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notjustjavierpena · 3 months ago

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i loved getting an insight into hubby in 4am. It got me thinking about other times I’d like to see into his brain.

Did he know straight away that reader was different and a potential future for him or did it take him a little while due to his past as a womaniser? His brain working overtime trying to process all the new feelings.

Did he ever feel like he should leave her feeling like he’s not good enough?

Bee (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is not totally what you had in mind, I think. However, this came to me and I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s soft and tender ❤️

Summary: Javier reflects on how gentle you make him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Javi POV, fluff, insecurities, love

Word count: 1.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/137384134

Bee

Sun filters through the clouds above Javier as he lies on the ground behind his father’s ranch. You’ve talked him into drowning in the tall fields of grass that surround the fenced-off area for the cows, listening to the sound of a million buzzing bugs that hide from you as you invade their home. He isn’t too fond of anything that could possibly land on him, too rough around the edges still to treat nature with the care that you do.

You are talking softly yet enthusiastically about shapes that you find in the sky, reaching for heaven as you explain or draw out shapes with your finger. There’s been a dragon, a heart, and a bunny. You wonder out loud if it means something but Javier can hardly follow your words despite trying. He is too busy gazing upon you, having turned his head to the side to look at you in secret, the greatest marvel in his presence right now.

The sun is hot in Texas right now and the shadows of the grass engulfing you and him dance across your face, your eyes glinting whenever the sun catches them even if it makes you scrunch up your nose and hold a palm up to cover the sunrays. Everything about this moment feels so delicate, terrifyingly sweet when he naturally thinks he is made of harsher stuff that should squash what little softness is left in his world. His hands have had to do so many destructive things in the past fifteen years that they feel too coarse to touch you.

He turns his head towards the sky and closes his eyes, letting the sound of your voice wash over him like he wants it to for the rest of his life. There’s a part of him that’s afraid of you, afraid that he’s not made for this life with you, that he doesn’t know how to handle something so precious without breaking it. The way you treat the world around you with such reverence, such care, is foreign to him. He was used to being cold and logical back in Colombia, used to enduring. But here, in the Lone Star State with you, he finds himself wanting to be gentle, wanting to learn whatever he can from you. The love of his life.

“Mhm,” he replies with the tiniest twitch of the corners of his mouth as you still haven’t figured out that he isn’t really listening. Not when your voice is accompanied by the sound of a breeze continuously creating waves in the grass that is tickling his arms, almost tricking him into thinking he is by the ocean.

But then he feels it. It’s a sudden, light tickle on his nose that makes him open his eyes in slight surprise. There’s a small bee perched on the tip of his nose, its glasslike wings buzzing gently as it searches for pollen. Instinctively, he lifts his hand and gets ready to swat it away; he’s always been quick to react, quick to defend himself from anything that might harm him, even moreso during his time in Colombia. However, as his hand twitches mid-air, you notice, and your laughter is like music being carried through the air.

“Hold still,” you whisper as you lean over him, your face so close and your hand on his chest so he can feel the warmth of your palm as he sees your grin. With a gentler touch than what you even handle him with, you coax the bee onto your hand, lifting it away and letting it fly off again. Javier watches quietly in awe of his future wife.

“You don’t have to be so scared,” you say, smiling at him, “Not everything that approaches you is out to hurt you. Perhaps he just wanted to say hello.”

Your words hang in the air, weighing nothing yet feeling heavy. Javier feels a tug in his chest like you’ve grabbed at the part of him that harbors hate for himself and has festered for too long. You’ve just pulled it loose inside him. He knows you’re not just talking about the bee. He hears the undertone, the suggestion that maybe he doesn’t always have to be on guard, doesn’t always have to assume the worst as he has done for so long.

He looks at you and he wonders if you’re talking about yourself, too. If you’re telling him that you’re not here to hurt him, that your presence in his life isn’t a threat. He doesn’t know why he thought that twosomeness was not for him. Here you are and he doesn’t need anything more because you soften the edges of the world around him.

“C’mere,” he murmurs and slides his arm beneath your body so he can snake it around your waist. His palm lays flat against the small of your back as he pulls you in, his heart still pounding against his rib cage when you are this close just five months after your first meeting. Five months since he saw you for the first time and realized that you might be different. Five months since you turned his world upside down.

You curl your fingers on his chest and let yourself be drawn close, lowering your head until he can feel your breath against his face. You block out the sun, smiling fondly at him as if he is not at all rough and calloused.

It is what makes him close the gap between you and kiss you on the mouth. It’s slow and unhurried, unlike many other kisses he has given you when the two of you have been alone. He pulls back to see your eyes fluttering open again.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asks himself out loud. The sun is around you like a halo, shining on your hair and making your skin glow. He wants everything with you. Everything that he never thought he wanted to have but also everything he never thought he could have.

“Doesn’t matter if you have done anything to deserve me. Do you want me?” You ask and the question floors him. He doesn’t need to think about it or weigh his options and words. He knows his answer. Yes.

“Para siempre (forever),” he says. You smile. It seems like that was the perfect answer.

“Then that’s all that matters,” you reply and roll onto your back with a content sigh, laying in the nook of his arm while the sun shines on the both of you. He could fall asleep with you, let a whole hive of bees land on him one by one to greet him.

Javier feels a calm wash over him. Maybe this - him and you - isn’t bad just because he feels like he isn’t enough for your kind being. Maybe it is exactly right because it is something you both want.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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sweetwolfcupcake · 4 months ago

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Wildflower: 06

The Secret Garden

John Wick x Reader

Category: Short Series

Warning: Stalking, mentions of violence

Note: John is relatively younger in this fic( late thirties to early forties)

*Thank you the original creator for making such an amazing GIF. I downloaded it from Google.

Unedited

Wildflower 05

According to John’s rational, calculating mind, his job was done. He got her to the hospital, paid the bills, played his part in Winston’s unexplained act of taking the young woman under his wing, and ensured his name was nowhere in the records.

The hospital's owner knew’ John and was an old acquaintance of Winston. By now, John was sure Winston learned of John’s visit and that he brought her to be admitted there.

According to John's rational mind, he should be at the Continental, or at least answer Winston's messages (only two since the morning– he was too refined to send more than that).

But for once, his rational mind was conflicting with his instincts. It was not the first time, but it was a rare occurrence. But there he was, blended among the hustle and bustle, hiding in plain sight— keeping his eyes on the hospital. The entrance, precisely. She could be walking out any moment and with the concussion, he might have to—

His jaws clenched at the sight of Norton helping her out. The younger male’s hand rested on her waist, supporting her. Something was burning in John’s chest because he realised that he had been thinking of being at Norton’s place.

John frowned, realising how irrational he would sound if he vocalised his thoughts. Where were his thoughts going anyway?

What the hell was he doing?

He had an explanation for… his ‘treatment’ of the petty criminal. He needed to take back her mother’s ring for her.

But this?

This was not how he was supposed to feel. He felt like he was losing control over his instincts and John hated losing control. Having control over himself helped. There was a feeling that at least he had some control over his life, some sort of freedom.

Losing that control threatened the little freedom and control he had over his life that was perhaps sealed for hell the moment he was born.

He was a man who moved with a purpose— what was his purpose there? He should be relieved, she would not need any help and he could just go home, or to the Continental.

Instead, he stood there, discreet with his eyes and body language but could not help the scowl that faintly appeared on his otherwise unreadable face.

His eyes followed them as they got into a taxi. With his gaze zeroed on the vehicle, he quickly noted the number in his mind before getting inside his car. He knew he could not rest until she was safe in her home.

Without the shadow of Alex Norton lingering around.

John found himself feeling slightly at ease after Alex left. Another open contract. John received the message already.

Three million dollars was a lot. No wonder Alex chose to take it. But John could not bring himself to leave just yet. He sat in his car, just watching her window. At nightfall, it was easier to make out what was happening with the lights on and her fumbling around. Her shadow stumbled a bit now and then, and John found himself frowning in frustration.

Why was she moving so much?

Stupid girl!

John was surprised at the level of obliviousness that surrounded her. Who would go to a park near dawn? And for what? To watch the sunrise?

Not that John did not appreciate such peaceful moments, but he was John Wick. But she? He could tell she had never even thrown a punch at anyone. He felt it when he first shook her hand. He was taken aback by the softness. He was not used to it, but he would admit it felt… good.

John gulped.

He would rather not remember how her form felt pressed against his. He could be gentle, he was gentle with the women when he wasn’t fighting them for survival, and even then, he was never brutal with the kills. He made it quick.

But touching her felt different. It made him think twice about pressing too hard, holding too tight, even the day he just let her bump into him, he somehow regretted wearing the vest because he could see that it hurt her.

John was not a boy. He was old enough to understand where this was going. He simply could not bring himself to look into its eyes and admit it.

If he did…

He tore his gaze away from the window and busied himself with drinking some water. He stubbornly kept his gaze down, refusing to look up again. His phone dinged with an alert.

An exclusive contract.

There were people he could not deny, after all.

With one last glance at her apartment window, John twisted the keys and drove away into the night. It was time to hunt.

—------

Laying on his bed with a bandaged ankle was not something ‘normal’ people would enjoy. John, on the other hand, was thankful. He was half-expecting a fracture. A sprain was no big deal— nothing compared to what he was trained to endure, or what he endured growing up.

John had turned numb to the pain. He would go on, despite the pain. He would go on without acknowledging it, at least until he was done with his task at hand. People might say he had a formidable sense of commitment and focus. But in reality, it was all he knew. To John, it was the way of life. It was how he was trained, and how he grew up.

The world outside gave him much more agency. Not exactly freedom—but the chain binding him loosened up, and the cage expanded. But he was owned; the whole jungle was the High Table’s prison, after all.

He had been a part of this ‘jungle’ for as long as he could remember. Ruska Roma was simply a prison within this prison— this great ‘system’ he was pulled into the moment he was left orphaned. He thought he could live with it because this was all he knew.

But then came (Y/N) (L/N)...

With her expressive eyes brimming with determination, a smile so kind and sweet it made him sigh. A laugh that sounded like bells of spring and a carefree, oblivious kind of happiness he knew he could not have and a touch so soft, so non-deliberate, it irked him.

Everything about her was simultaneously off-putting and intriguing.

John was compelled to admit, that it irked him because her existence, her presence itself felt like a mockery to his life. She was not chained, unlike him, even though she was born to a woman who once belonged to the same hell he was now a part of. It irked him because she was everything he used to dream of as a child. She had everything he wanted so desperately during his naive years before he was finally disillusioned.

It irked him how many times a day he thought about her. About how vulnerable she was and yet had a certain fire within that he knew would burn him down if he dared venture close enough. This flame, or whatever was within her was soothing for now, but he was afraid of it. Afraid of nurturing something he could not contain, he could not control.

Like his thoughts moving to her now and then—each day, he thought longer, more about her, each time he did, he felt himself softening in ways he never thought he was capable of. He thought he had turned completely numb. She proved him wrong even without trying to.

And it irked him in every way possible.

Even the simplest of proximity they shared, he felt it all over his skin, in each of his veins, he felt it in his heart, he felt it in his mind. It was bizarre, bewildering, and infuriating.

But if he found her infuriating, why did he end up doing all the things he had done so far? Why did he end up watching over her behind the quiet shadows of the night, watching her sleep from the darkest corner of her room? Why would he follow her to her little trips at the parks and bicycle rides if her presence irked him? Why would he fracture the ribs of the man who hurt her, and tried to mug her? He broke his fingers, that man’s wrist would never be the same…

John felt the rage that he used to feel while growing up in Ruska Roma and watching helplessly how unfair everything was, and how powerless other children like him were.

Maybe that was why he felt that rage—he had become someone his younger self would run to for protection. When he watched, the man hurt her. Something in him seared, it stung in all the worst ways possible, and he could not stand the feeling until his knuckles were marred with that rat’s blood.

He had been rather merciful, though.

Anyone with a sane mind would call him a monster. Was he not a monster anyway? But at this point, he had no care for morals anymore— he was only surviving, as every other assassin like him was. To hell with the morals, John knew he was strong enough to be feared.

And if fear was the way to keep the little freedom he had earned, he would let fear reign.

—---

It was another day. Just another day of the same cycle. Waking up, having breakfast, taking the prescribed medication a week after being discharged, and going to work. Yes, that was the ‘regular’ part of the day. It was after work, when she was passing by the park, that (Y/N) noticed a familiar figure on the bench.

His hair was brushed back but seemed a bit fluffier—casual. Yes, that was the difference. He was in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She had seen, John Wick only in dark suits. Black. Yes, that was his preferred colour, it seemed. But as she watched him sitting on the bench, a sandwich in his hand and a coffee cup by his side, he appeared so...unreal.

It did not make sense. He was a stranger, more or less, and she had seen him hardly four times(?). But he looked almost angelic to (Y/N). Especially with the setting sun casting a glow on the side of his face.

What the hell are you even doing?

Too late, she was already within his earshot. He turned to her, alerted by the disturbance in the otherwise tranquil park. And just as she thought, the sunlight fell just the right way on his eyes, and they seemed ethereal—perhaps brown was the most loved by nature.

She was expecting some surprise in his eyes but they were so calm, so hypnotic, it surprised her instead.

“Hi.”

“Good evening.”

Wow, even his greetings were classy.

“Um, yes, good day—I mean, good evening.” (Y/N) felt the warmth of embarrassment on her cheeks before noticing the mirth in his eyes. It was faint, but it was there.

“I saw here, and just thought, I would say hi.”

This time, the corner of his lips rose higher “Oh, you live here?”

“Yes, just a few blocks ahead…You come here often?”

He took a moment to answer, and throughout that tiny moment (it felt stretched to an hour), his eyes seemed to assess her before he replied.

“Sometimes.”

John did not verbally invite her, only removing the cup from the bench, leaving space for her to sit before turning his gaze ahead. And while, yes, this was a silent invitation, her mind had gained expertise in overthinking.

Did he really want her to sit?

Or was it him being polite?

He looked fine by himself. At peace too.

And then—

He turned to her again “Are you in a rush?”

“Uh…no?”

“Then, please...” He gestured with his hand, glancing at her. It seemed more like a side-eye but, whatever.

“You like to sit here alone?” She asked, taking a seat beside him, not too close, but not noticeably far.

“Solitude is good for my sanity.”

Stoic and quiet, he seemed every bit of a man who would appreciate solitude over company, like her.

“You seemed so to me.”

From the corner of her eyes, she could see him turn to her. Even seated, he towered over her, sitting straight—as if a soldier were on alert.

“How much of me do you know?”

“Enough to draw precise conclusions, I believe.” (Y/N) turned to him. The last of the sun’s rays kissed his face tenderly. He was a sight to behold, she realised.

There was a twinkle in his eyes, and the shade of brown softened. “You know only what you see from afar. There is no reason or good for you to get any closer.”

“Why? My mother was a part of this world.”

“And she kept you away. That is for a reason. There is nothing to see here, (Y/N).”

“I have unanswered questions. If Winston could—”

“I believe he does what he sees as best. Especially for you.”

“Why does he care so much about me? Why did my mother trust him over anyone else?”

John sighed “I’m afraid I have no answer.”

He answered with a contemplative frown and looked away, setting his sight once more on the darkening sky as the remnants of the set sun remained.

“Sorry, I am not great at conversations, and the past months of moving in all the information have taken a toll, I guess.”

“I understand.” He assured her kindly.

A long silence followed after that. It was indeed awkward initially. She had no new words or energy to set another tone. But it grew to be comfortable, at least for her. They sat there in silence until the street lights blinked on and the moon turned more prominent against the black sky.

“It’s late; I should go now.” (Y/N) stated, but made no effort to stand up.

“Sure”

“It was good talking to you.”

Faint amusement danced in his eyes as he turned to her. “I do not recall much talking.”

Yes, they had been sitting in silence for at least fifteen minutes. The of sight of mirth in his eyes made her smile

“I cannot say I hated it.”

He smiled at her. It reminded her of an intimidating and misunderstood large canine trying to socialise. An awkward smile that came with a nod. But nothing mattered because it was in his eyes. The soulful and melancholic pools of molten chocolate had the perfect tinge of golden brown when the sunrays fell on them a few moments ago before the sky darkened.

“Okay, so, see you around? I guess?” (Y/N) forced her gaze away, not wanting to come off as creepy.

“Maybe.” John replied, “Let me walk you home.”

“Oh no, there’s no need. My house is just a few blocks away…”

By the time she was closer to finishing the sentence, he was on on his legs.

“Even better, it’s not far then.”

“Yes and—”

And he was already walking ahead. It turned out, that walking home in a comfortable silence was not that bad.

****

#yandere john #younger john wick #yandere john wick x reader #yandere john wick #john wick x reader #dark john wick

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pannman · 2 months ago

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I have a angsty and fluffy request for you to write. Post season 1 finale; Vaggie painfully transforms into a humanoid and sentient Weremoth during one particular blood moon, and Charlie happens to walk in during the midst of it and tries to comfort Vaggie the best she can. What happens next is up to you!

Hopefully this is within the guidelines.

You're good. I'm not too experienced with angst but I love a challenge so here goes

The Other Secret

Cw: Angst, violence, body horror, hurt/comfort

Vaggie had become very good at hiding her secrets. Her being an Angel unfortunately came out. But her other secret was still hidden

She mostly kept this one hidden for other's safety. (She also thought she looked hideous when she turned)

It was very strange but since she had fallen to hell she was at first shocked her angelic appearance had changed very little. It wasn't until her first blood moon that she discovered her "curse".

She was so afraid for Charlie to find out. Even worse if she accidentally hurt her. Her memory was in pieces like a broken mirror and a bit out of order but she remembered seeing her own appearance. She was a monster

And now even though Charlie had accepted her past as an Angel. Something still held her back from telling her about this. Maybe it was protectiveness, maybe it was insecurity, maybe it was the fear that having one big secret you haven't told your partner was bad enough but two... what if Charlie didn't trust her anymore?

She just had to continue to disappear every blood moon. She found an excuse somehow every time and would go into hiding and chain herself to the walls of an abandoned warehouse

This time though something went awry...

It all started when she told Charlie she was going away for the night to practice her fighting skills. Her skills were getting rusty is what she claimed. Just a late night training session and she promised to try not to stay out too late. (Spoiler alert she was going to stay out the whole night) she could deal with a lecture about self care from Charlie in the morning

Charlie believed her skills were sharp as ever but still decided to give her girlfriend some space and let her go out and train. Vaggie made her way to the warehouse which was still empty it seemed. She went inside and began the process of chaining herself. She placed a lockpick close by. In her monster form she couldn't use them so it was the perfect key

She sat and waited as night fall came. She wasn't excited for this part. She felt her bones shift rapidly... painfully. She felt her body contort like a million muscle pains and her insides burned. She screamed out an agonized scream that transformed into a monstrous shriek.

Her arms and legs extended and thinned out like giant insect legs but with wolf like feet and claws. Wings grew out of her but they were Moth wings. Her face and skull began to stretch painfully into a wolflike snout. A third set of arms sprouted out of her body pulling her skin like a rubber band.

Her teeth became canine like. And her eyes rolled to the back of her skull and then turned blood red. Her ears stretched and shifted to the top of her head becoming pointy. Her senses heightened and her self awareness and sense of identity had left her mind

In this new form she felt claustrophobic and panicky. She forgot where she was and who she was. She she needed to get out. Somewhere! Anywhere! She struggled in her chains. Lashing out angry and scared

Suddenly her head snapped in the direction of a voice

"I thought I heard something in here"

Then another voice

"You told me this place was abandoned! We can't do deals here if there's a squatter in here!"

The other voice talked back

"Relax, well just kill em"

Vaggie yanked on the chains feeling a wave of panic and confusion. She screeched loudly as two sinners came into vision

All she saw was a threat...

"What is that thing?!?"

They pulled out angelic knives

"I don't know but it looks like it's all tied up"

The other seemed scared

"Let's get out of here!"

While the one had a dangerous look in his eye

"Or maybe we can use it to our advantage... hey! You! You want outta here you gotta do as we say"

Vaggie only sensed danger, lashing out and before she knew it the chains snapped...

Charlie was getting worried at how late it was getting. She had texted Vaggie a hundred times. Maybe her phone was just turned off... Charlie had a bad feeling. She knew Vaggie needed space sometimes but she also sensed a growing distance between them. It hurt and she knew Vaggie was keeping something from her. But she couldn't imagine why. Especially after she knew she was an angel now. Of course she had been upset at first

Maybe her reaction is what made Vaggie feel the need to keep more secrets from her. Had she been too harsh? Did she make it hard for Vaggie to trust her? Was this all her fault?

Charlie couldn't just sit there anymore. Her thoughts were just bubbling up too much. It's time she just talked to Vaggie about these feelings. After all communication was the key to a healthy relationship

She left Alastor in charge while she went out in search of her girlfriend. She wasn't quite sure how she was going to find her. She hadn't quite thought this through

Suddenly she heard screams coming from a distance. This was usually a sign that one should stay away. In hell screams of pain and terror were kinda normal. But what if Vaggie is over there? In danger even!?!

Charlie sprinted off in the direction. That's when she saw it. A large mothlike beast with some canine like features. It screeched and howled and tore a man apart, ripping him into ribbons. Charlie had never seen anything like it in all her years of hell

She got up close, manifesting her pitchfork in hand. The creature lashed out at her... but then it stopped. It looked afraid and it looked sad as soon as it seen her. Like it recognized her. Charlie didn't know how she knew. She just did.

"Vaggie...?" She reached out. Vaggie pulled away, backing up. "Grrraaugh..." it sounded like her voice was trying to break through "grraahhh don't look at me errrr" her voice was echoey for some reason

"Vaggie, is this what you've been hiding?" Charlie asked with not a hint of malice nor judgement in her tone. Only concern and love. "I'm a monster" Vaggie growled tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I'm hideous!" she cried.

"Vaggie, I love you. I love every part of you. Your strengths and your flaws. I'm here for you" she spoke soothingly. She reached out again. Vaggid pulled away for a second but then stopped. Charlie placed her hand on Vaggie's cheek. She then pressed her forehead onto Vaggie's

"You're always so hard on yourself. You always treat yourself like a burden... but my life wouldn't be the same without you. And if this is something you suffer from, I want to be there for you. Just like you're always there for me" Charlie caressed Vaggie's face and wiped away her tears

It was then that the full moon finally set as the sun began to rise. Vaggie transformed back. It was as painful as before in reverse. She collapsed into Charlie's arms. Charlie scooped her up and began to carry her. "Let's go home" she whispered with a soft kiss to her temple

"We'll talk more when you are awake"

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #vaggie x charlie #charlie x vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie #hazbin chaggie #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel chaggie #chaggie hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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fodlaneverafter · 9 months ago

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FEA character mini-analyses: black eagles as rebels

Today I feel like explaining why I cast characters the way I did in FEA (my ongoing 3H/EAH crossover fic)! If all goes well this'll be a four-part series--one each for the three houses and one last post for the house lords + Rhea. (I'm sorry Ashen Wolves fans... I'll talk about Yuri in the last post, but I don't think there's much I can say for the rest of his house.)

Now without further ado, let us begin!

Hubert as Faybelle Thorn: let's raise a cheer for everyone's favorite dark fairy!! (please don't this is cursed enough. haha get it? cursed, because he's--) As we all know the most important thing about Hubert von Vestra is his impeccable sense of style, and Faybelle's aesthetic is the only one that comes close. The only major difference between these two characters is that Faybelle is spiteful, while Hubert is simply ruthless. And I think it's enough to make him a Rebel, as the Dark Fairy's actions are nothing but petty. With his father's role being stolen by the Evil Queen, I thought this would add an interesting dimension to his loyalty to Edelgard (whereas Faybelle hates Raven for it). Also, Faybelle's pet is canonically a pomeranian puppy named Spindle, and I wanted to give Hubie a pomeranian puppy named Spindle.

Ferdinand as C.A. Cupid: I needed something to replace nobility as the virtue around which he centers his life, so naturally I decided on the most entertaining alternative--love. In this AU, destiny-bound "true love" serves as a good enough parallel to the corruption of Fódlan nobility. So while he may have some disagreements with Edelgard, he can't argue with her understanding of destiny. Giving him big ol' wings makes him even more annoying to her, which is exactly what I want. ... Okay, yes, I did make him Cupid just because it was the only way I could include "Ferdinand von Aegir Cupid" in this AU.

Bernadetta as Cerise Hood: yes, it does hurt me that Bernadetta's color palette clashes horribly with the RRH aesthetic, but what can a girl do they're the perfect match! Of course Bernie would be shy and reclusive if her father was the freaking Big Bad Wolf. And who wouldn't be anxious having to hide a secret like that in the woods, constantly surrounded by the vicious Wolf people? Of course I couldn't make her as extremely nervous as she was in 3H, but uh. I don't think anyone minds. (We are kicking Count Varley out of the picture by the way please forget he ever existed.)

Petra as Cedar Wood: the only princess besides Edelgard in 3H may be a mere commoner in this retelling, but real queens need no crowns. Cedar's desire to understand humans is the closest in-universe to Petra's desire to understand Fódlan (even if they're for different reasons). Furthermore, I find Petra's honesty works well with Cedar's curse--they're both so endearing for it.

Dorothea as Meeshell Mermaid: we shall forever mourn the lost potential of Meeshell, but Dorothea is a whole other story. Voice of an angel, check. Renowned beauty, check. Most importantly, her longing to be truly seen and loved, check. Let's not forget the Little Mermaid was treated as little more than a pretty plaything in the prince's court, never truly seen by the man she loved. Canon Dorothea fears exactly that. Her being a Rebel is just too perfect.

Linhardt as Briar Beauty: I don't think I need to explain myself here? But... the tricky part about him is that Linhardt would never in a million years be unsatisfied with his destiny. I had to lure him to the dark side with lots of enticing research opportunities on the true nature of destiny-bound curses and succession laws, because of what happened with his mom's story (Evil Queen stealing Dark Fairy's role and all). Anyway, I love imagining him with green crownglasses and the fact that his personality is the polar opposite of Briar's will never not be hilarious.

Caspar as... the son of the White Queen??: yeah so the White Queen doesn't have a kid in EAH; I just couldn't think of anything more suiting for Caspar, both in personality and appearance (a bonus, in my book!). Now technically most of the Wonderlandians are Golden Deer, but like... who cares. Also, it's adorable to picture Caspar having normal conversations with his mom, who is the princesses' advisor, and they're quite literally just shouting at each other. Even if they're on opposite sides of the destiny conflict, I feel like they'd have the sweetest relationship.

And that, my folksies, is that.

Confession: before starting this fic, the Black Eagles were my least favorite house. I didn't understand them at all, but now I am so glad I do. They got that Rebel heart, lads.

Next up: Blue Lions!

#fire emblem three houses #ever after high #black eagles #eah rebels #fe3h au #hubert von vestra #ferdinand von aegir #bernadetta von varley #dorothea arnault #petra macneary #linhardt von hevring #caspar von bergliez

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zelphin124 · 1 year ago

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The Error in Aim - Chapter three

Ya'll like this series? Hmmmm... I want to point out that I usually write with an outline and a set goal in mind. This series? I'm just winging it. Heck, I don't got anything planned out for the ending. I'm just seeing where this goes. Go check out the two people who inspired this series: @egnidres and @zu-is-here! Prologue + Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Whew... Here we go...

~oOo~

"I thought you said we were going to stay by my house," Aim inquired, shoving two knives in their scabbards on his body. "And why are we leaving at night-"

"I l-l-lied," Error shrugged, walking away from the house. "I d-don't think your p-parent would h-have agreed i-if I told y-you my real p-plans."

Aim stopped, shutting the door behind him. He didn't want to wake Dream, Nightmare, or Killer. But why did Error want to go at night? He was being so secretive about it. Aim knew he shouldn't trust strangers, but he also knew to not go back on his word.

His SOUL jolted.

Error didn't turn around fully to address the child. "A-Are y-you coming, boy?"

His thoughts raced. Run run run. Run run run. Run run-

Aim nodded and bounded after the destroyer, who rolled his eyes and continued walking forward, his hands pinned behind his back.

Aim caught up with Error and slowed to his pace, looking up at him. Error wasn't super tall but noticeably taller than Aim's family. The stripes on his face glowed. And his eyes... His eyes told millions of stories.

Aim didn't know how he could tell that the destroyer was not only angry but many memories were flashing across his mind. He could sense he was reliving some of his life. His emotions exposed that. Aim watched as millions of fights, deaths, and cries that everyone else would never hear crossed Error's mind...

But what Aim found interesting as he inspected Error's face was the feeling of sorrow. It was as if the destroyer, as immature, irresponsible, and psychotic as he acted, was mature deep down. He held so much pain in his SOUL and hid it from the rest of the multiverse.

Aim pondered this momentarily as the two continued to wander into the dark of night. Why would he feel such sorrowful remorse if he did what he was made to do? Nightmare had called Error a killer without remorse and without guilt. That he hadn't stopped killing. Maybe Error knew that he felt remorse but chose to hide it. But what was it about? Was it from the regret of his murderous habits?

Or something far from his forgotten past?

Error glanced at Aim, scowling. "S-Stop looking a-at me l-like that!" He snapped, speeding up.

And in an instant, the pain in his SOUL glitched away.

Aim sped up to keep up with Error. He didn't know the destroyer walked so fast. He thought it would be faster to teleport, but Error didn't seem interested. Error repeatedly backed away if Aim came too close until he told Aim to never touch him. It was hard for Aim to not pull him out of the way of objects; Error frequently ran into trees. He figured the destroyer couldn't see well, but he made no comment about it.

Aim skidded to a halt before he ran into Error, who had abruptly stopped in the middle of the path. He glanced behind him, to his left, then to his right. The stars shimmered in glory as they covered up the awkward silence.

Aim tilted his head in confusion. "What are we-"

He cut himself off as the destroyer stretched out his hand. The tips of his fingers opened a glitched portal. He looked behind him again before stepping into the white abyss, signaling Aim to follow him.

The moment Aim stepped into the portal, he started to feel sick. His code felt off and weird as he looked around. He was surrounded by white and couldn't make out any dimensions of the place. "What is this place?"

"The Anti-Void, i-i-idiot." Error snapped, closing the portal.

Aim started to look around. However, he didn't have time to observe the rest of his surroundings as he heard a gaster blaster charge up.

Aim rolled out of the way as it fired in his path, burning the ground. He panicked, glancing around at who had just attacked him before his eyes rested on the destroyer.

The blaster belonged to him.

Dream's worries suddenly returned to Aim's mind. He almost died and was now trapped in a place where his loved ones would never find him. Had he made a mistake? Had we walked into his death? "What the heck?!" Aim shouted. "What was that for?!"

"L-L-Lesson number o-one," Error narrowed his eyes, hating the child's attitude. "N-Never l-let your g-guard down. I-Ink is n-not going to c-come when you're p-prepared! Y-You must a-always be r-ready!"

Oh. So this was his way of training... Aim sighed. He had a feeling this would be normal throughout their time together. "But-"

Three more gaster blasters fired up, snapping Aim back into reality.

"I-I hope you're r-ready, anamonly #241," Error cackled, pulling out strings from his eyes. "Let's see i-i-if you'll die l-like the rest of e-em!"

~oOo~

"F-F-Faster!"

Aim barely ducked out of the way from another gaster blaster. His chest heaved in rapid breaths as his soul raced. He held two knives in his hands before he rolled out of the way of another attack. He was tired. He felt weak.

He felt something awakening.

"Tha-a-at's enough," The destroyer narrowed his eyes at the child, dismissing the blasters and untangling the strings around his hands. He looked down at his fingers, cursing as the strings again tangled into a knot.

Aim collapsed on the ground, exhausted. He had always brawled with Killer occasionally, but this was much worse. He had never felt so exhausted and barely escaped the practice attacks with his life.

Not that Error would care if he died in the process, anyway.

How was he going to beat Ink? The painter was much more skilled than these silly practice attacks. Aim did have patience due to everything that happened at his home taking forever since Cross' death. But how long would it last? Surely he didn't have to train for the rest of his life...

Right?

"I-I-It seems that k-k-knives aren't your fi-i-ighting style," Error stated, throwing the strings on the ground in a fit since they wouldn't untangle. "T-T-Try your mag-gic."

Aim stood up, his knees buckling and his legs shaking. He didn't know how to explain to Error that he had never used magic besides his emotionally manipulative power. He had faint memories of Cross using bones and blasters, but he was never able to. Or, he had never tried.

He wondered if he got Cross' or Dream's powers. Would he be able to use bones and blasters like his father before him, or would he use the positive bow and swords like his living dad? Surely he inherited some power from Dream, as he could manipulate emotion.

But how much did he inherit from Dream?

"A-A-Are you deaf, c-ch-child? I comma-a-anded you to d-do something!" Error snapped, pulling new strings from his eyes. "U-U-se your m-magic."

"I wasn't taught how, sir," Aim replied, hating that his tongue had betrayed him. "I've been protected from all forms of magic ever since... Ever since the incident."

Error smacked his head, cursing once more. "Dream y-y-you're such a-an idiot!" He murmured before turning toward the child. "The b-best way to p-p-protect you is t-to teach you t-to fight!"

"Killer taught me some things... In secret..." Aim objected.

"T-That explains t-the knife sssssskills," Error shook his head, glitching in and out again. "B-B-But they d-don't seem t-to be y-your thing..."

The Anti-Void outlined Error's dark features. Aim took a moment to observe the blue strings that hung from the non-existent ceiling. Most of them were just in loops, but some were strung down from the decor, holding various hearts fast.

Various SOULs.

Aim shivered, grabbing his chest. Many of the SOULs hanging from the blue strings were white, but some of them had human colors. There were blue, yellow, purple, red...

Fear struck Aim's SOUL again, but he removed it with power. The Destroyer was a quick and clever killer. Aim thought he was beginning to understand his father's worries, but his reckless wishes forced him to forget the worries once more.

He needed to do this for Cross.

To kill Ink.

Aim glanced back at Error. He had the look on his face that he had just yelled something but cut himself off. Aim froze; he didn't want to piss off the destroyer any more than he already had. However, in Aim's favor, the destroyer always seemed angry. He removed his worries away once more with his power.

"That!" Error suddenly pointed at Aim, walking towards him.

The child's eyes widened, confused. He stood in place as his breath quickened. How many times did he have to remove his fear? Error was really good at keeping the fear inside him. Or reinstalling it... Aim couldn't figure out which one it was.

"Y-Y-You just did i-it aga-ain," Error snapped. "Y-Your eye shined o-orange. You're u-using magic, what k-kind?"

Aim knew he would have to answer him, but everything in him hesitated. Would Error want him for his power too? He was always told to keep it a secret, even before his dad's death.

"I have the power to manipulate emotions," Aim answered. "I was removing some distracting ones from myself."

There was a moment of silence before Error broke into a burst of psychotic laughter. He held his face as he bent over, continuing to laugh.

Aim backed up slightly, concerned. He wasn't sure what to do.

"No w-w-w-wonder Ink wants you!" He cackled. "Impressive, y-you must've inherited D-Dream's powers."

Aim nodded slowly, coming to the same conclusion.

Error wiped his eyes, smiling with his bright yellow teeth. "That's h-hilarious..." he shook his head. "I-I'll train you m-more later... That's too-" he laughed again, sighing and smiling to himself.

As soon as the smile came, it faded. Aim could tell he was thinking hard. Error walked up to Aim and pulled a single string from his eye, snapping it and giving it to Aim. "P-P-Pull this i-if you n-need me," Error shrugged. "This i-is how you'll c-communicate with m-me. Go home, I'll t-t-train you agaaaaain soon."

"Wait, that's it?" Aim asked. "No training. You just fought me! What about-"

He was cut off when his SOUL was yanked out of his chest. It was painful, and Aim widened his eyes as Error pulled his SOUL closer to him with his strings. He smiled wickedly. "I-I make the rules h-here, you o-obey me, b-boy. Now g-go home."

Before Aim could reply, the entire Anti-Void wrapped around him, disappearing. He was back at his house, on his couch. Aim glanced around, looking for Error, but he was nowhere to be seen, but his SOUL floated in front of him. It had a strange black spot on it, but he ignored it as he pressed it back into his body.

It was nothing like he had ever experienced. He was excited after shooing away the fear and confusion with Error's character. His first training was done, and he had survived! He could prove to his parents that they had nothing to fear.

He hoped...

#undertale au #undertale #sans au #utmv #error sans #error!sans #aim!sans #aim sans #dream!sans #dream sans #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #killer!sans #killer sans #cross sans #cross!sans #chapter #writing #tired...

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sanscat0414 · 11 months ago

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Past and Parents

Hawks x Reader

Synopsis: Hawks and you dated for at least 2 years. He tells your parents about his past and he’s worried they won’t accept him.

Warning: Minor spoilers for Hawk’s Past

———————————————————————

You and Hawks have be dating for a while now. He met your parents about a year into the relationship, along with telling you his past but not your parents. He thinks your parents are great but problem is that they are both police officers and he thought they probably be dissatisfied knowing that their child is dating a criminal’s son.

Hawks maybe a confident goose but Keigo is not. Outside of work he really insecure about things like his relationship with you. He’s always worried that you might get kidnapped or he doesn’t spend enough time with you because of his work. He loves you, there’s no hesitation there but he always thinks he doesn’t do enough for you.

He was contemplating whether he should tell your parents about his past. His thought was probably a good idea to tell them on his own accord rather that some other person, *cough* *cough* Dabi *cough* telling them and them thinking he was hiding things from them. That doesn’t stop how nerve racking it was tho.

Talking about his past was always a sore subject for Hawks. Beside he’s sort of disobeying the commission with you dating him and knowing his secrets, not that he cared.

“Babe~ nothing will happen?”

“What if your parents thinks I’m a sh*tty *ss hat that just dating you to take advantage of you or something????” He said walking back and forth in your shared apartment, well more like your apartment that he decided to call home(it’s nice to have a place where the commission can’t monitor him.)

“Honey bird, first of all don’t curse so much. Second, you met my parents, do you really think that there that shallow to believe just because your past you be a crap person?”

“When you putt it like that it does sound stupid.” He said as he’s wings dropped a little lower.

“It’s not stupid, I get your nervous but there not need to worry~” you said as you walk up to him and kissed his cheek, “now my parents would be here anytime now, so if you feel like this is too much then you don’t need to tell them.”

“I fall more I love with everyday baby~” he cooed and hugged you.

“Oh hush.” You said as the bell rang.

It was your parents, they greeted you and hawks. It was a nice little dinner and you guys had a great conversation about work. Hawks was great at hiding his nervousness but you could tell by how tightly he was holding on your thigh, it wasn’t painful but you definitely feel the pressure.

Eventually you changed the subject to family stuff, it was mostly about you and when you were little. You wanted to give hawks a chance to talk about it or to choose to not.

“So what was your childhood like?” The dreaded question finally came out of your mother’s mouth. She was smiling but hawks was only thinking of millions ways that this can go wrong.

“Welll…. It wasn’t the best….” Hawks said and briefly mentioned his childhood.

How he had villain for a dad, how he grew up poor but he left out most of the commission involvement in his early life. Your mother understandably started crying and your father was comforted her.

“Oh my god, you poor baby!!! If there anything we can do name it! You’re our family now that you’re dating our child.” Your mother said sobbing.

“Thank you Ms. L/N. I just didn’t want sercerts between us. I was kind of worried if someone to exposes this and stuff you wouldn’t have trusted me to take care of them.” Hawks said in relief.

By the end of the night Hawks grew a little closer to your family. You were happy to be with him and he was happy to be with you. There’s nothing more that you can ask for.

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dnangelic · 4 months ago

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' toooootally . ' weirder than the other could ever even imagine , which is why he's sure he was still trapped in this strange little game , a tug-of-war that really , at the heart of things ; his heart , wasn't his to even gamble over and play . ' for someone like me , there isn't any difference . '

in fact , it might have even been apt to say there was quite literally nothing more than his skills , but he doesn't expect the other to understand . instead , he eyes the motions of the other , watching as his own card is handed back so shamelessly to him . ' --- don't you dare . '

he could have added the pleasantly snarled threat that he'd only return the card with a written promise of something to steal from their studio or maybe even their house next , but the final query interrupts the thought ; makes him pause , snort and look the other once more up and down . you can hide ; you don't have to reveal yourself , and all the great phantom thief can do is feel his lip uncontrollably curl in half a laugh .

' why would i ever do that ? ' a hand throws itself into the air as he shrugs . ' i like the attention . this is a face and voice that the one hundred and twenty five million people of japan ... minus one , you apparently , can already recognize . even if things somehow worked out despite that , creating another name for myself and trying to become an idol would only split my fans , don't you think ? '

not to mention , his poor other self already had his head and hands full with one extra hidden identity ; he might have collapsed if he created yet another for himself . ' --- find someone else . but feel free to think and dream about me as much as you want . like i said , you were lucky enough to get to hear my voice , even though i'm a selfish , jealous person . both my music and my so-called skills will only ever belong to one person . '

to the boy whose life and body he had no choice but to cling to .

' --- to myself , of course . ' and so he waves . it's only now that the burst of enormous black wings reveal themselves from his body . even if the other knew utterly nothing about him , there was no point in keeping phantom limbs like this a secret , either . not when he was expected to return home . dark only waves , and the palms of his hands refuse to at all touch and reclaim his card-parcel . ' ciao , mister manager . you're pretty weird too , but at least it's interesting . maybe i'll find the time to stop by black mamba and frustrate you by singing a lullaby or two right outside your window . '

his sharp , playful grin promises the words are meant to be insufferably charming .

He finally caught on to the obvious fact that Haru doesn't know him. He'd make a comment... but he doesn't want to. Though if he did, it'd be one thing or the other about how he doesn't know most of the people he should. Even criminals, it seems. The clarification doesn't change much of anything about his demeanor.

So he's a criminal. What's that to Haru? Many a folk in the industry happen to be criminals. They've just got about them the wit and connections to keep that bit of their lives hidden from the general public.

"You're weird." Haru blurts it out, but his face remains as inexpressive as could be.No need to thank him indeed. No need, desire or so much as half a thought to, really. Haru thinks it must be exhausting for one to have so much overconfidence that they'd spew so many assumptions out into the open like that with the self-assurance of a scientific genius.

"... I don't care if you're a criminal... and I don't want to manage you. I want to manage your skill." There's a fine distinction. One involves an interpersonal relationship and the other involves nothing more than a workplace arrangement. Haru finds comfort in the latter. The only thing he wants to form a connection with is the man's music - its reach, its glory, and the emotion it might evoke within an audience and himself should it be used right.

He takes the card out of his pocket and looks at it again then extends it the other's way, dull eyes peering right into his as though in search for a soul to suck into themselves. "There isn't a bin around. I don't need this if you're not interested." a pause as he debates adding something. It pains him to have to point it out, but the other strikes him as something of an idiot, so he supposes it's better safe than sorry. "... You know you can be an idol without revealing your identity, right?"

#*･ﾟ⊰ IC. ⊱#tophatz #CANON.#JOWHLAKJLGKFKJG EVEN WHEN IT'S DARK'S ARROGANCE??? EVEN IF HARU THINKS HE A LIL STUPIT?? (LAUGHED BTW)#BUT YESSS JUMPS AROUND U IN A BIG CIRCLE!!!!#i figure we can close this here anyways alsdkfj 'you're weird' dark vc (sarcastic) (yet somehow completely sincerely): god i sure am #JDKJGKJ u can close with ur end if u want otherwise leaving things here is just fine too!!! ill b ready 4 koike....#rubbing my hands 2gether #genuinely im going to be thinking about this so much its short-ish but there'S SO MUCH. IT'S SO FUNNY alkwelkadjgkj #HANDING HIS CARD BACK TO HIM #DARK VC AHP. ILLEGAL. STOP THAT. DON'T. DO NOT. /DO NOT./ 💥💥💥💢#HARUUUUUUU #if they talk again it'll be after dark throws pebbles at haru's windows til he opens them im sure

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theveryworstthing · 3 years ago

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over on patreon Camille Alexander asked for evil women so you know i had to make a whole squad that mixed in a bunch of other prompts.

Amy Crook wanted bones, Siadea wanted hummingbirds, FyreNWater wanted 'soft, yet unyeilding, Triskadeka12 wanted discarded cocoons (though the one here is still in use), Beelezbuddy wanted lamps, and Kona Goodhart wanted 'wagtails sing'.

Fun Fact: all of these ladies can take on human form, at least for a little while, but drawing them in their more fae/monstery forms is much more fun.

These 4 ladies are the Queens of the House Of Returned Wings. It's a secret society where people who know in their hearts that they must have fae blood or were a fae in a past life learn to use their latent powers to take control of their lives, be their own bosses, and eventually cross the veil to regain their rightful status in the realm of the fae. One teeny tiny problem is that only people who can really prove they deserve to be uplifted get to come live at the House where they can mingle with the Queens and learn the true fae arts before they are sent across the veil to start their new lives. So much recruitment and strange rituals and labor intensive but low paying work to be done. So many paychecks that are desperately needed turned into envelopes full of cash that are thrown into fairy circles that appear in back yards and are gone as soon as backs are turned.

But those little bits of magic you get back are totally worth it. The queens give out such amazing wishes for loyalty. So what if the price becomes heavier each time and the wishes seem to wear off quicker and quicker with more and more disastrous results? That's only because the magic is borrowed from these incredibly gracious ladies. If you work hard enough you'll have your own magic back, and you won't have to worry about any silly time limit or spell corruption.

No, this isn't a super culty magic MLM. Why do you ask?

Let's talk about the queens.

First up is Ambrosia. Ambrosia spends most of her time in the ballrooms of the House holding elaborate parties, and she is a hungry person to her core. Hungry for entertainment, fine foods, noise, she's always flitting from thing to thing in a constant fight to stave off boredom. And everyone lets her do this because a bored Ambrosia is a nightmare creature. If the Dionysian key jangling she surrounds herself with constantly stops for more than a second, Awful Things happen. She doesn't usually kill because there are few things more boring than a corpse, but she has a plethora of cruel ways to get the party started again. People who live in her circle usually come to the House because they feel restrained or bored with their former lives and feel like through her teachings they can blossom into their real fully expressive and indulgent selves.

Too bad all these guests eventually just become party favors to break and throw away.

***

Raine lives in her elaborate greenhouse and rules over the gardens of the House. She is said to be the kindest queen, which considering the other queens still isn't that great. She doesn't really get into all the LuLaRoe-esque recruitment garbage, preferring instead to ask those who would follow her the important questions. Like how much fertilizer they can lift, do they want to see the truth of the world, are they afraid of death, ect. She's been working these special gardens for a long long time, seein' things grow and seein' things die, and she has so many secrets up on her greenhouse shelves that the universe hides in the dirt. If you make it to her gardens she'll greet you with open arms and help you find whatever you need, but you'll work the soil until your body gives out for the knowledge you seek, and that same knowledge will probably break you into a million pieces.

Can't work like that.

And the only thing left to do with a disciple who can't work is make some very fine fertilizer.

***

Grace spends most of her time wandering through her elaborate suites full of curated oddity collections and rare books, followed closely by her entourage of extraordinary followers. These are people unappreciated in their former lives, the best of the best of the best who's amazing knowledge, unique looks, incredible experiences, or special talents were suppressed, ignored, or even gravely punished by the outside world. And oh, Lady Grace knows how that is. As the most special, most beautiful, most smartest, most bravest, most strongest, most unique woman that ever lived (or will ever live if she has anything to say about it), she knows. That's why she takes the poor things under he wing and helps them transform from mere worms thrown to the outskirts by the jealous masses into the perfect selves they always were. They belong here, with her, among the greats. And they also belong to her. It's not like any of the poor things are actually close to her level, they're only mortals after all, they'll only waste whatever makes them special with old age or death. The cocoons are actually a blessing for them. She gets their youth and beauty and knowledge and precious memories, and they get to be a nice troph-...I mean...have a nice memorial in what happens to be her hunting trophy room, and know that that special spark inside them will live on forever in her.

Forever and perfect.

***

The 4 queens rule over the House Of Returned Wings equally and no one is really supposed to be over anyone else. But also Ms. Pied is totally running the show and the other queens are fully aware that they are mere underlings. Ms. Pied invited each of them to the house one by one and gave them their spaces to rule over. Ms. Pied turned them into what they are now. Ms. Pied is the reason fresh people keep coming in and no one ever bothers their little operation. What is she getting out of all of this? Who knows. Her group of followers is very small and consistent and they never really stray from her business offices if they come up to the House at all. She asks for nothing really. She just keeps things running.

And considering how things are run, that makes her terrifying.

#fae #the house of returned wings #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #body horror #long post #back on my writing bullshit y'all

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wtfevenismypage · 4 years ago

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

request: request. i’m not sure if you’re comfortable with writing it but it’s worth a try the team is always teasing spencer saying “he’s definitely a virgin” and he’s like “wtf no i’m not” one day they’re like ok well then y/n can see for herself, y/n is like “😳i didn’t sign up for this” and long story short they come back to the bau and the team is like “ ok soooo?” and y/n is like zoning out mumbling “you were wrong”

Warnings: SMUT (Penetration, oral (female recieving), spanking, over-stimulation, choking, degrading kink)

A/N: YO SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN, I am going to start publishing fics again, but updates will be very very slow. They’ll increase eventually, but for now, they are slow. Love you all!

The night began at work. A late night with the team at the office, stacks of files mounted on all of your desks and you’re all gathered around to keep each other awake.

“Ugh. This is too much work. Seriously. Can’t killers ever take a break?”

You whine, spinning in the swivel chair and holding a file in the air. Morgan chuckles, staring at his own file before speaking.

“I need a drink after this.”

“You and me both Morgs.”

“I told you to stop calling me that Girly.”

You chuckle, stopping your spinning and standing up to stretch. It feels nearly impossible to stay awake. Not necessarily because you’re tired, but you’ve been staring at similar files all day and it’s getting boring and tiring.

“I’ll do refills on coffee. Gimme your mugs.”

You say, letting them pile different sizes of cups and mugs in your arms. You saunter over to the coffee machine and set them on the counter.

You set the pot for a lot of coffee and quickly dash to Hotch’s office, where him and Rossi are.

“Yo, I’m making coffee, y’all need refills?”

They shake their heads and you shrug, returning to the coffee machine and pouring the coffee in the mugs before adding cream and sugar.

“How much sugar tonight Reid?”

You ask, turning to the tall doctor with a smirk. Luckily, you and your team are the only people left in the bullpen so you can be as loud as you want.

“A lot.”

You snort, grabbing the box of sugar and piling it in, almost emptying it before putting it on the shelf and making a few trips to distribute the coffee.

“Here you are Spencer, sugar with some coffee on the side.”

You chuckle, sitting in your chair again and picking a new file up, only to find that this was the last file.

“Oh. Anyone else wanna give me files? I’m on my last one.”

Morgan and Emily immediately run up to you with files, dropping them on your desk and thanking you. It made you laugh, watching smiles grown on their faces.

“Okay team. We’re almost finished. Just a little bit more now.”

(SEXUAL THEMES BEYOND THIS POINT)

A few hours later you, Spencer, Rossi, and Hotch are finished with your stacks, waiting for the other three with Penelope, discussing bars to go to.

“Oooo there’s a new one downtown, we should go there.”

“Can you guys hold back your alcohol talk until tonight please? I just wanna get out of here fast and maybe get lucky tonight.”

Emily pleads, making you and the other women go “oooo” while the men groan.

“Oh boy you are right Em. I haven’t gotten laid in so long. Too long.”

You say, leaning back in your chair and looking at a flabbergasted Penelope.

“How long?”

She asks, staring at you in disbelief. You were a very beautiful woman (Don’t you fucking dare say otherwise) so people often assumed you had sex often. You weren’t private about it either. So what if people judged you? Sex is natural and anyone who says otherwise is selling something.

“Since my first time in middle school. I had a delusion that sex was gonna be this amazing thing and then it was actually terrible. I gave up all hope and never slept with anyone ever again. So you know, it is what it is.”

Everyone looked at you in shock, confused as to how you went your whole life without sex.

“Wait really?”

Morgan questions, his attention dropping from the files to you in an instant. Spencer simply stared at you in disbelief, his expression suddenly making you nervous.

“Y-yeah. I haven't had sex since middle school. It isn’t a big deal.”

You defend, but Penelope wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“Oh honey I’m definitely finding you someone to take home.”

“Hey, at least you had your first time, unlike pretty boy over here.”

Morgan teases, messing with Spencer’s hair. Spencer was often teased for being a virgin, but none of you knew what to believe. He said he wasn’t, but refused to tell even Morgan about any of his times.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys, I’m not a virgin!”

“Then tell us about one time.”

Morgan says, a wide smirk on his face at the disheveled state of the genius doctor. Poor Reid just wanted to be left alone but Morgan will not let this go.

“Morgan. Not all of us are public about our sex lives like you bud. Sometimes I wish you were as secretive as Reid. None of us want to hear about how you “got it on”.”

Morgan grimaces, and Spencer looks to you thankfully.

“C’mon Y/N, you aren’t even a little curious?”

Emily asks from her desk, finally finishing up the last file with JJ. You shrug, playing with your hair briefly.

“Of course I’m super curious, but, unlike you lust goblins, I stand with Hotch and Rossi and don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

Various groans come from the team as you fist-bump Hotch and Rossi, laughing at their defeat.

When Morgan finally finishes, you all head to the new bar downtown, smiling at the flashing lights of the dance floor and immediately going to a small table with the rest of the team.

“Oh hells yes! This place is already fun!”

Penelope squeals, waving a worker over to get food. Morgan sits next to you, Emily on your other side and Spencer is next to Morgan and Hotch.

“Alright my baby’s we are partying until Y/N gets lucky!”

You chuckle at Penelope’s words, raising a glass of water to your lips and taking a big swig of it before looking around. The people in there were definitely attractive, but your mind never swayed from a certain genius.

You meant it when you said you were curious, your mind had always wandered to certain images when you went to sleep, constantly imagining what he would be like.

You’re mind was so easily destroyed by him. All of your thoughts contorted by him. To the point where you can’t imagine sleeping with any of these other people, but you’re scared to ruin your friendship with him by trying to sleep with him.

“Ah guys. I’m fine. I don’t want to sleep with someone I don’t know.”

Morgan groans, nudging your side and making you laugh.

A few hours later, Spencer has abandoned ship and went to the bathroom, leaving you alone with the rest of the team as you eat some wings.

“Oh my god I know how to figure out if Reid’s a virgin or not!”

Penelope shouts, you look at her excited face, just smirking as she squeals.

“And what is your plan?”

“One of us hooks up with him!”

You all choke on your food and drinks, staring at her in shock.

“I’m sorry what? Did you just say-”

“Actually that’s not a bad idea.”

Hotch cuts you off. You turn to his smirking face in shock. Never in a million years would you have thought that Aaron Hotchner thought one of you sleeping with Reid is a good idea.

“Hotch! Wouldn’t that like, mess with work or something?”

He shrugs, turning to you and smirking.

“What can I say? I’m curious too.”

You sigh, chuckling a bit and shaking your head.

“I say Y/N does it.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Y/N is single and hasn’t gotten laid in a while, it’s perfect!”

“Guys no I-”

“Oh my god you’re right! Plus there’s plenty of sexual tension between the two of them.”

You sigh, knowing they won’t let up until this happens. When the team wants something, they make it happen.

“Okay guys, I didn’t sign up for this, I’m not your test dummy.”

You say, putting your wings down on the plate in front of you and looking around at them all.

“Please girly? Pretty please?”

Morgan begs, clutching your hand tightly and shaking it up and down like a child who wants a toy.

“Y/N, I will make sure you get a raise in your paycheck.”

You stop and think about it for a second.

It could ruin your relationship with him forever, then again, he’s the type to forgive and forget when it comes to his friends.

And if it did work out, then things could be awkward between the two of you for a long time, or worse, he’d regret it. And like all the things he regrets, he’d ignore you until you disappeared.

And the worst you can think of, you take his virginity. Not someone he loves, not his girlfriend or wife, you. His bestfriend and co-worker.

But still, just that small percentage that everything might go completely right and you might even get a second time with him makes it feels like it might be worth it.

“Okay fine. But I don’t want a raise. If I’m doing this it’s because I want to.”

They all cheer and you just smile, taking a swig of beer before motioning for Morgan to switch seats with you so that when Spencer comes back he’ll be next to you.

Within a few minutes Spencer returns and you feel a heat travel up your neck as you look at him. He turned to you and smiled, sending shivers up your spine as you smiled back.

“Why’d you switch places?”

He asks, you turn to Morgan for help, pleading him to come up with a fake story.

“Emily kept poking her so she told me to switch.”

He says, you practically glare daggers at him, but you go with it, turning back to Spencer and nodding with a smile.

“Yep, so now, you are stuck with me.”

You joke, trying to ease the dusty pink on your cheeks, and nudge him gently in the arm.

In a few minutes you muster up the courage to let your hand travel off of the counter and onto Spencer’s thigh, feeling your entire face go crimson at the feeling of the hard muscle.

He choked on his water briefly before looking at you, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your red face. You were trying to hide any emotion you felt out of embarrassment.

He didn’t say anything though, you’re hand felt warm against the cool breeze of the bar, and he wasn’t opposed to your touch whatsoever.

Everyone continued talking and laughing as your hand inched upwards, and you could feel his body tense up every once in a while, and every time he did, you paused, giving him a moment to push your hand away or tell you to stop, but he didn’t. Not even when you began massaging and squeezing the muscle in your hands.

In fact, he at some point grabbed your hand and positioned it right above his own cock. You weren’t touching it yet, just hovering in slight fear.

He wants this.

You thought before slowly lowering your hand, your eyes widening at the feeling of his semi hard and fairly large cock. What the hell were you getting yourself into?

You glance at him quickly, only to find him staring straight back at you with lust lidded eyes. They were intimidating, almost scary. Usually you would have hated to be on the receiving end of this glare, but in this context, it made you feel like a match had been lit inside of you and you were just left there with a lit match inside of you.

The moment you squeezed your hands just slightly, he abruptly stood up, your hand falling from his crotch. Everyone looks at him in shock as he yanks you up.

“I need to talk to you.”

Is all he says before dragging you away. You only had a split second to turn and see the teams faces, but they were all pretty much the same.

A shit eating smile with wiggling eyebrows.

From the moment you were yanked into the private room with Spencer, you were super nervous. It had been years, you were inexperienced. What if he didn’t like it? What if he left because you were bad at it?

He seemed to notice your panicked state and sat you down on the bed, crouching in front of you and taking your hands in his.

“Hey, we don’t have to do this. As much as I would love to prove to you that I really am not a virgin, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But if you say yes, I will pillage your body to the point that you can’t walk next week.”

Well shit, now you were fully convinced and super turned on. You had thought he was vanilla, or maybe even a bottom, but oh wow you were so wrong.

“Do it.”

Those were the only two words needed for Spencer Reid to pounce, and your plane of vision was knocked over, now laying on your back as he traps you under his body.

His lips are everywhere. They’re on yours at first, but they travel to your jaw, your neck, and his lengthy fingers work at the buttons on your dress shirt rapidly.

“Shit Spencer...”

You whine out as he works his hands across your body. They feel like fire against your skin. His lips are wet and messy, kissing and marking your neck for the world to see.

You grip his shirt, tugging at it and opening your mouth to speak, but a moan slips out instead. You shut your eyes in embarrassment as you feel his lips curl upwards on your collarbone, the suckling feeling feeling so warm and tingly.

“What is it baby? You want me to take my shirt off? huh?”

You nod eagerly, chest rising and falling quickly as he raises his body off of yours, and you open your heavy eyes to see him strip off his shirt. He isn’t muscly, but he’s perfect, he looks perfect.

“What do you want baby?”

You stumble over your words, your mind already fuzzy somehow by just his lips.

“You. I want you. Please Spencer I want you.”

You beg, your hands travelling up his torso and feeling his soft skin. He leans down again, towering over you and smashing his lips on your while his hands work on getting your pants off.

His lips were safe, careful. Not aggressive, and his tongue that tasted the inside of your mouth was warm and loving, savoring your taste as you whined into his.

He was smiling so widely against your skin, his pride booming at the way you reacted to his touch. He never once thought he could get you to react like this.

“You just wanted to see if I was a virgin huh? You curious?”

You nod and shake your head, confused on why you were doing this as well. You wanted this so much it almost hurt, you’ve wanted this since day one. You were also really curious as well though.

“You know what they say.”

He leans into your ear, kissing your neck and biting your ear.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

You felt his fingers rub at your clothed pussy, your black cloth panties preventing him from fucking you with his fingers. His fingers rub against your clit, the cotton creating friction on it as well.

“Please Spencer! Please please please!”

You beg, feeling his breath land on your cold skin in a way that felt so raw and rigid. He tugs at your panties, freeing your cunt as a finger rubs against your clit, the bundle of nerves jolting you up.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he continues circling your clit with his long fingers, His lips kissing your open ones.

Two fingers probe into you, scissoring themselves inside of you. You groan into his mouth as they curl upwards into your wet cunt.

“Shit!”

He moves his head between your thighs, licking a wet stripe up your clit, flicking it around as you moan at the sensitive feeling. It feels like electricity lighting up the sensitive nub.

A pressure builds between your legs, a spring coiling in your stomach as he suckles on your clit, fucking you fast with his fingers.

“Spencer! I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it.”

It hits you like a fiery clap of thunder, the feeling so extreme and hot it almost makes you scream and you can only hope no one heard you over the music outside.

Your breathing is labored as your high dies down, but Spencer doesn’t let up, he flips you over onto your stomach, dragging you to your knees by your hips.

“Wha-”

You get cut off by your own moan of pain, the tip of his cock slowly being pressed into your tight and wet cunt.

“It’ll get better baby, I’ll go slow, I promise. Just tell me when you want me to go, and when you want me to stop. Okay?”

You nod against the pillow under your face, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. A hand lands on your ass, making you yelp at the rough feeling.

“Words baby.”

You moan, palming the sheets with your fists as he pulls out completely, leaving you to feel empty.

“Okay! Please Spencer! Please I need you!”

You could practically feel his pride rolling off of him as he pushes into your sex slowly, filling you up fully.

It’s a stinging feeling, as if you were being torn apart. But he waits, he let’s you adjust to his girthy size before moving. He really was gentle. You hadn’t expected him to be rough exactly, but he was shockingly gentle and patient.

Eventually, you got used to the feeling, it felt so satisfying as well. The feeling of being so full and warm was so pleasuring, it sent little jolts of pleasure up your spine and out your mouth, making Spencer smirk.

“You’re so tight for me. You so curious you let me fuck you huh? So eager?”

You nod, burying your face into the pillows. You want him to move, to fuck you until you break, but words won’t come out, so you move your hips forwards, letting part of him slip out of you before moving him back into your dripping cunt.

A loud groan escapes both of your lips at the feeling, his hand lands on your ass again, reddening it before taking the hint and thrusting into you carefully.

“Oh... Holy crap!”

You moan out as he continues to clench your hips, surely leaving bruises tomorrow. His thrusts remained slow and deep, but it felt just right. He let his hands wander, travelling up and down your body.

His fingers find your bra, unclipping it and letting it fall off. Your breasts move to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Faster... Please Spencer faster!”

“What’s that my little slut? You want more? You gonna be a greedy little slut?”

You could feel your cheeks become a dark crimson color, slightly embarrassed at the degrading language he was using, but you nod nonetheless, wanting him to pound into you shamelessly.

“Very well. What a dirty slut wants, she gets.”

His pace quickens suddenly, each thrust into you sharp and hitting into you just right. Loud moans escape both yours and Spencer’s lips, the room becoming sweaty and sticky quickly.

“This want you want you whore? You just want to be fucked like a cheap whore?”

Pointless babbles fall out of your mouth, quiet “Yes” and “I’m your cheap whore” being mumbled as he pounded into from behind.

A gasp escapes your lips as he lands another smack to your ass, leaving a burning sensation that felt so damn pleasurable after the initial sting.

A familiar pressure builds up between your thighs again, Your legs trembling under the Thunderous feeling of your orgasm washing over your entire body.

You had thought that two orgasms would have been enough for him, but he doesn’t let up, even flipping you back over and thrusting into you harder.

“S-Spencer!”

You gasp and squirm as his fingers find your sensitive and swollen clit, pinching and rubbing it with his thumb and index finger. It felt like a wave of nerves jolting every bone, your back arching off of the cushion underneath you.

He continues pounding into you mercilessly, admiring the way your tits bounce at his pace, the way you so desperately panted for mercy, but your body betrayed you.

If you really wanted him to get off of you, you would have made it much more clear, you would have been pushing him off more, but you were more just clutching him closer than anything, wriggling your body around.

You couldn’t form any words at this point, chasing after your third orgasm endlessly. You manage to spot the hand that isn’t abusing your clit snake its way up your body, playing and pinching your nipples briefly before wrapping itself around your neck.

Soft squeezes are delivered to your throat, making you whimper and whine, your own hands reaching his wrist for support, feeling up the vein-y muscles.

“Spencer! Spencer I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum!”

You whimper out, his hand tightens around your throat and his fingers rub your clit faster and harder, abusing the already raw nerves.

Everything felt so overwhelming. Your body was shaking aggressively each time he rubbed your swollen nub, and the feeling of him pounding into your wet cunt repeatedly slamming your sweet spot mercilessly and choking you out at the same time was so raw and powerful.

It felt unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And with a broken moan, you came all over his cock, clenching around him and pushing him over the edge as well.

He came right inside of you, riding out his high while slowing the rubs delivered to your clit. Your insides were twitching like crazy around his sensitive cock, making him groan while watching your entire body shake.

Soon after you both came, he pulled out, letting his cum drip out of you and onto the bed, pulling your body to sit up.

“Well, did I pass your test?”

You lazily nod at his question. You panted heavily, trying to chase after your breath.

“Holy shit Spencer... That was... Wow.”

He chuckled, grabbing your clothes off of the floor and placing them next to you.

“Need help cleaning up?”

You shook your head, meeting his starstruck eyes for the first time since he choked you. They were so bright, so in awe.

“Alright, well I’m gonna head home so I don’t have to face the others. See you at work?”

“See ya.”

Twenty minutes later, Spencer had gone home and you had finished getting all of his cum out of you, and now you were fully dressed, making your way back to the others in a shell shocked state of mind.

Everyone else was trying their hardest not to laugh at the sight of your shaky legs when you stumbled into your chair, red hickies all over your neck. You sat with a blank stare in your eyes, chugging your water.

“So?”

Morgan asked, knowing the answer already but just wanting to hear it anyways.

“You were wrong.”

You managed to mumble out. Everyone broke out laughing, even Hotch and Rossi.

You continued to eat your wings, The memory of what just happened stuck on replay in your brain.

PERMANENT TAGLIST(OPEN) @pinkdiamond1016 @spencer-reids-snow-white @sheepfather @eusuntgroot @libradolan

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Text

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday.

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email.

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup.

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug.

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky.

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet.

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it.

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance.

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you.

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression.

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed.

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working.

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls.

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times.

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears.

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder.

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor.

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear.

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building.

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through.

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with.

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone.

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel.

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people.

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him.

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do.

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden.

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone.

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others.

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off.

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you.

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.”

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again.

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice.

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras.

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him.

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him.

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off.

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further.

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky.

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground.

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long.

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him.

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench.

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears.

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this.

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended.

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed.

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up.

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you.

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation.

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock.

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again.

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky.

You nodded, still unsure of what to say.

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic.

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky.

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape.

They all point to you.

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation.

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement.

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear.

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?”

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan.

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets.

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers.

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head.

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces.

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw.

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you.

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable.

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated.

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system.

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios.

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking.

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue.

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...”

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room.

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions.

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud.

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information.

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously.

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue.

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information.

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information.

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned.

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that.

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice.

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already.

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room.

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second.

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face.

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on.

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression.

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches.

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice.

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position.

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended.

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face.

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes.

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.”

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound.

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them.

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room.

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side.

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #marvel fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #marvel #mcu

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 2 years ago

Note

"treehouse" for Julie!!!!!!!

- 🐸

Thank you for the prompt, my love! Hope you enjoy :)

This takes place in my (and @sunsetcurvecuddles's) Parenting verse. All you need to know is that Trevor, Ray, and Rose co-parented Julie, Carlos, and Carrie for a few years before Trevor bought his mansion and decided to raise his daughter on his own (and then fell out with the Molinas a few years later when they found out he stole all his songs).

Send me prompts!

In fifth grade, Carrie’s dad makes her move into this huge scary mansion above Malibu beach with a security gate and a million rooms and no Julie.

Two months later, he buys a helicopter with his face on it.

“Mami says he’s having a mid-life crisis,” Julie informs Carrie politely as they stand in the driveway watching the guys Trevor hired to build a landing pad on his roof. Julie’s not entirely sure what a mid-life crisis is, but her mami seemed a hundred percent convinced that Carrie’s dad was having one.

Carrie hmmphs, arms crossed over her chest. She’s been understandably annoyed by most choices her dad’s made since the move, including the choice to move at all, so it only makes sense that she wouldn’t be happy about this one either.

But she doesn’t voice any complaints, just taps her foot thoughtfully against the asphalt and then says, “I have an idea.”

Julie’s eyes go a little wide. “An idea or an idea?”

Carrie has great ideas, usually. It was her idea for Julie to start calling her dad “Trevor” instead of “Daddy” because “people are mean, and it makes you sound babyish, and he’s not even your real dad anyway.” It was her idea to take Carlos trick-or-treating with them last Halloween because they were totally too old for it— “ten-year-olds are basically teenagers”— but if they walked around the neighborhood with a six-year-old dressed as a can of tomato soup (also Carrie’s idea), they could still nab all the good candy. It was her idea to boycott moving away, and it didn’t really work, but it got Trevor to buy her a bunch of new clothes, and Mami and Papi always serve ice cream now whenever she comes over for dinner.

Carrie’s ideas are great. But her ideas are what got Julie grounded for hiding bacalao under her bed, and they’re what made Principal Martinez call Papi at work to ask if Julie had a secret twin, and they’re how Flynn broke her arm, twice.

Carrie gives her a look, and Julie has the sinking feeling that this is going to be one of her ideas.

***

Three weeks later, Papi pulls his car around Trevor Wilson’s big circular driveway and leans out the front windshield with a sigh. “Ay Dios mío. He really went through with it, huh?”

Julie cranes her neck to see what he’s looking at from the backseat. “Oh, whoa.”

Rising up from the roof of Trevor’s east wing, atop the landing pad the construction guys finished last week, is a helicopter with Trevor Wilson’s face plastered on the side. “Can I—?”

“No,” her dad says because she can finish —ride in it?. Then, he pauses and amends, “Not without your Mami or I with you, and a certified pilot behind the wheel.”

Julie resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay, Dad. Can I go see Carrie now?”

He unlocks the car doors. “Go play, sweetie. Ask Daddy to come out and talk to me for a minute.”

Julie flinches. Her parents still haven’t quite gotten the “she’s not a baby and his name is Trevor” memo yet, but she doesn’t feel like pushing it. “Okay. Bye, Papi, love you!”

She hops out of the car and closes the door on his response, then skips up to the imposing front entrance and stands on her tiptoes to ring the doorbell.

It’s barely chimed once when the door flies open and Carrie grabs her by the wrist. “Come on!”

After ten years, Julie knows better than to protest. “My dad wants to talk to your dad!” she still manages to pant while being tugged through the mansion halls at a run.

“Dad!” Carrie shouts without breaking her stride. “Julie’s here, Mr. Molina’s in the driveway and he wants to talk to you!”

Julie doesn’t really understand why she can call Carrie’s dad “Trevor,” but Carrie can’t call her dad “Ray,” and when she tried to ask once, Carrie just gave her a look like she was stupid and refused to explain.

“Where are we going?” Julie says, just as Carrie finally pulls her to a stop at the top of a long set of stairs.

Carrie grins at her— the same way she grinned before instructing Flynn on how to work her homemade parachute. It’s a rare, dangerous look on Carrie Wilson’s face.

Carrie pushes open a door and leads Julie onto the helicopter landing pad.

Julie flinches back as the wind whips at her face. “Carrie? What—?” “Come on, Juliebean!” Carrie calls over her shoulder as she confidently crosses the roof and yanks open the helicopter door.

Julie follows more carefully, making sure not to get too close to either edge, but hesitates before climbing in next to Carrie. “My dad says I’m not allowed to get in this thing.”

Carrie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby, Julie! It’s not like we're gonna fly it! Think of it like a big, really cool treehouse.”

A treehouse. Yeah, okay. Julie can handle that.

After all, Carrie’s practically her sister. Julie’s never gonna stop following her lead.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #julie molina #carrie wilson

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embrassemoi · 3 years ago

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 29

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: Language, angst, insecurities, blood, darkish thoughts (self-hatred), fighting, violence Author's Note: heavy chap. if you’re having a bad day, take a moment, be kind to yourself and put off reading this until you feel better 💜

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 29: That Pet You Just Couldn't Keep

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Remus woke up to a bright, white light. He squinted, head lolling to the side of his lumpy pillow. The chair near his bedside was empty, saved from a pitcher of water along with a few potions Madam Pomfrey must’ve left for him, were placed on the stand beside his bed.

Something wasn’t right. Peter or one of the other Marauders were always there waiting for him after his transformations.

Too hot for a blanket in June, he ripped off his covers and noticed the bumpy, large material hiding beneath his nightgown. He licked his lips, letting air whistle down his dry throat while a sharp, burning sensation flooded his abdomen. Remus winched, groaning out while stretching to drink the potions and water. Although, as he brought the glass vials to his lips, he noticed that his arm was littered with scratches and bruises. Curious, he lifted the slit of the gown to see a large wrapping across his lower stomach and bruises in the shape of lopsided circles and rectangles travelling across his body.

Remus felt his face scrunch. Ever since the Marauders had become animaguses, he hardly sustained any injuries aside from the occasional limp or flimsy scratch. There was usually an absence of pain nowadays, not an overload of it.

What caught his attention was the scent of human blood. His senses were always heightened the week leading up to the full moon and the week following, so it was particularly strong. It caused his head to spin like planets performing a celestial dance.

Preoccupied with the scent, Remus didn’t notice someone slipping into the room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” A fuzzy Peter came into view. He went to sit on the edge of his bed sporting a nervous look.

“Was wondering where you were.” Remus relaxed at his appearance.

“Yeah… Erm — been busy.”

Soon enough, another sharp pain stabbed at his abdomen again. “Fuck — what happened last night?”

Wormtail sucked in sharply as he wiggled in his seat uncomfortably. “I… something terrible happened. Bollocks, Moons — I’m sorry...”

Remus felt his spine prickle with needles. “What?”

“We should wait until Dumbledore or James comes back.”

“Dumbledore?!”

Ghostly pale, Peter was on the verge of fainting. Remus took another deep inhale. This time, he smelt blood, but it was coming off of Peter and a few other foreign scents lingered on him. Was that… Y/N? And… Snape? Remus scanned Peter, noticing the droplet of red on his shoes.

“Pete,” his voice dropped to an icy whisper, “Whose blood is that?”

He remained quiet.

Remus moved to prop himself up on the bed. “What happened?”

As Peter spoke, every word made Remus recline into himself and he was left unsure of how to feel. The overload of information put him into a state of complete shock. His vision faded in and out, suddenly feeling very cold and dizzy compared to the hot weather.

He distantly heard Peter trying to gain his attention but stared blankly at the metal bed frame.

“Say something,” his friend tried, sounding desperate. He didn’t even know how long he’d been quiet for.

Remus worked through the betrayal in nine steps. It helped make sense of his emotions. To categorize them — making it easier to file away.

1. Shock & denial

“No,” he said, barely moving a muscle in his face. “That's impossible! Padfoot would never…”

Peter watched him pitifully. Remus’ eyes blinked rapidly, heart pounding. “I’m sorry.”

2. Process what happened (or try to)

“He… told… Snape?” He asked despite Peter repeating the story multiple times.

“Sirius was mad at Sniv — Snape, and he was provoked by —”

“I didn’t hurt him, did I? I didn’t hurt anyone?”

“He’s fine.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what happened to me? Why was I bleeding?”

He refused to look him in the eyes and Remus felt terror ebb it's way through his skin. “Answer me!”

“As I said, L/N and Snape got into a row… she heard Sirius tell him and she went to save him…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Wormtail took a deep breath. “You… nicked her a bit and James’ antler broke off in you because… he was trying to get you off of her…”

Remus was rooted in place. What Peter just said was unreal. His stomach twisted painfully. He blinked. “Y/N’s hurt? I hurt her?”

“Yes — no! That was Snape —” “Is she here? Did I bite her?”

“You didn’t and yeah but —” “Move out of my way.” He pushed himself up wobbly.

“You lot a lot of blood, sit —”

“Get out of my way!” He threatened. Remus pushed Peter to the side, clambered to his feet. Remus gripped the bed tightly and felt a few seams rip open and blood began to faintly seep through his white bandages.

He staggered around, ripping back the curtains until he saw Y/N. Limping up to her bed, Remus almost burst into tears when he saw her. She looked so tiny, curled up and engulfed in blankets and pillows. Her ankle was propped up, head bandage and skin dull.

It felt like Peter had poured a bucket of freezing cold water on him.

He hurt her. Almost got her and Snape killed or infected. Could have hurt Prongs and Wormtail…

He was a fucking monster.

He should be put down.

From how loud he was, running around the wing, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. She attempted to stretch, groaning out in pain. But then, her eyes flickered up to him and she froze. Her hand shot up protectively to her chest and face as instinctively went for her wand but stopped. Genuine fear flashed through her, making Remus instantly want to cry. It felt like an eternity passed as she gripped her sheets and opened her mouth.

She was going to scream — to take him away — call him a monster — to cry or yell for Madam Pomfrey or —

But Y/N’s body relaxed. A tried smile twisted and gaze dissipated with fear, replaced with nothing but understanding and softness; she even went as far to touch his hand but Remus wrenched it back.

“Ta-da!” She croaked. “I lived.”

Remus didn’t smile, only staring horrified.

“Yeah, that was a hit or miss...” Peter interjected. He stood behind him, ensuring that if he fell, he’d be there to catch Remus. He continued to stare like she grew another set of eyes.

“What?” Her grin deflated. “Am I that irresistible?”

That pulled a breathy laugh from Remus as he shook his head. Why wasn’t she disgusted with him?

“Thank Merlin, you’re both awake.” All their heads turned to James’s floating head before he pulled off the invisibility cloak.

James moved to pull Remus into a large hug, whispering an ‘I’m sorry’ into his ear. He held him for a while before breaking off, going to embrace Y/N who wheezed.

“Ouch.”

“My bad, my bad!” He pulled back and slipped into bed with her. Peter forced Remus to sit on the edge of her bed while he stood.

A million thoughts ran through his head. He wanted to get away, to run — not even be in the same room as her. Remus wanted to think, to make any sense of what happened.

What the fuck happened? He couldn’t even process it.

She remembered everything, right? Surely she wouldn’t be this calm had she.

“Oh, wait — Lupin, are you alright? I swear a deer came at you last night.”

James chuckled out loud, breaking Remus out of his thoughts as he looked at him and Peter. “I guess there’s no point for secrets anymore.”

Y/N looked at them questioningly, her eyes squinting from the bright light before Peter went to close the blinds shut. James got off the bed, smiling widely at Remus and Peter got onto the bed instead.

“Ugh — Pete? James? What —”

A loud gasp ripped from her mouth as she jerked away from James who turned into a very large stag and Peter into a fat brown rat.

Remus could almost cry at how comical her face looked.

James was so large that he had to take a few steps back to prevent his antlers from poking one of their eyes out and Remus noticed that one was gone.

He felt sick again. A hand drifted to his stomach.

“Holy shit! Oh my god!” Y/N went to graze a finger on Peter’s fur before turning to James with shaky hands to touch one of his antlers and patting him on the head. She was speechless as her mouth open several times before forcing out, “You're really Bambi!”

James turned back, taking his glasses off to clean. “I wanted to be a lion — for Gryffindor, y’know.”

“You can’t choose, I wouldn’t be a rat.” Peter grimaced.

“They’re highly intelligent. Nothing to worry about.” James reassured and ruffled his hair.

“When did you guys learn to do this?”

“We’ve been at it for three years now. We finally were able to do it in August before school started.”

She shook her head, staring in awe.

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Dumbledore came to speak to everyone later that day.

Remus had been dreading it once he came into the wing and began speaking to Y/N, a buzzing sound filling his ear. All Remus was left to do was twiddle his thumbs, waiting and completely disoriented.

When he finally approached him, Dumbledore lost his usual twinkle in his eyes. He made sure to close the long vertical blinds and again, the room filled with a low buzzing sound.

“How are you doing?” He asked. Remus, had he been in the right mindset, would have prevented the scoff escaping him. Dumbledore didn’t react but continued. “Miss L/N is recovering well and Mr. Snape didn’t receive any injuries. Just a fright.”

Remus nodded, that was good, but he remained quiet.

“Snape’s been persuaded to act accordingly for the best interest of his fellow pupils and L/N gave her word.”

Remus choked back a laugh. Snape was going to, no matter what, let his secret slip somehow.

“You’re also exempt from the Transfiguration exams, both you and Miss L/N. You’ve both sustained a degree of varying head injuries and you’ll be graded on a cumulative from McGonagall.”

Dumbledore was forcing Remus to the edge as he bit down on his inner cheek. It was useless to listen to him. “Are you expelling me?”

“No. You should not bear any blame.”

“Dumbledore, no offence, but are you mental?” Remus sputtered adding, “I endangered four students last night.”

“Yes but —” “The next time we won’t be so lucky. I’m a monster, sir. I should be.”

The headmaster sighed. “Remus, give yourself a bit of credit. Think highly of yourself.”

Remus gave a dry laugh, almost baffled at how Dumbledore was acting. Did he just gloss over the fact he could have gotten students infected? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself had he. “How can I?”

“Well Y/N seemed to think very highly of you. She made you a very compelling case along with your friends, Potter, Pettigrew and Black.”

“Black’s not my friend,” Remus countered. He didn’t care about how rude he was being.

“Remus —”

“Is he expelled?”

“No.” The answer had Remus wheeling, anger spiking. “He’s not.”

“Why not? If it isn’t my fault, that I’m not to blame then why isn’t he? He told them how to find me.”

“I understand that this is a very difficult situation and rest assured, Sirius will be punished. I can promise you. But expulsion isn’t the answer.”

Remus refused to look at Dumbledore and he must've realized he was getting nowhere with him. He stood but before leaving, he gave a pitiful look.

“I have done terrible deeds, indulged in foolish pranks that I have lived to regret, but each has been a valuable learning experience. It’s a pity that it came to this. Learn in your heart to forgive, Remus. The world is already filled with too much hate.”

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June 16th, 1976

3. Sadness & pain

Remus had been avoiding the Marauder’s dorm. He’d gone as far as begging Madam Pomfrey (who’d taken pity because she knew what happened) to let him stay another two nights before getting kicked out. Remus always healed physically faster and his wounds were already healed by the third day. Pathetically, he’d been sleeping in dingy passageways or the prefects’ bathroom before relocating after being harassed by the ghosts.

Remus had a plan, avoid them; skip classes, get longer prefect duties, never staying in one spot for too long. He wouldn’t know what would happen if Snape saw him. Although, whatever Dumbledore told him, it kept Snape quite so far. But tonight, he got tired of Moaning Myrtle sobbing.

Before curfew, Remus made it a habit of visiting Y/N, who was still stuck in the wing; both out of guilt and because she was his friend, but he couldn't stay for long — seeing her like that made him wallow in guilt.

Similar to him, Lily had visited, along with the other girls, every day. Today, Lily stayed a little longer, bleeding into the time Remus usually dropped by. He watched as Lily whisper into her ear, causing Y/N to laugh and Lily blush madly as she sat snug by her side. Not wanting to ruin their moment, Remus went to leave before they had the chance to see him.

Remus had another pressing matter anyway.

He entered one of the nearest bathrooms to give himself some sort of pep talk and stared at the mirror.

You can do this. A voice echoed in his head.

Typically, memories from the full moon came back to Remus a few days or even weeks later, his brain usually too foggy a couple of hours after and even then, he would never fully remember everything. He vaguely remembered seeing a flash of Snape’s face and Prongs but Y/N’s screams were one of the clearer memories from that night.

“REMUS! PLEASE REMUS! STOP!”

Remus looked to stare at himself in the mirror. He observed the scar on the bridge of his nose, feeling bile rush up his throat at the sight.

He was a freak, littered with scars covering himself.

He was disgusting.

Ugly.

Pathetic.

Dangerous.

A monster!

4. Anger

Sirius Black had always been loyal, so what changed that night?

He needed to leave. It was no good staying here anymore.

Remus was shaking with rage, twinged with hurt. He paced outside of the common room door and had a few options running through him. Either start a huge fight with Sirius or just… ignore it.

Avoidance.

Maybe he could ignore Sirius forever? Impossible, surely. Sirius would get bored, anxious within a couple of weeks — that was too generous — a few days sounded right.

With his mind made up, Remus crept up to his room. He could hear the faint shouts of James and pondered about just sleeping in the common room or prefects’ bathroom. Even if he did have to listen to Moaning Myrtle.

Maybe because his senses were still coming down from its peak or James was just brash, but Remus didn’t even have to press his ear on the door.

“— done ENOUGH! — hear me? You better — why are YOU crying? You bloody — understand? Understand?! You will not talk — him — best friends my —”

The only person he's told he was coming back was Wormtail and it sounded like he told Prongs.

Remus didn’t care to listen anymore as he pushed open the door. Pete was sitting on his bed, eyes wide at Remus’ presence surrounded by unwrapped wrappers. He always tended to eat while stressed.

Sirius was looking down at the floor as James stood in front of him, scolding him like a child. But, his head shot up once he walked through the door. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his eyes bloodshot, puffy and circles dark. He didn’t dare look at him.

Remus didn’t acknowledge them, instead moving robotically to the bathroom, changing into his holey yet comfortable clothes before scurrying off to bed, swinging his curtains shut before casting a silencing spell around.

He’d plan to adhere to his avoidance strategy. It worked so far.

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June 18th, 1976 | 1:29 am

“Psst… Moony.”

Remus turned over to face him. “What do you want Peter?”

“Just wanted to check up. You okay?”

“What do you think? Please, leave me alone.” And then closed his bed drapes.

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June 19th, 1976 | 11:37 pm

Peter had crept up to his bed again as Remus laid there awake, thoughts swarming him.

“I’m not in the mood. I’m tired.” He moved to turn over and forced his eyes closed.

Peter had been nothing but amazing. Always thinking about him and his needs but what Remus wanted most was to be alone and Peter's pity and worried features did nothing but make Remus feel like shit.

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June 21st, 1976

In life, there are few things that are certain. Getting older, death, taxes… No matter how hard we try, no matter how good our morals are or our intentions, we all will eventually make mistakes. It’s either as small as burning your food or writing the wrong answer down on a test, but you’re also going to fuck up pretty bad and hurt people. Say something — do something you don’t mean and it’ll end up with both sides hurt. If you want forgiveness, there’s multiple solutions to gain that back, but the two words — obvious, there, waving in front of your face — can be the hardest words to say.

“I’m sorry.” Black muttered for the hundredth time that night. His voice was pushing Remus to the edge as he kept his face straight. Dead. Not once taking Sirius’ shitty apology baits. He continued to stare down at his book, reading silently in his dorm. His teeth hurt from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Remus was right, of course, he was fucking right. Black had grown anxious as he ignored him.

“I’m sorry.”

Remus never really considered himself violent. Sure, he’s gotten into rows that ended with a punch or hex here or there, but Remus didn’t have violent thoughts. If anything, he prided himself on not being a bonehead like Black and Prongs. But, it took every ounce not to beat the shit out of Black right there and then.

Bastard. Scumbag. You mother fucking betrayer.

Remus never liked not being in control. Not having it scared him too much, feeling more animal than man. He did everything to avoid being violent, the wolf was already violent enough and had too much control and Remus refused to let it dictate human him. There was already too much violence, he never wanted to contribute more.

He did everything not to be a monster. But it's like the wolf roared from deep within, scratching and begging to let him pounce.

Remus wasn’t violent — anyone who met him would vouch for that. Fuck, if he saw a spider, he would open a nearby window and release it. But now, he wanted to slam Sirius against a wall and wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze.

You piece of shit. Wanker. Twat. I want you to feel as much pain as I do.

“Moony, please let me explain —”

All the words suddenly blurred before Remus slammed his book shut, causing to become still and quiet.

Sirius trying to explain — excuse his actions — pushed him over the edge. Remus sent a venomous glare at Sirius, waiting for him to talk. His quietness made everyone uneasy.

Selfish bastard.

Any sympathy Remus held for him this past year, along with any logic, evaporated to the point where he felt a rabid thump spread through him. There was a desperation to relieve himself of it — lash out, scream, cry —

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” the rest of the Marauders watched the scene, knowing not to get involved. “It was a mistake and —“

“A mistake?”

Sirius perked up at this. That was the only word he’d spoken to him since the incident. “Honest. I did it because —” “Shut the fuck up.” Remus stood, tall and loomed over Sirius. He could almost smell the fear off him.

He had never been so mad before.

“I — I… I,” stutters Remus. But instead of it being out of shyness or nerves, it was out of pure wrath that he wasn’t able to articulate his emotions properly. He took a deep breath in, attempting to regain control over his emotions but failed as he burned with deep, seething hatred. “I am the monster that mothers tell their children to keep them in at night.”

“Moony —”

“Don’t call me that!” His voice boomed so loud that everyone in the room had to take a step back and shrink down. Remus was always so reserved, only ever lashing out in annoyance close to the full moon but nothing more.

“Living up to your name, aren’t you?” There’s a sarcastic, bitter humour lilt to his voice.

Someone so in control of his emotions, someone with an unbreakable exterior, the only glimpses they’d ever seen of Remus losing control was him snapping at someone close to the full moon but would later apologize within mere seconds. But to see him like that… it was an intrusion, something the Marauders hadn’t ever seen or wanted to before.

“Please, just calm down so we can talk.”

Remus paces around the room. “You — y’know I’ve never understood why everyone lets you get around treating others like shit. First, it was Marlene, James, me, Peter, Lily and Y/N — we all let you get away with it. Outburst after outburst, we all sat back because you were going through shit. But I can’t? I’m not allowed to get angry?!”

Sirius wouldn’t look at him.

“Look at me.” Remus kept his voice low throughout the ordeal, only ever raising if Black interjected. “You coward, look at me!”

5. A lot of anger

He couldn’t meet his eyes so he settled to stare at the scar across his nose. It only angered him more as Remus picked Sirius up and pushed him against the wall as he fisted his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry is nothing but a word to you. I gave you my most trusted secrets. I confided in you. I was there for you when you needed it. I loved and cared for you like my own brother but I was nothing more than a pet that you discarded when you got bored. You’re only guilty because of the repercussions you’re facing. Your guilt isn’t nearly enough. Bastard. I trusted you. You’re a Marauder. My best friend. I would’ve done anything for you. You fucking ruined it.

“You did this! You did!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He laughs, mocking and loud, void of any emotion. “No, you aren’t. You’re never fucking sorry!”

Stupid fucking selfish arsehole.

“For years you’ve told me that you accepted me — cared for me — loved me like your own brother! That what I am — a-a monster — that it didn’t matter!”

“It didn’t mean anything, I promise! It was a shitty, fucked up prank —”

“A prank?! You used me as a weapon! A toy because how could anyone ever love a werewolf?” Remus’ voice was so low. “You’ve never respected me. If you had any, you wouldn’t have — you - wouldn’t....”

Everything came crashing on Remus at once.

6. The realization settles in

And after nine days, Remus Lupin had finally realized what Sirius Black had done. Before, everything he felt had been true but he hadn’t fully realized the gravity of what happened, as silly as it sounds.

Sirius turned his worst fear into a living nightmare.

In the background, one of James’ Quidditch posters, encased in glass exploded, shattering into millions of pieces from the amount of pure magic radiating off Remus. He didn’t even flinch at the sound.

James finally interjected, placing a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Lay off him… He isn’t worth it.”

Remus eased off Black instantly. “You had no right… no right…” He pointed. Remus turned his face down as he felt tears build up.

“I trusted you,” he whispers. “Every bit.”

Remus stormed out of the dorm, going to sleep in the common room.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

June 22nd, 1976

7. Depression

When Remus finally let himself cry, he didn’t make a move to leave his bed. Even skipping meal times, leaving James or Pete to bring him food.

Everything felt suffocating, a gnawing feeling that made every part of him ache. Remus couldn’t handle anymore pain or emotions from ‘the prank’ as he felt himself slip into a temporary void.

He hugged his pillow tighter and closed his eyes once more.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

June 23rd, 1976 | 11: 37 pm

Remus had gone straight to bed again, effectively shutting up the rest of the dorm. James was ignoring Black, leaving Remus surprised that he hadn’t made a move to defend his actions. Nonetheless, he was appreciative still. Peter had been trying to appease everyone, not taking sides but still must’ve thought Sirius was in the wrong because he hadn’t talked to him much.

He didn’t ask James to choose between him or Black. Remus was never one for ultimatums but even then, it seemed like James picked him. He was beyond furious, seemingly more than Remus at this point who pathetically wallowed in his depression. He wouldn’t spare Black a second glance, wouldn’t talk to him, shut him down if he tried to speak to him. Hell, he’d even gone as far as to make it very clear to the entirety of Hogwarts that they were no longer friends, making sure to not sit with him, ever. Always choosing to sit by Remus.

They chose his side and a part of Remus felt elated to know they had his back.

This left Black alone, looking at them through tearful gazes. Remus had been ignoring all of them and they seemed to be understanding, avoiding crossing the wordless boundary Remus set in stone.

But, both James and Peter had been checking up on him nightly, always there and he could tell they were getting impatient.

When the lights went out, he heard James crept out of bed. Usually, Remus would find some sort of comfort in knowing who was approaching him, but now, it only left him feeling uneasy.

And then he felt the bed dip and James muttered out a spell.

“Hey, Moony.”

Remus didn’t face him. “Prongs?”

“Hey,” there was a loud sigh, “Do you need anything?”

What was he supposed to say? A hug? To talk? He’d much rather use his avoidance strategy, although he realized it left him alone with too many thoughts and nobody to confide in.

“M’good.” He felt James place a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll always be there for you. That’s what Marau - that’s what friends are for, no?”

Remus didn’t answer and felt James move to leave. But before he had the chance to slip out, Remus peeked his head from the drapes, announcing just loud enough for Sirius to hear.

“Thanks for saving all of us, James. You’re a true friend.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

June 24th, 1976

People had their poisons.

Alcohol can make you forget. It blocks out everything and makes the rest of the world fade away until you can’t remember. People gambled to feel a rush, only to realize they dug themself into irreversible debt. Shopping, food, the high from risky behaviour…

But how we manage our poisons is up to the person.

People love to deny that they have addictions. They deny they’re hooked, they deny that they can’t put it down, they deny that they’re scared or want to stop. People only see what they want to see, believe what they want to believe.

And then the truth becomes muddled with lies that it’s hard to recognize the poisons sitting right in front of us. And all we want is more.

For Remus, his poison, his bright red self-destruction button, was smoking.

Granted, he never was a big smoker, typically only smoking when stressed or bored. But he still did it, filling his lungs with poison. But maybe he was wired like that. Besides, what werewolf lives past thirty? Might as well die revelling in the poison that brought him ease…

Remus conjured a ball of bright fire from his hand; fishing out a pack of cigarettes, slipped it past his lips and lit it. He inhaled, feeling the familiar, comforting feeling before dragging it from his lips, blowing out the thick cloud of smoke that left him wanting more.

He’d been sticking to his avoidance tactic strictly now. The Marauders were hovering over him, worry evident on their faces. A few times, Lily and James both invited him to sit. They never fought anymore, or at least in front of him, and it probably was his doing — a group effort into getting him to talk.

So even Lily knew something was wrong… Snape probably told her…

The door clicked open and Remus didn’t have to turn around to know how it was.

“Leave me alone. I’m not ready to talk.”

“Wasn’t gonna make you.”

He spun around, that wasn’t James or Peter. His face softened.

“Well… I’m not,” Y/N said simply, “But the others are about to.”

Remus groaned at that but Y/N smiled and turned around, ushering him over with a little wave. In one hand, she raised the Marauder’s map. “C’mon, I know a place and that they won’t be able to find.”

Remus was intrigued. He stepped out the butt of the cigarette, flicked it into the trash and followed her. Surely he’d already been there but being with Y/N seemed ten folds better than being around the other Marauders.

He followed wordlessly, passageways flying through his head but she never stopped by them. Instead, she climbed onto a ledge, slipping into an area under a large curtain. He followed, eyes lighting up in awe. He’s definitely never been there before.

“Get comfortable,” she said, flinging him a pillow and lighting a few candles.

They sat opposed to each other in complete silence. Y/N flicked back and forth, watching James and Peter scrabble around the castle looking for him. A few times, they passed by, each time leaving Y/N amused.

Remus tapped his leg anxiously. The question remained: Why wasn’t she disgusted with him? Why was she helping him? Why wasn’t she afraid?

Now alone together, those questions dangled on his tongue.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

She looked up at him, finally putting down the map. “Because you’re Remus.” She said, like it was the most obvious answer. “You’re not scary.”

8. Hold onto doubt

The answer irritated him. Another memory unfolded then and he blurted it out. “Why didn’t you cast any spells at me?”

Her brows rose, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m dangerous.” His voice was bleak and cold. “Why can't you grasp that?”

She stays quiet for a long time, her head turning to look out the large window. Y/N watched the owls and labyrinth of ancient trees of the forbidden forest and Remus was painfully aware of time slipping by.

“Do you remember that night on the astronomy tower on Halloween? I said that there’s bound to be someone looking at the moon at the same time?”

It takes Remus a moment to remember, but he does. “Yeah. You said that it’s like you’re not alone.”

Y/N turns around to face him. “Exactly. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

He looked away, deliberating. “It’s one thing for me to be alone but then drag you and others down with me.”

“Remus, I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t scared. I was terrified. I thought that was it.” He gulped. “But I could never be scared of you. The real you - the you right now. I don’t care about what you are. You are more than just a werewolf. I feel safe with you.”

The dark shadows surrounded them as she reiterated herself. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

He soaks in her words for a while. This time, peering out the window as he breathes in deeply.

Okay. He decided.

“Do you want to know how I got —” he pointed at a scar on his upper forearm. “— this?”

She nodded her head.

“When James turned into his animagus form to show me for the first time, his antlers pierced my skin. I had to lie to Pomfrey and say I fell while playing Quidditch.”

Any invisible barrier between them crashed instantly as she smiled brightly and laughed. So infectious, Remus couldn't help but flash a real grin.

He never realized how beautiful her smile was.

“Oh, and if you ever tell anyone about this place, I’ll skin you.”

“I would never.”

Remus scouted over to her, pressing his back against the cool stone as they sat together in a comfortable stillness. But then she shifted, opening her arms wide. He lent in without hesitation and her arms flung around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He felt salty tears stinging in the corners of his eyes and let himself soak in her warm.

He really needed that.

Over her shoulder, he returned to watch the stars.

9. Acceptance

Remus learned from a young age that it was better to keep people at an arm's length. Get too close, they’ll dig, find out his condition, fear him and run.

He hates to say it, but he’s not surprised that his secret slipped out. He got too comfortable, got too close... It’s just that the Sirius component was surprising.

But maybe it wasn’t surprising. Ever since the beginning of the year, especially since winter break, Sirius had been reckless more and more lately, and he probably should have seen it coming. He was wild as a result of being freed from the confines of his rigid upbringing.

Sirius Black was unpredictable.

Sirius Black was dangerous when it came to secrets.

Sirius Black was one of his best friends.

Sometimes betrayal is so profound that there’s no way to fix what was lost. The damage is done, irreplaceable, unfixable.

If Remus was sure of anything by the end of that week was that,

a) James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were still his best friends,

b) He almost killed Severus Snape and Y/N L/N,

c) Y/N knew his secret and despite everything, continued to talk to him, support him, be there for him — she accepted him,

d) His walls went up a higher, became stronger and insecurities ran deeper,

e) Lastly, Remus Lupin would never, ever forgive Sirius Black for what he did. Never.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

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neozoid · 3 years ago

Text

Peril comes out

Peril's wingtips touched Clay's as they silently soared through the soft gray rain.

Half an hour ago, she had asked him if he would take just one moment to fly with her. After everything that had happened, with Jade Mountain Academy under threat and those little rapscallions - Moon, Turtle, Kinkajou, Anemone, Qibli, and Winter - had all managed to save it. The past week... no, weeks? She had lost track of time. But they had been a blur - a blur of emotions, of frustration, of painful, deep searing guilt, Darkstalker's scroll looming in her mind, and of longing. She hadn't gotten to talk to Clay in so long, and she wasn't sure that at the end of it he'd still feel the same way about her that he did when she saved his life on the brightest night.

She turned to look at his face in the grayness. His expression was focused, concentrated, effortful.

He must still be in a lot of pain from that burn I gave him, Peril thought guiltily.

No! She shook her head. I kept him alive! If it wasn't for me he'd be dead! But that didn't make her feel any better.

She turned her gaze back down to the valleys below, vast and dotted in slate blue pine trees obscured by the falling droplets. They rolled harmlessly off Clay, but they sizzled when they hit her and dissolved into steam, making her look like a ghost in flight. The rocky outcroppings below resembled a sleeping dragon - as if the landscape itself, was, once again, put to rest after Darkstalker's second sleep.

"Peril," Clay spoke.

She whipped her head around to him. "Clay?"

"I'm... I'm starting to get a bit tired. Do you think we could stop somewhere down below? Maybe in a cave."

She quickly scanned the landscape below her, and saw an opening just a half mile away. "Yeah, I see something down there." She turned herself in the direction of the cave, and Clay followed her.

As they came in for a landing, Peril opened her wings wide, scattering a million fallen petals that intermingled with the rain. She softly touched down and carefully wrapped her wings around herself, and looked back at Clay, beckoning.

They both sat in the mouth of the cave, tails twined, watching the rain fall.

After what seemed like just a moment (but Peril knew full well was the better part of an hour,) Clay looked at her and asked "So... do you want to talk about Scarlet? Or Ruby? Or the stuff that happened while you were helping Moon and her friends save Jade Mountain?"

Peril stared at him, startled. "No! I mean, yes! I mean, just..." She sighed and looked at the roof of the cave. "I do, but like... hrmmmnnm." She closed her mouth shut and hummed.

"I get it. It can be hard to talk about stuff like this. It took us five forever to find the time to reflect and talk about our feelings after everything happened." He looked at the ceiling too and laughed. "Tsunami..." he muttered happily, and shortly his smile faded, his face a sad, wistful stare. "And Glory."

"I... hm." She fidgeted with her talons nervously. "I mean, I DO want to talk about Queen Scarlet and Ruby and-" she shook her head, "not-queen-Scarlet and- arghh, but it's so! CONFUSING! And it makes me mad to think about her manipulating like that. I trusted her, I really did and..."

Clay looked into the rain. "Like we trusted Morrowseer."

"I... I guess... yeah..." She looked into a corner awkwardly, but then curled her fist. "She shouldn't have betrayed us like that!" she roared.

"What about... Turtle?" Clay offered.

Peril's heart jumped in her stomach. She thought about Turtle, the only other dragon who had understood and trusted her, at least for a while. How protective she felt of him, how she wanted to follow him (and then not...) when they were trying to find Queen Scarlet. She thought about how he went underwater that night, making her rage about how she couldn't get to him, and how regretful she felt when she left him behind. He made her feel new things, just like Clay, new weird things.

"He was nice, I guess."

"How did he feel about being an animus? That must've been why he was able to sympathize with you. He knew if he revealed his animus secret he'd be thrust into the talons of others and the plans they wanted for him, and the only way to avoid that was deep, resolute isolation. He knows how that feels, Peril."

She fumed with fury for a second. Why could he hide! He got to choose that lousy isolation, but she didn't have a choice! Then she thought about his pain-stricken face when she found his healing rock, or his vengeful look as he bashed Chameleon upside the-

Chameleon.

She stared through the wall of water passing outside.

"Peril," Clay whispered.

"Oh. Right." She looked back at him.

"I know it's a lot of stuff to think about, but I can't keep carrying this conversation by myself." He softly chuckled with a warm, patient smile.

She blushed and fluttered her wings. "Right. Sorry, sorry. I was just- argh. Arghhh." She squirmed, as if caterpillars were crawling out of her skin.

Do I tell him?

"Turtle," she said resolutely, "taught me new things about myself. He reminded me of you, actually, Clay. You were my first exposure to life outside the Skywing Palace, and if I'm being honest I was kind of disappointed with the other dragonets at Jade Academy, how they treated me. I thought they'd be like you - I thought everyone in the outside world would be like that."

Clay winced.

"But Turtle! Turtle has his friends, and, surely, he's taught them! I keep getting letters from them. Which is like, weird, but the fact that someone's thinking about me!? While I'm not in front of them!?! Threatening to blaze their FACE or melt their SKIN off!?!?!" She yelled with a smile. "It's CRAAAAZY!"

Clay let out a hearty laugh, smiling as well.

"And Queen Ruby - she hated me, she hated me so bad Clay, she hated me just as much as the other Skywings did, if not more. If Scarlet's twisted love is what makes me ache, Ruby's absolute hatred of me tore me to the core. She looked at me and didn't want anybody, nobody in the whole world to do anything with me. Didn't want anyone to touch me, look at me, love me. She saw me as an irredeemable monster because of things I couldn't control." Peril's face contorted in despair.

"But Tourmaline... Someone who hadn't been fed Scarlet's lies... She saw right through that and she knew deep in my heart I COULD love." She scratched her snout awkwardly. "Well, at least I think I can. I'm not sure."

Clay lovingly jabbed her with her shoulder, and she giggled.

"But that pure strong spirit.... It's so." Her stomach dropped. "It's so scary what Chameleon did to her. Ripped her title, her memories, her life away just for some gold, some jewels." She spat on the ground.

"And Chameleon..."

Her stomach felt like a howling void, ready to collapse her from the inside out.

Do I tell him?

What if he hates me?

He should hate me.

I'm just as bad as him.

I'm just like my dad.

She turned to Clay terrified.

"I-" she sputtered. "I want to tell you something."

Clay looked at her face, concerned, but he motioned around. "Just you and me."

"I-" Peril's muscles clenched, her veins wrapped all around inside her, her bones stabbed inside her, shame made her heat blaze ever hotter, shame and guilt and pain and fear. She wanted to fall into the ground and have it swallow her up, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

"I'm not - I'm not actually a girl. I was hatched as a boy. I- I- Queen Scarlet, she said, she- she wanted me to be like her and- " Words started running over one another. "When you got here- I- I- I just felt like protecting you- and- but- I didn't want you to give up on me- Having a relationship- I-" She wanted to die. She wanted to disappear. "I'm a liar. I'm- I'm just like Chameleon," she howled. "I'm faking it. I- I wanted you but I- I just-" She let go, and wailed.

She looked back at him. "P-please don't-don't hate me," Peril choked through tears.

Clay softly gazed at her, leaned in closer, his wings wrapping around her, and kissed her on her snout.

Peril tears turned to confusion as she leaped with delight and her scales roared a bright blazing blue, the searing heat singing any leftover moss in the cavern. Clay reflexively pulled away, and patted his singed scales, laughing.

"Ow, geez, haha! Not like that!"

"I- I- Huh??"

Peril stepped back, but looked up and peered at his expression.

He really doesn't hate me, she thought wondrously.

As Clay turned looking over himself, his scales settled, and as the smoke rose, he looked at Peril.

"You know, someone else actually said something similar to me a little while ago." He sat back down.

Peril crooned. "R-Really?"

"Yeah. It was - it was Sunny."

Peril's jaw dropped open.

"She'd mentioned to me how she'd - during our time fulfilling the dragonet prophecy, she'd... we'd kind of ignore her most of the time. Not take her seriously. When we first planned on escaping the cavern, we didn't tell her.... she was so upset, afterwards. And in all of our discussions and planning afterwards, we'd step on her feelings. Actually, you remember the Nightwing invasion? Or, well, whatever came of the invasion before they all came crashing into Glory's rainforest under fealty."

"Yeah?" Peril looked at him.

"She was the one who came up with the idea of using the sleeping darts! But Glory was planning, and the others were shouting, so she had to ask me to use my voice and SHOUT it at everyone. The point is, she felt small. And overly protected - we didn't respect her whole, y'know, feelings as part of the team."

Peril flicked her tail, anxious.

"So... A couple nights ago, she talked to me in private, and she told me how she'd been feeling, and... she said she didn't really feel like it was right to be a Queen anymore. Given Thorn had safely secured the position, and was doing a good job... And with everything about the Eye of Onyx." Clay shifted on his talons. "She could trust it to pick a new leader. And the thing is, you know how... you've seen Deathbringer. You've seen Riptide. You've seen Starflight and maybe even Winter and Qibli. And maybe even Darkstalker, and Clearsight."

He sighed.

"Male dragons have a strong feeling to protect one person, the one person who brings them all the light in the world. Sunny said she didn't really feel like that - like one person had captured her whole heart in their hands. But she certainly didn't want to be the object of that kind of affection either. And Sunny didn't feel like Queen Coral or Thorn or Scarlet either, where she wanted to protect her own kin, her own future. She wants to protect everybody. And more than that, she doesn't want to be Sunny the small and weak and lovable, or Sunny the fierce and possessive and loyal. She just wants to be... Sunny, helping out wherever she can."

Peril stared at him intently, blue eyes locked in brown. "And?"

"Well, at first we tried just referring to Sunny by name to sort of, you know, respect her decision, but Starflight looked through the library and found in some old scrolls people using 'they' to refer to - did you even know there were dragons who decided to live past being a boy or a girl in the past, just like Sunny? I was surprised."

Peril's mind was racing. "They must be so happy," she said, eyes sparkling.

Outside, the rain had cleared, and Peril noticed out beyond the cave was a huge field of sunflowers, waving and dancing in the cool wind.

Suddenly her thoughts returned to her.

"But that thing you said earlier about protecting..." Peril looked down at her talons uncomfortably.

"Oh yeah - sorry, I... I didn't mean to. I just..." Clay caught himself. "I... I'm sorry Peril. I know your feelings about this must be really, really complicated. I..." Clay looked away again with a twinge of guilt on his face.

Peril stared at him, trembling.

"But Sunny taught me something I hadn't even thought about before." He chuckled. "I did think about it too, but after a long night of restless staring at the sky and thinking I figured I was perfectly happy being a guy. But that look on Sunny's face... they must have struggled as much with telling us as you did."

"I love you, Peril. I don't think you're anything like Chameleon at all. He only used his identities to trick and manipulate others, to get what he wanted for himself. But you've only ever been trying to find yourself - with Scarlet twisting your thoughts from birth, with how everyone's avoided you and you've been excluded from all the Skywings and, man, even the other dragon's games on Jade Mountain. It must hurt so much to be that isolated."

Peril stared into the field, unable to meet his gaze, tears running down her face.

"I just want you to know, Peril, I love you for who you chose to be. For all of your heroism, and your kindness. Your self-restraint. Chameleon had none of those qualities. But you do."

He stared her straight in the eye.

"What you chose is noble, and so so hard. Being true to yourself - more than Chameleon ever was, he couldn't handle being boring old him - is so, so hard. I know."

Peril thought about the Chameleon's enchanted necklace that removed her firescales. She shuddered deeply."

But you did it. And you shouldn't have to live with the shame, or the guilt anymore. You can have a new beginning just like us." His eyes creased as he looked into hers so warmly, making her melt. "You might protect my scales, but I want to protect your smile. I hope you can let me do that."

"I-"

She rushed forward and hugged him, squeezing him tight. Tears streamed down her face, and she choked down a sob, but she hugged him as tight as she could, not letting go.

"Thank you, Clay," she said when she finally let him out of her little death trap.

"Woof!" He stumbled backwards, breathlessly. "I know I said be true to yourself, but maybe we can work a little on the intensity." He looked at her with a silly expression on his face. "Just kidding. You're perfect the way you are."

"Ha ha," she guffawed. "Tell that to anyone else at Jade Academy." She joked, but she knew deep in her heart that the others were starting to see her for what she could be, too. Not just a monster, or a weapon - but a friend.

"So my queen, shall we return to the mountain?" He curtseyed awkwardly, then looked up with one eye. "Actually, wait, that sounds kind of weird? Girlfriend? Babe?" He started scratching his head. "Names were never really my strong suit."

She howled with laughter and smacked him on the back, taking flight. "Just call me Peril," she triumphantly roared. As Clay lept into flight behind her, grinning, Peril thought... Not gonna lie - I like babe too.

#wings of fire #wof #wings of fire spoilers #wof spoilers #wof clay #wof peril #i did it #i wrote my first fanfic

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attllhak · 3 years ago

Text

Flora’s Musings

So, here’s the WingAU fic I mentioned. It’s the first one I wrote and features the fun trope of “The Unreliable Narrator That Is History”, which I had a lot of fun with.

I, don’t have a tag list for this AU at this point. So, this part is just my preamble I guess. So, preamble over, here’s the fic.

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

Zelda ran her fingertips between her shoulder blades. She tried not to think about what wasn’t there.

Her wings would come in, she hoped, no she knew they would. They had to. As the princess fated to stop Calamity Ganon it was her duty to unlock her sealing powers, face him, and earn her wings.

It was why she was down here now, in the hidden and secret library they’d excavated. No one cared about this area of the castle, but Zelda loved it there. It was so full of knowledge, and there were records about the Queens and Princesses of the past, ones who had wings themselves.

It was certainly a good excuse to hide down there and do research.

There weren’t many documents on the founders of Hyrule, but she’d translated a few of the ancient texts and had learned much. Apparently her powers came from the fact she was descended from Hylia herself! There were exactly three paintings of her down there, and all of them were old and weathered. Two, one of her alone and one next to her husband, the first King of Hyrule, who was holding the Master Sword, his own wings giving him away as the first of Link’s incarnations, were so old almost all of the colour was gone. The last one, however, had been tucked into a book and, protected from the elements, retained some of its colour.

The goddess reborn had gold wings, bright and shining and as beautiful as everyone expected them to be. Her Hero, however, had red wings, a bright crimson with soft gold flight feathers. What was more, this painting seemed to depict them in their downtime, the goddess still dressed up and all, but leaning over the edge of her throne. Her Hero sat on the dias and leaned against the throne, and was messing with something in his hands that the goddess seemed to be watching, though age obscured what it was. It was entirely unprofessional and sweet, and it made Zelda happy. It made them seem less like untouchable figures of pure good and more like real people. She liked that they were people too.

There was only one picture of the next Queen, and it was so old and weathered that Zelda was scared to touch it lest it crumble into dust. This queen had smaller wings, though Zelda couldn’t tell what colour they were supposed to be. Her Hero was there too, and he had four wings, and Zelda couldn’t be sure but it almost seemed like each wing was a different colour. She couldn’t find any other record of these two, and so she’d taken a picture of the image on the Sheikah Slate to preserve it. This painting was important.

One of the Queens came from the point in history called the Split, a strange period of several thousand years where very different events happened at the same time. They had, through the records in the castle libraries and the temples across Hyrule, figured out this Queen had lived three different recorded lives. Regardless, she always looked the same, or similar at least, in all of her lives. She was a warrior, and her wings, indigo and white and flecked with gold, were always held in a way that showed pride.

Her Hero wasn’t always with her, in two of her lifetimes she ruled alone. In one of them, her Hero had died trying to fight Ganon, and was buried with wings wrapped about him, as was traditional for Heroes and their Queens. The Queen had been Princess then, the books say, and was only 17. I made Zelda uneasy, Link had turned 17 just a few months ago, and her 17th birthday was fast approaching. To think the Hero of Time could die at 17 made her worried for her own Hero. The next of the two he just, wasn’t there. There was no record of the Hero after he defeated Ganon, he just vanished without a trace. Zelda still wanted to know why. The last life gave the most information on the Hero, but he wasn’t listed as a Hero at all. There was no fight in this life, just peace and a failed arrest. As far as historians could tell, this was the most accurate life of hers, but Zelda wasn’t so sure. After all, she and the head of her Royal Guard both had wings. Something had to have happened. These were the only records of the Hero of Time where his wings were visible. A beautiful metallic copper, with darker bronze flight feathers. He seemed to keep them close to his body, like he didn’t want anyone to pay attention to him or them. He apparently married a farm girl in this life.

There were different heirs in each of these lives. For the first life the Queen was a fighter, one with all kinds of magic at her fingertips. Her wings were pink and red, and when she spread them a little bit of gold could be seen at the base of them. This was a Queen who never shied away from the many, many issues her people faced. And many issues there were, records argued whether the number of quests her Hero went on was five or six or twelve. He seemed grumpy in every painting, but after seven-ish quests Zelda would be too. His wings were pink, a million different shades at once. He also seemed to prefer long tunics or dresses to pants. Apparently he didn’t like pants.

After them came a pair of Queens. Zelda initially thought they were cousins, but apparently one was the other’s ancestor, as bizarre as that was. Only one of the two had wings, a soft amber or honey colour, a safe, warm brown. The Princess didn’t have wings, but was no less important if the records and paintings were to be believed. Their Hero didn’t look like much, but his wings, a deep, dark green with earthy brown flight feathers, told of his heroics enough that his looks didn’t have to. Records said he married the Princess, but they never had children, instead helping the Queen raise her bastard twins as a group. Zelda wondered if perhaps the three had all been together, so to speak, and the twins were actually his.

In the second life, there was only one heir, a woman who was named ‘Tetra’ and not Zelda. Her wings were blue, with red separating the blue from gold flight feathers. It was a beautiful colour. Her Hero was usually pictured at her side, his silver tipped sea foam green feathers shining next to her. Those two were always painted outside, and usually on a boat of some kind.

Following the timeline that was decided to be ‘true’, the Queen following the Queen of Three Lives was her great-granddaughter. Her wings, sleek and graceful, were solid black save for the lowest layer of feathers, which was a soft golden-orange colour. Her Hero was hardly ever at her side, history said he spent most of his time in his home village or on assignments for the Queen. Zelda didn’t know if they didn’t get along, or if he hated the city and castle, or why it was that he was never around his Queen, but there was only one painting of him next to her. His wings were big, wide and strong, a range of soft oranges with a rare black feather scattered across them. He also wore a strange charm on a rope around his neck, but no one seemed to know what it was.

The only other Queen, save for the one from 10 000 years ago, was one with a story so outlandish that historians debated on whether or not she was real. She always held a sword or bow in hand, and her wings were either spread for flight or held in close for combat. They were gold, with white flight feathers that seemed to go indigo at the base of each feather. Black flecked the gold, making it obvious she was a fighter. Her Hero was always with her, his wings out behind him, flared up in a show of pride or confidence, a rallying cry for his troops. They fought in a war, so the records claimed. His wings were gold, shiny silver spots scattered over his wings, not dissimilar to the stars in the sky, that made his wings look like they glittered. He was beautiful, as was his Queen, and it was clear that the two were very close.

There weren’t any records on the wings of the Queen 10 000 years ago, nor her Hero, and Zelda didn’t know why that was. Perhaps those records were lost when the Sheikah split. It was unlikely she would ever know.

Zelda didn’t know when her wings would come in, and some days she feared they never would. It was a comfort at least that Link’s wings hadn’t come in yet either.

He found her a few hours later, bringing her a blanket and some food. He sat with her and politely signed a request for her to read to him. They read all through the night, and Impa found them the next morning, Zelda leaned over the desk with her head on her arms and Link leaning on the side of her desk, head tilted back and drooling. She left them there.

When the Calamity hit and she didn’t get her wings she felt like such a failure, especially since Link’s wings had just broken skin a few moments ago, greyish brown wings that were still all fluff coming through the slits in his tunic designed to accommodate them.

She sat next to him in the Shrine of Resurrection, just before they sealed it. His wings were still small, they had never had the chance to come in fully before he fell. She reached over and brushed hair from his face, watching his relaxed features and ignoring the burns on the rest of his body.

“Don’t worry, Link,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure they’re all safe until you wake up,”

She marched on the castle then, staring down the Calamity and ready to give everything she had to keep him at bay.

She reached forward, holding her hand out to the monster and ready to fight. She could feel the triforce on her hand burn in response, her body spilling a radiant golden light. The monster dove for her, and she held her ground, eyes open and ready to stand and fight.

A push on her shoulders, then the pressure bursting and wings spread out behind her.

Blue and white feathers sat on the ground where she was moments before.

(---)

Link stepped into the castle, tiny wings fluffed up in anxiety and nerves making them quiver. He paused as he moved towards the heart, lifting one foot.

Under his boot, was a pair of blue and white feathers, perfectly preserved from when they fell there 100 years before.

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