to you, engrossed in twirling locks of your hair around his finger. 

You bristle at the nickname—they have been brazen with the endearments lately, you’ve noticed. “It’s not like we’re going to win anyway,” You mumble, tapping your quill on the empty parchment—there’s never any work done while they’re around. “There’s only a sixteen point seven percent chance of Ravenclaw winning against Gryffindor.”

James wrinkles his nose, now sitting on the edge of the table. “Percent, shmercent. What matters is how everyone plays that day.” 

He kicks his legs against yours, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “So, will you come watch?” 

“We have that History of Magic project, remember,” You say defeatedly. “I need to get started on it this week otherwise I’ll be behind all the electives I signed up for this year.” 

Lily frowns, looking up from her own homework to glance at you in concern. “How many did you even pick?” 

“All of them.” 

“What?” Lily screeches in terror, suddenly rising from her seat to lean over the table. “How is that even possible? How did McGonagall even allow that?” 

“Professor Flitwick,” You correct, wincing when Lily and Sirius glare at you. “It took a lot of convincing, but eventually I wore him down. All I had to do was rework some of my class schedules and promise him over a thousand times that my wellbeing wouldn’t ever be compromised by my studies. Otherwise he’d take back his decision.” 

Remus doesn’t seem all too happy. “No wonder we don’t see you at Transfiguration anymore.” 

“Or in Kettleburn’s class,” Peter pipes in. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be taking that many classes at once?” Remus grimaces, sharing a worried look with James. “The limit is three, and even that is too much to handle.” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” 

(Peter knows a lie when he hears one.) 

James tenses up, jaw tightening. “So you’re saying you’re going to miss a game because of school? Like all the other times? That’s bullcrap!” 

Remus hisses his name in warning. 

Tears prick your eyes instantly—you’ve heard him speak like this when quarreling with Slytherins, but never to your face. “That bullcrap means a lot to me, Potter. You’d understand that if you took your studies seriously more than just going around and playing silly pranks on everyone!” 

James scoffs. “Like how you take us seriously? Did you know that Lily is the youngest ever to be invited to Slughorn’s club? Yeah, she got the invitation last week. Did you congratulate her for that when she was staying up late with you to revise for your practical test in Herbology?” 

“I—” You stammer, guilt pooling in your stomach. 

“No, you didn’t.” James sneers. “You only see yourself. Do you know what Remus has been going through? Do you even care?” 

“That’s enough, James,” Lily says vehemently. 

“Well, if you think like that, maybe we all should just stop being friends!” You retort.

Before anyone else can reply, Madam Pince comes around the corner, and everyone falls silent—a tense atmosphere that threatens to choke you. With a heavy heart, you gather your belongings and run out of the library. 

The months pass by, and Frank Longbottom wonders why he doesn’t wake up at midnight anymore to find five students having a sleepover in the common room with a certain eagle, each of them trying to contain their giggles and  failing. (One time, the Prewett twins had run down the stairs in panic, only to find you and Peter screaming from Remus’s theatrics in telling his ghost stories during an awful thunderstorm.) You no longer visit the Gryffindor table at breakfast, and they no longer wait for you after your classes. 

“It’s probably just a tiff,” says Alice to Mary Macdonald. “They’ll make up—they always do.”  

Mary nods, though unsure—while Peter is gut-wrenched about it all, the other four in particular seem like heartbroken puppies when you enter the Great Hall and barely acknowledge their presence. 

The snow melts and time catches everyone unaware.

“I can’t believe I’m going to graduate and you idiots haven’t made up yet,” Lalita sighs as she pulls you in for a hug. In a few weeks, she and the other seventh-years are due to leave; you’ve grown real close with her over the past few terms. Her departure is going to be truly difficult for you to handle. “Just talk it out with them, okay?” 

You sniffle, holding onto her robes. “I’m trying, but they’ve been ignoring me, too.” 

Lalita squeezes you tighter. “Don’t worry. These kinds of things have a way of sorting themselves out.” 

At the end of the term, you present your final project to Professor Binns. The ghost nearly returns to life. It was a research study on the Evolutionary Analysis of Magical RNA Manipulation in the Catalonian Fireball. Days after your paper is published, you’re featured on the Daily Prophet; dragon tamers and professors from Spain are owling you letters of praise and congratulations. It goes without saying that such a feat had naturally catapulted Ravenclaw to the top, ultimately winning the House Cup. 

(But what you don’t tell everyone is that you’re so severely burnt out after that—to the point where you didn’t want to ever pick up a textbook again. For the first time in forever, learning had become a chore, not a passion. You’d been puking out of anxiety, hands trembling as you forced yourself to write on the parchment, the sides of your fingers constantly swollen and raw. You’d study until four o’clock in the morning, and wake up an hour later to complete all of your homework. You’ve begun to masquerade as the ghosts of Ravenclaw Tower; lifeless and indifferent. Xenophilius and Pandora fuss over you, but you just lock yourself in your room and say: “I’m tired.”

Perhaps, it is why Professor Flitwick isn’t surprised when you withdraw from most of your electives. 

“The pursuit of knowledge is a rewarding journey,” says Professor Flitwick on the day you visit his classroom—hours away from needing to be on the train platform. He sighs and sets his spectacles on the table. “But it is a perilous one, too. I trust that you have understood the consequences of your actions. As a teacher, I can only offer guidance when it is needed. The other professors may disagree, but I find the best learning method to be, what is it the kids say—fuck around and find out.” 

You snort. 

Professor Flitwick chuckles, quite pleased with himself. “If I may be so bold as to leave you with another piece of homework, I would like to ask you to truly enjoy the holidays. I hear the summer is a time for discovering new things about oneself, for new beginnings and growth. After all, learning does not happen only within the castle grounds.”) 

Later that day, you board the express, purposefully choosing the farthest compartment where you know they’ll be staying in. You share the cabin with two people whose names are Regulus and Narcissa Black—this is the first time you’ve ever met them. Narcissa shares her green tea flavored candy with you.  Afterwards, you spend the rest of the ride back to King’s Cross asleep. 

(Right before the train arrives, Remus is nervously searching for you in the crowd of people. 

“We’ve got to say goodbye, at least.” Lily nibbles on her lower lip uneasily. She once joked that she could find you anywhere—as if you two had a red string tied around both your pinky fingers. Now, it seems you’re too far away for her voice to reach you. 

James drops his head down in shame. “I never got the chance to apologize.” 

“She’ll appear somewhere,” says Sirius unwaveringly with a nod, taking Lily’s heavy suitcase from her as steam whistles are heard in the distance. “She could be in our special compartment, waiting for us right now.” 

“Are you sure?” Peter questions dubiously. 

“Of course I am, she’s my best friend,” Sirius counters resolutely. “She’s there, I can feel it.”)

You’re fourteen when you return back to the castle—you hadn’t touched a single book throughout the summer, but you find yourself well-rested; you learn how to swim from your mother; staying up all night to accompany your family dog as she gives birth to seven beautiful puppies, and scratching yourself on the bark of sycamore trees with your poor attempts at climbing.

You find out that you don’t like Arithmancy at all, strongly preferring Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. You’ve also garnered a curiosity for Ornithomancy, the oracle reading of birds. 

This year, you signed up for the Gobstone club, despite your unfamiliarity with the game. It’s led by a Slytherin girl named Haerin Seong. (It’s properly read as Seong Hae-rin.) She has pin-straight hair, a sharp nose, and the mouth of a drunken sailor.

You also decide that you want to become a professor after Hogwarts. The groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, belly laughs when you declare this to him one afternoon, right in the doorway of his hut. 

“Well, go on then!” Hagrid bellows, patting you on the head. “Anyone who tries ter stop yeh has got ter go through me!” 

On the dawn of your fifth-year, an owl delivers a prefect badge to your doorstep. Your father, born and raised as a Muggle, doesn’t understand the significance of this, but he cries harder than you on that Sunday morning. (“My child is a prefect!” He sobs into the telephone after dialing your aunt’s number.) 

The fresh batch of Ravenclaw firsties aren’t the only new additions to the castle. According to the gossip mill, James and Lily are finally dating, so are Sirius and Remus apparently. (Then, months later, everyone would be shrieking about how they’re all dating. )

You hear of the news as you guide the first-year eaglets to their next class. You’re climbing up the spiral staircase when you see the Quidditch pitch through the window. They look like flying ants from this distance. You can imagine the wind in their hair, the tense muscles as they chase after the Quaffles, the crowd roaring in their ears, victory within their reach if they just fly fast enough. 

You hate the way you envy them—how easily they soar up in the skies while you watch from below, much like a flightless eagle, shackled by your own shortcomings. 

You hate Quidditch.

It’s bound by no rules, unpredictable and barbaric. Most of all, it looks down on the cowardly. 

In your sixth year, you have your first kiss with a boy named Augustine Fenberry. It’s extremely short-lived and awkward. You date for three months until it’s unanimously agreed that you two are better off as friends—until you catch him laughing about you with his mates in an empty corridor, saying that you were clingy, too much, and needed to learn how to shut up. (You wonder if that’s why they grew tired of you, too.) 

You handle him with a quick, “Entomorphis.” 

It’s probably one of the more cruel jinxes; Augustine bawls piercingly as he grows antennas atop his head, the spell forcing him to get on his hands and knees; his friends hover around him in panic, but all Augustine can do is chirp like a grasshopper in the night. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, but Haerin tells you that’s exactly what Augustine is—vermin. 

You also, with great satisfaction, deduct thirty points from his House—which happens to be Ravenclaw. 

(Nobody knows this about Peter, but he’s nimble on his feet, a bit of a wallflower—and he is now the newest editor of Hogwarts’s newspaper column, The Golden Snidget. By the next day, everyone knows what he’s done. Argus Filch, who’s in charge of his month-long detention, should be the last of his worries. Peter sympathizes with the wizard—but only for a fraction of a second. Because it’s not even the werewolf Augustine has to be scared of, not the pureblood heir who could ruin anyone with just a lift of his finger; not the Quidditch prodigy with a sharp mind, knowing a thousand ways to seek revenge. 

It’s Lily Evans. 

“Go near her again and I’ll rip your balls off!” Marlene flips the bird to the group of cowering boys. “Matter of fact, if you treat anyone like that again, I will come for your bloodline.”

“Fucking toerag!” Lily wildly swings the Beater’s bat she had stolen from the Quidditch changing room. “If you even look at her, I’ll hunt you down and shove this up your arse—until you feel it in your throat!” 

Peter shivers in fear. He didn’t ever want to be on the receiving side of Lily’s wrath. 

“This is the same girl who cried for an hour when she saw the ducklings in the Great Lake separated from their mother,” says Remus, horrified. 

“Honestly, I feel so, so conflicted whether to find this terrifying. . . or attractive,” James whispers to Sirius.

“Attractive. Definitely attractive,” Sirius responds breathlessly, all eyes on Lily.)

Gryffindor wins the House Cup that year, to no one’s surprise. You find yourself clapping along with everyone else, but can’t help it when your gaze drifts to the left-side of the Gryffindor table. You watch as Sirius lifts Lily in the air, her giggles somehow louder than the thunderous cheering, pressing a loving kiss to her lips. James stands on the table, encouraging everyone to sing more of his praises—there’s a split second where his eyes find yours, you look away immediately—as Remus covers his face with his palms, flushed from all the attention. After James, Remus had won the most points for their House. 

They seem complete—a puzzle that never really needed another piece. (You miss them, heartachingly so.) Maybe it was for the best that all of you drifted further and further apart. You now forget the way they call your name.  

And so, the story ends just like that. 

YOU HAVE FOUND yourself in a very tricky position. 

It’s past midnight when you wake up—you nearly scream bloody murder when James, Lily and Sirius materialize out of thin air. They stare back at you, frozen in place, unblinking for the last twenty seconds. 

“Oh God, I’m hallucinating.” You cry to yourself, wrapping your arms around your waist. “I hit my head and now I’m seeing things.” 

“No, no, no, no,” James stammers, shaking his head. “It’s an invisibility cloak—see?” He wears the cape, then abruptly takes the cloak off—his body disappearing and reappearing in time with his actions. “Not hallucinating, I promise.” 

“That’s even worse,” You say hoarsely, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Y-You’re out past curfew—visiting hours are over. Someone could catch you. Madam Pomfrey will have your heads.” 

Remus chuckles—he had missed your voice so bloody much. He barely contains his grin when you glare at him. (Finally, after three years, you look his way again.) 

“We snuck in here to see you all the time,” Sirius tells you, the corner of his lips tipping into an overfond smile. “At some point, Poppy just stopped trying to keep us out.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Your gaze falls to the floor as you mousily toy with your fingers. The infirmary falls painfully silent. Again. You clear your throat. “Anyway, I–I should get going.” 

“Oh.” Lily’s expression turns crestfallen, words cracking from the thick lump wedged in her throat. (This is the first conversation she’s had with you in years—one that isn’t awkwardly bumping into one another with shallow, hesitant greetings, before you scurry off like a timid squirrel.) “R-Right. But why don’t you have dinner first? We brought some from the feast and—” 

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” You rasp, slipping into your shoes and throwing your cardigan over your shoulders. (More than anything, you want to hug Lily and congratulate her for making Head Girl—but you have to wonder if it’s too little, too late; if the distance between you and her is too great to try and  cross.) 

You toss Remus a wary glance. There used to be a time where you could say anything to him, and now it feels like ice-cold hands are stapled over your mouth. “F–Feel better soon.” 

“Thanks.” Remus coughs. 

Sirius’s eyes bounce from you to Remus, mentally ripping his hair out from exasperation—this whole thing is going nowhere. 

You sprint out of the infirmary without a word, hands trembling from the nerve-wracking encounter inside. You take a moment to catch your breath, to shove your heart back inside your ribcage, as you lean sideways on the wall. It’s like running into a pack of wild chimeras in the mountains bare-handed. 

“That was so scary.” You breathe out deeply, clutching the front of your shirt tightly. 

The loud call of your name slices through the hallway and you jump in fright. 

Luckily, it’s just James—but just James sets your heart aflutter and your knees wobbly even after all this time. He bridges the gap between you in quick, long strides; murmuring your name once more like a prayer. “Hey,” James says quietly, as if afraid to spook you off. 

You gnaw on your bottom lip anxiously, tucking your hands inside your pockets. “Hey.”

“Listen, I just wanted to say—back in the library, all those years ago. I’m sorry. Really bloody sorry. Sirius decked me in the face that day, which I definitely deserved.” James nervously scratches the back of his head. “It was stupid of me—and I never should have said any of those things. I know it’s been years since then, you don’t even have to forgive me. But I just wanted you to know—”

“It’s fine, James.” You cut into his rambling, having already forgiven him for that day. “Really. Water under the bridge.” 

In fact, some of what he had said made you realize how much you isolated yourself without even knowing. “And, I—uhm.” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, too.” 

James widens his eyes, then instantly shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

A dark red blush spreads from his neck to his prettily carved cheeks.  “So. .  . uh. . . are we okay?” 

“We’re okay,” You say and he exhales deeply in relief. “And James, I. . . I. . .”

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he takes one more step towards you—achingly patient, but there’s a sense of urgency and desperation. 

“I—” You look away and the words fizzle out in your throat. “Never mind.” 

I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said that day. I miss you more than life. Thank you for staying by my side all those years—for being one of my best friends. You make me feel safe, James Potter. You are one of the most intelligent and caring wizards I know. How  anyone can think otherwise is baffling to me. I’m sorry if I don’t let you know that more often. 

“See you around, James.” With that, you turn and leave. 

Perhaps, some things are better left unsaid. 

(So why is your heart shattering into a million pieces?) 

“TODAY, WE ARE GOING TO be interpreting messages from the divine!” 

On a lovely Friday morning, Professor Nasenyana drags the class out to the grounds for a hands-on Divination lecture, the groundskeeper’s hut within sight. He unlocks the barn nearby, where flocks of various bird species take to the skies instantly. He’s a rather eccentric fellow with one of the friendliest smiles you’ve ever seen. Most of the Ravenclaws are also star-struck, hanging onto his every word. As it turns out, Nasenyana is a graduate from Uagadou, the top school for Astronomy and Divination.

“Ornithomancy—!” He proclaims, flashy cloak billowing, startling some of the Gryffindors from their sleep. “It is a form of divination that looks into the behavior of birds—celestial creatures blessed with the ability to traverse through the heavens and the earth. But, you see, it is more than that. It requires utmost concentration and mastery. To pass this class, you will need to—” 

“I told you we didn’t miss anything important!” 

“Pads, shut up.” 

Sirius and Remus come rolling down the hill. Remus’s robes are disheveled, whereas Sirius’s tie is loosely hanging around his shirt, sleeves folded up. They nearly crash into Professor Nasenyana—who doesn’t appear to be pleased with their tardiness. You notice Remus’s flushed cheeks, the sweat running down the sides of his forehead, and the pinkish bruises on the column of Sirius’s neck. 

Lily chortles. 

Oh. 

You blush deeply—that is so none of your business. 

“Mister Black! Mister Lupin! So nice of you to finally join us.” Professor Nasenyana exclaims. “I trust that it won’t take you thirty more minutes to find a place to sit?” He gestures to the assembly of students sitting down on the grass, some shielding the sunlight from their face with the Divination textbook, and others transfiguring their school robes into a picnic mat. “Take your seats, gentlemen.” 

“And that is five points from Gryffindor. Each.” Professor Nasenyana declares just as Remus and Sirius plop down on the closest patch of grass to them. 

Which happens to be right beside you. 

You pour all your attention on the teacher, and not how warm Sirius feels next to you. 

“As I was saying,” Professor Nasenyana continues, hands folded behind his back, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “In order to pass this class, you will form groups of three where your task is to read each other’s fortune based on the information presented to you and document your findings. Everything you need for interpretation is in your textbooks. You will hand this assignment in after the winter holidays. I expect excellence from each and every one of you. Failure to comply will result in a Dreadful.” 

Gilderoy’s arm shoots up in the air. 

“Shall I guess your question, Mister Lockhart?” Nasenyana grins blindingly. “Your groups will be determined by fate—those closest to you will read your fortune, and you theirs.” 

He lowers his arm with a bright blush. 

You, however, are frozen in place, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a robe strewn over your lap—you even hold your breath from the shock. Fate must be mocking you right now. Spending the next few weeks in close proximity with the boys who held your fragile, little heart in their hands.

How fun.

Not.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in forever, you don’t pay attention in Charms.

The thought of working with Remus and Sirius haunts you so much that you burrow your head in your arms for the entirety of Professor Flitwick’s lesson. Your seatmate, Xenophilius, watches in horror as you flub the enunciation for Ascendio. Thankfully, no one is accidentally flung into the air—except for Gilderoy who is unfortunately blown away from his chair.

“Sorry.” You twinge empathetically as he climbs back onto his chair, glaring at you. 

Xenophilius nudges your shoulder, whispering, “Are you alright?” 

“Perfectly fine,” You respond hurriedly, almost choking on your spit. “What ever gave you the idea that I was not fine? I’m bloody fantastic even. The sun is shining, fishes are swimming, and there’s not a single thing out of the ordinary in my life.” 

“It’s cloudy outside,” Xenophilius says impassively. “And Lockhart is looking at you like you’ve just attempted murder.” 

“Lockhart always looks like that.” You brush him off with a wave, busying yourself with flipping the pages of your Charms textbook. 

Xenophilius pokes you in the side. “You are avoiding the subject. Is it because of Lup—”

“Ascendio!” 

This time, it’s too perfect of an incantation that even Merlin weeps from his grave.

At the end of class, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. Just as you leave the classroom, you find Sirius and Remus standing in the corridor, so absorbed in conversation that they don’t notice the sixth-year girls giggling as they walk by—either that, or they have had plenty of practice when it comes to  ignoring attention from the entire student body. It’s not like you can blame everyone else—they’re a duo carved by heaven’s finest. 

Sirius realizes instantly when you walk out of the doors. He smiles blazingly at you, instantly rising to his feet, hands shoved inside the pockets of his trousers. You can’t believe this is the same boy who’d give you piggyback rides down the hallway. Dark layered curls tumble messily past his shoulders, a smidge of dark liner around his eyes, multiple piercings in his left ear. He’s grown taller, certainly more confident, too. 

“Ready to go, pet?” He asks, as if casually inquiring about the weather. 

“Go?” You echo, nonplussed. “Go where?” 

“Birdwatching, obviously.” Sirius grins devilishly before grabbing your hand and leading you to the courtyard, Remus hot on your heels—who, for some reason, now has your bag hanging from his shoulders. 

“D-Do I even get a say in this?” Truthfully, you had thought that you could finish the project without meeting up. Ever. You even think of collaborating with them via owl; staying far, far away from one another. So that none of you get hurt again, and you don’t risk another heartbreak. 

“Not one bit, darling.” Sirius looks back at you and winks—this cheeky bastard!

You’re in a daze by the time the three of you reach the middle courtyard. Sirius happily plonks down under a tree, further unbuttoning his shirt until a hint of a tattoo peeks out—you gape. Remus chuckles before urging you to sit as well, before he settles on your other side. 

“This is nice,” says Sirius as he leans his head against the tree trunk, eyes closed. “Bloody missed this.” 

“Missed what?” You dare to ask, heart hammering in your chest. 

He opens one eye, cheek dimple flashing. “Being by your side.” 

“Oh.” 

One does not respond to that, actually. One just simply passes out and fades away. 

And as you typically do when facing hardships in life, you ramble about homework. Clearing your throat and staring straight at the earthworms crawling out of the mud, you say, “So, about our project. . .” 

“I was thinking we could get started on it next Saturday,” You splutter, fiddling with your fingers. “Or I could start on everyone’s reading and we’d put it on paper sometime next month—but I could do that myself, too. I-If you wanted. Just so that it’s easier for everyone. We really don’t have to rush, honestly.” 

“Procrastinating on schoolwork?” Remus laughs heartily with a slow shake of his head, stretching his long legs on the ground. “Who are you and what have you done to our best fr—” 

The word falters on his tongue, and his smile fades into a somber line. 

To save everyone from the awkward tension, you carry on, ignoring the way Sirius stiffens, “If you want to start early, I can head to the library after lunch to find some books on Ornithomancy. The more references we have—”

“What happened to us?” Sirius interjects gravelly. 

You let out a deep sigh. 

You suppose this conversation has been a long time coming, given lions and their stubbornness. 

“It’s simple,” You say gingerly. “After that. . . that day, the distance kept growing and growing until we went our own separate ways without looking back.” 

A single teardrop slides down your cheek before you can stop it. “You changed. I changed, too. The difference was, you all had each other while I had no one.”

(Though Pandora and Xenophilius were the truest and most honest friends one could ask for, they didn’t hold your soul captive the way they did.) 

Sirius stares at you as if you had just spit acid; a thunderstorm forming within his gray eyes, his jaw locking painfully. 

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Remus asks softly, leaning forward to offer you his handkerchief. His voice sounds strangled—as though your words physically torment him. He pulls away just as your gaze falls on his. 

“That’s what happened, though. But I suppose it doesn’t really even matter anymore.” You flinch away, electrocuted from his touch. 

There’s a stretched silence that blankets the three of you. It carries on for a few minutes, the breeze flowing by, and the slow, clamorous bell chiming in the distance. You’re about to speak up when Sirius breaks the quietude first.

“Be ready,” He says decidedly, looking straight ahead. 

“For what?” You ask in disbelief. 

Sirius drags a hand through his hair with a loud exhale. He rests his elbows on his knees, chin carelessly set on his palm, eyeing you intensely. “We’re going to prove you wrong from now on.” 

“What exactly are you going to prove?” 

Sirius chuckles, coiling a strand of your hair around his finger. “That it’s always been you and us for life, princess.” 

Merlin’s saggy balls. 

THE GRYFFINDOR TABLE descends into a coalescence of wide eyes and rapid, hushed whispers when you arrive sometime during dinner. It’s not out of your own volition, of course, but your own duty and responsibility as prefect to return the handkerchief that Remus had lent you earlier this afternoon. You hoped it would be a quick in-and-out; dishing out more forced smiles, and some half-baked banter until you could finally run away, tail tucked between your legs. Like most things in your life, it does not go the way you want. 

“You could keep it, if you want,” says Remus, hesitantly taking the embroidered cloth from you. 

If the world knew how many trinkets Remus Lupin had gifted you during your friendship, you would be swimming in gold—and cursed letters from his devoted fangirls. 

“That’s alright. Thank you.” You placate him with a crooked grin, the words spilling from your lips like a jumbled mess. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gideon and Fabian Prewett nudging each other’s shoulders whilst pointing at you, keeping their heads low. You have no idea what that’s about. 

“Well. That is all. E-Enjoy your dinner.” You nod, mentally patting yourself on the back for not passing out in the den of lions. “Goodbye.” 

Though the Ravenclaw table is placed next to Gryffindor’s, you have the bright idea of sitting with your backs to them, lest you engage in a round of cloddish staring contests with the Marauders. Just as you pivot on your heels, ready to make it to Pandora’s side, an achingly familiar voice calls for your name. 

“Wait!” Marlene is partially out of her seat, bright blonde hair in a loose, messy braid; hand outstretched, as if reaching out to you. Her pale cheeks blossom with shades of scarlet as she receives miffed glares from the students nearby—such is the curse of a Gryffindor; if this were a fantasy novel, they would be the perfect protagonist. “Why don’t you eat with us? F-For old time’s sake. It’s been so long and I really would like to catch up with you.” 

Your resolve nearly crumbles. This is the same girl who would bring sweet candies in her pocket in case you got hungry during class. But, if this were a fantasy novel, you would only be an extra; fated to walk a path so different from the likes of James Potter and Lily Evans.

“Maybe next time,” You say, unconvincing to even your own ears. 

FROM ACROSS the Great Hall, another conversation is taking place. 

“I am telling you, Minerva, I caught them talking again in the infirmary,” says Poppy Pomfrey to her fellow teacher, a spry grin on her kind face. 

“Poppy, as I’ve told you, I do not make a habit out of discussing my students’ personal lives,” McGonagall replies tiredly, slicing into her dinner plate of steak and kidney pie. She pauses for a few moments, before pushing up her spectacles with a wrinkly smile. “But, perhaps, I’ll let this slide just this once. Tell me all about it. I’ve also heard that—” 

“ACTA NON VERBA.”

Deeds, not words. 

Truly a befitting password for the House of bravery and recklessness. The Fat Lady’s portrait gasps in delight, raising her champagne glass to you. Seconds later, the Gryffindor common room is revealed to you. (Most of the Ravenclaw prefects have the House passwords memorized, in case they encounter a lost student outside the dormitories who has forgotten the passcode. It happens more often than one would like. Although it isn’t just first-years who are often stuck outside. You’ve stumbled upon Frank Longbottom many times before in a heated argument with the Fat Lady.) 

“Oh!” Alice, bundled up in a red scarf and a wooly jumper, is startled to find you at the entrance. She breathily says your name, eyes crinkling as she smiles widely. “What a pleasant surprise! Oh my Gods—it’s so nice to see you again. How’s the head? Last time I saw you, you were bleeding everywhere.”

“I didn’t get amnesia. So that was good.” You head inside the room, instantly enveloped in a familiar warmth, a welcoming hug as if you had never strayed far. “Thank you. For that day, I mean. For bringing me to Madam Pomfrey.”

She waves you off. “Don’t mention it.” 

“But. . .” Alice cocks her head with a conniving smile. “Don’t tell anyone else this, but when James found out it had been the Gryffindor team’s co-captain who hit the Quaffle your way, I heard James put him through some intense training. He must’ve had to run a hundred laps around the pitch for a week straight.  Poor guy even had to wash everyone’s jerseys without magic.” 

“What?” You shriek. “But it was just an accident. Surely, James wouldn’t—”

Alice tweaks your nose with a chuckle. “Oh, for you? He would.”

You have the strangest urge to throw yourself out of the tower. 

You cough into your first, desperate to shift the conversation topic otherwise you’d spontaneously combust. “S-So, where’s Remus? We agreed to work on our Divination project here—if that’s alright with you and the others, of course.” 

“Ha!” Alice exclaims, palming her forehead. “So that’s why the tower stinks of flipping perfume.” She snickers at your bewildered expression, before engulfing you in a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you. You’re welcome here anytime, you know that.”

“Thank you, Alice.” You squeeze her back, giving yourself just this one time because you really did miss her.

Alice takes a step backwards before roaring loud enough to shake the ceiling. “Remus!”

“Get down here! Your girlfriend is waiting!”

You break out in a coughing fit. “I am not his girlfriend.” 

“Not yet.” Alice winks at you, patting your cheek before skipping out the common room. 

You hear the heavy footfalls of someone coming down the stairs. Moments later, you see Remus Lupin beaming at you, casually dressed, hair damp and tousled over his brows, broad shoulders stretching his white top, and fluffy, mismatched socks over his feet. He walks over to you in record speed. 

“You came,” He says huskily. 

“I did.” 

“You look beautiful today.” Remus grins wolfishly, dimples poking out of his cheeks, flecks of light in his hazel eyes. 

You blink owlishly, dumbfounded. You peer at your clothes—nothing fancy or experimental. “This is how I normally dress, though.” 

“I know.” 

Remus smiles, swiftly taking your bookbag from you. (Alice was right. He smells like a basket of green apples, old leather tomes, and sandalwood. Not that you mind.) You follow him to the couches by the fireplace. 

“Where’s Sirius?” You look around the common room as you sink into the red sofa. There’s a pair of third-years playing chess, a young girl feathering her hand across the bookcase; sunlight streaming in from the tall windows. 

But no sign of Sirius Black. 

“Miss me, did you, love?” 

Sirius chuckles into your ear—you jump out of your skin, clutching at your knees in fright. 

“Merlin’s tits—!” 

You gasp for air while Sirius and Remus laugh at your expense. “You fucking wanker!” You grab one of the quilted pillows as Sirius jumps over the back of the couch. “You’re an idiot, Sirius Orion.” 

“There.” Sirius flops right down on the sofa; his hair tied up in a low bun, silver rings around his fingers. “Now you don’t look so bloody scared and nervous around us. We don’t bite, you know.” He pauses, then grins devilishly at you. “Unless you ask.” 

You slap your palms against your lap. “Anyways—!” 

Nostrils flaring as you take a deep breath—this is going to be a long day. You begin setting the parchments, feather quills, and Divination textbooks on the coffee table, along with a notebook where you had written some observations during the week. “When we were out—erm—birdwatching the other day, I noted down the birds that flew by for our readings. For Remus, it was a flock of Firecrests. And—” 

“I’m very sorry, loveliest love, but none of this makes any bloody sense to me.” Sirius goes through the Divination volumes you had checked out from the library, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Tea reading, I can tolerate. But studying bird droppings really isn’t my thing.” 

You glare heatedly at him, oddly defensive about the subject. “We’re not studying bird droppings, you plonker. There’s so much more to Ornithomancy than what meets the eyes. You see, nature connects everything. From the number of birds you encounter, to which direction they fly, their pattern of flight, down to the colors of their wings.” 

You point to the glaring page from Snallygasters and Omens: Vol. 1 where a picture of a Jobberknoll jumps out. “This bird flies to the east because the east governs new beginnings and warm springs after winter. Blue wings symbolize reliability. One day in the future you’ll be tasked with a huge responsibility. A family could entrust their godson to you, who knows? You have to be clear-headed, Sirius. Your emotions can get the best of you if you’re not careful.” 

Without even pausing to breathe, you say, “Remus. The firecrest. Smallest bird in the wizarding world, but will dare to fly higher than any other creature, even the king of birds. The firecrest and its flock were flying to the south that day, Remus. To the place of passion and life. Love. Beauty.” 

“So it’s. . . it’s more than just bird droppings!” 

By the end of it all, your chest is heaving, fingers trembling with adrenaline; Remus and Sirius gazing at you with stars in their eyes, devotion pouring from their growing smiles. (Oh, how their hearts beat for you.) 

Sirius tips your chin with his knuckle, leaning closer until you feel his breath on your nose. “Welcome back, princess.”

NIGHT FALLS WITHOUT anyone’s permission. James, Lily, and Peter make their way back to the Gryffindor tower, patches of sunburn on their nose after spending the entire day outside observing bird flight patterns. Like Sirius, Lily has her mind firmly set against the philosophies of Divination; the mumbo jumbo not really all that comprehensible to her. As they enter the common room, her hand in James’s, they’re greeted by a rare sight—one that Lily didn’t think she would see again. 

Sirius is sitting on the floor by the fireplace, wand tucked behind his ear, a pile of books at his side, his brows contorted in frustration as he drowns in the pages of When Fortunes Turn Fowl. He presses his finger to his lips when his silvery eyes fall on Lily and James, jerking his head to the scene across him. 

Lily fails to bury her smile when she sees you snoring away at Remus’s lap, his fingers absentmindedly knitting through strands of your hair. The space is bedecked in loose pages with scribbled notes on them and ink stains on the carpet. 

“I take it you three got further along than we did,” Lily whispers as she kneels beside Remus, softly nudging his chin as she captures him in a fond kiss. 

Remus smiles into her lips. “A month’s worth of progress, at least. Thanks to this one here. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a bird the same way again.” 

“Who knew our little eagle had a knack for Divination?” Lily chuckles, gaze softening as she delicately drags her knuckle down your cheek. “It’s getting pretty late. Should we wake her up?” 

Remus shakes his head. “No. Let her sleep a bit more.” 

Selfishly, Lily agrees. She traces the tip of your nose, the pillows of your lips, before retracting her hand with a long sigh. “We used to talk about anything and everything until the sun rose. Now, it seems like I can never catch up to her no matter how fast I run.”

“Lily—” 

“Don’t worry,” says Lily. “I am nothing if not stubborn. She’ll know my wrath soon.” 

Sirius snickers. “How charming.” 

The fire crackles and you mumble something, deep in slumber, shifting in Remus’s hold, “Only one percent. . . of the world’s population is . . . is naturally redheaded.” 

“Is that right?” Lily grins from ear to ear. 

Just you wait, Lily is going to sweep you off your feet.

(Something she should have done years ago.) 

“IS THAT A new jumper?”

Pandora simpers knowingly, heterochromatic eyes uncovering your every secret—the beads in her long braids click as she keeps in time with your brisk pace. She teasingly pulls at the oversized sweater. “It looks good on you.” 

You narrow your eyes at her, watchfully twisting your arms around your waist. “It was cold this morning, alright? Remus lent it to me. It’s not a big deal. It’s what friends do, right?” 

“So, you’re friends now?” Pandora muses. “Well, thank the Gods, because it has been excruciating watching you tiptoe around one another. It only took you lot three years, but it’s better than never, eh?” 

“Wilderwood! No magic in the corridors! That’s five points from Slytherin!” You bark at the stubborn fifth-year who grins sheepishly at you, before you reply to Pandora, an ache forming at the back of your head. “It’s complicated. Everything was sort of awkward in the beginning.” 

You think of last night, how Sirius was especially keen on making you laugh every few seconds; Remus would inch closer to you, head nearly on your shoulder as he peeks at the notes you’ve jotted down. You could barely think straight in their presence. Then, you remember waking up earlier this morning, James sprawled all over Sirius and Lily on the couch; Remus’s nose fully buried in his drawing book.

“But. . .” You trail off, remembering Remus’s arms around you as he sent you off, careful not to wake the others. (“I am a selfish bastard, pet,” He whispers into your hair, “I’m sorry, but let me steal this morning from them.”)

“It’s like coming home after a long day.”

“Brilliant!” Pandora exclaims, roughly laying her hands on your shoulders as she ushers you past the cobblestone walkway and into the grassfield, where the Quidditch Pitch rests in the near distance. You hadn’t even realized that you were a little ways from the castle already. “Tell them that!” 

“What?” You squawk. “Are you mad, woman?”

You hear the sound of brooms zipping by at an unimaginable speed. The crowd clamors over the announcer’s intense commentary. Your legs feel like they’ve been jinxed to feel like jelly. You hate Quidditch. 

“GRYFFINDOR SCORES! — That’s one-hundred and twenty in all! — Still no snitch yet! Hurry on, Potter! Mulciber’s got nothing on you– Ow! Professor! — Fawley heads for the goal! — Great deflect by Black! — Bletchley misses! — Another point for Gryffindor! We might as well end the game now!”

“Mr. Prewett!” You hear McGonagall scold into the charmed megaphone. 

“Sorry, Minnie! Anyway! — Mulciber and Potter race for the Snitch! Potter reaches out! — Surprisingly good manoeuvre from Mulciber! — Come on, James! — He’s almost got it! — It’s right there!”

You wait with a bated breath.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

“Potter’s got it! — GRYFFINDOR HAS WON!” 

“Go on now, treasure. Before the Wrackspurts get inside your head again.” Pandora urges you forward, dusting the invisible creatures off your shoulders. As you take one step into the field, fireworks of gold and scarlet light up the sky, the Gryffindor teams’ cries of victory shake the ground; you hear Fabian screaming into the megaphone. Your fingers go numb. “Don’t let another day go by without expressing your heart,” says Pandora into your ear, almost a gust of wind if you hadn’t been paying attention. “Go to them. They are waiting for you.”

“But what if they aren’t?” You watch as the sun descends on the Gryffindor team lifting James in the air, Golden Snitch in his gloved hand. Sirius catches Lily by the waist, twirling her up high; her smile more dazzling than any other gem you’ve seen. As James is set back down on the ground, he snatches Remus unaware and bends him down for a fervent kiss.

“Dora, what if I’m the only one who feels this way? I can’t do that to them. What are the chances that I’ll ruin everything? That would hurt more than anything.”

Pandora cups your cheeks and lays her forehead on yours. “You won’t ever know unless you go out there.”

With that, she pushes you into the Quidditch pitch. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, ears ringing from the crowd chanting James’s name, and your heart pounding in fear. 

“J-James. . .” You call out weakly as he drowns in the sea of students.

Perhaps it’s a sign.

This really wasn’t a good idea.

Love is a fool’s game.

Don’t you get it? They don’t need you in the picture at all.

“N-No!” You shout, chest heaving. If everything happens for a reason, maybe you were meant to meet in that train compartment all those years ago. You’ve lost three years with them already.

If you don’t go to them right now, you could lose a lifetime. 

If bravery is for the reckless and arrogant, you’re prepared to be the most depraved witch in the castle just to stay by their side. 

“James—!”

“Go, go, Gryffindor!”

You bite your lip in frustration—but you can’t just give up. Not now. 

Once more.

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!”

Please.

Time stops as you stand at the edge of the field; James whips his head around and finds you instantly. The glow of having just won a match doesn’t even compare when his eyes land on you. He pushes past his team members and some of the Gryffindor students, his gaze unwavering, some of them call out his name but he doesn’t bother looking back. Before you even know it, he stands in front of you, breathing heavily—but not from the rush of the game.

“You’re here,” He says, eyes disappearing into his smile. “But you hate Quidditch.”

“I do.” You grin wearily. “But I love you more.”

Without even giving James the chance to speak, you ramble on, hurricanes whirling in your stomach, “You’re a bloody brilliant wizard, James Potter. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that before. I see you. I see all of you. How could I not? I love you. I think I’ve loved all of you before I knew it was even love. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same w—” 

James grabs the back of your legs and hoists you up, tendrils of hair falling over his glasses as he beams at you. The sun can’t even dream of competing with him. 

“Put me down, James, I am going to hurl—!”

He spins you one more time for good measure before placing you on the ground. James barely gives you a second to gather your bearings as he seizes your lips with his own, hand cradling the back of your neck. 

“You’re here,” He says, unable to believe his very eyes, gently chasing after your lips, breaths mingling until you don’t remember where either begins or ends. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“I won’t. I won’t.” You promise breathlessly as James pecks the tip of your nose, the arch of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Beautiful.” He kisses you until you’re gasping for air. “And all ours.” 

There’s not a moment where you don’t feel loved, not even when he lets you go, and it’s Lily who encompasses you in her arms, bright hair filling your vision; you willingly burn in the warmth of her body. The mellow scent of pomegranates and red roses fill your nose. You see a never-ending horizon of kindness in her emerald eyes. (How could you have stayed away for so long?) It’s like finding a missing piece of your soul that you never knew that was lost. 

Lily laughs—it sounds like an orchestral symphony. Her gaze cascades to your lips, the prettiest of smiles on her face; she cradles the curve of your jaw with utmost sincerity, a few drops of tears shimmering against her freckled skin. “May I?”

“Please.” You feel her breath tickling your lips, deftly pulling you in for a kiss until all you can feel is her. She consumes every inch of you, and you are happy to surrender, heart and soul. 

“You must be the thickest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met,” says Lily, giggling as she kisses you once, twice—thrice. 

“And that means?” You scoff lightheartedly. 

She steals another kiss from you. “That means: I hope you know that we have loved you ever since, you daft witch. That I’ve loved you all this time. And now that you’re ours, we are going to make sure you remember that. Every single day for the rest of our lives.” 

You smile, holding onto her hand, dizzy with a hundred emotions. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

(Your Divination project is a point lower than Lily, Peter and James’s, but you find that it’s the luckiest fortune you’ve ever had.) 

EPILOGUE:

“I LOVE QUIDDITCH!” 

You are twenty-two years old, nose bitten from the chilly air, lounging in the best seating area the Quidditch World Cup has to offer; an unobstructed view of the players. The match is between the Brazilian and Japanese National Quidditch teams. Much to Sirius and James’s chagrin, your cheek is painted in yellow and green stripes, the vibrant flag around your shoulders. 

You scream along with the crowd, nearly spilling your Butterbeer popcorn, as the Brazilian players enter the vast stadium. You ardently shake Lily’s shoulders. “That’s him! That’s him! Lily, it’s Brazil’s youngest ever Seeker! Vinícius Silva! I watched a replay of his matches and he’s got a seventy-eight percent win rate!”

“Watch out, love, you’ll fall off the edge if you aren’t careful,” Lily says worriedly.

“His fastest record for catching the Golden Snitch is ten minutes and thirty seconds! He’s won Most Outstanding Player in the Junior Division twice! I’ve got a good feeling about this team—I knew those auguries were a lucky sign.” 

“The only Seeker you should be obsessing over is me.” You hear James grumbling behind your back, stealing a kiss from Lily’s lips before pressing his mouth to your cheek. “And you bloody well know that Japan’s Chaser, Kurosawa, is going to steal the limelight in this match. An average possession time of thirty seconds per play. A beast, that one.” 

You wave him off, more confident in your statistics. “Did you place my bets? I’m telling you, we’re going to be rich.” 

“Yes, darling,” He says, utterly loving his role as the dutiful husband. 

Moments later, Sirius appears at his side, fussing over your scarf, and kissing you just because. “Can we take off your bloody hat now? I think you just blinded Malfoy and his little blonde gremlin.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You simper fiendishly before smacking his arm. “And don’t call your nephew that.” 

Sirius grins.

You pull at one of his curls. “Besides, if you’re good you can take off everything later tonight.”

He pulls you in for a deep kiss, hand at your waist, nose brushing each other’s. “And that is why I love you, dear wife.” 

You pout, albeit seeing right through his white, little jape. “Truly?” 

Sirius lands another kiss to your forehead. “Are you doubting me, loveliest love of my life? The lighthouse in my ocean storms. The apple of my eye. Fire in my loins—”

You slap a hand over his mouth. “I get it, thank you, my love.” 

Sirius beams from ear to ear. “Glad to have eased your doubts, darling.”

Thirty minutes into the match, Remus arrives, dressed in a muted gray suit, light brown hair flopping over his eyes. He greets everyone with a tired kiss. 

You immediately wrap him in a hug, nuzzling your nose into his neck. He had a particularly difficult full moon some nights ago. You press a tender kiss to the scar right below his jaw. “How was work? Did you bring my binder? It has my lesson plan for next week, I don’t want to return to the castle unprepared, and—”

The newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor squeezes your waist. “Work was fine, pet. And no, I didn’t bring the papers because right now we are not working. We are going to watch Brazil win the bloody match and get right home to Harry after.” 

You, the newest Divination teacher of Hogwarts, tug him by his necktie, smiling coyly. “Sounds like a wonderful plan to me.” 

BONUS: 

“REMUS!”

The empty classroom is filled with soft, fervid moans—two professors especially drunk on the taste of each other’s lips. You’re seated on the desk, Remus wedged between your thighs, his hand inching dangerously higher and higher; the other hand slipping under your shirt and thumbing the bare skin underneath. He captures your whispers and mewls with his lips. Jackets and ties are tossed carelessly to the side. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He nips at your lower lip. 

“Rem. . .” You whimper, tugging at the strands of his hair. “Remus—please!” 

The door to the DADA classroom slams open and you two detangle from each other’s embrace in record speed. As you pat down your hair, Remus draping his blazer over your shoulders, you watch Lily and Harry stalk over to you in lengthy strides, reaching the both of you within seconds. You clear your throat, awkwardly averting your gaze from your son’s precious eyes; Lily, a moment away from throwing her head back in laughter. 

Harry, fourteen, and not at all ignorant to what couples do in the castle alcoves, sees the ruffled hair, the lipstick over his father’s cheeks and neck, and his parent’s misbuttoned blouse. 

He grimaces. “You two are disgusting, you know that right?” 

You guffaw, pinching his cheek. “Now, is that any way to greet the person who’s changed your diapers since you were a baby?” 

Lily cackles from Remus’s side, fixing the collar of his shirt. “Harry’s got a bit of a problem. Go on, tell them, my love.” 

Harry immediately throws his hands in the air, groaning frustratedly. “It’s Ron! He thinks I put my name in the bloody Goblet—!” 

“Which, I will still be having a word with Dumbledore about,” You say decisively. You’re not about to endanger your son. The Minister of Magic and the Headmaster be damned. They can also take it up with your husband, James, Head Auror of the Magical Law Enforcement department. 

“And now Ron’s not talking to me, Hermione’s not talking to me because I’m not talking to Ron—Colin’s following me around everywhere I go! I’m going mad, mum!” Harry slumps on one of the empty chairs, huffing. “Stupid bloody tournament.” 

You chuckle as you walk over to him, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. “Take it from me.” You press a warm kiss to his forehead. “Talk to them, otherwise you’ll lose time that was meant to be spent together. It doesn’t matter who was wrong or who was right. It’s important that you have the courage to reach out. They’re your friends. They will understand your heart soon enough.” 

Harry blinks. “Thanks.” 

He exits the classroom in a daze, heavily pondering on your words. 

The door clicks shut, and Lily wordlessly locks the entrance. She turns to you and Remus, a sultry grin on her ruby red lips. “What are the chances we Floo home, and invite Sirius and James to join us?” 

You take her outstretched hand. “A hundred and twelve.”

a/n. i wasn't satisfied with the angst here.. so expect a hufflepuff!reader and enemies to lovers next time (i promise to do better in the next fic aaakfsh) tell me what u thought of this one EUEUEU HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC!! heart heart

[romanoffsbish]

Carved With Love

Natasha Romanoff x Wife!R

Yelena Belova x Fem!R (The true love story 🥹)

Yelena’s in town for the holiday season, and who would she be if not wreaking havoc? | WC: 1,986

Warnings: Mentions of Neglectful Past | Siblings

Yelena was a menace; you knew that from the insight your wife gave you before she introduced you to her.

“Y/N, she literally blew herself up and said it was fun,” your wife had reiterated her stance, that being: Yelena was a complete and total maniac. “Sounds like she’d fit right in with you and your band of superheroes,” was all you’d said back while adding pasta to your cart.

The two of you had been together for nearly a decade when they found each other again, and though the blonde was wary of a meeting she quickly agreed after hearing that the two of you were married with kids.

——

You couldn't really blame her for wanting to meet them more, especially your daughter, the eldest, who shared a name with her. They clicked instantly. Then there were your sons that you carried back to back, Andrei and Aleksander, who were bonded like twins. It was like they gained a triplet with their aunt. Then there’s the latest, Flora, who was just turning six months old and who was absolutely in love with the blonde.

The group were nothing but trouble, you adored that.

When you met her, your heart had doubled in size as you realized she was just trying to forget, to be a kid. Something you knew she never got to be, so just like with your own children, you let her get away with it all.

Natasha didn't much appreciate that, well, truthfully she adored just how much you already loved her sister. But, she was a bit jealous that you were so lenient with her, even if she knew you weren’t with her because she needed the structure and redirection you provided her.

As of right now, she thought you were also insane, "Detka, I don't think you thought this through..." Natasha mumbled against your temple from behind, where she stood with you securely in her arms, and you shook your head and softly chuckled. "It's fine baby."

Natasha currently feared for everyone's safety as her sister held one of those little orange carving knives.

"Oh my gosh, Y/N Romanoff, look!" Yelena shrieked, and your wife sighed when she felt your body relax. There was no hope left, you were at her sister's mercy. Yelena held up a stencil and you smiled. "It's cute."

"No, it is badass!" Yelena corrected, only to be met with a glare from her sister. "Watch your language."

"Natasha," you scolded instantaneously, "Lighten up."

"But she —," Natasha went to defend her decisions but quickly cut herself off when you turned with a glare.

Everyone got away with murder, except Natasha. (Well, in this symbolic context that is…)

Yelena smiled smugly at her sister, she even stuck her tongue out to mock her as you weren't looking. The redhead flipped her off, and your daughter gasped. "Mama! That's the bad finger!" Your eyes widened. "Natasha! What are you now? Some sort of hypocrite?"

"Predateli'," Natasha grumbled, making your daughter laugh alongside her aunt who was taping the ghost cat on a zombie dog's head stencil to her large pumpkin.

(Traitors)

"You all behave," you scolded the entire room before leaving to the kitchen to collect the cookies. Natasha tried to follow you, like a hurt puppy, but you made her stay behind to make sure nobody had a carving crisis. 

Which was in vain because when you came back in the room you found Yelena had upgraded to your sharp carving knife, and you nearly dropped your plate.

"Yelena honey, that's too dangerous," you practically shrieked, but not really to avoid her hand slipping. Not that you didn't have faith in her trained hands, but you knew accidents could happen regardless of skillsets. The blonde pouted up at you, and Natasha watched you once again melt into her little sister's charm.

"I can't use the little orange one," she pleaded for your understanding, "It is too tiny and ineffective."

"Okay," you folded instantly and your wife's eyes widened with flashes of shock and betrayal. The one time Natasha had done the same thing years back, before your kids, you'd given her a safety lesson.

“This isn’t fair,” she grumbled to herself, but she also let it go when she saw you sitting with her sister, eyes focused in on the way she carved the pumpkin and mouth at the ready to give her advice or a light scold.

Natasha let her festering resentments go, and shortly after joined you all at the table so that the youngest member of the house could play with the guts. It was a perfect moment of domesticated bliss, and the redhead couldn’t help but to feel at peace in current company.

Then the following morning came, and you learned a few things. Yelena had a new favorite holiday, and in turn a hobby, carving, which piggybacked right off of her other, bugging her older sister as if it was her job.

"Natasha," you tried to calm her, your hands on her tense shoulder as you kept her from lunging at the blonde. "You need to calm down my love, I can..."

"No!" Natasha cut you off, "She will do it, not you."

"She's our guest," you reminder her, but she merely rolled her eyes—something she never did towards you. "More like a pest, Y/N/N, make her leave before I do."

Your eyes narrowed fast, and your wife cowered at the sheer intensity. "Apologize to her, right now Natalia."

The redhead held back a scoff. Yelena had carved a face only a mother could love into her favorite fall leather jacket, yet she was the one who had to apologize here.

"I'm sorry, parshivets," she begrudgingly spat at the grinning blonde across the room. "I accept, cyka."

(Brat / Bitch)

You sighed, and regretfully turned to face the smug blonde. This was partially your fault too for having let the girl get away with murder up until this point.

"Yelena, now it's your turn." Yelena frowned, but then she nodded and relaxed her features. "Sorry sestra," her tone was genuine, "I will buy you another one."

"No, you don't have to," you let the girl off the hook. "Yes she does." Natasha rebuked your words in a flash, then she intelligently rephrased, "No you don't."

You smirked and rewarded her with a kiss that she tried to melt into, but once again Yelena interrupted with a rumbling stomach. "Can we make pancakes?"

Natasha's hands harshly gripped your hips, and you smiled at her in understanding, she missed you. "How about you go get the kids up while we make breakfast?"

The redhead reluctantly let you go with a nod, but before she got too far you pulled her in for another kiss. "I'll be all yours soon, just have some patience."

Yelena was leaving after the holiday's event, and the kids were going to Wanda's for a spooky sleepover. You'd planned accordingly, and your wife smirked at the reminder, chastely pecked your lips then ran up the stairs with a reinvigorated pep in her once glum step.

"Get the chocolate chips," you instructed your sous chef, and she did so with a smile. Yelena was learning to cook from you, you never outright said it, but you worried about her eating habits. All she could make was mac and cheese and that was artery clogging if not met with a balance of other things besides takeout.

Yelena appreciated your concern, it was clear to her that you were the perfect match for Natasha, because you were an even better platonic match for her. The way you let her just be who she was, who she was discovering herself to be with her newfound freedom, meant the absolute world to her. You were a light that she found comfort in, and would never let go of.

Once you showed Yelena how to make the batter you let her ladle it onto the griddle. "Don't flip it yet," you instructed, your back was turned but you were aware of her piqued curiosity and she was enamored by your spy like skills. "You're like a super mom or something."

"It's nice to see my skillset is appreciated," you teased the younger girl as you returned to her side and gently bumped her hip. "I appreciate all of you, sestra."

It took you a second to reel in your emotions, you'd only been hoping that she wouldn't hate you, but it turned out that she actually liked you, and you didn't want to cry and make her reevaluate that judgement.

Instead you settled on hugging her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake as you showed her the indicators for flipping before finally letting her flip the pancake.

Just as you settled a pancake on the plate you heard an obnoxious scraping on the glass. "What the—." There before you was a focused blonde, the tip of her tongue rested on her lower lip as she carved your perfectly round pancake into a ghost cat. You shook your head with a fond smile, "You really love knives, don't you?" Yelena mirrored your expression and nodded as she now carved an eye into a pumpkin. "They are so cool."

"Natasha loves her guns the same." Yelena flinched, "Guns are too rigid, and loud. Knives are fun, you can do flip tricks with them and they're just as lethal."

You noted her clear discomfort with firearms, and filed it away in your mind as a later topic of discussion, and fortunately the kids came barreling into the kitchen. Yelena dropped the knife and, just like every morning, she greeted the little boys with the tickle monster.

Then came your daughter’s greeting, “Yelena Belova!"

Yelena then followed her lead, “Yelena Romanoff!"

You shook your head at their antics, then you returned to your task at hand, and began to set the table. You placed the blondes masterpieces in their designated spots, a pumpkin for each boy, the cat for her parrot, and the torn to bits pieces went to the toothless baby.

You were gifted two perfectly sized hearts, topped with fruit and whipped cream. Natasha got zero change to the shape, but instead, she was gifted icing words.

“I’m not eating that,” Natasha growled, and you bit back a laugh as you saw the script. “What’s it say?”

Natasha shook her head at you, and glared in her sister’s direction as you attempted to read the Russian out loud, “Tvoya zhena lyubit menya bol'she.”

(Your wife loves me more)

“Damn right,” Yelena teased as she sat in front of her own pancake, “Don’t worry sestra, she loves you too.”

“You two, knock it off and eat your breakfast,” your mom voice came out, and everyone was suddenly sat. You nibbled on your food while making sure your baby didn’t choke on hers as she gobbled it down like a cat (Liho and Bob) being fed at the normal time everyday.

Once breakfast was finished you sent the kids to the living room with their aunt to watch cartoons while you and your wife cleaned up the mess left behind.

As you were packing up the fruit you felt two arms snake around your waist, and a kiss placed on your neck that you instantly melted into. You felt her smirk but ignored her smugness as you lazily cleaned up.

"You're spoiling her," Natasha groaned, you shrugged and turned around to face her with a genuine smile. "I'm just giving her the same chances I did you."

Natasha frowned, "I hope it's not exactly the same."

"That’s disgusting!" Yelena groaned from the couch and you giggled into your wife's shoulder. Avoiding the question in your kids eyes, and leaving Natasha to answer it. The redhead smirked, throwing her sister a wink before she completely pulled you out of the room.

Two could play at this game…

—

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm almost done with part 3 of Blacksmith's Daughter.

But I have once more found myself weak against the headcanons and giggling uncontrollably at my own train of thought.

So this time

What would happen if you found yourself with a bag o' weed?

Whatever here we feckinGOOO

Because I Got High

OPLA!Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy X Reader

Headcanons

NSFW because context and stuff

♫♬Creepin Up The Backstairs - The Fratellis♬♫

Don't just say yes to tease me, do your utmost to please me

I don't mean to be sleazy, being you can't be easy

Zoro

"I mean, I've never tried it, but...."

Never done this before, usually have to have friends to introduce you to this sort of thing, and he was fairly lacking in the friend department until recently.

But basically, the hell with it, why not?

Just watching you roll it up in curiosity and borderline nervousness—

No, he's not nervous, shut up.

First hit and he's trying not to cough up a lung, shoving at you while you giggle about it.

Once it hits, he's in absolute awe of...well, basically everything.

Has never been so relaxed in his entire life what is this sorcery?

Falling back into his favorite hammock and pulling you down with him, just staring up at the ceiling in wonder.

Mentions after several minutes of silence that he can't feel his teeth and then just dissolves into hysterical laughter.

Cannot stop grinning, so comfortable and at ease with everything, kissing at your temple and your neck and pulling you closer against him.

Literally just wants to cuddle at this point, not anything more than that. Just lay there and hold you close, relax, breathe you in and enjoy the warmth and comfort of your body against his.

"....Fuck."

Sanji

"Excuse me, you have what? Oh, this is going to be fun."

He's worked in a professional kitchen. This is not his first rodeo.

Also, hand over the ganja. You're not smoking it, you're cooking with it. Or in actuality, infusing it into butter and cooking with that, to ensure even distribution.

Again. Not his first rodeo. Whatever he does come up with, be it brownies or cookies or are those churros???, you know he knows what he's doing.

Just leaves plates of edibles laid out across the kitchen of the Merry, and no one knows but the two of you.

Luffy eats an entire plate of brownies and is practically in a coma fifteen minutes later, laying sprawled out on the deck and pointing at a cloud every so often to comment on what it looks like.

Nami and Usopp sitting in the corner, alternating between giggling and dying in laughter at the pitiful state of their captain.

Zoro decided he was going to wash dishes for some reason, but you're pretty sure he's been scrubbing the same plate for five minutes.

You and Sanji standing off in another corner, leaning over each other and cracking up at the chaos you have managed to wreak among the crew.

And it gives the two of you the perfect opportunity to slip off to bed, which you definitely don't waste.

As flirty and playful as he is on a normal basis is doubled right now, and whether you're giggling or moaning beneath him, he's absolutely thrilled with the outcome of this endeavor.

"Oh, so much fun...." 

Shanks

"Oh, sweetheart, we are going to the moon."

Do you even have to ask?

The second you tell him you found a bag of the green in the contraband hold in the Marine ship you just sunk, he's grinning like an idiot.

Grabbing you, an officer or two, leaving someone else in charge for a while, and you're all smoking out the captain's cabin.

Thirty minutes later, amid the haze of smoke, Benn's sitting in the corner just staring at his hands in borderline terror. No thoughts, just oh dear gods hands.

Yasopp's doubled over the map table, laughing hysterically at something Shanks said five minutes ago.

Shanks has pulled you on top of him on his bed, arm curled around you, kissing you slowly, no worry at all of any other parties present.

But every so often, his head drops down to his pillows, and he spouts off some high-wisdom one-liner, and just stares off into space for a moment in wonder.

"If...if you drop a bar of soap on the floor...is the soap dirty, or is the floor clean?"

Mihawk

"You have what? Why?"

Disapproving stare.

Well, he might have dabbled in his younger years (no it had nothing to do with Shanks quit asking), but not for quite some time.

It dampens his senses, it's not worth the trouble.

But...maybe it wouldn't hurt, just this once.

Ten minutes later, he's laid back across his bed, arm curled around you, completely at one with everything.

Just staring up at the ceiling, thinking.

Everything makes perfect sense, everything is one, and it's just delightful.

If you need advice about anything, now is the time to ask, because all the secrets of the universe are now his.

He has no idea how far gone he actually is and honestly it's pretty hilarious.

Glares at you when you point it out—before giving a snort-laugh and agreeing with you.

It's a rarity that you get to see him this relaxed and unbothered, so enjoy it while it lasts.

Definitely initiate a make-out session; he's going to take it very slow, and very thorough, savoring you even more than he usually would.

"Mmm, you taste divine, little one...."

Buggy

"Are you serious? Oh, hell yes—"

Eyes light up like a kid at Christmas, you have what?!?!

Oh, he's down as a clown.

He literally said that line, and then grinned so hard that you almost don't want to shove him overboard for it.

He's more than prepared to make sure there are munchies available—mainly chocolate, since he has a serious sweet tooth.

Taking a toke and then kissing along your neck, making you giggle.

Unlike drinking, this is a private affair, just you and him. You're the only one who gets to see this side of him.

Making you giggle gives him life, so he's going to be murmuring stupid jokes in your ear in between trying to make you moan, and he'll settle for either.

"Ooh, yeah, that's it, baby—just give me what's mine."

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit to thepalmofyourfreezinghand

James Beaufort x tailor!Reader(Female)

Synopsis: Reader is James new tailor. Will be a small series. This fic is small, as it sets the basis, paves the way, whatever, for the series.

Mortimer is probably a bit OOC in this (but I set it where he is good friends with the reader's family? And things will be explained further in the series. But Mortimer is good friends with her father and grandfather primarily) I don't know. We will see where it goes. I might make edits if it's not working in the way I'd like.

The doors to the room burst open, alerting the Beauforts. Heads turned, and glares were given at the intrusion. James had wrinkled his nose in disgust at the newcomer, who wore ripped jeans and a baggy hoodie and had all but practically fell into the room. His eyes moved to his father, whose eyes were on the girl in an instant. James had expected his father to look at her the same way he had and give her an earful, but instead, James was caught by surprise by his father's reaction.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” James whipped his head back towards her. This was his new tailor. This girl, in civilian clothes. Could she even afford lavish clothes? Did she live in a one bedroom house with the rest of her family? 

“Mr. Beaufort. I'm so sorry for being late. I had a family emergency to attend to. I told someone to let you know.” James went to open his mouth to say something sarcastic in response, but his father beat him to it. 

“No need for apologies. I was informed. I hope all is well. We aren't in particularly a rush today, so all is well.” Mortimer turned to his son, who looked between his father and the girl in astonishment? What happened to his father? The brute that threatened to wreak havoc at the smallest of inconveniences. 

“This is Y/N Y/L/N. She is your new tailor. She has trained under some of the finest tailors in the business, so I expect some good things.” James only stared in silence at his father, before his attention turned to her, his jaw clenching. This had to be some joke, but as she readied herself with a measuring tape and motioned for him to take his spot, he knew it wasn't so. “In the meantime, me and your mother have business to attend to.” With that, Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort gave her a polite smile and left the room, Lydia in tow. She shared a look with her brother, who didn't look enthused in the slightest. 

He watched his family leave, and then turned to Y/N, who waited for him to move. But he stood there and stared at her. 

“You're my tailor?” He spoke with a tone that held disgust, his eyes somehow showing the same as he looked her over again. 

“And you're my client? I know. Not how I wanted to spend my afternoon.” She bit back and it surprised him. Not many spoke to him in such a tone, especially someone dressed in such a way that she was. “The Beauforts. Known for their money, and their arrogance.” His jaw clenched, as well as his fists. He wanted to fire back. She hadn't said much to warrant anything too nasty from, but he didn’t like people speaking about his family in such a way.

“You say that, but you still decided to work for us?” It came out as more of a question.

“My family has worked for the Beauforts for many years. Just carrying it on.” her tone altered slightly, almost in a solemn way, before it changed into a mock cheeky tone. 

“And while I know that much about your family, we both also know how your father can be with inconveniences, so we better get started before we really set him behind schedule.” He did know his father, which was why James was surprised when he didn’t lash out when she was half an hour late to their appointment. But he also knew that she was right. The half an hour was small, miniscule. But anything more than that, was up for debate. He didn’t want to see or hear what would come if they fell even further behind schedule. 

“Aren't my measurements already on file?” He asked instead, looking at her pointedly.

“Bodies change, Mr. Beaufort.” She spoke with snark in her tone. “I just want to be sure. Ya know. The ‘do the job once and do it right’ kind of thing’.” She gave him a cheeky grin. Oh how bad he wanted to swipe that grin off her face. She infuriated him, and they have known each other for all but ten minutes. 

He finally took a few steps towards her. 

“Oh, what a good Beaufort!” She exclaimed. He whipped his head towards her in a sneer. 

“Do not, speak to me in such a way.” Y/N had looked almost bored at him. 

“I'm so threatened. Now get over here so I can do my job. I don't want to be here as much as you do, you can trust me that much. But I'm not doing it for me or you, no less your father.” She matched his glare, the two of them knowing full well where these appointments were going to go every time he had one. 

James blew air out of his nose in irritation, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he stared her down. When she only raised an eyebrow and stood her ground, he finally gave in, but if she wanted a fight, James was going to give her one. 

When she was finally allowed to, she finally got to work with measurements, surprising James with how gentle she was being, despite their tiny spat. 

But as she continued to do her job, he felt several emotions. Anger, frustration, disgust, amongst others that described his distaste for her. The other was confusion. Who was she? What was her status? Why did his father treat her with so much respect? And what happened to the man that was his previous tailor? 

----

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@sillyfreakfanparty

[houserautha]

Okay just imagine

You’re pregnant with Feyd 3 child and you walk and see him wearing one and playing blocks with the other! I just feel like after all the abuse he’s been through he would be as gentle and loving as he knows how, you have shown him that there is power in such things!

I neeeeeed him

I think it would go something like this:

Silence is frightening. Usually, it means that one of your children has done something that will either invoke your deepest ire or make you cry. And, well, considering that you’re reaching the last days of your pregnancy, it could be both.

You go in search of whatever fresh hell your children have decided to wreak upon you, but it doesn’t take long before you hear the familiar rasp of your husband’s voice. You follow it, and stumble upon a scene that brings a smile to your face.

Feyd is pacing back and forth, your youngest strapped to his chest with military-like precision. His brow is furrowed, and he’s explaining in detail to your oldest about proper defensive measures.

“This wall needs to be higher. It would be too easily penetrable otherwise,” he instructs.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, brow furrowed in an exact mimic of his father’s, your oldest diligently adds blocks to his fortress. Amusement flickers through you.

Feyd stops his pacing to admire his son’s work. In order to assuage your youngest, he bounces slightly on his feet. “Good. And what are you missing?”

“Soldiers!” Your son exclaims, scrambling to find his wooden figurines and set them up in various positions around his fortress. When he’s done, he looks up hopefully at Feyd.

“You’re not done yet,” Feyd says. Your youngest cries out in protest of being stationary too long, so your husband resumes his pacing.

You watch as your son works through what he still needs, dark eyes darting back and forth as he assesses the situation. Leave it to Feyd to turn playtime into a lesson on battle strategies. Frankly, you weren’t sure he knew how to play.

Suddenly your youngest bolts upright. “I know!”He scurries for his toy box, stopping in his tracks when he notices you hovering in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Mommy.”

Feyd looks up. A shiver dances up your spine. He hungrily drinks you in despite the fact that your ankles have swelled impossibly and you haven’t washed your hair in a concerning amount of time. You smile coyly at him. It’s that look he gives you that’s kept you pregnant so often. Damn him.

“Hi, baby,” you say. “What are you doing?”

“We’re playing Fortify. It’s when we have to practice protecting our home in case of bad guys.” Your son explains this with grave solemnity, then sets to rifling through his toy box.

You shoot Feyd an exasperated look, to which he grins and shrugs.

“Got it!” Your son races back to his impressive block fortress. He places another figurine.

You step closer, one hand going to your belly to cradle it. “Who is that?”

“That’s you,” your son tells you. He points to the different figurines. “Daddy says we have to protect you, even though you can protect yourself. You’re just stubborn like that.”

“Hm. Is that so?” You glance at your husband.

Feyd drops a kiss on your youngest’s head. “I don’t know where he got that from.”

You listen carefully as your son describes, in detail, all of the fortification to the fortress and its reasoning. Clearly he has Feyd’s mind for battle, but there’s an underlying touch of empathy there as well. And, to your surprise, your husband has only tried to nurture it. To the best of his abilities, of course, sometimes you swear you see his eye twitch when your son pauses his training to relocate an unsuspecting beetle.

“It looks perfect. You did a good job,” you tell your son. You ruffle his hair. “But I think it’s time for your nap.”

His lower lip jets out. “I want to keep playing.”

“I know you do, and your fortress will still be here when you get back.”

“That’s an order, soldier,” Feyd adds.

Your son looks to your husband, then you, then back to your husband before sighing. “Yes, Daddy — I mean — Baron,” your son giggles. You fondly watch his retreating form.

A groan loosens from you as you attempt to stand back up. Feyd crosses the space between you in a single stride, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet. He brushes his lips across your knuckles.

“I’m just stubborn, huh?” You ask in reply.

“Oh, despicably so.” With two babies between you, one strapped to his chest and one curled in your belly, it’s a little difficult for him to draw you close and kiss you but he manages. When he pulls back, he somewhat distractedly says, “He’s a good strategist. Intelligent. Perceptive. Giedi Prime will be in good hands.”

You kiss your husband’s cheek. “Obviously. He’s learned from the best.”

A/N: this definitely got away from me a bit but it was just too cute😭😭😭 Feyd doesn’t know how to be gentle or play, but he knows what not to do and he’s just going from there

[frudoo]

I’m an autistic little gremlin- so hear me out, one of the 141 boys (or all of them idc- up to you) with a kid that they rescued on a mission and this poor little child is Autistic and hypersensitive to noise and they’ve gotta rework how they do things for now, you know, the boys are used to gunfire, loud comms, yelling at each other (all in good fun) but they don’t wanna scare the poor kid. (I just wanna heal my childhood with these men lmao-)

This was so sweet! I chose Simon, I hope that's alright!

Warnings: None!

“It’s alrigh’, little one, you’re gonna be jus’ fine,” Simon coos to the shivering child he’s holding to his chest. 

     If there’s one thing Simon hates the most on these missions, it’s finding innocent children terrified and all alone, trapped in the rubble of what used to be their homes. It reminds him of his own childhood, hiding away in closets with his little brother while his father wreaked havoc in the living room, on his mother. He would go through hell and back—he has, matter of fact—to make sure that no other kid would have to suffer the way he did, or worse. 

     Unfortunately, sick fucks still come in large quantities, intent on playing God and destroying perfectly peaceful homes with their agendas, leaving the innocents stuck in the middle of it. It destroys Simon, makes his heart grow ten times its normal size in an attempt to shelter every soul he finds to be like his own. Now, here, on the drive back to base, he holds the child in his lap, pressing their head against his chest and covering their exposed ear with one large hand. 

     In the short hour he’s been caring for this kid, Simon’s noticed how loud noises affect them—scratching at their ears or trying to bang their head against a solid surface—so he’s trying his best to keep the sound levels down. No obscene bantering with his teammates, only speaking into his comms when absolutely necessary. Even Soap is on his best behavior, keeping a trained eye on the child to make sure everything is alright. 

     “Alrigh’, kiddo, we’re on base now. S’gonna be a little loud, yeah? Jus’ keep your ‘ead on m’chest, and keep your ears covered f’me.” 

     Simon doesn’t dare make a move until the child nods in agreement. Only once he’s gotten confirmation does he stand, hopping off the Humvee and booking it towards the building. The cool air is calming, grounding, and immediately the kid relaxes in Simon’s hold, squirming to get down. The big man grins beneath his mask as he watches the child smile for the first time, only the quiet chatter and footsteps of soldiers to be heard inside. 

     The mission is far from over, but the team has a few days of reprieve before they’re back on the field. Simon takes the opportunity to learn more about the child, ignoring his superiors’ requests to get them out of here and find some foster care system to put them in—he knows how miserable it is there. The last thing he wants to do is shove this poor kid right back into another traumatic experience. No, instead, he finds some extra clothes to give them (even if they are way too big) and takes care of them the best he can—even gives them a pair of headphones to keep on when the world gets too overwhelming.

     Ultimately, Simon realizes that he’s become attached to this child, and when the mission is finally complete and they’re all free to go on leave, he takes the kid home with him. A couple of weeks later, he’s certain that this is the life he wants, to fill in as a guardian for this sweet, sweet child, to something to live for. He ends up retiring and adopting the lovely kiddo. 

     He found peace in the quiet, the simple life, and maybe finding this new happiness in the rubble wasn’t such a bad thing.

[timeoutsoup]

Dig You A Grave

For @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 propmt

Klarion was enjoying his current mission for The Light. He was sent to a small city somewhere in America’s Midwest, to retrieve a magical tome that was currently in the hands of an eccentric billionaire. Imagine his surprise, when what he originally believed to be a boring errand, turns into an exciting night, because it turns out this city, Amity Park, reeked of Death magic and was infested with ghosts.

Giggling, the witch boy scratches his familiars chin as his eyes grow wide and his face splits into a mischievous grin. In front of him people were running in various directions, attempting to escape what looked like a giant ghostly cat, being ridden by a young girl.

“Oh, Teekl, this town is much more interesting than I originally believed.”

Watching mortals panic, as the ghostly cat destroys part of the street, and damages buildings, Klarion notices some pesky thorns in his side. Young Justice. Scoffing the witch boy decides to continue his mission.

“Well while it was fun watching, I should use this lovely feline as a distraction and continue my mission, don’t you agree Teekl.”

What Klarion, Teekl and Young Justice didn’t see was a teenage ghost fighting what appeared to be a genie, off in the distance, defeating her, and returning everything to normal.

Danny had just defeated Desiree, capped the Fenton thermos, and was looking for a place to detransform as the ghost genie’s wishes disappeared. He had noticed some superheroes fighting one of Desiree’s granted wishes and wondering why they were here. Sighing Danny notices where he is. Of course, his fight had to end in the back of fruit loop’s mayoral mansion, just his luck. He quickly ducked into an alleyway to change back.

Once back to his normal self, the young halfa heard yelling, and what sounded like a fight going on.

“I literally just defeated Desiree, and already another ghost appears.” Danny grumbles as he sticks his head out from the alleyway, and to his surprise it is not a ghost wreaking havoc on Amity, but a teenage boy, wearing a suit, glowing hands, and hair shaped into devil horns. The cute guy was taunting Vlad and Danny need to know.

Checking the streets, no one was around, the young halfa dashes through the open gates and crouches behind a bush.

“I do not care who you are, leave this property at once.” Vlad commands, glaring down his opponent.

“Oh quiet. You are interfering with my fun.” The young man says. “Now look what you’ve done. The Justice babies are here.”

Danny watched as Vlad was picked up by a guy in yellow and red spandex and is carried away in a flash.

“What are you doing here Klarion? Why are you attacking these people?” A young man with glowing tattoos askes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know water boy!” Klarion responds, raising his glowing palms, getting ready to attack.

Danny watches in amazement as Klarion fights the group of teenagers. Standing up, he leans on a near by tree and just watches the battle unfold.

No one noticed him until he let out a laugh at some of the banter going on. “’Aster.’ Who says ‘aster’?” the teen wheezes, as all eyes turn to him.

Klarion glances at the boy. “And who are you supposed to be? Another wannabe hero trying to stop me?”

Danny rolled his shoulder getting ready for a fight. “Alrighty. If you want to fight, I’ll fight you, and if I win let’s go on a date?” The halfa askes, smirking at Klarion.

Everyone froze. No one new what to do or how to react. It was Danny who broke the silence he made. “Well can I get an answer?”

Klarion regains his composure. “Alright Fine! But if I win, I’ll make you a grave!”

“Aw, you’re making me a grave already?! How sweet of you!” A hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks, but before they could continue, Danny is roughly picked up and is zoomed out of their by the same guy, who grabbed Vlad.

“Hey, kid that was super dangerous what you did. You need to stay out of it and let those of us who are trained take care of this.”

Before he even had a chance to respond, the speedster zipped back to the fight, leaving Danny on the other side of town. Determined to return to the fight, Danny whips his head around searching for a safe place to transform. It took a bit to find a spot, but he eventually did. Changing back into his ghost form, Phantom raced back to the mayoral mansion, and the fight that was raging, making sure to turn invisible on the way.

By the time Danny made it back, the fight had ended, and Klarion was now where to be seen. The team of teenage heroes was nowhere to be seen, doing who knows what, but left a destroyed lawn for Vlad to deal with.

Disappointed Danny turned to leave but notices an orange tabby, looking worse for wear staring at him. Floating down, still invisible, the cat’s eyes following his every move. He kneels in front of the feline, slowly offering his hand for the cat to smell, trying his best not to startle the poor thing. The cat sniffs his hand and butts its head against it, shocking the poor ghost boy. Most animals hated him, especially in his ghost form, feeling uneasy around a half dead guy. This cat was different. They were special.

Danny gently scooped up the injured cat, holding them gently in his arms, heading towards the nearest vet.

Klarion had succeeded in his mission of obtaining the tome for The Light, but at a heavy cost to himself.

Teekl had emerged from the Mayor’s Mansion having successfully gotten the book, only to be seen by the junior justice babies. They divided their attacks between him and his beloved familiar. In the end he was able to grab the book as he a Teekl were separated by a blast. Deciding to lead the heroes away and return for his beloved feline, Klarion took to the sky. Once he knew it was safe to return, the witch boy began his search for Teekl.

It had been three days and Klarion had not found her yet. Anger and worry clouded his vision, as he continued his search.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 43)

“Hey! I'm agh, back!” N was still completely covered in mud and filth, his coat littered in scratches and stains, his hat was clutched in his hands, and his brand new WDF badge in his pocket.

The badge was a bronze shield with the worker drone icon embossed on the front, he felt accomplished, he'd done this himself earned something for himself for the first time… ever.

“In here!” Uzi called from the bedroom, and N followed it, the door was wide open, and Uzi was laying belly down on the bed, absent of her normal hoodie and left in her purple tank top. Her tail was free as well, but it was curled up at her side, relaxed. She had cracked open a dusty book and was visor deep into it. N couldn't help the gold that creeped into his cheeks.

Excuse him for finding his girlfriend hot cute.

When their gazes connected, Uzi jumped up, looking equal measure concerned and surprised at the wreak of a dissasemy drone in front of her.

“You look like you got into a fight! What happened?” Her hand was on his cheek, he felt himself smiling, his tail wagging behind him.

“Your dad put me through their training course, turns out I'm not exactly built for uh… the ground.” He purred and put his hand over hers. His head already felt heavy, and he was almost overwhelmed by the urge to fall into the bed, taking her with him.

“Well? What was your time?” She asked smirking.

“Minute fifteen.”

“Ah dang, you beat me.” She replied in mock dissapointment, but N knew it wasn't something she meant.

“Huh?”

“I used to do that course the couple of times dad took me into the office. I got pretty good at it… my best was two minutes.” She explained, she pulled away from him face, leaving him wanting for more contact.

“How'd you get past the wall?” He asked, almost already knowing the answer.

“Kinda just had to run up it. It was always my worst enemy…”

“Heh… I thought so, I did too.”

“Let's get you cleaned up, okay?” In the next moment she had his hand and was leading him to the bathroom connected to their room, he blinked, fighting back the warmth that was crawling up his arm and into his processors.

“I can do that myself.” He hummed, although he didn't let go of her hand, or really suggest she leave.

“Let me take care of you?” Uzi replied, several tones lighter then her usual tone.

He blushed at that, feeling uncertain about his own words parroted back at him, he nodded sheepishly.

She locked the door behind her, before turning around, her tail was wagging gently behind her, and a blush was on her face. N giggled at her embarrassment.

“You sure? I really can do this myself.”

“Y-yes! I'm um… also testing a theory, just… shush.” She grumbled, closing the gap between them before her hands clasped around the fur of his coat, before she went to unbutton it.

N felt his core speed up, watching as she slowly undid each button, each move deliberative, as if she was trying to move through water.

“You feeling it too?”

In response, Uzi looked up at him, looking almost like she was in pain.

“Trying to fight it. Also part of my theory, just… hush please… don't make me kiss you.”

She got to around his waist and undid his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his hat, he shrugged off what was left, leaving the filthy garment to join the pile on the floor.

He felt exposed like this… it didn't help that Uzi had paused for a moment to look at him, eyes rolling over every groove of his sleek chassis even though it was still covered in grime.

He forced every eye away from her direction feeling self-conscious for the first time in… forever.

“S-sorry.” He heard her mumble, before she pulled a rag that was hung on the wall down and wet it in the sink, before crouching down and beginning with the grime caked on his legs.

Uzi was doing her best not to explode, but there was a reason she was doing this, and it wasn't just an excuse to see her boyfriend naked. No, she'd been doing quite a bit of reading while N had been out, specifically, biology.

Even more specifically, bat species, their habits, behaviors, what made them tick and why. Trying to figure out why they were being dragged into these trances and if they could control them in some way.

N meanwhile was trying to control himself.

No one had ever shown this much tenderness to him, and Uzi was being incredibly gentle with him, he wanted to melt. He was melting, he was putty, Uzi's putty and she could do whatever she wanted with him, he'd be good for her.

His purring became remincent of a motorboat, so loud and so strong it was vibrating his entire chassis, she finished his leg, wrung out the rag, and started on the other, she was quick and methodical, and made sure to be extra careful in places moisture could get trapped inside his plating, treating rust was a pain in the ass.

“How you feeling?”

“Mmm… good.”

He wasn't all there, she could tell from his voice, which is what she figured, N didn't seem to have the willpower she did, and got swept away with the gushy, fluffy feeling that came with the trance easier.

She was still fighting hers, ever present and buzzing uncomfortably in the back of her mind. She'd give it what it wanted, but she wanted to prove her hunch first.

Thankfully, she didn't need N to be all there for this to work… if it worked at all.

When she finished, he was finally free of the by then dried mud that had covered any part of his body that had been exposed while he'd done the course, which had ended up being quite a bit of him.

Then instead of getting him a change of clothes, she stopped resisting the urge that had plagued her since the second he walked through the door, and buried herself into his arms.

Her theory? Clearly, whatever weird instincts were having them do this wanted them close, otherwise neither of them would feel a pull this strong, so… if they were to willingly indulge this feeling, with as few layers on as possible separating them. Maybe they could control it. Maybe.

It was based on only a day or two worth of bat research, and most of it had proved completely useless. Most bats simply didn't behave the same way, being social, polygamous animals, who didn't seem to pair up, at least for long.

Except…. One.

A very obscure, very specific bat native to Australia. A false-vampire bat that paired for life. The yellow winged bat. Which wouldn’t you know it, typically slept in that pair, holding wings.

They couldn't do that, the ceiling wasn't tall enough, and N's wings were made out of blades. But this was the next best thing.

The silicone on silicone contact was almost scary if it didn't seem to be everything her body had been telling her to do for the past week, N immediately wrapped himself around her, ignoring her tank top in favor of running his hands underneath it.

N was warm, and safe. And despite being made out of metal he felt so soft. Her tail coiled and tightened around his waist, and his tail did the same.

“Biscuits…” He mumbled, causing her to try to hold in a cackle, but that meant it was working, the fog in her processor was finally starting to lift, further then it had even in moments where she'd thought she'd been fine, she took a deep breath.

So… they'd essentially been touch-starving themselves. Cuddles helped, but not what these new instincts wanted, animals didn't have clothes… so they didn't need any either… apparently.

“Are you freaking kidding me…?” Uzi was honestly more mad that this was actually working, the only thing her body wanted was skin-to skin contact?

“Mmm. Don't complain, this is nice…”

Uzi couldn't help but agree with him.

The next morning. The brain fog was gone.

Next ->

[littlebugs]

lady ren

summary: you're kylo ren's wife. the resistance thinks he's taking advantage of you, but little do they know... warnings: reader goes by she/her pronouns, short reader, major character death, no y/n use, reader was a jedi, kylo ren is a warning himself.

(my works are diverse to all races and ethnic backgrounds, as a mixed race girlie i feel yall's pain my fellow poc's)

a/n: i've been gone far to long, but i've discovered the beauty called kylo ren. also he looks so hot in that gif.... love dat emo space daddy.

When Rey first saw you, you were on Jakku. Surrounded by The Knights of Ren, you looked tiny, your arm latched onto Kylo's waist as he towered over you, looking brooding in his mask. You had vanished shortly after, but Rey had gotten a glance at you. Beautiful. Shiny hair, glowing skin. But not...evil. You didn't look like you belonged with the First Order. In fact, you gave off an aura somewhat like a Jedi.

Little did they know... you had been. You and Kylo were both trained under Luke Skywalker to become Jedi, and had become close friends, although Skywalker had tried to split you up. The darkness in Ben had slowly grown into you, and the night that Luke tried to kill him was the breaking point. You had ran and joined the First Order. At first you kept mostly to yourself. Following Ben- now Kylo, wherever he went. As he slowly gained respect in the First Order, and caught attention of Supreme Leader Snoke, so did you. You were both praised for leaving the Jedi, and soon people became afraid of Kylo... but they might as well have been more scared of you.

You were quiet, but you were also funny, even in the gravest of situations, which was somewhat disconcerting. Although you usually listened, rather than talked, when you did have something to say, everyone listened. Not to mention the fact that you bested some of the First Order's most prized soldiers. You were Kylo's closest confidant, his only friend, and the only one who could calm him down (especially when he decided to wreak havoc on some poor lab tech's control panel.)

It was no surprise when he asked for your hand in marriage, and you got engaged. Kylo wanted the wedding to be perfect, waiting to become officially married until you could both return to his home planet, Chandrila. But there was much to do before that.

Rey told Leia and Han of their son's mysterious mistress. The beautiful woman, standing in the heat of Jakku. Of course, they were shocked, at the mere thought of their son having... anyone. But intead of elation, as a mother might usually feel for a son, General Organa felt worry. She had no idea who this woman was, if her son was using her, or if it could be the other way around.

Han had been worried too. But it was his nature to be more curious. So when he first saw you, watching from a bridge above, guarded by two of The Knights of Ren, he had to wave, and you waved right on back. You tapped the ring on your finger and smiled, doing a little dance. But wherever you were, Kylo was always nearby, and as you watched Kylo storm onto the bridge to see his father, you grimaced and pointed at the flurry of darkness.

Rey and Finn watched you, perplexed, as to how someone could take the entire situation so lightly. "Who does she think she is?" Finn had asked, slightly annoyed. "I don't know" Rey replied simply, watching intently as Kylo approached his father, and you leaned over the railing slightly smiling.

Kylo turned back to look up at you, just before approaching his Han, and you audibly giggled. Rey had scoffed. Rey and Finn's eyes bounced between the scene unfolding before them, with you, talking quietly to the two knights, Ushar and Vircrul, and Kylo and Han, seemingly... rekindling?

And finally... Kylo took his helmet off. It dropped to the ground. He quickly looked at you, and you winked, biting your lip. Vircrul probably snorted (but he would never admit it.) And just as Kylo was about to shockingly give his lightsaber to his father...

Rey and Finn watched in horror as the lightsaber went through Hans. They were both frozen in shock, and looking up, expecting you to see the same. But you weren't terrified. You weren't even shocked. You simply smiled down on Kylo, and made your way down to see him. As Han's body fell of the bridge, you squealed in delight. You picked up Kylo's mask, rose up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the nose, and simply placed his helmet on his head again.

As Rey rushed to escape, followed by Chewie and Finn, she thought she couldn't have been more wrong about the Lady Ren.

[perseabeth]

< What If >

this is a one shot written about @anotheroceanid amazing fic titled When the Horizon Bloom, read it on AO3 you will enjoy it very much and cry very much too - i do not own the idea of the fic and i certainly do not own any character. this is a version of “What if” things happened differently in the fic. enjoy ✨ and i’d love to thank the author again for the amazing fic that i’m becoming obsessed with

****

Percy paced back and forth in her cabin, a growing sense of unease gnawing at her. She felt lost, unsure of whom to turn to, and the lack of dreams last night only heightened her fear. Sleep eluded her; every time she closed her eyes, she was jolted awake by terrifying nightmares.

She had faced Kronos, defeated titans, and held the weight of the world on her shoulders in Atlas’ place. She had endured experiences far worse than any nightmare could conjure, living through horrors that would break most. So why was she so afraid now?

A soft knock on the door pulled Percy from her spiraling thoughts. A blonde-haired girl peeked in. "Seaweed brain?"

Percy lifted her gaze to meet her friend's. Annabeth's gray eyes were filled with concern, as if sensing something was wrong. "You missed breakfast... is everything okay?"

Percy tried to muster a small smile. No, nothing was okay. Morning sickness was wreaking havoc on her, and the nightmares of gods punishing her were relentless. "Yes, I'm okay. I just woke up late," she managed to say, though it was far from the truth.

Annabeth looked at her silently for a minute, her eyes seeming to penetrate Percy’s thoughts. Percy was always amazed at how Annabeth’s eyes mirrored Athena’s, reading a person like an open book. she gulped, hoping Annabeth would believe her words. After a moment, her friend nodded slowly. "Your training starts in 15 minutes. The class is almost ready."

Percy gave a slight smile and nodded. "I'll be there." Yet Annabeth lingered at the door, as if waiting for Percy to confide in her. Realizing she wouldn't get any more information, Annabeth gave a final nod and closed the door behind her.

Percy hated lying to her friends and hiding anything from them. Since the war, they had all promised to be open with each other, to support one another through the healing process. But what could she say? That she was pregnant? Carrying a god’s child? No, not even one—three. Three small lives growing inside her, and she had no idea who to turn to.

She did have an idea. She wanted to turn to everyone around her, but her dreams held her back. Demigod dreams weren’t mere dreams; they were messages, visions, and warnings. And here she was, sleep-deprived because she dreamt of her children being killed while their father watched, emotionless.

The day passed rather quickly, as if Kronos had cursed time to hasten her doom. Everything was normal; life at camp went on as usual. Campers were enjoying themselves, chatting, sneaking drinks, and partying as if there were no worries for tomorrow.

It was ironic how carefree they all seemed. They had won a war and were free, savoring the remnants of their mortal lives. Yet, Percy was once again carrying the weight of the world. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed something strange about her. Then the news would spread like Greek fire, reaching the gods, who would learn of the prophecy. Percy and her children would be doomed.

Unconsciously, she wrapped a hand around her belly, as if trying to shield them from the inevitable. Just then, Percy noticed a pair of lingering gray eyes. "Still not feeling well?" Annabeth's voice pulled her from the ocean of her thoughts. Percy quickly removed her hand from her belly, afraid the gesture might reveal too much. "Yes, don't worry. I think I had too many cookies," Percy muttered, attempting a smile to reassure Annabeth. But she knew her friend wouldn’t buy it. Annabeth nodded silently.

The thing about a daughter of Athena was that she knew when something was wrong. But she waited for you to confide in her before uncovering the truth herself. That’s what Annabeth was offering Percy—time to reveal what was going on before she forced it out of her.

—————

The Olympus council raged with energy—too much energy for Percy’s mortal form to bear. She had been here multiple times before, she reminded herself, but nothing had prepared her for this moment.

She tried to catch her father’s eyes, but he immediately looked away, as if unable to bear the sight of her, ashamed. Her heart sank, and her soul felt like it was shattering. She needed someone to hold onto, but there were too many eyes on her, filled with anger and power. Desperately, she searched for other eyes, gentler eyes that had once looked at her with all the love in the world. Eyes that had held her tight, swearing to protect her from everything.

Percy sought his eyes—sky blue, like a beacon of light amidst the darkness. Her heart yearned for him, remembering how he had looked sitting leisurely on his golden throne, just like the first time she had seen him there. Yet, she couldn’t find those sky-blue eyes. Instead, she was met with golden eyes, burning with rage and a promise of pain.

"Well?" Her uncle's voice thundered through the room, the echo making Percy shrink. She had never been afraid of gods, never. She would have kicked the door of Olympus open and marched in like the hero she was. But today wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about harming her. It was about harming those precious to her—her children, hidden within her belly, shielded from the room's volatile energy.

"Apollo, what do you say about this, since you are, after all, the father?" Zeus’ voice was like thunder, each word more terrifying than the last. His tone dripped with sneer, as if the whole situation was beneath him.

Percy’s eyes remained on her lover, whose gaze had become a foreign land. Apollo did not speak; he just stared at her, as if silently threatening her, blaming her for their predicament. Then, with a cold, emotionless voice, he sealed her doom. "I will have none of this," he stated, turning his gaze back to his father. "They might be mine, but I will not claim them, and they will face the wrath of the gods like anyone else who dares to overstep their position."

Fog and mist clouded Percy’s vision. Tears welled up, blurring her sight. Perhaps her tears were merciful, blocking his face from her so she wouldn’t remember him like this—so emotionless, so heartless, promising punishment. This was the true Apollo, the one she had read about in books, the one who punished Cassandra and skinned a satyr alive. This wasn’t her Apollo. This wasn’t the gentle touch of the sun that had held her warmly. This voice wasn’t the sweet, melodic one that had whispered love to her. These eyes weren’t the beautiful ones she had always admired.

Zeus’ voice cut through the room again, sharp and authoritative. "Then the children should be punished and thrown into Tartarus, and they will take with them anyone who stands in the way." Zeus looked at her, a silent warning in his eyes—'You will go with them if you object.' He continued, "All in favor?"

Percy looked around in horror, her gaze landing on her father, pleading silently for mercy. But all she got in return was, "I agree."

All hands were raised, not one sparing her or her children. Cold, merciless eyes looked upon her, not with pity but with disgust, as if she had committed an unforgivable sin.

Percy’s tears could no longer be held back. She fell to her knees, perhaps because her legs could no longer support her, or perhaps because she wanted to beg. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was crying, her sobs echoing throughout the room, her trembling voice barely holding together.

"Please don’t. Please, please. I’m begging you. Please don’t harm them. Please. I’ll take them away. I’ll raise them far from here, but please don’t harm them."

She wasn’t sure if she was making any sense, wasn’t sure what she was even begging for. All she knew was that her heart was shattering, her soul was dying. She felt an immense, unbearable pain, and she was screaming.

——

Percy jolted awake, the room cloaked in darkness, but the light of the fountain was enough for her to recognize her surroundings. She was in her cabin. Safe and sound. She was safe, and her children were safe.

Tears filled her sea-green eyes once more, her heart shattering anew. For the first time, her cabin, her mini-heaven, felt suffocating. The events of her dream rushed back to her, and Percy could no longer hold back her tears. She needed to get out, needed to breathe. Air was scarce in the cabin, and she needed more.

With shaky legs, she stood and rushed to the door, trying to find air, trying to calm her sobs, but she couldn’t. She burst through the door and into the night. She didn’t remember where she walked or where her legs carried her. All she knew was that she found herself in the middle of a path lined with trees, the only light guiding her being the moon’s gentle glow.

She tried to control her sobs, tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. She was safe. They were safe, she reminded herself.

A sudden movement behind her froze the blood in her veins. She sensed him—felt his presence. His energy was always so warm, so peaceful, that she could always feel him. But this time, this peaceful energy brought her only fear. She didn’t dare look behind her, didn’t dare see if those eyes had turned golden again. She didn’t dare to hear that cold, merciless voice. So Percy stood there, wrapping her arms around herself, protecting herself, protecting them from the coldness she had just begun to feel.

"My love?" His gentle voice was like a sweet whisper, so lovely and filled with emotion. It carried love and concern, just as she was used to, before her nightmares.

"Percy, my love, why are you here?" he asked again, his voice almost a whisper, as if afraid of startling her. That’s when she broke down again. Hearing his voice like that only reminded her of her nightmare, her visions, and what his voice might sound like when all was exposed.

Percy didn't remember how it happened, but she found herself enveloped in warm arms. She remembered his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he held her, shielding her from the coldness of the night. It was ironic how the person she feared was the one giving her peace and comfort now, the only one capable of calming her tears. She sensed the fear and worry in his voice as he held her, felt his concern through the gentle touch of his hand soothing her hair.

If only he knew what he would become in the future...

She stayed there for what felt like minutes, maybe hours. She didn't even realize when he had picked her up and led her to a rock, where he sat with her wrapped in his arms, still caressing her hair and calming her down. She didn’t dare speak or look at him, afraid her eyes and voice would betray her

After what seemed like forever, she finally dared to look at him, to meet his gaze. He allowed her to lift her head, and she saw his eyes—beautiful, clear sky-blue even under the moonlight. His eyes were filled with love and gentleness, just as she remembered, now mingled with concern. Percy’s sea-green eyes locked with his, afraid that if she looked away, his eyes would turn to gold again. Her lover didn’t speak, only looked at her, always considerate, always patient, waiting for her to find peace before finding her voice.

“What’s wrong, love?” he muttered, his voice carrying the gentleness of the world. He brushed away the hair blocking her face, soothing her racing heart. He waited for an answer, but she shook her head, still unable to find her voice.

She felt terrible lying to him; she couldn’t look into his eyes and deceive him, so she averted her gaze, studying her surroundings. Only now did she notice they were in the middle of the forest. Suddenly, a warm hand gently held her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes again. “Percy… what’s wrong?”

She knew this tone—the tone of demanding answers, answers he would get no matter how long he has to keep her wrapped in his arms. A voice inside her head, a tiny voice, told her she could trust him, find peace in him, that he would protect her as he promised. But that voice was immediately drowned by the ocean of nightmares that filled her nights.

Percy shook her head again, trying to find her voice, now raspy from screaming and crying. “J-just a nightmare,” she muttered, still unable to look away as he gently fixed her chin with his warm fingers, holding her gaze.

Apollo studied her for a few minutes before gently stroking her hair again with his other hand. “A nightmare that made you run to the woods in the middle of the night?” he asked, still gentle and patient.

Percy simply nodded and muttered, “A bad nightmare.”

His gaze never left hers, studying her while his hands continued to soothe her. “What was it about?”

Percy gulped. She knew he would ask. He was always curious about every detail of her life, always there listening to her nightmares. He wouldn’t let this one go.

She looked at him, still holding his gaze, as if trying to show him she was being honest. “About the war.”

Apollo simply nodded before Percy felt the gentle touch of his lips on her forehead, kissing away her worries. His warmth spread throughout her body, comforting her, enveloping her in peace. For a fleeting moment, Percy wanted to believe that all was perfect in the world.

He whispered, his lips still on her forehead, "My love, have I ever told you how terrible of a liar you are?"

Percy's heart sank as nightmares rushed back to her—the memory of his cold voice, his golden angry eyes, and his indifferent gaze. She could feel her heartbeat in her hands, only for him to look at her again, his beautiful blue eyes meeting hers, guiding her through the darkness.

His eyes held nothing but pure gentleness, a hint of teasing, and a lot of love. His fingers started brushing her cheeks gently as he spoke again, his voice as gentle as a feather, "You are a terrible liar, and I love that you try to lie to the god of truth." He kissed her nose affectionately.

Speechless and unsure of what to say or how to react, Percy was overwhelmed. her silence didn’t seem to bother him as he continued to brush her cheeks and pepper her face with sweet, gentle kisses. "Now tell me, what’s wrong?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern and love.

Percy couldn’t do anything but shake her head as she attempted to free herself from his embrace, only to find him holding her tighter. He remained silent, patient, silently facing their battle as she struggled against him.

She heard him sigh, and for a split second, fear gripped her—fear of him running out of patience, fear of meeting those golden eyes again. But the more she protested, the gentler his hold became. She looked into his eyes again, his lips curving into a small smile. “You aren’t going anywhere, my love, until you tell me,” he stated, his voice filled with warmth.

She shook her head as silent tears started rolling down her cheeks. “I-I can’t,” she whispered.

He shook his head, as if her answer wasn’t what he was seeking, before kissing her tears away, wiping them away with his lips. “Yes, you can, and you will, Percy,” he sighed before continuing. “I know you well enough to know that nothing, absolutely nothing, could make you run into the middle of the night like that unless it was something terrifying.” He kissed her forehead again, as if aware of the calming effect his gentle kisses had on her. And he wasn’t wrong. The more he did it, the more she felt at peace in his arms, despite all the nightmares.

He gently continued, still holding her gaze. “You looked at our dear grandfather eye-to-eye and stood your ground. I know my Percy. Nothing can scare her. So tell me, my love.”

She wanted to, oh how she wanted to tell him everything, to spill everything and hold him close. But she knew she couldn’t. She knew how he would react, and she knew what they would face.

Percy shook her head again, tears streaming down her face as she forcefully freed herself from his grasp. She couldn’t bear to look at his hurt expression, the pain in his eyes as she distanced herself from him, as if she were afraid of him. And who could she lie to? She was afraid of him.

She kept shaking her head, trying to make him understand. She didn’t want to hurt him, but he had to understand. She struggled to find her voice again. "I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!" she repeated, tears flowing freely. The night’s coldness enveloped her once more, while her body begged her to return to the warmth of his arms. Percy tried to look at him, hoping he would spare her from explaining anything, but she was once again met with his beautiful blue eyes, tinged with pain and uncertainty. His voice broke her, destroying all the self-will she had been trying to gather, as he whispered, "Don’t you trust me?"

She does! She wanted to scream at him that she does, that he was foolish to even doubt it. But does she? Percy questioned herself as she looked at him again. does she trust him? If she did, she wouldn’t feel afraid of him. If she did, she wouldn’t believe he would harm her or their children.

The longer she took to answer, the more pain showed in his eyes as his gaze locked onto hers. Then he spoke again, almost in a whisper, his voice showing hints of pain. "What did I do?"

Silence enveloped them, the night alive with the symphony of the forest. The rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant hoot of an owl, and the occasional chirping of crickets provided a backdrop to their conversation, amplifying the tension between them.

She kept looking at him, observing how he tried his best to understand what he had done wrong. Knowing him, he was probably going through a mental list of things he thought he might have done.

But how could she tell him?

“You didn’t do anything,” she finally said, her voice quivering.

“Then why?” he pressed.

“Why what?”

“Why are you looking at me like you aren’t sure whether you are safe with me or not?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on her, waiting for any reaction.

Percy couldn’t handle this anymore. She couldn’t tell him anything, yet she couldn’t not tell him anything. He stood there, hurt, thinking she didn’t trust him, yet he was so far from the truth.

Apollo slowly stood and stepped a little closer to her. Blame it on her nightmare or her lack of sleep, but she couldn’t help but take a step backward, earning her a quizzical look from him.

“St-stay away,” she muttered, hoping to stop him. She realized too late that her words had indeed stopped him, but not in the way she wished, as he stood frozen, looking at her with pained eyes. For the first time in her life, Percy witnessed fear in Apollo’s eyes.

She had hurt him, deeply. But who could blame her? If anyone with a healthy mind saw these visions every day, they would react the same way.

She tried to speak again, hoping to remove that pained look from his face. “I-I didn’t mean it that—“ But before she could finish, he spoke again.

“You are scared of me… What did I do?”

That’s when Percy broke down again. Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was nightmares, maybe it was a terrible mix of both, but she couldn’t bear to see that look on his face. She started sobbing, holding her face in her palms. She felt him hesitate, unsure whether to step closer or stay where he was, knowing she was scared.

Percy kept sobbing as she muttered, "It’s not you... You will harm us... In the future, you will harm us... I can’t let that happen... They don’t deserve this!"

Apollo’s voice cut through her sobbing state as he simply questioned, “Us? They?”

Here’s a few things about Percy: sometimes words don’t go through her brain before speaking them out, which has gotten her into trouble with gods, titans, and monsters alike. When she is in distress, this tendency becomes even worse, and following order becomes harder for her. And in that special moment, Percy was in her most vulnerable state as she couldn’t control her sobs. Gaea had warned her to be careful with every word she says, but it’s not Percy’s fault that Gaea trusted her with such a mission. And it was too late when Percy realized what she had done as she looked at her confused lover. It was too late to withdraw her words; her tears still blurred her vision as he stood in front of her. “I-I mean us, me and you,” she stammered.

Apollo shook his head, didn’t he just tell her how terrible of a liar she is? “You just said ‘they’? Who are they, Percy?”

She wanted to run, to escape now, never look back because she just realized that she had messed up everything. Her tears were uncontrollable at this point, but she couldn’t let herself drown in them. She needed to stay awake to face him, but with what? What could she say?

In a blink of an eye, she felt warm palms cupping her cheeks, caressing them softly as his eyes poured into hers. “Who are you talking about?” he whispered gently, as if he was aware that whatever topic they were approaching was something destroying her.

Was it worth lying at this moment? Percy questioned herself. Maybe Gaea had promised to save her from all, but was it a real solution? Was she able to run from the twelve Olympian gods forever? Was she really able to postpone whatever destiny her children might face? She is a child of prophecy, and she knows how hard it is to escape prophecies. Was any of it really worth it?

She could feel a voice in her head telling her to confide in him, and another screaming and shouting at her, telling her that these nightmares would come true, and she was only making them come quicker. She could feel invisible hands holding her throat, preventing her from talking, a pressure almost preventing her from breathing. But one thing, one small thing, was holding her like an archer holding a ship amidst a dark storm: his eyes. Those gentle eyes that looked at her with all the love and concern possible. Eyes promising her that he would protect her no matter what. And in that second, she trusted those eyes, for they had never broken a promise.

“Our children,” she whispered, maybe even afraid that he would hear. But she knew that he heard, because the frozen state he was in proved that he did, in fact, hear.

His frozen state only fed her fears more; his eyes never left hers, but he was oddly silent, and that didn’t help her at all in this situation. She regretted blurting it out; she regretted not controlling herself, and she was about to regret confiding in his eyes when the silence was broken with his voice.

“You are—” he began, but couldn’t finish. He waited for her to finish, waited for her to spill the words so she could confirm them.

Tears rolled from Percy’s eyes again. That was it, that was the moment she had dreaded. But when was she a coward running away? Never, and she never would. Percy nodded, still holding his gaze, as she finished his own sentence. “—pregnant.”

And again, frozen, he was back again to that state where his eyes widened, looking at her, searching her eyes for any hint of a lie. She had to break this silence; she had to speak. She led armies, so she could lead a conversation, even with tears rolling down her eyes.

“triplet.. But there’s a prophecy… Dangerous… Gods will be angry… You will be angry… A lot of danger… Tartarus… I need to prote—” But before she managed to finish her incoherent speech, which she was sure made no sense, she felt warm lips on hers.

It was a gentle kiss, soft and tender, like a feather brushing against her lips. It was a kiss filled with happiness, reassurance and love, a silent promise. In that moment, all her fears melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and warmth. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, letting herself be enveloped by his love.

Maybe she wished to believe that it was a normal pregnancy announcement; maybe his kiss did make her feel like that. And for moments, she wanted to believe that. He broke the kiss only to replace it with another tender kiss, and another, and another.

She tried to whisper between kisses, reminding him of their situation: “Prophecy.” But it only gained her an inaudible mumble as he kissed her one last time. Maybe he didn’t hear her incoherent speech; maybe he was also wishing to live in his own world for a few minutes.

He looked at her again, and if she thought that she already found his most beautiful gaze, she was wrong. Because at this moment, there she found the most beautiful gaze. He looked at her with eyes full of love, happiness, pure happiness he barely showed, besides when she confessed her love for the first time. But now, it was a new type of happiness, a new type of hope. His hands never left her cheeks as he kept caressing them with even more tenderness. He whispered, “I love you... so much,” before kissing her again softly and mumbling, “Thank you.”

She hated to break that moment for them; she hated to ruin this happiness. But she had to. She had to tell him the full truth since he already knew the worst part of it. “Prophecy,” she mumbled again. That’s when she caught his attention, and he spoke, “What prophecy are you talking about my love ? I heard of nothing.”

She took a deep breath before she spilled everything to him, from the moment she discovered her pregnancy to the prophecy, to the nightmares, and even Gaea's secret mission in 'helping her'. She could feel Gaea’s rage; don’t ask her how, but she could feel it.

Only after saying everything did she finally dare to look at Apollo, who was now holding her waist with his brows knotted in confusion. He was silent for a few minutes, her anxiety at its peak as she waited for any word from him, anything.

Maybe after telling him everything, he would agree with her plan with Gaea? Maybe he would agree with how dangerous her children are? Maybe he would say that the prophecy could be wrong? She didn’t know. But she did know one thing: his face showed pure curiosity and not anger.

After what seemed like hours, he finally spoke softly, "No." She looked at him in confusion.

"No..." he repeated again, Percy still not understanding what he was trying to say, when he cupped her cheeks and forced her to look at him. "I don’t care what this prophecy says. I’ll have a talk with Rachel for hiding this. But I don’t care what it means."

Percy whispered, afraid of raising her voice, "You are the god of prophecy, you can't say that."

He shook his head, his blue eyes still filled with determination. "If me being the god of prophecy means I’ll let harm come to my children, then I’ll let Delphi crumble to pieces."

"No harm will come to them. I will not allow any harm to come to them, and I don’t care if the price to pay was Olympus itself," Percy tried to shake her head, as if she was warning him that he was saying nonsense, but he fixed her face and made her look at him. "Nothing, and absolutely nothing, will harm you or our children, love," he stated. "I swear it on the River Styx." A sudden thunder broke the silence of the forest.

An oath... he just made an oath while holding her as if he didn’t just make the most sacred oath. Percy tried to reason with him, "But Gaea—"

Apollo shook his head again. "I’ll not let anyone take care of you. I don’t trust anyone with you, and especially not a primordial goddess that was supposed to be sleeping."

"But Olympus—"

"I’ll deal with them. Leave them to me."

"But—" She tried to protest when his lips found hers again in a gentle kiss, silencing her. "Stop with buts. Nothing will happen, and you have the word of a god. I will never allow anything to happen to you... all of you." That’s when his eyes were suddenly filled with happiness and gentleness again. He suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

As he mumbled in her neck, in a soft, gentle tone, "Gods, Percy..." and "Thank you," she didn’t understand what he was thankful for, but she was sure of one thing: for the first time in weeks, she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders, just like when Atlas took the weight of the Earth from her again. Yet this time, she felt utter peace. Complete peace.

For the first time in weeks, she felt her heart filled with happiness. She was in his arms, the arms of the one who made a sacred oath to protect her and her children. Not just her, but also them. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

It was worth having this nightmare so she could find him here tonight. Maybe the Fates really took pity on her... just maybe, there is hope.

[jamneuromain]

Hello,

Congrates again Sweetie, you really deserves it ❤️

I don't know how many asks we can send and I had so many ideas of combinations

I am sending two of them depending on what's inspiring you. If both of them inspire you, it's even better. 🤭

🥳😶❤️ Steve Rogers

👇🕯😈 Jake Jensen

Good luck 😘

Okay this is definitely a brain teaser

but still, I'm going to go with 🥳😶❤️ Steve Rogers, because this reminded me of an idea I once had...

Disguise

Captain America!Steve Rogers x You

Warning: A little cursing but that's all.

Summary: It's your first mission, and Captain America has told you to disguise yourself. You've followed that order to a "T".

A/N: Hiya! Sorry it took so long to get it out :( I have to say, originally I wanted to write a short drabble where Steve was teaching her a lesson, but then I wondered, why is she on this mission in the first place? and I can't control this drabble which turned into a ~2k one-shot....

"... and the last item on our agenda," Maria took a brief stop from her briefing and looked around the room like a hawk, scanning everyone with her sharp eyes until they landed on the selected few, "congratulations on our fellow analysts who have applied for the field agent assistant position and passed the final test."

With a few claps from the fellow analysts, she paused again, waiting until the claps died down before quickly gathering her thoughts and assigned a few missions to three other analyst/field agent assistant, "And Y/N, I will brief you for your next mission, please stay for a few more minutes after this meeting. The rest of you, keep up the good work. You are dismissed."

It had been an eventful six months with all of your trainings - basically starting up from the ground up, no previous experience being an agent whatsoever - but you made it till the end, even though barely passing all the bars that are required for a field agent assistant. You felt very lucky as field agent assistant only requires 60% of what full-time agents can achieve, and watching your once muscle-lacking arms and legs, now turned out to be somewhat of an amateur wrestler, half of a professional boxer, and a sprinkle of assassin (thanks to Clint for his dart training).

You felt good about yourself. Truly, good.

Maria handed you a slim brown folder with a few pages in it. Opening it with sheer curiosity, you hear Maria picking out a few important points to brief: "There is rumored to be a highly dangerous neurotoxin in the black-market with more than a dozen buyers interested. This mission would be an undercover job in Venice, where the said toxin would be sold to the highest bidder."

The first page had a few sentences of what the said toxin could do. It evaporates soon but kills just as quickly. Victim's skin turned purple in contact with this chemical, looking as if they had suffocated to death. Word on the street? It was responsible for the terrorist attack in Paris last month.

"You would be posing as Mrs. Anna Dashevsky, wife of Mr. Vlad Dashevsky, the notorious couple of wreaking havoc: the train accident in Germany, the bombing in L.A., and a few other dozen of suspected murders and attacks. We have apprehended them both from their Belarus safe house twenty-four hours ago, safe to say that your cover would not be blown since the auction is fully anonymous." Maria had her skeptical look on you, her cold voice brought chills to your spine, "Unless of course, you got made."

"No, I won't, Ma'am." You replied on instinct, knowing fully well that the danger of arms dealers and terrorists gathering in such an auction could possibly be the end of your career - and your life as well, which was why you took a glance at the page of Mr. and Mrs. Dashevsky, making a mental note of the couple's information.

"Good. I shall hope not." Maria gestured you to turn the file to the next page, "You would be working with an Avenger for this mission. Your task is to provide tactical analytic support on the ground. Locate the position of the toxin, get it out, our team would be picking you up two miles south of the venue -" She pointed to a red cross marked on the map, "which is this bridge. If you missed the rendezvous, retreat to the safehouse." Her fingers tapped the red circle on the corner of the map, "Proceed as Protocol 4-12 Agent in Distress."

You scanned over the map to remember the extraction routes, noticing that these are the only pages in the thin folder, "There's no teammate information - am I going in there as Anna alone, or ...?"

Maria shook her head lightly, "You would be greeted by your teammate once you land in Venice, and your teammate would be posing as Vlad, your husband - I noticed you've got a B+ in Russian?" Seeing that you've nodded in confidence, Maria continued, "Good. Practice your Russian, might be handy. Your flight takes off at Runway Charlie in thirty minutes, I'd suggest you head off to the equipment room right now for the gadgets."

"Yes, Ma'am." You dared not linger a second more and headed straight to the equipment room.

First mission on the ground. You could not be more excited.

Turned out, you could. When the famous Captain America greeted you once your plane had landed on a small airstrip in the outskirt of Padova. Where he was leaning by a smooth silver sedan with a fake nose and a fake moustache.

You almost did not recognise him until he spoke.

"Steve." He introduced himself briefly, extending his hand for you to shake. Didn't take much to know the only one named "Steve" existing in the Avengers team was Steve Frigging Rogers, Captain America himself, the golden boy of the States, and the man with the plan.

"Hi! I'm Anna." You put down your briefcase of trinkery, took his hand and shook with a firmer grip than you had imagined. "Well, my name isn't Anna," You smiled apologetically, "It's ..."

"I know, Y/N." He chuckled, opening the car door for you, gesturing for you to sit, "I've got the files Maria sent. We'll talk on the way."

Yeesh, such gentleman. You bit back the grin and sat in the passenger's seat, while he put the case into the backseat.

The drive from Padova to Venice took about forty minutes, during which he briefed you the latter half of the information required. You switched to one of those little boats - which Italian name you still couldn't pronounce - on entering Venice, by that time you were picking up something casual to talk about, just in case the toxin seller had eyes and ears around the potential buyers.

"First time leaving the office, huh?" He teased you lightly, rubbing small circles around your shoulder blade, pretending to be intimate as he spoke softly.

"Yeah." You murmured, clasping and un-clasping your hand due to obvious nervousness, "It's the first time, well ... ever."

"It's okay." Steve smiled warming, practically glowing kindness when he offered to soothe your nerves, "I'd say you would forget about it ..." He shrugged, "But then I would be lying. Truth is, it's always frightening for the first time, but you will be fine." Steve beamed at you, scratching his fake nose, which you thought must be some kind of silicone that created authentic skin-like appearance, "Just give it time."

Your destination was the safehouse marked on the map. After Steve tipped the boat guy generously, he made sure no one was lurking before tugging a key out of his pocket and opened the door.

Maybe it was your expression that betrayed you, because Steve read something from your looks and grinned, "You want to ask me something? Go ahead."

You're that obvious? But you decided it was best to follow orders.

"This safe house doesn't look so ... safe." You commented, "How are we supposed to defend ourselves, if it comes to ... you know," you chuckled drily, "shooting and stuff?"

Steve seemed stunned for a moment, before really taking a good look at the plain wooden floor and the almost ancient decor in the kitchen, the rusty oven, the missing cabinet door, the whole lot suggesting this place hadn't been set foot in years.

"What, this?" His brows furrowed into a knot, as if seeing completely different things.

You nervously waited for his reply.

"Oh..." Realization hit him as he slapped himself on the forehead, pressing a button below the kitchen table, "You mean ... this."

The noise of machine operating out of nowhere startled you, almost immediately sent you into a defensive position. But as the old crappy oven flipped to the other side and showed an array of guns, bullets, knives, and tasers, the dusty kitchen table pulled the planks to its side and revealed a huge tactical screen, and the fireplace tugged a secret passageway open for an escape route, your jaw fell on the floor.

"I might have told Tony about the whole disguise idea for the safe houses and uh," Steve chuckled, "He and Bruce took it way too seriously. Probably got a bit carried away too."

"One little problem, though," You raised your index finger and swiped a line along the greasy stove, making a face, "I don't think there's anything we can find here to eat ...?"

"Don't worry about that." Steve waved his hand dismissively, "We won't be here more than an hour before heading to the auction place. There's a full wardrobe and weaponry upstairs, first door on the right - but I'm sure you have already got plenty in your case - But by all means, take half an hour to adjust, rest, grab what you need, and I want us out of here by an hour. That sounds good?"

"Good. Okay. Thumbs up." You confirmed and headed upstairs with your suitcase, only to close the bedroom door and squeal into your palms.

O.M.FUCKING.GEE!

Captain America. In the living flesh!

On your first-ever mission!

Three soft knocks came through the thin wooden door.

"You alright in there?"

"I'm okay Cap - I mean, Vlad!" You called out, realizing as soon as you spoke that your voice was hoarse than usual.

"Careful there. The wardrobe door is on the left-hand side. Give me a shout if you need anything."

After that, small trotting noises, probably from the footsteps of Steve Rogers going downstairs.

Left-hand side? You eyed the dusty place curiously, poking and prodding the moldy wallpaper. You didn't see any wardrobe, other than -

Your nail bore contact with a piece of metal, from which a grey-ish camera leapt out of the wall, and nearly hit your hand.

It scanned your face, before emitting that rumbling Transformer noise again, revealing a wall full of weapons, money, and of course, clothes and wigs for disguises.

You gasped at the brand-new Magnums on the wall. You took your word back. This was the safest house in the fucking galaxy.

"Ta-da-" You walked down the stairs, "What do you think, Ca - Vlad?"

Steve had his gaze pinned on you for a moment. His expression was close to blank, which was giving you a hard time figuring out what he was thinking.

"Am I overdoing it?" You clenched the collar of your coat nervously, "Anna - I mean, I came from a Slavic root, so this is ... alright? No?"

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the corner of his lips from the uncontrollable grin. "I would say, that this outfit is ... " He tried hard not to laugh, "It's good, great. Could use a few ... improvements, though."

You were wearing a thick fur coat and a fur hat, sunglasses too, dressing up like a polar bear rolled over in red and brown paint.

"Just because the Dashevsky's are from Slavic roots doesn't mean we have to dress up as good-ole fashioned Russian villains." Steve helped you take off the thick fur coat, smiling to himself, "We still have some time. Care to go through Disguise 101 with me?"

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[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-02-26

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Loki Odinson stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ A Love of His Own by 4everdramaqueen • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Loki saves you from President Loki and then falls for you."

✑ Awful Things by lokisgoodgirl • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "Fresh off the interrogation, Loki is emboldened to make a move."

✑ Back in Your Arms by sserpente • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "Imagine [working for] the T.V.A. [after wreaking] havoc across the sacred timeline in a desperate attempt to bring Loki, your husband, back to life. When the T.V.A. captures [his Variant], all the pain and grief... finally makes way for relief and [unconditional love]. [However] when you finally meet again... he doesn't know who you are..."

✑ Control by munsons-maiden • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Loki loves to be in control, but it looks like the trickster has just as much fun when you take it."

✑ Enjoy the Little Things by starks-hero • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: "Whilst stranded on Lamentis and attempting to reach the ark, the weight of the situation begins to set in on you. Loki decides to comfort you with a little magic."

✑ Escaping the T.V.A. by anonymousfiction211 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Loki escapes and ends up alone in the room where Mobius showed him the clips of his life. He finds a tape with [your] name on it, his former best friend and love-interest. Curiosity got the better of him and he decides to play the tape, which lead to something even Loki hadn't forseen."

✑ He's Me She's Mine by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Loki gets jealous... Of himself...

✑ Love that Could Have Been by aurora-star-wars • 〔A〕 •

Summary: Loki and Sylvie talk about reader on the train

✑ My King￨Prt. II by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔A〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "He Who Remains tempts Loki with a throne, with Asgard, with you… How long will paradise last before it starts crumbling?"

✑ Nexus by dyns33 • 〔F᜶M〕 •

✑ Nothing Gold by beyondspaceandstars • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Loki thought you were gone forever but suddenly there you were. In the TVA library and you didn't recognize him."

✑ Overtime ￨Prt. II by cleo-fox • 18+ • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn't that bad.

✑ See You in Another Lifetime by munsons-maiden • 〔A〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "Loki is forced to watch his life play out on the T.V.A. screen —and his future catches up with him."

✑ Special Care by fluffyfantasticducky • 〔F〕 •

Synopsis: "After all that's been going on, the TVA not only hires Loki, but gives him a break, clear his mind and clean his wounds. And someone very interesting is gonna help him out with that."

✑ Through the Whole Universe by wewritesoyoucanenjoy • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[You're] new to the T.V.A., and Mobius leaves [you] in charge of Loki."

✑ Timeless by muddyorbsblr • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives."

✑ To the Daisy by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[You're] a librarian working for the T.V.A. and [you] can't help but take a liking to Loki, the newest threat to the Sacred Timeline. The two [of you] bond over poetry and well, things might just take off..."

✑ Yggdrasil by smolvenger • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your husband, the god of mischief, has made the ultimate sacrifice for his friends, and the world...he lives, but now he is alone...that is until you choose to join him in his solitude and make a life there."

✑ A Sleepy God by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F〕 •

✑ Absolutely Not by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F〕 •

✑ All it Took was a Timepad by x-childish-x • 〔F〕 •

✑ Always by ladyofmanyfandomsfanfictoo • 〔F〕 •

✑ Archived by gone-to-fight-the-fairies • 〔A〕 • ♡ •

✑ Arrogant by yetanotherhiddlestoner • 〔E᜶F〕 •

✑ Comfort by randomfandomimagines • 〔C〕 •

✑ Goodbye by wheredafandomat • 18+ • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Honeymoon, the by smolvenger • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Kid, the by dyns33 • 〔A᜶C〕 • 𑁍 •

✑ Last Minutes by laufeyamp • 〔A᜶C〕 •

✑ Lesson Learnt by lokiisdaddyblog • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Loki's Theory by ladyofmanyfandomsfanfictoo • 〔F〕 •

✑ Mischief Wrath by ladyofmanyfandomsfanfictoo • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ My Loki by wheredafandomat • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Pie Thief by ladyofmanyfandomsfanfictoo • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Pulled from the Timeline by ladyofmanyfandomsfanfictoo • 〔F〕 •

✑ Revelations by gone-to-fight-the-fairies • 〔F᜶A〕 •

✑ Warm by munsons-maiden • 〔F〕 •

✑ Loki Falling for Mobius' Daughter… by bakugousaysdie • 〔F〕 •

✑ Loki Falling for You, a TVA Agent… by oswildin • 〔F〕 •

See Also: Navigation || Loki Odinson Master Index

Authors: @4everdramaqueen || @anonymousfiction211 || @aurora-starwars || @bakugousaysdie || @beyondspaceandstars || @cleo-fox || @dyns33 || @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds || @fluffyfantasticducky || @gone-to-fight-the-fairies || @laufeyamp || @lokiisdaddyblog || @lokisgoodgirl || @muddyorbsblr || @munsons-maiden || @oswildin || @randomfandomimagine || @smolvenger || @spilledkauffie || @sserpente || @starks-hero || @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction || @wewritesoyoucanenjoy || @wheredafandomat || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl || @x-childish-x || @yetanotherhiddlestoner ||

[dreamwritersworld]

Hey! I don't know if you’re accepting any requests; if not, you can just ignore this. But i wanted to ask if you could do headcanons on how the sully family was after the reader died in ‘the perfect child’? I’m craving more angst and I love that story so much! 😭

Omg! This is an amazing idea! 💓 I appreciate you reaching out! This does include extras of younger Y/n as well :( which will honestly probably make you very sad cause ugh my heart breaks for her 🥲

The perfect child. Extra. (Sully family x reader)

Nothing hurt the family more than Y/n’s death.

Neytiri dealt with her death the hardest, she was so angry. Her daughter was always willing to put her life on the line because she was trained to…trained by Jake. It’s wrong yes, but it doesn’t mean the memories of Y/n’s worried face doesn’t haunt Neytiri in her dreams..

*

They were in the forest.. Neytiri watched y/n cry and the young girl could feel her stares so she slowly turned around

"don't stare at me like that! cause l'm not a child! I grew up faster than other people, I didn't need a stupid stuffed toy!"

Suddenly the dream went black and eight year old Y/n was standing right in front of Neytiri with cuts and marks on her hand from training so long as tears were falling down her eyes...

Jake's speeches about her having to ‘win’ and be perfect could be heard in the background as Y/n slowly went down to her knees that were already marked up from crawling and hunting in small spaces.

“…please look at me! I'm begging you mama! Don't stop being my mother!"

The yelling of Jake got louder as he began walking towards them and picking up Y/n dragging her away while she struggled to get out of his grip to reach her mother.

"Mama?"

Y/n's cries for help was disoriented like it was hurting her to speak

"Mama, no! Please! Please I’m tired! No more training! No!Stop this please! Stop it now!"

*

Then it was over.

For the first time ever, Neytiri woke up in sweat..her body was heated and she felt ill, turning over and running out the home to throw up..

After awhile she just sat and thought..thinking about the reason as to why her nightmare had y/n with wreaked hand so much that blood was coming out from the deep cuts...

*

Neytiri looked around for her eldest wondering if she could take care of Tuk for a moment and when she did find Y/n…her heart shattered into pieces.

She saw a site of Y/n shooting her arrow repeatedly, quickly beating her speed every time landing precisely..but at what cost? Y/n had a hitched breath as she felt the blood drop down from her fingers that were cut from hours of practice against the bow’s string.

That’s the first time Neytiri realized her child was ok in hurting herself if it meant she’d get her fathers approval

“Y/n!”

The teenager immediately put down her bow, hiding her hands behind her back, sending a smile to her mother

“Show me.”

“..what?”

“Show me.”

Y/n’s heart panicked at the thought of her mother finding out the overworked hours she does for training..instructions straight from her father

“You hurt yourself? Show me. Now.”

The teenager looks down slowly pulling out her hands in defeat..this was normal wasn’t it..? Training like this was normal?..

Neytiri knew Y/n’s thoughts..she knew it was implented in her mind that doing this was normal. However if Y/n felt it was normal … why hide it? Unless she felt slightly guilty..

It’s very true. Y/n felt guilty…not because she trained herself into bleeding..no not that. She felt guilty because no matter the hours she does..she’ll never be perfect and she was scared her mother would think it’s pathetic.

“how long have you been doing that?”

“Mom, I don’t want you to cry. I’m ok-“

“I don’t understand?! Why? Why would you do that to yourself? Is it me? Is it because of me?”

“No mother of course not-“

“Is it your father? He’s hard on you, I know that. I tried to keep you from it! I’ve tried to protect you. I’ve only ever wanted to protect you!”

“Please mother, it’s not because of that, I’m just training and I bleed by accident.”

Neytiri knew there was no changing Y/n mindset. She was so stuck on it being normal that…it was considered and accident.

“My beautiful girl…my special miracle baby girl…why? Why would you do that?”

“…i didn’t mean to…i wanted to stop but I need to get better mother-“

Neytiri got up to hug her child that was holding in tears seeing her mother cry

“…i am so sorry that i missed this…I’m just so sorry Y/n for everything..give it to me. Ok? You give all that pain and stress to me. I Can handle it…”

Y/n struggled to hold in tears in her mothers arms feeling overwhelmed...

*

See…a mothers love was like no other. Y/n was absolutely broken, and Neytiri broke with her knowing there was not much she can do for the damage was already done..

Jake listened to the wind blow knowing his wife was outside..his heart hurt. His “strong heart” felt empty and broken..he and Y/n had a strong relationship when they were younger ..something like he had with Kiri and tuk now. Yet he failed to maintain it because he was too stupid to notice how he was overworking his kid.

His heart had some kind of longing that he wished he was able to fix if he has just listened to Neytiri soon..if only he had just let her finish the heart breaking story of Y/n training so hard she’d hurt herself..

*

Neytiri’s pleads started when she noticed her husband walking out the home at the usual training time.

“No Jake you can’t! You cannot do this to her! Please stop training.”

Jake couldn’t hear it anymore, not when he knew Y/n was slacking and sleeping at their training spot waiting for him…exhaustion and for what? She never trained…or at least that’s what he believed.

“Neytiri please. Stop. You will not prevent her from practicing. She needs to get better-“

Jake turned his back to Neytiri waving off a hand like he was telling her ‘whatever.’

“Jake! You walk out that door and make our daughter train one more time today and I will not. hesitate to take our children tonight..you can decide the rest.”

Her husband turned harshly to Neytiri’s threats. He figured if he just listened to her for a little then she’d give up on whatever fight she was holding against him so Y/n couldn’t go to practice.

“…I can’t sit by and watch this destroy my child anymore. You can’t steal her passion. You can’t steal her self confidence. My lines been crossed. Your approval isn’t worth it for her and it’s definitely not for me.”

Jake closed his eyes in order to calm himself and settled on the fact that Y/n wouldn’t practice…at least not today.

-*

Seeing Y/n happy during her younger days felt like a fever dream and her death plays over and over in his head…he wished and wished on a shooting star that he can relive the moments they shared before she passed…they were supposed to go flying the next day..the day she died.

The reason why Jake wanted to make Y/n strong and fearless was because he saw the fear in her eyes at a young age…so much desire to travel the forest but absolutely shaken up by a moment they both were vulnerable in..

*

Typically they were never in the dangerous areas but Y/n had wondered off and Jake found her in a ship that was once used for the old war against the sky people.

“Y/n what are you doing here?! You are not allowed in these areas do you read me?!”

The child gently tugged her father in the large abandoned ship, ignoring his instructions…at this time she was just 4.

“Sully’s stick together daddy! That means you have to follow me!”

The young girl giggled while Jake admired the child who was amazed by the ship but he knew it was only a matter of time before they must go.

“This was used during the war..”

Y/n didn’t quite understand what that meant but the warrior equipment always amazed her.

“…ok we should get going kid-“

A thantor had rushed in head first straight to the ship and Y/n’s shrieking could be heard..her fear and the thantor could smell it.

Her terror gave it more energy as it shook the ship again and Jake held onto Y/n, looking everywhere to escape.

That was until the Thantor hit the ship so hard both of their heads hit into a thick material and they passed out.

10 minutes had past and the thantor wasn’t giving up..Y/n had woke up before Jake. Her heart skipped a beat seeing its claws finally break through the thick metal. She immediately shook her father, searching for his protection.

“Daddy? Hey. Hey!”

That moment was absolutely horrifying, she didn’t know if her father was even alive from the hit…it was all her fault.

“…what?”

Jake woke up deranged confused and forgotten on his surroundings..

“Get back baby, get back.”

Y/n closed her eyes and curled into herself while Jake stabbed at the claws of the animal harming it, making it easier to kill with a bullet. He went through the other side and when he saw Y/n..saw the way she cried, how her body shook, the silent and muffled whimpers from her covering her mouth…it was enough to make him upset. He was mortified.

“I’m here baby! Cmon! Let’s go now.”

Y/n couldn’t move…Jake couldn’t snap her out of it..she almost died, and for a small moment she believed her father died.

Eclipse approached right in that moment and Jake’s fear for Y/n grew larger…

“You have to be strong Y/n…cmon let’s go now! It’s dark and more creatures are coming.”

His patience was running up while he heard raspy howls like the ones he met on his first night in the forest and that’s when adrenaline rushed through him..he didn’t even realize the bruise and blood forming on her small leg from hitting into the ships wall.

His arm reached out for her but Y/n put him to a stop

“I can’t! I can’t! My leg hurts! Daddy help me!”

Jake yanked her up and pulled her over his shoulder as he ran through the forest all, he thought about was how it was his fault she didn’t know how it was in the real world.

-*

Jake had never seen that type of fear ever again…not until her last moments.…inside she was screaming, feared, holding those same exact eyes as she did when she was younger…

Yes, her parents had a difficult time..but there was a particular sibling who stayed up listening to the way his mother rapid movements to get fresh air out the house or the way his father had a hitched breathing … the same one Y/n had during her last breaths..almost like he was unintentionally mimicking it while he thought about her death.

Neteyam was Y/n’s closest sibling. He knew never to poke her, interrupt her during training or question her all the time the way Lo’ak did. Y/n understood where Neteyam stood perfectly..the younger sibling the second eldest who took at least a small portion of the blame when it came to Lo’ak and the rest of the kids troubles…but now he was the eldest and there was a small fear of him having the same pressure and weight Y/n had.

He’ll never forget watching his parents clean her body..seeing how his father could no longer hide his emotions, sobbing. He will never forget the way Neytiri held Y/n’s face begging for her eyes to open and look up at her again.

Neteyam knew her death traumatized him but not the way it did to his younger brother. Neteyam turned to Lo’ak hearing him shift repeatedly in his sleep as his hands curled in creating a grip…

Lo’ak couldn’t sleep properly not without Y/n’s death replying in his head…while he slept his body would repeat the same actions it did when he was holding down to Y/n’s wounds absolutely disassociated. Lo’ak was the only one who saw her hidden in the forest when he heard her calling. It was obvious to him that it was no longer her, something took over her…she wasn’t thinking clearly..not when she saw them tied up. When she died he didn’t even bother cleaning the clothes that had her blood on it..he threw it out. As much as he teased Y/n..Lo’ak loved her and that was his way of showing it. Mean? Yes. But nothing would get through Y/n, no matter how much small comments he made it never made her realize how she needed to get loose and forget her fathers instructions every once and awhile.

His teasing never stopped Y/n from doing the same, there was rare moments but she’d alway get back at him with a joke. Surprisingly Y/n was the funniest out of everyone, she didn’t say much either but when she did it made everyone laugh. The way the two siblings joked was their love language to each other…

Kiri and Y/n had a very different relationship from the two boys who she spent most of her time with. Kiri had very few moments when Y/n was vulnerable with her but she saw right thought her.

all she wanted was to have everything her siblings had..

not expecting to be perfect all the time.

being able to mess up.

being comforted when messing up.

being able to forget training.

never thinking their father is going to hate them.

not expecting to win all the time.

not seeing everything as a competition.

Kiri understood Y/n fully, she got upset at her father every time he made her cry. In fact Kiri always cheered her mother on when she defended Y/n. Even In the toughest moments Y/n didn’t cry…she was seen as perfect. A tough strong girl. Is she though? Is she as strong as she poses to be? She isn’t. She isn’t allowed to show her emotions because she will be seen as weak. But from Kiri’s point of view Y/n was very independent, she admired it. The clan considered Kiri strange since the day she was born but Y/n made sure no body would get to her.

All three siblings always wanted to beat the ‘favorite child’ but it wasn’t until now they realized Y/n was just who got caught in the crossfire of their parents fear of losing their child. There was a reason why her parents put so much pressure on her and it’s because she was their first child, she made Neytiri a mother and made Jake more responsible. They obviously didn’t know weather their choice for her were wrong or right, but in those moments it felt necessary, they believed if they made her strong she’d protect herself and the family.

Tuk however…she didn’t see Y/n as the favorite…maybe she was her favorite sibling! But she was not her fathers favorite or her mothers favorite. Tuk never quite understood her parents relationship with Y/n, thought she never paid any attention to it. The little girl did know that she got annoyed anytime she was yelled at and would still take the blame…In the background of y/n’s punishment you can hear Tuk’s little voice telling her father she didn’t do anything wrong! Tuk never failed to make Y/n laugh and they’d have the best time when Y/n took care of her..

Both sisters, Kiri and Tuk laid in Y/n’s hammock that night. They were tucked and tangled in the same way they were when they witnessed Y/n die. Sometimes the memories play quickly out of nowhere in their head..they would see the panicked looked on everyone faces..hear Y/n’s hushed words.. see the damp soil soaked in their sisters blood.

The entire family was hurt by her death but they knew one thing that Y/n always made clear.

“Sully’s stick together”

!💞!

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @mxn14 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @onetwo123three @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @eskamybeloved @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays @papichulo120627 @tsamiaxo @wwwellacom @dotheyevenknowmars @midgetpottermills @he110hon @kodzukenwhore @minkyungseokie @sophiasleeps

[moody-alcoholic]

Surrendering Control

Work Summary: Simon x Johnny. 141 are tasked with finding and stopping a new terrorist organisation using chemical weapons to wreak havoc across Europe. Simon has just come back from a 3 month stint in rehab after being injured in the field. While still struggling to get back on his feet, he expresses his true feelings to Johnny. Suddenly they have more to worry about then chemical bombing terrorists.

Chemical bombing terrorists... Sexpollen fic confirmed..?

—————————— 

Chapter 1 -To Tell You the Truth

CW: +18 MDNI. use of weapons, mentions of near death experience, mentions of injuries, PTSD, kissing lot’s of kissing, mentions of bombs, defusing bombs, military inaccuracies.

WC: 5.5k

Previous - masterlist - next

AO3

Enjoy <3

Johnny

3 months later.

“LT’s back from rehab tomorrow.” Gaz says, shoving more food in his mouth. 

“I know Price won't shut up about it.” Johnny replies, like he hasn’t been counting the days himself. He pushes the mash round his plate, he’s not hungry, he’s too excited to see Simon again. It had been 3 weeks since they got back to the UK. Price had been putting off jobs for awhile so they could be back in UK ready for when Simon was going to be discharged.

Price went to visit him, said he was doing well. This was the big test though, see if he really was ready to be in the field. Price had scheduled 2 weeks of intense training unless there was a call somewhere more important. It was mainly all for Simon really, ease him back into the routine since he’s been stuck in rehab for 3 months. 

“You think he’ll be different?” Gaz asks. Hope not, Johnny thinks.

“Na I’ll bet ‘es the same annoying bastard.” 

“I bet he can’t wait to get back. I can’t imagine he enjoyed being told what he can and can’t do for 3 months.” Gaz chuckles. 

“‘E’ll just be happy he can yell at someone for once.” Johnny says, giving up on the food putting his fork down. 

“What do you think Price has planned for us?” Gaz asks. 

“I heard him talking ‘bout a drill out on the urban training compound.” Johnny says. That made him excited too. Plenty of fake bombs to fake defuse. Gaz huffed next to him. 

“I’ve been there all week watching the recruits go through drill after drill.” He explains.

“Wanna switch? If I ‘ave to sit through another medical lecture I might as well become a doctor.” Johnny says as Gaz laughs.

“Know what time he’s getting here?” Johnny asks. 

“Afternoon probably.” Gaz replied shaking his head. 

“Missed him?” Gaz asks. Johnny doesn’t know what to say. Yes he’s missed, him way too much. It’s been like a piece of Johnny’s life has been missing for the past 3 months. He finds himself looking for Simon everywhere, expecting Ghost’s silent feet to sneak up behind him and make him jump.

When he’s in the field he misses Ghost having his back, finds himself unsure constantly double checking corners, having to rely on strangers. He never really realised how well they worked together until he was gone. 

“Haven’t missed his snoring.” Johnny replies. Gaz chuckles. 

“I think Price has missed him the most.” 

“Missed having someone do all his paperwork for him.” Johnny scoffs. Gaz stretches finishing off his cup of tea, and putting everything back on his tray.

“I got surveillance training. You?” Gaz asks getting up. 

“Free.” Johnny smiles. Gaz rolls his eyes picking up his tray.

“Catch you later Soap.” Gaz calls back as he walks away. Johnny watches him leave. He looks at the empty spot Gaz was in, he imagines Simon being there. Spouting off one of his witty remarks.

‘Eat up sergeant, wouldn’t want you wasting away.’

‘‘Course not LT, maybe if they served some decent grub it’d go down easier.’ 

Johnny smiled picking up his fork full of mash and taking another mouthful.  

Simon will be here soon.    

—————————— 

It was midday the next day when Johnny and Gaz got the radio to come to Price’s office. Johnny was on his way to the mess when it happened. His hunger instantly forgot about at the prospect of seeing Simon again. He was practically skipping as he bumped into Gaz in the hall outside Price’s office. Gaz knocked as they waited for a response.

“Come in.” Price calls. Gaz opened the door and they both walk in. Simon get’s up out the chair he’s in as soon as they enter the room. Gaz is first to hug him, he accepts the hug even patting him on the back. Johnny walks up to him next wrapping his arms round the bigger man breathing him in. He smells like Johnny remembers, he lets out a long breath. Simon’s back and he’s fine. 

“Good to see you did ya get fat?” Johnny asks as he pulls away from Simon. It’s a joke he’s just desperate for a response, anything to hear his voice.

“Not as much as you did MacTavish.” Simon says. Johnny smiles, he knows Simon is smiling too he can see it in his eyes. Simon turns to sit back down and Gaz takes the other spare seat while Johnny stands. 

“We got a general here who want’s to observe us in action. He’s planned a drill for us tomorrow in the urban training compound.” Price says. He’s doing this on purpose, making it out like it was someone else’s idea so Simon won’t feel like a burden. 

“Perfect time for you to come back then mate.” Gaz says, Johnny’s not really listening to Price’s brief, hes too distracted with Simon. Not that it really matters apparently Price is as much in the dark as they are. Simon looks thinner, his muscles less defined, no heavy bags under his eyes. Johnny wonders how his hair looks, if he’s let it grow out or had it cut. He could be hiding a beard under his mask for all Johnny knows, he tries to imagine Simon with a beard, it makes his blush. 

“Tomorrow at oh-six-hundred, think you'll be ready by then?” Price asks smiling at Simon. 

“‘course sir.” Simon says. Johnny can't help smiling too. The thought of having Simon back even if it’s just a training exercise is too exciting. Having Simon back on the team again, watching their backs, bossing them around. Price is almost ecstatic, happy to have his lieutenant back. Johnny can feel the energy in the room, having the whole team back together again.  

“You should head to the range you’re probably rusty.” Price reaches into a drawer handing Simon a key. “All your gears been stored, just ask whoever’s in the pit to show you.” 

Simon nods then Price looks to Johnny and Gaz. 

“You’ve been down at the place all week what you think?” Price asks. Johnny realises he hasn’t seen Price much since the got here, other then in his office. Everything really has just been on hold until Simon came back. 

“I could walk it blindfolded.” Gaz replies. Price smiles. 

“Good, you and Johnny should spend sometime going over it, it will be useful for tomorrow. We’ve got to put on a good show for them.” Price says looking round the room, he seems nervous. Probably because he’s also in the dark about what’s going to be happening. Also because it’s Simon’s first day back and he’s going to be rusty.

Johnny’s not worried Simon is great at his job, he’ll slip right back into the usual routine like duck to water. He probably has been itching to get back since he was told he had to go to rehab. Besides Johnny already decided long ago that he would do everything in his power to keep Simon here, he’s not going to lose him again. 

—————————— 

Johnny could hear the shots in the shooting range from outside. Large calibre weapon, must be Simon. He should walk away leave Simon be, he definitely does not need any distractions. He waits a few more seconds hearing more shots fired, he takes a sigh and walks in.

Simon is in the shooting pit his sniper resting on the stand as he fires off another round. Johnny watches as it kicks back and Simon holds the recoil. He opens the gate to the pit which makes a light turn on in Simon’s booth, letting him know someone’s stepped in. He turns to look when he see’s Johnny he takes the weapon off the stand.

“Burning the midnight oil sir?” Johnny asks as he walks towards Ghost. He pushes the ear defenders off his head and they fall round his neck. Johnny stays where he is almost waiting for Ghost to give him permission to step closer. 

“Sneak up on everyone with a gun in their hands?” Ghost asks.

“Only on a bad day.” Johnny replies, smiling. He takes another step forward to Ghost’s booth. He peaks at the shot’s he’s been taking. They’re off. 

“Looking forward to the drill tomorrow?” Johnny asks not really knowing what to say. Ghost looks at him taking the mag out his sniper. Ghost hums placing the mag down in the booth. Johnny takes another step forward. 

“So how was rehab?” He asks.

“Boring, long.” Ghost replies. Johnny looks down at him watching him clench his right hand into a fist until his knuckles turn white then opens it again. His hand is shaking. 

“Bet there were a lot of hot nurses to look at.” Johnny says trying to keep the conversation going. Ghost looks at him in the eye. His beautiful brown eyes that look darker with black paint around them. Johnny knows what they look like when the sun hits them, swirls of caramel and brown, he can never keep his eyes off Simon for long when it’s a nice day out.

“You never came to visit.” He says picking up an empty mag and pushing bullets into it. 

“Well. Price said you might not want visitors. So he went to see you alone.” Johnny explains, all of a sudden feeling guilty. He digs his toe into the dirt floor of the shooting pit.   

“Did you want me to come and visit?” Johnny asks. 

“Would have been nice to see you, and say thank you.” Ghost replies. Johnny meets his eye line trying to read his expression through his mask. It’s harder then it looks, he’s well rested. No extra effort to keep his expression neutral. His body is relaxed manoeuvred in such a way so Johnny can’t see his right arm. 

“Thank you for what?” Johnny asks. Stepping closer to Ghost who has stepped out his booth.

“For saving my life.” Ghost says. The words hit Johnny, he feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He remembers feeling Simon bleeding out in his hands. Watching him stop breathing in the hospital. The hours of waiting and not knowing if he would make it. Coming back from the mission to see him awake, the relief Johnny felt, it was like all things were right with the world once again. Then the pain of Price sending him away, even if it was for his own good.   

“Don’t have to thank me.” Johnny says feeling heat rush to his cheeks. He looks down at the floor. 

“Ya would’a done the same fer me.” Johnny says smiling. Simon nods picking his sniper up.   

“Still would want to thank you.” He says bringing the sniper back up and looking down the scope. Johnny can see the tremble in his hand. Simon puts the weapon down again sighing, it’s a bad sigh, a frustrated one Johnny can tell that much. 

“Did you need something sergeant?” He asks. Johnny almost says yes, making something up if not just to spend a few more minutes with him. Seeing him safe, watching him shoot, being near him. He pushes the thought away, he's never been a good liar especially round Ghost. 

“No sir. Anything you need?” He asks, Ghost looks at him for a second then shakes his head. He turns to pick his rifle up taking one last long look towards Johnny. 

“see you tomorrow then.” Johnny says turning to walk away. 

“Get a good nights rest Soap.” Ghost calls back, Johnny turns back to look at Ghost one more time, the defenders back on his ears holding his rifle up. Johnny smiles then walks away back into the cool evening breeze.

 —————————— 

It was a typical cold, overcast morning as they made their way to the urban training compound. Ghost was walking with Price. Johnny couldn’t quite hear what they were saying as they made it down the hill. Gaz was walking beside him, also trying to listen to the conversation. It felt good everyone being back together again. Johnny could see a group had formed round the bottom of the hill. Some are the general’s Johnny had come to know over the time they had been spending at the base others where just recruits of varying level. Some of them are already stood at the top of the observation stand, getting the best spots to see into the compound.

“Couldn't keep away huh?” Price says shaking the hand of some general Johnny does not recognise.  

“I would not miss the opportunity to see you in action before I leave.” He says smiling. 

“Hope you made it easy for us then.” Price chuckles. The general explains what’s waiting as he leads Price to the compound doors. There are 2 hostages, 3 bombs, no friendlies, potentially civilians. It’s like a checklist in Johnny’s head. Price looks back to make sure everyone is listening.  

“Ready?” He asks looking back. Everyone nods. 

“Ghost you split with Soap, Gaz on me. You want to take left or right?” Price asks Ghost.

“Left.” He replies, Johnny smiles. He’s glad he’s with Ghost, he wants to be with Ghost. Price nods and opens the doors to the compound. They’re stood at the top of the main road, there are various buildings to the left and right. The bombs and hostages could be in any of them. Johnny follow’s behind Ghost as they slip through a garden gate to the first building.

It becomes methodical again. Letting Ghost lead checking each room. Firing shots off at pieces of paper with terrorists drawn on them. It’s like Ghost had never been missing slipping back into the familiar routine. Johnny clears the top floor meeting back up with Ghost to move to the next building. Johnny let Ghost handle the radio, he needs the practice anyway. They clear the building moving to the next. So far only enemies. 

“Soap we’ve got a bomb here.” Gaz’s voice comes over the radio. 

“IED?” Johnny asks clearing the next room with Ghost. 

“Looks professional, American?” Gaz says. Johnny smiles. So it’s a challenge. 

“Look for a serial number, it might be on the bottom.” He replies down the mic. Johnny is blindly following Ghost when they make it into the next room.

“Got a bomb here too.” Ghost says. Johnny swings his weapon by his side going over to inspect it. It does look American.

“Got a serial number.” Gaz says as he reads it out. Johnny looks for the one on his bomb. He finds it and it matches Gaz’s read out. Johnny’s eyes flick up to Ghost who’s stood out of place, staring like he’s looking at something far off in the distance.  

“Wanna watch the door Ghost.” Johnny says. Ghost’s head snaps to Johnny. There’s something in his eyes something Johnny hasn’t seen before. He looks scared his eyes wide open, empty, vacant, it’s like he’s not quite here. It almost imminently makes Johnny panic, hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He can see the tight grip Ghost has on his weapon. He’s stood in the middle of the room his back to the wall, he need’s to be on the door.  

“It’s not real.” Johnny hears Ghost say but it’s quiet. Johnny forces himself to relax, take in a deep breath. He has to get control of the situation, not let Ghost spiral.

“No, but we wanna give them a good show right LT?” Johnny says thumbing behind him at the observation deck. Simon nods and moves into place guarding the door. Johnny’s heart is beating rapidly in his chest, he doesn’t even realise he’s been holding his breath.

“Focus, MacTavish.” He whispers, as loud as he dare forcing himself to look away from Ghost down at the bomb.

“Gaz the front panel you should be able to take it off see 3 wires what are the colours?” Johnny is only half listening to what Gaz is saying. Keeping an eye on Ghost watching the door. Johnny tried to ignore the goosebumps rising on his body as he remembers the look in Ghost’s eyes. What if he does have PTSD, what if a simple training exercise is too much?

Price would have no choice but to bench him. It’s his first day back, he’s allowed to have slip ups, that’s what this training is for. Johnny pushes the thought away, he’s not losing him again. He buries his head in the bomb as he instructs Gaz, he hears Ghost move across the room to the back door. Johnny cuts another wire looking to see if the timer has stopped. 

“You know for a fake bomb this is pretty well done.” Johnny says as he stands up rubbing his hands together.

“Two down one to go!” Johnny says walking up to Ghost and hitting him on the shoulder. He watches as Ghost tenses. 

“You good LT?” Johnny asks. 

“Always.” He replies and they push to the next building. 

“Got a hostage here.” Ghost calls over the radio while Johnny clears the ground floor. He makes his way up to Ghost seeing the fake body on the floor. Ghost is looking around for the casualty card. Johnny finds it and picks it up.

“Broken arm, broken leg. Christ, GSW to the upper arm, unconscious.” Johnny looks at Ghost for a second. 

“Do we even save him at this point?” Johnny jokes. 

“He’s got a family sergeant.” Ghost says pulling a tourniquet off his vest and throwing it to him. Johnny rolls his eyes.

“So what he’s got a wife and kids?” Johnny asks while he ties the tourniquet on the dummy's arm. 

“2 a boy and a girl, she does ballet, he plays football.” Johnny smiles listening to him, maybe that’s the life Ghost wants eventually. 

“How do you think he broke his bones?” Johnny asks moving the dummy around. 

“Fell of the roof, obviously.” Ghost says looking back over at Johnny. 

“We need medevac.” Johnny says standing up. Ghost nods and calls over to Price. 

“Copy, our casualty is walking wounded. We’ll meet you and hold out till evac gets here. Cover us while we cross the street.” Price says. Ghost nods moving to the window as he bends down resting his rifle on the windowsill.

“Soap.” Ghost calls.

“Watch the other direction.” Ghost nods at the window behind him which Johnny sets up on. Johnny hears Simon fire off shots while his side of the road is clear. Before he knows it he hears Price and Gas making their way up the stairs. Johnny turns to look back in the room as Gaz drops the dummy next to the other. 

“Ghost, Soap, clear the last building it has to be where the bomb is.” Price says. Johnny and Ghost move from the windows heading back downstairs. They cross over to the last building, it feels like there are more enemies then normal. The building is bigger too. Ghost leads Johnny into the last room, there’s bombs everywhere.

“Christ, someone's been busy.” Johnny says, he can’t hide the smirk in his voice, he’s almost licking his lips walking over to the first device. Johnny forgets about Ghost for a few minutes hopping from bomb to bomb, all IED’s all easy to defuse. So much for a challenge. 

When Johnny makes it to the last table he looks back at Ghost stood in the door. He can tell Ghost’s smiling now, the way his eyes shift, they’re glistening in the harsh light of the room. Ghost nods his head then looks back out the door. Johnny can hear Ghost’s voice in his head.

‘Good job Soap.’ 

He lets himself imagine the praise, Johnny will take all the praise he can get from Ghost. He cuts the wire on the last fake device watching the LED screen go dark.

“All done!” he calls standing up and putting the wire cutters back on his vest. Ghost has turned to look at him as Johnny brings his weapon into his hands. He makes it over to the door slapping Ghost on the back then he hears it. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Johnny looks back in the room his brow creased, squinting as he looks around scanning the bombs he just defused. He can’t see any lights but the beeping is still going, he walks back in trying to pinpoint it. 

“Soap c’mon.” Ghost calls walking back into the doorway. Johnny’s not listening as he puts a finger up to shush Ghost. The beeping’s getting louder, Johnny has pinpointed it to one half of the room. Ghost steps in and comes to stand with him, they make their way over to a stack of old looking wooden crates.

Johnny tries to open the top one but it’s locked, he pulls it off to get to the crate underneath. This one has no lock and when he opens it there’s another bomb. This one is different, there are cylinders on the side of it this is a chemical bomb. It’s designed to release a gas instead of explode.  

“Shite!” Johnny says as he thrusts hands into the crate. It’s been months since he’s worked on chemical bombs they’re so rare. There’s a chance he won’t be able to defuse it before it goes off. 

“What is it?” Ghost asks, as he looks over Johnny’s shoulder.

“Chemical bomb you should get out of here.” Johnny says trying to keep his voice level but serious. He hears Ghost updating Price while he tries to remember the sequence of defusal without accidentally triggering the release. That’s the tricky thing with these bombs one wrong step and it could go off anyway. Even in a training scenario they sometimes fill them with chlorine, or worse mustard gas. 

“-I’m staying.” Johnny hears Ghost say.

“Ghost get out of here!” Johnny snaps, this is not a good place for him right now. Johnny doesn’t have time to see if he’s left or not he’s too busy working up a sweat with this bomb. Especially now he cut something wrong and the timer is counting down twice as fast.

He hears Price over the radio ask for an update. The timer is still ticking down the beeping getting faster. If this was real he would have pushed Ghost out the room and locked the door behind him. If this was real they would have intel there was a chemical bomb. 

‘Focus!’ Johnny scream's at himself, no time to be slacking as he cuts another wire. The beeping stops but the timer doesn't.

“What the hell?” He says through gritted teeth, that should have been it. He rolls the bomb over to see the back. More wires, this isn’t like anything Johnny has seen before. He takes a breath trying to think what to do. He’s almost cutting blind, he looks over at the timer less then a minute left, he needs to make a decision.

He sucks in a breath and holds it, his hand is almost shaking as he clips the wires. Almost. The times stops. He lets out a sigh of relief and hears the bell signalling the end of the simulation. Johnny turns looking at Ghost who’s still in the room. He shakes his head but walks over to him patting him on the shoulder.

“I thought I told you to get out of here?” Johnny says, he can’t help smiling. He’s glad Ghost stayed, even if it was the wrong thing to do. 

“I knew you could defuse it Johnny.” Ghost says as they walk out the room. Johnny hums not believing it. Price and Gaz come out the adjacent building as the doors to the compound open and the general from earlier walks in. 

“Fantastic as ever captain Price.” The general calls shaking Price’s hand.

“What did you think of our little surprise ending?” The general asks turning to Johnny.

“Would ‘ave been nice to know what we were dealing with.” Johnny scoffs as Price turns to look at him. 

“I head you were good sergeant MacTavish. I needed to see that for myself.” He says Johnny goes to open his mouth again but Ghost grips his arm stopping him in his tracks. Johnny turns to see him shake his head slightly. 

“Come meet me after your debrief captain we have some things to discuss.” The general says shaking Price’s hand. Johnny watches as he walks out the compound and Ghost lets go of his arm.

Johnny’s not listening to Price, annoyed for some reason. Was he being tested? Did Price know? When Johnny cut the wires it was 50/50 the whole thing could have gone up in his face. They he would be smelling of sulfur or chlorine for days. He looked over at Ghost listening to Price answering questions when asked. Ghost stayed with him, of course he did. 

‘Never leave a man behind Johnny, we’re a team.’ 

Johnny knew if he’d failed to defuse the bomb Ghost would have been the one to pull him out of there. He would have been the one to save him. He looked up at Ghost and smiled, Ghost wasn’t looking but it didn’t matter. 

“Good job everyone, we made the general happy for another month. Maybe next time there will be no surprises.” Price said looking at Johnny. 

“Go get some breakfast, have a break. I’ll catch up with you all later.” Price said dismissing them. 

“Hold on a second Soap.” Price says as he's about to follow Ghost and Gaz to the compound exit. Johnny stops and turns back to see Price. 

“How was it with LT today?” Price asks. 

“Good.” Johnny replies. He wonders if he should tell Price about the incident, maybe Simon has PTSD? That’s a normal thing to get after a near death experience. Price nodded like hes waiting for Johnny to say more.

“Knew what he was doing?” Price asks.

“Always knows what ‘es doing.” Johnny replies. Price sighs. 

“Something you're worried about sir?” Johnny asks.

“No, go on Johnny get some rest, you did good today.” Price places his hand on Johnny’s shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze. 

“Cheers sir.” Maybe he should have told Price. If he tells him Price Simon might get benched. Johnny can't risk losing Simon. Not again. 

  —————————— 

There was a knock at Johnny’s door. He stood up pulling on a shirt checking his watch. It’s almost midnight. He frowned, not expecting anyone at this hour. The knock came again.

“Alright keep ya hair on.” Johnny called walking to open the door. It was Ghost. Johnny looked at him confused. 

“Did I leave the toilet seat up or sumtin?” Johnny asks. Ghost doesn’t say anything for a second. 

“You got sass on demand?”   

“‘Course sir, got to be ready for anything.” Johnny replies smiling. Ghost hums. 

“Mind if I come in?” Johnny scrunches his eyes but moves to the side anyway. Ghost steps in and Johnny closes the door reaching over to turn his bedside light on. Johnny can feel Ghost behind him the room is small, only big enough for a bed, a bedside table and a wardrobe. He turns to look at him as he pulls his mask off. Johnny stands watching him, his heart picking up in his chest, thumping getting louder in his ears.

Simon looks down at him gripping his mask in his hand. Johnny has only seen Simon without the mask a few times, it still makes him smile every time. His dirty blonde hair, scruffy from the mask, stuck to his forehead. His chocolate brown eyes that sometimes glow golden in the sun. His lips, the part Johnny likes the most, plump and rosy. He has scars, more then Johnny realised. His cheeks were flushed pink, and Johnny thought he could see the twitches of a smile on his face. 

“I missed you Johnny.” Simon says eventually. Johnny’s smile just grows, he sees Simon shuffle closer to him. 

“I missed you too LT. been boring without you.” Johnny says, Simon’s looking directly in his eyes, Johnny’s letting himself get lost in them. Watching as Simon’s expression softens even more as his eyes soaked up every part of Johnny’s face. He didn’t even realise Simon had moved his arm to grip Johnny. 

“I had a lot of time to think in rehab. A lot of time to think about what could happen if I couldn’t get better. What would happen if this was the end.” He says, Johnny looks a little confused. 

“Thinking retirement? A house with a white picket fence? Maybe a cat?” Johnny says. Simon shakes his head.

“I’m a dog person.” Simon says smiling. Hes leaning closer to Johnny, so much so, Johnny can feel Simon's hot breath on his face. Johnny wants to kiss him his lips just inches away. Simon’s hand grips Johnny’s arm. 

“I like dogs too.” Johnny breathes, leaving his mouth hanging open as he flicks his eyes down to Simon’s lips. It happens in a flash. Not like Simon to be the most romantic, his lips lock on to Johnny’s who instantly kisses him back. Simon presses Johnny’s body against the wall as Johnny’s hands work their way up Simon’s top. 

“I was worried you might not come back.” Johnny finally admits between kisses, feeling a weight lifted off him. 

“Same.” Simon says pulling away looking in Johnny’s eyes. 

“How’d ya know?” Johnny asked, already missing Simon’s lips.

“You’re not as subtle as you think.” Simon breathes almost feral pressing his mouth back on Johnny. Johnny can’t help but smile while he lets Simon play with his tongue. Of course Simon knew, that’s what Simon is good at.

His hands move to Johnny’s waist gripping the hem of his shirt. He raises his hands almost automatically letting Simon pull his shirt over his head. Simon’s hands run over Johnny’s chest his fingers stopping on a recently healed wound.

“What happened here?” Simon asks. 

“Shrapnel.” Johnny says. “It’s fine Simon.” Johnny insists wanting to get Simon’s shirt off too tugging the bottom. Simon’s fingers run over the wound.

“I thought I was going to die.” He says, the words make Johnny’s heart skip, a lump forms in his throat. He swallows it away, letting Simon’s shirt drop from his hands. He can see that vacant look in his eyes again, just like earlier in the training. He pulls Simon’s chin to look at him. 

“You’re okay.” Johnny says, Simon swallows. He looks sad, Johnny strokes his cheek. 

“Let’s lie down, you’re exhausted it’s been a long day.” Johnny suggests, Simon nods his expression still somewhat vacant. Johnny kisses Simon again, pushing hands on Simon’s chest. He can feel Simon’s heart beating rapidly.

“I'm sorry I didn't come and visit you.” Johnny says changing the subject as they sit down on the bed. 

“Sorry I didn't say anything sooner.” Simon says. Johnny turns to look at him, his features sharp in the low light, Johnny forgot how handsome he is. His hand rests on Simon’s thigh, Simon turns to look at him, he’s not sure what to say.

“I heard you visiting when I was in the hospital. I remember you holding my hand, telling me not to die. I thought it was a dream.” Simon says after a few seconds of silence. Johnny smiles pulling him in for another quick kiss.

“Price said you'd never left my side until he pried you away for a mission.” He says breaking away. “when I woke up alone I thought you'd left, thought I wouldn't see you again. When you came through that door smiling, gushing about the mission. That's when I knew.” 

“I thought we were gonna lose you. I thought I was gonna lose you.” Johnny says. Simon gets up off the bed heading over and locking the door. He turns back to Johnny reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head. Johnny smiles as he watches Simon kick his boots off. Johnny can see the scars, the gunshot to the abdomen and the one to his shoulder. Simon comes back over to the bed standing in front of Johnny. Johnny sits up soaking him in, each muscle each scar, each hair.

Johnny reaches out pressing his hand on Simon’s chest letting it run up to his pecks. Simon looks down at Johnny's hand, placing his on top and bringing it to his mouth to kiss Johnny’s fingers. Johnny pulls his legs up into the bed and moves to the other side leaving room for Simon to climb in. Johnny pulls back the covers as he gets in laying down beside him.

The bed is small but Johnny doesn't care, he’s laying in bed with Simon. Simon places his arm round Johnny’s shoulder pulling him onto the chest. Johnny reaches over Simon’s chest turning the light off, breathing Simon in. He smells of gunpowder and cigarettes. It's exactly what Johnny remembered, he could get drunk off that smell. Simon kisses the top of Johnny's head and he snuggles down into Simon’s embrace.

“Si?” 

“Yeah johnny” 

“Is it too early to say I love you?” 

“No johnny,” Simon says as he pulls the duvet over them. 

“I love you Si.” Johnny says.

“I love you too Johnny.” 

—————————— 

Next

[dandylovesturtles]

just a little write-up for one of my sillier AUs that I have in my head because I was thinking about it and just wanted to chat about it. this is all meant for spooky funsies so don't take anything too seriously here.

I do plan to write one of my Bad Things Happen Bingo entries set in this AU (no idea when I'll actually get around to it, but anyway) and maybe some other things in this AU if I feel like it. It just floats around in my head sometimes.

this is very very vaguely inspired by the old show So Weird, or more specifically the hazy memories of So Weird that I have from when I watched it as a child lol

ROTTMNT Paranormal Investigator AU!

Timeline:

instead of being a martial arts clan, the Hamato clan is a clan of psychics, people who have a mystical connection to the paranormal and supernatural, able to see things other humans cannot. their task is to keep the balance between our world and the world of the supernatural, and to protect humanity from particularly malicious spirits, demons, and cryptids

after losing his mother to the fight against a demon, Hamato Yoshi decides to leave the clan and eventually becomes a famous movie star

unfortunately with no one around to keep balance, the forces of the paranormal start to encroach on the mortal world more and more, wreaking havoc

the boys are still mutant turtles and Yoshi still ends up a rat. how? idk. honestly it's not important. it's a thing that is mostly lampshaded in this AU lol I just still wanted them to be turtles. I think Draxum is still here and he still wanted to make warriors using the Lou Jitsu DNA but the whole thing went astray and now he's just like their weird uncle they call sometimes when they have a problem

as they get older, various dangerous paranormal events convince Yoshi that he needs to begin training his sons in their clan's ancient arts and honing their psychic abilities, so that they can begin to restore balance in the world

uuuunfortunately he's super rusty and the kids are still learning so they have to do a lot of investigating of rumors and tips that get sent to them. this means a lot of legwork and a loooot of nothing. like 95% of what the boys deal with are misunderstandings, hoaxes, and rich assholes taking advantage of local legends for nefarious schemes

the other 5% though... those are the doozies

Yoshi has an apartment in New York that the kids grew up in but now they spend a lot of their time traveling the country in a big ass camper (van life)

also April is here

Leo

the skeptic

up until they ran into their first real paranormal occurrence, Leo was fully convinced that all this ghost stuff was nonsense and his dad was just trying to come up with some kind of publicity stunt since his acting career is behind him

after their first real paranormal occurrence, he believes it's real, but he's still super skeptical that most things they hear about are going to amount to anything

and 95% of the time he's right, which he always reminds his brothers of and this is very annoying to the rest of them

he still enjoys traveling around in the van though so he doesn't complain much

super good at scouting out clues and noticing things that the others don't...when they can get him to actually engage with what they're looking into

Leo is on the lower end in terms of psychic ability, but specifically his psychic powers have manifested as essentially a giant negation field. He can't be possessed, enthralled, hypnotized, or compelled, cryptids tend to shy away from him, he naturally rebuffs other supernatural creatures, etc.

this doesn't really help with trying to convince him that these things are real because they tend to run away from him

Donnie

fully believes that the paranormal is real but takes a highly scientific approach to it. he is going to crack the science behind ghosts and he's already got the spot in his room made for his resulting Nobel Prize. he's gonna be Donatello Hamato, Father of Ectobiology

builds them all kinds of ghost/demon/cryptid hunting gadgets, and is the one that handles all their equipment anywhere they go

reads books on ghosts and cryptozoology and then writes truly scathing reviews on good reads

is also the one who does upkeep on the van (it's only nice as it is because of Donnie)

claims to only care about evidence during a hunt but then has a tendency to get carried away when he thinks he's on the trail of something interesting

still, he can come around to a natural explanation like Leo if he sees enough evidence

he's also on the lower end in terms of psychic ability; what he does have gives him information. he's able to see the threads of how spirits connect to and interact with our world, able to tell at a glance when a footprint or dropping is not of natural origin (even if he's never seen it's kind before), able to sense when there may be some evidence the others can't see in the room. sometimes spirits are even compelled to beam knowledge directly to Donnie. also, demons or spirits trying to disguise their true faces doesn't work on him.

which actually freaks him out sometimes but he doesn't tell them that

the twins' psychic power also manifests in a lowkey Twin Sense in this AU; they can't literally read each other's thoughts, but they can feel when the other is having strong emotions or is in pain, and they'll just get a Bad Feeling if the other is in trouble of some kind

Raph

sits somewhere between Leo and Mikey/Donnie on the skepticism scale, but frankly he doesn't care if it's natural or supernatural as long as he can help

cryptids never like him and this bums him out. some of them are cute :c

on the flip side he seems to be a calming presence for certain spirits, especially childish ones

very scared of getting demon possessed, doesn't mention it

actually kind of loves when the solution turns out to be some kind of bad guy and then he gets to help hunt down and catch and unmask them, like some kind of super cool police detective

is the defacto leader because he's the oldest/biggest and no one else wanted the job anyway

drives the van when Yoshi doesn't want to (the others drive it sometimes too but Raph and April are the only ones with an actual license)

has a much higher psychic ability than the twins, able to sense when there is something supernatural in the area, able to talk to spirits, able to touch spirits and demons if they've crossed fully over into our world even if they are normally intangible. means he can punch a demon in the face if he wants to. he's able to do various rituals and exorcisms if needed as well, and can often banish spirits or demons if he knows what they are and how to best get rid of them. often does protection wards on his brothers when he thinks there's something dangerous around.

Mikey

a true believer, but doesn't think it's a puzzle that can be solved like Donnie does. there are things about the world and universe that are unexplainable, and he likes it that way

if the solution is something natural he's pretty much useless at helping though

"don't run off-" Mikey is already on the other side of the haunted house

is easily the most restless when cooped up in the van and prefers when they decide to camp at a campsite. loves sleeping outside.

Leo and Mikey are still close, but have a very highkey sibling rivalry over their differences of opinion with regards to the supernatural and what they're even doing

even still, Leo tries to stay close to Mikey to protect him (but Mikey often runs off so its a moot point)

unsurprisingly, Mikey is the strongest psychic of the bunch, and is in fact ridiculously strong. he can sense the presence of spirits, can communicate with them even if they haven't fully crossed over into our world, and can even do some minor mind reading and tell when people are being untruthful or compelled (he has to actively choose to do it though so his fam's privacy is safe. sometimes he gets visions of things that are about to happen. unfortunately he's also very vulnerable to possession and compulsion because of this, and cryptids are attracted to him, for good or ill. sometimes the things they cross are friendly or just looking for help, and Mikey is happy to do so! other times... not so much

April

she already believed in the supernatural before meeting the boys and meeting them just cemented her worldview for her

she loves ghost hunting/paranormal investigation for the thrill of it all

goes with the boys whenever she doesn't actively have to be in school; demands all the details when she can't be there

the one walking in yelling WHAT'S UP DEMONS, IT'S YA GIRL

along the way she picked up Mayhem and he's her pet now. he can teleport her to the boys if they need her help and she's still in New York

absolutely no psychic ability but she does have a bat

Yoshi

almost as powerful as Mikey, but retired

gives the boys lessons but otherwise usually stays in the van watching TV while they're actively investigating

only steps in if he thinks something terrible is about to happen

usually it's fine