#☼ how would you like to be remembered ? ﹙ saved. ﹚

[serialreporter]

proper tag dump time !

☼ killing butterflies. ﹙ ic. ﹚ ☼ why do i keep collecting shitty fucked up guys fr. ﹙ ooc. ﹚ ☼ you have no idea what i have planned for you. ﹙ inbox. ﹚ ☼ tell me who's watching ? ﹙ open. ﹚ ☼ pardon the way that i stare. ﹙ commentary. ﹚ ☼ peekaboo ! ﹙ crack. ﹚ ☼ for every winner there's a hundred that die. ﹙ dash games. ﹚ ☼ it keeps on giving and i don't want to forget any of it. ﹙ memes / prompts. ﹚ ☼ an image is worth a thousand words. ﹙ photos. ﹚ ☼ roaming freely like a ghost in the night. ﹙ the ghost face. ﹚ ☼ and nobody would know that i was secretly myself. ﹙ danny johnson. ﹚ ☼ there's another side that you don't know. ﹙ thoughts / musings. ﹚ ☼ the night assists me and it's endless here. ﹙ likes / aesthetics. ﹚ ☼ there's a beautiful sadness that runs through him. ﹙ ramble / study. ﹚ ☼ you don't know the murderer sitting next to you. ﹙ headcanons. ﹚ ☼ some things are meant to be gone broke. ﹙ main verse. ﹚ ☼ come on baby‚ don't fear the reaper. ﹙ survivor verse. ﹚ ☼ the kind of headlines that people do not forget. ﹙ promo. ﹚ ☼ my honey‚ i know with the dawn that you will be gone. ﹙ queue. ﹚ ☼ how would you like to be remembered ? ﹙ saved. ﹚ ☼ touch-tone telephone ! ﹙ music track. ﹚

[bookishgalaxies]

Hi! Can you do a five hargreeves x reader where the readers quiet but really good at hand to hand combat? If you don’t want to do it you don’t even have to respond

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤

☾☼✧☽ summary: thoughts on five hargreeves with an s/o who’s quiet but is killer at hand to hand combat.

☾☼✧☽ pairing: five hargreeves x gn!shy!reader

☾☼✧☽ type: head-cannons, not proofread

☾☼✧☽ warnings: fighting???

☾☼✧☽ a/n: love this request! Thank you so much!

▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢

You spoke when spoken to, with the exceptions of conversation with Five Hargreeves, which were still very minimal

You two had only been “together” for a few months now and your brain was still getting used to forming full sentences while looking at him.

For awhile you and Five were only able to communicate through letters due to his work with the commission

After he stopped working for them, and started saving the world with his siblings though, things were different

You most of the time kept to yourself when you weren’t helping the Hargreeves save the world

You would go out for smoothies with Viktor or help Allison with Claire occasionally.

And you could become quite chatty with them, but not Five

He hadn’t meant to assume that since you didn’t talk much, you were shy, and therefor timid in physical fighting situations

It just kind of clicked in his mind like that without him realizing.

So when you two were out one day at the doughnut shop getting him a black coffee and you whatever you normally get

You weren’t expecting a surprise attack from the Commission

You had both been sitting across from each other in a booth by the window

Letting Five talk quietly about what his next plan was and nodding your head while smiling kindly

Enjoying the view of how he looked in the afternoon sun

Then, glass shattered, and in an instant you were up and headed towards the sound.

Five teleported across the shop as you landed a good punch across the agents face.

Exchanging punches and strikes, you took him down quite quickly.

Moving on to the next few, you took them out under ten seconds.

Five was so shocked he stood by, mouth agape.

Looking up at his surprised look, you stood with knocked out bodies around you, breathing heavily and looking at him.

“I didn’t know you could…..” he trailed off

“You never asked.” You responded

“Touché.”

Needless to say, he never underestimated you again.

And actually felt himself develop a healthy fear of you.

Pretty AND deadly…...

He never needed to get on your bad side, he’d be screwed

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thank you so much for reading !!

remember to stay safe and hydrated !!

[constesplanetarium]

☼⚠︎ Yandere Stalker/Kidnapper x Gn! AFAB! Reader

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Feel that shiver up your spine?”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

ya, thats it :) i wanted to write smth on the darker side

might make another part, this was pretty fun to write (ya it was fun. IM CRAZY!!!)

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

This work contains potentially sensitive content to some. Please be careful.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

CONTENT WARNINGS!!!

Knife play, blood play, blood consumption, kidnapping, sorta dacryphilia(?), mentions of stalking, drug use, and cannibalism.

Word count: Around 1.5k

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Cold steel drags down your neck slowly, making your heart race as the point of the knife pokes into your Adam's apple. You would try to plead with him to stop, but you know it wouldn’t do you any good in this situation. The blindfold feels like it's stabbing your eyes, the way darkness envelops your sight. Are you in a basement? It’s so cold. The ropes rub harshly on your wrists and ankles as you squirm in the chair, making your skin burn. You just have your undergarments on, making your whole body shiver. Of course he stripped you down. All you can do is hear the idiotic mumbling of a man who is so obviously not in his right mind.

“Baby, you look so beautiful, oh my god…” He whispers quietly, making you miss the silence that was present a couple seconds ago. His voice shakes as he speaks, and his breathing is heavy. “I finally get to have you like this, isn’t this incredible…?”

How did you get here? You try to recap every single memory following up to this, but everything comes back in fragments, and it’s all nothing but a blur in your head. You must’ve been drugged, by the way you feel so sluggish and drowsy. You can’t remember anything at all.

His knife drags down to your chest, then all the way down to your stomach. You try to press your legs together in vain, the ropes on your ankles holding you back. He chuckles and presses the tip of the knife into your inner thigh, making you wince in pain as a small drop of blood trickles down your leg. You have to bite back your tongue to prevent yourself from screaming, once you feel his hot tongue lick the trickle of blood up to the wound, and he plants a kiss on the piercing. “You taste so good, I could eat you up right now…” Why the hell does he sound out of breath? Is he going to kill you?

Before you know it, that exact question spills out of your mouth.

“Huh, kill you? No, no, baby…” His cold hand rubs your inner thigh, smearing blood all over. His hand feels so rough. “I wouldn’t ever do that, please believe me.” His soft lips kiss your wound, and at this point, you’re starting to feel sick. “... But I want to taste you so bad, it’s tempting.” You jerk your head away from him as he whispers in your ear, and he starts to laugh. “I’m only kidding baby, relax!” How the hell can you relax? “Mm, but I dunno.” His knees hit the floor, and he lays his head on your lap, feeling around your stomach. “Maybe I could start here, and work my way up.” Two of his fingers press on your clothed cunt, and you flinch. “Should I go to your intestines next?” He cooes sweetly, almost like it’s just sweet nothings he’s whispering. “I would save your heart for last, baby. It’s your best part.” Your body trembles as he reaches up, and kisses right above your heart. Your racing heart. “I was listening to your heart while you were asleep. I’ve wanted to do that for so long, it sounds incredible…” Why is he doing this? Does he just want to fuck you? Is this a sick fetish? You feel your throat tighten up, about to cry. Your tears soak the blindfold on your eyes. His breathing is becoming frantic. What is he going to do? Oh my god.

“I’m sorry baby, I can’t help myself.” He whines and a hand pushes your waist forward, then both snake behind to unclasp your bra. You finally try to scream a refusal, and shake violently in your seat, apparently scaring him off, since his hands immediately retreat. “... I’m sorry. You still need time to, uh, get used to being here. I’m so sorry, baby.” Yet he didn’t care when he cut your thigh? What kind of morals does he have?

Oh yeah, none.

There’s no point in screaming for help, you already know no one will hear you.

“Will this make you more comfortable? Yeah?” The blindfold is ripped off your head, and you blink away the tears forming at your eyes, and squint at rhe sudden brightness. You finally get a good view of your surroundings, and you were right. You are in a basement. A cold basement. The stairs on the side of the room are leading up to a freedom that seems miles away. But upon a better look, this place… It looks more like a room. There's a neatly set bed in the right corner of the room, with a tall lamp and a nightstand, alongside a tv set and a couch not far from it. In the corner of your eye, you can see a chair propped up against a table. Probably a dinner table. You can’t see what's behind you, but from the soft whirring, it might be a fridge. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes, but you take a small glance up and see a small mark of your blood on his lips. You look back down at the floor. He should invest in some sort of carpet, instead of these hard floors.

You try to run through your memories to see if you can recognize him but you don’t. Everything is still so blurry, damn it…

“Is that better, darling?” He smiles and outstretched his arms, exclaiming happily. “Welcome to your new home!” Not if you have anything to do about that. “I’m sorry for my, uh, behavior earlier. I was too excited. But I just…” He sighs dreamily. “I finally get to have you here with me, baby.”

…God. Might as well ask him some questions.

“Hmm? Why did I bring you here? He messes with the knife, in his hands, staring at the bloody point. “So I can have you here with me, baby…” He brings the tip of the knife to his mouth, licking it up and down. You watch the blood become planted on his tongue, nausea filling your stomach. It’s even worse once you can really see it. “I-I’ve been admiring you for so long, for months now, baby…” He tilts his head and seemingly stares into your soul, grinning. “I didn’t think this far into it, I’m not even sure what we’re going to do today, hmm…” His eyes become lost in yours as he looks at you thoughtfully, but you wince and break the contact you two had. A small snap of his fingers brings your attention back to him. “Oh, how about I make your dinner, right now? I-I’ll even make your favorite!”

You don’t want whatever he’s going to make. You don’t want to even be in the same room as him. Your throat tightens up with anger and the tears start to flow down your cheeks. His eyes stare down at you in pity, and a certain sadness.

“Oh, you don’t need to cry now…” He leans down and kisses a tear off your cheek, and you jerk your head away. His laugh makes you sick, it sounds so sinister. “You’re so funny darling, you don’t have to fight me you know.” His tongue laps up the tear that had just rolled down your cheek, up to the corner of your eye. He kisses you again and again on your cheek, to the point where he can’t get enough of you. “You’ll get used to it anyway, we can- Ah, no. We will be so happy together…” He purrs and plants a kiss on the top of your head, petting it softly. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go upstairs and make dinner, it won't take too long, okay?” He rubs your inner thigh, taking a glance down at the dripping wound. A small pool of blood has dripped down onto the chair. “I’ll… I’ll get a bandaid for that too.” He seems hesitant to look at the cut, but he suddenly drops down on his knees again and sets a rough hand on your thigh, “Let me help you clean up, okay?” He has a short fit of his insane chuckling as you stare at him lick up your blood, refusing to touch the wound this time. Is he scared of infecting it? Ah, no, he was just licking up the dripping blood first. You watch and feel his tongue swirl around the cut and you wince at the small stinging feeling. How disgusting.

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. What a horrible fucking man, how sick.

You have to fight the urge to throw up again once he sticks his tongue out, showing the bloody mess all over it. Some of it is even on his lips. He kisses your inner thigh, leading to your cunt, and he leaves a small, bloody kiss mark. With a small lick of his lips, he stands back up, brushing his pants off, and a dreamy groan leaves his mouth, seemingly involuntarily. His hand rubs your cheek affectionately, and you try your best not to go ahead and bite him. I guess it's true that you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. At this point he decides whether or not you get to eat or drink.

But not your fate. That's up for you to decide.

“I’ll be back with dinner, okay?” He chirps happily and bounds up the stairs, giggling to himself like a stupid schoolgirl. “I won’t take long!” You watch the door to freedom open, the light streaming ever so slightly into the basement, before the only way to freedom is shut off again, with a couple loud clicks of the several locks he set in.

He couldn’t even tell you his fucking name, my god.

part 2 is here!

[hotxcheeto]

Hi!! Could you do a Ellie x female!reader and reader is Ellie’s best friend and she is with Ellie when she goes with Joel and it’s basically them traveling all the way to Wyoming but the closer they get there the more the reader realizes that she likes Ellie. Sorry if it’s confusing

━ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, fluff, slight angst in third flashback, happy ending, ellie being a little jealous

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - ily ty for requesting!! so sorry I took so long, but y'know me :)

*Italics = The past

☼ PART TWO ☼

Laying awake at night was normal for the both of you.

Especially as adults. You'd learned to never take the peace for granted.

Another night in the dark with the TV quietly playing, Ellie messing with your shirt hem while her fingertips tickled your hip. Your head resting on her chest while you drifted in and out of sleep.

Her eyes were focused forward on the movie that you'd gotten bored with, your mind melting as you fought with your eyes trying your best to keep them open.

But your mind kept wandering back to someone as you did.

You had known her for so long, and so much had changed.

Many people say that no matter what happens, friendships stay the same. But they don't, yours didn't, yours became more, but sometimes they do stay the same. And a lot of times they become less.

You must of been one of the lucky ones.

Time passes and people change, and you were sure that you and Ellie had. You knew you had, because looking back at those girls you were before weren't the women you were now.

You'd never be those kids again, not exactly. You could still see them within both of yourselves, but it would never be the past, and you guys weren't in the future. It was now, the present, the time in which you got to remember what had happened and think about what could happen.

You liked to think about how you got here, Ellie never really cared to, she liked to laugh at memories once in a while. But you looked passed those. You looked at everything. You remembered most of it.

Oh how simple the time, you thought.

How simple the mission.

Nothing was simple then, you weren't sure you even knew what that word meant as a kid.

"Do you really think there's a cure?"

You asked her quietly, still unsure of Tess and Joel's belief in Ellie's bite. Looking over at your bestfriend, you noticed her staring at the ground. The girl shrugging while looking up at the dark and decrepit buildings that surrounded your group of four.

"There's gotta be, right?" "What if they're lying?" "Then fuck them."

Tess and Joel glanced back at you both, watching your shoulders brush from walking too close. Your eyes were scanning the area for danger while hers admired the nature.

But neither of you strayed far from the other.

"I know you don't trust the fireflies and you know I don't either, but a little optimism won't kill you." You giggled at her song-like way of speaking, shaking your head.

"Everything out here can kill you."

Tess smiled at you both, looking forward as to not get caught listening in on your conversation. But she didn't stop, Joel catching her glancing back every now and again.

"Whoa, look." Ellie then tugged on your arm making you look up at the two nearly collapsed buildings you'd been approaching, but now they were directly above you.

The sight made you a bit queasy, looking at them haphazardly leaning against each other.

"That's so fucking cool." "What if they fell?" Tess snickered, turning to meet Joel's eyes with a smile. "They won't Y/n/n, you walking through here isn't gonna magically make them collapse."

"I have bad luck." You huffed.

"I know, that's why you have me." Playfully, you shoved her shoulder, following the adults into an area that led to the building.

"Are you gonna save me from the falling skyscraper?"

"Yep."

"My knight in shining armor."

You spoke sarcastically, entering the falling framework that made noise when you all began to walk.

"It's unstable, but it won't fall or at least I hope." He mumbled the last part to himself, but you heard it, and it didn't make you feel better.

"Just be careful where you walk." Joel finished off, turning his flashlight on. "I hate this already." You muttered, accidentally bumping into him from stumbling due to your nerves.

"Sorry." "You're fine, just watch where you're going."

Tess then laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, Ellie watching from just behind.

"Try not to overthink the noises, these buildings are old. They like to tell you, just like an old man likes to tell stories." You laughed, watching her walk off like she's done this a thousand times, and in your mind she probably had.

"You okay?" You walked forward, turning to Ellie. "Yeah, just... I really hate this-" The building shifted, desks rolling further down hill then they already had, fear entering your heart while you squeezed Ellie's a arm that you'd grabbed in a panic.

"Oh fuck me- fuck." You let go, taking in a deep breath.

"Sorry." "Don't be, I'm pissing my pants." You let out a strangled noise that resembled amusement.

"No way, you don't look scared, like, at all." "Yeah, no way, this thing starts screaming again I might freak the fuck out."

She wasn't scared, not like she'd made it seem, but watching you let out a breath of relief and a chuckle was enough for her to keep up the charade.

"Here, if it makes you feel better." You looked at her outstretched hand, taking it with almost no hesitance. Butterflies in your stomach but you were sure it was because you were embarrassed, looking into her eyes that showed assurance.

"I'm so lame, Ellie." She snorted. "So am I."

You never noticed her blush because of the darkness, not even now did you know that the entire time you went through that place, Ellie was internally dying.

You still hated tall buildings like that though, that was something you did know and that never changed, something about them gave you a feeling you hated.

Not from the outside, it was the inside that made you worry. But Jackson was basically flat, the tallest buildings outside of the watch towers were maybe three stories, and those were rare.

You smiled to yourself, Ellie's hand having let go of your shirt and moved to fully rest on your hip. Her palms cold compared to your warm skin covered by the comforter and the fabric of your top.

The building on the screen then exploded making you think again, shifting so that you were fully sprawled across her body. Closing your eyes at this point while the flames of the screen turned the room bright orange.

Loud boom after loud boom, it was kind of strange knowing a lot of the noises resembled those of your young life. How they sounded so fake on screen because you knew in actuality if someone was so close to that many bombs they'd be deaf by now.

Or at least close to it.

"Ever wonder how they survive all that?" Ellie muttered, hugging you tight against her body. "Read my mind." You smiled, a hum coming from her mouth.

"Reminds me of Bill." You grinned this time, sitting up and looking at her. "I wonder what he's up to nowadays." "Probably being his same old pissy self." Ellie said in annoyance, ignoring the fact that you'd found her comments funny.

"I wish he would've came with us. As weird as he was." "Yeah, cause the people here would've loved him." You squeezed her cheeks together, kissing her lips.

"I wouldn't complain too much Ells, you kind of remind me of him." Ellie scoffed, staring at you in disbelief. "Tell me you're fucking around." "I dunno, you give me doomsday prepper vibes. In your olden age, I could see you being a paranoid basement dweller."

Ellie grabbed the back of your head, forcing you to lay back down while listening to your laughter. Fighting back a smile on her own face.

"I'll still love you, don't worry." "Yeah, sure." "I'm serious!"

Bill, you remembered Bill. Who wouldn't?

Basement dweller Bill, it's most likely what he was before, you couldn't blame him though. If anyone was right, it was Bill, surprisingly.

The town was pretty incredible, all that work shown off in places most wouldn't see in time. But Joel could, it's like he knew right where he'd find each one.

Leaving was both a relief and a pain.

Hell, all to get a truck battery, but it shortened the trip so you didn't huff and puff too much. You rarely huffed and puffed at all actually, Ellie always surprised at how calm you were when you were pissed off or frustrated.

"Now your "friend" might be missing this tonight." You glanced over, seeing something you still wish you hadn't. Smacking your hands over your eyes.

"Now, Ellie that ain't for kids." "Whoa! That thing is huge! Y/n/n, look! How does he walk around with that thing?" "Get rid of that." Joel reached back but Ellie dodged him, nearly hitting you with the magazine. "Hold your horses, I just wanna see what all the fuss is about."

Ellie looked over at you, cackling at your reaction.

"El, that's so gross. Throw that away." "What? You don't find him sexy?" She shook it at you, making you shake your head. "Absolutely not. Ellie I swear to God, throw that away or we're never gonna be friends again."

"Alright, alright. Oh, why are these pages stuck together?" You gagged, slapping her side as you knew she understood exactly why.

But you had to admit, hearing him try to stutter out a response made you snort. Covering your face while looking at Joel trying to avoid a glance backwards in fear you'd both see his flustered face more than you could hear it in his voice.

"I'm just fucking with you both." She reached over you, making you old your breath in surprise while held the window switch.

"Bye, bye dude." She then yelled, throwing the magazine out the window, the rain sprinkling against your cheeks as the window slowly went back up.

"So, not your type?" Ellie asked, leaning against your shoulder while smiling at you playfully.

Joel was far too invested in his music, ignoring you both and probably thinking his usual grumpy thoughts.

"Definitely not." Ellie stuck her bottom lip out, nodding. "What is your type?" "Not him." Laying her chin on your shoulder, Ellie examined the side of your face, looking at your face that was turned towards the rain covered window.

The trees passed quickly in your irises, eyelids fighting to not close as you wanted to enjoy the car ride as much as humanly possible.

It was your first time inside a vehicle, maybe your last, you didn't want to let it go to waste.

"Do you miss the QZ?" She quietly asked, sitting up and kicking her feet. "Not really. I like it out here. As scary as it gets. It feels free." You turned your head, taking in a deep breath.

"What about you?"

"No, especially school. Fuck that place." "I liked my friends there, Layla was pretty cool."

If the myth that your eyes would get stuck from rolling them too much was real, Ellie's would be completely still for the rest of her life because of that girl.

"No she wasn't, she was annoying." You groaned, rolling your head so that you dramatically fell against her body, feeling her shake from laughing.

"No, you're just dramatic." "She had a crush on you." You felt yourself heat up, looking back towards the glass pane. "She did not, you're just jealous I had a friend that liked talking about my romance novels."

Pouting, the girl grumbled a complaint out.

"I do like to listen." "Ellie, you complain, like, every time." "That doesn't mean I don't like it. I complain cause you like it too much." You shut your eyes, still leaning against her shoulder.

"So you balance me out, is what you're saying." "Well, yeah, someone needs to keep you realistic. Ow!" Ellie moved the arm you pinched, not noticing Joel looking at you both in the rearview mirror.

"What happened to optimism?" You asked, taking your head off her shoulder. "Oh, and by the way... I didn't like Layla either. I just like pissing you off." "Oh fuck off." You moved to lay down, resting your back against the truck door.

"What? You're hilarious when you're jealous." Ellie scoffed, opening and making a few noises in a failed attempt to deny her jealousy.

"No way. Jealous? Please." "You're extremely jealous. Don't worry, you're my best friend in the whole wide world."

You liked her smile, that shy one when you'd compliment her or be sweet to her. Like she didn't know how to react, so she'd grin and try to hide her face. Acting like you didn't notice.

It was your favorite smile of hers.

It still is, and you believed it always will be.

"Babe?" "Hm?" "Remember that small house, in the field outside of the wall, the one with the tall yellow grass." You nodded in the dark room, eyes blurred over while you watched the credits roll.

"The one with the rose bushes that I love. I know." You remembered the house, away from everyone else's just outside the walls and past a small patch of trees. It was a pretty house, it's outside reclaimed by nature and you found it beautiful

"The people living there just moved out, Elton and his wife, he said she wanted to spend the rest of her life inside the walls. Remembering what this place was." You smiled softly, looking at the dark screen, humming.

"Their kids are moved out, they want to be here with them."

"They're good people, they deserve to live out the rest of their lives in a good place."

"He asked me though... he asked me if we'd thought above moving into a real house. Since, y'know, we aren't exactly kids anymore." You moved, looking up at her, the screen flashing back to the movie's title screen and the option to exit or play the disc again.

It lit up her face, and you could see a glimpse of something in her eyes. Something bright, hopeful in your answer.

"What'd you tell him?"

"That I'd ask you."

You breathed out, looking away from her gaze and towards the window. Curtains blowing in the wind, the light breeze caressing your exposed skin.

"I think Joel will be slightly disappointed. He likes us living here. Besides I'm not gonna have a baking partner when you're gone anymore." Ellie shrugged, hand moving to lay on your neck, thumb rubbing small circles on your flesh.

"He can visit. So can we. We're not leaving forever. You can still make cupcakes with him." She smiled when she felt your body shake with silent amusement, looking down at your figure.

"We can tell him tomorrow, when we have dinner." "So that's a yes?" Eyes meeting, you grinned. "Of course it is."

A forever home.

Something neither of you had ever had until Jackson.

Showing up for the first time at the gates was like a fever dream, Joel seeing his brother again. Maria giving you a small tour meaning you got to see the homes. The people.

You'd fallen in love with the place knowing you had to leave.

The cure was still out there, or in maybe better spoken terms, right beside you.

But something about Jackson pulled you in. Like deep down, you knew this would be it, the end of the line. Especially from how Maria spoke about the place, the woman could reel you in.

Like she was doing to Ellie right now, sitting at a table with a fresh meal in front of them. But you weren't hungry, well you were, but for some reason you just couldn't yet. Still unsure the place was even real, or if you were hallucinating.

"Hey." A girl appeared beside you, an empty bowl in her hands that she set with the rest on the counter. "Came to eat with my dad, I swear he works here day and night so y'know, gotta take the time when I can."

You nodded, giving her a friendly glance.

"You eat?" "Not yet. Haven't decided whether or not I'm dreaming." She laughed, crossing her arms. "Sometimes I think I am. I seen the man and girl you came with. He your dad?" You shook your head.

"No, just a friend. So is she." "Really? By the way you two acted I thought you were dating." Your head snapped to look at her, wide eyes and a clear look of surprise on your face.

"Sorry, it was cute, I swear. The way she looks at you, constantly stepping closer, and the fact that she's staring at us right now. I just had to assume, sorry."

"I..." You felt Ellie's stare then, you felt it often but the fact that the girl was right made you want to take a peak. And that peak was correct, Ellie hurriedly looking away the moment you began to move.

"Told you. She totally likes you." "We're friends." You shrugged. "We keep an eye on each other, especially out there." The girl shook her head though, "No way, that look, those eyes? Psh, friends."

"Katie!" The girl turned, quickly huffing. "I gotta go, hopefully we'll see each other again. I'm Katie." "Y/n." "Awesome, see you later!"

The quiet felt overwhelming when she left, leaving you alone with the revelations that you weren't even sure you were believed.

"Who was that?" "Jesus." You jumped, Ellie walking up to you from the table that now sat Maria and a man.

"A girl, Katie, she was nice. Was telling me about... Jackson. The other kids." "Huh, she seemed... nice. Have you ate?" You opened your mouth to answer but Ellie already knew the answer, taking your hand and dragging you towards the kitchen area.

"I like this place." Watching as the bowl filled up with whatever soup they made, your stomach grumbled, scolding you. "Me too." "I bet it'd be cool to live here. Get your own room, bed. Have actual friends that could have sleepovers with you."

"Hey, we have sleepovers all the time." "We live together, in houses with holes in the roof. I'm talking actual fun, and not worrying about dying and huddling up for warmth so you don't lose fingers."

Ellie handed you the bowl, a slight frown on her face while grabbing a spoon.

"Besides, we'd live together here too, right? Just like back at the school. Roommates again, in less terrifying circumstances."

"Yeah, I guess." "Here we go." "What?"

You took the spoon from her, walking over to table while she stomped after you. Setting the bowl on the table.

"Are you seriously mad at me?"

"No Ellie, but you're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Being a dick because for once it isn't just me and you."

The guilt of those words hit you like a ton of bricks, instantly feeling awful. But you weren't lying, and you hated that you weren't lying.

You hated making her afraid, afraid you'd find someone else but it wasn't like you could change the way she felt. Change her insecurities, and if you could, you would in a heartbeat.

Ellie was afraid. Afraid of being alone.

"It will always be you, you're my best fucking friend. But there's other people in the world. I just wish you'd give them a chance as much as you gave me one."

"That's not fair. I-"

"Yes it is, Ellie. You've done it before. I'm not leaving so I'm not sure why you always get mad at me when I meet new people."

"It's not about new people it's-"

"What? What is it? I know you're scared, but I'm not like everyone else, I'm still here, you're stuck with me for good."

Ellie fingers looped around your own, feeling you squeeze in response. Silently asking her to answer you, the fire in your eyes dying out into a few low embers.

"It's stupid." She pulled back, gesturing to your food.

"You should eat." "And you should tell me the truth."

"What's wrong?"

The green in her eyes was glossy, avoiding you like the plague, pretending you weren't standing in front of her.

"Well.. tell me when you're ready. I guess."

Ellie was different in that moment, something about that conversation with Katie. You seen her different now that you weren't denying yourself and your feelings. You were denying she felt the same.

It gave you a clearer picture of yourself. A better picture of what was really happening and it made you want to cry.

"M'gonna go eat." You muttered, shuffling past her and taking the bowl. Walking off to sit with Maria, hiding the fact that in that moment something had shifted inside of both of yourselves.

Something changed, for the better or worse.

You didn't know then, but you did know now.

"We can get married." You muttered, trying your hardest to fight off the sleep that trying it's best to claim you. "Adopt four cats." You felt her shoulders shake as she laughed quietly, looking down at your slow blinking eyes staring at the wall.

"I mean I was thinking just one, but okay." You snorted, hiding your face in her warm chest, letting the feeling of exhaustion finally blanket over you. Thick like a comforter, heavy like the weight of the day.

"Two. Compromise." You said, muffled by her clothing. "Deal."

Ellie felt your breathing slow, your body slowly begin to twitch as you slipped into a comforting darkness. Clutching onto her body like she'd disappear.

"Love you, dork."

Silence. You were asleep.

"Yeah, seen that one coming."

But she wouldn't change it for the world.

[for-ests]

Damsel | Miguel O'Hara x Reader Part 2

Part 1 | Masterlist

Summary: Face to face with the man in your dreams, you are now forced to deal with the reality of your situation and the perils that lay ahead. During it all, you see more familiar faces and are introduced to new ones, all of them confused with the complexity of your relationship with Miguel.

Word count: 5,962

Rating: no warnings for this chapter (will need some editing tho)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F! Spider Reader

⋆｡ ☼ 𐦍 ☼ ｡⋆

Gwen and Jessica stood as still as statues, utterly dumbfounded by what was unfolding. Hell had to freeze over before Miguel would show any signs of affection, let alone touch someone else so tenderly. 

That was what it felt like to you. The affirmation that you were never crazy and that he had the same dreams you did. The same longing was there, the desolation, the recognition, and then, the happiness.

In response, you leaned into the gentle touch, reaching up to rest your hand over his own. It really was him. Even his hands were the same, the way he touched you was the same. It made your heart flutter, remembering how you worshipped him in your dreams, how he worshipped you. 

“Your name?” Miguel asked, the edges of his mouth curving into a smile. A smile that took your breath away. 

“Y/N,” You whispered after a second passed, only to him, unable to tear your gaze away from his. It felt surreal; everything you’d longed for was finally right before you. 

For Miguel, everything he had ever wished for clicked into place. Somehow, he knew you were his saving grace. One glance at you, and he submitted. He would do anything to make you happy, go to the ends of the multiverse, destroy himself, and abandon everything he'd previously held dear. 

The overwhelming realization scared him. Even if you could save him from his misery, it was never that black and white. It was never that simple. The infatuation and the memories were intense, but for both of you, it couldn’t make the past tribulations disappear.

A past he feared you wouldn't be able to understand. 

A second after you rested your hand on his, Miguel tore it away. He let it fall to his side as if the touch was never there. But, his eyes lingered, all his responsibilities of the multiverse seeming to fall into second place, leaving only you. 

Everything he’d ever wanted was right in front of him. Everything except his daughter. He knew his dreams were different than yours. Some of them were the same, and the look in your eyes confirmed it. The future memories flooded his brain, your smile, your nurturing touch, and how amazing it all felt to be in your presence, to be yours. 

Glimpsing you alone was a privilege, and he couldn't stop looking. The sound of your moans filled his ears, and he was finally able to relate it to your angelic voice. He smelled your intoxicating scent, gaze moving to your lips. All he wanted was a taste. He wanted every part of you and more. Anything from you would be enough. 

Stunning, despite the filth that covered you. It was hard for Miguel to tear his gaze away from your iridescent eyes that seemed all-knowing. A pair of eyes that had haunted his dreams for the last year. 

“Hermosa,” He whispered, taking a step back, his touch abruptly retreating. He sensed that he'd been analyzing you for too long, feeling the confused stares of Gwen and Jessica on his back. 

Your lip threatened to quiver in response, yet you remained jagged, just staring at him, taking in his presence, cherishing it. Being there with him, for only a moment, was satisfying enough—it confirmed your months of questioning where you thought you were longing for a man that wasn’t real. 

“I finally know your name,” You said, on the verge of a smile. But that was enough, for once his warmth left you, reality set into place. Acknowledgment was enough for you. For there were more pressing matters to face. His retrieval stung against the irrational part of your mind, yet you couldn’t make him the villain. You had only just met. 

And you didn’t know where you were. You didn't even know who Miguel really was, what he’d done. He was still a stranger, even if it didn’t feel like it. 

As you’d suspected, it was too good to be true. The look in his eyes disputed your perception. The initial wonder was gone, replaced with a formality you despised. Like you were just another spider person, another woman blessed to cross his path. 

Your fists curled at your sides. Miguel's back was turned again, his eyes darting around to everything but you. The call-out was at the tip of your tongue until his authoritative voice echoed throughout the entire hall and beyond it. 

“Why is she still bloody?” He demanded, turning to Gwen and Jessica with a snarl. 

Gwen tensed, but Jessica rolled her eyes. “We were waiting for you, asshole.” 

Stiffening, Miguel stared at her. Of course, Jessica would. His emotions had gotten the best of him, and now it was apparent. The last thing he wanted to happen, the last thing he expected. Now, he looked like a fool in front of his associates. 

“What the fuck is happening?” Gwen asked, mouth hanging wide open. Only minutes had passed since your arrival, and Miguel looked like a deer in the headlights. 

Disregarding her, Miguel turned back to you. “Are you hurt?” 

You shook your head. It was nothing he could fix, and you were now adamant about not showing your fear or pain in front of him. A reason you didn’t know why. 

Despite your response, it was as if he could see right through you. But, he didn’t say anything. You were awaiting answers only he could give you, and he preferred to not have an audience. It was time to be professional, it was his own fault for setting those boundaries, and he couldn’t show weakness by being soft to a beautiful woman who only just appeared. 

Eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary, Miguel hesitantly left your side and retreated back behind the hologram. Your eyes drifted to the glass still shattered on the floor, and you winced at the mess you made. 

Seeing your discomfort, Gwen approached you again, stepping over the puddle of water. 

Weakly, you smiled at her. She mouthed a comforting question before nodding back to the chair where you once sat. You let her lead you back without protest, head undeniably spinning from the previous battle and the other-worldly encounter that just occurred. None of this made sense, and you had an inkling that the other spider-people in the room with you did not have an explanation either. 

“Do you two know each other?” Jessica questioned Miguel quietly, but you heard. 

“Now is not the time to explain,” He said, voice incredibly firm, a stark contrast from how he’d spoken to you. The stress radiating off of him was obvious, and so was the tension between you. Something inside of you theorized that he was embarrassed by his reactions to you, and you were unsure how to unpack the feeling of dread it gave you. 

For the first time in your life, you had nothing to say for what seemed to stretch hours. Miguel was so dominating that you couldn’t even form a thought. All you could do was watch him with analyzing and enticing eyes. 

Viewing their interactions, you were able to decipher the hierarchy. Watching him dictate everyone and everything made your composure waver. The last person you suspected of fantasizing over was the leader, the creator of this said society of like-minded people. 

People supposedly just like you. 

“Do you know him?” Gwen leaned down to your ear and whispered so quietly that you could barely hear her. 

Again, all you could do was nod. It should be enough. You didn’t really know Miguel, but it felt like you did. The look in his eyes confirmed that he knew the most intimate parts of your body and mind. 

Tilting your head to give her satisfaction, you muttered, “I’ll tell you later.” 

Half smirking, she stepped back behind you, curling her fingers around the corners of the chair. “I’ll be waiting.” 

At her reply, you laughed, probably more than you should have, but it was refreshing. Sitting in that chair caked in filth was enough of a task, and you were getting uncomfortable. 

For a brief moment, your eyes flashed to the screen. Stats that you could hardly recognize, although it reiterated what you already knew—a planet dying. 

A planet that shouldn’t exist. Creatures with unimaginable height and strength, scientists with too much knowledge for their surroundings, humans of staggering size, and powers that made no sense. But most important—resources. Too many that stretched across the entire planet. The trees, the rivers, the animals, even the anomalies. For a second, your heart panged in fear. What if? What if they decided to exploit it all? 

Irrationally, you tensed. Intentional or not, now you were the weakling. Your planet, your home, and your loved ones were left unprotected. All the strength you previously exuded was now quaint. They could kill you, and you couldn’t fight back. The curse of your abilities, of being in a different universe foreign to you. Even the air seemed harder to breathe in, with oxygen levels far lower than you were accustomed to. 

“And you're sure she's connected?” The holographic woman sighed, somehow sipping on a drink through her star-shaped glasses, sitting on Miguel’s shoulder in a way that made you narrow your eyebrows. 

“You tell me.” He huffed, swiping through too many graphics that it made your head whirl. For some reason, you knew he was putting up a front. It was too much of a contrast to prove otherwise. He could hardly look you in the eyes. 

“She’s the sole protector of her planet, with similar abilities,” Jessica said, butting in to zoom in on a paragraph that displayed a language you didn't understand. “And now that she’s gone, the levels are up…” 

“The oxygen levels are higher on the planet than most.” Miguel swiped his hand, and the hologram followed the command. “The highest I’ve ever seen.” 

Before you could realize it, Gwen had left your side, standing right behind Jessica to view the information. It was all new to them, but it was common sense to you. Even so, you felt no hatred, for your position was switched. You had no idea where you were, how these people worked, and why they were even interested in you. 

The three of them were stumped, even the AI woman. Without thinking, a sigh of annoyance left your lips. The slighted noise made them all snap their heads toward you. 

“What is the significance of Heinkaffe?” Miguel questioned, his voice softer than before now that he was addressing you. 

“The black death was in all of your universes, yes?” You scoffed. On your planet, those idiotic scientists had now stained the name. Before the organization came into power, Heinkaffe was renowned as your planet’s savior, the man who invented the cure that saved the generations before you. 

The holographic switched so fast that it glitched, seeming to browse millions of planets in less than 30 seconds. 

“No way that was her planet’s first canon event.” The AI woman, who you still didn't know the name of, grumbled in frustration. 

“For mine that happened over 700 years ago,” Gwen whispered. 

“For us, it did too,” You replied, tone somber enough for them to pick up on it. 

“How so?” Jessica asked, curious to understand the timeline. 

It had taken you almost all of your life to unravel how your planet worked and how you could protect it. There were too many secrets that you'd held onto for years, waiting for the right moment to explain them all in return for proper assistance. Now was your chance. 

But secrets were a form of power. It was how you established your credibility on your sparsely populated planet. That was how the elite came into power long before you were born. It was what killed your mother, later leading you to absorb what she could not. 

The future of your earth was in your hands. The common practices you'd been forced to deal with were no longer applicable. Not if you wanted peace or protection. 

That was what led you to tell the truth. Even if you didn’t trust them all thoroughly, it was enough. Your planet needed help, and you were the only one who had ever had contact with anyone outside of it. The spider people didn’t need to tell you that your home was already in shambles, that it was on the verge of vanishing from existence. 

“Ninety percent of the planet died that year,” You said. “And only a decade ago was there a proper increase.” 

Silence filled the room. Nobody moved, and nobody breathed. 

Miguel stared at you, trying to configure a hint of a lie, any form of deception—but he came up empty-handed. That type of admittance was unheard of; for every universe he’d visited, every spider person he’d recruited, nobody had ever expressed such a disparity in the timeline that somehow still aligned.  

Indeed, you were different, and it didn’t make sense. You were an anomaly yourself. And if Miguel hadn’t been granted your presence in his dreams, he might not have believed you. You were different, though, unlike anyone he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t deny what he’d seen and how much he craved you. 

It was feverish. Even being able to glimpse you felt like a blessing from every universe. 

“She’s right.” The AI woman replied a minute later. “The planet has the lowest human population I've ever seen.” 

“Other species thrived,” You spoke, fiddling with your bruised hands. “Even some insects are bigger than us.” 

That was shocking to all of them, for you were already staggering in height to everyone but Miguel. 

Your appearance, stature, and admittance sparked a conversation you were not a part of. That was what made you furious, what made you angry. There had only been a few instances in your life that made you feel that emotion, but hearing them in the same room, speak such fantasies about a world they had only viewed for a minute made you furious. 

Their little charts could do no justice for your home. They would have to see it to believe it. 

For the first time in that meeting, Miguel was the only one to not say a word. More spider people gathered around them, people you did not recognize. 

If only Miles was there. Besides Gwen, he was the only person you trusted with everything inside you. Why wasn’t he there? That was the only other planet you’d visited. And you missed him just as much as Gwen. 

The chatter of strangers filled every sense you possessed. 

“Give her space.” Was what you heard next, unable to identify the speaker until you turned in your seat to face them. It was Noir, and it made your mouth upturn only slightly. You nodded at him with thanks. 

“Good to see you again, Damsel.” Noir said, bowing his head modestly while lifting his hat. 

But, everyone else who gathered did not share the same sentiments. Instead of backing away, they closed in, staring at you with cautious eyes and throwing demands toward Miguel, who had no other option but to jump off the platform and to your side. 

Only then did the strangers take steps back. 

The words did not stop, though, and only increased. Their eyes tried to analyze what was projected, a new planet with a person of equal ability but not a spider. You were automatically a freakish outsider. 

“It doesn't make sense!” 

“She's not one of us!”

 “Nobody needs to help her disgusting planet!”

Suddenly claustrophobic, You shot up from your chair, making those closest to you back up slightly. What made you insecure was that you were still filthy, only less than an hour from your supposed cannon event. Everything you'd grown familiar with had been ripped from your grasp. 

Glancing around, all you felt was hatred. Everyone except Miguel, who was hiding it, looked just as tense as you did. 

Where did all of these people come from? 

“She’s not even a spider!”

“Seriously?” A tall young man emerged from the group, getting a little too close to you, causing Miguel to observe with piercing eyes. “We have enough variants here as it is, one of them is actually a Lego and another is a pig. Yet you blokes take issue with a woman that has wings?” 

Gritting your teeth, you kept your chin up and eyes on him as he walked around you. You’d never seen anyone like him before, and the colors that swirled around him were intriguing, along with his hair and piercings. 

“Seems fit enough to me,” He said with a light, teasing tone. “She needs a shower though. Your name, darling?” 

“Y/N,” You replied snarkily, raising an eyebrow. If he wasn’t appraising you like an animal, you would’ve been more inclined to be respectful. You were uncomfortable under the gaze of so many strangers, starting to grow antsy, the panic overtaking the soreness that weighed heavy on every muscle. 

“The name’s Hobie.” He winked before stepping up to the platform and next to Miguel. 

“Do you intend to make Y/N a member of the society, Miguel?” A familiar voice echoed from behind, and who you saw next briefly made the panic fade. It was Peter, and in his hands was a little girl with vibrant red hair. She giggled and waved at you despite your disheveled appearance. 

Miguel’s eyes glanced from Peter’s to yours. “Yes.” He said, “Unique variant or not, it would be foolish to not protect her planet and have inside eyes.” 

There was something he knew that you didn’t. 

“I don’t know how it happened, but her planet is now a part of the arachnoid model. Some events connect while others do not.” 

His response caused an uproar that neither he nor you expected. 

Some voices were supportive, while others expressed concern. Everything became jumbled as you tried to string it all together, to make sense as to what this debate even meant and why some were so wary of you when they hadn’t even seen your darkest secret. Surprisingly, the two spider people that had seen it firsthand stood on either side of you, unfazed. Gwen put her hand back on your shoulder and squeezed it, showing solidarity despite witnessing the horror of what you could genuinely do. 

“Enough,” You blurted before you could stop yourself. If only they could glimpse the size of the spiders on your planet. Maybe they wouldn’t doubt you again if you showed them the truth. 

Everyone in the room turned to face you. 

“Tell me what the hell is going on.” Your eyes bore into Miguel’s, tone sharper and more demanding than you intended. “Right now.” 

Yes, you were weak, but you were going to stand your ground, especially to Miguel. A challenge graced your features, and you would make him listen. It was in the way you held yourself, your expression, and your tone, despite all the agony you’d just endured. 

When you lifted your head, all you expected was anger. But his eyes were swirling with affection and acceptance. 

To everyone’s astonishment but yours, he listened. “Your earth was never supposed to align.” 

“By whose accord?” 

Gwen and Jessica grew ridged beside you. 

“Mine.” Miguel admitted in a softer tone than before. 

“Based on what?” You pried further, almost stumbling as you took a step closer. As you approached the elevated platform, every pair of eyes felt like daggers against your back. 

You rolled your sleeve up and barred the fangs that had torn flesh so deep that it almost touched bone. A scar a few shades different than your natural tone. The bite of a damsel fly, that happened to be significantly larger on your planet. The scar was still on your forearm, and when you closed your eyes on some nights, you could still feel the chunk it ripped from your skin and the poison that changed your very DNA. 

“If my earth isn’t connected, why did my mother die? Why was I tortured? Why did the only man who’s ever protected me die in my arms? Why do I have wings and powers I cannot control?” The words poured out, and you turned to face the strangers that gathered and kept gathering. “Why was I pulled into a different universe last year?!” 

None of them could reply. From your outburst, there were only gasps and quiet murmuring. 

“Look at me.” You hissed at Miguel, knowing he would pick up your underlying meaning. “Stop denying the truth.” 

He did, but it was quick. So quick that everyone else in the room didn’t catch it. That much was obvious, as evident as his reaction to your arrival. He knew. 

And you refused to let him forget it. 

“Everyone that doesn’t have level 2 clearance leave.” Miguel flicked away the hologram. 

The ultimatum in his voice was enough for the hundreds to scatter. What you picked up, though, was the surrender to your defiance. 

With significantly fewer people in the room, your shoulders slightly relaxed. 

“It has nothing to do with you, Y/N.” Jessica assured to fill the awkward silence. “Ignore them.” 

“It has everything to do with her,” Miguel said, running an anxious hand through his hair. “The entire system no longer makes sense. That's why they are scared.” 

“You need to be more specific, Miguel.” Peter said. He looked at you and smiled. You knew Peter would have handed his child over to you if you didn’t still look and smell like you’d just nearly escaped death. 

Resting his hands on the table again, Miguel had to turn his back on you. Every time he looked at you, his thoughts became jumbled. Even if it was clear you could handle yourself, he felt guilty and responsible. 

All he craved was for a minute alone with you. He needed it more than anything. And because of that wish, everyone else but him sensed that your presence was already softening his heart, even if they were unaware of the reason. So, against what his soul craved, he continued. “Your planet is just… different. A spider person there seems futile, or at least it did until recently.” 

Miguel pulled the files back up, satisfied to know that everyone but you was at least knowledgeable about how grave a miscalculation like this could be. Your fate was in their hands, but in the same turn, theirs were too. “Because the population is so low, and to the rest of the universe… somewhat bland.” 

“It was clearly a mistake.” Gwen huffed. “It was beautiful.” 

Your lips curved up slightly at her compliment. “My people are secretive, and superstitious.” 

“So are there things we don’t know about?” Hobie questioned, perking up at the mention of a secret. 

“A lot.” You chuckled in response. 

Miguel noticed it was the first time he heard you laugh, and it was the most beautiful melody he’d ever heard. 

“You can show us.” He meant to ask, but it came out as more of a command. 

Your head snapped to him, eyes narrowed in a glare. “And why would I do that?” 

Hobie whistled. 

“I already said you were accepted.” 

“Mhm.” You looked away. “Explain it all to me right now.” 

There was another stretch of awkward silence. Clearly, you were dancing on the border of disrespect, and you could feel all eyes glancing timidly at Miguel. But all he did was sigh. In your peripheral, you saw Gwen cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. 

Something inside of you told you that if you were overstepping, the people around you wouldn’t be chuckling. Noir and Peter stood off at a farther distance, but they both seemed just as smug. 

“The web of life and destiny.” Miguel sighed, clearly disgruntled but not acknowledging it or demanding anything. At this point, he didn’t care if the others noticed his soft spot for you. “It connects all versions of Spider-People across the multiverse from shared events and attributes. In theory, there were no attributes that connected you until today.” 

“Besides the fact that she met me, Peter, and Noir last year on Miles planet.” Gwen puffed. The look in her eyes reinforced she wanted to say more—like an I told you so. Since she was the first to assist you in your moment of life and death and the one who kept defending you like a friend would, she wanted her year-long theory to be credited. 

You suspected that Miguel was the one who refused her wishes, the one who claimed your planet was unworthy. 

“That much is true,” Noir added. “And what a devil she was.” 

Blushing, you glanced at Noir. 

You were about to reply, but Miguel interrupted you and continued his explanation. It was so condensed that all you could do was listen, everything so convoluted that you were starting to grow overwhelmed again. 

All the information made sense, but the fatigue started getting to you. And when he finally paused, you were done. 

“Where can I take a shower.” You demanded. If they denied you, you would have just returned home to clean up the mess that awaited you. Hours had passed as you were still filthy, sore, and in pain when you let your thoughts linger away from the situation. 

Gwen opened her mouth, but Miguel cut her off. 

“I’ll take you,” He said. 

“Good,” You replied, clenching your jaw to prevent yourself from saying anything else. If you hadn't been so physically drained, you could have taken a bite out of him from the nonchalant treatment. 

The deal happened so fast, too fast for the other spider-people to even open their mouths. Obvious or not, there was no way in hell he would let you shower in another bathroom than his. A plethora of excuses tried to force their way out of his mouth, like there were no other rooms available, you couldn’t be left unsupervised, and he had to give you a watch as soon as possible. But truthfully, it was because you were supposed to be with him, alone. He craved to be alone with you even if it took all his strength to show it in front of the others. That weakness was yet to be explored. 

Finally, he stepped off the platform and came to your side. 

“We will all discuss this later,” Miguel said to the others, unsure if he should take your hand or not. The hesitation was apparent, so you curled your arm around his instead and let him lead you out of the room. 

Almost to the entrance, you heard the rest of them whispering to each other. 

“Did I miss something?” You heard Hobie ask. 

“I think we’re all confused,” Peter replied. 

“Tell me about it.” Jessica huffed. 

Hearing their not-so-quiet conversation, you couldn’t help but curl your lips. Maybe it was best if they didn’t know why you recognized him. Some things were better off remaining private, like the more intimate details that still lingered in the back of your mind. It really was him, and you were not sure how to interact, emphasizing how standoffish he seemed to everyone else but you. 

Neither you nor Miguel could figure out why the connection was there, why it had been almost a year of cruel and tempting dreams, to only wake up alone and an insufferable longing that could not be satiated. And for you, everything you wanted was now right beside you, far too fast to even comprehend it. 

“Are you in pain?” Miguel whispered, letting you lean against him, not realizing how much you needed it. 

“I’ve been the whole time,” You hissed at the relief of him supporting your weight. Most of the pain immediately subsided. 

“I’m sorry we met under these circumstances.” 

“So you do remember?” 

“How could I not.” 

You managed to laugh, but when you did, you winced. It felt like you’d been bludgeoned all over again, the pain evident in your expression despite your healing factor and the elation you wanted to exude. 

Almost choking with your sharp inhale, you wheezed. “I know.” 

The indifference he projected before completely dissolved when he noticed you stumble. 

“I can’t do this,” He muttered gruffly, scooping you into his arms with ease. 

“What are you doing?” You were on the verge of shrieking but instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Please let me help you,” He whispered. 

“Because you were doing such a good job before—” You retorted, wanting to say it with malice, but stopping short when you locked eyes with him, the rest of your rebuttal dying in your throat. 

So much affection was present that it took your breath away, confirming the same emotions you were struggling to keep contained from the moment you saw him. 

Your giggle echoed down the hall, causing everyone to look at what was unfolding. You. In Miguel’s arms. Such an indescribable sight it was, unfathomable to them all. What was more shocking, though, was that you were comfortable, and he… he was smiling. 

None of them could recall a moment where they had even seen him genuinely laugh. But he was with you, a complete stranger, hoisting you up into his arms, cradling you like he’d done it before, like he cared for you. As if he loved you. 

“They definitely know each other,” Jessica said, her arms crossed. “I don’t know how. But they do.” 

“Y/N didn’t tell me how, but she didn’t say no,” Gwen confirmed. 

“There’s no possible way they’ve met,” Lyla grumbled, now whirling around Jessica but in a more glitching manner. “I would know!” 

Hobie and Noir glanced at each other in concern. 

“I think it's beyond your comprehension, Lyla.” Hobie shrugged, watching Miguel curl his arms around your more petite frame, acting as if you were fragile when you clearly were not. Hobie saw you as anything but that, as you had already established you were far more worthy than any of them could comprehend, even at the discomfort of others.  

Maybe you really were the first woman he’d met that only a man like Miguel could handle. “You’re not real after all.” 

And for once, there was no cheeky rebuttal from Lyla. It shocked Hobie, and when he glanced behind him, Lyla had already vanished. 

Meanwhile, you were finally able to relax in Miguel’s arms. It was clear he wasn’t struggling with your weight and limpness. And your heart swelled at the notion, for this might very well be the first time a man bothered to take care of you. His fingers were gentle, and he held you so cautiously that it shocked you. 

Maybe it was because you were unfortunately still covered in blood that wasn’t yours. So much that your suit was stiff. 

“You acted with such authority I didn’t think you recognized me,” You said, glancing at him with uncertainty. 

“It's so complicated,” He uttered with a hint of annoyance. “I wish I could explain everything to you right now. But I know you’re tired.” 

“Complicated how?” 

“I don’t even fully understand it, and I’m supposed to be the one that does.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.” 

“It’s what I deserve,” He disclosed quickly, almost an ultimatum that nobody would be able to change his mind on. 

“I find that hard to believe,” You insisted, voice low and meant to be reassuring, head cocking as you watched his eyes darken, his expression growing tight. 

The atmosphere around the two of you stretched into something somber. You caught it, but only briefly before Miguel spoke, “You don’t know what I’ve done.” 

“You don’t know what I’ve done either,” You remarked, determined to ease whatever pain you’d unintentionally brought up. “Doesn’t make you deserving of…” 

“—When the time is right, we can talk about anything you want. I won’t hide anything from you.” 

“I’ll tell you everything in return,” You whispered. “Just ask.” 

“I would love to know everything about you, Hermosa.” 

Hearing that nickname again and how sensual it sounded from his lips, caused you to blush and relax further into his embrace. “What does that mean?” 

“Beautiful.” 

“How sweet you are all alone with me.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Whatever language he spoke was unfamiliar to you and your people, yet it made your heart race with desire. “Not like my dreams.” 

He readjusted you in his arms, hand hesitantly cupping your ass to hold you closer to him. “Did we have different dreams then?” He chuckled. “Because you were not as sassy to me in them.” 

Snickering, your lips rested against the shell of his ear, exhaling hot against his neck, teasing him so much that he almost shivered. “Did you have a dream this morning?” You purred that fateful amorous question.

He bit hard on his lip, trying to refrain from ravishing you the second he reached his door. It wasn’t fair, all those nights he’d spent finishing himself off to the thought of you, wondering how you tasted and what it would feel like to touch you. It had taken all his strength to not smash his lips against yours and beg for everything you could offer him. But of course, the universe had a cruel sense of humor, as it delivered you to him broken and bruised, on possibly the worst day of your life. 

“I did,” Miguel admitted with a sigh to release the tension. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.” 

“Good." You smirked as he approached the door that you presumed to be his room. The hallway was long, but there didn’t seem to be many other apartments littering it. Your heart started to race as you thought he wouldn’t take you directly to his room. 

Slowly, Miguel lowered you down and let you slide out of his arms, catching you the second your feet could press all your weight to the floor. You leaned against him as he scanned his watch and held the door open for you. 

The lights flickered on as you limped inside. The door clicked shut, and you glanced over your shoulder at Miguel. If the circumstances were different, you couldn’t even imagine what you’d do to him, his moans still echoing in the back of your mind. 

The thoughts you had of him were constantly sinful and indulgent. Completly inappropriate given the circumstances, but it was a welcomed distraction. 

“I’m okay to shower here?” You asked, letting your fingertip run across the dining room table, shocked to find a faint layer of dust on it. There were only two seats that had clearly never been sat in. 

“Yes.” His voice was low, watching your every movement. “You being here feels...right.” 

An unfamiliar sentiment rose in your chest, unlike anything you'd ever felt in response to the words from a male. His presence alone made you forget about everything you’d just endured. A moment of peace in the eye of the storm. 

“—No matter what she tells me.” You caught the last part of his hushed sentence, bringing you back to realize that he stepped closer, arms coming back to engulf you in a proper embrace. 

“Who?” You asked, eyelids starting to droop. It was strange how at home you felt in his arms. The arms of a man you had just met. 

Miguel only chuckled, disregarding your question. “Don’t fall asleep on me. I haven’t even kissed you yet.” 

“I’m dirty,” You groaned but sunk into the heavenly embrace, breathing in his alluring scent. 

“And somehow, you still captivated everyone in the room,” He whispered in your ear, entire body wrapped around your own, refusing to let go despite your weak protest, only letting you shift around to face him. 

“Miguel O’Hara,” You spoke his name softly, tinging from how close his lips were to yours, inviting you to give in. “I pray that you play your cards right.”

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hiii :) sorry this took so long! if you'd like another chapter pls lmk :0

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[introverted-imagineer]

The Vikings Ambition and the Emperor’s Request (Part 23)

Warnings: Language, gendered themes, warfare, violence, themes of pregnancy and infertility, religious themes, and smut. Please be careful not to engage with the content below if any of these warnings are inappropriate or impact your well-being.

This is a long chapter with a bit of time jumping so please bear with it.

-The Introverted Imagineer.

The markets of Constantinople were busiest in the early hours of the morning. Families buy bread and produce for the day, fishermen trade their catches as they row in and out of the harbour, and farmers sell milk and eggs before they are spoilt by the burning sun. It was easy to lose oneself in the crowd, the crowding and bustling a welcome change to the quiet and control inside the Emperor’s palace. The Emperor had been unduly generous since our arrival in Constantinople. His unwavering kindness reminded me of sweet Kurya…but unlike Kurya, something about it felt rather sinister. The influx of luxurious gifts, the invitations to dine with the Emperor and Empress, and the constant influx of service people always insisting on cleaning and cooking for us. I remember, back in London, a life like this seemed a total dream, never having to worry about what to cook, your room always clean, everyone at your beck and call. But now that I was experiencing it myself, instead of being on the other side, I despised it. 

I quietly slipped out of our room, smiling as Twyla slept soundly in her basket Harald’s arm draped over the side, his fingers resting on her blanket. I gently clutched the bag close to myself, tip-toeing down the hallowed halls of the palace, and slipping out the closest exit. I never understood why I tip-toed, there was always a guard at every exit…there was no way to leave the place unnoticed. I clutched the bag closer as the sky gleamed with the rising sun, walking past a tired guard as he stood solemnly at his post. Getting things out of the palace was easy…getting stuff in was a little trickier. 

I blew a sigh of relief as I walked down the cobbled decline amongst the streets of Constantinople. I looked inside my bag, taking note of the items: a delicately embroidered scarf, a selection of soaps, and a white linen undershirt. The Emperor’s influx of gifts and goods had come in useful the past couple of months since we’d been here. I knew I should feel guilty, selling the things that he generously gifted, but the reality was not even the Emperor would notice that things were missing. I didn’t tell anyone, not even Harald or Mathilda. To them, this life seemed to suit them…but it didn’t suit me. While it was clear, these items were more valuable than what merchants were willing to pay for them, I had gathered a reasonable saving. But with the constant bustling of life within and outside the palace walls of Constantinople, earning coin, particularly undetected, was rather easy.  

It had been two months since our wedding, the Emperor and Empress’s grand union following a month later, and Mathilda and Consus’s only a mere week ago. Life had not slowed down enough to allow much time to spend as a family. I had spent most of my evenings alone, Harald usually coming back to the room well after we were asleep. Harald, though he tried, was kept busy by the Emperor and Empress. The Emperor was meticulous, cunning and driven; Harald knew that to help his campaign, he must help the Emperor with his first. 

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I wandered around the market stalls, looking for new merchants to sell to. While merchants I had sold to in the past would likely accept more goods, I was cautious to refrain from trading with the same people. I couldn’t risk building a regular business with individuals, that’s when people would start to ask questions. ‘Where did you gather these herbs? How do you make these soaps? Where were these goods made?’. Truth was, Constantinople was still a strange land, lies like this would have been easier to tell back in London, but here I didn’t know anything. 

An elderly man stood at his makeshift table, people walking past him without much interest in his goods. Small balls of thick yarn and strings covered his table, people likely judging that his wares would not be palatable for the summer heat. I approached him wearily, pretending to pick up a few of his goods and inspect them as I did. ‘Does anything here catch your eye, my dear?’ He excitedly asked. I put the string down, smiling at him as I put on my friendliest voice. ‘My sister, she’s looking for some thread, she’s unwell and has sent me to the markets to shop for her’ I reached into the bag, pulling the scarf from inside, holding it out for the man to inspect. He pulled it closer, running his fingers over the flowers and swirls that adorned the fabric, nodding impressed at the detail. ‘She likes to make scarfs like this, do you have any threads that are similar?’ He looked at me, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment. ‘Your sister has expensive taste, I’m afraid my wares don’t match the quality that your sister uses…’ I watched intently, inspecting him as he looked at the garment, impressed, almost intoxicated by the quality. This was the moment. ‘Well, between you and me sir, she’s really not well at all…if you are willing, maybe I can tempt you into buying it?’ He raised his eyebrow, looking me up and down. I purposely dressed modestly, careful not to wear anything that might alienate me from the ordinary worker in Constantinople. ‘Such quality of work is well beyond my means’ he said, tentatively placing it on the table. ‘Truly Sir, someone with such knowledge and taste like yourself would appreciate this better than I could…besides I’d be willing to part with it for a very agreeable fee’. I battered my eyelids slightly, cringing at myself as I took on the part of a helpless person, letting him believe that he could easily take the scarf for a tiny bit of what it was worth. He looked up at me again, pursing his lips together as he dug into his pockets, a sound of clinking as he shuffled his hand around. ‘This is all I can offer’ he said, sliding three copper coins across the table. I smiled, being sure to breathe loudly as I thanked him profoundly as if he were some sort of hero. ‘Bless you, sir, you are most generous!’. 

Another person approached the table as I slid the coins into my smock, leading the man’s attention away. ‘You know, that scarf looks as though it were fit for a King’ a deep gruff voice whispered in my ear. I jerked away slightly, turning to look up at the person. His body was so large it cast a shadow over me. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, his words sinking deep into my stomach, a simmering panic bubbling in my stomach. Had I been too careless? Should I have chosen something less exquisite? I shielded the sunlight from my eyes as the man stood to reveal his full height. Through his thick dark beard, a set of smiling teeth gleamed. He held a small netted bag, contents filled with a selection of food and herbs. I felt my insides slither as I retreated into character. ‘Well I will pass your regards onto the maker’ I said, smiling as I tried to elegantly shift away from the man’s intentions. ‘You know, if you had anything similar I’d be willing to pay, certainly more than what you got for the scarf’. I shrugged my shoulders innocently. ‘Sorry, all I have is soaps’ I said, slowly wandering to the next table over. ‘Well that’s very lucky, my mother has asked for soaps too’ he chuckled, holding the bag of food up slightly. ‘Your mother is lucky to have such a devoted son’ I said, stopping to face him as I inspected him. His clothing wasn’t overly grand, the produce in his bag was modest enough. He smiled, nodding at the awkward compliment. ‘I’d like to think every mother deserves such treatment’. I nodded in agreement, thinking of my mother. I’d like to think that someone would have looked after her when I was taken into service. My thoughts were distracted as he dug into his pocket, the clinking sounding as he pulled out a silver coin. I hitched a laugh in my throat, his offering slightly too generous for a simple bar of soap. ‘That’s much more than any bar of soap is worth’ I said, turning my attention back to the stalls. ‘Well I figured, anywhere where you were able to get such a beautiful scarf, must also be selling soaps of high quality’ he said, dipping around and blocking my other side. ‘Also, anyone willing to sell a scarf for that price will likely need more than just a bit of money’. 

‘Is there something I can help you with?’ I asked, my tone short as his persistence began to irritate me. ‘Just a bar of soap’ he said, holding out his silver coin. I huffed, snatching the coin from his grasp, pulling out all 3 of the soaps and shoving them into his hand. ‘One for you, two for your mother’. He brought them up to his nose, sniffing at the floral scents. He smiled, closing his eyes. ‘A smell of home’ He noted, slipping one into his pocket and two into the small shopping bag with the merchandise for his mother. I knew I should walk away, but it seemed my mouth got there before my brain could stop it. ‘Why does the smell of home please you so much? You do not live with your mother?’. He licked his lips, his shoulders tensing slightly. ‘I have been summoned to serve in the Emperor’s army’ he said, his voice slightly distressed as he said it. This is opposite to Harald’s when he talked about armies and war. While the Emperor had kept Harald busy, I had not known exactly what the Emperor had kept him busy with…nor what Harald had been supposedly ‘helping’ the Emperor with. ‘The Emperor is recruiting an army?’ I questioned, curiosity and questions generating unwillingly in my brain. 

The kind stranger explained the political climate, how the Emperor was seeking to expand his Empire, and how he amongst many men was being recruited and sent to training camps. I could feel my insides boiling. I knew that Constantinople wasn’t a permanent home for us, but for Harald to possibly be so entwined with all this and not say a word. ‘I’m surprised you do not know of this, it is common knowledge amongst Constantinople that the Emperor is building an army?’. ‘I haven’t lived here long’ I noted. He nodded his head solemnly. ‘Might I be correct in sensing that is why you were willing to part with the scarf so cheaply?’. While he seemed well-meaning, his persistence and reference to that damn scarf had become annoying. ‘I don’t think that is any of your concern’ I noted, trying to end the conversation entirely. But predictably, he hadn’t finished. ‘Please forgive me…I couldn’t help but think we might be able to help each other.’ I clutched tighter to my bag, balling my other hand into a fist. I had seen these interactions growing up, and how they unfolded for women like my mother. ‘My mother has a rather spacious home, and with her being old, and with my call to service, she is seeking a new tennant to help her in her home.’ I could feel my grip loosening, a window of hope. ‘I only mention the scarf because nobody would be willing to part with such an item if they didn’t need to.’ 

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The elderly woman’s home stood on the far end of Constantinople. While most homes were stacked together and stood amongst the streets, a small village of homes stood independently amongst a field of green. While not isolated, many people walked amongst the grassy area; gardening, harvesting wildflowers, children playing and climbing the trees. It was a vision of heaven itself compared to the same walls inside the palace. I couldn’t help but feel butterflies in my stomach, a fluttering of comfort and calmness as the scene reminded me of summers from my childhood. The farmers, their children, and meadows of grass; something I had only admired from a distance. But this could be the opportunity to give my daughter what I never had. The kind stranger, who had introduced himself as George, wandered to a small straw triangle hut held together with dried hardened clay-like mud and woven twigs. An elderly woman sat out front on a large boulder, shucking a cob of corn from its leaves. ‘Mama’ he called, his arms wide-spread, his shopping hanging from one hand. The old woman dropped the corn, her hands coming to her face, gushing at the sight of her son. She seemed overwhelmed by his presence, speaking to him in a language I could not understand. I looked on curiously from afar as her slender frame circled her large son. She pulled him right down, gripping his cheeks in her hand and kissing his cheeks fiercely and repetitively. The scene was curious as if she had not seen him in some time. 

When she finally released her son, he handed her the shopping, she looked overwhelmed with happiness as she inspected the contents. He gestured in my direction, speaking to her in their language. She glided towards me, a smile on her face as she gripped my cheeks in her hand, kissing them fervently like she had her son. Her son’s voice emitted. ‘Forgive her, she has lived a long life, and can get confused.’ However, the feeling of tender mothering, the warmth of her hands, the pressing of her thin lips against mine, the feeling was almost intoxicating. Something I had so dearly missed,  I didn’t mind it. She gripped my hand, pulling me inside her home excitedly. 

The inside was sparse. A simple table and chairs, a fireplace, a straw bed in the far corner, and a set of shelves that were home to her cookware. Next to her fireplace, a pot simmered, a line hung from one wall to the other, a smell of honey wafting as her homemade candles rested on the line drying. A small archway with a curtain hung at the end of the room, which pulled back to reveal another small bedroom with another straw bed. While not as grand as the palace, it was more than what my mother and I had. Some baskets and a bucket full of water sat pushed against the wall of the smaller bedroom. The elderly woman quickly tended to the room, trying to fluff the pillow and straighten the blanket on the bed to make it look more appealing. I walked to the small window, opening the wooden shutters. The sun shone brightly, the grass shimmering with the light. George stopped his mother’s efforts. ‘Maybe it’s not quite what you thought?’ He questioned, his tone laced with a bit of disappointment. I turned back towards them, his mother clutching onto her son’s side, a tight lip smile as if she were trying to apologise. ‘What sort of arrangement are you suggesting?’ I asked, making the tall man smile with a sense of relief. ‘My mother needs help around the home, things like collecting water, going to the market, and helping her in her garden and with her sheep, things her body is too tired to do.’ ‘I have one stipulation’ I noted. George tilted his head curiously. ‘I have a daughter.’ His mother looked between us, confused by the language barrier. I couldn’t understand his translation, but there was one word I did. ‘Baby’. With that, the elderly woman seemed more spritely with excitement as she repeated the words, nodding with delight. ‘Baby, baby.’ 

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The room back at the palace was empty. Harald likely taken Twyla for a stroll like he did most mornings. I put my bag down, reaching under the feather mattress and pulling out the bag of coins, adding today’s money to the collection. I nervously slid the coins into my bag, wondering how I was going to tell Harald the news. Our marriage had been civil, but nothing more extended beyond fussing around after Twyla and sleeping in the same bed at night like two strangers forced to share. We could be independent, and Twyla would be around other children, endless fields to play and explore.  Maybe I was making a mistake?

The door creaked open, and I could feel my insides knotting themselves into tight circles. ‘Harald…I need to talk to you’ I said, turning around to face the door, only to find it was not Harald. ‘Such a content child’ her voice sounded, floating across the room, piercing my ears. I stood up, dipping into a deep curtsy. ‘Empress’ I greeted dutifully. She stood there, looking around the room curiously, Twyla sitting soundly in her arms as she looked at me. I could feel every instinct in my body become alert, my eyes bulging slightly, my jaw clenching my teeth together tightly. ‘I’m so sorry if Harald inconvenienced you’ I said, walking towards her and stretching my arms out to take Twyla. But Elena didn’t budge. ‘We have spent many mornings together haven’t we?’ She said, tickling her little stomach and making her squeal in delight. I could feel a vein protruding from my forehead, I could just imagine a cloud of steam radiating from my ears. ‘You have?’ I asked wearily. ‘Well with you going to the market so frequently, and my husband requiring Harald, who else is there to mother his little girl?’. She smiled, my body freezing at her comment. She knew what she was doing…and I couldn’t do anything to her. Elena was maddening, but the Empress was vicious. ‘Well, hopefully, you’ll be mothering your own baby soon’ I said, offering a friendly chuckle at the end to mask the sarcasm. She walked forward, placing Twyla in her Moses basket. ‘I intend to make sure of it’ she said, her smile polite as she walked out of the room. 

As soon as the door shut, I got busy. I opened every drawer, every bit of Twyla’s clothing, and a few pieces of mine, packing our belongings for our new home. 

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‘What are you doing?’ I jumped in surprise as Harald’s voice sounded. I tucked Twyla’s blanket into the bag, wiping my eyes before facing him. ‘I have found somewhere to live’ I replied so clinically. Harald’s eyebrows bent in confusion, as he looked around the room, his hands gesturing to the finely furnished room around us. ‘This isn’t a home Harald, it’s a constant watch guard’ I replied swiftly. ‘So you just decided without talking to me that we’re all moving?’ He asked sarcastically. ‘No, Twyla and I are moving, doesn’t seem like you’re staying here for long anyway.’ His face went stiff, the natural pink from his upper cheeks going pale. ‘You’re taking our daughter away from me?’ He asked, his voice quiet but his tone emitting one of panic and anger. ‘Harald, I would never take her away from you, but it seems as though you’ve allowed other people to mother our daughter’ I spat, slamming the contents into the bag violently, forcing them to fit. ‘Excuse me?’ He said, unlacing his weapon belt as he threw it on the bed. ‘Elena came in this morning, she seems to have been spending a lot of time with Twyla’ I put my hand on my hip, firmly placing my feet on the floor as if to match his large stature. ‘Even had the nerve to tell me that she had been mothering our daughter because my husband was too busy running around after the Emperor’. Harald quickly walked toward the other side of the room, closing the door quickly but quietly to not disturb the sleeping baby. ‘Y/N you must not be so careless! Elena is now empress and we must speak of her as such’ he spoke quietly, his body now inches from mine, his hot breath warming my cheeks. ‘And I have not placed our daughter in the care of the Empress, if you are not back from the market, which you spend a suspicious amount of time doing, by the way, I bring her back to the room myself or yes on a rare occasion Inaya would bring her back for a sleep.’ He sighed, brushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead. ‘The Emperor has requested mine and Leif’s presence a lot this week, so I confess Inaya has been caring for her a bit these past days.’ 

‘Is the Empress at these meetings?’ ‘No, she simply dismisses herself…the Emperor has only confided in the help of Leif, his general and some of his men, and I’ he spoke, but I could tell by the way his forehead creased, that both our minds were rattling with questions. ‘Is it true the Emperor is raising an army?’ I asked curtly. Harald peeled his eyes away from mine, focusing his attention on Twyla as he watched her soundly sleep in her basket. A pang of guilt washed over him as he exhaled loudly. ‘The Emperor has appointed me as part of his personal Varangian guard…the Emperor wants me to go to his camps and train his men should the moment arise that would require an army…’ I crossed my arms as he sat cautiously at the end of the bed. ‘I spoke to the Emperor and he insisted that you and Twyla would still be cared for here at the castle while I fulfilled my new duties, I wasn’t going to just leave again. My family is my first priority.’ he said, shaking his head, as he glued his eyes to Twyla. The bed dipped as I sat down gingerly next to Harald. Harald’s entire life revolved around his ambition to be King of Norway, to return to his home once again and rule. His admission that his family was now his priority was unexpected. I waited for Harald to break the silence. But instead, he gently slipped his hand into mine. 

‘So, tell me about where you intend to live’ he said. 

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Whispering winds sang across blue skies, the grass danced with the breeze's rhythm, and birds chirped like a choir in church. It had been nearly a month, and now, every afternoon was like this, sitting in the sun, our toes curling in the blades of grass, dandelion seeds and wisps slowly nettling into the locks of my hair. A baby who rested solemnly, playing with whatever her hands could grasp, finding a world of fascination in the things we forget to appreciate. The feeling of steady ground beneath my feet was pure ecstasy. We would sit for hours, listening to the sounds of nature, enjoying the sounds away from the city of Constantinople, watching children run in the meadows, people picking wild mushrooms and herbs for medicines in the secret secure spot that lay outside the walls of the city. I would tell Twyla stories of her grandmother, of her guardian angel Kurya, whether she would retain any of that information I couldn’t know…but it felt right to tell her. 

These days were blissful, and too long overdue. Like the small farm from my childhood, this field of seemingly nothing was now everything to me. 

The change of pace was wonderful. To have purpose and routine every day. To cook one’s own meals, to freely walk around without a guard watching your every move, to become part of a community where other people lived their lives simply and happily. Our elderly landlady, Emera, while we didn’t speak the same language, seemed overtly grateful for our company. She loved to help with the mundane tasks of parenthood, like bathing, feeding, playing, and dressing Twyla. She was knowledgeable in tending to her garden and precise in demonstrating how to identify and pick weeds, to use and dry manure to effectively fertilise the soil. She was even happy to invite her neighbours over, often slipping extra herbs to them when she had them spare. It seemed she was motherly to all, she was the essence of tenderness and love. 

It was almost ironic, how living apart, we had seen more of Harald than we had since living in Constantinople. Harald would make the effort to come to the sparse little village each evening, his new Varangian uniform often catching the excited attention of the children. They would flock to him, trying to spar him with twigs and sticks, the way they would gleefully giggle when Harald would put them over his shoulder and spin around. It was a side of Harald I had not seen, but one that was easy to love. He would often sit in the grass with us, holding Twyla up by her hands as her wobbly legs tried to balance beneath her. She would inevitably giggle, falling so gaily into his arms on purpose. Like she knew, her daddy would always catch her no matter what. Emera would also try to slip Harald her homemade salves, but he would always sweetly put them back on her shelf without her knowing. Harald joined us for meals most nights, sneaking bits from the palace kitchens to make fragrant and delicious foods. 

Today’s visit, however, Harald seemed to have something heavy on his shoulders. Instead of playing with the children and Twyla, he held her close and tightly. I watched wearily, unsure of what was to come. Emera watched warily, an essence of uncertainty as she looked between Harald and me from her garden. I feared what Harald had to say, but I dearly hoped I was wrong. 

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‘The Emperor is sending me to the camp to train his men to fight’ I closed my eyes, the sky now dark, the only light coming from the huts. The only sound Emera singing to little Twyla from inside. ‘How long?’ I asked wearily. ‘I cannot say’ he said, with just as much despair. While I knew the wise thing to do was to accept the information and discuss what this would mean for our future, my stubbornness was much too strong. ‘The Emperor does not care that you have a family, that you have a child? Not even the decency to tell you for how long you will be separated?’ I asked, adrenaline radiating through my body as I stood up, scuffing and kicking the grass at my feet. ‘I don't think the Emperor quite understands…’ he wearily noted in a quiet tone. ‘He's married! He should understand, but being the so-called leader that he is I bet he's not even leaving the comfort of his palace is he?’ I exclaimed more viciously. ‘Shhhh’ Harald said, reaching out and grasping my forearm. ‘The Emperor is looking to expand his empire, but this could benefit us too.’ ‘Benefit us how?’ I questioned. ‘The Emperor has made an offer; any people I can recruit, I can use to build my army’ he said so diplomatically. ‘We can leave Constantinople, we can go back to Norway, we can build Twyla a real home, teach her about her culture, her ancestors’ he said, standing up, placing both his hands on my forearms. ‘Don’t make this about us, this is your army, your ambition’ I said jabbing my finger into his hard chest. ‘We agreed y/n, Constantinople wasn’t forever, where did you think we were going to go?’ He fiercely retorted. ‘No, no, no, you can’t use this, building an army to get us home excuse as a valid reason to just leave us in the shit’ I exclaimed, stepping out of his grip, and throwing my arms up. ‘This isn’t about the Emperor, it’s about you! Every single thing is about Harald Fucking Sigurdsson!’ ‘You have no idea what I’m trying to do’ he seethed back. ‘There are some dangerous people here, and there are some dangerous plans in place, and I am doing what I can to keep you and Twyla safe and keep this family safe’ he said, trodding heavily after me as I walked aimlessly through the field. ‘You know what, I believe we were starting to become a family, but here’s the god-damn truth Harald, there are dangerous people everywhere, and dangerous things that happen everywhere, so forgive me if I don’t fucking understand how building an army and trying to take the throne in a country that you haven’t been to in some time I take, is going to keep us any safer than we are here!’ ‘Might I remind you, that my family and Twyla’s family extends beyond you!’ He spat. 

I stopped in my tracks, turning back in the direction of the house. ‘Well Harald Sigurdsson, I’m so pleased to know that you’re willing to risk all our lives so we can all go back to Kattegat to chase ghosts from your past, who may or may not fucking exist anymore, but why am I surprised? This is Harald’s world, we’re all just living in it! God forbid that you or your children don’t become Kings and Queens of Norway!’ I spitefully yelled, walking right past Harald, and back to the house. 

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As the days passed, I couldn’t help but wonder about Harald. Had he decided to stop visiting altogether or had the Emperor already sent him to the training camps? Only once had Emera tried to ask. ‘Harald, no?’ She had asked, pointing at the house on a sunny afternoon in the garden. ‘No’ I responded curtly, digging into the soil for potatoes. 

However, the days turned into weeks, and there was nothing. I worried that Twyla had noticed, the way her father had stopped coming. I made sure to play with her every afternoon the way Harald did, encouraging her to stand, to walk, to fall into my arms. I had also spent time wondering about Harald’s other child. Were they even alive? Where were they? What did they look like? Did she have a brother or a sister? Would she ever meet them? I remember my mother making her special concoctions and herbs she would take every day. Had the woman from Harald’s past also taken such precautions? I hadn’t thought so much about Harald’s other child, but since that night the questions kept creeping into my head. How I, as a child, had so desperately wished for a sibling, someone to play with every day, to cuddle up to at night when the nights were cold, to have a friend that wouldn’t judge my birth status. But then again, I wouldn’t wish such a lonely existence on any child, and I was determined to make sure that Twyla had friends. 

The markets themselves had become a little less busy, Emera’s son George hadn’t been seen since the day we met. Slowly word spread that people were being sent to the training camps, but it didn’t stop life in Constantinople. 

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I sat outside the house on a wooden bench, the sky turning orange as the sun began to make its way to bed. The village was empty, everyone inside cooking their evening meals as smells wafted with the gentle breeze. Twyla sat on my lap, clinging onto strands of my hair, fighting her eyelids that were heavier than her will to keep them open. 

‘Beautiful Twyla’ a voice sounded. I could feel my neck click as I whipped it around to the voice. My heart dropped slightly, that the presence that I had hoped was not there. The Emperor stood with a smile, two guards stood behind him. I stood, dropping into a curtsey as Twyla nestled her head against my shoulder. ‘Emperor’ I greeted. He looked around, taking notice of the small little huts, the gardens sparse compared to his own. I could only imagine what he was thinking. ‘She chose this over the palace?’ ‘I hope you have not gone to such trouble just to visit little Twyla’ I said, forcing an enthusiastic smile on my face, breaking the silence. He walked forward, gently holding his hand out. Twyla reached forward, gripping his hand, gently tugging his fingers close to her face as she poked and prodded at the jewels bedazzling his hand. ‘Be careful, she’s taken to putting just about anything in her mouth these days’ I said. ‘She has grown much’ he said, gripping onto her fingers, giving her hand a little shake. He sat down on the bench, gesturing for me to join him.  His friendly presence, now solemn worried me. 

‘You must know y/n, I hold your husband in the highest regard’ he said. I nodded in agreement. ‘I am visiting and telling you this as a friend y/n.’ I could feel my insides crawl, forcing my face to remain neutral. It felt improper, sickly even for the Emperor to regard me in such a way. Friend. While the Emperor had been generous in many ways, he had been cruel in others. ‘Has something happened to my husband?’ I asked, a sudden panic dawning on me. Why else would the Emperor come other than to deliver the sad news to his widow? ‘Harald is fine for now, his campaign is successful, and he is proving worthy as my Varangian guard’ he said, offering a friendly laugh. But I did not share his amusement, my teeth grinding together as I held the Emperor’s gaze. 

‘I intend to expand my Empire, this army, with the help of Harald, and my general, my army is strong.’ I could feel my palms sweat, my body getting hotter by the word. How these men played childish games at an expensive price. How war was treated as such a normal part of life. He placed his hand on my knee, patting it to soften whatever blow he was about to deal. ‘My army will be leaving for the South West soon, and I will not lie to you, I don’t expect our entrance will be welcomed’ I could feel my nails dig into my palm. An ambition I couldn’t understand. How could someone with so much demand so much more? ‘As Harald is my dear friend, and you are his wife, I am telling you that it is possible that Harald will not return for a long time.’ I clutched Twyla closer, my grip disturbing her as she tirelessly wriggled, a small grunt emitting. ‘Sorry Emperor, could you excuse me for a moment?’ I said, more than asked, excusing myself quickly. 

I opened the door to the house, Emera sitting soundly next to the fire. Her calm and content expression turned to one of concern as she pulled herself from the chair, reaching out and cupping her hand to my cheek. She swiped her thumb under my eye, wiping away a tear I didn’t even know was there. I returned her kind gesture with a tight-lipped smile, handing Twyla over as Twyla instinctively leaned into Emera’s reach. I turned back to the door, steadying myself to face the Emperor again. 

The Emperor’s message was simple. His army is going away, and Harald might not come back at all. As much as I was annoyed at Harald, how harshly our last meeting had ended. I had only one thing to say to the Emperor. 

‘Take me to my husband.’ 

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*Knock knock knock* 

He opened the door wearily, just so much that I could see only half of his face. He clenched his eyes slightly, adjusting to the bright lantern in my hands, making out my features in front of him. ‘Y/N?’ He whispered, carefully opening the door slightly more as he carefully assessed the environment behind him. ‘What are you doing here’? he whispered nervously, his conscience wavering if he was going to let me in or not. ‘I need to talk to you’ I whispered. ‘I need to talk to you too’ he whispered back, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. ‘The Emperor already told me…I just came to say goodbye I guess’ I murmured. He opened the door only slightly, grasping my wrist and pulling me inside the tiny room, closing the door with an agonising squeak. I looked around. His shirt lay on the floor torn and withered. On the small table a collection of battered weaponry and a shield. I glanced at Harald’s back noticing the bruises and scrapes. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach. If this was the state training had left him in, what would the real battle be like? 

He stood still, our eyes locked as we waited carefully, listening intently to be sure that nobody else in the camp was awake. The only sounds being the quiet breathing, and the sound of the flame flickering from the lantern. ‘Harald I’ I began to whisper, a depth of sorrow in my tone. ‘Shhh’ he whispered, pressing his ear against the wooden door. A sound of gentle footsteps cascaded down the hallway, stopping right out front of the door. A gentle tap on the door sounded. ‘Harald…’ The Empress’s voice gently carried. ‘Harald, are you in there?’ Harald ducked his head, his stray hair falling in front of his eyes as he tightly pursed his lips together. 

Maybe this was a mistake. I started to reprimand myself, you stupid idiot. Had I indulged too much in a fantasy that we could be some happy family? But the Emperor’s words were like an explosion as if only now, I realised that Harald Sigurdsson was an integral part of my life. My husband, my daughter’s father…my ally in this strange place. ‘He may never come back’ the Emperor’s words kept ringing in my head. Against all consciousness, against all good reason, against all the hurt caused in the past, against my own self-discipline, I had to say goodbye. But here she was, the Empress knocking on his door in the middle of the night. How would this end? Would it be easier to just let him go…to finalise whatever wishes he may have if he never did return? What should I tell our daughter? The Empress’s voice whispered again, this time closer to the door. ‘I can see the light from under the door.’ Maybe it was best to just accept defeat. I took a step forward, only to be gently pinned against the cold solid wall, as Harald’s hand cupped over my mouth, his body pressed firmly against mine. Our eyes locked, his eyes alert, but the skin underneath them was dark and sagging. He gently lifted his other hand, bringing his finger to his lips to ensure my silence. I nodded, his palm, however, was still firmly placed against my mouth. The sound of her heels clicking together sounded outside as she uncertainly paced outside the door. Another voice sounded, one much deeper than her lilted tone. ‘Some of the men have gone for a meal, but I must insist that I escort you back to the castle, this is not the place for a lady, the Emperor’s orders.’ The man’s tone reasoning, but firm in conveying this was a direct order of the Emperor. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor sounded as the pair walked down the long corridor, away from Harald’s door. 

Harald removed his palm, but his body stayed firmly pressed against mine, his forearm mounted on the wall above my head. ‘Why are you here? Is Twyla okay?’ He asked, his eyebrows knotting in worry as the lines on his forehead involuntarily creased. ‘She’s fine, she is with Emera’ I whispered. ‘I just…I wanted to apologise’ I whispered. ‘I never knew my father, it was just me and my mother. I don’t even know if he knew I existed at all. But it was wrong of me to accuse you of using your children like pawns to get what you wanted.’ He dropped his eyes to the ground, breaking eye contact. ‘And I’m sorry for dismissing your other child…I just, when I saw the Empress, her holding our baby and her arms, and things had been going so well since we moved away from the palace, and maybe I was just too naive in thinking that we were all going to be some happy family’ I just…I just’ I stuttered. ‘I promise you. You are my wife, and you are Twyla’s mother.’ He took his arm from the wall, tracing his finger gently down my arm as he wrapped his hand around mine, the heat from him his naked torso exposing me to the cold as he walked over to the bed. He patted the spot next to him, offering me a seat. ‘This could be treasonous’ he said, battling with whatever thought was running around in his brain. ‘The Empress confided in me that she does not know if the Emperor was capable of giving her children.’ He whispered. I looked back at Harald, a quizzical look on my face. ‘It’s only been a short time…surely that is not enough time to?’ I said, miming a bulging stomach with my hands. ‘She had expected to be at least a mother to his children from his previous marriage…but he had not sired a child at all.’ I looked at our hands, realising they had reconnected, my fingers mindlessly trailing around his palm. 

It had begun to make sense. It was no secret Elena was infatuated with Harald long before we stood on the shores of Constantinople. But her effortless flirting and amorous suggestions around him…her need to sire an heir to secure her own marriage.  While her desire for Harald was still longstanding, her efforts since her wedding had been newly developed. Having Harald to herself would be a bonus, but having a child would be everything for her. As a woman, as a wife, but in her position, as an Empress, not bearing children for her husband was not an option. ‘I promise, I have been a faithful husband to you since we wed’ he insisted, wrapping his other hand around mine like a security blanket. My heart felt heavy for The Empress…her desire to have a child. Something I hadn’t ever struggled with myself. ‘Speaking of Twyla…when she’s older she may ask questions about her father…and if you weren’t to come back…’ I whispered, bringing my other hand to cup Harald’s. He let out a heavy sigh, his forehead pressing against mine. Something neither of us wanted to think about, but we both knew we had to be practical about it. He took a deep breath, his hands giving a gentle squeeze. ‘Tell me about your father y/n’ he quietly questioned. 

I leaned back, looking at him cautiously. My stomach was turning in knots. It felt like a forbidden subject. I remember asking my mother when I was younger, but her response was clear. Never ask. We had never discussed it, but nobody had ever asked me. ‘When I asked my mother about it…she scolded me. There was no attempt to lie or make something up about it. She just said it wasn’t worth discussing ever.’ I shrugged my shoulders, it didn’t seem as much of a deal to me as it appeared to Harald as he glared at me with a pitiful look. ‘I remember I would wonder, for a period of my childhood always intensely looking at the men my mother was around, trying to find any similarities between us. It drove me mad for a while… I suppose I just learnt to live with it.’ Harald nodded, taking in my words as he sat pondering in contemplation. ‘What about your father?’ I asked, sliding further onto the comfort of the small bed. 

‘My father Sigurd Syr, he wasn’t a man who chased political ambition as much as his sons. My brother Olaf, my father was very supportive of his leadership and command. But he was modest with his wealth, and took much care of his properties…he was promised the throne…but he didn’t seem to mind so much that his sons wanted it more.’ I admired the way he smiled when talking about his father, similar to the way he smiled when he was with Twyla. Deep down, maybe Harald was similar to his father, a simple family man. But Harald was also very dutiful to his famous lineage, with an equal desire to keep the legacy of his ancestors alive. But how was Twyla going to fit into all of this? 

His fingers twined with mine, the words dragging out sorrowfully. ‘I don’t want Twyla to worry about me. That is too cruel a fate to force onto a child’ he whispered, leaning forward slightly. I didn’t know what that meant, but I too didn’t want the same fate for our daughter. I simply nodded, sliding off the bed, and placing my feet gently on the floor. ‘If we don’t see one another again, I will make sure she knows that her father is kind, loyal…and brave’ I mustered out, my throat tightening as the words came out. The aura was depressing, I wanted to leave…but part of me didn’t want to leave Harald Sigurdsson just yet. I stood up slowly, unravelling my hand from his as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I gently cupped his cheeks, bringing myself down and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. I leaned down and whispered against his ear, his long hair resting on my lips. ‘Come back to us.’ 

His eyes rose from the floor, connecting with mine, his eyes flickering as they searched my face. It was like a trance, my limbs no longer in control of my body, an urgency taking over. Instead of slipping my hands away and walking to the door as I planned, instead, my hand moved across his face, smooshing his lips into an awkward purse as my fingers squeezed his cheeks. I knew it would just make things harder…but I couldn’t resist. I pulled his face to mine, pressing my lips tenderly on his. Our lips locked together in a sweet embrace. Harald’s hands quickly cupped my cheeks, pulling my face tighter towards him as he stood up, his lips desperately chasing mine. I slid my hands down to his neck, tenderly pulling away from his lips to connect my lips with his neck. 

Gentle pecks on his neck turned greedy as I softly nipped and sucked on his salty skin. He groaned gently, his hands wandering down my chest, one hand cupped gently on my breast, the other balling the fabric of my dress into his palm. I begrudgingly pulled my lips from his neck, the hairs on my arm standing as I whispered into his ear. 

‘Take it off’ 

He didn’t hesitate. Our hands almost fought as he clawed at my dress, the fabric of my dress emitting a gentle rip as he pulled from the collar, revealing the skin of my shoulder, his lips attacking my newly exposed naked skin. I pulled him closer, my hands on the firm curve of his bottom, a firm bulge pressing into my stomach as I dipped my thumbs into the waist of his trousers, basking in the feeling of skin I had not touched in so long. I ran my thumbs around the perimeter feeling the soft hair around his pubis. I reached my fingers inside the front of his trousers, gently slipping one hand to cusp the bulge. He let out a heavy groan, but in typical Harald fashion, was not willing to relent control that easily. 

He reached down, pulling my hand from his groin, spinning me around, his hands running from my shoulders, down my arms, until his calloused hands gripped tightly to my wrists, pinning my hands against the wall. His lips attacked my neck, as he pulled my dress down, his lips trailing down my body following each inch of exposed skin. When my dress finally pooled to the floor, my naked body fully exposed, I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. He placed his hands on my hips, spinning me back around the face him. His trousers were only slightly unbuttoned, exposing just the top of his erection. I so desperately wanted to fall to the floor with him, to feel his skin pressed against mine. But instead, his hands still gripped my hips, he pushed me back against the wall, his tongue gliding down from my belly button, as he seamlessly hooked one of my legs over his shoulder.  

The pressure of his lips, the swift kisses, the running of his tongue. I quietly tried to contain my moans, but the feeling was too electrifying. But as my hot breaths turned into pants, muffled sighs turned into moans, this only encouraged his efforts further. It was like my skin was on fire, a powerful surge radiating, my legs becoming weaker. 

Harald unhooked my arm from his shoulder, sliding me down the wall by my hips, pulling my chest firmly against his as I straddled him, a new wave of pleasure rushing over me as my pulsing heat grinned against his still-clothed bulge. Our tongues collided, but instead of a rushed desperate kiss, it was slow and sensual. I desperately rubbed against him, my hips grinding as my hands caressed his back, pulling him closely so that no gap was left between our skin. He slid his hands around my wrists, pulling my arms around his neck, his arms then looping around my lower back. With no warning, with no effort, Harald lifted me, shuffling onto his knees, and lowering me gently onto the floor without even breaking the contact of our skin. Finally, he reached down, pulling his trousers off. 

I waited desperately for contact, for that feeling I hadn’t felt for so long. I arched my back in anticipation, pushing me further against his chest. ‘Do you want this y/n?’ He whispered, the hair in my ears standing to attention. I lifted my neck from the floor, looking straight into his eyes. ‘I want my husband’ I breathlessly moaned out. Harald’s lips reconnected instantly with mine. 

As he entered me, I let out a little squeak. The feeling was so tight, I had not expected it after having a child. He stopped immediately, trying to pull out gently. But I ran my hands down his back, gripping onto his butt cheeks to halt his movement. ‘Stay. Right. There’ I whispered between kisses. He stayed there, our lips doing more work as I slowly pushed his hips forward until I felt him completely inside me. Slowly he began to move, the slight sting going away, and the feeling of him inside me became electrifying. His movements were slow, our foreheads pressed together. The only sounds emitting from either of us were our panting breaths. 

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We lay on the floor, our legs tangled into one another, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead as I rested in his arms, my arm lazily draped over his stomach. It was like the high was pouring from my body, where I had felt full, I now felt low and empty. My brain rattled, wanting to scream my innermost thoughts. ‘Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave us. Let’s just take a boat and run away.’ My mind racing with any possible scenario, any way of escape. But I knew Harald too well. His loyalties to his family, to his men, to his duty were strong. 

‘You have endured so much my love…so I will not lie to you, but I will do everything I can to come back to you both’ he whispered, pulling a blanket from the bed with his free arm, draping it across our bodies as we lay solemnly in each other’s arms. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but the emptiness of his words hit me hard. This could likely be our last moments together forever. 

When I finally parted from him in the early hours of the morning, our final exchange was simple. ‘Goodbye, Y/N’. ‘Goodbye Harald Sigurdsson’.

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True to his style, the Emperor wasn’t going to lead his army off into battle without the grandest of ceremonies. I held Twyla on my hip, Mathilda at my side as we watched from the crowds as the Emperor grandly announced how he had trained and built the finest army the empire had ever seen. The Empress sat dutifully at his side, clothed in grand gowns and covered in expensive jewels. 

‘Let me introduce to you, our experienced, loyal, and skilled warriors. Harald Sigurdsson!’ The crowd roared in applause, I clutched tightly to Mathilda’s hand, the noise overwhelming. The Emperor stood on the stage, his smile visible from afar, beaming as Harald walked on. He was adorned in uniform, a large helmet within his grip as he obediently bowed to the Emperor, waving at the crowd. ‘He looks so natural up there, don’t you think?’ Mathilda spoke. I simply nodded. But I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so happy standing up there, considering the circumstances. When the crowd’s cheers began to die down, the Emperor need only clap his hands together for his constituents to fall to obedient silence. 

‘I also introduce, my personal choice, a great and skilled warrior indeed, General George Maniakes!’ The crowd emitted even larger screams and cheers as the General began walking up the stairs. Like Harald, he bowed to the Emperor, but it was only when he stood and faced the crowd that I realised I had met him before. I leaned into Mathilda, my heart racing as she gripped tightly onto my side, steadying herself with my weight now leaning against her. ‘What’s wrong?’ She asked in a panicky tone. ‘That…That’s him…that’s…it’s his mother’s house’ I stammered. ‘He looks so different…’ I stated, confused by his imposing presence on the stage. My eyes flicked to Harald, who looked tensely at the General. 

The Emperor handed a goblet to each of the men, the priest having blessed the contents. The Emperor offered a cheers to the crowd. But the General struck my soul. I looked at him, his eyes directly on me and Twyla. He smirked a sinister smile, lifting his goblet in my direction, laughing deeply as he took in the expression on my face. His face said it all. ‘I know exactly who you are.’ 

Fuck. 

[ilguna]

☼ crowned (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you were the one to crown Finnick ten years ago, and now he's back in the games.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 2.6k

–

“I want you to stand right here, (Y/n).” Your father says, grabbing your shoulders and moving you over a foot to the left. “I will not allow you to hide behind me today.”

“I won’t.” You say, smoothing out your sky blue dress, “I wasn’t planning to.”

He gives you a look, telling you that he knows better than to believe your word, especially when you’ve said the same in the past. He’s unimpressed by your attitude, but he’s not going to expect you to apologize for it. He knows that when he gets fussy, you begin to get mouthy.

You look away from him, over the balcony and out to the colorful crowd that sits in the stands that surround the City Circle. You’re not really in the mood for another fight today, because that’s all you seem to do lately. You criticize his actions, he tells you that you’re dishonoring the Snow name, and the both of you end up pissed off and miserable.

Your mom has asked you several times to quit making him mad, because it’s not going to make the situation any better. That all it’s doing is putting a strain on your relationship, that’s already borderlining hatred. You’re not entirely sure what she wants from you—does she really want you to pretend to be happy with what he’s done?

Do they think you’re stupid? What are the chances of your father worrying about losing control of the country to rebels, and the Quarter Quell card reading that the victors have to go back inside? Which means that the same victors who are causing trouble, go back into an arena, and likely end up killed.

He’s sacrificing so many victors that fought hard to survive and make it out of the arena, just to eliminate a problem.

Your father knows how you feel about what he’s done. He cared about the distance you slowly started putting between you two, but recently he’s decided that he doesn’t care much anymore. Now you’re just waiting for him to call you a traitor too, or ask you if you care more about the District people than you do the Capitol people. 

In truth, there’s more of them there are of you. Why are you treating them this way, if you know that they possess the power to overthrow you? Before, they didn’t realize exactly how many numbers they had, and now that they have, he’s handling it the wrong way.

He’s not going to listen to you, though. No, your father has been ruling for decades, which means that your opinion is irrelevant. Even if it would save a lot of fighting.

“The chariots are coming out in fifteen seconds!” A coordinator harshly whispers from behind. Your face twists briefly, wondering why she couldn’t just say that normally.

You fix your hair, smooth down the dress, straighten your posture, hands clasped properly in front of you. The drumming begins, starting slow and quiet, gradually getting louder as more chariots pour through the doors. 

The victors they carry have no age limit. The first chariot is the brother and sister duo, Cashmere and Gloss, you remember seeing their Games when you were young. How amazing it was to see siblings win like that, something that had never been done before. You remember a temporary trend Cashmere set with glitter. You vaguely remember your tooth gems.

The next pair are Enobaria and Brutus. You recognize Enobaria, another Games you were able to watch. Her win was violent, and nothing for a child to watch, but you’re less surprised by her now. Her partner, Brutus, is a victor that must’ve won around Haymitch’s time—the last Quell. You had to do your own research on him.

Then there’s Beetee and Wiress, an impressive pair. You’ve met Beetee a good handful of times, solely because he does work here in the Capitol. He’ll create gadgets for trends for the citizens to use, and he’s also done more important work, like defense for the Capitol. He hasn’t done all the work, though, to prevent an issue happening later down the line. He’s very technical, fairly weird. He’s respectful, though. As for Wiress, you’ve seen her mentor around, but you’ve never spoken to her before.

You try to take a step forward to get a better look over the balcony, and your father’s head turns slightly in your direction, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. You move back to where he told you to stand.

You just wanted to see Finnick and Mags clearly. They’re the ones you’re upset for the most, for a number of reasons. Mags is entirely too old to be coming into the arena again, she’s so grandmotherly and her kindness will kill her in the Games. You’ve had a few conversations with her, and each time she’s wonderful to talk to.

As for Finnick’s, it’s a whole new story.

The first time you met Finnick Odair, you were thirteen years old. Your father had decided that he was no longer keeping you out of the Capitol publicity, because you were a teenager and needed to see the world how he saw it. The way he introduced you to the Capitol was by having you be with him every step of the way during the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games.

Which is the Games that Finnick won, of course. Your father walked you through the entire process of the Capitol week, where the tributes are dressed up and tested to see where they stand. The next couple of weeks would be watching them inside of the arena, controlling their actions and ensuring that the right person wins. After, there’s an additional week to heal the victor from all the wounds they sustained inside of the arena. 

It was an interesting process, seeing how he could go from doing so little, to doing so much if something went wrong. You now know that it’s his perfectionism that gets the best of him. He wants to control everything, and when it goes haywire, that’s when he begins to crack down to regain it. 

He gave you one job to do the entire time you followed him, and it was to crown the victor.

You still remember following him on the stage, head bowed, hair in your face, carefully carrying the pillow that cushioned the crown. He said his congratulations to Finnick and took the pillow to free your hands. Your hands shook, you let out a breath to calm yourself down, taking the crown from the pillow, and gently placing it on Finnick’s brow.

You met Finnick’s hard green eyes, focused on your movements. When he realized that you were staring back at him, he lifted his head, and offered a smirk. You smiled back, it was small because you weren’t sure if you were allowed to, congratulated him, and then you took a step back.

Since, your father has done nothing but drag him through the dirt for the past decade.

This year, it seems as if Finnick’s stylists thought that showing skin was the best way to go. His tan skin is almost golden in the evening light, the shadows casting perfectly across his body. You have no doubt that his outfit is breezy, there’s nothing but a bunched up net at his crotch, and assuming his behind, too.

His smile is dazzling, even from this far away. You watch him wave and blow kisses to the stands around him, letting them throw gifts at him in return. Ones that he won’t even be able to pick up, let alone keep to have inside of the arena. The Capitol doesn’t care, they just want to show their appreciation.

Beyond Finnick, the other districts don’t necessarily matter to you. The tributes from Five are underwhelming and easily forgotten, you can’t even remember their names, despite watching the reaping recap again before the parade. The two tributes from Six are both addicts, and they do everything they possibly can to stay out of the spotlight.

The girl from District Seven won recently—Johanna Mason. You were on the edge of your seat the entirety of her Games, wondering if she was going to manage to pull through or not. You can’t say anything about her district partner, you don’t know his name either.

The tributes from Eight, Nine, Ten and Eleven are too old for you to know their names. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that your father knows. There’s been so many victors since he took power, and he crowned every single one of them, including the two that bring up the rear.

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the reasons why your father was desperate to change the letter to something more sinister. They’re a couple of teenagers, they’re going to make mistakes and screw shit up. It’s exactly what Finnick did, but he figured out how to keep the pacifier in your father’s mouth at some point. They need more time.

And now they’ll never get it.

The chariots come to a slow stop at the City Circle, waiting for your father to speak.

He steps away, though, motioning for you to step forward. Your lips part, face twisting in confusion, because this is a sudden change. You’ve seen him do this a dozen times before, but it’s different because it’s a Quell. It’s more important.

You step forward, not wanting to leave the people below waiting. When you get closer, you’re able to see over the balcony, and your eyes can’t help searching for the one person down there you care for the most. You find that he’s staring right back at you, waiting.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the third Quarter Quell!” You shout, words echoing in the air.

The crowd cheers, the anthem begins to play. You watch as the chariots begin to move for the final time around the City Circle, before heading back to where they came from. As soon as the first chariot disappears through the Training Center doors, you’re turning to leave the balcony.

You bunch a handful of fabric in your hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your father asks.

“To congratulate the victors.” You give him a look. He knows exactly where you’re going.

“You can’t be down there unattended, it’s dangerous.” He tries to shut you down.

“Half of them don’t even know who I am.” You shake your head, “I’ll be back.”

“(Y/n), you will not—!”

“Bitch about it later!” You start to jog down the hall, heading for the stairs. It’s faster than waiting for the elevator to bring you down. 

It’s three flights down the stairs, down a long hallway, and then a sharp right turn that brings you underneath the stands that line the street. It’s dim underneath here, there’s a few working lights but it’s obvious the bulbs need to be replaced.

You hike the dress up in the front, running down the path, feeling the breeze on your upper thighs from the speed you’re going. You’ve gotta catch them before the peacekeepers usher them out of the space. They’re under special orders this year to disperse any groups that form together, afraid of rebel planning.

It takes you two minutes to run from one end to the other. By the time you get to the door, you’re having a hard time breathing, your throat sore from sucking in air so aggressively. You take a second to smooth down your hair and fix your dress, since you had been jerking it from side to side while you ran.

You push through the door, and on the other side, you’re met with the sight of horses and chariots, and people. The victors that you had been staring at from above are in here, gathered with their mentors and escorts, probably talking about the change in announcement. It’s unusual that he would do it without planning it with you first.

You wander through the space, ignoring the few looks you receive, sticking out like a sore thumb. You don’t belong here, you look like a Capitol citizen gone rogue, trying to sneak in so that you can meet the people you’ll be seeing on television in a few days.

You find Finnick because of his height, and his bronze hair shining in the sunbeams through the high windows. You take your time wandering over, observing the way he talks to Mags, fixing a stray hair in her face, touching her cheek. They’re close, and you can tell that he’s worried about her already.

The stylists standing with him catch sight of you first, straightening like a stick and averting their eyes. You hate it when they react like you’re royalty. You’re nothing more than a girl with power that she doesn’t even want.

“Finnick.” You say, his head raises, and then he turns to see who said his name.

A smile hits his face instantly, “(Y/n).”

“Long time no see, darling.” You wink at him, joining the circle they’ve created. Your attention turns to his stylist, “It was a good idea, dressing him this way. I try not to gaze at the sun if I don’t have to, but he was too tempting.”

Finnick rolls his eyes at you, “Please.”

“Thank you.” His stylist says.

“Do you mind if we have a moment?” You smile.

“No, of course not.” The other stylist says, “We have the rest of the night to talk to him, I’m sure you’re busy.”

They take off together, heading for the elevators. You look at Mags, who has her head tilted in your direction, disapprovingly. You ignore the expression, holding your arm out for her to hug you. She squeezes you tightly, head on your shoulder, before pulling away.

“So what have you been up to, princess?” Finnick asks, “I see you had a new job this year?”

“It wasn’t planned, I was just as surprised as you were.” You laugh.

“How mad was he this time?”

“Oh, pretty pissed. Apparently you’re all just a bunch of dangerous animals down here, and I shouldn’t be unattended. As if there aren’t a dozen peacekeepers crawling around here.” You glance over your shoulder, and find one standing nearby, watching you three.

Finnick makes a face.

You let out a sigh, “I’m sorry it has to be this way. I tried to convince him to change the rules, I really did. He won’t listen to me though, he thinks that the damage has been done, and he needs to embrace it to a certain extent.”

“We’ve got it figured out, (Y/n). You don’t have to worry about us.” Finnick says, offering you a halfway smile.

“That’s the only thing I do anymore.” You admit, “I didn’t want you to go back inside of the arena.”

“Let me guess, you tried to get him to rig the reaping?”

“In yours and Mags’ favor, yes.” You shake your head, “He told me to let everything fall into line, and to stop fucking with destiny. I don’t understand him anymore.” You look back at Finnick, “Regardless, I had to come down here at least once to talk to you. I won’t be able to do it again.”

“I’m glad you were able to in the first place.”

“Me too. It’s nice seeing you guys.” You cross your arms, “Well, good luck, and try not to do anything stupid like getting yourself killed.”

Finnick laughs, “No promises.”

“And um—one more thing. I’ve pulled some strings, people owe me favors. If there’s anything you need in the arena, just say it out loud. It’ll come.” You smile.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Finnick opens his arms for a hug.

You try not to with him in public spaces, it’ll give people the wrong idea. Their first thoughts might go to the fact that you’re friends, but if they see you do it too often, then it travels further.

You hug Finnick, squeezing him tightly.

[chardonnavs]

( lesley-ann brandt, forty-two, cis woman, she/her ) ☼ i know it’s a small town, but i run into CORINA TULSI every time i go to THE SECRET WOODS. it’s like they practically live there and not THE TIDAL POOLS for TEN YEARS. it must be because they’re EXPRESSIVE and BOSSY. come to think of it, that’s probably why they’re a TRAVELLING FISHERMAN too. but i did hear they want to CATCH THE LEGENDARY CRIMSONFISH, and sometimes they like to WHITTLE LITTLE ANIMALS. rumor has it they also like SEAFOAM PUDDING but dislike TRUFFLES. what do you think?

hellaur it's me (: this is corina. she calls herself a pirate, but she's actually like the biggest rule follower to ever follow rules. nautical lawyer? i barely know her!

!! war mention !! throwing up mention !!

corina grew up in the gotoro empire. like kent, her dad enlisted in the war and had been away for most of corina's life. when people ask her about her father, all she remembers is the smell of black coffee and the feeling of a 5 o'clock shadow against her cheek.

corina's mother was a strong woman. but as strong as she was, she was also gentle. corina's mother had a best friend who also had a kid. she treated that kid as if they were her own. if it weren't for the fact that they looked nothing alike, corina and [name here, idk possible future connection, i'm thinking 23842398 steps ahead bro] would have looked like siblings.

corina always felt stifled. she was just too big for her britches. she knew that there was more to life beyond the gem sea. the gotoro empire had siphoned the vibrancy and life out of her hometown, and corina desperately needed more. that being said, she never pushed the boundaries of the life she had. she was loudly obnoxious, but quietly obedient. she would make a mess in the kitchen and storm off when she got scolded. hours later, once her mom was back asleep, she would sneak back downstairs to clean it all up.

as soon as she turned 18, she joined the crew of a merchant ship. unfortunately, the merchant ship followed the strict maritime boundaries of the gotoro empire. as mentioned before, corina thirsted for life beyond the gem sea. since then she's worked odd jobs along the docks, her favorite being a crewmember to fishing boats. she liked those suckers.

eventually, she finally crossed a line when she was 25. corina found a merchant who smuggled goods to the ferngill republic, and she negotiated her way onto the ship. she left her mom a note with instructions on how to find her savings (it was a piggy bank. that's all.), and she left her best friend a locket that corina had haggled for on one of the many merchant ships. corina sailed across the gem sea and found herself in the ferngill republic for the first time ever in her life.

she was so anxious about leaving the empire that she threw up multiple times on the trip despite being sea-ready. this anxiety lives with her and she hasn't gone back to the gotoro empire since.

now, she's a traveling fisherman who ports in towns that have access to joja mart as well as became known as traveling merchant hubs. joja mart just made her life so easy. argue with ya mama.

she's soooo pirate-presenting. she's confident and brave. she WILL defend herself in a bar fight, but she'll never start one. she lives on her boat by the tidal pools whenever she's in town, and she's not shy about inviting consenting adults back to rock the boat with her.

she likes to pretend that she understands what the ocean says. sorry to steal any other sea hag thunder. she's just pretending though. she's not a real sea hag. she just thinks it's funny.

she's in town right now because the fish weren't biting and she got bored. perfect timing for the flower dance <3

[joshfuckingkiszka]

『two: after a while』

oopsie daisy, I was on a plane yesterday, almost passed out and forgot to post. my thoughts about bna are absolutely true btw, that airports a Mess. go smashville, though!

chapter warnings: angst, fear of flying (may or may not stem from personal experience who knows), mentions of cheating, also mentions of josh’s nasty feet (love him tho)

» series masterlist

☼

For a while after your phone call, you felt like the walls were closing in on you. June’s babbling drug you out of it, and you picked her up, holding her firmly on your hip. Cradling her head against your shoulder, you decided you would simply leave it up to fate.

Fate made time move quickly, apparently. Because of your acceptance, your company had given your name to Nashville real estate agents, who were quick to call you in droves. They sent listing after listing and all of them seemed to be way too close to Sam. Finally a house that you deemed far enough away from him was put on the market. It was a quaint, three bedroom with that southern architecture you remembered so well. There were magnolia trees in the front yard and a backyard with a playset that the owners' children were too old for. Of course, June was too young, but the baby swing would do her for now.

Two weeks later, your house was completely packed up - not that it took very long - and a moving van was sitting in your driveway. Your relocation costs were completely covered, and you took advantage of the flight they’d offered, since you weren’t sure how Junebug would handle being in the car for that long. The movers were set to take off that night, and you and your daughter’s flight was early the next morning, leaving with only the barest of essentials. You decided to leave the crib in the house, opting for the bassinet your parents bought you to make the trip.

An air mattress that had been in a linen closet way before you moved in would be your bed for the night, and you dreaded it. With the pump working at a snail’s pace to fill the mattress, you ordered a pizza, eating it straight from the box because of your lack of plates. June sat on the floor of the kitchen, alongside you, and had to be stopped from eating dust bunnies one too many times. She smiled when you scolded her, and she’d never looked more like Sam. Although, Sam had never tried to eat dust - that you knew of.

Cradling her in your arms, your phone was playing Light My Love. Her smile was radiant throughout the song, and she nestled further into your chest.

“The singing, that’s your Uncle Josh, but I think you knew that already,” you told her and she giggled, “you’d love his curls, especially to pull on. That guitar player’s your Uncle Jake, he tried to teach me once, but mommy’s never been a good listener. On drums is your Uncle Danny, he’s the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet. And the bass, well sweet girl, you know that’s your daddy.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say about Sam that wouldn’t bring tears, or that gut churning feeling of guilt. It didn’t really matter, because when you looked down, she was sound asleep. Snores escaped her, courtesy of the Kiszka septum. You remembered always turning Sam on his side to try stopping the obnoxious noise. The one time you’d slept on the bus with all of them, you thought you would go crazy.

The absence of a pillow and the thin blanket covering your body make an uncomfortable fit of tossing and turning. You were lucky your neighbor - who was sad to see you leave - had offered to take the two of you to the airport. It was a bit of a drive, so your early alarm clock set your unhappy mood for the day. The night before, you’d opted to simply sleep in your “airport clothes”, saving you one less thing to worry about. After applying some deodorant and making sure all of your bags were by the front door, you gently placed June in her carseat. She stirred but never woke up, just like Sam.

You’d done everything to ensure that there was no possibility of fans recognizing you. Over the last 17 months, you’d changed your hair and your style, which you didn’t hate, but didn’t enjoy either. The hoodie you wore was even dual purpose, shielding you from the cold and a potential shitstorm. It was a good decision overall, as you felt the chill of the airport, and a group of girls wearing all too familiar t-shirts. The logo was nearly blinding, whether from guilt or sadness, you weren’t sure. Still, you clutched the handle of June’s carseat a bit tighter, and she curiously looked around the new area.

The window seat was a good choice for you, and you hoped your daughter wouldn’t cause too much of a disturbance on the flight. You easily remembered the first time you flew with Sam, relaying your fears to him and he’d rubbed your knuckles and held you tightly to his side. A new chord of annoyance was struck within you when one of the girls from before sat on the other side of June. It wasn’t her fault, you knew that, but it still bothered you that she might happen to be a fan of Sam’s in particular, and recognize you.

“Oh my goodness, she’s so cute!” She gushed over the baby.

You weren’t going to be rude, so you replied with an earnest, “Thank you! It’s her first flight so I hope she won’t annoy you too much.”

“Never! I actually work with babies, so I totally get it.” You nodded and smiled, and then she asked, “So, what’s taking you to Nashville?”

“Well, the plane, I think,” you joked, and she choked with laughter. “But I got a new job. You?”

She congratulated you, explaining, “My friends and I are going to see Greta Van Fleet at this, like, one night only show they’re doing. I’m really excited!” You could tell, she was practically ready to burst.

“That sounds like fun,” you paused, “I don’t think I’ve ever listened to them.”

Her mouth gaped. “You’ve got to! Their music is, like, ethereal.” Yeah, you know.

“I mean, I’ve heard of them, sure, just never really got around to it, I guess.” You shrugged cooly, attempting your best to keep up with the lie. Sammy always said you were a terrible liar, and you hoped that wouldn’t show.

She smiled at you, “Well, there’s a first time for everything!” Oh god. She handed you one of her earbuds, and it stretched awkwardly over the carseat.

The beginning notes of ‘Heat Above’ entered your right ear, and you hoped she didn’t hear your breath hitch. She’d downloaded the music to her phone to keep up with the lack of service she would be required to keep, you learned. As ‘Lover, Leaver’ started, you instantly felt guilty. Guilty for lying to this poor girl, guilty for leaving Sam, guilty for everything. It wasn’t about you, you’d heard it live from the barricade the first time they performed it, but you imagined Sam hated playing it now.

“Me, personally, I’m a Danny girl - he’s the drummer,” she told you, as the plane slowly moved to the runway. You nodded, listening to her - frankly, precious - ramblings about your wild haired friend. Having always believed that Danny didn’t get enough recognition, you adored hearing the sweet things she had to say about him.

As she explained that her best friend was a Sammy girl, you hoped she wouldn’t notice the similarities between the baby - who seemed to be listening intently to this girl - and the bassist.

“She seems to think that his girlfriend - or maybe ex? We’re really not sure - cheated on him, but she seemed really sweet, so I don’t think so - you probably don’t care, I just realized that.” She blushed intensely, embarrassed by her gossip rantings about people you weren’t supposed to know of.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t mind. Planes make me nervous, and you’re actually helping. It’s distracting.” You were telling the truth, though, you really didn’t want to hear accusations made about you. She smiled at you again.

“I’m glad. Hey, I think we’re about to take off, do you want me to keep talking? I know most people get really nervous about take off and landing.”

“Yeah, that’d be great, actually. Thank you.”

It was clear that the band’s message of peace, love, and unity rang true in this girl. She was truly an angel in your eyes. As the plane ascended into the sky, she babbled about how successful the band had become, and while that pleased her, it also disheartened her to see so many people hating on them. You knew that feeling well, seeing how heartbroken Sam had been about people basically bullying him online.

When the aircraft reached a certain point in the sky, June began to fuss. You knew the pressure difference would bother her, and you took her out of her carseat, popping her pacifier in her mouth so she could gain some relief. The Greta fan played peek-a-boo with her in an attempt to distract her and you smiled at the giggles that came from her. Her laugh was just like her father’s, absolutely infectious. Sure, babies were all cute, but you believed your baby was far ahead of the race in that regard. Not that there was a race, but if there was, June would win.

After a two hour flight, you were forced to wait at a layover in Chicago. Luckily, that angel of a woman and her friends waited right there with you. They were all charmed by your baby, especially the one she’d pointed out as her best friend. The other two adored June, but the best friend was especially enamored with her, and you knew exactly why.

The hour passed by quickly, and soon you were all on the flight to Nashville. You and the Danny girl were sitting exactly as you had been before, and you thanked whatever higher power in the universe for it.

BNA was exactly as you remembered it, loud, crowded, and a shitty pick-up situation. You waited outside for twenty long minutes for your Uber to arrive, and said a goodbye to your newfound friends. They had given you their social media - even though you’d stopped using yours - so that you could remain in touch, and a sorrowful part of you knew that wouldn’t really happen. You knew too much about the men they fawned over, even if you claimed no knowledge of them.

Knowing that Sam left socks everywhere because he hated the sensation of anything at all on his feet, and that Josh almost never washed his feet after shows, and that Jake once almost killed Josh because he’d been joking around and broke a string on his twin’s acoustic was too much for you to pretend you had absolutely no idea about. They didn’t know enough, and you knew everything, and that wasn’t a very fair relationship.

When you arrived at your new house, the first thing you noticed was the smell of smoke. You smiled at the countless memories of Josh setting anything he could on fire, and you worrying that he might eventually become an arsonist. The fourth of July always stuck out to you, because of how excited they had all been to legally set off fireworks, although that excitement also came around New Year’s Eve.

Stepping into the house, you admired all the natural light shining through the large windows. You set June’s carseat down, immediately working to make a bottle for her. The one she’d had during the layover had knocked her out, but you knew she’d wake up soon, hungry again. When you finished, and she was still sound asleep, you began unpacking some of the boxes with a ‘Kitchen’ label.

Of course, the sound of rattling plates jolted her awake, and she began to cry for you. You shushed her and held her as you fed her. Once she’d finished, you set her back down in her carseat, not bothering to buckle it. A knock on the door pulled your attention away from the dishes you were putting in the cupboards.

Neighbors. You knew it was neighbors coming to introduce themselves, so you picked up Junebug, tossing her on your hip and walking happily to the door. When your eyes met a familiar dark brown, your stomach sank.

Jake and Josh Kiszka were standing at your door, their happy faces diluting into confusion, then realizing expressions. When they noticed the baby on your hip, they seemed to panic just as much as you.

In a moment you didn’t quite remember, you blurted out, “Don’t tell your brother!”

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417​ @brokenbellz​ @gretavanfleas​ @pyrojoshy​ @greta-van-chaos​ @xserenax-13​ @hayley1623​ @kdarling1​ @autumns30 @keighoe​ @chalametpwk​ @sammysvanfeet​ @shawnsthighs​ @gretavanbitches​ 

[forbidding-souda]

Mikan and Toko with an S/o that’s deathly terrified of thunder and lightning?

Mikan Tsumiki and Fukawa Toko with a S/O who's deathly afraid of thunderstorms

i'm gonna start driving around to fucking record stores to try to find where they put the concert posters because i see all my area's mutuals going to house shows like girl where they at tho LITERALLY 20 MINUTES AWAY FROM ME HOW ARE YA'LL FINDING OUT ABOUT THIS 'get in the scene' HOE. HOW?????

I WAS MORE APART OF THE OC SCENE THAN THE BAY SCENE LMAOOO ????

currently listening: at dawn they sleep by slayer

-Mod Souda

Mikan Tsumiki

☼ She doesn't enjoy loud noises so when you said you were afraid of thunder and lightning - she assumed that you were like her.

☼ That made your panic attack even more unexpected to her.

☼ The rain tapped against all the windows in the house, surrounding you, and made you feel overwhelmed. She knows what to do in situations like that, but she isn't sure if she should. Does a girlfriend comfort you like a lover or a patient? It began to make her panicked as well.

☼ She ended up holding your face in her head while she put headphones on you. She remembers your favorite playlist so she tries to navigate your phone while you cry into her shoulder.

☼ I wish I could control the weather, she thinks. She is very very used to dealing with panicking people as she loves to feel needed by them. It's just... she doesn't like seeing you in this situation.

☼ She'll hold you, rock you in her arms while you listen to music to try and distract yourself. She just hopes you'll be able to fall asleep there in her arms. If you don't - that's fine, she'll hold you all night.

Toko Fukawa

☁ She usually works, writing on her computer, through them. That plan had not gone the way she wanted.

☁ You were panicking like crazy, covering your ears and pouring your tears everywhere. It was a mess to her and she felt so overpowered. What should she do? Tell you stories to distract you - would that even work?

☁ She gave you a blanket to wrap yourself in. That's what she thought of first. There was a lot of her lingering around you awkwardly.

☁ And then she crouched beside you and patted your back. "I-I love you, nothing bad is going to happen." She gives words of comfort.

☁ If this was a novel - what would she do? She's going to have to be the handsome fisherman that saves the day.

☁ With that, she leaves a soup to warm in the microwave before brushing your hair out of your face. She just wants to make you comfortable. She knows that she can't stop your panicking nor can she stop the weather. She it's all about making you feel safe, even if it's just momentarily.

☁ She makes you food, leaves water bottles around, and even brings her computer in and sits next to you so she can keep an eye on you.

[pffbts]

＊ legends : [ ☼ ] - fluff | [ ♛ ] - smut | [ ☾ ] - angst.

Don’t repost or translate my stories. Uploading onto other sites (even with credit) is not allowed!

―QUICK LINKS ↴

⤿ wips

⤿ networks: caratwritersclub

―bts: the way i see them; an introductory post

→ K I M   N A M J O O N 

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ]  Spring: The Time I Met You

―where you and namjoon drift apart because of his job and somehow he senses it while he tries to mend things up when they go downhill.

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] While You Were Sleeping

―where you`ve a nightmare and joon calms you down.

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] When Eyes Meet

―his fingers waited to be wrapped around your own, passing the heats of both palms to each other.

 & MORE.

→ K I M   S E O K J I N

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ]  Anything For You

―where sharing a cup of coke to letting it out that jin has always been love with you, that he couldn`t look past you at the end of an apartment hunting day becomes the longest day for you with some realization coming to life. 

& MORE.

→ M I N  Y O O N G I

[ ☼ ]  [ ☾ ]  Save Me (werewolf! au)

―somethings are meant to be left unsaid.

[ ☼ ]  [ ☾ ]  Another Year, Another Us

―let`s just say that we will definitely suffer a lot and that we will cry a lot. maybe not you. maybe it will mostly be me, but i`ll cry a lot. i promise even if it`s for both of us.

[ ☼ ]  [ ☾ ] Only Rain Remains

―“bullshit,” yoongi had said, “your face is the most expressive. you`re literally like an open book.”

& MORE.

→ J U N G  H O S E O K

[ ☼ ]  [ ☾ ] Sunrays (dad! hoseok)

parts: one | two.

―sometimes you get the chance to live through someone and see the sun rays in a different way.

[ ☼ ]  [ ☾ ] Sunflower Stickers (journaling! au)

―their happy moments are captured in time and though the time has frozen in that particular picture, the feelings inside those two humans grow with abundant depth.

& MORE.

→ P A R K   J I M I N

[ ☾ ] [ ☼ ] Play Me A Song

―the local late-night radio jockey is somehow the guy who lives next door.

[ ☾ ] [ ☼ ] That Thing Is Love

―more than feeling you, he wants to know you. maybe people won`t understand him if he ever tells them about his perspective of love for you, also it`s not like he has ever tried speaking about it. it would sound too greasy for their ears.

[ ☾ ] [ ☼ ] Heartbeat

―where nights like this are rare, when there`s the most minimum distance in-between both of you & jimin has the full freedom to listen to your hearbeats to sleep rather than the songs on radio.

& MORE.

→ K I M   T A E H Y U N G

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ]  Fall Into My Arms

―somehow your arms are enough tonight.

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ]  Please Remember

―it has been the only thing that`s been with me all this while. i had given up on almost all things other than this

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] Winter Bear

―he could stay like this all night and nothing will change. in-between both of you there stands a big thin wall. some unrequited feelings and some unsaid words, taehyung sighed softly. right now everything that he did, every little gesture, every little action, everything came out into its mildest form. it was as if you`re the most sensitive thing in this world right at this moment. taehyung couldn`t differentiate if it was him who was being vulnerable right now or you.

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] A Moment of Indulgence

―in which taehyung recites you a poem by tagore while you sit in your bathtub and his voice rings out the day`s tiredness off your body beside the basking sunset.

& MORE.

→ J E O N   J E O N G G U K

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] [ ♛ ]  Lost & Found

―maybe this is how fate works. maybe it was your act of fleeing that made him realize how much emotionally he was dependent on you.

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] Beginner`s Lesson To The Otaku Life

―okay, but what do you think about gguk and library but it`s binge-watching sad anime movies instead of reading books at the farthest corner of the library?

[08:58 AM] from you: “gguk―what if you were my best friend?”

―[09:01 AM] from gguk: “i thought we were already best friends.”

[ ☼ ] [ ☾ ] Nights When We Fall in Love

―a new guy at the local bar has been making some noise among the people of this town with his charming voice & you decided to hit the bar with not a clue of what will go down that night when you finally get to meet him.

[ ☼ ] [ ♛ ] After Rain

―as you sit with your back facing jungkook on the floor, his eyes slightly widens as he realizes that he could, at that moment, if only he squinted his eyes a tad bit harder, can make out the whole of your back through that piece of clothing.

[ ☼ ] A Thousand Steps Away (established relationship)

― “anything cherry flavored is my favourite so naturally, it is my favourite lip balm of all time.”

→ C H O I   S A N

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ]  Koi no Yokan ; barista!choi san.

―your head held back, your thoughts clouding your head, suddenly in-between that, making way for some room inside that mind, you hear san`s excited voice.

→ C H O I   J O N G H O

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ]  A Fool`s Act 

―choi jongho―transferred himself to this school two years ago and it didn`t even take a month before he was already a strong player in the school`s basketball team. for your case, it took him only a week.

→ L O A D I N G....

[on-hold] what if we lived in the same town | ot13

↬synopsis: there are 13 boys who lives in your town where each of them have each of their own colours. some you know in person & some from afar so one day you sat down deciding to describe each of their colours absorbing all of their goodness and all of their flaws. you wondered what if someone in some other town ever thought of questioning when they looked at these boys, that―what if we lived in the same town?

members: seungcheol / jeonghan / joshua / junhui / soonyoung / wonwoo / jihoon / seokmin / mingyu / minghao / seungkwan / vernon / chan

→ C H O I   S E U N G C H E O L

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ][ ♛ ]  Cakes & Blues

―where a sudden bunch of texts from seungcheol one night before your work finishes off makes you end up in front of his restaurant. a sudden surprise with a handmade birthday cake from this blue haired guy, a strings of memories, an heated kiss while a walk back home after that ends up into something of a first for both of you. maybe opening up to feelings is not always just about naked bodies and sheets in-between each other but rather it`s two hearts bare open, un-bottling feelings over a shared cup of memories.

→ K W O N   S O O N Y O U N G

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ] Here`s My First Rose To You

―where sometimes some confessions doesn`t need much words.

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ] Skin to Skin

―where you wake up next to the love of you life, his warmth against you and yours against his.

→ L E E   S E O K M I N

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ][ ♛ ]  If I Get To Meet You (ghost!au)

― coming soon!

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ][ ♛ ] Chosen Family

― coming soon!

→ K I M   M I N G Y U

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ][ ♛ ]  Navy Blue Socks

―where mingyu puts on socks for you when he sees how the cool air has engulfed the sleeping you.

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ][ ♛ ]  I Call You, Her

― “breathless, mingyu smiles as he kisses both of your palms. pulling you into his lap, he tells himself that this is exactly where he belongs. there`s no other place like this where he can wish to live and die at the same time. he wants to engrave your name to his bones and tell you how he was only born for you.”

→ B O O   S E U N G K W A N

[ ☼ ][ ☾ ] Only Fools Rush In

― if he tells you, that he loves you and even if it’s just to call him by his full name, please don’t forget him? 

→ C O N N E C T    W I T H    M E  :)

↳ ask box

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO PFFBTS.

[bisexual-buck]

tbh I was tagged and there was no title abut I think this is like a year recap kind of post so I’m going for it!

tagged by @princessfbi​ ☼

How many stories did you complete?

14

What is your total word count for the year?

According to AO3: 55,253! I don’t know my unpublished word count, and tbh I don’t really care because it’s probably less than 10k? I mostly wrote small pieces that never ended up in a fic and are saved as scraps somewhere. 

What fandoms did you write in this year?

9-1-1 on FOX bc I only know how to be obsessed with one show at a time.

Did you write more, less or roughly around what you expected you would?

I actually wrote hella less than I had hoped to. I was very inspired for fic ideas but lost a lot of motivation for writing during the summer and faced a lot of emotional challenges that I didn’t expect to.

What’s your own favourite story of the year?

Without a doubt: one hell of a story. May and Buck are the sibling duo I need and it was really fun to explore that dynamic. Buck is a big guy and definitely takes on this role where he feels like he has to protect Maddie, as we saw in season 2, but ultimately he is the younger sibling and he will always be the baby bro. With Chris or any of the other boys, he’ll be closer to a father figure than he ever will be a sibling because of the age gap and him being closer to their parents’ ages than theirs. But May is older and she’ll probably be able to confide in him more, as Buck is the youngest of the adults and can probably more easily remember what it’s like being a teen, even if he holds her accountable to the mistakes she makes. I don’t think they’ll ever develop this kind of relationship in canon, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t have the potential and y’all can’t pry this out of my hands if you tried.

Did you take any writing risks this year?

I meddled in planning some large fics that I have yet to post. I’ve got a notebook full of just one single, outlined fic. I estimate it’ll be at least 40k which will be my longest fic to date because I only started getting into my more adult writing groove in 2019. 

Do you have any fanfiction goals for 2021?

Word Count! Ultimately I want to hit 60k words because it’ll be my largest in one year to date if I do. But I also want to write and complete that fic I mentioned previously. I outlined in a notebook for three months. It’s time to get that bitch done. 

What is your most under-appreciated story?

Considering how recently it was posted along with Hits, Kudos, and Comments, it was probably without fear :c I love that wee baby. 

Biggest fanfiction related disappointment of 2020?

Honestly, this is more fandom related, but I was kinda sad to see the rapid decline in kudos and comments on buddie fics as soon as the show went on break. I feel like a lot of authors felt like their works weren’t as appreciated as they could have been. Brilliant works had some decent hit counts but such low numbers to show for appreciation. It kinda sucks to put so much effort into a story only to have it looked over. That being said, I don’t write for recognition, but that doesn’t change that I hope for readers to acknowledge the free works we put out there for people to consume. 

Biggest fanfiction related surprise of 2020?

Realizing that a lot of Buck whumpers share one brain cell. This is not a jab, this is just truth and I love it.

✗ tagging: @benjaminrussell @siriuslyjamie @depthandcharacter

[distopea]

@shutupvital​

It was a cute local cafe, the sun shining, the atmosphere cozy. But here Vital was on the other side of the table, glowering quietly with arms crossed. Their server had been flirting – he knew they needed to be friendly for a good tip – but it was the eyes given to Mika when they were far away that bugged him. With an irritated sigh Vital shifted and leaned forwards to stir his sugary iced coffee drink, next just grabbing Mika's hand, lacing their fingers together tightly and rather possessively

umprompted ( and always welcome ☼ )

He always adores spending some time with Vital, even if he’s legit broke as hell and doesn’t know if he’ll ever have a chance to spoil him in return. He saves as much as money as he can, hoping to be the one treating him with the best gifts, however, it often happens that Vital is the one suggesting cute cafe and other places, when the both can relax and enjoy a piece of cake and some tea. This is truly a wonderful place once again, and a magnificent day.  

His fork digging into his chocolate cake, Mika doesn’t really notice the rather suggestive look their server is offering, apparently to him, not when he’s too flustered to be in such an improbable date in the first place. It’s always something for Mika to remember how their relationship starts, while a few months ago, they were fighting like two imbeciles in the middle of a public park for the sake of a can of coke.

Yet, as he wants to grab his cup of hot cocoa, he’s surprised to sense Vital’s cold fingers reaching for his, and immediately intertwining them, the gesture rather possessive, almost aggressive. Mika lifts a surprised eyebrow as he looks up, eventually noticing the look on Vital’s face, amethyst eyes gleaming with something he has never witnessed before. 

“Wh - What?” Mika frowns, as he hopes he didn’t do something stupid again, ruining a moment he definitely cherishes. However, he finally understands when he senses another pair of eyes peering at them, the whole puzzle eventually making sense for the copper-haired boy. “Oh!” He chuckles, a bit embarrassed, quite thrilled to know that Vital is actually acting jealous because someone has been hitting on him. 

“You know... I think he didn’t really get the message.” He clears his throat, a sly smirk growing onto his lips. Rarely they would kiss nor hug in public, but surely, Mika can’t miss such a perfect occasion to express his attachment. He moves his chair to sit closer, gently circling Vital’s cheek, his intense blue eyes focused on him, and only him. Slowly, he presses a kiss onto his nose, his cheek, and then drifts to peek his lips tenderly. “Better.” He happily smiles, cheeks all flushed. 

[ilguna]

☼ hijacked (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; ‘  hi, it could be a request where the reader is also brainwashed by snow, but instead of being like aggressive peta, the reader is afraid of finnick, all angst? ‘

warnings; swearing, hints at abuse

wc; 1.3k

NOTES; i don’t like this imagine at all. i’m sorry but it didn’t come out right.

–

You wrap your hands around your upper arms, sinking into yourself. You thought that the hospital in District Thirteen would make you feel better, but it’s too sterile, too white. There’s no difference between here and the inside of the Tribute Center. You have to constantly push on the bruises on your wrist to remind yourself that you’re not strapped down.

“Okay, dear.” a woman says, she stands in the doorway, an electronic in her hand, “Tell us what you remember, take your time.”

You shake your head, eyes finding the tile floor. You don’t want to remember. You wanted to come here to escape. You thought that you’d get a moment to yourself in this room, to finally breathe and collect your scattered thoughts. Everything is moving too quickly.

Why can’t they just leave you alone?

“That’s okay, I’ll wait.”

“Don’t.” you tell her, “Just go away, please.”

When you hear movement after, you flinch, fully prepared for the yelling. You were told too many times not to resist. You shouldn’t have resisted. The next time you look up, the room is empty and the door is sweeping shut. You sniff, and then place your head in your hands. No matter how hard you press the heels of your hands to your eyes, you’re never met with stars.

You’re met with white tile on white walls in white light. Strapped to a chair that you’re never allowed to leave unless it's for an emergency or they’re moving you. Tight restraints, struggling only gets them tighter. Only makes the doctors angrier. Why can’t you listen? It’s a simple instruction, stop resisting, and they’ll stop being mean.

You can’t remember what they did to you, why they’d always come back so soon. You don’t remember trying to escape, or pulling against the leather restraints. You can’t even see their faces in your mind, and you’re glad. You don’t know what they did, all you know is that it’s bad.

All you can see clearly is the first day, when you woke up and how disoriented you were. Tired, hungry, just wanting to go home. No one talked to you for a while, but when they did come in, you regretted waking up in the first place. It’s all a blur after that. Blurry memories that you can’t see perfectly.

White tile floor turned red. Bloody hands, tears in your eyes. You don’t know how long you were there for, all you know is that it skips from being there, to the first volunteer taking you out of the room. Taking your first step in a while and falling straight to the tile. Nothing but pain, all over your body.

A long hallway, more bright lights and volunteers in dark suits, “We’re from District Thirteen,” they say, “we’re here to save you.” you say nothing, because there are no words that form. You just want to be safe again, in a place where you don’t have to cry for the people you’ve lost.

You remember seeing Peeta and Johanna, being raised into the sky. And then inside of the hovercraft. You think you passed out on the cold, metal floor. The hovercraft blacked out, someone must’ve asked you if you wanted some place to sit instead, but you turned them down. The cold feeling of the floor was grounding, it felt nice.

The hovercraft was dark, practically pitch black from where you laid. There was only a dim orange light that was on briefly, but was turned off after. The next thing you remember after that is being ushered off of the hovercraft, into plenty of doctor’s arms. Being the only one actually awake, even though Peeta and Johanna were also up the last time you checked.

You haven’t been here for long, and you already know that you don’t like it. You just want to be back in District Four. You want to be in your home, in your bed, with your family. You want all of this to be over.

The door to the room opens again, and you don’t bother looking up again. If they have questions, they’re going to ask them. They keep coming back like this, they don’t want to accept ‘I don’t know’ as an answer. You don’t know. You don’t remember. You don’t know anything anymore.

“Please, just go away.” you squeeze your eyes shut harder, the stars are finally appearing, replacing gruesome images with white lights, “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Just give me some time.”

“It’s not a doctor.” you hear.

You freeze, if you don’t move, if you don’t lift your head, maybe he’ll go away too. But with his presence, his voice now bouncing back and forth inside of your head, he’s brought the memories, the problems that the doctors were so eager to find. You have to leave.

“Go.” you say, trying to get a hold of your breathing. This is so wrong.

“(Y/n), you’re okay, you’re safe--”

“Go!” you shout, someone will hear, someone will come to save you.

You think you’ve gotten your way again, that he’s left just like the doctor, until you feel his hand on your arm. You jump, flinging the hand off of you, struggling to get away. You scream for help, and try to keep your eyes away from him. But you catch a glimpse. 

Taller than you, dark hair, he’s got an arm outstretched towards you, like he wants to hold on. You sob, using the bed as a buffer. You don’t know who this is, but he’s not yours. You don’t want him here, you want him gone.

The last time you saw him, his hand was tight around your throat, as tight as the restraints. You watched as the loving faded from his eyes, replaced by intense anger. He tried to kill you. He told you many times how much he loved you, and then he tried to kill you. Like you were nothing but a toy to throw away.

“(Y/n)--”

The door flies open, there’s chaos outside of the door, plenty of people moving through the small hallway. Standing in your doorway is Haymitch, looking out of breath and worried. He takes in the scene in front of him, your crouched figure, Finnick’s fake hurt on his face. He’s good at pretending, you remember this well.

“Leave her be.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Finnick says, “all I did was touch her--”

“You tried to kill me!” you push the bed towards him, hoping that’ll usher him out quicker. He moves out of the way, taking a step towards the door.

Haymitch shakes his head slightly, “Peeta just tried to kill Katniss. There’s something wrong.”

Both of them look at you at the same time, you’re shaking your head, backing away from them, “I didn’t do anything, he did. He came at me, he tried to hurt me. Don’t you understand? Fi--” the name won’t come out of your mouth, “he’s the problem.”

“I believe you.” Haymitch says, “Let’s go, Finnick. Let her be with the doctors.” Finnick spares you another glance. Haymitch has to move into the room and grab his shirt, pulling him out, and then pauses at the doorway, “It’s okay, (Y/n).”

He leaves after that, the door shuts, and you wait until they’re completely gone before letting it out. You sob, lowering into a crouch on the white tile floor, placing your head between your knees.

[ilguna]

☼ favors (Draco Malfoy) ☼

summary; On this cool, Thursday evening, Draco needs a favor from you.

warnings; swearing, underage drinking i guess? you’ll see what i mean

wc; 1.6k

--

For a school night, the Three Broomsticks is full of teenagers.

When you look around, you’re able to see that each and every table is occupied with a group. Whether it be big, or small, there’s colors from all houses in the building tonight. You’re not sure what’s brought you all here at the same time. Maybe it’s tonight’s weather, clear and cool, or maybe it’s because it’s Thursday night.

Either way, you’re glad that you were able to snag one of the inside tables with your friends before the place got too packed. It’s gotten to the point where people are being forced to sit outside. The main reason is, of course, because there’s no seats open anymore, but also because the building is hot. Especially compared to outside.

You’ve shed all your layers already. The robe, the vest, you’ve even begun to roll up your sleeves in some desperate attempt to save yourself from overheating. While you’re sweating though, your friends don’t seem to be nearly as bothered as you are. In fact, the trio seem to be preoccupied by something else.

The newspaper.

Hermione sits to your right, Harry across from you, and Ron in front of Hermione. The paper is placed onto the table, but you’re all leaned over it, heads tilted to read what Rita Skeeter has to say about the latest drama. You’re not sure you care all that much, but Hermione seems to be upset over it.

“Do you see her wording?” Hermione asks, placing her finger underneath a sentence, “She can’t be serious.”

“I hope she never comes to Hogwarts.” Ron says, sitting back in his seat. His hands are reaching for his butterbeer mug.

Harry shrugs, “There wouldn’t be a reason to, right?”

Hermione doesn’t say anything for a long moment, sitting back in her seat too. She drags the newspaper to read the paragraph over again. Her face is twisted, eyebrows pulled together close enough to form a crease, “I don’t think so.”

You look over to Ron, “Well, shouldn’t you know?”

Ron shakes his head, “I don’t keep up with her.”

Figures, but you hope that they’re right. Wherever Rita Skeeter goes, chaos and lies seem to follow. The last thing you all need is her catching a whiff of what happens at Hogwarts every year. She’ll be like a shark, and there’s always blood in the water here.

“I really wish she wouldn’t write stuff like this,” Hermione begins to ball the newspaper, not caring about the fact that she’s attracting attention, “It’s degrading.”

“All newspapers are like that.” Harry says, “I would be more surprised if there wasn’t a single journalist in the wizarding world that didn’t exaggerate every single detail.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be eating those words sometime in the future.” you tell Harry, tipping your mug over to see how much butterbeer is left. It’s practically none, and it looks like the others are in the same predicament that you are.

Harry doesn’t seem to care all that much. Ron lets out a huff though, “If you two care so much, then why don’t you become journalists?”

You let out a laugh, “Maybe I will, Weasley. And my first target will be you and Harry.”

Harry’s shaking his head, “I’m invincible.”

“I’ve got dirt on you.” you slowly raise to your feet, collecting the glasses, “Don’t underestimate me, Potter.”

“Who are you, Draco?” Ron rolls his eyes.

Hermione ignores the banter between you three, turning to you, “Are you getting more?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione reaches for her change purse, immediately causing you to back away, “Nope, you’re not paying.”

Her face screws, “Why not?”

“Because we’re celebrating you!” Harry says, “And your perfect grades, remember?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t pay.” she says, you’re already gone, not listening.

You head up to the counter, setting the mugs down while you wait for Madam Rosmerta to come around. She’s got a few flying objects moving around the room, making butterbeer and other sweet treats to hand back to waiting hands. However, she’s handling the refills all by herself, and it seems to be a lot. No one is going home until it’s curfew.

And speak of the devil, Madam Rosmerta stops in front of you for a moment, “Refill?”

“For all four, yes.” you let go of the handles, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” she says.

You watch the mugs become bewitched, moving on their own to the kitchen to be prepared. Madam Rosmerta moves on to the next waiting group, taking their order and letting her magic do the rest. You’re sure it’ll only be a couple of minutes before you’re ready to head back to the table.

In the meantime, you turn around to watch your friends talk amongst themselves. Only, you find that Hermione is glaring at you, Ron’s face is a bright shade of red, and Harry is in stitches. You crack a smile and shake your head.

“(L/n).”

Your eyebrows raise before you turn your head, eyes landing on the person. You can’t really say you’re surprised when you see who it is. There’s really only one person in this school who addresses their fellow students through their last names. And besides, Draco’s voice is hard not to recognize, considering how often he talks.

“Hello, Draco,” there’s a gentle smile on your face, “What inclined you to bother me today?”

A scowl temporarily appears on his face, but lightens up a moment later. An uneasiness starts in your stomach because of this. Draco doesn’t smile, much less approach you willingly. So he must have done something to you, right? That’s the only reason you’re finding.

“I was actually hoping you could do me a favor.”

Of course. You should’ve expected this.

“Like what?” you play with your shirt sleeve.

“Buy me a butterbeer.”

Almost immediately, you’re the one scowling at him, “Why would I do that? Don’t tell me you, out of all people, have no money--”

Draco finally bursts, “I do! I can pay for it by myself. I just need you to get it for me.”

You stare at him for a long moment, wondering if anyone’s hit him over the head recently. He’s looking at you like you’re the one that’s crazy for reacting like this. You don’t understand why he can’t just do it. He can pay for it…

And suddenly you can’t remember a single time where Draco’s got the drinks himself. It’s always his goon friends that get up and get it. 

“Why?” you repeat slower this time, “Do you not know how to order?”

“I’m not a child,” Draco protests, you decide not to object, “I can’t get it myself.”

You rub your forehead, a headache is beginning to form, “I’m not following.”

He stands there, his pale skin beginning to turn a gentle shade of red. Draco presses his lips together, and then sighs, “I’m not old enough.”

You open your mouth, still not believing him. But the color of his face and ears are telling a different story. He’s not lying, Draco is genuinely not old enough to get the butterbeer by himself because he’s born in the summer. And since butterbeer typically has some alcohol in it, he needs to be a certain age.

You shake your head slightly, “You have to be kidding. Where are your friends and why can’t they get it for you?”

“Outside, I arrived late.”

“You’re paying for all of our drinks, then.” you tell Draco.

He makes a face, as if saying that paying for five butterbeers won’t have a single dent on his monthly allowance. 

“Madam Rosmerta.” you call, leaning forward slightly.

She looks over in your direction, eyebrows raised.

“Can I get a fifth butterbeer, please?” 

She nods, and it’s only a matter of seconds before the five butterbeers are appearing in front of you. Draco lays down all the coins to pay, and then goes to reach for the one you ordered for him. Your hand grabs his wrist, a glare appearing in your eyes.

“You’re helping me carry these to the table.” you say, “Or I could go ahead and say you’re underage drinking.”

Draco shoots a glare back at you, “You’re wicked, you know that?”

“Who else is going to be?” you ask, picking up two of the handles, “You can grab those three, right?”

“Piss off, (Y/n).” he scoops up two in one hand, and one in the other. 

You lead the way to the table, gently setting the mugs down. Your friends look like they go to ask where the other two are, but Draco sets them down in time to keep them from doing so. Draco seems to realize how close he is to Ron, which immediately makes him jerk away, nearly spilling his own drink.

“He doesn’t have the plague, Draco.” you sigh. “Take your drink and go before you cause problems.”

“Why is he here?” Hermione asks.

Draco opens his mouth, but you go ahead and answer, “He’s too young to order so I had to do it for him. Paid for our drinks though, so everyone say thank you.”

No one says anything.

Draco rolls his eyes, “Thank you, (L/n).” he holds up his mug, “I owe you.”

“I’ll remember that in the future. See you later, Malfoy.”

You watch him leave out the front door, his robe fills with air, and then he’s out of sight.

You sit, bringing the refreshment to your lips.

“Why did you help him?” Ron asks.

You shrug, “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t kill to have Draco Malfoy in your debt. And that is total grounds for blackmail.”

They laugh first, you join in.

You don’t bother to tell them that it’s nice to be on Draco’s good side.

[ilguna]

☼ butterbeer (Cedric Diggory) ☼

summary; Cedric said that you wouldn’t be able to win the next game of quidditch. Time to prove him wrong.

prompts; 18. “That was kind of hot.” AND 33. “I’d like to see you try.”

warnings; swearing

wc; 1.8k

NOTES; READER IS SLYTHERIN

--

The first time you’d actually talked to Cedric ever, was after your first quidditch game a couple years ago. It was slytherin versus hufflepuff, you had never played before, you only vaguely remembered what it was like during tryouts. The Captain--his name slips your mind, now--had told you that he wants to see you in action.

You assumed that he meant some placebo game with only slytherin players during practice on one of the days. But the next time a game came around, he picked you to be the seeker for that game. As for everyone else, they held their regular positions. You tried to argue that you couldn’t do it, you’re going to underperform and end up losing the game.

He looked you dead in the eyes, grabbed your shoulders and said, “Play.”

There wasn’t any time for turning back, your team and the hufflepuff team were ready to go. All you had to do was find your spot behind the older kids and get ready to float. With them being so much taller than you, and also so much more experienced, you thought that you were either going to pass out, or puke up your lunch on the field.

Just before the ball was thrown to start the game, you watched as the hufflepuff team traded out someone on their team real quick. Before you knew it, you saw someone you age coming onto the field, looking just as nervous as you felt. Hufflepuff had just slightly evened out the playing field without any of you asking.

The game went smoothly, only longer than usual because you and the other seeker are new to the game and don’t know the erratic behavior of the snitch as much as the older seekers do. However, once your eyes caught sight of it, you were off without a single regard of what was going on around you.

As far as you were concerned, the game was long, and since slytherin was leading, there was no time like right then to catch the snitch and end the game. Your teammates realized what was going on soon after, as did Cedric, and suddenly the real game started. Hufflepuff trying to decapitate you, Cedric trying to beat you to the snitch, and your teammates desperately trying to protect you and the goal posts to make sure that you would lead.

It was all the more pressure, your first time playing and having slacked that long on trying to find the snitch. Not to mention your Captain had his eyes on you, he wanted to see you in action. If you could catch the snitch and win the game, you were bound to get your seat on the team secured.

You and Cedric were neck in neck at one point, both super competitive. In your mind, since you saw the snitch first, you deserved to get it. But the longer you chased the golden ball around, the more you began to realize that you’d have to try a different tactic, something more daring.

You gave one smirk to Cedric, who was already glaring at you, and then proceeded to jump off of your broom. You barely got the snitch into your palm, but once your hand encircled it, you pulled it to your chest, squeezed your eyes closed and braced for impact. No matter what fucking happened you wouldn’t be letting good of the damn ball.

You were saved by Professor Snape, who had casted arresto momentum just before you hit the grass at full force. You got to your feet after, and carefully held out your hand to reveal that you still had it. The game ended immediately, the one hundred and fifty points being added on to your already seventy. Slytherin had won.

Your team celebrated, and even insisted that you’d all sit in one big group at dinner to ensure this. Just before you left the quidditch field though, Cedric had come up to you, saying that it was a good game. Had he not done that, you and him wouldn’t have been friends, or later have started to date. It’s funny how things work out, really.

Even years later, you and Cedric are still fighting against each other when it comes to quidditch. While he’s become the hufflepuff’s Captain, you’ve kept your job as seeker. No matter how many times you’re offered, you don’t want to take it. It’s too much work to train and get these new years up to speed. Honestly, you think the way that your old Captain had thrown you in out of the blue was effective, but the new kids would just cry.

“(Y/n)’s going to be our seeker this game.” Marcus says, he’s standing in the doorway, reading down the list.

There’s not a single complaint from the older years, but one Draco Malfoy pipes up, “I want to play.”

“Not this game.” Marcus says, Draco begins to turn a red color.

His eyes land on you, immediately glaring, “I bought everyone brooms last year.”

“I’m using my own, runt.” you bring it around, “Don’t be ungrateful. You’re lucky that you’re even on the team.”

“My father--”

“Your father can kiss my ass.” you tell him, looking at Marcus, “I’m free to leave?”

He nods once, taking a step to the side. At least he’s got some common sense still in him. You get that they have a thing against gryffindor, but there’s no reason to bring that into hufflepuff. You leave the tent, letting the flap fall back into place as you make your way to the field.

Hufflepuff’s already on the field, and at your approach, Cedric turns, “Where’s the rest of your team?”

“Dealing with Malfoy’s meltdown.” you smile, “They’ll be out in a second.”

“Good, Professor McGonagall isn’t in a very good mood today.” he pulls your head close, giving you a sweet kiss on your forehead before laying his arm across your shoulders, “Wonder what it’s about.”

“Probably her three most troublesome students, if I could take a guess.” you follow his eyes to see that he’s right, “Anyway, ready to get your ass kicked? I’m going to win the game in the first ten minutes.”

Cedric laughs, a few of his teammates crack smiles, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, you will.” you pull away from him, punching his stomach on the way out, “And when I win, you’re going to buy me celebratory butterbeer.”

“Am I?” he’s amused, watching you stand taller, “And if I win, you’re going to do the same?”

“Of course, except you’re not going to win.” you give him a cheeky smile, and then turn your head when you see movement, “Game on.” one last look to Cedric, “Good luck.”

“You too.”

McGonagall finds her position in the middle of the field, between your two teams. You and Cedric share a single nod, the ball is thrown, and then you’re onto your brooms. The game has started, and so has the hunt to find the snitch as fast as possible. You’re not really wanting to be out here for too long today, you’re pretty tired from staying up last night.

As you keep dodging the bludger, eyes sweeping the air for the sweet golden ball, you catch that Cedric jerks one way, hesitates, and then takes off. You follow him for a moment, not being able to see the snitch, until you realize that it’s far ahead of him. Without question, you head straight towards Cedric, expecting to corner the snitch.

Although the brooms that Malfoy gifted were quick, they weren’t as reliable as the one you’re used to. They can zip around all they want, but it’s nothing compared to the one you’ve been using for a while now. For starters, you know how hard you can push the broom before it sputters.

It seems that Cedric is completely oblivious to the fact that you two will collide head to head just before you do. The snitch jerks to the right, avoiding the both of you at the same time. Your first instinct is to head towards it anyway, and it looks like you’re beginning to rub off on Cedric, because he does the same exact thing.

“Go!” Cedric shouts, reaching for the ball.

“Not a chance!” you slap down his arm, swiping the air. You swear you can feel the rough texture of the snitch against your fingertips, “Fuck!”

Cedric shoves you, determined. You let your broom fly downwards for a couple of seconds, before bringing it right back up. Cedric is right on top of it, about to grab it, until you fly up from the bottom, grabbing the snitch. Consequently, Cedric slams right into you, the tip of his broom nearly impaling you.

He slips, and you catch one of his wrists before he falls. His broom is useless, it falls to the ground since there’s nothing bewitching it anymore. You get him to grab onto the front of your broom, turning to face McGonagall. You hold up the golden ball between your fingers, a grin on your face. Once again, slytherin has won.

You tuck the snitch into your breast pocket, and then promise Cedric that he’ll be on the ground in a second. He stands when he’s able to, waiting for you to unmount your broom before pulling you into a hug. Your team is coming down the field, bright looks on their faces.

Cedric’s out of breath, “That was kind of hot.” he breathes, you laugh, “I guess I owe you a butterbeer.”

“And an apology for nearly killing me with your damned broom.” you elbow him with a smile, giving away the snitch to McGonagall when she holds her hand out for it.

Cedric presses his cheek against the top of your head, “You deserved it, with how you scared me to death coming up like that.”

Your fingers find Cedric’s sides, immediately starting to tickle him. He squirms, lets out a slight scream and manages to get away before you continue. 

“Okay, okay--” he laughs, “I’m sorry, alright?”

“You better be.” you tell him, turning to your team Captain, “Catch ya later, Flint.”

He nods, you and Cedric turn to head towards Hogwarts.

“You want to go to Hogsmeade like this?” he asks.

“Why not? Drop off our brooms and then we can go on our date.”

“Oh, so it’s a date now?”

You give him a look, “Ced, don’t tell me you were thinking otherwise.”

“I’m kidding.” he smiles, “But now I feel more obligated to buy you that butterbeer.”

You laugh.