#if you look closely at Rabbit's left foot you can see the crack where I had to glue it

[angryjewishcockroach]

This menorah is almost from the Disney Store from back in the days when a) there were Disney Stores outside of NYC and the Disney Parks, and b) said Disney Stores actually sold more than just a few cheap toys and clothes and costumes for kids (aka the 90s). It's a really cute menorah, especially for a kid, though difficult to clean, as you can see by the wax spots in the snow making it look like the Hundred Acre Wood has turned into a murder scene. Some years ago, Rabbit (and, by extension, Gopher) broke off the menorah, and I finally got around to gluing them back on this year, so we get to use it again! I've put little tinfoil cups in each of the hunny pot candle holders in an attempt to keep it reasonably clean.

The candles we're using for this menorah are beeswax candles we found on sale in our synagogue's gift shop after Chanukah last year. They're made of sheets of colored beeswax rolled up around a wick. So far, they're working pretty well. We're using them in this menorah because it's the only one we have they fit in.

[wishe-d-doll666]

The first night to remember…

Tobias Erin Rodgers. The famous serial killer known for committing mass arson and the murder of his father. He has not been found since he mysteriously vanished with no trace…

“S-Shu-Shit!” Toby cursed out, his Tourette’s getting the best of him. He carried his hatchet through the woods trying not to make sound as he thought the police were hot on his trail. Sometimes the hatchet would bounce off a root when he would occasionally drag it and cut his calf. He didn’t mind. He couldn’t even feel it. As he trudged through the woods looking for shelter he stepped on something odd. When he stepped on it, it clinked. Of course, he thought it was some sort of beer can or another piece of trash which wasn’t rare in his area. People throw trash in the street all the time. Sometimes even glass bottles, something reminiscent of his childhood. The first time he went on a walk with his sister. Toby was about 3 or 4 from his recollection and he wore the cutest little sandals. While he was walking, he fell in the ditch and cut his foot on a broken whiskey bottle. Lyra carried him back home and bandaged his wound. Oh, how he missed her… He refocused himself and kept walking. However, it was that same clinking noise. He looked down and realized he was walking on scrap metal. “S-Scrap m-muh…metal?” He whispered to himself, kicking some leaves off of it. It was an advertisement for a… pizzeria? Out here? There’s no way a pizzeria is back there! Right? Toby knows everything around here. He kept walking. He walked until he arrived in a parking lot. Looking up, he sees… The pizzeria. It had a bear on it and it said something like, “Freddy Fazbears Pizza.”

“F-Freddy… F-fuh… Fazbear?”

Toby stuttered and hunched over as a tic.

He goes up to the door and breaks the cracked glass. It didn’t matter if he got hurt; like I said, he couldn’t feel it. He has a rare condition called CIPA. Anyway, he walks into the building. It had a nostalgic smell, It’s like his father’s alcohol that spilled on the 3 week old pizza which was about to start growing mold. As he walks further in, it was filled with old arcade games and left behind tables, cups and silverware, and… A stage. He peeks behind the curtain and freezes.

“W-What… Wh-What are you?”

He pulls the curtain back, revealing 3 animatronics of a bear, bunny, and chicken. “Huh… Y-You must be-be Fr-Fre-Freddy, hm?” Toby asked as if the bear was a person as he chuckled softly, like he didn’t just set his neighborhood on fire, killing his father with the hatchet he carried. He turned his attention towards another, smaller curtain that says “Pirates Cove!” on it.

He moved the curtain back on Pirates cove and sees a fox animatronic, designed to look like a pirate.

“T-The ‘P-Puh… Pirate’s C-Cove’ really makes sen-sense now, heh…”

He chuckled again and went to explore more. Toby found his way to the back of the building, where the security guard should be. Yet, there was no security guard. No wonder he could just… break in. He turns on the computers and cameras. As he did, a VHS player starts, explaining the security guard job.

“D-Dammit. I’m-I’m not starting a job…”

Toby cussed out as he dropped his hatchet, watching the video anyways. It was only about 11 PM, so the, what the VHS called “night guard’s”, shift started in about an hour. He watched the video, bored out of his mind. He decided he’ll do it, out of pure boredom. Toby went to the locker, put the uniform on, and sat in front of the cameras. “D-Damn th-this limited power… B-Bullshit.” He snarled under his mask. He checked the first camera. The stage. “W-What?! Where’s the rabbit?!” He yelled and checked around, seeing it in the hallway. He peeked out the door, watched it walk closer as he hid inside, closing the door and checking the light. It stood there. Staring. “F-Fuck off… Y-You c-crackwhore r-ra…rabbit.” This bullshit of checking the cameras, closing and opening the doors, checking the animatronics kept on until 5 AM… Then, he checked the camera showing the Pirate Cove. The fox was about to start going down the hallway. Toby thought that fox will start walking like the others until he checked again. He looked at the hallway camera and the fox was running. It ran… He slammed the door closed and he could hear banging and scratching. Toby never got scared of… anything other than his dad. But this… this was different. The little alarm clock hit 6 AM and made this little bell noise. It was like, celebration music. He grabbed his axe, opened the door, and ran out. He held his axe like he is going to swing at anything coming in front of him. As he ran outside, he realized it was day out… He can’t go out with cops looking for him…

(Part 2??)

Suggested by @coquetteraccoon

[twoidiotwriters1]

Together —(March sisters xsibling!reader)

A/N: Here it is! I was missing my sisters cause we no longer live all under the same roof and it has me very emotional, pls accept this -Danny Words: 1,005 Twoidiots Masterlist

It's been a rough Tuesday. Your lovely bunny pet passed away and you're not sure why, you took such good care of it, and yet it wasn't enough.

You're sad and confused, so in short, Marmee allowed you to stay today and skip school.

You've been in bed this whole time, breakfast went cold and so did your tea. But you're so tired you don't even feel hungry.

Until someone rudely jumps on top of you and kicks the air out of your lungs.

"AMY!" You can hear Meg's bossy tone from the hall. "We were told to leave Y/N be!"

"But it's a lovely day and Y/N promised we would build a fort!" Amy's muffled voice comes from above you.

"Sister dear," You talk groggily. "Get up or I'll roll you up on the beddings and throw you in the lake."

"Oh, is Y/N feeling better? Wonderful! You won't believe what happened today at school!" Jo's energetic voice storms into your room and now it's plain impossible to go back to sleep.

"No I'm not feeling better, get out!" You snap, sitting up with Amy still sprawled over your blankets. "Leave! Can't you see I'm mourning?"

"What's morning?" Amy asks. "That's what you call skipping school? You pretend is not noon yet?"

"Y/N said mourning," Jo corrects, sitting next to you and holding your hand to play with your fingers. "It means being sad about losing a loved one. She lost her baby rabbit, remember?"

"Y/N? Are you feeling better?" Beth steps into the room hesitantly with Meg following close, scowling at their younger sisters for vexing you.

You sigh, coming to terms with the fact that you're alone time is over. "I'm not ready to get out of bed if that's what you're asking. Can you please leave?"

"Have you eaten?" Jo asks, placing a hand on your forehead. "I can allow you to be sad, but I won't let you starve yourself to death. You promised to help Amy build a fort."

You huff in annoyance and lie back down on the bed, pulling the pillow from under your head and covering your face with it, groaning loudly. "Get out!"

"Y/N, Marmee says you should at least have tea with us in the garden," Meg starts gently. "Jo's right, if you don't eat you won't feel any better."

"I don't want to feel better," your voice cracks. "Cotton died and it's my fault!"

The girls share a look of concern, they've never seen you this under the weather, and so they don't know what to do to make it go away. Beth being Beth decides to try a different path.

She climbs up the bed and lies next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist loosely. "I'm sorry about Cotton," she says quietly. "It's okay if you want to be sad, then, but can I keep you company?"

You move the pillow away just an inch and look at her, thick tears falling down your face. "Okay."

Amy pushes herself up and looks at you from where she's lying on top of your legs. "Can I stay too? I'll be quiet."

"If they stay, I stay," Jo sentences, grabbing a cookie from the plate Marmee left there for you.

Your stomach rumbles at the sight and Jo offers you a cookie (she shoves it into your mouth, really) as soon as it happens. Meg sighs in defeat, but she also looks satisfied with this turn of events.

"Well, if you're all staying here, I want to stay here too. We can read, and we can take a good nap—as long as Marmee's okay with it, we can waste our afternoon together."

You look at your sisters, your heart swelling with gratitude, and your pouting only worsens. "Okay."

Meg beams at you like you're a cute puppy and then she climbs the bed as well, making room for herself at the foot of the mattress next to Amy.

"Would you like to hear a ghost story?" Jo leans against the headboard and starts brushing your hair with her fingers.

You're still sad, but there is also a strong sense of affection and care coming from all the girls around you. "Yes, but don't kill any of the pets in it."

"Very well, I'll keep all the kittens and rabbits, and puppies out of harm's way," she says pleasantly.

"And after the story can we build the fort?" Amy asks cautiously.

Her insistence amuses you to the point of laughter. "Oh, maybe. We'll see how I feel by then."

The five of you huddle up on the bed, cuddling each other in quite a cozy way. Jo tells her ghost story successfully scaring Amy and Meg, who argue with Jo and Beth so they can switch and hug you because that's the side of the bed that's safer, or at least that's how it feels to them.

You slowly go back to a more cheery attitude, you don't get up soon enough to build Amy's fort, but you promise to build it first thing tomorrow.

The sun sets and Marmee goes as far as having dinner with all of you in your room, joining the special cheer-up party the girls are throwing for you tonight.

When it's time for bed, your sisters change into their nightgowns but they come back, though this time with blankets and extra cushions, so in the end, Amy got to build her fort.

"Good night, girls," you mumble, already half-asleep and feeling Beth's small, tender hand hold onto yours for comfort.

"Good night, Y/N," Jo says quietly, she drowns a yawn as she replies. "Thank you for letting us stay. It was lovely."

"Everything's lovely when we do it together," Beth sighs, curling under her blanket.

"I love building forts," Amy says sleepily.

"Good night, girls," Meg blows off the candle, leaving you with only the moonlight as a company.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

Taglist.

@starstruckspring @espressopatronum454 @thatonementallyillsimp @angelhugsaresweet @slytherinambitious @outofst1le @aggressivevillian

[randomwriter5000]

The Chimera: Part Five

Pairing: Nicodeme Savoy x OC (Can be read as Nicodeme Savoy x Reader) Warnings: Accuracies and inaccuracies about the 1920s, Angst, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Violence, Injuries, Explosions Word Count: 2,931

Summary: The California Chimera. Born with a genetic abnormality causing her face to be split down the middle. Not only an oddity, but a source of fear for many as she is a notorious gun for hire across the United States. After a near death experience and the death of most of her family, Chimera now goes to the bustling town of St. Louis on a job. Used to other cats eyes looking at her in disgust and fear a new reaction catches her eye. A pair of cats that look at her with curiosity and wonder. One of them being Nicodeme Savoy. Could she be biting off more than she can chew with the Louisianan?

Part Five: I See Fire

Chapter Summary: Fire isn't something to play with. Unless you want to get hurt.

Despite St. Louis being a bustling city full of cars, suburbs, and industrial heartland, there were places where a cat could find peace. The forests, parks, and, most notably, cemeteries were a place for such relaxation. With the nonexistence of the nagging noise of engines and cats, anyone could take in nature. The nature ranged from the small cottontail rabbit running in a burrow to the swift deer running across the meadow.

On the outskirts of the city, a lonesome cemetery stood. However, the crunch and cracking of roots could be heard. An oddly colored cat stomped her foot on a shovel, huffing as she threw the dirt over her head. Hearing the recognizable thump of wood, she looked above the ditch to see Nico toss the shovel to the side and look at her with a smirk.

“I win, cher,” He tightened the bandages around his paws. “Now, where to take you?”

Chimeras’ ear pinned themed back as she pouted. “You cheated! Yours has to be shallower!” She jumped out of the grave and stomped through the mud and into the pit. The hole was clearly shallower, barely reaching her waist, while others had come up to her shoulders. “Point proven!”

“Never took ya’ for a sore loser.” Nico patted her head only to make her take a breath to control the red spreading across her face. With a proud smile across his face, Nico purred. “Well, cher, how sho- Seraphine!”

A crowbar had been tossed at Nico, narrowing missing Chimera. “Get dat liquor in da car!” She barked before rolling her eyes and walking back into the car.

Walking out of the pit, Chimera gripped the shove and returned to work. Each strike to the dirt was an attempt to wipe her face from the blush. Only ten minutes passed, and her crowbar finally cracked the grave open, but the red on her face remained prominent. Shaking her head, she gripped the coffin and dragged it out.

“Ready for da last, mon ami?” Seraphine asked as Nico walked over, tossing his emptied coffin into the lake.

“The last job of the night?” She clarified, watching Nico pull the full coffin and load the alcohol into the car. “Extremely, I have a couple…things to do tomorrow,” She dragged, rolling her neck from the nonextant stress.

Laughing could be heard from the older savoy sibling. “I thought we were goin’ on a date, cher?”

“That doesn’t count. That grave was shallow,” Chimeria growled, her ears twitching in annoyance.

“What will it take then, cher?” Nico seemed genuinely curious.

Leaning onto the car as Nico gripped the final bottles, Chimeria thought about the interesting question. “An act of God, or a lot of money?” She shrugged, looking up at the moon shining in the jet-black sky. “I'm not even sure that will work,” A chuckle left her as she counted the bottles stacked in the back.

“I can be persuasive, cher, as y’know,” Nico flirted, closing the lid.

Opening the door to the backseat, Cimeria smirked before jumping into the back of the car. “And I can be notoriously stubborn.”

The trio finally got into the car. Once the engine roared, Chimeria pulled off her glove with her teeth, her other paw reaching into her coat pocket for a leather journal. The leather was clearly worn through the years, yet the spine was fully intact. Chimera pulled out a pencil before writing down the number of alcohol in the back.

“Writin’ back there, cher?” Nico looked in the rearview mirror.

“Just making sure I got everything…” She dragged, tapping her fingers against the leather. “50 bottles…” She spoke to no one.

Getting up from her seat, Seraphine stared at the oddly colored cat. “Tell me somethin’, cher,” Seraphine leaned towards Chimera. “Why don’t y’tell yer’ real names to anyone? ”

“Mainly for tradition and safety,” Chimera answered.

Bored at the answer, Seraphine sat back in her seat, pulling out her knife to sharpen. “How do ya get into this business?” Nico asked. “Can ya’ jus’ walk in?”

Chimera laughed. “You two are awfully curious,” She pointed out but continued. “You are either born into it like I was. Otherwise, you must know someone, marry into it, or you’re the rare people who get in on their own merit.”

“What ‘bout ya’ parents?” Seraphines’ tall ears perked up as she handed a cigarette to Nico.

“My mother was born into it. My father got in on his merits and then married my mom,” She spoke curtly as she opened her journal. “We are dropping off the bottles, right?”

“Oui, we will be there soon,” Nico confirmed.

 It didn’t take long to return to the city. The closer they got to the town, the more common car engines, streetlights, and tall buildings were. The alcohol was quickly dropped off to another group of Mr. Sweets guys. After sharing goodbyes, The trio was in the car heading down towards the business center of St Louis. Chimeria looked down at her journal and began to look at the names in the book. Multiple from the previous weeks, but only one without a line struck through it.

“Alright, the last person is…Ah Monsieur Jones,” Chimera read in the back seat. “So how do you two usually handle these where we need to tie the guy up for information?”

Seraphne chuckled, taking the cigarette out of her mouth. “Mordecai usually does all dat,”

“We do da fun part, Cher,” Nico grinned, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

“I do not want to be Mordecai for a day,” She grumbled sarcastically. “That would be very imprudent.” She mimicked the deadpanned tone of the tuxedo perfectly.

Seraphine let out a cackling laugh. “You sound jus’ like ‘im!” She turned to face the smaller cat. “How did ya meet ‘im?”

Leaning her head onto the leather headrest, Chimera couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. “Now that was a fun day. My parents had a business in St. Louis and promoted the Brothers of Peril to Atlas May. When Mordecai saw me, I thought he would have a heart attack. The first words he said to me were, ‘The asymmetry of my face made him want to die.’ One of the better insults I should say is,” She is mocking the deadpanned tone used by the tuxedo. “After that, I worked with him, and I guess we developed a mutual respect for each other.”

“Course’ he can’t see da luck,” Seraphine rolled her eyes, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “Plenty of people can’t see it, but we can Cher.”

Chimera's ears twitched in annoyance at the word luck as she looked over Jones's name etched into the paper. “Perhaps you're just not afraid because there is nothing different between me and a normal cat.”

“Dat ain't true,” Seraphine argued sternly. “Yer’ riddled with luck and power. The best part is dat y’know how to use it. Dats why Nico asked da fat man for ya’ to be with us.”

“Aw, how sweet that it wasn’t just to ask me on a date,” Chimera smirked as Nico shrugged.

A laugh escaped Chimera as she looked out of the car's window to the streetlights exposing the dark streets. After another conversation, the trio laughed as if they were old friends. However, the joyful laughter died as they caught sight of the business of Mr. Jones. Parking the car down the alleyway behind the company building.

Chimera was the first to hop out as she scanned the area. The building was two stories tall. Peeking into the window, she saw cats inside working despite the late hour. If there were fewer cats, she would break down the door. Her ears twitched as she looked over her shoulder to see the siblings grabbing their weapons. As she walked back, the siblings seemed eager to charge in guns blazing, literally and figuratively.

“We shouldn’t break the doors down.” Chimera looked up at the building, seeing a fire escape. “But I have a plan for us to both have fun.”

“Alright,” Chimera spoke to no one as she was hidden behind a tower of crates as she loaded her rifle. “Here goes nothing.”

Steading the scope, she aimed and took a breath. Her gun was aimed at the giant chandelier hanging off the ceiling of the grand room by a skinny cord. Chimera then pulled the trigger, causing the chandelier to crash down to the floor. Dozens of gunmen surrounded the destroyed light while others went to investigate. One of them, Mr. Jones, the target. The group was so focused on investigating they didn’t notice a grey cat click her shotgun.

A barrage of bullets loaded themselves into the cats surrounding the chandelier. Seraphine's recognizable laugh echoed through the business as shots missed her, and nearly every gunman was down. With her scope, Chimera took out a few stragglers who ran to the doors but didn't realize that they were jammed from the outside. Passing her view was Mr. Jones, running to his office. Only to be cut off by a solid punch to the face from Nico. Chimera chuckled before coming out of her hiding spot.

 Nico had quickly subdued the man and tied him to a chair. Looking at Seraphine, who had a Cheshire cat grin as she reloaded his gun, Chimera spoke. “What do you think? Was my plan good?”

“Yer a breath of fresh air compared to Peekon!” She smiled, slinging her gun back on her hip.

“I'm glad you liked it. I never get to be extravagant like this,”  Chimera gazed at the shattered chandelier.

A grunt was heard as she turned her head to see Nico smirking. “There will be plenty of fun things with us, cher,” Nico promised.

As she opened her mouth, Chimera's ears swiveled at the thudding from upstairs. “I'll get them. You two can have the pleasure of interrogating him.” The oddly colored cat smiled at the siblings before jogging up the stairs.

Hearing constant shuffling from the office down the hall told her someone was there. Yet, the cat was still careful as she gripped her pistol tightly. The shuffling suddenly stopped, her body as her ears stood straight for noise. A sudden creak had her dash out of the way of a door that swung open to reveal a gunman. Two quick shots were all it took until the door behind her opened, hitting her in the side. Hissing, Chimera shot blindly into the wooden door, hearing a yell of pain. Spinning to the front of the door, she pulled the trigger.

With both gunmen dead, Chimera groaned, rubbing her side that the oak door had slammed into her. Turning her oddly colored eyes to the door at the end of the hallway, she marched to the door.  Leaning her ear on the office door, she took a breath and gave one hard kick to the doorknob. Before stepping into the office, she was immediately met by someone throwing a box of documents and papers at her face. Chimera pulled out her gun and shot the cat in the knee. Growling, she ripped his weapons away from him. While the cat sobbed on the ground, Chimera uncharacteristically froze.

Her eyes were wide, her posture stiff, and her breathing paused. Among the dozens of papers that had floated all over the floor, Chimera grabbed a medium-sized picture. The distinctive cat in the foreground was a younger Chimera with a broad smile holding up a first-place ribbon while a rifle was slung on her shoulder. While a dozen other cats were around her. However, a cat with its face circled was who they were clearly after, with the name ‘The Wraith’ written on top.

Pulling out her gun, she gripped the man's collar. “How the hell did you get this picture?”

“I-I-“ She shot him in the leg. “Where!”

“Jones! He knows! I swear I don’t-“ A gunshot landed in his skull before Chimera stomped out of the room.

Jogging down the stairs, Chimera saw that the siblings seemed pleased with themselves. Nico turned to see Chimera. “Hey Cher, we got-“

“Let me have him,” She gripped the photo tightly as she marched up to the tied-up cat.

“What ya-“ Before Nico could finish, he got his answer. Chimera gripped a tire iron and struck Jones in the knee.

Chimera gripped his face to stare at her as he yelled in pain. “Where the hell did you get this picture?!” She shoved the picture in his face.

“I found it-”

Hitting his knee against she hissed. “Lie to me again. I'm taking that leg off. Now, where the hell did you get this picture,” She repeated slowly, her eyes filled with anger. “Only two people in the world have this picture, and you are not one of them!”

“Chimera-“ Nico tried to interrupt.

“Shut the hell up, Nico!” She hissed, her eyes slit and fur flared. “Where the hell is he?” She gripped the cat's collar. “I will make your life hell if you don’t tell me.”

The sudden sound of a shotgun caused her to turn her head. Looking over her shoulder, she could see a couple of people Nico and Seraphine were taking care of. Before she could reach for her gun, a sudden punch to the face set her backward. Holding her jaw, she watched the target dash out of his chair and run.

“Get back here!” She roared, dashing off to the man.

With a pistol in hand, she chased him up the stairs, around a corner, and into a room. Only for Chimera's feet to freeze at the smell of gasoline. Her eyes were as round as golf balls, and her heart began to pound in her chest. The target dumped gasoline all over the room, where boxes of dynamite were stacked up neatly. Holding up a match, he dropped flame. The flames were uncontrollable as the fire swallowed the room and the dangerous boxes.

“Chimera-“ Nico turned the corner but was met by the frantic eyes of Chimera.

“RUN!” She screamed, grabbing Nico and running in the opposite direction at full speed.

“What da hell is going on?!” He barked, chasing Chimera as she rushed down the stairs as if she saw a ghost.

“Dynamite!” She looked to her side to see Seraphine loading her gun. “Seraphine! Get out!” She yelled, the terror in her voice evident. Not hesitating, Seraphine ran out of the building alongside the two cats.

The sudden and defining explosion threw the trio of cats, mainly Chimera, into a brick wall. Her ears rang as she felt the cold asphalt beneath her paws. Every noise was muffled except her pounding heart. Her eyes stung from the smoke as flames engulfed the warehouse. Her whole body shook as she stared at the fire. Looking down at her gun, she shakily pulled herself up. Her eyes scanned the area in the distance. The target was making a run for it. The shaking stopped as a deep breath was taken as she aimed. Then she pulled the trigger, and a bullet lodged into their back.

With a slight limp, Chimera stomped on the back of the scrambling cat. “How did you get that photo,” She spoke slowly and darkly. “If you don’t, I will throw you into the fire.”

“He gave it to me to identify your brother!” He attempted to scramble away.

“Who is he!?” She roared, stomping on his back.

“The Red Snake!” He admitted. “No one knows what the Wraith looks like and-“ A bullet landed in his head.

“And nobody will,” Chimera continued to shoot the lifeless body until the magazine was empty.

Her eyes were blown wide and black as night with adrenaline as she panted for air. A chill ran down her spine at the feeling of eyes on her. The pounding in her heart changed from adrenaline-laced panic to fear.

“You're fine, you’re alive. No emotion, not sadness, no fear,” Chimera muttered as she attempted to take breaths. However, her heart was still pounding, her hands shook, and her pupils were blown wide. “You're fine, you’re alive. No emotion, not sadness, no fear.”

“Mon ami-“ Seraphine's paw brushed her shoulder.

“I’m fine!” Chimera barked, walking away from the body. “We-we have the information now we can leave,” She began walking towards the car as her body continued to shake.

Nico blocked her path. “Hey, cher-

“I'm fine,” She grumbled, feeling the blood dripping down her forehead. “That explosion…” She whispered.

“We need to get ya to the hospital,” The tomcat tried to reason. “Dat John guy-“

“No!” She barked, but her ears immediately pinned themselves back, realizing how loud she was. “He-he isn’t there. I-I…” She attempted to run her hand through her hair only to hit the deep cut in her skull.

The siblings looked at each other as Chimera leaned on the alley’s wall. “I-Im going home,” She began to fast walk down the alleyway with the bit of adrenaline left in her body.

“Chimera!” Nico shouted along with Seraphine, who was quick enough to jump in front of the agile cat.

Seraphine joined her brother with a concerned expression. “Mon ami are you-“

“Get the hell out of my way!” She screamed, causing the siblings' eyes to widen. “Don’t act like you know me! Don’t act like you care about me! Leave me alone!” Her head pounded as she yelled. The stabbing pain in her skull overwhelmed her senses as she fell to her knees.

Authors Note: Ah... angst. Don't worry it will be balanced with some fluff soon.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't 

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

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(I didn’t know if you guys wanted to be tagged in this, but...)

[byorder-fanfic]

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: Bonnie

Preference Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Word count: 1727

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, suggestive comments, swearing, Bonnie gets hurt (emotionally), not favourable descriptions of Small Heath (apologies to any Brummie readers- it’s for the plot)

Author's Note: Hi! I’ve had some trouble with the Ada and Finn preferences so I’m mixing up the order a bit. Those who’ve requested, your fics will be out soon! If there’s any other characters you want me to write for, feel free to make any more requests. Hope you enjoy and I’m wishing you all my best

(Gif by @sophieshelby) 

The Golds were travellers. It's what you loved the most about their life, the life that you jumped into in the greatest leap of faith that came with loving Bonnie. Now, whilst watching him ditch button-ups in favour of short vests, giving you full view of his lean arms attacking bags and people with so much strength was fun, it was the wind in your hair as you sat behind him on his horse, arms wrapped around his middle, it was huddling up in your shared bed in the caravan and arguing as to whether or not you could fit another ugly knitted blanket on top of the rest of them, and the maps you kept in a drawer that was slowly becoming more crosses than roads with all the places you've visited- it was that which made you love this life all the more. Plus, living with you Bonnie and his family (who had welcomed you with open arms the second Bonnie introduced you) created a second home, a home that lived on wheels and trotted down dirt paths. You knew that Bonnie getting his boxing licence would make the travelling come to a halt, and Small Heath would have to be home for as long as there was a job to be done and a reward to be reaped. And you were okay with that. You really were. Maybe there were a few tears as you hugged Esmerelda, Naomie and especially little Floss (she was desperate to see Bonnie go head to head with the Peaky Blinders!) goodbye as they continued travelling, you knew Bonnie felt the absence of his sisters more than you would. So, you made sure he never felt lonely, and the bed never felt empty; well, it wasn't as if it was a particularly difficult task to keep him company.

Small Heath was not a particularly enthralling place. Although you were on friendly terms with the Shelbys and their clan (and that was no exaggeration, they multiplied like rabbits!) and, after many, many threats from both the elder and younger Gold, none of the younger Peakys were planning on making a move on you, it was the place itself that seemed to bore you. All those things that you'd learned to love from your life on the road- the fresh air, the constant movement, the friendly welcomes when you saw another caravan cross your path, and the freshly caught food cooked over an open fire- there was none of that here. The sky was full of fumes that burnt more than the dark char of over-exposed meat, there was no patches of grass or flowers and everything was so fucking grey. Grey streets, grey sky, and a very grey mood for you. Sometimes, when Bonnie and Aberama were busy with the Peaky business that they left you out of, you'd just go over to the Cut and sit by the water to get even the slightest feeling of being back amongst the rivers and streams where you and Bonnie would set a number of ugly knitted blankets down and spend the night besides. You always thought the sound of water, and the view of the stars was the best way to fall asleep. Bonnie said the best way was next to you. You loved him, you truly did, but things were getting hard. Bonnie was always so busy now, between boxing and whatever the hell Tommy bloody Shelby had him apart of. Wrapped up next to him under all the blankets was the most time you spent with him, and he was usually so spent from work that he was snoring after seconds of laying his head on the pillow. All you could do was hope he didn't wake as you breathed softly next to him, trying to ward off sleep as much as you can just to see him as much as you can. By the time the sun rose, he was already up and at it. In stinking Small Heath.

You didn't want to resent him for bringing you here. You wanted to be proud of him when he boasted about getting his boxing license. You wanted to be happy for him when he came back, completely sloshed, after a night out at the Garrison with the Peaky boys he'd gotten close to, and he smelt like bloody whiskey and cigarettes when he cuddled up to you, drunkenly nuzzling his nose into your neck. You hated whiskey and cigarettes. Well, at least you think you did. You hated everything right now. You had tried to distract yourself from this frustration that was slowly building up in you, especially after you 'accidentally' broke one of the cups Naomie had made. You would pay for that when you saw her again. You had gotten Charlie Strong and Curly's permission to help with the horses in the stables. Eventually, though, you just felt sorry for the poor buggers: trapped in a scrap yard in a place full of people and so little greenery. Of course, you refused to admit you were projecting your own feelings on them. After feeling lonely for too long, you decided to make friends with the Shelbys. The Peaky boys that Bonnie had become fast friends with were nice enough, and Bonnie was happy for the excuse to see you more. As for the Shelbys, you had to be honest, they were a bit bloody scary. Esmerelda had made sure you were prepared for them, and you kept a whittling knife on your person every time you left the isolating sanctuary of the caravan, so you knew full well you could keep yourself safe amongst the blood and gore of the gangsters.

Eventually though these feelings caught up with you. You didn't even bother leaving the caravan today, knowing the streets were only going to further sour your mood and, even the bright presence of Bonnie's sleepy, half-awake smile, couldn't stop your erratic scrubbing of the plates. Ever since the Naoime's-broken-pottery-you were-sure-to-pay-for incident, you had only been entrusted with the metal pots and pans that weren't so easy to shatter. Still, you managed to scrub the metal dish in such a way to rouse the weary boxer. He had the day off, as Arthur had told you the night before when you sat in the Garrison, and the rest of the boys gave such a cheer their whiskey splattered on your dress. Bonnie had blushed, but you could see the hints of mischief in his smirk. And, with Aberama taking last night and today back in Small Heath, there was no misunderstanding Bonnie's intentions. You heard his stumbling foot steps as you moved further out of the open caravan door, focusing far too much on the washcloth and the practically sparkling pot that you still scrubbed.

"Hey, dove," he said in  sing-song tone that usually made your heart melt. Now it made your blood boil.

"Mornin' Bon," you replied back, far too snappy for his soft voice. 

He was startled. You didn't have to see his face to know he had flinched, feeling the sudden twinge of pain in the air like a broken string.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kindly, reaching down to rest his hand over yours. Instantly, you dropped the pan and cloth on the floor, hearing it crash against the soft grass.

"Well, you'd know if you'd have been there!" Along with your swift movement to stand up, the fierceness in your voice made Bonnie back away into the caravan. He saw the frustration clear in your face, and his shoulders hung in shame. He knew he'd been busy- too busy- and it must've hurt you.

"I'm so sorry, dove, I swear I'm trying to do this for us." 

"For you! And all I fucking do is stay in this fucking city!"

"It's not for long- then we can have that life we planned, with the boxing licence and our own caravan and-"

"And I don't wanna be here!"

You screamed it so loud that you were sure the birds in the trees surrounding you had flapped away from your voice like a shot had been fired from one of the Golds' many, many guns. And Bonnie seemed like he wanted to flee too, face so smushed up and hurt.

"I hate this place! It's dirty and cold and it smells like fucking shit!" 

Bonnie felt his whole body crumble at the tightness in your face, the look of pure anger making your fists squeeze in so tight he knew your nails would be digging in. He was the boxer and it was of his opinion that you should never have to raise a fist like this. You must hate him. You must do, and he was feeling his broad shoulders dip at the wildness that flickered in your eyes.

"I don't want to be here!" It was the crack in your voice that revealed yourself. A crack that mended Bonnie's wounded expression into that of concern. You didn't hate him. You didn't. You probably didn't even mind stinking old Small Heath. 

"Then how about we get outta here?" He suggested, giving you that lopsided grin that always made you childishly giddy. Even now, with frustration embedding your palms, you felt a kinder warmth flood to your cheeks. With more confidence, he moved towards you, cupping your cheek as you felt yourself just drop a little without the weight of frustration on your shoulders.

"Please," you muttered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against yours. "I want fresh air and empty fields and a blanket next to a stream."

"Just you and me lying down and looking at the stars?"

"That's all, Bon."

"Then you'll get it. Let's get changed, pack some food and we can get on a horse and just keep on riding, ey?" You chuckled a little at his romantic proposition, burying yourself closing into his grasp. "And get out of smelly old Small Heath that's been keeping me away from my dove."

"You're gonna have a lot of time to make up for." A little bit of frustration still hung in your mind, but the sweet look of adoration on your Bonnie's face was enough to soothe it into a cheeky remark.

"Indeed I do," he whispered into your neck. His expression got sadder again. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

[writinglizards]

Something the Cat Dragged In

Summary: It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden.

He's likely not interested anymore, even if Lambert had done his best to curb his sharpest edges, keep him coming back. It hurts and he tells himself it doesn't. It's better than the alternative. Better than Aiden hurt...or worse.

Then he finds the cat.

Pairing: Aiden/Lambert Rating: Teen Warnings: None

This is for @contemplativepancakes who asked for a comedy of errors. I am awful at that, but I’ve been assured this is funny, so. Please enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden when he finds the cat.

Or more accurately, perhaps, the cat finds him.

It's been about two weeks since he set out from Kaer Morhen to the clearing where he usually meets Aiden. He hadn't shown last year and Lambert hadn't been able to find him, even keeping an ear out for word about a tall, dark-haired cat witcher too nice for his own good.

He's not sure what he's hoping for this year, or at least he's not comfortable admitting to himself what he's hoping for. He likes Aiden, but they don't need to travel together. He's sure he's fine, he's just...busy.

It doesn't make the ache in his chest any easier to deal with, but he pretends it does.

Regardless, he heads for their meeting spot and sets up camp. He'll wait a week and if Aiden still hasn't shown after that, well.

He's fine. He's just...not interested in Lambert anymore, probably.

That hurts worse, somehow.

-----

The cat shows up the second morning Lambert's camped out.

It's a skinny thing, sleek black with a patch of white on his chest and haunting green eyes.

Lambert wakes up to the creature nestled between his calves and startles, upsetting the cat who mews his annoyance and bites his foot. Lambert shoots out of his bedroll after that.

"What the fuck?" he asks the cat, who eyes him with distaste but doesn't move, and Lambert figures, well. The cat will leave on its own he'll just...wait.

-----

The cat doesn't leave, and it's starting to freak Lambert out, just a little bit.

When he settles down to eat, the cat creeps from his bedroll to sit by his boots and stare with big, green eyes that remind him of Aiden. He shoves that thought from his head as quickly as it arrives.

"Cats don't like witchers," he says, as if the cat might have forgotten, but he doesn't move, just sits and stares at Lambert's jerky.

"Are you just hungry?" he asks, and, after a brief hesitation, he snaps a small piece off and offers it to the cat. The cat, for his part, briefly sniffs the offering before taking it into his mouth only to drop it on the floor and bat it around like a toy.

"Really?" he asks the cat, but the cat doesn't seem to care about Lambert's none too silent judgment, just continues to amuse himself with the bit of food. Lambert only hopes the little creature will move on, and quickly.

-----

It keeps trying to creep into his bedroll.

"You can't sleep here," he hisses, shoving the little creature away from his feet for the third time in as many minutes. In response, the cat hisses and bites, sinking its sharp little teeth into Lambert's calf.

"Son of a bitch." The cat stares defiantly at Lambert over its mouthful of flesh as if daring him to retaliate. Reluctantly, he can admit the little thing has gumption.

"You're mean you know that?" he asks the cat, who, when it becomes clear Lambert isn't going to continue fighting, lets go of its mouthful and steps daintily over his leg to settle between his knees.

"This is only for tonight," he says, huffing irritably, "and only because you're such a little dick." The cat ignores him, settling down and beginning to purr softly. Lambert pretends that doesn't make his heart swell.

-----

Lambert can't bring himself to disturb the cat when he wakes so he just...lays there and lets the little beast slumber.

He tells himself it's because he doesn't want to be bit again. It has nothing to do with the fact the cat is small and warm, and the weight of it against his shins is comforting.

It's fine until the little creatin begins to chew on his toes.

"I thought you were asleep," he hisses, twitching his ankles to dislodge it. The cat only delights in the movement, pouncing after him. Lambert groans.

"When are you going to get lost?" he asks, hauling himself up and depriving the cat of their game. He's not expecting the small thing to sit back on its haunches and merp softly at him. Slowly, he stills.

"You wanna say that again?" he asks, and the cat meows plaintively. Staring at him like this, he's reminded again of Aiden. The eyes, the color of the fur so close to the deep black of Aiden's own hair, and the jagged, mangled left ear, just like--

Something like ice settles in his veins.

"Aiden?" he asks tentatively, and the cat meows delightedly, striding forward to wind between his legs. Lambert crouches to put himself on level with the cat again.

"Tell me I'm not crazy," he begs. The cat just stares at him before headbutting his knee. Without thinking, he raises a hand, running fingers meant for killing back through silky fur. Beneath his fingertips, the cat kicks up a purr again.

"Fuck, it is you, isn't it?" he asks, scratching gently at the base of the mangled ear just to listen to the way the cat--Aiden, it's Aiden--purrs his pleasure, head tipped into the contact.

"What the fuck am I gonna do with you?" he asks. Aiden, too distracted by Lambert's gentle caress, isn't in the least bit helpful with an answer.

-----

If Aiden is here, there's no point in sticking around camp and waiting any longer, but Lambert still feels off-kilter and he did budget a week's worth of resources for camping, so he’ll just...he'll just give it another day or two. Just until he feels a little less like he's losing his mind.

He feeds the cat the bits of the fresh rabbit he caught the night before for breakfast and the cat does eat that, quietly delighted with its little meal. And now that he knows it's Aiden...

"Do you have any idea how worried I was last year?" he asks, petting down his lanky back and enjoying the way he arches into it, purring again, "I thought...uh," he can't quite say it. The I thought you were dead or the I thought you didn't want me, bit. Both hurt.

"Anyway," he mumbles awkwardly, "how long have you been like this?" Aiden just makes a little chirping sound and headbutts his hand again to get him to pet him. Lambert sighs.

He spends the day charting out a path to the nearest mage who might be willing to help. He's pretty sure that would be Triss where she’s been staying in Ard Carraigh, even though she's more than a two-week ride away. She's helped Lambert in the past, he figures she's probably his best bet now, too.

"What do you think, Aiden?" he asks, but the cat is napping curled up on top of one of his saddlebags and otherwise unhelpful. Lambert is pretty much on his own.

-----

That night is a repeat of the night before, Aiden curled up across his shins and purring sweetly. As he lays staring at the stars and trying to sleep, he can't help but wonder how much of Aiden is...present, for lack of a better term. The cat acts like a cat, except he's eerily like Aiden in appearance and the fact that he's...he's fond of Lambert, apparently. He'd known, immediately, Lambert would care for him. He at least needs to get him turned back, proved that Aiden's instincts there had been right.

He falls asleep worrying about it.

-----

Traveling with Aiden as a cat is...not as simple as it should be.

"If you won't stay in the god damned saddlebag, you at least need to hold still," he hisses wrestling the cat into his lap. Aiden’s been trying to walk the length of his horse as they ride, and the prick of his claws is making Cinnamon nervous. Lambert doesn't want to be thrown from the saddle, so he's got the cat under the arms, holding him to his chest as he wiggles in an attempt to get free. Aiden is clearly not amused by the situation.

"You bastard," Lambert hisses when Aiden takes a chunk out of his arm through the thin cloth of his shirt, unprotected by his bracer or jacket, "Aiden would you, fuck--" the cat yowls and Lambert jerks Cinnamon to a halt. "What?"

Before he can figure out what's wrong, Aiden's lept from his arms, landed gracefully on his feet, and bolted into the trees.

"Aiden, wait! Fuck," he hisses, and the next minute, there's a click of hooves and--

"Having a good morning, Lambs?" Lambert whips around so fast his neck cracks alarmingly.

"Aiden?"

He's astride a horse Lambert doesn't recognize, not Sugar, and he looks...he looks...

"You're not a cat," he says dumbly, and Aiden grins, the bastard.

"No, but it's been very fun watching you the last day or so," and oh, Lambert's going to kill him, actually, "you didn't really think the cat was me, did you?"

"I...it was...fuck," he spits, wheeling Cinnamon to march past Aiden's gelding, now headed in the opposite direction. If the damn man is fine, then he doesn't need to go see Triss and he can head back towards Aedd Gunvael looking for contracts as he'd planned previously.

"Aww Lambs, no need to get embarrassed," Aiden calls, and Lambert can hear the shit-eating grin, "I'm just teasing."

"Fuck off," he growls, but Aiden's horse falls into step beside Cinnamon.

"Oh, don't pout on me, Lambert. I thought it was cute," he says, and Lambert can't bite back the words in his throat any longer.

"I thought you were dead," he spits, "or worse." Disinterested. Abruptly, Aiden leans over and catches Cinnamon's reins, pulling them both to a stop.

"Whoa, wait. You thought...what?"

"I haven't seen you in a year," he bites out, horrified to find his throat thick with tears, "what was I supposed to think?"

"You didn't get my letter?" he asks, and then, before Lambert can process that statement, "fuck, Lambert, I'm so sorry. I thought you knew I was working far south last year, I couldn't...I couldn't ask you to come with me, so I left you a note at that inn we drink at every year. Bastards must have tossed it. Fuck."

"So you didn't..." you didn't abandon me, you aren't tired of me, you haven't moved on to something better. He can't say any of that, just goes quiet.

"I didn't leave you high and dry on purpose, no. Fuck, Lambert, how could I?" he smiles, a small, timid thing, "you're the best part of my year, puppy dog, how could I?"

The sincerity in his gaze and his words makes Lambert's face hot, makes his throat tight. He spurs Cinnamon back into motion, and Aiden's horse follows.

"Whatever, you fucking sap." It's the best he can manage without risking something drastic, like tears or his own dopy smile. Still, he can feel Aiden radiating smug energy behind him again.

"Aww, come on, puppy, I just poured my heart out for you, I deserve better than a whatever."

"You did not," he snaps, "shut up."

"Oh, you need declarations of love then? Fine. I--"

"Aiden," he cuts him off, not willing to find out how far Aiden will take this game of emotional chicken, "stop. I'm...I missed you. You're the best part of my year too." He says it without looking at him, Cinnamon a few crucial paces ahead of Aiden's horse. The back of his neck feels hot and he knows he's blushing.

"O-oh," Aiden stammers out, "uh--"

"There," Lambert cuts in, "now you can shut up."

Gratefully, Aiden does.

-----

Lambert's so relieved about Aiden, he doesn't think about the cat until they stop to camp for the night.

"Do you think the cat's okay?" he asks, and Aiden gives him a long, slow look.

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does it--what the fuck Aiden? It's just a little cat. How's it gonna take care of itself out here? I should have gone after it." He regrets being so wrapped up in Aiden that he'd forgotten the other Aiden, cat Aiden. Not cat Aiden? Fuck, he's tired.

"Cats take care of themselves, Lambs, don't stress about it. He was managing just fine until he found a soft-hearted witcher to feed him, he'll be fine."

"Excuse me, who the fuck do you think is soft-hearted here?" he growls, and Aiden lays his bedroll out beside him and grins.

"Why you, puppy dog. You're the sweetest--" he doesn't let him finish, hooking his foot around Aiden's ankle and bringing him down on top of the bedroll hard.

"Not sweet," he hisses, but it feels like overcompensation even to him, and Aiden just laughs, rolling to stare at him with eyes that are far too fond.

"Sure thing, Lambert."

And if, as they both fall asleep, Lambert shifts closer to throw his arm around Aiden's waist, pull him in closer amidst Aiden's sleepy mumbling, well. It's still cold at night. Nothing more.

-----

There's a slight, warm weight across Lambert's shins when he wakes.

It takes his half-asleep mind a minute to realize what that means, and then he's sitting up so fast Aiden makes a startled noise.

"Lambert, what the fuck," Aiden husks, but Lambert's not listening.

No, he's focused on the cat curled across his shins, jet back with one mangled ear and a white spot on his chest. He peers up at Lambert with those same big green eyes, and something in Lambert's chest shifts.

"Hey there Aiden, thought I lost you," he murmurs, reaching out to pet across the broad side of the little creature. He allows it for a moment before catching Lambert's hand with his paws and biting, just enough for him to feel it. "Yeah, yeah, I deserve that."

"What are you--oh." Aiden comes up short when he sits up and sees the cat again, nestled across Lambert's legs, "well I'll be damned." He reaches out to pet the cat too, who promptly hisses and swats at Aiden, claws extended, "Oi, fuck, rude." Lambert laughs.

"Guess he doesn't like you much, eh?" His chest feels light as he scoops the cat up into his arms. He tolerates it, although he gives a fretful little meow at the treatment.

"You would find the only cat that stands witchers and get it only to like you," Aiden grouses, but he doesn't seem genuinely troubled about it, "I can tell why you thought of me, though. That's sweet." And that--

"Yeah," he says, unable to come up with something suitably snarky and mean. He sets the cat down, who scampers back over to make himself comfortable on Lambert's saddlebag, away from the indignity of surprise cuddles. He's trying not to look at Aiden's own mangled ear, the one cut round in a rough approximation of a human's, a reminder of how he’s been treated in the past. Lambert had been...so fucking worried.

"You can't keep calling him Aiden, though."

"Sure thing," he says, forcing a grin. He has no intentions of calling the cat anything else and he knows Aiden knows, too, can see it in the fond little crinkle around his eyes, the sweet upturn of his lips, "Come on, we've got a camp to pack."

And if Lambert keeps calling the cat Aiden and starts calling witcher Aiden witcher Aiden just to piss him off? Well. How else is he supposed to know he's loved?

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 33

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L   Warnings: Swearing, unhealthy defence mechanisms

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 33: Betray The Moon as Acolyte

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September 8th, 1976

Remus peered up to the night sky, resplendent with a coruscating kaleidoscope of stars and the full moon. He yawned, acutely aware of his bones shifting, aching and cracking. Resting on a small cot pressed against the wall in the corner of the shrieking shack, Remus felt his temperature rise and skin stretch too thinly across his body.

“I’ll be back once the sun rises, dearie,” Madam Pomfrey called out, the door millimetres from locking shut.

“Wait,” he said and Madam Pomfrey re-opened the door with a warm, motherly smile.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For always helping, I know it can be… tiresome.”

How long has it been? That Pomfrey had been helping him out, every full moon — had known of his affliction and been there to assist? It was years now, countless hours of her time wasted on him.

Was he that much of a burden? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, that made his face pucker and heart lacerate itself in fresh wounds.

“Don’t concern yourself with me, honey.” Then the door clicked shut and he heard her utter a spell; to confine the beast within the four walls.

The tormenting plague increased every minute as the countdown to his transformation loomed. His heart thudded stridently and his breathing was ragged and strained. His teeth grinded against each other and his tongue swept across them, feeling them elongate and reshape in preparation.

Remus grabbed the hem of his jumper, exasperated by the overwhelming heat and because he didn’t want to shred it in the process. As he slipped out, feeling the adored red fabric, tattered with holes and frayed yarn in his hands, the door opened and he could already smell Peter and James. Subconsciously, he shielded his body from them, to avoid them from seeing all of his scars.

Remus became dizzy instantly. James wore a particularly strong perfume that day.

More than anything, over the pain and hint of repugnance, he was nervous. It would be the first full moon since… the prank that the Marauders would be together for his transformations. Or all the Marauders aside from one and nobody wanted to address it.

A sharp pain thundered through his skull and he knew time was slipping from him. Remus couldn’t recall the last time the moments before his transformation were that painful.

“You okay, Moons?” Wormtail asked, dropping down beside him. Prongs followed in suit, taking his sweater and folding it neatly.

“I’m fine — umph —”

“Shit! Prongs, get back and turn. Now!”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

After a week of lessons, there were considerable adjustments to the curriculum. Everyone noticed and it quickly dispersed a sombre milieu on all of Hogwarts.

Classes were smaller, many parents deciding to transfer their children to other magical schools around the world. Y/N even received a few worried letters from Matthew that there was an abundance of new British students attending Ilvermorny.

In his worried letters, Matthew informed her that the MACUSA and French Ministry of Magic had been stepping in, fighting forces against the wizarding war. It was all news to her. Ever since James’ parents cancelled their subscription to the Daily Prophet after their beliefs that they were biased, she hadn’t been able to catch up.

More defence and attack spells were taught and everyone became well aware of why someone of Professor Elway’s reputation and skill was there. The same went for the Duelling re-opening and even Flitwick initiated small tutorial sessions for students of all grades to teach them defensive spells.

Defence Against the Dark Arts became nothing more than a Muggle military camp. Elway drilled the students; attack and defence spell after the other, never stopping for a second. Transfigurations focused more on concealment and vanishing charm and every day McGonagall looked as if she aged a decade by the solemn, haunted look that nowadays was permanently carved into her.

Herbology went over a vast majority of life-saving plants, herbs and how to make their own medicine. And Potions heavily focused on identifying spiked potions with poisons and how to create reversal serums in case of emergencies.

The students of Hogwarts weren’t brainless. They knew they were training them for war.

She tried to ignore it, but if anything Y/N felt foolish. The magical world was meant to be an escape, not a guardhouse.

It didn’t help that the murders from the summer played heavily in her mind along with the rumours of Voldemort recruiting students from Hogwarts, prompting a spike of distrust to spread rampantly. It wasn’t time to fight or lose people but to keep those you trusted and loved close. So Lily keeping her distance had her worried.

Sorted into the same dorm as last year, she reckoned she would have some time with Lily but every day it seemed like she was busy with prefect duties, or had homework, or reading, or a new study group she needed to rush off to. She and Lily hadn’t resumed their usual nightly routines either, hadn’t sat with her in the Great Hall since the welcome back feast and hadn’t said more than a word to her.

It was evident that Lily was avoiding her and only her.

Maybe Y/N had gotten clingy, got too close too hastily because it felt too similar to how her mother treated her. It caused the imminent, spine-chilling feeling of wanting to push everyone away.

Extreme distress was starting to pile up.

Luckily, James stayed a constant consistency in her life and a lot of her pent-up fears dissipated by his presence. He never ignored her, if anything he went out of his way to be nearer. Even Peter and most notably, Remus, had become part of her daily life more than ever.

It was terrifying and everything told her to run. Don’t get too close, don’t get too comfortable. But it was hard not to.

That morning, James crept up to her dorm, knocking softly as she popped out, ready for the day. He looked exhausted; his eye bags were prominent, darkened and cradled in his arm, he held Remus’ rabbit.

“To keep him company,” James explained, yawning while escorting her down the staircase, passing the rabbit over. “It was a rough night.”

It would be the first time they would try to incorporate Y/N into replacing Black and balance out James’ other priorities with Remus’ moon cycles. And unable to reschedule Quidditch try-outs to another morning and James forced to leave prematurely, she would have to step in.

But her fears skyrocketed. Were they pushing it? She was only visiting him… It wasn’t out of pity and she genuinely wanted to be there to support Remus.

“What if he doesn’t want visitors?”

James rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. He’ll appreciate it more than he’ll let on.”

But then a faint floral and citrus smell flowed through the distilled air as she took a deep breath.

“James, you smell really good... Are you wearing perfume?”

His frown transformed into a prideful simper. “Bought the same perfume as my mum. Helps when I miss her.”

She gasped. “A mama’s boy!” And then pinched his cheek.

About to step out of the portrait, James must’ve accidentally activated a prank because the moment his hand brushed against the portrait, four Muggle stereos floated above his head, blasting break-up songs on the highest volume. It rattled the walls and made their ears bleed.

“Fucking hell!” James shouted, his wand swishing around to stop the music while Y/N stuffed Remus’ rabbit inside her bag and bewitched a silencing spell around it.

“Students are sleeping!” Lily shrieked, rushing down the stairs and charmed away the stereos.

“Oi! You think we don’t know?” James retorted, a hand clutching his ear. “Emmeline…”

“Emmeline?” Lily repeated, shaking her head. “May Merlin himself save the poor girl daft enough to end up with you.”

The only enlightened that took away from the war and recent murders was Emmeline and her friends pranking and wreaking havoc like the Marauders onto James as a punishment.

He deserved it and even James agreed.

“Where are you two headed?” Lily inquired and for the first time since the train ride, she addressed Y/N head-on.

A glimmer of hope.

“Aw, finally starting to care about me, Evans?” James joked although it’s laced with uncertainty.

Y/N cut off Lily before she had the chance to speak, eager to answer her question. “It’s Remus.”

Recognition filtered through her, gaze shooting up to the large grandfather clock beside the bookshelves. Lily’s head bobbed repeatedly, pressing her lips together sympathetically. She considered James for a moment.

“Will you be back in time for lessons?” Lily then whipped her hands around. “Y’know what, forget it. I’ll take notes for… both of you.”

Y/N felt James nudge her foot, simultaneously forcing out a cough. His hand went to scratch behind his neck. “R-right. Erm, I — we appreciate it, Evans, but ugh — we have a free period this morning.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Sorry.”

“NO!” James said a little too loud. “I mean, no. It’s fine. Thank you.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her neck bending as her shoulders tensed while watching their interaction play out. “Alrighty, we should go. Thank you, Petals.” She interjected. Her hands spun James around as they walked out of the common room and to the hospital wing.

Both students groaned out loudly. Black was there, sitting on the ground and back pressed against the wall to the wing.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” James challenged. His feet pivoted to Black, before her hands pressed against his chest, preventing him from touching Black and starting yet another fight. “Leave it.”

His eyes flickered from her to Black. Sighing, he made a slight rearward movement and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Just don’t follow us.”

They walked inside without sparing him another glance.

“Here comes the fucking sun, Moons!” James chirped, his mood altering drastically. But she staggered behind a beat.

Remus was already awake, quietly chatting to Peter. His bed curtains were half drawn and she took his rabbit from her bag, pulling it close to her chest.

His head snapped in their direction, but instead of his eyes landing on James, it went squarely to her. She smiled, eyes analyzing every ripple of expression. He didn’t seem angry. No, not at all, but stunned.

Once James realized she wasn’t by his side anymore, he turned and looped an arm over her shoulder. He whispered, “Moony won’t bite. It’s okay.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Remus finally said, smiling.

“Of course I’d come.” Confidence now circulated her body as she approached him, handing over his rabbit. James was delighted at his response while the rabbit nuzzled its way into the crook of Remus’ neck, tickling him. She murmured into his ear, not wanting to peer pressure him by others' wants, “You don’t mind me being here, do you? I’ll leave, no hurt feelings.”

Remus shook his head, petting his rabbit. “No, please stay.” He croaked, voice deep and tired.

“Oi!” James said, albeit quietly.

“Flirt somewhere else,” Peter added with false annoyance.

James nodded. “So, little Moony —”

“Little Moony?” Remus groaned. “What?”

“Aw,” she teased, “Is moody Moony making an appearance?”

“Did you come just to make fun of me?”

But then Peter grinned cheekily, moving to softly slap his hand down on his thigh in the same tempo as Here Comes the Sun. Y/N and James immediately caught on, ready to chagrin while Remus shook his hands in front of his face to get them to stop.

“Don’t you —“

“Here comes the sun, moody Moony —“ “Crikey.”

“Here comes the sun, and we say it’s alright!” They sang, keeping their voices to a minimum to not worsen his potential headache. They had to hold back their laughter as Peter began to replicate the horrible instrumental with his voice. James sang the loudest. “Little Moony, it’s been a long cold moon cycle.”

Madam Pomfrey poked her head from her office, ready to tell the visitors to be quieter than a mouse — or kick them out in favour of Remus’ rest but she froze. Remus was poorly attempting to cover his smile, his cheeks burning a bright red and she hadn’t seen him that happy after full moons. And after what happened last year, his happiness was all she wanted. So she sat back down, smiling to herself at the horrid sing.

“Little Moony, the smiles returning to the faces —”

“Guys!”

“Little Moony, it feels like years since it’s been here.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

James eventually left, rushing to tryouts with Marlene with a great deal of apprehension. When the bell rang, students rushing down for breakfast, both Y/N and Peter departed momentarily to the Great Hall, grabbing a few snacks and tea Remus requested.

But the moment Peter stepped foot outside the hospital wing, it was as if any sort of energy left his body. He became sluggish, moving slowly and yawned multiple times.

“Pete, go back to him, I’ll get everything,” she implored. “Or get some rest. I can’t imagine staying up all night can be good.”

“It’s —” A yawn. “— Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t push. They made their way around fast and exited quickly before a group of seventh and sixth years swarmed Peter. A few even greeted her, attempting to strike a conversation.

Peter sent her a dejected look, passing her the rest of the snacks and teacup.

“I’ll meet you there.”

She rushed back in record time. Black was still sitting outside the wing and she could faintly hear him muttering her name but she disregarded him wholly.

But the sight inside the hospital made her heart shatter.

Remus was haggard, dishevelled and face screwed together in pain. He tried to push himself up multiple times to reach behind his head, to his pillow. But it was futile.

The crinkling of the wrapper in her hand made her wince; it became the loudest object in the world at that moment. It forewarned Remus and she gently padded over. She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, setting down everything on the metal tray.

“Don’t push yourself — here, let me.” Remus visibly reclined into himself, covering his scarred arms with the blanket coiled by his side. But he listened without complaints as she reached behind his head, fluffing his pillow and helped him lay back down gently. “Not feeling too good?”

“Like shit.”

It became awkward fast.

“Um… Peter’s coming. Was held up with a couple of seventh years.” “You can leave if you don’t want to be here,” Remus blurted out, “I won't force you —”

“Woah there!” She felt as if she was slapped by him. The sudden change had her wheeling. “Who said you’re forcing me? You’re my Moony, no?”

He breathed out a chuckle and shifted towards her. She glanced at the tray with a few potions. What he said stuck to her.

“Do you mind if you can pour those into my tea? Thanks.” Remus croaked.

She nodded, unscrewed the cork to the vials and mixed it into the drink. The clinking sound of the spoon tapping against the porcelain cup.

“What is this?”

“Um… a mixture of powder silver and Nightshade,” grumbled Remus, trying to push himself up as she handed him the cup. “Helps with the pain and fogginess.”

Her mind was restless. “Can I ask some questions?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Questions?”

“Y’know, about being a werewolf.”

He took a giant gulp. “Did you just skip all the Werewolf questions on the OWLs?” Remus laughed.

“I bet half of it’s false.” She admitted truthfully. “Besides, how am I supposed to help next time if I don’t know?”

Remus stayed quiet for a long time after she said that and she wondered if she pushed a boundary. But then he nodded, urging her to continue.

“Okay… so silver doesn’t hurt you, right?” She watched as Remus sip his tea before having to put it down to laugh.

“Myth.”

“So all the silver bullet stuff..?”

He gave a full-body laugh. “Myth. Sorry, not what you were expecting?”

“No,” she admitted after a bit, embarrassed. All those children's stories were false…

“Silver can’t hurt me, I don’t grow hair rapidly. I like eating rare meat; I have trouble sleeping, I don’t have curved fingernails or low-set ears. I can’t run super fast but I can see better in the dark, can hear, smell and am stronger than the average Muggle or Wizard.”

“Can you always smell or hear better? Or does it increase near the full moon?”

“It becomes stronger near the full moon and after for a while.”

“Wait… Does that mean you can smell people. Like me?!” She was appalled and crossed her arms over herself as if the action would suddenly cover any scent.

Remus barked out laughing before wincing as a dull pain shocked through his system. “You smell fine. Don’t worry.”

Her hands found their way to cover her mouth. She was mortified. “You have a way with words, Lupin.”

Remus was on the verge of tears, nearly choking on himself to prevent laughing. He endured the deep bruise on the side of his ribs digging into him but he couldn’t stop.

She slapped his arm playfully and took the now empty teacup from his hand, setting it down on the metal tray and ushered him to slide over in his bed. He doesn’t hesitate.

Y/N slid beside him, and she could feel the fluctuating rise and fall of Remus’ chest as his chuckles came to a slow halt. She took the rabbit from his lap, holding it in her arms carefully.

“Does she have a name?” She questioned, scratching behind its floppy ears. Remus chose the least threatening rabbit.

“No.”

“We should think of one then.”

Remus watched her, listening to the words pouring out. But then he cringed inwardly, reminded of his cruelty to her a couple of months ago. He wasn’t expecting her to visit and it came as a pleasant surprise. It made his heart flutter. She wasn’t scared. She hadn’t been lying that night. He was accepted.

He tuned in to her heartbeat: steady and calm. Slow.

Her words echoed in his head. I feel safe with you.

Safe.

Remus felt a whisper of a smile worm it's way onto him. As soon the realization came, the dull ache in his body subdued, the burning in his throat faded and the hollow ache in his heart filled with a golden glow. Just a bit.

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September 10th, 1976

“I’m sorry,” Black said, his eyes wide and pleading as he sat beside her in the Great Hall. She ignored him.

“I need to explain, please,” Black begged in a hushed voice while she searched the library’s premises for Regulus. She ignored him yet again.

“Tesoro mio,” Black flirted, both sitting in the common room as she added notes in the werewolf section in her textbook. His new tactic caught her off guard but she prevailed, getting up and leaving.

“Talk to me,” Black whined. “Please.” She ignored him, continuing to walk to class calmly and held her head high. She just left the hospital wing and Black was trailing her.

But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a nearby broom closet and closed the door.

“Get off of me!” She nearly screamed. Thankfully, he was smart enough to keep a healthy distance away. She kept her hands balled into a fist, preventing herself from taking one of the dust brooms and smashing it on his head.

“Sorry! But you won’t talk to me any other way!”

Darkness enclosed them, only the light seeping through the cracks of the old wooden door illuminated Black as every ounce of restrengthen was pushed to the edge.

A flurry of apologies fell from his lips but she wouldn’t have it. Simply looking bored at her nails and tapping her foot against the ground.

“I know you’re mad — you have every right to be! I get that, I understand.”

“Then leave me alone?” She jeered sarcastically, handing grazing the doorknob.

“Wait! Please, just hear me out — let me explain —”

“Explain what?” She lashed out through gritted teeth. “You should count your stars that you don’t have an attempted murder charge.”

Her heart thumped rather fast and would have been distressing had she not been controlled by anger. Everything was overshadowed by a grim penumbra sweeping over them, closing in on her and Black and it wasn’t because of the lack of light in the dingy closet.

She was revolted by him. Sick of seeing his sad face, moping around the hospital wing or looking at her or the other Marauders in yearning.

“Do you think I’ll care about what you want to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted, dipshit.”

His head bowed. “I deserved that.” “You think?”

“It’s just that —”

Her temper spiked to the highest level and her hand drifted to her back pocket and grazed the tip of her wand.

“I —”

Something in her snap. “Shut up. Shut up! Stop trying to defend yourself! Stop it! I don’t want to hear it!”

Black was visibly shutting down. “Please, just calm down…”

And then everything poured out.

“Calm down? Calm down?! I gave — I put my trust in you and you immediately ran with it, breaking it twice and then broke everyone else’s! How am I supposed to talk to you like everything’s okay? I get that you don’t like me, that you don’t like Snape, but really? What do you not understand?!”

He was nodding his head, taking it, never once trying to defend himself. His head hung similar to a child being scolded, hands curled around himself.

“You must have never cared for them.”

Black went oddly still. “That's a bold lie and you know that.”

“Do I?” She ridiculed. “Do you want to know the funny part? I was starting to care for you. Apparently, you never did.”

“That’s not true.”

There, a flicker of rage. Finally a reaction other than pathetic regret and guilt. Something cold crept into his eyes, hardening and entirely stormy and silver, reminding her of last year where they constantly fought. But then, it was washed away with a blink.

“I was nothing but a toy to you!”

“Y/N...”

“You. Never. Cared. About —”

“Stop it! Of course I —”

“— Me. Or. The. Other —”

“— fucking cared —”

“— Marauders —” “ — about you!”

Her eyes stung with bitter unshed, frustrated tears and her throat burned, constricting together. Emotions she hadn’t taken a moment to consider hit her within seconds and everything was too overwhelming.

The material of her shirt suddenly turned itchy. Her skin was too tight and she felt herself rock back and forth in a way to calm down.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer as it fell silent but she struck a nerve.

“Stop saying that!” He shouted. Now not breaking her stare and took a step forward.

“You’re fucking selfish. You betrayed them.” A step forward.

“You only cared about yourself.” Black shook his head. Another step forward.

“If you ever cared about me — about anyone else you’ve hurt — you wouldn’t have done… that.” A step forward.

They were the closest they had been in months. Their breaths were laboured and ragged. Being that close to him raised all the hairs on her neck in a way she used to love but now hated herself for.

The very notion made her nauseous. Disgusted.

She missed him. Truly. It was such a profound hurt and longing that ran deeper than wanting a quick snog or shag. But that was her problem that she was going to have to hide, bury in an air-sealed chest and throw away.

He opened his mouth and he leant forward inappreciably. But whatever words he was about to spew, he stopped himself. She could feel his breath fan her face, both of their chest raised and fell rapidly.

They stayed like that for a while and she held back from crying, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” He asked dejectedly.

Why did you have to be so stupid? We could’ve… you could’ve had everything.

Do you miss me?

Did you ever care, even a little?

“This time,” her voice was no louder than a rustle, “I mean it. I hate you. Truly.”

Lie.

Black gave her one last glance through heavy, desolate, half-lidded eyes, closing them shut. “Ti voglio bene.”

Her frown doubled, wondering if he mocked her. Why did he always do that?

“At least you’re consistent in one thing.”

She slipped out, her hand on the door and cracked it open, leaving him there.

“Being a fucking liar.”

She slammed the door shut with so much violence that it made a couple of bystanders passing by yelp and stare. The shattering of glass from within the closet echoed and it made her breathless.

She had to lean against the stone wall, her body buzzing and numb from the adrenaline.

Sometimes everything in her life seemed so… random. What if everything could have been avoided? One simple word, maybe if she said something different, or did something different, would the outcome have been better? Or worse?

What if she had two parents? What if she had been raised by a loving mother? Would she have been that hurt by his actions if opening up was less… impossible?

What ifs…

She stumbled her way to class mindlessly, horribly late. The floorboards creaked, cutting Slughorn off while she lurked in the doorway. The teacher’s head, along with everyone else in the room, snapped up.

Lily looked at her worriedly and concern was written in every inch of her face. James had a double-take and became alarmed while Marlene on the other side of the class looked around nervously.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries, m’girl!” Slughorn smiled. “Please, take the seat next to… Severus! Now, I was saying, I have a small tradition I’d like to do every year with my students.”

Y/N didn’t even interject; too drained after what happened and sat by Snape.

“Can anyone tell me what this is?” The professor held up a tiny bottle. “Or can anyone tell me what Felix Felicis is?”

Lily raised her hand, casting a concerned gaze to her before answering. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barty and Avery, along with a few other students whispering to each other as Lily spoke; all of them forcing down a smile. Y/N vaguely sensed herself prickle.

“It’s known as Liquid Luck. As the name suggests, it makes the drinker lucky.”

“Beautiful answer! Quite right! Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, whoever brews the Draught of Living Death the closest will win this prize at the end of this lesson. Off you go!”

The class was scurrying off quickly while she made her way around leisurely. Snape’s sopophorous bean had been hitting her multiple times.

“Would you fucking —” she grabbed the bean with her hands and threw it at Snape and he hissed at. “Just take your knife blade and squeeze it down on the side with your dagger.”

Snape scoffed. “That’s not going to work you d —”

Snape shut up immediately as she crushed the bean with a sharp knife and flicked the juice into the cauldron.

“Now stop hitting me or I’ll pour your potion on the ground.”

Snape’s attention wasn’t on her, instead of trying to decipher her scribbles before taking her book away from his eyesight. She hit him with her book.

She completed the rest of the potion with ease. Snape was nearly done with his potion, she could tell he was on the right path before Slughorn sauntered around the classroom to observe the students. At James’ cauldron, he made no comment but instead helped stir his potion. Lily was given an approving nod, announcing to the class that she earned Gryffindor a few house points until making his way over to their table, peering into the cauldrons. At Snape’s concoction, he gave a bright smile and opened his mouth until he saw hers and a look of pure delight spread over him, his hands clapping together.

“Oho! Excellent! Miss L/N has done it! We have our winner!”

A small round of claps went around meanwhile James and Marlene cheered loudly, effectively embarrassing her.

“Show off,” Snape sneered. She ignored him.

Once the bell rang, Slughorn called her over to collect her vial of Liquid Luck. She slipped the bottle into her pocket for safekeeping.

But before she left, she stopped and spun around. “Professor Slughorn?”

“Yes?”

“I read in my Advanced Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, but I found that there’s no Potion to help Werewolves. I was wondering if that’s still true? I know books can be outdated.”

Slughorn gave her a pensive look. “I think that’s a matter for Madam Pomfrey. Is there a reason why?”

“It’s just —” She made up a lie quickly. “I’m nervous about NEWTs and how I’ll do in my studies and it’s merely an interest.”

“Oh, my girl! You are excellent. By far one of the best students I’ve ever had. You don’t need to worry!” Slughorn cheered. Slughorn seemed genuine and she smiled at the praise. “And for your question, no. Sadly there isn’t.”

“At all?”

Slughorn thought for a while. “If I recall, there have been recent developments with stewed Mandrakes. It’s rumoured to help lycanthrope individuals ease their way back into the original human state.”

Y/N stored the newfound information in her head. She thanked him, turning to leave until calling out again. Slughorn twirled his head.

“I was wondering if I could practice more — like I said, I‘m nervous about my NEWTs.”

There wasn’t even a delay and Slughorn beamed. “Of course! As long as you clean up after yourself, you may come and go as you please. I’ll make sure to leave the doors open until curfew.

“Oh! I’m planning to host another Slugclub dinner soon, I expect you to be there?”

“... Of course, sir.”

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【 Next Chapter 】

Translations:

Tesoro mio = My treasure or 'honey'

Ti voglio bene = 'I love you' but its not like what you think. It's more of an unconditional and selfless love that means 'I want you to be well.' It places an emphasis on the tender and affectionate feelings you have for the other person. It's the safer option to say to your significant other if it's a very new relationship.

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© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[little-nightmare-gt]

Finding Family

Probably the one and only SMP Minecraft fic I'll make.... probably. Join us with Tommy and Tubbo, two borrowers living out in the wilds. Borrowers, Fae etc. Creatures are rare and sought after by wealthy people. Giants (Humans and some Hybrids) are considered monsters to borrowers, and often feared. Comms are a thing for everyone. @baka-monarch you wanted to be tagged.

Warning: Abandonment, blood, implied burning, growth in small areas, near death experience, near crushed experience, Technoblade.

Tommy and Tubbo weren't bad kids, they were young with no parents. They were taught the rules by strangers who abandoned them the moment they could borrow.

They were born in captivity and sold to a rich child with a fascination with hurting things, if by Tommy's missing wings and Tubbo's scared face had anything to do with it.

People didn't stay with them for long.

Tommy was always too loud and Tubbo too easy, and they only stuck together.

They were a bit upset at being alone but both deemed to not need anyone else.

The two decided to leave and find another place to live, somewhere not many monsters dare to go. The Artic.

Tubbo built their first house, near a tree close but not part of the forest. Tommy began the underground gardening system which Tubbo ended up making it automatic, but continued to make touches and railroad tracks into caves and mines.

They hunted rabbits in the area for meat, and often take from the near by village.

One day though, Tubbo noticed an abandoned cottage near the village and quickly messaged Tommy about it, who immediately agreed to scoping it out for a hideout.

After gathering their supplies for the day, they went to explore the cottage.

There was a small enough crack in the door frame the the two borrowers to slip into. They froze at the large still warm room.

It wasn't dusty, so it couldn't be more than a few days that someone had been there. Tommy was a bit confused about it seeing as he would have noticed someone pass through here.

Tubbo pointed out that they lived near a forest and most people avoid them, but froze at the sound of a clatter.

Tubbo, with the better ears could hear aggressive whispering, "Someone is in my house Phil, the door didn't open, where are they?"

Tubbo nodded to his friend and pulled him closer to the counter and skimmed closer to the wall, taking out his hook, he and Tommy climbed up the counter at his urging.

Tommy made it first seeing three of their kind, "Sup Bitches!"

Tubbo made it up in time to see three grown men jump in fear, examining each one as Tommy talked.

The tallest looked to be a piglin Hybrid, the smaller usually stay in the Nether where their known about and treated equally. He wore a surprisingly nice long sleeve blue shirt and cloak.

The next looked human but his features suggest he's a piglin as well...just more human looking. He wore a similar cloak and shirt and the tall one.

The final man was shorter than Tommy, he had wings which was surprising in itself. That he still kept them after all, he wore a similar shirt but instead of a cloak he was a ponch and a bucket hat. What startled Tubbo, was that he seemed to be studying them like he was them.

There eyes met briefly as Tommy waved his arm in front of him sounding heated, causing him to tone in.

"I'm calling as I see it! The old man's gonna get it if he doesn't stop staring at my friend!"

"For someone so small, why are you so loud? Don't call us pets!" The middle one growled out.

"Where's the monster of this place anyway, we've never noticed anyone coming to and from here." Tubbo interrupted.

He watched the tallest flinch as the shortest puffed up angrily ready to defend their owner when Tommy interrupted, "Tubs, they could be one of those people."

Tubbo flinched, and looked at the older men, "Surely Not, Big Man, something is off about them but we can leave if you want."

"What! After you insult us! What kinds of people!?"

"Monster apologists, their pets who do anything for their Master. Even capture more of our kind, we've been here to long, let's go." Tommy led the way, leaving the shocked men on their counter top.

Tubbo stares at them, "Do you not have a rope to climb down? I didn't see and ledges and stuff to move around on."

The shortest still glared but it soften a bit, "I can get us down, where do you live? Can we visit?"

Tubbo looked down at Tommy as his friend shook his head no, "We'll visit you."

The kid jumped, catching the rope instead of plummeting to his doom. The three men looked over the ledge with eyes in shock as Tubbo pulled his hook down.

Tommy grinned up, "Have fun with your Monster folks!"

His friend yanked him along as the middle one made offended noises, something not sitting right as they squeezed through the door and made their way home.

"Tommy, I think they were in captivity. They didn't know how to react to us and two of them were piglin Hybrids, they probably got sold."

"Poor blokes, we'll visit them tomorrow, I'll apologize to them too." He didn't want to, but even he was a victim of only knowing monsters.

Tubbo began to start dinner, it becoming darker and darker outside.

========

The snow beginning to pick up, Tommy was working on his stone sword when someone knocked on the door.

Tubbo had a hunch on who it was.

He was correct when three familiar faces were shown shocked at the sight of them, "If you're coming in, please hurry."

Tommy shut the door with a knowing look as the grown men inspected their home, "So you two live alone? How old are you seven?"

Tubbo could hear the concern but Tommy huffed, "We are fifteen thank you very much! What about you old people? Huh? Ancient?"

"Well let's introduce ourselves huh? I'm Wilbur, I'm the very charismatic of the bunch. My brother here is Technoblade, he's the fighter. Here's the old man, Philza or Phil."

Tubbo can just feel Tommy roll his eyes, "I'm Tommy the handsomest in the whole land and the biggest man, and over there is Tubbo, he is my best friend and brother. Wilbur, your names shit, I hope you know that."

Tubbo continued to say nothing as he finished making dinner and Tommy continued, "So, how did you end up in a mon-"

"Before you finish that sentence, Mate? What monster and why do you call him that?" The newly dubbed Phil asked.

Tubbo answered as he approached, "That's what our kind call big folk, you know, giants? Human and Hybrids? They're monsters, all of them."

Wilbur narrowed his eyes, "How about size shifters? Reckoned they're good."

Tommy tilted his head, "Haven't met one that wanted to shrink to our size, seen a few go Titanic but they tried to kill everyone."

Tubbo might have been the only one to see the oldest man frown a bit before smiling, "How about you two show us how to survive, like without the big folk."

Tommy caught on to the fact he didn't say Monster but said nothing, "Don't know, you three are pets-"

"We are not pets!" Technoblade finally spoke, his eyes peering down at Tommy and him being unfazed.

Tubbo sighed, he honestly didn't know what to think about the implications he was getting but no harm in being prepared, to bad this was the last time he'd think on it.

For a moment, the other teen seem to contemplate it.

Tommy's face finally grew Stony, "Nope, you're better off as pets or being self taught. You can spend the night but leave after."

Unfortunately, years of being abandoned is still a fresh wound.

Wilbur tried reasoning, "You're the only ones we've met like us! We've no idea how to do things on our own! Also if we run away-"

"You'll lead your monster straight to us and get us all caught, I'm not risking our lives like that." It was rare that Tommy put his foot down, but even rarer for Tubbo to object.

"If we don't, they could still tell their Monster where we are." Tommy looked shocked but resigned.

Technoblade looking a bit uncomfortable before speaking again, "He wouldn't bother you even if he did know."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Riiiight."

====An image of drawn on wings appears on Tommy's back and tears on Tubbo's face.====

It started off slow, teaching basics of climbing and mending clothes first. Technoblade was great at mending, nearly on par with Tubbo. And he and Wilbur both Excell at climbing. Philza was actually on par with Tubbo for mending and pretty decent at climbing without rope, though he had wings he referred to it as handicapping himself.

They were decent in keeping up with Tommy and Tubbo themselves, but the two found that they were better fighters.

Now the teens needed fighting lessons, though the sneaking and stealing was the difficult part.

It's kinda insulting for these grown men to ask for help and not need it, and Tommy let them know.

They were sheepish as Tubbo led Techno to the farm, they bonded over the automatic farm he and Tommy created. Technoblade suggested and easier way to do it but Tubbo shook his head sadly.

"Mobs love going after our kind, not Endermen, even when we look them in the eye. But other mobs will Hunt us down. We try not to dig that deep, and avoid getting Iron ores...not that we can use them." Understanding reached the older Hybrid's eyes as Tubbo led him away.

It had been two weeks after that conversation that Tubbo finally let them see his horns, rubbing at them as they matured and needed a day.

Philza remain with him as Tommy took Techno and Wilbur hunting with him.

The elder man asking the hard questions as he made the child some tea, "Tell me, how did you get your...wounds."

Tubbo flinched and backed away from Phil before taking a deep breath, "Tommy and I...we were born and raised in captivity, we got sold to be a child's pets. They hurt Tommy so bad, then they tried to set me on fire with a torch...their mother stopped them before they touched me. But they believed me and Tommy were too...broken. so we were thrown out.

"More of our kind found us, but after teaching us what we know they left us. It's why we live outside instead of in the walls of a Monster's house...Tommy was too loud and I was too dumb to leave him."

Phil looked on the verge of tears, "You're not dumb, you're pretty wise for your age."

Before dozing off Tubbo managed to speak again, "No choice when you and yer friend are alone."

In the month, Tommy managed to let slip that he used to have wings and broke down in Tubbo's arms as the adults looked on in horror.

A child, ripping off his wings just because he asked them for an hour of rest. Then proceeded to play with said wings, nobody said anything as Phil flutted his own wings and occasionally covered the two children like a shield.

====The Next Month====

Tubbo laughed as Wilbur and Tommy shouted at each other about the best way to hunt. Phil would disappear once a week before returning with soft material for clothes, but Technoblade.

Technoblade was acting peculiar and even Tommy noticed, the two would ask if he were okay but he would nod and shoo them off.

The piglin Hybrid had been looking uncomfortable for the past few days, Phil and Wilbur seem to be waiting for something while Tubbo tried everything in his power to make him comfortable.

Tommy was concerned, not that he would show but got the material for Tubbo's gift to the older men.

For Philza, Tubbo made another ornament for his hat, a bee and raccoon.

For Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo managed to have enough redstone for a music room. Tommy himself listen to Will play the most.

Tubbo was nervous about his gift to Techno, as Tommy gifted him a stone axe with self made design.

Tubbo, still focused on the Hybrid's discomfort, made his a pillow that looked like a ravanger. He gave a toothy grin and hugged the kid, keeping it close as he dozed off.

Tubbo will deny his tail ever wagging.

It wasn't until the next morning things made sense and seemed...bad.

Tubbo's horns hurt as Techno himself grunted in his discomfort, so they couldn't get things done.

Wilbur and Tommy got into another argument but this time about borrowing iron from the village which Phil helped Wilbur understand why not.

They were due for another hunting trip but with Technoblade and Tubbo out of commission, Phil had to go with them despite not wanting to leave the two.

Technoblade decided to stay on the couch instead of his newly added room and Tubbo remained near in case neither could handle the stairs.

When Tubbo blinked awake, it was to the noise of rushing wind and screams.

The ground shook under him as the house quaked, Pillagers

Tubbo quickly crawled over to Techno, too dizzy to stand and a shock went through his body.

The piglin Hybrid was much larger than their little couch that he slept on, Tubbo could place two hands on the older Hybrid's face and attempted to awake him.

"T..ech..no, we need to move, please wake up." Just as Tubbo stuttered that out, a booted foot came through the borrower's home, a pained and fearful cry escaped him as he missed a single red eye open.

Something wrapped around his waist, startling him as he looked up fearful at Techno.

The Hybrid looked pained as he began to expand higher through the ceiling, Tubbo watched in horrified fascination as the hand he was in curled closer to an eye.

"Tubbo, you know me, you know I'd never hurt you. Please hold on to me, I don't want you getting hurt." Tubbo's body went on autopilot as the hand was brought closer to the mon- the neck of Technoblade.

Tubbo held on as the body finally broke through the house, shielding him from danger.

A gleam brought Tubbo to attention, a light blue axe appeared in the giant's hand shimmering with unspoken enchantments. Tubbo had only heard of diamonds before, he was not disappointed.

Technoblade slashed through all his enemies, all the while keeping an eye and ear on Tubbo.

The beat of large wings alerted Tubbo to another person, Philza. The oldest coming from the air like an Angel of Death.

Tubbo could make out two people against his own throat, Tommy and Wilbur.

Unfortunately Phil didn't catch sight of him and the borrower was being grabbed in a tight fist, "Come on Mate! You're not prepared enough for this."

Technoblade's ear twitched and the scared pain Yelp, "Philza! Let go! You have Tubbo!"

The crushing weight was immediately gone as the kid took deep breaths barely hearing Techno's instructions, "Tubbo, I'm going to have to fight my way through. Hold on the best you can."

As that was said, the older hybrid began to lurch forward. Tubbo caught glimpses of Phil fighting alongside, but his focus was on not falling.

Not being ripped away wasn't part of this, a small glowing Fae creature tackled Tubbo and flew him away.

========

Tommy watched as his best friend got carried away by a Vex, "TUBBO!"

Wilbur flinched at the volume and Phil slightly stiffen but didn't falter in his fighting, Technoblade visibly looked around when it happened.

The small army was thinning down as the two watched out for the vex with the ram Hybrid, carefully taking out other vexes that went for Tommy or Wilbur.

Techno knew there was one left as bodies turned to emeralds, but the snow began to become blinding and Tubbo's scent getting fainter.

Phil had to physically drag him to the cabin, Wilbur had grew to his full size and started a fire and proceeded to hold Tommy.

Who was using all his energy in fighting Wilbur's hand, "I have to find Tubbo! Wilbur let go!"

The small being froze as Techno and Phil entered the space, "Don't worry Tommy, we'll find him. But we'll be useless in this weather."

Phil attempted to comfort, suddenly feeling too large compared to the child. The man can barely see his facial features, but even he could tell that he was terrified.

The silence was thick and tension high and the broken voice to an all too small child spoke up, "So... this is it? You...you really got us to trust you-"

Wilbur knew where this was going, "Tommy, Tommy no-*

"You shithead's are really fucked up! What next? Am I a pet? Did you honestly sell Tubbo!?" Tommy continued, the only one about to tell he's crying was Wilbur.

Techno didn't say anything as Tommy yelled, guilt too strong in his gut. He slowly turned to the window, the snow falling harshly as Tubbo got farther and farther.

They were getting Tubbo back.

========

Tubbo wasn't feeling well, his head throbbed because of his horns and he was cold. His cagemate wasn't much better so he can't complain.

Enderfae were quite rare on the market, Tubbo had only met one that he called The Captain. Well sorta, he was of Dragon variety.

Tubbo doesn't like to think what happened to him.

The Enderfae was crying, as the Pillager added their cage to his wall. A pillager outpost.

"HHey, it'll be okay, I'll find a way out of this. My... family will come for us." Tubbo tried to soothe knowing that he was making empty promises.

"Its okay, I've come to terms with this the moment I got captured. I hope my friends are okay. My name's Ranboo."

"I'm Tubbo."

========

The cabin was dark, Wilbur slept curled around a pillow which held a borrower.

A borrower who's trust they destroyed...one of two.

Upon closer inspection, you could see the tear stains down his face. Filling the larger three with guilt, sympathy, and rage.

Technoblade added more Regen and Health Potions to his pack, his old red cloak was taken from the closet and put on. A large netherite axe lay strapped to his back along with his trusty trident.

His bright golden crown lay on his head once again as he readjusted his armor.

He stood in full netherite armor, his hair lay hazardous around his head. Stiffening as hands began to braid it into a ponytail.

"Be careful Technoblade, Tubbo is fragile compared to me and Wil. He might be afraid, try not to hurt him and try not to get hurt." Philza warned.

Techno responded in a snort, He was the Blood God, of course he'll be careful

========

Technoblade isn't always the lovable dope he shows his family, he was ruthless, dangerous, and incredibly protective.

Everyone knew of him, but very few knew him.

When something happens to his family, he hunts down the threat and if it's killable...need he continue?

A pillager kidnapped his little brother, his pack, and expects not to be hunted down like prey? Pillagers are not known for brilliance.

"Technoblade?!" A familiar voice rang out behind him, a feral growl escaped him.

Dream, Sapnap and George ran up to him. All equipped in their own armour, oddly enough Dream was without his mask and tear stains on his face.

They hesitated, they each had seen Technoblade in his most feral and bloodthirsty before, so they new to be cautious.

Sapnap spoke in Piglin, "Techno? Did something happen to Wilbur and Phil?"

"New Pack, Pillagers took him!" It was no secret that Feral Technoblade couldn't speak common, but it was still a surprise each time someone heard it.

Sapnap nodded, "We'll help, Pillagers stole my Inferno. Work together?"

The trio watched as the Piglin Hybrid nodded in agreement, it had been a while since they teamed up. What better way than to save family.

~~~~~~~~

Tubbo and Ranboo talked quietly, trying to brighten their seemingly dark future.

Ranboo talked about what he remembered before being bought by his Haunting, then finally trusting them and calling them his.

Tubbo spoke of his Herd, how he met the older three and how he knew one was just giant. How he observed them long enough to trust them, and their names.

Both promising the other that if they live or die that the other tell their family.

Not that it was necessary, about three minutes later an alarm went off, alerting the occupant of intruders.

Hope filled the two as yells of fear and agony echoed through the building, scaring the Evoker that captured them.

The pillager didn't have time to cast a spell when a familiar face burst through the doorway.

Tubbo could see the rage in his red eyes, but his happiness clouded judgement.

"Techno!"

For a moment, his rage cleared only for it to return full force at the Evoker.

Not long after that, he was struck down and Technoblade gently took the cage off the wall. He noticed the Enderfae and looked around for others.

His clawed hand wrapped around the small cage at the sight of small bones and jarred tiny insides, the only other living thing in the room was a small zombie Piglin hybrid in a jar next to the taxidermy book.

He took the jar and opened it, grabbed the child and opened Tubbo's cage and passed them to him.

As the building began to burn, Technoblade left just as fast as he arrived.

Tubbo watched as Ranboo called out to three individuals, he recognized one being a Mushroom hybrid but not the other two.

The baby zombie Piglin Hybrid curled next to him, both shivered just realizing the cold.

The bandana wearing man looked to Technoblade, "I can carry them if you want, keep them warm. You did agree to let us spend the night at your place."

He didn't understand the snorts and grunts but it seemed like the baby did because he copied.

That brought a soft smile to the bandana boy and Technoblade, the later grinned at Tubbo.

Soon they were on the move again. Tubbo and Ranboo huddled the baby Piglin, more relieved than before that they were saved.

========

Tommy hadn't eaten anything since Tubbo was taken, he hadn't interacted nor did he call Wilbur name and claim he was bald.

The two sizeshifter knew deep down that he wouldn't get better unless Tubbo was with them again.

The front door swung open revealing a steaming Sapnap holding something against his chest with the protective determination that was only in reserve for his friends and family.

Soon the rest of Dream Team and Technoblade entered the cabin, they were covered in soot smudges and looked exhausted.

Phil could see Tommy stiffen and move further from the door but settled on Technoblade, "Tubbo?"

Sapnap moved his arms to reveal a small cage with three small beings inside, one Phil recognized immediately.

"Tubbo!" Philza approached the younger man, who backed away at the same time as Ranboo flinched.

But the old man was patient, and the cage was released again, this time Tubbo was halfway through the door and jumping into Phil's hands.

"Hi Phil! Where's Tommy!?" Tubbo looked exhausted as well.

As gently as well as fast as he could, Phil brought his hands on the table so Tubbo could run to Tommy.

"Tubbo!"

"Tommy!"

The duo hugged until Tubbo passed out and caused a mass panic from everyone but Ranboo.

It wasn't ideal, but it was a new beginning for the clingyduo.

[writesowhatnext]

the solution is outsourcing // fred weasley

Summary: the reader is awkward… really awkward, but quite brilliant, really. Maybe that’s why Fred’s so interested

Request: hi lovely, love your writing! can i req a fluffy fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader please? maybe the reader knows something that’ll help him with a prank or something?

A/N: I had such a hard time writing this if not purely because I fell down a hunger games rabbit hole and felt like I was 12 again BUT ALSO halfway through this I was creasing because I kept having to tell myself that I absolutely could not name this ‘the highs and lows of high school quidditch’

Reader: Ravenclaw

Warnings: 1 swear word maybe?

Hogwarts, as you discovered pretty early on, was not at as boring as most schools in the area. First of all, there weren’t any other schools in the area due to it being a castle nestled just within the Scottish Highlands and all. Secondly, being a school for wizards, it had its fair share of perks that came with the territory: from learning about thestrals to broomsticks to sleeping draughts and everything in between, life at Hogwarts had a certain je ne sais quoi that most schools just weren’t cut out for.

After the second time Harry Potter, a boy in the year below, was almost killed, you figured that Hogwarts’ flair came less from its magical subjects and more from the drama of constant near-death experiences. Regardless, though, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Amidst the chaos, it was easy to forget sometimes that Hogwarts was still a school. A school full of teenagers. A school full of incredibly gifted and incredibly impressionable teenagers.

Not only were you extremely blessed to be learning all that you were but you were also fairly bright, and so you were often very dedicated to your studies, making sure to soak up all the knowledge you could from every possible source. But even you weren’t immune to the consequences of a high school social hierarchy; a fact that would probably explain why your mouth was drying up faster than the Sahara Desert watching Fred Weasley across the room.

He always had this look in his eye like he knew something everyone else didn’t, you thought, your attention divided somewhat unequally between him and your History of Magic textbook. He also always managed to look attractive. You hummed as he turned, starting to approach your table. Wait, what? Your table?

Undeniably, Fred was one of the most popular boys in school.

Both handsome and hilarious, he and his twin brother George were infamous for their pranks and notorious for their quidditch playing. Everybody knew who they were and if they didn’t, they would soon enough.

Your friends, usually so engrossed in their own discussions, grew silent and your hands stilled on your textbook, your fingers pinching at the old pages. It’s not like you often watched Fred Weasley across the courtyard… or classrooms… or the Great Hall.

Well.

To your defence, though, you were usually a lot less obvious and he was usually a lot less heading in your direction.

Why was he coming over to your bench? He probably wasn’t, you thought. It was probably just a detour. Or a prank. You swallowed, unable to tear your eyes off of him. The courtyard was loud with chatter, but you’d wager your heartbeat was louder. Why was he still heading your way?

“Hi,” he said leisurely, crossing his arms over one another as he stood next to your bench. His lean muscles strained under his jumper and though your perspective was warped by your goo-goo eyes and the fact you were sat down, it was still fairly obvious that he was tall. He had the aura of someone tall, you decided, and if his crooked grin was anything to go by, he was apparently completely aware of the effect he had on you and everyone else, for that matter.

You looked behind you, your confusion growing when you found only air and realised that he was, in fact, talking to you.

You frowned, your lips puckering as you tried to form a word, any word.

“What?”

Maybe not that word. In fact, maybe any other word would have been better.

“Uh,” he said, leaning backwards and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Hi?”

You cursed yourself under your breath.

“Hello?” you replied, your tone unsure.

“I’m Fred,” he said, his uneasy expression replaced quickly with the same charming smile.

Before your brain could catch up with your mouth, you scoffed. “I know.”

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath, blinking and swallowing back the dryness in your throat. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

The amused smirk playing on his lips almost definitely blew a fuse in your brain.

“I’ve been looking for you actually,” he said, placing his hand on your table and leaning over.

If his words weren’t enough to send you over the edge, his proximity plummeted your brain into some alternate reality where it was unavoidable to say awkward things to attractive strangers.

“Well, it’s your lucky day!” you chimed, your cheerful grin dying on your lips as you heard your own words. Why you couldn’t just behave normally was beside you.

Fred didn’t seem to mind nor notice how painfully awkward you felt.

“Isn’t it just?” he said, his surprised expression relaxing into a smirk. He turned to one of your friends opposite you and pointed to the empty space next to him. “D’you mind if I sit here, mate?”

“’Course not,” your friend said, shooting you an entertained smile and sliding up so Fred could sit facing you. His knees touched yours as he clambered over the bench.

“Now,” Fred said, his tone serious as a decidedly playful glint flickered in his eyes. “I need your help.”

You opened your mouth, probably sucking all of the air out of the quad in the process as your eyebrows knitted together. You didn’t think Fred Weasley even knew who you were. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for your brain-cells to cooperate to form a reply.

“My sister says you’re a genius. I’ll assume that’s true; I’ve never seen anyone actually read this,” he gestured towards your textbook with a lopsided smirk. “So, are you actually a mastermind or are you just fooling the rest of us?”

His eyes were so bright as he spoke, so expectant as well. Expectant? Oh, a question.

You let your gaze trail down his face slowly. His eyes were warmer up close, you thought, and he had lots of tiny freckles.

“Hello?” he said, waving his hand in front of you with a half-smile and an amused frown.

“Um,” you stalled, swallowing. “Your sister. Oh, yes, Ginny. Your sister. Ginny Weasley.”

You nodded, letting your mind catch up to the conversation and avoiding any glances towards his smiling features. “I tutored her last year. Can’t see why: she didn’t need my help. She’s rather sharp herself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred rushed, already bored of the topic of his sister as he dismissed you and leant in closer. “She said that you were brilliant, though. Especially at Charms.”

Your face warmed at his words and Fred watched rather curiously as you looked away, placing your hands into your lap and fiddling with your quill under the table.

“I’m pretty good,” you said, mulling it over. “I think Flitwick just likes me.”

“Yeah, right, anyway,” he snorted disbelievingly. He pursed his lips before leaning forward on his elbows. “I need your help with a charm for a prank.”

“A prank?”

“A prank, indeed.”

You looked to your left, watching your friends pretend not to listen to your conversation. Your brain hadn’t fully caught on to idea yet that you were sat even in close proximity to Fred Weasley, let alone that you were talking to him. And now he wanted you to help him? You couldn’t decide whether stranger things had happened.

“Please?” he said, tilting his head to the side and widening his eyes. Before he sat down at your table, you didn’t know Fred Weasley; you only knew of Fred Weasley and so, what you didn’t know was that he was born with a gift. A gift that involved possessing a pair of the world’s greatest puppy dog eyes. He watched smugly as your indecision faltered and you cracked a smile at his silly expression. Something stirred in his chest at the sight of you.

“What’s the prank?” you asked, keeping up the façade of reservation. Fred knew, though: he’d got you hooked.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, waving your hands around wildly. Your friends had long since disappeared from the courtyard, off to their classes or to study elsewhere. “How are you going to give him the hair dye?”

“Ah,” Fred sighed animatedly, stretching his back from his hunched-over position. “That’s for me to know, isn’t it?”

You smiled, pursing your lips together as you shared a conspiratorial look.

Being around Fred, it seemed, was much easier than first anticipated. When you got over the initial shock of him a) knowing you exist and b) talking to you, you found yourself falling into a comfortable rhythm, a light banter of ideas. Every so often, though, you were struck by the slope of his nose or the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were lucky, you realised, that you had such a good excuse to distract you from just staring at him the whole time.

“Alright,” you said tightly, frowning at the parchment you had ripped out to scribble notes on. Fred’s eyes followed your face. “I think I can do it.”

“Really?”

His face lit up and your stomach dropped at how cute he looked, butterflies fluttering in its wake.

“How?”

Your brows drew together and you bit your lip, fingers drumming lightly on the paper.

“Let me-“ you said, standing up abruptly and circling around the otherwise empty bench, slotting yourself beside him without a second thought.

“Right, so I think that if you take a simple transfiguration charm and then layer it-“ You paused as a deep crease imprinted on Fred’s forehead. “Look,” you insisted, leaning closer to him and pushing your notes around, using your finger to point at your words. “All you have to do really is layer the charms to make them harder to undo and then…”

Fred didn’t listen to the rest. He couldn’t, really. Not when he could feel your warmth next to him, your shoulder pressed against his and your breath fanning against his cheek every time you looked up. He couldn’t figure out how he never noticed you before. Gruffly, he swallowed, forcing himself to pay attention.

“You top it all off with a pre-emptive counter charm and the hair dye will last a while,” you nodded, pleased with your work. “His hair will probably grow out sooner than he can fix the colour.”

Turning to Fred, only slightly surprised that he was already looking at you, you grinned as he let out a deep throaty chuckle.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he muttered, shaking his head with his tongue poking out between his lips. “You are bloody brilliant.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he snatched up the piece of parchment, swung his legs over the bench and raced off, his cheerful demeanour almost making up for the way your heart sank at him leaving. You watched him disappear down the corridor and sighed, letting your head loll backwards. The idea that things would just go back to how they were plagued your mind as you packed away your books, resting your knees on the bench.

He’d always be Fred Weasley, the most popular boy in school, and you’d just be you. Back to normal.

“Oh,” Fred said breathlessly as he appeared behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that lifted your cheeks as you raised your eyebrow.

Your smile dropped, though, when he leant closer and pressed his lips ever so delicately to your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact and you could feel the rush of blood to your face.

“I’ll find a way to thank you for your help,” he said, beaming at your surprised expression. “Promise.”

It took a week for them to finalise the prank, it seemed. You wondered whether you’d just missed the outcome until one morning, Draco Malfoy stormed into the Great Hall with a scowl and bright orange hair. His entrance was met with whistles and cheers and as you looked over at the Gryffindor table, your eyes widened as they met Fred’s. Whilst his brother and their friends laughed and jeered, he just grinned at you. With a small burst of courage, you waved. He pursed his lips in amusement before he lifted up a paper aeroplane in his hand, gesturing to throw it.

Your eyebrows creased at the idea, but you watched with your heart beating in your chest as the aeroplane soared over to you, dropping gently onto your empty plate. Looking up at Fred, you frowned, unable to keep the smile off of your face. He urged you to open it, making faces as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’.

You chuckled; the paper rough on your fingertips as you unfolded it. Written in rather jaunty handwriting, was a simple question signed off with a simple ‘-F’.

You, me, Hogsmeade, this weekend?

You could’ve got whiplash from how quickly your head shot up. Even from so far away, the nervousness and anticipation on Fred’s face were beyond evident and painfully endearing. You nodded, biting your lip to suppress your smile. You’d have thought it was infectious given his own shit-eating grin. He shot you a wink and turned back to his friends and you found yourself working out exactly how long you had until your date with nonother than Fred Weasley.

harry potter tag list: (added later bc braincells - some didnt work)

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @susceptible-but-siriusexual @answer-the-sirens @thisismysketchbook @ickle-ronniekins @harrysweasleys​

[amorgansgal]

Moonlight as my Guide

Chapter Three of Cruel, Cruel World! If you’d like to read the first chapter it’s here, the 2nd chapter is here and you can read the whole thing on Ao3.

Warnings: Depiction of illness.

He has found himself thinking about her, the worry niggling at the back of his mind. It has been over two weeks and the rabbit they caught won’t last forever. Will she have been able to find more things to eat, will she have learnt how to use her husband’s rifle? He knows his presence will likely do her no good, that she would do better to not associate herself with an outlaw. And yet he finds himself riding along the path that runs by the train tracks, after he has made a visit to Annesburgh.

His horse, Cleopatra, trundles along, he’s not encouraging her with kicks to her side or clicks of his tongue. Arthur is too busy arguing in his mind that he shouldn’t visit Charlotte, he shouldn’t put her at risk, he shouldn’t care too deeply whether she lives or dies. But he’s already reached the Brandywine drop and is following the white, churning water that leaves cool droplets on his face. Perhaps it is part of dying. He must know, he has to be able to rest knowing that people are alive and well. Assumptions just won’t do anymore.

As Cleo trots lightly through the green swaying trees, the peaceful, quiet morning is interrupted by the loud crack of gunfire coming from Charlotte’s cabin. He immediately spurs his horse into a gallop and then once he’s near the entrance tumbles down from the saddle, foot almost catching in a stirrup. He runs up the rest of the hill, heart racing, desperate not to find her lying dead or begging for mercy at the hands of some thief looking for what little money she has!

He’s barely made it into the garden, when relief floods his heart as he hears Charlotte’s frustrated cry of, ‘Gosh darnit! Not a single one…’ and once he reaches the top of the hill, he sees her. She’s wearing the same blue blouse and plaid skirt, but both have evidently been cleaned and the skirt mended. She’s holding a rifle in her arms, her frustration all too evident as she kicks the ground with the toe of her boot.

She is busy reloading the gun, when she hears his footsteps and turns her head towards him. The frown she wears disappears within an instance and she smiles joyfully on seeing him. ‘Oh, hey there!’

He finds himself warmly returning the smile. ‘How you feelin’ Ma’am?’

‘Much better than I’ve felt in a long time, I… If we hadn’t caught that rabbit, I don’t think I’d have made it another day.’

‘Well, you look better.’

Her face is clear from the mud and tears, her skin looks clean and soft, though flushed from sunlight and the cold wind that blows down from the surrounding hills. A few strands of her dark hair have fallen loose from her bun, they shift lightly against the breeze. Arthur feels a strange urge to reach out and tuck them behind her ears, to feel the dark hair that is lined with silver against his hand, to cup her face in his hands and feel the warm flush.

‘Better and determined, thanks to you. And if I’m going to learn to hunt, I figured it was time I learned how to use Cal’s gun properly.’

She turns back to a row of glass bottles that have been set up on a crate and rests the gun against her shoulder.

‘And how’s that workin’ out for ya?’ he asks.

‘Well, let’s just say my prey is looking decidedly unscathed.’ She aims carefully, and then fires. The gun ricochets upwards almost out of her hands and she staggers back a little, chuckling at her efforts.

‘But the end of labour is to gain leisure, is that not what Aristotle said?’ She suddenly looks flustered, gazing down at the ground and Arthur moves the gun away from her face, so it is instead pointing out towards the entrance near the road.

‘Well, I… I don’t know much about Aristotle, but erm, I know a thing or two about shooting a gun.’ He gently turns her around to face the target again. ‘Look you gotta hold steady and firm.’ He places his hands on her shoulders, positioning the gun against the crook of her arm and straightening her back. The warmth of her bleeds through her shirt and he quickly pulls his hands away.

‘You just focus, breathe slowly and always pull the trigger on empty lungs.’ He gazes at her face, the small frown above her eyes and the eager, determined look in them is beautiful.

His eyes flick down her shoulders, her back, but before he goes any lower, he quickly walks round to her other side, anything to distract him from the way his mind is wandering. Christ’s sake, she’s a widow after all, her husband barely resting in his grave! He ignores the uncomfortable wave of shame that sweeps into his gut.

‘Here, I’ll show ya.’ He pulls his revolver from the holster and focuses on the bottles. ‘Okay… calm and steady… don’t snatch at the trigger.’ Arthur murmurs, more for Charlotte’s benefit than his. This is second nature to him, muscle memory. If he aims a gun he knows where the bullet will go. He aims at a green bottle and fires; the glass explodes and he just catches Charlotte’s gasp of amazement.

‘You make it look so easy,’ she says warmly.

‘Alright, you try now. Remember to breathe,’ he says, quickly brushing over her compliment.

She hoists the gun back to her shoulder, her green eyes narrowing on the target. ‘Wait to breathe out… wait to breathe out…’ she murmurs to herself. She fires, the bullet whizzes past the bottle, hitting the ground and sending a plume of dust into the air. Charlotte, however, smiles at him. ‘Would you look at that? I haven’t hit one that close all day!’

‘Not bad. Focus on the inhale, shoot on the exhale.’

She rolls her eyes at him good naturedly. ‘Come on, you got to give me some praise!’

‘I just did.’

She moves the gun back up and focuses on the bottles again, but her eyes suddenly dart over to the house and she gives a sigh. ‘Oh no, that wretched rat is back. Over there, do you see?’

Arthur glances over and sees a large brown rat scurrying by the undergrowth that surrounds the two buildings. The rat pokes its head up and sniffs the air, turning beady eyes on him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the rat is glaring at him.

‘It’s been a thorn in my side ever since we moved here. Could you kill it?’

The words have barely left her mouth, when he fires the pistol and the rat is no more. Charlotte lets out a small gasp of surprise that turns into a chuckle of amusement.

‘Show off! Alright, let me try again.’

She raises the rifle and Arthur watches as her long fingers carefully hold the weight of the gun. Her hands are calloused and a little dirty, and he finds himself glancing down at his own. They almost match, though his are certainly rougher. He wonders what it would be like to clasp her hand in his.

‘Come on, come on…’ She shoots and one of the glass bottles explodes into a shower of glass. He grins and Charlotte staggers back a little as though she can’t quite believe it. ‘Yes! I hit it! I hit it, didn’t I?’

She lets out a breathless, excited laugh and turns to him with a warm smile. ‘What can I say? Thank you.’ Her green eyes are shining brilliantly, her lips parted in a delighted smile and she shifts closer to him. He should draw back, take a step away from her, but instead he finds himself entranced by the forest glade of her eyes. She looks into his own and just for a moment the trees and nearby river seem to fall silent, as though the world is holding its breath in anticipation.

It is Charlotte who draws back, a soft flush on her cheeks and she worries her lower lip. ‘I still have some of the rabbit left that I salted up. Would you join me for a meal? It’s the least I can do.’

He gives a short nod, now uncomfortable with his actions and trying to gaze anywhere but her eyes. As she leads the way to her cabin, he directs his attention to the hills and forest that surrounds the house, to avoid looking at the sway of her hips. Isn’t it bad enough that his own selfishness brings him to her door? Because he is seemingly determined to bring death and destruction to good people who don’t deserve it? Because he likes the way she smiles and looks at him and praises him.

They walk into the cabin, it’s a simple, rustic place. There’s a soft curtain with green leaves covering the window that looks out onto the backyard, a few cupboards line the walls most with books on them and there is table in the centre of the room. A warm fire is still burning in the grate and Charlotte throws another log when she passes it. On one of the cupboards, he sees a rudimentary trap that looks like it’s being repaired.

‘Go ahead and take a seat at the table. Food is just about done.’

He does as he is told and sits down. Charlotte grabs hold of a cloth and hefts the huge pot of stew over, then places on the table. She lets out a slight hiss and pulls her hands away quickly.

‘Well, it’s… it’s good and hot. I hope you enjoy it.’ She heads back to the cupboards and picks up two bowels, a large ladle and some cutlery. ‘You helped me catch it after all.’

She smiles at him and dishes the stew into the bowl, then passes him a spoon. ‘Bon appetit!’

‘Huh?’ he looks up in confusion and immediately feels bad on seeing the embarrassed flush that stains her cheeks. Goddammit, can’t he just keep his mouth shut and not be such an ignorant fool?

‘Please enjoy,’ she says, giving him a small smile. ‘And thank you again for everything. I really am grateful.’

‘Ahh,’ he shakes his head and reaches for his spoon. ‘It was nothing.’

‘You’re a good man.’

He gazes down at the bowl, shifting his spoon amongst the rich brown stew, the carrots and potatoes. He wished he didn’t keep hearing that. He wished people would stop saying it. He’s not. A good man is the last thing he could possibly be. He looks back up at her.

‘Oh, you don’t really know me.’

‘I know enough,’ she insists, her gentle smile warming him better than any stew. Although he’s always tempted to argue back and insist he’s not a good man, he finds himself focusing on the stew instead and quickly placing a spoonful in his mouth. He doesn’t want to disagree with Charlotte, she’s been far too kind to him, but she couldn’t be more wrong.

‘There’s always more to find in ourselves, you helped me to see that.’ She turns around and picks up another bowl from the counter. She sits back down and reaches over to the ladle in the stew pot. ‘My husband, Cal, was such an optimist. I found that to be very contagious.’

The stew is good, certainly better than Pearsons, though Arthur is aware that’s not a particularly hard feat. But it’s warming, rich and hearty, seasoned with small green herbs, a decent amount of pepper and salt. It runs hot down his throat and he suddenly finds his lungs burning, that deep desire to cough overriding everything. He tries to listen to Charlotte as she continues talking, hoping that her soothing, calm voice will distract him from painful ache in his chest.

‘But there’s a fine line between optimism and naiveté. We were both born with the silver spoon… banquets, butlers, valets…’

He gives a slight cough so he can speak, but it does nothing to soothe the burning claws that have entrenched themselves in his lungs. ‘Sounds terrible,’ he manages to rasp.

‘It was just… so many people, so many things. I was lost in it, I was crushed by it.’ She’s staring down at the stew, barely a mouthful has passed her lips. She looks back up at him, he avoids turning his head when he sees the deep look of trust in her eyes. He can’t hurt her, even if just purely by her knowing him.

‘My father was very overbearing. Then we came out here and I got crushed by this.’ She gazes around the room for a moment and then gives a light laugh. ‘You know I pictured myself picking fresh vegetables, sipping homemade wine, writing a great novel. But I turned out to be a far more pathetic anti-heroine than any I could ever pen.’

It sounds like a pretty dream and wouldn’t he like to be part of that dream. Helping to dig up potatoes, sipping wine with her on the porch, drawing her as she writes her great novel. But there isn’t a hope in hell that she would want him, she came here with her husband after all, she’s not looking for another man to take Cal’s place. It’s not like he has enough time to take his place, even if he wanted to.

‘Ah well… I reckon you’re going to be just fine.’ He coughs heavily. It’s getting worse, the claws sinking into his throat, till he can taste blood on his tongue and he can barely gasp for air.

Charlotte looks up at him, concern written all over her features. ‘Are you alright? Can I get you some water?’

‘No, I’m… I’m, I’m fine. I just um…’ He manages to get to his feet, trying to clear away the deep cough so he can continue talking to her, can listen to her talk about her family, her hopes, her plans. But right now, all he can concentrate on is the rasping cough, the tight burn of his lungs, the iron tang on his tongue that is mixed with the savoury taste of stew.

‘Yeah, thank you for this. I think it’s, it’s best if I ju… If I make…’ The cough takes every last bit of strength he had and leaves him gasping for air on his knees. He tries to inhale, but his body is wracked with the painful coughing. He hears Charlotte come to his side and through his half closed eyes, sees her hands reaching out to him, but shamefully he succumbs to the exhaustion his body has felt for far too long. The darkness swallows him up.

He wakes and it’s not with the soothing comfort of someone who is well rested, who relishes the warmth of their bed and the enjoys the gentle lull at the promise of a new day. He wakes with a cough, the gasping air rattling in his lungs and chest, his throat tight and heavy. He wakes on a small bed, by the looks of things one for a child, and slowly pushes himself up so he can get some air in his lungs.

There’s a small bedside table next to him, with a folded letter resting against a lacquered box with a brown lid and gold trim. White flowers decorate the lid and sides of the box. He picks up the letter and unfolds it. The neat script can only be Charlotte’s, it’s pretty and elegant to look at. No doubt something that was hammered into her from childhood. If she saw his rough scrawl she would probably laugh.

My dear Arthur,

I have gone out hunting. Not a phrase I thought any pen of mine would ever ink but nonetheless one I am very proud to finally be able to write. I am so very grateful to you for all the help and encouragement you've given me. You met me at one of my lowest points and showed me the way back to the person I really am. It pains me greatly to see your pain.

There is some money in the box on the nightstand. Please take it, I have more than I need back in the city and I'd like you to have it. Perhaps you can do some good with it or can use it to help yourself in some way.

Please take care and remain true to the man I know you are.

Yours fondly

Charlotte

He finds his thumb tracing the words ‘Yours fondly’ and quickly shakes his head. Damn fool that he is. He rereads the letter. Then looks up at the box. Should he take the money? Even if he did not use it himself, he could use it to help others.

He opens the lid and gazes down at the crisp bills inside the box. There looks to be about a hundred dollars in there. Arthur sighs and closes the lid. He’s got plenty of money and he’s trying to get rid of it by helping people. What does he need more money for now? What can he do with it when his time is rapidly running out? Better to leave it to Charlotte, so she may buy a horse or chickens or new boots, than to leave it to a man whose every step leads him closer to death.

Arthur grabs his hat from the bedside table and then reaches down to his satchel that has been left learning against the small cupboard. He pulls the bag open and takes out his journal, then slips Charlotte’s letter inside to keep it safe.

He looks around the room. There’s a chest of drawers with children’s books scattered over the surface and a pot containing some bird feathers. He walks over and picks up a leather-bound copy of fairy tales. Did these belong to Charlotte or did she hope to have a child who would sit in the small bed and read those stories under the comforting light of the gas lamp?

He looks back to the bed envisioning Charlotte resting against the bed frame, a girl cuddled next to her with dark hair and blue eyes shining with delight as Charlotte reads to her. Would she have looked up to find him in the doorway and grinned more wildly, leaping up from the bed with a shout of ‘Pa!’?

He clenches his hands into fists and pulls himself away from the thought. It’s not helpful to think that way, it’s not wise to think that way. Dreams of what could be or what might be have never helped him. Dutch’s dreams have spiralled into a hellish nightmare and even though Arthur spends most of his time encouraging everyone to leave as soon as they can, he is going to be trapped. There will only be one way out for Arthur Morgan.

[slowpoke-fics]

Cold

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: you return to the brothers, battered and at deaths door after being gone for months

Warnings: attack, oc death, it is described a little, I dont think there is much triggering in this but read at your own risk, hurt/comfort

A/N: this is part two to Empty, there will be a part three-Warm. Empty is pretty triggering so I wrote this in case someone has a hard time reading part one, they can pick up here, at part two.

You just had to keep driving, every atom in your body shaking, every ounce in your body wanting to sleep, but you knew, you knew you had to make it back to the bunker. Your body was so tired, you just wanted everything to go away already, but you had to keep driving.

Finally, you arrived at the bunker, seeing the classic Impala in the garage made you start sobbing. Limping to the door, you banged as hard as your body would let you. You leaned against the door, letting yourself rest. No response, maybe they weren’t here and that means it was your time. You banged once more, your body having no energy left, begging for rest, for the pain to end. Finally the door opened, a gun placed in your face, followed by a muted Sam screaming with a fearful look on his face as you collapsed, thankful Sam didn’t let you hit the ground. 

You groaned, your entire body lighting up with pain. You felt someone grab your hand, “Are you with me baby?” You flinched, knowing that it was Sam who was sitting by your side, you slowly opened your eyes, groaning as every bone in your body hurt. “Hey,” Sam rubbed the back of your hand, “there you are, scared us to absolute death.” You squeezed Sams hand, “Cold.” With that, you drifted back to sleep, so tired. 

“Hey, baby,” Sam shook you slightly, “you gotta wake up it’s been three days. You have eat.” You groaned, moving closer to the warm body in your bed. Sam sighed, you could feel the worry the air, almost taste it. You kept clinging to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he lifted you from the bed, he kept the blanket wrapped around you, and carried you to the kitchen. You weren't really sure what was going on, but you knew that Sam had sat down with you on his lap. 

“Drink this baby,” you felt something touch your lips-a straw. Drinking it, you realized it was warm tomato soup. It tasted so good, you didn’t realize you were hungry until now. After a few minutes of eating the tomato soup, you starting coughing, hard and you couldn’t catch your breath. Sam patted your back gently, you squeezed his arm until the fit stopped. “You okay, Y/n?” Dean now at your side next to Sam. Clearing your throat, “Jesus, everything fuckin’ hurts.” Sam and Dean laughed, the first good thing since they opened their door, you’re finally joking. 

You raised your head, looking at Sam, “I’m so sorry,” your eyes tearing up, “I-I thought I had it.” Sam shushed you, running his fingers through your hair, “It’s okay baby, don’t worry about it, you’re okay.” Kissing your forehead he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, giving you the tomato soup back. You finally started to feel a little warmer. That's when the pain of the scratch that spanned from your thigh twisting down to your ankle started searing with pain. You weren't sure how deep any of it was, how damaged you actually were, just that it all hurt. 

You put your arm around Sam’s neck, it was nice to be back home, you just wish it could’ve been under better circumstances. “Really,” your voice cracked, barely able to speak, “it fucking hurts.” Dean was there with some kind of medication, two very different kind of pills, “One is for the pain, the other is for sleep so you can heal, we really needed you to eat, Y/N.” You happily swallowed the pills, Sam going to pick you back up and immediately stopping when you whimpered. “Okay, we’ll stay just like this for now.” 

When you woke back up you were in Sam’s room. God it had been so long since you were able to breathe in the scent of the love of your life. Your breath taken from you in a fit of coughing. Sam comes rushing in, handing you an inhaler. For a second you didn’t understand, but you trusted him. Once you had used the inhaler it felt a little easier to breathe. “I figured you’d need one when you woke up, you had a coughing fit nearly every ten minutes in your sleep.” You smiled at him, trying to catch your breath. 

It was time to get up and get moving, you’ve been through far worse. You scooted to the edge of the bed, biting through the pain, wincing when your left foot hit the ground. “Hey,” Sam put his hands under your biceps, waiting for you to try and stand, “it’s okay Y/n, wherever you wanna go I’ll take you.” You sighed, putting your arms at your side,”I want to go to the kitchen, I want some-deep wheezing breath-real fucking food, I’m so hungry.” Sam smiled, gently putting his arm under your leg and around your back, carrying you to the kitchen. 

Dean saw you and jumped into action, following you to the kitchen. “Ready for some good ol’ fashion grub, Y/n?” You laughed, “Yeah, could you make me a burger?” Sam rolled his eyes at that, he was always outvoted when it came to rabbit food and you and Dean. “Oh, yes ma’am,” Dean started to get the ingredients out of the fridge, mumbling to himself, “speakin’ my language now.” 

As Dean was cooking, he turned to you, “You feeling better?” You smiled, “Definitely more than a few days ago,” he sat across from you, getting serious. “Y/n,” his eyes never left yours, “what happened? You disappear and months later show up to our door with one foot in the grave. What were you doing hunting by yourself?” You let a stay tear fall, “I wasn’t by myself.” Sam and Dean both looked at you like they had been stabbed, “What do you mean?” You laughed a little, the events of the werewolf hunt was something you didn’t know how to process. You thought back to the day you said goodbye, to the note you left. 

Sam, forgive me. I will come back to you.

“After-” you cleared your throat, “after I left, after the djinn, I called Andrea,” your voice cracking again, “I don’t know if you remember her, she was the red head you’d never believe could hunt.” Dean flipped his burgers and started cutting vegetables for your guys’ burgers, both boys listening intently. “We had been hunting together all this time, she was pushing me to come back home but-” you laughed, “I was afraid to, afraid that you guys didn’t love me anymore, so we kept running and hunting.” Sam started to say something, but Dean shook his head, wanting you to finish. “We found a werewolf, about an hour or two from here, we thought we had it, I-I thought I had it, but it-” you wiped away your tears, “Andrea was just gone, she was laying on the ground in a pool of her blood, no way she could’ve survived that.” You sobbed a minute, lost your composure and then quickly regained it.

“I tried to shoot it, but there must've been two,” you glanced over your leg, covered in bandages, “I was thrown into the lake, I waited as long as I could to come out.” Sam was petting you, running his fingers through your hair, kissing your hands, thankful you made it back alive and trying to comfort your loss. “When I finally made it out, Andrea’s body was gone, I somehow made it back to the car, back here to you guys, I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Dean sighed, knowing what it felt like to lose a best friend, knowing it would be hard to say anything to console you. “You made the right choice,” Sam whispered, “to come back to us, to me.” He kissed your forehead, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. As Dean made the burgers for all three of you, Sam whispered, so quietly that you weren’t sure if he meant for you to hear.

“I could never stop loving you.”

You looked up to Sam, placing your hand on his cheek.

“I will always come back to you.” 

You brought your lips to his, missing the feeling of his stubble stinging your lips. Slowly taking in this kiss like it was the last one you’d ever have, his tongue pressed into your mouth, begging to be able to have you again. The taste of your mutual tears lingering in the kiss pulled you out of it. “I’m okay, I made it back to you, you’ve got me,” barely above a whisper, trying to help Sam calm down. Sam placed his hand on your cheek, leaning his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, just taking you in. Taking in your whole essence, finally able to touch you again. 

Dean cleared his throat, both of you jumping a little bit, “The burgers are done, chick flic wannabes.” You all chuckled at that, but knew that Dean was just trying to bring the tone down. He was just as happy to see the woman he claims as his sister. “I have to say, Y/n,” Dean looks up from the burger he is absolutely devouring, “you have a perfect idea of how to cover your trail.” You laughed, almost choking on your burger, nodding your head. “I tell you, don’t ever do that again, we had to look for odd disappearances that just stopped, we just got back from- mmm some witch I think in-” you slapped your hand on the table laughing. “I know where, it was in Antelope Valley California, sons a bitches almost got us, we-” you had to put your burger down, “definitely not witches, fucking ghost children, you believe that shit?” You laughed, coughing a little, “I couldn’t convince Andrea until she saw one herself!” 

All three of you laughed, until you stopped, your heart aching for Andrea, “I’ll miss her.” Sam hummed, “I know, what a firecracker of a hunter.” You laughed, “Really! The bitch was crazy!” You all laughed again, and for the first time since you’d left so many months ago, you didn’t feel so empty.

[emergency-plan]

Breaking news, teen becomes father to weird cat he found

I saw that post by @moonpaw with the scenario where Aizawa found feral!Izuku when he was three and I have not known rest since until I wrote this. 

--------

Shouta was having a day.

It started off fine, with him managing to get out of bed with enough time to eat an actual breakfast, but got worse from the moment he stepped out the door.

He’d left early, planning on taking a detour on his way to school. He’d seen a lot of stray cats around the edge of a forest that he liked to walk by for fresh air. He’d brought two bowls, a tray, some cream, and a bag of cat food in a plastic bag, and his plan was to set them out before making his way to school.

He was making good time, and might’ve even gotten to school a few minutes early, but a villain decided that early morning was the best time to rob a store.

After Shouta had helped stop the robber and tried to leave, a hero stopped him to berate him about laws against public quirk use and how he shouldn’t have gotten in the way of the pros, ignoring Shouta’s complaints that he’s going to be late. The hero finally shut up after he showed his Provisional Hero License.

He checked the time, seeing that he could still make it to school on time if he didn’t take his detour, but if he did, he’d have to carry another bag with him all day. He’d rather deal with being a few minutes late than risk losing the supplies.

He carried on his way, dodging people on the street and trying to hold the bag where it stopped hitting his leg. Eventually, he spotted green poking around buildings.

He found a place just off the side of the sidewalk. It was out of the way of foot traffic and, unless someone was looking for it, they’d probably miss it.

He set out the tray, placing the bowls on it and pouring the food into one. He unscrews the cap of the cream carton and is about to pour it into the other bowl, but he hears a rustling in the bushes in front of him.

A small, black nose pokes out from between the leaves, followed by bright green eyes. Once those eyes lock onto his, two long, green ears poke out of the brush. It slowly pads into view, revealing the weirdest looking cat Shouta has ever seen.

It has large, furry forepaws and curly fur running down its neck and onto its chest. Two long, rabbit-like ears stretch from the top of its head and its eyes are slits. One of the weirdest things about it is that almost everywhere else is covered in scales. The most striking thing is that every aspect of the animal is green.

“Hey, little guy,” he calls, causing its ears to raise even more. “Do you want some cream?”

The presumably quirked cat’s tail starts to wag as it bounds over, its pupils getting wider in excitement. It waits excitedly for Shouta to pour the cream in the bowl.

The moment he’s done pouring, it plants its face is in the bowl, happily licking up every drop.

He only has a moment to smile at the little creature before he feels a cold splash of water on his neck. He looks up just in time to get another rain drop in the eye.

Wiping the water off his face, he reaches for his umbrella on his bag. Once safe from the downpour, he looks back down at the odd cat.

Its only rained for a few seconds, but its tiny frame is basically soaked. It futilely tries to shake off the water to stop its shivering. Shouta can imagine that, given the scales, the creature’s quirk probably makes it part reptile.

Suddenly, he finds himself with a familiar dilemma. Animals wouldn’t be allowed at school, but he didn’t want to leave the poor thing in the cold. He looked up at his umbrella, the one he’d expected to lose only to have it given back to him by the one who did what he hadn’t.

In the end, the decision was made for him. The cat latched onto his ankle, glaring at the puddles around it. Shouta sighed.

“My teacher is not going to be happy,” he informed, picking the maybe-rabbit up. He laid it on its back it the crook of his arm, where it settled comfortably. He was pretty sure that it had started smirking at his comment.

As expected, his teacher told him off for being late, asking him his excuse this time. He help up the bundle of fur and scales in his arm and said that he found it on his way to class. When questioned on what it was, he answered with a monotone, “Cat,” much to everyone’s disbelief.

The green creature jumped out of his lap and wandered the classroom for a bit, occasionally getting the attention of some of his classmates. When his teacher told him to stop the animal from distracting everyone, he was surprised to learn that it knew how to respond to commands when it happily returned to underneath his desk. It spent a few hours playing with his shoe laces.

When it was time for lunch, he picked up the chimera-looking creature and tucked it under his arm. He was going to skip lunch and find a corner of the school to nap in, but the wide starry eyes looking up at him at the mention of food convinced him otherwise.

He ordered some fish and a bowl of rice, having to put the cat on his shoulder to carry his tray. He had to fight the gremlin to stay away from the food until he found a quiet corner in a secluded hall. He set the plate with the fish on one side of the tray and put the cat in front of it. He took a bite of his rice and looked back to see the other’s food completely disappear. It was giving him big puppy-dog eyes, occasionally glancing at his food. He gave it a soft smile, pouring some onto the plate.

When they were both done with their food and the cat had cleaned up the mess it made, Shouta checked the time. There were still thirty minutes left in lunch, enough time to take a ten minute nap and take the cat on walk around campus. He set the tray aside, stretching out his legs and leaning against the wall. He pat his lap as an invitation, satisfied when a weight set itself there.

A few more minutes than expected later, his eyes cracked open. He sees familiar bright green eyes and ears. He also sees a small freckled face with a wide grin.

His eyes closed in a slow blink before flying open again.

The small child that had somehow appeared in his lap looked up at him with a delighted smile.

“Papa!” he cried, reaching up for a hug. “Your hair got long! I didn’t think I was waiting that long! But you came back!”

Shouta was trying not to have a heart attack while the child excitedly babbled.

“H-how’d you get here?” he asked the kid. He giggled in response.

“You brought me here, Papa. Did you forget while you were sleeping?”

Shouta, lost for a moment, finally notices the kid’s long, rabbit-like ears and the tail poking out of his pants to realize.

“Oh,” he says. Dear god, I thought it was a cat, not a child, he thinks. “What’s your name?”

“Izuku!” he near-shouts excitedly.

“Ok, Izuku. How’d you end up in the forest? Where are your parents?” he asks, hoping the kid would know.

He quirks his head to the side, looking confused. “You left me in the forest a few days ago. Mommy hasn’t been around in a while. Do you not remember this, Papa?” Shouta felt a stab to his heart at the realization. The kid had been abandoned.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, kid, but I’m not your papa.” He felt guilty when his ears fell and tears built up in his eyes. “But I can help you! Don’t worry; I won’t put you back in the forest. What kind of hero would I be if I didn’t help someone in trouble?” Izuku’s eyes lit up.

“You’re a hero?” he asked excitedly, tail wagging behind him.

“Technically still a hero in training, but yeah,” he chuckled, relieved that the kid had cheered up. “Speaking of,” he checked the time, “I only have a few minutes until class starts.” He knew that he’d be in even more trouble if he brought a child on campus than if he brought a cat, but he didn’t want to let Izuku crawl around on the floor now that he knew the “cat” is a person. An idea popped into his head and a smile grew on his face.

“Hey, Izuku?” The kids ears stood in attention. “Do you want to see the support department?” At the nods that caused the boy’s ears to flap, Shouta picked him up, leaving the tray for someone else to take care of.

A minute before before lunch ended, the teacher huffed in annoyance. All students were present except the known problem child. Expecting him to be late, he was about to start the lesson.

Before he could get the words out of his mouth, said child walked through the door, the cat from earlier strapped to his chest in a baby carrier and a rare smile on his face.

[faulty-writes]

hello! can you do a hc or ff where fem! reader is like Ariana Grande and she makes an Album (Dangerous Woman) dedicated to Mirko?

Sure, let's see what we can do with this request.

You were never interested in heroes, sure they were big, bold, and beautiful. Saved lives, and had hearts made of gold. The crowds cheering their name repeatedly, much like your fans did whenever you were up on stage. But it never occurred to you to even consider writing a song dedicated to or about one of the pro heroes.

Maybe it was the fact that you were focusing too much of your efforts thinking about heroes in the first place that this happened. You had never in your life expected a villain to attack during one of your concerts much less have the situation come to swift control under the rabbit hero: Mirko.

Since the moment you laid your eyes on her, that hair like starlight and those eyes like fire. That beautiful tan skin and the curve of those muscles all tied together with a foul mouth. Well, it was easy to come to the realization that you had fallen head over heels for the hero.

After that, you spent countless hours trying to write lyrics that would depict the very emotions you felt when Mirko walked up to you with that twisted grin of hers and said, "Well PRETTY FACE, looks like your little concert is saved after all," the way she reached over and pinched your cheek was supposed to be a demeaning action. But instead, it caused your heart to race.

That smug look that painted her face when she left and the way she flipped her hair was forever burnt into your memory. "I'd say see you around, but I wouldn't fucking hope on me hopping to your rescue again," the icy cold wink she gave before disappearing left you calling out her name, and from that moment, you were determined to figure out a way to get Mirko back to you.

Thus the hours dedicated to writing songs that would eventually be contributed to a new album called 'Dangerous Woman', the songs themselves depicted your unusual attraction and devotion to Mirko and the fiery burn she left behind. But not many would guess that, as your lyrics had a tendency to hide the truth unless one really searched for it.

But Mirko was clever, though she didn't feel as though she wanted to bother with you. Despite the fact that your music was rather popular and posters of you were everywhere which, in turn, was beginning to drive her mad. The sound of you even haunted her as samples of your newest album were playing in every music store causing certain lyrics to continuously repeat in her head. "Goddamn...alright PRETTY FACE, you wanna play this fucking game?" she'd make you regret it.

Of course, you should have expected Mirko to go to extreme lengths. Such as crashing your next concern, mid-song no less. One minute your voice is ringing through the air and the next the music continues and everyone is focused on the fact that one of the top-ranked heroes just brought their foot down and cracked the stage in half. "Sorry to break up your little concert, but I've got some beef with pretty face over here," you were half tempted to run off what remained of the stage.

But Mirko was quick and grabbed your shirt collar. Then in front of all your fans, pulled you close. Your attention focused on nothing but her deep red eyes. "You didn't think I wouldn't catch onto your little album, did you?" she said as she reached up to pinch your cheek. "You got some damn spunk, I respect that!" Mirko then grinned before leaning forward to press her lips against yours, the reaction from your fans was nothing short of shock and surprise.

Never in your life had you experienced such a backlash of news and rumors to spread about you. Mirko could care less, you knew. But for a moment, you wish you had never made that album. That you never became a fan of Mirko and that the current fans of hers weren't attacking you with comments and such regarding the small kiss you had shared with her. But still, another song was brewing in your head and you wondered if you had the strength to stop yourself from bringing it to life.

[redhairedfeistynerd]

Captain McHippityHop

A/N: A long lost piece that I forgot to post last Easter! Another part of my ‘Seasons of Bucky’ series. Loosely edited, all errors are my own.  Enjoy and have a great long weekend everyone.

Don’t not copy or redistribute any of my pieces.

Summary: It’s finally Spring and the Barnes family is ready for some Easter fun. Uncle Steve has something to hop on about.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 2200+

Warnings: kissing, nudity, sexual situations, implied smut, teasing, cautious Bucky

No bunnies were harmed in the making of this fic

“We’ll be there at 10, okay? Don’t worry, they’ll be up and ready.” Bucky rolls his eyes while he listens begrudgingly to Steve as he carries on about the importance of being on time.

Y/N sits across from him on the couch, her left elbow resting on the arm and her hand folded up, flapping open and closed as if it were Steve’s big mouth. Bucky is trying to control the look on his face, if it cracks, he is likely to burst out laughing. And IF he laughs, y/n will follow and they both know that Steve will not be impressed.

Bucky ends the call and looks to y/n. “You’re a pain in the ass. I was TRYING to be serious and keep a straight face but you kept smirking and your eyes brightened up like you were going to laugh. I can’t stop myself when you do that, I want to laugh with you!”

He lunges towards her and tackles her into the soft cushions of the couch. He knows that it’s finally ok to kiss her and he attacks her neck as she tries to curl into herself; he attacks the left side, kiss by kiss. Her giggles have turned into shrieks and he knows that she is enjoying it. He can’t get over how playful she is, he could drown in her laughter and happiness. It fills all those empty places inside of him, all the places he closed up when his marriage ended all those years ago. They’ve be silent and dark for almost a decade and then she came along and into their lives.

She crept in slowly, a hot chocolate date here and there with his girls, a walk in the park and then a stop at the playground, a rare night at his house when the girls were able to visit their mom. It had taken years for him to build up the courage to talk to her about how he felt but she was the first one to move her lips to his. Soft, tasting of vanilla and beeswax, everything he thought it would be, was everything that he received. Her arms wrapped around him first and she whispered in his ear that it was ok for him to do the same. His arms went around her softly but he still had a thought in his head the he could crush her, that all of the years without holding a woman meant that he was going to use all of his force at once and hurt her.

“Barnes, you aren’t going to crush me, don’t hold back. You hold your daughters every day, I know you’ll be gentle with me,” she said as she kissed his forehead softly.

“It’s just… I don’t,” he fumbles with his words and y/n brings a finger to his lips.

“Less talk, more kissing, Barnes.” She pulls his face back to hers and kisses him with a bit of force, trying to encourage him to be forceful. He does try to pull back but her hand is in his hair and she uses it to pull him back in. “No way Barnes, I’m not letting you back out after all these years. You’ve told me how you feel, let me show you how I feel.”

He really likes her and he has told her how he feels but hell, he loves how she is showing him. Her mouth is warm and incredibly soft, the sweet taste of her lip balm is swirling around inside his mouth. How can someone be so sweet, both in life and in her delicious mouth. Pulling back slowly, he looks into her eyes, admiring their colour before he whispers “Will you stay?”

“Why are you whispering, no one is going to hear us and it’s not as if I haven’t spent the night here before. The girls are with their mom tonight for Easter dinner. We are alone, my sweet,” she whispers into his hair and kissing his ear.

Bucky’s cheeks are slowly turning from pink to red, he can’t look her directly in the eyes. “I mean…” he chokes a bit on the words, clears his throat and begins again. “I mean, I want you to stay with me, in my room. Not the spare room like when we have sleepovers with the girls. You with me. In my arms. I would really, more than anything, like to have you in my arms tonight.” He can’t meet her eyes and curls into himself a little with the embarrassment he is feeling.

“Don’t you dare shy away from me, Bucky Barnes,” she gently scolds him as she crawls into his lap. She brings a hand to his chin, and pushes up so his eyes meet hers. “You don’t need to hide from me, ever.”

He can’t help but be nervous about this. A woman in his bed after all these years. Forget the quick one night stands he rarely had at someone else’s apartment after a night at the bar. This meant something. He had never been more aware of the carpet beneath his feet as y/n pulled him down the hallway to his bedroom. Each step sinking into the carpet, pulling him into the plush fibers, and releasing him.

“Help me,” he thinks he, hears her say as she pulls him closer. He hasn’t moved and her eyes are wide and staring into him. “Bucky,” his name softly escapes her mouth and she brings his right hand the front of her dress, guiding him to the buttons. “Help me,” is whispered into his ear and he freezes. Her hands have moved over his, picking one up and gently placing it on her breast. “Start here, this button first,” she coaxes him, “you can do it Bucky. You aren’t going to hurt me. I trust you.”

It’s as if it finally makes sense in the darkest pits of his mind. One by one, he pushes the button out of the holes and pulls the dress away and down her body. He can’t help but stare and before he makes her feel comfortable with his eyes looking her up and down in awe, he brings her closer, wrapping one around her and pulling her into a deep kiss. Bucky pulls away first and brushes her hair back, “I think you said something about showing me how you felt?”

The girls are dropped off early the next morning as y/n is starting to make breakfast. Bucky is quietly sipping his coffee and staring out the window. He’d woken y/n up early, soft kisses up the back of her neck, trying to enjoy her warm body that had curled into him during the night. He fell asleep soon after and awoke to an empty bed. He found her the kitchen table, pink sparkly rabbit ears on and placing chocolate eggs into baskets.

“Did you, did you make the girls Easter baskets?”

“I sure did, I thought we could say our good ole bunny friend popped by your house too.”

Bucky leaned over to give her a quick kiss, “it makes me incredibly happy that you think about them. It makes me feel so fulfilled that I’ve met someone that considers my daughters.”

“They’re part of you Bucky, why wouldn’t I think of them? Besides, I remember loving baskets like this when I was a kid and I want Riley and Piper to enjoy them too.”

The girls had squealed when they saw the large baskets on the kitchen table and ran to y/n, smothering her in kisses. Bucky’s ex-wife watched from the doorway and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to y/n. Once the girls had hugged their mom goodbye and wolfed down a breakfast of French toast and fruit, Bucky packed the girls in the car and they headed off to meet Steve.

It’s 10 a.m. and it looks like the Easter bunny and friends exploded pastel colours everywhere. The girls run into the kitchen, where Pepper is placing cupcakes adorned with mini eggs and Peeps on a tray.

“Hey you two, are you ready for some Easter treats and crafts? I hear the Easter Bunny will be here as well! Why don’t you take a look out back and see if there’s someone hopping around?” Pepper hands the trays of cupcakes to Bucky and pushing them towards the patio door.

The two of them head out towards the picnic tables, Bucky placing the cupcakes down before he turns to see a 6-foot-tall bunny out of the corner of his eye.

Bucky bursts out laughing before he can get a hello out. “Oh… my…” he keels over, his laughter so powerful that he has to hold onto the picnic table to stabilize himself. He can hear y/n ask what’s so funny and Bucky points over to wear Steve was last standing. He hears a little snort and it’s not long before she has fallen to the grass in a fit of laughter. Bucky can’t help but laugh louder at y/n’s display.

“What the hell are you wearing, Stevie?”

“It’s for the kids, you jerk. I have ears on, a cute little nose, and a bunny tail,” he says and wiggles his behind. “Obviously, I’m the Easter bunny.”

Tony saunters by, a mimosa in hand “why don’t you ask Rogers how “America’s Ass” ended up with a bunny tail.”

“Stevie, what did you do?” y/n laughs

Steve is between blushing and looking furious at Tony. “You just had to open your big mouth.”

“Rogers here thought it was a smart idea to make a bet with Pepper. This ancient idiot thought he could have a bake off with Pepper and win,” Tony snorts and take a sip of his drink.

“Oh Steve, you should have known Pepper would kick your ass,” y/n says, wrapping an arm around his waist, trying to comfort him. “I know for a fact, that the second the girls see you, they’ll jump all over you and tell you how much they love it. So, enjoy that it will be a hit with them.”

Bucky could hear their giggles coming from inside, Pepper, holding their hands, led them out to the picnic tables where the egg decorating had started. Y/n leaned into him a pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, letting him know that she was going to paint some eggs with his daughters.

“Come on Stevie, bounce away and introduce Cap McHippity Hop to the girls,” Tony teased.

“If those kids weren’t here Tony, I’d be kicking your f-”

“Now, now Cap, language,” mocked Tony, a sly smile forming across his face.

Steve muttered something unintelligible and made his was over to where Bucky’s girls were sitting with Y/N. His girls were so preoccupied with dipping their eggs in the coloured pots, that they didn’t notice Steve peeking over their shoulders. It wasn’t until Y/N started up with her giggling again, that Riley and Piper looked up to see what was so funny.

“Uncle Stevie!!! You have fuzzy ears AND a bunny nose!! Are you the Easter Bunny?” Riley asked loudly, jumping up to stand on the bench of the picnic table, now eye to eye with Steve.

“I’m your very own bunny, princess. Looks like you are doing a fabulous job with those Easter eggs. How about you and Piper come with me once you’re done and you can look around the yard for all the candy I hid?”

“Uncle Stevie, you’re the best!” Riley squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But don’t tell daddy that, ok?” she whispered into his ear.

With a smile, Steve squeezed her once more before heading over to where y/n was sitting. He sat beside her and smiled.

“Those girls sure love you, Steve. Thanks for doing this for them, even if you did lose a bet and had to wear a cute little bunny tail,” she said as she peeked over to see the fluffy white ball attached to his pants. “I think the tail suits America’s Ass,” y/n laughed, pushing against him lightly.

“Ya, ya, keep laughing. I’ll have you know, that I had already planned all of this before I lost the bet, the outfit only adds to the festivities. I wanted to make this day special for Bucky’s girls, they’re my family too.” He looked at Y/N and pulled her into a hug. “I hope you know that you are part of my extended family as well, I love all of you.”

The girls finished quickly and made their way around with baskets, collecting jellybeans and bunnies, the smiles are their faces making Y/N smile. Bucky made his way over to her, once they had finished with lunch and the girls were slowly slipping into a sugar coma from all the treats their Uncle Steve had bought for them.

“Hey Barnes, before we get out of here, I think you need to take that tail and ears from Steve; I’ve always wanted to be a playful bunny,” she winks at him and walks towards the girls. She watches as Bucky picks up his pace, going after Steve as he headed inside with empty platters from their lunch.

“Come on girls, let’s get everything together and head on home.”

“Hey Y/N? Thank you for coming with us and helping us keep daddy happy,” Piper says, her big eyes staring up at Y/N.

“You’re welcome sweetie, l love seeing your daddy happy too,” Y/N replied smiling. She was more than happy herself and glad that she had this little family to love.

[mirasolis]

My Star, Your Light

Punz x Reader

Tangled AU

Part Two

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This is just you and Punz thrown into the world of Tangled, as requested by @thequeenofuwu . We are both Punz simps, I know it.

This is going to be in several parts, and I will link each part when I finish them under here.

Part 1 Part 2

Enjoy!

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3rd POV…

Punz was slowly coming into consciousness when a sudden force shoved his head to the side. His eyes shot open and turned to see a rainbow—coloured sheep on his shoulder.

“What the?!” The sheep hopped off, walking to the shadows. Punz noticed that he was sitting in a chair, his movements restricted by…

“…Is this…hair?”

(Y/N) held the pan close to her, shuffling in the corner. “You…you can’t escape! I know what you want!”

“W-what?”

(Y/N) slowly emerged into the light, pan ready to knock out the man in front of her. “Who are you, and how did you find me?”

Punz just looked at the woman in wonder. Her hair was exceptionally long, being the length of her body several times over.

(Y/N) impatiently demanded an answer. “Who are you, and how did you find me?!”

Punz cleared his throat and declared, “I know not of who you are, nor how I came upon your home and you. But may I just say…Hi.” He smirked cockily. “How you doing? The name’s Punz.”

“Does anyone else know of my location, Punz?”

“Alright girlie-“

“(Y/N).”

“Right. Here’s the thing. I was in a predicament. Galavanting through the woods on an…adventure. I came across this tower and-hold on a damn minute?! Where is my satchel?!”

“Oh, that bag of yours? I’ve hidden it! And no matter where you look, you won’t find it!”

Punz looked around for a while, before settling his sights on a little decorative pot. “It’s in that pot, isn’t it?”

CLANG!

(Y/N) just knocked him out again, and hid the satchel elsewhere, and instructed Puffy to wake the mercenary again. Once again the sheep rammed into Punz’ head and woke him up. He shot up, startled, and glared at Puffy.

“Stop doing that,” he stated plainly.

“Now you can’t find it. So tell me what you want. Do you want my hair, to cut it? Sell it?” (Y/N) interrogated Punz.

“Why would I sell it?! Listen, the only thing I need to do with your hair, is get out of it!” Punz claimed.

(Y/N) looked at him, puzzled. “You, don’t want…my hair?”

“Why would I want your hair?! Look, all I did was find your tower, and climb it, that’s all!”

“For real?”

“YES!”

(Y/N) looked at him hesitantly, before picking up Puffy to discuss with her. “Well, this could be the perfect opportunity. Puffy, I know he’s a stranger, but this is my chance! I think he’s telling the truth, what choice do I have if I want to see the lights?”

She turned back to Punz. “Okay, Punz. I am prepared to negotiate with you.”

“Negotiate?”

“Something brought you here. Call it as you see it Punz. Fate, destiny…”

“A horse?” Punz deadpanned.

“But listen to me when I tell you this; You can tear this tower apart as much as you want. You are not finding that satchel without my help. So you are going to take me to see the special stars tomorrow night. After that, you return me. Then, and only then, will you get your little purse back at all.”

“Those stars are actually lanterns, and I can’t exactly do that. I am a mercenary that stole something from the kingdom, so arrest on site for me it is.”

“Lanterns! I knew it! And my deal still stands. Bring me to see the lanterns or you get nothing.”

Punz shook his head around. “Okay, you’ve forced my hand. I have been left with no choice.”

Punz hangs his head before lifting it dramatically, showing that he bit his lip slightly while looking at (Y/N) with hooded eyes, trying to give off a sexy smoulder. She wasn’t impressed.

Punz held his face while speaking. “This is…kind of an off day for me, I usually don’t have to do this to anyone…FINE, I’ll take you to see the lanterns.”

As soon as he said that, (Y/N) squealed excitedly and accidentally let Punz fall on his face. She apologized profusely, let him free, and he began descending the tower.

(Y/N) tied Puffy to her body securely, as she prepared her hair to jump down to the world below. She heard Punz call to her, but all she could focus on was the green ground below. Taking a deep breath, she leapt from the heights and dropped. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling the wind rush against her body, curling up, and then she stopped.

She opened one eye, and saw the ground so close beneath her bare feet. Cautiously, she pointed out one foot to touch the grass, feeling its ticklish caress on her feet. Giggling, she planted her feet firmly on the ground, setting Puffy down as well. She wriggled her feet between the grass, and began dancing around. She was free! She could finally go and see the lights!

(Y/N) then proceeded to give herself emotional whiplash, switching between being happy and being depressed over the fact that she would upset Dream. Fun times.

Punz, seeing this as a perfect chance to get the crown back, leapt in for the final strike. “You don’t want to ruin your brother-sister bond with your older sibling, don’t you? That’s way too precious! So, I return you to your tower, I get my satchel, you get a healthy family relationship, and everyone is happy again, yeah?”

“No! You are taking me to see those lanterns Punz! And I will use this,” (Y/N) said while raising her frying pan.

There was a rustling in the bushes, and she jumped on Punz’ back, frightened. “What is it? Ruffians? Thugs?!”

A rabbit hopped out of the bush. “Ahhh,” Punz exclaimed in a dead voice. “You seem to be frightened easily. So it is probably best to avoid the ruffians and thugs, ya know? Oh, it just occurred to me, I know a great place for lunch. You hungry?”

Somewhere else in the forest…

Dream was walking through the forest with George. “So George, you’re clear with the plan?” Dream asked.

“Of course I am! We must accomplish this fast if we are to take over the kingdom,” George responded.

As they continued walking, the duo heard leaves moving, and were instantly on guard. They pulled out their weapons, only to find that it was a horse that stumbled upon them.

“Oh, a horse.” Dream overlooked the horse, seeing that it had reigns on it. Even worse, he recognized the horse as that belonging to the crown prince Technoblade.

“George we need to go back now!”

Dream wasted no time in sprinting back to the tower, with George following him close behind. They scaled the tower, but once they entered it, it was devoid of life. It was dark and quiet and Dream began to grow angry.

“Woah Dream, calm down!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down George! My 18-year plan is about to go to shit! Where the hell is she?!” In his rage, he noticed the light seeping from the cracks in the wooden planks of the stairs. Lifting it, he found a satchel with a crown inside it, and a poster with Punz’ face on it. He was determined to put his plan into action. He would have power over the kingdom, no matter what.

Somewhere in the forest...

Punz and (Y/N) were walking along the forest path, when they came across a run-down pub in the woods. It was called the ‘Chuckle Sandwich’.

“Hmm. Seems friendly enough,” (Y/N) pointed out.

“Yep, this deep into the forest I highly doubt that you’ll find any ruffians...or thugs, to scare you,” Punz goaded. He laughed in his mind. This’ll get her to return the crown to me, he thought.

“Well, I hope they make good sandwiches,” (Y/N) chimed.

“Great! Well let’s go inside!” Punz declared. He opened the door and escorted her inside. “Your finest table, please!”

(Y/N) reeled back at the sight before her. All there was, were just ruffians and thugs. As Punz gently pushed her through the pub, (Y/N) held out her pan in front of them, hoping to ward anyone off.

“You smell that? Ya really gotta inhale through the nose! Let it seep in! What kinda scents are ya getting? I’m getting an overall man smell but also just brown!” Punz ranted.

A random patron grabbed onto (Y/N)’s long hair and she grabbed as much as she could and ran off to find a safe place, Puffy following close behind.

“That’s a lot of hair,” the man holding her hair said. Punz nodded in agreement, walking towards (Y/N) as she backed up against a wall.

“You don’t look so good. Maybe we should bring you home,” Punz said as he began guiding (Y/N) to the door. “Maybe you can’t handle this place, and by that logic, the outside world! You should probably be back in your tower!”

Punz was cut off from leaving the pub. A man with ram horns and sideburns held the door closed, with his hand covering the face on Punz’ wanted poster.

“Is this you?” The ram asked sinisterly. Punz squinted at the hidden parts of the poster, lifting the ramhead’s fingers to see that his face was just even more messed up.

“Now that’s just rude,” Punz stated.

A man with a hat covering the majority of his hair agreed. “It is him, man! Connor, find some guards!” The man named Connor ran out the door. “That money’s gonna get me some new beanies! Capitalism!”

A man with glasses and green attire spoke up. “Nope! I’m gonna use it for something much better!”

The patrons of the pub began fighting to keep hold of Punz, pulling him back and forth. A man in a multicoloured tunic said, “What about me? I’m broke!”

Several more people joined in, including a man with a shaved head and red and blue glasses, a man with fox ears and a tail, a whole cat man, and a man in a maid outfit. Just...why?

(Y/N) tried to reach her guide, to no avail. “Hey! Leave him alone!”

Over the ruckus (Y/N) could not be heard clearly, so she got the crowd’s attention by pulling back a branch in the rafters and letting it hit the ram headed man. “PUT HIM DOWN!!”

They all quickly turned their heads to her, anger fixed onto their faces. “Okay, I don’t know where the hell I am, and I need this guy to take me to see the lanterns because I’ve been dreaming of them my whole life!! Can’t you understand? Haven’t you guys ever had a dream?!”

The horned man walked towards (Y/N), grabbing an axe. She shied away from his approaching figure, then he threw the axe at a scrawny accordion player. “I had a dream, once.”

A slow upbeat tune filled the tavern as the man narrated his story. “My name is Schlatt. I’m malicious, mean; I can be scary. In terms of violence, I don’t have clean hands at all. But even, despite my unsightly horns, I’ve always wanted to perform for the masses as a comedian! I mean, who wouldn’t laugh at my (sometimes) out of taste jokes?!”

The beanie man stood up next. “Well, the name’s Quackity! I’ve always wanted to be a pianist! I’ve been practicing here for years! I know so many songs like that iCarly theme song!!”

“ICarly theme song?” (Y/N) asked.

Green man went next. “Well the name is Charlie Slimecicle!! I know that many find me unsightly, due to my terrible appearance!” He was saying that way too positively. “I dream of one day finding love!”

Everyone was taking their turn, talking about their dreams. Multicoloured tunic man, named Karl, wanted to create the best future for his friends. The man with red and blue glasses called Jack Manifold, wanted to become a well-renowned demolitions expert. The fox man, named Fundy, wanted to launch a bakery with his friend, a woman named Niki Nihachu. The maid outfit man, HBomb, wanted to become Fundy’s maid. Why? IDK maybe he’s kinky.

As everyone took their turn, they let Punz talk about his dream. “Oh no, fellas. I don’t have a dream.”

Several swords pointed at his throat later, he ranted about a dream where he had boundless amounts of money.

Lame.

(Y/N) sprung up onto a table, speaking starry-eyed about the lanterns. “I am so glad I left my tower! I can finally see the lanterns!”

Everyone cheered, celebrating the endless freedom that their dreams explored. Suddenly, Connor burst through the door. “I found the guards!”

Everyone stared in shock, and (Y/N) and Punz were tossed over the bar, just as Technoblade came in with the castle guard. “Where is that mercenary Punz?! I know he’s in here! I won’t stop until I have the thief that stole my sister’s crown!”

Punz peeked over the edge of the bar, seeing his former colleagues in chains, ducking down right after. Punz and (Y/N) shrunk into the bar to hide, when Schlatt pushed aside a crate to reveal a secret passage. “Go, live your dream.”

Punz responded, “I will.”

“Not you, I was talking to her,” Schlatt said pointing his head to (Y/N).

“Thank you Schlatt,” (Y/N) thanked, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. She followed Punz through the passage as Schlatt returned to help distract the guards.

The patrons tried their best to distract the guards, but Technoblade was not buying it. He turned his ear to the door, and Carl burst through, sniffing the air. He easily found the secret passage, and Techno gathered his men, leaving one to guard Purpled and Ponk.

After Techno left with Carl, Ponk knocked out their captor, and freed Purpled, letting him do the same for himself. “Let’s go get the crown.”

Fundy, currently drunk off his ass, stumbled outside, seeing a man in a green cloak with a mask. “Woah, god you are so damn hot!”

Dream giggled. “You’re making me blush.” He pulled out his sword. “Where does that tunnel lead?”