#this is the closest I got to a mugshot

[pempeeeperem]

Have you seen this man?

Wanted for:

Physical assault

Destruction of property

Theft

Kidnapping

Resisting arrest

Acts of terrorism

Acts of torture

[moonfromearth]

Did someone say Corey trading cards? 😉

This absolutely has brought me back to the days of collecting Pokemon cards and it was awesome!

I may or may not want to do a card for each round of the Globetrotter Challenge now just because I have idea's for funny abilities/moves... 🤣

Huge thank you to @squeaa and @buttertrait for the awesome template/challenge loved it so much!! 🥰

[more info under cut!]

Corey Altman - Base Card

(left side)

Everyone's favorite outlaw, now in a trading card! A common card. ABILITY: Man's Best Friend Get a helping paw from Sans the Dog! Retrieve one card from your opponent's deck. Guitar Hero - 20

Corey Altman - Hero of Strangerville Edition

(right side)

A special Gold Edition card the Hero of Strangerville himself! A rare card. ABILITY: Infection Vaccine Cure any status conditions inflicted on this card. Can only use three times per game. Mega Spray - 65

Based these mostly on how Pokemon cards are but it was definitely inspired by how @youredreamingofroo did their's (go check out their post it's awesome 😅).

[mo0nfairy]

😍😍 OMG, I'm gonna be needing a part four to that Leon post stat.

(Love your writing it's amazing just like you are) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎

part 1. part 2. part 3.

tw :: re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, violence, knives, tasers, guns, explosives, framing, murder, abuse of power, death of a character, physical restrainment, noncon touching, thoughts of suicide, being knocked unconscious, shit goes down basically.

⸺ thank u, honeybaby !!!!! i've been vv busy these past few days, but this man has been HEAVY on my mind. i've also been listening to playing dangerous by our lord and savior lana del rey on repeat and it had my brain conjuring up some ideas... (also this part is long so buckle up friends)

you see, you've been praying everyday to earn back those damned memories that slipped from your mind 6 years ago. but in a attempt to do so, all you can feel is a gun against your head, an explosion against your body, and dust permeating your lungs. all before the classic cut to black welcomes you. no crying mouse-ley, no crying guard-dog. just empty darkness. through the abyss, however, you are now able to unveil memories that were buried deep within you. and whether the return of these past events is a good thing or not is up to you.

you remember a late august evening. the cool air and descending leaves would calm you, but your current circumstances prevent you from any serenity. an anonymous tip to the RPD claimed that you were in possession of illegal substances. and somehow, those said drugs had magically appeared into existence within your home. this leaves you here, being driven to the station by the officer of the month, marvin branagh. despite everything, you're grateful marvin was the one to arrest you. you happen to favor him and his basic understanding of boundaries, as opposed to a certain mutt you know far too well.

it's safe to say you've now got quite the reputation in the RPD with how much trouble you get into. and especially with how quickly the problems seem to fade away. you're being escorted through the station until another officer complains to marvin about some kids with fake ID's. he leaves you by yourself at an empty desk with one hand cuffed to the armrest. the desk right beside leon's. you look to the blonde beside you. his head is rested against his arms folded upon his desk, deep in slumber. his cheek is squished against the surface of his arm, pushing his lips out into a duck-like pout. your mugshot peeks out from beneath his sleeping form. you swear through his unintelligible murmuring, you hear a gentle whimper of your name. marvin had mentioned during the drive how he was up all night looking through your case (wouldn't be the first time), but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad for him. you don't trust him. even several years ago, something within you has always prevented you from trusting him.

you fiddle with a mr. raccoon toy as 20 minutes slowly tread by. completely overcome with boredom, you peak over leon's shoulder to see your case file beneath him. maybe you could find something useful inside, like the bastard responsible for all these false claims. using your free hand, you manage to slyly slip your case folder from under his weight. not without a quiet whine of "no, y/n/n... don't leave me..." good god, was he cuddling your mugshot? (it would be the closest he could get to you physically, after all). you ignore him entirely, thanking the heavens that this man is such a deep sleeper.

opening the file, you find standard information about your case. you read through the notes leon left behind, which causes nausea to then stir in your stomach. he jotted down his worries of your case closing and not being able to keep you in the station any longer; there was ideas of any potential loopholes in the system he could take advantage of and prove your innocence. beside his rambling, there was a long list of certain ways he can frame you for crimes to reel you back into his clutches. what in the actual fuck? and just when you thought this situation couldn't get worse, you find he used pictures of your friends at the shooting range, bullet holes piercing through their paper faces.

you read through the evidence in shock, until a sickeningly-sweet tone gasps your name and pulls you out of your trance. you look over the folder to see those familiar blue eyes peering into yours. leon lights up like a golden retriever with a bone when he wakes up and you're the first thing he sees, metaphorical tail wagging and all. to dream of you and to be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, it is pure heaven! only, instead of the early morning, love-drunk haze within his dreams, he is instead met with the heartbreaking look of horror on your face. his eyes trail down to see you holding his notes and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this! it was never supposed to be like this! you were supposed to fall in love with him! you are supposed to be with him forever!

you are supposed to love him! you have to!

and you thought you've seen the worst, you thought you reached the bottom of the iceberg. but you were so, so wrong. it had been 2 weeks since you learned the truth about leon. since then, you were able to find solace within an old friend, claire redfield. not only do you adore her, but the layer of protection she had given you when you complained about the clingy cop on your hip was just the cherry on top. without leon, these 14 days were the most peace you have felt in what feels like months. you didn't know how the man who acted like he needed your presence more than air felt about this sudden separation. and to be completely honest, you didn't really care.

now, with your arm hooked around claire's, you two walk home after a night out in raccoon city. you're repeating old inside jokes and clutching your chest in heaps of rib-straining laughter. everything is full of high-spirits until you notice a certain cop car sitting in the street. claire enters your estate first, guarding you protectively while you follow her footsteps. you find (you guessed it!) no other than leon kennedy rummaging through your belongings. and the look on leon's face when he sees you with someone else is nothing short of pure anguish, sheer betrayal. he is jealous — so much so that it practically suffocates the room. you've seen plenty of emotions expressed by leon and the consequences that followed, but you've never seen first-hand what jealousy may compel him to do. considering the pictures of your friends he used as target practice, you feel as though the outcome won't be any good.

claire breaks the silence, "you disgusting pig! i'm calling my brother down here and he's gonna kick your-" her roar of anger is cut off with a sharp groan.

leon stands, taser gun in hand, as the electrodes strike into claire's body. she then falls to the ground with a loud thump, her form convulsing from the electric shocks waving through her. rushing to her side, you attempt to help her. but, you then cave into yourself when leon walks over in three large strides. and you now realize he is absolutely terrifying when he is jealous. his voice drops to a low husk as he demands you tell him who the fuck this is, a major contrast to the bubbly-puppy you're grown familiar with. you are left flabbergasted and are unable to mutter even a syllable.

you aren't even granted a mere second to compose of yourself before leon pulls a knife, plunging it deep into claire's chest. a scream of pure terror erupts from your throat. you're painted red as he relentlessly stabs your best friend, curling yourself into a corner and hiding your face in your arms. through your tear-stained vision, you see the lifeless body of claire and leon standing above her, huffing with fury like some blood-thirsty creature. something in his gaze perceptibly softens when he sees you, so scared and feeble. and it shatters his heart. after all, leon would take every life on planet earth just to see your lips curl into a smile, even once more. but, nothing could have prepared you for the words that would then leave his mouth.

he turns his body cam on. "y/n l/n, you are under arrest for the murder of... whoever this was. you have the right to remain silent. anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." you stare at leon entirely flabbergasted, but you're too exhausted to fight against him.

he bends down to you, light whispers of "you're ok, it wasn't your fault" and "i've got you, sweet angel" doing little to comfort you. with his gentle hands against you, leon proceeds to cuff you with the same softness you would use to handle a baby bird. and you let him take you away, because you are too caught up in looking at your best friend who was laughing with you just minutes ago now dead on the ground. you cry to yourself in the backseat of the cop car the whole way to the station.

by the time you get there, you are entirely in a state of shock. tears of dread stream down your cheeks, but your face is nothing short of emotionless. you are so caught up in your head, you don't even notice the whispers of other officers there. they gossip about how considering your track record, it's no wonder you'd end up here for good. a sharp glare from the man guiding you through the department is enough for them to shut their mouths. you're then brought into an interrogation room, with cameras off and no other presence besides you and this mad-man at your beck and call.

cuffed to a chair once again, leon locks the door behind him. he then drops to his knees and ties his arms around your waist, burying his head into you. it takes several seconds for reality to hit you, but you soon realize he is crying. and if you weren't restrained currently, you would've pushed him off and made him suffer a fate far worse than what claire endured. now, the two of you are sobbing together, but for entirely different reasons. you, full of grief over someone you love being murdered just moments ago. leon, full of agony over how the gleam of emotion he was so infatuated with left your eyes. all because of him.

you muster enough strength to plead to the blonde, your voice coming out through hoarse, slurred sniffles. but much to your dismay, your cries fall on deaf ears. if only leon had more morality than he did love for you.

"i'm so sorry, y/n, i just needed to hold you. even for just one last time” he picks his head up to look at you, face breaking out in a pitiful smile. “and i can't lose you. not again.” he grabs hold of your hands from behind your back and begins caressing the digits of your fingers. and the contrast between his smile and the crazed look in his eyes has you shuddering in apprehension.

"you're stuck with me to the end."

your eyes then flutter open to see a blinding white light; you begin to hear the quiet chant of a monitor beside you. where the hell am i? despite your current confusion, all you can think about is how you grieved for your best friend in the grimy cells of the RPD, how everyone turned into undead creatures just a week later, and how leon protected you from anything as small as a paper cut. you remember how several zombies overpowered him and how you took advantage of the opportunity, running like hell away and out of raccoon city. you remember the burning of your lungs, the rain on your skin, the hope of getting far, far away from this nightmare. you also remember the fear you felt when umbrella snatched you into their possession, to where you would soon forget everything that happened. including leon kennedy.

you're in the present now, as you can tell by the sheepskin jacket around your form and the hospital bed you're laid upon. it takes you too long to realize that you're safe, out of the hellhole that is los iluminados. looking down, you find a gun sitting by your hip (leon made the declaration that if you were to never wake up again, he wouldn't hesitate to end it all right then and there). you shift your train of sight to see leon at your bedside with his head in his hands while his entire body trembles with trepidation. the sight of this lovesick maniac at your side causes you to spring forward with a harsh gasp. his heartbeat skyrockets at the sudden occurrence. you're alive, and leon can't stop the tears of relief that fall from his eyes.

"hi, pretty... i'm here, you're safe now..." the smile on his face is borderline terrifying. his hands cup your face, practically clinging onto you like a lifeline.

"i remember... i remember everything..." the statement is entirely said to yourself, your gaze distant and not entirely there.

his eyebrows scrunch upwards, gaze softening (if it can even soften more than it already has). leon then pulls your face to his and molds his lips against yours aggressively, desperately. it isn't soft, sweet, or romantic in any sense. it is inexperienced, but overflowing with raw passion, need, and obsession. he only stops when the two are you are breathless and gasping for air. a dreamy sigh escapes leon's lips once he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as if you were something holy (which you are, obvi, but i digress). leon is so horrifically, irrevocably, disgustingly in love with you. and you can feel everything in his all-too overwhelming kiss.

he then engulfs you and melts into your arms like a noodle in boiling water. his light-headed, lovesick laughter fans against your neck. leon somehow pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost as if he were trying to morph the two of you together. it is too much; he is all you can feel, smell, touch. but, without a sliver of strength in your body, you are entirely vulnerable to him and his captivation.

"ashley... she didn't make it..." there’s a certain tone in leon's voice you can’t explain, but you shudder beneath it, anyway. he tells the information softly, but his voice is full of too much exhilaration to be normal. with these newfound memories, that dread returns to your stomach at the thought of what leon is capable of. what leon may have done to ashley while you were out cold.

through the abyssal darkness, your wish has been granted. you have now retrieved all lost memories.

and now, you know why you never were able to trust leon kennedy.

the end !! hehe, thanks for the fun ride babes.

HOWEVER……….. this is surely not the end of my resident evil stained brainrot. so i will not be continuing this series, but i will most certainly be pouring out everything in my RE-obsessed brain. only if u would like to see it, of course. if u do, pls send me some asks!! and thank u again !!!

[sunshinechay]

Okay so I was musing about it in the tags of @respectthepetty’s post here but I also want to make a tiny post about it.

It’s only the second episode but does anyone else get the feeling that a significant portion of the show is going to end up coming down to Mew vs Boston?

A truly colossal showdown in which they are going to destroy each other and irreparably damage everyone around them?

As RTP pointed out, both use sex as a means to control. Both have a thing for Top and want him for themselves, but (and I’m might be projecting here) it also feels like it’s going to be about more than that. It’s going to be about Ray and his feelings for Mew. Chuem and her attempts (sometimes half heartedly) to get everyone to get along. It’s going to be about Boston’s inability to recognize his own faults and his belief that he’s better than everyone else. It’s going to be about Mew’s feelings of surperiority towards Boston (and even Ray and Chuem to a certain extent). I even think how Boston is using Nick is going to come into play as well, I’m just not sure how yet.

I posted about it yesterday that this friend group doesn’t really feel like a friend group and a big part of the reason I feel that way has to do with Boston’s barely veiled resentment/animosity towards Mew and Mew’s smugness right back at him. Each thinks they’re better than the other and (imo) both are wrong.

And even to connect it to the post I made about the projector light and Mew’s mugshot from ep1. I’m starting to think Boston got left out of the light because he is the closest thing this series is going to have a bad guy. I mean this show clearly is not going to actually have one, but I think Boston is going to end up filling the antagonist role because the show seems to be more from Mew’s POV than Boston’s. Ray and (Chuem) are partially in the light of the projector to symbolize their more innocent status (again, not true innocence because they have their own issues, but closer to innocence in the battle of wills between Boston and Mew).

They’re going to explode at each other and probably sooner than we think. It’s going to be mutually assured destruction and they’re going to take at least Top down with them. Likely Ray and Chuem and maybe even Sand down as well. I’m not going to even speculate what’s going to happen to Nick because it’s going to be bad, probably almost as bad as (if not worse than) Top.

These are messy imperfect characters who are going to say and do terrible things, both to themselves and each other. They are each the “bad guy” in each other’s story and even in their own to a certain extent. Neither of them are really better than the other and both are going to end up down a rabbit hole they can’t get out of.

I could be very wrong and I might be jumping the gun a little too much but after two episode, this is what it’s starting to feel like to me. I’m not trying to say one is better than the other or that they shouldn’t do what they’re about to do. This is just the sense I get. I’m completely open to being proven wrong. Hell this whole conflict could end up being a red herring before the “real” conflict emerges.

I would love a showdown between Boston and Mew though on any scale. Neo and Book would eat it up and put out an amazing performance. Only time will tell I guess haha.

[starlitheaven]

AZUL PLS I NEED MORE CRUMBS 🥹 i love your perspective of geto in any au <3

geto in the y2k au is the antithesis to geto in the toji bodyguard au!

takes place in the mid 2000s in NYC mainly! very trashy—think TMZ, perez hilton, mugshots, clubbing every night, night in jail stints.

when you meet geto, he's already a little jaded from the industry & fame. he has his own toxic relationship with being a famous rockstar and has accepted that he needs vices—drugs—to survive. but he's slowly unraveling and losing himself (and takes it out on your relationship).

you'd meet at a photoshoot & totally hit it off! it's a whirlwind and moves way too fast to be healthy, but neither of you are really making sound decisions. it's hot & heavy at first—both of you fall deep and hard. fucking before & after concerts, going on dates all around the world when you're in the same country, spending his birthday in a large rose-petal filled bathtub in a penthouse suite in tokyo, falling in love when he takes you to his small hometown. he also surprises you in paris with an engraved lock for you in the Love Bridge.

but geto can be callous and sharp-tongued while you're stubborn and like to push his buttons. a lot of petty arguments, a lot of explosive fights, and the tabloids fiend for it. they're everywhere not only because of your shared fame but because of all the drama.

amongst this, you and geto truly love each other. with you, he's able to be the person he used to be before he became famous: considerate, caring, selfless, a little more quiet and level-headed (more like geto before plasma vessel arc). but there's only cracks of his real self due to the craziness of tours, interviews, photoshoots, clubbing, drugs, paparazzi.

it just gets increasingly toxic and always ends with fucking no matter where you are in the world. and the reason you two continue to hurt each other is cause you always take the other back—it's never definite.

like i said earlier, geto is slowly unraveling throughout all of this. it fucks with him to see his relationship being picked apart and granted no privacy, to see how the world treats you differently just cause you're a woman, how much of a spectacle his life has become. it obviously affects his work and even his record label is close to cutting him, no matter how much money he makes them.

geto's breaking point would be haibara dying. this is the mid 2000s after all (think britney, paris, lindsey), so the media is ruthless. yuu is one of geto's closest friends in this au and he completely snaps in the aftermath of his death; dealing with the sudden loss is bad enough, but the tabloids are relentless in covering the story. like they're no longer being treated as humans, just the next segment in a developing story that slowly shocks the world.

you're not in the country when it happens so it doesn't reach you right away, but geto is being followed and harassed constantly. it takes a darker turn and he becomes completely unstable (sh, violence).

that's as far as i've thought of it tbh! i've had this au in mind since 2021 but never got to elaborate like this so thanks for the ask <3

[inkadink17]

Natsukashii {懐かしい}:

Chapter 3:

“Snake?? Snake???? SNAKE!”

“Huh?!” Snake snaps out of his little paranoia trance.

“D-..we’re you…ssssaying ssssomething..?” Snake looked at Liam with confusion.

Liam was worried for him, “Well.. yeah. You looked a little ‘out of it’ is everything alright? You ok?” Snake reassured him, “no no, it’sss fine…I just got a little…distracted.”

Liam took one bite from his curry and looks back at Kotaro’s Mugshot on tv, he seemed to notice that this news report didn’t catch Snake’s full attention until after they said his name.

“Hey, Snake.. uh.. look, I’m not trying to assume anything but..does it have anything to do with that Kotaro kid-“

“Look. Don’t mention him, don’t….

Don’t mention Kotaro. Ok?” Snake shivers, trying not to lash out on him like he did with Ace.

Now a very confused Liam wants to find out why he wouldn’t want it mention the kid, but still respects his boundaries and keeps his mouth shut as he continued eating his curry.

“Mm!” Liam hums, satisfied. “You really know how to make curry, huh?”

“Heh, thanks..” Snake smiles.

“Uh, excuse me…”

A few more customers came and went and stayed for a little while for a quick lunch. It was surprising that Snake could run a grocery store and cook in a restaurant at the same time.

May around 7:36 Snake closed the shop and it was time to go back home, he unlocked his bike and rode it back home. As he rode back home he couldn’t get Kotaro’s mugshot out of his mind.

He arrived at his house a few minutes later and put his bike in the garage, he then walks out of the garage and into the hallway and met with Claire and his siblings, Claire was playing dolls with Grace and Kenji was drawing on the couch while watching (or listing to) tv.

“Hey guysss!” Snake waved.

“Hey.” Claire smiled.

“Huh? Oh, hey.” Kenji said.

Claire stood up, “How’s the shop been?” She asks.

“Great, sssame asss alwaysss” he replied.

He pulled 10$ out from his pocket and handed it to Claire. “Thanksss for taking time out of your day to watch them.” Claire took the money and said, “oh, it’s no problem! I love them, their like my little siblings, I’m an only child.. so they’re pretty much the closest thing I have.” Claire said, heading for the door, “I’ll probably see them tomorrow?” “Sssure! They’ll be excited.” Snake said.

“Bye, everyone!” Clair said.

“Bye Claire!” The kids said.

As the door shuts, Snake looks back at his siblings.

“Alright, time for a bath.”

Blair starts running around, reluctant to take a bath. “No!”

Kenji laughs as Snake chases after her, “Blair!!” He said.

Claire walks along the sidewalk, the moon shining, the sky, grey, the stars ou-

“いずみ？いずみちゃん、いる？それだけです”

She picked up a walkie talkie from her pocket, she talks into it.

.. 光太郎…

ハジメを見つけた…

[thebestskeers]

“Good day to all!”

I hope you’re all having just a lovely time. I can proudly say I am not, a pesky Gryffindor stole my tie for a ‘potion thing’ and didn’t give it back, and now I must suffer the wrath of his aunt. But on another note, I’m happy to be here with you lot!

now, let’s do this one last time, right from the beginning. Aaand with a few clarifications.

This is an ask page (mostly), and yes I am a 7th year! I’m open to answer your slightly more ‘freakier’ questions.

No, I am not MC. They’re a bit of a pest, really. But they’re certainly keeping Sebastian busy since Anne went away. I’m still not sure what’s happened with her.

I am in the British time zone, whatever the posh letter for it are. So please be mindful of when I’ll most likely be asleep! … and ignore that I posted this at 3am! :)

Now, onto a few fun facts so you can get to know me!

My Appearance:

Yes, this is the most accurate photo that shows how I really look! And despite how it looks, this is not a mugshot. I have rather pale skin, but I’d caught a tan in this photo.

I have golden blonde hair that can be quite darker at the top sometimes, though I am a natural blonde. It’s naturally straight and rather thick, it falls just below my shoulder blades.

my eyes are actually green, but in every common light they look grey.

I do wear makeup, but only a little. Weasley always seems to notice the days where I put on a bit more lipstick than others.

My House:

I am a Slytherin purely by nature I suppose. My mother was a cold-hearted, determined and genius potioneer and the top of her classes in Slytherin house, but my father was… not the same. My father was apparently quite the troublemaker, and a crazed Gryffindor, he was expelled in his 5th year for covering for my mothers mistakes, the two really were in love at some point in time.

My Family:

My mother is a complicated woman. I don’t live with her anymore, but I did until I was 11. When I was 12 I spent all year at Hogwarts, then when I was 13 my father finally got custody of me. I’ve lived in the lighthouse with him ever since. But, my mother was a very stern woman. We lived in a large house, since I came from a weather lineage. I wasn’t allowed to leave, ever. My mother runs a… risky business. She couldn’t risk her children leaving and being targeted as hostages. There was only one garden, full of gorgeous flowers and glowing green beds of grass. But, that was the closest I ever got to going outside until my Hogwarts admission letter. Then, I left and never looked back. She couldn’t keep control over me anymore.

My father is hysterical. And not in the funny way. He left me and my mother just a few weeks after I was born, because he felt himself losing his sanity. He’s still the same now, occasionally he runs away but he always comes back. Usually for a sandwich. He owns 7 chicken coops but no chickens, lives in an abandoned lighthouse, and only seems to wear flannel shirts. Other than all that, I forgave him when he took my in when no one else would. He’s always going to be my beloved father.

My twin brother, Colin Victor-Skeers. He’s my mothers and my step-fathers child, just not through blood. and it shows. He’s always been rather cold, but he only seems to open up around Sebastian. We never really got along, we still don’t. But thanks to Natsai we’re at least on talking terms now.

My beloved little sister, Greta Victor-Skeers. She looks so much like her father. She may only be a third year, but she’s still so little in my eyes. She seems intimidating and cold but don’t let that fool you, she’s a sweetheart deep down. Not to mention she’s got a bit of a crush on that boy running Crossed Wands, she’s just too scared to admit it! Oops, you didn’t hear any of that ;)

My Friends:

My dearest and longest friend, Anne Sallow. We all know she’s got a thing going on with Natsai, we’re not stupid. She’s an angel, a saint, a gift sent from the heavens above. When I went along my merry way to Hogwarts in my first year I still had no concept of social cues and was struggling to find my way around. Anne was the first and only person who helped me that day! She introduced me to her twin brother and his best friend, and since then she’d been my closest ally. …wherever she is now, I hope she’s still smiling bright.

Sebastian Bartholomew Sallow… what is there to say? Has he got his darker sides? Sure. Have I had a crush on him before? Yes. Did Anne tease me endlessly? It’s very obvious. But in all seriousness, he has to be one of the smartest wizards I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Even if his knowledges are in some of the more questionable ends of magic. He’s always treated me right, and I know I could go to him for anything.

Natty! Oh, my girl! Y’know, we have a pact? If neither of us are married in ten years we’ll tie the knot ourselves! Goodness, Natty has to be a close tie for second with Sebastian. She’s the kindest and most loving soul I’ve ever met. She’s gorgeous, not to mention! I could talk about her for hours and hours but… I’m afraid she’ll wallop me.

Ominis Gaunt, a charming young man! I don’t know an awful lot about him, but we’ve known of one another since the train ride to Hogwarts in our first year. Mostly because he accidentally bumped into me, but I helped him pick-up his things after a cold scolding from the boy. I admire him, really. I’d help him through thick and thin.

Garreth, please, oh please, bring me my things back. Weasley here enjoys taking my things for his potions. Last week it was my favourite perfume and today it was my tie! Almost makes me wonder what he’s making. But, he’s a sweetheart, I must admit. He always lends a helping hand, is a big hugger, and is very good at letting me know when my lipstick is smudged. He even does the honours of helping me neat it up! He likes telling me I’m pretty cool too, like, a lot. I’ve heard from his older brother in 6th year that he’s got a thing for me, but I find that hard to believe.

I believe that’s all there is to say on my part! Feel free to ask a question in my ask box, shoot me a message, or just read through! I’d be happy to answer any other questions you have!

With all my love,

Kathleen N. Skeers &lt;3

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

What type of crimes do you think I would commit??? The closest I got to a mugshot is a school picture 😭/

Being a bomb Bitch😌 don't cry!! Lmao

😈-

I'm too shy for that 😔

[nsokolow]

Little Weasel, Big City: Chapter 21

Leilani and Duke were crouched down in the back of the police car. Their eyes barely poked out from the bottom of the window as officers led animals to different police cars, some animals in cuffs.

“Lei, look!” Duke pointed. “It’s PJ!”

Leilani scanned the now-crowded meadow before she easily spotted the somber, brightly-dressed geep, her hooves behind her in cuffs. Leilani felt a pang of guilt. It was wrong for PJ to conduct all these dangerous experiments, especially without the consent of her “test subjects,” but she seemed to really want to make the world safer for animals like her.

“I kinda feel bad too.”

Leilani yelped as she almost fell onto the floor. “You could tell?” She caught herself by grabbing the seat belt.

“Nah, with your droopy ears and sad face, I assumed ya were excited.” Duke chuckled.

Leilani smiled. “Okay, fair enough. I mean, PJ’s probably been through so much, being a hybrid, and she wanted things to be better for other hybrids.”

Duke put a paw on Leilani’s back. “Hey, she’s smart! I mean, at least I guess she is, with all the science and stuff. She’ll probably come up with somethin’ safer.”

“I guess so.” Leilani saw PJ lean into a police van. “Do you think she’ll go to prison? Jail? Probation? Community service? A fine?”

“Lei, I ain’t no expert because I’ve had a bunch of trouble with the law.” Duke frowned.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—“

Duke doubled over with laughter, catching himself on the back of the passenger seat. “I’m just messin’ with ya! But really, I ain’t got any idea what’s gonna happen to her. My crimes were always simple, this is really weird. I do know they tend to go easier on first time offenders, and I’m guessin’ she was, since the chief didn’t act like he found any mugshots when he looked her up.”

Leilani sighed. “At least we can just focus on just our normal jobs now. I hope Travis can find another line of work soon. I wonder how he’ll react once he finds out about the police raid.”

Duke narrowed his eyes as a wide smile spread across his face.

“Seriously, Duke, I wanna thank you so much for gettin’ me the interview with the mailroom boss.”

Duke and Travis both walked down the hallway as Duke pushed a cart full of mail. Travis was in his regular clothes, as he hadn’t get received his uniform.

“No problem. So, the mail is alphabetized by names, and sorted by floors. The stack of mail closest to me is for this floor.” Duke threw an envelope through a cubicle.

“Thanks!” Someone shouted.

“I haven’t been at this job for too long, but everyone’s busy with other stuff, so I was just told to tell ya as much I can and show ya around.”

“So, this is where you and Leilani have been workin’ this whole time?” Travis asked, his eyes traveling everywhere.

“Yeah! What’re the odds that a married couple would get jobs in the same place…the same week they meet?” Duke threw another envelope.

“I can’t believe that those plants were what caused you two to get married. I mean, I know things are workin’ out good, but it coulda turned out really bad. I also shoulda tried to find out why PJ was really makin’ the plants. Sorry, there.”

“Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Duke shrugged. “After all, me and Lei shut the whole thing down only two days ago, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, true.” Travis grabbed an envelope and threw it in a cubicle.

“Hold on, there!” Duke cried. He ran into the empty cubicle and read the envelope. He ran back outside the cubicle and read the name tag. “Huh, it’s the right one. Good job!”

“Thank you.” Travis took a short bow. “So, you know what PJ’s deal is?”

“Leilani looked her up yesterday, and she posted bail. The bail wasn’t set too high, so I assume she ain’t got herself into too much legal trouble.”

“Oh, good, there’s a bathroom up there. Be right back.” Travis dashed ahead and into the men’s room.

“Oh, uh, okay!” Duke continued to push the cart. “I ain’t got much more to tell ya anywa—“

BOOM!

Red dust exploded from the cart as Duke flew backward. His back and head slammed against the rough carpet floor.

“Ugh…what?” Duke grabbed his head and slowly sat up. He saw a bunch of animals standing in front of the knocked-over cart.

A few animals ran up to him and asked if he was okay.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. What happened?” Duke stood up with help of one of the animals.

A moose looked inside the toppled cart. “Looks like someone put a powder bomb in your cart. It’s the latest toy to get recalled after injuries happening. Sorry.”

As the animals dispersed, Duke dropped to his knees and picked up the little red plastic machine. He thought he felt paper under it. He turned the rectangular device over and saw a small piece of paper. It read in black capital letters, “YOU’LL BE SORRY!”

[moxfirefly]

Could you do a Donatello x Criminal!Reader fic?

The Reader could be like a mastermind the turtles have been trying to take down but to no avail. Donnie has significant feels for her but keeps it to himself, but his brothers know him too well and know what's going on. Times when Donnie fights her, he tries to convince her to turn a new leaf, but she refuses.

I saw a one-shot similar to this before and wanna see more of it. So, that's why I'm asking you for this request. I understand if you don't want to write this. I love your work!

I’ve had this swimming in my head for a while and honestly it’s sooooo right up my alley that I can’t help it. I’m taking a few liberties here and there so I hope you don’t mind.

TW: Toxic relationship elements/Violence/Blood/NSFW Themes

Disclaimer: I do not stand for these types of toxic af relationship but I do enjoy reading fictional material on it and I’m very into writing as well. So please understand if this isn’t your cup of tea, it’s all gucci my dudes.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Donatello doesn’t remember the last time he had bled so much.

Enough for the constant tap tap of it falling on the floor to irritate him. Because that’s the most he could deem it to be, irritation, probably annoyance.

At the most hatred.

He doesn’t consider himself a hateful or spiteful person but the last couple of months have proven different.

Once he’s patched himself up, cleaned the blood from the floor and himself, he’s back at his Hub. Each monitor displaying news reports from various channels on what had happened just a few hours prior to his little self loathing monologue. They were licking wounds, not just him.

This wasn’t supposed to be the case, a worst case scenario is usually adverted.

This time just wasn’t the way.

Four well known banks. In four different boroughs. All went up in flames, and so did anything around it. Dividing themselves up was the only option, there wasn’t much they could do about the fire but civilians needed help, the police needed help.

Donnie still smells charred flesh around him and he truly hopes the scent will leave him be.

Because clearly you’re not going to.

Aside from the nights event playing before him, he’s got another monitor running cellphone towers on each of the numbers you’ve called him. It’s not to say you haven’t used the occasional burner phone but at times, to mock, you have called him from very close by.

Because you know he can’t get to you, for obvious reasons.

And for other little nagging reasons clawing in the back of his head.

Six distinct mugshots in front of him, all of you, various moments in your life. The oldest has you stated at fourteen.

Fourteen.

What fucking fourteen year old gets arrested for arson?

The most recent mugshot shows the progression of your criminal enterprise. Arson escalated all the way to homicide.

And those bodies piling up today are just more numbers for you.

Donnie has read everything, and he does mean everything, he could get his hands on when it comes to you. The Juvenile Detention records, your lengthy stay at Bedford Hills Correctional, after some loopholes and bad handlings of evidence you drop out of the radar for three years.

The calendar closest to him, annotated in red ink, marks the one year anniversary of your appearance in these crimes.

The appearance is his life.

Donnie eliminates the mugshots and leaves the most recent, which has you at twenty nine. From fourteen to twenty nine, all the mayhem, a three year hiatus and you’re back.

His fists tighten, each possibility isn’t good enough to be backed up with what he has so far.

And to add more salt to his wounds, his phone begins to ring.

Naturally the caller I.d says Unknown in its bold threatening letters. That big logical side of him screams for him to ignore it, that there’s no use in allowing you to boast in that sweet voice of yours.

But it’s autopilot by now, sliding his thumb over it and hearing that little chuckle in his ears fester.

“Hi there handsome, hope you didn’t have a hard time tonight” You love pretending that this is a normal relationship, the tone only serves to make Donnie dig nails into the palms of his hands.

“A burning building constitutes a hard night, but then again if you liked me so much you wouldn’t have me running around like this” Donnie’s voice is calm, he always tries to be calm with you.

“Well I do love watching you run around” You bite your lip on the other end.

The sound of what must be a door slamming open makes Donnie raise a brow ridge.

“Getting cozy after a nights worth of destroying lives?” His calm voice turns just a smidge bitter and it’s enough to make you laugh.

And that sound shouldn’t sound so pretty.

“A girls gotta get her beauty rest, Don” You know how much he hates it when you use his nickname, you aren’t family, you aren’t anything to him. “I’d leave a window open for you, but I’m sure my guys did a number on you, I only hope they didn’t ruin that pretty face of yours” Something being dropped on the floor catches Donnie’s attention.

“Just a few cuts, not the usual damage you’re capable of” He gets up, imputing some info on the file he’s created for you. “I knife you once and you still don’t let me live it down, come on baby I did say I was sorry” You unzip the bag and smile at the contents inside.

Donnie palms the scar on his thigh, a permanent reminder of you.

“Let me make it up to you, hmm?” You reach inside the bag, holding the phone against your cheek and shoulder.

“Start by turning yourself in and we’re on the right track” Donnie watching the bright red button on the display that signals to him the recording of the conversation going on. “Too easy, where’s the fun in that? How about…” There’s sounds of you yanking something heavy and a sigh.

“I signal you where I am… with another fun little explosion?” You eye the pipe bomb lovingly, enjoying the sounds of shuffling on the other end. “Don’t! Don’t…look, no cops, not my brothers, you and me alright?” Donnie suiting up again as quickly as possible.

“Baby I can’t just send you a pin, this is a Nokia for fucks sake, besides you look so handsome illuminated by fire” You twirl the pipe bomb and walk over to the window.

“No weapons. I promise, just… we just talk” Donnie knows reasoning is futile with you but he needs to delay this.

There’s a pause in which he almost believes you’ve hung up but the smack of your lips alerts him otherwise.

“The Dakota, you’ve got half an hour with me and it won’t be cheap” You grin, enjoying how he’s cussing under his breath. The sound of keys jingling make you laugh. “Don’t make me wait long, feeling needy” You toss the phone out the window.

Donnie’s sure he broke several traffic violations on his way here but he can’t trust you to get bored enough to blow something else up. His mind is firing out possibly scenarios, things he has to handle before you his thoughts stray and your hands get to him. He always shaken the thoughts out several times on his way up to the building, the squared courtyard was thankfully free of people and the eerie calmness settled in the pit of his stomach.

“You say no weapons and yet, who’s got the stick on their back… well, shell” The cold wind blows, your hair moves with it and it still guts Donnie that someone so beautiful, can do such ugly things.

“Level with me, are you completely unarmed?” Donnie approaches you, and the two of you meet in the middle, a few inches of separation but enough that he can catch every detail he’s studied in your various mugshots. It feels rather odd, to know so many details of a person he’s met just a handful of times.

It doesn’t stop from his stomach telling him this is a bad idea.

And christ, he’s really trying to ignore his dick on top of that.

You’re beautiful. It’s plain and simple and maybe it’s the nonstop following he does, chasing after you like it’ll solve things. You’ve seeped into his psyche many a night he spent trailing your latest criminal affairs. Donnie eats, drinks and sleeps you, you’re a bad habit and everyone’s started to notice.

Your laughters brings him back.

“Am I boring you Stretch? Here I thought you’d be thrilled to see me” You take another slow step, venturing into personal space. Donnie wants to push away the fact that he smells your perfume, something soft to the senses. He holds his ground, only mildly tensing when you press a digit to his chest. “Can I be a little honest with you?” Your voice drops to above a whisper. Donnie raises a brow ridge but remains quiet so as to let you continue.

“You’re a fucking freak, but I’m not lying when I say you’re cute… I love monsters” A sour word and yet why does it vibrate with his brain? Why does it sink deeper into his flesh and makes a little rush of excitement hit him where it shouldn’t? That finger circles around his chest plate, a soft decent towards his stomach. “Tell me…” That voice hits him, it’s a little too sultry for the mock flirting you usually provide him with. “Can you fuck a human? Or is your ‘downstairs’ not equipped for that?” He doesn’t mean to do it, not like he should care, but he grips your wrist a lot more tightly than he would anybody. He relishes your wince, your twisted smile showing hints of pain.

He isn’t prepared for you to enjoy that.

“It’s always the quiet ones, huh? That big bastard in red may be a hot head oh but you Donnie boy… I bet you’re the scariest of the bunch” You’re pushing buttons, you know you don’t stand a chance again ask him one on one but it’s not about that. Donnie doesn’t want to say anything, he wants to hear your wrist give a deafening crunch, he wants you to pay for all the senseless violence and carnage you’ve caused.

Donnie sees it before it happens, the way you stomp your boot and an honest to goodness knife protrudes from the tip of your boot. He manages to counter the attack, blocking your thigh with a shove of his forearms and when he sees you try to make for something inside your coat, he barely registers picking you up and slamming you on the ground. It’s the momentum, it takes him down with you. He manages to pin both your arms down, his weight on your legs. You snarl, try to kick but it’s futile, he’s stronger and bigger.

Which only makes you go from pissed to amused, to just plainly laughing.

“You’re so much fun, I’d really hate for us to break up someday” You quit struggling, the wind picks up and blows the tails of his purple mask. Donnie watches your eyes follow them, sees the crinkle in your eyes when something fascinates you, he’s seen it when you set places on fire. He feels those very flames tickle him, head south in his body and the way you arch up against him only makes matters worse. He wonders what normal you would’ve been, what a good version of you would’ve aspired to be. His hands slowly let go, they shake ever so lightly with the realization that this doesn’t end well no matter what world you’re both placed in. It breaks him, it honest to goodness breaks him.

“So we do this until you’re caught? Until you piss off the wrong people?-“

“Until I get your hands around my throat? And you squeeze till it’s too late?” You cut him off, that pretty smile that haunts him present and malicious.

Your palms land at his belt, fingertips teasing scaled flesh. “Or maybe….”

His hands shake again, throat so terribly dry it physically hurts him to swallow.

Donnie’s much bigger hands came to rest over yours, he wants to yank them off of him. It guts him how easily he engulfs them with his much bigger hands. Logic makes him push them off of him, makes me stand up and back away.

But the look on your face says it all, you know.

And you know, she knows.

“Don’t be a stranger, Donatello” You watch him leave, disappear into the night as your laughter echoes in the wind. It rings in his ears.

Don finds his way to the truck and climbs in still shaking. This was all exactly what you wanted, more gas for the flames, more ways to torture him with your newfound knowledge.

Your voice and his name are on repeat in his brain and inside the quiet of the truck, he growls.

He growls and shoves his hand down his pants and grips his hardening cock. He wants to forget you, forget the very second he saw you, forget the countless hours spent trying to stop you.

He wants to furiously stop tugging at his dick too, but it seems to be a night of ‘no’s’ for him. Donnie leans his head on the steering wheel, he bites down hard on his lip to chastise his behavior, to inflict some pain in his actions. He’s fully hard and leaking by the time that his brain floats back to the feeling of your hands on his belt, to the nics and burns that scar here an there. The fantasy of feeling them wrap around his cock, or having your fingers shoved into his mouth…

His hand speeds up, whimpering with every harsh stroke he gives himself. You can’t do this, you can’t torture him day in and day out. You can’t nest yourself in his bones, there’s no scenario where this ends well, ends happy. When his phone starts buzzing he knows it’s Leo or Raph, he ducked out in a hurry while they were in the Needle room, his absence must of been noticed by now. He wants the ringing to bring him back from his clouded mind, to erase the image of himself fucking you with a hand around your throat. He tries to to shove his free hand in front of his cock when he cums, try to catch as much of the excess as he can but it’s futile, he’s made a mess on the trucks floor and his pants.

He breaths in slowly, exhales roughly.

The beeps are messages, he catches the ‘r u alright???’ from Mikey.

Donnie can’t help but think to himself that no…

He isn’t alright at all.

[pastelpaperplanes]

I wonder what Megatron and Optimus would think of each other if they shared their baby photos? Because kid Megs and kid Opi are too good for this world.

The closest thing Megs has of ‘baby photos’ would be his first mugshot lmao. He an overpriced atlas from a bookshop and got caught before Zarak could throw enough bookshelves around to slow the keeper from calling out.

Megs isn’t proud of his first documented hiccup—but even tween Megatron had horribly adorable chubby cheeks, much to Ops delight and Meg’s mortification. The embarrassment was worth it to see Orion this happy to actually have a visual to all the stories of his rambunctious childhood, pouty mugshot—so be it!!

Ehh as for Op, he doesn’t have any albums of course stashed away in his belongings or anything nor does he talk too much about his upbringing BUT (he’s got an identity to keep under wraps so) —should he look around maybe his gutted EFP locker knickknacks he could fish out an old grade school academy photo of him an his old trio to show Megatron.

Megaton would be delighted to see a glimpse his Orion all those years ago, and perhaps tease him oh so mercilessly about his oversized, but adorable finials. However, reading the fond, but wilted expression from his lover would tell Megtron that it’s best to not pry about these old friends until Orion is ready for the story himself.

Those two don’t have much to go off of in terms of photos, but they’ve both got a way of painting pictures with their words—swapped memories are just as adored.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 4: An Open Wound

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, canon-compliant violence, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of past abuse/trauma

SUMMARY:  “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello my loves and happy Something Deeper Saturday! this chapter is truly a whirlwind, it's hard and sweet and intense and simple all at once. there are very graphic descriptions of violence and death in the one (in the form of Force visions, no one's actually dying, I PROMISE!!!), so please be aware that there is potentially triggering material in what you're about to read. it mentions past abuse and dives pretty deep into current violence, so please just read with caution! i hope you enjoy this journey—i certainly did writing it! more notes at the end!!! <3

*

Mandalore isn’t a ghost town.

Not how Nova originally thought, anyway. The throne room is filled with wary, armored people. Some are the guards that usually stand watch outside, through the giant palace doors. Nova recognizes Koska Reeves and Axe Woves from the brief, charged encounters she’s had with each of them. Bo-Katan is there, of course, regal and pristine, her shoulders pushed back, her red hair impeccable. There are a handful of villagers that Nova’s seen in passing, but besides the few faces she recognizes, most of the people gathered in the throne room have been hidden somewhere on Mandalore, away from this strange Capitol, away from the everyday. Half of them are without armor, without impressive beskar helmets to hide their wary expressions. Bo-Katan’s icy, measured gaze is clearly a popular currency on Mandalore, because every single person in this room looks skeptical at best and enraged at worst. Nova keeps her eyes on Din, who’s decided to stand at the helm of the dais instead of taking a seat on the beskar throne, watching his every movement to ensure he’s safe up there, and that he stays unharmed.

“I want...to be your leader,” Din says, his voice quiet but earnest. He sounds like he’s incredulous at his own words, like he’s reading off a script he’s never seen before. But there’s power hidden underneath whatever’s scaring him, an undercurrent that Nova knows is unfettered, genuine passion. “I wasn’t raised in the way of Mandalore. Not in the ways that you were—”

“Clearly,” Koska whispers, and the Mnadalorians standing closest to her proximity offer uncharacteristic smiles and snorts. Nova steps forward, but Bo-Katan raises her sharp hand at her side, and they immediately fall silent.

Din looks back at Nova, and for the first time, she can see the fear in his eyes. She nods, encouragingly, even though she has absolutely no clue what point he’s trying to make. Every time she closes her eyes, even if it’s only for a heartbeat, she sees the strange, young hologram of her face, with the word MURDER, MURDER, MURDER flashing back at her, a ceaseless and terrible pattern. Nervously, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, realizing that she’s the only person in this room who isn’t outfitted in Mandalorian regalia. Her black shirt has remnants of dust on the sleeves from the amphitheater. Her pants saw their best days weeks ago. Her shawl, the only proof that she wears any sort of allegiance to the throne, Mandalorian blue and regal, is thrown haphazardly over her rounded shoulders. The boots on her feet are older than her relationship with Din, picked up planets and planets ago, somewhere sunny and warm and an entire lifetime away. When Din’s panicked brown eyes find hers again, Nova smiles, taking a half-step forward, trying to portray anything other than her own frenzied state, the hammering heartbeat that could likely be heard outside of the palace.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Din finally continues, turning back to the crowd. Even from this angle, with most of his face obscured, Nova knows how hard it is for him to stand here, in front of dozens of people, without his helmet, how many rules he thinks he’s breaking, how this must feel like agony. He reaches for the Darksaber hanging on his belt, and when it ignites, every single face in the room is on Din, on that horrific, captivating blade of electricity and death. “I won this in battle. Twice. Both were accidents,” He inhales heavily, studying the flickering, wicked blade. “But they still happened. I wasn’t born on Mandalore. I wasn’t raised here, either. I’ve given some of you this speech before, when I first took the throne.” He exhales through his nose, and Nova wets her dry lips. Her throat feels like the middle of the day on Tatooine, parched and treacherous. “I...I am not a Mandalorian in the way that you’re Mandalorians.” Nova chances another half-step forward, letting the captive, tensioned room blur in her vision as she just focuses on Din. There’s a tremor in his voice, something alive and unsteady, something she only notices because she’s spent over a year studying every inch of him, memorizing Din right down to his bloodstream. “I follow a Creed that you don’t. I’ve spent most of my life trying...trying to be a good soldier, a true Mandalorian. I know I’m not the leader you wanted. I’m not even sure if I’m the leader I wanted. But I’m the one we’ve got, at least for right now. And—” Din exhales sharply, his breath strained, and Nova knows he’s suppressing a sigh, “I swear, I will try my best to do right by this planet. But—but I’m not only the reigning Mand’alor. I’m—”

“Right,” Axe interjects, but there's no malice in his tone. Nova stiffens, crossing her arms over her chest, staring over at him. But he doesn’t look threatening. His smile seems genuine, like he;s just attempting to get Din to lighten up. “And a bounty hunter. A damn good one, at that. He’s caught me twice.”

“Three times,” Nova corrects, and her eyes go wide when she realizes that everyone’s attention is now on her. “But,” she continues, rather nervously, trying to square back her shoulders in a shoddy imitation of Bo-Katan to not display that nervousness, “Din hasn’t been just a bounty hunter in a long time.”

Din sheathes the Darksaber, and instead turns his outstretched hand to Nova. Heart pounding, she slides her hand into his large, gloved one, trying not to show the massive tremble in her fingers. Quietly, he reaches for the Skywaker lightsaber hanging from her belt, and when Nova hesitates, he lets her hand close over the grip instead. Bo-Katan moves forward, so quickly Nova doesn’t even notice, and when she ignites the crisp, illuminated blue blade, half of the people gathered in the throne room draw a weapon. Nova’s expecting Bo-Katan to do the same, but she raises one impeccable eyebrow and turns back towards the room.

“Stop,” she says, and immediately, the majority of the room lowers whatever weapon of choice they’re gripping. Nova manages a tiny, stuttered breath. “She’s not going to hurt us.”

“She,” a voice says from the back of the room, “is wanted by multiple parties. Contacts all over the galaxy will pay a pretty price for Andromeda Maluev, you know. I accepted the cult member as Mand’alor. I accepted you standing down from the throne, Bo-Katan. I will not accept harboring a criminal,” he continues, voice as icy as Hoth, “and a Jedi, at that.”

Din moves forward, all tension, all rage, but Bo-Katan holds up that same, steady hand, and the man making his way across the foreground halts in the same beat that Din does. Nova pulls her own lightsaber back, pocketing it, pulling the shawl higher over her shoulders, trying to unclench her jaw before all of her teeth break off in her mouth. She’s tired. So tired. Exhausted, slogging through this conversation, her heartbeat accelerating, stars shooting out behind her eyes. And still, this time, when she closes them, all she sees is MURDER, MURDER, MURDER.

“Her name,” Bo-Katan returns, measured and cool, “is Novalise Djarin. And yes, she is wanted by both the scum that still survived after the Empire’s demise, and a middleman somewhere in between which we cannot identify yet. Yes, she is a Jedi, or at least is certainly heading in that way. Yes, I stood down from the title. But that wasn’t because I was weak, or because I wanted them on the throne.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Nova,” Bo-Katan interjects, “I’ve got this.” She steps off the lowest stair on the dias, posture perfect, right arm curled around her distinctive helmet. Everything in her screams royalty, regality. Behind her eyes is a fire so much stronger than the ice in her voice. “I didn’t want this. Neither did you. But Din won the Darksaber, fair and square. And Mandalore isn’t what it used to be. None of us are, either. We’re good at surviving, but we’re even better at fighting. And I believe,” she says, pointedly, glancing over at Din, who’s still coiled in an attack position, “that was the point our Mand’alor was getting to. So let him finish. With your mouths closed.”

The man who spoke, wizened but grizzled, exhales angrily through his nose, but his mouth stays clamped shut. Bo-Katan stands at attention, nodding back at Din.

“War is coming,” Din continues stiffly, and half of the people crowded around the room roll their eyes or mutter under their breath.

“War is always coming,” another woman enunciates, “it’s what the galaxy knows best.”

“War is coming,” Din repeats, and Nova has to force herself to unfurl her palms. Before she can even try to jump to his aid, though, he walks down the steps and presses his flat palm against the holotable. Reflected in the glittering dome above them is thousands of pixels of blue light. Nova’s juvenile mugshot is up there for the entire room to see, but so are statistics from every mission they’ve engaged in, anything even remotely related to the Order. Hundreds of faces swarm the screen, all with interwoven lines connecting them to other profiles and rotating planets. There, at the center of the screen, is the First Order’s name in menacing, large letters. Underneath are the silhouettes of Luke, Nova, and Grogu. When Din opens his mouth this time, his words are vivid and clear. “I know that Mandalore has been razed and sieged. I know that in your eyes, I’m not one of you. I know that none of you signed up for another battle. But I also know that fighting,” Din says, his voice weary, but his dark eyebrow raised, “is what’s in our blood. All of us.”

“I won’t follow a ruler who isn’t a true Mandalorian,” the same man finally continues. He steps towards them, and his face is angry and ghastly in the flickering blue light. His rage is barely concealed, and Nova’s hand flies unconsciously to the lightsaber hanging from her belt. “And I certainly won’t protect a Jedi who doesn’t belong here.”

“Well, then,” Nova says, and she’s so bone-dead tired that she doesn’t realize she’s the one who’s speaking until the second word is out of her mouth, “good thing I can protect myself.” She chances a glance at Din, who could very easily be aggravated at her stoking the fire. The only thing written across his face, though, is pride. Nova’s eyes flicker over to Bo-Katan, who is somehow, unbelievably, wearing the same exact expression.

Din slams his fist down on the holotable, sending all of the blue light back into the atmosphere it came from. The low light of the war room is returned to its usual state, but no one speaks. “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

Still, no one moves.

“Mand’alor,” Bo-Katan snaps, icily, all of her usual vigor and venom back in her voice, and it’s like she’s given an order no one can deny. Half of the Mandalorians nod in wary agreement, and the other half keep their low mumbles close to their chests, all of them shuffling out of the throne room, presumably to disperse outside. When the heavy door closes shut, with only the three of them remaining, Bo-Katan turns back to Nova. Din is already climbing the steps back up the dais where the menacing beskar throne sits to retrieve his fallen helmet. When he pulls it back over his handsome face, it’s like closing an open wound.

Nova looks at Bo-Katan, who doesn’t look nearly as threatening in this low light. Her hair is slightly ruffled, and the hard set of her jaw is tense, electric. “Bo-Katan,” Nova whispers, and her gaze snaps impeccably back to Nova’s. “Thank you,” Nova continues, earnest, “for defending me. Defending us. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” Bo-Katan counters, but there’s the ghost of a small smile on her beautiful, cold face. “They were wrong, and they needed to hear that. See? I’m not always a total bitch.”

The word—so commonplace, so foreign—sounds absolutely ludicrous coming out of her mouth that it makes Nova laugh out loud. The sound is both musical and jarring, and the tension held in Bo-Katan’s shoulders evaporates, even if it’s only momentarily.

“Noted,” Nova says, smiling. Maker and all the stars above, she’s exhausted. Bo-Katan glances back at Din, armored and impenetrable, and then back at Nova.

“You need sleep,” Bo-Katan allows, pulling her own helmet back over her head. “Both of you. I’ll stay down here and monitor any incoming correspondence. I’m too wired to go to bed anytime soon.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and her usual edge is back in her tone. “And I will. Go.” She raises that commanding arm again, and Nova’s too exhausted to resist. She wants to take a shower and wash the last few days off of her, and then sleep for three more. Her scar hurts. Her shoulders ache. Her head feels impossibly heavy. Silently, she lets Din lead her over to the heavy double doors, her ears buzzing with fatigue, but before they step into the hall, Nova hears her name chase her across the war room. In tandem, she and Din turn, watching Bo-Katan ignite the blue holotable. There’s something unreadable about her, even under the helmet. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bo-Katan says, finally, and the heaviness of her words is louder than the doors when they close on her impenetrable face.

*

Steam from the shower fills the entire fresher. It’s wet and hot, the humidity seeping deep into Nova’s skin, burrowing under the residual ache from the last few days, nestling between her cold bones from the chill back on Ahch-To, the frigidity back on Hoth. Din joins her once he wrestles off the rest of the armor, and before Nova can explain she wants him, but it’s impossible right now with how exhausted she is, how she can barely keep her eyes open, Din wordlessly lathers up his hands with her favorite, clean-smelling soap, gently raking the suds through her hair.

Nova sighs in the silence, letting her shoulders hunch over, her body weight alleviated by sagging against the warm shower walls and by the soft grip Din has on her arms, making sure she stays upward. For what feels like years, they stand together under the warm running water, reveling in the steam, the heat, without either of them needing to say anything. Din wraps Nova’s long hair up in the freshly washed towel, while she dries off the residual runoff down her arms, her thighs.

The room is cool and dark in the blue twilight, that same fog and haze sinking over the horizon. Wherever the rest of the Mandalorians went, they’ve all but disappeared off the face of the planet. Everything is an eerie kind of quiet, no bugs, no animals, no clamor, nothing that signifies any kind of sentient life outside of the castle. Most nights, that kind of awful silence makes Nova wired, like it permeates even into her dreams, but not here, not now. She has what feels like years’ worth of sleep to catch up on, and the second that Din pulls back the fluffy, silk comforter on their giant bed, Nova steps out of the towel and into the soft cocoon. Din’s barely even settled up behind her before she drifts off somewhere peaceful, somewhere that’s not here.

*

She sleeps. For hours, maybe days, Nova sleeps. It’s dreamless and empty, warm and safe. Usually, nightmares flicker and flash through her mind, her legs sprinting away from whatever menace or threat is chasing her, but not tonight. Nothing wakes Nova up, not the strange quiet, not Din tossing next to her, not the immeasurable weight of saving the galaxy on her shoulders. She sleeps, uninterrupted and powerfully, swaddled up under the light blue blankets that are somehow keeping all the bad things away.

In the end, it’s not a nightmare that startles her away, nor is it Din’s unshaven face pressing into the crook of her neck. It’s the sleepy, quiet beeping of her commlink, which has somehow been removed from its usual place on her wrist and is buried under the extra pillows that stand sentinel over their bed when neither Nova or Din is there.

Din, at this very moment, is also nowhere to be found, and Nova rakes a hand through her hair, tries and fails to suppress a yawn, and digs through the array of pillows on the floor until she can see the bright, red light. “Hello?” she asks, her voice still off somewhere in dreamland, and she rubs sleep from her eyes as she collapses down on the bed, body still stuck in sleep.

“Hey,” Nova hears, and it’s halfway through another yawn before she realizes it’s Cara calling. “Listen, I’d love to actually catch up, but—”

“You have news?” Nova asks, suddenly wide awake. She smooths the comforter out under her hand, crossing one of her legs underneath the other. Outside, the sky is dark.

“I have news,” Cara confirms, grimly. “I know Wedge called you to Hoth a week or so ago because there was a prison break somewhere outside of my jurisdiction.”

Nova nods before she remembers Cara can’t see her. “Yeah,” she adds, belatedly. “Yeah, but no one seemed suspicious or in league with the Order, and it was a holding cell full of minor offenders, so it was kind of a dead end.”

“Well, it was,” Cara sighs, “until it wasn’t. We were right, kind of, because no one who escaped was linked to the First Order. But the night after that prison break happened, your photo with your old name and manufactured crimes popped up as a hit from the Guild.”

Nova’s heart sinks. Something suffocating is blocking her airway, and she tries to swallow past the feeling before she can exhale. “What does that mean?” she manages, barely, hand fluttering around her necklace, pressing into the embossed star.

“Someone’s setting you up,” Cara continues, and her voice is gentler than Nova’s ever heard it. “Someone who likely knows you or Din, knows how to get under your skin. The reason why this is so dangerous is because whoever did it knows exactly what they’re doing. I’ve tried, and Karga has tried, but we can’t even identify where the hit originated from, let alone who put it out. We’re not going to stop looking, but it’s going to be hard to figure out who did it. And because the warrant is for you alive or dead…” Cara trails off, the silence buzzing and dangerous.

Nova closes her eyes before she fills in the blanks. “I’m going to be in danger anywhere I go.”

“Listen,” Cara tries, but it’s too late. Nova’s still exhausted, she’s in pain, she has no idea where Din went, and all she wants to do is to bury her face in Grogu’s head and smell his sweet, reassuring baby smell. Her heart aches. “Novalise, I’m not going to let them get to you. You have some of the strongest forces in the galaxy who’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Nova whispers, “and I appreciate that, Cara, I do, so much, but—but Mandalore isn’t exactly a safe haven, either. The planet knows I can use the Force, and besides that, most of the people Din’s supposed to be ruling hate our guts. I’m not scared of being left to defend myself, because it’s kind of what I’ve learned to be best at. But with what you’re telling me, there’s not a single safe place left in the galaxy for me right now.”

Cara’s silence is deafening. Nova’s heart sinks just a little bit deeper, swimming around somewhere in her stomach. “It’s not forever,” she says, but her voice is a little too glum to be anywhere near reassuring.

“I’m so tired,” Nova admits, feeling tears bubbling up at the corners of her eyes. “And I can’t rest, because that’s when someone can get me. I mean—what would you do, if you were me, Cara?”

Nova can hear Cara moving, a soft rustle underneath the comm. When she speaks again, her voice is low and clear, like she’s telling a secret that only Nova can hear. “I would do what we both know you’re going to do. You’re the rebel girl, remember?” She pauses. “So rebel.”

Nova watches as the comm clicks off, everything in her body electric, a live wire. Before she can bolt to Kicker, or try to find where Din’s hidden in the chambers of the palace, or call Wedge and tell him she’s coming back to Hoth, the door opens, and Din walks in.

“Hi,” Nova breathes, suddenly very aware she’s not wearing any clothes, which is completely ridiculous, because Din has seen, ravaged, and worshipped every inch of it. “Where were you?”

She watches as Din crosses over the floor, the low light of the day catching on his armor. He sighs, moving closer to Nova until he’s standing in between her open legs. Halfheartedly, he hooks his fingers under the rim of the helmet, but gives up completely the second Nova’s hands reach to pull it off instead. Underneath, his mustache isn’t manicured, his hair has been weighed down by the metal, and he looks about as exhausted as she feels.

“Ruling,” Din says, tiredly, and there’s a flint to it Nova hardly hears. He lets out a small scoff in the silence, and she reaches out the smooth palm of her right hand for his cheek to nestle against. “Trying to get the people of this planet to recognize I’m not here to destroy it, or that you—we’re not the enemy.” He catches his slip almost as quickly as it comes out of his mouth, but still, Nova’s heart sinks deep down in her chest again. “I didn’t—look, Nova, I’m not blaming you—”

“It’s okay,” she whispers, even though they both know it’s not. For a second, Din just stares at her, and then he presses his forehead against hers. The warmth his skin gives off is almost enough to make her forget about where they are, about the people that refuse to see her as an ally, about having to save the galaxy from forces that want her dead or for their own malicious intent. “They’ll come around,” she offers, her voice barely there, and Din shakes his head, his hair rustling against Nova’s forehead.

“What if they don’t?” Din asks, and by the weight in his voice, it’s clear he’s not just talking about Mandalore accepting her as the Mand’alor’s riduur, as an ally, as on their side, but about the infiltrated Guild that’s out to kill her, and the First Order that’s out for worse.

Nova’s quiet for a long time, just listening to him breathe, trying to map both of their heartbeats, yearning for the constellations hiding above the hazy Mandalore sky. “What if we can’t do it?” she whispers, her mouth hollow, her head aching. “Any of this? What if we can’t pull this off, Din?” She doesn’t point out the specifics, the weight of planets hanging over both of their heads. They both know what she means. The silence is horrible, but Nova keeps her eyes closed, just like she used to, predicting every move Din will make in the dark.

“Then we don’t,” Din breathes back, and Nova’s about to resist, tears springing back to life in her eyes, and then Din’s mouth is on hers and nothing else matters. She lets him sprawl her back on the bed, the smooth satin coaxing and cool under her skin. Stars are burning out behind her eyes, the same celestial imprints that flood through hyperspace, something more, something deeper, something beyond this planet, this moment, this darkness. When Din’s mouth leaves Nova’s, her eyes stay shut, and his lips trail down to her ear. “I’d give everything else up but you.”

They both know he’s lying—Din’s heart is too big, Nova’s purpose is too bright—but neither of them say it out loud. Nova keeps his words in the hollow of her mouth, something shiny and devastating, a supernova or a pearl.

Din kisses Nova like he’s never had her before, low and desperate. It’s an echo of what happened in the amphitheater just hours ago, but it’s sustained, huge, warm. His mouth is made to devour, and if he’s whispering anything to feel the silence, Nova can’t hear it. She’s focused on where his kisses are trailing, desperate and hot and everything she didn’t know she needed. It’s freezing in here, but he’s so warm, his body heat louder than the cold.

“Kiss me,” Din whispers, his voice rough, a plea. One of his hands comes up and braces against Nova’s chin, not an order, but a question. She reaches towards his neck, trying to pull him down, to anchor their bodies together. It’s dark in their room. Without the stars shining above, it’s even darker.

She’s so tired. Still, even after all that rest, it’s like the exhaustion has permeated Nova straight down to her bones. She shudders and sighs as Din moves down her naked body, his lips planting kisses that she doesn’t know she needs until he’s already there. It’s easy and devastating and wonderful and crushing all at once. When Nova tries to return the favor, Din gently pushes her down, mumbling something about taking care of her.

It’s sweet. So sweet, even, that she’s on the verge of tears. Nova would do anything to stay here forever, to feel her husband’s lips on her bare skin, washing away all of the horror, the trauma, the darkness. She doesn’t open her eyes, even though she wants to. Din’s spent so much time without his helmet to appear like one of the people that call themselves Mandalorians, and she wants to give him back every single second of the time that prying eyes stole away.

Before long, Nova’s already close—her orgasm bubbling up quietly, without fanfare, without dramatics, just because Din knows exactly how to make her body sing—and when she taps at his arm to let him know, his mouth unlatches from the small hickies he’s leaving on the terrain of her bare stomach, and moves in between her thighs.

Effortlessly, he hold her legs up, hooking both of them around his shoulders so that his tongue can stay anchored in place. Nova moans, a quiet, radiant thing, and Din’s tongue finds exactly where she needs it to go. It pulses there, on the sweetest of spots, over and over again until she’s finished.

Breathless, she claws at his pants again, but Din shakes his head, his mouth dropping to her forehead as he pulls her into bed. “Rest, Nova,” he whispers, his voice faraway, a deep rumble. He pulls her in against his body, warm and soothing, and both of them are out before their heads hit their pillow.

*

Din’s asleep next to her, his slow, even breaths barely anything even in all the silence. Nova wants to fall back to sleep, but she knows she can’t. Her heartbeat is running itself rampant, and she’s a tangle of wants and needs, everything pulled in opposite directions. As quietly as she can, she slides herself out from the protective warmth of Din’s arms and the comforter, gently placing her feet on the floor. Even in the cool darkness of the night, her wardrobe, sleek but huge, has nothing but clothes in the same shades of Mandalorian blue, of beskar silver, but right now, Novalise doesn’t want to be a Mandalorian. She doesn’t want to be royalty, doesn’t want to be a figurehead. She doesn’t exactly want to be a Rebel either, because both titles mean the ultimate fate of the Outer Rim and beyond in her hands, so she settles for somewhere in between.

When she’s all dressed—black monochrome right down to her scuffed boots, in a weak imitation of the Luke Skywalker style—she braids the top half of her hair back, sleek and functional, and chooses a shawl buried at the back of her closet, underneath all of the Mandalorian haze of clothing. It’s a stormy grey that shimmers with the silver her husband wears when the fabric catches the light. If you pay close enough attention to the shawl, small, intentional stitches of rust and orange are woven into the fabric, hidden, furious, tiny flames.

Not exactly Mandalorian, but not entirely Rebel, either. And when Nova looks at herself in the mirror, studying the way her eyes flash with all that fire she was so certain was gone a few minutes ago, she sees herself right down to the quick, the high wire in between—she looks something like a Jedi.

So she pulls the Skywalker family lightsaber out of the hook on her door and pulls it to her belt loop, watching as the metal sways and dances in the low light. The weapon seems ancient, like something from another world. Something holy, even though she knows Luke Skywalker is a man and not a myth.

When she closes the bedroom door behind her, Din doesn’t even move. Usually, Nova’s the loud and clumsy one, worlds more obnoxious than Din’s practiced quiet, but she’s grown into her stealth over the last few weeks, especially living here, in a palace that has more rooms than the planet does people. It’s strange and eerie here at night, down the sprawling marble stairs, and she takes the first corridor she can find, just trying to walk off some of the pressure, to put her head back on her shoulders.

It’s lit only by candlelight, an archaic, flickering warmth, so in contrast to the rest of the steel and metal that Mandalore is made up of. It’s like she’s stepped into something that’s been around for years, even though she knows that it’s not possible. Mandalore was sieged, usurped, sieged again, razed and brought to the ground, destroyed. The planet’s atmosphere is mostly ash and haze, all that leftover war from years ago. But this part of the palace looks older, like a tomb that somehow survived.

It’s too creepy, Nova decides, even though the curious part of her is itching to explore it. She wants to pore through every aspect of it, try to find remnants of lost Mandalore, like her father used to unearth texts, like her mother used to excavate history. Before the war, before the Alliance was necessary, before all this death and darkness. When Nova comes out the other end of the corridor, she’s right next to the intimidating double doors of the war room, the holiest place Mandalore has. She pulls her shawl a little closer to her body, trying to retain the warmth she left back upstairs, trying to hold onto a memory more than anything tangible.

Nova isn’t intending to slip into the war room, let alone walk towards the sprawling dais that holds the beskar throne, but she does. It’s still quiet, so quiet, and the dark is coaxing her closer, pulling her up the steps, something beyond a simple want or need. She has the sneaking suspicion that she’s not supposed to be in here, not this late, not without Din, not when she has no legal or physical right to this place, but when she sits down on the throne, something deeper echoes out from within her chest.

It feels like a hymn and a battle cry. Before she has a second to adjust, to rationalize anything, everything becomes starry and disconnected. It’s been so long since she had a Force vision this immediate, this intense, and it hurls her through the proverbial hyperspace, everything dropping away.

It takes three steps forward in this strange, terrifying liminal space before Nova can even identify what’s scaring her. It’s the same kind of evil she felt way back on Takodana, before she was married to the ruler of a planet, before she even knew it was her destiny to be both Rebel and Jedi. There’s a mask she doesn’t recognize, twisted and devious. Behind its menacing, blank expression is something horrifying. Looking into the visor, it’s like her own soul is being fractured into pieces.

It’s humanoid until it’s not. The figure wearing the mask of destruction is tall, easily a foot taller than she is, horrible and menacing. But when the lightsaber they’re using ignites, it’s scarier than the vision of the person at all. It’s awful. It looks like it was forged out of lava, menacing red, the blade flickering and hissing in a way that’s somehow even more terrifying than the stark contrast of the Darksaber’s blade. Nova gasps, the light too bright, too sudden, and she can feel the residual thud on the floor, even in the vision. She knows when she comes out of it, she’ll be hurt, but the blade is getting closer. It looks like a giant rapier, a sword made only for evil things. At the hilt, spraying out in both directions, the blade extends. When the figure in the mask swings, it’s without remorse, so quick, so terrible.

But Nova’s not the target. She rolls away, out of the strike zone, and then she hears Luke Skywalker’s voice cutting through the darkness. She turns, and suddenly she’s not in the horror of the vision, anymore. She doesn’t know where she is. The ground looks icy, like Hoth, but there’s red powder spit everywhere, vomited across giant salt deposits. It’s so bright that her hand comes up in front of her eyes, and when she lowers it, Luke is gone. She’s gone, too. She turns around, hair whipping in the furious wind, trying to find where her name is being cried, and she trips over a mound on the salty ground, and when she falls to her knees, it’s a person, newly slain. The blood is so red, redder than the powder, redder than the evil lightsaber. It drowns through the lines on her hands, slips through her long fingers. She screams, trying to back up from the body, and then she realizes it’s Bo-Katan, gurgling through the slit in her throat, and when Nova tries desperately, in vain, to buffer the blood spilled, Luke Skywalker calls her name again.

But it’s not Luke. It is him—for a second, for the tiniest fraction of a moment—but then it’s not. His lightsaber floods with red, cancelling out the green light. The hallway flickers, once, twice, and then Darth Vader is charging towards her, and all Nova can hear is her blood pounding frantically in her ears and his heavy breathing through his mask, the sound that used to fill all of her nightmares. She’s slamming on the door at the other end of the hallway, and when it opens, the only person standing there isn’t a person at all, but a small alien baby all of two feet tall, green and adorable, and Nova drops her body around her son, protective and sobbing, curling every single inch of her around his tiny little frame, trying to shield him from Vader’s wrath, but when she cries, the vision changes again.

She can feel the motion sickness bubbling up in her stomach, horrible and nauseating. When Nova lands, she doesn’t open her eyes. She’s seen more than enough. Even right now, in the middle of her Force vision, all she wants to do is go back to sleep. She can feel the ache she slept away burrowing right back into her bones. Her scar is pulsing, enraged and angry. The headache she spent the last two and a half weeks fighting off is back, radiating straight down to behind her left eye. It’s all too much, and she can’t look. She doesn’t want to see anything else.

“Novalise,” she hears again, and the only reason she opens her eyes this time is because it’s her mother speaking. Her mother, who only ever called her Andromeda. Her mother, who spent half her life in the stars. Her mother, long dead. Her mother, who never got to know this version of her daughter, this Jedi-in-training, royal Rebel Girl that just desperately needs a hug from her mom.

“Mom,” she cries, and it’s so white. Everything here is antiseptic and deafening. It doesn’t even look like a planet, or even a room, or anything at all. She’s not even sure if there’s a floor, but Nova starts running like she’s never ran before in her life. Her breath is ragged and coming out in bursts. The jiggle in her chest and thighs burn under her speed, but she doesn’t care. She’s racing towards her mother, towards open arms, towards everything she’s been cheated out of for the last ten years.

It lasts for a second. Just a second. The figure is Piper Maluev, her skin dark and radiant, her hair down to her waist. Her lips are wide open and welcoming, her eyes crinkled at the seams. She’s tall and radiant and strong, and she’s everything Nova’s missed for nearly half her life.

And then it isn’t Piper. It’s not Luke, either, or Darth Vader, or whoever the dark, terrible, masked figure was. It’s not her usual nightmare transformation of Jacterr Calican. It’s not Bo-Katan, convulsing and dying. It’s Din. Just for a moment, a tiny fraction of relief, and then it’s not Din, either.

It’s a woman Nova’s never seen before, and her hand is clamped firmly around Nova’s windpipe. Like it’s nothing, she pulls her right off the disappearing floor and choking the life out of her. Her eyes are light but so terrifyingly menacing, her hair is a mess of a dark blonde. She’s pale and awful and her face is gleeful as she pulls the life out of Nova, a sucking, open wound.

She can’t talk. She doesn’t even want to plead for her life. If she’s this close to death anyway, and she just saw her mother, Nova figures there’s a pretty damn good chance that both of her parents are just over the other side. The woman is so happy to be killing Nova off, she doesn’t want to fight it. When her grip recedes, just for a half a second, Nova chokes out a confession that makes everything else grind to a halt.

It’s four words. Barely anything. Tears are streaming down her cheeks when her lips finally open. “I want my mom.”

Then she’s being dropped onto the floor, which very much exists now, and the light room filled with nothingness curls away, receding like it’s being burned. It’s dark in here, the tiled floor slippery and treacherous. In the background, there’s a makeshift trophy made from what looks like bones. Nova’s gasping for air, fighting back with a newfound vigor, kicking her legs helplessly to try and get some leverage on this woman who wants her dead, when, suddenly, she’s at eye level with her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she seethes, a terrifying smile still spread across her horrible, beautiful face. “When I find you, you’re going to be begging for your life instead of your death.”

“Who—who are you?” Nova manages, through agony. Her shoulders hurt. Her headache feels like it’s trying to split her jaw in half. Her scar feels like it’s being reopened. Everything is torture, and she can’t even breathe.

“You’ll see,” the woman whispers, and her voice is so deadly that Nova internally corrects every time she’s ever called Bo-Katan venomous. Bo-Katan Kryze is a flower. One of the iridescent, gorgeous ones, that lined all the brush on Yavin, the ones Nova’s spent years pressing into the pages of every journal she’s ever owned. She’s kind and lovely and Nova’s very best friend, and when she gets out of this alive, Nova’s going to tell Bo-Katan that. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Andromeda.”

Nova heaves one giant breath into her lungs, trying to muster up anything that she can, even if it’s just more air. “I—” she starts, and the woman smiles again, loaded and dangerous. “I—I already did that, you miserable bitch,” Nova manages, and when she’s slammed into the awful floor, it’s worth it. There’s some kind of desperation behind the woman’s eyes, now and when her hand finds Nova’s throat again, she spits in her face.

And then she’s out of it. Hurtled out of it, actually, like a dying starfighter in the middle of space. She gasps and heaves on the floor, and as her sight comes back, her breathing does, too. Her head is still killing her. Her shoulders feel like they’re trying to carry the entire weight of Mandalore. Her scar is awful, white-hot and painful to the touch. Somewhere, distantly, her knees hurt like she’s fallen to them, and when she gains back her sense of sight and the feeling of her life being choked out of her body subsides, Nova realizes she has fallen to them. She’s fallen a lot, actually, down multiple steps leading to the floor from the raised platform where she was once sitting in the beskar throne. Nova shudders, inhaling through a terrible wheeze, curling her legs up close to her chest, trying to shake off the absolute shitshow that just hurtled her through the most traumatic Force vision she’s ever had.

“You,” comes a booming, rueful voice, and when Nova’s eyes flutter open, she’s expecting it to be the malicious, purple-haired woman from her vision. Her eyes take a second to adjust, her left one throbbing from the horrid ache pulsing behind it, and when she finally locates the source, it’s the miserable man from the gathering earlier.

“Can I help you?” Nova asks, her voice shooting up at the end, on the verge of tears.

“You aren’t supposed to be up there,” he spits, and Nova squints up at the throne she’d just fallen from.

“I know,” she whispers, dully. She presses a shaking hand to the ache behind her eye, trying to shut out this conversation like she wishes she’d ignored the vision. She tries to stand up, but her knees are too bruised to sustain pulling her to her feet, so she just slumps back against the step she’s on, trying to muster all the strength she has in her exhausted body to not break down. “I’m sorry,” Nova tacks on, the words barely there. “I—I wasn’t intending to sit here, or even come in the room, it just—”

“Happened,” he finishes, oddly calm. His voice sounds closer. Much closer. Nova opens her right eye, and he’s only at the bottom of the staircase. There’s something so wretched and dangerous about the energy he’s giving off, and she wants to run, but she’s in no position to even stand, let alone fight him off, so she just sits there, curling her knees into her chest, pulling her shawl as tight as she can against her upper body. “You’re an abomination.”

A laugh, the traitorous thing, bubbles up inside Nova’s throat. It’s not funny. It’s not. It’s pathetic, and likely racially motivated, but she can’t help herself. Her ribs ache, like they got banged up in her distant fall down these sharp, steep marble steps. “That, surprisingly, is not the first time I’ve been called an abomination in my life.”

“Do you know what the Jedi did to our people, little girl?” He’s angry. Nova can hear it in his voice. And normally, it would scare her, trigger her fight or flight reflex, keep her moving, but after her paranormal face-off with two of the scariest figures she’s ever seen, this one isn’t really that high up on our list. “I do. You were eradicated for good reason. You scorched our planet down to nothing, and now you and your cult leader husband come back here and try to take over? Not on my watch.”

Nova can feel him getting closer. He’s so much bigger than she is, up close, tall and buff, menacing and taut. She weakly pulls her hand away from her eye, trying to at the very least give him her full attention, but she’s so fucking tired. It’s in her bones, at this point. She doesn’t want to be royalty. She doesn’t want to be a Rebel. And, in contrast to what the man in front of her is screaming, she doesn’t want to be a Jedi.

She wants to be the Novalise she was on Naator, with nothing but domesticity and yellow leaves and pink skies. She wants to be the protector she was out there in hyperspace. And, for the first time in ten years, she wants to be Andromeda Maluev, fifteen and gleeful, running around Yavin knowing the stars were her destiny and that evil could always be defeated.

“I don’t even want to be here,” Nova whispers, finally, and it’s like something inside her breaks.

“Good,” the man spits, “then we’re in agreement.” And then his hands are yanking away the hood of her shawl and tangling in her braided hair. Nova’s scream gets cut off as she’s thrown down the rest of the stairs, like her body’s giving up. She chokes out something horrible, fighting to get to her bruised, banged up knees, sore from the fall, aching from the blissful time riding Din’s face less than an hour ago, but she can’t summon the strength. Somewhere, she knows Luke Skywalker is yelling at her to use the Force, but Nova’s had enough force today to last a lifetime. When she’s kicked in the stomach, brutal and awful, she just curls in on herself, hoping her death isn’t a slow one. He startles towards her again, ripping her shawl off of her body, clawing at the meat of her upper arm, and something snaps inside of her. If she’s going to die, really die, it’s not because she succumbed to the injuries this rabid Mandalorian is giving her to try and put the blame on her shoulders. She survived Moff Gideon. She survived Din and Grogu leaving her. She survived her parents dying. And she survived the abuse of Jacterr Calican’s awful hands. Novalise can survive this.

When her lightsaber roars to life in her hands, it’s not only Nova swinging. She can feel the weight of what it being the Skywalker family lightsaber, of Luke and Leia before her, of his father before him, of all the generations yet to come to wield this weapon, this holy sword, this impossible thing. It takes all of her energy, a brilliant beam of blue light, and then she falls to the floor, knowing that even if this is where it ends, that she fought back.

Everything next comes in flashes. It’s in these tiny fractals like what happened when the Crest had died right over Dagobah and crashed to the surface. She sees a blade ignite, and in between the rhythm of her fading in and out of consciousness, Nova thinks she’s just watching herself fight the man back. Suddenly, he drops to the floor, his body nothing but dead weight, and she wants to scream, but she’s back out. It’s horrible and deafening. She’s being scooped up, she can feel that. She’s crying. She’s definitely crying. There are voices, loud ones. When she has enough strength to open her eyes again, Din is slamming his gloved fist against the airlock on Kicker, his voice frantic. She can’t make out what he’s saying, though, and another face appears above her. Din gently transfers Nova’s limp body into someone else’s arms, and when Nova looks up, it’s Bo-Katan, her face so panicked it’s almost impossible to recognize who it is.

“Nova, you gotta stay awake,” Bo-Katan whispers, her palm slapping softly at Nova’s cheek. “C’mon, I mean it. If you die here on this planet you hate, I will haunt you in the afterlife. I swear, you have to stay awake.”

“I don’t—” Nova starts, and Bo-Katan shakes her head.

“You literally should not be talking,” Bo-Katan says, her eyesight dipping to Nova’s neck. Her eyes widen for a second and then her smooth fingers ghost over the outline. Nova coughs at her light touch, and she realizes that the marks from the vision she had of being choked within an inch of her life are here, that they followed her back out of the vision and into this moment. “Nova, no, shut up, I’m serious—”

“I don’t—don’t hate Mandalore,” she manages, her voice sounding like shards of glass, and Bo-Katan offers her a hasty, worried smile.

“You do,” Bo-Katan argues, but her voice is so gentle. “But don’t worry, princess, we’re getting you the hell off of it. No complaints now that you’re off Mandalore, you got it? The second you got here, I knew both of you wanted to leave.”

Din’s at her side again, and Bo-Katan kneels down, gently placing Nova in her familiar tangle of blankets and pillows. Nova’s eyes close again, and when they slide back open, Bo-Katan is standing, trading worried glances and hushed tones with Din.

Nova’s head hurts. So bad. It’s splitting down the middle of her skull, actually, but all she can do is press a hand over her eye and try to block out the familiar low light of the ship that smells more like home than this entire planet ever had.

“Listen, about what I told you back on Hoth—”

“It’s fine,” Din cuts her off, and his next few words are warbled. “I get it. Your allegiance is to Mandalore, not to us.”

Nova can’t hear Bo-Katan’s answer. In fact, she’s not even sure if there’s even words being spoken, because the next time she looks up, Bo-Katan is just staring down at her, incredibly concerned, such an obvious change from her usually stoic expression. Nova’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. She’s exhausted. Bo-Katan kneels down again, just for a split second, to pull the loose end of Nova’s shawl over the rest of her folded body. Nova wants to cry.

“Flower,” she garbles, nonsensically. She’s trying to tell Bo-Katan that she’s sorry for all the animosity, that she trusts her, and more than that, she likes her. It doesn't make a single lick of sense to anyone outside of Nova’s head, but Bo-Katan offers a tiny smile anyway.

“Here,” Din says, stiffly, holding out the sheathed blade of the Darksaber to Bo-Katan. Nova’s eyes flutter closed, just for a beat, and when they open back up, Bo-Katan is pushing the weapon back into Din’s grip.

“It’s not mine,” she insists. “Besides, you’re not getting out of it that easy. You’ll be back.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Take care of her,” Bo-Katan interrupts. Nova blacks out again until they’re up in hyperspace. Din’s body is shielding her from the cold, his limbs draped all over the places that hurt the least. When she opens her eyes, they’re floating through the cosmos, and all her eyes can see is sweet, sweet stardust.

*

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if you would like to be taken off the taglist or put on it, send me a message/ask/comment!! <3

*

[littlenahsstuff]

In love, I swear.

A/n Literally my first time writing actual fanfiction. This might be a flaming dumpster fire idk. I will persevere and cringe later, but for now, enjoy.

supreme!Cordelia Goode x reader

TW:nothing much, just a big old fluffernutter sandwich. A little angst. Swears I guess.

Synopsis: Cordelia has just recruited you to be a counselor at Robicheauxs and it's safe to say you are head over heels for the supreme. Unfortunately, you aren't the one to tell her.

You always thought that you weren't too special of a witch, you had the basic witchy spells down and specialized in the people who struggled on the inside... but in a more witchy sense. You also helped the witches who needed to get their powers more developed or who ones that are just behind in school. A sort of glorified counselor you suppose. It's sorta funny, especially since you aren't the most confident, how you can talk to all of the girls. When it boils down to it you are just a witchy gal searching for love. Specifically Cordelia's. It could never happen though.

Your love life wasn't the only area you lacked in before Robicheauxs, you had been struggling to find a job suited for your interests. Let's just say that you have a lifetime ban from one of the Mcdonalds in Louisiana. Fire and grease doesn't mix.

Of course, if it wasn't for dear, sweet, precious, Cordelia, you would be living on the streets. Luckily that didnt happen and so here you are today, three months in to your teaching position at Robicheauxs.

Oh, the moment, "You're hired. I look forward to expanding the academy's family and getting to know you better especially," left the Supremes lips, the better off you were.

And yet, even with all of the joy that comes with finally getting paid, there were the challenges as well. For starters, everyone was extremely nice to you, even though you kept mostly to yourself, there was this one person that made this heaven more hellish. Madison the bitch witch Montgomery.

You had been warned by Zoe, your closest confidante in this new place and also Madisons freaking girlfriend, that she was no pleasant peach. Never in all of your doubtful thoughts, had how bad it actually was crossed your mind. It was never the cockiness that got to you, you had a different appreciation for it than most. Found the confidence refreshing almost. No, no no no no. It was in fact, that she was constantly trying to dig up dirt on you.

"You're too much of a goody two shoes y/n," she once stated with a glare. The same day you had heard Zoe squabbling about something and your name came up. Your name and the fact Madison had stolen your wallet to look at your license. It turned up later on your bed stand.

Madison's a lover of Zoe and drama you've come to find out.

It's harmless though really, you dont mind the extra bit of attention that comes with it. Its flattering so no need to complain to anybody, especially not Cordelia.

Cordelia, mmm, yeah now shes the biggest threat here. She is the reason you got this job and might be the reason you lose it.

She once caught you with your doodle journal. It was a harmless question,

"Y/n, what're you drawing?" She looked over your shoulder. You almost jumped out of your skin and your sketchbook went flying.

"Oh dear, are you alright?" She worried her lips a bit. Her big, plump, kissable lips. Come on Y/n, get out of it.

"Yes," you squeaked. Sinking farther into the sofa. She chuckled her beautiful chuckle and sat on the couch arm.

"So, what was my favorite school counselor drawing just then?" She questioned. Glancing to the thrown book.

Your face went red.

"Uh-" you paused, come on you're making it a bigger deal than it has to be, "you." You couldn't look into her eyes.

She gazed at you at you and it felt like a hole was being burned into your skull.

"Okay," Cordelia said, leaving it at that. Stood up and made to walk away.

"Wait!" She paused and turned back to you, seeing you scramble to get your sketchbook.

"Yes?" Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I- don't you want to see it?" You said and you slapped yourself mentally for about the hundredth time she walked in.

She smiled softly at you, "Of course, I thought you didn't. You looked scared to death, like bambi."

"Okay," you flipped back towards the page and cringed. It wasn't your best peice. You could never capture her beauty right.

Her eyes scanned over it, widening before squinting with her grin.

"It's so good!" She gasped.

"Yes, that is Cordelia Goode," you joked in a monotone manner. She slapped your shoulder jokingly, making you snort.

"You nerd, I didn't mean it that way. Either way, you did a fantastic job! I wished I looked as good as you make me seem," she muttered the last bit, bit you heard it. It saddens you to remember the damage Fiona did.

"Hey, Cordy," you started. You realized that you used a nickname that Madison did, but she doesn't seem to care.

"You know what I think? I think that you're wrong. You see I just can't for the life of me get your soft proud loving smile right. Your eyes aren't as warm and glowing as they are in reality. I couldn't manage to picture the right placement for those worry lines or crowd feet you have. You might not like them, but to me they show that you worry and care and that you laugh at the stupidest of things, which is a trait I adore. You are more perfect than any Davinci or Van Gogh," you say. You don't like when your friends feel bad about themselves.

Cordelia's tearing up a bit and wiles it away. "Didn't know you were a goddamn poet too?" She joked with a giggle, "thanks y/n, sometimes I need to hear something like that."

"No problem Cordelia," I can't help it, you're my muse, is what you want to say.

"Well, I have some paperwork, but it was nice to see ya," she hurriedly excused and rushed out.

Unbeknownst to you, Madison was watching. She knew exactly how to get dirt on you now. She had something all along.

The next week you spent daydreaming about Cordy...elia, you couldnt help but go back to that conversation. You needed to be more discrete, way more descrete.

So you made sure to draw your crush no more. That didn't change the fact you forgot to destroy the evidence in writing.

You had slept in a little too late, so in a rush you were to get to your office. The reason you had being you daydreaming about Cordelia and yours faux life together a little too long.

A bunch of new juicy stuff for Madison as she snatched it from your bedside table. It was too easy really.

She opened it up to the first page. It acted like a normal diary, just stating checklists of things to do and things you did. The size was fairly large, so skipping a few pages till she got to the juicy stuff and the part where you actually did know Cordy wasn't harmful.

It was a barf fest of emotion. "Oh Cordelia is so awesome, oh I'm so lucky to work with Cordelia, oh my, I won't ever get a chance with Cordelia, she's the supreme!"

"Ew," Madison groaned, whipping out her phone.

Then she found it, the goldmine of confessions. It was all the way in the back, meaning you had wrote it recently.

"Dear, myself

Cordelia today caught me drawing a picture of herself and said something I didn't particularly enjoy listening about herself. I can't believe Fiona would send her into such a deep hatred of herself that even with her gone she's hurting. She's no mother. Cordelia is the love of my life, even if I'm not hers, she deserves all the love I can give. She's not broken, but she just needs someone to love her and I do. I promise to give her as much love as possible without her finding out what kind it really is, I'm in love, I swear.

Sincerely, Y/N."

So she snapped a picture of the page.

After school was over Cordelia was not expecting Madison to barge into her office. Let alone with something regarding YOU of all people.

"Cordy, I've got something to tell you about y/n!" Madison sang out, waving her phone in front of Cordelia's face as she sat on top her desk.

Madison was just careless with others and too carried g about herself. It was the perfect storm. The only person who could ever take it too far to just prove a point. That there was something wrong with you.

If Madison Montgomery had taken one moment to actually think about it, she was just jealous. Jealous that another person at the coven was better than her to Cordelia. She was one spoiled bitch growing up. Guess it backfired.

"What?" Cordelia questioned in concern, "Is she okay? Madison what did you do to her!?" Her thoughts raced, Madison's pranks often went a little too far. She did kill Misty.

"Now now Cordy, don't get your panties in a twist. Here read this," Madison demanded to her supreme, she shoved it into her face and Cordelia grabbed it.

Her eyes expected headlines on the news or a mugshot, but she realized it was just your writing.

"Madison," she warned.

"Come on, I know you can read!" Madison poked Cordelia's forehead, prompting a slap from the Supreme.

Ms. Goode exhaled, "Fine."

Her eyes fluttered over the words, brows furrowing with every sentence. She couldn't comprehend, could she read?? It seemed to her as if her brain was creating what she wanted to see, but no, you wrote it. Unfortunately.

Everything's silent. Then the thought flits across her head, you like her back.

"In love, I swear."

Oh she's mad. Not at you, no, she could never. Madison on the other hand better,

"Get out of my office right now," Cordelia whispered. Madison's smile faltered.

"What, didn't you want to know your feelings are reciprocated? Come on, I'm just trying to get you two to speed up the process." Madison hopped of the desk and sauntered out.

What has she done.

Cordelia was wracked with guilt for awhile, with no way to tell you either. How does one even go about telling someone they read their deepest darkest secrets. How!?

She couldn't, so she did what she could. She pulled away from you and into her work. All of those lunches spent together stopped. The nights in the green house gone. Reading together on the weekends by the fire, gone.

And it left you empty. You had no idea what you did, but you must've done something.

So you decided to confront her, you hadn't gone much sleep since, so you were literally and figuratively tired of all of this shit.

Your knock on the door startled Cordelia, but your presence startled her even more. Both of you looked like wrecks.

"Oh, Y/n! Please, come in," Cordelia gestured and you did, closing the door behind you.

It was then that you finally broke down.

"What did I do Delia!?" You sobbed, falling to your knees. Yes it was dramatic and not even you expected it but you were holding your emotions for so long.

"Oh," Cordelia briskly moved over to you, concern painted on her face. She was watching you carefully, you looked so fragile. Just like she had felt at times.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, "What did I do?" Her hand tilted your head towards her, but you still couldn't look into her brown eyes, opting for the floor. If you did, you probably wouldn't be able to look away.

"Y/n look at me sweetie," the nicknames never failed to make your heart soar. It was your weakness, your eyes met and they were glued there.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing nothing!" She took a deep breath, "I saw a page from your journal."

You froze, terror crept up your spine.

"Oh my god. Um Cordelia I am so sorry, you, wow I- god I'm so creepy! It's perfectly fine if you want to not be my friend or fire me. I didn't do it to be weird, it was how I expressed myself. I was trying to hide it I promise, i dont even know what happened!?"

"I'm gonna kill Madison, faster than my mother did," Cordelia groaned.

"Wh-" your brain malfunctions. Is-Is Cordelia kissing you? Right now?

Indeed she was and just like you dreamed about, her lips were so soft and her kiss gentle.

Maybe Madison could be forgiven... but not without a harsh talk.

"In love, I swear," she repeated in a whisper against your lips.

[arcadianmoonshadowjedi]

My Version of ROTT- Part 1

This isn’t really a fanfic, but more like bullet points of how I would make ROTT go if I was in charge of the story, which I might do some one shots or drabbles of eventually. Instead of a movie, I would make it into a limited series with an ensemble cast- where the focus would be on the main Arcadia gang rather than just Jim: Jim, Toby, Claire, Aja, Krel, and Douxie would fill the role as “main character” for the most part and get equal amounts of focus. Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, Varvatos, Archie would also play important roles, and Zoe would definitely have an important role as well. Steve and Eli would DEFINITELY be more useful!! More focus on the arcane order too since they’re the main villains. I only thought of ideas for how a two-part first episode would go so far, with bits and pieces later on.

A lot this is derived from Inspiration from across the fandom from headcanons and other fics! I’m definitely open to any ideas if anyone wants to share! :)

Episode 1:

Starts with a flashback of the Arcane Order way back in ancient Greece, where their father Kronos the titan laid dying in the battlefield after pulling a massive sacrifice to end a massive war. He told his children it is now their turn to carry on the balance between magic and nature, and that there will come a time when their titans will rise. They will need to retrieve the Genesis Seals and the Kronisphere, a powerful weapon capable of resetting time. Before Kronos could give more information, he finally succumbed to his death (might make some changes here).

The Arcane Order not only plans to reset the timeline and wipe out mankind on Earth, but also do the same across the whole entire universe to wipe out any “violent” beings that cause wars, including Akiridions; they plan to perform the timeline reset simultaneously which is why they need to go to Arcadia (center of the universe).

It’s Possible that Seklos and Gaylen were one, if not the first keepers of the balance in the universe before the AO and Kronos, to help tie in 3Below into this somehow, might expand on this later.

Flash forward to centuries later, after Wizards, Douxie is hiding Nari in Metro City and Jim, Claire, Toby, Steve, and Krel were able to go back to school for their junior year of high school. Jim (Not sure if I want him to be human or half-troll in this, probably the latter) is getting help to recover from his previous trauma and has a lot of catching up to do in school, but is being helped by his friends, mainly Claire and Krel.

Still working on the events leading up to the subway fight in the movie, but would probably keep it as it is for the most part. And Jim would still get knocked out the same way probably. However if he is a troll, he might have more strength but since the AO are ancient magical beings, they could still overpower him, and top of that Jim would still be insecure about his strength since they were able to corrupt him before.

When Claire tries to protect Nari after the subway fight, she gets hit hard by Skrael knocking her out. When Douxie asks Claire to teleport Nari out, she finds that instead of releasing shadows, she’s only emitting useless freezing air from her hands! Skrael’s hit froze her ability to do magic which was further evident by her hands being covered in icicles. Douxie switches places with Nari to prevent activating the seals.

The episode ends with The arrest of Claire, Toby, Aaarrrgh, Nari as Douxie, and Archie.

(This and the next ep sorta parallel when Jim and Toby got arrested in TH Season 1)

Episode 2:

The next ep would be part 2 of the Premiere and would start with the funny mugshots (Tobes saying something like “Not Again!” and the interrogations, and Krel breaking them out. Keeping this since this was all pure gold!

Everyone meets up in flying Camelot where Jim is injured & recovering from the battle. They maybe discussing some battle strategy and also guidance from Nari

Krel makes contact with Aja who comes to Earth with Eli (NO MPREG STEVE NONSENSE HERE!!!!).

Also Jim does some cooking in the castle kitchen which sorta cheers him up since it’s one thing he’s still good at and everyone loves (though if he’s troll Jim, he’s upset he can’t enjoy what he makes).Then there would be some Jlaire cuteness where Claire cheers up troll Jim by bringing him forks to enjoy and they get all lovey dovey and sweet.

The gang contacts Zoe, who’s determined to join the fight after Douxie and Nari switch places and she’s more determined to help her closest friend. We will see her bonding more with Krel despite their bumpy beginnings & they will be working on making a new amulet for Jim.

Meanwhile, the AO attempting the summon their titans while Douxie is spying on them and gathering more information. Still wanna work out the details as to how Douxie will switch back with Nari or whether he would escape like in the ROTT version by @tenebrius-excellium since I also prefer the titans rising later too!

The Ep might end with Aja coming to Earth and a sweet reunion.

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 8

So some of the details I’m getting are coming from the Teen Wolf novel On Fire that was published in 2012. It basically gave backstory into some of the characters that we never really see in the show. Like is describes Scott’s father and describes him having an asthma attack. I really recommend it. You can find it online for under 10$ so it’s worth it. 

TW: Mentions of S*xual Abuse

————

After the game ended, everyone else was celebrating. Beacon Hills lacrosse had qualified for the state championships. I played along until I was able to slip away back into the school, seeing as Scott was doing damage control with Allison and Jackson. The players and Coach were long gone, I slipped into the locker room door just as it was closing. 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Stiles’ phone, and to my amazement I heard Stiles' ringtone echoing in the dark.

“Oh thank god.” I sighed in relief, following the ringing, “I was so worried about-” I stopped, the phone slipping from my hands. There Peter stood with Stiles’ arm in his grip. Derek stood in the shadows behind him. 

“Now who is this little thing, nephew?” Peter tilted his head to the side. His face had been healed completely of burns, nothing remained. 

Derek kept his stern expression, not meeting my eyes, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

Peter hummed, “Really? I haven’t seen you since you were about yea high.” He placed his hand at his chest. 

“Let him go.” I glared at him, not fooling around with his pleasantries. He dropped Stiles' arm. 

“Certainly, at the lady’s request.” He grinned. Without breaking eye contact, I reached forward and grabbed Stiles arm, pulling him behind me. He struggled a little.

“Now is not the time to be the man, get behind me now.” He complied.

“What the hell…?” I heard Scott’s voice ring through the empty locker room.

“Scott, no-” I was cut off by Scott walking around the corner of the dark hall, a towel around his waist. His eyes landed on Derek. 

“Thank God! Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea what’s been going on?” Our eyes darted towards Peter, and he finally saw him. 

Peter had picked up a crosse, looking over it in his hands, “I really don’t get lacrosse…”

Scott gasped, “It was you.”

“When I was in high school, we played basketball. There’s a real sport. Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes, and that they played it to resolve conflict. Do I have that right?” No one answered, “Hmm… I have a little conflict of my own to resolve, Scott… But I need your help to do it.”

“I’m not helping you kill people.” Scott said firmly.

“Well, I don’t want to kill all of them– just the responsible ones. And that doesn’t have to include…” He looked back towards Derek. 

Derek sighed, “Allison.” 

“You’re on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?” Scott asked, incredulously. Took the words right out of my mouth. 

“It was a mistake…” He said the words, but I wasn���t sure if he even thought they were true. 

“What?” Scott asked, clearly shocked. 

“It happens…” Derek looked away.

“Just a werewolf thing, right?” I glared at him, he continued to find the floor more interesting. 

“I think you’re getting the wrong impression of us. We just really want to help you reach your full potential.” Peter set the crosse down. 

Scott scoffed, “By killing my friends?”

“Sometimes the people closest to you can be the ones holding you back the most.” He glanced towards Stiles and I.

“If they’re holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut-job like you, I’m okay with that.”

“Maybe” He walked up to Scott, I backed away with Stiles, “You could try and see things from my perspective…” He sunk his claws into the back of Scott’s neck. Scott groaned, and fell when Peter pulled his claws out. The alpha looked at me, wiping the blood off on his jeans. 

“You have potential as well. Mark my words, in the next few days you may realize there is more to you, (Y/N).” 

“I’d rather die.” I spat. Stiles grabbed my arm. 

“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Peter nodded to me, then walked out with Derek following behind. 

“Laura would be disgusted.” I glared at him. He paused, looking over his shoulder for a second, but continued on his path out the door. Once they were gone, Stiles pulled Scott by the shoulders and turned on the cold water. He gasped, breathing heavily. 

“Dude, we have a huge problem.” Stiles said. 

“Trust me… I know.”

-

After a confrontation with Jackson, Stiles and I drove home. There we found Uncle Noah at the kitchen table. There were papers and files spread all over and a bottle of whisky with a glass. 

“Whatcha doing?” Stiles asked.

“Work.” He slurred. 

“Anything we can help with?” He asked, so we came around the table to sit across from him. I looked at a paper. It was a report of the interview with Mr. Harris. 

“You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice.” Uncle Noah closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. I took the time to take a picture of the statement, hiding my phone back in my pocket before he opened his eyes again. 

“Any leads?” Stiles asked, pouring the whiskey. 

“You know I can’t discuss that with you.” Stiles poured more into the glass, “Not too much!” 

Stiles slid the cup across the table, “Okay. There you go, Dad.”

“Thanks.”

“Bottoms up.” Stiles said, as we watched Uncle Noah down the whiskey.

 “You know, Derek Hale would be a whole hale of a lot-” He slurred and grunted, “Hale of a lot…?” 

“Hell of a lot?” Stiles corrected him 

“Hell… Yes… He would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him.”

“How do you not have a picture of him?”

“It’s the weirdest thing…” He slurred, “It’s like every time we tried to get a mugshot, it’s like two laser-beams were pointing at the camera.”

“Nice.”

“Oh, my God… Ohhh! God, that ounce hit me like a brick. And I have said way too much, and if you repeat any of that-” He warned, pointing to both of us.

“Dad, it’s us! We’re not gonna say anything. Come on!”

“See, the thing is, they’re all connected… I mean, the bus driver that got killed? He was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale House Fire.” He pointed towards a paper.

“Terminated under suspicion of fraud.” Stiles read. 

“Exactly.”

“Who else?”

“The video store clerk who got his throat slashed? He’s a convicted felon– history of arson.” That was the attack that involved Jackson and Lydia. 

“What about the other two guys, the guys who got killed in the woods?” The two guys that Stiles saw in the woods when he got drunk with Scott. 

“Priors all over their records, including-”

“Arson. So, maybe they all had something to do with the fire…” Uncle Noah grumbled. Stiles wanted more info, “Another shot?”

“No, no, no. No more.” he slurred. 

“Dad, come on! You work really hard, all right? You deserve it.” It was enabling and wrong to get the sheriff drunk to get information out of him. The dots were all starting to connect. 

“Oh, my God… I’m gonna have such a hangover…”

“You mean you’re gonna have such a good night’s sleep!” He poured another shot for his dad. He looked at me, muttering out of the side of his mouth, “I’m gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of hell…” I patted Stiles' arm.

“Let me know if he says anything else.” I whispered and came around the table, “Goodnight Uncle Noah.” 

“Goodnight, sweetie.” He called. 

I went into my room and connected my phone to my laptop so I could get a better look at the report. Stealing evidence was a crime, but I was already doing enough illegal things that I figured it would matter too much. I pulled up the picture and enhanced it the best I could. It was a transcription from Uncle Noah’s recorder. 

𝙱𝙴𝙶𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃 

𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚡 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸'𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜, 𝚑𝚞𝚑?

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚛. 𝚆𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜. 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎? 𝚃𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚢…𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛… 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝙳𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜. 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝙸 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚟𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗?

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎? 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝚂𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖? 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙽𝚘. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍. 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. [𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 #𝟸0𝟺]

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜? 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝. 𝙸 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝.

𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃

I didn’t need to see the evidence to know what the symbol was. It was the Argent family crest and Kate Argent is the one that burned down Derek’s house. She’s the one that murdered the Hale’s. That’s why she was a touchy subject to him. But there was something else too. 

-

The next day I was out shopping when I saw her. Kate Argent was in the sporting goods department, looking at arrows. She must have sensed me staring so I went back to looking at…lamps. 

“(Y/N)?” She called. Shit. I looked up nonchalantly. 

“Um, yes?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? You remember me right? Swim class?” And that’s what it was. That’s what connected Kate to the school. She was a swim coach. She must have watched Derek from there. 

“Oh right.” I smiled, “I completely forgot. With everything going on it’s been hard to remember.” 

“Right, I heard about your parents.” She gave a sympathetic smile, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She put a hand to her chest. 

“It’s alright. It seems that there’s a lot of fires in this town, huh?” I smiled, tilting my head to the side. 

Her smile tightened, “Yeah. Unfortunate circumstances.” We both nodded slowly. It seems like we both knew what was really going on here.

“What have you been up to recently?” She asked. 

“Oh I work at the school. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your niece, Allison. Such a sweet girl.” 

“She is, isn’t she? Kinda like how you used to be. It seems you’ve been associating with Derek Hale. He’s a fugitive, don’t you know?” 

I answered innocently, “I’m quite sure you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Which one? Associating with Derek Hale or that he’s a fugitive.” 

“Ms. Argent, I think you and I both know what a real criminal is. Now I am sure someone was chasing your niece around that school and I wish she hadn’t been in that situation. And I believe we’re assuming that all these killings were committed by someone who enjoys seeing others in pain. Someone manipulative. You had Derek as a student, does that sound like him?” 

Kate chuckled, “I know him a lot better than you do. A lot better.” She left, taking her arrows to the front of the store. 

-

What did she mean by that? How did she know Derek “a lot”? Not like I really wanted to get answers from him since he decided to join his Uncle’s murder parade. Derek was good, he fought for justice for his sister. But now that he’s found her killer, he doesn’t want to hurt him. I guess, I could understand the point that Peter was his only family left. The point that Peter made it so he was the only family left was just too much to ignore for me. I just-…I couldn’t believe that he would do that unless he was trying to trick him somehow.  

I messed with the soup I made for dinner, placing the cover on the pot and letting it simmer. Stiles was running like a bat out of hell. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” I looked out at him. 

He skidded to a stop, “Peter Hale is taking Scott’s mom out on a date, I’m gonna go rear end them.” He took off again. That meant Peter wasn’t around Derek to influence him. Which meant I could talk to him alone. I turned off the stove top and grabbed my keys. 

On the drive there, I felt the terrible feeling again. Something was going to go wrong again. I parked in the spot that we had first parked when I originally got lost in the woods and found my way to the Hale house. It wouldn’t be hard to find it again. I walked for a while and I had finally found it, his Camaro was in front of the house. I was about to step onto the porch when I felt a sharp pain in my back. I inhaled sharply, arching my back. I reached around and pulled out whatever had hit me. I inspected it, it was a tranquilizer dart. Who the hell-…

My vision started to get a little fuzzy, I blinked hard to clear it. Soon, my legs get numb. I fell backwards, landing on the forest floor. I groaned, trying to move but my limbs weren’t responding. Kate Argent kneeled down next to me and smiled. 

“Guess I was right about one thing.” She pulled down a gas mask that had been on the top of her head and threw something through the open window of the house. The last thing I heard was Derek yelling at Scott to run.

-

I was slow to wake up. Whatever had been in that dart knocked me out real good, the effects were still lingering now even as I was waking up. I was back tied in a chair again. If I got out of this situation alive, I was throwing out every chair I owned. 

“There you are, sleeping beauty.” Kate’s voice echoed. She bent over to meet my eyes. I tried to pick my head up, fighting to stay awake. 

“Man, I think I gave you too much. Thought you could handle it.” She lifted my head up. 

“Wha-what did you give me?” I slurred. 

“Wolfsbane. Nothing deadly, just enough to knock you out.” She smiled, dropping my face. Why in the hell did she shoot me with wolfsbane? And why did it work?

“It took me a while, but I finally found your connection in all this. It seems Beacon Hills has two werewolf families.” 

I found the strength in my neck to look up, “What? My…my family aren’t werewolves. I didn’t even know they existed until like two months ago.” I grimaced. 

“Well they aren’t now, silly. How is Michael by the way?” She asked, the door opened behind me, two men walked in - dragging something large behind them. My vision was still fuzzy so I couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Michael?”

“Yeah, he was my little protégé. His family come from a long line of hunters. Just like me. He got too involved with his undercover work though. When we tried to destroy your clan the first time he couldn’t go through with it.” 

“You’re crazier than I thought.” I shook my head. 

“I don’t blame you for being confused. I didn’t know either for the longest time. My brother and your father had a deal of some kind, details. They kept you hidden from your own world.” She pouted dramatically. 

“Listen, lady. You are insane.” I blinked hard, my vision finally clearing. The two men had left, and it turned out the large thing they had been caring for was Derek. They had him chained up, by his hands, leaving him to dangle. He was shirtless and passed out. 

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I asked as she walked over to him. She turned back, surprised. 

‘A little protective, are we? You can’t think you can keep him all to yourself, not after our history.” She hummed, running her finger over his chest. What she said hit me like a ton of bricks. That’s why he hated talking about her, why he felt so guilty when she was talking to him about Laura. 

“You sexually abused him.” I gasped, completely mortified. 

“I wouldn’t call it abuse.” 

“The law would. He was sixteen years old. He was just a kid!” She didn’t look the least bit phased, “You’re sick. A sick, sick bitch.” She crossed over to me quickly, slapping me hard across the face. I will admit that it hurt a lot, but the worst pain was that as soon as Kate’s hand connected with her cheek, Derek woke up with a gasp. She turned, a wicked smile on her lips. 

“Oh this just keeps getting better and better.” She smacked me again, sending me back into darkness. 

-

I woke up, not sure how much time had gone by so I could finally get a good look at Derek. There were wires attached to his right side, attached with black electrical and paper tape. He looked in pretty rough shape, worse off than I was. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, still not meeting my eyes. 

“I’m okay.” I nodded, “Derek, I am so sorry for what she did to you.”

His jaw tightened, “She told you.” 

“I thought she got to you just being the swim coach but I could have never imagined… I’m so sorry.” It made sense now why he didn’t want to be close, why he couldn’t be around me in the beginning. She took everything from him under the guise of love. She preyed on a child. He didn’t want to be vulnerable again.

“I can’t imagine how much anger you have. And guilt. None of this was your fault.”

“It was my fault. I was stupid and should have known better.” He glowered. 

“Derek, you were a kid. And she’s a psychotic manipulator who used her charm and good looks to seduce a child. She’s a monster.” 

“I know that. but that doesn't make the guilt any worse. I’m the reason they’re all gone.” His voice trailed off at the end. 

“No, no you’re not. She was manipulating all the people that Peter killed. The bus driver was an insurance investigator assigned to the case and got fired for fraud, Mr. Harris taught her how to make the bomb necessary to start the fire, she hired three guys with priors of arson. That’s why they were on Laura’s list, she figured out all the people helped Kate with the fire. But I guess Peter already told you that.” He stared, processing what I had said. 

“Did he not tell you that?” I narrowed my eyes, “He’s killing people and he didn’t tell you why, just that they were on Laura’s list?” He didn’t answer. 

“Why are you blindly following him? What good reason could he have for killing Laura? If he really wanted to kill those people, why wouldn’t he just work with her? He cut her in half and left her to rot! Left her for you to find!”

“I don’t need you yelling at me about it! I know he killed her and he has no justification for it. He’s crazy! I’m playing into this because if I don’t he’ll go after you!” He shouted, finally looking at me. 

“What?” I mumbled.

“He wants to make a new bloodline. As soon as he builds up a pack, he’s coming for you and-” Derek was cut off by a door opening. And in walked Kate Argent followed by her niece, Allison. Derek had shifted formed when they walked in, all of the anger and rage built up in his system and the change just happened. 

“What is this place?” She asked. 

“Let’s start with the basics– you know how every family has its secrets?” Kate came to me, wrapping a gag around my mouth before I could talk, “Ours is a little different…” She turned the spotlight onto Derek. He roared at her loudly. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” She mused. Allison took a step back. Kate walked over to the electrical equipment, turning up the dial Derek gritted his teeth, his body became rigid as it went through him. At the same time, my vision clouded. I could feel my body hanging like his, the electricity flowing through my bones. The two only stood there, watching Derek struggle, scream, and writhe. 

“What are you doing to him? Is this going to kill him?” Allison asked, her voice echoing between the room and the vision I was in. 

“Oh, come on, kid. Don’t get all ethical on me now.” Kate leaned against the equipment. 

“What is he?” She looked between Derek and I, “What are they?” Kate finally opened the circuit, cutting off the electric flow. Derek hung there limply, breathing heavily. I was pulled from the vision, gasping for air and feeling all the soreness that came with being electrocuted.

“Her…” Kate hummed, “I’m not sure. But him - shape-shifter. Lycan. Werewolf.” Derek glared at them, his eyes burning bright blue. 

“But to me he’s just another dumb animal.” She flipped the switch again, sending more volts running through him. He screamed through his gritted teeth. I glared, fighting against the visions so I could focus, I could feel the static making my hair stick up. Allison, looking conflicted, looked between Kate and Derek. Kate turned off the volts again. His head hung low, the pain finally knocking him out. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my head straight. 

“Come here,” She brought Allison closer to Derek. Kate grabbed his chin. 

“Get your hands off of him!” I tried to shout around the gag, but it all came out as gibberish. Kate ignored me regardless and forced Derek’s lips open to show his teeth. 

“There are canines. Also known as fangs. Made for tearing and rendering flesh. Not something you find on those cute little leaf eating herbivores, is it?”

Allison shook her head, “Is this a joke to you?”

Kate’s hands dropped from Derek’s face, “Sweetie, there are werewolves running around the world. Everything’s a joke to me. How else do you think I stay sane?” Sanity train left ages ago. 

"So was it him at the high school? And all the other animal attacks?” Allison asked. 

“There’s actually three of them. Another younger one like him,” She motioned to Derek, “Called a beta. And then there’s the alpha. Alpha is the pack leader. Bigger, stronger, nastier. Those are the real ugly motherfu-. ” As she was speaking, I kicked a nearby rock towards her leg 

“Why did you take her if she’s not one of them?” Allison looked at me. Kate nodded and walked over to me, pulling a vial out of her pocket. 

“A very extraordinary thing occurred that I have never actually seen before. You see, she comes from a family of werewolves but is not a werewolf. But somehow they were able to form a mating connection, because as you know animals like him mate for life. He feels her pain, she feels his.” She opened the vial and let a drop fall down onto my pants. The liquid seeped through the fabric onto my leg, causing a red hot burning sensation. I bit down hard on the gag, breathing hard to ignore the pain.  She put the cork back on the vial, walking her and Allison back out of the cellar. 

-

Later on in the day, not sure how many hours went by but Kate was back, rummaging through Derek’s jacket.

“Come on, Derek, he killed your sister.” She pulled out his wallet and took the money that was inside, “Ya know, maybe you’re not telling me because you wanna kill him yourself or for some reason, you’re protecting him.” She dropped the wallet and grabbed his chin so he faced her, she put what looked like his driver’s license up to his face. 

“Awww, look at that sour face.” She pouted and let go of his face, “I bet you’re used to people coming up to you and saying: Smile, Derek. Why don’t you smile more? Don’t you wanna just kick those people in the face?” Derek glanced at me before looking back at Kate. 

“I can think of one.”

“Promise?” She smiled, an amused look on her face, “Cause if I thought you’d be that much fun, I’d let you go.” She continued to rifle through his wallet, “Nothing, nothing, nothing. God, I hate this detective crap.”

“Are you gonna torture me or are you just gonna bore me to death, huh?” He was getting more and more irritated. 

“Oh sweetie. I don’t wanna torture you.” She said sweetly, “I just wanna catch up. Remember all the fun we had together?" 

“Or the time you burned my family alive?” He growled, “Working with another set of psychos to do the same to another family?”

"Ya know? I was thinking more about the hot, crazy sex we had. But the fire thing, that was fun too.” She played with his emotions, the same way she had done before. Derek jerked forward towards her. She didn’t flinch.

“I love how much you hate me. Remember how this felt?” Kate bent down to the hem of Derek’s pants. I struggled against the chair, agitating the burn on my leg, but I needed to help him. Kate’s tongue snaked out and ran over Derek’s abdomen. Derek roared at her, his fangs sharp. 

“Sweetheart, I really don’t want to torture you.” Kate said as the door opened again, revealing a bald man, “But he does.” Kate looked at me, watching me continue to struggle against my restraints. 

“Ooh, she’s a fighter, Derek.” She laughed, “Reminds me a lot of myself at her age.” She looked at her henchman, “Don’t be shy, give her some too.”

-

After getting nothing from either of us, the man left. The guy seemed to enjoy punching Derek in his stomach and watching me double over. His experiments ranged and there were a few new cuts on my body that weren’t there earlier today. Kate walked in, listening to someone on her phone. 

“Unfortunately, Derek, if you’re not gonna talk I’m gonna have to kill you.” She walked back over to the electrical box. I screamed through the gag, lunging my body forward, making the chair jump forward. I tried again but lost balance, the chair fell sideways. My arm slammed into the concrete floor. Derek winced at the impact. Kate chuckled, reaching for the knob to close the circuit. 

“Say hi to your sister for me.” She paused, “You didn’t tell her about me did you? The truth about the fire?“ Derek’s guilt showed on his face, now too tired and beaten to hide it. 

"Or did you?” She asked, “Oh, sweetie, that’s a lot of guilt to keep buried. It’s not all your fault. You got tricked by a pretty face. It happens. Handsome young werewolf mistakenly falls in love with a super hot girl who comes from a family that kills werewolves.“ Derek’s emotions ranged from anger to guilt and sadness. 

"Is that ironic? Is it? Ironic, that you were unknowingly helping me track down the rest of the pack. Again. We’re just a little bit of history repeating.” She paused for a minute, thinking about what she said, "History repeating..“ She muttered. 

"It’s not Jackson is it? Oh no no no, he’s got a little scratch on the back of his neck. But he’s not in love with Allison. Not like Scott.” It didn’t take torture to find out who the other beta was, so that just meant Kate Argent was more of a monster than I originally thought. The new danger was to Scott and that translated to Stiles, and I wasn’t there to keep him safe.

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

Read part 9 here!

I’m reading the transcript of the episode as I’m writing so let’s say the similarities between what (Y/N) says and what Kate says are intentional. 

Likes, Comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Again I want to thank everyone who has been reading, it’s bring back my Teen Wolf nostalgia. 

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[daisy-day-dreams]

A/N: Hey everybody I hope you’re doing well ❤️ Here’s part one of Little Lies! I hope you enjoy and pease let me know what you think!

Little Lies Masterlist

Word Count: 1,461

*gif not mine*

Annie sat back in the chair in the office of Teller Morrow. She took a sip of the tea Chucky had brought her earlier this morning. The hot liquid burned her tongue then her chest as soon as it sloshed out spilling onto her. Cursing she set the cup back down. She grabbed a tissue dabbing her skin until the sting passed. She didn’t know why she was still drinking hot tea in this California heat, force of habit she guessed. She really needed to find a new drink.

The rumbling of the motorcycles pulling into the lot pulled her away from her previous thoughts. She quickly tossed the tissue into the trash bin before standing up.

It was time.

Gemma passed through the office smiling at Annie. “They’re here.” It finally felt like home once again to Gemma. The past 14 months were rough without Clay or Jax or a full clubhouse. There was definitely a change in the atmosphere while most of their men were locked up. “Come on sweetheart, the boys will be eager to meet the new secretary.”

Annie followed after Gemma to greet the guys. What Gemma didn’t know was that Annie already knew one of them. Maybe he wouldn't recognize her or remember her but she recognized him the first time she saw his mugshot up on the wall of the clubhouse. She’d never forget him and she’d never forgive him for how he broke her sister’s heart.

Annie watched him as he took his helmet off before hanging it up. He was immediately pulled into a side hug by Chibs who had the biggest grin on his face. She couldn’t hear what the older scott said but whatever it was made him laugh. It sounded exactly the same as she had remembered.

She almost didn’t notice the handsome blonde man, Gemma’s son she had recognized from pictures, approach her and Gemma. Gemma gave him a big hug before turning him towards her. “Annie this is my son Jackson.”

“You can call me Jax, darlin’.” He grinned looking her up and down.

“I’ve heard lots about you.” She smiled back at him giving him a good once over as well. She had seen plenty of pictures but none of them could compare to seeing him in person. His hair was now shorter, suiting him much better in her opinion than the longer locks she had seen in the photos.

“And I’ve heard not nearly enough about you,” Gemma never told him the new girl was smoking hot.

“If you’re good you just might learn a hell of a lot more.” Annie sent him a wink. What could she say? The man was hot and she wasn’t shy when it came to being flirty.

“Alright kids that’s enough flirting for now.” Gemma teased the two. “You’ve got plenty of time for that later and I think there is someone who is really wanting to see his daddy.”

Just then Neeta came out of the clubhouse with Abel. She laughed as Able broke away from her running into Jax’s arms. Jax scooped him up with the biggest smile on his face holding him close to him.

Annie couldn’t help but feel her heart warm at the sight. She had come to care for the small boy herself while working for TM and from spending time with Gemma.

Gemma was the first person who she and Delilah befriended in their move to Charming. They were currently renting a little place from her just a block away from Gemma’s place. Gemma was actually the one to tell Annie about the opening position at their garage. With Jax being locked up Gemma had less time for working there while becoming Abel’s sole guardian.

Her older sister Delilah had a job at the hospital already but Annie still needed one herself. She wasn’t good with being idle, it gave her too much time to think. The offer was perfect for her. She fit in perfectly and never felt more safe or welcomed than she did with Gemma and the MC.

“See? I told she was hot.” Kozik bragged as he approached with Tig just behind him. He had been talking up Annie to all the guys, bragging about how she would be his date for Opie and Lyla’s upcoming wedding. “And she’s all mine for the night.”

“Yep all yours.” Annie leaned into Kozik’s side as he wrapped his arm around her waist. In the six months she had been working with them she had become closest to the big, goofy, man.

“Nope, still don’t believe it.” Tig shook his head. “Now why would you want to go with him when there are clearly plenty of better options? It’s still not too late to change your mind, doll.”

“You must be Tig.” Annie giggled. “Kozik has told me so much about you.”

“Anything he says, all lies.” Tig made sure to tell her. “You can’t believe a word out of his mouth. Come find me later and we’ll set things straight but for now I have some shit to catch up on.”

“Make it quick,” Clay called out after him. “We got church in ten minutes.”

“Oh it’ll be quick after all that time with no pussy.” Bobby joked before introducing himself to Annie with a hug.

She was then introduced to Happy who just gave her a grunt with a nod of approval before both followed behind Tig into the clubhouse.

The last was Juice walking towards them with Chibs. He was looking down still smiling when Chibs made the introduction. “Juicy boy meet our very lovely Annie.”

Juice looked up to meet the new girl he had been hearing about all day. His smile immediately fell when he saw her. The last time Juice had seen her she was still just a gangly teenager. Now she was everything but that.

“Hey Juan, long time no see.” Annie said.

Chibs and Kozik exchanged a look before looking at Juice. Neither one of them knew anything about Annie knowing their Juice. Chibs remembered catching her looking at their wall of mugshots. Her gaze had landed on Juice so Chibs told her about him and the rest of the guys but he never thought the reason she stopped on the younger Son was because she knew him.

“What are you doing here?” Was the first thing he could think of to say.

“Delilah got a job offer here, I thought I’d come join her on her new adventure.” Annie watched all the thoughts run through Juice’s mind.

“She’s here?”

Just as she figured Juice was still in love with her sister, she could see it in his eyes. “Yeah, small world huh?”

“We’ll let you two kids catch up.” Chibs spoke, excusing him and Kozik feeling as if they weren’t welcome to this little reunion. He looked back once more at the two pausing at the door before disappearing into the clubhouse.

“Does she know I’m here?” He couldn’t help but wonder how she was feeling about all this.

“She knows you’re here.” Annie crossed her arms. Her gaze hardened on him. “I know what you’re thinking but this isn’t some sign or fate or some second chance bullshit. You had your chance with my sister and you gave her up,” she emphasized, “so keep your distance from her, yeah?”

“Delilah is an adult Annie, if she wants to see or talk to me that’s up to her. And we both made that decision to split up.” Juice clarified. Yes he left Queens but she also chose not to join him and together they decided long distance would never work, that splitting up was the best option for both of them.

“Like she had much of a choice?” Annie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She loved you Juan, more than anything. Of course she wasn’t going to make you stay! Certainly not for herself and not even for the damn baby!”

“Baby?” Juice barely got out as his mind started replaying the moments just before he left and then started running wild with the image of his child.

Annie knew what she was doing. She had him right where she wanted him. “Don’t worry, you’re not a father. She didn’t keep it.” She wanted to hurt him, just like he hurt them.

Juice didn't have the time to fully process what was just said before Tig ducked his head out of the clubhouse yelling out. "Juicy church now! Get your ass in here!"

Juice looked back at Annie once more. He had a million questions he wanted to ask but he knew now wasn't the time. He had church, he had his responsibilities with the club, that had to come first right now.

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