#i liked the pallets but then there were things about them that I didn't like

[devoted-horror]

giving the new survivor hatch.

a/n: this is my first time writing for dbd in general, so!! i hope i do this game justice bc i play it every day lol

includes: the huntress, the trickster, the ghostface, the artist, the cannibal.

warnings: not proofread, typical dbd stuff like blood, mentions of murder, things like that, gn reader, love at first sight but only if u tilt ur head and squint really hard, inconsistent length, im going to be so delusional over jiwoon im sorry, i can't speak russian or korean so i just used a bunch of translators sorry if i got smth wrong, inaccurate behavior of dbd crows but relatively accurate behavior of irl crows i think, scream reference in danny's part bc i had to, reader injury in jiwoon and danny's parts, written over the course of a few months so sorry if the pacing is weird.

THE HUNTRESS

Anna has been in the fog long enough that every face of everyone she's ever killed has started to merge together into one. She doesn't know their names, and hardly ever reacts whenever she encounters a new survivor.

Mercy is not something she shows during trials. She is a hunter, and anyone who crosses her path, be it man or animal, is her prey. Nothing in the wild is merciful.

And you were nothing more than another person for her to hunt, prey for her to kill. And trust me, she was going to kill you.

Or, at least, she was.

And then you dropped a pallet on her. Now, normally, Anna would get very angry when this happens. Her prey is fighting back, and though it gives her a thrill, it's annoying. And for a brief moment, she did feel angry the moment the pallet hit her.

But then you were apologizing, a look of genuine guilt on your expression. You even asked if she was bleeding. Your survival instincts were lacking, clearly, but Anna found that to be... oddly endearing??

She felt a surge of protectiveness spark within her, something she had never felt during her time here. It was a familiar feeling, yet one so foreign at the same time.

But how could she not feel such a way when you were staring up at her, clearly scared that she was going to hurt you yet brave enough to stand in front of her and apologize for something that, by all means, you should have done.

Anna just stares you down for a long moment, having an internal struggle with herself on what she should do with you. Ultimately, her need to protect overruled her need to hunt, because after breaking the pallet between the two of you, she made a gesture for you to follow her.

And, not wanting to die, you did.

She took you to a shack, something you've heard other survivors refer to as the killer shack. The only reason you knew this is because you were told to stay away from it unless you wanted to get put in the basement.

She just pointed to one of the corners of the building, and looked over at you, "Оставайся здесь." And you didn't immediately understand her, though you were quick to pick up on what she was telling you. It seemed as if she wanted you to stay here.

Your safest bet on surviving was doing what she said, so you just nod and awkwardly place yourself in the corner she had been pointing at. She doesn't spare you another glance as she leaves you alone.

You're not sure how long you stayed there. You could hear the other survivors screams though, and you felt sick to your stomach at the sound of them being hooked and sacrificed to the Entity. They probably won't be too happy about this the next time you see them...

It was only when you were the last one standing that Anna came back to retrieve you. She found you exactly where she had left you, and even though you couldn't see her face due to the rabbit mask, she seemed rather pleased that you had actually listened to her.

If she had it her way, Anna would keep you by her side. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. The Entity would probably force the trial to end if you didn't either escape or die.

She begrudgingly brought you to hatch, the black mist pouring from it, silently promising safety if you jumped into it. You stared at it, confused about what it was, and that protectiveness she was feeling only seemed to grow stronger when you looked up at her for an explanation. The only explanation she offered was a slight gesture to you, and then the hatch.

"Иди, кролик." She says, lightly pushing you to the hatch and watching as you hesitantly decide to trust her, jumping into the hatch and leaving her alone as the fog comes and places her back in the Red Forest.

If she's lucky, she'll be in a trial with you again soon.

THE TRICKSTER

He'll immediately recognize you to be new. He prides himself in recognizing every survivor he's encountered, either by their face or by the sound of their screams. Mostly their screams.

And he certainly didn't recognize the scream he heard when one of his throwing knives ricocheted and hit you while he was chasing down another one of the newer survivors; Sable. It was a small, startled scream, nothing worth his attention, but it was new. That was enough to make this trial more exciting, and he found himself keeping his eyes peeled for you.

Which... was a lot easier than he expected it to be, because you just kept running right into him. Seriously. Did you not pay attention to your surroundings? Do you think he's a survivor?? Do you not see the bloodied fucking bat he's holding???

He's not sure if he's annoyed or amused by this. Partially both, to be honest. It's amusing to see you relax for a split second after bumping into him, not recognizing him to be the killer immediately. It's annoying because he'd like to hear you scream, please and thank you.

Jiwoon doesn't necessarily target you during the trial. To be honest, he's trying to weed out the other survivors before focusing his attention on you.

He wanted to take his time with you, to see what sounds he could pull out of you before the Entity forced the trial to end. Just the sound of you gasping whenever you bump into him has his mind racing.

This was honestly enough to keep him motivated throughout the entire trial, a certain bloodlust sparking in him. He relished the sound of everyone else's screams, but they weren't appealing to him right now.

He needed the other survivors out of the way. He needed you alone. And when he finally got rid of the last pesky survivor, the fun began.

And when he corners you in killer shack, he really didn't plan on being merciful. He wanted to hear you scream, and then he wanted to kill you, really. That was his plan.

The only way you'd get out of this alive is if you beg, honestly. And I mean beg. On your knees, crying, pleading, offering something in return for your survival. That sort of begging.

You were new and shiny in comparison to all of the other survivors, and maybe it's because he's a sadistic bastard, but he really does adore the sight of you on your knees, crying as he absently nicks your skin with one of his throwing knives.

This is where Jiwoon feels a bit torn, truth be told. He's never been a patient man, so he wants to get as many screams out of you as he can before the Entity forced the trial to end. But at the same time, he knew he'd see you again in a future trial, sooner or later.

It wouldn't hurt to prolong his time with you, would it?

The entire time he's pondering this, he's dragging the blade across your skin, relishing in the sweet sounds of your gasps and whimpers, and you stutter out a desperate 'please'.

Ultimately, Jiwoon decides to be nice, just this once. He'll mutter a quiet, "짜증나..." before hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you off.

You struggled, obviously, assuming he was ending your misery and taking you to a hook. He didn't really mind much, having an iron grasp on you that kept you from wiggling free.

He dropped you right next to the hatch once he found it, finding your small pained sound to be adorable as you look at your salvation with a confused expression. But before you can crawl into it and escape, he's grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you back a bit.

For a moment, you think he's going to kill you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting pain. But nothing comes. You feel him tuck something in your shirt, and he lightly pats your cheek, cooing a bit at your terror before he lets you go and leaves you alone.

And when you're back at the campfire, you find a photo of Jiwoon neatly folded and tucked into your shirt, signed with his autograph.

He'll have an encore the next time he sees you, and you can only hope you don't find yourself in a trial with him again any time soon.

THE GHOSTFACE

Would actually never give you hatch under normal circumstances. He's here to kill, so kill he shall. He treated you the same as any other survivor when he first saw you, though it wasn't until he was in chase with you that he realized how interesting you were.

For one, you were... surprisingly good at looping him?? For a newbie, he was rather impressed. That's not enough to get him to let you live, but it's definitely a start.

No, his interest is only truly piqued when you start quoting horror movies during chase.

Honestly, if he didn't know any better, he'd think you to be flirting with him. A person after his heart, truly.

It was only when he had you cornered that you really caught his attention. You weren't scared, and it intrigued him as much as it annoyed him.

He was just itching to dig his knife into you and take a photo of your lifeless corpse once he was finished. But even with your life at risk, you showed no fear.

Hell, you even mocked him.

"No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel."

Sure, you weren't the first survivor to mock him, and you certainly won't be the last, but he found you interesting.

Oh, he needed to kill you. He needed your photo in his collection, it would be his favorite.

But he thought it would be more fun to humor you. Danny was a patient man. This isn't the first time he's drawn out a kill.

You were honestly surprised that he had left you alone. You didn't think that would actually work, and you were... a bit concerned, actually. None of the other killers you had ended up in a trial with during your short time here has entertained you the way Danny has, and you're not sure if you should be scared or not.

And, much to your very hesitant relief, you didn't see him for the rest of the trial. You knew he was watching you though. Every once in a while, you just felt... you're not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost felt as if you were being hunted.

You'd see him from the corner of your eye though. Never for long, just quick flashes of his screaming mask. Honestly, you felt less scared when he was actively trying to murder you.

That's how the rest of the trial went for you, at least. Until eventually, you were the only one left standing. You may be new, but the other survivors had given you the rundown of what to do if you were the last one standing before the trial had started.

You had to find hatch. Which was... easier said than done, truthfully. Especially since you weren't sure where the fuck Danny was. There's no way he was letting you go, right? He's probably saving you for last, right?

Whenever you so much as caught a glimpse of something moving, you were scurrying in the other direction.

This is pretty much Danny's way of giving you hatch. There's no way he'd give it to you directly, not yet.

You had honestly thought you had found it all by yourself until you were fucking stabbed, the flash of a camera in your face blinding you.

Truth be told, Danny did plan on killing you. He had wanted to give you a false sense of hope. But your stupid little smile when you saw hatch got to him, okay? So he'll settle for this for now.

"You owe me."

And he doesn't even spare you a glance as he pushes you into the hatch's mist, his gaze intently focused on the photo of you he had just taken.

Unfortunately for you, you've caught his attention.

THE ARTIST

Carmina is one of the more merciful killers you may come across, so she'd be fairly likely to give a new survivor hatch depending on how the trial has gone and whether or not she's consumed by anger.

She only realizes that you're new to the fog when her crows surround you and you don't try shooing them away. When she finds you, you're actually... rather content having a murder of crows surrounding you.

Very very confused. She'll probably just stare at you for a hot second as you go about the trial without a single care for the crows swarming around you. Even the crows are confused.

You distract her long enough with your antics that a good chunk of the gens pop, and she had to force herself to leave you be in order to focus on hunting the other survivors.

She'll ignore you for the entire trial after she leaves you be. Her crows can keep watch for her.

So for the rest of the trial she's only vaguely aware of your location, occasionally stopping once in a while to determine whether or not her crows were still with you. They were.

Even the other survivors seemed confused by your behavior.

On the rare occasion that she bumped into you during the trial, it was always when another survivor was nearby trying to tell you how to get rid of the crows.

You never even tried to shoo away the crows throughout the entire trial, and at some point, they stopped swarming around you. They didn't go away, no. You, somehow, managed to tame Carmina's crows with little trinkets that you found littered across the place.

Honestly, the crows seemed to like you enough that even if Carmina told them to hurt you, they probably wouldn't listen to her. It's hard to believe that you were a new survivor with how calm you were about everything happening.

It's probably that calm nature, coupled with your ability to calm her crows, that solidified in her mind that you were the only one who would make it out alive.

And with a newfound determination, Carmina sacrificed the other three survivors with no issues, and she could hear hatch opening not too far away from her.

With the help of her crows, Carmina was able to easily bring you to hatch, and she could only tilt her head to the side and make a small, croaking sound as you smiled and thanked both her and her crows before jumping into the hatch.

This is one of the many moments Carmina laments no longer being able to create art. She'd love to immortalize the image of you smiling at her, surrounded by her crows.

THE CANNIBAL

Bubba is honestly torn when he spots you, because you look so afraid, cowering in fear at every little sound and struggling to repair a generator like the others had told you to. He understands your fear because it's something he's very familiar with.

And while he has a job to do, not wanting to disappoint the Entity, he can't help but find it hard to hurt you. No matter how hard it was, Bubba had no choice.

But when he approached you, you didn't run. Sure, you let out a startled shout, the generator blowing up in your face as you stared up at him like a scared animal, quietly begging him not to hurt you.

But you didn't run.

How could he hurt you when you weren't running from him? Everyone always ran. But not you. You weren't running from him, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Bubba's trouble was so very evident. He's always been an expressive person, so it wasn't hard to tell that this was stressing him out. His free hand kept clenching and unclenching his apron, and he kept making small noises in the back of his throat.

He doesn't want to disappoint the Entity, he doesn't. But he's not sure if he can hurt someone who's not running from him. You aren't running! He really likes that! The only people who never ran when he was around were his family!

The nail in the coffin is when you, even despite your fear, took a chance and set down the toolbox you were holding. You... you gave him a gift. Not one that he could use, but a gift nonetheless.

There was literally no way he could hurt you now the guilt would eat him alive. So, he just opts to leave you be to instead focus on the other survivors. He wouldn't feel guilty hurting them.

The entire trial, Bubba focuses all of his attention on getting rid of the other survivors. If he sees you, he gets all nervous and can't even look at you for long without babbling incoherently before scurrying away.

Some of the other survivors may pick up on Bubba's strange avoidment of you, and may even use that to their advantage by running by you in chase because Bubba just... he can't hurt you, I'm sorry.

He's swinging his chainsaw, and then suddenly Kate is running by you and he's coming to a full stop out of fear of accidentally hurting you.

It really stresses him out, and even though you're still scared of him, and even though he's supposed to be killing you, you can't help but feel bad. So whenever the other survivors got a little too close when Bubba was chasing them, you always made sure to stay out of his way.

It's okay to be a bad teammate because it's Bubba.

Jokes aside, Bubba takes his job as a killer very seriously. He may avoid hurting you, but he makes quick work of the other survivors.

And when hatch opened right next to Bubba after killing the third survivor, he took it as a sign from the Entity that he was meant to give it to you. Why else would it open next to him?

Bubba was ever the gentleman when he brought you to hatch, guiding you to it carefully and making sure you didn't trip on any debris littered across the area.

He even scared off a few judgmental crows! He knew how off-putting it was to have them watching you all the time, especially when you're new in the fog.

And when you quietly thank him, smiling at him as if he weren't a killer, Bubba was just over the moon.

It's been so long since he's had someone to protect. The fog is a scary place to be but he'll do his best to make it a happy place whenever you two are in a trial together.

Оставайся здесь. - Stay here. Иди, кролик. - Go, rabbit. 짜증나. - How annoying.

[dazzelmethat]

Been trying a 'Paint first sketch later' approach. And It is fluid and nice. But it leaves me with multiple stages of my searching in the painting that I like.. but also a sketch that fails to capture what I like best about all the 'searches.'

Featuring my oc Zina.

[silverware-is-interesting]

.-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.-

… --- -- . - .. -- . … / -.-- --- ..- / …. .- …- . / - --- / .-.. --- --- -.- / -… .- -.-. -.- / .- - / - …. . / .--. .- … - .-.-.- / . …- . -. / .. ..-. / .. - / …. ..- .-. - … / - --- / -.. --- .-.-.- / - --- / … . . .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / … - .. .-.. .-.. / …. .- …- . / - --- .-.-.-

some more band au content. specifically this miserable, miserable man.

[joonipertree]

To show someone that you care, is a gift itself. | Sugar Daddy Bakugo Series

Where you show Katsuki what a gift can be.

Tags: Artist!reader, very self indulgent, like guys....please buy me watercolour paper instead of Versace. Watercolour paper is stupid expensive. Im also not skilled enough to actually make the gift so--

Pt 1 Pt 3

Katsuki's birthday had been looming when the two of you started going out, like a weighted shadow. You had spent a very long stressing about what to get him with a budget that wasn't even worth a fraction of what he would buy you.

But, like gift giving was Katsuki's, it was your love language as well. And you'd gotten good at getting heart felt things for people. Admittedly, it took a lot of brainstorming and notes upon notes of what to get.

You'd always go overboard to please the people you cared about, afraid that they'll leave if you didn't cross the limits and bend over backwards for them.

Katsuki had always taken care of you, never asked for anything and your love was returned albeit in a quieter and tsundere manner. So the urge to go above and beyond didn't fester for long, knowing that your bare presence made him warmer.

Your gift idea came when he was on the ring, swift on his feet and solid in the rigidness of his body. You'd brought your sketchbook and while you wanted to keep your eyes on your boyfriend, your hands became busy with large curves and sharp flicks of your pencil that brought dark edges .

You'd made at least 20 quick gestures drawings that were more crude representations of movement for you. But with those and the feelings you trapped in your heart, you made thumbnails and chose one to draw large scale.

One where Katsuki's face was partially blocked by his arm and he gave a blow. His elbows were jagged, muscles taut and rippling. And his eyes sharp and cat like.

The charcoal pencils and sticks used to create tapered lines to create hard surfaces was 340 yen. The watercolour pallete used had messy paint splattered everywhere and its lid broken, having been with you for a good while. The coat over the charcoal was 50 yen hair spray that worked just as well as professional sprays.

It didn't cost a lot but your hands were full of care and by the end of it, you hoped that it'd be something Katsuki would at least like. The man could have the world but all you had was you.

You didn't realize that you were more than enough

Katsuki to lost his voice when you handed it to him at midnight, eyes wide as he stared at him but not him. The layers on layers of paint held emotions that he could only describe as love, meticulously hand picked and felt in strokes. He'd seen HD pictures of his fights, seen videos of them where his sweat and pores were as clear as day. The most he'd thought of them were how his form could improve or how cool he looked.

But what you made, it twisted something in his chest and stung his eyes and filled him to the brim with love so warm and overwhelming that his body wasn't big enough to hold it.

You two had been dating for 4 months, Katsuki had spent that time falling in love with you in ways he didn't think possible. He'd fall with every giggle and kiss and ramble and your face when you were concentrating. He'd never said 'I love you', hoping his actions showed it enough, still too scared to speak it in case it was met with hesitance or silence.

But Katsuki had gently put down the canvas, something you that you'd built, stretched and primed yourself. And while you made eye contact with the walls and ceiling, you explained how the only thing you could come up with was the painting, that you wanted to capture the emotions you felt when you saw him fight. That it wasn't much but---

Katsuki had engulfed you in a hug, hand on the back of your head to press it against him and an arm around your waist. He squeezed you, tried to express all that he was feeling with one hug alone. You felt it, held him tightly and carded your fingers through his hair. With his shoulders shaking, you had an inkling that he had been crying. When he spoke, with a wobbly voice, you were sure that he was.

"I love you." He'd muttered out for the first time.

"I love you more." You whispered back and Katsuki had firmly denied it, that no one could love a person as much as he loved you.

Getting a gift for you became hard after that, because Katsuki sucked at making shit.

[zainclaw]

so at work today -

(I work at a hardware store, we sell wood, we have a big yard where we store all the wood and drive around with fork lifts etc)

- I discovered that a seagull had made a nest on top of some of our stacked wood packages. asgfhjgdskj. and there are eggs. and they were right on top of the packages that I needed to get.

and I was like what the fuck do I do

so I very carefully moved the nest to a pallet and moved it down to the ground, nearby the stacked packages. I didn't want to move it too far, because I didn't want to risk the mother not finding it again. there really was no good place to put it. all "high ground" spots are on top of things we need, and will probably move before long. poor mama really didn't pick a good spot for her babies.

but she did find it again! but she seemed very upset with the new placement. and I don't know if she'd be able to move the eggs on her own, if she's not happy with it. and I was so worried about her abandoning them. also about predators eating the eggs with how close to the ground they were now.

so

I ended up lifting the pallet back on top of the package where she first made the nest. with it still being on a pallet, we'll be able to move it with our fork lifts very easily and put it back again, if we need to access the packages beneath.

I know literally nothing about birds, but this was the best solution I could come up with on the spot! I hope she'll be okay. I hope she'll feel safe there.

and I was sending live updates to my colleagues in our group chat throughout this whole thing, lmao, so we're all gonna look out for her and her babas.

she is our mascot now. we love her.

[schwarz-san]

A Revenant for The Red Knight

Your typical Dp x Dc Summoning AU, but with a twist.

Jason is having a bad time.

The most of the family to be honest.

Why? Cultist. In Gotham.

One that worship some kind of All Powerful Eldritch Death Outer God from Beyond and plans to summon the Thing to this plane of existence.

The worst part? Most of the bats are being use as sacrifice. Wait no, the worst part is that Jason is the main sacrifice.

They did contemplate whether to use Jason or the Demon child, but end up deciding to use Jason instead. Something about being having essence of Death and the Multiverse in his veins and you know what? He's not gonna touch that with a ten foot pole. Nope.

The demon child is lashing out like the unvaccinated feral racoon that he is, Dick is trying to escape and so does Bruce as well as trying to make sense of the Summoning circle that the cultist were using. The replacement is snoring, the asshole.

Hah. Thats what he get for drinking five mugs of expresso instead of sleeping then gatting tranq.

Also, fuck Bruce for not calling Constantine or Zattana the moment they smelled something supernatural.

God, he hates magic.

The cultist started chanting by then, speaking in a language that no one understood—huh? Well look at that. He could apparently. He could hear them chanting in that unknown language and english at the same time, its over lapping. Weird, its like it was being translated especially for him since the others didnt seems to show any recognition with the words the cultist was using.

Except maybe the demon child, but the others? Nada.

"—Ruler of the inbetween, Heed our call. Defeater of the Dark Tyrant. Master of Space, The bridge between Every Realms, The Great One, The Balance—"

Thats a fuck ton of titles.

The circle began glowing green and fucking Lazarus waters began to pour out and thats not fucking good.

Pillar of unnaturally Neon Red Fire emerge from the Circle and destroyed the ceiling and shook the entire ware house.

A tall armoured figure emerge as the pillar of fire began to settle out. It was floating above the circle, looming over everything in a terryfing manner. Temperature began to rise as the being's Unnayurally white gaze fell upon them.

It was… a knight? A knight cross over a biker??? It also had guns which is weird and is that a fucking Bat Insignia on its chest?

Pressure from all side crash over them as the beings gaze intensified before vanishing all together the moment its gaze fell on jason.

After what seems to be eternity, the being finally spoke.

"Huh. His majesty was right, I really was that stinky and fuck up before he find me."

???

The knight biker then remove his helmet to reveal his own face with a domino mask with his color pallete just inverted.

The doppelganger then pull out his gun and began shooting down the cultist all against the other bats protest. One by one the cultist vanished in to tin air as if they didn't exist all together.

He snapped his fingers and the rope that tying the burst in the same crimson flames and vanished all together.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?!"

Or cultist used kidnap batfam and use jason as a sacrifice to the ghost king to summon him.

They summon Alternate version of jason who is a halfa and work as one of Danny's Fright knight: Red Knight.

[ghouldump]

I want to be lestats make up artist and stylist so baddddd after that trailer.

Imagine touring with him while he constantly tries to woo you.

And the fans just seeing him being flirty toward reader

SOMEBODY TAKE MY PHONE AWAY I AM NOT WELLLLLLLLLLL

Diva | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ lestat is a handful to tour with but he's also incredibly handsome and charismatic.

lmfaooo same, more rockstar lestat coming soon!

Touring with Lestat De Lioncourt was not the easiest, at least not at first. The number of makeup artists and stylists who accepted the job, before quitting was ridiculous. Everyone was terrified of him, or of making him angry, walking on eggshells around him.

You were a well-known makeup influencer, starting with tutorials, but with your renowned success, you began working with celebrities, doing makeup, or simply styling them. When you were contacted by his manager, offering twice as much as others, explaining he couldn't keep a stylist or makeup artist, you accepted. You had dealt with plenty of other celebrities in the past, with even more diva tendencies, so you weren't going to let some rockstar ruin your coins.

Meeting him, you immediately realized two things, one, he was even more handsome off-screen, and two, he acted as if everyone was insufferable, like he was gracing their presence, doing them a favor.

“Can we get some makeup on him,” the director told you, picking up the pallet and brush, moving to his cheek, he scoffed.

“Does it look like I need makeup?” he asked you, while you rolled your eyes.

“Actually, yes, you could use some lipgloss and highlight,” you said, matching his tone. Everyone grew quiet, watching the interaction. He turned his head, looking at you, before smirking.

“You may,” he said, letting you lift his head, and apply the highlight, before taking a thinner brush and dabbing the tinted lipgloss onto his lips.

“Better?” he asked you.

“Much better,” you grinned, walking away.

“I like her,” he said, adjusting in the chair.

Instantly after, you were offered a contract, the first in nearly twenty artists to be able to lift a brush to his skin, they needed you. As the tour began, he continued with the shenanigans seducing the audience, while managing to keep them terrified.

“Sit still, I hope you don't frown at your fans like that,” you told him, as you clamped the necklace around his neck.

“And who did your hair?”

“He did,” his assistant mumbled.

“I can tell”

“Is something wrong with my hair?” he stared at you through the mirror.

“Nope, it fits you, wild and untamed,” you snickered, as you moved in front of him, using a brush to apply glitter to his face. Using your finger, you rubbed a bit on his chest.

“You know I enjoy when you touch me there, ma chérie,” he said.

“Whatever,” you laughed, finishing his look.

Over the last few months, Lestat became increasingly bold with his flirtation with you. Hell, besides his manager, you're the only person on his team that he talked to, with eye contact.

“They're ready for you,” His assistant said, reading a text from her phone. Standing, Lestat kept his eyes set on you.

“Come, we haven't finished our conversation,” he held out his hand, stopping you as you were about to put away the makeup.

Taking his hand, he led you out of the trailer, his arm going around your neck to pull you closer.

“What is it?” you asked him, biting back your smile.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

After touring the States, he was set to go on a world tour, and he insisted that you renew your contract to come along.

“I don't know, that's a long time, Les,” you said lowly, intertwining your fingers with the hand over your shoulder.

“I’ll need my makeup done and only the best clothing”

“I thought you didn't need makeup?”

“I don't, but only you could do the task so beautifully, I wouldn't dare let one of those amateurs near me,” he frowned.

“Oh my god, there he goes,” a fan screamed, causing an uproar. Lestat remained unfazed, his arm still around you, his eyes unmoving from your face.

“Is that his girlfriend?”

“He has a girlfriend? I thought he was gay”

“No girl, he's bi”

“Then I still have a chance!”

“They're so cute together”

“You’re going to have us in blogs in the morning,” you told him.

“All publicity is good publicity,” he shrugged.

“We’ll talk more later,” you told him, rubbing your lips together, when you realized he was staring at them.

“Hopefully about you staying with me, and not wanting to go home”

“You need to focus on your concert right now, and we can talk later,” you laughed.

“Fine, make sure to scream extra loud for me, ma chérie,” he said, blowing a kiss to you, before walking up the steps, the loud music starting up.

Crossing your arms, you watched as he performed, his aura exuding sex appeal. After all these months of working with him, you could see why he acted as if he was gracing people with his presence. He was more handsome than most, the attention falling on him wherever he went, and here he was, openly desiring you.

Late nights, after he'd come back from doing whatever, he'd come to your hotel rooms. You eventually realized that on the inside of this beautiful man, was a lonely soul. He craved companionship and being around him, you didn't know how much more you could take before you gave into temptation.

[emeritusemeritus]

You think you know someone. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: You think you know someone.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Timeline: OOTP- canon and timelines altered for purposes of the story. Some bits have been exaggerated for artistic purposes. Based more on the films than the books. Reader joins DA but what if instead of Cho ratting them out, it’s you?

Summary: You had everything during your time at Hogwarts- good friends, Fred Weasley as your boyfriend and a promising future, until Dolores Umbridge turns up.

Warnings: This one turned out a little dark. Mentions of injury, torture, bullying, wounds, blood. Umbridge is a bitch. Snape is a bully. Use of unforgivable curses. Punishment. Kissing, pranks, swearing. Dumbledore’s Army and resistant forces. Brief mentions of Voldemort and probable war. Pet names: baby, sweetheart, princess. Not beta read. Happy ending I promise.

Word count: 9.3k (I feel like I’ve written a novel here)

This work is gifted to @kellyxo1 thanks to the wonderful request that I couldn’t turn down! I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to get this out but it’s been a complete labour of love and I hope you like it!💕

You knew Dolores Umbridge was trouble the moment you spotted her in the Great Hall, her gaudy pink outfit and matching pink cheeks made her stick out like a sore thumb amongst the classic, muted colour pallet you knew to be Hogwarts. Her smile unnerved you, the cold expression in her eyes never once matching the infallible twisted, sadistic smile that so often painted her face. Everything about her rang alarm bells in your mind.

Fred and George had been sitting either side of you at the banquet table in the Great Hall as she took centre stage and delivered her speech about being very good friends, as ominous and foreboding as it seemed.

"That's likely," the twins had mumbled, resting their heads on their hands, elbows on the table as a small act of rebellion against the airs and graces she clearly put on. You'd subconsciously scooted closer to Fred when she stood, reaching for his spare hand under the table that he'd offered you, sensing a little of your discomfort. Fred was always acutely aware of your emotions, able to read you like a book, you supposed it was a natural consequence of being together for so long.

You'd met on the first day of Hogwarts when you'd stepped into the train compartment he shared with George, locked eyes and the rest was history. You'd been dating since your second year, both of you unable to deny the childlike crushes and stolen glances of your attraction and as you grew up, you grew together. Now you were in your last year, with big plans ahead of Fred and George's business which you'd planned to help them with initially and bigger promises of moving in together in the flat above the shop. The natural progression of a happy relationship and an exciting prospect that kept you motivated to finish school on a high.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts was different this year: understandably tense and foreboding, not just because of Cedric's death and the rumoured return of Voldemort but of the disquiet around Harry's claims and the propagandistic reporting from the Daily Prophet refuting Harry's claims. It seemed everyone was divided into wether they believed Harry or if they believed what they were reading in the media. It was evident that the ministry had worked hard to deny and deflect Harry'a claims, disparaging and slandering him publicly. Of course the arrival of a certain Pink adorned dementor didn't help things, especially when she, as new defense against the dark arts teacher, did away with the old curriculum and removed any defensive, practical teaching in favour of simple theory- which would be of no use in real life situations, of which you were all undoubtedly facing. Then the educational decrees began where she was appointed Hogwarts' high inquisitor and sought to change anything she was as unsatisfactory, backed by the ministry, which seemed to propel the whole school further and further away from what it should be teaching and how it should be preparing it's students for what was inevitably happening.

"She can't do this! It's ridiculous, George is fuming, never mind Fred," you overheard Ginny say as you were about to take a seat for dinner but quickly stopped as you gave her a questioning look, not knowing what she meant, her eyes focusing in on your frozen form.

"What?"

"You haven't seen the new decree?" She asks curiously, placing down her fork onto the plate. You shook your head briefly before walking quickly out of the hall, dinner be damned to examine the wall of decrees, trying to fix your eyes onto the new plaque on the wall.

Educational Decree No. 30: All Weasley products will be banned immediately.

You rushed upstairs to the common room, split in two minds about wether they would be there or on the quidditch pitch, trying to expel their frustrations... until you remembered that broom flying had been outlawed unless part of a lesson or during Quidditch games, as few and far between as they were coming due to the constant cancelling.

When you found them in their dorm, George was pacing the room, kicking the wooden frame of his bed after every circuit whilst Fred sat perched on his own bed, face downcast and eyes filled with anger.

You knew it wouldn't stop them, nothing ever did, but the business they forged from nothing had suffered for a while as students were afraid of the repercussions of being searched and found with their products.

"Can't sell my products, can't fly a broom, can't even kiss my own girlfriend unless I find a way to snog her from six inches away!" Fred had been furious and rightly so but there seemed to be no hope in sight.

It seemed no one was unaffected by the drastic measures Umbridge was taking and you were all facing the consequences of the increasing restrictions, in multiple ways. You'd been given detention for the stupidest things, including casting a spell to undo the jinx Malfoy had placed on Neville one afternoon, another leg lock jinx that you'd fixed for him, received another for the muggle book in your possessions and another for deigning to be within six inches of George. The punishment was cruel and twisted but you'd hidden it from Fred, knowing how protective he was and how he'd act out to retaliate against her which would only land him in worse trouble. She seemed to focus on you in particular, for whatever reason you weren't sure but she hardly hid her distaste for you publicly. Fred said it was because of your connection to him and George but you weren't sure, it seemed more personal than that.

It had been Hermione's brilliant idea to forge a sort of rebellion in order to actually learn the practical side of defence and you'd been eager to sign up after attending the first meeting at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, knowing that you had to arm yourself in whatever way you could, the feeling of unease at the current climate always looming overhead. You'd been pleasantly surprised by the turn out, seeing many familiar faces as you'd walked hand in hand with Fred into the small, freezing cold room as you waited for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Cho, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Michael and so many others from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had turned out to fight for the cause and as you looked around the room of friends and familiars, it was evident that this could work.

You'd signed the parchment Hermione had brought with no hesitation, lining up between Fred and Ginny, clearly marking your name under his in the pencil provided. As you walked back to the castle in a group, Fred's arm around you and his hat in your head to keep the cold away from your ears, you felt determined and inspired to make this work. You'd just need to find somewhere to practice away from the prying eyes of the inquisitor.

Then came Educational Decree No.68: All student organisations are henceforth be disbanded. Any student in noncompliance will be expelled.

This time, you weren't angered or afraid of the newly instated restriction but instead felt empowered to rebel. Neville, in a feat of brilliance, had discovered the room of requirement one Saturday afternoon as he made his way down the seventh floor corridor. It was perfect, exactly what was needed, and you'd all wasted no time in putting the room to good use.

Within just two weeks, you'd mastered disarming spells, stunning spells, hexes, jinxes and defensive charms that you'd never thought you could do. Ginny had proven herself to be incredibly skilled and you'd stood watching in amazement as two magpies flying around the room, both coming from your boyfriend and his twin. The twins had taken to placing bets, mostly against Ron, all of you in good spirits about finally being able to do magic again. You and Fred took full advantage of being shielded away from the eyes of Hogwarts and had taken to lingering in the room after the sessions so you could be close to each other, to kiss freely and be intimate again. It had seemed so long, so cruel to have to keep away from him, at least in public and as you watched him master spells so effortlessly and looking so deliciously hot as he did it, often with messy hair and rolled up sleeves, it was exactly what you needed to relieve yourself of the building frustrations.

Fun and laughter had once again returned to Hogwarts, though shielded from the regulating eyes, it was just like before. The twins had even taken to pranking again, no longer concerned by the changes, including giving Filch laced chocolates which made him erupt with giant, puss-filled boils on his face when he got too close to the scent of your secret gatherings.

Educational decree No. 82: All students will submit to questioning about suspected illicit activities.

Umbridge had began to gather students for an inquisitorial squad which would earn them credit for joining, most notably the Slytherin students that weaselled their way into Umbridge's good books. Most probably by being pure bloods. They took great pleasure in pulling up the younger students in particular for punishment or questioning and abused their powers frequently.

Then you returned to school after winter break and the news of the Azkaban breakout happened, constant storms were forecasted, Umbridge's cruel regime heightened. Everything felt so restrictive, so unnecessary, so twisted. The only place you found solace was during DA meetings when you could be yourself, free to act and perform as you wanted surrounded by your friends and boyfriend. Always alert at the imposing threat, knowing Filch was on to you all and the rest of the inquisitorial squad which only fuelled you to keep discreet.

It had been a regular day of classes until your DADA lesson where you'd been required by the toad to write an essay on the benefits of conversational reasoning as opposed to practical magic to handle disputes with half breeds and lower class species, such as centaurs. You'd almost immediately refused to write such things, particularly due to the disgusting terms used to class different species but also due to the ridiculous concept.

"I am teaching you verified way of effective communication, in which you do not have to use your wand," she defends with a sickeningly fake smirk.

"Or our brains by taking away our autonomy," you'd argued, not even under your breath.

"Are you questioning my methods of teaching miss y/l/n? By all means if you think you can do better I should like to see you try."

"Can't be hard, Professor Quirrel did a better job and he shared a head and a singular brain cell with Voldemort."

A murmur of concealed laughter burst from the students around you and for a singular moment you felt the victory of it, empowered even.

"Detention!" She's utterly outraged, her face turning a dangerous shade of fuchsia. You could feel the eyes on you, most notably your boyfriend and his twin from across the room but you didn't care. Since returning to school you'd been torn away from Fred, unable to be anywhere near each other and certainly not in a group with your friends as it would break at least three decrees. You were frustrated and had hit breaking point, anger simmering in you but why you didn't know. You'd completely had enough.

"It's a date Dolores," you said sarcastically with the sickliest smile you could muster. More snickers erupted around you and even a clap that sounded suspiciously like it came from the direction of your future brother in law.

"My office, now!" She screams, pointing with her pink tipped finger towards the door. You grabbed your stuff from the desk and walked out without a single look in anyone's direction. On your way to her office, you pulled the special coin from your pocket and checked over the date and time to check you had it right. There was a DA meeting later that evening and you'd hoped this would be over quickly so that you could still attend.

Only, that never happened. Instead you'd been tortured for hours in the cruelest of ways, repeatedly questioned over your involvement with the alleged group and had been forced to drink truth serum until the words had slipped out of your mouth. You'd had no control over it, no way of resisting any longer and with great shame, you'd told her about the room of requirement, completely unable to stop the words from coming out.

The inquisitorial squad was on you in mere moments, as soon as Umbridge had signalled them from outside the door and Malfoy's grubby hands were pulling your weak and exhausted body from the chair before you could even register the intrusion. The things you'd been through, the pain and the anguish, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt at the DA being discovered; you could only pray that you'd held out long enough so that the meeting was over.

"Where is it?!" Umbridge screamed into your face when you wouldn't disclose the exact location of the room of requirement, having already inadvertently let slip that the room was your meeting place. You gave her your darkest look, no longer feeling controlled by whatever she had obviously put in your tea. When she didn't get an answer, her hand struck you hard right across the cheek but you hardly flinched, hardly feeling the pain anymore.

"I know the way Ma'am," Filch said, his saggy face appearing around the corner creepily, his features twisting into a vulgar, perverse smile. You could hardly look at Umbridge's face as it twisted into a pleased, twisted grin as she fixed her jacket and allowed Filch to lead her. Malfoy grabbed hold of your robes tighter in his fist and you were dragged along with them until you reached the seventh floor.

You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to scream and cry, resist in anyway you could as you fought against Malfoy's hold but you were physically tired and weak. Crabbe had grabbed hold of the other side of you, your thrashing too much for Malfoy to hold down by himself and his hands were much tougher against your skin, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. When the door to the room of requirement didn't appear, you felt hopeful that she'd realise you were lying, even if that meant horrendous consequences for you. There was no way of warning them, nothing you could do to allow them to flee, you'd have to watch as they were all caught redhanded. They'd think you ratted them out, your friends, the love of your life. You knew it was exactly what Umbridge wanted, to turn everyone against you- and she was undoubtedly going to get it.

"Bombarda Maxima," her eerily calm and squeaky voice rang out as she pointed her want at the wall. Your scream mixed in with the large bang as a giant hole was created in the wall, depris and dust flying everywhere.

When the dust cloud cleared, you were dragged off from the side viciously by Malfoy and Crabbe until you were presented in front of the Army- your friends. You didn't want to look up from your spot on the floor, still fighting against their holds on you but something made you look up. And then you met his eyes.

Fred had never looked at you that way, ever. The looks of love and adoration you'd become accustomed to over the years, the playfulness and the intimate looks, it was all gone. The look in his eyes would haunt you forever, the coldness, betrayal and the resentment and it was explicitly clear what his expression told you.

He believed that you ratted them out, believed that you could ever do that to him, to them all.

You had to look away, desperate to see any hope that someone believed you, that someone sympathised with the torment you'd endured but as your eyes travelled across to George, you stopped short. He looked furious with you, disgusted and despite everything you'd been through in the past few hours, you'd receive no sympathy or chance to explain yourself to the people you loved.

You were dragged away as Umbridge dealt with the Army, bestowing threats and punishments upon them that you couldn't hear. You no longer fought against the holds of the Slytherins but instead went willingly, feeling guilty, shame and simply dirty for your role in all of this, even if it wasn't your fault.

Members of the ministry arrived not too long after, having been alerted prior to the discovery of the DA. You couldn't look at Kingsley, much too distraught to see his look of disgust at you, no doubt planning to tell the Order what you'd done. Harry was ushered in not long after having been caught in the skirmish. His newfound hatred of you seemed to radiate off him as he stood beside you and this alone made you want to scream and cry out of frustration, tears welling in your eyes that you wouldn't allow to spill.

The final straw was when Percy walked in, without so much as a glimmer of recognition towards you and took over from Malfoy to restrain you and Harry, keeping the shoulder of your robe balled up in his hand. The minister ordered him to dispatch an owl to the Daily Prophet and he diligently nodded, trying to manoeuvre you along with him.

"Get off me Weatherby," you demanded viciously, fighting against his hold and managing to break free, only to be stopped as you all looked on in amazement as Dumbledore disappeared out of sight in a magnificent display.

You'd hoped after that, you'd be able to get Harry alone, to explain yourself to him, to tell him what had happened but he'd completely avoided you, blanked you entirely. You hardly blamed him but you needed to explain, to clear your name. Umbridge then commanded Harry to join her in the hall where the punishment was being conducted, all of the DA together.

You'd been permitted to return to your dorm after the meeting had finished but you stood outside of the hall doors, desperate to see Fred and explain yourself, hoping he could bring you at least an ounce of comfort. Your head was pounding from the pain earlier and the marks on your arms were throbbing, sore and weeping though you fought not to look at them, knowing the pain would only be worse when you saw what was tormenting you. You couldn't go to Madame pomfrey, Umbridge had made that very clear and so you suffered in complete silence until you could reach out for your friends.

You lingered outside of the door for what felt like hours, the anxiety and the nerves you felt seemingly freezing time. When the doors opened, the members of the DA began pouring out with soured looks on their faces which only heightened when they caught sight of you. It was never hard to spot Fred and George amongst a crowd, their towering height easily distinguishable amongst a sea of people.

The look on everyone's face was near identical, the disgust and the resentment evident in their eyes as they spotted you but none clearer than the twins. George looked like he detested you, his face scrunched into a look of utter distaste, eyes glaring into you as he walked past without a care. Fred looked away, ignoring your presence completely as he glided past you without muttering a single word, his face stone cold and void of expression.

"Freddie, please," you said weakly and emotionally, with tears in your eyes, turning around in the spot as he walked past you. But nothing, he didn't turn, didn't react, simply walked away without so much as a single glance.

"Harry," you implored, taking a step towards him but he too blanked you again, pushing past you and walking quickly up the steps to avoid you.

You stood alone in the cold and empty corridor, feeling more isolated and alone than you ever had and finally allowed yourself to cry. Silent tears fell down your cheeks, shoulders sagging as you cried for everything you had undoubtedly lost, for the treatment you'd received and for the pain you still felt in your head and arms. Finding a spot in a hidden corner, you finally allowed yourself to pull up the sleeve of your robe and look upon the damage that Umbridge had inflicted with her sadistic quill. It was horrendous, an onslaught of slurs and vicious words etched into your body, no doubt intentionally done to leave the scars as a permanent reminder.

You sobbed your heart out in that little nook between two cold, stone pillars as you tried desperately to heal the marks but no spell was strong enough even to numb it in your weakened state.

You eventually made your way to Gryffindor tower, stepping through the portrait and finding the common room practically deserted. You sighed and walked up the stone steps to your dorm, only to find that the door had been shut and your blanket and pillow had been thrown outside of it, a clear sign you were not welcome even within your own dorm. You were painfully exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and cry into your pillow until you eventually passed out. But you didn't even deserve that.

With a heavy sigh, you collected your blanket and pillow and trudged down the steps back towards the common room, eyes blurry through a mixture of tiredness and tears. You stopped short the second you crossed the last step, seeing Fred and George step in through the portrait hole, your stomach flipping nervously as you anticipated a barrage of insults or horrible pranks, their allegiance turning from you now.

"Fred, Freddie please," you begged, dropping your makeshift bedding to walk towards him, trying to reach out for him. You paused as you saw the redness on the back of his left hand, a clearly fresh punishment, 'I must not break rules'. George intercepts immediately and barges past you, blocking you from getting to Fred as he turns his twin away from you.

"You think you know someone," George mutters as he gently nudges Fred up the stairs, sending you a vicious glare before he walks up after him, once again leaving you alone. Fred didn't even spare a single glance at you, not even to recoil away.

You curled up in a corner armchair as soon as the tears appeared, pathetically dragging the blanket over you and cried until you fell asleep in the uncomfortable chair.

The two weeks that followed were the absolute worst weeks of your life. Umbridge had stripped you of everything you loved in one fell swoop, turned everyone against you and left the place you called home feeling miserable and lonely. You deserved it, you knew that, having ratted them out. You'd antagonised her and now had to live through then consequences, as cruel and twisted as they were.

The glares from everyone you had once called friends hadn't stopped, especially from George, which hurt the most. Fred had outright ignored any effort you'd made to reach out to him, no matter how desperate you'd sounded or how hard you'd tried to make him understand. He didn't care. He believed the lie.

The first week you'd tried to take your meals with the rest of the Gryffindors but it was made abundantly clear to you that you were not permitted nor welcome to join your friends and had been cruelly banished to the end of the table, beside the first years. The second week you'd stopped attending meals at all, not able to push through the shame and embarrassment of being cast away, exiled from your group. Lessons were monotonous and any down time was utterly excruciating as you were left enclosed with the other Gryffindors, namely your ex boyfriend, though no one would make any contact with you. You'd tried to sleep in your dorm but the girls had done nearly everything to prevent you from actually sleeping, talking loudly, setting off whizzbangs inside your curtains and had even transfigured your blanket a few times to varying degrees of horrid things. At the end of the night when you were certain everyone was asleep, usually very late, you'd creep down to the common room and huddle into your uncomfortable chair to sleep, only to be woken mere hours later when the first of the easy risers woke up. Your life was hell.

"There's just something I don't understand," Hermione says as they all stand on the bridge, the golden trio, Ginny and the Twins, all wrapped up in warm clothes and sweaters as they discuss the changes put into place since Umbridge had taken over as Headmistress. Naturally, the conversation had diverted to you, something Fred was entirely displeased about. The group turn to Hermione after her words, intrigued by the change in tone. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes before opening them again, as if building the strength to say her next sentence.

"I jinxed the enrolment parchment, for Dumbledore's Army," she admits, not quite meeting the gaze of the group around her. "It was purely a preventative measure, incase we were betrayed by one of our own. The person who disclosed any secrets would be jinxed to break out in spots, to spell out 'sneak' across their forehead, so we knew who the betrayer was. Y/N didn't have that, she never even had a single spot."

"Blimey Hermione," Ron says a little breathlessly, disbelieving she'd have actually gone that far.

"I know," she says a little defensively, "I just can't work out how she got around it!"

"Maybe she wrote her name wrong? Did she know about the jinx?" Harry suggests but Hermione shook her head, at the very same time that Ginny replied.

"I was behind her, I saw her write her name. It was right."

"Maybe the jinx didn't work?" Harry suggests carefully but stops himself when he receives a forceful glare from Hermione at the very notion of her failure.

"What does it matter? She dobbed us in wether or not she's covered in spots!" Ron says rather harshly, leaning against the wooden bannister.

Fred can't listen anymore, completely overwhelmed by the conversation and the thought of you betraying them. He turns and walks off back towards the castle without so much as a word to the others, not even his twin, and ignores their calls of his name as they watch him fade into the distance.

Spotting you sitting alone in the corner of the room when he returns to the common room, he frowns to himself. He'd known you since the moment you stepped on the Hogwarts express and had loved you for nearly just as long. It was wrong to see you sat alone, so sad and without the usual spark you naturally emitted. Everyone had always been drawn to you, your humour and wit, your dazzling smile, the fact you made everyone aroun you feel comfortable and valued. Too many boys had been drawn to you for his liking but you'd never even given them the time of day, never once wavering in your loyalty to him or ever made him doubt that it was him you wanted. You'd spent years supporting him, helping him and George develop their products, cheering for him loudly at every Quidditch game and had wormed your way into the hearts of every single one of his family members. Secretly, it crushed him to see you so lonely and tired, even if he still felt the sting of your betrayal.

It didn't add up, though he wouldn't disclose this to any of the more angered members of the group, why you would do such a thing. You'd been excited to start the DA, had joined in enthusiastically, kept the secret for so long and most of all you completely despised Umbridge. He couldn't deny that he still loved you, even though he was conflicted with his feelings now, he still held out hope that this would all go away, that there was a reasonable explanation but his anger wouldn't allow him to listen. It killed him to push you away, wanting nothing more than for things to return to normal but he felt a deep sense of betrayal that he couldn't shift.

"Fred?" He heard from behind him, pulling him out of his musings making him realise that he'd been staring at you all this time as he turned towards the person addressing him. Her name was Emery Atkinson, a Gryffindor from the year below that he'd never really acknowledged or spent much time with.

"Yeah?" He replies politely though he couldn't escape the edge of irritation after being pulled away from his thoughts. He watches as the girl giggles as soon as he acknowledges her and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Oh good I got the right twin!" She giggles, ignorant to the blank look she received from Fred. "I was wondering if you had some canary creams I could buy? My brother loves them and it's his birthday soon. Your inventions are so clever, I don't know how you and George find the time between your studies and Quidditch, it must be exhausting. You're so good as Quidditch, I always cheer you on. Plus your girlfriend, but I heard that you weren't together anymore right?"

Truthfully, Fred had only registered the first half of her speech, tuning out after Canary Creams but his attention had been drawn back at the mention of you. He can't help but feel that little stab of sadness at the mention of you, especially someone referring to you as his girlfriend, or Ex rather. In the back of his mind he wonders if you heard that, from your short distance away, he hoped not.

"I still can't believe it, why would she do that? If I was with you I wouldn't even dream of ruining it." She sounds faux-scandalised and quite frankly, rather bitchy as he reaches out to touch the sleeve of his sweater. Fred doesn't humour her and instead takes half a step back subtly, reaching to scratch the back of his head as a discreet way of getting her off.

"Er, yeah I think we have some creams leftover, I'll send George over with some later, alright?"

"Not you?" She says with a sad little face, trying out her best puppy dog eyes that have absolutely no affect on him.

"George deals with the confectionery," he says a little too quickly; which is a complete lie. "Sorry, I've got somewhere to be but I'll let him know you're interested in buying."

He breaks away, giving her a forced but polite smile and a brief, parting wave but it's awkward and he's inwardly cringing as soon as he puts his hand down. Turning to where you had been sat in the chair, he notices you've disappeared and he is instantly overcome with a wave of guilt. You'd heard it all.

—

The next few days passed in blur for Fred, his mind wandering between what he was doing and thoughts of you, like he couldn't concentrate for more than a minute. He felt so conflicted within himself, made worse by the time spent apart from you, the longing beginning to set in. He'd never really been apart from you for very long, at most only a few weeks during the summer holidays and even then you'd have sent numerous letters by now, keeping in contact as much as you could until you were back beside each other. Now it was just torture, having you so close but so far away and the knowledge that he was the one that had pushed you away only furthered his guilt and internal conflict.

Fred was in a terrible mood, battling his thoughts, surviving on very little sleep and now the threat of her sadistic punishment was the icing on the cake of a really crap day when he and George had been forced to Umbridge's office. Harry had been caught trying to use the floo, to alert the order or escape and had been caught red handed by Umbridge. Each member of the DA had been frogmarched into the office, shoved and restrained by members of the inquisitorial squad and each member looked as uneasy as the next. His stomach turned when he saw Ginny held down by Goyle and he fought to get out of Graham Montegue's hold but it was useless when Umbridge mindlessly cast a spell to subdue him.

Harry was sat in the chair in the centre of the room, the first to be questioned with Umbridge hovering dangerously close to him, her temper boiling over as she speaks frantically in his face.

"You were going to Dumbledore weren't you?" She says, leaning down threateningly in front of Harry.

"No," Harry responds.

"Liar!" She screams back and in a move that shocks each member of the DA, she pulls back her hand and slaps Harry hard around the face, the harsh sound echoing through the otherwise silent room.

She pauses for a moment, simply glaring at Harry until her face twists into a sick, twisted grin as she straightens up and composes herself, each movement carefully thought out as she turns her back to him.

"Very well, you give me no choice Potter," she says with an even cadence, her tone dangerously low. "As this is an issue of Ministry security, you leave me with... no alternative, unless Professor Snape arrives within moments."

Fred feels like he can hardly breathe, the tension and unease in the air so thick that the room feels like it's getting smaller by the second. The unpredictability of the woman before them was alarming, the dangerous undertone of her voice despite her light and breezy tone was almost scarier than his worst nightmare.

"The cruciatus curse ought to loosen your tongue," she says, adjusting her pink jacket.

"That's illegal," Hermione states in outrage but Umbridge hardly flinches. Instead, she reaches out for the photo frame of the minister on her desk and pauses briefly to look at it before turning it over and lying it down flat on the desk, so that Fudge could not see her next move. She straightens herself and extends her wand, only to stop when Snape appears by the door, his eyes fixed to her outstretched wand that was pointed directly at Harry.

"You sent for me Headmistress?"

"Snape, yes," she says, taking a step back and everyone in the room exhales, relaxing only slightly. "The time has come for answers, wether he wants to give them to me or not," she says, her eyes flicking to Harry only briefly.

"Might I suggest against the cruciatus curse this time headmistress," he says evenly and carefully, "the consequences of such an audience might be... disagreeable. In fact I would hesitate in conducting any of the prior disciplinary methods in this instance.""

This time? She'd used the cruciatus curse before? And on a student? Prior disciplinary methods? Fred thinks, did he mean the quill?

"Very well," she says after a moment of pondering, her arm falling to her side as she relents, eyes wandering over the all too familiar Quill that sits proudly on her desk before her gaze shifts back to Snape. "Have you brought the veritaserum?"

"I'm afraid you've used up all my stores, the last of it interrogating Miss y/l/n."

Snape carries on speaking but Fred doesn't hear a single word, blood rushing to his ears as his heart pounds. He feels like he's received a stray bludger straight to the chest, his stomach dropping with fresh shame, sadness and overwhelming guilt.

Suddenly it all made sense. She'd tortured you into giving out the information- the cruciatus curse, veritaserum, what else had she done to you?

He couldn't help but let out a dry sob at the information, sensing everyone's eyes on him at the news. He struggled against the holds with everything in him, needing to fix what he'd broken.

He'd believed them, so quickly, believed that you could have betrayed them like that. The pain you must have felt, the loneliness and the guilt and then after your whole ordeal he had cast you aside, pushed you away and never given you a single chance to explain.

He eventually turned to look at George who looked utterly broken by the news, his regretful inner thoughts so evident upon his face. Each member of the DA looked a mixture of guilty, sheepish and sad, realising how wrong they'd been about you and what they'd done to someone who had once been their friend, someone who had suffered so much for all of them.

The meeting seemed to go abhorrently slowly until Umbridge left with Harry and Hermione on a sort of mission based upon a quickly constructed lie and Fred didn't waste a single moment before turning around on the spot and punching Graham Montegue straight in the face as soon as Umbridge had left. Seizing the momentary upper hand, the remaining members of the DA turned on the inquisitorial squad and fired an array of jinxes and spells at them in order to get away.

"Fred, Go!" George had urged whilst stunning Crabbe, allowing Ginny to step free. Malfoy fought back but he was quickly matched by Angelina who covered for Fred, blocking the exit.

"Go, she needs you!" Angelina shouted as she sent a jinx flying towards Cassius Warrington's smug face.

Fred didn't hang about and immediately ran out of the office and towards the common room where he was praying you'd be. It was quiet on the main staircases, perhaps it seemed much quieter because of the lack of portraits and bare walls but even to the few people Fred passed, he offered no explanation nor cared about what they thought. He needed to find you.

"Y/n!" He said bursting through the portrait hole and scanning the common room for you, checking the chair you'd so often occupied but found nothing except a couple of bewildered faces at his strange outburst.

"Y/n?" He called again, walking up the stairs towards the dormitories but received no reply. In his haste, he accidentally misstepped as he climbed up to the girls dorm and nearly triggered the blocking slide to appease but fortunately managed to regain his balance and stress carefully over the path he'd taken so many times before, the secret message in the steps that allowed him to breach the rules.

He threw open your dormitory door and stopped blankly when he found nothing. Your bed looked like it hadn't been slept in, there was hardly any of your things around the bed and the room. Had he come to the wrong room?

"Fred?" Your voice said shyly from behind him and he whipped around to see you looking up at him hesitantly from near the door, holding a few things in your arms and your robe tied tightly around your chest.

"Y/n," he says with a sigh of relief, moving forwards quickly to reach out to you but once again stopping short as he noticed you visibly flinch at his sudden movement. Suddenly the overwhelming agony of guilt and regret hit him anew and he vowed to slow down, hoping not to scare you away.

"I'm so sorry," he said, voice breaking slightly as he looked at your tired, sullen face and those wide, scared eyes. He'd never seen you look so broken and it killed him.

"I didn't, I don't ," he stutters, dropping to sit on the side of your bed. "You haven't been sleeping here have you?"

There's a minor pause and he wonders if you're actually going to reply to him, if he even deserves it, until you step forward and place your things down onto the bedside table. He watches in silence, noting the large book and a few packaged bandages that slip onto the table as you gingerly take a seat beside him, your feet no longer touching the floor.

"Kind of hard to when you're banished by the rest of your dorm," you reply quietly. He can't detect the tone of your voice, expecting it to be sarcastic or unhappy but it actually sounds flat and completely void of emotion.

"The chair," he realises, "you've been sleeping in that chair?" He's slightly bewildered and profoundly ashamed now, not having clicked until now that you'd been there early in a morning and late in the night, much later than you'd ever typically stayed up before. You shrug and turn your attention away, though you're yet to actually meet his eyes.

He drags a deep breath in through his teeth, resisting the urge to hang his head low on his shoulders.

"Y/n, I am so sorry, I, I don't even have words," he says, stumbling over his words- something so uncharacteristic for him that it briefly startles you. "You didn't deserve this, even if you had told Umbridge about us, no one deserves this. We were all so shocked that it could be you, of all people. We never stopped to think of why," he pauses again, steadying himself. "Snape admitted what she did to you, she tried to use it on Harry but he stopped him."

"But the quill was broken? How could she use it on Harry?" You say, finally looking up with a look of complete confusion.

"What quill?" Fred asks, completely lost himself, "the black quills? I meant the cruciatus curse, she, I mean she, on you, didn't she?"

Your silence says everything and he has to close his eyes and steady his breathing at your silent confirmation.

"What quill?" Fred feels a little bolder now and reaches for you but you pull your arm back and place it in your lap, trying not to wince as you catch the healing scars. "This one?"

He holds out his hand and shows you the faint markings from his punishment, 'I must not break rules' barely visible now. He frowns when you shake your head but don't offer any other explanation. He's frustrated that he's not getting anywhere but it's internal and he knows it's not your fault, he just wishes he could help, or go back in time and fix everything.

"Tell me, please," he says, keeping his eyes locked in the side of your face, trying to urge you to look at him. "What happened in that detention?"

"It doesn't matter," you say quickly, hopping down off the bed and stepping over to your trunk to get a fresh shirt from the laundry pile, knowing it would need changing. "I've got to shower."

You go to turn away but Fred lunges for you and grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, making you cry out in pain as soon as his fingers make contact with the tender skin. As soon as the shock wears off, he frowns, looking down at your arm before looking up to your face, seeing tears falling down your cheeks.

"Please baby, please just tell me," he says, voice breaking as his own tears well up in his eyes.

"She told you about the veritaserum?" You ask, assuming anyway and Fred nods. "Then you know what you need to know."

"No, I don't," he says quickly, trying to think of ways to stop you leaving without hurting you. "She used an unforgivable curse on you! Gave you truth serum, you cried when I touched your arm and you have bandages on your bedside table, please just tell me what happened!"

"Fine," you say, pulling your arm back. "You want to know? She tried to force it out of me, tried to get me to drink the stupid tea but I wouldn't. When that didn't work she pulled out that little stupid quill and wrote anything she wanted all over me. You wanted to know about the bandages? Fine," you said viciously, clawing at the fastening of your robe. Underneath was your once crisp, white shirt that had a considerable amount of red blood staining the sleeve. You didn't stop undressing, all but ripping the buttons away as you fought to show Fred what was underneath.

Bandages littered your forearms, with blood oozing out the sides. Fred's frozen as he looks at the bandages on your body, sick to his stomach already.

"Did you know Snape is a skilled occlumens? I didn't, I do now. So after she was playing with that sadistic little quill, writing whatever she wanted into my skin, he enters my mind and shows me every single fear I've ever had, every nightmare. But I didn't say a word, not a single fucking word. Do you know what it's like to have visions forced into your own mind of your boyfriend dying in front of you repeatedly, over and over until you start to go mad? All whilst your skin is slashed open just to get you to talk? Only it didn't work, so she dropped the quill and picked up her wand. I've never felt closer to death in my life but still so far away from it. But I wouldn't talk. So she forced veritaserum in my mouth and I couldn't stop it, she got what she wanted no matter what I'd fought for. And the best part? They don't heal, not truly. Nothing I do stops it, like a constant reminder of what happened."

"Princess," Fred chokes out, tears streaming down his cheeks, fighting to hold back his sobs at your words.

"No, not princess," you say sternly, emotions all falling from your face. "Not anymore."

"Please, I want to make this right, anything I can do, I want to support you," he says, nearly begging. "I have to make this right, I can't lose you."

"No."

Your voice is harsh and stern, your face expressionless again. "You believed them so easily, you all did. You believed I could do that to you, without hesitation. You didn't let me explain, never even looked at me because you were so certain that I could have done it. I've been exiled, banished and forgotten by all of you I called friends without a single thought. So you and your stupid brother and the rest of Dumbledore's friggin army can go fuck yourselves, it's not my fight anymore."

Fred flinches as the door slams shut behind you and he's left to sob openly, his devastation consuming him. Eventually when he returns to his own dorm, George says nothing upon seeing his twin's stricken face and his curtains fully closing around the bed.

The next morning, Fred has already left the dorm by the time George wakes up and doesn't see him at all around the common room or the hall, though he's not surprised. But when he doesn't show to his lessons, George worries and goes in search for his twin with increasing worry. Eventually, he finds him in the library, pouring over an array of books from the restricted section, most of them about healing spells and anatomy.

"Freddie?"

When Fred looks up with red rimmed eyes and an intense look in his eyes, it's clear to George that Fred hadn't slept. "Whatever it is, let me help."

One week. It took one week of endlessly pouring over book after book until they finally found options.

It's early morning on a Saturday when Fred creeps down to the common room was before the sun has risen, seeing you hunched over in your chair. Angelina had told him that they'd apologised profusely to you and had accepted you back with open arms back to the dormitory but you'd simply walked away and carried on sleeping by the fire, not yet willing to forgive them for the treatment you'd endured.

"Y/n, y/n, wake up," he says quietly, carefully touching your shoulder, trying to avoid anywhere that he had seen bandaged.

"Freddie?" You ask sleepily and his heart soars with hope at the noise, the familiarity of it abs the softness of your voice so heartwarming.

"I have something to show you, me and George," he says lightly, waiting for you to wake up.

"Told you both to get fucked," you mumble, squashing any hope he had, but he perseveres.

"Just this once prince-y/n, please," he says quietly. You open your eyes, seeing him still dressed in his pyjamas, pleading with his eyes and looking so vulnerable that you relent and agree to whatever he had planned. Throwing back the blanket, you surprise a groan at the stiffness in your neck and diligently follow him back up the stairs towards his dorm, accepting his hand as he guides you. Your hand fits perfectly into his, just as it always had.

"Where's Lee?" You say as you walk into the dorm room, seeing only George who gives you a small but timid smile.

"Bunking with Ron," Fred says somewhat vaguely, gesturing for you to sit on his bed. The room looks exactly as you remember albeit slightly less dishevelled than you'd experienced previously, but you don't mention anything. Fred takes a seat beside you and George moves forward, grabbing a book from the chair beside his bed.

"We don't know if this will work," George says.

"But it's better than nothing," Fred finishes, gingerly reaching out for your hand.

"What?"

"The wounds," George says gently, "Fred told me, we just want to make them better. Might not get rid of them completely but it's worth a shot."

"Found this in an old healing book, it's a counter curse for wound healing by curse," Fred says, taking the book from George to show you. "Figured Umbridge's quill must have been cursed so this might work. Please let us help."

All it takes is a nod from you, albeit slightly hesitant but truthfully there was no one you trusted more than the twins, before at least.

You could hardly look them in the eyes as you pulled away the bandages, the vile words etched into your skin by her personal sadistic quill. You heard George inhale at the deepest cut along your inner right forearm but didn't react, knowing it would be shocking to anyone.

"Take my hand, if it hurts too much all you have to do is squeeze and we'll stop, okay baby?"

Biting down on your lip to stifle your cries, you hold Fred's hand tightly as George begins to cast the counter-curse, each of you watching on with rapt attention and slight amazement as the cuts begin to slowly knit together. It was working.

You whimper as he works over the deepest, the same one Fred had accidentally caught the week before and Fred's hand squeezes yours automatically for support.

"You're doing so well sweetheart, it'll be over soon I promise," he says quietly in your ear, comforting you in anyway he could.

After the last cut is sealed, George immediately drops down to sit onto his bed, his concentration and energy depleted from focusing so hard. You can't believe it as you look down at your arms, no longer seeing blood and only able to see the faintest of marks and redness where the wounds had once been. Only then do tears begin to fall from your eyes as you launch yourself towards Fred, throwing your arms around him in appreciation. He steadies himself after a moment of being caught off guard and holds you tightly against him, shushing you gently as you cry. His arms wrap around you so perfectly, so protectively and his smell comforts you like to no other, exactly as you remember.

"You did so well, so well, it's okay baby," he coos into your ear. You pull apart slowly and immediately walk over to George, pulling him into a hug though it's a lot less intimate.

"Thank you both so much," you sniffle.

"You're welcome," they answer at the same time, making you smile.

"We've missed you," George says after a moment. "I'm so sorry for what you went through and for what I said. I should have known it wasn't your fault, you've been my best friend for so long and I'm so ashamed of myself for how easily I believed her over you, that should never have happened."

"And you know how sorry I am," Fred says, walking over to you and kneeling down until he's directly in front of you.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I was an idiot for ever thinking it was you. I know things can't ever go back to how they were before, but I love you so much that I can't lose you. Seeing you hurting almost broke me and I know that you might need time or never see me again but you need to know exactly how I still feel about you."

"It's not just you," you say in reply, heaving out a long breathe, "I pushed people away."

"We deserved it," George says.

"Baby," Fred says gently, getting your attention. "I don't know how to fix this or how to make things better, but I'll do anything. I was an idiot, a complete git but I'll spent the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Please say this isn't ruined."

For the first time since the incident, you allow yourself to feel hopeful that things could get better, that Fred could love you again. Sat surrounded by the two people you loved most in the world, you finally felt the love and protection you'd been needing since that awful night.

"I want that," you say quietly, picking at the blanket under your fingers, "I just want things to just go back to normal." You raise your eyes up to Fred's to see him smiling back at you, clearly pleased with your words.

"Well, let's start with this then," he says with a mischievous smirk, leaning towards you painfully slowly as if he's giving you plenty of time to say no or push him away. His soft lips press against yours gently and you can't help but feel a warmth spread all over your body, almost like you were defrosting and returning back to you're usual self. His hand reaches up to cup the side of your jaw and you're certain you can feel a fear hit your cheek, though it doesn't come from you.

The next morning, you walk hand in hand with Fred into the great hall for breakfast and sit right back at the centre of the table with your friends. You assume Fred or George had threatened them not to say anything as everyone around you acts normal, pretending the previous weeks didn't exist, though one by one they all apologised to you, most notably Ron and Harry. Ginny thought you were badass for everything you'd been through, not relenting even though you'd been tortured into eventually revealing the secret. Hermione had apologised so eloquently and thoroughly that you both ended up crying in the common room as she explained about the jinxed parchment and how she'd held out hope that it hadn't been you.

Each person made it up to you in anyway they could, admitting their mistakes and regrets and though you would probably never forget, you chose to forgive.

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[marlynnofmany]

Not A Pest

I kept a hand on the pallet of boxes on the hoversled, making sure it didn't wobble while Blip and Blop pushed it up the ramp. It was all held in place solidly enough by high-tech netting much fancier than the kind we used, and I didn't need to worry much. So when we reached the cargo bay and Zhee called for my assistance back on the ground, I didn't feel bad about leaving the Frillians to finish loading it. They were strong enough to muscle anything into place if needed anyway. 

“What's up?” I asked as I trotted back down the ramp.

“Thought you might weigh in on their pest problem before we go,” Zhee said with a twitch of his antennae towards the clients whose stuff we were delivering. More Frillians today: not as beefy as Blip and Blop, but with waving frills everywhere that just made Zhee look like a praying mantis among flowers. He also looked smug, but that was nothing new. “I mentioned an animal expert, and they mentioned payment,” he told me.

I came to a stop beside him. “You know I don't know everything, right? Just putting that out there. My vet training was on Earth.” 

“Yes yes, I gave them the disclaimers,” Zhee said. 

The client in front, a tall female with colors like a Siamese Fighting Fish, said, “That’s better than anyone on our ship has. Something's getting into boxes in our cargo hold, and we can't find it. Tore into some food and made a mess of the animal fibers.” 

The shorter male behind her in salmon-peach tones held out a lumpy handful of what looked like brown wool. "My guess is it's making a nest somewhere, but it's being wasteful with the stuff too. Tangled it up something fierce."

My response died on my lips as I got a good look at it. Among the stray fibers was the exact shape of a teddy bear. 

“Can I see that?” I asked. 

He handed it over. I plucked off the extra bits and yes, it was definitely meant to be a teddy bear, made by hand from the wool in the cargo hold. There were even little twists for eyes.

I looked up at them. “You don’t have a pest. You have a stowaway.”

They blustered and pooh-poohed the idea: nonsense, how could there possibly be an intelligent creature onboard without their knowledge?

“We’ve been in space a long time,” said the tall one. “Only stopping at uninhabited locations for resources.”

“And at the—” put in the pink one, then stopped at a sharp look from his teammate.

I wasn’t about to let that go. “The what?” I asked.

The tall one sighed. “We salvaged some fuel from a wreck,” she admitted. “But there was no one on it. We checked. And with the tow ship we saw in the distance, it seemed likely enough that the owner had jetted away in a life preserver rather than sticking around. It was a single-person ship.”

Somebody else piped up from between the many crates in their cargo hold. “It couldn’t be a person! There’s nowhere big enough to hide!”

I held up the teddy bear. “This is a child’s toy from my planet.” I looked up at the maze of pipes on the ceiling. “And my people like to climb.”

Zhee was being smug behind me while I made a quick circuit of the room, looking for likely spots. One corner was particularly dark, and it had a series of crates below the pipes, stacked into a perfect ramp. I flashed back to the time a litter of kittens had found a similar hidey-hole on my own ship. This spaceship was made by a different group of aliens altogether, but they never seemed to expect anyone to pay attention to nooks and crannies in the ceiling.

“Hello?” I called, climbing onto the first crate with the wool bear in hand. “Anybody up there?” I continued in every language I knew greetings in, which included the galaxy’s favorite trade language (which I knew well), several minor trade languages (which I did not), and a smattering of languages from Earth (which I knew not at all), plus English. Despite my efforts, I didn’t hear a thing until I got all the way to the top.

“Jambo?” I tried, peering into the dark crevice. “Uh, sprechen sie deutsch?” I held out the wool bear. “Is this yours?”

A quiet gasp echoed off the pipes, then two small arms reached out to grab the bear. With further coaxing, the girl clambered forward to where I could see her: dark skin, wide eyes, artfully braided hair, and clothes that looked fancy, if very dusty. I’m not great at kid ages, but she was young. Old enough to push buttons on her parents’ spaceship maybe, not old enough to steer.

I still didn’t know what language she spoke, but it was hard to go wrong with body language. I held out my arms for a hug. “Want to go home?”

She sniffled and climbed forward into the embrace, clinging tight. That made it a bit of a challenge to get back down to floor level, but I managed. A crowd of Frillians and one smug Mesmer waited there.

“See?” Zhee said to the tall Frillian. “Exactly the animal expert you needed.”

I shook my head in amusement. “For all the wrong reasons, you’re exactly right.” The girl didn’t want to be put down, so I hoisted her onto one hip and stood carefully. “How far away was that crash site? Can you send a message to the planet or station the tow ship came from?”

“Yeah, we’re on it,” the tall Frillian said, her frills flattened in what might have been shame. She directed a couple of the others to do that, and also to gather the fuel they’d scavenged.

Zhee cheered her up with talk of a probable finder’s fee. “Humans get very attached to their offspring,” he said. “There is a strong chance this one’s parents are already advertising a reward.”

While they talked money (and Zhee got our ship that promised fee for pest control), someone with sense arrived with a bottle of water and questions about what food would be suitable.

The girl drank the water eagerly, not letting go of her bear, and didn’t answer any of my questions about food allergies. She accepted some protein cubes and chewed them with determination.

By then, a reply had already come from the nearest space station, and a ship was on the way. Full of authority figures and very anxious parents, by the sounds of it.

While the Frillians discussed that and the little kid quietly refused to be put down, Zhee held up his communicator so I could talk to Captain Sunlight back on our ship. Zhee had already explained the situation.

The captain asked me, “How long do they expect until arrival?”

“I think they said about half an hour,” I said. “Hopefully that won’t put us behind schedule.”

“No, we’ll be fine,” she said. “Given that the young one is so taken with you, we might as well stay to make sure everything gets resolved. Does she need to visit the medical bay?”

“I don’t think so. She hasn’t said anything yet, but she doesn’t look injured. Couldn’t hurt to give her a once-over with the hand scanner just in case. We’ve got time.” I looked down at her thoughtfully, then had a bright idea. “And I bet she’d love to meet Telly. After we check her for allergies, of course.”

The captain agreed that was a fine idea. Zhee took over the conversation while I asked the girl, in a mix of Earth languages and pantomime, if she wanted to see my cat.

Her eyes lit up and she started talking in a spill of words that I didn’t catch in the slightest. Spanish, maybe French? Portuguese? Ah, it didn’t matter. The language of kitty ears and “meow meow” is almost as universally recognized as hugs. We walked from one ship to another, and waited for her parents in the company of a medical scanner, human food, and a very friendly cat.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[dandylovesturtles]

just a little A Team hurt/comfort

------

Raph knocked over some moving boxes during their last shouting match - he spares them a guilty glance as he walks past. Someone has tried to clean up the mess (Mikey, most likely), but he can still tell that they were recently upended and their contents left scattered on the ground.

He knows this is why they told him to go get Leo for breakfast. They want this to be a peace offering. Raph would like for it to be a peace offering, too, but...

Well, it's not like he likes fighting with Leo. Things are just... complicated.

He makes it to Leo's train car, and takes a deep breath before pulling the curtain back. He can do this. One civil interaction.

Leo's already awake, scrolling through his phone. That's in his favor - Leo's always grumpy if you wake him up. At least this way, Raph doesn't have to.

"Hey Leo," he says, and his brother flicks his eyes up from the phone screen. "Breakfast in five. Mikey made waffles."

"Oh, sweet," says Leo. He grins, but even Raph can tell it's forced. "I'll be there in a sec - just checkin' the socials."

And for a moment, Raph almost says something; says that he's sorry, and he takes back everything he said, and Leo should just forget about it, not worry about it, he doesn't want to fight anymore and this is stupid-

And then he thinks about Karai, and the Shredder, and their dad, and the far too close call they had to losing each other, New York, the whole world-

And he thinks about Leo skipping training to go skateboarding, Leo showing up late to patrol with a quip and laugh, Leo charging into fights without so much as a word to the rest of them, Leo who can't take anything seriously-

And it dies in his mouth. He says instead, "Yeah, sure. Just get there before it gets cold."

He turns to leave, but before he can, Leo calls out, "Hey, Raph?"

Raph only half turns, looking over his shoulder at Leo. Wondering if, maybe, Leo is going to try to say something instead. Wondering if he finally gets it, or if they're going to start fighting before breakfast.

Maybe Leo is running the same calculations. Raph is sure he is, actually, because Leo's brain twists over words the way Donnie's twists over physics.

So he must come to the same conclusion, because he doesn't say anything about the fight, or training, or his responsibilities, or any of it. What he says is, "Love you, big bro."

And Raph's heart drops into his stomach.

-----

Leo's always been looser with those words than any of the rest of them. Been that way since they were little, and Splinter kept them in the same part of the sewer, sleeping on pallet beds with whatever pillows and sheets he managed to find in the dump.

"Goodnight, Daddy. I love you," said Leo. "Goodnight Raphie, I love you. Goodnight, Donnie..."

The ritual was long - Leo always used three times as many words as other people. Sometimes Splinter would say, "Yes, yes, Blue, now let your brothers sleep." Sometimes Raph would say, "Hurry it up, Leo." Sometimes Donnie would hide his head under his pillow, or smack that same pillow over Leo's face.

Nowadays, Raph misses that: the sincerely sweet way Leo wanted them all to know he loved them.

As he grew older, Leo began using those words more flippantly. "I love you, but" became one of his stock phrases, a way to soften the blow of criticism. "Come on, you know I love you," said to ward off any retaliation after a prank or insult. "Love ya, bye!" rushed out at the end of one of their rare phone calls, a signal he didn't want to talk anymore.

But every now and then, Raph still got the sincere version. When he brought Leo tea the morning after a bad bout of insomnia. When Leo fussed over an injury, gently winding bandages around his arm or leg. When Leo was sleepy after a long Lou Jitsu marathon, and he reverted to the old ritual as Raph tucked him into bed: "Goodnight, I love you."

The "love you" Leo says to him now, in his room, before breakfast, with the mess of their last big fight barely cleaned up, is none of those.

The "love you" Leo says now is a question.

He doesn't pronounce it like a question. There's no upward lilt to his voice. He doesn't end it by asking if Raph knows. But Raph can still hear it, buried deep in Leo's tone: he's not sure. About loving Raph? About being loved? About what there still is between them?

Raph loves Leo. He loves him so much it aches. It's why he knocked the box over. It's why he wants to knock another ten boxes over. It's why he just needs Leo to understand, to hear him, to see what he sees when he closes his eyes and sees Karai, and the Shredder, and their family almost-

But here they are. With Leo saying "love you" like it's a question and Raph doesn't know the right answer.

"Yeah," he says. "Breakfast in five," he says.

He doesn't know the right answer but he does know that wasn't it.

He leaves Leo in his room, and goes back to his own. Puts his face in his hands. He sees Karai.

He knocks another box over.

-----

Leo's hand is a tiny thing in his. It's also, maybe, the only part of his body that isn't broken. Not like his legs, his arms, his shell, his jaw, his neck-

Raph can't look at his neck. The bruise there makes him want to throw up.

Leo's been out of critical condition for almost two full days. It hasn't made any of them less on edge, and they still spend most of their time crowded in the med bay, watching Leo's chest like it will stop rising the moment they turn their backs.

But Leo's heart doesn't stop, and he breathes in and out, and Raph holds his hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb.

He'd wanted Leo to understand.

He hadn't wanted this to be how Leo learned.

When he closes his eyes now he sees Leo right next to Karai, and he has to touch Leo again, to make sure he's still really there.

Movement from the bed, and a soft noise. Raph's gaze trails up from Leo's hand to his eyes, open but heavy lidded, clouded with a haze of exhaustion and medicine.

"Hey, Leo," he says, trying to keep his tone upbeat despite it all. "You're home; you're safe."

"Mm," hums Leo, still sleepy. He twists the hand that Raph's holding, adjusting his grip so it's wrapped around Raph's thumb. He strokes at Raph the way Raph had just been doing for him, and Raph feels tears sting his eyes.

"Love you, Raphie," says Leo, and this time, there's not a hint of uncertainty.

Raph's heart lurches again. Whatever answer Leo had been looking for last time, he must have found it.

But.

Raph doesn't plan to leave anything to chance. Not anymore.

"Love you too, Leo." He leans in, press his forehead to the top of Leo's head. "I love you, too."

Leo makes a pleased noise, low in his throat. He's already sinking back into sleep, his grip on Raph's hand growing loose. His breaths are still steady and even, heart beating strong, the look on his face peaceful.

"Goodnight, Leo," says Raph. "I love you."

[herecomethatboi]

Dbd killers x gn!reader pt. 3

Part 3 of mc getting slammed against the wall lol

Guys I need more, feel free to send me any kind of request (nsfw abc, sfw abc, more parts for this silly series etc)you have and i'll gladly write them all :D (when my final exams are finally over hahaha)

Also, I was drunk when I wrote this and I trust drunk-me with writing. He's better at writing than sober-me, so here's an unedited "masterpiece"!

ENJOYYYY 🩷🩷

The Mastermind:

At the start of the match you saw the gray metal box right next to you and knew exactly who you were up against.

You weren't thrilled at all, Wesker or "Mastermind" -as the Entity called him- was such a try hard with his skillful dashes, that you sometimes questioned if he actually was just doing it since "it's better strategy" and not for the fact he enjoys doing stunts like that.

You sighed as you rummaged around the other normal chest you found -since you forgot to equip an item- and found a flashlight, which was perfect.

Then, you heard his little chuckle Wesker does, before he dashes and was swept up immedietly and thrown quite far away.

You groaned at the impact, but got up and ran, the killer close on your tail.

Just in time, you found a pallet and smacked it on top of his head, flashed the flashlight into his face -which usually angers him a lot- and then ran more.

This back and forth between you two continued, and three gens already popped, which you were glad about.

But, alas, your confidence came back to bite you in the ass.

Wesker caught you again, slammed you against the shack, and just kept you there, while he grinned.

"Caught you now." The killer was so so close, your lips almost touched.

He was amused in his own twisted way. An ordinary human made him run so much, but in the end, was caught easily.

"Gonna hook me now?" You squeked out, your throat was held tight with the uwuburos, making breathing difficult.

Awh, you're adorable. A little mouse, if you will. Wesker knew the Entity's rules, but eventually, he will have his fun with you.

Another gen popped.

"Oh no, i'm keeping you here." He said, gave you a little peck on the lips, just to confuse you even further. Nootherreasonwhatareyoutalkingabout.

Then stepped away, but the virus stayed, locking you against the wall. "Your performance was above average. Congratulations." He bowed. "You gained the tiniest respect from me."

He left with a smirk. You tried to claw away the black thing that just didn't seem budge or tear away. So, you gave up. You looked up into the fake dark sky, thinking...

What the Hell did you get into.

The Nightmare (Freddy Krueger):

The dream realm was a tricky thing to navigate in. You sometimes were weirded out by the bloodpools that scared the living shit out of you, when you accidently stepped into them.

Today, there were no generators. Which made you uneasy. What the heck is going on?

You walked into the main building and tried to listen.

Then, the laugh. That annoying, weird, freaky laugh Freddy made, then you were in the dream realm. You looked around, like a deer in headlight. Trying to listen in on the killer.

"What the Hell is going on?" You asked out loud. You turned around and there he was, leaning against a generator that was NOT there a second ago.

"A new game." He simply amswered with a grin. Freddy seemed too happy. "A little gift from the Entity to me."

"Okay, but wha-"

"Shhh shhh shhh let me finish."

"Sorry."

"Khm. So, easy," he leaned away from the gen and stepped toward you, "you find the fake generator, and you win a price!" His grin told you there was a twist.

"If I don't?"

"... you'll know." He said with a childish innocence. "Good luck!" Then he disappeared.

Great.

After God knows how long, you finally found the fake generator. Which made it bleed, just like in normal trials, and Freddy appeared.

"Now, that wasn't that difficult, was it?"

"What the Hell is your game, Freddy?"

"Making out with you."

"What??" Before your shock truely registered, you were up against the bloody generator with him kissing you roughly.

You tried to push against him, but there was no use, of course there wasn't, you mentally rolled your eyes.

So, you just let it happen.

The kiss wasn't... Bad. You sadly had to admit.

Freddy held you surprisingly gently by the waist and neck. But his kiss was bruising and he did bite your lower lip more than once.

You started to actually kiss back and held his waist in one hand, while the other was on his shoulder.

Why were you kissing back? What the Hell is wrong with you? You don't know, but it feels... Right?

Then, you woke up wide eyed. You blinked a thousand times and just stared above you. The roof of your tent cleared up from the blurry image it was. Then you just... Licked you lip, feeling it was dry and had a smoky taste.

WHAT. THE. HELL????

[randomarttalent]

Pie's family redesigns + Family tree

Original posts, info and links down below

Maud "Slate" Pie + Mudbriar "Walnut"

Maud "Slate" Pie I've kept Maud mostly the same all over, her pallet and color scheme are already good in my taste. She now has spots to match Pinkie but also as a hint to her special talent, as I wanted it to look like an opened geode. I didn't like that her cutie mark was only just a rock, it didn't say a single thing about her special talent. Now it says a bit more, showing off that she can find true beauty under what others might just see as a rock.

She wears her normal dress, as I didn't see a reason to change it. I've however added a small bracelet, which has different beads, to represent her sisters. As she might not show or say it much but she loves them all dearly.

Mudbriar "Walnut" I've darkened his pallet a little, more so his overall design didn't end up too light or dark. I've given him cloven hooves and a long tail, as I see him from a family of mixed unicorn and earth ponies. His markings are like branches/roots of trees, showing his connection to the trees. Same story for his cutie mark as Maud's, it was too simple for what his special talent is. So I've added a book but it's standing by its opening, as a small hint to tents, as he travels to examine trees, learning about as many as he can and writing it down for others to read.

Mudbriar now wears a travel backpack, which is for his travels. He doesn't wear much else, as he doesn't see the need to.

Gilda "Glory" + "Shady" Limestone Pie

Gilda"Glory" I've darkened her whole pallet and added some markings. As she's a mountain lion + tiger in this AU. Her design hasn't been changed much, I've added some jewelry but not much else.

"Shady"Limestone Pie Limestone's pallet is mostly the same, its his patterns that darken his look. Lime is trans in my AU, as his anger issues were caused by him not feeling whole/as he should be. His cutie mark has been changed to a broken opened geode, with lime-green stone, which resembles a lime.

He has a few pricings and wears a his band's t-shirt, which says ROAD KILL, Gilda also has one but she mostly wears it to his concerts, showing her support.

 Trouble Shoes + Marble "Droplet" Pie

Trouble Shoes I've made Trouble Shoes slightly darker and added a few lighter strips to his mane and tail. He also now has a beard, which to those who don't know him, makes him look even more scary than before. For his cutie mark I wanted something more than just "bad luck". He of course still struggled to find out what he was meant to do, as he thought the clown nose and wig was some cruel joke the world did to him.

As for his clothing, I went with a nice jacket, kept his hat and his weeding ring.

Marble"Droplet"Pie Marble's pallet has mostly stayed the same, only receiving slight changes and the usual markings that come along with my redesigns. Her cutie mark now shows off how well she makes jewelry with the beautiful gems they find in Appleloosa. To me, her cutie mark never told a single thing about what she was to do, it said marble but what else? So now, she's a crystal collector and seller.

The clothing she wears is a simple shawl, her weeding ring, a few earrings, a few flowers from her middle oldest son, a sun anklet to represent her oldest son and a small bat wing hair tie to represent her youngest son. 

[short-honey-badger]

I was wondering if you could write a fanfic about Law and Y/n, maybe about Y/N wearing a flavor lipgloss and Law pretends not to like it!

Also love your work! Have a good day!

Hi Anon! I loved your request. I hope I did it justice! ❤️

Masterlist

Law hates it and adores it when you wear your flavored lip gloss. You had a variety of flavors, but his favorite had to be the strawberry flavor. He'd watched you pucker your lips and smear the shiny gloss along them this morning and had made a quick retreat. He didn't need that temptation first thing in the morning.

However, where ever Law went, you seemed to be right by his side, those shiny lips on display and tempting him to pull you in a dark corner and kiss you silly. He ran away each time, a scowl on his face, and not noticing how down each encounter left his girlfriend.

It isn't until the end of the day that Trafalgar picks up on your mood. He catches you reapplying your gloss, your tongue sweeping over your lips, and then the sad sigh that leaves your lungs. Law curls an arm around your waist and presses his lips to the side of your head.

"What's wrong, baby?" He asks softly and smiles when you relax against his chest, then tucks you closer.

"You've run away from me all day, Law," you grumble tightly, shiny lips drawn up in a pout. His heart breaks when you turn it on him, and his eyes linger on your lips.

"Thought you were upset with me."

Law shakes his head and hugs you close, his lips pressed against your brow, feeling guilty for being such a coward over lip gloss of all things.

"I'm not mad, baby. You're just too tempting when you wear those flavored glosses you like so much," Law murmurs against your flushing skin and presses kiss down your cheeks until he reaches your lips.

The taste of strawberry bursts across his pallet when you open up for him, and Law hums in delight. He pulls away all too soon, though he can't help himself but kiss you again.

"I wouldn't be able to get any work done if I couldn't stop kissing you, sweetheart."

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.4

a/n: a short conclusion for the last chapter, before i finish a more story-heavy one, deeply inspired by "Two Against One" by Jack White

Warnings: Masturbation (again, wow), Explicit Language, Alcohol Use, Very Creepy Behavior, Plus Sized Reader, Inappropriate Relations With A Marble Wall, Suggestive Themes

Summary: Both you and Homelander get increasingly confused about what you truly are. None come out unscathed.

Pt. 1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.5

The vulnerability of drunkenness looks good on you. 

At first, you're none the wiser. As your limbs uncurl from around Homelander, your feet hitting the polished floor of his penthouse. Stomach flipping around, you fight with all your strength not to fall to your knees, as the shock of being shot out through the air slowly subsides. Homelander starts pacing around the living area, an excitable spring in his steps, as he makes his way towards the rather well-stocked liquor cabinet. Were you more vigilant, perhaps you would've read this action for what it truly was, but as it stands, the realization is postponed for a few seconds more. 

Glasses clink somewhere behind you, but you're too focused on steadying your breathing to notice. Your vision is swimming, the blurred outline of a gigantic American flag, hanged on the wall in front of you, makes you want to jump out that stupid window. The repetitive pattern twists your brain around.

- Ugh... Jesus - you throw the offending piece of cloth a withering look.

- If you're going to be sick, do it in the bathroom - Homelander barks, keeping himself out of your field of vision. 

- I'll be fine, don't wo... - okay, you cut yourself off because maybe you're not fine after all. 

A second passes, as you try to identify, if the feeling inside your chest is an omen of oncoming vomit. 

No, it's good, you're okay. 

Your eyelids are so incredibly heavy, it almost feels like your lashes are tangling together every time you blink, trying to force your eyes to stay closed. There's this strange taste in your mouth, a ghost of drinks past, mixed with some other, much more worrying substances you've enthusiastically consumed, and you smack your tongue against your pallet, running it over your teeth, as if to test if they're all set in place. Adrenaline gathers at the tips of your fingertips, and you shake your hands with a frown, fighting to rid yourself of this energy. Instead of helping, it only serves to make your stomach churn harder.

Traumatic experiences, such as being flown through the air at ungodly speed, should technically sober you up, but right now you feel like you've been funneling alcohol through a tube the entire night. Not entirely untrue, but you've never been a lightweight, so this sudden change of pace surprises and worries you. And there's one more thing. As your hands flail at your sides, checking your bearings, a sudden wave of realization hits you like a truck. 

Your bag. You forgot your bag at the party, and as such, your phone is lost too. Which wouldn't be so bad, if you didn't have the combination for the door of your room in the Tower saved in the notes. Your head starts to hurt, eyes closing shut, as you try to will the numbers into your brain. They were funny, you made them into a joke, you just don't remember which one. 

- Fuck... - you sigh, scratching at the back of your neck, where your sweat is rapidly cooling in the conditioned air of the penthouse. 

Which was it? Four numbers, significant ones. You chuckled to yourself when you first typed them into the lock, but it's so hard to focus on anything other than staying upright.

- You okay there? - Homelander asks, and suddenly you're reminded that he's still here, with you.

Alone. 

It's not dread that climbs up your spine at the realization, not excitement either. What you feel, clawing its way through your insides like a feral beast, is a profound sense of acceptance. Blue and red invade your vision, as he moves to stand in front of you, pushing a chilled glass filled with amber liquid into your hand. On instinct, your fingers curl around it, but you can't seem to raise it to your lips, wondering, if this move will signal your defeat. His chest rises and falls evenly, as he stands so close to you, you can practically feel the heat coming off of him, along with that rich cologne, that surrounds you from every angle. 

There's a geometric pattern all over the blue parts of his costume, and your eyes fight against its movements in front of you. The padding on his chest and stomach is truly ridiculous, even in your sorry state you can realize the unnatural movements of his fake muscles over his skin. Really, you can't be the only person that's noticed this. 

- I forgot my phone from the party - your voice is so quiet, weak, and you can't seem to pinpoint, if it's Smirnoff's or Fireball's - I don't...

- I know - he interrupts you, inclining his head as if he's trying to entice you to look at him - You left it on a chair in the kitchen. 

You don't give yourself the luxury of confusion, because you should've known. You should've figured it out, the moment he fell from the sky, catching the vulnerability of the moment, and crushing it in his teeth. Of course, he was looking, listening in as well, most likely. Wouldn't be the first time, would it? Who else would've known to leak the contract information, mere hours after you've complained to your friend over the phone, by an open window no less? There's no allowance of betrayal for you, you knew from the start, and yet you've allowed yourself to be put in this situation. You placed your own hand into the maw of the lion, and now you're supposed to expect him not to snap his teeth?

 His hand comes up into your field of vision, those red, leather gloves creaking, as they wrap around your fingers holding the glass. You don't resist, when he guides your hand up, towards your lips, tips the glass against them, until the bitter liquid pours into your mouth, past your teeth. 

- Very good - he murmurs with a patronizing tone, watching your throat work, as you swallow around the burning sensation - Take it all in, champ.

And you do. You down the drink, until there's nothing left. His hand retreats, and your fingers relax, letting the glass fall onto the plush carpet. You need to lock Smirnoff, stuff her back into that box, hidden from sight, before anything progresses. But she just won't let go. She claws her way into your brain, screaming at you to do something, anything, before it's too late. 

This isn't you. You're not here. 

The familiar mantra falls short, as Homelander slowly starts to take off his gloves, one finger at a time. His hands are strong, pale, with slender fingers, that curl and uncurl around air, as if testing the tendons working under his skin. Your eyes glide over the movements, heart stopping for just a moment, when he holds out his right hand in front of your chest, just shy of touching. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you watch, as his fingers tremble with tension. He wants you to feel it, the anticipation of the inevitable. He wants you to break, he's only ever wanted a reaction out of you.

- Please, I don't... - your voice cracks like a window. 

You don't what? Want it? You're convinced there are no words in the world, that would stop him right now, and the muscles in your face twitch. The American flag behind his shoulder stares at you, the stripes suddenly becoming a flurry of motion, as he pushes his hand against your chest. You don't fight it, letting him guide you all the way across the room, until your back reaches the wall, slamming into it with a dull thud. Despite that, the unrelenting force behind his movements makes you acutely aware of his true strength, the sheer lack of humanity inside this man in front of you. 

As soon as you're pressed against the wall, Homelander lurches forwards, his arms encircling your form completely, his face diving into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your entire body sways in place, as he takes a long, shuddering breath, his palms mapping the softness of your flesh under the flimsy t-shirt. Cotton tears under his ministrations, and cold air hits your back, your sides. A deep, low hum reverberated through his chest, as he exhales, immediately sucking in another breath through gritted teeth. 

- You... - he huffs, his exposed hands fitting themselves under the tears in your shirt - I've never known something so cheap could smell so good.  

There's a jolt of something, running through his body, as his hips press into you with barely restrained force. He'd fit nicely between your pliable thighs, but not now, not ever. The hardness digging into your stomach finally solidifies, what you dreaded would come.

- We can't - you don't recognize your voice. 

This isn't you. You're not here. 

But Fireball is not here either, so what is this third, strange person, who raises their hands and pushes against his chest, against the metal eagles on his shoulders? The flag still watches you struggle, those impassive stars mocking you at every turn. Truly, the American Dream come true, being humped like a dog by the strongest, most Yankee Doodle Dandy superhero to ever exist. This is exactly, what your parents were chasing, when they moved to the States, searching for a better future for their soon-to-be-born little girl. Will he stick a flag pole in your cunt, and sing the fucking National Anthem, after he's done using you? The thought almost makes you laugh, makes you remember the combination to your room, but all dark amusement flies out the still open window, because suddenly, his arms straighten out. 

He pins you to the wall, pulling back all the way, so he can stare at you with those cold, dead eyes, full of freedom for his own, heinous actions, and none left for you. There's tension in his face, as his lips press together into a condescending, tight smile, and his fingers flex on your shoulders, testing the durability of the stitches of your t-shirt once again. 

- Can't? - there's a tilt to his voice, a barely contained sliver of anger seeping through his teeth - I'm the fucking Homelander. I can do whatever I want. 

Ah, so that's what you're dealing with.

 The box rattles, the lock you've so carefully placed upon it bursting open like a cracked egg. And as Smirnoff takes her rightful place, scraping both Fireball and that elusive third thing from the surface of your brain, you look up at Homelander with utter understanding. What stands in front of you, is not a symbol of hope and peace. You're looking at a spoiled, invincible brat, who's never had to work for anything in his life. 

This is you. You're here. And you're so fucking disappointed.

Once again, you shape-shift right in front of his eyes, and with a shuddered breath Homelander realizes, that finally, he's looking at the real you. Not the bored, wreck of a human being he's met weeks ago, not the corporate product Stillwell has carved out of you, but a secret, third thing. An intoxicating cocktail of your true, hidden feelings floats to the surface, from underneath layers upon layers of masks, and he wishes to tear every single one, if it means you'll keep looking at him like that. Like you know him, like you can see behind the curtain of his performance, just as he sees behind yours. It's been such a long time, since someone made this discovery, and remained impassive.

When he thinks about it, this is the first time, he's met with such levelled response. And, fuck, the thought is better than drugs. The ghost of your scent tickles his nostrils, and he wonders what would stick to his tongue, should he taste you right now. Not fear, not desire, definitely not admiration. The expression you're wearing is eerily familiar, but so strange at the same time. Stitches at your shoulders tear under his fingertips, when he squeezes harder, hoping to extract the answer from your skin, from the softness of your flesh, the caverns of your bones. 

You don't even give him the luxury of a flinch.

- Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

Who said those words, you're both unsure, but they shoot through him like thousands of spikes, drilling themselves under his impenetrable skin with ease. He blinks, and finally realizes the familiarity of your gaze. He's seen it, back in that lab, back home. Disappointment. And with that realization comes a myriad of familiar feelings, of patterns he's been continuing over, and over again, like a compulsion he's unable to rid himself of. The need to be feared, respected, loved, it all mixes with one more, treacherous thing. Make it right, make it better. 

Slowly, his fingers uncurl from around your shoulders, the t-shirt hanging onto your frame on a couple of strings alone. Surely, he'll regret this sooner, rather than later, but for now, he lets you go. Homelander takes a step back, his eyes unfocused behind a dazed cloud, as he regards you with scrunched eyebrows. It's evident, by the way his breathing quickens, the way his movements are tense, still ready to pounce. The desire to tear, to get what he wants is strong as ever, and the darkness in his eyes should be terrifying. Would be terrifying, if you were anyone, but yourself. 

And still, there's nothing. Your hearbeat is steady, your breathing even, your blood lacks any familiar chemicals, which would indicate your dishevelled state. It's as if you're looking at his through the windows of a passing bus, like he's a fucking traffic sign stuck into concrete. Insignificant, a piece of the landscape no one thinks twice about. But then, before he has the chance to get offended, you shift again, knocking him off his rythm once more. 

When did your eyes start to sparkle like that, he's none the wiser, but he drinks up the sight like a man parched, his mouth opening just a little, tasting the air of you on his tongue. The ghost of a smile on your lips might as well be a trick of the light, but he wants to believe otherwise, and as you take a step closer to him, pushing yourself off the wall, his heart stops for a millisecond. 

- Thank you - you whisper, your breath hanging in the space between the two of you - For saving me.

He blinks. And then, you're gone, leaving his penthouse like nothing has happened, like this is exactly how the night was supposed to end. The click of the door behind you sounds so distant to his ears, as if he's being held under water, and he's left standing rigid, staring at the empty space on the wall, where your body pressed into just seconds ago. A myriad of emotions swirls within him, one darker than the other, and as if pushed by some invisible force, he approaches the wall, closing his eyes with a shudder. Images of you, your body, the softness underneath his fingertips, flood his mind, and one question still fights for an answer in his mind. He needs to know, needs to feel something, lest he follows right behind you and forces the solution right out of your lips. 

Your scent lingers long after you've left, and with the concentration of a mad scientist, he places his cheek against the cold marble, where your shoulder was mounted. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, and with a groan of unresolved tension, Homelander lets his tongue slip from between his teeth, laying flat on the polished surface. He licks a long stripe across, from one imaginary shoulder to the other, and can almost feel the ghost of you under each taste bud. 

Why did he let you go? What sort of a spell did you put on him, that he let you slip past his fingers, while he's still here, burning up with need? 

His hand tugs at the belt buckle, until it snaps off completely, clattering to the floor. Saliva smears down the surface of the wall, as he yanks down the lower part of his suit, immediately starting to hump his hand like a wild animal, mind clouded with what he wants, but can't seem to take. The marble wall steals the boiling heat right out of his body, and he presses harder against the unrelenting surface, fucking into his hand with reckless abandon. Words leave his lips in a messy jumble, nonsensical and broken. His eyes sting under his eyelids, and as he feels his peak come closer and closer, the heat inside his head becomes unbearable. 

With a frustrated, wanton growl, he comes hard all over the wall, his eyes snapping open, letting the deadly light out in full force. It collides with the marble, burning into it with ease for just a second, before he blinks it away, his body shaking from the intensity of his release. Pieces of rubble fall to the ground at his feet, dust covering the red leather of his boots. He's outgrown shame a long time ago, and with lips pursed in deep thought, he examines the demage he's done while lost in the moment. Placing his forehead right at the edge of the hole in the wall, he gathers his release on the tips of his fingers, pressing it further into the cracks in the marble.

This might be a bit harder to explain in the morning, he thinks to himslef with a huff of laughter. But, out of all the things he could've done, he guesses Stillwell would be happier to call for a renovation team, than have to explain to the higher-ups, and later the world, what happened to that bright-eyed Sidekick of his. 

A small mercy. A present, if you will, for both you and her. He shakes his head, finally stepping away from the destroyed wall. After all, it wasn't any spell, any sort of influence that made him let you flee back to the supposed safety of your room. It was his benevolence.

 Of course. He's the hero after all.  

[meowordeath]

Howdy! Is it alright if I ask for you to make a continuation of the “Characters reacting to reader’s clothing ripping”? And possibly with Edgar Valden, Mike Morton and whatever others you’d like?

Identity V characters reacting to their s/o clothes getting ripped! part 2 :3

w/ Edgar Valden & Mike Morton !

A/N : I really hope I didn’t write them too ooc, also sorry this took forever.

content warnings - sfw, mentions of blood, Bane, Violetta, fluff

Edgar Valden

You had been kiting for most of the match trying your best to keep the hunter, who is bane, away from Helena. You were provoke emoting at him which was just angering him.

If Bane could talk you don’t even want to guess what he’d say. “Surprised even with all those traps you still can’t catch me!” You provoke, he grunts angrily at you swiping his hook.

Using your sprint you duck behind a pallet. right behind that Edgar was there pallet stunning him, getting his face in the process.

“How unsightly, a rouge animal.” Edgar says to Bane as he begins painting his face. You and Edgar kite side by side a moment.

“Shouldn’t you be decoding?” You ask pulling him out of the way of Banes hook. “You came to my cipher.” He says bluntly as he finishes his painting.

He quickly placed it down. “Since you don’t want my assistance i’ll go decode.” He feins a somber tone as he rushes off.

Finally after letting 4 ciphers pop and putting trap quite literally everywhere, Bane downed you. He picked you up angrily and slamming you down into the chair.

When he slammed down the harness carelessly, not listening as you curse at him in pain.

“Cipher Machine Primed!” Helena’s voice could heard shouting out. Edgar was sprinting towards you, narrowly missing Bane’s hook.

And when he went to pulled up on the harness it didn’t lift up as usual. “It’s stuck..!” He says struggling against with the harness.

Your top had gotten enclosed when Bane carelessly chaired you, with one final tug Edgar got it up. It tore your shirt, nothing inappropriate was exposed thankfully.

Before Edgar could apologize Banes hook, which usually latched onto your clothes bit into you ripping your skin.

He downed you again. The cipher quickly popped, you get back up running away. Edgar put down his final painting escaping from Bane’s view with you.

You could hear banes angry growl. crouched down beside a wall Edgar look at your bleeding wound. “I’m sorry.. if only I had been more careful, his hook wouldn’t have taken a chunk of your skin like that.” He sounded so remorseful.

“It’s not your fault, the costumes they give out aren’t great quality anyways..!” You comfort him patting his hand.

“Hey on the bright side at least you didn’t expose me in any type of way.” You joke, he laughed lightly. “If I had don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let that animal see you.” And you believed that, especially with his loving gaze.

Mike Morton

Mike begged you to watch him practice some tricks outside, you really didn't want to since the last time you had watch him practice you had been hit in the face with one of his muddy bombs.

“Please, please, please, please” He says following you around hands clasped. He’d been saying it nonstop it was starting to not sound like a real word.

You turn around hands slamming down on his shoulders. “Mike, my dear Mike.” You say with a slight twitch in your eye.

He did bother listening to your refusal. “My dearest s/o, please come see this cool trick I've been practicing!” He said with a grin.

Mike was tugging you toward an empty room, which he had the help of Marg to turn into a practice room. “Now the thing about this cool and totally awesome trick is I need a partner” He gave you a smile.

“No way, your gonna have to find someone else to do it. I don't have a flexible bone in my body” You say trying to escape.

He quickly wrapped himself around you, quite literally koala attaching himself to you. “No wait, please! I tried practicing with Marg but I thought my performance would be better if it was with my sweet, handsome, beautiful, stunning-”

“Buttering me up isn’t gonna be enough to convince me, to allow you, to throw me around.” You push against him but it was like he was glued to you.

He just whined like a child, begging you. “Fine, one trick!” Too tired to argue against him you give in. Mike lets out a cheer, untangling his limbs from you.

“You have to get into some different clothes though” He turns to grab something, before holding out a similar acrobatic spandex outfit to his own. “Look we’ll have matching costumes!”

You sigh, taking the outfit going to change into it. “I have no Idea how you wear your acrobat costume in matches, it is tight in all the wrong places”

“Well I’ve been doing acrobatics for years now so I'm used to it. Now come on I’ll walk you through it, step by step, don’t worry!” He grins hands on your waist.

He did keep to his word walking you slowly through each move. It was easy to understand, still didn’t make your body any more flexible.

When it came to do the trick in real time you had messed up and Mike's hand placement in the wrong place.

In attempt to stop you from falling on your head Mike gripped tightly onto the tight spandex material. A tear sound echoed around the room as well as the sound of you also hitting the floor.

Mike quickly covered his eyes standing frozen holding like half the costume. "I swear I didn't see anything!" He still has his hand over his eyes, and a bright red blush on his face.

You give a weak glare up at him. "I am never doing acrobatics with you again Mike." He just nods still covering his red face.

I honestly am not very happy with Mikes but I tired. This isn't proofread

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

Hii!

Could you do more nefero and F!Reader?

Hallo! yes ofc love these two

Male nefera x fem! Reader

She/her

Using [Name] as substitute for y/n

Fluff/Simp Nefero/sensual insinuations (hope that's alright it's not that strong but it implied they sleep together)

Headcanons! ( I liked the headcanon I made for clawdeen x reader requests so I'm making it for this couple. I hope you like it!!)

This is the present 18/19 pair (guess who's older hehe)

(If it's not what you wanted and you wanted just Fluff headcanon or short fluffy story,please request it again with a promt that can help me and I'll write the fluffy story for you, I don't like the thought that it's not what you wanted and I like to correct if the sensual insinuations made you uncomfortable )

(I'll only make changes if anyone just wanted Fluff and didnt seem to specify, only time I'll change something but you'll have to request again)

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-Nefero is the type of boyfriend to buy you anything you tell him you want but it's not In a "buy me this that i told you" it's a "i'm thinking about buying this book/eyeshadow palette"t and you want his opinion and a day later he's got it for you

"Nefie you really didn't have to-" you were interrupted "Nonese my jewel I wanted too plus I have to say that this pallet will look amazing with your makeup"

- he loves to be chest to chest with you hugging, seeing your gorgeous face/eyes and soft lip gloss covered lips makes him go crazy, so he'll end up kissing you and your neck while you giggle and put your hands through his hair sometimes tugging at the root cause that makes him melt.

- cuddling you is his hobby, you as the little spoon as he holds your waist his head in the crock of your neck inhaling your vanilla perfume, his hands will then go to your hip dips and he'll just have them there squeezing them at times while your busy playing a silly phone game.

"Yeah Nefie?" You ask "Nothing my jewel just wanted to squish you hehe" he giggles his voice vibrating at the back of your neck making you blush cause wow is he fine especially with his morning voice! Just thinking about it makes you melt

-speaking of squeezing your hip dips he'll squeeze them if your sitting on his lap facing him while you prep his face with kisses or when watching drama shows you turned around, he love your thighs looking at them, sitting on the floor in between them and if your wearing shorts he'll kiss the inner part of your thighs, he knows it's one of your favorite things you let him do.

-Nefero always goes with what you want and wants him to do with you. He's your personal sugar daddy but he's your actual boyfriend that NEEDS to spoil you rotten but you always stay humble.

-bless the undead soul of any manster that tries to flirt with you. He's towering over them like it's nobody's business. The same goes for you to any ghoul you are also tall so you can bring a ghoul down especially with your glare. It's not like they can steal him from you he's practically one step closer to tattooing your hickeys you give him

-he'll take you on dates every Saturday night to you guys favorite restaurants yes restaurants he'll tell his servants to make a wheel with all the options and you spin it, he loves how you light up and clap your hands in excitement

- when you and him go out on theses dates he'll wait outside sitting at the edge of your bed holding one of your plushies on his lap,as you get change you'll then model for him in three dresses and he decides which one goes well with his and you give your take,it's a nice conversation of just fashion coordination.

-Nefero can't deny the way you make him feel 24/7,365 so he's giving you mountains of gifts books,flowers, perfumes, clothes anything he thinks you'll like and they he just KNOWS you'll love

-Nefero loves your feminine style the skirts and dresses, jumpers with embroidery, bell bottoms with a cute top,he's on his knees

-His favorite thing you do is when you wear a red lipstick and kiss his face and neck letting every jealous ghoul know that he's yours.

-another last thing for now is that you lay on his body when sleeping over and just be calm as he strokes your hair happy to have you with him,he thinks great fully that you actually gave him a chance even after hearing all his dumb stuff he did he's just so thankful for having his jewel, his queen the goddess sent from heaven be his one and only love.