#He roared at her so loud that she got Startled and tried to resort to starving him for a few days

[lady2grace]

I’m so mad about Lionheart specifically because besides the fact that he’s like the only Faunus character in power and he’s treated as an absolute joke. He’s just the laziest version of a “subversive” take of the character

“What if the Cowardly lion was a coward?!?! Wow this hasn’t been done before”

The whole point of his character in both the book and Movie, was that he actually was really brave so the name was ironic like the rest of the gang

(scarecrow always insisting he didn’t have a brain and was stupid one even though he was the one coming up with a plans,and the tinman saying he didn’t have a heart, but was always the first one to consider the emotions of his friends Ironwood was actually a pretty good illusion to the tinman until he wasn’t in V7/8 but whatever)

Really if you wanted to have a character based off the cowardly lion and be “subversive” with it, have to be the dude that talk big shit but can’t actually back it up OR Have him be a skilled huntsman that doesn’t handle social situation as well and always ends up backing down in arguments

Also, if I could just go on a little tangent for a second I feel like the theory that the headmasters are losing their good traits from the book has a “subversion of the story” idk it just feels mean-spirited. I grew up reading the books and the movie was actually the first movie that got me into live action so it makes me sad watching characters based off of things I love get absolutely destroyed by a narrative with no love for the characters 😞

crwby seems to think it's somehow subversive to take an already subversive piece of media and just changing it to double down on what the og was... Subverting.

Like Adam being Gaston or the beast if he was actually EVILLLLL just undoes the intelligent aspect of beauty and the beast in that despite looking terrifying like a beast and how the townsfolk outcasted him because of it, he was a kind soul underneath. Belle was a woman set in 1700s France who's main goal was to gain knowledge via books and not getting married.

It's the same thing they did with Leo and the cowardly lion smh. These characters whom their good qualities contrasted with that they're supposed to be or what they initially were? Screw that, what if they were actually one dimensional!

DO YOU GET IT? HE'S THE COWARDLY FUCKING LION, DO YOU GET ITTTTTTTTTTTT?????

RWBY handles allusions about as well as I handle dairy.

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 9: Give ‘em Hell Kid

summary: after taking care of the stragglers, you make way to find Ellie amidst of all the chaos that follows her and you come face to face with a blast from the past

word count: 2,754 im gonna make up for all these short chapters i swear!!

content warnings: blood mention (i mean c'mon y'all know exactly what this fic is), animal death, somebody gets murdered a bit violently

notes: just wanna say a little thank you for all the recent influx of subs/bookmarks/comments/kudos/follows on here and on ao3, y'all warm my heart. also, the next few chapters will deviate from the tlou timeline to make way for some angst :^))))

read on ao3 here / masterlist

Your lungs were burning with each breath. Huffs escaped you. Aches filtered through your body. Running, chasing, fighting. Ellie was in deep shit and you prayed she was alright. Following after her path, you tracked your girl.

It didn’t take much to figure out which way Ellie went, between the very obvious messy shoe prints of the men chasing after her and the hoof-marks. It made finding her all that much easier. You trekked through the slosh of the muddied snow until you came across a striking stain of red. Your steps faltered and you took the sight in, the sight of blood in between all the white and brown that overlooked a small cliff. Stopping dead in your tracks, your breath hitched as you peered over.

A gasp in horror escaped you when you saw the lifeless body of dear Callus. Quickly jumping, you dropped from the ledge he was under and landed on your knees with a harsh ‘oomph’. The pain tingled up to your spine.

Scrambling up to check on Callus, looking for any sign Ellie was hurt only to find none. You brushed the dark hair on the horse, “I’m sorry Callus.” Mentally sending an apology to Cherry too. She was going to be sad when she hears but if anything, she’d take the apology in exacting revenge on his murderers.

Kneeling on the cold ground, you sent a silent wish to the stars, wishing that Callus will be taken care off wherever he is, noting how he was such a good horse, how he will be greatly missed but was certainly loved. He may have been just a horse, but even then, horses were smart and sentient. He knew.

Just as you finished your well-wishes, the horror quickly engulfed your mind. The worry grew for just a moment as you continued on the path, leaving the dear horse behind until you stumbled upon dead body after dead body, all leading in a patch down to a lake then to a little cabin, long since forgotten shops, and up the stairs to some sort of lakeside hotel, anger finally settling in your bones.

You found yourself following a trail of blood, gore, and footsteps, pride warming in your chest. That’s my girl, you silently praised. You drew a knife and a gun, as you approached what looked to be some lakeside market, too many hidey holes to walk through here confidently. Nevertheless, you marched on.

The path led you to an abandoned lodge overlooking the lake but no sign of Ellie, just more dead bodies of those bastards.

It would have been a beautiful sight long ago, in the time before. Now it was an empty and hollow shell of its former self, littered with gore.

Even shuffling as quickly as you could through the main hall of the resort yielded nothing to finding your dear young companion, not as the sun was really setting low. Had that much time passed, you thought worriedly.

You kicked an overturned table and groaned loudly, not giving a shit if somebody heard you. Letting yourself be mad for just a moment before taking a deep breath and exhaling. At this point, you weren’t sure if you’d want to move stealthy, try and make as much noise as possible just to take some of the heat off your girl.

Frustrated still, you left the resort and circled outside to locate another set of footsteps, likely of them chasing after her. It looked almost as if there was a small fucking army chasing her but still, you didn’t spot anybody. Much to your chagrin.

Taking off once more, you cursed as the visibility lowered. The snow was progressively picking up all around you causing some of the footsteps to slowly disappear.

It was swirling around in a thick blanket in the air, covering the footsteps you had been following. It felt like you were running against the clock and you took off running, focused on the remaining trail until you heard it.

Loud and metallic. A bell. Faint but there. A city center with a tolling bell possibly?

You didn't think twice about changing your direction and moving faster through the storm.

Motivated even more so, you continued on this path, following the chime until you came into view of a cheap haphazardly thrown together defense wall. Ducking behind a nearby structure, you looked on, assessing it as best you could with the little visibility you had.

Faintly, you could make out concrete walls with some barbaric barbed wire thrown lazily against it, many many weaknesses here and there. Most importantly, you noticed there was nobody manning the walls.

You ran and ducked every so often, listening for voices but finding none. Instead, you followed the bloodied trail Ellie left behind her. It was almost like a taunt to the others in this community, or maybe even a gumdrop-like trail for you, screaming ‘come find me’. Whatever it was, only a mark of design by the tough kid wanting nothing but to simply stay alive.

Pocketing your weapons, you took a few steps back then ran.

It was almost too easy to just jump the fence but you did, after hesitating ever so slightly. Your breaths were now heavy huffs, your lungs were cursing you to stop but you refused to, not when Ellie was in danger.

Then, arming yourself with your knives you tried to make your way through the town as stealthy as possible. Only taking out whoever was in your path but aiming not to make a spectacle before you could locate Ellie within this town.

Every time you took down one of those gruesome bastards, you didn’t dare to stop and search them. Your only goal was to find Ellie. You could hear the men talking about her and how she got away, sparking pride within you once more as you took off, following the chaos she left in her wake. Noting how some of the bodies were still warm, their leaked blood still sticky.

Turning the corner of a mechanics garage, a loud thunderous snap echoed through the area. 

Startled, you pulled back into a crouch and watched as a large fire erupted in the distance. That spark of hope igniting as bright as the fire, signaling Ellie fighting back like hell. 

“Shit,” you sighed trying to catch your breath. You rose to your feet and took off faster now, headed towards the explosion.

Off through the thick sheet of snow, you could faintly make out a large sign above a dinner, displaying the name Todd’s across it. You could hear somebody yelling from inside and aimed for it, the fire barely catching your attention.

Time was running against you, as it always did. The fire grew hotter, the building more dangerous. These were the least of your worries.

You were beyond frustrated as you circled the building, aside from the very obvious and intentional door being lit on fire that was growing at a rapid pace, there were no other entrances you could see aside from a dozen unbroken windows. 

It took a couple tries to find an entrance that was viable, feeling like you were running out of time as the male voice from inside grew louder, as you could hear bullets fly just as the man was yelling. Thankfully you did find a cracked window.

Judging by the amount of noise already happening inside and assessing the risk, you figured breaking it wouldn’t alert anybody so you did just that and crawled through, doing your best not to scrape your knees.

Gaining your footing, you looked around and saw you were in some sort of kitchen for the diner. There were large stainless steel surfaces, looking moderately clean. That’s not what got your attention, but the screaming match happening in the dining area.

It took you a minute but you got close to the ground, snapping to the corner as to not give away your position, not as you saw a large man with a beard towering over a small figure- Ellie.

Your brows furrowed in anger as you ran, planning on tackling this man but he was knocked over to the side as Ellie wacked at him endlessly with a machete, hacking him to death. Overkill.

One, two, three. Each swing she grew more and more violent,

Yelling for her to stop, she continued her attack, until you grabbed her against her back, holding her close to stop her. She tried to fight against you, almost throwing you to the ground. “I got you, sweetheart, I got you.” Petting her hair, trying to calm her down, she recognized your voice and she slumped in your arms.

You were exhausted, the adrenaline slowly leaving your blood gave way to the roaring pain in your lungs and muscles. Surely you’d be sore for the coming days. Even so, the pain would have been nothing next to losing either Joel or Ellie.

The two of you stayed like that, holed up in a grimey embrace for a few moments. You repeatedly ran your fingers through her tangled up brown hair as she hiccupped the last of her sobs into your coat. The only sounds permeating the moment were of Ellie and the fire.

Fuck. The fire.

Just as you realized the predicament the two of you were in, the blackened smoke scratched and irritated your eyes, throat, and lungs. It was suffocating you and doing worse to Ellie,

If it weren’t for the raging blaze that was spreading, you would have left much sooner. “Sweetheart, I think it’s time to go.”

Ellie didn’t respond and you were about to repeat yourself until you heard heavy footfalls behind you. Moving the distraught and distracted teen slightly, you drew one of your guns and aimed, about to shoot but were stopped when you took notice of just who was standing there, palms up in defense.

Joel.

Joel was alive, right there.

Ellie recognized him before you could even register what was happening. She jumped out of your arms into his, babbling about David and crying once more. He calmed her, mumbling “Oh, baby girl… It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You watched from the floor as he tried to wipe the blood from her tear stained cheeks, barely keeping your own shit together.

“C’mon,” he said, not looking at you, “let’s get outta here.”

You rose from your haunches, swaying just a little at the inner emotional whirlwind you were facing mixed on top of the physical toll you were feeling. You watched as Joel put his arm around Ellie, walking her out the way he came in. Both of them were limping slightly. Following the two of them, you kicked the dead man just once as Joel led you both out of the burning building to your horse, Whiskey.

He turned around to say something but cut himself off, taking in the sight of you. “Shit, Are you okay?”

You followed his gaze to where your clothes were coated in a disastrous mixture of blood, dirt, and stars know what else. “It’s not mine.”

He looked like he wanted to look you over but he focused on Ellie instead, giving her a helping hand onto the horse. Joel gestured for you to get on behind her but you shook him off, “No. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

“If you don’t get on the goddamned-,” he began to argue but you shut him down.

“I’m not going to fuckin’ argue with you right now.” You checked over your horse, noticing how Joel didn’t bring anything then approached Ellie, “Hey, sweetheart. Think you can handle leading Whiskey and Joel back to the house?”

She wiped away her tears and nodded, “I think so.”

“Good. I’ll see you there soon.”

Joel opened his mouth to counter you but you stood up to him, on your toes. You had grabbed his jacket and pulled him close, getting in his face. “You take our girl back to the fuckin’ house and you make sure neither you nor her go off the rails or so help me, I will finish what that rebar started and end you. Got it?”

You were tired, you were angry, you were relieved. But most of all, you were pissed the fuck off. Not necessarily at him but at, well, at everything. Being this troupe’s sole caretaker for the past few weeks was taking its toll.

Just as you got into his face, he got into yours. At only a hair's breadth away he threatened you all the same, “You do not get to be angry with me, you do not get to push me around, got it?”

His brown eyes bore into yours, you could see he was more exhausted than anything but you were not going to let him be the judge of what happens next. “Fuck you, Joel Miller. We saved your life, hell, I saved your life. You owe me. Now you’re going to get on that fucking horse with Ellie and you are going to the safe house and we are leaving this goddamned shithole. Together. In one piece.”

“Please, Joel, let’s get out of here,” Ellie’s weak voice interrupted. 

The near-dyin’ old bastard opened his mouth to counter you again but decided against it. Most likely for Ellie’s sake.

Joel leans close to you and whispers a threat in your ear, “If you’re not back by nightfall, we’ll leave without you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you snap.

He takes a half step back, his tired brown eyes meeting yours. For a flash you think he wants to apologize but he doesn’t, his pride wouldn’t let him anyways. This was the game the two of you have played all these months. This push-and-pull bullshit. It was tiresome in situations like these, the dire need of survival, but during those blissful moments of reprieve, it brought you joy.

Joel’s heavy footfalls penetrated the tense air even as he saddled up in front of Ellie. He calls your name and in his roundabout way, bargains with you. “Come back alive.”

Before you could even answer or reply, he’s off with a huff. Ellie strapped closely behind him.

Watching them go, you ducked and retraced your steps in the heavy and blinding snow. The storm hadn’t let up and likely wouldn’t any time soon. It worked well into your favor for now.

The journey back wasn’t as arduous or as dramatic as the way forward but you made it back to the safe house without incident. The whole time your mind juggled between the mixed emotions of Joel. Gratitude he was alive, joy that he was walking and talking, anger that he was walking and talking and not resting.

There was just a lot happening all at once. It’s why you wanted to be alone for the time being. Too many emotions swirled in you, too many thoughts, too much of everything. The bitter cold nipping at your fingertips helped, kept you grounded.

At least until you heard the low grumbling of Joel coaxing Ellie back to the land of the living, much as you both did the same to him these past few weeks. His voice trailed up the basement and didn’t stop as your steps echoed through the stairwell. 

When you stopped at the final landing did you look up. He was holding her close as she cried, she still hadn’t stopped. His hands, bruised and bloodied from stars know what, coaxed themselves through her messy hair. The sight of them both covered in other people’s blood hurt you in ways that no wound could ever compare to.

He was whispering nothings to her, praises for her fighting, echoing words of ‘shh, it’s okay’, repeatedly in a low soft voice. You came close to the two of them sitting on the lone mattress, “Hey, sweetheart, I’m back.”

Joel looked up at you again, looking over you. Taking in the sight of you now. He gave you a tense nod as Ellie reached around for your hand and squeezed it. Once she let you go you brushed her hair from her face and slowly stood.

“I’m going to pack up everything and we’re going to leave here, put this shit behind us.”

The two of them said nothing but Joel caught your eye and silently, you both came to an agreement. Whatever bullshit you two had, when it came to Ellie, she came first.

Isn’t that what family is for?

[nasty-b]

Meant for each other - A yandere Dabi x Reader fanfic 

Warnings: Kidnapping

For: @lumshi​

Dabi’s not an idiot. He’s kind of too deep into it but he wasn’t delusional about his weird obsession. When you told him no about being with him, even though both of you knew your heart was broken and needed mending, well, the fuck is a guy supposed to do? Sure, he could go ahead and listen to your flimsy reasons but was he going to? Hell no. You were being unreasonable. It blindsighted him on how much you wanted to stay in misery, as if it was the only thing you deserved. It made him question the people that had been in your life up until then. If he knew who was responsible? He’d kill them.

He does not know though, so he has to resort to the one thing he does know how to do. Have his way. Sure, you told him to stop bothering you and that you’d never be interested but he knew he can change that. Dabi knows, in the depth of your heart, you just wanted to be cared for and loved and he himself? He knew he could give you that. The raven haired man was willing to give you the fucking world if just to make you happy.. Then again, you were a bit of a goody two shoes. Never breaking any law and all.

Might play a part in the rough rejection. Not that it mattered now. Dabi’s in front of your apartment door. Shifting from one leg to the other. He was holding a tiny pouch he got from Giran. There’s some sleeping powder in there. It’s just temporary! He just needs to prove how much better he was than any other man in comparison. You’d come around if he showed you just how much you were missing out on. He grunted and squinted into the darkness, it was late evening hours and by now you were home after working the whole day. You must be exhausted but in case you were still awake? Pouch.

The man crouched down and held his finger against your lock, letting a tiny but extremely strong flame melt the thing right off and open. Opening the door almost gave him an aneurism when it creaked alarmingly loud. Fucking shit and everything that was unholy.. The man grit his teeth and then waited a bit. The apartment was dark and quiet. Had you already turned in? That would make it so much easier.. If avoidable Dabi would like to apprehend you without giving you a heart attack in the process. That’d just make for a bad impression in the long run but maybe a funny story to tell people when they ask how you got together.. The man snapped out of his wayward daydream and just walked through the hallway.

He checks every room and eventually finds you, sleeping on your couch. Finally. You are asleep. That makes it easier. So, just to be sure. He opens the pouch and takes some of the powder into his hand. Crouching down and blowing it into your face. There we go. Now the h/c’d woman was sure to stay asleep until he was done. But, now that she was basically comatose. He might as well just check around and see if he should take some stuff for you along. Make it more homey when you wake up. He scratched the back of his neck and walked around, finding some bags in your kitchen where he started stuffing clothes and hygiene articles into. This was going well. Better than he anticipated. You didn’t have a strong quirk but, unfortunately, it was loud if you wanted to be.

The ability to imitate literally any animal call could proof to be a pain in his ass when he tried to smuggle her back to base in a bodybag.. Couldn’t just carry her around.. people would notice. He didn’t want to ask the others for help since this was his own thing and he didn’t want for anyone else to put their filthy paws onto her. That was his fucking privilege.. Alright. Stop being angry, nothing happened. Dabi sighed and put the rest of the things he found into the backpack. He’d come back later and start moving her furniture and other stuff too. With that he’d take Kurogiri’s help. That was not so important. What was important that once you woke up you’d realize that nothing had been taken from you and that eventually, once you came around, your freedom would be back too.

It’d take some time, he’s sure. But it’d be so fucking worth it. Dabi grinned widely at the thought of doing mundane things like eating stuff together or bicker about day to day things.. Yeah. It’d be worth it. It even made the cause seem a bit more friendly. Made him forget his past trauma. His scars barely even itched when he was around you, way too distracted and all. The man got the stuff together and then shuffled around, putting a body bag onto the floor and then lifting you and carefully placing you inside. Wonderful. Perfect. Now all he had to do was walk out the door and get on his way- Just to run into y/n’s neighbours. Dabi’s eyes widen slightly at the elderly couple that were staring with shocked faces at him. He knew them. You got along with them well, sometimes you guys cooked for each other. They liked you and you liked them, so killing them was not an option but it did put a bit of a timestamp on his work. “Don’t miss her too much. She’ll be fine.”

As if that would calm them. The elderly man left his hysterically yelling wife to come at Dabi with a lifted cane and try to beat the hell out of him. He doesn’t wait, he hopped onto the fence and down onto the street, breaking into a sprint as soon as he was down there, leaving the crying and yelling behind. Maybe they’d see each other again, once y/n had chilled out about everything and this whole mess was sorted. The police was going to be on his ass momentarily. But even if, he had enough of a head start. Your weight on his shoulder was assuring him of this being the right thing. Not for the law, but for the sake of your love that was sure to succeed.

This was rough. Dabi knew this was going to be rough when he planned this all out but this just took the cake. He grunted and dodged the fork you threw at him, catching the plate with his right hand and the oncoming pillow with his left. You’re screaming and crying. Obviously. Dabi squinted a little but didn’t tell you to stop. This was process. Five stages and everything. Now it was going to be denial. Dabi’s eyebrow twitches.. if this was denial he’s worried about the anger stage. If this got any worse.. The roar of a lion almost startled him. Almost. Yikes. You’re sure a card to be dealing with.

Made him remember why he fell in love with you. It’s been merely three hours but you’re disappearance had already entered the TV stage. People were looking for the lady that got taken by Dabi, member of the LOG. He can’t blame them. If he was a hero he’d think he was up to something too. Lucky him, he’s just in the honeymoon phase. Just watching you yell at him made him think about the times this would all be over and you two could just have that happily ever after. Dabi yawned and ducked when another pillow came at him. He caught it absentmindedly after dropping the plate and then throwing it back at her face. It FWUMPS right in there and he can’t help but cackle at your stumped expression.

“Fuck you!” Yeah yeah. He leaned back against the wall and waved with the other pillow he still had. “This is a bother..” He muttered lowly but then spoke loud enough for her to understand. “Just accept it.” It’s not an order, just a statement. There’s nothing else you can do but stare at the man who took you. Something tells him you won’t get away and you feel the same. Sure, you would not go down without a fight but then again, he doesn’t want you to. Just watching you sob and shake on the bed makes his heart clench but this is fine. You’ll feel so much better once you accepted your new life as his woman. You’d be his and he’d be yours.. Sure, that does not look all too appealing now but he knows that will change. He’s got the patience and will to put the effort in after all..

You two were meant to be with each other after all..

[lovelahela]

❛ sweet tooth ❜ ─ jax matsuo

author’s note: this is like my first choices fic and it’s pretty short and bad ( this is not me being fake modest or anything aksujd it’s genuinely bad, i’m not used to writing these types of fanfics) but i look forward to improving and writing better fics! constructive criticism is appreciated <3

day nine of thirty-one

tags:  @choicebyjade, @cora-nova​, @choichesdecemberchallenge

word count: 1236

book + li: bloodbound, jax matsuo

prompt: sweets

status: unedited

SWEET TOOTH

"Hey! Grab the cat, it stole my wallet!"

"Farah! Come back here, the cookies will burn!"

"Who cares about the cookies, Adrian doesn't pay me as much as y'all think he does!"

To say the 24th of December was the most accurate representation of the word "chaotic" would be the understatement of the century. Despite the delicate glow of the Christmas lights hung all over the walls in the room, the Christmas tree that was... quite messily decorated, if you really think about it ( but hey! it's the thought that counts, right?), and the soft chatters of excitement outside their door, Jax Matsuo and Farah Amari's day was not as cozy as their beautifully adorned room indicated. And it had all started when they were tasked with the job of baking the sweet deserts to be served at their feast that night.

Keep in mind, of all things that woman could do, handle herself in a kitchen was not one of them.

"Jax! Hey!" Farah had called out joyfully, running to her boyfriend's side the moment she saw him after entering the Shadow Den. She was wearing a ridiculous, vibrant red Santa Claus hat, a comically over-sized and horribly ugly Christmas sweater, and a pair of jeans she had stolen from him ( he had pretended not to pay attention, but frankly, he loved it). When he spotted her charismatic ensemble, an unattractive snort unwillingly escaped him, to which she slapped his arm playfully, brown eyes sparkling jovially under the soft illumination of the fairy lights strung up near them. Before she could have the chance to fight off the urge, a wide, pure smile stretched across her plump, gloss-coated lips, which was quite contagious if you asked him. Although warmth spread throughout his body like a wildfire at the sight of her gorgeously genial eyes and her childlike jumping, he swallowed the affection that he was so tempted to shower her in and instead resorted to tease her.

"What's up, Alabaster Snowball?" Jax sniggered childishly, earning chuckles from the members of his Clan that happened to be passing by, softly smiling at their adorable interactions. Despite knowing her puny human strength would not so much as make a dent in his athletically toned body ( let's not forget his superhuman, vampiric strength as well ) she sent a weak punch to his arm and pouted melodramatically.

"Ouch, right where it hurts!" He continued to poke fun at her mercilessly, which gained him a chucklesome glare from his much shorter girlfriend and a series of feeble attempts at punches.

"Anyway," huffed Farah after expressing her feigned anger by treating Matsuo like a punching bag, "I just got a call from Adrian. He said Mila is out sick and can't bake the sweets for tonight, so we're gonna have to do it."

His facial expression contorted into an unpleasantly shocked one. "What? This is on such a short notice!"

"Dude, we've like, killed an army of Ferals and pretentious vampire hunters, I think we can bake a bunch of cookies before tonight." Farah tried to lift his spirits - key word here being tried. He grimaced at her unrealistically optimistic behavior, given her past experiences in kitchens - from burning cakes to half-cooked rice to impossible bitter scrambled eggs ( how do you even mess up scrambled eggs? and make them bitter? ), little miss Amari was not a force to be reckoned with when it came to cooking and baking, and Jax meant that in the worst possible way.

"Full offense, Farah, our kitchen has almost perished a whopping fifty-two times because of you," said Jax, cringing bitterly at the memories of her miserable failures. She tilted her head slightly, softly wavy hair flowing like black ink on a tilted piece of parchment, and frowned innocently at his critical choice of words.

"You counted?" 

"We don't really have insurance in case you burned down the entire place, might I remind you."

"Come on, pleeeease?"

"No."

"Pleeaaaaaaase?"

"Absolutely not."

And then there they were, standing side-to-side in poor Jax Matsuo's kitchen with the ingredients needed to bake scrumptious cookies were carelessly scattered about. Jax, with brows knitted in utter worry and arms crossed stiffly against his chest, let out a long huff that screamed I-don't-know-why-I-keep-putting-up-with-you-at-this-point. Farah, on the other hand, was positively beaming as she protected her atrocious outfit with an equally appalling apron.

"Cheer up, Jaxxie, how bad can it be?" She had giggled mischievously, carrying two eggs in her hands and waving them around tauntingly. With the speed of lightning itself, he grasped both her hands in his and closed the gap between them. A yelp escaped her parted lips at the abrupt movement, and upon registering the closeness between them suddenly felt heat rush to her cheeks. An almost melodic laugh that made her heart skip a beat or two sounded through the room as a reaction to her adorable sheepishness, and - to her dismay - he backed away with the eggs now in his own palms.

"Get to work, young one, we have a shit ton of cookies to bake."

Needless to say, that was the last sentence that was said before complete madness broke out. It had started out calm, with the two humming in rhythm to cheerful Christmas songs and exchanging encouraged smiles as well as furtive glances at the clock that seemed to be going too fast, then it had suddenly escalated to the pair tripping over their own feet as they rushed to get their job done in the remaining two hours they had. The younger of the two was doing surprisingly well - only because that time, she decided to obediently follow his wise instructions - until a stray cat came screeching into their room, snatched her prized wallet into its small mouth, and ran out.

Farah gasped dramatically, resulting in her dropping the bowl of batter she had been whisking and spilling its contents onto the floor. Jax cried out at the mess and wasted batter, looking frantically between the spilled contents on his previously squeaky-clean floor and his wide-eyed, hyper-active girlfriend.

"Farah, what the hell?" exclaimed Jax in complete and utter disbelief. His loud yell brought her back into reality and she ran out the door, fastest she's ever run, after the thief that robbed her of her possibly most precious item. 

"HEY! GRAB THAT CAT, IT STOLE MY WALLET!" She had shrieked, startling all the inhabitants of the Shadow Den that instantly stopped their preparations for the feast to gape with dropped jaws at the panicking woman. In amused confusion, they turned their attention to their leader, who ran out covered in flower, batter, and an apron covered in flowery prints that made some of the vampires snicker.

"FARAH! COME BACK HERE, THE COOKIES WILL BURN!" His nervous roar echoed throughout the underground village, causing an uproar of laughter and joy, which he would have admired if it weren't for the fact that it was his suffering they were guffawing at.

"WHO CARES ABOUT THE COOKIES, ADRIAN DOESN'T PAY ME AS MUCH AS Y'ALL THINK HE DOES!"

And suddenly there were shoes flying targeted at the fleeing cat, nervous outcries from a financially struggling assistant, and a whole lot of mayhem that was not suited for a cozy dinner on Christmas Eve.

[ghostofviperwrites]

Forgotten

Requested by @earl-01

Pairing:  Hiromu Takahashi/FC

Category:   Smut

Word Count: 1903

Warnings: Language; fingering

61.          “If you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?”

You had done it.  Despite the obstacles thrown your way and the resistance faced at every turn you had done it.  You had gotten Los Ingobernables de Japon on their tour bus in time for its scheduled departure.  It most definitely had not been easy.   Despite you telling them the night before of the irregular departure time not a single one of them had retained the knowledge.  Naito had been relatively easy to find.  The difficult part with him had been dragging him out of the cocoon of blankets he had buried himself in, getting him to put some clothes on and trudging him to the bus.   A sleepy Naito was a very grouchy Naito so he made sure you got an earful of his displeasure as you led him into his sleeping cabin.  Never had you been so glad to shut the door on someone.  

Bushi hadn’t been in his hotel room when you showed up.  He had sworn up and down he wasn’t going to the clubs tonight and given that Bushi was usually pretty up front about his plans you figured he was on one of his nocturnal strolls.   You had learned over the past few weeks of your employment that Bushi was a bit of an insomniac and often took strolls around the hotel grounds when he couldn’t sleep.  So you had wondered the grounds for thirty minutes looking all over for him.   You had finally stumbled across him in the pool area and soon wished you hadn’t as you got an eyeful of his bare ass fucking some girl on the side of the pool.  So you had turned your back and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the couple as you waited for him to finish.   As soon as he had exited the pool area you grabbed him by his elbow and led him towards the bus all the while having to listen to his questions about whether you had enjoyed the performance.  

You’d had to resort to bribery to find out just where in the hell Evil and Sanada had disappeared too.  Empty rooms had greeted you and you knew for damn sure they weren’t enjoying a quite night in.  So you had gone to the concierge to find out where the hotel’s limo had taken your two erstwhile clients.  A pocketful of yen lighter you finally had their destination and a ride from the hotel to collect them.   You wish you could unsee what you saw when you entered that VIP room.    You got a much more intimate view of both Evil and Sanada than you had ever hoped to.  Not to mention their companions.   Of course by this time you were cutting it close to departure time so you had to break up their festivities.  Which, needless to say did not go over well.  At all.   Your protestations that you had warned them of the early departure time fell on deaf ears.   As did your vehement protests that they were not to bring along one of their little playthings to finish them off on the ride.   You felt utterly humiliated as Evil and Sanada sat across from you in the limo and had her suck them off as you pointedly stared out the window and once again tried to drown out sounds you’d rather not hear.  

But you had done it.  You had gotten them all on the bus in time to leave.   Sinking back into the plush couch seat you closed your eyes relief coursing through you as the bus engine roared to life.   Your eyes closed and you felt yourself drifting away ready to forget the nightmare of the past few hours as the bus pulled away from the curb. 

“Where’s Hiromu?”  Bushi asked stepping out of the back of the bus where the compartment he and Hiromu were sharing was housed.  Your eyes shot open and you looked at him in confusion.

“What?”  You asked shaking your head to clear it.

“Hiromu, where is he? He’s not on the bus.”  Bushi said glaring at you.   Horror had your eyes widening and panic set in as you realized you had forgotten all about Hiromu Takahashi.  

“Stop the bus!”  You screamed rushing towards the front of the bus yelling at the top of your lungs for the bus driver to stop.  “We have to go back.” 

“What the fuck is going on?”  A grouchy Evil opened the door to his and Sanada’s compartment.

“She forgot Hiromu.”  Bushi explained gesturing in your direction.  “He’s not on the bus.” 

Of course Evil found that hilarious breaking out into loud guffawing laughter that had Naito opening his door in irritation. 

“What is going on?”  Naito snapped glaring at Evil who was still laughing, only now joined by Sanada from his bunk as he was filled in on the kerfuffle. 

“Our illustrious assistant forgot Hiromu.”  Bushi said the beginnings of a smile coming to his face now that the bus was turning around to get their little brother.  

You sat by the front doors of the bus studiously ignoring the four members of LIJ who were mulling suggestions of just how Hiromu was going to react to being left behind.  

You didn’t have to go far to find him, he was standing right where the bus was meant to depart with his luggage.  The doors to the bus opened and Hiromu climbed on board, getting greeted boisterously by his brothers as he pushed past you. 

“You guys left me?”  Hiromu said making them quickly issue denials. 

“Never Hiromu.”  Naito said emphatically. “She.”  He pointed at you.  “Forgot you.  We were all in our beds already.” 

You found yourself staring into the sad face of Hiromu a pout jutting out his lower lip as he stared at you before shaking his head in disappointment and following Bushi to their cabin.  You felt absolutely horrible as they all disappeared into their respective compartments and shut the doors behind them.  How could you forgot one of your charges?   You blamed the confusion of corralling the other four, but there was really no excuse.  And poor Hiromu.  He was so upset at having been forgotten.  

With a defeated slump to your shoulders you changed into your pajamas then headed into the sleep cabin you were sharing with Naito.  Climbing onto the top bunk you laid down, the motion of the bus soon lulling you into a fitful sleep. 

You didn’t know how long you had been out for when you were startled awake by hot breath on your face.  Eyes flying open you found yourself staring into the angry face of one Hiromu Takahashi.   His body hovered over yours, mere inches separating your bodies.   Heart racing uncontrollably at the fright you took several deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

“What are you doing in here Hiromu?”  You whispered.  “Get out.  You’re going to wake up Naito.” 

“Naito-san went to sleep with Bushi so we could resolve our issues.” Hiromu said with a smirk that quickly dropped as he pouted down at you.  “You forgot about me.  Left me behind. Do I not matter to you?”

Anger at his appearing in your bed was quickly replaced with remorse as he stared down at you with hurt filled eyes.

“No Hiromu!  You matter.” You were quick to reassure him, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.  “I’m so sorry.  I was just frazzled having to get all the other guys and Evil and Sanada did… some stuff that had me knocked for a loop.  I didn’t mean to forget you.  I’m so sorry.”  You stroked his cheek with your thumb, his eyes closing in pleasure as the sensations.

“I accept your apology Y/N-chan.”  Hiromu said brightly making relief course through you that was cut short at his next words. “But…you still need to be punished.”

“No I…” Your protests were stopped by his finger pressing to your lips and a glare on his face.

“Yes you do.  I need to do something to make sure you never forget about me again.”  Hiromu said.  You gasped when he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up your body, stilling your struggles with his body weight as he fashioned a tie out of the material and secured your hands above your head.  

“You can’t do this Hiromu.” Your attempt at firm words came out much breathier than you had hoped, your nipples pebbling in the cool air as Hiromu straddled you.

“You owe me, Y/N-chan,” Hiromu chided. “You left me behind.  You forgot about me. That cannot go unpunished.”  Your protests died on your lips as Hiromu leaned down and pecked a kiss on them.   His lips were softer than you had ever imagined and you couldn’t deny the tingle between your thighs at his action.   His lips kissed each of your cheeks and then began their descent down the side of your neck, sucking the flesh in his mouth before moving on.   As far as punishments went this wasn’t half bad you thought as Hiromu scooted down your body until his mouth was level with your breasts.  Cupping them in his hands he flicked his tongue over your nipples moving back and forth between each breast with sweeping licks and kisses and then sucking the nipple in his mouth. 

His actions had you arching off the bed, seeing his tongue as he swirled it around each peak.  His teeth grazed over your nipple then issued a sharp bite that had you gasping.   Letting go of one breast his hand reached between your legs and started stroking your folds as he sucked on your nipple.   His fingers moved fast, rubbing over your clit and pinching it making you moan loudly as he gave you just enough pleasure to drive you crazy. 

“Please Hiromu,” You moaned pushing your hips against his hand seeking that extra friction to make you cum.  

“Please what?” He asked looking up with a smile as he slowed his finger movements.

“Please stop teasing me.”  You begged as his fingers pushed inside you. 

“If you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?” Hiromu asked twisting his hand as he bit down on your nipple making you cry out in pleasure. 

“Please?”  You begged again crying out in disappointment as he once again slowed his movements.  When he pulled his fingers free you almost cried in frustration, breath coming in heavy gasps as he brought his fingers to your mouth.  You sucked them in, your tongue swirling around the digits as Hiromu sucked on your tits and rubbed as your cunt with his other hand.  

Then just like that he was gone.  Hiromu smirked up at you as you looked at him in a lust filled daze. 

“Maybe this will help you remember me in the future.”  Hiromu said, sliding the door closed and walking out leaving you a panting frustrated mess.

“Hiromu!” You yelled.  “Hiromu! Untie me, right now!” Your demands were meant with silence and you struggled uselessly against your bonds as you were left to wonder just who was going to come to your rescue. 

[ernmark]

Peter has amnesia AU

This is what we’ve been building to.

 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

When they return to Juno’s car, Peter heads for the driver’s side and Juno hands over his keys without an argument. He’s in no condition to drive, even on the vast, empty wasteland of the Martian desert. 

“It’s a bit late to go all the way back to Hyperion City tonight,” Peter says, breaking the silence. “Can I assume it’s safe to get a hotel in Olympus Mons?”

“It’s your dime,” Juno mutters. 

“Yes, ‘all expenses paid’. You made that quite clear in your invoice. A minimum of five stars, then?” 

Juno’s only response is a noncommittal grunt. 

Peter drives in silence, following first the distant glow of Olympus Mons, and then the directions of the car’s GPS to navigate the labyrinthine streets.

He keeps thinking about Juno’s original plan. Perhaps the detective would have fared better if he’d gone down there alone. Perhaps. But that isn’t how it plays out in Peter’s mind: all he can see is Juno, isolated and shaking, impossibly tiny underneath what must have been miles of sand and stone. He doesn’t know why he imagines Juno’s bionic eye malfunctioning-- it’s only one of the many things that could go wrong out there in the middle of nowhere-- but Peter can’t shake the image of blood running down the side of Juno’s face. 

“A room for the night,” Peter tells the receptionist who checks them in, laying down a stolen credit card, and he’s gratified when Juno doesn’t protest. 

“A king or two queens?” the receptionist asks, not looking at him as they type in his answers. 

“What do you think, Juno?” he asks, his suave self once again.  Juno blinks as if he’s been startled out of a dream, and so he repeats the question: “A king or two queens?”

He’s fairly certain he knows how Juno will reply-- two queens, of course, for the illusion of distance. But there’s nothing quite like human touch to sooth the nerves after a long day.

“Two rooms,” Juno says instead, quiet but resolute.

The receptionist glances at Peter. After all, it’s his false name on the card.

“Two rooms,” he confirms, and tries not to let the disappointment show on his face.

The room feels wrong. It’s too big, too empty, as cavernous as a tomb.

Which is absurd, of course-- he’s spent most of his life sleeping in hotel rooms just like this one. There’s no reason that he should feel uncomfortable now, and yet he does. 

Juno’s room is situated beside his, the two divided by a single door in the shared wall. Peter doesn’t need to try the knob to know that it’s locked from Juno’s side. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

Juno isn’t the first person he’s lied to; his isn’t the first heart he’s broken. What does he care if Juno Steel spends the night alone after walking back into a nightmare? What’s it to him if he wakes up and the room next door is empty, so long as the samples they collected are still there? Why should he care?

There’s a crash from the other side of the door, and Peter starts upright. “Juno?” He flattens himself against the door. “Are you alright?” He grabs the knob-- just as he guessed, it’s locked tight.

“I’m fine.” The voice on the other side is slurred. “Just dropped my bag.” There’s a sound of glass clinking against the desk. A bottle?

“I take it you’ve found your way into the drink service.”

“Hey, the invoice said all expenses paid.” 

“That it did.” Peter sighs. “Perhaps I could join you. I could use a drink myself right now.” 

He’s close enough that he can hear a hand sliding down the other side of the door. The handle turns, just slightly, before it’s stopped by the lock.

“Don’t you have a fridge in your room?” Juno asks. 

“I could use the company.”

The doorknob shifts, just slightly. “Could you?”

“It’s been quite the day.” For both of them, though he suspects he can’t say that much.

Juno makes a small sound that he can’t quite decipher. “You didn’t have to come.” 

“And leave my curiosity unsatisfied? Besides, I could hardly let you go alone, could I?”

“Why not?” Juno mumbles, almost inaudible against the door. “I go back plenty of times. Just not when I’m awake.”

Peter frowns, but he keeps his voice light. “It seems a rather long distance for sleepwalking.” 

“It’s not so much sleep walking as it is nightmares.” 

This time it’s Peter’s hand that twists fruitlessly on the doorknob. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, who doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat every now and then, right?”

“Juno--” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can process them. “Are you sure you want to sleep alone tonight?” 

Juno’s reply is almost as reflexive: “No.”

Peter’s hand tightens on the doorknob again, silently willing it to unlock. “All you have to do is let me in.” 

Juno makes a small, anguished sound, like he’s in pain. Instantly Peter is twisting the doorknob with one hand and digging for his lock picks with the other. He needs to be in there. He needs--

“No.” Juno’s voice comes out a raw whisper, almost a sob. “Nureyev, don’t.”

“Let me help you,” Peter pleads. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember me?” Juno laughs as though he’s going to cry. “Go to bed, Nureyev. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

The drive back to Hyperion City is a quiet one. Between Juno’s hangover and Peter’s exhaustion after a night of fitful rest, neither one feels particularly talkative. At some point Peter dozes, lulled to sleep by the monotony of red sand dunes, and he wakes with his glasses neatly folded in the cup holder beside him. 

He pretends not to notice the odd angle of the rear view mirror, or the glances that Juno steals when he thinks Peter can’t see. 

They arrive at the headquarters of Saffron Pharmaceuticals without incident and hand over the bags of samples to a lab tech. They’re back in the car and pulling out of the parking lot when Juno’s comms beeps.

“That was fast,” Peter says.  

“That’s not Saffron,” Juno mutters. His eyes are on the comms, and on the unlisted number glowing on the screen. He picks up and sets it against his ear, though Peter’s close enough to hear the voice on the other side-- a woman’s voice, sharp and urgent.

“Juno,” she says without preamble. “I know you’re the one behind this. I want you to call your secretary off.” 

“Sasha?” Juno asks, startled.

“Our systems are confidential. If you keep digging, there will be consequences.”

The call ends as abruptly as it began. 

Juno pulls the comms back from his ear and stares at it, his car idling at the edge of the parking lot.

Before Peter can ask what that even was, Juno makes another call. It picks up just as quickly.

“Boss?” His secretary’s voice comes in loud and clear on the other side.

“Rita, what the hell are you doing?”

“I ain’t goofin’ off, if that’s what you mean. I finished the stuff you had me look into, and it all got me thinkin’ about this one movie I saw, about these two super spies, and there was this big marathon of their movies going on, and--”

Juno cuts her off before she can continue. “What did you find?” 

“Well, the first couple were amazing, but then the sequels started to get a little--”

“Rita. The case.”

“That’s what I was tryin’ to tell you,” she says. “There was an itinerary for Duke and Dahlia Rose on that flight you showed me, but nobody ever claimed their tickets. So I did some digging for those names, and they don’t exist. The addresses all go to abandoned factories and empty warehouses, and the signatures on their paperwork belong to people who haven’t been doing those jobs in ages, so I thought: they must be spies. Which is why--”

“Did you find anything else on them?” Juno asks.

“A couple using that name checked into the Oasis Casino Resort out by Olympus Mons for a night a while back-- you know, the one where that jewel thief got caught? It was all over the news for a while-- and then a month later they checked into the Seventh Star Hotel down on Lovelace Street, but then they disappear.”

An uncomfortable chill crawls down Peter’s back. He recognizes the pattern of the aliases, if not the names themselves. 

“So I looked up the credit card they used to check into the Seventh Star, and that was used to check into the Queen of Sheba hotel across town, but it was for just one person with a different name. That same card bought another spaceship ticket a few days later, but when I checked the manifest, that ticket never got picked up, either.”

“Another no-show?” Juno asks, his voice dry.

“No-- and this is the part where it gets real exciting-- I looked up the flight manifest, and the whole thing was flagged by Dark Matters. There was a suspected terrorist supposed to be on that flight, only there was this great big sting operation, just like in the movies, and he got dragged away. It was all super top secret stuff, real exciting, which is what got me thinkin’ about--”

The rest is lost in a babble as Juno sets the comms down to pull the car over to the side of the road. It’s difficult for Peter to focus on what’s being said. There’s a roaring in his ears that drowns out everything else. 

His eyes are fixed on Juno’s knuckles, tight and bloodless around the steering wheel. Finally he picks up the comms again.

“Rita, I want you to try Dark Matters again. I want you to look for anything having to do with memory augmentation.”

“But boss, the commercial’s almost over, and--”

“Just do it.” 

Peter isn’t sure if the car’s hover motors are failing or if it’s just him. 

A moment later, Rita comes back on the line. “There’s an experimental procedure they’ve been workin’ on for the past six months or so. Looks like somebody broke into Dark Matters and impersonated one of their agents. Says here all the sensitive information he got access to was neutralized, and then they let him go to test if it was gonna be useful in the long term.”

Agent Glass.

That’s what Rita’s been calling him all this time.

Agent Glass.

He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. He clears his throat and tries again. “How does it work, exactly?”

Juno catches his eye. 

No, he says silently. You don’t want to know.

But Peter has to.

“Well, they make this incision in the back of the mouth-- you know, that part that freezes up if you eat ice cream too fast?-- and that’s how they get to the brain, and--”

Juno looks like he might be sick. 

Peter’s gone numb. The only thing he can feel is his tongue sliding across the roof of his mouth to the soft palate and the cut that’s already started to heal. 

Another voice interrupts Rita’s call.

“Juno, what did I just say?” The other woman. Sasha. “If your secretary keeps hacking our system, we’ll be forced to take action against her.”

“What kind of action are we talking, exactly?” Juno asks. “You planning on digging into her brain, too?”

“That’s exactly the kind of confidential information I’m talking about,” the woman snaps. “Dammit, Juno, I’m trying to protect you. I can’t keep doing that if you keep--”

Juno ends the call, plunging them both into silence.

“Well,” he says, his voice dry. “I guess that’s one mystery solved.”

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT fic: Time & Tide (prologue)

In 1985, a Time Master grabs young Lisa Snart for the Refuge...but there's no way she's going anywhere without her brother.

And years later, when Miranda and Jonas die and the Time Council refuses to do anything, Rip Hunter turns to his oldest friend… 

It occurred to me, while I was writing chapter 3 of "Secret Santa," that if the Time Masters took unwanted kids like young Michael the cut-purse to become future Time Masters--then in another time and place, they could have taken the Snart siblings for the same purpose.

And then the idea wouldn't go away. It demanded to be written. So, here's a prologue to what's shaping up to be another multichapter AU epic. ;) What's another WIP among friends, right?

Please note that this will have CaptainCanary in later chapters ('cause it's me). Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta. Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

It was, like so many other things, Lewis' fault.

Lisa hadn't been so loud, really. She'd just forgotten herself, in excitement over some game she'd been playing with the new doll she'd gotten for Christmas (Len having scraped together enough to hit a sale at the five-and-dime) and her voice had gotten just a little shrill, as the voices of small girls are wont to do. She was only 5, after all.

Lewis, nursing a hangover and planning another doomed-to-failure heist, had snapped. He'd roared into the room, grabbing her by the arm (Len would later find bruises in the shape of his fingertips there) and dragged her to the door, where he'd shoved her out into the January cold in only her pink leggings and My Little Pony sweatshirt, nothing on her feet but slipper socks, too shocked to even scream.

Leonard, who'd been trying to study for a science test, ("Whaddaya doing that for? Not like they're going to give a dummy like you a diploma anyway," Lewis had scoffed) had just started in from the kitchen when he'd seen the scene unfold in front of him. Thinking fast, he'd grabbed both their coats from the kitchen chairs, and darted out the door after her, ducking the blow Lewis aimed his way.

The door slammed shut behind him. He'd heard the lock shoot home.

Lisa had just stared at him, her big blue eyes filling with tears even as she started to shiver. Len, refusing to think of just how bad this could get, had bundled her into her coat, cursing himself for not snatching her boots. After a moment's thought, he'd pulled off his own shoes and made her step into them, glad for once that they were really too small, lacing them up as tight as he could.

Then he'd stubbornly grabbed Lewis' work boots from the back step and pulled them on. He'd get smacked for the theft, no doubt, but time enough to worry about that when they got back inside. It was cold out, tonight, the coldest night they'd had so far, and he knew he had to get them under cover, especially Lisa.

He liked the cold, himself. He'd be OK, he decided with all the false bravado a stubborn 13-year-old boy can muster. He just had to get his sister to safety.

The garage wasn't heated and wouldn't do much good. The neighbors either ignored the Snart kids as much as possible or were the bleeding-heart sort who'd call CPS if they were given a reason. While he'd do that to get Lisa safe and warm as a last resort, Len had heard too many horror stories about foster care and was far too cynical at this point to believe otherwise. Plus, if they were returned to Lewis after that, there'd be hell to pay.

Lisa, shivering despite the coat, wouldn't make it far, but there was a convenience store at the end of the street. With any luck, the friendly young clerk would be working, the one who didn't mind two kids loitering around to keep warm and who occasionally even gave Lisa penny candy—and not the jerk who'd called the cops on Len before (he hadn't even taken anything!) or the motherly sort who seemed to think he was a danger to the little girl so tightly clutching his hand.

All they needed was some luck and some time. Eventually, Lewis would leave, or pass out, and Len could take them back home, pop the lock (at least his father had taught one thing that was useful), and tuck Lisa into bed. Lewis probably wouldn't even remember.

His luck wasn't the greatest. But that's the only idea he had, right then.

In one timeline, the store might have been closed due to a power outage. They might have died out there, all of Leonard's resourcefulness failing in the face of the deadly temperatures, falling snow, and neighborly apathy.

In another, the friendly clerk might have been working, might have turned a blind eye to the kids huddled at the store's one table, maybe even turned up the heat a little and pushed a few "damaged" bags of chips their way.

In yet another, maybe one of the other two clerks called the police. Maybe they recognized the Snart kids. Maybe one held a grudge against Lewis Snart, and decided to hang his oldest kid with his very first misdemeanor charge, a charge that would soon be compounded by one of Lewis' heists gone wrong and land the boy in juvie at the ripe old age of 14.

Just maybe.

But in this one, a nondescript man returning from a simple mission in 1985 Central City sees the small brown-haired girl wearing her brother's shoes while that same brother, standing in boots nearly up to his knees, studies the interior of the store through the iced-over windows.

There's a half-healed bruise on her cheek, and she's skinny and underfed in a way the man understands all too well, from a part of his personal history that's been nearly forgotten. He hesitates only a moment, then nods to himself, detouring toward the child, a ghostly figure appearing out of the snow to loom over her.

Lisa Snart doesn't see him until it's too late.

He snatches her expertly, one arm around her middle, the other clamped over her mouth. No need to use the knock-out device, he figures. No one will see him in this snow, and all he really has to do is get her back to the ship. Then he can double-check her role in the timeline, make sure they're in the clear.

But there's a lot he doesn't know about this little girl. And the important thing, at the moment, is this: Her brother taught her to fight dirty.

Lisa's eyes go wide, but she's only startled for a second. Then, she chomps down on the man's hand with vigor, following the bite with a determined backward kick to his kneecap. It connects and, while it doesn't hurt that much, combined with the bite it's enough for him to lose his grip.

Lisa sucks in a breath and screams.

"Lenny!" she wailed. "Lenny! Nooooo! My bruh-bruh-brother!"

The older boy's head whips around instantly, a look of horror overtaking his thin features, and stumbling in the snow, he charges toward them. The man, cursing, takes a step back…and slips as Lisa kicks at his knee again. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he pulls out a device, tries to thumb it into what he, in his own mind, calls the "dazzle" setting—one made to distract its target just long enough for a hasty escape.

Maybe it's because Lisa kicks him a third time, still shrieking although there's no one else around to hear her. Maybe it's his own subconscious as he looks into the boy's panicked face. Or maybe it's fate taking a hand.

But for whatever reason, the device slides right into the "knockout" setting.

The kid looks right into it as it flashes…and pitches face-first into the snow, lying still, snowflakes immediately starting to scatter over his dark, curly hair, burying him where he lies.

The girl tries to howl again, but the man has his hand back over her mouth again, and muttering to himself, uses the device on her next. She sags immediately in his arms, letting him catch his breath and figure out what, in the Vanishing Point's name, to do next.

If he leaves the boy in his threadbare coat and too-big boots here in the snow, the child will almost certainly die. And the man has no way to tell where he fits in the timeline, if this is the next mayor of Central City or just a petty thief. And truth be told, the way the little one had cried for her brother had touched even his weathered old heart.

There's only one logical thing to do.

He grabs the skinny teenager, too.

"The regulations provide for taking unwanted children to train up as protégé Time Masters," he says mulishly an indeterminate amount of time later. "And these two were definitely unwanted."

"One child!" The other man in the room with him whips around, anger in his eyes before he smooths his expression. "Taking siblings raises the chances that someone will notice…"

"By the time I had them back to my ship, they'd already vanished from the timeline," the man retorts. "No one cared, no one bothered to look for them…"

He's interrupted by the third man in the room, who takes an ingratiating tone. "But you have no idea what lay in store for them before that."

The first man shrugs, narrowing his eyes. He's never liked the leader of the Time Council, nor his chief lackey. This is just solidifying the matter.

"Taking one and not the other here would have caused more trouble," he says coolly. "The brother might have been blamed…"

"What do we care? This…"

"He stays."

At that definitive statement, all three Time Masters turn to stare at the tall woman who's standing nearby, facing the windows. Her eyes are fixed on the gangly teenager who's watching his small sister run across the lawn of the Refuge in the sun. The girl had bounced back from her "kidnapping" with the resilience of the young, especially since this place was warm and comfortable, and her stomach was full of good food for the first time in a while.

And her brother, after all, was there besides her.

"But…"

"Madam Xavier…"

"He stays." Mary Xavier turns on them, her eyes implacable, her demeanor cool. "This one is special. "

Druce stares at her another moment, then shakes his head. "He's too old. He'll remember too much of his former life. Won't be malleable."

"Of course, you'd have a problem with that," the first man retorts, anger entering his tone. "I…"

But Mary holds up her hand, interrupting them again. "One of the rights I have as the caretaker of the Refuge is the right of refusal, balanced by the right of acceptance," she says simply. "And I say he says."

The leader of the Time Council draws himself up to match her. "Then we can put back the girl." Druce's eyes are cold. "One at a time. That is the rule."

Mary shakes her head dismissively. "The girl stays too. They're stronger together."

"She's an attachment."

"And you know how I feel about that, Zaman Druce." Mary Xavier turns away, dismissing the leader of the Time Council as if he were still a haughty boy in the Refuge. "They stay. Both of them."

Druce blusters and Druce threatens. And in the end, Druce leaves.

So does the nondescript man. But he, for one, saunters out of the Refuge with a smirk on his face, whistling an off-key tune, snitching a cookie from the kitchen just as he had as a boy.

He pauses for just a moment before getting back in his time ship. "Good luck, kid," he mutters. "Give 'em hell."

Leonard and Lisa Snart will never see him again.

"Leonard."

The kid in question doesn't jump at his name. He'd seen the woman coming, out of the corner of his eye, and tensed just a little, prepared for whatever she was going to say or do to him. Lisa may think this place is wonderful, the answer to a small girl's prayers, but he's far more cynical, far less willing to trust.

(Even if their kidnapper had brought them here on a ship like something out of Star Wars. Len had tried very hard not to look impressed when he'd woken up.)

Mary, who'd purposefully let herself be heard and seen to avoid startling her skeptical newcomer, sighs to herself as his expression closes off. But after a moment, she smiles a little.

"Leonard," she repeats gently. "Come with me. I have someone I'd like you to meet."

The boy's eyes dart to where his sister is running after her new playmates, under the watchful eye of one of the older children. She'd cast off the chains of her past far better than he, although Mary knows from long experience that some of those issues will still be there, ready to cause problems at the most unexpected times.

"She's fine," Mary tells him. "She's safe here. I promise you that." She pauses. "Far safer than she would be at your…former home."

She nods as he sees him digest her last sentence. "Come with me."

This time, he does.

They walk slowly through the old house, the woman slowing her steps on purpose to allow the boy to look around, to see the genuine contentedness on the faces of the other children they pass. She can understand his caution, can understand it very well considering some of the backgrounds her charges come from. But the sooner he settles in, the more ready he'll be for the trials to come, and all the things he needs to learn.

Finally, after a slow circuit through the house and a trip up a flight of stairs, they enter a room that's comfortable, sunny and lined with bookshelves. She sees Leonard's eyes light up at the sight—followed by immediate caution as his gaze falls on the other boy in the room, one just about his age, who hastily puts down his book and bounds to his feet at the sight of them.

The other boy, nearly as thin as Leonard and a few inches taller, has a sharp face and a shock of brown hair. His eyes are bright and intelligent as he approaches them curiously, and Mary puts a hand on Leonard's shoulder, feeling the hesitation there. He's not someone, she thinks, that's ever had many friends. Too much the outsider, too much the pariah.

Well, perhaps that will change.

"Leonard, this is Michael, my foster son. Michael, this is Leonard—who will also be my foster son. I think…" She smiles for a moment, eyes turned inward, then shakes her head. "I think that you have a lot in common."

The boys stare at each other a moment, a shared background of caution and distrust of their peers (and adults) uniting them.

Then Michael, who's at least had the benefit of years of affection at the Refuge, sticks his hand out. And after another moment, smiles.

Leonard, after a moment's consideration, reaches out too, and shakes it.

And smiles, very tentatively, back.

[xxxprettydeadgirlxxx]

Dark Paradise

Loki/OFC Rated M (for Violence and NSFW) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12  Chapter 13                                            Chapter 14

"Heimdall. What is it?" "The girl." he paused. "She's..." Heimdall swallowed. He was not looking forward to this.

"She's what? Spit it out!" Odin growled.

"She is with child." Heimdall blurted before he had the chance to chicken out again. He had no idea how the Alfather was going to react to this news and he had planned on keeping it from him a little longer, but he hadn't had a choice. Octavia needed help. She needed to see Eir.

Odin's eyes grew wide. "You are certain of this!"

"Yes, my King." Well, it was now or never. "She needs our help." Odin furrowed his brows. "She has been sick for weeks. She needs medical treatment, Sire, or I believe she..." She wouldn't make it. Octavia was too sick and even with the aid of Loki's magic, she had yet to really keep any food down. "She will perish if we do nothing."

Odin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It is not my responsibility." Heimdall wanted to scream. Was he seriously just going to let Loki watch her die? Watch his child DIE? Again... The look on Heimdall's face must have said it all, because Odin narrowed his eyes and snarled, "You question my decision?"

"Yes." Did he seriously just say that; out loud?! Heimdall inhaled in a sharp breath. "He is your son...."

"HE IS A DISGRACE!" Odin roared. "Now, even more so. He is having a child out of wedlock!"

"Then do something about it." Odin glared at him. "My King." Heimdall was beyond done. If Odin was going to do something, really do something, he needed to do it now.

"Fine." Odin smirked. "Then I will." ______________________________________________________________

"Darling, drink." Loki lifted Octavia's head to assist her with getting a drink of water.

"Thank you." she whimpered. "Will this morning sickness ever go away?"

Loki looked at her sadly. She hadn't been able to keep anything down almost all month. Octavia was so weak and frail.

"Soon, my love." He lied.

"Loki, I don't know how much longer I can do this." she cried. "I'm so tired."

Loki's chest hurt. He was going to lose her. He was going to have to watch her die and it was all his fault. Loki had done this to her and he had no way of getting her to a real Doctor. "Please, hold on." he almost sobbed, but he held back. "Please, my love. Don't leave me."

It was the middle of the night when Loki was startled awake by a loud bang outside. He hadn't even remembered falling asleep and was still sitting on the couch. He shook off the sleep from his eyes and glanced out the window and his heart dropped when he saw what was outside.

Fire Giants.

At least fifty of them, and they were just standing there, smirking in the direction of the cottage. Could they see them? Did they know they were here? Loki didn't move. He stood there for what felt like an eternity just watching them. They did nothing but stand there and smile for a long time until one snapped its head in Loki's direction and looked right at him, and the creature began laughing.

That's when Loki knew they had been spotted. His ward... Why had it suddenly failed?

The creatures suddenly charged for the cottage and Loki quickly cast a protection spell to keep them from getting inside. They were banging on the windows, the doors, the walls; they were everywhere. Loki ran into the bedroom where Octavia had already woken up in a panic. "What's happening, Loki!"

"They've found us! I don't know how, but they've found us!" He tried to remain calm, but he couldn't. If his spell failed and they got into the house there was nothing Loki could do. Not with that many of them. Not with Octavia as sick and weak as she was. If they got into the house, it was over. They were both done. If Loki had to watch the woman he loved and his unborn child die, he was done.

"Loki!" Octavia was scared. It was all coming back to her where they really were. How much danger they were really in. They had never been safe; they had been lucky.

"Shh, it's okay." Loki crawled beside her and pulled her against him. "Shh. Don't cry, love." Loki sat there rocking Octavia back and forth, holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her. He jumped when he heard glass shatter. He could hear the wood bending. The Fire Giants were almost inside.

His magic...what was wrong with his magic?!                                                   # "MY KING!" Heimdall exclaimed in a panic.

"Not yet."

"But-"

"I SAID, not yet." The Alfather growled. "I will say when."                                                 #

Loki was holding the bedroom door closed as the fire giants beat on it, cracking the wood every time they would hit it. They were inside the cottage now. Loki was strong, but it wouldn't be long before even he was overpowered. "Can you run?!" Loki shouted to Octavia, who nodded and attempted to get up, only to collapse beside the bed. She had resorted to crawling, but Loki knew it was useless.

She was just too weak. He couldn't save her.

"I'm so sorry." Loki choked, his feet dragging the ground as the door was being pushed open. "I love you, O. Never forget that I love you!" Octavia was sobbing. She felt so useless, so utterly useless. "It isn't your fault. None of this is your fault!"

Then the entire house began to shake. What the Hel? Wait, Loki knew what that sound was. The Bitfrost. Heimdall! Loki lunged towards Octavia the moment the bedroom door flew open and gripped her tightly. Then suddenly, they were surrounded by familiar light and Loki could have cried at that moment and as a Fire Giant leaped towards them, they were shot into the sky before the monster even had a chance to realize what was happening.

Octavia felt like she was being sucked into space, which technically she guessed she was, and she wasn't sure how long it lasted. Maybe seconds, maybe minutes. She couldn't tell. Finally, they landed and Loki caught her before she kissed the ground. Apparently, she wasn't very graceful when it came to space travel. When she finally collected her surroundings, she realized they weren't in Muspelheim anymore. They were in a large, golden room and she could see the start of a...wait, was that a RAINBOW bridge??

"Where are we, Loki?" she finally managed to ask, but it was an old man who answered her. The man towered over her, and glared at her with his one good eye. He wore a crown and held a large staff in his hands. Octavia gasped when she realized who she was standing in front of.

Odin.

"You are in Asgard, child." he replied. "And I hear you are carrying my grandchild."

@burningarbiterheart@mastreworld @neurotic-narwhal@helenaisabel@hellokittyismyspiritanimal@court-of-thorns-and-roses@mad-about-britain@archy3001@iamhisgloriouspurpose@scoobysnacks31 @sweetangelfan @Kidamon @myclock​ @prettyhatemachine01​ @catqueen434​ @worthyofthewhedonverse09​ @iwishiwasamutant​ @normanallthewayforever@wolfsmom1

[the-wheel-comes-full-circle]

The snowball part 10

Okay so here is part 10 but because I am lazy, instead of me providing the links to the previous chapters individually, here is a link with all the chapters on the one page, just scroll down to the chapter you want :) xx

Rhys and Feyre sprang apart. Rhys shrugged his shirt back on while Feyre stared at the ground, red faced. By the time Feyre had the nerve to look up, Amren had already left the room.

"I should probably text Tamlin." Feyre said, hurriedly leaving.

Rhys bawled up his fists, cursing how stupid he had been as he watched the back of Feyre disappear down the hallway. He left Mor's, knowing Amren would look after Feyre and decided to give Feyre some space to sort out her feelings with Tamlin.

Back in Feyre's room, Feyre had just finished sending Tamlin a message when Amren came in, sprawling onto Feyre's bed face down.

"Tough day at work?" Feyre asked politely.

"Was alright. I'm more depressed over watching two people, who can't admit their feelings for each other, make goo goo eyes all day behind the other's back."

Feyre nodded like she understood. "Mor and Az."

Amren raised a surprised head. "Those two?" She asked incredulously.

"Of course. It's obvious they're pining after each other, who else could it be?"

"Talk about in denial. Azriel and Mor are definitely who I was referring to in this situation." She smirked at Feyre. "Seeing as you seem to understand so much about this mutual pining after someone, what advice would you give Mor?"

Feyre's face grew dark. "I'm not sure I'm the person to be giving advice on love at the moment."

"Oh put aside that tool for one moment Feyre. If you were in a similar situation, how would you save yourself some time and move forward?"

"I guess if I was sure that they felt the same, I would be honest and tell them how I felt."

"Exactly." Amren said with a smile. She quickly changed the subject. "So have you texted The Tool yet?"

"Just then. I had to make sure he didn't come looking for me again."

"So, Rhys told you?"

"After he tried to hide it, but yes." Feyre paused. "I never thought he would hurt anyone else."

Amren reached out to touch Feyre's arm. "He can't hurt you again either, if you don't let him."

"Amren I have to go back."

"No you absolutely do not." She said matter of factly.

Feyre got up off the bed and began pacing. "He'll only get worse the longer I'm away. He still loves me Amren, plus he's helping my family. They'd be starving without his help."

"Feyre, just because someone loves you, doesn't give them the right to control you, to do whatever they damned well please with you. That's not love. Besides you work now. You can support not only yourself, but your family too."

Feyre didn't respond, just increased her pacing.

"You have a lot of people around here who care about and love you Feyre. Don't give that up for someone who wants to keep you locked away."

Amren got up silently and left the room.

The next day Feyre woke up late again and made her way down to the living room. She found Rhys once again waiting for her.

"My god, don't you have a home?" She said with a yawn.

"I'd have more of a home if your beloved hadn't tried to burn it down." Rhys muttered.

"He did what?"

"Oh, nothing a little bit of water and new paint won't fix."

"Rhys." Feyre said sternly.

"It's in the past Feyre, I'd much rather focus on today and the beautiful woman I am presented with." Rhys said back to his cocky self. "Get dressed, we're going out."

"Where?"

"Does it matter? We're getting you out of the house and getting some good food into you." He grinned.

"I don't know. What if we run into Tamlin?"

"I highly doubt Tamlin would stoop to coming to my part of town." Rhys said with a curl to his lip.

Feyre took in Rhys's fine clothing and the way elegance and richness seemed to drip off of him. She raised an eyebrow in disbelief as to how anyone could think that Rhys came from anywhere but a nice neighbourhood.

"You don't look like someone who exactly lives in the slums."

"Oh I don't. I just live in a highly cultural place, which to some may seem less than ideal if you're the snobby and elitist type."

"And here I was, pegging you for being both snobby and elitist."

Rhys let out a surprised laugh. Before making a motion that suggested to Feyre that she should start getting ready.

When Feyre found a warm enough outfit borrowed from Mor that would do, she met Rhys outside. She had left her face free of makeup because she simply couldn't find within herself the energy to apply it, and under no circumstances did she want Rhys to think this outing was some sort of date.

When she made it outside, she realised that she had never seen Rhys's car before. Perhaps because he did not have one, as Feyre took in the sleek black motorbike now parked in the driveway of the house.

"Absolutely not. Nope. No way. Come back with a proper car." Feyre began to back up towards the house.

Rhys flashed her a grin so wide he reminded of her of Cassian when he was about to play an especially bad prank. "Oh Feyre Darling don't be like that. Haven't you ever wondered what it was like to fly?"

Rhys seemed visibly excited and happy to find that persuading Feyre to get on the motorbike hadn't been as hard as he thought it would. She had climbed on the back behind him gingerly, before placing cautious hands around his middle to hold on. When Rhys took off, she let out a startled yelp and wrapped her arms fully around him for grip.

"Prick!" She yelled in his ear which he heard, even through his helmet and the sound of the rushing wind which drowned out his roaring laughter.

He drove them downtown to a place Feyre had never been before. It seemed separate from the rest of town. Like its own separate community. A sign informed her that they had passed into a neighbourhood called 'Velaris'.

They stopped at a cluster of stores which led into more of a main street further down. Feyre tried patting down her helmet hair self consciously as people turned to stare at them.

To her surprise, Rhys barely ran a hand through his slightly mussy hair before striding over to a nearby man, who he shook hands with and greeted warmly. Soon, everyone around them began greeting Rhys.

It wasn't long before Rhys caught the curious, but not rude, glances being thrown at Feyre. He waved her over and began making introductions. Feyre expected the people he was talking to, to be businessmen, people he worked with, but they turned out to be every day people from all sorts of professions. She met a baker, a plumber, a single mother, and a chef, before Feyre couldn't keep track anymore so just resorted to smiling and nodding. Despite herself, Feyre found she enjoyed talking to these friendly strangers.

Rhys took her down the street through stores, exploring the area. They even had an artist's studio where people could go to learn to paint. Rhys politely asked if she would like to go in but Feyre, maybe a little too quickly, refused. Shrugging, he had walked them on to a more residential area. The people around there, Feyre noticed, had darker hair and more tanned, olive skin. So similar to Rhys it was almost like a family resemblance.

"This is the Illyrian community. Where I grew up." Rhys said almost shyly, and Feyre understood what Rhys was offering up to her.

They carried on in silence until they came across a group of older men angrily discussing something.

"Wait here." Rhys told her quietly, before slipping on a mask of calmness and heading over to the men.

Feyre tried to wait patiently. She really did. But something about Rhys made her more reckless, not wanting to obey orders given to her this time. She heard the excited yelling of children nearby and went to investigate.

Six children played a game of hockey in the middle of an empty street. Feyre watched them quietly until one of the boys scored a goal and cheered so obnoxiously she laughed aloud. Six heads swivelled to appraise her in the unabashedly way children stare at strangers. The one who had just scored held out a spare stick to her.

"Would you like to play?" He asked.

"I don't know how to."

"That's okay. Jesper doesn't really know how to play either, but we let him anyway." A different boy responded, as another, presumably Jesper, hit the other's shin with his stick.

Feyre laughed. "Okay but I'm warning you now, I'm more of a liability than an asset."

Feyre mostly played defence, allowing the children who could only be around ten years old, to score without making it look like she was going too easy on them.

Feyre was grinning ear to ear, enjoying playing a simple game so much she nearly didn't notice the group of raven haired girls huddled nearby, watching the game with interest. She stopped to walk over to them.

"Do you play?" She asked them, holding out her stick.

One of the girls reached out for the stick shyly, fingers just about to grasp it, before it was ripped out of both her, and Feyre's hand. One of the boys had snatched it away sulkily.

"Little girls don't aren't allowed to play hockey." He said crossly.

"And what are they supposed to do instead?" Feyre asked.

"Girly chores. Boring stuff."

"You let me play." Feyre said crossing her arms over the injustice.

"That's different!" The boy insisted.

Feyre leaned down to loudly whisper to the girls conspiratorially, "It's only because they know you'll beat them."

"They won't beat us!" Another boy chimed in.

"Prove it then. You have enough sticks." Feyre said challengingly.

Not wanting to admit defeat, the boys rushed to arm the girls with sticks and set up the game for more people. Feyre watched happily as the girls were allowed to join in and cheered loudly when they scored a goal.

The loud clearing of a voice sounded from behind Feyre had her whipping around so fast she nearly fell over. Rhys was standing a few paces away with a mischievous glint to his eye and a knowing smile. Sheepishly, Feyre made her way over to him.

"I've been trying to get the girls more involved in sport for weeks, and you stroll in here like it's nothing." He laughed.

"Yeah, well I'm assuming you haven't had to deal with as many bull headed boys as I have, or it never occurred to you to use how sensitive your male egos are."

"Sensitive are we?"

"Yep. Sensitive Illyrian babies. The lot of you."

"You've been spending too much time around my cousin for my liking." He winked at her.

By the time they met up with the others in a nearby restaurant for dinner, Feyre was buzzing with an unexpected lightness. She laughed and ate so much at dinner she felt sick, surprising Mor and Amren who had not seen her eat since arriving at their home.

"Don't worry Feyre, Mor's cooking does taste better than it smells." Amren joked.

But then the dinner turned more serious as Azriel asked about why the neighbourhood seemed more tense than usual. That was when Feyre realised she had never asked Rhys about what the group of men had been arguing over.

All laughter drained from Rhys's face as he spoke. "Notices were dropped in everyone's letter boxes. The building of the factory is going ahead, they managed to find enough investors."

"Factory?" Feyre asked, aware that this was maybe well above her head and none of her business, so was pleasantly surprised when Rhys answered her honestly.

"A big company bought land nearby to start building a monstrosity of a factory."

"I don't understand, won't it provide jobs?" Feyre asked confused.

"Once it's built, it will pollute all the land and water around it. The company denies it of course but our own sources tell us it could be catastrophic." Azriel added.

"Not to mention, houses immediately in the vicinity will need to be demolished to make room." Said Cassian.

"Anyone left will become sick due to pollutants." Mor said sadly.

Feyre was shocked. The whole community was about to be ruined. She thought of the children playing in the street, suddenly overcome with disease. "How could this happen?"

"We had hoped to scare off all investors trying to give the company the resources it needed to build. Clearly it didn't work." Said Rhys.

Feyre was beginning to develop a horrible feeling in her stomach. Suspicion gnawed at her insides. "What if they didn't need a lot of different benefactors, just one single, but wealthy, investor?" 

Rhys rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I suppose that could work. There are few folk around here that could afford that though."

Steeling herself for the answer, Feyre asked, "What's the company?" An old memory resurfaced of Feyre sitting with Lucien after Tamlin had stalked off, stressed over work, where Feyre had asked this very same question.

Feyre felt her stomach drop as Rhys growled a single word, "Hybern".

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

Jinxed

Sterek A-Z Challenge: Jinxed

Derek hated it when they were human.

Not human human, but of the human variety.

It made it harder for the group to agree they should kill them. Because if someone could be classed as human, no matter how dangerous they were, there was always the ever-boring, “There must be another way!” speech from Scott.

Sure, shove a Beserker in his face and he was fine with killing it, but the second a Kanima showed up, even if it was his worst enemy, he wanted to save it.

True story. Derek still couldn’t believe Jackson hadn’t died.

To be fair, it was probably a good thing because it made it easier for Derek to not want to kill Stiles when he’d been possessed by the Nogitsune. It would’ve been weird if he’d admitted to everyone that of all the bad guys they could kill, a possessed Stiles wasn’t one of them.

For the most part though, Derek was very adamant that dangerous things needed to be put down. Unless they were Stiles. But only Stiles, everyone else was fair game.

But herein lay the problem: they were dealing with a human type of threat, and Scott was extremely unwilling to resort to murdering them.

Derek was more than okay murdering them, because the Mage had killed over twelve people already, the sheriff was losing his mind trying to cover up the supernatural aspect of the murders, and oh yeah, bad shit usually happened when they listened to Scott.

Like now. With Stiles and Lydia kidnapped. And probably dying.

If Derek were the type of person to use sarcasm, he would slow clap at Scott and talk about what a great job he’d done. But, he wasn’t the type of person to use sarcasm—it had been beaten out of him the day he’d met Stiles—so he instead settled for scowling and being angry the entire drive to the place Deaton had told them to go.

Apparently Mages emitted some weird nature magic that made them easy to track, so he and Scott had an easy time finding them. The others had been left behind to ensure if things went wrong the town wasn’t completely defenseless, but if Scott had just listened to him when he’d said to kill her two weeks ago, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

Derek’s hands clenched the steering wheel more tightly, worry gnawing in the pit of his stomach. If anything had happened to Stiles…

Shit, he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about something happening to Stiles. And he really couldn’t let Scott know how worried he was about Stiles.

He didn’t know they were dating yet. That was the advantage of always being together: they already smelled like one another, so really, there was nothing to discover. It wasn’t like he was going to get intimate with Stiles in the way his horny teenage body wanted—he was still sixteen, Derek was going to wait a few more years, he didn’t want the sheriff to shoot him—so Scott had nothing to smell.

And to be fair, it wasn’t that they were keeping it a secret, per se. It just… hadn’t come up.

“It’s up here,” Scott said, snapping Derek out of his thoughts. He looked at where the other Alpha was pointing and turned. They went down a deserted alley road that led around the back of a large factory. It had a neighbouring warehouse, which also had a neighbouring warehouse, so Derek was fairly certain they were in some kind of industrial district.

Scott was out of the car first, Derek trying not to tear his door off when he exited. Inhaling deeply, he felt both relieved and terrified when he smelled Stiles. It was an old scent, but fresh enough to have been recent. Two hours, at most. Given he’d been missing for almost three, it was the right timeline.

Sharing a look, he and Scott moved quickly and with practised ease, working together seamlessly. Scott broke the lock on the factory door and Derek went in first. He made it to the end of the corridor, making sure it was clear, and Scott passed him at the next corner, moving ahead quickly while Derek hung back.

They played this weird game of leap frog all the way to the heart of the factory they were in. It was when they turned another corner that Derek’s heart thudded in his chest. He could see Stiles and Lydia. They were both sitting in chairs, their wrists bound together behind their backs, ankles tied to the chairlegs. They were facing one another, so when he and Scott began moving forward slowly, Lydia looked up.

She saw them, but she didn’t react to their presence. She just stared at them with a frown on her face, as if recognizing them, but unable to place them.

Then, she leaned forward and whispered—well, loud-whispered, since it carried—to Stiles, “I think they lost at hide and seek.”

Stiles instantly whipped around in his chair, eyes wide and panicked, shaking his head urgently.

Derek and Scott didn’t even have time to share a look before something slammed into the wall beside Derek’s face, exploding into dust.

Wolfsbane.

Luckily Scott hadn’t been close enough to inhale any and Derek had been exhaling when it hit the wall. It made his eyes sting and he was momentarily blinded, but he stumbled away before any permanent damage could be done. He heard Scott roar and shook his head, blinking hard and trying to clear his vision.

By the time he could see again, Scott and the Mage were fighting across the open area Stiles and Lydia were in. He seemed to have things under control, but every time he dodged a spell, it risked hitting the other two.

Derek rushed forward, claws extended, and sliced through the ropes around Stiles’ wrists. He hastily shook them off while Derek freed his legs and then began working on Lydia.

“We have to go!” Stiles insisted, grabbing at Lydia’s arm once she was free. She still looked confused, but she was slowly startling to giggle. “We have to get you out!”

“You go. Take Lydia. We’ll be fine.”

“No, Der!” Derek was a little surprised at the nickname. Stiles never called him that. “She wants you! And Scott! We have to leave! Now!”

“What does she want from us?” Derek asked while shoving the other two towards safety when another spell narrowly missed them all. Once they were around a corner, he stopped, searching Stiles’ face. Lydia looked like she was drunk.

Stiles stared at him, face contorted and turning red, like he was straining to do something. Licking his lips, he exhaled sharply and spoke once more.

“She wants both of you. You’re…” Stiles trailed off for a second and then let out an angry sound.

“Because we’re what?” Derek asked, getting impatient. “Werewolves? Alphas?”

“Yes!” Stiles said, pointing at him with both hands. “Yes, that!”

“He’s really pretty,” Lydia said, and Derek shifted his gaze to look at her, confused, because she was leaning into him and touching his face, scratching at his stubble.

“No, Lyds, stop it.” Stiles grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She instead shifted her weight into Stiles and giggled, resting her head on his shoulder but keeping her eyes on Derek.

Derek didn’t have time to worry about what was wrong with her. He just told them both to get out and turned to help Scott. Whatever this Mage wanted, he didn’t want her to get it, and Scott was by himself right now.

She had him in some kind of binding spell when Derek appeared. They quickly discovered that she couldn’t use magic on both of them at the same time, and whatever she needed from them, she obviously couldn’t damage them.

It was a much faster battle once they worked together. They overpowered her quickly, Scott found the crystal being used to control her magic, and once it was smashed, the Mage screamed so loudly that she would’ve made Lydia proud.

Then she passed out.

Derek and Scott argued over whether or not to bring her with them now that she was powerless and human once more. Derek wanted to leave her to find her own way home, but Scott insisted that they couldn’t do that.

The only reason he conceded defeat was because a few of the hospitalized patients from her attacks needed cures, and when they called Deaton, he said he needed the crystal shards as well as the Mage to determine what kind of magic she used so he could reverse it—if it was even possible to reverse it.

Derek let Scott carry her out, because he wasn’t going to considering he didn’t even want to bring her back. She didn’t deserve a ride back to town.

They exited the factory to find Stiles’ Jeep beside Derek’s car. Evidently the Mage had forced him to drive up there. Derek wanted to go back with him, but nobody was allowed to drive his car, so he just moved up to Stiles’ driver’s side window while Scott got the Mage into the Camaro.

“We’re going to the clinic. You lead. If anything happens, I want you ahead of us.”

Stiles said nothing, he just nodded, and forced Lydia’s hand away from the gear shift without even looking. Derek frowned at her.

“Is she okay?”

“No,” Stiles admitted.

Derek’s gaze shifted back to him. Now that Stiles was okay, that he was safe, he could relax enough to see that something was very wrong. The set of his jaw, the tenseness of his shoulders, the anger blazing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Stiles was silent for a moment, then he said, “No.”

Immediately, Derek’s senses went on overdrive. He tried to determine what was wrong by scent and sight alone. Lydia just smelled confused, and a little upset, like she felt that Stiles was being mean to her because he kept taking her by the wrist and pulling her hand away from things in the Jeep.

Stiles just smelled angry and miserable and frustrated. It was hard to pinpoint any one thing, and that made Derek extremely uncomfortable.

“Stiles—”

“Not now,” he insisted, hand tightening around the steering wheel. The other had moved to pull Lydia’s wrist once more when she turned on the windshield wipers. “When we get back.”

Derek wasn’t happy about it, but Stiles made it fairly clear he wasn’t going to discuss it now, because he rolled up his window and drove away. Derek had to speed a little bit to actually catch up to him once the Camaro was back on the road.

“Something’s wrong,” Derek said.

“I heard.” Scott had that weird look on his face that Derek could never decipher between constipated or worried. He was going to guess worried, in this case.

They said nothing for the drive back, following behind the Jeep the whole way. When it pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, Derek and Scott were out of the Camaro before Stiles had even finished unbuckling his seatbelt.

Scott was bringing the unconscious Mage into the building, Deaton holding the door open for him. Derek just watched Stiles help Lydia unbuckle her seatbelt and coax her out of the car. She took his hand when she hit the ground, looking around.

Derek’s frown deepened, but Stiles avoided his gaze and followed after Scott and Deaton. Derek took up the rear, the three of them meeting up with the other two in the back. The Mage had been put down on one of the metal examination tables, and the shards of the crystal were in a tray on Deaton’s desk. He and Scott were bent down over it.

Deaton probably knew what he was looking at. Scott likely didn’t, but he kept nodding as Deaton spoke. Derek ignored them, watching Stiles and Lydia.

The redhead kept trying to reach out for things, but Stiles would stop her and force her hand back to her side. Her other hand was still clutched tightly in his own.

“Well, that makes sense,” Deaton finally said, straightening. When Derek looked back over, the crystal had weird blue steam coming from it and was glowing yellow. Deaton was holding a little pouch in his hand. “She didn’t know what she was doing. She probably didn’t mean to kill anyone, she just wanted someone’s attention.”

Scott gave him a really annoying “told you so!” look, but Derek just crossed his arms and asked Deaton to explain. Apparently the crystal was being used to jinx people, and some of the jinxes inadvertently ended up being fatal. The Mage was new, according to Deaton, so she probably hadn’t realized that the deaths were her fault.

“Stiles said she wanted us,” Derek said, turning to Stiles, who was holding both of Lydia’s hands and hissing quietly at her. “Stiles.”

“What?” he turned to them, the word almost half snapped. He seemed to realize that and winced, but didn’t apologize. “I don’t know why.”

“Could be for the bite,” Scott mused, crossing his arms and shrugging. “She didn’t seem interested in hurting us. She just wanted us contained. Maybe her or someone she knows needs the bite and she was trying to get an Alpha for it.”

“Perhaps,” Deaton agreed. “We can ask her when she wakes up. I’ll need her help to reverse all the jinxes she put on people. I’m assuming she’ll be willing to help once she realizes what she’s done.” Deaton paused, then frowned. “You’ve been awfully quiet over there,” he said to Stiles.

Stiles’ mouth set in a hard line, an annoyed frown on his face.

“You’re jinxed, aren’t you? And so is Lydia.”

“Are they gonna be okay?” Scott asked urgently, overlapping with Derek’s furious, “What do you mean jinxed?!”

“It depends on the severity of what’s been done,” Deaton said, moving forward. Stiles was still holding Lydia’s hands, but she’d started whining and was stamping her feet impatiently, trying to free them from his grasp. “Lydia seems to be acting rather childish.”

“She took what we care for most,” Stiles muttered. “Her mind.”

“What did she take from you? You seem fine,” Scott said, then frowned. “Mostly.”

Something occurred to Derek then.

“Stiles, say my name.”

Stiles let out a huge sigh. “Der.”

“What am I?”

He got a glare for that. “A man.”

“What kind of man?”

“A man who is a wolf.”

“Say Werewolf.”

Stiles stared at him, and started going red in the face, like he was straining to say the word, but incapable of it.

“You’re unable to speak words that are more than one syllable,” Deaton said, evidently catching on to what Derek had been doing. “She took your vocabulary.”

“And I love that so much!” Stiles insisted, looking angry. “What’s the point of big words if I can’t use them?!”

“At least you can still talk. And act your age,” Scott said, eying Lydia, who was giggling and using one of her trapped hands to poke her finger against one of Stiles’ red cheeks.

“Help me,” Stiles whined. “Do you know how hard it is to speak like this? It’s not fun. Fix me. Stop that!” He said this last bit to Lydia, turning to her, annoyed.

“Well, the good news is you aren’t in any danger. The bad news is I won’t be able to fix you until she wakes up.” He motioned the Mage. Derek was glad he’d let Scott talk him into bringing her. “You may as well go home and get some sleep.”

Stiles very emphatically motioned Lydia.

“Ah.” That was all Deaton had to say.

They were all silent for a moment, then Scott sighed. “I’ll take her. Maybe Kira can come by and help me with her.” He glanced at Stiles. “You gonna be okay?”

He gave a sarcastic thumbs up. Scott pressed his lips together, then pulled out his phone to call Kira. Stiles led Lydia back out of the clinic, getting her into the Jeep and buckled in. When Scott climbed into the back to get a ride, Derek stopped Stiles before he disappeared inside as well.

“I’ll wait for you at your place.”

Stiles hesitated, then nodded and climbed into the Jeep.

Derek watched it drive off before heading back inside, walking in on Deaton sitting at his desk, going through a book comprised of weird symbols.

“Are they going to be okay?”

“I’m a little concerned about Lydia, if I’m being honest, but Stiles should be fine. As long as he doesn’t try too hard to say things he can’t, there shouldn’t be any lasting effects.”

Derek scowled, not liking that answer, but he’d take it. As long as Stiles didn’t die like the others. True, not all of them had died, but twelve was a large number.

He left without another word, climbing into the Camaro and driving to Stiles’ house. Parking down the street so people wouldn’t see his car in the driveway, he walked the half a block to Stiles’ house. He used the usual entrance—Stiles’ open window, he really needed to shut that—and then sat down in his chair in the dark.

He waited for almost twenty minutes before the sound of the Jeep approaching reached him. It was obvious it was the Jeep, because he heard what sounded like a broken piece of junk held together by duct tape, and that was essentially what the Jeep sounded like.

Stiles exited the Jeep once he’d parked and then unlocked the front door. Derek listened to him shuffle around downstairs for a few minutes before footsteps padded up the stairs. Stiles pushed open his door, turned on the light, and then started so badly Derek actually heard his heart stutter.

“Shit! Turn on the lights when you’re here!”

Derek stood in one fluid motion, moving up to Stiles. The other took a small step back, like he was worried for a second, but when the Werewolf closed the distance, he stood his ground. Derek reached out one hand, palming the side of Stiles’ face and pressing his forehead against the other’s.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles exhaled shakily and shook his head.

“What if he can’t fix me?”

“Deaton will definitely fix you,” Derek said, the words almost a snarl. “You’re gonna be fine, understand? Tomorrow, we’re gonna laugh about this, and you’re going to be back to your usual annoying self, talking a mile a minute.”

Stiles just nodded to that and let out another shaky breath, closing his eyes. Derek could tell how scared he was. It was strange, because they had been through far worse than this before. People had almost died, there had been injuries and kidnappings and all kinds of dangerous situations and while he’d been scared, he’d taken them all in stride. Sometimes he was even cocky about them.

But now? Stiles was scared, like he didn’t think this would ever be fixed. Like he thought he’d be stuck this way forever. And Derek hated that.

He sighed and pulled away, ignoring the way Stiles clung to the front of his shirt, as if not wanting him to leave.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep.” Derek moved to the bed, kicking off his shoes and lying down, still fully clothed.

“But… My dad…” Stiles didn’t seem to know what to say, but not because of his inability to speak.

“I’ll leave before he gets home.” Derek waited, but Stiles didn’t move. Eventually, he raised both eyebrows and looked down at the empty spot beside him.

Rubbing the back of his head, Stiles hesitated, then sighed and shut the bedroom door. He locked it for good measure, then turned off the light. Derek watched him move with ease in the darkness, which was amusing when he considered how clumsy Stiles usually was in the dark. He was used to his room, he supposed.

When he lay down beside him, Derek wrapped his arms around him and dragged him closer, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Stiles was okay. He was safe.

Sure, he was jinxed, but he would be okay. Deaton would fix this and everything would be back to normal.

Derek stayed motionless like that until he heard Stiles’ breathing even out and his heart rate slow. Then, and only then, did he bend his head down to kiss his forehead.

This kid was going to be the death of him, and he honestly couldn’t find it in him to mind.

END.

[skyephilosopher]

Understand

Archive of Our Own, if preferred: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10188839

DeviantArt: http://skyephilosopher.deviantart.com/art/Understand-668851666?ga_submit_new=10%3A1489454632 Optional Part 2: https://skyephilosopher.tumblr.com/post/159241914718/why-dont-you Part 3: https://skyephilosopher.tumblr.com/post/159658422003/do-you Summary: “Frozen. Leonardo was utterly frozen, paralyzed, immobile- all but his eyes. His eyes followed Donnie without fail, tracking his blind movements as he staggered away. Raph’s arm shoving him back hardly registered. This was all a dream, right? Yes, Leo would wake up soon and walk out of his room to see his little brother, smiling softly and nodding his head in greeting. But Donnie’s piercing shriek jerked him. No. No nightmare could ever be so cruel.” ____________________________ He didn’t understand.

He hurt. He hurt all over, and everything seared his nerves. Why did he hurt so much?

After a second, he eased his torso up and dragged his hind limbs underneath him. There. That didn’t hurt a lot. Not anymore.

He shifted his gaze downward and saw some bizarre bluish substance. Like ooze. Its acrid scent stung and burned the inside of his nostrils. He bounded back to get away from the worst of it.

But, then, something- someone- behind him exclaimed. He whipped his head back, lip curled in a silent snarl.

Three strange creatures who were green and clad in bright colors stared back at him. Scared. They’re scared. He knew that.

One uttered, “Donnie?” He blinked and perked up. Donnie. That was familiar. Right. Donnie.

Another said something else, but he couldn’t comprehend anything but a second “Donnie” among the gibberish. But his tone was quiet and reassuring. That meant something.

Donnie(?) began reluctantly toward them. His head was clearer. Now that he thought more, they were also familiar, and all instinct told him to trust them. Perhaps they had weapons ready at their disposal, but no threat could ever look so… sad. So defeated- heartbroken. Lost.

Donnie didn’t pause or falter and came right up to them. They started talking in their language to him and to each other. He could pick out his name and “Casey” and “Mikey” and “Splinter.”

The one in orange- Mikey- kneeled down and murmured something. Donnie could only stare blankly.

Mikey’s face morphed into something like concern. He tried taking Donnie’s light green hand, but he pulled it back instinctively. Now Mikey looked anguished, and whimpered a noise that remotely sounded like the beginning syllable of “brother.” It made Donnie realize he loathed that expression on Mikey’s features. Attempting to make up for his mistake, Donnie let out a quiet rumble and pressed his head to Mikey’s plastron. He didn’t receive a physical response.

He lifted his head expectantly when Leo said his name, but he, again, didn’t comprehend the rest. Donnie’s shoulders fell forward. They were acting like he should understand. Should he understand?

His composed act visibly slipping, Leo said something else, more frantic. And that didn’t help. He suddenly paused and looked away, blinking rapidly.

After a moment of silence, Raph flung something to the ground, and a sharp, metallic noise reverberated and pierced Donnie's ears.

Donnie mewled and jerked back before shrinking away farther. He was confused and scared, now more than ever. Why was Raph angry? Did Donnie do something wrong?

Mikey had returned to his feet, and his startled gaze was alternating in between Leo and him. Leo looked to Raph. And Raph only met Donnie’s eyes briefly before looking down and murmuring. He then sank to his knees and extended a hand, trying to beckon him back.

Donnie wasn’t certain. What was stopping Raph from throwing something again? But Raph’s look shortly drew him back. He didn’t allow Donnie to nuzzle his hand.

Raph stood, and all three looked up at him sullenly. Then, after a brief swapping of words, they waved and clucked and started to walk.

Donnie whined, then roared. Were they just going to abandon him?

They whipped around and made a strange almost hissing sound, and Mikey put a finger to his lips. Bewildered, Donnie shut his jaws and stared at them. Raph’s gaze darted around briefly before he patted his thigh. When Donnie took a step forward, they slipped out of a doorway without a problem.

But when Donnie tried to exit -prompted by his brother to follow- he had much trouble, struggling to haul his lower body free. His ivory talons scrabbled for any kind of hold to help him.

And Donnie felt like all his energy and will had been consumed when he finally triumphed. He doubted his limbs had gone unscathed. They stung. Just as he started to crane his neck, somebody called his name.

Inclining his head, Donnie caught sight of his brothers above on a roof, encouraging him to jump. (That’s what he guessed. He still didn’t understand). He had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. He grumbled and prepared to leap.

Donnie assumed they hadn’t anticipated his landing to be so eye-catching and loud. Perched on the edge of the roof, he looked down at them as they wildly glanced around. Donnie lowered his head and made a guttural noise of question. But they made that same hissing sound. He drew his head back and started to grumble again. It was cut off abruptly when Raph clamped his jaws shut, and Donnie got the idea.

Still holding his snout, Raph hastily led him to the opposite side and thrust a finger to the alley below. Donnie pulled away and peered down. He didn't understand the rush, but one of the last things he wanted to do was displease them. So he slipped into the space.

The excess room for him to maneuver was scant, and his face met the wall. He painfully turned, knocking a stray trash can over with his tail in the process. He glanced over absently, then back up when he heard the deliberate hiss. But why did he need to be quiet? Were all the strange creatures he could scent dangerous? He swallowed a growl. He wouldn't let them hurt his brothers.

As though summoned by the vow, they had joined him in the alley, tensed up in anticipation by his forelegs. Donnie, preparing too, lowered his body and bared his teeth and growled and unsheathed the entirety of his claws.

Mikey began to rub Donnie's arm and made the “shhh” sound. But it was a lot softer, kinder, without any frustration or panic. Donnie allowed muscles to relax a bit from their stressed way.

They made Donnie stay in the tight space for some more minutes before scaling the wall and coming to another roof. Donnie raised his head and whined. He doubted there was enough room for him to leap up.

But they encouraged him nonetheless. Donnie tried to move into a position from which he could join them and crushed the can underneath a hind foot. He winced and stared at his brothers forlornly.

Raph looked at Leo and said something lowly. Donnie blinked and returned to attempting to turn himself back to his former position. He knew for certain he couldn't jump up when his snout scraped the wall. With a puff, Donnie reared on his hind legs. He could only just reach the roof edge. He pushed up and, within four tries, managed to drag himself onto the roof.

Donnie didn't rise to follow them, so they retired to the smooth concrete next to him.

Mikey murmured to their older brothers as his eyes hovered over Donnie. Then, cautiously, he reached out and lay a hand on his cheek. So, naturally, in response, Donnie brushed his fingers with his tongue.

Mikey, first, let slip a crackling chuckle, and Donnie didn't think much of it until it abruptly evolved into tears.

Donnie, alarmed and confused and hurt, tried to nudge Mikey and soothe him, but he shied away. Donnie resorted to looking to his older brothers for reassurance, but they disregarded him and went to embrace and console Mikey.

Donnie whimpered.

He didn't understand.

Donnie had to crouch low to trail after his brothers like a lost puppy once they reached the sewers. It was clear they were more at ease below the bustling surface, though Donnie despised the smell and hoped wherever he was being led was more spacious.

Shortly, the shallow channels full of sludge and soiled water dispersed, and, ahead, Donnie could see with his sharp eyesight an opening partially blocked by turnstiles.

Leo uttered a command, and Mikey took off toward the room. Donnie paused, observing inquiringly until Raph clucked and urged him forward.

They took far longer than Mikey, and, by then, three, remotely familiar creatures accompanied him.

As soon as Donnie struggled over the turnstiles, he crept right up to the humanoid rat and delicately sniffed him. Leo started to say Donnie's name but broke off, so he was ignored.

The rat tensed, and Donnie, shortly satisfied, needed only to barely raise his head to meet Splinter's gaze. His father let out a kind of choked noise, and Donnie decided it wasn't worth trying to decipher it.

When he glanced left, he saw a human staring so imploringly it felt imperative that Donnie go to him.

He meant to nudge him fondly, but he instead was pushed back with contact. But he almost promptly bounced back, leaning forward and holding his head tenderly. The boy- Casey, he recalled- brought his forehead to his own, murmuring sweetly in a way Donnie somehow identified as uncharacteristic. Donnie rumbled in delight, pleased to finally be receiving some affection.

But then Leo called him over, and, despite not wanting to leave Casey's grasp, he gingerly pulled himself away and returned to his brothers’ side.

The female approached him this time, carefully. Donnie bowed his head to better smell her, but she took his head in her hands before he properly got the chance. He didn’t mind much until she dug her blunt nails into his temple and searing agony erupted in his skull.

Donnie jerked his head free with a roar. He staggered away, trembling, and shook his head first, then his entire body. After a moment, weakly, he raised his head to send April a wounded expression. He trusted her, and she hurt him.

She tried coming nearer, her hands raised in a conciliatory manner, but Donnie retreated with a cautionary growl. At that, her face fell, and she buried her face in her hands.

Donnie only hesitantly permitted Leo to come up. He muttered softly, motioning to the floor. When Donnie blinked and merely shifted his attention the ground briefly, Leo allowed a patient exhale and kneeled, patting the area beside him. Reluctantly, Donnie lowered himself onto the floor. After a second, his brother nodded and rose. So Donnie began to rise as well before Leo pushed down on his carapace.

Strongly encouraged to remain down, Donnie’s gaze swept over them all. Shortly, though, it fell to his distinctly lighter green hands. He rumbled softly, lifting one and flexing the pale-hued talons. They were so… long. Acute. Dangerous- especially taking into consideration that his brothers didn’t possess any claws whatsoever.

His brothers- why did he deem them so? He was nothing like them. Glancing over, they were speaking with Splinter, their attention occasionally flicking to him. Otherwise, they didn’t pay him much mind.

Splinter. He baffled Donnie even more. His mind told him he was his father. But he saw a rat, and his brothers were humanoid turtles, and he was…

What was Donnie?

He didn’t know, and he couldn't wrap his mind around the notions.

Donatello reluctantly uncurled himself from the comfort of the tree, pushing forward to investigate the curious food item Mikey presented. After only sniffing once, he recoiled in disgust. It appeared unappealing first, of course, but it impossibly smelled worse. The best thing he could compare it to was soggy cardboard.

Mikey’s grin turned down into a frown. He held it out farther, but when Donnie growled, he pulled back and muttered a word Donnie indistinctly recognized to be, “Okay.”

Once Mikey had devoured the slice, he tried reaching out to Donnie, but he refused to allow any contact while his fingers were infected.

They’d been trying to feed him all day- two days after he followed them home. He didn’t appreciate it. Nothing they brought was appetizing.

If only he could understand and speak in their language to tell them what he wanted exactly.

Donnie doubted they’d let him have it.

Wound around the tree behind Father, Donatello watched his brothers “train,” as they referred to it as. Leo had repeated it to him, but Donnie didn't connect until they began. He was concerned at first until he took notice of their boisterous laughter and light voices and respect with which they regarded each other.

So they didn't mean it. Okay.

He didn't quite understand the point.

But what did Donnie understand?

Donnie understood affection and the fact that Casey was great at giving it.

The boy seemed to know every spot that made Donnie melt in his hands. And, at that point, Donnie’s head took up and hung over his lap. The purrs and rumbles that rolled out of his throat were thick and guttural and drowsy. They only increased in volume when Casey's nails dug into an area just below his jawbone.

Raising his head, Donnie nudged his snout under Casey's chin and hooked his three right claws- excluding his dew claw- in his sleeve. With a distinct increase in his purrs’ volume, he tugged gently and nuzzled impossibly closer.

The boy chuckled lightly, taking his head and bringing his to Donnie's level. He smiled warmly, moving his hands to Donnie's cheeks. He said something, but Donnie hardly acknowledged it, let alone bothered to try to make sense of it.

But then Casey sobered, and his grip tightened, and he uttered something else fiercely.

Donnie, a bit uncertain and concerned, was about to pull away until Casey leaned forward and wrapped his thin arms around Donnie's neck.

Donnie could comprehend “okay.”

“Donnie!”

Donatello had caught Mikey's approach, but only then shifted his attention toward him. He clutched a strange plastic red oval with a handle and had his typical grin plastered on his face. Donnie’s gaze hovered over the object momentarily before he rose to properly greet his brother.

Mikey patted Donnie's arm affectionately. Donnie retired to his haunches nearly promptly, lowering his head and purring.

Mikey clucked to get his strict attention. His grin had diminished slightly. And, after reluctance, he turned the object around.

Alarmed, Donnie roared and drew back, snarling. Mikey took a deep breath and said, “No, Donnie.”

Uncertainly, slowly, Donnie slunk back and glared at the unfamiliar beast. It had a green head with a lighter- nearly white- snout and large, icy blue eyes surrounded by distinct purple markings. From its neck, he saw darker green and far lighter green splotches dappling its scales and overlapping.

He raised a hand, furious to see the creature mimicking him. When he snarled, it snarled. Enraged, he was prepared to give it a good smack before Mikey pulled the object away and the beast vanished. Mikey, again, told him no.

Donnie was baffled. When he bent down and sniffed once, he only detected himself and his father and his brothers and Casey and April, like the other animal was never present. Donnie looked to Mikey for an explanation.

And Mikey slowly revealed the crimson object’s opposite side once more, but now murmured reassuringly. Donnie couldn't think why until he caught sight of the monster again.

But Mikey said it was okay. He wouldn't lie, right?

So Donnie stared at it silently, more thoroughly taking in its pale blue irises that consumed the complete visible eye and the many separate veins of blues and the light flare surrounding a narrow pupil. Gently, he brought his hand up again and tapped it once. Donnie was surprised to find there was a solid surface. The beast had copied him and now looked very puzzled. Was it trapped?

Donnie lowered his head and, after sniffing once but not catching any unfamiliar scent, nudged the cold surface. That was when Mikey pulled it away again, looking utterly defeated and broken.

Donnie whined, picking up on his brother's anguish.

But Donnie didn't understand.

[writeyouin]

I'm sorry, I don't really understand how submitting works, but I would really love something where the reader and Newt are really close and Queenie, recognizing a mutal attraction between the two, often teases & eventually gets them together. Thx!

Newt Scamander X Reader – A Little Pressure

A/N – I hope this is along the lines of what you mean, it was a toughie to write but one I was happy to finish.

Warnings – Single mention of dementia.

Rating – T

Queenie flitted absentmindedly around the enclosures within Newt’s case, reminiscing the short time Jacob had spent there. Newt, Tina, and yourself had offered to leave her alone for a while but she’d declined the offer, insisting that she took comfort in your presence; in truth, she disliked the silence of being alone, even when nobody was speaking she took solace in hearing people’s unguarded thoughts.

All three of your voices filled Queenie’s mind now, stronger thoughts taking precedence over the others.

“-have to find that escaped wizard, he’s a danger to himself.” Tina’s voice resounded worriedly as she thought once again about Yusuf Talim. Yusuf was an old wizard suffering from the later stages of dementia. He had recently escaped the American branch of St Mungo’s with a stolen wand and the Auror’s had been assigned the task of locating him. Tina had been concerned with his safety ever since, reviewing the case repeatedly in the hopes of finding something new. Queenie considered reassuring her sister but decided against it, knowing that nothing would help until Yusuf was safe and sound again.

“- I should ask now.” Newt’s much less confident voice broke through. “No… (s)he’d hate that… (s)he’d hate me.”

Queenie couldn’t help the warm smile that lit up her face. Although she didn’t know what Newt was thinking about yet, she’d grown used to his constant inner arguments and conversations; she guessed that so much time spent alone made him converse with himself more than other people did.

“Why? Why would you risk jeopardising your friendship?”

Queenie listened intently, eager to know the topic of his discussion.

“Because… (Y/N)’s always been there for me, (s)he doesn’t think I’m a freak like other people do… (S)he’s like sunshine… I want us to stay together… Forever.”

Queenie looked over to you. You were on the other side of the case, using spellotape to temporarily patch up the tattered wall of the Savannah enclosure until Newt had time to fix it. She focused on you, listening to the thoughts on your mind. As it were, you were just mentally humming along to George Olsen’s “Just a Little Thing Called Rhythm.”

Queenie shook her head dispiritedly, while she was sure you had consumed most of Newt’s thoughts, she wondered if he was ever in yours; up until now, you did seem to be a little dense when it came to romance.

She approached Newt, startling him when she spoke, “You should tell (Y/N) how you feel honey, I’m sure it’d be better than constantly worrying about it.”

“Wha- I-” Newt stumbled, before sighing and slumping despondently against the nearest rock, “(S)he doesn’t like me that way…”

“Have you asked?”

“I don’t need to. We’ve worked together for a year now… I’d know if-” He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

“What if (Y/N) feels the same way hmm? Maybe (s)he’s too scared to say as well.”

Newt shook his head rapidly, resembling some of the creature’s he spent so much time with.

“We’ll never find out this way.” Queenie tutted impatiently. “(Y/N).” She shouted, gaining both your attention and Tina’s.

Newt shot up, panic stricken, “Q-Queenie what are you doing? Queenie!” He spoke in a hushed, agitated tone.

Queenie ignored him, “(Y/N), Newt wanted to know something. Would you consider-” She paused for effect, “-working with dragons?”

Newt released a strained breath.

You grinned excitedly, “Sure, I’d love to. Think we could, Newt?”

Newt squeaked something along the lines of a ministry ban, puzzling you further.

“Alright.” You huffed. “Why bother asking then?”

Queenie turned to Newt again, “Newton Scamander,” she bubbled, “if it takes me all my best efforts, I will get you to confess your feelings to (Y/N). Excuse me.”

She skipped away, leaving Newt to sweat nervously next to the Bowtruckle tree which Pickett was trying desperately to escape from, “You know Pickett… I’m afraid she really means that.”

Pickett nodded in agreement, making a big swing from a branch onto Newt’s arm as they watched Queenie walk away.

As time passed, Queenie grew bored of waiting for Newt to confess his feelings towards you. As such, she’d resorted using whatever methods necessary to get the two of you together. Sometimes, she wondered whether she was doing the right thing but she’d quickly remind herself that if she left the two of you alone, you would both waste too much time awaiting one-another.

After several weeks and numerous failed attempts, Queenie pondered her next course of action. So far, she’d tried a love potion, a truth potion, spells to trip him on top of you, and the excessive use of mistletoe; none of which went according to plan. That left only one more scheme, one that was so simple, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. Jealousy. However, there was limited time left to act as the ship bound for England was due to be in port in two days. With that in mind Queenie prepared a delectable meal for the three of you which could be described as nothing less than a miniature feast; Tina was staying late at work to finish some paperwork on Mr Talim who’d finally been captured and given a safer room within the St Mungo’s.

“So, (Y/N),” Queenie smiled genially at the dinner table where the three of you had slipped into casual conversation about anything and everything, “are you looking forward to England?”

“Yes.” You beamed, enrapturing Newt who suddenly seemed to forget his surroundings. “I can’t wait to see Newt’s book published, right Newt?”

“Hmm? Oh, r-right.” He blushed sheepishly.

“That’s nice.” Queenie remarked, moving on to the next phase of her plan. “What about romance (Y/N)? Anyone caught your eye?”

Clear images of Newt tending to his ‘children’ filled your mind’s eye, “No.” You lied breezily. “Can’t say anyone has.”

Newt relaxed, thankful that he didn’t have to picture you in the arms of somebody else.

“That’s fantastic.” Queenie pushed on.

“It is?” Your brow creased in confusion.

“Uh-huh. See, I have a pen-pal who used to work for the ACUSA and is now working for the Ministry of Magic and he’s simply dying to meet you, considering you’re not with anybody that is.”

“Oh um- Queenie, that’s really sweet of you but I’m uh, not really interested right now.”

“Are you sure? I mean, he’s exactly who I’d picture you with. He’s tall and handsome with a really great personality-”

Newt zoned out, unable to hear more about a man who was surely better for you than he could ever be. There was so much he wanted to end in that moment, the conversation, the uncomfortable expression in place of your usual smile, and the claustrophobic weight pressing down on him took priority on the growing list.

“Stop.” Newt mumbled, almost silently. When neither you or Queenie heard him, he shouted it, pushing up from the table with the loud scrape of his chair.

You shrunk away from his thunderous roar, a sound you’d never thought capable from the ever-gentle Newt.

“Newt,” You whispered cautiously, “are you feeling okay?”

“N-no (Y/N). I don’t- I can’t-” He couldn’t meet your eyes as he gripped the table for support.

“I don’t understand. What’re you trying to say? What do you want?”

“You.” He finished suddenly.

When you didn’t respond, Newt stalked out of the room with a strangled cry of, “I need to pack.”

“You feelin’ okay honey?” Queenie asked, struggling to make sense of your jumbled thoughts.

“Uh- No. Sorry Queenie, I need to talk to him, excuse me.” You left Queenie, heading to the room you and Newt had been sharing since Jacob left.

When you got there, Newt was nowhere to be found but his case was lying unclasped in the middle of the floor. You climbed in, heading straight for the animals where Newt always went when troubled. Sure enough, Newt was hunched on the floor, against the Occamy nest with his head in his hands, murmuring despondently to himself while various creatures surrounded him.

“I couldn’t have made it worse if I tried. Not only does (s)he know but you should have seen it… I never meant to scare (Y/N) like that.”

“You didn’t scare me.” You whispered quietly.

Newt lifted his head quickly, showing red stains where tears had fallen, “(Y/N)!”

“I was worried about you… I know you sometimes prefer being left alone but I’d like to talk if you’ll let me.”

Newt sat silently, awaiting your judgement.

“We’ve been travelling together for about a year now and you’ve never given any indication that you were interested in me so what’s going on?”

“(Y/N)… I was so afraid to tell you… so afraid that you’d treat me like everyone else did… so afraid that you’d leave. I always p-promised myself that one day I’d work up the c-c-courage to- But, when we were travelling it was all so s-secluded, there was no other wizard who could take you away from me. I don’t- No… I can’t see you with anybody else.”

“Then just say the words Newt. Say the words and I’ll be yours.” Your eyes bore into his, begging for something you were sure you wanted more than anything else at that moment.

“W-what words do you want to hear?”

“Whatever comes to your mind first.”

Newt was sure there were people who, if put in the same situation, could cite sonnets or powerful speeches that would move even the most stone-hearted of people but in that moment, he knew the only words that came to mind and he hoped they were what you longed to hear, “I- I love you.”

You bent down to his level, “I love you too.” You grinned weakly, grazing your lips lightly against his. Various crowing, howling, and squeaks erupted from the surrounding creatures until Newt was forced to quiet them by pulling away from you. The two of you sat in complete elation, content to simply be in one-another’s presence. Meanwhile, Queenie listened to the ecstatic thoughts coming from the confines of the case, proud of the night’s progress and the news she’d have for her sister when she came back.