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braveclementine · 5 days

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Chapter 11

Warnings: Allusions and innuendos towards OC sleeping with a Professor

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌, Harry showed me a letter from Sirius. Sadie had come back with the reply. It read:

Harry- I cannot say everything I would like to in the letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted- we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November? I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose. Be on the watch Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can. Sirius.

Then Harry handed me an unopened letter, also from Sirius. "Thought you'd want your own letter."

"Thanks." I said, taking it.

Eilís, Don't risk anything. I don't want you caught outside at night. Someone's obviously after Harry and I'm sure they're after you too. I know you're in Hufflepuff, but see if you can meet with Harry on the 22nd of November, if he can make it. I'd like to see you too, just in a safer zone for all of us. Love, Sirius

"He puts love in your letters?" Harry asked, "Why doesn't he do that with me?"

"Maybe because I sign my letters with love first." I said with a shrug, putting the letter in the bottom of my bag.

"You think he loves me?" Harry asked thoughtfully and I looked at him in surprise.

"Of course he does." I said warmly. "But you two are a man and a boy. Males show love a bit differently than girls do. We nearly always sign our letters with love and the boys or men we write to always know to sign their letters with love."

Harry looked slightly cheered and said, "I wonder what his reaction would be if I did sign a letter with love."

"He'd probably think someone's impersonating you." I said, a bit amused, spearing scrambled eggs on the end of my fork.

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞, The Daily Prophet released the article. I got a copy that morning. I read it and started laughing. Harry leaned over my shoulder to read the following paragraph.

I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now. . . Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it. . . I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me. Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevy, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one of two girls, either Hermione Granger, a Stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl or Elizabeth Kane, a gorgeous half-blood, both of who are top students in school, just like Harry himself.

Harry's face turned red. "I didn't say any of this!" He said in a panic.

"I know." I said. "I wasn't laughing at that. I was laughing about Hermione and I being part of the stupid newspaper."

Hermione wasn't even fazed. "She lies a lot when she writes, doesn't she?"

"It's her Quick-Quotes Quill." I said through a mouthful of egg. I swallowed and said, "Her quill is meant to exaggerate for better stories. More sorrow, more hype. It's just for longer stories as well 'cause the Quill uses more words."

"Stupid thing." Harry said vehemently.

"There's a Hogsmeade trip coming up." I said. "Want to go? I think I'll bring food for Sirius..."

"Sirius is nearby?" Harry asked. I nodded.

"We won't go to his hideout right now, considering he won't know we're coming and I don't want to scare him, but I can leave food on a rock at the Shrieking Shack. I told him that's where I'd leave food."

"Sure" Harry said and that was the end of that.

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𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 a bad time, snapping at people when he finally had enough. He confided in me that he admired the way Hermione and I dealt with it.

"It's nothing Harry, you just let them get to you and I don't blame you. I've gotten into a couple of fights with Draco already, but I usually keep them on the downlow." I'd replied. "But yes, I'm with you in admiring Hermione." I paused and then said, "here's some good news. Ron will be your friend by Tuesday."

"That's good." Harry said a bit vacantly.

I spent a lot of time in library. Viktor Krum was spending a lot of time in there too. Sometimes we studied together and he confided in me that he was very interested in Hermione Granger, though he didn't know her name. He simply said, "your friend." and with a couple questions, I found that it was Hermione.

I was pleased by this and often talked Hermione up when I had the chance. Hermione on the other hand, was irritated by Krum's presence in the library.

"He's not even good-looking!" she muttered angrily as I studied with her and Harry one day. A group of giggling girls were spying on his from behind the bookshelves. Hermione hated the noise. "The only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky-Faint thing."

I dropped my mouth in horror, goggling at her and started to cough. "Wronski Feint." Harry and I said at the same time. Harry's teeth were gritted and he burst into laughter at my face.

Hermione glared at us and we stopped laughing, but continued to grin.

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𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝕳𝖔𝖌𝖘𝖒𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊. Harry took his invisibility cloak, wanting to hide from Ron. I rolled my eyes but let it go.

We went to Honeydukes first and bought large chocolates filled with white cream. It was thick, a bit like frosting and they were good. We walked out eating them. It was a much different atmosphere now, and I could tell Harry could feel the difference. We were more free, no one was shouting horrible things at Harry- they couldn't see him.

I had a basket filled with sweets on my arm along with Chicken legs that I'd taken from the Lunch table this afternoon. We walked down to Shrieking Shack and I set it down on top of a rock. I didn't wait, I told Sirius we wouldn't wait- not wanting anyone to see him- and, looking around, I didn't see him in person or as a dog and we went to the Three Broomsticks afterwards.

Hermione went to get the butterbeers. I did not want to talk to Madam Rosmerta, who I knew was curious to meet me. I went with Harry to a table in the back. We passed Ron who was sitting with Fred, George, and Lee. Fred looked up for a moment, but I passed by without looking at them.

I had nothing against Fred- I quite liked him, though I found my crushes on him and Cedric and others were waning (Snape shined brighter than ever). However, I felt that if I stopped to talk, I might end up chewing Ron out, and I didn't have the energy.

Hermione slipped Harry a butterbeer under his cloak and I drank my own. It tasted delicious and I realized I was going to have to buy some to put in a bottle and send to Trang. Nah, I was going to wait and bring her here. Yeah, that was best.

Hermione pulled out her S.O.E.A. notebook. I noticed Harry and Ron's names were at the very top of the very short list. She'd barely gotten anyone to sign. Nearly everyone thought it was a joke.

"When are you going to give up this Elves rights thing, Hermione?" Harry asked through a large gulp of butterbeer.

Hermione's eyes flared up and said, "When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions! You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens."

"No idea, ask Fred and George." Harry said.

"Hagrid's going to come over and tell you to visit him at midnight." I murmured, taking another sip of butterbeer.

"Why?" Harry asked in interest, looking around, "I don't even see him."

"You'll see him eventually, he'll be talking to Moody. Anyways, you'll wave, but you're under the cloak so he won't see. But Moody's eye sees under the cloak so he'll bring Hagrid over to you." I said after I finished swallowing the hot drink.

I watched at the next table as Ernie and Hannah swapped chocolate frog cards, wearing Support Cedric Diggory badges. Hannah had asked me to come and swap with them and I'd politely declined saying I'd rather not. She'd looked over and seemed a bit surprised that I wasn't with Harry.

Susan was at another table with some of the other Hufflepuffs. She never got a Support Cedric Diggory badge and I liked her all the more for it. If I had to hang out with a Hufflepuff, she was my go to.

I wondered who Harry was looking at. Probably Cho- she was sitting with some Ravenclaw girlfriends. Harry would be happy that she wasn't wearing a Diggory badge.

"Look, it's Hagrid!" Hermione said, motioning.

I wasn't sure if Harry waved or not. Maybe he was waving, or maybe he was waiting until Moody was looking in our general direction. Either way, eventually Moody and Hagrid made their way over to where we were standing.

"All right, Hermione? Elizabeth?" Hagrid said loudly.

"Hello." Hermione said, smiling back.

"Hey Hagrid, Hey Uncle Moody." I said, smiling at both of them. "Professor, I mean."

Moody waved away my apology and stomped around the table to bend down and mutter "Nice cloak, Potter."

"Can your eye- I mean, can you-" I hard Harry whispering beside me. Perhaps he hadn't heard me the first time. Or maybe he was just checking to see if Uncle Moody's eye really saw invisibility cloaks.

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks. And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."

Hagrid was beaming down at where Harry was sitting. Moody had, of course, told him about the cloak. Hagrid bent down and said very, very quietly, "Harry, meet me tonight at eleven thirty at me cabin. Wear that cloak."

"Nice ter see yeh, Hermione, Elizabeth." Hagrid said, winking and then Uncle Moody and Hagrid moved away, heading out of the pub.

"Eleven thirty?" I questioned out loud, frowning. "I'm positive I had foreseen midnight."

Hermione was frowning too and said, "It is strange that some of your memories are being changed. I wonder why that is."

"They aren't large changes." I muttered, frowning at the table, trying to figure out the puzzle. "Maybe Trelawney will know something."

Hermione snorted vehemently and Harry choked on his butterbeer. "Sure." He said, laughing. "Sure."

I had to laugh too. We soon left.

"Anyways," I said, wrapping my cloak tightly around myself as snow started to come down. It didn't stick and would probably be gone by the night. "Eleven thirty is better anyways considering you have to meet with Sirius tonight as well."

"Will you be there?" Harry asked. "You know the Gryffindor password."

"I'll think about it." I said honestly. "I don't know if I'd risk it, but it'd be worth it. I haven't talked to him in forever."

I separated from Harry and Hermione as we entered the castle. I went to the Hufflepuff common room and went upstairs for a nap. I woke up around ten and headed out of the castle. It was dark out and the stars were shining brightly. I had my wand and art pad and pencil. I was hoping I could find the moon flowers that I had found last time. Besides, the dragons were going to be out tonight and I hoped to get some good drawings of them.

I met with Firenze halfway through the forest. I was glad, because I could've sworn I'd heard footsteps behind me, but hadn't seen anyone.

"Elizabeth Kane, wonderful to see you again." Firenze said softly.

"Hello Firenze." I said cheerfully. "There's dragons in the forest tonight. I'm hoping to get some good drawings."

Firenze smiled. "Yes, we've stayed far away from the dragons. We don't enjoy Centaur barbecue."

I stared at him for a moment, my mouth open in surprise and when I found my voice I said, "You actually made a joke!"

"Was it good?" Firenze asked, smiling, and sounding amused.

"Very." I said, grinning. We set off into the forest. He led the way, already knowing where the dragons were.

I crept forward when we got there. There were four of them, each of them had about seven dragon keepers around them. The Chinese Fireball was already laying down, sleeping. I flipped open my sketchpad. I squatted down and worked on the drawing, capturing as many angles as possible in a short amount of time.

I recognized Charlie and that gave me an idea for Christmas. But I simply wrote a note for it and continued. There was also a Swedish Short-Snout, Hungarian Horntail, and Common Welsh Green. Harry would get the horntail of course, going last.

The dragons were all sleeping for now, I knew they'd drunk some sleeping draft before they'd been transported here.

Suddenly a wizard got very close and waved to Firenze, "Hello there."

"Charlie!" I said, popping up from the ground. Charlie took a few steps back out of shock.

He recovered and stuttered, "E-Elizabeth?"

"Firenze, this is Charlie Weasley, I've mentioned him before. Charlie, this is Firenze, he's a Centaur, obviously." I said, quickly introducing them.

"What are you doing out so late?" Charlie asked, nodding to Firenze politely. Firenze nodded back.

"Oh, well, I wanted to see the dragons and draw them." I said, showing him my rough dragon sketch.

"That's good considering the lack of light." Charlie complimented me. "How'd you know about the dragons? Your visions?"

I nodded. "The visions alerted me. Though they aren't extremely reliable, so I wasn't sure if they'd be here or not." I paused and said, "Hagrid's going to bring Madam Maxime soon."

"Great." Charlie said, rolling his eyes.

"I'll leave you now, Elizabeth Kane." Firenze said, putting a calm hand on my shoulder, "I shall converse with you later."

"Bye Firenze." I said, smiling and watched him gallop away.

I jumped the bush line to get a better look at the dragons.

"I love the Chinese Fireball." I said, starting another rough sketch. "And the Swedish Short-Snout is a very pretty dragon." I said.

"You know the different types?" Charlie asked in surprise.

I nodded. "I pay attention in Care of Magical Creatures class." I paused and then said, "Harry will have to get past the Hungarian Horntail- at least that's what I see for now. It could change."

Charlie brought me around the dragon camp so that I could see the dragons better. I added more detail to my Chinese Fireball dragon.

"I should go back up to the castle." I said, after I had rough sketches of all four dragons done. "The dragons will wake up soon so I want to get out of your way."

"Alright, hopefully I'll see you at the first event." Charlie said with a smile.

I smiled back and then said, "Hey umm, so I know Mrs. Weasley- your mum- is upset about Harry. Tell her that he doesn't actually cry about his parents, will you? Cause he doesn't. Everything Rita Skeeter wrote in there- or nearly everything- he never actually said."

Charlie nodded. "I figured as much. Mum was in floods after reading the article."

"It'll be nice if she knows it wasn't true." I said.

Charlie nodded again. I could hear Hagrid and Madam Maxime's voices approaching and the dragons were starting to wake up. The Hungarian Horntail started to breathe fire and both Charlie and I had to hit the deck to avoid being burned.

"Go, I'll let mom know. And don't tell Harry about this, understand. None of the contestants are supposed to know!" Charlie said.

I kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, I won't."

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"𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖘." 𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖉 as Harry approached the Gryffindor Common Room portrait.

"I know." Harry said. "I just saw them. Balderdash."

The portrait swung open and I followed him into the Gryffindor common room. It was 12:55. "You stayed late." I commented.

Harry nodded. "I hoped Charlie was going to drop some hints about what the tournaments going to be like. Any ideas?"

I sighed. "I'm afraid that if I say, my visions will change."

"Well-" Harry said but stopped talking as he had spotted Sirius' head in the fire. "Sirius- how're you doing?"

"Aww man." I complained. "You cut your hair."

Sirius grinned at me but said to Harry, "Never mind me, how are you?"

"I'm-" he hesitated and then blurted out all his feelings about how he's felt in the past week. How no one except Hermione and I believed he didn't enter his name- along with a few teachers. How Rita Skeeter's article had lied about him and he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at. For some reason, he threw in about Hermione and I being punished about it too. And he talked about Ron and how much he missed him and how jealous Ron was.

I stayed silent the whole time, becoming a background object and letting him speak. "...Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner." Harry finished.

"Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute- I haven't go long here... I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" Harry said.

"Karkaroff." Sirius said and I stiffened. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"They were at the World Cup." I muttered.

"Yes-hes one?" Harry asked.

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year- to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"No wonder he's so scared of him." I murmured.

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry asked. "Why did they release him?"

"Information." I said.

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic." Sirius said, nodding to me. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names. . . he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place. . . He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, form what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

"Snape warned me." I said suddenly. "He came after me when I got to close to the ship. He thinks Karkaroff wants to use me to win the Tournament."

Sirius' face darkened. "Snape. . ." he muttered. "He could be right though, as much as I hate to say it."

"Are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. he seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing." Harry said slowly.

"We know he's a good actor, because he convinced the ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry-"

"-you and the rest of the world-" Harry replied bitterly.

"-and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely, Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror that Ministry ever had."

"So. . . what are you saying? Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But- why?" Harry asked.

"He can't possibly want to kill you." I hissed, "Remember my dream, Voldemort wants you. If it is Karkaroff, and I'm not all that sure it is, he'll use the tournament to get you to him."

"What dream?" Sirius asked sharply.

I hesitated. "It doesn't matter."

"Tell me." Sirius said.

I sighed and repeated nearly the whole story to him, leaving out the part about me and talking only about Harry. Somehow though, perhaps through my sucked in cheeks, he knew I was hiding something.

"Spit it out." He said, a bit harshly.

I kept my mouth shut and Harry, who'd heard the story twice, told him what was said about me. Sirius' face darkened even more.

"So Bertha Jorkins is dead and Voldemort is rising because of Pettigrew." Sirius said angrily. "I knew I should've killed him."

"I don't know if it's true." I said, exasperated. "Dumbledore seems to think so but my visions haven't been coming along so truthfully. Besides, it was a dream."

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins." Sirius said in a grim voice, "She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"So. . . so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament? Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?" Harry asked, pondering this information.

"I don't think Voldemort would be all that happy with him." I said, frowning. "I suppose it's possible though. . ."

"I don't know. . . Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in the goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a really good plan from where I'm standing. They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff." Harry said, grinning a bit bleakly.

"Right- these dragons. There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell- dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon-"

"Yeah-" Harry started.

"Shh." I said.

"You can do it alone, there is a way, and a simple spell's all you need. Just-" Harry held up his hand to shush him.

"It's just Ron." I hissed.

Harry and I turned and waited apprehensively and indeed, it was Ron. He stared at us and then at the fire, put couldn't see Sirius from where we were.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing." Ron said, hesitating in the archway. "Is that. . . is that Sirius?"

Harry and I looked at each other and Harry said, "Yeah."

Ron hesitated and then said, "Er- tell him I said hi. I'll go back to bed." He walked back up the stairs. I turned back to Sirius.

"Ron says hi, but I reckon the witch or wizard will be back soon. I'll tell Harry the spell, Love you."

"Love you too Elizabeth. Good luck Harry."

"Oh, Sirius." I said quickly and grinned broadly, "Harry wants to know if you love him too."

Harry pushed my shoulder so that I nearly fell over, spluttering and blushing, "Shut up Elizabeth."

Sirius snorted, "Of course I do, what a silly question. Also, thanks for the food Elizabeth."

"Bye." I said and with a pop, he was gone.

I yawned and stretched and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Look, I will tell you the spell, not tonight. I want to let Uncl- er Professor Moody talk to you first because he's got a great idea. If he doesn't talk about it though, I'll let you know both things, alright?"

"Sure." Harry said, a bit uneasily. "Night Elizabeth."

"Night Harry." I got up and left the Gryffindor common room and walked back to my own. Would Moody pull Harry into his office? It would be because he talked to Cedric. But would Harry know to talk to Cedric on his own? I was sure he would. I'd keep an eye on it.

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𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 we were sitting at the Gryffindor table eating. Harry looked sick, eating his bacon. We were about to leave for Herbology when Harry said, "Hermione, Elizabeth, I'll see you in the greenhouses. Go on, I'll catch up with you guys."

"Harry, you'll be late-" Hermione started but I interrupted.

"Good idea Harry, we'll see you later." I said, and dragged Hermione down to Herbology.

"What was that all about?" Hermione hissed.

"Just something I foresaw." I muttered back, "Or, hopefully foresaw."

She didn't ask anymore questions.

Today in Herbology, we were pruning Flutterby bushes. Flutterby bushes quivered and shook, throwing their perfume in the air. The perfume was meant to smell differently to a person, and lure the unwary to them. To me, it smelled a bit like the sea. I'd never been to the sea- we'd never had money for a vacation. I'd always wanted to go to the sea and I supposed that's what the Flutterby bush smelled that way.

I worked carefully as I pruned my bush. I didn't want to cut any unnecessary branches. Harry hurried in after about ten or fifteen minutes into class and came over to where Hermione and I were working.

"Guys," He hissed, "I need your help."

"What do you think we've been trying to do, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking at him over her bush with round eyes. They'd been in the library researching for the simple spell that Sirius had mentioned since I wouldn't give it yet.

"I need to learn how to do a summoning charm properly by tomorrow afternoon." Harry muttered.

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𝖂𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖉 of having lunch. Hermione and I worked with him until class was about to start. Hermione wasn't going to skip Arithmancy and I didn't want to skip Care of Magical Creatures (I suppose I could've redone the hour but figured Harry didn't need to miss Divination either).

We ate dinner and then rushed to the classroom we'd been before, working on it. I had started practicing it to, demonstrating, while Hermione said theories would help. We worked late into the night- we had the invisibility cloak.

However, Peeves showed up around midnight, pretending that Harry was throwing things at him and started chucking chairs. We quickly left before Filch was attracted to the noise. I made my way back to the Hufflepuff common room, but saw someone moving down to the dungeons.

Curious, I followed. They were creeping around by the Potions classroom. I followed them in after a couple seconds. They weren't anywhere around which meant that they must be in the office. I hid behind the door, crouching down. They wouldn't see me here in the dark. I drew out my wand, waiting.

The office door opened and I waved my wand but I was to slow.

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𝕾𝖓𝖆𝖕𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 over me, his wand pointed at my face, his own face pale. "Are you okay?" He asked when my eyelids fluttered open.

I grimaced, "Oww, yeah." My head was pounding furiously. I put a hand to my head. "What happened?" I asked.

"I was going to ask you that." Snape said, helping me to my feet.

"I saw someone sneaking around and I followed them. But I guess they knew I was here. . . I don't know how though. . ." I said, frustrated. "I know for a fact that they never saw me. . . they came out of your office. I never saw what he- or she- looked like."

"You shouldn't have followed them." Snape said in a terse voice. "You could have been more seriously hurt than just stunned."

"I. . ." I hesitated. "I was- I was worried." I admitted.

"Why?" He asked, frowning.

"I-" I blushed and turned away and said, "I thought he might try to kill you."

There was a pause. And then he groaned and said, "Damnit!"

"What?" I asked, turning around in shock. He was running a hand through his long hair.

"If he was going to kill me then you most definitely shouldn't have come!" He said very angrily.

"But-"

"No!" He said harshly, slamming his fist against the wall.

I recoiled. I blushed and said, "I couldn't just stand by-"

"You better." Snape said, glaring at me.

We both stared at each other angrily for a long time. Then Snape ran his hand through his hair again and I blurted out, "I l-" I stopped, biting my tongue, blushing furiously. Snape looked at me with piercing eyes. "What?" He asked, a bit curiously.

I shook my head, blushing even more. He took a step closer. My breath caught in my throat and I said, "It's nothing, okay. I'll- I'll go now, I-" He took a step closer, reaching out and taking a lock of my hair. He wasn't looking at me anymore, but looking down. My heart thudded in my chest and I tried to steady my breath.

"Elizabeth. . ." he whispered in my ear and I shivered. His fingers lightly grazed my cheek down to my chin. "Go to bed."

I nodded and choked out, "Yeah. . . of course." I stumbled backwards and turned from the room. I lay in bed, burying my head in my pillow. One of these days, I was going to screw myself up and admit my feelings and I was sure after that I'd have to drop potions or face eternal embarrassment when he admitted he didn't feel the same way.

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌, I felt horribly sick with nerves. Harry would be facing the dragon tomorrow and while I was sure he would do fine, I had my doubts. My doubts weren't based on Harry, but on whether or not things would play out the way that my visions declared.

At breakfast, I barely ate, drumming my fingers on my sketchpad. Then, I went to Moody's classroom. I didn't have class, but I wanted to tell him about the intruder and to ask him to keep an eye out.

I knocked on the office door and heard a voice growl, "Come in Elizabeth."

"Hey, I just wanted to run something by you real quick." I said, stepping into the office.

"Really?" Moody grunted, drinking from his hip flask. "Doesn't have anything to do with your visions, does it?"

I hesitated, imaging Harry flying past the dragons, "Well, no, it doesn't. Actually, last night, I was helping Harry with his summoning charm. And well, when I left, I saw someone sneak into Snape's office."

Moody frowned, or at least what was an attempted frown. His magical eye was zooming around the classroom, but his normal eye was fixed on me, "Really? Did they take anything? Was Snape there? What happened? Do you know?"

I shook my hand, "They stunned me. I don't think Snape was there though. I don't know if they took anything either, he didn't say. But I wanted to let you know, considering your an Auror, that someone's sneaking around."

"Might be a Durmstrang student trying to help Krum. . ." Moody muttered. "or even a Hogwarts student if they thought something in there would help Diggory or Potter. Don't know why they'd think any potions ingredients would help with this task though. . . though they don't know what the task is so maybe. . . hmm."

"Maybe." I said hesitantly. "I have to get to Charms, but I thought you should know."

"Thank you Elizabeth. I'm sure Snape already told Dumbledore, but I'll let him know you came by as well. It's important he knows. I'll keep an eye on students as well." Moody said thoughtfully.

I nodded and quickly left, sprinting down the corridor so that I would make it to Charms on time.

💙💙💙💙

𝕴 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 to Snape's classroom after school ended, but the door opened before I could knock or open it myself. I found myself face to face with Karkaroff.

"What are you doing here?" Karkaroff asked.

"I have a-a private lesson with Professor Snape." I stuttered, blushing. He was so tall!

"A private lesson, huh?" He sneered, leaning forwards. I jerked back, hitting my head against the doorframe, realizing just how unfortunate the situation was. I was frozen in fear, our cheeks almost touching as he whispered, "And how private, is private?" His body was pressed against mine. One hand was on my leg, trailing upwards. I stayed frozen.

"I-"

"Karkaroff!" Professor Snape snapped.

Karkaroff moved backwards slowly, moving his hand up to twirl his goatee. "I see. . ."

"It's not- It's not like that!" I said quickly, shooting at look at Professor Snape, a panic I couldn't explain inside of me.

"She has private lessons with several Professors." Professor Snape said, moving between the two of us. He was shorter than Karkaroff, though not by much, but somehow managed to tower over him at the moment. "Now get out."

Karkaroff snorted but said nothing, leaving the potions classroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Professor Snape asked quickly, his demeanor changing abruptly.

"Ah. . . no." I said, blushing. "I'm sorry, I should've chosen my words better."

"No matter." Professor Snape said, brushing my apology away. "He's been looking for a chance to get close to you regardless. Shall we start the lesson then?"

"Oh, right yes." I said, sitting down at our usual table where the ingredients and list had already been set out and we started.

💙💙💙💙

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 were sitting on either side of Harry in the Great Hall for lunch. None of us were eating much of anything. I supposed it was nerves. But it was worse than before a Quidditch game- which was stupid. I wasn't even competing this time.

"Potter," Professor McGonagall said, coming over to the Gryffindor table, "the champions have to come down onto the grounds now. . . You have to get ready for your first task." Her face was white and though her body and manners seemed steady, her hands were shaking slightly.

"Okay." Harry said, dropping his fork onto his plate mindlessly. It made a loud clatter.

"Good luck, Harry. You'll be fine!" Hermione said.

"Good luck!" I said anxiously.

"Yeah." Harry said in an off-tone voice and followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall. About twenty minutes later, Hermione and I went down to the arena that the champions would be competing in. We were sitting near the teachers. Ginny, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville were sitting with us. I looked at Snape, who was looking at me. I blushed and sat down and quickly engaged in a conversation with Seamus and Dean.

Ludo came up on stage at the blow of a whistle. He was commentating again. To bad, I would've liked Lee to have commented. Lee looked bored, in the front row and was looking up at Ludo as though insulted that he'd taken his job.

There was another blow of the whistle and Cedric entered the enclosure. I had my fingers crossed tightly, my sketchpad on my lap. The Swedish Short-Snout was in the arena with him. I remembered that they weren't as vicious as the others and was glad that this was the one that Cedric was going up against.

Cedric transfigured a rock, turning it into a yellow Labrador. I was surprised, that was a pretty good bit of magic. Of course- Cedric was brilliant, no doubt about that. The dog barked at the dragon. Cedric was trying to get around the dragon, as the dragon was drawn to the dog, gaining on it.

It took a long time, Cedric was trying to move very slowly, trying not to draw attention to him moving behind his back. I could see the dragon's nest somewhere behind that. Ludo was commenting, "A neat bit of transfiguration right there. . . wonder if it will work. . ."

Cedric sprinted for the eggs and grabbed the golden egg. The dragon turned, around blowing fire. I screamed- and I wasn't the only one. The fire caught part of his face. The dragon keepers were climbing into the arena now, containing the dragon. I saw that Charlie was among them. I crossed my fingers but no one was hurt.

Cedric was taken to the medical tent to get his face healed up. I realized I was gripping Deans' arm tightly and I let go. "Sorry." I muttered to him.

"It's fine." he muttered back, his face darker than usual.

I made sure to keep my hands to myself after that, gripping my knees instead, digging my fingernails in as Fleur came out next against the common welsh green. Again, not a particularly dangerous dragon. Fleur was muttering and waving her wand and the dragon seemed a bit dazed, as though it was being put into a trance. I wondered if Veela could charm animals as well. Looking around, I noticed so of the guys seemed to be in a sort of a trance too.

Out of curiosity, I looked up at the teachers panel. Snape's face was slack and I started giggling and poked Ginny who looked over and started to giggle too. "She's a Veela." She murmured in my ear. "And Professor Snape. . ."

We giggled harder. We watched as Professor McGonagall looked over and saw Snape's face. She quickly slapped him across the face and he reeled back. I think she was very happy that she got to do that, for as she faced back around, she was smirking.

Snape got up, rubbing his cheek and our eyes met. I was still giggling and sucked in my cheeks and looked away, trying not to laugh anymore. Ginny had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard.

"It was a bit funny." I muttered. My hand was on my pencil and I was already drawing the scene, still grinning.

The common welsh snorted and flames caught Fleur's skirt as she got close to the egg. She put the flames out with water and got the golden egg.

The common welsh was taken away and the Chinese Fireball was put in place and the whistle blowed for a third time. Krum walked out, looking extremely surly. I wondered if he felt like this before every Quidditch match.

He was very quick in acting, but so was the dragon. The Chinese Fireball didn't get it's name for nothing after all. It kept blowing fire at him and he kept ducking behind rocks that had been strategically placed there as barriers. He was much quicker than Cedric or Fleur and Krum lifted his wand and yelled something. He was using the Conjunctivitis Curse.

The spell hit the Chinese Fireball in the forehead and she bellowed in agony, stumbling around. Krum got the egg but the real eggs were destroyed when she trampled them and then bellowed in agony at losing her eggs. I actually felt a bit bad for the dragon. Imagine losing your babies like that.

There was the fourth and final whistle and I drew closer on the edge of my seat. Harry came out, looking a bit sick. He raised his wand in the air and shouted something that no one could hear over the Hungarian Horntail's roars- but I knew he was summoning his broom. My fingers were crossed so tightly that the blood was draining from them.

Harry stood there for a moment, looking dazed and people started to whisper. But then, I heard a swooshing sound and heads turned to see his firebolt zooming towards him. It stopped dead in midair beside him. The crowd was shouting for joy. Bagman was shouting, "Well who would have guessed this!"

Harry swung his leg over the broom and soared upwards, and then- he smiled.

He was looking down at the eggs and muttering something and I relaxed. Harry was going to do wonderfully. He dived. The Horntail's head followed him though she didn't move. He swerved out of the way as a jet of fire came blowing out.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman shouted, "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Harry soared higher in a circle, the Horntails head revolving on its neck. He was trying to make it dizzy. Harry plummeted again after a moment, dodging flames again. However, the Horntail's tail came up and graze his shoulder, ripping his robes. I screamed again, this time, clutching Ginny's arm. She'd screamed as well.

Harry zoomed around the back of the Horntail and then moved back and forth. Slowly and gradually, he pulled just a little bit further away, just out of reach of the tail and flames. The dragon roared in exasperation, unable to get to him. Then the dragon reared onto her back legs, her wings spread out, blocking the view for some of the other viewers. He dove, going between her legs and scooping the golden egg up under his uninjured arm.

I jumped up with the Gryffindors, cheering!

"Look at that! Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!" Ludo Bagman was shouting excitedly. He looked hot inside his wasp robes- his face was red and sweat was trickling down his face. I reckoned he should be glad to be hot considering how cold it was outside.

I rushed from the stands as Harry landed in front of Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid.

"That was excellent, Potter." Professor McGonagall said, smiling, though her hands were still shaking, "You'll need to seem Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score... Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already.."

"Yeh did it!" Hagrid was cheering.

I threw my arms around him. "You did wonderfully Harry." I whispered in his ear.

"Thanks Elizabeth." Harry said.

I went with him to the hospital tent, feeling very excited. Madam Pomfrey on the other hand, was in a horrible mood.

"Dragons!" She exclaimed in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside and making him go into a cubicle. I waited outside, listening to her rant. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very lucky. . . this is quite shallow. . . it'll need cleaning before I heal it up, though. . ." A pause, a hiss from Harry and then Madam Pomfrey came out of the tent saying, "Now just sit quietly for a minute- sit! And then you can go and get your score!"

"Hey Elizabeth." Harry called from inside the cubicle. "What's my score?"

"Forty points." I called back. "If my vision is correct, of course. You'll be tied first with Ced."

Harry was on his feet, coming out and I put a hand on his chest. "Sorry, medic in training, go sit down." I said, smirking at him.

"Oh buzz off." Harry said, rolling his eyes jokingly.

Hermione and Ron entered the tent. I kissed Harry's cheek and said, "I'll let you be. I'm hungry."

I started to walk away when I heard someone call my name quietly. I turned to see Barty Crouch there. I stopped walking. He jerked his head, starting to walk towards the Forbidden forest. I hesitated for a second before I followed.

"Let me guess, I was right." I asked, crossing my arms as we came to a stop.

"You need to stay out of this." Mr. Crouch said. "You're just a kid."

Well, that stung. "Just a kid?" I asked, perhaps a bit angrier than need be. "Who warned you about what was going to happen, may I ask? Oh that's right, it was me. The kid. You really ought to listen to me more."

He glowered at me, "Stay out of it." He started to walk away.

"What? That's it? Stay out of it?" I snapped. He stopped turning back to me.

"What? Were you expecting something else?" he asked. His wording, his way of talking, it was all off from the clean, business like man I had met at the Quidditch World cup.

"You're already under it, aren't you?" I asked. "The Imperius Curse, I mean."

There was wavering behind his eyes but he said, "Of course not, that's ridiculous."

"Of course you are." I said, trying to sound kinder than I previously had. "I can help you."

His expression was guarded. "I'm not under the curse."

"So you say." I sighed. "More likely, you're just saying that. I've been under the curse. You're an adult wizard, aren't you? Throw it off. Have the will to throw it off. Cause if I can throw it off and you can't, then you must not want to actually throw it off."

This wasn't true, but I knew anger was a good motivator for throwing off the Imperius Curse. I turned to go and he grabbed my arm, jerking me back.

"Watch your back" he muttered in my ear before letting go of my arm, almost thrusting it away from himself. I tripped over my own two feet, but caught myself before I fell.. He started walking off back towards the tents. I caught sight of McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, and Moody looking at us from far away, but I pretended not to see them, making my way up to the castle instead.

I shook my head, sighing in disappointment. If only I could help him! Then, I could solve this mystery.

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enwoso · 2 days

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You have somehow managed to make me fall in love with this little universe you created with grumpy and Alessia in such a short amount of time!

Would you be able to write something about when the England squad first found about Alessia having a child and how they handled that on camp and stuff? I feel like there would be quite a lot of protectiveness, especially considering how she's part of the younger group, particulalry from some of the older age groups, like Lucy, Leah, Ellen, Jill, Jordan, Millie ect.

MINI ME — alessia russo x child!reader

*oh my god i love writing this little universe!*

navigation

alessia had never imagined that she'd be a mother at such a young age. she had always dreamt of having a baby at the end of her footballing career while being in a stable relationship, living in a comfortable environment with little to no stress allowing her to enjoy motherhood. the total fairytale fantasy.

however that fairytale fantasy never became a reality as alessia fell pregnant at 20 while in university, after one too many drinks and night with a boy she did trust enough but clearly trusted too much as after she took a test and the two lines displayed on the test telling her she was going to be a mother — he left? he didn't want that type of responsibility at such a young age.

when alessia moved back to england and signed for manchester united she kept you hidden from her teammates worried about what they may say or think, ella being the only one who knew about you. after all she would sometimes look after you when mummy had important adult things to do or pick you up from nursery when mummy couldn’t.

"y/n? where've you gone?" she whisper yelled, looking around the foyer. you were in that toddler stage of hiding at any chance you got, putting your mum on the verge of a heart attack everytime you went out places.

"this isn't the time to play hide a seek lovie!" alessia said, a slight sterner tone in her voice as she looked around for you.

"boo!" you giggled, coming out from your hiding spot from behind the large indoor plants, looking up at your mum a devilish smile on your small face. a pointed look on your mums face as she kneeled down, grabbing your two small hands in hers.

"lovie, what have i told you about hiding, especially when we are in a new place. what if i had of walked away? you would have lost me" alessia reminded you softly as you nodded, your smile that was previously on your face replaced with a pout.

engulfing your mum in a hug, "sorry mummy" you mumbled into her chest as she kissed your forehead.

"i didn't know you had a little sister?" a voice was heard from a distant as alessia handed her passports over to the staff members, getting her room key. the blonde looking around to see who it was before her eyes landed on mille bright, lucy and leah.

alessia could feel her cheeks going redder by the second, as she stood up picking you up with her and placing you on her hip. the blonde beginning to stutter out a a response however you beat her to it with your innocent smile covering you face.

"that my mummy! i no have a sister!" you smiled at the three girls, their eyes almost popping out their head as you spoke. shock consuming them as their jaws hung to the floor.

"oh my god" lucy whispered as she was the first to break the awkward silence. alessia setting you back down on the floor as you were wriggling to be down.

"this is y/n, my daughter" alessia sighed, there being a slight silence as the information was being processed by the three girls head as you walked a little closer to the three girls, leah being the first to react by crouching down to your height. "hi y/n! i'm leah" you smiled nodding at her name looking to the other two girls standing in front of you.

“i’m lucy”

“and i’m millie”

you said a small hi to them as you moved back a little so that you were standing near to your mum, an arm wrapped around her leg. “and how old are you?” leah asked as you hummed thinking as you held up four fingers, “three!”

the girls giggling a little at your confidence, your mummy putting your extra finger down and correcting you, “lovie that’s three”

“ah”

“you play football with my mummy?” you asked, looking at leah but directing your question at all three of the girls. as they nodded all in sync.

“we do and there’s a few more of us too” millie said as you looked back to alessia wondering if she was telling the truth as your mum nodded her head as a little gasp came from you.

“where they?”

“through that long corridor, getting ready for a training session later on” lucy commented pointing to the way before you turned to your mum begging her to let you to go and see everyone else.

your mummy nodding as you grabbed her hand, swinging it a little as you followed the three girls you had just met just moments ago.

“auntie ella!” you yelled as you brushed past lucy and leah as they stood in the doorway, running to get to ella as she looked up from her phone, a smile cracking on her face as her arms opened up for you to run into. faces stopping and watching the interaction with both adoration and confusion.

“hey tiny, you alright!” ella asked as you hugged the girl tight, you hadn’t seen her since the last manchester united game a week ago. your mummy having being busy with getting ready for camp and you being at nursery up until yesterday.

“yep, i met lucy, leah and mille” you proudly said pointing to each girl as they had sat down at a table beginning to talk most likely about boring adult things.

“oh that’s exciting, what about everyone else though?” ella said as you began to shake your head stopping moments later as the midfielder began to twirl the two of you around, giggles escaping from you as she did so. stopping when she got back to her original place.

you looking around the room, a few familiar faces that you had recognised from your mum playing with them in manchester seeing them when you went to games with your grandparents — mary, keets and lotte who you only ever saw if you were down in london. the rest were new people, new people to talk to and share you infectious personality with.

ella took you around each person introducing you to each person with the permission from your mum first of course. the news spreading quickly throughout the camp that you were here and whose daughter you actually were much to many’s surprise.

the day going a lot smoother than alessia could have ever imagined, she had spent the past week thinking over and over about how it was going to go. replaying over and over in her head about how her teammates would react to her having a child.

alessia spent a good part of the afternoon after the introductions were over in the garden of st george’s park explaining her story in depth to those who were most interested; leah, keira, beth, lucy, mille, rachel and ella.

“that must have been so scary, you were so young.” beth whsipers still loud enough for everyone to hear, the girls all so intrigued but also immensely proud of alessia for her whole journey since you had arrived in her life.

as alessia told her story from the start, how she found out she was pregnant to how she came back to football.

“it was, but she’s my reason now. everything i do is for her future” alessia said simply a couple of the girls humming.

“if you ever need anything and i mean anything even if it’s just for someone to talk to, don’t be scared to ask any of us. we’ll always be here for you less” leah said softly but you could hear the protectiveness in her voice, alessia nodding taking in the support of her teammates which had grown to be her family as her eyes trailed over to where you were, the other girls following where the blondes eyes were looking.

“she’s literally a mini you” beth commented the rest of the girls agreeing as they began to list the similarities between you and your mum. as alessia smiled looking at you kicking a football with jordan and georgia

“i know, my mum says all the times that’s she’s a copy and paste of me from when i was little - only difference is she’s a bit more chatty than i was” alessia pointed out, hearing you talk away to jordan about the flowers growing in the ground, as the midfielder picked the ball from around them.

“but i think she gets that from her auntie ella!” alessia grinned looking towards her best friend who threw her hands up in shock.

“hey!”

“mummy! mummy!” you yelled out, the blondes head turning from her conversation towards you as jordan passed the ball to you. “watch this!” you added as toy had the ball at your feet and began to juggle with it from foot to foot.

alessia watched on grinning, as jordan counted the amount you got as georgia cheered you on. a small buzz of excitement coming from you as the ball dropped from your control as you ran over to your mum.

“lovie, that was awesome!” mummy cheered, as she held her hand up for you high five. the other girls saying there well dones. alessia watching as you smile got bigger and bigger with each seconds.

the way you had bonded with the team in hours warmed alessia’s heart to no end. knowing that these girls were going to now be apart of your life forever. her two worlds had joined and she couldn’t even to describe how much she loved it.

“any chance we can borrow her when we play on tuesday!” jordan joked as she and georgia came over slotting in on the seats with the other girls as they laughed but agreeing. as they all fell into a deep conversation.

you climbing up onto your mummy’s lap, as her arms wrapped around your front. a yawn escaping from your lips as you slumped back into your mummy’s chest playing with the rings on her fingers.

liked by keirawalsh and 612,540 others

alessia new day, new faces🩷

comments -

bethmead dibs on being best auntie!

1h 140 likes reply

-> leahwilliamson no i am

-> georgiastanway no it’s me

-> lucybronze come on guys i obviously win!

-> ellatoone it’s quite clearly me!

-> millebright you all wrong it’s me.

-> maryearps it’s me

-> keirawalsh no me

-> racheldaly its obviously me!

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sytycdinternational · 2 years

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Jordan Betscher

#Jordan Betscher #formal dress #crouching #US17alumni #miscpics

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m0chisenpai · 11 months

Text

Let's Play a Little Game

Post! Spiderman Across the Spiderverse

Obsessive!Prowler!Miles Morales x Spidergirl!Reader

Authors note: THIS READER IS 15. A CHILD. THERE IS NO SMUT. NADA, ZIP, NOTHING. I WILL NOT BE SPICY WRITING A SINGLE THING FOR ANYTHING INVOLVING MILES MORALES.

You’d fought villains twice your size. A crazy octopus with metal tentacles, a man double your size, covered in black spots. Petty criminals brandishing jagged knives. But why was this one so different? He was no different was he?

He was gruff. His body was always rigid, his words were sharp. His eyes were sharp. But the one thing you took notice, how manipulative he was. How he could weasel into the mind, into the minds of men twice his age who did his most dirty work.

You had to pretend. Pretend his syrupy sweet words were true till your hero came. Your lovebug.

His eyes cut to yours as the record scratched to silence in the hideout. Your eyes crack open, he now crouched in front of you. His braids fell to the side. You braided them for him last night. It was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him. His head lay back on your legs as you massaged his scalp. And for a moment your mind went dark as you held the thin sharp rat tooth comb.

One drive straight to the throat was all it took, then you could be free. But then he opened his eyes. And you couldn’t. Because even if he wasn’t your lovebug. He was an exact copy of him. You were in his world, if his men found it was you that took their leader out they would hunt you down.

He stared in your eyes as if daring you, testing your new freedom. And so you carefully parted his hair down the middle. That night you passed the first test.

And now as your sleepy eyes look into his, you remember it’s time. Time for another song and dance. Of playing the part. Another test.

“Sleepy mi vida?”

You can’t bring yourself to speak up and offer him a tired nod as you curl more into the nook of the couch, the bright knitted blanket stands out like a sore thumb, as do you in all your brightness. A reminder how far from home you are.

“A little bit.” your voice is scratchy, you must have slept for an hour at best. The sun was diving into the horizon painting the sky a beautiful mix of oranges and yellows. You sit up stretching your arms above your head and scooch your body forward.

“Nah, take your time amor. Didn’t mean to wake you up” his knuckles stroke down to rest under your chin and his thumb to gently pinch it as he looks up at you with that love sick gaze. He leans forward and you know to meet him halfway and press your lips to his.

He moves back enough to whisper against your lips, “suit up in five, we got business to handle.”

And as he stands to walk to the old player. A soft beat fills the room, your veins as you force yourself to stand. To fight. Your movements are second hand as you don the suit behind a hung up white sheet. You don’t call it yours, Because it's not. Yours is back home. Here he’s created you a new one.

You step out from behind the sheet and in his eyes he drinks you in as you adjust your web shooters.

And in some sick way, maybe you had survived in this universe. Had you been bitten? This would have been your suit. It appealed to a different you, a different version of you buried away somewhere.

It was solid black with black webbings along the thighs and pink in the inner parts of the hood along with your jordans which you go to kneel and tie up but he stops you. He kneels before you and ties them. And just as he gazes up at you, you pull your mask down.

This is what keeps you sane. Because here you're free to sneer down at him as he looks up at you. He wears his own suit now. You hold your hand to him and he wraps his around you and pulls himself up, his hand is quick to reach and snake around you, pulling you flushed against him.

“Deadly and beautiful. The perfect mix” he whispers leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead as he taps the side of his mask to conceal his face.

He watches you as you leap from the building and send your webbing to a building swinging your body to kneel on top of a light pole. You look up and catch his nod as he moves forward. And you follow. Swinging languidly through the cool of night.

You realize now as you swing into the dead of night why he’s unlike the villains, the criminals, the mad scientists. Because as he runs alongside you. As he leads you both into the night. His reflection dancing off the glass of a building. As he looks at you. For a moment you think that’s Miles, your Miles, your lovebug. But it’s not.

Instead, you look into the eyes of Miles, the prowler. Harbored on Earth-42.

And it scares you, because as much as you fight each day, deep down. Somewhere in the dark parts of your heart. Your heart flutters, feels warm for a moment when he holds your gaze, and flashes you that smile.

And you beg for Miles, Gwen, Miguel, Hobie, anyone to find you. Because you fear that somewhere along the line, you’re no longer going to be pretending.

That you failed the ultimate test of love.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales imagine #spiderman across the spiderverse #spidergirl!reader #earth42!miles x reader #prowler!miles x reader

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delusionalfanficwriter · 6 months

Text

head injury

Y/N had been an integral part of Arsenal Women's Football Club for three years. Her journey with the team had seen them through victories, challenges, and unforgettable moments on and off the field. During this time, Y/N had cultivated deep connections with her teammates, and they had become more than just friends and fellow athletes; they were her soccer family. As this season progressed, Arsenal found themselves facing a crucial match against their fierce rivals, Chelsea. Y/N, being her tenacious self, was right in the thick of the action. Her partnership with Leah on the field had always been one of Arsenal's strengths, and they synchronized like clockwork. Arsenal was known for its fluid passing and attacking style of play, and Y/N played a pivotal role in their success.

The first half of the match saw both teams battling fiercely for dominance on the field. The intensity was high, and both Arsenal and Chelsea were pushing their limits.

During a set piece, as Y/N went up to contest a header, an accidental collision with an opposing player pushed her back into the goal post, her head ricocheting off the metal post.

As the ball was kicked to upfield, everyone cleared around the goal, but the stadium fell into a hushed panic as Y/N lay motionless on the ground. Leah, her girlfriend, was the first to reach her.

Kneeling by Y/N's side, her voice trembling as she cried out, "We need medics!" Leah shouted, her heart racing seeing Y/N's eyes closed. Leah reached out, placing her trembling hand on Y/N's cheek, hoping to rouse her. "Y/N, I need you to open your eyes for me. Hey, Y/N, come on. Open your eyes."

More teammates gathered around as panic swelled, their faces etched with worry. Jessie Fleming, Y/N's sister, dropped to the ground beside Leah. She reached out to shake her sister's shoulders, but Leah stopped her.

"You can't move her, Jessie," Leah cautioned, her voice strained with fear. "Her neck or back might be injured." Jessie nodded in understanding and opted to stroke little strands of her hair that have fallen from her ponytail, out of her face.

Leah and Jessie tried their best to awaken y/n but nothing seemed to work.

Finally, the team's medical staff arrived as well as medics, their expertise evident as they swiftly assessed the situation. They took every precaution to stabilize Y/N's neck and spine, carefully fitting a cervical collar around her and turning her over.

“We need some space guys.” The older medic informed Jessie and Leah but they remained in their spots. Jordan, McCabe, Kerr and a few other of their own teammates had to physically pull them back. They now stood a few feet away watching one of the medics speak to Y/N, trying to coax her into consciousness while another examined her vitals.

As the medics worked for a few minutes, Y/N's eyelids fluttered open, revealing her dazed and confused expression. She tried to sit up, but the medical staff gently held her down, reminding her not to move. Y/N mumbled incoherently, and Leah leaned closer, straining to catch her words before going right next to y/n side, hating the sight of seeing her so lost and scared. "It's okay, Y/N," Leah whispered, her voice trembling. "You had a tough collision, but the medics are here to help you."

“Y/n, you need to lay back down. Everything is going to be okay, but try not to move so much.” Jessie crouched down and spoke as she noticed her wanting to get up once again.

Y/N's consciousness wavered like a flickering flame. She struggled to comprehend her surroundings, her eyes darting aimlessly as confusion clouded her thoughts. Jessie's plea to stay still seemed to fall on deaf ears, and Y/N's movements grew more erratic.

Leah held her girlfriend's trembling hand, her voice quaking with concern. "Y/N, please, lay back down. You need to stay still. Everything is going to be okay." She desperately hoped her words would reach Y/N through the haze of her dazed state.

The medical staff worked with a sense of urgency, attempting to keep Y/N from further harm as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. They continued their assessments, monitoring her vitals, and told Leah and Jessie to try to keep y/n engaged in conversation to keep her awake.

Y/N's attempts to engage back in the conversation were sporadic and disjointed, and it became increasingly apparent that the injury was more severe than anyone had initially thought. Her responses were fragmented, and she struggled to maintain her focus.

Leah squeezed her hand, her voice trembling with worry. "Y/N, do you remember our first date? We went to that little café near your place, and it was pouring rain. You laughed when I slipped on a puddle."

Y/N's eyelids fluttered, but her gaze was unfocused. She mumbled, "Rain... yeah," but her voice was barely audible, and her response lacked the warmth and clarity it once held.

Jessie, trying to hold back tears, added, "And what about that time we played football in the park with Dad? You always said you'd be better than all of us."

Y/N's lips twitched in an attempt at a smile, but it was fleeting. "am... better," she mumbled, her words disjointed and distant. The memories, which should have elicited laughter and connection, now seemed to be slipping away from her grasp.

As Y/N's condition worsened, she suddenly gagged, her face contorted in pain, it was a distressing sight, and the medics reacted swiftly, turning her onto her side to clear her airway and prevent any choking from the vomit that arose.

Leah's voice quivered as she tried to maintain Y/N's focus. "Y/N, stay with us. We're right here with you. Keep those beautiful eyes of yours open."

But Y/N's response was a mere groan, and her eyes slowly rolled back, her body growing limp. The medics exchanged concerned glances, realizing that her condition was rapidly deteriorating.

Without a moment to lose, they immediately placed an oxygen mask over her face, ensuring she received a steady flow of oxygen. Simultaneously, they carefully slid a backboard beneath her, immobilizing her spine and neck to prevent any further damage during transportation. Moments later, an ambulance sped onto the field. Y/N, still unconscious, was swiftly and gently transferred onto a stretcher, her body secured and placed into the ambulance. Leah and Jessie immediately followed behind inserting themselves into the ambulance not caring if they were in the middle of a match.

As the ambulance raced towards the hospital, the sound of the siren echoed in the confined space causing Y/N to begin to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she found herself disoriented, with the oxygen mask covering her face. In her groggy state, she attempted to remove the mask, her hands reaching up to pull it away.

Leah noticed Y/N's movement and gently placed her hand over Y/N's to stop her. "It's okay, love," she reassured, her voice soft and soothing. "You need to keep that on for now. It's helping you breathe."

"Y/N, it's okay," Jessie whispered, her hand resting on Y/N's arm. "You're in the ambulance, and we're on our way to the hospital.”

Y/N's eyes shifted from Leah to Jessie, her gaze still hazy. She attempted to speak but found it difficult. The words came out slurred and unfocused. "Why...hospital?"

Leah's fingers gently brushed Y/N's hair back from her forehead. "You had an accident on the field, love. The medics are taking you to the hospital to make sure you're okay. We're here with you, and everything will be fine."

Jessie leaned closer, her voice soothing. "Just relax, Y/N. The hospital will take good care of you, and we'll be right there beside you."

Y/N, though still disoriented and in pain, found some comfort in their presence. She nodded weakly and allowed them to reposition the oxygen mask, focusing on their voices to keep herself calm.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #soccer #soccer fanfic #hurt/comfort

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celianity · 7 months

Text

Training Session

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: you agree to a training session with Jordan, to (kinda) make them pay for breaking your heart on a night out

Word count: 1.075 _________________________________________

You should have stayed in your dorm room.

Should have studied for the upcoming exam tomorrow.

Should have kept your eyes down on that glass contained firepit in the middle of your sitting area in that goddamn club your roommates Marie and Emma dragged you to.

Should have ignored that buzzy feeling in your gut as you felt a certain pair of brown eyes on you from across the flames.

Should have not given into the temptation to catch a glimpse of the shadows dancing on their unreadable face.

And you certainly shouldn’t have entertained the foolish idea of there being an unspoken connection between the two of you after having had one conversation (that didn’t particularly go well).

Now, tell that to the anger bursting through your veins as you keep on hitting the punching bag hanging from the ceiling of the training facility. You are cursing your friends’s names under each breath whenever your fist connects with the unyielding leather of the bag.

Just as you reach out to steady the swinging chain, the door behind you opens, revealing the person you wanted to avoid at all costs. Preferably forever.

Jordan Li strolls in, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a distracting gray tank top.

You avert your gaze and try to focus on your routine again while unable to shake the feeling of them watching your every move, practically burning holes into your back.

Eventually, they suggest a one on one fighting session. “Looking at your punches, you’re in desperate need of it. Not to mention your footwork.” There is a teasing edge to their voice, but you stuck out your chin, nonetheless, incited to show them just how good your foot would work on their face.

“And yet, there you are, preparing for the worst.” You consider them with your arms crossed defensively over your chest. You didn’t miss the fact that they changed forms after challenging you.

The duffle bag lands on the floor with a thud. Since you are the only ones in the training center this early in the morning, the sound’s almost deafening.

As you take up positions across from each other on a training mat, the rage in your veins flares anew. Having this little distance between yourself and last night’s almost mistake, you can’t help being annoyed at your traitorous heart for still fluttering like a bird in its cage.

You try not to focus too hard on the daring gleam in Jordan’s eyes but instead on the recoil as your fist slams into their right shoulder. It feels like hitting a brick wall with full speed. A knowing half smile tugs at the corner of their mouth, making you curse yourself for feeling your cheeks heat up.

The pain in your fingers doesn’t stop you from making another advance right after this failed one but they beat you to it. You feel the energy blast washing over you, snatching you off your feet in a matter of seconds.

Thanks to your quick reflexes, you manage to turn mid fall and land on your feet in a crouched position, softening the otherwise ankle crushing blow.

“Nice trick”, Jordan taunts and quickly switches to their male form again as you storm up to them, ready to tear down their body armor until your hand can clutch around their heart like theirs did to yours unknowingly.

What follows is a mishmash of hands and feet, kicks, and punches.

Feeling their muscles work with every movement begins to mess with your head. The sweat covered skin of their bicep under your palms also doesn’t help the least to get your thoughts back on track.

Just as you see your chances of winning waning thin, you manage to land a kick against the back of their knees that makes them buckle in surprise.

You wrap an arm around their neck, catching them in a headlock and demanding to be declared the triumphant. Somehow, they manage to gain just enough space in your grip to whirl around and press a featherlight kiss to the underside of your jaw as a distraction maneuver. And it fucking works.

Taken aback, you lower your guard for the fraction of a second just to be blown backwards by a precise hit to your ribcage. In a desperate attempt to gain some stability, you get a hold of their tank top’s collar.

Your intertwined groans echo through the still empty training room, searing right to the bottom of your stomach. A few strands of hair have escaped Jordan’s slick back ponytail.

Bodies pressed together, flashes of last night involuntarily invade your head. The booming bass and strobe light.

Jordan’s body pushing a stranger against the wall near the dance floor where you let loose with Marie and Emma. A swift changing in positions and Jordan’s dark eyes were finding you over the heads of the crowd as their acquaintance moved down on their neck.

The memory sends a shiver down your spine and their grip on your back straightens automatically. You don’t have to say a word for them to know what’s causing that haunted look on your face.

“I didn’t think it a possibility.” Their voice is barely above a whisper and before you can overthink it again, you grab their chin with your right hand and crash your lips down on theirs.

Sometime when stumbling to the nearest wall, Jordan becomes the impatient one, shoving you backwards until your back hits the hard concrete and you’re caged in between their arms on both sides of your head.

Anger and resentment come undone as you melt into their embrace.

The move of your lips getting more feverish, now tilting your face upwards to meet the new height difference.

Hands on hot skin, desperate panting, burning glances.

As Jordan’s fingertips brush along the waistband of your sweatpants, asking for an invite, everything in you protests against your decline.

Slowly you retreat, cheeks aflame, hair and feelings a mess, to state the obvious. “Class starts in twenty minutes.”

Jordan takes a step back and smooths out their tank top, putting on a casual demeanor to mask the fact that they were ready to risk it all.

On your way to the door, you regard them with a smug smile. “For the record, you also didn’t think that I could beat you in a fight. So, I hope you can handle two truths in one day.”

#jordan li #gen v jordan li #jordan li x reader #jordan li fanfiction #jordan li imagine #marie moreau #emma meyer #gen v #gen v amazon #gen v fanfiction #gen v spoilers #the boys universe #the boys

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thewriterg · 11 months

Text

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭

pairing(s): earth 42! Miles Morales x fem!reader, Miles Morales x poc!reader

summary: Overworked and burnt out was an understatement everything was going so well with your internship until you were forced with schedule you could barely handle and Miles is there to take pressure off your shoulders

word count: 1.1k+

request: hi! if requests are open can i pls get one w earth 42 miles who he’s comforting after a long shift they had??

warning(s): Miles is about 18 senior in this, rusty spanish, reader is ready to drop dead, mentions of blood work, child labor?, pet names, kisses, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @lekeyeh24 & @jthmstims—

You stood outside the door of your apartment taking your badge and putting it against the door when you didn’t hear the usual ‘click’ you did it once more the line of thin rope it was on from the retractable keychain until you finally noticed you were home

It was very rare to get the internship you got as high schooler you’d been hoping for since your freshman year and when you application got accepted to work in a phlebotomy lab to get your CPT and make very decent money to be a senior you along with everyone who knew you personally was ecstatic

Your mom and dad had threw a celebration party on your rooftop inviting a few good friends, family members, and of course Rio and Miles the boy couldn’t be more proud of you showing you with more than enough gifts to last you until holiday season

The sudden urge to bash your head against the door was very prominent as you realized you were home and not at the lab as you fished through one of your many unnecessarily full bags to grab your keys unlocking your door one of the biggest gifts Miles gifted you had been the apartment he saw you looking at over your shoulder one day switching between the housing app and your Pinterest board for home inspiration

You deemed the second biggest gift both of your parents allowing you to move in together as high school seniors even if you were legally adults

But thankfully Rio and your parents agreed after much pleading and convincing that it would be a good thing for the both of you and the start of your adulthood even if they threatened you with everything under the sun if you made them grandparents

As you entered your home Miles was up from his position on the couch taking your bags from your hands and arms scolding you as he shut the door from behind you with a grunt

“¿Por qué no me llamaste? Te hubiera ayudado. Give me these” You would gladly let him knock himself out as you took off your work shoes which were just an older pair of Jordans beside the door not having enough energy to put them on the rack before going to sit down on your couch you just needed to sit for a few minutes

You suddenly were aware that your scrubs were on your brand new couch causing you to groan before you put your head in your hands screaming at yourself internally to disinfect the whole thing when you were to get up

“What’s wrong mi vida? Nah uh uh, we’re not doing that, what’s wrong with my baby?” He crouched in front of you now his hands were on your arms his braids falling to his shoulders dismissing the excuse as you hit him with the ‘nothings wrong’

“Its just hard handling school and work and then the family is still up on me about the move and making sure I finish school I’m just ready to quit” Miles knew you weren’t just talking about your new job or school he’d liked to think of himself as a bit brighter than that as he rubbed his hands up and down your arms

“This is our last year, I know you’re gonna finish out strong ‘cause that’s just you. You’ll complain and whine ‘bout it but I know you’ll find a solution to… accommodate everything. Eres súper mujer mami” Miles stated carefully trying his hardest to not come of too insensitive never taking his hands off you before you finally uncovered your face he was quick to wipe under your eye before a tear could escape it muttering something below his breath that you barely caught

“Too pretty to be cryin’ over this shit”

“And tell them to lay off you ‘fore I have to come up there and kick somebody ass” That caused a chuckle to slip past your lips while Miles face broke into a beginning of a small smile

“Go get in the shower aight’? I got the rest.” You sighed before coming to a stand Miles did the same giving you space to move around the half decorated unfinished living room giving you creative freedom to do whatever the hell it was you wanted to the apartment with a simple ‘you do you princesa’

The toffee skinned boy began to order takeout over his phone as you walked further into your home not wanting to worry yourself with cooking anything for the either of you making sure to add a little extra of everything when he heard the water turn on he grabbed his car keys out of the bowl that sat by the door on the decorative table before slipping out the house into the streets of New York

💌💌💌💌

Miles wasn’t the least bit of surprised when he heard the water still running as he returned to your home he made the run as a quick as he could in New York traffic one hand full with two Chinese takeout bags and another with some of your favorite flowers trying to make sure not to crush them as entered through the door

He sat down the flowers on the dining room table before unloading all of the food from the bags and sitting it on one of the trays you had got on a trip to the thrift store and when he questioned what the hell the wooden mini trays were for he was in for an ear full that summed up one statement

“When we’re not eating at the table nobody’s fucking up my couch”

“Oh Miles” Fifteen minutes later you we’re finally out the shower treading back to the living room before you were stopped in awe looking around your living room some of the candles that were placed in various places were now lit, there was food on the table, Corpse Bride one of your favorite movies was paused at the beginning on the Tv, and your boyfriend stood presenting flowers in his hand to you

Without another word you pressed a kiss to his plump lips before engulfing him which he returned with a small chuckle pressing a kiss to your forehead

“Haré cualquier cosa por ti eres mi mundo lo sabes” He pressed one more kiss to your hairline before he urged you to sit making a mental note to put the flowers in a vase as you both made your way to your couch you picked up one of to go boxed along with a pair of chopsticks that Miles didn’t know how the hell you ate with before playing the movie

A little while later You looked up to see the boy beginning to massage your legs and feet as you went to protest about him needing to eat he brushed you off shushing you

“Let me take care of you mami” And so you did

💌💌💌💌

short and sweet domestic earth 42 Miles because I said so 🙀

I’ve deleted like 90% of request from my request from my request inbox

I just need a little creative freedom right now

you’re still welcome to request because I will get to it eventually just not as fast 😊

stay safe writers!

#miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #satsv #romance #fluff #fem!reader #i love you #thewriterg #2023

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jordanmoreau · 6 months

Text

jordan would be the kind of partner you’d share clothes with. going through your things for a specific top and thinking you’re going crazy when you can’t find it anywhere.

“babe?” you turn your head to see jordan stood in the doorway, a knowing smile playing on their lips. you sigh lightly, not really minding but shaking your head defeatedly.

“it’s not fair that it looks good on you in either form” you grumble, gingerly clambering up from where you’d been perched. Jordan laughs lightly, a soft lovely laugh, and steps towards you.

they’re in their masculine form, dimples showing as they grin at you. “I didn’t think you’d want this one today baby, my bad” they say.

you shrug, crouching again to tuck your clothes back into your drawers, biting your lip to mask your smile.

Jordan laughs softly again, ducking around you to sit on your bed. Without looking up you feel a slight shift.

Don’t be mad,” you glance up finally to see jordan now in their feminine form, tucking their hair behind their ear as their eyes search yours. They’re still smiling but there’s a slight hesitation in their tone. You feel bad and soften your expression, reaching up to place your hand on their knee.

“I’m just playing, it looks good on you” you reassure, gesturing to your shirt with your free hand. Jordan looks pleased at your answer and relaxes into the bed, leaning back against their elbows and nudging your crumpled clothes with their shoe.

“I’ll wear that tomorrow then,” they tease. You roll your eyes.

#I barely write anymore so excuse how bad this is #I’ll edit this tomorrow so it’s grammatically correct #jordan li #gen v #the boys #jordan li x reader

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 4 months

Note

A little girl followed Paul around the boardwalk and Paul plays with her! 🍼🤭

Hope you like this!

----------------------

People stared at them. They always did, always would, and most of the time, it didn't bother them. If someone did bother them, they would most likely end up as dinner. Paul had noticed that he'd been stared at rather intensely - by a young girl. Or rather, a toddler. The girl had been watching him from her seat in the stroller and had grinned and waved when he looked back. Behind her stood her mom, a woman in her late twenties, with her back turned to her kid as she paid for some food.

It didn't bother him that the toddler stared - why would it? Kids were harmless. He looked up when he heard loud squeals and saw that the girl had not only escaped her stroller but was now actually running towards him. Before he knew it, the girl had clamped herself around his leg, cheekily grinning up at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Hi!" The girl just giggled, not letting go.

"You need to get back to your mum," Paul crouched down, removing one arm from his leg. She just shook her head.

"No!" The girl grinned, tightening her grip on his leg.

"Emma?" The mother had now noticed her kid had escaped the stroller. "Emma, where are you?!"

"Ssh!" The girl giggled again, causing Paul to sigh. If the girl thought he'd be willing to play along, she was dead wrong. Dealing with the occasional law enforcement was already bad enough, but worried mothers were not to be messed with. They went feral, and rightfully so. And Paul got it, at least, when it came to children.

"She's here," Paul called out to the mother, who looked relieved - she knew where her daughter was - and then scared - because she knew who he was.

"I am so sorry," Emma's mum walked up to him, causing Emma to pout as she finally let go.

"No problem," Paul shrugged, although he was relieved to get his leg back.

"What did I say about climbing upon people?" Emma's mum crouched down in front of the girl, looking rather stern.

"Not to do it." Emma looked down, although Paul sensed she found it rather funny.

"Do you remember why?"

"I'm not a monkey."

"And?"

"Tall people aren't trees."

"Very good. Thank you for finding her," the mother said, turning to Paul. "I'm Jordan, by the way."

"Mum! I want to play!"

"Don't you think you've scared your mum enough for one night?"

"No!" Emma giggled as she jumped up and down. Jordan sighed, picking the girl up.

"Only children who've been good and not run away from their mums get to play," Jordan looked serious, but there was a hint of teasing in her voice. Emma nodded, then whispered something in her mothers' ear.

"That something you have to ask yourself, hon."

Emma nodded. "Mister Tree? What's the best horse to ride on the - whats it called?"

"Carousel."

"Carousel?" Emma looked up at him.

"That depends. Are you more of a princess or more of a hero? Or both?"

Emma thought for a bit before answering. "I'm the king!"

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #dwayne #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #lost boys

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dotcie · 8 months

Text

— BAD DOG. [2]

》 PAIRING: simon 'ghost' riley x f!oc 》 NOTES: taglist is open! please let me know if you want to be added or removed. 》 WARNINGS: 18+ | MDNI | hair pulling 》 CHAPTER: 3.9k | 2/? [masterlist] | AO3

Before she met Laswell, Jane did media monitoring for the DISA.

It paid well for a job straight out of undergrad. Had reasonable hours, pleasant enough colleagues. She commuted the twenty minutes from her shitty apartment in Kingman Park to the Pentagon—arrived at seven forty-five with a cream cheese bagel and a skim milk latte. Wrote reports, emails, and memos. Hours and hours of political speeches, barking rifles, and screaming civilians ingrained in her brain.

''Like a fucked up collage of the human greed for oil and retribution,'' she once called it over an almost empty espresso martini. Condensation pearled off the glass's rim and pooled on the table of an overpriced speakeasy bar, so unimpressive it was not worth remembering its name. Her questionable Tinder date had been late, his small-talk rather boring; No, she didn't like her job. Who ever did? But rent was expensive in DC, and Jane had student loans, expensive taste, and maybe eight hundred dollars in her checking account.

She covered newsstreams out of Egypt, Lebanon, and Jordan. Iraq, and Yemen. Algeria. Libya.

Ate lunch at her desk—usually a salad and a protein bar, four busy screens in front of her.

Had meetings with Cairo, Beirut, Amman, Baghdad, Sana'a, Algiers, and Tripoli.

She joined the white-collar crowd on their evening run around the Mall after work. From the Capitol steps to the Lincoln Memorial, around the reflecting pool. Two times, sometimes three. Always depending on the restlessness that hummed in her bones and tingled in her fingertips.

Jane shoved her damp hair up with a clip and hopped on the blue metro line afterwards; sweaty and breathless, body humming with spent energy. She stopped at Whole Foods on her way home; bought dinner-for-one and a four-pack of sugar free Redbull. Put on noise canceling headphones without listening to anything on her way home—spying into warm lit windows and other people's lives.

She ate in bed, crouched over her Macbook, the TV always set to CNN. She practiced Arabic. Scrolled through subreddits about zero-day exploits, but never commented on them. Went to bed late, woke up early. Got up the next day and did it all over again.

Washington is a big city, in a big country, in a big world, and nothing ever changed. Jane just sat in her gunny-covered cubicle and watched whole cities crumble to dust like sandcastles. The local newspapers only covered a watered-down version of the turmoil overseas, but the mental images were always in the back of her head—no matter how loud she turned the TV.

It's all part of a grand plan, she told herself. Just another rung on the ladder, an essential middle-step in her career. It was comfortable and disturbing. Exciting enough, but nothing impactful.

Nothing with an edge.

The job had a sky-high turnover; a bad impact on employees. Turns out, swallowing the documentation of invasions, and civil wars, and an endless flow of American exceptionalism was only manageable for a couple of months. Jane became miserable and angry. Tired and strung-out. When handing in her two-weeks notice without a back-up plan, her supervisor accepted the neatly printed note with tired eyes and an annoyed flick of the wrist.

Her therapist blamed her sense of weightlessness for everything she did afterwards: the thrill-seeking, the risk-taking. All her screw-ups in pursuit of sticking her fingers in better pies. When the agency sent her to the embassy in Urzikstan, Jane canceled her rent-controlled apartment lease early and donated most of her belongings to the Habitat For Humanity in Capitol Hill. Burning the boats, she called it.

For months, no one could get a hold of her.

Analyst positions for counter-terrorism overseas will chew you up and spit out your bones, a friend in the IOC had warned her. Jane was up for it anyway—of course she was. She had witnessed a few horrendous things through screens in Washington, but nothing compared to the situation in Sakhra. Like most soul-crushing things in life, it all wasn't real until it was.

The first time she experienced the ruthlessness of the real world, a local contractor whose family was killed by American soldiers blew up half a base with some DIY C4. 12 soldiers dead, 24 injured. If not for Laswell yanking her into the shadows behind a M1A2 when panic erupted, she would have been trampled to death under the burning afternoon sun.

Instead, Jane heaved, and coughed, then sank to the dusty ground with ringing ears. Kate towered over her with a drawn P890, yelling all-too-calmly over the wailing of sirens: You have twenty seconds to get it together.

They made her take time off two years later, after a black site she was stationed at suffered another, similar attack. Jane was resentful of it, but she wanted to keep her clearance, so she left with the next supply plane and said what she needed to say to pass the psych evaluation.

She considered moving back into her grandparents ranch in Arizona. Maybe traveling through Europe, starting a new hobby (rock climbing, pottery, crocheting); but there was no real drive or push behind it. Instead, she bled in secret. Fucked strangers on her frameless king-size mattress and worked out too much in her unfurnished apartment. She got offers; a few private-sector contracts she knew she couldn't entertain. Jane wanted to stick it out with the agency—and Laswell. Especially with Laswell.

The first question Shepherd asked her when she stepped into his office was if she had any family; a partner, kids, siblings. Parents to take care of. The General asked bluntly, but Jane was used to force as the most efficient method to get answers.

She had spent three years interrogating Al-Qatala members and contacts. Trading money, safety, and threats for intelligence. Sleeping through the sound of gunfire, bystanding interrogations, interpreting intelligence, and snooping in places Americans aren't supposed to. Jane had left her old life behind and dove head-first into a tunnel vision.

No. She had no one.

When saying it out loud she almost sounded proud.

Working for the General is different. Non-official cover work for SAD intel suits her better—scratches a certain itch, too. Like finally tasting blood after biting your tongue for years.

Laswell has been helpful, the additional training too; but nothing ever prepared her for the void between long-term missions. When the work is done and restlessness returns in weird jet-lagged hours of the fading days. When there are no objectives to sink her teeth into. No foreign streets to roam under false identities. No predictions to be made, no strings to pull.

She's stuck in Iceland now, attending debrief after debrief. Her target is dead, the missile prototypes returned to the lab, but that isn't enough. They want to know everything. First the higher-ups at the Headquarters, then the Senate Intelligence Committee. They want the process. The months of searching, the people involved, the rules she broke.

She did a good job, she got what she wanted, but she is part of Shepherd's system now, and he didn't approve of her moving forward with the operation.

Since she returned to the lab, he hadn't answered any of her calls.

Ghost is nothing but a silhouette in the low light of the crescent moon; sitting against a weathered wall of heavy concrete, a half-burned cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Insects batter against a naked lightbulb overhead—the light orange and warm against the dark of night, casting long, unproportionate shadows over the smoking area.

The sky hangs bruised and stormy over Vatnajökull, a million stars dotting the night. It's quarter to one, and the grounds of 102 are deadly still—so still, that the sound of a nearby metal door opening and closing shut remind him of gunshots piercing through the air.

Years ago, he would have flinched at the sound, but there is not much left that startles Simon Riley anymore.

Jane tips her head back in annoyance as she steps outside, cradling her phone between ear and shoulder. ''Listen—,'' she scolds into it, patting the outside of her clothes for the pack of cigarettes she bought from one of the kitchen workers yesterday. ''Louise, right? Louise, with all due respect—''

She takes a deep breath of restraint when she finds nothing but a crumbled straw wrapper in the pockets of her leather jacket. Sharp words spill on the other end of the line, and she squeezes her eyes shut, pinches the bridge of her nose. ''I'm not going to argue with some mid-level bureaucrat, get him on the phone— No, no, you listen! I need a black passport, don't— Fuck—''

Jane's grip on the iPhone loosens with the sound of a disconnected call echoing blatantly against her ear. Simon can hear her mutter a spool of curses, the sound of gravel screeching under her feet, and how all sound seizes as she pauses at the sight of him.

The smoking area is dimly lit, but there's no mistaking the broad-shouldered figure with the cramped up skull mask looming in the corner of the building. Simon appeared in her sight so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that Jane would not be surprised if he materialized out of thin air. It would suit him; Ghost that he is.

Smoke pools out of the soldier's mouth, the balaclava pulled up to his nose; exposing a sharp chin with a shadow of stubble forming its way up a jaw set tight. He is hunched over, his elbows digging into his thighs. He doesn't look up to see that the expression on her face is one of mute surprise, or that her eyes narrow at the sight of him.

''Thought you'd be gone already,'' she calls over, lounging near the door she slipped out of.

''Change of plans,'' he returns easy and low, eyes glued to the book in his calloused hands.

It's only been a few days, but his voice is as deep and as resonant as Jane remembers; it fills the air and makes her blood rush with the mental images of his fingertips digging into her skin.

There's always a certain quietness after she's been fucked good—the world stands still for a moment, and it helps to quench the thirst, to fill the void.

Jane needs to hold something in her arms sometimes. Something unattainable and distant. Something unwise. Something like him.

''Mind if I bum one?'' She nods to the lit cigarette between his scarred fingers, stepping closer.

For a split second, she thinks he's going to ignore her—then he dog-ears the page he was reading and abandons the book onto his lap.

Simon looks up all casually and unfazed, shakes his head.

''Last one,'' he says, half-lidded stare fixed on her in that particular Ghost sort-of-way. The way he always gets when you rip out the half-assed social niceties and expose the weirdo underneath.

Jane exhales through her nose, leaning against a pole holding up the roof. The urge for frustration refuses to be ignored, so she buckles, comments: ''Of course,'' like she's taking notes on the irony of it all.

''Stop pondering, will ya?'' Inhaling another mouthful of tar, Simon stretches out along the bench, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. The set of dog tags around his neck clink together when he scratches the underside of his chin. "No point in gettin' all antsy."

She shoots him a cold, hard look for it—the one that makes his blood sing, makes him remember the expression in her eyes when she told him she wanted her target dead.

''Thank you, Simon, for your unsolicited wisdom.''

The subtle fuck you isn't boarded in her voice, but it throbs under every word of hers. He doesn't bother scolding her for saying his name again, but the bitter taste of disapproval sure does coat his tongue. He's not foolish enough to argue with her when she's like this; all gutted and pent-up. Ready to hiss, bite, and lunge at his throat.

The familiarity of it all stirs something up in him. For a moment, Ghost almost believes that it's sympathy, maybe—or at least a pinch of pity. A distant part of his mind remembers the dogged woman he faced when they first met; working out of a one-room shithole in a broken-down, brutalist apartment building somewhere in the Balkans. Reviewing surveillance logs, transcripts, and maps in shorts and a sports bra because the AC was utter rubbish. He recalls her hunched figure and unwashed hair as she worked out of the tiny living room—the space a mess of cables and empty microwave meals, her tech always charging. Her curtains always closed, dust dancing in the beams of light that crept their way inside.

Two days after the exfil, he barely recognized her anymore; with fresh clothes, twelve-hours of sleep, and hair neatly cut to a shoulder-length. It was like meeting a stranger, a whole different woman. He was certain, then, that the only way out for her was the same as his: leaving rotten and zipped up in a body bag.

Simon holds his half-smoked cigarette out to her, and she lets her head roll to consider the silent peace-offer. Her expression bleeds into something less angry in the face of him, and she hates that it makes him snort in response.

Jane gives him the illusion of thinking it over before breaking away from her frozen stance and closing the distance between them. She takes the stub, and sinks onto the wooden bench next to him.

''Thanks.'' — ''Mhmh.''

Even with some distance between them, Simon towers over her. He doesn't make a sound, doesn't attempt to embarrass himself with comforting words and distracting small-talk. He's quiet—a man of few words and fewer smiles—but that's what drew her to him in the first place. There's caution behind his eyes, and his words are always cleaved off at the knee. A person weathered and hardy. A man who, just like her, has seen things most wouldn't even believe.

They both fall quiet passing the cigarette back and forth, and for a moment he thinks that the conversation has faded out completely. Simon's eyes return to the book in his lap, trying to find the spot where he left off before she interrupted him, but—

''Do you think I went too far?'' Jane keeps her eyes forward, burying her free hand in the left pocket of her jacket.

Simon hums in response, dark and low. ''Doesn't matter what I think,'' he says in a way that makes it clear he believes it, too.

''But you are somewhat capable of forming opinions, yeah?''

It coaxes a half-huff, half-laugh from him. He gets it. Logically, he gets it. Everybody is somebody's dog, hanging onto a leash; but he's military, and he much prefers to not comment on any of it.

''You ignored authority,'' he starts, then pauses. ''Whether or not it was worth it, all y'can do now is handle the repercussions.''

''That's not an answer.'' Two dimples appear on either side of Jane's frown as she tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ears and leans forward. ''Forget I even—''

''I think," he interrupts calmly, but stern, ''that your self-doubt won't help you.''

Jane keeps her gaze flat, level. Perhaps if she mimics the face of apathy, Simon won't be able to see that she's hanging onto every word of his. What he says resonates; a quiet truth echoing through the air between them. The regret in her chest strikes like a bomb and for a moment, she fears the possibility of Shepherd cutting her TS/SCI clearance once and for all. She's been ignoring the thought, avoiding any evidence of worry that could shape her suspicions into something tangible, something real.

''Just thinking ahead'' she says quietly, scuffing her boot against the pavement below. "Little catastrophizing, worst-case-scenario planning."

"Doomsday prepping?" He offers and gets a little smile for that.

His chest tightens at the sight, an aching warmth interweaving his thoughts with sympathy. He looks away then, trying to collect himself. Seeking control, reaching for reason. Better judgment. Something else.

Jane studies his side profile for a moment, and Simon suddenly feels like she's too close, too comfortable in his presence. It's only a split second, the length of a heartbeat, but it's enough for Jane to take in the way he blinks his intrusive thoughts away.

''Why are you still here, anyway?'' She asks in a change of tone, plucking the cigarette from his fingers.

''Taking a break,'' he drawls, words dripping slowly as molasses from his mouth. There is no further explanation offered, no words wasted on reasons or truths. Simon blinks languidly, his lips pressing together as he closes his book for good.

''Because of Soap?'' There's an off-tone in her voice. ''I thought he is getting better already?"

Simon exhales roughly. ''No,'' he says with a lazy shrug. ''Yes.''

It's short and curt, but she doesn't let his vague hostility deter her. Jane just stares at him, impatience reflecting in her eyes, and he's not used to it; all the questions, the curiosity.

''Do you know,'' he continues slowly, taking the cigarette back to keep his hands busy, ''the number of classifications and regulations I'd have to ignore to tell you shite like this?''

It's easier than admitting that he failed his psych evaluation for a second time in three years.

Price is doing the paperwork for him, because they apparently want to negotiate some kind of terms for him. No rumors, no records, no further questions asked. Simon would be mad about it, if he wasn't so bloody tired.

It's been years of regaining control and gripping bloody bathroom sinks. Endless hours of running, shooting, yelling over comms, and saving Johnny from the stupid, stupid shit he gets up to when nobody's there to keep an eye out for him. Simon is not a reckless man—at least not when he doesn't let his rage blind him—but you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

He's not sure why he hasn't been able to admit to himself that his life has been nothing but fear, rage, vigilance, wanting, and searching, wanting, and never finding what eases the pain.

He knows that Price goes back to a Rosewood desk with whisky and cigars in the upper right drawer, before driving home to a house and a woman that were once his. Laswell has a wife named June and a flourishing garden waiting at home. Gaz goes back to a two-bedroom flat in London, decorated by a girl he met during the siege of the U.S. embassy in Urzikstan. Simon doesn't have anywhere to be—nobody's waiting for him—so he stays. For Soap, he tells himself, and everyone who's paid to listen.

The Scot's injuries happened under his watch, so he might as well play messenger for his moms, sisters and one-thousand nephews until he can travel back home. It's what a good Lieutenant does. It's what Price would do.

''Alright,'' Jane says cold, flatly. ''It's none of my business anyway.''

She declines the last drag of the cigarette when Simon offers it to her, and he can't help but feel like he's been rude; like he just ruined something delicate. A particular flavor of guilt clings to the underside of his tongue, and he's willing to answer whatever her next question might be in order to make it up to her.

He stubs out the cigarette, and it takes a moment or two before he realizes that his guilt is the reason she gave in so quickly in the first place.

''I'm not gonna tell ya,'' he says, prompting a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth; like she doesn't fully believe it, but is willing to play along.

He is too exhausted to not condemn her for it, so he covers himself in heavy silence. Simon doesn't break eye contact, doesn't move—his dark glance intervenes with the amusement in her eyes, and when the quiet stretches on for too long, her eyes dart to his exposed lips shamelessly.

''Anyone ever tell ya' to mind yer' own business, Spade?''

It coaxes a genuine laugh out of her. Simon is not sure he's ever heard her laugh before; the way the sound bubbles out of her throat, limpid and clear, and then almost turns into a snort.

''I like you,'' she says pointedly, with purpose.

"You're just bored.'' — ''And you aren't?"

Simon remains silent, and the glint in her glance grows bright, pinning. Like she just learned a secret; an inside joke.

It's unhealthy, this habit she's developed of digging her fingers in his wounds. She feels like a parasite trying to crawl under his skin, and she should probably feel far more ashamed of how much she enjoys the thrill of it.

She has heard the stories, of course. The legends about the masked, faceless man; the perfect soldier, the silent killer. Everyone affiliated with Shepherd or Shadow Company in the slightest is aware of Ghosts' reputation, and Jane had been curious to meet the man. Dead-eyed, mass of muscle. A walking depiction of death.

The warning signs about him are written in blood, telltale stories, and that half-lidded stare of his; Stay away, they say. Keep your distance.

''Don't—,'' he starts with the exhaustive sort of contempt: the kind that says he is tired and bored of this tedious game. ''Don't look at me like that.''

Jane bats her eyelashes at him. ''Like what?''

''Like you want something from me.''

''Maybe I do—''

"You don't,'' he interrupts, tongue like a blade. ''All bark no bite, last time I fucked you.''

In some twisted ways, his fury excites her. The insistence on his dominance, too, and Jane laughs out loud at words that don't sting. She's practiced; chin tipped up, meeting his disapproving stare with a smirk.

''You ever let anyone kiss you, Lieutenant?''

He looks away, hisses through his teeth in frustration. ''That what you want?''

''I think,'' Jane retorts in a tone both cruel and tender, ''you want it, too.''

The hard look in his eyes lets something uncurl in her. Something satisfied, something real.

''You do,'' she says again, and then he's on her; hand tangled in her hair, pulling her close. His grip on her scalp is not gentle, nothing about him is, and she smiles—shows teeth—at the broad display of it.

Simon stares at her for a long moment, a frustrated hum forming at the back of his throat. She can feel his breath on her face. Almost hears the whir of the wheels turning in his head; calculating, calibrating.

''You don't know what you're getting yourself into,'' he finally says, loosening his grip.

''I've done worse,'' she spits out, pulling away.

It happens somewhere between her leaning back and him not wanting her to. It happens and it's familiar, and new all at once; the way he stops her from turning away, pulls her closer by a fist of hair. He kisses her like he does everything else: a little cocky, a little mean. Their teeth clack together, and Simon kisses Jane long and searching—like he was waiting for it to happen.

Like he means it.

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 9 months

Note

The retcon post got me thinking - what if Jordan was a Controller towards the endgame? It seems like something Jake might consider, given he’s in the unique position of living with the enemy as well.

• Aern 612 has seconds to react, when suddenly there is an andalite standing in the middle of Naomi Berenson's living room. There is an andalite, inside Jordan's house. Aern's frozen, sweat prickling all over Jordan's skin. It's here for her. It has to be.

«Do not be afraid,» the andalite says, «I am a friend of your sister, and we mean you no harm.»

Aern 612 lowers Jordan's hand away from the dracon beam in her pocket, suddenly unsure.

"Are you..." Sara squints at the alien. "A Pokémon?"

She has to mean someone dressed as a Pokémon, like for San Diego Comic Con — Sara's old enough to know that Anime aren't real — but the andalite nods solemnly. «I do not know this term,» it says, «so indeed, I might be a Pokémon.»

Aern makes a decision, then. Based on how humans treat children, based on that word we, based on the things she can get away with if she pulls Jordan's hair into pigtails and skips a little as she breaks into a building.

"Pokémon!" she shrieks, too high for Jordan's normal voice, and she rushes forward to give the andalite a hug.

Its hands touch her, and she forces the shudder to come out as a giggle.

• Rachel morphs. Rachel can morph. So can cousin Jake, and the blond kid that Rachel always loudly insists isn't her boyfriend, and an unknown number of additional humans. Aern is fucked. She is so fucking fucked. She and Reant 8132 inside Tom have hours to live, unless either of them can convince the Vissers of their usefulness.

"But I don't want to go camping," Aern says, high and plaintive, poking out Jordan's bottom lip. "I wanna go to my gymnastics meet on Tuesday!"

Sara shoots Jordan a look, frowning. Rachel doesn't even seem to notice, too busy arguing with Naomi.

Jake rests a reassuring hand on Jordan's shoulder, crouching slightly to look her in the eye. "It'll all be okay," he says. "I know it's scary, but we're going to be just fine."

Moron. Aern wants to spit in his face — she settles for a wet-eyed nod. She'll keep playing along, for now, until she figures out a way to get out alive.

Sixty-one hours, Jordan pipes up. At least three morphers watching you at all times. Tick-tock, slug. Tick-tock.

• It's Sara, two miles down the road, who says "But what about Daddy? Why isn't he coming with us?" Damn. Aern should've thought to ask that.

• Rachel directs them to drive, and then to hike, over thirty miles into the national forest. This is fine. Aern is fine. She'll figure something out, and she has over two days to do it. There are nearly a hundred uncontrolled hork-bajir in the valley when they get there, along with Visser One's empty host and three other morphers. It's fine. Aern will be fine. Yeah.

• Jake shows up later that night, alone.

Guess they found out about Reant 8132, Jordan says smugly. Maybe they're not so bad at detecting controllers.

«Or Reant's not nearly as good an actor as I am,» Aern tells her. «Or he couldn't get away with pretending Tom is cutsey and harmless.»

Then, just because she knows it'll bother Jordan, she goes skipping up to Jake. "Hi Jake!" she pipes up. "How come your family isn't here?"

Jordan flinches, out of sight of anyone but herself. Aern gets to watch Jake's face crumple, his eyes flooding with tears. It almost makes up for not spitting on him earlier.

• Aern doesn't sleep that night, no matter how hard she tries. Tick-tock, Jordan keeps saying, Tick-tock. Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock... Aern slaps herself in the face, which doesn't help.

• Tobias has an argument with Marco, the following morning. Aern is only able to catch half of it, since only Marco is bothering to speak out loud, but even that half is very interesting indeed.

• Aern pulls Jordan's hair into pigtails. She digs through the duffel Jake packed her without even asking — the entitlement of some people — until she finds a pink shirt and bedazzled jeans. A frilly dress would've been better, but this will do. She kicks off Jordan's shoes.

And then she goes marching over to the cabin Cassie's family is sharing. "Dr. Lee?" she calls, just in case either of Cassie's parents is inside. "Dr. Lee, are you there?"

There's no answer. Aern pushes back the blanket across the door, and ducks inside.

The bucket in the corner is empty. The unmade bedroll, empty. Michelle's suitcase, only clothes. Walter's, the same. An extensive first-aid kit yields only bandages and tape. Damn. Damn.

Tick-tock...

«Shut up!»

Cassie's bag, in the corner. Aern rips it open, not being as careful as she should. Overalls, jeans, more overalls—

Jordan's fingers brush against something hard and angular, wrapped in a flannel shirt. She fumbles it out. No bigger than a Rubik's cube, but boring blue all around.

«You were saying?» Aern asks, and Jordan doesn't reply.

• The first part was almost too easy. As for the second... Aern has a decision to make.

Jake might work. He's been distracted, staring into space and not making eye contact. But he might be too distracted, impossible to engage.

Rachel is out. She knows Jordan too well.

Cassie is sweet, and she trusts Jordan. But Aern has seen a lot of Cassie, enough to know about the canny intuition that lurks behind that welcoming smile.

Tobias won't work. The logistics are wrong.

Ax... No. Aern doesn't want to touch an andalite, ever again, and she doesn't trust herself to bluff her way through.

Cassie or Jake will serve as Plan B, then. And she has her Plan A.

• "Hey Marco, look what I found!"

He's up at the end of the valley, well away from his mom — Aern's not stupid — and away from the hork-bajir seer. He looks up from where he was... (whittling a stick? What is with these people?) and starts to smile. Until, that is, he sees what Jordan is holding.

"Kinda cool, right?" Aern tosses the morphing cube lightly from hand to hand. "You think maybe it's a hork-bajir toy?"

Marco stands, stick and knife dropping to the ground. "Where did you get that?"

"Found it on the ground," Aern says lightly.

"I need you to give that to me, Jordan. Right now."

She smiles up at him through Jordan's bangs. "Then why don't you come and get it?" This voice is very different from the one she used on Jake. It's deeper. Not that of the six-year-old Jake and Rachel remember, but that of a ninth grader with a crush on the cool older boy.

"Jordan." Marco takes a step toward her. "That doesn't belong to you, and it isn't a toy."

"I don't see your name on it, Mister." She takes a step back, grinning. Pretending not to notice the tension in his shoulders. "Finders keepers, right?" She bats her eyelashes. Not because it's actually seductive, but because it's so clumsy. An awkward kid trying to flirt, not a peer succeeding.

"It's a weapon." Marco keeps advancing on her. "A dangerous one. I'm not playing around, and I need you to hand it over."

Sighing, she holds it out. As soon as Marco raises his hand she yanks it back, laughing.

He loses his temper, exactly on cue. He lunges forward, grabbing Jordan's wrist in one hand and the morphing cube in the other. Not being careful about how he takes it, not thinking about why he might need to be careful. His hand closes over the top of it, even as Jordan's is gripped hard around the bottom.

A jolt travels through her entire body, hairs standing on end. Not clear if Marco felt anything either, if he noticed, but he's thoroughly distracted by wrestling the cube away from her.

Aern lets go. "YOU'RE A JERK!" she screams in Marco's face, so suddenly he stumbles back two paces. "I HATE YOU!" Before he can recover from the shock enough to wonder if he should've forced Jordan to set the cube on the ground, she's already turned and sprinted away.

Marco mutters something about girls and hormones and honestly. Jordan's shoulders are shaking, with suppressed laughter rather than sobs.

• Now all she has to do is find an excuse to touch a hork-bajir.

«Tick-tock,» she thinks at Jordan, giddy with triumph. «Tick-tock.»

• Returning to the yeerk pool is easy. She doesn't bother to file a report, just gets in line with the others. Reant is screaming in a back room, so loud and sustained that Tom's voice is down to a hoarse ghost of itself. What a moron.

• "Everything okay?" Naomi asks, when Aern slips back into their cabin in the wee hours of the morning for the fourth time since they came here.

"I can't sleep." Aern lets Jordan's voice wobble. "I can never sleep, ever since we came here."

"I know, baby," Naomi murmurs. "I know."

• Aern trails Toby, asking about defenses and troop numbers and What if...? But what if...? Aern pesters Jake for details of Animorph missions, hanging onto his elbow like a little kid. Aern swings Jordan's clasped hands back and forth as she asks Tobias what the valley looks like from overhead. Aren, to date, has not exchanged a single word with Eva, and she means to keep it that way.

• The Empire has the morphing cube now, she learns on her next trip back to feed. Reant 8132 of all people managed to get ahold of it. Maybe not such a moron after all.

• Aern is an identical copy of Tobias when she lands in the clearing just west of the valley, and she's back to looking like Jordan a moment later.

But Naomi is standing there, just beyond the treeline.

Aern freezes, half-crouched. She can't tell how much Jordan's mom saw, if she saw anything.

"Jordan," Naomi says. "What are you doing out this far? It isn't safe—"

"Mommy!" Aern runs at her, slamming into Naomi's stomach and wrapping Jordan's arms around her. "Mommy, I woke up here and I was so scared and I didn't know how to get back, and I've been out here for hours and hours and hours—"

"Oh, baby." Naomi smooths her hand over Jordan's shoulder. "You must be scared, you haven't called me 'Mommy' in years."

"I think..." Jordan's voice breaks around a sob. "I think I was sleepwalking?"

"Okay, baby," Naomi says. "It's okay."

• "Naomi." That's Visser One's body, standing to the entrance of the valley, watching their approach. "What have we told you about..." She frowns. "Jordan?"

Naomi lifts her chin. "Jordan wanted to turn back," she says. "I was trying to get us both away from this place, away from your madness. But Jordan insisted we turn around."

Aern pokes out Jordan's bottom lip, pressing close to Naomi's side. She glances at Eva, then quickly looks back down.

"This cannot keep happening," Eva says. Uppity bitch. Three months, and she's already forgotten her place. "Naomi, you're putting every life in this valley at risk. Including Rachel's. Including Sara's and Jordan's."

"It won't happen again," Naomi says. "I promise."

• The next time Aern goes to feed, she has just emerged from the pool and back into her host when a hand closes around Jordan's upper arm. She tries to yank away, but she's being pulled forcefully into an alcove by a larger, stronger human—

She stares up into Tom's face.

Busted, Jordan thinks.

"Funny, how one no-rank warrior can slip through the cracks," Reant 8132 whispers. "Everybody thinks the Animorphs killed you, Aern, and yet here you are. How'd you pull that one off?"

Aern yanks away again, and this time Reant lets her go. "No great mystery. I'm just the better actor."

"No." Tom's eyes narrow. "No, I'm pretty sure you're a traitor. You went over to their side, and they sent you back here to spy on us."

"That's not true!"

Reant smirks. "Then prove it."

Jordan's heart is pounding. Reant doesn't believe what he just said, that's clear, but— but—

"Then again, what's a little more treason between friends?" His smile grows. "After all, we're family, right?"

"The fuck do you want?" Aern doesn't have to fake the tremor in Jordan's voice this time.

"You morph," Reant says. "Or at least Jordan does — only way you could be making it back here every cycle. I'm organizing those of us who morph. We're splitting off from the Empire, doing our own thing. You in?"

Aern considers. She's not a hero, is the thing. She's not visser material. She's not even brave, which is why she still hasn't gotten around to blowing her cover and reporting back to Command.

She just wants what every yeerk wants: Eyes. Hands. Music and food. Security. Freedom.

"Yeah," Aern says. "Tell me the plan."

• Jake is planning something. That's obvious, from the increased pace of drills, from the meetings he has around the fire with Eva and Toby and his fellow Animorphs. He and the others are away more and more. Aern hasn't seen Rachel in weeks, outside of occasional passing glances between them. Sara's heartbroken about Rachel's apparent apathy, but it works in Aern's favor.

• "Here's the plan," Reant says, when Aern meets him that night. Which is how she finds out he's working with Jake.

• "Here's the plan," Jake says to the Animorphs' families, the following day. Which is how she finds out he's working against Reant.

• "We hold position," Eva says, walking down the line of human family members and assorted hork-bajir. "Loren and Ket are on vanguard if the attack comes. Peter and Michelle are overseeing the evacuation. I'll play loose between groups — I'm in charge here until Jake gets back. Listen to your squad leaders, but listen to each other as well. Is that clear?"

They break. They go to their watch posts, spread along the rim of the valley.

Aern cups her hand loosely around the cockroach, and a few minutes later she's up, up, and away.

• Aern huddles with the other morph-controllers on the Blade ship, awaiting Reant's signal. He must have told the others she was coming, because no one questions her presence when she joins the crowd of flies on the underside of the ship's console. If Reant can't get control of it in time, if Jake's contingency goes off too soon... Aern didn't even succeed in finding out what the contingency is; he's been so secret about it that she overhead even Tobias demanding more answers.

• A dracon cannon goes off, somewhere outside. The Blade ship rattles with the force. «May the kandrona shine on us all,» Carger 710 whispers. «Shine on us this day.»

The andalite fleet is approaching. So close, it's starting to ping Earth-orbiting satellites. Only Reant and those closest to him know this, but Aern can't unknow it.

And then the door of the Blade ship hisses open, and a human figure walks inside. "Thank you, Visser." Tom's voice is too loud in the enclosed space. Signaling to them. "I'll take good care of it."

• The door hisses shut, and there's a few minutes of general chaos as everyone demorphs and then most of them remorph to battle forms. There have to be over forty of them, Aern sees with a swell of relief, even though Reant said he couldn't be sure he'd get more than two dozen. They're a proper platoon, enough to hold their own.

"The Animorphs are dead," Reant says briskly. "We wait for the Navy to engage the Empire, and then we run for it. Head for Kelbrid space, where the andalites won't —"

The comm screen switches on, showing the bridge of the Pool ship.

Apparently, Reant spoke a little too soon about the Animorphs being dead.

Reant spins around. He and Jake start exchanging taunts, something about treason. Aern ignores it, busy staying out of sight. Busy counting to five, there on the screen. Busy looking around — and spotting the flea that swells into human shape underneath the control console.

"Animorph!" Aern screams. "Animorph on board!"

And just for a second, the Animorph in question freezes. She doesn't move to attack, doesn't immediately start killing, just for one crucial second.

Because Aern's got Jordan's face, doesn't she. She's speaking with Jordan's voice.

Rachel powers through it, of course, rolling forward and starting to morph again. But that second of hesitation cost her, as did the second of extra warning for everyone else on board.

Tom's right arm wraps around Rachel's throat, yanking her off her feet. His left hand comes up, and fires the dracon beam twice into her head.

The second shot is unnecessary. There's nothing but skull fragments left after the first.

• Aern is screaming, moaning. "Rachel, Rachel, RACHEL—" Her throat is raw, skin cold, but no, that's not her screaming. That isn't her voice coming out of her mouth. She's not the one pounding fists against Tom's chest, smearing Rachel's blood across them both.

"Get ahold of yourself!" Reant is shouting. "Get control of your fucking host, Aern!"

Half a dozen morphers — lionesses, cape buffalo, alligator — surged toward Rachel and Tom in the second between when she'd been exposed and when she'd been killed. All of them stopped dead when Reant fired. And yet none of them makes a move to intervene in this pathetic scene, Jordan shrieking overtop the shouts of disbelief and scream of pain from the comm screen.

Finally Efflit 1318 gets arms around Jordan's body and drags her off of Tom. Aern is still scrambling for control. She's never faced resistance like this before, nowhere close.

Efflit tosses Aern aside, barely noting when she skids across the floor and rolls to a stop in the corner. Jordan's burst of control is slipping away as she retreats back into her mind, screaming for her sister.

And then Aern is in charge again. Aern is okay. Aern doesn't care at all that Rachel is in pieces on the floor.

• Most of the controllers are demorphing. "Set course directly away from Sol," Reant is saying. He tosses the dracon beam onto the console. "Once we're far enough, then we head for Kelbrid territory. Someone dump that out of the airlock, and get a cleaner in here. We also need—" He stops. He's looking at one of the humans who just emerged from lioness morph, a frown pulling Tom's eyebrows together. "Who the fuck are you?" he asks.

"Hi." The human who was a lioness waves. "My name's James. Your host's aunt suggested I come on board."

"What..." Reant's frown deepens. "What are you talking ab..."

"Oh, and that's Kelly." James gestures at one of the ones who has yet to demorph. "And Tuan, and Pedro, and Liam and Erica. Collette should be around here somewh—"

Aern never does find out how that sentence ends. There's only a burst of pain, and then nothing at all.

#animorphs #long post #jordan berenson #animorphs au #animorphs ficlet #violence #gore #character death

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