#Finally someone wrote to me kindly about this topic!

[the-genius-az]

Why do you like teenage pregnancies so much? Did you have a baby when you were a teenager or what?

Thank you for asking kindly, Amor!

It's something personal, and when I was six years old I had to take care of my little brother when he was born, because my parents worked, (my little brother was not planned) so I took charge.

Luckily my brother was a calm baby, but it was still stressful taking care of someone at a very young age, having someone depend on you is overwhelming because YOU ALSO depend on someone.

And I romanticized having a baby at a young age (still do), to relieve stress. We're good now! My brother does not depend on me now, although he still sees me as his other father/mother figure.

PS: That's why the character I most identify with in Atla is Katara.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

On the topic of autism, although it had no name in his time, so we'd never be sure, but Hans Christian Andersen was a very odd, childlike man who wrote beautifully, could befriend others in letters (like Charles Dickens), but made such a terrible house guest in Dickens' eyes and that of his family, the friendship ended, and it took Hans Christian some time to realize it was over. I could relate, I could easily befriend folks in text online, when they bonded with me over shared ideas, but some would become suddenly very cold and cut things off if they saw me in video (often had disheveled hair, I really hated brushing because it hurt...) or heard me speak over the mic.

People are terribly shallow and cruel. They won't want to associate with someone who looks or acts visibly different, they're worried about their prestige or reputation or whatever being sullied by being seen with this comically strange person... or find it too exhausting to accomodate someone with special needs.

Hans Christian loved to make shapes out of paper clippings since he was a child and Dickens' family hated it. Hans Christian couldn't shave himself and needed someone of the family to do it for him. Hans Christian could not bear negstive reviews and cried, face down, in the mud outside of Dickens' home. The family found him a terrible guest, but the poor man was clearly very socially unaware and needed support... of all the stories and character he wrote, he identified with the ugly duckling (and the little mermaid)... The Little Mermaid was my favourite and my first special interest growing up.I don't think it was that the duckling was only accepted when he became beautiful, but when he happily found his own kind and was accepted, when he realized he was judging himself by standards he would never fit into (a gosling will never become a duck, but he will grow into a swan!)... but maybe that wasn't immediately clear, because humans too only treated him kindly as an adult.

There's a lot that the ugly duckling says when he was younger, that if you keep in mind the author relating mostly to him...

"But it's so refreshing to float on the water," said the duckling, "so refreshing to feel it rise over your head as you dive to the bottom."

"Yes, it must be a great pleasure!" said the hen. "I think you must have gone crazy. Ask the cat, who's the wisest fellow I know, whether he likes to swim or dive down in the water. Of myself I say nothing. But ask the old woman, our mistress. There's no one on earth wiser than she is. Do you imagine she wants to go swimming and feel the water rise over her head?"

"You don't understand me," said the duckling.

"Well, if we don't, who would? Surely you don't think you are cleverer than the cat and the old woman-to say nothing of myself. Don't be so conceited, child. Just thank your Maker for all the kindness we have shown you. Didn't you get into this snug room, and fall in with people who can tell you what's what? But you are such a numbskull that it's no pleasure to have you around. Believe me, I tell you this for your own good. I say unpleasant truths, but that's the only way you can know who are your friends. Be sure now that you lay some eggs. See to it that you learn to purr or to make sparks."

"I think I'd better go out into the wide world," said the duckling.

"Suit yourself," said the hen.

And the finale, where the swan does not become conceited, because he still remembers how it felt to be excluded and hated.

I wonder if that's how his popularity as an author made him feel, after being strange and awkward as a shy, quiet child...

[bookishardor]

A Last Journey to Lorien~

Or, A Dream Comes True Again.

In October 2019 I wrote a short blog entry about a course of events that I could owe to a book I pulled from a box in eleven years earlier.

The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters set the trajectory of my life on that otherwise unremarkable day, and the knowledge that I simply skipped home none the wiser of how deeply it and its author would affect my life still gives me goosebumps.

I have looked back at that moment countless, and at all the moments that stemmed from it, with elated and sometimes stupefied astonishment. Moments that include choosing to attend Hood College because I read MPM lived in Frederick and had an honorary degree from that institution, pursuing my budding interest in archaeology/art history and Egyptology, and even traveling to Egypt.

After graduating college, I discovered and helped cultivate the most amazing community of fans on Twitter, and through that channel TeamRamses and Beth Mertz, MPM’s daughter. The two of them have been such joys to get to know and talk to on social media, the main forum for the MPM fans I know. It’s not often I run across people who know the books in real life, so being able to talk to fans from around the world online is important to me.

Funnily enough, it is rarer for me to find casual fans of MPM’s work than it is for me to find people who actually knew her.

In 2017 with the launch of The Painted Queen, I met the owner of Wonder Book, Chuck, who had been dear friends with MPM, as well as Ray and Jay, Egyptologists who not only knew MPM, but also purchased and moved into her Frederick home a few years after her death.

Eventually I would come to work at Wonder Book, and in that fateful October of 2019, I was invited to see the house and gardens, MPM’s Lorien.

One might suppose with that jewel in my proverbial crown, that this would be the end of a superbly lovely and incredible tale.

Oh, Dear Reader, it was not the end.

At the end of April of this year, I had the privilege to attend Malice Domestic—an annual conference of mystery writers and readers. TeamRamses and myself were kindly invited by Beth to be a part of the fun in honoring her mother, and while I was only able to be there for that Saturday’s events, I had the most wonderful time.  

I brought along my mother and one of my best friends—my roommate from college actually, so you could say I kind of owe MPM even more for the push that had me attending Hood—and we had a blast listening to the panels and walking the book room. You all likely know how hard it was for me to not snatch up a million books to buy in that room…

And then it was time for the panel. And here is where I met TeamRamses for the first time in person. There is something so special about meeting someone who loves a book series and author just as much as you do, even if online, and then to finally be able to hug and talk face to face. And TeamRamses is so easy to talk to, and so insightful about books and fandom. Chatting with her on the balcony outside later in the evening while we waited for the banquet was delightful. We talked books and television, and brought up all of our favorite topic: Who is your dream Amelia Peabody cast? Maybe we can run a panel on that someday. Or better yet, a panel about a show itself! Wishful thinking, I know.

The authors gathered on the panel for MPM discussed her amazing characters and her lasting influence over their own works. As soon as Gigi Pandian opened the discussion on Amelia, with an introduction along the lines of, “Peters’ most famous and beloved heroine” I felt a suspicious tingling in my eyes. As Amelia might say, just a bit of dust, nothing more!

But truthfully, I felt briefly overwhelmed. It’s been nearly 10 years since MPM’s passing, but being in a roomful of people celebrating her and thinking of Amelia and seeing her so vividly in my mind as I have for 15 years, sort squeezed the breath from me for a second. All of this culminated when we all realized that Barbara Rosenblatt, the voice of Amelia, was in the crowd and graciously answered a fan’s question, and illuminated us all on MPM’s more mischievous side.

When it was time for the banquet later that evening, I was seated at the same table as Gigi Pandian and some of MPM’s old friends; her veterinarian and her husband and son. It definitely still hits me in hindsight, how incredibly lucky I was to have gotten that seat. To be able to talk to an author so influenced by MPM. To hear first-hand accounts from the friends that knew her so well, including a riveting tale involving a treed raccoon and some rather presumptuous hunters. I have added each little detail I’ve picked up from her friends to my ever-increasing regard for the woman. In hearing these stories, I know I am beyond fortunate.

At the next table, Beth and TeamRamses sat with Beth’s family and Chuck. Barbara Rosenblatt was also in their set, and when I turned suddenly to find Chuck standing with her at my side…Reader, you should have seen how wide my eyes got. I could feel them become starry saucers. I shook her hand and thanked her—in my mind for all of the beautiful narration she has done for the Amelia books and beyond—though in reality it probably looked like I was just thanking her for standing next to me. Let’s be honest, I kind of was. Chalk one up for me being completely calm and smooth, certainly. If you ever read this, Barbara, I promise I’m more eloquent when I’m not star-struck!

Unfortunately, I was unable to stay for the entire award ceremony that night, but I took with me so much from that dinner and the people I shared it with. To them I also wish to say, “Thank you.”

The drive home gave me time to reflect. What a wonderful day. What a wonderful gathering of people. What a wonderful woman MPM had been. I turned to my friend, not for the first time that day mind you, and asked, “So when are you gonna read Amelia?”

On the following Sunday I was invited, along with my mother and TeamRamses, to visit Lorien again once more before Ray and Jay move.

Now, as I said before, I’d been to Lorien once, in the fall of 2019. But coming around that corner and seeing the house on that little rise again…

At this rate, I feel most everyone has seen photos of the house and gardens. I don’t know if I could paint that same scene with words that can’t be gleaned from those images. If you have not seen the photos, you can likely Google the real-estate listing, or find it on the Facebook fan page: Another Shirt Ruined. I recommend it; they’re a feast for the eyes.

Nothing I say could do it justice, but there are a few things that can’t be extricated from photos, and I’ll do my best to explain here.

Once the visual beauty and appeal of the home has settled around you the next thing you notice is the scent. In fact, you may notice it as soon as you enter the solarium, but the architecture and bright glass walls of the room dazzle, where the smell calms. It permeates the air until you can’t help but pay attention, until it ensconces itself in your memory. Weeks later and I can still recall it; I think I always will be able to.

I’m not exactly sure what it was entirely. Lavender, undoubtedly, as Jay had it hanging in the kitchen, but also the earthy smells of the garden and trees outside. And perhaps, the stone itself imparted a lingering trace of aroma. The overall effect was dreamy and sweet and I could only imagine many a quiet, rainy day in that room, sipping coffee and dozing while the rain ran down the windows and accentuated the smell of the air.  

The next thing you notice is the love.

It’s in the very bones of that house. It’s in MPM’s desk and chair that were still in situ. It’s in the bookshelves and artwork and posters that were still hanging in the rooms and up the stair case. It’s in the custom Egyptian murals of the bathroom and the tiles on the kitchen floor and backsplash. And of course, it’s in the gardens; where beloved pets were buried and where so much time and care was given to creating a paradise. It’s in the stories I heard about gatherings and exploits her friends and family recalled.

And that’s where the love was most. In the people that gathered at the open house that day.

As we all walked the rooms of the home, listening to Beth and asking questions, I know we all fell into pockets of personal reverie. Where we could just imagine the life of the woman who’d lived there, who’d filled each room with her blazing personality. It felt like that I had actually met her before, in a sense. And it felt like I could turn a corner and find her there, petting a cat or tending a plant, or writing away at her desk.

After a tour of the house, TeamRamses, my mother, and I took a turn through the garden, ruminating on all the reasons why it would be so easy to never leave the property. It’s simply idyllic, even in the misty weather of that day.

And love was to be found lastly in the performance given by Barbara Rosenblatt.

As a delightful treat for all of us, before she had to drive back up to NYC, Barbara read an except from The Curse of the Pharaohs, the second book in the Amelia Peabody series. Fans will know the scene well—where Amelia and Emerson return to Evelyn’s to collect their progeny…little baby Walter Peabody Emerson.

Ramses, to those of us who know him best.

It was surreal to stand there in MPM’s home and listen to Barbara read. I’m still in a daze thinking about it. A little teary, too. I never gave audio books the time of day until I thought to try the Amelia recordings as a reread method. And to hear her voice come alive in the home where so many of the stories were written? To hear Emerson bellow and Evelyn laugh, to hear baby Ramses proclaim in somber, serious tones, “it is a femuw. A femuw of a winocowus…”

I have said before that somewhere in my mind and heart, I am always in the desert of Amarna with Amelia and Emerson. The first book in the series is my favorite for so many reasons, least of which is the nostalgia and peace it brings me. My original copy is well loved, and I know pieces of it by heart. Part of me is sitting with them at the fire, looking at the stars and listening to the jackals, chiding Walter and Evelyn’s young love, and scoffing at Lucas. Part of me is always snickering at the feelings brewing between Amelia and Emerson, even as he sets his own pocket on fire and she bosses him around.

In the same vein, I know part of me will always be standing in that solarium with MPM’s nearest and dearest, listening to Barbara read. The smell of lavender, rain, and stone in the air, the sound of all our laughter, and the sense of MPM just out of eyeshot, chuckling with us all.

I write my own story, from time to time. I’m not very disciplined with it, at least, not as much as I used to be. I have varying feelings about it, and I don’t imagine it will ever be much more than a tale of my own whimsy. But I do feel like every time I add even a little bit to it, that I’m adding to a love letter to MPM. And I do think I could add endlessly to a love letter to MPM. Writing my story, reading her books, talking to fans and friends on Twitter—it’s my way of saying thank you, thank you, thank you a million times over to an author I owe so much to.

So does the story end with the last visit to Lorien, the last glimpse into the sanctuary of a woman I can only wish to have met? Maybe. But so many things have happened these last 15 years that can find threads trailing back to my decision to read that book.

I can’t wait to see where she leads me next.

[melonyswife]

Hello, and welcome to my Tumblr account.

I am Dee. I am a 20 year old woman with no clear goals in life. Here you will find a collection of POSTs that I find amusing or important. Expect to find many posts related to the Undertale and Deltarune duology of RPGs and the breakneck breakcore FPS ULTRAKILL.

Fun Facts

My pronouns are She/They/It. Use whichever fits most for the current situation.

My fursona is a rabbit.

My favorite fictional characters of all time are Melony from Pokémon Shield and Gabriel from ULTRAKILL.

I have 988 hours played in Team Fortress 2, and my most valuable cosmetic is a Plumber's Cap painted Australium Gold to resemble Wario.

I have 2187+ hours in Fortnite: Battle Royale, and a total account level of roughly 1,900. My favorite skin is Mecha Cuddle Master.

I've coined the term "Dee Type Character" to refer to any female character that is primarily pink. That's because they're all me. My favorite is Mad Mew Mew from the Nintendo Switch port of Undertale.

If we're mutuals, don't be afraid to shoot me a "Hello!" in messages

I wrote the initial "computer open. computer shpw me Fortnite milfs" post.

Before You Follow...

Before you make the conscious choice to follow me, there's some information I'd like you to be aware of.

I somewhat frequently post about marijuana usage here, and if this topic upsets you, feel free to mute the #weed mention tag.

NSFW blogs may follow this account, but I ask that you don't make overly sexual replies to my posts.

If you make a "Deez Nuts" joke towards me regarding my name, I will be mildly annoyed at best and I will block you if I'm feeling particularly grumpy that day.

Do Not Follow If...

I'd like to make as many people as possible welcome on this blog, but unfortunately I must put up boundaries because I would not like unwanted guests to frequent my notifications.

These should go without saying, but if you are consciously racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, or conservative, you may not interact with me. You are unwelcome here.

Additionally, if your blog commonly posts about or is dedicated to Five Nights at Freddy's, Harry Potter, Persona 5, Super Lesbian Animal RPG, or South Park, I kindly ask you do not follow this account. Inquiring me for my reasoning behind this will result in a permanent block.

Final addition to this section, but I'd prefer that minors stay away from my account. You've no business interacting with someone older than 18 on the internet if you're a minor. I do not say this out of spite, I simply wish for you to be safe.

Now that you've (hopefully) read my entire intro,

fuuuuuck there's monsters on my post

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[considermygenderminecrafted]

Techno does have themes and character development and I'm tired of pretending he doesn't

Agency and personhood. 1/3 (?)

Okay, let's talk about technoblade!

Imma do a Techno centric analysis of the major plot points in dsmp and how they relate to the topic of agency (here defined as capacity to freely control how and why you act) (1) , being used and personhood. Techno does not struggle with the fact he is a person and not a weapon, the tension instead comes from reconciling how he sees himself with how others treat him.

Usual disclaimers, I don't have a background in literature or media analysis so treat me kindly when you rip me to shreads /lh

Pre-Red Festival

I consider this part to largely function as a backstory. His acts before the red festival work largely provide context as to how and why he joined Pogtopia, and establish his ideology (anarchy) and some of his character traits. In this time he function is mostly utilitarian. He is a dangerous weapon that we're pretty sure is being wielded by Pogtopia but with enough to sow doubt in that and cause tension surrounding him and his interactions with everyone. Less than a minute after he logged in for the first time Schlatt wrote something in chat that implied Techno was working with him against Pogtopia. From the moment he was brought onto the server he was considered a weapon with the question of who was truly wielding it. In this era he could have been replaced with an unstable atom bomb and it would have functionally been the same.

He does not have massive amounts of thematic development in this era nor is he particularly narratively important, though this does set up the backdrop for how characters and audiences view him later.

Red Festival

This is the first time we Techno is developed outside of just his use as weapon, because he deals with a great deal of internal conflict which is at odds with Pogtopia.

Audiences who were familiar with Anarchy, were more able to realize that Techno was being misled and used before this point, but for the majority of DSMP audience, this moment introduces the idea the Techno might be more than just a prop.

Here we see how both his enemies and allies deny his agency and deny his personhood.

Enemy - Schlatt

I'm not going to go into huge amounts of detail here, as I have already written about how Schlatt denied Techno the ability to choose, and his ability to act a moral agent, but it is important to note the Schlatt did not care what Techno wanted. Techno was largely just wielded as a sword, someone to carry out Schlatt's dirty work, and someone he could exert control over. It should be pretty obvious who schlatt forces techno to act against his will, and how Techno is denied agency and personhood because of that.

Tommy, Wilbur and Tubbo

During the execution:

Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo don't consider Techno as a person with an internal world during the red festival. Wilbur and Tommy instead watch Techno as if he were undergoing a character test.

Instead of seeing Techno as a complex person who is scared and trying his hardest and who has no other options, he is flattened to a flow chart, where if he kills he's a traitor and if he doesn't he's the hero.

Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo’s streams frame techno as an NPC, someone whose actions are only relevant in terms of how other people feel about them. We see him from a long way away, disconnected from Tommy and Wilbur. The 3 of them talk to each other in a chat which other characters cannot see. The reassurances are directed at Tubbo and Tommy, not at Techno, we as an audience are not encouraged to consider his emotions. (2)

This is at odds with how Techno’s stream presents the situation. Visually we see his characters gaze flit around constantly, looking for a way out or for someone to help him. His asides to the audience highlight how he is scared and unsure he is, and how he is out of his element. He stutters continuously, his attempts to control the conversation are shut down. When he does finally kill Tubbo, we see him already apologising. We are very much encouraged to empathise with Techno in these moments. The text explicitly states how he feels, we see this reflected in his non-verbal cues. (3)

There is a tension here between these 2 veiws. Other characters only considered him in terms of being a weapon, where the question is “who is wielding him (pogtopia or schlatt)?”, not “why did Techno do what he did? Is he okay?”.

During the fesitval is his not seen as a person and he is not given autonomy.

Response:

Wilbur and Tommy's response to Techno’s actions also dehumanises, him in how he is treated like he’s superhuman. Tommy’s anger at techno stems from the fact that he is convinced Techno could have done otherwise and been fine “because he can literally fly” (4), despite Techno repeatedly explaining that he couldn’t have taken on a whole army.

His attempts to explain himself are denied, and he is unable to articulate fully why he did what he did. Not only does he incorrectly summarise the threat of death as being “Peer pressure”, but Tommy and Wilbur repeatedly ignore him and repeat the same argument over and over.

Wilbur, in this situation, is the one in control of what is occurring. He encourages Tommy’s anger, he ignores Techno all together and he ultimately decides on “The Pit” and it’s rules. This is dehumanising for both Techno and Tommy. The pit is reminiscent of gladiator battles against animals, visually we see it carved out the walls and undecorated. It positions Tommy and Techno lower than Wilbur, both literally and metaphorically.

He does not allow Techno to throw the first punch, instead encouraging Tommy to take out his anger using violence instead of listening to Techno. The fight begins once Tommy decides to act. (5)

The Red Festival marked a split in viewers. Those who watched Tommy, Wilbur or Tubbo, still saw Techno as a flat character with few emotions, someone be watched, but not to be empathized with, a symbol of the growing distrust among pogtopians. Techno's veiwers instead see him as someone suffering from Schlatt’s rule, where he was unable to do otherwise, and then was cast aside by what were supposed to be his allies.

Techno goes against what Wilbur and Tommy want, not by his own choice, and is punished for it through distrust and anger.

As a whole, the Red festival brings the concept of agency and personhood to the center of Techno's character.

Between

Between this and the next major event, the theme is not explicitly revisited other than recurring references to the execution. Tommy forgives him, Tubbo forgives him and Wilbur congratulates him. After a moment of tension we see it simmer down again.

However, it does simmer in the background. Wilbur lies to Techno about his goals of anarchy (6) which misleads Techno about the purpose of the revolution. He obtained weapons, gear and food under the pretense they were overthrowing the government and disbanding it all together.

THIS IS HIM BEING USED.

Someone deliberately misleading a person about why they should work for them, they are being used. If I spend hours doing work collecting money for someone after they told me they were doing a charity fund, and it turns out they were using it to fund an oil company, I have been used. I did not make the decision to fund the oil company of my own volition, I was denied agency.

In the same way, Techno maybe acting freely, but he cannot make meaningful choices, as he is being misled. He is not able to control how and why he acts.

While agency is not the central focus on this part of the story (it's wilburs mental spiral) it runs as an undercurrent.

The tension rises as we get closer and closer to the revolution

NOV16

It was at this moment that I realised I’d been used…. In the end, they’d only been using me to seize [power] for themselves (7)

After realising that they had intended to set up another government all along, and after Wilbur blows everything up, after his allies proved themselves to have been lying, he spawns Withers.

Within the stream, Techno’s speeches center both anarchy and betrayal. He talks extensively on how the time and effort he had put in was being used to replicate the systems that brought about the conditions of Manburg. They went against everything he stood for (8)

These speeches are reinforced by the fact he delivers them to people who are wearing the armour he acquired. It reframes the previous friendship and comradery between the pogtopians to being based on deceit.

This is when we revisit what was set up in the Red festival, and also the undercurrent of between plot points. He was still being used and seen as a weapon, and this is where that clashes with who Techno actually is. He is not a weapon to be wielded, without wants or desires, that can be used without issue, who needs no control over his how and why he acts, he is a person with internal goals and motivation, that are independent from Tommy, Wilbur, Tubbo and Niki ect.

.

There is also a focus on refusal of these conditions.

NOV 16 was not a fight Techno won, it was a last ditch effort to prevent people from taking advantage of him and replicating systems that cause “countless atrocities” (9). Techno does not succeed on NOV 16. While he does impact the land in terms of violence, L’manburg ultimately rebuilds and reforms. His attempt to control his own past was futile, and he does not get to change how he was used.

However, he was able to freely control how and why he acted on NOV 16th. He was exercising his agency in these moments, even though he sacrificed his perceived personhood as he did it.

Other revolutionaries' surprise at Techno’s actions showed they hadn't been listening to him, they had not been thinking of him as more than just a tool used to plan and acquire resources. The fact they did not listen to him even when he was clear about his goals, is something that he brings up a lot and clearly stuck with him.

He got approval from them while he was giving them things, and while they didn’t listen to what he had to say, and then when he exercised agency and made his words un-ignorable, he was villainized. (10)

From this we see him internalise the idea that people’s love is contingent on his capacity to be exploited.

That being seen as a person is incompatible with exercising agency.

I see I was wrong to rely on other people (11)

Retirement:

After being used by L’manburg, Techno isolates himself.

He'd lost everything, he'd failed to achieve anarchy, failed to prevent a government from reforming and found out his friends had been using him. What they had was formed on false premises.

This is where his relationship with agency and dehumanization are more stable, however this was earned through choosing isolation. He decides he cannot trust other people and instead has to live alone in order to protect his personhood.

It's a time where we see him re-evaluate his own methods, and his relationship with violence and other peoples' agency. He plans to change his method of spreading anarchy from one of violence to one of information.

“You just can’t free people who don’t wanna be freed, I think the real way to achieve our goals … is to prove that our ideals are the best (12)

It is a moment of reprieve from the intensity of revolution, this is where Techno does a lot of introspection.

In terms of pacing his streams, he had longer solo streams that focused on him gathering materials and telling stories. As a result we slow down and consider Techno as a character. This is the first time we see Techno entirely separate from other people, and not actively preparing for war. It is a period of time where viewers are encouraged to connect with Techno outside of revolution, and see him as a person.

The place he ends up as well is noted to be cold and barren (13), a absent of life, absent of people to exert control over him. Visually it is untouched by other people, a place with no history. It is vast and empty unlike the closed space of the ravine. It provides an opportunity to start fresh, to try again. This is where the arctic being a place of healing is born. It is a place of peace.

However, he exists in negative peace, the absence of conflict rather than the presence of justice.

While he has found himself a place where his agency is not violated, and his personhood is not reliant on other peoples view of him, it is a place of instability, of isolation. This is what we see unravel next. (Post coming in a few days maybe)

////

After thoughts

Okay this marks the end of what I consider to be his first arc in terms of Techno's relationship with agency. He starts with little to none but a lot of companionship, and ends with full control over himself but little to no friends.

I have left a lot out here. The theme of agency and personhood is just one of the many many themes techno embodies. It connects hugely to power, to communication, to loyalty, all of which are things explored by the DSMP as a whole. Much was sacrificed in the name of brevity and even then I failed.

These posts were originally going to 1 big post but I got like a 3rd of the way through and had hit 2k… so I decided to split them up a little more.

This is my first attempt at this sorta analysis and its been fun if difficult. I don't expect to be perfect by any means, my formal education in this sorta thing finished longgg ago, but it's been good to give it ago. Discussions are welcome

As always, sources will be added in the reblog. Hopefully this is something that persuades people that techno does have a story and plot. Sources will be in the reblogs as always

[kass-storycorner]

Hello!! i stumbled across your works and i absolutely fell inlove with your writing (especially the angsty ones)

Can i jump on the angst train and request a fic with a line that goes "I'm here, you dont have to wait anymore," with childe? Like maybe the reader told childe that theyll wait for him no matter how long it takes (and maybe a sprinkle of argument) but something happened that made the reader be on the brink of death. With or without comfort/happy ending is up to u!!

first of all thank you so much for the request! and it really makes me so happy to hear that you like my writing, especially my angst haha secondly I am so sorry that this took so long, since I saw this ask in my inbox I couldn't stop thinking about it and finished the first part of this pretty quickly - only to be stuck at how to end it (and actually fulfill the request haha). right now i am not really happy with the ending, though I feel like this is the best I can currently do! I really hope you enjoy, please let me know if it was alright haha (also I fear that I didn't really...wrote Childe in-character, I don't know)

Waiting for you

Genre: Angst, Hurt, comfort at the end

Characters: Childe x gn!reader (Childe is referred by is actual name by the reader, but outside of dialog he's called Childe)

Format: bullet points (backstory) + Text (actual fic, answer to the prompt)

Word count: 4324

Content warning: veeeery slight spoiler warning for the Liyue quests, its literally just one sentence and I tried to keep it as ambigious as possible, slight cursing (using the word bitch too, though thats the only instance of using gendered-vocab for the reader, i still wrote them gn!), mention of blood, mild violence, not proof-read ahah when will i ever do that

you can find the fic under the cut, have fun reading!

You and Childe knew each other since you were just little kids – him and his family being neighbours had meant you always ended up playing with him and his siblings, though you both got along the best.

On more than one occasion you both just ran off to somewhere no one could disturb you, your secret hideout, trading stories of great warriors from outside of Snezhnaya you heard the fishermen at the docks talk about.

Most people and children were wary of Childe, he was always the one who wanted to ‘play-fight’, which ended most of the time with the other kid running home, crying. However, you were the exception, always able to beat him or at least have a tie. Your parents, especially your father, hated it when you came back home with bruises on your arm, a bright smile and telling how you beat Childe up that day. He never felt like Childe was someone you should surround yourself with, but he kept quite for your younger years, also thanks to your mother who wasn’t fond of the fighting either but saw how much time with Childe meant to you.

Things however changed after Childe fell into the Abyss.

It was apparent how violent he got after it, even his own family was completely helpless when it came to him. So his father send him off to join the Fatui, which was a very controversial decision in the small town you both called home – most were happy to not have Childe be around anymore, for he picked up more and more fights and became more violent, but even within Snezhnaya the Fatui have a bad reputation, so most people were convinced that he would only become even worse.

Your father was one of those who was happy, but also concerned. Your mother died shortly after Childe fell into the Abyss, so your father forbade you any contact with Childe.

This, however, did not work. After Childe had to leave Morespesok you kept in touch through letters and whenever he was in town you always met up in secret.

The letters you send each other turned sweeter the older you got, changing the feelings for friendship you both felt for each other slowly into a romantic love. Childe always ended his letter with saying that he would return soon and you always with “I’ll be waiting for you Ajax”.

You always looked forward to his letters and so did he for yours. When he came back to Morespesok after every mission he had to do for the Fatui you both would meet up in your secret hideout. This place became your save haven. Conversations, hugs, kisses and even more – everything that wasn’t written in a letter between you two happened there.

Childe was fine with this and so were you. He didn’t want people to know there was someone he loved as much as he loved you, as one of the Harbringers of the Fatui it could endanger you. You on the other hand were fine with it because, even though you had no understanding for why your father forbad you the relationship with Childe, you couldn’t stomach to disappoint him. After all he was your father and you loved him dearly, no matter how much you both might disagree on things.

Still, you longed for something more – with Childe and for your own life. You wanted to travel too; you haven’t had the chance to leave Morespesok past the few neighbouring villages. So, when Childe wrote to you that after his next visit, which would only be a few days long, he was going to Liyue and didn’t knew for how long he had to stay there – you asked him in your reply if you could join him. Him writing that it wasn’t possible and better for you to stay in Morespesok and just wait for him hurt, but you understood. You are fine with waiting for him, you always were.

You were expecting a sad but loving last night with Childe before he had to leave, ending with a bittersweet goodbye. You weren’t expecting what happened instead.

Childe was angry, it was clear to see. The moment he stepped into your secret hideout you knew something was off – how he averted your eyes, how he didn’t return your kiss with a passionate one, like usual. “Ajax”, you purred in a sweet voice, “what’s wrong?”. You tried to take his hand, but he only pulled it away. Ah, that was unusual. He never refused your touch, no matter how angry he was before. “There is nothing wrong, I just was curious if there is something you want to tell me?”, he replied in a bitter tone, not even looking at you. It took you completely off guard; you saw him be angry or sulky before, you two had your fair share of arguments in the past, but somehow this was different. “No, there is nothing except for the fact that I missed you very much,” you told him, but you could feel how you started to become irritated. When you saw him two days ago visiting your family’s shop with Teucer he gave you a warm and loving smile, winking at you when he handed you that piece of paper asking to meet up tonight. What had happened in between that made him act like this? “Tsk, fine,” and with that he was on his way out. You moved quickly in front of him, blocking the way out. “Now wait a moment, would you kindly tell me what is going on here?”. He just quietly looked at you for a few seconds before he shoved you aside. “AJAX!”, you couldn’t hide your irritation and growing anger anymore, burying your fingers in his arm in order to stop him from leaving. “What did I do to make you be angry at me?”. “It doesn’t matter”, Childe replied coldly, while trying to get you to loosen your grip on his arm. “Now let me go and run home to your father and your fiancé, I bet they are already asking where you are right now.” “My what?” you replied with bewilderment. “Childe, is that why you are angry with me? Because you think I am engaged to someone else?”. Honestly, you would find this situation hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that Childe still looked at you with a sour face. “Well, I don’t think you are engaged to someone else; I know you are. Your father was really excited about the whole thing when he told me, he even invited me to your wedding, granted if I could find the time.” As he said this, he noticed how your face was a combination of confusion and anger. And oh yes, were you angry. Angry at your father for telling such blatant lies and at Childe for believing them, confused as to why he would even believe your father in the first place. “Ajax, I-“you let go of his arm, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting out a deep sigh. “I am engaged to no one, never was. I didn’t tell you this, because I didn’t want to upset you or worry you needlessly, but maybe I should’ve done it. My father continuously tries to marry me off whenever he finds anyone, he deems a worthy suitor. I guess he might have found one of your letters, though he never said anything about it, but I can’t explain why he suddenly started to become so interested in my marital status. Every few weeks he brings another person home, tells me I should marry them, for me to turn those poor fools down and tell my father he should stop. Most accept it that I have no interest in them, some stick around for a few weeks until the realise that nothing will come of it, but yeah. Ask anyone, Archons ask your family, it’s already a running joke here.” You expected the atmosphere to become less tense after you explained the whole situation to him, for him to even turn it into a joke and to apologise for his behaviour. Instead, it just grew more tense. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”, his voice still being cold, underneath it you could hear how angry he still was. “Because it wasn’t important, at least not to me. Honestly Ajax, I don’t see what the issue is here. I am not engaged and I do not plan to agree to one unless-“, you stopped yourself right there. ‘Unless it’s you who’s asking’, is what you wanted to say. You could feel how your heart fluttered even just at the thought. Childe, however, did not notice where you were going with your last sentence, too

occupied with his own anger. “Unless what?”. “It doesn’t matter, can’t we just drop the topic and enjoy our first and last night in months with each other without fighting?”, this was your last offer of peace, hoping he would finally calm down. But you knew deep down – Childe never was one to back out of a fight. “No no no, continue, tell me what you wanted to say!”, his voice growing louder and louder with every word. “Ajax, let it be,” you really weren’t in the mood for anything tonight anymore and the least you wanted to do was discuss your wish of a future with him. “No, I won’t. Tell me, because I would love to know. Or don’t, you can also just go and choose one of the various suitors your father picked out for you to fuck, I bet you really enjoy it how they are all standing in line for you,” he spit his words out, full of anger and disgust. This was the final straw for you, it was apparent that Childe choose words that he knew would hurt you with intent and it made you explode. “You know what? I’ve had enough!”, you screamed at him, feeling how tears were pooling in the corner of your eyes. Not out of sadness or because his words hurt, those were tears of pure rage. “You come in here, after I haven’t seen you in weeks, before you leave for an unspecified amount of time and all you have to do is pick a fight? Fine, here have a fight! You are unhappy that I didn’t tell you how my father wants to force me in a marriage I don’t want to be in? Boho, I am so so sorry for you Ajax. Really, I can’t fathom to imagine how much you must struggle with this, but oh well, life must be so hard when you keep travelling around Teyvat. Because I really can’t imagine how life would be outside this place, what it’s like to have anything to do. Have you ever noticed, ever realised how much I hate it? Hate the wating? Because that’s all I do! I wait for your letters, and I wait for you to return. All I ever do I wait, wait, wait. Wait for you to come home yes and wait for you to finally be ready for something, anything more!”, the tears were now streaming down your hot, angry face. Childe just looked at you, waiting for you to end what you had to say. “I am tired of waiting! I am tired of keeping us hidden, yes, I agreed to it too in the beginning, but now? Dammit, Ajax. I don’t want to be left alone here when you go to Liyue, I don’t want to wait if I don’t know for how long I should wait. I just- “it became harder for you to speak, sobs interrupting you every few seconds. “I wish you would let me join you.” Except for your sobs, which you tried to supress, silence fell over the two of you. Childe just stood there in front of you, watching how you tried to stop the tears. “You know I can’t take you with me. It’s… it’s not safe,” he said after a while. You didn’t expect for him to change his mind, however his words didn’t make you feel any better… on the contrary they made you feel even feel worse. “Leave me alone,” was all you could tell him in that moment. You didn’t want to have him near you, you didn’t want to see his stupid face or look at his sad, blue eyes. Right now, you only wanted to be alone. “(Y/N)”, Childe began softly, wanting to take you in his arms but the look you gave him made him stop dead in his tracks. “Please, I need to be alone now”. The atmosphere was heavy, both of you didn’t want to part on bad terms but – right now wasn’t the right moment to make up. “I will leave you alone, but (Y/N)”, he said, looking at you with regret about how he acted just earlier, “please wait for me.” You scoffed at his words. Wait for him, again. “(Y/N)”, you turned away, so you didn’t have to see his face when he spoke your name again. “(Y/N), please. Please promise me that you will wait for me, I’ll come back, I promise you and I will make up for this… and for making you always wait for me. I promise. You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” At the mention of the nursery rhyme you had to chuckle a bit. “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend,

the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again,” you finished it, looking back at him. “Fine, I’ll wait. But leave now.” And with that Childe left you alone, leaving Morespesok for Liyue the next day.

It has been a few months now since Childe came to Liyue and while his endeavours here were more or less successful, what was on his mind most of the days was you and how you both parted. He wanted to kick himself in the arse for how he acted that day, for making you so angry and for making you cry. The worst however is how you haven’t written him a single letter yet and Childe, though he would never admit it because of his pride, was too scared to send you one first. That he should be the first one to send you a letter was something he was aware of but still – he couldn’t find the right words. What should he write? Every time he sat down at his desk, looking at the piece of paper in front of him… he was never able to make it past “Dear (Y/N)”, and even with this he wasn’t sure, maybe “Beloved” would sound better? Childe would’ve even considered asking Zhongli for advice, however after finding out that Childe was just a pawn in his plans – he still considers Zhongli a friend, but before he could ask for advice the feeling of betrayal needs to fade out. And now he got the order to return to Snezhnaya by the end of the next month… he felt so anxious at the thought of seeing you again, not even knowing what happened with you the past months. So in the letter to his family in which he announced is return, Childe asked them, after months of not hearing anything from or about you, how you were. When he held the letter of his family in his hands, he started to feel nervous, it included the answer of your wellbeing. He knew you would keep your promise, but still. What if when not? Reading the contents of the letter, however, made him wish that he had asked sooner. Childe couldn’t stop reading the few lines his family wrote about you over and over again.

You asked about (Y/N) wellbeing in your last letter. Ajax, we wish we could tell you some more pleasant news than this, but we haven't seen or heard anything of (Y/N) for a week now. No one really knows where they might be, the last we know is that they left their home after a fight with their father, but there is nothing more we can tell you.

After reading those few lines, the letter already crumply at the edges from the way he held onto it, Childe decided to immediately make his way back home. In his opinion it didn't matter if he returned sooner than ordered and that was a problem he will face later. For now, he wanted to know what had happened to you, because he couldn't, didn’t want to, believe that you left Morepesok... you promised that you would wait for him. But doubt crept into his heart and his mind - you were so frustrated with waiting, he noticed it before you even said anything that night. However, he kept ignoring it. It wasn't like that Childe didn't also wish for more, to build a home with you, to spend more time with you. The feeling of not being good enough for you, something your father and others in Morepesok made clear to him since your childhood together, and the fear of putting a visible target on your back by being by your side... all of it held him back.

The way back home only took him a few days and when he came close to his village, seeing the once so well-known roofs and chimney of the houses, he took a junction into the woods, making his way to the secret hideout of you two. When he arrived, he noticed how it looked lived in, at first a relive for Childe, until he saw the traces of a fight - and blood on the floor. He was quick to follow the trail of blood, the father he went away from the hideout the more blood was on the ground. Suddenly he could hear a strangers voice in the distance.

"Answer me you stupid bitch!", you felt a hand pulling you up by your hair, but you were already too tired, too beaten up and injured to even respond to that violent pull. All you tried to do was to keep your hands on your stomach, trying to stop the blood from gushing out. You could barely remember what had happened, how you got there. It all started over a week ago, when you father came with another suitor wanting to marry you. Like always you turned him down, saying you had no interest in marriage, this time however he wasn't as understand as the others were. The whole thing ended in you having a huge fight with your father about it, he tried to pressure you even more than usual to take that fella as your husband. It made you sick, you just couldn't stomach being around him anymore. You always wanted to make him happy, always feared of disappointing him. But this? Him asking you to marry a random person? It was something you just couldn't do. So you went away, ran out to the little hideout planning to stay there until Childe came back. You wanted to wait for him - you even got over your stupid pride and sent away a letter for him earlier this morning... and maybe this was your mistake. Carefully you tried not to be noticed by the people in your village, you didn’t want anyone to worry about you, however you also didn’t want to explain your disappearance for the last few days. The man who your father tried you to accept as a fiancé however seemed to have spotted you when you left the post-office. It was already too late when you realised that you were followed - the man made his way into the place that was only meant for you and Childe. After that your memory started to get blurry, how was that even possible it just had happened. He attacked you, you fought back, though the man was just stronger... you ran away, feeling the blood already coming from your stomach. Your body started to become weaker, your legs grew heavier and slower until you fell. Now he was above you, grabbing your hair and screaming. It was hard to even focus on what that man said to you, too tired grew your body and mind. 'I have to stay awake', you thought. It was clear that if you lost consciousness now... well, who knows what would happen then, you only knew it wouldn't be good. You had to wait for Childe, you had to be there when he got home.

There were more than a few things in Childes live he wished he never had to see. Seeing your limp body, blood streaming out of your stomach which you could barley cover with your hand, your hair in the hands of some stranger and your eyes struggling to stay open – yes, Childe wished this was something reserved for his nightmares, not for the reality he had to face now. It didn’t even take second for him to react at that sight, swiftly being next to that man and cutting his hand off with one of his blades, kicking the rest of him away. Childe would have loved to take his time with that man, torture him, make him regret that he was born, but what was more important was to stop your bleeding. Quickly Childe sat down next to you on the ground, using his scarf to stop the bleeding. “Ajax,” he could hear you whisper quietly. “Hey, I’m here, everything is fine, everything is going to be okay.” You desperately tried to keep your eyes open, to look at him. He was a mess, his eyes filled with fear and panic spread across his face. Never had you seen him with such an expression. For only what felt a few seconds you closed your eyes and then – “Hey, (Y/N) hey, open your eyes, talk to me”, you opened them and realised that you were in Childes arms now, his eyes switching from you to what was apparently the way to Morepesok. “Ajax…”, it was so cold. When did it became so cold again? “I waited for you and now you’re here… I waited. Kept my promise.” The last few words came out slurred. “Yes, I'm here, you don’t have to wait anymore. I promise you don’t have to wait for me ever again, just please-“ his breathing was heavy, he ran as fast as he could to the village in the hopes that the healers there could help you, that there was anyone who was able to help you now. “Please, don’t close your eyes, okay?” Before you could even answer him that you will try to keep them open you could already feel yourself slip out of conscious again. All you could say before everything went dark was his name again. “Ajax…”

The first thing you noticed was a warm hand on yours. Even before you opened your eyes you knew which hand it was. “Ajax,” you were a bit shocked at the sound of your own voice. It sounded so weak. You opened your eyes, seeing into those deep blue eyes looking at you. “(Y/N)”, he didn’t sound any better. Only now you started to notice the dark circles under his eyes and how his hair looked even messier than usual. Was he by your side the whole time? “How are you feeling?”. “Better than you apparently”, you joked, weakly grinning at him. He smiled back, rubbing the backside of your hand with his thumb. “I’m glad you’re better,” he replied quietly, looking down at the hand he was holding. “I’m glad you’re here.” At that his smile faded, turning into a sad expression and you already knew what this meant. “Don’t tell me…” “I’m sorry, I wasn’t even supposed to be here just yet and my early departure from Liyue apparently has caused some issues and… well, I was able to stay here until you woke up. The deal was when you wake up or-, well that doesn’t matter now. The deal was that I had to go back and fix the damage I caused once you wake up, which is honestly way more generous than I had anticipated.” You didn’t really understand what he was exactly talking about, you were still tired, but all you knew was that he had to go again. There wasn’t any energy left in your body to hold back the tears that were now falling down your face. Childe cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Hey, listen,” he said softly. “I promise you won’t have to wait for too long, when you recovered, I will send for you.” At this your ears peaked, looking at Childe with hopeful eyes. “Send for me, you mean-?”. “Yes, this time around I’ll be the one waiting for you to arrive in Liyue and not you’re waiting for me to come home.” At that you threw your arms around his neck wanting to hug him, causing you to hiss in pain. You forgot that you still had a stomach wound. “Careful now”, he laughed a bit at how enthusiastic you were about the news that you forgot your injury. “You promise that I will really join you in Liyue?”, you still couldn’t fully believe that he really was fine with it. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice,” you leaned back and held your pinkie up in the air. Childe smiled at you softly, interlocking his pinkie with yours. “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again.”

[yeah-i-like-to-write]

nahoya x male house wife

the gang goes to nahoyas house and they meet his house wife who babys them and cooks for them etc. and refuses to leave

I could not find any rules

Fun fact is I have no rules! As long as it’s sfw.

(Instead of nahoya’s house,it’s the readers house. And he’s housewife material)

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Pairing: Nahoya kawata x Male reader

As in gang I mean: Draken,Mikey,souya,mitsuya and Baji.

Warnings: None

Humming softly to yourself as you removed the pan from the stove and quickly poured it into a serving bowl. There was the curry,all you needed was to put the rice into the other serving bowl,so you did just that.

Your boyfriend asked if he and his friends could come over tonight to hang out,and due to your parents being away you said yes,which made him send multiple smiley faces and hearts with a thank you.

You placed a stack of 6 plates and 6 pairs of silver ware,along side napkins. Clapping happily you as you finished,but you were quickly interrupted by a knock on the door. You walked over and checked the peephole. There stood nahoya,souya,Mikey,draken and mitsuya. Your boyfriend and his friends.

“Hello!” You waved to everyone as soon as you opened the door,receiving multiple “yo’s” and a “hey” from mitsuya. You stepped aside and invited them all in,to which they accepted and walked in,looking around. The smell of food instantly hit their noses and they looked back at you.

“Did you cook something,YN?” Mikey asked as he and the others took off their boots and coats. You nodded. “What kind of boyfriend am I if I let him and his friends starve?” You joked to which they all agreed then laughed. Walking ahead of the boys you lead them to the living room that was connected to the kitchen.

“Does anyone want a plate yet?” You asked pas you hovered your hands above the serving spoons. Nahoya nodded before standing besides you,watching as you got him a plate. Handing it to him his grin went to a smile.

“Thank you,lovebug” he quickly pecked your cheek,causing your face to heat up. “What’s this? You gettin’ shy on me again?” He teased causing you to shove lightly his shoulder with a laugh. He went to sit on the floor infront of the dining table,by souya.

“Do you want a plate,draken?” You asked,looking up at the tall man. He paused nervously before shaking his head. “I can serve it myself” you shook your head. “It’s fine draken,I can just server you one.” You replied and pat his shoulder as if you were the taller one. He simply nodded and handed you his plate. Once you were done he slightly bowed. “Thank you,Yn” you smiled and nodded before grabbing another plate.

“Souya?mitsuya?Mikey? Do you guys want any,I made a lot of food but only nahoya and draken have gotten some” you said with a small pout. Souya stood up and walked over. “Can you please serve me a plate,YN?” He asked softly. You nodded with a smile. “Of course!” You quickly added half rice,half curry onto the plate and handed it to him with silverware. He nodded and muttered a soft thankyou before walking back.

“Mitsuya?mikey?” They both got up and headed over to you. “Please fix us plates,YN” mitsuya asked kindly with Mikey nodding in the background. You nodded with a smile and fixed them both plates,earning a thank you from the both of them.

Before Mikey could walk away you held his shoulder softly. “I have some dorayaki in the oven,it’s already made. Let me know if your still hungry after the curry” you flashed him a soft smile. His face instantly lit up as he nodded repeatedly. You only laughed as he walked away with a smile on his face.

You sighed happily seeing all the food was finally gone. You looked over at smiley and saw him nodding as if he were agreeing to something. You listened as you put things away.

“Your boyfriend is like- amazing.” Mikey said excitedly.

“I agree,protect him smiley. They only come once in a lifetime.” Draken pat his shoulder.

“I’ve never met a boy that could cook and be so nice to people he just met.” Mitsuya cooed after he swallowed his food.

“That’s my brother-in-law alright.” Souya added on.

“Hey! We’re not married- we’re 16!” Nahoya whisper-yelled,trying not to be too loud.

“Yet.” They all said asynchronously.

At this point you were a smiling idiot,you were very happy that they all thought so highly of you when it’s your first time meeting them. Not only were you smiling,your face was on fire.

You walked over to nahoya,flashing a smile to the others before you bent over to the sitting pinkette. “You have something on your face..” you mumbled as you wiped his cheek with your thumb. “Thank you,lovebug. Why don’t you sit and eat with us?” He asked.

“I uh,I’m not hungry right now?” You replied,questioning your own statement. You shrugged it off and sat next to him,awkwardly staring at the table.

“So,YN.” Your figure practically perked up as you sat straight,looking at Mikey. “Hm?” You asked. “Are you what they call,a housewife?” Draken quickly flicked Mikey’s head before apologizing for his bluntness.

“It’s okay,it’s okay really. But if I had to answer I guess I’d say yeah.” Your voice was nervous and quiet. Everyone thought the childish teen made you somewhat uncomfortable,so they tried moving to another topic.

“How did you meet nahoya?” Mitsuya asked while he took another bite of his food. Nahoya raised his hand. “I know- I rennet how we met!” He acted as if he was waiting on a teacher to pick him which caused you all to laugh.

“Okay nahoya,tell them” you smiled at him. “We met a fair!” He yelled. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “How did we meet,nahoya?.” He let out an “oh” of realization before telling everyone.

You ran,trying not to trip as it poured down. It was raining harshly and there was nowhere you could take cover. You were in a hakama with a haori,getting absolutely soaked. Until you bumped into someone sending you back.

You were about to fall into the ground before a hand grabbed your own and pulled you to their chest. Your face was on fire,you didn’t know who it was but this was such a cliche start to romance in every book or manga. You looked up after noticing rain wasn’t hitting you anymore.

There he was,hovering over you with his coat. “What do we have here?” The pinkette cooed. “Im sorry! It’s raining down terribly and I wasn’t looking where I was going!” You apologized which caused him to laugh.

“It’s okay,I wasn’t looking either. I have a bike not far from here. Maybe I can drive you home?” He asked with a light blush spreading across his cheeks.

You noticed the golden words that were embroidered into his jacket. He must’ve meant a motorcycle bike. You nodded while looking up at him and watched as his cheeks flush more.

You both ran to the parking lot sharing the coat as cover. You both laughed as you made it to the bike and got on,put on helmets before speeding away. The rain felt like it was barley touching you as he drove.

“I forgot to introduce to myself,I’m nahoya!” He yelled over the loud engine. “I’m YN! And hey this is my stop!” You pointed to a house and he nodded.

Once you both came to a stop you took off His helmet and handed it to him. “Thank you nahoya! I wrote my number on your hand if you want to hang out anytime soon” you smiled and his face exploded into red. “Thank you for the fun time,YN!” You laughed and waved as you walked to the porch of your house before being let in.

You were all laughing at the shared memory. “Sounds like smiley alright!” Draken declared. You all slowly came to a halt when you heard a car pulling up.

“Oh god those are my parents- please give me your plates!” You quickly collected all of them before running to the dishwasher and putting them there.

“It was so nice to have you all!” You bowed to which they returned it. “Thank you for the food!” They all yelled a synchronously. You watched as nahoya stood and walked over to you.

Both of your lips connected at he kissed you. The others looking away awkwardly. Your hands gripped onto his jacket,letting him know you needed air. After you both finished your faces were red and warm. He snickered at your face before turning to grab his things.

“Sorry everyone! But can you please leave through the back door?” They all nodded beofre grabbing their things and following you to the door.

You gave everyone a side hug as they exited,you grabbed Mikey’s wrist and pulled him back. “Here is your dorayaki,Mikey!” You handed him a container and watched as his face lit up.

“Thank you YN!” He smiled widely as he exited the house.

“Bye lovebug” smiley cooed as he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Bye-bye” you waved as they left.

You closed the door as took off your apron,setting it on the table. You went to sit down on the couch and waited for your parents to walk in.

What a goodnight.

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Request are open!

[peculiar-lover]

Appreciated

A.n: I noticed that I didn't have much fluffy stuff when it came to our lovely Neville. So hope you enjoyed this quick writing I literally wrote in like 30 mins, so sorry if it's kind of bad. I got the idea from the tik tok "I just wanna be appreciated"

Y/n notices Neville Longbottom as everyone in Hogwarts is buzzed out on the Triwizard tournament. Neville tries to help put his friend as best as he can but is brushed off, y/n notices this.

Everyone around you seemed riled up, going crazy about how each of the four "lucky" contestants were going to get through the next tournament or who was going to win. You on the other hand thought that the whole tournament was barbaric and an instant death call, you didn't want to see anyone get hurt. You couldn't get any quiet anywhere around your dorm or common room, so you were now sitting by yourself at the library hoping to get some school work done.

You were finally free from all the talking about the Triwizard tournament, or so you thought. Before you knew it, you heard Harry, Ron, and Hermoine talking about the tournament on the other side of the bookshelf. You felt frustrated and annoyed once again, but couldn't seem to ignore them. There was a small section in the bookshelf that was slightly empty and small enough to be able to see the trio clearly, but not big enough for them to notice you watching them, snooping into their every word. You didn't hear much until you saw both Hermoine and Ron being asked to leave. You saw that professor Moody called in a boy.

"Neville, help Harry put away his books." A boy walked awkwardly to Harry. Your eyes widened slightly as you saw his face. Cute. You thought to yourself seeing Neville for the first time. You decided this time to stop snooping and focus back on your school but your ears started listening as Neville started to talk about wood?

"You know if you're interested in plants, you'd be better off with a gersherks guide to herbology, " Neville started. His words hooked you only because you were going to take his advice and look into the book yourself. You were not doing too well in Herbology.

You peeked again through the bookshelf to look at Harry's Reaction, he didn't seem too interested. It made your brows furrow a tad but you kept listening as Neville continued.

"There is a wizard, i-in Nepal who is growing gravity-resistant trees--" Harry interrupted him.

"Neville, no offense but I really don't care about plants." His words seemed to obviously upset Neville. Harry got up from his seat, looking frustrated, and left. Through the small hole, you could see Neville start stacking his books.

"I think that's fascinating." You stated softly enough for Neville to search where the voice came from. You stood from your spot and went around the bookshelf and showed yourself. Neville blushed a bit realizing that you heard Harry brush him off. "I-im sorry?" Neville mumbled, trying to confirm if you were talking about his previous topic.

"T-the gravity resistant wood. I think that's fascinating and might be quite useful information one day considering I really like to play quidditch." You smiled at him, while slowly grabbing a few of Harry's books and helping Neville stack them up.

"R-really? I just found out about it i-in the daily prophet. They always have the latest herbology news." Neville continued. You giggled, realizing that Neville was pretty passionate and well acquainted with Herbology.

"That's nice to know, I'll definitely look more into that section from now on. I may not be so good at Herbology, but I do appreciate how fascinating and powerful the subject is, in my opinion of course. Very complex." Neville's faced beamed. He felt excited that someone was interested in his words.

"I've always said the same. I-i love herbology, though my grandma doesn't really like that. B-but I try to learn as much as I can."

"That's nice." You smiled kindly not really knowing how to answer him. You didn't want to barge into his relationship with his grandma so quickly especially since you've just met him. He also kept quiet trying to find a way to continue the conversation. Not because he wanted to talk about his favorite subject, but because he wanted to continue talking to the cutest person he has ever met.

Neville noticed your body language and saw that you were planning to leave. "I can show you more!" He quickly said, quite loudly enough to catch your attention. "About other plants, I-if you'd like of course." Neville was nervous, embarrassed that he really just asked you that. He felt dumb knowing that you wanted to leave and not hang out with him anymore

"I'd love that actually." You cut him off from his panic. His eyes widened in shock and smiled giddily.

"Brilliant! I'll just put away the rest of these books." He started to say while rapidly stacking up books and carrying them. He then looked up from the stack that was in his hands and saw you carrying a stack of books that were higher than your head. You popped your head from the side of the stack.

"No need to do it all alone. This way we can get started much faster." You smiled. Neville smiled excitedly realizing that he will get to talk to you more.

A.n: hope y'all liked it! Please request other things you would like me to write! I'm realizing how hard it is now to come up with stuff lol. Please REBLOG! I love the hearts but if I see more reblogs I know that I need to update more!!!!

[moon-spirit-yue]

Fought for Me

Chapter 2: Ms. Perfectly Fine

(Chapter 1)

(Possible TWs: super brief mentions of an abusive relationship. It doesn't have anything to do with Raya or Charanya so it won't come up again and it's not very descriptive but I don't want to make anyone upset. Also a mild description of childbirth since that can also be a bit of a sensitive topic. I’ll make it obvious when the TWs begin and end. Please enjoy!)

See, Raya was expecting this outcome. Truly, she was. That still doesn’t take away the pure shock she felt at hearing what she already knew.

“Raya, are we still in there?” Charanya asked nervously, rubbing Raya’s shoulder to snap her out of whatever trance she’s in.

“I’m going to have a baby?” was all the Heart princess asked. Hwa smiled kindly and nodded.

“Yes, you are. Looks like you’re about six weeks along,” the medic agreed.

“Wow,” Raya breathed out. She gently placed a hand over her stomach and rubbed the area. Someone was growing in there. That’s kind of incredible.

“I take it you will be helping care for her and the baby?” Hwa asked, directing her attention to Charanya. The young omega nodded in confirmation. “Alright then. Step outside with me so that we can discuss what’s to be expected, how to make this pregnancy run smooth, all that stuff. I think she may need a minute to process.”

Raya’s best friend nodded once more and stood up to follow Hwa out of the tent. Before exiting, she turned back to Raya and squeezed her shoulder.

“We’ll be back in a couple minutes, okay?” Charanya whispered. Raya smiled and gave her tiny thumbs up. Watching the two women leave allowed the Heart princess to flop on the ground and try to recollect her thoughts.

She’s really doing this. She is having a whole child. Not just half of one, oh no, the entire kid. In like nine months. Technically closer to eight but even so. Wow.

Raya was going to give birth to a baby. Toi, she was going to have a tiny human to love and take care of. She’s getting a smaller version of herself to raise to be a good person. She’s going to have a mini family.

Raya’s eyes widened as she felt tears stream down her face. Honestly, the Heart princess never thought she would get this kind of opportunity. With an apocalypse dictating her entire world, even the idea that someone would get her pregnant is far fetched. She might not have chosen this particular time to get pregnant but hey, the best things in life are unexpected, she supposed.

“First things first we should go to Talon- hey hey why are there tears? Please don’t cry right now cause if you cry I cry and I really can’t deal with that right now,” Charanya whimpered, already rushing to Raya’s side. The older Heart omega laughed and shook her head.

“No I- I promise these are the good tears,” Raya choked out despite the crying.

“Okay, I can deal with the good tears,” Charanya smiled.

“I just- I never thought this would happen, you know? But now it’s here and- and I’m so excited but I’m so scared,” Raya stuttered out.

“I know, I know. Let it all out, I’m right here,” the shorter omega soothed, wrapping both arms around Raya.

The older omega leaned in and let the overpowering emotions wash over her. She went from sobbing to laughing to angrily screaming all in the span of ten minutes. Looks like the hormones are already kicking in.

Superb.

Once the Heart princess finally stopped her mental breakdown, Charanya shoved some tissues in her hand and yanked out a few pieces of paper from her bag.

“Uh, what do you got there, bestie?” Raya asked curiously.

“Information about pregnancy stuff and what our next moves will be,” Charnaya responded casually.

Raya rose a brow at all of the little scribbles her friend wrote on the pages. Damn, the girl worked fast. The older Heart omega is admittedly impressed.

“Well, lay it on me. What do I need to know?” Raya asked. The younger woman ruffled through her papers for a couple seconds and began to speak.

“First of all, no alcohol,” Charanya stated firmly, earning a loud groan from the pregnant woman.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to cope with my shitty life now?” the woman huffed. The shorter omega scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Okay, we both need to lay off on the alcohol consumption. It’s become a nasty habit over the years,” Charanya sighed. That is definitely a true statement.

While neither girls do anything risky like get black out drunk when they’re out venturing the lands, it’s a completely different story when they’re at Heart on their little boat house. Raya cringed at the memories of them downing way too much wine on the boat and vomiting for what felt like hours. They really did need to work on that, pregnancy or otherwise.

“Yeah, fair point,” Raya said. Neither of them could afford being alcoholics at the current moment in time.

“I was such a straight lace when I was younger. Hated even smelling alcohol. Still do, if I’m being honest. I only drink the nasty stuff to get drunk. Ma had to coerce me into trying her wine. Oh, what would my mother say if she could see me now?” the shorter omega asked with a far off look in her eyes.

“Well, I ended up pregnant at seventeen out of wedlock so don’t you worry, if the family comes back I’ll make you look like a saint,” Raya smirked. This caused her friend to laugh and shake her head.

“So in their eyes, nothing will really change,” Charanya giggled.

“Exactly. Besides, your mom will probably laugh when she hears that you’ve been drinking,” Raya grinned, thankful to see the smile on her only friend’s face.

Raya was always the one who managed to get them both into trouble, it kind of became her thing after a while. The only reason why their parents didn’t scold them until their ears fell off was because they were thankful the two girls were having fun together. Ah, the sweet memories. She really wishes there were a bit more of them.

“That is very true. Alright back on track, you’re also really going to need to watch what you eat. Yay, pregnancy!” Charanya cheered, waving her hands a bit for added effect.

Raya sighed and flopped on the ground face first. She’s probably going to lay like this for a while.

Completely ignoring the Heart princess’s sounds of distress, the shorter woman kept on telling Raya everything she needed to know about her pregnancy. The list felt like it was never ending and she almost cried tears of joy when Charanya’s words came to a halt.

“I never knew that much needed to be taken into consideration for pregnancy. Hard to believe that so many people practically kill themselves to go through this. Glad that’s the last of it, though,” Raya sighed. That’s when Charanya made a strange face that was a combination between a grimace and a frown. Oh, that doesn’t look good.

“Hey what’s with the face?” the pregnant omega frowned.

“You should also be aware of the fact that because of your omega instincts, you’re going to want to be around Namaari. Like, all the time,” Charanya grimaced. Raya groaned and rubbed her temples in order to suppress the ever growing migraine slowly building up.

“You’re telling me I’m actually going to miss the binturi because my omega decided to be a whore and get pregnant with Namaari’s kid?” Raya asked with a disappointed face.

“Afraid so,” the shorter woman frowned.

“How do you even know about all this stuff anyway?” Raya questioned. Charanya has a lot of knowledge about random things that the Heart princess hasn’t even thought about.

“Oh! I read about pregnancy and child care on a few of the days I wait for the crops to grow,” Charanya said, shrugging casually.

“You just read about that stuff for fun?” Raya groaned, feeling herself on the verge of vomiting once more.

“I literally ran out of things to read. You have no idea how long my days are out there,” the other Heart omega shivered.

“Well, that’s changing now that a baby is in the picture. Speaking of which, how exactly are we going to do this? The whole me searching the rivers to find Sisu thing is probably going to be a lot more challenging than before,” Raya said with a rather stressed voice. How the hell is she supposed to run from the authorities in these conditions?

“Oh, that’s simple. You won’t!” Charanya cheered. Raya glared and opened her mouth to protest before her best friend slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

“Before you say anything, I have a solution. At least, an idea that mostly resembles a solution,” she smiled awkwardly.

“I’m definitely going to hate this but go on,” Raya said with a deep frown on her face.

“Basically, the best way to do this with minimal repercussions is if we just switch spots during your second trimester. In other words, you have to drop off supplies to Heart refugees and I go try to find Sisu,” Charanya sighed, awaiting Raya’s reaction.

“I was right! I do hate this!” the taller woman scowled. Charanya took in a deep breathe to regain her thoughts, as terrible as they were.

“Look, I know this isn’t what you want because trust me, I’d rather not have to pretend to be you right now but it’s our best bet. There’s no way in hell you can live off the land, fight someone and have a whole child grow in your uterus without royally screwing something up. You’ve already done that once and we don’t need a repeat offense,” the young omega smirked.

“Go die,” Raya snapped with no real venom in her words.

“Toi, I wish. Anyways, as I was saying, you or the kid could get injured or die out there and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take and what I say goes. But, I know you don’t want to be feel useless which is why I think it’d be good for you to take my place in helping the refugees. In the meantime, I’ll finish following the rest of the rivers in Talon. After all the time I’ve spent there, I know the lay of the land pretty damn well. It’ll take me about three months to wrap it up, which means I’ll be right back with you to help you in the third trimester. Then once you give birth and recover, you can spend a few months bonding with the baby then go on to search the very few Tail rivers that exist and that’ll be that!” Charanya exclaimed in one breathe, surprisingly enough.

“This feels like a terrible idea,” Raya said after several beats of silence. The other woman sighed and nodded in agreement.

“It does, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, it’s our only idea that has even the slightest chance of working,” the younger omega frowned.

“Shit,” Raya groaned, knowing her best friend was right.

Charanya always thinks things through. If she says this is the best way to solve the problem, nine times out of ten she’s right on the money. Doesn’t mean Raya has to like it though.

“Fine. If you get yourself killed out there I’m going to laugh,” Raya said. The shorter woman snorted and shook her head.

“Fair enough. First things first, we need to get to Talon. I’ve got a lot of people I can blackmail into giving me what I want,” Charanya idly told her as she began flipping through more of her papers.

“Toi, and you say I’m the terrible one,” the Heart princess scoffed. It’s moments like these where she is extremely happy that Charanya is on her side.

“One of the perks of living in the brothel for a couple months. I hold knowledge that could ruin people’s lives forever,” the younger omega smirked with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Oooooookay you little psycho, focus,” Raya said, clapping her hands in front of Charanya’s face to snap her out of whatever creepy daze she was in.

“Right! Let’s pack it up here and we will hit the road!” the other woman exclaimed. She immediately began working in a hurried pace to gather all of their stuff and load it onto Tuk Tuk.

As Raya sat back and watched Charanya busy herself with getting ready to leave, she felt an odd feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, just odd. Something is off and Raya is unable to put her finger on it. She thought long and hard about it for a couple seconds before shrugging and standing up to leave.

Eh, it’s probably just the hormones.

****************************

“Just breathing in this air has to be detrimental to the baby’s health,” Raya scowled as she was forced to take in the Talon market’s oxygen.

It’s always been rather obvious that toxins float around in Talon’s air, but her sensitive pregnant lady nose picks up on it way more than usual. Especially now that she’s three months along.

The two girls were originally planning to gather the baby stuff right when Raya found out she was pregnant, but bandits have been roaming the area around Tail’s borders so neither one of them were willing to take the risk. They had to hang at Heart for a little while after that. Now that they seemed to have left, the omegas were back at it with finding baby items.

“Yeah, probably. Oh hey, that’s the house,” Charanya said, pointing to a nice little home a few feet away.

POSSIBLE TW START

Apparently, Charanya was not kidding when she said she knew someone who was on the run from her ex that has extra baby stuff she doesn’t use. They carefully opened the door to see the place completely thrashed. Charanya sighed quietly and shook her head, leading Raya through the wreckage.

“Shit, Rayna. The hell happened here?” the pregnant woman asked. Charanya cringed as she accidentally stepped in a pile of mud before continuing her path.

“Poor girl’s old alpha was a total ass. Scum of the earth, if you will. Possessive, manipulative, narcissistic, all the red flags. She only left because he backhanded their four year old kid. This must be his way of dealing with the loss,” the young omega grimaced. Raya felt her jaw drop and anger flare through her entire being. The thought of someone physically harming a child is absolutely appalling to her and her pregnant state of being.

“Well it’s a damn good thing she got away from him. I’d like to have a little chat with him. You know, just me, him, and all three of my knives,” Raya scowled.

“Ugh, I know. She was a total binturi, too, but I was horrified at what happened to her. I feel terrible now, and even worse since she was so willing to help us. I’ll be sure to drop off some extra food to her when I do my deliveries. Okay, on her note she said she put the baby stuff in her closet in the kitchen. It’s supposed to have a black handle so let me know when you find it,” Charanya told her, scanning the completely demolished kitchen.

“Oh, you mean this?” Raya asked, point right at the door her friend had been describing.

“That would be the one!” Charanya confirmed. She cautiously opened the door and lit a candle to see the room.

Raya was in awe of how much baby stuff was in one place. Everything you could think of including all the parts to build a crib, clothes, books, blankets, even unused diapers. Weirdly enough, they look like they haven’t even been touched.

“How does everything look so new in here?” the Heart omega asked in awe, holding up a small bunny plushie that doesn’t hold a spec of dirt on it.

“Her shitty alpha never let the poor kid use any of this stuff. Everything had to be approved by him or else it wasn’t allowed. Her mom and sister helped her pick out all of this really nice baby stuff, but he said he didn’t like any of it so it’s just been wasting away in here,” Charanya frowned.

“Toi, I really want to punch this guy,” Raya said, feeling her blood begin to boil.

“Pick fights after you delivered your child, please and thank you. Now come on, I can smell your pissed off pheromones. Work off that energy by loading everything onto Tuk Tuk,” Charanya said, already picking up a box of baby clothes.

Raya huffed and did as told in hopes it would distract her from her slightly murderous thoughts. By the time it was dusk, they were able to get everything on Tuk Tuk and were already planning the next move.

POSSIBLE TW END

Night time rides would be a lot nicer if the Druun weren’t lurking around every corner. Raya had to pull out the gem three times until they were able to find shelter for the night.

��It’s been such a damn day,” Raya sighed, rolling out her mattress and carefully laying down on the cushion that honestly did nothing for her.

“So true bestie,” Charanya sighed, following suit and instantly closing her eyes.

“Don’t die in your sleep, I have no clue how to set up the crib,” Raya smirked. She heard a muffled groan come from her left side and laughed at the other omega’s suffering.

“Bold of you to assume I know shit about building anything,” Charanya groaned.

“But you have to be the one to make it because I’m so pregnant and helpless!” Raya exclaimed with fake innocence.

“Damn you, Raya,” the younger woman grumbled tiredly. Raya’s laughter quickly turned into quiet snores which led her into a calming, dreamless sleep.

****************************

“I think this is what’s waiting for me when I arrive at the gates of hell,” Charanya groaned, flopping onto the floor of their boat.

“An unassembled crib? That’s going to be your eternal punishment?” Raya laughed, munching on her jackfruit jerky as she watches Charanya unsuccessfully build the baby’s crib.

“Yeah, and it would be damn effective one too! And stop eating that crap, you’re going to kill the kid with the number of negative nutrients that are in that damn jerky!” Charanya huffed. Okay, rude.

The two girls made it back to Heart about two weeks ago and are setting the kid’s nursery on their little boat house safely tucked away in the middle of a big Heart lake. Neither girls knew how to set up the crib so they’ve been avoiding the struggle until they literally had nothing else to work on. Unfortunately for Charanya, they’ve finished everything besides the crib and Raya’s bump is starting to show. That means the pregnant woman is using her belly as an excuse to not deal with the pain that is the stupid crib.

“I have been trying to figure this out for two days and I have made no progress! Ugh!” Charanya groaned, slamming her head against the floor.

“Hey, don’t do that you’ll get yourself concussed! Then who’s going to make my crib?” Raya frowned as she swatted the other girl’s shoulder.

“I despise you,” the younger woman said with intense passion. Raya just rolled her eyes and waited for Charanya to stop being dramatic.

There was a few minutes of silence where Charanya just laid on the floor, completely ignoring her responsibilities, when she just shot up from the ground with a look of awe on her face. To say Raya was surprised at her sudden positive attitude was an understatement.

“Uh, want to tell me why you look like Tuk Tuk when he finds a pile of nasty bugs?” Raya asked as Charanya began dragging the pieces of the crib together.

“Shut the hell up Raya. The master is at work,” Charanya whispered, gathering certain pieces in piles and connecting parts together.

“I am only choosing to listen to you because you seem like you’re figuring this shit out,” Raya said to make sure Charanya knew that Raya didn’t answer to her or anyone. Got to establish dominance from the get go.

Sure enough, Charanya’s silent breakdown seemed to be very effective in building the crib. It’s like a switch got turned on inside her head and she was putting things together like she was made to do it.

In no time at all, the slightly unstable omega was able to build a baby crib. She quickly put heavy things like pots and toys in the crib to make sure it would hold. She breathed a major sigh of relief when the crib stayed intact and did not collapse in on itself.

“I am a genius!” Charanya exclaimed with pride.

“Well I’ll be damned, you actually pulled it off,” Raya mumbled in shock.

“Hell yeah I did! It was looking super questionable for a moment, but I did it!” she cheered. Charanya then began looking disappointed and leaned against the crib.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You just finished building a crib! You should be rubbing it in my face more by now,” Raya said, tilting her head in confusion.

“Hah! You know me too well. It’s just... now that everything is done, that means it’s time for me to hit the road,” Charanya frowned. Ah, right. That agreement.

The two omegas thought it would be best if Charanya stayed in Heart until they finished setting up the nursery. Then she would go search the rivers and try not to die. They’ve had to leave each other time and time again through out the years, but it’s never felt this painful before.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Raya pouted. Though she already knew the answer, it didn’t hurt to check.

“We both know I have to,” Charanya sighed.

“Yeah, you do. I just wish you didn’t,” Raya said sadly, tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of parting with the only comfort she has.

“Ah! No tears or else I’ll stay and we already established I can’t do that! Besides, I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone! It’s just three months,” Charanya said, wrapping her arms around Raya.

“Just three months,” Raya sighed, returning the hug.

It didn’t take them long to pack, Charanya didn’t have much. In a mere couple of hours, Raya was helping her friend onto Tuk Tuk and handed her the Dragon Gem with extreme caution.

“The Druun could be around any and every corner so make sure the gem is at an easily accessible place at all times. And if you run into Namaari just book it. Don’t forget to-,” Raya instructed, only to be cut off by Charanya’s voice.

“Raya, I’m okay. This isn’t my first time going out alone. I’ve got this. You know, you’re already nagging me like my Ma. You’ll be a good mother, I can feel it!” Charanya laughed.

Just when Raya was about to give her some witty insult, Charanya already ushered Tuk Tuk away. The pregnant woman watched them go until she could no longer see them before climbing back into the boat. She closed her eyes, laid on the floor of her room, and listened to the water move beneath her.

Toi, she’s bored already.

****************************

Well, Raya certainly went to Fang to drop off supplies for Heart refugees a month after Charanya left. That adventure was a disaster in more ways than one.

But hey, her best friend was right when she said the time would fly. She’s been so distracted with gathering what the refugees need that she had a damn near heart attack when she woke up from her nap on the boat and saw none other than Charanya, already unpacking her stuff.

“I’m back, binturi!” Charanya yelled, sweeping Raya into a tight hug. Raya immediately melted into the other woman’s embrace and squeezed her back just as tight while being mindful of her six month pregnant belly.

“Toi, I’ve missed you,” Raya whispered, fighting back the tears stinging her eyes. Her gaze shifted to Tuk Tuk who just hopped onto the boat and rushed to give him a big hug.

“I missed you too, buddy. So much,” she cooed, rubbing his head affectionately. He nuzzled into her touch and completely relaxed into the floor.

“We’ve missed you too, loser. But hey, I’m here now and I brought food,” she grinned, though it seemed rather forced. Something definitely happened out there. Of course it did.

“Perfect. Now tell me, how was it out in the wild?” Raya asked as Charanya sat on the bed next to her. She also slid some food onto Raya’s lap but she just didn’t have an appetite for once.

“Don’t even get me started. I can’t believe you live like that. I’m pretty sure I discovered like three new species of animals out there. And none of them were cute, trust me,” the younger omega shivered.

“It is brutal out there, for sure. I’m just glad that you’re okay,” Raya said with relief in her voice.

Raya always knew Charanya’s anxiety could spiral out of control, so when she told Raya about how worried she got whenever Raya went out to find Sisu, she just thought Charanya was freaking herself out. She had no clue how truly terrifying it was to have someone you care about out go into the world alone with everything trying to kill her.

“Yeah, I made due. Other than the animals and multiple Druun incidences, I did pretty okay. I didn’t have a run in with Namaari, thank everything for that. Obviously the rivers were a bust, but that just means we’re that much closer to finding the right one,” Charanya informed.

“Since when did you try to have a positive outlook on things?” Raya scoffed.

“Since it was the only thing that kept me mentally sane out there. Now let’s eat, it’s been a hell of a journey coming back,” Charanya said.

Wordlessly, Raya took what Charanya gave her and just stared at it. Now that they weren’t talking, she remembered everything that happened when she was in Fang. Toi, she hated thinking about it. It’s making her physically ill.

“You need to eat, Raya. You’ve got two people to think about now. It’s not like you to refuse a meal, anyhow,” Charanya said.

Raya can’t bear to stomach and food right now. Not after what she saw and feels.

“Please, talk to me. I care about you and you’re kind of worrying me right now,” Charanya sighed, gently cupping Raya’s face. The taller omega closed her eyes as her best friend began lightly caressing her face. Well, she’s got to let it out at some point.

“I saw Namaari. At my last trip to Fang, I mean. When I dropped off supplies to the Heart refugees in your steed,” the Heart princess said in a monotone voice.

“Okay, and what else?” Charanya asked, waiting for some elaboration.

“And she’s doing great. She was training the newest recruits for the army and playing with the kids from the elementary school. You should have seen her out there. So confident, strong, happy. Namaari’s thriving,” Raya mumbled.

“Is she now?” the shorter girl asked.

“She is. I saw her with an omega, too. She’s pretty. Very pretty. It’s kind of funny how the moment I realize I’m pregnant with her child I discover she’s seeing someone else. I mean, it’s kind of like I don’t exist. In her eyes, I probably don’t,” Raya sighed, completely unaware of tears gathering in her eyes.

“Oh, Raya,” Charanya whispered, looking at her with sad eyes that Raya couldn’t handle to see right now.

“It’s stupid, I know. Namaari’s made my life a living hell ever since she entered it. But I’ve been drawn to her from the very start and it sucks. Like, really sucks,” Raya whimpered, finally realizing that she is definitely crying.

“She’s uprooted my entire life! Twice! And both times she’s never been in the least bit effected by it! I’m nothing to her when she’s been everything to me and it hurts, Ranya! It hurts so bad! I hate feeling this way! I wish I had never met that binturi!” Raya sobbed, all but collapsing in the other girl’s arms.

“I know, Raya, I know,” Charanya said in a quiet voice, calmly stroking her hair.

“I also really hate pregnancy because I know for a fact that I would not have said any of that out loud ever if I wasn’t raging with hormones right now,” Raya sniffed. That caused a small laugh to erupt from her dear friend.

“Yeah, I know that too. Well if it makes you feel any better, I too, have a wretched love life. I was in Fang a month back to restock on food when I ran into Tien. Then she introduced me to the omega she’s courting. That was one hell of a blow,” Charanya snorted. Raya openly gaped at the statement and immediately dove into interrogation mode.

“What? Are you sure?!” Raya asked worriedly. The other girl nodded and took a long sip of her rice wine.

“I mean she looked me dead in the eyes and said “Hey Short Stack! Good to see you! Bye the way, have you met whatever the hell her name is I’m too upset to remember, we just started courting a couple weeks ago!” I’m pretty sure she’s taken now, girl,” the shorter omega sighed and took yet another long sip of wine.

“I can’t even believe it. I was so sure she liked you back,” Raya frowned. She’s literally seen it with her own two eyes. What is she missing? Where is the error coming from?

“Yeah, well, I saw it coming from day one. Being right all the time is both a blessing and a curse,” Charanya joked.

Raya had at least hoped that Charanya had a chance at a normal and happy relationship, even if Raya herself didn’t. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of sadness swept over her at the realization of what this meant. A fresh round of tears began welling up in Raya’s eyes. The Heart princess put a hand over her mouth to muffle the sob.

“Oh c’mon, that was supposed to make you laugh, not cry!” Charanya said, looking incredibly distressed. Seeing her best friend look so concerned just made Raya cry harder.

“It’s just so- so sad! I thought you two were perfect together! I saw Tien when I went to Fang too and she looked miserable! I assumed you guys got into a fight again! The only person that’s happy with herself is Namaari! Why does she get to be fine when literally everyone else’s life sucks?!” Raya yelled and loudly blew her nose.

These pregnancy hormones are a serious binturi.

“Ugh, for some people happiness is so easily attainable. Even if they are an asshole. Life blows,” the younger omega shrugged.

“Toi, I need to get a grip,” Raya groaned, clutching her stomach. Charanya rolled her eyes and shoved a bowl of fruit towards her.

“You’re going through a lot right now with a baby inside of you, so experiencing every single type of emotion at once is pretty on brand. But, you still need to eat,” the woman insisted, glaring at Raya until she finally took a bite of an apple.

As the two girls ate in silence, Raya noticed in extreme displeasure that Charanya was barely eating anything.

“I know damn well you didn’t berate me about not eating only to not eat anything yourself,” the Heart princess frowned.

“You need the food more than I do. I’ll just finish off whatever you don’t have,” Charanya shrugged as she casually flipped through one of old books she hijacked from the library.

“Yeah, that’s not going to cut it. Eat this food before I forcefully stuff it down your throat,” Raya said with a harsh edge in her voice.

She then proceeded to grab the book her friend held and tossed it to the other side of the boat. The longer the omega’s pregnancy lasted, the more maternal she felt. The fact that someone she cared deeply for wasn’t taking care of herself was sending her into a pissed off motherly frenzy.

“First of all, rude, second of all, it’s fine! A little less food in my stomach isn’t going to kill me. Hell, I can’t even eat as much as I used to because my body is trained to function on a low amounts of nutrients! I’m pretty sure my stomach has actually shrunk over the years so it’s really not that big of deal,” the younger woman argued. Raya gaped at Charanya’s words as another wave of anger coarsed through her.

“How the fuck is that supposed to make me feel better? ‘Oh, Raya, don’t worry about me! I never eat anyways!’” Raya mocked before glaring right at her.

“I understand your concern, but I am fine. Seriously. Just eat already!” the shorter omega groaned with irritation evident in her voice.

“Are you going to argue with a pregnant woman, Rayna?” the Heart princess snapped, throwing the pear at the other girl’s face.

“If the pregnant woman is you, then yes!” Charanya said, throwing the pear right back at her. There is not a woman more difficult than her best friend, that Raya is sure of. Time for a new tactic.

“Please, just eat a little bit more. I care about you and just want to see you healthy,” Raya said in a soft voice. The Heart princess saw the other girl’s face soften at the genuine tone in her voice. Hah! Hook, line, and sinker.

“Curse you and your pregnant belly, making me feel bad,” Charanya sighed as she piled a little more food onto her plate. Yes, a victory! Finally!

“Love you,” Raya cooed, hugging her best friend’s arm.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” the younger woman sighed, though there was a tiny smile on her lips that Raya could spot from a mile away.

All of a sudden, Raya felt a small kick in her stomach and couldn’t fight back the grin on her face.

“Speaking of my pregnant belly, put your hand right here,” Raya said, directing Charanya’s hand just above her belly button.

“Uh okay? What am I- oh toi this is amazing,” Charanya rushed out, felling the pressure of the baby’s kick against her hand. “When did they start kicking?”

“Last month. I was about to fall asleep and then bam! The little binturi kicked me good,” Raya chuckled.

“So this kid is already starting to cause problems?” the shorter girl grinned.

“Yeah. They’re just like their aunt,” Raya smirked, outright laughing at her friend’s offended gasp.

“Excuse you! You’ve got a lot audacity for someone who basically lives to cause problems,” Charanya huffed.

“I keep your life interesting, Rayna. You’re practically indebted to me,” Raya argued. The other woman rolled her eyes once more and shoved another piece of fruit in her mouth.

“I have to give you that one,” Charanya sighed. Her eyes immediately lit up as another tiny kick pressed against Raya’s stomach.

“Pretty damn awesome, huh?” Raya whispered, as if talking any louder would be disturbing the baby.

“It really is. I really hope the poor guy or girl doesn’t turn out to be as screwed up as we are,” Charanya mumbled, resting her head against Raya’s stomach and closing her eyes.

“Me too, Ranya. Me too,” Raya said, stroking Charanya’s hair.

Genetically, this kid has a lot of problems and they haven’t even popped out of the womb yet.

****************************

The third trimester is the real trial. Fake contractions can go back to whatever hell they came from because Raya genuinely doesn’t know how much more she can take of this insanity.

Once Raya was eight months in, her and Charanya made their journey to Fang for the birth. It was the worst thing she had ever experienced. A journey that was supposed to be one week max took almost three because of her stupid pregnancy. She felt like she was about to burst, damn it!

Finally, finally they arrived at the little campsite they were instructed to go to when Raya was close to her due date. It’s a small area on the outskirts of Fang meant for people that can’t afford to go to a fancy medic. The plan is to just sit around there for a week, maybe two until the baby pops out and then the pair of omegas will be on their way with the a little baby in tow. What could possibly go wrong?

They got to the tent where they were meant to stay at through out this process. Charanya unpacked while Raya flopped on the bed.

“That was the longest couple weeks of my life,” Raya groaned, gently rubbing her stomach.

“Here, here. I’ve never been more happy to have the chance to rest for a bit,” Charanya sighed in pure relief when she got to sit down.

“The medics come around to check hourly right?” Raya asked, already closing her eyes to get some much needed sleep.

“Mhm. If anything happens between those check ins I can just go and grab one so we’re all set,” Charanya said, pulling a book from her bag.

“And Tuk Tuk is comfortable?” Raya inquired.

“He’s having the time of his life. I made sure he got two helpings of food at the little stables area. Don’t worry, girl. I always think of everything. It comes with the territory of being paranoid,” the younger omega chuckled.

“Alright, wake me up when I’m pushing out a human,” Raya mumbled, knocking out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

When she wakes up a few hours later, Raya feels a horrible pain in her stomach. At first she thinks it’s the stupid fake contractions, but the she felt a liquid between them.

Well, fuck.

“Bestie?” Raya mumbled, staring between her legs.

“Yes ma’am?” Charanya asked, completely distracted by her book.

POSSIBLE TW START

“My water just broke,” Raya gulped, fearful for what’s about to come.

“Well, shit,” Charanya cursed. She then leapt from her seat on the floor to grab a medic.

In no time at all, several people filed into the room with Charanya behind them and the pain was already excruciating.

“Hello, ma’am, my name is Nin. I will be helping deliver your baby today,” the woman explained calmly.

Raya noticed she’s also an omega, thank toi for that. Scents and pheromones tend to get out of control when omegas give birth so she didn’t even bother with the scent blockers. Raya did not think she could deal with the worry of an alpha getting out of hand during birth. No thanks, she was already stressed enough as it is.

“You might want to start holding her hand. Until the baby actually comes out the pain is only going to get worse,” Nin told Charanya. The young woman rushed to Raya’s side and grabbed her hand tightly.

“I got you, girl, okay? I’m here, I got you,” Charanya assured her.

“You promise? I’m scared Rayna,” Raya whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“I know you are. This is pretty scary I won’t lie. But I’ll be here very step of the way. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she smiled. Raya took in a deep breathe and nodded.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Raya sighed, slightly more calm from Charanya’s words.

“Okay, we need to go over your birth plan because we never really talked about it,” Charanya said, rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her a bit more.

“Hang on,” Raya winced, feeling the contractions worsen by the second.

“I can’t bully people unless I know what to bully them about!” Charanya hissed worriedly.

“Toi, I feel like I’m dying,” Raya whimpered as another contraction hit her. And when it hit, it hit hard. Harder than Namaari’s stinging betrayal, even. Soon enough, Raya was reduced to a crying, sweating mess. She felt like a lake in three minutest flat.

“She’s going to dehydrate! Raya, do you want some water?!” Charanya yelled, noticing how fast Raya was losing fluids. Just when Raya opened her mouth to say she would very much like some water, she received a vicious cramp at her lower abdomen and let out a shrill shriek instead.

“SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!” the Heart princess screamed as she felt her insides literally rip apart.

The younger omega winced at the volume and squeezed Raya’s hand tighter to provide her some sense of comfort. This is truly a pain like none other.

“Raya, we haven’t even thought of a name yet! You’re literally giving brith and we don’t have a boy or girl name!” Charanya yelled.

“I am pushing something the size of a damn watermelon out of my vagina, so I am not really considering baby names right now! With the the amount of pain this stupid kid is causing me, it will now be referred to as Binturi until I can hear myself think! OH FUCK-” Raya screamed, squeezing Charanya’s hand impossibly tight.

“Yup, it’s time to push. Alright, go!” Nin instructed.

With just one push, Raya knew in her heart of hearts that this is going to be the most painful experience of her life.

“I hate this I hate this I hate this-” Raya cried out as she was instructed to give another push. Nin huffed and looked at Charanya worriedly.

“Is her alpha here? Their scent can help with the pain or at least calm her down,” Nin asked, only to be disappointed with Charanya shaking her head.

“No alpha, it’s just me,” she frowned. At that moment, Raya somehow found the strength to push yet again and it truly felt like the gods were punishing her for something. There’s no way a good person should ever experience torture like this.

“It hurts, Rayna, it hurts. Make it stop, please make it stop,” Raya sobbed. She tried to get it together, but she just couldn’t. It’s becoming unbearable.

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry. I’m sorry Ba isn’t her or ma and grandma, I’m sorry that shitty alpha of yours is gone too. I’m sorry I can’t be enough. I’m so sorry. But you’re doing great, okay? Just hang on a little bit longer. I know you can, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” Charanya firmly told her with silent tears streaming down her face.

Raya wished she could be of some comfort to her best friend. She wanted to say that none of this is Charanya’s fault, that she is enough, but the blinding pain doesn’t allow her to do more than push and receive the instructions to push.

The process of having to push a child out was becoming so damn terrible that Raya felt like she was about to pass out from pain alone. She didn’t know how much longer she could do this.

“You’re almost there! One more push! Just one!” Nin exclaimed, fully concentrated on the task at hand.

“I can’t, I can’t do anymore,” Raya denied, shaking her head as fast as she could.

“You can! Raya, you got this! Time to meet Binturi!” Charanya told her encouragingly.

Raya laughed a bit at the binturi part and let out on final blood curdling scream as she pushed the damn baby out once and for all. Cries filled the room that instantly that sent Raya and her inner omega into protective mom overdrive.

“Why are they crying? Are they okay?” Raya asked fearfully. If something was wrong with this baby, she would never forgive herself.

“Crying is a good thing. It means she’s okay,” Charanya told her calmly, looking at the baby in awe.

“That’s right, she’s here and looks healthy as can be! Would you like to cut the cord, dear?” Nin asked Charanya. She nodded and stood up to be near the baby.

POSSIBLE TW END

“Oh thank toi! Wait, did you just say she?” Raya whispered, tears filling up her eyes once more. Only these were tears of uncontainable joy.

“Meet your baby girl. An omega like her ma, too,” Nin smiled. Charanya was holding her little girl and angled her so that Raya could see.

“She’s everything,” was the first thing that came out of Raya’s mouth when she saw her.

Admittedly, Raya had been a bit scared of the idea of not loving her child. Though Charanya said it was normal for mothers to not feel a connection for a while, Raya herself didn’t want to have to spend months doubting her love for her own kid. But seeing her lay there melted those worries away because how could you not love something as precious as her?

“Would you like to hold her?” Nin asked. Charanya was already walking towards Raya, clearly knowing the answer.

“Yes please,” Raya responded, holding out her arms. When her daughter was gently placed in her arms, Raya never wanted to let her go.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Charanya whispered, watching the child’s cries die down as she nuzzles into Raya’s neck.

“She is. She kind of looks like a little mole rat, though,” Raya snorted.

“I know. She gets her looks from you,” Charanya grinned.

“Don’t be a rude whore, Charanya. I just gave birth,” Raya huffed, unable to look away from her daughter.

“You ask too much of me. But she looks way cuter than most newborns. Se’s got a full head of hair and eyebrows. You did good, girl. You did good,” Charanya chuckled, holding one of her daughter’s tiny hands.

“She’s so little,” Raya mumbled, looking at the size comparison between her daughter’s hand and Charanya’s finger.

“Excellent job, dear. And hey, that was one of the easy births, so take some comfort in that!” Nin told her happily as she began cleaning everything up.

“That was one of the easy births? Are you kidding me?” Raya asked with horror painted all across her face.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you were only pushing about half the time most people do. There was also no life threatening complications for you or the baby, or even any complications in general. Now that I think about it, that was actually probably one of the best births I’ve ever delivered,” the medic said carefully.

“That actually kind of makes me sick,” Raya mumbled, holding her baby even tighter.

“Me too, ma’am. Me too. Well, I’ve done everything I need to so I’ll give you guys some alone time to bond,” the medic said, walking out of the tent.

Raya finally felt like she could breathe now that it was just her, her daughter, and her best friend. Her tiny family.

“That was the worst thing ever, no doubt. It killed me seeing you in so much pain. Hey, do you need anything? Something I can do to make you feel better?” Charanya asked, dabbing a wet wash cloth over Raya’s forehead.

The Heart princess sighed happily, grateful for the feeling of the cool cloth cleaning her off. She had seriously felt like she was on fire.

“Yes, actually. Could you please get me some water? I was going to say yes when you offered the first time, but the excruciating pain of delivery totally cut me off,” Raya asked. Charanya was already up on her feet before Raya could even finish the sentence.

“I got you girl. I’ll be back in a bit,” Charanya said. She quickly kissed her daughter’s little head and exited the tent in such a hurry Raya would think she was being chased off.

“Wow, I just can not believe I made you,” Raya mumbled, just observing her daughter’s features.

That cute little nose, the already thick hair, that beautiful skin, she’s just perfect. And now Raya’s internal monologue sounds so soft and mushy which makes her feel super gross but this is her life as a mom now. Soft and mushy.

Her inner omega has absolutely no problems with showing how affectionate she is with her new kid, however. She’s been purring up a storm ever since the girl has been in Raya’s arms. One of the very few things Raya and her inner omega can agree on is how wonderful this child already turned out to be.

“You just might be the only good things that ever came out of me and Namaari meeting,” Raya sighed, gently caressing her little girl’s cheek. How something so good could come from very questionable parents, Raya doubted she would ever know.

After a little while of whispering to her baby and just holding her, Charanya practically threw herself back in the tent and she is not looking good. She was panting heavily and looking more panicked than a cornered animal.

“Woah, Rayna what’s wrong?” Raya asked worriedly. The other omega gulped and began fiddling with the ends of her braid like she always did when she delivered bad news.

“Raya, I’m going to tell you something but I need you to not freak out because it could make the situation even worse,” Charanya shakily whispered upon reentering the tent.

“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. What is it?” Raya asked fearfully.

“Namaari’s coming. To the camp site, apparently it’s a thing for her to check on thes guys. She’s ten minutes away and I have no idea how to fix this,” Charanya whimpered.

Raya’s heart plummeted in her stomach. All she could do was clutch her newborn daughter closer to chest and watch as her best friend begin to pace back and forth hurriedly.

As it turns out, the worst has only just begun.

Taglist: @faithfulwarrior-og @isitbussinjanelle @ratld-sideblog @tigerlillyruiz @anywhere-but-here-plz

[lathalea]

Okay okay here it is: the ask that you asked me to ask (ah!), aka the angst supreme🤣

Sooooo forbidden love (and soulmates too?) with Thorin 😉

One thing about myself: uhmmm, idk maybe fiercely loyal?

and you choose the au, but make it angstyyyyy (sorry everyone) 💙💙💙

Hello and thank you for this ask @legolasbadass my long-lost twin

💙💙💙 Everyone, remember when I said I was taking a break from angst?

Well. I really tried to. BUT @legolasbadass MADE ME WRITE THIS AND I'M SO SORRYYYYY! (Don't believe her, she came with this ask to me out of her own free will I just kindly agreed to receive it! That's how it happened, I swear 😈)

🍌Forbidden Love with Thorin (WARNING: HEAVY ANGST)

You were the daughter of the king of the Ironfist Dwarves from the Red Mountains. A princess. To strengthen the alliances between your clan and the Longbeards of Erebor, your family was invited for the Midsummer celebrations to the Lonely Mountain by King Thror.

Erebor was one of the most beautiful places you've ever seen, but you fell in love the most with the king's grandson, prince Thorin.

During your stay he did what he could to be alone with you and show you the secrets of his kingdom. For him, you were enchanting and your eyes shone even brighter than the legendary Arkenstone. He was spellbound by your beauty, by your grace and by your knowledge about weaponry (a topic you were very familiar with, as a daughter of the most militant clan of Dwarves). Quickly he understood that you were his One, the only woman he would love.

After a couple of weeks spent together, he professed his feelings for you and you couldn't believe your ears. This handsome, dashing prince, the one you sighed for every evening and dreamed of every night since you saw him for the first time, Thorin, told you that his love for you was as strong as yours for him.

When you kissed your One for the first time, it was as if the world was born anew, as if it finally gained color and woke up after years and years of slumber.

You knew you were too young, barely over half battle age, to begin courting. You decided to wait until you both reached battle age. You whispered the words of love and unending devotion to each other on your last evening together and braided each other's hair as a sign of secret betrothal. Thorin promised to visit the Red Mountains as soon as he could.

He never did.

Soon after you returned home, you received news that a vile dragon attacked Erebor. No one knew how many Dwarves survived, if any.

Months passed, and you cried yourself to sleep every evening, hoping that Thorin survived.

After a year your father received an official letter from the King-In-Exile Thror informing him of the tragedy. The Longbeards lost everything and were now a group of homeless vagabonds, begging for help. Your father, seeing that the greatest king of the richest dwarven kingdom was now a pauper, declined offering any help, even if you begged him to have mercy on the refugees. But your father ruled with an iron fist and a heart of stone.

But at least you knew that Thorin survived along with his father and grandfather and it was more that you hoped for. Your One was alive. You wanted to write to him, but you didn't know where he was, traveling with his people. Because it was unseemly for a Dwarven maiden to write or receive letters from unmarried Dwarves, it was even harder for you to ask someone to find him.

Several years later a merchant brought you in secret a letter written in Thorin's own hand. Your One wrote that, though he would love you until the end of his days, he felt obliged to set you free and asked you to treat your betrothal as nonexistent. He was poor, with no roof over his head, and he had nothing to offer to you any longer. He asked for your forgiveness and wished you all the happiness in the world.

You didn't know how much Thorin suffered when writing this letter, but he felt that it was the honourable thing to do, even if it broke your heart. He felt that he didn't deserve you any longer and he knew that your father would never agree to your marriage to a penniless Dwarf. Thorin didn't think he would ever see you again, even though he saw your face every night when he closed his eyes.

You wrote back to him, refusing to acknowledge his decision, and sending him your love. You asked the merchant to discreetly deliver your letter, but you never heard back from Thorin.

He received your letter and kept it close to his heart, the last memory of you, but he knew that the great love between you was not meant to have a happy ending. There was nothing more he could say to you. Deep down he still hoped, but realized how desperate and impossible his hopes were. Thorin would often read your promises of love, recall your face and the sweetness of your kisses, and that was what kept his going through the suffering and despair for years and years.

Your reached battle age and your father started searching for candidates for your hand. He wanted a solid, political marriage for you that would strenghten your clan even more. He wished you to become a queen and a mother of kings. Unfortunately, all the other dwarven rulers had spouses, so he decided to wait. There was still time. You cried yourself to sleep recalling that you were supposed to be Thorin's wife now and living happily with him in Erebor.

Years passed. Sometimes merchants would bring news of Longbeards settling in Dunland so you knew that Thorin was still alive. Some time later news came that King Thror decided to retake Khazad Dum, the home of his ancestors, and declare a war against the Orcs living there. He called upon all the Dwarven clans to help him and share in the spoils.

Your father agreed, remembering the legendary riches of Khazad Dum and hoping to get his share of them. Soon, Thror's envoys came and negotiations started.

You were informed by your father that a new alliance was formed between your clans and in exchange for spoils of war and military help you were going to marry the Longbeard prince and become the queen when the time came. You couldn't believe your happiness and started preparations for the wedding.

You traveled to Dunland, unable to contain your happiness. It was going to happen soon, you were going to become Thorin's wife!

At the Longbeard settlement you were greeted by several dwarves, but Thorin wasn't among them. Instead, his father, Thrain, approached you and kissed your hands with great reverence. "You did me a great honor, Princess, to have agreed to become my wife," he said.

You wanted to escape, you wanted to scream and tell everyone that this had to be a mistake, but your father ordered the guards to escort you away and kept you under guard until next morning. Until your wedding.

You begged your father to change his mind, but he wouldn't listen. You even told him your secret, that Thorin was your One. Your father only doubled the guards at your tent. The needs of the Ironfist clan were more important than the heart of his daughter.

Thorin was drowning his sorrows in cheap brandy, in Dwalin's company. He knew he didn't have any choice. The war had to be won and the Longbeards needed the Ironfist support. But he had no heart to face you. He heard you agreed to this marriage and he believed you did as he asked, and forgot about your love and promises made years ago.

You don't remember much of the wedding, you were numb with grief. It was all a blur. You only remember Thorin's pale face as he officially welcomed you as his stepmother, together with his brother Frerin and their sister Dis.

Thrain, your new lord husband, the crown prince in exile, was a very thoughtful Dwarf and did everything he could to make your comfortable in your new home. He treated you with respect and promised you riches and jewels as soon as Khazad Dum was taken from the Orcs.

You couldn't stop thinking of Thorin. You would barely see him and you knew he was avoiding you, probably disgusted by what you did. You lost his love. There was no hope for you and yet you knew you would never stop loving him.

The war came. The joined armies of the seven clans marched off to fight with the Orcs in the Misty Mountains, along with your husband and your beloved Thorin.

On the evening before they left, you realized that it could be the last time you saw your One. Something broke inside you. You snuck out to Thorin's chambers. You needed to see him.

The door was slightly open. You heard female laughter and clinking of glass. You saw several Dwarves inside and a few women among them. Two of them sat on Thorin's lap, one of them was playing with his hair while the other one was kissing him passionately. You gasped and ran as quickly as you could, trying to forget what you saw, tears in your eyes.

"Wait!" someone shouted behind you. It was him. Your One. He was slurring slightly, but demanded to know why you had come. You barely could speak. You could only think about that red-haired woman kissing him the way you wanted to kiss him, envying her.

After some angry words were said, both of you masking your pain with wrath, you explained coldly that you wanted to wish him all the best and to give him a good luck charm to protect him from harm - a braid clasp you made yourself years ago. It was supposed to be your gift for him, you had planned to give it to him on the day of your wedding.

He didn't say a word, but he took the clasp from your hand. His fingers brushed against your skin, igniting the familiar fire inside you. That was all you both needed. He couldn't pretend any longer and took you in his arms, begging for forgiveness, whispering words of love, kissing every inch of your face, the face he adored so dearly. He assured you that he never stopped loving you, but seeing you every day was a torment he couldn't bear.

Tears of joy flew from your eyes as you kissed him back, telling him of your circumstances, of your father's deceit, and saying that you still held love for him in your heart. Those few stolen moments made you feel alive again.

Thorin's companions started looking for him and he had to leave. You shouldn't be seen together at such hour. But Thorin left with a lighter heart, knowing that you still loved him.

When he was leaving with the warriors in the morning, he looked back and your eyes met.

You haven't seen him for the next five years. The war was difficult and there were many casualties.

Finally he returned with a handful of warriors, their faces ashen and thinned, barely recognizable. King Thror had been killed, together with Frerin, and your husband had disappeared, most probably captured by the Orcs.

You walked him to his chambers and he asked you to stay with him, telling you about everything that happened, relieving the horrors of war. It was won, but Khazad Dum was lost.

You consoled Thorin as best as you could.

In the morning you woke up in Thorin's arms. You spent the whole night talking, seeking end offering solace, your cheeks still wet from crying for all the fallen warriors, for the always cheerful Frerin, and even for your missing husband whom you learned to respect and admire. It wasn't his fault that your heart belonged to Thorin and you hoped that Thrain was still among the living.

You never spoke about that night again.

As you were Thrain's wife, with the death of King Thror you received the customary title of the Queen, even if you didn't have any real power. People would come to you for help and you did everything you could to make their lives easier.

Thorin became king, in name only, as it was believed that his father was still alive, but it took Thorin months to return to his former self. You knew that he suffered battle nightmares and helped him fight them if you heard his screams in the middle of the night. But you had to be careful. The eyes of everyone were on you both now. You were his stepmother, after all. The wife of his missing father.

Your father was unhappy after having lost many warriors and money in the war. He wanted you to return home, but you declined, stating that you were still Thrain's wife and your duty was with the Longbeards.

Years passed and the Longbeards moved to the Blue Mountains and started a new life there.

You and Thorin grew closer, but never crossed the line. There were passionate looks exchanged, hands brushing accidentally against each other in passing, a stolen embrace or two, but it was all. His missing father cast a long shadow over you.

You both yearned for each other, your love burning in your hearts, but you refused to dishonour Thrain. You were his wife still, not his widow.

Thorin would often ride out to search for him, but to no avail.

After returning from one of such trips Thorin told you he met Gandalf and that he was going to reclaim Erebor.

Your restraints broke on the night before he left with a company of most trusted Dwarves. He was going to face the dragon.

You couldn't suffer any longer and went to Thorin's chambers only to meet him halfway to your chambers. He took you in his arms and carried you off to his bed.

You made sweet, passionate love with Thorin, your One, for the first time in your life, reaching peaks of immense pleasure several times that night. Nothing else was important that night: only your mutual love and your bodies joined into one.

Thorin left, leaving immense emptiness in your heart.

You haven't heard from him for many, many months.

A raven came, bringing news. Erebor was reclaimed, but Dis' sons were dead and Thorin was fighting for his life. The healers thought that he would join his sister-sons soon.

You've also read in the letter that Gandalf the Wizard had proof of Thrain's demise as he was with him in the last moments of his life.

You shed tears for your husband, but you had to travel to Erebor with Dis as fast as you could.

When you arrived at Erebor, Thorin was on his deathbed. His wounds were extensive and he was barely coherent. A healer whispered to you that Thorin was informed that you were to arrive. He was holding on to his life with the last shreds of his strength.

Thorin, your One, the Dwarf you loved wanted to see you before he left this life and moved on to the Halls of Awaiting. That was all that mattered to him. Just one glimpse of your beloved face before the light left his eyes for good.

You forbade yourself to cry and approached his bed, trying to smile. You took his hand in yours and spoke to him about your unwavering affection.

"Kiss me one last time, love of my life," Thorin whispered, his face pale as sheet.

You did as he asked and as your lips touched his a great light surrounded you. A tall person in a blue, cloaked hood appeared out of nowhere, approached you both and said: "Your time has not yet come, Thorin Oakenshield. Return to the living. The Enemy grows stronger and the Khazad, including you both, have an important role to play in the War that is to come. And you, the Widow Queen, know that if you decide to marry the one Aule has foreordained for you, Durin will be reborn once again in one of your children and he will be the one to reclaim Khazad Dum."

The mysterious figure, or perhaps vision, disappeared, leaving you speechless. You looked down at Thorin only to see him smile, his cheeks gaining color, his wounds closing as if touched by an invisible healing hand.

"Was that a dream, my love?" Thorin asked, still groggy after the effect of magic spells on his body. He pressed your hand to his lips in a loving gesture. "No, but it might feel like one now," you replied and placed a tender kiss on his lips. "Then I never wish to wake up," Thorin pressed his lips against yours.

💨💨 Imagine Ask Game is here! 💨💨

[the-bau-quinjet]

A Song For You

Steve Rogers x Singer!Reader

Summary: Snippets of Steve and Reader's life together as she sings a song she wrote for him.

Warnings: mention of car accident, parents dying, mostly just fluff though

Word Count: 6413

a/n: this is a mess, but I'm happy with it. It's basically a series of blurbs that are not in chronological order so I could follow the song. It's inspired by Like My Father by Jax. :) Sorry if it's confusing, hopefully it all makes sense at the end

Masterlist

Steve had been gone for months on a mission. It wasn’t often his missions lasted that long, so of course one of the few times it happened Y/N needed to tell him something important.

She shook off the annoyance as she got ready for Tony’s gala. He wanted to celebrate the successful mission as soon as Steve and Bucky came home. Of course, everyone tried to reason with him that waiting would be better so that the two super soldiers wouldn’t be exhausted, but Tony refused to listen to logic.

“Nonsense. We’re having the party as soon as they arrive.” He stated matter-of-factly before turning to Y/N. “And you, my dear, are going to sing.”

“Tony, maybe you could at least pretend to phrase it as a question?” Pepper scolded, eyeing the woman in question apologetically.

“Sorry. Will you sing at my party?” He grinned, knowing Y/N would say yes since Tony probably already told everyone she would be performing.

“Tony, you’re a menace.” She eyed him before nodding.

“I am, and you’re wonderful!” He exclaimed. “I happen to know you’ve been working on a new song. Care to sing it for Steve at the party?” He grinned.

“I don’t know how you know about that song, but fine. I think he would like it. Avengers only though! I’ll sing something else for all the guests.”

She rolled her eyes at the memory as she finished getting ready. Luckily she was ready early because Tony came running into the room in a panic.

“He’s here!” Tony’s smile widened as he thought about the nights events. “Let’s go!” He practically pulled her from the room, far too eager to share news that wasn’t his.

Tony had Y/N set up on stage right in time for Bucky and Steve to arrive. She sat behind a piano, ready and waiting for Tony’s cue.

As the guests of honor entered the main ballroom, Tony stepped up to the microphone. Steve stared at Y/N with questioning eyes while ignoring Tony’s speech. She smiled lightly, shaking her head at Tony in an effort to explain.

Steve laughed to himself, wishing for nothing more than to hold her after a long 5 months away.

“Give it up for Y/N L/N!” Tony’s introduction came to a close, signaling for her to start playing. It really was over the top considering he was only introducing her to the people who have become family to her, but she let him do his thing.

“Thanks, Tony.” She smiled fondly at Steve before introducing the song. “I wrote this song for someone special. As you all know, my parents died in a car accident a few years ago. Don’t worry, the song’s not that sad.” She earned a few laughs from her friends before she continued. “Ever since I was little, I wanted a love like theirs. It seemed so magical. Well, I found that love.” She smiled at Steve again.

“This one is called Like My Father.” With the name of the song announce, she started singing. Her eyes never left Steve’s.

I wanna come home to roses

Today had been the day from hell for Y/N. First, she woke up late due to accidentally setting her alarm for 6 pm instead of 6 am. She rushed to get out of the tower on time, only for the subway line she was supposed to take to be closed for repairs, making rushing a complete waste since she was going to be late anyway.

In her haste to leave on time, she forwent breakfast which only made her more irritable. By the time she made it to the studio, she had missed her morning meeting and had to play catchup.

The day only got worse from there. Something went wrong with every song she was meant to work on. Sometimes it was a small thing, like a guitar being out of tune. Other times, the song just didn’t feel right. No matter how many different ideas she tried to work on, she just kept running in circles.

By lunch, she was ready to give up and just go home. Unfortunately, her label was having a meeting to discuss progress for the next album’s lead single. So instead, she tried to cheer herself up with her favorite lunch. Just when she was sitting down to eat, someone bumped into her and spilled the entire meal onto the floor.

Suffice to say, by the end of the day, she was ready to collapse into her boyfriend’s arms and sleep the weekend away. However, her boyfriend was currently on a mission out saving the world, so not even he would be able to lift her spirits this time.

She trudged down the hall toward their shared apartment, eager to take a shower and lay down. It wouldn’t be as comforting without Steve, but it was still better than nothing. Finally reaching the door, she turned the key and shoved her way inside. Instantly, she stopped in her tracks.

The scent of tomato sauce filled the air. The soft sounds of Steve’s old music floated through the air, further adding to the welcoming atmosphere. She stood frozen, eyes filling with tears when Steve noticed her. He smiled, too far away to notice the tears, before turning around to get something from the counter. He held whatever it was in both hands behind his back as he walked up to her, a frown slowly forming as he noticed her expression.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, hands instantly moving around his body to hold her only to be impaired by a beautiful bouquet of white and peach colored roses. Her tears fell despite her smile. She eagerly took the flowers, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” She took a few deep breaths, calming herself before leaning back to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve replied easily. “Do you want to talk about it?” Despite not knowing exactly what happened, Steve could tell she had a bad day.

She shook her head, her small smile growing as she inhaled the scent of the roses. “No, I just want to be with you.” She leaned further into the embrace, relishing in the comfort Steve always provided.

“That can be arranged.” Steve smiled, carrying her to the couch to eat.

And dirty little notes on post-its

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Steve left for his mission and Y/N was still finding his notes around their shared apartment. Every time she added a newly found note to the box, she read through all the previous notes as well. It never failed to cheer her up.

Most of them were simple comments about how much he loved her. Little sayings like “I love you to the moon and back” or “My love for you is as endless as space.” Despite the cheesiness, she couldn’t help but smile with each new note found.

But this newest note was… different. The 21 words scrawled on a bright blue post-it had her flushing instantly.

“I miss the way you feel pressed up against me, can’t wait to come home and pin you against the wall”

Suffice to say, Steve couldn’t come home soon enough.

And when my hair starts turning gray, he’ll say I’m like a fine wine better with age.

“Oh my god.” Her voice was flat as she emerged from their shared bedroom dressed for another one of Tony’s galas. Steve turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“What? You look amazing.” He smirked when she blushed.

“Steve. I just found a gray hair.” She pouted, holding the offending piece of hair between her thumb and pointer. “Is this what it feels like to be old?”

“You’re not old.” He chuckled at her dramatics. “And even when all of your hair is gray, I’ll love you even more. Like cheese…” He paused, trying to think of a better comparison. “And wine, you just get better with age.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolled her eyes before moving to throw the hair away.

“I mean it. I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.” He smiled, a familiar fondness in his eyes. She moved closer to embrace him.

“I love you too.”

I guess I learned it from my parents, that true love starts with friendship.

She was nearly running down the street, doing her best to slow down the dog pulling her forward.

“Hudson! Stop!” She tried to speak calmly like her manager- the dog’s owner- instructed, but it was no use. Hudson would not stop running, no matter how hard she tried to make him. “Hudson!” She yelled his name again, surprised when he actually halted.

So surprised in fact, that she was still hurtling forwards, tripping over the now stationary animal. She braced herself for impact, eyes squeezing shut and hands sticking out to catch herself, only for the impact to never come. Instead, two warms hands caught her mid-fall.

Her eyes shot open, heart racing and breathing labored. The man who caught her helped her steady herself on her feet before letting go, smiling sheepishly.

“Thank you.” She breathed out, still taken aback by the turn of events.

“You’re welcome.” He replied kindly. “You’re dog’s pretty strong.” His grimace at his own awkwardness went unnoticed by her as she looked at the dog in question.

“My friends’ dog actually. I’m dog sitting this week.” She smiled, relieved to shift the topic of conversation from her to the dog. “He normally listens really well, but I guess he really wanted to get to the park. I’m Y/N, and this here is Hudson.”

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Steve.” He shook her hand, blushing slightly from the contact. Before she could reply, Hudson leaped at a squirrel, pulling her off balance again. Steve reached out to steady her again.

“Here, let me help.” He shifted the leash from her hand to his own, having a much easier time resisting Hudson’s pulling.

“Thank you… again.” She smiled.

The two walked around the park with Hudson every day that week, becoming fast friends. She wasn’t offended when he didn’t recognize her as one of the biggest names in music, just as he wasn’t offended it took three walks for her to realize he was that Steve Rogers.

They understood each other, despite the wild differences in occupation. Steve could easily relate to Y/N’s aversion to the media. Y/N knew what it felt like to have a team of people relying on you. The two just clicked, and thus a beautiful friendship was formed.

A kiss on the forehead. A date night.

“Hey Steve.” She greeted him warmly when they met up for their weekly coffee. He smiled, but didn’t verbally respond.

The two got their coffee, sitting at a table hidden towards the back. Steve’s replies were short, as if he was thinking of something else during their conversation. By the fifth comment of hers that he merely nodded his head or hummed in response too, Y/N decided to address it. “Are you okay?”

“Go out with me.” He replied quickly, eyes going wide when he realized what he said. Her own eyes widened in response, taken by surprise. “Sorry! I just, I mean- let me start over.” He pleaded, relief filling him when she nodded.

“We’ve been friends for a while now…” She nodded along, eyes still wide. “But, I want more. Let me take you to dinner. And not like we’ve been doing. Let me take you on a date?” He smiled nervously, hands fidgeting with the lid of his coffee cup.

“I’d like that.” She replied simply, unable to form a more complicated sentence due to the butterflies in her stomach.

“Yeah?” He released his breath, unaware he had been holding it. When she nodded, a wide smile appeared on his face. “Good. I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow night.”

“You mean I have to wait?” She pouted playfully as they both stood up to leave. He laughed, moving his arm around her shoulders to guide her out of the cafe.

“Just until tomorrow.” He smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before helping her into her car.

“Tomorrow then.” She smiled. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Fake an apology after a fight

“Y/N?” Steve questioned as he entered their apartment. He looked around, unsurprised to see her covered in blankets on the couch. “I’m sorry.” He tried for a small smile, knowing it was of no real use.

“No you’re not.” She pouted, rolling her eyes. “But I forgive you anyway.” She gestured for him to join her on the couch. He jumped at the chance, quickly moving to hold her close to him.

“I am sorry we fought.” He spoke up after a few minutes, still trying to clear the air.

“Me too. It was stupid.” She shook her head, cuddling closer to him. “I just don’t understand why you like it.” She made a face, grimacing at just the thought.

“It’s good! Pizza has really taken on a whole new life since the 30s.” Steve quipped, smiling when you laughed.

“That doesn’t mean pineapple is an okay topping.” She could fell herself getting worked up again, but ultimately the two burst into a fit of giggles. What a stupid fight.

I wanna road trip in the summers

“Steve! You were supposed to turn there!” Y/N laughed as Steve grumbled about the GPS and his preference for maps. “This is why you should’ve let me drive.”

“Nope, because then I couldn’t surprise you.” He smirked, briefly looking at her in the passenger seat.

“What surprise?” She smiled fondly, knowing he wouldn’t tell her.

“You’ll see. Now turn off the GPS, we’re not actually going home.”

Steve drove for the next few hours until the two arrived at a small house just off the beach in Maine. He pulled into the driveway, turning to find Y/N asleep with her head pressed against the window.

“Y/N, we’re here.” He smiled at her groggy state, laughing when her eyes lit up.

“Are we in Maine?” Her eyes filled with tears, a combination of nostalgia, Steve’s surprise, and residual sleepiness the cause.

“We are. As close as I could find to where you used to come when you were little.” He responded, a shy smile on his face. Despite how long they’d been together, Steve was always nervous about surprising her. “I talked to your manager, and you’ve got the weekend off. We’re going to just relax on the beach for three days.”

“It’s perfect.” She gave him a watery smile, pulling him from the back of his neck until her lips met his. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just-“ Y/N cut him off with another kiss. It was passionate and heated despite the limited area for movement in the car.

“I love you.” She breathed out the words quickly, but meant it with her whole being. “I love you so much. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Tears still burned in her eyes, but the overwhelming happiness she felt made it worth it.

Steve looked shocked at her proclamation, but quickly recovered. “I love you too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” Y/N knew exactly what he meant with those words, and it filled her with so much happiness she thought she might combust. He kissed her again, and again, and again.

They shared a few more quick pecks before finally getting out of the car.

I wanna make fun of each other

Meeting Steve’s friends was nerve wracking for a multitude of reasons.

Steve was the only person Y/N had outside of her career. All of her friends were somehow tied to her music, except Steve. Her parents died a few years ago, and she didn’t have any other family. If things went poorly with Steve’s friends, would he leave too?

Plus, all of his friends are superheroes. That’s an intimidating group of people to meet even if you aren’t trying to win them over so you can keep dating their friend.

“Just relax, they’re going to love you.” Steve whispered into her ear as the two rode the elevator up to the main residential floor. Steve did what he could to keep the event simple. It was just drinks with his friends, who happened to be Avengers.

“If you say so.” She smiled nervously, laughing to herself. Before Steve could reply with more words of encouragement, the elevator doors were opening. Steve lead her down the hall to a room that resembled a lounge in a fancy hotel. Bars lined two of the walls, a mixture of blue and white furniture sprinkled throughout the room.

“Ahh, here they are!” Tony Stark quickly rose from his seat, ready to meet the woman stealing away all of the Captain’s time.

“Tony, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is-”

“Tony Stark, I know.” She quipped. In her stress to meet all of Steve’s friends, she forgot to mention that she had already met the billionaire. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” Steve questioned a the same time Tony recognized you. His jaw dropped as he turned back to Steve.

“We met at a fundraiser a few years ago-“ Tony jumped in before you could finish the explanation.

“You’re dating Y/N L/N? The Y/N L/N? Famous singer-songwriter, been topping the charts for years, Y/N L/N?” He balked, eyes rapidly flicking between Steve and Y/N.

“Um… yes?” Steve questioned Tony’s reaction, unsure why he was so surprised. “I told you her name already…” He shook his head, waiting for the teasing he knew was incoming.

“You didn’t mention it was actually her! I just thought it was someone with the same name!” Tony nearly yelled, still thrown off by the surprise.

“What’s going on over here?” Natasha walked up to the trio, one eyebrow lifted at all the noise.

“Y/N L/N!” Tony gestured to her. She nervously waved to Natasha, sticking her hand out in greeting.

“Nice to meet you.” She mumbled, one hand still holding Steve’s in a death grip.

“You too, I’m Natasha.” The two women shook hands, giving Tony time to finally find his words.

“I have to know, did Capsicle recognize you when you met?” Tony lead everyone back to the couches, foregoing the rest of the introductions to start pestering you with questions.

“I think he’s a bit outside of my target audience age wise. I don’t hold it against him.” Y/N replied, laughing when Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh snap, she just called you old.” Sam chimed in, reaching out a hand to introduce himself. “Sam Wilson.”

You smiled at him, introducing yourself as you shook his hand.

“Here’s the real question. Did you recognize him?” Bucky questioned, already knowing the answer. Steve introduced Y/N to Bucky early on in their friendship when Bucky followed him to one of their weekly coffee dates.

“Bucky, you already know the answer to that.” Y/N deadpanned, not eager to share her lack of knowledge on world events. Steve cut in to answer before Bucky could reply.

“She did not. Told me the name sounded so familiar, but she couldn’t place it.” Steve laughed as he teased you.

“You make me sound so stupid! I knew who Captain America was, I just didn’t realize it was you.” She huffed, annoyed with how quickly the tables turned.

Steve changed the topic by moving to introduce her to the rest of the avengers in attendance; Wanda, Vision, Thor, Clint, Bruce, and Peter.

Y/N continued to share stories with the group, laughing and joking at both her and Steve’s expense. Steve smiled fondly as he watched her interact with his friends, getting along just as well as he knew she would.

I wanna rock out to Billy Joel

“Stupid. All of these ideas are stupid. How am I supposed to put out another album when I can’t even write one decent song.” Y/N huffed to herself, unaware of Steve’s presence in the room.

He moved silently through the room as she continued writing down and crossing out ideas. Suddenly, the sound of Billy Joel’s We Didn’t Start the Fire filled the room.

“Steve?” She jumped at the noise, smiling when she found him next to the record player. “Billy Joel?’ She questioned.

“You played me this song after a bad mission. Told me to think about it whenever I needed a reminder that the world’s problems aren’t my fault. Thought it might help.” He shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“I love you.” She got up from the couch, eager to pull him into a bone crushing hug.

“I love you too.” He returned her hug, careful not to actually crush her bones.

The two of them spent the next few hours playing Billy Joel, dancing and singing around the apartment.

And flip our kids off when they call us old

“Okay, grandpa.” Sam chuckled.

“Hey! I’m the only one allowed to make fun of how old he is.” Y/N playfully glared at Sam, enjoying their newfound friendship. “Plus, he’s younger than Bucky.”

“Rude.” Bucky called from the other couch, mostly ignoring Sam and Y/N’s bickering. It was a bit weird for him to hear someone else yelling at Sam, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

“Everyone calls him old.” Sam narrowed his eyes, confusion playing across his face.

“Yeah, but when it’s not me I have to defend him. Like when Pepper defends Tony from Morgan.” She easily compared her and Steve’s relationship to the couple, not realizing the weight of the moment.

“You see your relationship like Tony and Pepper?” Bucky questioned, now completely focused on Y/N.

She shrugged casually, unaware of the tension she created. “I mean, yeah. I think that’s where we headed.” She would be the first to admit she loved Steve more than she’s ever loved a boyfriend before. She likes to think Steve feels the same. “Why do you ask?”

Bucky shook his head, trying his best to seem casual. “Just curious is all.” He waited a few minutes before leaving, allowing Sam and Y/N to start up their conversation again. As soon as he was out of the room, he asked Friday for Steve’s location.

He had news to report.

He’ll accidentally burn our dinner

“Honey, I’m home!” Y/N called as she walked through the door. She was in a surprisingly good mood after a mediocre day.

“You seem happy.” Steve greeted as he walked into the living room from the kitchen. He pulled her close, kissing her before resting his chin on top of her head.

“I am happy. You’re here, what’s there to be mad about?” She squeezed him tighter, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around her.

“You make me happy too.” He pulled her onto the couch, eagerly kissing her after the day apart. He had returned from a mission just before she left for work, and seeing each other in passing was not enough.

“I missed you.” He mumbled against her mouth.

“I missed you too- is something burning?” She leaned away from him, sniffing the air.

“Shit!” He jumped from the couch, running into the kitchen as you laughed at his antics.

“Steve, language!” She called out in mock shock, laughing harder as he whined about burnt pizza.

And let me be the Scrabble winner

“Steve, sucks at Scrabble? Since when?” Wanda questioned as she ate brunch with Y/N and Nat.

“Um, always?” Y/N replied as if it was obvious.

“I have never seen Steve lose a game of Scrabble.” Nat chimed in, smirking as if she already knew what was going on (and lets face it, she probably did).

“Well, I always beat him.” She shrugged. Wanda smirked, clearly forming a plan.

“Well, you’ll just have to play Scrabble tonight and Nat and I will check if he can play better words or not!” Nat nodded along having seen this plan coming.

“Fine.” Y/N agreed, knowing there was no way of talking them out of this.

-

“Steve! Let’s play Scrabble!” Y/N smiled knowing Steve would give her anything she asked for. He walked into the living room with the box, a grin on his face.

The two of them set up the game and drew letters, immediately jumping into the game. After a few turns, Y/N texted Nat and Wanda to come into the living room to enact their plan. She watched from the corner of her eye as the two women watched Steve rearrange his letters.

When he played CAT for 7 points, Wanda gasped. Steve jumped slightly, turning around to investigate the noise.

“Oh my god.” Y/N’s jaw dropped as she realized Steve’s been letting her win.

“He was all set to play ADEQUATE, for probably a billion points, and he played CAT instead!” Wanda pointed accusingly at Steve while Nat just grinned.

“You’ve been letting me win this whole time?” Y/N threw a pillow at him, upset with the confirmation.

“Not every time! Sometimes I have bad letters.” He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “You just look so happy when you win.”

A small smile took over Y/N’s frown. How could she be annoyed when he was just trying to make her happy.

“I love you.” She rolled her eyes at his puppy dog look. “But don’t go easy on me this time!”

“I love you too.” Steve smirked knowingly and suddenly Y/N was rethinking everything.

And when my body changes shapes, he’ll say ‘oh my god you look hot today’

“I look fat.” Y/N huffed as she plopped down on the couch, still trying to find a dress to wear out with Steve tonight.

“You’re beautiful.” Steve commented from the kitchen, causing her to shriek.

“You’re not supposed to be home yet!” She placed her hand on her heart, feeling the rapid beating from Steve scaring her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But you do look beautiful.” He smirked as he walked closer, easily lifting her from the couch. “You look hot everyday.”

He kissed her passionately to convey just how much he believed what he was saying.

I need a man who’s patient and kind

“Steve, I need a few more minutes!” She called as she ran into their bedroom from the office. The two of them were meant to be leaving for dinner 45 minutes ago, but Y/N’s manager forced her into a last minute meeting with a potential collaborator.

“That’s fine.” He called back, a smile on his face. “Take your time, love.”

“How are you so patient.” Y/N huffed as she quickly changed clothes, annoyed with herself for delaying their plans.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her to him. “It happens. I’ve missed dates for mission before.”

“Yeah, but that’s important.” Y/N replied, leaning into his embrace.

“So is your work.” He chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

“Not so important it couldn’t wait a day.” She closed her eyes, taking a moment to just breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Steve questioned, genuinely confused.

“For being so kind and understanding. For never making me feel like my job is less important than yours, even though it totally is. For being you.” She replied, easily listing things she’s thankful for.

“Thank you for being you.” He replied casually, still holding her to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She smiled before wiggling from his arms to finish getting ready.

Gets out of the car and holds the door

“I’m finally ready. Let’s go!” Y/N called, fully letting go of her annoyance at her manager for delaying her dinner plans.

“Perfect.” Steve grabbed his keys before turning to look at her. He sucked in a breath, eyes slowing gazing over her body. “You’re perfect.”

She blushed, kissing him on the cheek in response. Steve lead her to the car, opening the door for her, pressing a kiss to her lips before jogging around to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going?” She questioned, eager to finally be able to focus on him.

“Dinner.” He replied, a cheeky grin forming.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She deadpanned, smiling as he laughed.

They discussed anything and everything they could think of as Steve drove to the restaurant, topics ranging from new songs they both liked to what a T-Rex would have for breakfast if it could cook like a person.

Eventually, the car pulled to a stop outside of a small, family owned Italian place. The lights were on, but there was nobody seated at any of the tables.

“Are you sure they’re open?” Y/N questioned, confused by his smile.

“They’re open… just for us.” He smiled shyly. “I wanted you to have a peaceful dinner, so Tony helped me find a place I could book for us for the night. No Y/N L/N or Captain America fans to interrupt.”

“Steve…” She trailed off, unable to form words. She hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet and she was speechless. He walked back around the car, opening the door and guiding her inside. She let him lead her all the way through the building until they reached the outdoor seating.

A string of tapered lightbulbs was strung across the patio, lighting up a single table in the middle. A few candles littered the area, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss him before sitting down. Before she could say anything else, a familiar face greeted her.

“My name is Sam, and I’ll be serving you this evening. Can I get you started with something to drink?” Sam smiled at your shocked expression.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” She laughed, confused and overwhelmed with joy.

“I told you, nobody to interrupt us tonight.” Steve smiled, glaring at Sam for playing around. “Sam, I already told you what to bring out.”

“Couldn’t resist.” Sam winked, quickly returning with the drinks Steve requested. Y/N and Steve thanked him before returning to their conversation.

“You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.” Y/N spoke softly, still blown away by the effort and planning Steve must have put into this.

“I know. But I wanted to. You deserve it.” He smiled, taking her hadn’t across the table. “Now, I’ll bet you’re hungry since we were supposed to eat an hour ago.” As if on cue, Sam returned with Bucky, both carrying plates of food. “Let’s eat.”

The two of them continued their conversation from the car as they ate, topics again roaming all over the place. Before she knew it, Y/N had finished eating and Sam was back with dessert.

She looked down at the peach cobbler, laughing to herself. “You know me so well.” She smiled, grinning even more when he offered to share his chocolate cake. “The best of both worlds.”

When she finished eating and looked back up at Steve he was missing from his spot across the table. Instead of sitting in his chair, he was kneeling on the patio beside the table, a velvet box in his hand.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Suddenly everything made sense. The lack of rushing, the completely private restaurant, not even having servers in the building. He wanted this to be a private moment.

“Y/N, the day I met you changed my life. I’ll have to thank Hudson for dragging you into the park that day, because I’ve never met anyone as special as you. Every moment with you is like a gift, and I want to spend the rest of my days experiencing life with you. Will you marry me?”

She nodded for a few seconds before finally finding her voice. “Yes.” It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough for Steve to delicately place the ring on her finger. “I love you so much.” She smiled, throwing herself into his arms the second he stood up.

“I love you too.” He replied, framing her face with his hands before kissing her.

I wanna slow dance in the living room like we’re 18 at senior prom

The ride home from dinner was filled with hand holding, giddy squeals, and hundreds of “I love you’s” from both Steve and Y/N. They eagerly ran back to their apartment, giggling like teenagers, high on love.

Steve quickly pulled her into the living room, kissing her over and over. She reciprocated, eager to share her happiness.

“Steve?” She questioned between kisses, waiting for him to hum in response. “Will you dance with me?” She smiled at him. Surprisingly, the two had never really danced together before. The only opportunity would have been at one of Tony’s parties, but they’re always so busy mingling with everyone.

“I’d love to.” He replied, that same fond smile on his face that she’d grown to love more than anything. She clapped, running over to the record player. She chose the first love song she could find, Cheek to Cheek by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.

As the music played, the two swayed together, feeling more in love than ever before. Steve quietly sung the words in her ear, expressing all the raw emotion he’d been feeling since she said yes.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.” Y/N joined him, singing along to convey her own happiness as well.

“And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”

They danced around the living room for a few songs, letting the record play through. It wasn’t until the music stopped that they even realized the song changed, too lost in the feeling of being together.

And grow old with someone who makes me feel young

I need a man who loves me like, my father loves my mom

“We’re getting married tomorrow.” Y/N floated through the halls, humming Cheek to Cheek again. After dancing to it the night of their engagement, the couple decided it would be their first dance song. Steve walked up behind her, picking her up and spinning around until they reached the kitchen.

“We are.” He replied, just as elated as her. She giggled playfully, smiling wider than ever before. She was just about to say something when Nat and Wanda bust into the room.

“C’mon. It’s time to go!” Wanda called, gathering Y/N’s belongings.

“Where?” The woman questioned, still wrapping in Steve’s arms.

“You’re getting married tomorrow. It’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding.” Wanda spoke as if it was obvious.

“Nat?” Y/N questioned, hoping someone would understand it was just a superstition. Nat just shrugged, helping Wanda as she pulled you out of the room.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Steve called after her, a smile on his lips as he thought about seeing you again.

-

Standing at the altar, looking into Steve’s eyes, everything she prepared to say dissolved from her mind. She got lost in his blue eyes, listening to him recite his vows. All the love she felt exploded in one quick statement.

“You make me feel young.” She blurted out the words without thinking.

“Is that another old man joke?” He crinkled his eyebrows, confused by the exclamation. The onlookers chuckled.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all.” She laughed, burying her face in his chest. “I just mean, we’re grown adults.” He nodded, still confused. “But when I’m with you, I feel like a kid again. Like all my problems go away and I can just be in love with you. Like my parents were.” Tears formed in her eyes as she thought about the gravity of her statement.

Steve knew how much her parents love influenced her life. She had multiple songs inspired by their relationship and happiness.

“Oh, sweetheart. You make me feel young too. Like how I should have felt as a kid.” He decided against further explanation, not wanting to weigh down the ceremony with talk of war and his sickly youth.

“I just, I never thought I’d actually find a love like theirs, despite how much I wanted to. I think they would’ve loved you.” Steve wiped her tears as they rolled down her cheeks. He pressed his forehead to hers just feeling the need to be close.

“My ma would’ve loved you too.” He replied, his own throat getting tight. They cried as they finally said “I do”, no place they’d rather be.

And if he lives up to my father, maybe he can teach our daughter

Y/N rose from the piano as she sang the last line, exposing her growing belly to the group of Avengers, but more specifically to Steve.

What it takes to love a queen, she should know she’s royalty.

Everyone cheered for her performance, but her eyes were only on Steve’s. His jaw hung open, tears pooling in his eyes. She made her way to him, everyone moving out of her way.

As soon as she reached Steve, he pulled her into a gentle hug, eagerly kissing her.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, holding her close.

“I love you too.” She replied, just as emotional as he was.

“Are you really pregnant?” He leaned back, chuckling at the “duh” look on her face. She wiped his tears as they fell.

“I found out just after you left.” She smiled, leaning into him as he lowered his forehead to hers.

“We’re going to have a daughter.” He sounded breathless, overwhelmed with the news.

“I would’ve told you in private, but Tony insisted on having this party.” She laughed when he rolled his eyes at Tony’s antics.

“You wrote me a song.” He smiled, still holding her close.

“Oh, baby. I’ve written you dozens of songs.” She laughed when he leaned back in confusion. “They’re not all good. I wanted to finish the album before I played it for you. This was the last song.” She smiled, still overwhelmingly in love with the man in front of her.

“I love you. So much.” They spoke at the same time, swaying together as Tony invited all the remaining guests into the ballroom. They missed the song, but it was clear to everyone the room how much the two loved each other.

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[astriefer]

If you want to, how about prompt 36 with thomastair?? 🤍

Prompt 36 - "Don't move. it'll be okay."

Thank you for this ask!! This is so terribly late but I hope it's enough for you. This is really bad because I had inspiration and then it died and then assignments and family and I'm running late. But... just in time for holiday! So have this piece please 🙏 Didn't check it too much so sorry for type errors and such thank you

TW throwing up and illness.

When the Merry Thieves had gotten the message Thomas wouldn't join them that day, they were suspicious.

"It's not Thomas's handwriting," Matthew said thoughtfully to James and Christopher.

Christopher fixed his spectacles on his nose and took a glance at the parchment. "But who wrote it if not Thomas?"

As always, the group of Thieves (lacking Thomas) was hanging around the Herondale manor. Cordelia and Lucie had gone to train together, and Effie was busy preparing titbits and coffee for them. They waited for Thomas to approach in all his giant glory, half-predicted him to come with Christopher, but he did not arrive. After half an hour, and just as Matthew complained, "Had Thomas gotten himself kidnapped in the course of the night?" a runner came at the front door. The message he carried was what they had been looking at for the past few minutes.

James shrugged. "Alastair, I assume," his golden eyes scanned the carefully written words. "They do live together."

"It claims him to be feeling unwell," Matthew said. "Do you think it's because he finally realized what a nuisance Alastair is?"

James gave him a look. "Matthew."

"It's in good spirits!" Matthew defended, raising his hands. When James still looked at him pointedly, he lowered his hands and murmured. "To some extent."

James sighed. As long as he didn't say it in front of Thomas, Cordelia, or Alastair himself, he concluded it wasn't the worst thing. They were civil with each other's presence, which was progress. He couldn't be mad at Matthew anyhow. He placed the paper down, regarded his friend with a shrug.

"What ho," Christopher said. "Your definitions for good spirits may cross the traditional ones."   

"Well, it's not my fault the ordinary interpretations are substantially dull," Matthew retorted.

Christopher hummed and stopped paying attention, seemingly engrossed in a new idea of an invention that must have captured his mind. Matthew gave him a fond smile and then cut his gaze back to James. "So, are we going?"

"Where?" James asked as Matthew stood up. His parabatai straightened his double-breasted waistcoat, which had decorations of an exotic animal on it.

He must have looked dumbfounded because Matthew added kindly, "Oh, Jamie bach," Matthew clicked his tongue at him. "Can you truly believe Thomas is sick?"

"That's what written here," he tapped on the papyrus. Matthew clicked his tongue again. His eyes were shining dangerously. "I know that look. What ill thing your mind hallucinated this time?"

"Everything I think of is a masterpiece, mind you. And clearly," Matthew said, leaning forward in his seat, "He scribbled some poor excuse to spend time with Alastair. But he said he would come. And if he won't come to us, we will come to him. So we shall step up to their flat and demand our Thomas."

"It doesn't sound like Thomas to fake such a thing." James's eye deterred away to the clock on the wall. He had the idea if it was something else, not a possibility of Thomas favoring Alastair's company over theirs, it would die silently. 

"It sounds a bit petty," Christopher noted. His hands tapped on the floor, fingers twisting as if he desired to be in Henry's lab and write down his findings.  

"It's not," Matthew promised. "We needn't have a reason to see Thomas. Besides, don't you want to tell him about your latest experiment?"

Christopher's eyes lit up at that. He shoved his spectacles up his nose, nodding. "Yes, it would be good. I made some progress he should be filled in about."

"Great!" Matthew commented. "Let's go."

"Poor Kit," James teased as he got up. "You use science to tempt him?" 

"I have no clue what you are talking about," Matthew graced him with a brilliant smile."I merely harness the power of science for my good deeds."

~~~~

As it turned out, unwell was an underestimate.

"What are you doing here?" Alastair asked when he opened the door of the flat. James was a bit stunned to see how disheveled and bedraggled he looked, a stark contrast to his usual display. His clothes were rumpled and crumpled and he looked awfully gassed.

The three soon cut free of their astonishment, and Christopher talked first. "Hullo, Alastair. We have come to see Thomas."

Alastair blinked but otherwise remained still. "I delivered you a message. He isn't feeling well."

"We had an essential piece of enlightenment to share with him," Matthew supplied. Alastair gave him an indifferent look.

"He isn't feeling well," Alastair repeated. James started to think it was a bad idea to come - Alastair clearly wasn't fancy to usher them inside. From inside the flat, a smell of soup traveled in the air.

Matthew's green eyes faced Alastair's unabashedly. "Why, let us see him, then. There's nothing our engaging presence can't aid. Tom will be feeling much better if he sees us."

"He needs to rest, not play games with his friends-"

A broad-shouldered figure came behind him, towering over him. " 'm fine."

Matthew wasn't the only one with a twisted interpretation of rudimentary words, apparently. James was fairly sure 'fine' shouldn't mean being so pale or to have big bruises-like black shadows under your eyes; nor did he think someone feeling fine should be looking so lightheaded and sick. Thomas's moss of light brown hair was mussed and tousled. He looked, frankly, even worse than Alastair - sweaty and tapped up.

"Thomas?" James asked.

The tall man shifted his gaze to James rather slowly. Instantaneously he realized Thomas was leaning his hand against the wall for support, and not for the sake of doing it. He was unsteady. "Greetings. I was going to get ready and come by your house, James."

"You should be in bed," Alastair protested.

Thoams's stance was defensive. "I am plenty fine, thank you, I don't need any rest in bed."

A muted sigh escaped Alastair's lips. He glanced at the three of them. "May you put some reason into him? You could at least do that after turning up here."

"I am standing right here," Thomas pointed out. He sounded almost too drained-out to resist. Alastair seemed unimpressed.

Christopher hesitated. "You do look a bit green around the gills, Tom."

"You look liverish, and not in a neat way," Matthew added.

"You have no need to dot on me," Thomas insisted. Annoyance took over his features. "I have rested enough. I shall-"

He cut off abruptly, gagging. He turned over back into the apartment, a hand over his stomach, and ran inside.  With a last skeptical glance thrown toward them, Alastair charged after Thomas.

James stood in front of the front door, bewildered, till Matthew passed him and flung the door open for them to enter.

Christopher followed with no protest. "What?" Matthew asked when James shot him a dark look. "They left the door open, thus I regard it as an invitation to permit ourselves inside."

With that philosophy in mind, they passed the corridor into the parlor. Accompany to the horrible sound of vomiting - James guessed it was Thomas's part - they could catch a low, soothing murmur of calming words. Alastair.

"You were wrong," Christopher said as he turned to Matthew. His voice was not self-righteous whatsoever, just matter-of-factly and troubled. "He is feeling ill."

Matthew seemed abashed, just slightly. "I wouldn't have been aghast if told he wanted to spend time with his lover."

They settled themselves nervously on the Aegean-blue sofa.  As a few minutes passed -  slow, confused, and worried - the sound of retching had finally petered out. They heard the noise of the water goes down the toilet.

"You think we should check whether they are fine?" Christopher asked.

"He honked up all he ate for breakfast. He must need to collect himself, and we should let him - unless you think he can somehow drown himself in the seek of the toilet." Matthew pondered over the last part amusingly.

Christopher seemed satisfied with the answer, and he cut his gaze back to the corridor through Thomas and Alastair had disappeared.

When he finally came back into the parlor, he limply made his way to the sofa, bearly holding himself straight. He hung his head low, sweat pooled on his neck and forehead and glimmered on his cheeks. His face reminded James of a red balloon, shiny and oddly red.

"Are you all right?" James inquired when he finally sat. Thomas made no sudden movements as he decisively faced them. It was clear as day Thomas, by all means, was not all right.

"Yes," he said. Matthew, James, and Christopher exchanged concerned looks between them. Alastair had not returned yet. "I must have eaten something spoiled."

"Are you sure?" Matthew pressed. "You still look dreadful."

"Surely I couldn't guess it," Thomas quipped.

"We can entertain you, though," Matthew pondered, giving him a smirk. "You stay in bed, and we will keep you a worthy company."

Thomas moved in his place, uncomfortable. Christopher, on the other way, smiled at Thomas. "Mam and Aunt Charlotte said I could use the lab tomorrow morning if there will be someone with me. The enclave has an important meeting early that day, and even Henry attends."

Thomas seemed grateful for the change of topic. Mattew said, "We might go and eavesdrop in case something interesting will come up."

"I will be there first thing tomorrow," Thomas avowed, although none of them asked him to. Thomas succumbs to a brutal coughing fit, and It was at that moment Alastair approached from the corridor.

"You need to rest," Alastair chided.

Thomas commnented hastily. "You are over-worried. I am fine."

"You're behaving frivolously," he proclaimed. "You ought to relax and rest, not to run around with your friend as if you are not sick."

"I'm just tired."

Alastair gave him an incredulous stare. "Really, you," he scolded wearily. "Utter madness, what that mouth of you blurts out." The dark-haired man turned over to the kitchen. Then he turned again. Alastair's dark gaze moved to the rest of the Merry Thieves. "You could at least bring a soup or medicine," he countered.

Matthew lifted his arms mockingly as if to surrender. "I am sorry, O great lord, that I didn't know how sick Thomas was. From your message, he could also have a slight headache."

Alastair scoffed and went into the kitchen. Mattew shot a look at Christopher and James, who nodded. he returned his eyes on Thomas.

"Hark, I, for once, agree with Carstairs. An advent I thought I would ever do. But I do think you should stay in bed."

"Shan't." Thomas regarded the idea of being treated by others with disdain. he rubbed his eyes, mumbling under his breath. "I am fine," he insisted. "I can hang out with you."

Alastair came back into the room, placing himself next to the sofa Thomas was resting on. He put down a large bowl. Haze of steams rose from the Broth. "Eat this. Then you go to bed."

Thomas's glare snitched up at him. He rubbed his eyes wearily.  "I am fine," he repeated. "I am already feeling better."

The look Alastair gave him made it clear he wasn't buying it. "Bed." Alastair crossed his hands on the chance and his gaze determined. "I am not supposed to teach you how to take care of yourself. So eat the soup and go to bed.

Thomas's grumpy mood seemed to worsen. He would've thrown hands if he hadn't felt so indisposed. "I can take care of myself."

"So don't be so stubborn and do as I say."

"It doesn't sound like taking care of oneself," Thomas grumbled. He coughed again into his forearm."And you're not my mother." 

"A very fine observation. No, I'm your partner," he gave Thomas a meaningful look. "So either you eat the soup or expect to get it shoved down your throat."

"That you very better not do."

Christopher looked at Thomas with concern. "You do not look good, Tom. You should rest."

Thomas sighed inconspicuously. It was tenuous confidence he held against them. "You too, kit?"

"As he should," Alastair sneered. He was losing patience. "Stop playing around, and drink your bloody soup."

Thomas grunted, his back straightening. He seemed dizzy and ready to tell Alastair off once again, before he gaped loudly. He must have felt queasy for he scrambled to his feet, fighting his nausea to make it to the bathroom. He almost knocked into a wall.

James glanced at Alastair, who had been mumbling grumpily under his breath, for a moment just watching his swaying partner with distaste. His dark hair flew as he followed him, for the second time since James and the other Marry Thieves arrived, to the bathroom. They followed their ailing friend and the scaling man dashing after him, then looked at each other. 

Christopher looked baffled, "Why would Tom resist so much to rest in bed?"

Matthew shrugged, furrowing his brows. "I can't fathom a reason for him to be that way," He cringed as the sounds of retching reverberated from the other room."He's supposed to be the reasonable one between us lot."

"Poor Tom," James said. "Maybe because he is so terribly ill he can't get hold of reality."

In the meantime, James investigated the furnishing of the drawing-room, which was unadorned. He drifted over to a colossal bookcase at the corner of the room, full of books in English, Persian, and Spanish (and some other languages he could not tell). He traced the spines of the books and glanced at his friends. Matthew was animatedly talking with Christopher, who tried to listen, even though it was clear to James that it was only half-hearted. He mused over browsing briefly at a shabby, worn copy of Hamlet when the noises from the other room finally stopped.

After a few minutes with no noises at all coming from the corridor, James stood up. "I will check on them," he told his friend, "Maybe Thomas passed out, or he is in distress."

Matthew and Christopher were up on their feet in the bare minimum of time. "We shall come as well."

"We won't fit there, all of us," James mentioned. Thomas would've felt better if they all would come and help take care of him, he was sure, but facts were facts. "Just let me see if he needs anything from us."

The other thrives reluctantly sat back on the sofa. In quiet, stealthy steps, he headed into the candle-lit corridor. He moved past some doors - their bedrooms, he assumed, or a library, perhaps. He stopped when he reached an open door, meaning to knock first to announce his presence, but it flew his mind when he poked his hand into the bathroom. He absentmindedly noted the porcelain clawfoot tub, the decorated primrose tiles, and the wallpaper - intricate floral trace and lines in moderate colors, which he pondered over who of the two men chose. There was also a high-level cistern toilet, Thomas leaning on its ream seat. A washbasin stood nearby, and Alastair was taking a flannel and dipping it in water before he handed it to Thomas. The unpleasant smell of vomit still stung the air.

Thomas's laid with his half-lidded eyes cracked a bit more open, still regaining his breath, and took the flannel. He managed to wash his face as Alastair took care to clean any mess created. Then he knelt in front of Thomas. Thomas pulled Alastair close weakly, buried his face in Alastair's chest. James could hear he was breathing deep and long, trying to control his upset stomach. He moved very little, very carefully, trying to shield his eyes from the light that shone in the room.

"Tom," Alastair said, surprisingly gently, unlike before. Suddenly James felt he was invading their privacy. "Hold on and cease for once in your life. You need to rest."

Thomas did not move nor talked, and James had the idea he fought back another gagging.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair tried again after Thomas seemed to curb the urge to regurgitate. "Why won't you rest?"

His friend talked tentatively and out of breath, his voice dry and hoarse and quivering. "I don't want everyone to chip around me like I'm some sickly fledgling. If my parents knew, they might even make a silent brother come. Being like this - reminds me of times I was sickly and small and weak. But I am a shadow hunter. I am an adult. I am sick of people thinking I'm incapable of taking care of myself."

James studied Alastair's face. To his grand surprise, he saw his face softens. Tenderly, he pressed their forehead together. "I am more than confidant you can take care of yourself, Thomas. I just try to assist and make you more comfortable, but we go nowhere if you fight me on every single decision. Drinking soup and resting in bed is something all people do. It helps you to get better."

Thomas's eyes were unfocused. "Sorry."

James wasn't certain to what of it all Thomas was sorry for, but Alastair seemed to accept it. He sighed breathly, backing away from Thomas. "It's fine. Just let yourself rest, shall you? I still have a desire to -" he cut off when his eyes captured James, who leaned on the doorframe. "James."

James bolted straight and made sure his countenance revealed nothing as if he did not hear the conversation between the couple. "We will take out leave, see as you go and rest, Tom. We will come to check on you tomorrow."

Someone came behind him, and he found Christopher and Matthew looking into the bathroom. "We will tell Aunt Sophie and Uncle Gideon you are sick," Matthew intervened. "They can bring you some food and take care of you. Lucie will be glad to tell of the last mischiefs of The Beautiful Cordelia. Speaking of which, Lucie will tell her parents, and they will rush to make Brother Zachariah come to visit them-"

"We can also keep quiet," James offered. Thomas's words echoed in his head. He looked at Alastair. "I suppose Alastair can be enough of caretaker. But do tell us if you need anything. Alright, Tom?"

Alastair gave him an odd look, almost appreciation - but not precisely - on Thomas's behalf. The latter had only nodded his thanks and seemed relieved by James's offer.

"Recover quickly," Christopher said, his spectacles reflecting the light. Behind of them was a pair of caring eyes."There is just so much we Thieves can do without our heart."

~~~~

The Merry Thieves bid their goodbye and Alastair went to accompany them out, while Thomas made his way to their bedroom.

They had two bedrooms, one for each of them, despite they spent the nights together. He chose to go to Alastair's room, where his smell was strong and comforting. His steps were fatigue, his mind racing and hammering. The sunlight felt like a blow to his face, making his stomach perilously twist and turn. He wasn't sure he had left any contents to honk up. He was iffy and aching, couldn't find the power to shut the curtains close. Alastair's bed - wide enough for the both of them - was too compelling to resist. He grunted loudly, resting his head on the soft pillows. He felt cold. So cold.

What fought the place of the ill-feeling that settled in every bone of his body was his great dismay from being ill in the first place. Every time he got cold, his parents would worry themselves out as if he still was the sickly child from his childhood days. His friends will all dot on him, Alastair would lay him out for days, everyone will tell him he must rest to heal. And he despised it. He despised it with all his might. Like a rope tightening around his neck, like an invisible cage surrounding him. A cage made of love and care was still a cage, in his mind. Thomas did not like to be incarcerated. This creeping feeling of losing your independence frightened him, reminded him of times he was bedridden, out of necessity for his frequent ill-health.

Thomas didn't notice his eyes were shut until he tilted his head toward a noise - Alastair coming into the room. Thomas heard the door creak quietly, heralding Alastair's presence, and again as he closed it quietly. He felt rather than saw the quilt placed over him, hugging his body, giving a little warmth to the cool world he was in. Not warm enough, however.

"You're lucky you're my favorite," The well-known voice of Alastair mumbled.

They've butted heads around this the whole morning. Thomas refused to stick to bid despite Alastair's stubborn protests. Now, he felt his body turn to halves and his head throbbed as if the Angels gathered and made a party there. He hated Alastair to see him this weak, yet he hated it more to see the pain in his eyes because of his refusals. Thomas stirred in his place, every movement of his head making a new wave of headache hit him. "Stay." He reached his hand and tugged weakly at the fabric of the sleeveshirt of, not truly commending as asking.

"I will. Wait a moment." Thomas's grip went loose and with that, the half-Persian man disappeared again. He shifted, despite his throbbing head, so he could leave some place for Alastair to lay next to him. He moved slowly and painfully, fighting on every inch he could force himself to move. He hearkened Alastair marching back into their bedroom.

 He tried to leave some space for Alastair. "Don't move," Alastair's tender voice cut through the void. "It'll be okay." Then a wet cloth softly landing against his forehead. 

Cold.

He shivered. He tried to whisper "cold" but he felt no energy left in his body to protest. His eyes were heavy, his tongue even more so. "This is chiefly for your own good," Alastair comforted apologetically. "You are burning." He climbed to bed from the other side of the bed, slipping under the beddings and placing himself close to Thomas. It slipped from Thomas's mind beds had two sides.

Thomas's jumble of thoughts wandered freely anywhere and nowhere - he couldn't put enough effort into imagining, it just made the constant thumping in his head worse. A warm hand was tentatively wrapped around his chest. Alastair put effort into hugging him lightly as possible, offering the warmth Thomas was seeking. He tucked himself a bit closer to Thomas, pressed a soft kiss to his head, then sunk into the bed. The heat Alastair radiated was drugging, and the arm which rested on his chest felt more comforting than any other thing the world could offer. He tried to breathe but the feeling of bile rising in his throat made him stop.

Alastair must have noticed because he backed away from him. "I put a bucket down your side, in case you have any food to get rid of," he acknowledged.  His presence was calming and needed. Thomas wanted to apologize for being so stubborn, to tell him he appreciated him and what he did for him. When he tried, he could not force himself to speak up, his vocal cords exhausted, and he wanted nothing but to let his mind slip into nothingness. He could not. Thomas felt drowsy, the strings of sleep dragging him into a feverish slumber.

Alastair removed his arm and his weight abruptly shifted, and the cloth had been taken away from Thomas's forehead. He startled, fighting to open his eyes, and then it was back, cold and piercing, and Alastair returned his hand to hug him. He felt a soft graze against his cheek - Alastair's lips - that ignited fire where it touched, just like his arm, making it a little less freezing. They kept resting in an awful silence for a few more minutes. Thomas had no problem with silence - he even liked it. Yet, knowing Alastair was watching him, concerned, putting everything aside to take care of him, was unbearable for him. He was supposed to see his mother and sibling today. He was excited to see them. Thomas desperately wanted the stillness to evanesce.  

"Would you like me to read to you?"

Thomas couldn't quite realize how Alastair knew, but he hummed lowly in agreement. The weight beside him lifted, missed instantly before it came back with a small thump.

Alastair began to read. He desired to look at this chiseled face. When he tried to open his eyes, he found he couldn't. A blazing headache stroke him the moment he cracked them the tiniest bit. "Sorry for ruining today," Thomas sputtered. He didn't think he could force any other words to come up his throat.

"I'm here with you, my day can't be ruined. Even if you have a fever and acts like a stubborn fool." Alastair continued to read, Thomas felt himself being carried away to Lady Sleep, a cruel mistress, sometimes, and also a gentle one, if you approach her the right way. He felt himself falling into her arms, the voice of Alastair guiding him to a safe place in the realm of dreams.

[pagesoflauren]

The Highest Bidder Ch. 1 (Ransom Drysdale x reader; sugar daddy!AU)

Summary: A graduate-level education is a costly pursuit. When you move out of state to study in Boston, expenses pile up, leading you to auction off what is apparently your most valuable asset: your virginity. It goes to the highest bidder…who happens to be Ransom Drysdale.

There are no major spoilers for Knives Out. Consider this as an alternate timeline. There will be references to the movie/its characters and family dynamics revealed in the movie.

Warnings: loss of virginity, explicit sexual content/smut, angst, sugar daddy/baby arrangement, dark elements, dubcon, cliffhangers, minor spoilers for Knives Out, unprotected sex, irresponsible driving (don’t drink and drive!), swearing, Ransom is an asshole (more to add and if you spot any that I’ve missed, please kindly let me know!)

A/N: Huge disclaimer...I really didn’t want to end this chapter the way I did, but it was getting a little too long...but there’s more coming! Don’t worry, please don’t send an angry mob after me 😱  Big love to @threeminutesoflife and @caffiend-queen for beta-ing this for me! ❤️ One last thing about the text messages: Italics are sent messages and bold italics are received messages :)

This chapter is written under the assumption that the reader drinks alcohol.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

With his bedroom illuminated by the flashing images of his television, Ransom lounged lazily in his bed. One hand was occupied with his phone as his thumb slowly scrolled over the screen, the other idly wrapped around his cock as he took in the images on the device. 

Various girls, all a few years younger than him, staring with false wide-eyed innocence or sprawled out provocatively across recliners on sandy beaches or by turquoise-watered pools. Their names or aliases were listed under the respective photos, with a number in green text next to it. 

Deciding there were too many options, Ransom scrolled back up, the hand on his cock pausing as he started setting filters through the search. He changed them to specific hair colors, skin tones and a more concentrated age range. The only filter he didn’t change was the prices--there was no limit there. The page refreshed and showed him more favorable faces. 

His mind started to numb and the faces started looking too similar. As he was ready to pack it in for the night and tuck himself back into his boxers, a strange listing catches his attention. 

He sees you, kneeling in the sand at an apparent topical destination in a barely-there bikini. Unlike the other girls, though, your face is candid, caught in a laugh, eyes crinkled and lips spread in joy. There’s no price. Just the letters “HB” in red text. 

He clicks on your photo and the webpage changes to your profile. There’s a few more photos of you: one with a cat, more vacation photos. Your location is convenient: Boston. Not too far from where he is. 

But all of that fails to answer the question at the forefront of Ransom’s mind: Why don’t you have a price next to your name?

He scrolls through a couple more meaningless pieces of information: a little blurb about who you are, your measurements, your race and your conditions.

One time only.

“What?” he wonders aloud, face scrunching in curiosity. Sugar babies don’t just have sex once and then walk away with a fortune. From what he’s heard, they bitch and moan but shut up when there’s a cock in their mouth (or pussy, for that matter). They need to be looked after either because they can’t afford it or can’t be bothered to do things on their own. Then, once he reaches the end of your profile, he understands. 

Virginity Auction. Current Bid: $8,250.

Ransom smirks at the prospect. He wasn’t looking for a virgin, but he likes the idea of taking one now. 

The number changes in real time, going up in five dollar increments before someone brings it up to $8,500. A pop-up window appears, warning him that if he’s interested, the auction ends at midnight. Ransom’s eyes flick to the top of his phone. It’s 11:57.

He thinks for a few ticks. If he pays you enough, he’ll have the convenience of entertaining himself between your legs and taking your virginity with no strings attached. Once that’s done, you’ll be out of his hair. He wouldn’t have to put you up, send you money or deal with your whining or complaining. 

Sounds like a good deal. 

Pressing his thumb into the blue button that says “Bid,” Ransom looks at the clock again. 11:58. 

Initially, he types in $10,000. But with two minutes to go and your price still ticking up, he doesn’t want to chance getting outbid by someone at the last second. He has to blow the other bidders out of the water. 

Sat up in your bed and wringing your hands nervously, you look at your cracked phone screen. Midnight has just passed and you’re waiting for a notification about the final bid in your auction. It started at $5,000 and in the week that the listing was posted, you had gotten notifications whenever it went to the next thousand. 

This isn’t how you wanted to lose your virginity. Ideally, you would have genuinely made love to somebody, someone your parents would have approved of and who truly cared for you. Even more ideally, it would have been the man who eventually became your husband...though you wouldn’t have waited until marriage to lose your V-card. You were about to take the next step in life and--you had to face it--you weren’t getting younger. 

What was the least ideal of it all was the fact that you were doing this out of pure desperation. Your graduate program was starting in a month and your savings were mostly gobbled up by application and testing fees. Living out of state didn’t help either; most of your money went to paying rent and commuting around the city. If someone paid you enough to tide your finances over, you could live off that money until the end of the semester, after adjusting to the program and your schedule, before taking on a job off campus. 

Your phone buzzed with an email from the website and you tapped the banner. Your email app launched and opened directly to the message. 

Your auction has ended. 

Reading further, you can’t believe what you see. 

Winning bid: $50,000 by Ransom Drysdale.

Fifty thousand dollars? Surely there must be a mistake. Why would someone pay ten times the starting bid? 

And Drysdale...where had you seen that name? 

Closing your eyes, you searched your recollection to place the name. It’s so familiar. 

Deciding your memory is unreliable, you resolve to a Google search of your highest bidder’s last name. 

The first result that pops up is a real estate company and a picture of famed author Harlan Thrombey, who apparently is the father of the woman who owns the business.

You feel faint...these names are not insignificant in Massachusetts, let alone the world. Harlan was a best-selling mystery writer--you had some of his books in your library back home. 

Then concern floods your brain: if this Linda Drysdale is Harlan Thrombey’s daughter, that makes Thrombey her maiden name. She must’ve married a Drysdale. 

Are you a pawn in some horrible cheating scandal? You must be, nobody has the name Ransom. It has to be an alias. Her husband must be looking for some young thing to get his rocks off. 

Stress causes your scalp to prickle as your phone buzzes again with a text message from the semi-mysterious Ransom, checking if it’s you, that he has the right number. 

Yes, you reply. 

The three dotted message bubble pops up before turning into another message.

Good. I’ve made a reservation at The Boxer in the city for Saturday. I told them you’ll check in. I told them not to charge you anything, but if you need to pay any fees, I’ll send you the money back. I’ll be there after 9. 

A chill runs down your spine at how direct he is. But, you suppose you can’t expect anything more from him. 

Okay, you acknowledge.

More dots, then another message.

Dress appropriately.

Despite your lack of experience in the bedroom, you know for a fact that he’s not referring to office attire. 

Settling back onto your pillow, you pull the covers over yourself and breathe slowly. You’ve got some preparation to do.

What do you bring with you when you’re planning to lose your virginity to a complete stranger in exchange for tuition money? 

Fuck all if you have a clue. 

You spent the days leading up to Saturday getting yourself ready. You bought a tight dress and pair of strappy heels from the sale racks. You cluelessly browsed for lingerie before an associate took pity on you (or just desperately wanted you out of her store, jury’s still out on that) and helped you select a lacy set complete with a garter and stockings. The associate absolutely gushed at how the color of the material complemented your skin tone, though you could care less. You forked over $120 for the damn thing and scampered out. Learning from your friends’ mistakes, you purchased a set of condoms using the self-checkout kiosk (and prayed you picked the right size). You weren’t instructed to buy condoms, but you figured you wouldn’t risk the chance of not having any. You endured a Brazilian wax, stifling profanities as the woman did her work. You also had trouble getting over your embarrassment; a stranger was going to see you bared all for him in a few days so if you can’t handle the wax lady seeing you, how could you handle “Ransom”?

Ransom.

Thinking about him did nothing for your nerves. You were certain you were going to lose your virginity to a man in his late 50s, who was married to Massachusetts’ biggest real estate mogul and the daughter of a renowned author. 

Dear God, what if she found out? Her father wrote murder mysteries, she had plenty of ways to kill you and get away with it. What if you weren’t even meeting “Ransom” and you were meeting Linda and she was going to kill you at the hotel?

You shake your head and look back down at the contents of your duffel bag: toiletries, a change of clothes for tomorrow, the condoms and your phone charger. You had created a playlist on your phone...if you weren’t going to lose your virginity to someone you loved, then maybe you could fake it with music. 

Who are you kidding? you chide yourself. 

You sigh and resolve to getting ready. After eating dinner, you strip off your old band t-shirt and sweatpants, remove your simple cotton underwear and novelty pineapple-patterned socks before discarding them into your laundry hamper. 

You shimmy into the lacy knickers, the material feeling quite uncomfortable against your skin. You clip the bra on next, followed by the garter around your waist.  Then you finish off with the stockings over your legs, stopping at mid-thigh. After fastening the clips on the suspenders to the lace trim at the top of the hosiery, you sit at your vanity to apply some makeup and fix your hair. 

“‘Dress appropriately’,” you mutter as you pull your dress from your tiny closet, “Hopefully this is appropriate enough.”

You maneuver yourself into your dress, struggling with the zipper for a moment then smoothing the material over yourself. You slide your feet into your heels and teeter a bit as you stand up. 

You’re not planning to really impress too much, so you pull on a downy, puffy jacket to combat the sea breeze the city gets in the evenings. 

Pulling the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, you look in the mirror one last time. You catch the reflection of the clock: it’s almost seven thirty. Taking into account how long it’ll take for your rideshare to arrive at your house and the traffic in the city on a Saturday night, you’ll arrive at the hotel a little after eight. You suppose now’s a good a time as any to leave. 

Requesting a car for pickup, you realize there’s no going back. 

Stepping into the hotel lobby, you know you don’t belong here. 

With modern touches and old architectural charm, the men wearing luxury tailored suits and women wearing unaffordable dresses, you felt you stood out like a sore thumb. The most luxurious hotel you had stayed at was a Holiday Inn Express near Disneyland. And it barely had functioning lighting. 

You timidly approach the front desk. Though the receptionist gives you a warm smile, you’re not comforted. 

“Hi, I’m here to check in for Drysdale?”

The man’s eyebrows raise in what you assume is recognition. 

Maybe this “Ransom” meets other escorts here often, then.

“While we would normally ask you to cover the fees upon checking in, Mr. Drysdale is a very good friend of the hotel so we’ve accommodated his request to make an exception,” the man informs you as he types away. He grabs a keycard and hands it to you. 

“You’ll be in room 6-F. Have a pleasant stay.”

“Thank you,” you say meekly, taking the card before turning to take an elevator up. 

Once on the sixth floor, you locate and unlock the room. The lights turn on automatically and you’re met with a cool gray toned room, which gives the room a darker atmosphere already. 

The entrance is narrow and you assume the bathroom is on the other side of the wall on your right. With wobbly steps, you move forward and see the room open up. 

The first thing you notice is the king-sized bed. Beyond it, the windows show illuminated facades of buildings outside. On the wall opposite the bed is a desk with a speaker and aux cord on top of the marble workspace and a fridge underneath. A TV is mounted on the wall above the desk. Next to it is an open wardrobe with a bathrobe hanging, cubbies and drawers, as well as a tray of refreshments. 

You set your bag on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe and retrieve the remote to turn on the TV to create some white noise and maybe kill some time (and nerves) as you wait for nine o’clock to come around. 

You wander into the bathroom and look yourself over in the mirror. You shake out your hands and pace, deciding to take off your heels for now as you pad around the room. 

Ransom was bored of dinner and his host knew it. Everyone else kept a level of decorum, but all the guests knew this get together was extending much longer than necessary. 

Checking his watch, it was quarter to nine. He threw back the rest of his drink before nodding to his friend and exchanging brief glances as he got up. Haphazard goodbyes were thrown his way as he pulled on his jacket and Ransom gave a nod of acknowledgement. He exits the restaurant, whistling to get the valet’s attention and handing the man his ticket as he pulls out his phone. 

Where are you? he messages you. 

At the hotel, sir. Room 6-F. 

“‘Sir’,” he muses to himself, smirking at the title you’d given him. He didn’t even need to tell you to address him that way. 

Have them bring up my usual from the bar.

Yes, sir.

Wondering how far he can take this, he asks you to send him a picture. 

He’s surprised with how quickly you comply. You’re sat on top of the sheets at the edge of the bed, leaned forward so your elbow can rest on your knee and the camera can get a view of the plunging neckline of your dress. Your hair falls nicely over your face and your palm cradles your chin. 

He can’t lie, he loves the way you look. You may as well be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Taking a few deep breaths, he wills himself to calm down; he can’t get hard yet. 

He puts his phone into one pocket and reaches into the other as the valet returns with his car. When the valet approaches, Ransom hands over a few sad, crumpled bills as a tip before walking around to the driver’s side of his car and climbing in. Sending one last message to you, he pulls away from the curb and heads to the hotel. 

I’m on my way. Make sure my drink is there before me.

You let out a spastic sound of nervousness and shook out your hands again before getting up to pace around the room again. 

The drink was on the way, you placed the order as soon as he told you to. You didn’t want to give him any excuse to not pay or complain you were unsatisfactory. Though, not having any experience in bed might prove that mission to be difficult regardless of whether or not his drink came in time. 

There’s a knock on the door and you jog over, pulling the door open to find a waiter holding a tray with a glass of what you assume is Scotch perched on top, covered with one of those signature little hats hotels always place on top of glasses. 

“Thank you,” you smile, carefully receiving the glass from him. He bows silently and turns to leave. 

You shut the door and place the glass on a coaster you find on the desk. You bother yourself with where the glass should rest (next to the speaker? on the far end, closest to the wardrobe?). Deciding it should be on the bedside table, you move the glass and coaster there then return to the desk to plug your phone in and play some music. You cringe at your choice to include Ed Sheeran in this playlist, but there’s no going back now. 

Suddenly, you hear the clicking sound of the door unlocking and you scramble over to sit on the bed to put your heels on. 

When you look up, you’re shocked to not find a man in his late 50s, nor the severe looking woman you’ve seen plastered on real estate posters. 

You find a man who can’t be that much older than you, dark hair and blue eyes that stand out in the dim light of the entry hallway. His cheeks are pale and rosy, framed by a strong jawline. He’s tall, crown of his head so high towards the ceiling. His broad shoulders nearly touch either side of the walls as he approaches you. 

He’s dressed rather casually, as if he was out to dinner with friends. The color palette of his outfit matches the hotel room: cool gray henley shirt, black blazer and jeans, finished off with a pair of brown boots and belt to match. If you’re honest, he looks like a model. He looks like he could have any woman he wanted. 

Why the hell does he want a virgin?

When he comes to stand in the room, hands tucked into his pockets, he looks you up and down from where you’re seated. His lips pucker thoughtfully and you see how perfectly pink and full they are and you wonder what it would be like to kiss them...

Nope. We’re not doing that. It’s a one time thing and that’s that. You remind yourself.

His eyes catch the glass on the bedside table and he plucks it up, removing the paper covering before bringing it to his lips to drink.

When the glass is halfway to his mouth, he hooks a finger at you. “Stand up.”

As he drinks, you obey, rising from your place on the mattress and smoothing down your dress before folding your hands together. 

He pauses his sipping, “Turn.” 

Hands falling out of each other’s grip, they land at your sides rather limply and you begin turning, giving him a three-sixty view of your body. You feel heat creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks. 

When you come back to face him, he throws his head back to finish his drink and places the glass back on the bedside table, but he misses the coaster. You cringe inwardly at the ring that will surely form on the surface later. 

Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his. You feel like a deer in headlights, unmoving as his gaze continues to flit over your figure. You wonder if he knows you’re holding your breath. You wonder if he can hear how quickly your heart is pounding. 

When he goes to take off his jacket, things start feeling real. You don’t know how to describe the sound that leaves your throat, maybe something a frightened toad would make. Ransom halts and throws you a perplexed look and you cover your mouth in embarrassment. 

He rolls his eyes. “You nervous?”

The words blend together, but his voice is so honeyed and silken and you can’t help but sigh inwardly at the sound of it. 

Your jaw is slack and can’t make any sounds rise from your larynx. You snap your mouth shut and manage to nod stiffly. 

Rolling his eyes again, he crosses the room to the mini fridge under the desk and pulls the door open. Crouching down, he shuffles through the various little bottles inside before turning and tossing one to you. 

Your balance teeters as you fumble to catch it, the glass slipping out of your grip a few times before you fully grasp it.

The cap makes a cracking sound as it separates from the tamper evident band when you twist it open. You don’t bother to look at the label or pay any mind to the color of the liquid. Once the bottle’s open, you tilt your head back and drink, feeling the burn travel down your throat. When you stop, you notice you’ve had almost all of it. 

Your eyes meet Ransom’s again and he raises his brows as if to ask, Better?

You finish the remaining contents of the bottle and feel the liquid settle in your belly as you twist the cap back on.

“Thank you,” you muster your voice to say. 

His eyebrows raise again, showing his disinterest, and he holds his hand out. You’re certain you resemble a child when you use both hands to carefully place the bottle in his hands. There’s a flicker of confusion that crosses his face and you think you were meant to place your hand in his, but he turns and places the bottle on the desk. 

There’s a sense of dread that settles in your stomach when you realize there really is no going back and no more stalling. You can’t read the expression on his face, but you’re certain he’s not pleased with how slowly this is going. 

Summoning your courage, you reach your hands up behind you and begin to pull the zipper down...

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit

Ransom tag: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile

Highest Bidder Taglist: @sapphirescrolls @just-another-wretched-egg @ladynightshade30 @angstsfordays @icanfeelastormbrewing @buckysteveloki-me @what-is-your-plan-today @iloganjade @twittytelly @xoxabs88xox @an-awkward-human-1 @fanfiction-trashpile @jtargaryen18 @donutloverxo @meaganottiz02 @princess-evans-addict @kianifan @asiaaisa77 @kelbabyblue @my-emotional-self @saiyanprincessswanie @random-things-i-love @captainchrisstan @daughterofthenight117 @buchanansebba @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @andiebell2023 @avengerraven1023 @dahkness @thatonefangirl111 @sllooney @sheerfreesia007 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @suzieqsez @farremoved @edge-ofparadise @bellaireland1981​

A note about tags: If your name is crossed out, I couldn’t tag you for some reason. While comments asking for me to tag you are okay, it is much easier for me to keep track of my tag lists if you send an ask. That’s the sure fire way to guarantee I’ll tag you. 

Additionally, if I forgot to tag you, please gently remind me via my ask box.

[damn-stark]

To new friends

Chapter 6 of Different Light

A/N- So I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I am going to have some events from the books in this series, just to add more angst and more fun. So if you read parts that don’t show up in the movie, it’s becaue it’s either what I wrote, or something that happened in the books 👍🏽 hope you guys like the chapter and don’t be afraid to leave your thoughts!

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN.

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

As the blissful daze of the Yule ball night passed, the last few free days passed swiftly, taking the memory of Fred’s kiss on your lips with it. Leaving nothing behind but the mental memory of such a delightful moment.

Albeit it was also a moment that wasn’t talked about any day after, classes started again and days would get busier for both Fred and you. Of course you didn’t want to force him into talking about it, you wanted the topic to come out, just effortlessly. Fred treated you kinder; that’s something you noticed, he was way more touchy than before. Usually before when you would sit next to each other, there was no contact whatsoever—sure your arms, or thighs brushed against each other’s, but that was it.

Now when Fred sat next to you in the great hall, or really anywhere else, he would place his hand on top of yours, or hook his pinky fingers with yours; sometimes he would place his arm on top the seat you were sitting on, but that was about it. Fred didn’t try and repeat what happened that night, or try and gloat about it. He simply just didn’t talk about it.

Which led you to think; what did he intend with that kiss?

You want to ask him, but then again you fear the answer he could give.

It’s not like you could ask George. One, because he was Fred’s twin brother and two, you didn’t want to put George in that position. It’d be better if he wasn’t in the middle, things would just flow much easier that way.

You still wanted help, but from who? Narcissa? You could specifically leave Fred’s name out and just ask for advice, but as you further thought about it, asking your mother wasn’t the best option; yet.

That left you with the lingering question of, who then?

“Y/N.”

At the sound of the small, sweet voice calling to you, you’re thrown from your train of thought and left to look over your shoulder and notice, Hermione Granger, striding towards you. At first you don’t know what to do, you’re actually utterly confused on what to do and why she has called you. But realization hits you as she finally falls by your side and offers you a small sweet smile—you had helped her that night of the Yule ball. She said words you’d never forget.

Regardless you didn’t really think you helping her that night was enough for her to reach out to you now. Maybe just simple “hellos” when you passed by the halls, but you didn’t think she’d actually call your name and hurry to reach you. That gesture was still so unfamiliar and new to you.

You smile and greet her however, regardless of how your thoughts churn. “Hello.”

“I saw you pass just now and thought it’d be nice to walk with you to Arithmancy.” Hermione explained kindly. “Is that alright with you?”

Of course!

You smile shyly and nod. “Yeah that's alright.” You feel your cheeks burn and a need to just walk in silence, but you also were desperate to make friends who weren’t just Fred and George—“I never got the chance to ask, did you enjoy the Yule ball? Before everything went down I mean.”

Hermione smiles wider and nods. “Yes it was absolutely great. I had a lot of fun. What about you? Fred mentioned he was going with you, how was that?”

“Oh well,” you smile shyly at the memory of that night. “It was amazing, Fred was a good partner.”

A new thought then invades your mind—you could ask her for help. Even ask her if she heard anything Fred mentioned of that night. After all they were part of the same house. She’s got to know a thing or two, right?

“Do—”

“Fred said you were a great partner too,” Hermione mentions as if she has read your mind. “He said he enjoyed that night with you.”

At the sound of her comment, you feel your cheeks burn increasingly hotter. You’re left stunned for a moment, left giddy and speechless, left trying to collect your thoughts and like you could explode from the inside—you had heard him say he enjoyed that night, but hearing that he had said that to other people just made it seem even more special. The knowledge of what he said made you smile wider. It made you want to know more.“Did he say anything else?” You turn your head to look at her and you see her shake her head.

“No, I’m sorry. He and his friends moved away before I could hear more.”

You hum softly and assure her. “It’s okay, thank you for telling me what he said though.”

Hermione just smiles as response before she changes the subject, not giving you the chance to ask for her help in your still troubled dilema. “What are you reading?”

You look down to the Daily Prophet in your hand and shrug. With all your running thoughts, you didn’t have time to read what you had in your hand. “I don’t know, I haven’t had time to read what,” you lift the newspaper and scoff, “Rita Skeeter wrote it, probably just rubbish anyway.”

Just as you’re about to shove it in between your books, Hermione stops you before snatching the paper from your hand. “Wait, what does this evil witch have to say now.”

Out of new grown curiosity, you look over her shoulder as she begins to read the paper outloud; “DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE

Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.

Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.

An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."

'I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything—”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your brother's name and anything else read after that just tunes out. The news of Hagrid being a half giant doesn’t even bug you, or register in your mind as someone dangerous (because he wasn’t). All you focused on was what lies your, weasel of a little brother had to say. It makes your furious, feel steam come out of your ears and feel your fists shake. The news on the paper even makes Hermione upset; albeit her reasons differed from yours.

Clearly—“how-how did she find out!” Before you could give your opinion, Hermione quietly seemed to ramble to herself, only raising her voice at specific points. “Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxine at the ball—but no, they would have seen her, she’s not even...” her voice goes quiet again and you’re left looking at her bewildered and still taken back yourself. As well as intrigued by what she had to say. Surprised by her suddenly asking you a probing question. “Did you see Rita Skeeter that day of the ball?”

You blink out of surprise, but manage to shake your head. “No, I didn’t. But maybe she was hiding in some bushes, like an odd-ball.”

Hermione bites her lip and shrugs before giving an opinion herself. “Maybe she has some type of invisibility cloak?”

You shrug, “maybe. I mean to get such a scoop on people, she’s got to have something up her sleeve.”

Hermione's eyes narrow and she seems to go into deep thinking before she comes up with a suggestion that surprised you even more. “We should try and figure it out. You’re smart, I’m sure if we got together, we’d figure it out.”

You scoff lightheartedly and stop before entering your intended class. “Why the need to get the scoop on her?”

“Because,” Hermione blurted passionately, “it’s not the first time she’s done something like this. Mysteriously getting news on people. She’s wicked and needs to be stopped.”

You smirk at her fiery spirit and can’t help but give in without much need of further convincing. “Alright, I’ll help. It sounds like fun.”

——

The day of the second game came and you couldn’t be dreading this one more. It was too cold and what was the point of having an audience? The players were going to be underwater and if they somehow have a way for you and the rest of the students to look in the depths of the lake without having to go in along with the players, then what was the point?

You were just going to unnecessarily freeze to basically watch players dive.

“ANY BETS! ANY BETS!”

“PLACE YOUR BETS!” George and Fred shouted in a booming voice to the passing students.

Yet with all you’re complaining, here you were, still teamed up with the twins trying to take bets from students.

“THREE LADS!”

“ONE LADY!”

“FOUR ARE GOING DOWN!”

You would’ve joined into their tactics, but you didn’t feel like screaming, so instead you held onto the box for them, watching them as you moved up and the students moved down towards the boats. Stopping only when their sister shoved past them and stopped to remark their rude persuading screams. “Don’t be so mean.”

The twins and you looked back to Ginny and you couldn’t help but agree, but the twins on the other hand turned back around and continued screaming to try and convince others to place bets. Stopping only minutes before the last boat could leave the dock.

“Finally,” you groan as you close the box and shove it in George’s hands. “I thought we’d never finish.”

Fred scoffs, “come on, you’ve got to admit that doing this makes the games more fun.”

“Hardly.” You retort as you shove your hands in your jackets pockets, “freezing to watch water is something I would hardly call fun.”

“You’re in luck then.” George assures you, “the game should be an hour long.”

You groan one last time before you reach the boats, looking to Fred as he pointed for you to get on first. “Ladies first.” He smirks before he follows after you, waiting lastly for George to go on before the person driving the boat began its short trip to the already packed and rowdy stands.

Luckily not having to wait too long for the game to start and beginning to watch with much more anticipation and stress than you intended after you watched Harry clumsily fall into the lake. While Draco, who was two people away from you laughed and pointed at Harry’s clumsy fall, causing you to shoot him a side glare. One he didn’t catch, but you meant with a burning dedication. He only shut up when Harry shot up after his worrying fall into the water, causing an uproar from the students rooting for his win. Albeit seconds after he splashed in, everyone, including yourself were filled with stomach twisting anticipation for anyone’s resurface from the water with their special lost thing.

You were also left with waiting, and endless waiting, growing colder as time ticked.

“Cold?” Fred asked you.

You looked to him and shivered slightly at the feeling of the bitter wind hitting your face. “what do you think?”

A half, smug smile tugged on his lips and he shrugs. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Then there's your answer.” You cross your arms over your chest and look out to the lake, feeling your shoulders jump slightly moments later when Fred wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

“Better?”

You feel your cheeks burn and your heart skip a beat. It’s hard to think of what to say at the flustered feeling you got at the interaction, but you somehow manage to respond. Albeit stammering and sounding like you were terrified. “Y-yes, much better.”

You didn’t see but Fred grinned at your response. Choosing to stay quiet for the remainder of the game until the first contestant surfaced from the water; Cedric Diggory and Cho—you clapped, but didn’t feel much excitement like others did. Instead you felt as if your stomach twisted tighter knowing that the game was close to over and Harry hadn’t surfaced yet.

Krum and...Hermione surfaced and you clapped excitedly for her, but you were still left with the increasing worrying, glancing repeatedly at the time and waiting as others did. Hearing whispers and the excitement for the game dwindled the more time passed and Harry showed no sign.

The worry now surrounding the crowd was replaced by short relief when Ron and a little girl surfaced, but that was short lived since Harry’s presence was lacking. It made you part from Fred’s side and grip onto the railing to look down into the water to watch and wait—and yes he was just a boy you hardly knew, hardly talked to and just thought of as cute and nice, a bit clumsy and dorky, but...you couldn’t help but worry and—

Before you could get deeper into your thoughts, Harry Potter shot up from the water and finally relieved the worry and stress that had grown increasingly higher those past few minutes. Making you push yourself off the railing to finally clap and cheer, turning to celebrate the win with the twins for a brief moment before you’re interrupted by Dumbledore's booming voice. “Attention! The winner is Mr. Diggory!”

The crowd for Cedric erupted with claps and cheering for him and his win. All them were forced to quiet down though as Dumbledore continued. “Who showed the need to command of the bubble head charm. However seeing as Mr.Potter would have finished first, should it not been for his determination to rescue not only Mr. Weasley, but the others as well, we’ve agreed to award him second place! For outstanding moral fiber!”

Again the crowd erupted into a roaring cheering, causing the twins to five each other and you in a form to celebrate. Ignoring as Draco, bitterly stormed off after the announcement of his rival's achievement. While the three didn’t waste a second for the twins and you to push through the crowd to walk down to where Harry, and the other contestants and the people they saved were.

The twins rushed first, greeting Harry with loud congratulating cheers and a tight hug that they backed from after feeling Harry all wet; letting them turn to their brother and in their own foolish way, worry over his well-being. Letting you be face to face with Harry and instantly feel a hotter heat crawl onto your face before and while you found the words to talk to him.

“That was amazing Harry! You did great!” You grinned, stepping into wrap your arms around him, but stopping as you took in his soaked figure.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “I wouldn’t, I’m soaked.” A timid and wobbly smile tugged on his lips and he continued. “Thank you though, y/n.”

You offer him another warm smile and last lingering stare before you rip your eyes away and turn your attention to Herimone next to him.

——

“Right on, all that moral fiber, eh?” George teased Harry as he walked onto the deck.

“That’s great.” Fred chuckled.

You smirk and tag along with the teasing. “All that moral fiber.”

“Blimey, even if you go wrong it turns out right.” Ron voiced with a slight smile.

“Well done, moral fiber.” Fred teased before lightly pushing Harry and then walking off with his brothers, Hermione and you, leaving Harry behind.

You wanted to look back, but before you could Fred’s hand on your arm interrupted your attempts before you could accomplish them. “So, y/n, I was thinking,” he began to say in a soft voice that was rare for him to speak in and off putting for you to hear. “How about we go to Hogsmeade together?”

You blink and begin to fall behind from the group, parting your lips to speak, but coming out with nothing but a breath of air. Proceeding to instead gently rub your arm nervously and letting your eyes flicker from the ground to Fred before managing to speak just as nervously. “Like George, you and I?”

Fred chuckles and shakes his head. “No you goof, just you and I.”

Your cheeks burn again and you giggle and whisper, “oh,” before smiling warmly and nodding. “Sure I like the sound of that, when?”

Fred shrugged, trying to hide his cocky smile. “I’ll let you know, alright?”

You nod, “okay.” Before you both catch up to the group you had been with, picking up your pace smoothly, so you could catch up with a grinning Hermione that already knew by the smile on Fred and your faces what had gone on.

In that moment letting a thought begin to unroll in the back of your mind. Not one having to do with Fred, nor George or Harry. But about Hermione. Odd thing especially after getting asked out by Fred, but it was a thought that just grew; even if Hermione and you had just started talking and a friendship was beginning to develop. It still felt refreshing, assuring and exciting that you had someone else as a friend. Someone who could relate to you in other ways Fred, or George couldn’t. You felt happy that you were beginning to be her friend, that she viewed you like hers and not like the other girls would in Durmstrang. She viewed you like a friend now. She viewed you differently.

——

“HARRY POTTER IN A BURNING LOVE TRIANGLE

A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would suffer through a trouble bigger than any he has faced, choosing who to love and who to leave behind broken hearted.

In the recent events of the Triwizard tournament, Harry has been spotted in the arms of new transfer student to Hogwarts, Y/N Malfoy. At first it had seemed that it was nothing but platonic, but their affectionate embrace and caring and lovable words told us otherwise. Yet as loving as they are, Harry is still caught in the middle between Herimone Granger, who is not innocent as she portrays to be.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potters well-wishers must hope that he opens his eyes and sets his heart upon his Slytherin lover.

No. No. No. This can’t be happening. No. Your father...your mother….your father. He’s going to kill you before disowning you. No. This isn’t what you wanted. Even if it was false information when it came to your part of the paper, it was still going to get to your parents before you had the chance to explain. You’ve done good to hide the truth of your friendships from them when Draco snitches, but this...this can ruin everything and take you back to Durmstrang.

“If that’s the best Rita can do, she’s losing her touch,” Herimone says, beginning to giggle and causing you to snap your head from the paper to look at her with a perplexed, widened gaze. “What a pile of old rubbish.” She proceeds to take the paper from your hands and throws the paper into an empty chair. The action leaving you shocked and speechless—wasn’t she worried to?

On how Rita Skeeter found out about the obvious private conversation that went on between her and Krum? Why wasn’t she worried like you?

“Why-why are you so calm?” You manage to ask with your perplexed and widened gaze.

Hermione looks over to a group of Slytherins to see if they’d be upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and turned back to pretend to focus on the parchment in front of the both of you to finally talk without giving your question an answer. “There’s something funny though, how could Rita Skeeter have known?” Her face went red and she pressed her quil to her chin. “How did she know Viktor asked me to visit him in the summer?”

You shrug and push your worry aside for now, “maybe someone’s her spy?”

Herimone shakes her head, “no, couldn’t be, he pulled me away from the judges after we got our blankets and we were in a spot surrounded by his friends. They’d never do anything to Viktor.” Her face grew increasingly more red and her eyebrows furrowed deeper as she mindlessly pressed her quil on the parchment now. “But how could Rita have heard. She wasn’t there...or was she? Maybe she’s got an invisibility cloak?”

“Perhaps,” you muse along with her, “but there were too many people on that platform, someone would have bumped into her and found her out.” You tap your fingers on the tabletop as you begin to brainstorm a possibility, muttering to Hermione as you did so. “What exactly happened after Krum and you got out of the water?”

Herimone began to explain every exact detail of the events after Krum got her out of the water. Every single detail from climbing onto the platform, to mentioning that Krum flicked a beetle off her wet hair and lastly the moment you had finally come along.

“Hmm,” you rest your elbow on the table and rest your head on your hand as you continue to think and throw out ideas that came to your mind. “Well there wasn’t much room for her to hide at all. She couldn’t be under the water, and it’s doubtful she used polyjuice.”

“You’re right.” Hermione agrees.

At a incoming thought you begin to snicker, “maybe she temporarily transformed into your towel.”

Suddenly Hermione shoots up and her eyes gleam with what seems to be excitement. She steps towards you and manages to pull you off your chair to hold your hands in hers and basically shout out. “I’ve got it!”

“Hermione Granger and Miss Malfoy, please be quiet unless you both want detention!” The professor scolds you, making Herimone quietly apologize before she pulls you back to your seat and continues quietly. Disregarding the warning you both had just gotten.

“She couldn’t have turned into a towel, or risked using polyjuice, but she could have transformed into something else. Something smaller and easy to blend in and be disregarded by any person.”

You blink in astonishment by her quick thinking and fast investigating skills. You don’t say anything, just listen completely mesmerized.

“Rita Skeeter was the beetle in my hair,” Herimone whispers in a loud excited whisper, “of course I thought nothing of it before because it was just a bug, but now it all makes sense; how she can catch all the scoop and hide without without being seen. She’s an animagus.”

You smirk and squeeze in your own thoughts. “Probably an unregistered one too, or else Dumblrdore would have taken extra precautions to keep her off the castle grounds.”

“Yes!” Hermione exclaims with a joyful and yet mischievous grin, “she kept her secret well until now. I’m going to make sure that she doesn’t have another chance to spread any more cruel, dishonest stories.”

“What do you mean?” You gasp with a deeply puzzled and slightly fearful face.

“I’m going to make sure she doesn’t write any more stories from here until the tournament ends. I’m going to catch Rita.” She explains in a loud whisper once again with a dangerous mischievous look still painted in her eyes. “Do you want to catch her with me?”

“I,” you pause to think before you have the chance to abruptly answer. Beginning to go over the fact in your head, that Rita didn’t also make a lie about Hermione, but one about you. One that could cost you heavily. And the days before Herimone asked about helping her, you were down to pair up with Hermione because you didn’t want to lose a friend. Now you were doing it because, well you didn’t want to lose a friend and two, you had motivation of your own.

A smirk creeps onto your face and you meet Herimone’s gaze to share that same dangerous mischievous gaze. “I’m going to catch Rita with you.”

Even if you knew you were still going to get hell from your parents….especially your father.

.

.

.

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Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog , @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence , @ilovespideyyy

[kuroos-world]

The Bookshop Keeper - Dabi mini series PT. 3

Masterlist A/N: sorry this took a while to get out ! Lmk if you want to be tagged !

Chapters: pt.1 pt.2 EC pt.4

The next morning you wake up wrapped in Dabi’s arms, you try rolling over but he tightens his hold on you. “Hun, I have to go into the shop today,” you tell him softly, turning to face him. You watch him sleep, admiring the beautiful man in front of you, “stop staring” he mumbles making you giggle at him. You check your phone, 6:08, “i should probably get up now” he groans and tightens his grip more, “no” “I have to open the shop,” you try to reason, “have someone else do it?” At this point he’s practically pouting, and you consider it for a second, “please” his morning voice is so deep, making it harder to resist, but he speaks to you so kindly it burns a fire in your tummy, “okay hun” you agree, asking one of the girls to open up shop for you. Once you get a response you snuggle in closer to Dabi, he lets out a content sigh when he feels your body relax against his, “ ‘s nice” you whisper, “don’t remember the last time I slept so comfortably,” Dabi hums in agreement, you continue to admire him smiling as you do.

The morning is spent laying in bed, wrapped in his arms and in between the sheets. When you finally get up it’s almost noon and Dabi is draped over your shoulder while you try to get ready. While you shower Dabi makes you breakfast, which he forces you to eat in bed with him, once again wrapped between his legs. You tell him to shower and try to find him something to wear, he was much taller than you but you were sure your sweats would fit him and you were right. He walks into the room, grey sweats hanging lowly on his hips, chest exposed. “I should go buy you some clothes,” you say trying to avert your eyes, “why? These look good on me,” he smirks “don’t they?” He teases loving the way your eyes wrack over his body, “yeah bu-“

“But nothing, We can just share,”

Truth of the matter is, Dabi would hate to make you spend money on him ‘Fuck, maybe I should’ve packed something,’ he mentally scolds himself.

“Come here” he reaches out for you and drags you back into bed, pulling you to sit on him,

“Take a nap,” “but we slept all day,” you whine, his eyes are stern, “take a nap or I’ll put you to sleep,” he says with a glimmer in his eyes. Your face turns red, not quite understanding but either way, you lay between his legs, arms wrapping around his waist. He smiles one hand holding a book and the other playing with your hair,

“What is stronger

Than the human heart

Which shatters over and over

And still lives,”

His voice was smooth and cool, left you hanging off his every word…

Once you were sleeping comfortably Dabi slips out from under you, pulling his (now washed) hoodie back over his head and quietly making his way out. He arrived at his destination, entering his room wordlessly,

“Where’d you go?” Toga giggles, “Shiggy was mad you left so soon,” “had things to do” he fills his bag and pushes past Toga “bye” he’s almost out of the building when a figure appears before him, “leaving so soon?” Kurogiri asks, “yeah I did the mission now I’m taking a break,” “is that where you ran off to last night ?” Shigaraki questions, “None. Of. Your. Business.” Dabi seethes, “I’ll make it my business,” Shigaraki threatens, voice low and menacing, “whatever just call me when you need me” he tries pushing past the two, “Don’t forget Dabi, you’re the one who asked to join, no one forced you to be here,” and with that the two of them disappear, “fuck” Dabi decides to take the long route back to your place, making sure no one follows him.

When he gets back you’re still sleeping, he takes this as an opportunity to 1.check that your home was safe and properly locked and 2.browse all the books you had. He stops when he finds a journal filled with poems or excerpts of random topics. Each page had a title and date, as he read them he felt like he was watching you grow. He could feel you fall in love, he felt the pain or your heartbreaks and he felt the love you felt once you mended yourself. Your writing grew dramatically from sappy cliches to passionate, from melancholy to understanding. He’s reading one of your favorite poems when you walk in, rubbing sleep from your eyes and plopping down onto the couch. “Hi hun,” “hi doll,” he smiles down at you before taking a seat next to you continuing the poem he had been reading,

“ ‘You are kind, you are loving, and you are independent.’ I say to the girl in front of me and as she stares back, I know exactly what she’s thinking. The weight on her shoulders feel like mountains and she wonders why she has to be these things. Why people can always depend on her but she can never depend on them. Why she always gives love when she’s the one who desperately needs it. Why she’s always so kind to those who mistreat her. We stare at each other and ponder all the reasons, but she is who she is and it’s too deeply rooted in her to find out why.”

You smile as he finishes the last sentence, remembering the state you were in when you wrote it,

“Wow that feels like it was so long ago,”

“You could’ve been a great writer,” he tells you,

“Reading is more of my thing,”

“Why?”

“Because everyone needs an escape, books just always helped me,”

“And you think everyone who walks into your shop is looking for an escape?”

“Yeah, that's why you came in, isn’t it?” Your eyes were so wide and full of curiosity, he was almost tempted to just bare his soul for you, right then and there,

“Yeah I guess I was,” he leans in close, lips almost touching yours, his blue eyes searching yours,

“What would a pretty girl like you need an escape from?”

“My family” you respond instantly, surprising not only hun but yourself, it wasn’t something you were really open about but Something about him made you feel safe. Like you could say anything and he’d never judge you, like he could understand you. But before you could ask what he was escaping from he asks, “do you see them often?”

“No, it’s easier to love them from afar,” he chuckles at that, “and when I do visit them it’s mainly just to see my siblings,” this time he nods understandingly, he checks up on his siblings too from time to time.

“So then are you gonna see them for the holidays?”

“Maybe but probably not, I’ll probably spend my day in the shop,”

“May I join you?” He asks,

“I’d love nothing more” you giggle,

When you were younger your mother always told you “love is sacrifice,” and you never knew what she meant by that, because here you were lying beside Dabi feeling like you were floating.

———————

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