#i may have cried out of frustration again today

[avibero]

-

[sunnami]

❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm. 

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers. 

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell. 

Not again! 

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside. 

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due. 

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident,  Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors. 

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.) 

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head.  You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction. 

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams. 

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.) 

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else. 

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.   

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.  

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes. 

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.) 

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier. 

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.) 

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones. 

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. 

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling. 

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did. 

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again. 

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing. 

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else. 

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion. 

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.) 

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate? 

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus. 

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel. 

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?” 

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace. 

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap. 

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh. 

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it. 

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two. 

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity. 

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers. 

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate. 

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear. 

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you. 

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask. 

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?) 

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background? 

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you. 

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall. 

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”  

Lily stays silent. 

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face? 

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company. 

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words. 

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!” 

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback. 

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.” 

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp. 

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave. 

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof. 

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall? 

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that. 

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek. 

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve. 

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes. 

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.” 

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.” 

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.” 

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.” 

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?” 

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.” 

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp. 

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’ 

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?) 

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well. 

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head. 

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun. 

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.) 

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger. 

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done. 

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest. 

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. 

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’ 

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.) 

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about. 

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.) 

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned. 

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.) 

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold. 

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby. 

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands. 

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.) 

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth. 

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work. 

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”) 

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.) 

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done. 

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?” 

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?) 

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.” 

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.” 

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.” 

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.” 

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace. 

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.” 

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?” 

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.” 

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug. 

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red. 

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .” 

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.” 

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second. 

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave. 

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes. 

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes. 

You freeze in fear. 

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels. 

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.” 

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.” 

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?” 

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.  

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.” 

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back. 

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?” 

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?” 

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?” 

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly. 

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.” 

And so, you choose them. 

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor. 

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.” 

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper. 

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same. 

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more. 

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

[kyeomkuppie]

Damn it!

Pairing: Seungcheol x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, a little angsty

Synopsis: In which he cried in front of you for the first time.

"Cheol?"

Your boyfriend always yelled out "I'm home!" Whenever he was back from work, but today you just heard the sound of the door being slammed shut.

You go outside of your shared bedroom to check on him, only to find him sitting alone in the corner of the living room, crouched down and knees to his chest. His head rested on both of his knees and he didn't make a single sound which automatically sent a signal to your brain. Something is wrong.

"Cheol? Why are you there love?" He raised his head at the sound of your voice. You rushed to him and crouched down to meet his eye level.

He shook his head and exhaled sharply "jus' feeling under the weather." he murmured.

Now this was strange, no matter how upset he was he always came to you for cuddles and kisses to sooth his worries, but now he was all alone in a corner.

"What happened baby?" You carress his hair gently waiting for an answer.

"I had an argument with the members and I..." He sighed "Things got too heated and I said things I didn't mean." You could see the pain all over his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were poutier and strangely enough, his eyes were glossy.

"I screwed up and I-"

"I won't allow you to finish that sentence. Yes, you may have made a mistake, everyone makes them," you grabbed his face with both of your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes "But even if you've made a thousand, I'm sure they'd know you didn't mean it, okay?"

His eyes kept getting glossier and his vision was becoming more unclear. "You're not only a great leader Cheollie, you're a great friend and I'm sure they know that and— I know you're stressed and everything is too much at the moment but I'm here for you. Always."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer to your chest. It was hard, really hard to try to hold it in especially when you warmly embraced him at a time he thought he was all alone.

"Don't you ever think of carrying your burdens alone again, hm?" Your eyes widenened as you felt hot tears staining your shirt.

It was the first time he has ever cried in front of you. Silence engulfed the room as you patted his back.

"Damn it!"

Hm? You didn't know why he was suddenly frustrated but all you wanted was to provide him the comfort you felt when you were with him every single moment.

"God this is so embarrassing." He sniffled "I didn't want to cry, especially in front of you."

"Let it all out love, it's never embarrassing to cry, hm?"

"God I love you too damn much." He hugged you even tighter, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[marvelfanfics1]

How do you think cg!Rafe would react to little!reader who has had a really bad day and is very deep in littlespace?

I'm not really happy with how this turned out but I tried 😭

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You both had been invited to some family gathering by Rafe's dad. It was a fancy restaurant and many relatives were there which already made you nervous because you had the urge to be little since you woke up but decided to push that away for the sake of Rafe not canceling, knowing he would do that in a heartbeat but you wanted to impress his family since you still felt out of place any time at one of the Cameron's gatherings and decided not to tell him.

Everything had gone smoothly until you went to use the restroom. Sitting in your stall you could hear two of his cousins talking bad about you. You tried holding back your tears but the second you heard the door shut again your feelings poured over.

You didn't know how long you had been sitting there sobbing, that fuzzy feeling you get when you're at the verge of slipping having you shake your head.

"No, no, no...not now- be big. Imma big girl-" You mumbled to yourself, getting up and checking if anyone is there before you went to look at yourself in the mirror, scolding yourself. "Stop being a baby."

If Rafe could hear you right now. Lord have mercy. He would scold you even more for disrespecting your little self.

When you were sure your crying stopped you wiped away the remaining tears and took a deep breath. Leaving the restroom you suddenly bumped into someones chest, looking up you sighed when it was da- Rafe.

"You were gone for a while, you okay?" He asked and even though you nod he knew you were lying, your puffy and red eyes giving you away. He just let it go for now as the evening is almost over and you both just wanted to get over with it.

Later in the car you were silent, just looking out the window and playing with the end of your soft pink dress. Rafe glanced your way and sighed.

"Look, I- I know something happened earlier and don't say 'it's nothing' because when you cried about it's- it's not nothing, a'ight? So, tell me."

You just shook your head, not in the mood to talk anymore today. The only thing you wanted now was to wrap yourself in a blanket and sleep.

He wanted to press the subject further, placing his hand on your thigh to give you some assurance but you only shrugged his hand off and Rafe then slowly figured that you may have slipped the second you got in the car and that you're probably just tired and overstimulated from everything.

"Okay, I understand. Let's- we'll talk about it later." He said and you didn't give him any sign of acknowledgement, looking out the window again.

Back at home you completely shut down, quickly making your way to the bedroom, grabbing your lamb stuffie and curled up under the covers. All the big emotions you felt having frustrated tears flowing down your cheeks again.

Rafe came in a few minutes later and smirked, not obvious to the situation and sat down by your side, pulling the bedsheets off your head and is instantly worried by your tears, his eyes widen.

"Hey, Hey, hey. C'mere." He pulled you into his arms, ignoring your fussing and weak attempts at trying to push him away. "No- none of that. Shh, you're okay."

You only whined, giving up and slumping against him, gripping onto his shirt and letting the tears flow. Rafe started rocking you while whispering affirmations, practically suffocating you in his hold but that's exactly what you needed right now.

After your little meltdown you pulled your face from his neck, looking up at him with big eyes, just blinking at him slowly. He was a bit irritated because he didn't know that look at all.

You only mumbled a small 'daddy' before placing your head back on his shoulder and slipping your thumb between your lips.

It then clicked in Rafe's head.

"Someone's feeling really small, hm?" He rubbed your arm, feeling you nod against him. "That's okay. That's why daddy's here, to take care of you."

He just kept holding and rocking you. When you were sound asleep he reached over to grab your paci from your nightstand and took your thumb out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with the paci when you started to stir.

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra

[cherryxblossxms]

I saw your reblog that says your ask box is open, so I wanted to request/ask for a small fic with officer!Toji? Like you had been pushing his buttons for the last three days and he finally gets fed up and handcuffs you to the bed and uses you like a rag doll 🤤🥺🫶🏼 thanks in advance love!

Villain

Officer!Toji x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: hello hello! oof Toji using restraints is a very yummy idea. I don't usually take fic requests but I liked this idea, and I always enjoy some rough Toji! There's a song that makes me think of Toji which is "Villain" by Bella Poarch, so that's a bit of inspo for this! Sorry this took a bit to answer!

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: afab reader, not really an established relationship; FWB??? Enemies to lovers??? Idk, very brief mention of oral (m receiving), no protection with backshot, rough sex, doggy style, use of handcuffs, edging, spit as lube, spanking, a lil manhandling, degradation (slut, whore, princess as an insult lol), mean Toji with some sweetness at the end

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 1628

You always knew just how to push his buttons, and Toji hated you for it. Or at least, he could have hated you for it, if your pussy wasn't so damn addictive.

Toji wouldn't consider himself any particularly special or hardworking kind of cop. He did his job, he earned his paycheck, and went home. Most days, shifts were boring, with giving a ticket being the most exciting thing happening all day. If he was lucky, he got to tackle a thief to the ground. However, the excitement level changed when he met you, and like some kind of twisted fate, he seemed to be running into you more and more lately.

The first time he'd run into you, you were speeding down the street in a classic bright red Mustang, catching his radar in more ways than one. When he'd caught up to you in his car with the lights flashing, shiny badge on his chest and his scariest face on, he expected the usual sob story to try to get out of a ticket, maybe some crocodile tears and honeyed words to butter him up. But the minute you two made eye contact, some electric shock going through your bodies simultaneously, suddenly it didn't matter anymore.

Of course, the way you took his cock down your throat shortly afterwards may have helped, as well.

After that, it was almost comical albeit suspicious, the number of times you two would "meet up" after that. It was as if you knew his schedule and his route, but he wasn't complaining. Of course, his job was on the line, fucking someone that was essentially a perp, and he'd be fucked if anyone caught you two in the act. But with a cunt as sweet as yours, he was happy to take that risk.

Sometimes he'd take you in the back of his police car, or against the wall in an alley, fucking out his frustrations with you and unloading them into your cunt. But today he decided he wanted a little more privacy, taking you back to his apartment for the first time to make sure you would get the full lesson from him.

Now he had you face down and ass up, handcuffs tight around your wrists and connected to his bed frame as his hips slammed into yours. You'd been really pushing his buttons lately, simple things like jaywalking right in front of his car, stealing merchandise in clear view of him, to speeding by in your damned Mustang again. Once or twice, with little things, he was willing to look the other way. But as you kept pushing his buttons, something in him finally snapped, and he was going to teach you not to play with fire— the hard way.

"Fucking filthy little slut," he grunted out, the loud sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air. "Think you can just do whatever you want, huh? Think you can get away with anything?"

Your face was shoved into his pillow, the only thing muffling your moans and cries of pleasure. His words simply drifted over your head, too lost in the pleasure to pay attention anymore. He always filled you up so well, thick cock with an equally thick mushroom head reaching deep inside, and it never failed to draw out noises you'd never made before meeting him. And now in this position, you could feel him bump up against a particularly sensitive spot, leaving your mouth in a constant "O" as he pounded you without mercy.

You could feel your orgasm start to creep up on you, a roaring fire growing in your belly and ready to consume you whole. That rubber band of tension was ready to snap and Toji could tell, too, by the way your pussy was hugging and tightening on his cock, begging for his seed and for release. Unfortunately for you, Toji was still trying to teach you a lesson, and just as he knew that pleasurable wave was going to crash over, he pulled out, making you cry out in distress from the sudden empty feeling.

Your hole clenched around nothing, your whole groin aching for relief and begging for the stimulation to come back. But Toji simply pulled your asscheeks apart to get a better view, a dark chuckle rumbling in his throat as he started at your core unashamedly.

"T-Toji, fuck," you couldn't help but pant out, trying your best to turn your head in his direction.

"What's wrong, princess, angry that you didn't get to cum?" he responded, taunting you. Not that he could say much, either. His dick was aching, wanting to unload in you already. His hands came up to rub around your hips, squeezing you, waiting for your response.

"Of course I am. Just let me cum already, please," you begged, trying to wiggle your hips at him.

Toji hummed, seeming to think about your words. You tried to wait patiently as he did this, feeling one of his hands leave your body, but the loud smack that resounded caught you off guard, followed quickly by a sharp, stinging pain from your asscheek where he'd just spanked you. It drew out a loud cry from your mouth before you could stop it, and Toji just chuckled in response.

"Hmph. I don't think you deserve to cum yet." His hand rubbed over where he spanked, a soothing motion in contradiction with his words. "You've been acting like a little whore around me for weeks now, doing dumb shit to get my attention. Imagine if one of the other officers caught you, I don't think they'd be nearly as.. lenient as I've been. If you wanna cum, you gotta beg a little more first."

His hand came down on your asscheek again, and you tried to stifle your cry, body still jolting in response.

"Please, Toji, I want to cum," you said against the pillow, tugging weakly on your handcuffs. Your core ached for release, and the spanking was only sending tingles straight to your clit, making it all worse.

"I can't hear you, sweetie, what was that?"

Another slap to your ass, this time a little harder for emphasis. Your asscheek stung, and your whole body was hot, pleasure and shame fighting hard against each other. You hated begging, and Toji knew this. But damn your body, it just wanted to get off already. Your shame could wait til later. Swallowing down your reservations, you moved your head to speak more clearly, glancing back over your shoulder for emphasis.

"Please, Toji, make me cum. I promise I'll behave, just please, don't stop this time."

A smug look crossed his face, and he huffed out a laugh.

"That's what I thought."

Toji spread your cheeks again, spitting down on your cunt. The sensation made you shiver as it quickly cooled, but before you could respond, he angled his hips before sliding back into you to the hilt. The depth he reached made you jolt, but Toji's hands were a vice on your hips as he pulled back, nearly popping out before thrusting back in and setting a harsh pace.

The sounds of his thighs slapping against yours filled the air, and his heavy balls matched the motion against your aching clit, drawing out curses from your lips. It wasn't long before that roaring fire was in your belly once more, ready to overtake you, and with the way Toji was rutting desperately against you, you weren't the only one.

The head of his cock started to rub up against a particularly sensitive spot, and combined with the barrage on your clit, it was enough to push you over the edge finally, and your body twitched hard in your lover's grasp.

"Oh fuck—!" You cried out, before moaning loudly, body shaking as your orgasm completely overtook you.

Toji cursed as he felt your cunt clamp down on him, trying to milk him desperately, and it almost worked. He continued thrusting a little longer, drawing out your pleasure to the edge of overstimulation, before having to quickly pull out. Not even a second later, he was cumming across your ass, deep grunts coming from his throat with each throb of his cock. It was copious, dripping down your cheeks and across your cunt.

Your knees trembled from the hard orgasm, struggling to hold yourself up, but thankfully Toji moved up to unlock your handcuffs, helping you settle down on your stomach finally. He used his shirt to quick wipe you down of his fluids before falling back onto the bed beside you, closing his eyes.

Silence filled the air, and as the lust faded away and was replaced by fatigue, the rational part of your brain began to wake up again. You'd never been in his apartment before, and now you weren't sure what to do next. You'd definitely been breaking the law, and while you could fuck your way out of trouble before, you'd also been in easy-to-escape places. But before you could make any sort of plan with your fatigue-addled brain, Toji's muscular arm came around your waist, pulling you in close.

You had a moment of panic, but although he was strong, you could feel the movement was simply cradling you rather than trapping.

"Stop thinking and go to sleep. I won't do anything."

Toji's eyes were still closed, but you could hear the sincerity in his tone. Against your better judgment, something in you said to trust him. And anyway, with the way he'd just fucked your brains out, you weren't sure you could make much of a quick escape right now regardless. Finally settling down beside him in the warmth of his body, that would be something to think about later.

Wow it's been a minute since I've written Toji smut but I hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[celestoria]

Genshin Impact (Taylor’s Version)

Tags: SFW with semi-angst Characters: Scaramouche, Zhongli, Kaeya, Lyney

Scaramouche (The Way I Loved You)

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain // it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name // So in love that I acted insane // And that's the way I loved you // Breaking down and coming undone // It's a roller coaster kind of rush // And I never knew I could feel that much // And that's the way I loved you.

Loving you was so frustrating…yet so addicting.

Scaramouche had a complicated way of showing his feelings towards other people and always rubbed them the wrong way. However, you didn’t give up.

You noticed how the same lips that mumbled disdainful complaints were the same ones that would kiss you so passionately under the pale moonlight. His hands that would brutally throw a fight when needed are the same ones that would hold you delicately as he leads you to a secret spot only the two of you know.

Sure, there are times when you wouldn’t meet eye to eye, but in the end, no word would mean as much to him compared to the first time you told him you'll never leave him. Scaramouche felt so alive since he fell in love with you and he would never trade it for the world.

Zhongli (Wildest Dreams)

Say you'll remember me // Standing in a nice dress // Staring at the sunset, babe // Red lips and rosy cheeks // Say you'll see me again // Even if it's just in your wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha // Wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha

Times of old may be memories of the past but those moments shall never be forgotten.

How long has it been since he last saw you? A month? A decade? Centuries? It all feels the same when you’ve lived for 5000 years.

Still, he can’t bear to forget every bit of you, even if it pains him to reminisce about the days you called him yours. He loved how your hair flowed with the wind the first day you met each other during a busy day at the harbor, the distinct scent of your favorite perfume that could easily make his head turn, and even that beautiful shade of red that often smudged on the side of his neck whenever you were going out.

Sometimes your ghost haunts him in his dreams, but alas it was just a figment of his imagination playing what could have been if life was a little bit kinder to the both of you. But if everything is just one Samsara cycle playing over and over again, he promises to love every one of them until Teyvat and Celestia itself ceases.

Kaeya (Cruel Summer)

I'm drunk in the back of the car // And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (oh) // Said, "I'm fine, " but it wasn't true // I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you // And I snuck in through the garden gate // Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh) // And I screamed for whatever it's worth // "I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Everyone has their fair share of secrets, and Kaeya was no exception.

But he kept them buried where no one would find them. Like the last time he opened up about his deepest, darkest secret to someone he trusted, Kaeya fears you’ll push him away once he finally comes undone in front of you.

However, it was such a pain to keep things like that. Always yearning for you but never having you. Brave is the kindest word you can call a fool, so call him the most foolish man on earth when he poured his heart confessing to you how much his heart aches for you like it's his guilty pleasure.

He was ready for rejection to kick him in the guts like a horse, but instead, he was meat with your flushed cheeks and warm smile. To him, he felt like he was confessing shame, but to you, it was the few words you always wanted him to say.

The weight of pining finally fell off his shoulders, freed with the knowledge you always felt the same way for him. Kaeya’s thankful that even though luck often refused to be on his side, it gave him this small chance to find something sweet to make everything seem a little less cruel.

Lyney (Today was a Fairytale)

But can you feel this magic in the air? // It must have been the way you kissed me // Fell in love when I saw you standing there // It must have been the way // Today was a fairytale

To him, loving you felt like a romance novel, always making his heart flutter like the wings of doves flying out of his hat. It must have been love at first sight, the way your enthusiastic, wide-eyed smile became enthralled with his street performances as you stood amongst the crowd.

How lucky he is that fate allowed him to have someone always by his side. Though he was the magician between the two of you, you were always the one taking his breath with whatever you had to offer.

You seem to know how to make his gloomy days a little bright with a bright smile, how to make the simplest gifts feel like the grandest gestures with him, and how to make real life feel like a fairytale that he thought would only be possible in children’s books. The sun always seems to be burning on his cheeks whenever you try to kiss him.

Even though he knows every magic trick there is, how in the world he managed to pull such a beautiful person like you will always remain a mystery to him. That must be destiny’s own little magic, he guessed — always finding a way to let two people tied with a red string of faith find each other in a chaotic mess of a world.

[kairismess]

Hello! I see that you're opening request right now, may I request about tsukishima's s/o who cries every time she comes home from work, and she ever moved from another company, but the company was also toxic, and this company she's in now is toxic too, so she's been stressing out and cries every night...

Hsshhshss I'm very sorry if this is hard to understand T u T thank you so much! 💖

OH NO WORRIES ANON !! i honestly like this idea, I HOPE I DID IT RIGHT THOUGH :'))) ngl tsukki would kinda suck at comforting if he forced it, but him just being all real with you when talking to you about it ... he weirdly gets super comforting, and he doesn't even realize it.

it's not lame at all. — timeskip!tsukishima kei x fem!reader

🏐 genre: fluff and a tall glass of comfort

✒️ word count: 975

💭 summary: kei usually doesn't find it hard to be blunt about matters like these... but he can't help but want to see you smile again, so he'll try his hardest to let you know that your feelings are valid.

another grueling day at your awful workplace, and nothing has changed from the past few places you've worked at. it's like you're destined to keep landing at poor workplaces that have a knack for treating their ordinary employees that don't stand out like you so horribly. you could only take so much mistreatment, and to think that you none of your friends nor superiors could really do anything to help you... it was like you were drowning–and nobody was out there to save you in that vast ocean of helplessness and despair that you felt.

your only relief everyday was being able to make it home in one piece, and on a good day, you'd hold in your tears until you were behind closed doors, free to weep and bawl about the misfortunes of being an adult. however, you still had to keep it down, even in the comfort of your own home–your boyfriend was going to be over that evening, and you didn't want him thinking you were dramatic over such little things, right?

by the time you got to your home, kei was already waiting for you by the your door. he looked up from his glasses, his honey-colored, wide eyes greeting scrutinizing your obviously exhausted figure. you managed to smile up at him, but for someone as clever and sharp as kei, he senses something's off about you. he furrows his thin, light blonde eyebrows at you and asks in a soft voice, "did something happen today?" and that's all that it took for your facade to crumble, and for the tears to start rolling down your cheeks in spite of your seemingly sweet, yet forced, smile.

kei walked over to you and with his bandaged fingers, took your bag from you and asked for your keys. he was going to put everything away for you, he was here quite often, and he memorized where all your essentials should be, so it wouldn't be a problem for either of you. he took your hand and led you inside, and you felt a little more ashamed that your boyfriend was leading you into your own home, as if you were a child who didn't know any better and had to rely on someone more put together than you were.

kei sat you down on the couch and got a few tissues from the coffee table, wiping away at your tears, murmuring to you to remember to blow your nose as he handed you the tissue. "...do you need some tea?" he asked you as you nodded, blowing your nose into the tissue. he disappeared into the kitchen, preparing a kettle for the tea, while thinking hard of what to tell you to comfort you. when he came back with the piping hot cup of tea, he kept gulping back the lump in his throat, he was too anxious, and that was always the case with him whenever he'd get too vulnerable with you. "um... i know these days have been... less than desirable, but, you..." kei began, struggling to find the right words, looking away from you ever so often.

he sighed, feeling frustrated with himself for holding back his true thoughts on the matter; but he wanted to sound sweeter, to comfort you. but the way kei comforts is not all sunshine and rainbows; he wants you to remember we live in reality, not in a world where everything works the way we want to just because we persevere and work hard. he looks at you and gently takes your hands in his, and takes a deep breath, hoping his words won't hurt you.

"...you deserve better." he mutters, looking into your eyes, the light in those honey-brown eyes of his had a genuine glint to them, and you could tell he wanted to help you, even if his means weren't very conventional. "i'm sorry you're being treated like that, and it makes me so pissed to know that those guys are getting away with taking advantage of you like that. but... that's reality. workplaces can be fun, and some can be downright abhorrent; but at the end of the day, you're a person who works from 9 to 5 to make an honest living—and that alone is a struggle to do, every day." he utters in a soft-spoken tone.

his voice isn't snarky nor does he hope to sound like a smart ass; he honestly wishes to help you, but to keep you grounded. he rubs the back of your hands and sighs. "...i could help tender you a resignation letter, and while we're doing that, i'll help get you a job at the place i'm applying for in the summer. i'll keep you safe, as much as i can; you've gone through too much already, and i... i want to be there for you, to make up for all the times i couldn't do anything about your suffering." he confesses, his grip on your hands tightening a little.

you felt your second tidal wave of tears coming, and you rushed for the tissues, with kei patting your back, in hopes that his touch would comfort you somehow. he can't really tell you that everything will be okay, he isn't the type to sugarcoat and lie that all will be fine—he loves you too much to build your delusions up, only to be thrown back down by the disappointment of the real world. though, kei loves you so, so much that he'd help you escape those crappy workplaces and help you both land jobs at the same place together. so even if the next one will be just as crappy, or even worse... kei's got you, and he'll make sure you won't waste another precious tear on people who aren't worth crying over; because you deserve so much better.

🦕 tags !! @emptybrain01

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Pt. 34

We're almost to the end!! I'm so excited to share this chapter with you and all I've got to say is...muahahahaha!

I also want to apologize for the lack of posting on here. I've lost motivation these last year. We've gone through a lot personally but I really want to finish this and boy and boy am I glad I did! The motivation came back today as I put on That 70's Show and it feels soooo good! I'm probably going to let out a few more chapters at most because this story has gotten a lot longer than it was supposed to. But I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think <3

Y/n was panting and struggling to breathe properly as the contractions came on.

“Oh, my God. What should we do?” Jackie asked, almost panicking.

“We need to get her to the hospital!” Markus cried out and turned towards the stairs, suspecting that’s where Kitty or Red may be. “Mr. and Mrs. Forman?! We could really use your help!” A beat passed and he turned to his girlfriend. “Go find one of them. Now. And tell them Y/n is in labor.”

Jackie nodded and ran into the kitchen, calling for Kitty and Red.

Markus whipped back to Y/n who was struggling to breathe from the pain. “Y/n, breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

“I…want…Steven!” Y/n panted as she could barley form words.

“Here, hold on to my han—AAHHH!” Markus screamed as Y/n crushed his hand with hers. “Thank God we’re going to the hospital, right?” He chuckled through the pain. “Jackie! Where are you?!”

“Here!” she called, walking out from the kitchen with Kitty in tow.

“Y/n, honey, what’s going on?” Kitty asked, concerned.

“Her water broke and the contractions are already starting,” Markus explained as calmly as he could.

“Oh, my God, the babies are coming—Red!” Kitty called excitedly. “It’s time!”

“What?” Red asked as he stomped down the stairs, annoyed. “What are you yelling—Y/n, are you okay?”

“Red, she’s in labor!” Kitty explained. “Everyone, get in the car!”

“I’ll stay here and call Steven,” Jackie offered.

“Number to the venue is on the—” Y/n was cut off as another contraction hit her. “Counter,” she strained.

“No, no, no you’re not staying here with your boyfriend,” Red said. “I barley trust you kids in my house when my kids are home; I definitely don’t trust you by yourselves.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Forman. I’m not staying. I’m going to go to the venue and see if I can catch them,” Markus said.

“How do I know you’re not just saying that?” Red asked, skeptically.

At that moment, Y/n led out a frustrated and pained scream. “Can we finish this conversation later?!”

“She’s right. Let’s go, Red,” Kitty said, grabbing Y/n’s arm and gently guided her out the door.

“I’ll go call Steven. Markus, go to the venue,” Jackie ordered.

“Aye, aye, Captain Hottie,” he smirked before grabbing his keys and walked out.

                                                        ---

“Okay, Y/n breathe,” Kitty instructed as Red drove like a madman to the hospital.

Y/n was doing deep breaths to try and steady the pain. “This is a big one!”

“I know, but you can do it!” Kitty encouraged.

“Is Steven going to make it?” she asked through breaths.

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Kitty assured. “Jackie is on it. Remember what she did at the wedding?”

Y/n nodded as the pain finally started to subside. “Yeah, she was awesome.” A beat passed before she spoke up again. “Don’t tell her I said that.” Pulsating pain came on as her stomach felt rock hard. “Here comes another one.”

“We’re almost there, honey,” Kitty said, rubbing her shoulder. “Red, step on it!”

                                               Meanwhile…

Loud rock music filled the air at the venue as the group jammed out from the crowd.

“This is the greatest day of my life!” Kelso shouted at his friends.

“Agreed!” Donna replied as Immigrant Song started.

“Hell yeah!” Eric whooped as he lit up a lighter.  

“Play that funky music white boys!” Fez shouted excitedly.

Everyone was having the greatest time, except for Hyde. He would occasionally whoop and holler, but the thought of Y/n being home while he was out having fun didn't sit right with him. It wasn’t until the song ended and the band moved onto the next that he nudged Fez, getting his attention.

“Hey, man, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure!” Fez said, barley paying attention.

Hyde rolled his eyes at his friend before leaving the arena and walking to the recession stand.

“Hi, how can I help you?” the young blonde woman asked as he approached her.

“Can I use your phone?”

“Absolutely,” she chirped and brought the phone out from beside the register. “Just dial 9 first.”

“Thanks,” he muttered and dialed the house number. It rang three times before someone picked up.

“Hello? Steven?”

“Jackie?” Hyde asked, scrunching his face. “What’re you doing at the house? Where’s Y/n?”

“Markus and I came over to be with Y/n to keep her company while you guys were gone,” she explained.

“Oh. Well, where is she? I want to talk to her.”

“Yeah…sorry, you can’t.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she isn’t here,” she replied.

Steven sighed, starting to feel irritated. “Where is she then?”

“At the hospital.”

“What?!” he almost yelled. “Why didn’t you lead with that? Is she in labor?!”

“Yes, she’s on the way. I stayed behind in case you called. If you leave now you might be able to meet her there.”

The phone almost slipped out his hand. “Oh, my God…”

“Steven…are you okay?”

“I’m on my way. Tell her to try to not have the babies until I get there!” He hung up the phone before she could answer and ran back into the arena where his friends were.

“Hey, man, where’d you go?” Eric asked while keeping his eye on the band.

“Y/n’s in labor!” Steven shouted.

Eric snapped his head towards his friend with wide eyes. “WHAT?!”

“Yeah, man, we gotta go!”

“Yeah, okay,” Eric said, nodding frantically and turned to Donna. “We gotta go!”

“What? Why?” she asked, smiling and hooting.

“Because Y/n is in labor!”

Her smile quickly disappeared as her attention snapped from the band to her boyfriend and friend. “WHAT?!”

“We’ve gotta go! She’s on her way to the hospital right now!” Hyde said.

“Right, okay,” Donna said, almost in a panic and turned to the boys. “Guys, Y/n’s in labor!”

“What?” Kelso shouted back. “Y/n’s the neighbor?”

“No, you dunce! Y/n’s in labor!” she repeated.

“Y/n’s the greater?” Kelso asked, even more confused. “Speak English, Donna, you’re not making any sense.”

“Y/N IS IN LABOR, YOU FOOL!” Fez screamed.

“Oh, my God!” Kelso shouted.

“Yeah, so we need to go,” Donna responded and grabbed him by the elbow.

“Wait, we’re all gonna go?” he questioned and dug his heels into the ground. “What about the concert?”

“Forget the concert, man, my wife is in labor!”

“Why? She’s not my wife,” Kelso argued.

Hyde’s jaw clenched and his fists balled up, dying to hit Kelso. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. If you want to stay, fine, but I’m leaving your ass here and you can find a ride home.”

Kelso laughed. “You’re not going to do that.”

“You wanna bet?”

“But they’re in the middle of a song!” he whined.

“You wanna walk home?” Hyde threatened.

Kelso groaned before stomping his foot. “Fine!”

                                                        ∞∞∞

“Alright, Mrs. Hyde,” Dr. Lee said, pulling back the privacy curtain as Y/n laid in the hospital bed. “You’re dilated two centimeters. Now this is your first childbirth so you could be here a while. We’ll keep monitoring you.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Y/n said. “Can I have something to drink?”

“Just ice chips,” the doctor said with a sympathetic smile.

“Okay,” she sighed, disappointed.

“I’ll be back in a little while to check on you,” she said and exited the room.

“Well, this could take a while,” Kitty said and started fluffing Y/n’s pillow. “Did you want some ice chips?”

“That would be nice,” Y/n responded. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Red stay here with her while I go get her ice chips.”

“Where else am I gonna go?” Red asked with a shrug of his shoulders. Once Kitty left the room, it was silent.

“So,” Red said, breaking the silence and sighed awkwardly. “Do the contractions really hurt as much as they say?”

Y/n stared up at her father with a confused and bewildered look. “I don’t know. Have someone kick your boys multiple times and harder each time and then come back and tell me.”

Red couldn’t help but chuckle. After another minute of silence, Y/n spoke up.

“Dad?”

“Mhm?”

“Were you scared when Mom went into labor?”

A small smile graced his lips and he nodded. “Yeah, I was. But let me tell you the moment I held you and your brother in my arms, that fear melted away.”

“So, the minute I hold my children, my fears are going to melt away forever?”

“Oh, hell no,” Red chuckled, shaking his head. “The fear never goes away. Everyday a new fear will strike in you and you’re going to have to find some way to battle that one among the others. It’s a never ending cycle.”

“Oh my God…how do you sleep at night?”

“I just close my eyes,” he quips and rocks on his heels. “But your mother…not so much. She worries for you guys constantly.”

Y/n looked down at her hands. “I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t. The last thing she wants is to make you guys worry because all she wants is for you to worry about yourselves.”

“But that’s not how that works,” she argued. “We’re a family we do that for each other.”

“Not in a parent’s eyes,” he responded cooly and started heading out the door. “I’m going to call your idiot brother and see if he’s at the house.”

Y/n nodded at him as he walked out the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, another contraction shot through her, catching her breath in her throat. She breathed through the pain, and what felt like minutes but only seconds, it subsided as soon as Kitty walked back through the door.

“Here you go, dear,” Kitty said.

“Thanks, Mom,” Y/n replied breathlessly as her head fell back against the pillow.

                                                --Meanwhile--

“Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, COME ON!” Hyde shouted as he dodged traffic and weaved through traffic like a madman.

“Hyde, slow down!” Eric tried to hide his panic as he white knuckled the door handle and middle console. “I know we’re going to the hospital anyway, but let’s try to get there alive!”

“Have you guys ever noticed people in this town drive so damn SLOW?!” He honked his horn impatiently. “Move over, Grandma!”

“Hyde, please, I don’t want to die,” Fez whined from the back as he clutched the back door and Kelso’s arm.

“Shut up, Fez,” Hyde snapped as he desperately hit the gas more. “DAMN IT!” he shouted when he hit a red light.

“Hyde, man, it’s alright. You’re going to make it in time,” Eric said, trying to calm him down.

“No, Forman, it’s not going to be alright if I’m not there!” he raised his voice and punched the gas as soon as the light turned green.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to make it,” Donna said.

“No, you guys don’t get it,” Hyde replied, forcing himself to stay calm. “My dad wasn’t there when I was born and I’ll be damned if I do the same to my kids.”

“You’re not your dad, man…” Kelso said quietly.

“You’re right I’m not,” Hyde responded, staring intently at the road. “I’m going to be better.”

“And you are, but you need to—RED LIGHT!” Eric shouted as Hyde sped through.

“Relax, it’s not like we hit anybody,” Hyde said, hard gaze on the road.

“Um, Hyde?” Fez piped up, looking out the back window nervously.

“You’re going to kill us!” Eric screeched.

“No, I’m not!”

“Hyde?” Fez said again, this time a little louder.

“It’s going to be no use if we don’t make it alive!” Eric shouted.

“Will you lay off?!” Hyde shouted back, white knuckling the steering wheel. “We’re going to be fine.”

“HYDE!” Fez shouted sharply.

“What?!” Hyde snapped.

“Um…” he responded by pointing out the back window.

Hyde followed his line of sight and saw blue and red flashing behind them. “Crap.”

                                                --Time Skip—

Y/n was doing deep breathing exercises as another contraction waved through her. At this point, sweat had formed on her hairline while her hair had been pulled back into a messy ponytail by Kitty.  

The pain radiated through her back down to her legs as she felt like daggers were racing through her bloodstream.

“Just keep breathing, honey, you’re doing great!” Kitty encouraged as Y/n struggled to keep breathing. She held her daughter’s hand as Y/n squeezed it through the pain.

“It...hurts…!” she whined as she breathed through the pain.

“I know, honey, but it’s going to be so worth it when you get to hold your babies for the first time,” Kitty cooed.

Finally, the contraction ended and Y/n laid her head back in exhaustion, panting. “Has anyone heard from Steven?”

“When I called the house, your little loud friend answered and said she had spoken to him and he was on the way,” Red answered and checked his watch. “But then again, that was almost two and half hours ago.”

“The concert was only forty-five minutes away,” Y/n pointed out. “An hour and a half at most with traffic.” She was silent for a moment, fighting back tears. “I knew he cared more about the stupid concert than me.”

“Oh, honey, you know that’s not true,” Kitty said, rubbing her daughter’s covered leg in comfort.

“No, it is, otherwise he would be here!” she wailed, tears running down her face. “I’m about to push two babies out of me and he’s not here! I’ve never been in so much pain in my entire life and I just want my husband!”

“I know, sweetie, I know, but he’ll be here,” Kitty reassured and walked over to her husband. “Can I talk to you outside?”

“About what?” he asked.

“Just get outside,” she responded and pushed him out. After she shut the door, she turned back to him. “You need to find him.”

“Why? I’m sure he’s on the way,” Red said casually and walked over to the nearest coffee station.

“The last time a big event happened, Steven almost didn’t make it!” she said harshly. “He was in jail, Red, jail!”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Go back to the house and find him!”

“Kitty, if he’s not here, he’s not going to be at the house,” he pointed out, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“What if he stopped by the house?”

“Now, why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, why did the boy go to a concert when he knows his wife’s about to pop? We’ll never know why the kids do what they do, but what I know for sure is that something is wrong!”

“Oh, Kitty, come on!” Red whined. “I’m sure Steven is fine. He’s probably stuck in traffic or something.”

                                       --Scene Transition—

“Officer, I’m telling you, I’m not drunk!” Hyde yelled.

The scene in front of him would’ve been quite comedic if he hadn’t been the one in the position. He was leaned forward on the hood with his hands splayed out and legs spread as he was being searched.

“With the way you were driving, I beg to differ,” the officer replied as he carefully searched Hyde.

“The breathalyzer said I wasn’t!” he argued. “Why are you still searching me? I need to get to the hospital! My wife is in labor!”

“Yeah, I haven’t heard that one before,” the cop scoffed as he stood.

“Man, I’m serious! If you follow me, I’ll show you I’m telling the truth!”

“I’m not falling for that one again.”

“What? No, man, I’m serious!”

“You know everything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law,” the officer said.

“Okay, well then get this on record: I. NEED. TO. GET. TO. MY. WIFE. She is in labor and I really need to be there!”

“Shut up or else I will arrest you.”

Steven sighed, frustrated. “For God’s sake.”

While this was happening, the rest of the crew sat silently and rigid in the car. They felt with one wrong move, they would be arrested.

“Do you think he’s going to be let go?” Fez asked.

“If he shuts up and lets the man do his job, the maybe,” Kelso said.

“Hey, wait, you used to be a cop,” Eric pointed out. “Can’t you do something?”

“I doubt it,” Kelso responded, not taking his eyes off the cop. “As long as Hyde shuts up, he should be fine.”

“I hope you’re right. It would be awful if he missed the birth of his children like how he almost his own wedding,” Donna said, staring at Hyde as he stood still as a statue.

“Yeah, that would be,” Kelso mumbled.

Meanwhile outside, Hyde was ready to jump out of skin as he waited for the cop to finish up the report. The cop purposely was taking his time which made Hyde want to twist his neck even more.

“Can I go now?” he asked.

“I need to still check the car.”

“You checked it twice!”

“Once more never killed anybody.”

“Come on!” Hyde shouted as he watched the cop reach into the glove compartment to grab some gloves. “I’ve done everything you asked and you’re still going to hold me here? What more do you want?”

“I just love watching people like you squirm,” the cop said smugly as he snapped on the latex gloves.

“People like me? Man, I’m telling the truth!” Hyde shouted. “I’m not drunk and I’m not high! There’s nothing in my car! I don’t know what the hell you’re looking for, but you’re not going to find it!”

The cop smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

A car rumbled by across the street before it stopped and parked. Steven eyed the cop as he watched him kick his friends out and search the car again.

“Steven?!”

Hyde’s head snapped to the sound of his name and watched as Red crossed the street towards him.

“Red?” Hyde called out. “What’re you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!” Red asked, now feeling frustrated. “Do you know Kitty made me leave the hospital to drive back home to find you, only to find out that you’ve been pulled over the side of the road?!” He stood directly in front of Steven as he also watched the cop search the car. “Why were you pulled over this time?”

“Speeding.”

“And he’s searching the car because...?”

“He’s sure I’m under the influence of drugs or alcohol.”

Red pinched his eyebrows together and looked at Steven. “Were you breathalyzed?”

“Yes.”

“And searched?”

“Three times.”

“You don’t got that dope on you, do you?”

Steven rubbed his forehead, trying to control his irritation. “No.”

“Then why are you still here?!”

“That’s a good question. Ask the man in blue.”

Without hesitation, Red darted towards the police officer. “Hey, buddy! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to back up while I conduct my search—”

“To hell with your damn search!” Red yelled. “You found nothing, now let him go! His wife, my daughter, is at the hospital about to give birth!”

“Oh, now he’s got you covering him?” the cops asked smugly. “I’m not buying it and this can be held against you—”

“Do I need to call Chief Calvin?” Red interrupted with fire in his eyes. “Do I need to tell him that you are looking to book my son-in-law?”

“How do you know—?”

“I’ve got

“You can if you want,” the cop said. “I’m just doing my job.”

“No, you’re not. You’re being a prick who is on a power trip. I’ll tell you what, you give him the speeding ticket and I won’t report your ass to the chief for trying to find false evidence.”

An annoyed, angry look crossed over the officer’s face before he snapped off his gloves. “Fine.”

“Thank you, officer,” Red said sickly sweet.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbled as he walked back to the cop car.

Once the officer was out of earshot, Hyde turned to Red. “You really know that Chief like that?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I had you and my son to deal with. You didn’t think I wasn’t going to get to be on a first name basis with the P.D?”

                                             --Meanwhile—

“WHERE. IS. HE?!” Y/n screamed through contractions.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Your dad is out looking for him,” Kitty responded, wiping away sweat off her daughter’s forehead.

This caused Y/n to scream out more in frustration than in pain when another contraction hit. “SON OF A BITCH!”

A knock on the door barley made their attention when Dr. Lee popped in. “How are we doing?”

“I need drugs!” Y/n screamed.

“Let me see how dilated you are,” Dr. Lee responded and popped on some gloves. After she felt around, she came up from between Y/n’s legs and sighed contently. “4 centimeters—looks like you’re dilated enough.”

“Oh, thank God,” Y/n sighed and leaned her head back.

“You know, you do qualify for this new drug we have. It’s called an epidural anesthesia. It’s going to numb you from the waist down and you won’t be able to feel anything.”

“Do it.”

“You don’t want to hear the possible side--"

"Damn it, woman, do it!" Y/n cried out in discomfort. “It feels like these kids are going to rip me in half!”

Dr. Lee chuckled before nodding. “I’ll be right back with the anesthesiologist.”

“Wow, fancy,” Kitty said, impressed. “When I gave birth to all three of you, I didn’t get that special treatment.”

“Times have changed, Mom,” Y/n responded dully.

“Excuse me, miss grumpy pants,” Kitty sassed as she situated herself in the chair next to the bed.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled and stared at the ceiling in silence.

“He’ll make it,” Kitty said after a minute.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know right now. He was arrested and almost didn’t make it to our wedding, so I’m not sure if he’ll make it here on time to witness the birth of his children.”

“Oh, Dear, that’s just the hormones talking. I know Steven is just anxious to be here.”

                                          --Meanwhile—

“For the love of GOD, people, move your asses!” Hyde yelled at the traffic ahead of him. “Why is it even this crowded? Where are all these people coming from?!”

“Um, probably from the concert,” Donna piped up.

“The whole town went to the concert?!”

“I mean, we’re not the only ones who listen to them, but whatever,” Eric mumbled.

Hyde ignored them as another growl bubbled up from his throat as traffic began to slow down again. “Friggin’ slow asses, move!” He honked his horn and swerved in the other lane to pass someone.

“That was a student driver,” Eric said.

“Yeah, and I felt the same way when I passed that old lady earlier—nothing,” Hyde retorted as he got off the highway. “Doesn’t matter anyway, we’re almost there.”

“Pretty sure at this rate we’ll be there in five minutes instead of twenty,” Fez said nervously, gripping the door handle with white knuckles.

“Yeah, I think I felt safer when we were pulled over,” Kelso said and quickly averted Hyde’s icy glare through the rearview mirror. “I’ll shut up now.”

“Good plan,” Hyde responded. “Now, hang onto your asses. This is going to be a fast ride.”

                                           --At the hospital—

“Hey, Mom, look,” Y/n said, calm and happy and pointed at the machine that was monitoring her contractions. “I’m having a contraction. Who knew?”

“Are you feeling better now that you got the epidural?” Kitty asked, relieved to see her daughter out of pain.

Y/n giggled. “It’s almost like—childbirth, who? Pushing out two babies, say what?”

Kitty smiled. “Glad to hear it, dear.”

“Alright, Mrs. Hyde, after checking your dilation, it looks like you’re now at eight centimeters,” Dr. Lee informed.

“Whoa, man, I’m so numb I didn’t even feel you down there,” Y/n chuckled.

“Y/n, honey, did you hear the doctor?” Kitty asked, grabbing her daughter’s hand. “You’re eight centimeters. There’s only two centimeters left until you need to start pushing.”

Y/n’s eyes bugged out at the sudden realization. “What?! But-but Steven isn’t here yet!”

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter to babies coming out of a womb,” Kitty explained gently.

“No, no, no they have to stay in there until he’s here!” Y/n panicked. “Damn it, I knew he shouldn’t have gone!”

 Dr. Lee took this as her cue to leave. “I’ll be back later to check on you.”

After Dr. Lee left, Y/n turned to Kitty with tears in her eyes. “Mom, I can’t do this alone.”

“Oh, honey, you’re not going to be alone. I’ll be here.”

“You promise?”

Kitty smoothed down her daughter’s sweaty, matted hair. “Of course. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She wrapped her arms around her mother as she felt an ounce of comfort. When she pulled away, she looked her in the eyes. “Just…don’t look at me. You know, down there.”

“Honey, I’m a nurse. I see this on a daily basis!” Kitty laughed. “And not to mention you, too, came out of me!”

“Ugh, God, MOM!”

                                                  Now…

“Finally! Land!” Eric bellowed as he stumbled out of the now parked car with wobbly legs. “Thank you, God, we’re alive!” He clutched his chest, breathing heavily, and looked up at the sky. “God, I know you and I don’t talk a lot, but thank you for not killing us.”

“Forman, get off the ground,” Hyde ordered. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m just…so happy,” Eric whined, but kept his hand on his chest.

“Come on, hurry!” Red barked. “Those babies aren’t going to wait much longer for them to be born!”

“You’re right,” Hyde said and clapped a hand onto Red’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go have my babies!”

He heard the cheers coming from his friends behind him as he ran into the hospital, heart pounding from the adrenaline.

Eric turned to Donna after they watched their friend disappear into the hospital. “Hey, Donna?”

“Yeah, Eric?”

“Which arm hurts when you’re having a heart attack?”

“Your left one.”

“Oh,” he sighed and cracked a nervous smile. “It’s a good thing we’re at a hospital, huh?”

                                  --Five minutes later—

“Alright, Mrs. Hyde, looks like you’re at ten centimeters,” Dr. Lee said., situating herself between Y/n's legs that were up in the stirrups. “It’s time to start pushing. Are you feeling any pain?”

Y/n shook her head nervously. “Just a lot of pressure.”

“Good. Are you ready?”

Y/n grabbed her mother’s hand as Kitty helped her sit up. “You got this, honey.”

“And…push!” the doctor said, but was quickly interrupted as the door swung open, startling her.

“I’m here! I’m so sorry, but I’m here!” Steven said, out of breath.

“Steven, you’re here!” Y/n said, relief flooding over her, which soon was quickly replaced with anger. “Where the HELL have you been?!”

“I’m so sorry, Doll,” he said and kissed her forehead. “It’s a long story, but traffic was horrible and then I got pulled over until Red found me—”

“What?!” Y/n shouted.

“Mr. Hyde, I’m so glad that you’re able to join us, but Mrs. Hyde is going to have to start pushing now,” said Dr. Lee.

“Oh, my God,” Hyde said nervously and slipped his hand into his wife’s. “You got this, baby.”

“Since you’re here, I’ll let myself out,” Kitty said.

“Wait, no, Mom,” Y/n called out, stopping her. “Y-you don’t have to go. You can stay here if you want.”

Kitty gave her a gentle smile and kissed her cheek. “Sweet girl. It’s okay, you don’t need me.”

“I’ll always need you,” her voice cracked and eyes filled with tears. “Mommy, I’m scared.”

“You’ll be just fine. In a moment like this, you need your husband, not your mother, who I am so glad is finally here. I’ll be right outside, okay?”

Y/n nodded and wiped at her eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay. Besides, I need to talk to your father and see what happened with Steven getting pulled over.” She blew a kiss to her daughter and son-in-law as she walked out the room.

“Alright, Mrs. Hyde, I need you to push for me like you’re using the toilet. Can you do that for me?”

Y/n sat herself up while still gripping onto Steven’s hand and pushed as hard as she could.

“Good job! I’m seeing a head!” the doctor announced.

“Come on, baby, you got this!” Hyde encouraged.

“Okay, now stop,” Dr. Lee ordered. “Breathe, take a ten second break. We’re going to do this slowly. We don’t want any tears.”

Y/n nodded once again and leaned back. She looked up to her husband who was staring down on her lovingly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he responded. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

She caressed his face. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“Let’s start pushing again,” Dr. Lee said and placed her hands on Elena’s knees. “And…go!”

Elena sat up with Hyde’s help and started pushing again. Grunting, she felt pressure building up even more as if she really was using the toilet. “Oh, my God!”

“You’re doing it! Good girl!” the doctor encouraged.

“Breathe, baby doll, breathe,” Hyde said gently as he moved hair out of her face.

She let out long breaths to ease the pressure, but it wasn’t helping much.

“Oh, my God, my ass is going to explode!” she screamed.

“No, it’s not, you’re doing so well!” Hyde encouraged.

“Dad, I’m going to need you to hold her leg up for me,” instructed the doctor.

Without a word, Hyde reached down and placed a gentle under her knee, lifting it upwards.

“Much better,” said Dr. Lee. “You’re doing well, Y/n! Just keep pushing!”

Y/n squeezed Hyde’s hand so hard he swore she was going to cut off his fingers, but he didn’t care and in fact, almost completely forgot about it when he heard the doctor yell, “Baby number one’s head is out! Now, Y/n, I’m going to need you to give me one big push for the shoulders, okay?”

Y/n nodded, breathing heavily and leaned against her husband.

“You got this,” Hyde said in her ear as he supported her back.

She grunted and groaned as she pushed as hard as she could.

“Push, baby, push!” Hyde said, almost excitedly.

“Almost there!” Dr. Lee announced.

Y/n took in a deep breath before doing the biggest push she could muster.

“Shoulders are out!” said the doctor before she gently pulled the baby out.

                           And then, there was crying.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” announced the doctor.

“Oh, my God!” Y/n cried as she saw her son for the first time.

“It’s a boy,” Hyde said breathlessly. It took everything in him not to allow any tears surface.

“We have a boy, Steven,” Y/n wept as she watched the nurse take him from the doctor. “Where’d he go?”

“They’re just taking him to get him cleaned up,” Steven said, his eyes watery.

“He’s so tiny,” she whispered and looked up at Steven.

“He’s perfect,” he responded and kissed her gently.

“Y/n, it looks like baby number two is ready to come out,” Dr. Lee said.

“Ugh, I already had a baby. Leave me alone,” Y/n groaned. “Can’t I take a break?”

“Sorry, not with this little one. They’re coming sooner than you think!” answered the doctor and sat between her legs again. “Ready?”

“Not really…”

“Good, because they’re coming!”

Y/n didn’t get a chance to even breathe before she felt a tremendous amount of pressure passing through her. She gasped before grabbing onto Hyde’s neck and digging her nails into his flesh.

“Ow, ow, ow, Y/n, ow!”

“So-sorry,” she stuttered, breathless and let go.

“Here, grab my hand instead,” he said, offering his hand.

She grabbed his hand again and squeezed.

“Alright, Mr. Hyde, just like last time, go ahead and grab Mom’s leg and hold it up for me,” Dr. Lee instructed again.

He repeated the motion from before and gently lifted her leg up.

“Perfect,” Dr. Lee said, encouragingly. “Annnnd push!”

One more deep breathe and Y/n pushed harder than she had pushed before.

“Wait, wait, wait, stop pushing,” the doctor said suddenly.

“What, why?!” Y/n asked, panting.

Hyde step forward to take a look. “Oh, God! What the hell is that?!”

“Don’t say that! What is what?!” Y/n screeched.

“It’s the baby’s feet. They’re breeched,” the doctor said.  

“Oh, my God. Are they going to be okay?!” Y/n asked, panicking.

“They’re going to be fine. But I’m going to need you to push even harder now.”

“No, I can’t! I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yes, you can,” Hyde said. “You’re stronger than you know. You always have been. You can do this, Y/n”

“No, no I can’t!” She turned back to the doctor. “Can’t you just reach up there and pull the baby out?!”

“Not unless you want a C-section, you’re going to need to do this,” said Dr. Lee.

Y/n leaned back, crying. “I can’t—I don’t have it in me!”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Steven said, gently. She looked at her husband, teary eyed. “Just think—this baby will be out and then it’ll be over. You just gotta get through this, okay? You can bring our son or daughter and this will be over. Okay? I love you so much, you can do this.”

“I love you, too,” she whimpered and sat up.

“Push like you haven’t pooped in a week,” Dr. Lee instructed gently.

“It feels like I haven’t!” Y/n screamed as she felt the pressure rise.

“There we go!” the doctor said excitedly. “Both feet are out! Here come the legs!”

“You’re doing amazing, doll, keep going!” Hyde encouraged.

Y/n took another breath before pushing the hardest she could. She started to feel some relief from the pressure the more she pushed.

“Here she comes!” Dr. Lee announced.

Hyde’s gaze snapped to the doctor. “It’s a girl?!”

Dr. Lee looked back at him with a soft gaze and a smile. "Yeah, it's a girl."

“Oh, my God,” Hyde said, this time his voice cracking from emotion. “Baby, we have a daughter."

"One of each," Y/n choked back a sob.

"Give me one last big push!” said the doctor.

With a final push, the pressure finally alleviated and soon, the sound of a crying baby filled the room.

“Here she is!” the doctor held up the baby as she continued to cry.

“She’s beautiful,” Y/n said in awe, feeling emotional. She wept as she watched her daughter being taken away for cleanup.

“Just like her mom,” Hyde said teary eyed and looked at his wife. “You did great, Doll. I’m so proud of you.”

The adrenaline that was once pumping through Y/n’s veins was now fading and she could now start to feel the exhaustion take over. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” She reached a hand up and gently wiped a stray tear.

He leaned down and gave her a gentle, passionate kiss.

“Good job, Mom and Dad,” Dr. Lee said with a smile. “Mrs. Hyde, we’re just going to stitch you up—”

“Steven…” Y/n whimpered, her eyelids getting heavier. “’M tired. S’ tired.”

“Uh, doc? Is she supposed to be feeling this tired? She can’t keep her eyes opened—”

The heart rate monitors suddenly start screaming.

“Someone get the babies out of here!” Dr. Lee ordered. “Mr. Hyde, I’m going to need you to step out the room.”

“What’s going on?!” Hyde demanded and looked down to Y/n who was barley conscious.

“She’s hemorrhaging and it’s causing her blood pressure to drop. She’s going into shock.”

“What?!” Steven shouted as he started to be pushed out. “Wait! Wait! Y/n!”

Everything happened so fast, the last thing Hyde saw was his wife being surrounded by nurses and doctors as he was shoved out the room, and the door slammed in his face.

Taglist: @not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch @leothesquishy

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Psst. Shiro. Shiro. You awake? Shiro?”

If there is anyone, out there, who has just had their car stolen by a punk kid who reminds them to much of themselves, Shiro would like them to know:

Do not adopt the punk kid. The punk kid will grow into a punk young adult who does not know boundaries and loves to bother you in the dead of the fucking night, because heaven forbid he solve his own problems.

“Keith. I am going to kill you.”

“I have a question,” Keith insists, entirely unafraid of Shiro’s very real and very genuine threat.

Shiro groans loudly, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his head. Maybe if he holds it steadily it will suffocate him to death. “Fuck off. Please.”

Ignoring him even further, Keith climbs over Shiro’s body, kneeing him in the spleen, like a cat perhaps, and settling down next to him. “I have a question,” he says again.

He has his stubborn voice on, because of fucking course he does. Shiro is not going to be successful in ignoring him.

He groans again, much louder this time, and drags himself out from under the blankets. He glares at his brother as nastily as he can, seriously considering beating him to death with his pillow. Keith must read the look in his eyes, because he scooches back slightly.

��Did I ever tell you that you’re a punk fucking kid?“

“More times than I can count physically,” Keith says pleasantly. “You may have called me that more than my name, actually. I have a lot of intense psychological trauma about it.”

Shiro laughs despite himself, breaking the unspoken game between them. The smile finally breaks free on Keith’s face, wide and boyish and frustrating.

Shiro has to give him a noogie. Like, contractually.

“Aw, Shiro, fuck off! You’re gonna mess up my hair!”

“Can’t mess up the already messy,” Shiro taunts, making sure to cause at least three tangles. Keith makes a freaky growling noise, like one of those little rat dogs that feels it has been wronged, and the next thing Shiro knows he’s being bitten.

“Jesus — ow, Keith! Unclamp! Bad feral desert child! I’m going to get the fucking spray bottle!” Shiro finally manages to wrestle his arm back, kicking Keith right off the bed and holding a pillow in front of him for protection. “Gollum ass bitch!”

“My precious,” Keith hisses in response, muffled from his place on the floor.

Both of them are silent for a moment, desperately trying to muffle their panting so the other doesn’t know how out of breath the wrestling made them.

God, Shiro wouldn’t give up his punk fucking kid for the world.

“Why did you wake me up, you brat?”

“The team is panicking and I’m not allowed to tell you about it,” Keith explains easily.

Shiro leans over the side of the bed, quirking an amused eyebrow. “So why are you telling me about it?”

Keith shrugs. “Because they’re being stupid! Don’t bother Shiro, Lance says. It’s supposed to be a surprise, Lance says.” Keith scoffs. “I don’t get it. We’re struggling, we need help. Who the fuck else would we ask?”

Shiro opens his mouth, then closes it again. His eyes well up.

“Oh, Shiro, don’t start,” Keith groans, smacking his palm to his forehead. “Dude, come on, it wasn’t that big of a deal —”

“I’m your backup plan,” Shiro wails, trying and failing to contain himself. He buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with the force of his cries.

“Aw, you big loser.” Keith crawls back up on the bed, throwing an arm around Shiro’s back and patting gently. He lets Shiro cry himself out for a few minutes, hand rubbing constant circles on Shiro’s back, and then he freezes.

Mischief is suddenly in the air.

“After all,” Keith says, and Shiro can hear the glee in his voice. “you’re six whole years old, today. Practically a grown-up!” His voice gets high-pitched, condescending. “Are we having some big boy feelings there, sport? Are we —”

“I am going to kill you now,” Shiro announces pleasantly, and it’s the only warning Keith gets before he’s tackled to the ground.

———

“I can’t believe you actually tried to kill me,” Keith pouts. He pokes at a bruise on his arm and then looks at Shiro, expression as pitiful as he can make it. “You’re abusive. A bully.”

“Mhm. Shut up.” Keith grumbles when Shiro throws his arm over his shoulders, guiding them down the hallways, but allows it. “You said you had a question, when you woke me up in the dead of the night like a particularly annoying mosquito.”

Keith brightens considerably. “Oh, yeah! Happy birthday. The team is trying to plan you a super secret birthday party, but you usually plan the team birthday parties, so it’s fallen into chaos. Lance keeps trying to climb the cabinets in the kitchen to hang things from the ceiling. When I left Hunk was threatening to shove him in the oven.”

Shiro can’t help his smile, big and wide and goofy. “Is Pidge panicking and reorganizing the kitchen based on a convoluted colour-coding system?”

“Yep.”

“Allura’s smuggling gigantic bottles of glitter into the room and trying to put it everywhere for ‘festive joy and sparkles’?”

“Mhm.”

“Coran is trying to stop her but keeps getting distracted and pulled onto the side of the glitter?”

“Absolutely. She bribed him with orange glitter and he dropped off the rational side immediately.”

“Excellent. Hopefully she’s managed to cover things in pink.”

“Oh, she brought in extra just for you.”

Shiro sniffles again. His arm tightens around his dorky brother, who rolls his eyes at the sound but doesn’t tease him again. “And Hunk? How many people have been smacked with the Spoon of Doom for trying to eat the cake?”

“…None.”

Keith’s shiftiness startles the tears right out of him, and he laughs loudly. “How many times have you been smacked, you sugar fiend?”

“He made you triple chocolate cake!” Keith defends. “I just wanted to quality check!”

“You should tell Hunk you want to ‘quality check’ his stuff. I’d really enjoy seeing him throw you bodily down the hallway.”

“Say, has anyone given you your birthday beats yet? You’re six years old, and there are six of us, so that means you get to get thirty-six —”

“Keith! Shiro!” They’re not even fully in view of the doorway when Lance calls out to them — those freaky bat ears of his, goddamn — and jumps off the counter, just barely managing to not trip and brain himself to death on the floor. He runs over to them, hugging them tightly and then dragging them towards the rest of the team.

“Interesting how you were the first one he called out to,” Shiro mutters, wiggling his eyebrows.

Keith scowls. His ears are red. “Shut up.”

“First one he hugged, too.”

“Choke.”

“Interesting, because it’s my birthday.”

“It’s going to be your last birthday if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

“Is he sparkling? He looks like he’s sparkling. Only when he looks at you, though.”

“Shiro, if you don’t fucking —”

“Everyone! The birthday boy is here!” Lance announces, saving Shiro’s life.

The team greets him enthusiastically, beams and hugs and kisses and, in Allura’s case, a baptism of pink glitter.

“Thank you,” Shiro tells her solemnly. “Both for the glitter shower and for not letting anyone tell you not to. Stick it to the man.”

Allura laughs brightly. “Of course not! The room needs to shine as brightly as you, Shiro darling!”

She sits Shiro down at his seat, everyone taking their seats around him. Hunk brings over the beautiful cake he made, deep and dark and chocolate and no doubt beyond delicious.

There are six and three quarter candles in it.

Shiro glances at his team flatly. “Really?”

“It’s the first of thirteen age related jokes,” Pidge says, grinning. “We each came up with one, and then Keith came up with seven more.”

“Shocking,” Shiro says drily. He shakes his head, unable to fight his smile. “All of you are ungrateful brat children. Even you, Coran.”

“I have forgotten more about being alive than you will ever know, child.”

“Is it because I’m only six?”

Coran claps his hands delightedly. “Yes! That is my joke! Did you like it?”

“I’m going to blow on my candles and wish you were all less annoying,” Shiro says.

He blows out his candles to the backdrop of his heckling team, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps them closed for a moment, trying to think of something to wish for. He peeks one eye open, taking in his dorky team, wrestling and teasing each other. Pidge is looking dangerously close to grabbing a handful of cake with her bare hands and shoving it in Lance’s hair, because he’s poking her relentlessly over something ridiculous. Hunk is trying to pull him away, poorly concealing his own laughter. Allura and Coran are throwing handfuls of glitter in the air. Keith — that punk kid, Shiro’s best friend and better — has his chin in his hands, staring at Lance and pretending he isn’t.

Shiro smiles, soft and happy and satisfied.

He lets his wish evaporate into the atmosphere.

There’s nothing he wants that he doesn’t already have.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

04/28/24 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Nathan Foad; Damien Gerard; Watch Parties; Fan Spotlight; Cast Cards; OFMD Colouring Pages; Community Q's Love Notes; Daily Darby / Today's Taika;

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins =

I think this picture speaks for itself.

Img Src: @simonenathan Twitter

= Nathan Foad =

More Love's Labour's Lost with Nathan! So good to see him having such a great time!

Img Src: Nathan's IG

= Damien Gerard =

Our crewmate @/rosiemegglemoth on twitter saw Damien this weekend and he got to meet little Edward! I've seen Edward travel all over the place and I'm loving that he and Damien got to meet up <3 Thank you Rosy Meggie Moth for letting me share this with everyone!

@rosiemegglemoth's Twitter

== Watch Parties ==

= Palm Royale =

Palm Royale WP May 2 via @LCWebsXOXO with the lovely @/dominicburgess approx. 4pm EDT/9pm BST/1pm PST!

= Wrecked Season 1 =

Another week of Wrecked Season 1 is on the docket! Don't have access? Reach out to me on @gentlebeardsbarngrill on tumblr, or @aspirantabby42 on twitter.

Days: Apr 29 - May 3

Times: 3:30 pm PT / 6:30 pm ET / 11:30 pm BST

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's cast card is Pop Pop's Son! Thanks @melvisik for bringing him in too! I thought he looked familiar.

== OFMD Colouring Pages ==

Thank you @patchworkpiratebear for more colouring pages! This time featuring Calypso's Birthday!

== Community Q's ==

Starting something new today friends! I want to hear from you all!

What's your favorite interview featuring the OFMD cast?

It could be just Rhys or Taika and Rhys, or just David, or just Samson, or any number of cast members! It could even just be an interview of a cast member for another movie or show they did (doesn't have to be ofmd related except that an actor/actress also played in OFMD)! I just would love to hear what your favorite cast interviews are-- and if you have a link to it even better!

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies. I'm sorry it's been so hard lately. Everyone I talk to seems to be struggling in one way or another right now, and I know it's been a lot. Remember to vent if you can-- even if a lots been happening for a while, you're not a burden if you need to vent again.

We all go through so much in our lives, and sometimes those hard times go for a lot longer than we'd like, we're allowed to be just as frustrated with them as we were the first as the 100th day we're dealing with them.

But you know what? You're so incredibly resilient lovelies. Seriously, look at you. Look at you getting through each day even when things are tough. If you had a great day, or you cried your eyes out, the fact that you're still here is so incredibly important.

YOU are so incredibly important. I know sometimes it feels like we are our struggles, but you are so very much more than them. Your struggles might be chronic, you may never be rid of them, or they may be temporary, so please, feel them, fight them, experience them, learn from them, but know that when you come out of them at the end of the day you are not those struggles.

They influence you, and they are a piece of you, but they are not the whole of you. You are a wonderful, kind, an beautiful individual that means so much to so many people, and you are so very complex and you have so many sides to you.

You are wonderful lovelies. Remember that. Good luck this week, I'm rooting for you so hard.

Img Src: @goldiealexx Instagram

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

I always come back to this being one of my favorite interviews so that's tonight's theme, fav interviews. Today's gif courtesy of @celluloidbroomcloset

[ghoul-bonez]

~You Always Find Your Way, Especially Back Home~

(Neteyam x Fem! Na’vi! Reader)

Summary: When you wake up the day after your first meeting with Neteyam the last thing you want to do is see him again, and when you bump into him while hunting you’re not sure how you ended up back where you had met before, but you decided to let him stick around.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: This isn’t Official chapter 2 but it’s a little bonus chapter, so hopefully it’ll do for now until I can get chapter 2 finished! (I’ll be doing a bonus chapter for every meeting I mentioned in the first part :D)

~Last - Next~

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist-

You Always Find Your Way, Especially Back Home

You had never intended to meet another Na’vi, had decided you were happy enough with your forest animal family to not need outside companionship. You were content with just them, the love of your mother palulukan, and the serenity of the forest. You didn’t need anything else.

Then there was Neteyam.

Meeting him had changed everything. It wasn’t necessarily because it was him, but more so meeting one of your own kind, someone so like you, yet so different. It really shook you, leaving you confused and emotional, and you weren’t sure how to process it.

Your brain wasn’t sure how to cope with your world being flipped upside down, so you cried, and cried, and cried. You sobbed louder than ever before, and as you did your mother palulukan embraced you, gently licking your face clean of the tears.

She was confused, unsure of why you were so upset, but when she caught a whiff of Na’vi smell on you she understood. She did her best to calm you, and when you fell asleep she stayed by your side, figuring you must be hungry, but she could get you food in the morning, not wanting to wake you from your peaceful state.

When you woke up the next morning you decided you never wanted to see Neteyam ever again. You did not need that stress, you did not need to know more about your kind, and you were perfectly happy with your family of palulukan.

You wanted to stay as far away from that clearing as possible, afraid that if you returned he may be waiting for you. You didn’t quite know why you were so scared of seeing him again, and you didn’t want to think about it, but you did. Possibly it was because he had the power to flip your world upside down. Possibly it was the fact that he was new, something that you were unsure of and could be dangerous.

So when you went off on your hunt for the day you stalked the opposite way. You walked, and walked, and walked, but didn’t pick up any hints of prey animals, or any animals. It was like your nose wasn’t working, or maybe something had scared them away.

You were growing frustrated, you needed to find a meal today. You hadn’t eaten yesterday and you were feeling hungry, and on top of that your family hadn’t eaten and you knew they were confused by your failed hunt. You had to show them that you were okay, nothing was wrong just because you didn’t have a successful hunt yesterday. However they knew something was wrong because of your tears last night.

You stood up to your full height, no longer hidden in the shadows, and stretched, letting out a groan as your back cracked. You were tired, and decided to take a little break, looking for somewhere to sit, maybe even lay down and take a nap.

You circled around a tree, looking at your surroundings and sighing. You felt frustration well up inside you, somehow you had ended up at the clearing. What was worse than ending up at the clearing was who was sitting there.

Neteyam.

He was sitting there carving a piece of wood, a small smile on his face, and you wanted to smack it off his stupid face more than anything. You growled quietly, ears pressed to your head, and his ears flitted in your direction before he turned to you.

“Hello.” He greeted you, smiling more.

You didn’t understand what he had said, squinting and hissing quietly, but it was less harsh than any before, and he laughed at that, covering his mouth with his hand to hide it some. You frowned at him, looking away quickly before your eyes met him again. You were afraid that if you took your eyes off of him for too long that he would attack.

As you inspected him you realized it would be hard for him to attack you, as he had nothing to attack you with. You stepped closer, circling him and inspecting him, no weapons were found on him, no bow, no knife, nothing that could harm you.

You weren’t convinced though, he had to have something hidden somewhere, but where you weren’t sure. Maybe you were just being paranoid, but you would rather be paranoid than dead or severely injured.

He didn’t seem to mind your prying eyes as you surveyed him at every angle, eventually approaching him closer than ever. He stilled, holding his breath and sitting as stiff as a stick while you crouched down in front of him.

He sat with wide eyes as you reached out and poked his corset that was wrapped around his waist, signaling him to take it off. It was the only place you concluded could be hiding a weapon, and once you poked it you scattered away.

He sat there with confusion on his face, and it only grew as you spoke, “Neteyam.” You pointed to your waist, but he didn’t understand what you wanted.

His brows furrowed as he looked from you to the corset you had poked, “(Y/n), hm?”

You just snarled in frustration, “Neteyam!” You shouted at him, pointing towards him, then towards your waist again.

Then it hit him, you wanted it off, “Off?” He asked, pointing towards the corset, as if you would understand.

You scowled at him, not understanding his words, but he did it anyway. He slowly took it off, afraid if he moved too fast it would spook you and you would run off.

You seemed happy when it was off and he dropped it on the ground, circling him again, examining him, and when you found nothing you seemed more calm than before. Your shoulders slumped and a wave of content fell over you.

Even without weapons he put you on edge. He was unfamiliar and you weren’t sure how to feel about him yet, but what you didn’t know was how he was feeling.

He wanted to get to know you, to see you. You were so different, an anomaly, and he wanted to know everything about you. He wanted to figure out who you were, to know where you came from, because as far as he knew you had emerged from the forest and changed his views on life.

He wasn’t sure how you had done that. He wasn’t sure why he felt so different about you, but he wanted to figure out why. He needed to figure out why. The only way he thought to do that was to sit you down and teach you his language as you seemed to not have one of your own, so he patted the ground just like he had yesterday, but today you hesitated less, sitting quicker and a couple feet closer.

There was a silence that many people would think is awkward, but you, who was not used to talking, were content with it. You were more than content with it, preferring this rather than Neteyam’s babbling which you could not understand.

The silence was painful to Neteyam though, him shifting awkwardly in his spot. He was used to the constant sound of talking, a buzz of voices as background noise in his clan. He was used to being in that conversation whether that be discussing his future duties with his father or bickering with Lo’ak over stupid things.

He wanted to talk to you, but you didn’t seem to be that chatty, and as he watched your face calm he figured he should fight his urge to talk on, and on, with words you would not understand. He didn’t want to bother you, didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t know why, but he felt drawn to you. He always wanted to be in your presence.

Once Neteyam thought he was finally settling into the silence you rose from your spot. He frowned, figuring the moment was over and you had thought it was time to part ways. He hoped it wouldn’t be forever, that you would see each other again, but he couldn’t promise himself anything.

You however had different ideas. You needed to hunt, needed to bring something to eat home tonight, and you figured Neteyam would not be leaving you alone, so you thought you would bring him with you. Maybe he was a good hunter too, maybe he would be helpful considering you had been failing miserably earlier.

When you stood up and started walking away you didn’t hear Neteyam shift behind you, silence still coming from him. You were confused, he was acting so different from yesterday, and now that you wanted him to follow you he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t because he promised himself he wouldn’t push you away. He thought you wanted space, lots of space, and so he told himself he would give you that. He wouldn’t push you too hard, wouldn’t talk too much, wouldn’t get too close. He would follow your lead.

He was confused now though, he would give you space, but when he didn’t follow you, you looked down on him confused, he assumed it was because you expected him to push your boundaries. He didn’t want you to feel that way about him, he wanted you to see him in a positive light.

In reality you didn’t think he was going to disrespect your boundaries, but you were just confused on how he had changed so much in a day. You didn’t think down on him because of it, instead you wanted his help, and you tried to tell him what you wanted without words.

You pointed to him, “Neteyam.” You tried to communicate with the few words you know, and motions you hoped he would understand, pointing towards the forest, and turning to walk into it.

He didn’t understand what you wanted though, confusion on his face as he asked, “(Y/n), hm?”

You just sighed, walking over to him and pulling him up by the arm. When your fingers met his skin it was like a lightning bolt had run up your arm, a burning feeling overtaking it. Your hand felt like the top layer of a tree that had caught on fire from lightning during a storm, burning bright and not being put out by the rain. When you realized you had been touching him a little too long by his cheeky smile you quickly dropped his arm, walking off with a huff.

You were walking quickly, probably faster than necessary, but Neteyam kept off. In some ways you wanted to walk fast enough to shake him off your trail, but you also curiously wanted him around, you wanted to see how he works, how he hunts.

“So, (Y/n)-” He began talking, but you cut him off with a hiss, and a hand over your mouth, instructing him to be quiet. “Sorry.” He whispered, apologizing carefully, and thankfully you understood his tone of voice, so it didn’t matter that you didn’t understand his words.

When you were happy with how far you had walked, catching the scent of a yerik, you crouched down, getting closer to the ground to be able to track its prints. When Neteyam didn’t follow you grabbed his arm again, dragging him down.

The first time you had touched him it felt like lightning and fire, burning you away, but now it felt more normal. Now as you held him down in a crouching position you really felt him. It was odd, touching him. His skin was softer than yours, but still felt the same, warm and smooth. It was raised in a few spots, like yours, scarred from years of wear and tear in the forest, but his were old and healed, and yours were still new and fresh.

“What are you doing?” Neteyam asked, confusion on his face as well as a light blush.

“Shh.” You hissed, feeling more confident with touching him now you moved to place your hand over his mouth.

You pointed to your nose, then waved your hands around, trying to hint Neteyam to smell, to look for a trail, and he seemed to follow you as he took a deep breath in. He seemed to be focused on something. Realizing what you were doing he zoned in, finally getting into hunting mode.

Instead of letting Neteyam take the lead of the hunt you moved. You walked slowly, carefully, making sure you didn't step on any fallen branches that could snap. You carefully watched the ground for prints, and when you found them you signaled to Neteyam, pointing towards them to show him.

He would have missed them, completely walked right over them, overwhelmed by your smell, your presence, your attention, even though it was only half on him. That stupid smile stretched across his face again as he admired you.

You seemed so in touch with everything around you. You were so aware of your senses, everything going on around you. You really knew what you were doing out here, leading him and showing him the way.

You would make a fantastic leader. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what it would be like to have you as his Tsahík. He quickly cut himself off, you wanted nothing to do with him, there was no way that would happen. He held hope in his heart though, you allowing him to join you today had to mean something.

As he was daydreaming, lost deep in thought, he was broken from it by you standing up slowly, bow that he hadn’t even noticed you had held carefully in your hands, string pulled back taught, ready to let the arrow fly.

Your stance was odd, not how he would do it, not how he was taught. He watched intently, curious about how you had learned this, if your arrow would hit, if you would get the kill. His doubts that had started forming in his mind were quickly squashed as you let go of the arrow.

It flew through the air, hitting its target spot on.

You quickly scrambled to the animal that was down on the ground now, silently finishing it off. It was different from how he would do it, thanking it for giving its life for him to live, but he paid it no mind, watching you haul the animal up over your shoulder and begin to drag it away.

He went to follow you once again, in a daze from watching you, admiring you. You were very good at what you do, and he assumed you were self taught which was very impressive. He didn’t know why, but he thought your skill was very attractive, something he would look for in a mate.

This time as he tried to follow you, you turned on your heel to face him, hissing harshly,trying to express your feelings, trying to tell him you were done, and to leave you alone. You wanted to go home, you needed to take your kill to your palulukan mother so she could eat since you both didn’t last night.

He took the hint, backing up but still facing you, “Bye, (Y/n). I hope to see you again.” He smiled at you, saying his wishes, hoping that if he said them aloud they were more likely to happen.

You growled quietly, not threatening, but instead as a way to communicate that you were done and leaving, You went quiet for a second, thinking, before quietly saying, “Bye, Neteyam.” Copying him was easy, and you hoped you were using the word right.

He smiled, waving as you backed off, keeping your eyes on him until you deemed him far enough away to turn your back to him.

When you were out of sight Neteyam began his walk home, mirroring you but in the opposite direction. When he got home he was so smiley, in a better mood than usual, even though he had more chores to do tonight that he hadn’t done this morning. His family noticed his change of mood compared to usual, all knowing something was going on, but not completely sure what.

When you got back to your den your palulukan mother was waiting for you. She growled you a welcome, and you smiled widely at her, presenting the yerik to her. She was happy you seemed to be in a better mood than yesterday, but she was confused as the smell of the other Na’vi was fresh and lingered on your skin.

She licked your face, expressing her gratitude to you, and you giggled. Today had been a good day, and now that you were back home you could relax, eat then take a nap.

You were supposed to relax, but you couldn’t, thoughts of Neteyam dancing through your head. He was something so weird, so special. He was similar you, yet so different, and that baffled you. You supposed you were supposed to be more alike to him than you were, but you found yourself loving your differences.

You were still baffled at how you had made your way back to the clearing without realizing where you were going. It was odd that you were lost, well almost lost. Not quite lost because you knew where you were, but lost in the sense that you didn’t know why.

You may have ended up back at the clearing, but in the end it didn’t matter because you could always run back to the safety of home, and when push comes to shove, when it really matters, you always find your way, especially back home.

Word Bank:

Palulukan (Thanator)

Yerik (Hexaped)

@xstarsmvxz @netedoongie @c-h-i-l

[crimson-kisses]

Oh my god, I need more yandere ludwig. Your work is amazing! Keep up the good work, but don't forget about yourself!!🖤 May I ask what would Germany's behavior be like if the reader were pregnant? Or if their daughter? (son?) already born? It seems to me that nothing will help the poor reader in this case, I see him twice as protective and controlling than he already is. And if we add the fact of the presence of the "Great Uncle Gilbert" ... Just good luck to the nerve cells and the psyche of the reader :')

(sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language ><)

Omg thank you so much! I am so glad people have been loving my works, the characterization is kinda wobbly in my opinion but still. I really do appreciate the compliments! Your English is quite good doll, don’t worry ;3 love the ask though, the drama would surely be intense. 🐝✨

Warnings; anything traumatic related to pregnancy. non-con. proceed with caution.

🇩🇪

Innere Unruhe

It wasn't necessarily the first thought you had in mind, obviously. You remembered your stomach doing backflips as you wobbled around the kitchen, a rather common occurrence after Ludwig had been significantly rough with you while you were cooking dinner.

His hands pulled up your dress, his fingers tracing your skin as they teasingly played with the hem of your underwear. His other hand snaked across your waist, pressing your back against him as his lips gently kissed your neck. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you, and you could feel the tension from his workplace leaving his body.

It wasn't the first time, but you still weren't accustomed to it. You wished you were. Sometimes when you wanted him, it was bearable, hopelessly addicting even.

Slowly his fingers begin playing with your silky folds. Never mind you cooking dinner, his hands now pulling at your dress, the apron, your hair messily falling over your back, not caring much about the food Ludwig turns the stove off and seems hell bent on making your thighs shiver from just his fingers.

As you gracefully collapse onto him, he gently lets you slide to the floor while casually starting to wash his hands. You assume dinner comes first, and then it's likely time for the bedroom, where he will carry you off to.

Throwing up half of your dinner was not in your plans though.

Honestly, all you felt was slight discomfort for the past few weeks and you had assumed that was your new normal considering the lifestyle you had with Ludwig. Both of you were active in the bedroom, and even though it was horrible to admit, your lover made damn sure you had reached your climax to the point of blacking out.

It was after when Ludwig had been cuddling with you, seemingly in a sleepy mood today when you might have started breathing heavily alerting the man behind you, it was disgusting and you might have cried out of frustration as gentle but strong hands carried you to the washroom and in a short time, freshly cleaned up, the moment your head landed on the pillow, you were out.

And then you began noticing the symptoms, a woman’s body is bound to act up in a complicated manner during stress, right? So the absence of your period? Must be the stress. The throbbing pain? Well, Ludwig could get very rough at times. Throwing up? Maybe your stomach wasn’t digesting food properly. Sore breasts? Again, rough sex. Excuses after excuses. And with what you were going through, this was simply accepted as your new normal.

Ludwig had begun to take care of you, making sure you were fed and hydrated well, stressing over your health which seemed to take a drastic turn all of a sudden. It was probably just a fever. Perhaps he had been too harsh on you? Nonetheless, he encouraged you to take rest and did everything in the home and looked after you. To you, he was being somewhat dramatic.

But again, you had a feeling in your gut that this was something more than a cold. A woman’s body had it’s magical ways of making such things known. In the form of pain.

Of course, you had lost your balance and went tumbling down the flight of stairs, vision blurry and a strong sense of nausea enveloping your body in its strong grip. You tried breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself down but it hurt. Hurt so bad. And Ludwig had gone to a meeting just a while ago.

“Oi Ludwig, are you— Holy Mother—",

Gilbert. Oh how you despised that man, but how did he get in?, the concerning thought flew out of the window as you felt cold hands land on your forehead, caressing your throbbing head, almost as if he was investigating a wounded animal. Which you supposed was a perfect description.

After that, all you remembered was being placed on a couch, and voices whispering in rapid German. Did he call his brother? Obviously. Maybe he had called him to take care of you since you were unable to so yourself. God, that felt pathetic, so so pathetic.

Ludwig stared at your distressed form with a grimace set on his lips, thank god his brother had arrived in time, but that didn’t necessarily explain what was going on with you. If anything, he was getting more and more concerned about your well being. He wasn’t going to take you to a hospital, the thought of that made him feel disgusted, he was not going to let them touch you.

Instead, he thought of calling for Emma first thing tomorrow. He had given her his workload for today, she might be able to help or advice just what was going on with you,

He had helped you reach the bedroom, letting you lay down and decided to leave you alone at the moment, maybe some good rest oughta make you feel better, and some time alone from him. Was he stressing you out? Was he the reason for this? Sighing in frustration, he felt so annoyed and upset at himself.

It was after a moment of silence when you opened your eyes, the house was dark with only a few lights on, alerting you until you remembered what had happened. Ugh, your belly hurt so much. Trying to lift yourself up, you tried to bear the ache on your waist, at least your vision was clear now with no sign of blacking out any time soon.

Slowly but steadily, you made your way to the washroom, easily pulling off your silky dress and tossing it on the floor. Your hands immediately rested on the floor lengthen mirror and that’s when you truly saw your reflection.

Messy hair, it had been brushed by Ludwig just before so it wasn’t a tangled mess but nonetheless still messy. Your skin was sickly pale with dark circles and dry as your lips, your body seemed to be growing chubbier these days, your breasts hurt and your—

Wait.

Narrowing your eyes, you slowly turned to the side, eyeing your stomach more carefully. Touching the flesh with tender fingertips as if something inside you was telling you to be gentle. As if something was there, your body seemed to be telling you that, your belly had gotten somewhat bigger and the area throbbed in pain at times.

For some reason, you couldn’t breathe.

Thankfully your legs found the toilet seat and you fell right on top of it. Breathing more heavily, you clutched your thighs and tried to clear down your thoughts.

It couldn’t be.

Nations could not get pregnant nor could they make anyone else pregnant. That was explained to you by your agency when you were ordered to spy on the personification of Germany. It was further confirmed by Ludwig. But again, he was a young nation himself, maybe there’s been a mistake. Maybe it was because he had forced you to consume a part of him and become a semi-immortal?

A raspy gasp escaped your throats as you hyper focused on breathing. Just breathe, just breathe.

You know what you had to do.

“Are you doing alright?”, Ludwig asked you as he pulled the blanket over him, his voice laced with genuine concern and a hint of guilt in his eyes. He didn’t bother to pull your body close to him this time.

“It’s fine really”, you lied, obviously. There was a slight tremble in your voice which made Ludwig furrow his brows a bit. Nonetheless, he gave a firm nod and opened his laptop and starting wearing his headphones.

After a while had passed, you slowly pulled yourself closer to him and curled your hands around his arm, nuzzling you cheek against his muscle and sighing tiredly. Stifling a smile of victory as you felt his movements stop.

You heard a sigh and felt his fingers touch your scalp, soothing your roots and soon enough his body was cuddling against yours.

“Feeling well?”, he asked in a whisper and you nodded slightly. Honestly you had done this before to get what you want and you weren’t exactly sure whether Ludwig already knew your intentions or he was just glad to have such soft romantic moments.

“It was just my period acting up”, you mumbled with a fake whimper following soon enough, voice feeble and quite. “I might need to order some supplies, please?”

Fluttering your eyelashes, you gave him a meek expression and you tried hard not to smile or have your heartbeat give away to your plans. You saw him contemplating until you saw a slight smile on the corner of his mouth. He must have been so tired, poor thing,

“Whatever you want”.

He continues watching his show as you scrolled through his phone, putting several items in the bucket list as well as some supplies which you would experiment with later, not that he would know. Ludwig was kind of a simp really.

Finalizing you order, you gave his phone back to him and continues to muzzle with his arm until you fell asleep.

The delivery came quickly enough, you had to contain yourself from showing growing dread and absolute tension in front of Ludwig the whole day, especially when you carried the delivered boxes towards your bedroom as Ludwig helped you and then left you alone to go to his office.

Quickly you grabbed onto a loose dress, some pregnancy tests, a pad and headed to the washroom. Your hands were shaking terribly but you had done it.

You stared at the floor in a newfound terror, as each and single one of the tests showed positive. Each single one. positive. The marks were all you could see as your heart plummeted. Pregnant.

You were with a child. A baby was growing in your stomach which was supposed to be impossible. And it honestly felt as if it was growing faster than a normal child would. Because you could literally feel your body changing at times. It could be, considering the fact this was a nation’s child. Germany’s child. If Ludwig came to know?

You had to escape. Fast.

Knock. Knock.

“Everything alright?”,

Shit. Your head whipped around to stare at the doorknob turning and quickly hid the supplies you brought to the washroom. The used tests were stashed in the pad’s packet and you put on a pad just for the act.

“Do you need help?”, his voice sounded worried and you internally cursed, oh you have helped a lot Ludwig. Fucking thanks.

“Coming! Just making sure it wouldn’t leak!”, you heard a slight cough and rolled your eyes at the man who was probably blushing on the other side of the door.

Seriously what did he expect you were doing? As much as he was sharp, he could be a dimwit. Stupid meathead. God, the anger towards him was growing day by day, especially at your predicament.

“Sorry, I was just concerned Schatz, take your time”.

This was bad. Ludwig was already so strung up about you even though you had tried so hard to show him that you were alright, you had to subdue his worries fast or else escaping with your child would be hard to do so. No wonder, your health would plummet sooner or later and your chances would plummet as well.

You knew he would be waiting just outside for you, so washing yourself properly, putting on a relaxed expression you decided to put on an act.

“Finally, everything good?”, Ludwig asked after an exasperated sigh, pissing you off slightly but you managed to subdue the anger. He grasped your hands and stared at your face, pulling your body closer to his as he took in your scent.

“Of course. My health’s gotten a lot better, you really don’t have to worry so much. I am doing well Ludwig, trust me?”,

There was hitch in his breath as you asked the last question, and in your too. Trust. It was about trust at the end wasn’t it?

You betrayed him the moment you stepped into Germany as a spy, his trust afterwards when you attacked with a gun, knife or a frying pan, trying to escape him over and over again. He couldn’t trust you that easily, that’s been few years ago and yet sometimes you can feel his eyes scrutinize you.

"I made dinner", was the only thing he replied with, holding your hand and leading you downstairs, uncertainty began to bubble up under your skin and it didn’t go away for the rest of the day.

Emma had said that nothing was wrong with you, only a fever which humans had once in a while which subdued Ludwig's and your worries, you supposed she wouldn’t even think of pregnancy being possible. Ludwig only ate in silence as the television played an action movie, your eyes following the scenes.

It was a new show which you saw Ludwig watching, sensing your interest he decided to connect it to the tv. At first, you avoided it like the plague but being bored enough, you decided to give it a try. Which was a common occurrence these days, whether it was something you liked or he liked, it ended up being shared or brought up quite frequently.

Strangely domestic. It unnerved you at times.

"I was thinking",

huh?

Your eyes met his, and you suddenly realized that he had been staring at you all along. You noticed him glance at your hands, causing you to quickly unclench them. Was your anxiety that apparent? Damn.

"I checked your bucket list", he did?

Narrowing his gaze, your heart skipped a beat as he gently held your hand. Which he had broken quite a few times while interrogating you. He took in a deep breath and placed a chaste kiss on your hand and eventually your cheek causing you to flinch, which he noticed keenly.

He stared at you with an empty expression for a while, while you did your best to avoid making eye contact. Your senses became more alert, and you could sense him gradually moving closer to you on the couch. He balanced his plate on his thigh while holding your hand, and his breath gently brushed against your neck as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

You attempted to control your breathing while hyper focusing on the movie. However, the weight on your shoulder provoked your resistance as his hand gradually encircled your back, pulling you closer to him.

"Ludwig, what are you doing?" you asked firmly, but it didn't seem to faze him at all, which only heightened your concerns. This was what worried you at times. While you could usually dissuade him easily, there were moments like this when he didn't play into your hands so easily. This was the man who had hunted you down and single-handedly defeated the rest of your team with his intelligence and strength alone.

"Emma pulled me aside after your test," he said slowly, causing your thighs to clench together. "She concluded me that all the symptoms you displayed were indicative of…" He trailed off and you attempted to push him away, but was forcefully pulled back towards him, his fingers digging into your waist.

He turned off the tv.

You tried to speak up but Ludwig shushed you as his palm was placed on your mouth, "I know you're not on your period," he whispered into your ear, causing your eyes to widen. Your chest rose and fell as you began to breathe heavily, and your thighs trembled as Ludwig nuzzled your neck, planting firm kisses.

He kissed you gently, yet possessively, his warm breath causing you to shiver as you struggled to contain your tangled emotions, trying not to struggle too much. Why did he start doing this all of a sudden? You believed you had finally caught him, but it appeared as though he willingly fell into your trap, as if it was his only opportunity to earn your affection.

"I don't know what your deal is, but don't keep playing the same game that you failed in repeatedly. I'm not begging you like I did last time," he whispered harshly.

"It’s a warning".

He let go of you, placing the plate harshly on the table and stood up. Hastily wiping his hands on a napkin, thinking quickly you clutched onto his thigh, "Ludwig— I was only worried I swear—“, you started, but he only clicked his teeth.

"And? You didn't even try to consult me?" He only gave you a glare, effectively ending the conversation as he left, leaving you in a state of meltdown on the couch.

"Forget it, you can’t get pregnant", he hissed sharply before storming out of the room. You wondered if he was disappointed by that fact or simply fed up with your constant schemes of escaping his grasps.

You had to escape tonight. Though could you even? It wouldn’t be the first time, but that was the issue. Ludwig was constantly on the lookout for any signs of disobedience from you, a man doesn’t suddenly lose his intelligence and brain after fucking a woman, for a while perhaps. But Ludwig despite being hopelessly in love, wasn’t going to play into your games again. Especially if he would end up finding out that you can be pregnant.

You take in a shaking breath, composing yourself and putting your act together as you head towards the bathroom. Throwing away your pad with a dissatisfied grumble, frustrated tears clinging to your lashes. You wipe them away hardly with your hands, exiting the washroom only to crash onto Ludwig, who catches you firmly, both of his hands on your waist.

“what’s wrong— shit—“, he wipes your tears and holds your face tenderly, you wondered if he thought that you were upset by what he said. He stared at you for a while before he hugged you, making you feel conflicted.

You didn’t think you could escape. This would be what? The nineteenth time? Or twenty-two? You didn’t quite remember, every time you were dragged back and punished, whether it was making you beg or cry, in the end Ludwig always made damn sure that you would be his. Even if sometimes you had disappeared for months at a time.

You had escaped to Southern Asia, Central Africa, South America and each time, he found you and brought you back. Nothing helped, your connections and underground friends were all gone and useless because Ludwig made sure that Gilbert disposed off them entirely.

All the drowsiness and sickness seemed to engulf at once as your knees gave out, Ludwig swiftly caught you by your waist, your legs wrapped around him as he layer you down on your bed. His eyes stared at you apprehensively as he towered over you.

You hunched up your dress, sniffling and gazing at the ceiling above. What were you attempting to plan, anyway? You were in a hopeless situation. How could you forget that you had been with Ludwig for years? Years of running away and getting caught again. Even if you managed to escape, you would still be searching and longing for someone to love you as deeply as him. This realization shattered you, made you angry, but ultimately… all you did was take a moment to catch your breath.

"I can’t—", you began but he silenced you, traces of the previous argument evident in his tensed muscles. His jaw was clenched tightly as he stared at your flushed form.

"Trust me?", Ludwig whispered softly, hunching over you as you looked at him with fresh tears falling off your eyes. Understanding what he meant as he traced your thighs, moving your dress to expose your skin, you hastily gripped his naked shoulders, broad frame overtaking your vision.

Soon enough, he began venting all his frustrations onto you. Your thighs were on his shoulders as he relentlessly thrust into you, biting your shoulder and breasts, planting harsh kisses on your skin. His hot breath and deep murmurs sent shivers down your spine, and loud, explicit moans escaped your lips as your eyes rolled back. It was a steaming delirious pleasure coiling around and drowning you.

Once again, the bed trembled from the intensity of Ludwig's thrusts, as he pounded into you with an animalistic force, leaving bruises on your thighs, waist, and back. It seemed like Ludwig was determined to make a point, although you couldn't quite understand what it was.

He fondled your breasts in a gentle manner when he was done filling you with his load over and over again, your body shook from the force it went through. Painful pleasure made you throb, both of your fluids, tears and sweat drenching your figure. Ludwig panted heavily, his muscles flexing in all its glory as you grasped his shoulders and moaned pathetically.

Giving a toothy kiss to your breast, he murmured hotly near your ear.

"You are going to be a great mother".

Your heart plummeted.

Ahem, so what happens now? (I was getting way off topic)

Ludwig would eventually find out about your pregnancy one way or another, whether by some indication or snooping around your damn business. And when he does, he is going to have a breakdown at first. Firstly, because such a thing should not be possible, but lo and behold. The power of a woman knows no boundaries.

However, he would also be ill-equipped to raise a child. Ludwig lacks emotional depth and has little experience with children , he would be uncertain about his ability to care for a child. after having a deep conversation with his family and friends, he would take it as his responsibility since he was the one who put that child into you. And in the end, that was his baby too.

After collecting himself, Ludwig would actually be quite elated. His wife was pregnant, and deep down, he had always fantasized about and desired to have a wife and a child whom he could care for, just as his siblings had cared for him. To have some sort of normalcy and an escape. Soon enough, after throughly researching and studying, he would feel confident enough in himself to shoulder on the responsibilities. Also with you beside him would make him feel more secure.

"Ludwig, it’s not that much of a big deal!", you yelped as Ludwig carried you upstairs, near your newly furnished bedroom where he placed a tv and everything else you might need. Last thing he wanted was for you to move around carelessly and needlessly, unless it was for exercise and hygiene. Gilbert trailed behind him with a grin on his face, apparently he was your especially appointed bodyguard with Emma and Lily as your maids. This was ridiculous.

He would be extremely protective, constantly hovering over you and ensuring your well-being. He would prioritize your comfort and relaxation, carefully managing your eating and sleeping schedule. He would exert control over every aspect of your life to ensure everything goes smoothly. He is afraid of losing you, and his overbearing nature might eventually lead Gilbert to intervene and set him straight. because he would be stressing you out too.

Gilbert would thwart any of your attempts and antics immediately. It was fun back in the days, but now with you being very vulnerable with his brother's child, he would be very firm and protective over you as well. Watching you like an eagle.

Ludwig already has the entire nursery planned and baby proofed, with your input here and there, including everything else a child needs. This man is brainstorming every possibility. He has everything prepared and protected. The medical team is one of the best in Germany, and you have top security from the government themselves after Ludwig requested so.

Considering the fact that your predicament is basically a miracle, it might bring about some curious nations and Ludwig is not going to let that slide. This man is just itching for someone to mess up.

I feel like he would want a boy. He’s not sexist ofc! it’s just that he would personally love to have a son to take care of and raise him properly with discipline that Gilbert inflicted on him but also the affection he needed too. Eventually, it wouldn’t matter. It’s just a preference if he was asked about it.

He wants four btw, two boys and two girls. Ludwig would be embarrassed to admit this, but you will definitely end up with four kids if he can’t help it. He can, he chooses not to.

Eventually, you have twins - a boy who is slightly older than the girl. Ludwig, upon holding their tiny bodies, almost dies. He may have cried, but in that moment, he couldn't care less.

As a Nation, Ludwig's genes would end up overtaking yours, meaning the children would mostly look him with some of your features. Ludwig ofc notices this and makes sure that you don’t end up having a breakdown because of him over the children.

He knows, you might end up having depression and stress, which is why he would be present at home often. Gilbert would also be visiting often with his darling, taking care of the children and ensuring that you don’t lose your mind and hurt the kids. I feel as if Ludwig would be okay with Lily and Emma visiting as well, his children need to socialize.

As they grow up faster, being the children of a nation, I believe that his son would resemble Ludwig right away, with his shiny blond hair, eyes a striking blue, the only in resemblance being your eye shape and eyebrows. Unfortunately, his possessive attitude towards you also starts to develop. Being the oldest son, he feels responsible for taking care of you, which leads to daily arguments between the two of you and Ludwig. He wouldn’t dare argue with his uncle tho.

The girl, on the other hand, sort of resembles you in personality. She has the same confidence as Gilbert and is passionate in everything she does. However, she also possesses an unwavering honesty. She is obsessed with gaining your and Ludwig's approval and desires for both of you to always be together. She is very affectionate and sweet, but also quite anxious, much like you. The only thing that resembles you are her eyes.

You could say that, Ludwig raises them to be equally responsible and have proper sense of duties. But he is softer on his girls, Gilbert is not tho, but he isn’t as harsh on them as he is with the boys. Which is probably why their yandere tendencies are much more apparent— in the end, you suppose it’s a cycle. Little did you know, your girls were taking after you— only that they were yandere too.

Ludwig would end up spoiling them, but at the same time he would be very strict. Mostly because his oldest son gives him very doubtful vibes, his daughter seems to rather dainty, his other son is a nervous wreck, his youngest daughter is a shy bean. But in the end, they aren’t really that innocent. And he knows. You hope they turn out normal though (they don’t.)

He would be enrolling them in the best educational institutions, they will be known as the rich cool kids in school, extremely smart and intelligent. With a confusing aura unnerving but also attracting many people, in the end they end up twisted as Ludwig, when their weight of immortality and power catches up to them.

They would also be very protective over you but you can easily deter them to have some sort of privacy and control. In the end, Ludwig expects them to respect and listen to their mother, and the kids wouldn’t cross any strict boundaries.

Also, Ludwig would be the one making sure you get a proper bath, his hands gentle and soft as he slowly cleans you, while also making sure you were comfortable. This man can’t keep his hands of your pregnant body, whether it’s for a massage or physical affection he can never get enough of.

He will also make sure to pleasure you, especially when your feeling particularly needy or cravings, he will be there between your legs, softly sucking any area he can find. He would especially be fondling your breasts and yes, he would develop a lactation kink. And a breeding kink, honestly this man is kinky af when it comes to his woman.

As much as he would be suffocating, he is also very gentle because he would so nervous that he might end up fucking this up like everything else in his life and he simply cannot have that. He can’t mess this up too.

Constantly asks his brother for advice on how to take care of the kids, and maybe his boss would end up babysitting them or something when he takes them to work lol. You will actually get a lot of help for taking care of the child. Especially if you would be easily tired and vulnerable, you won’t have to worry about a thing.

Although Ludwig would still be very protective with the kids, they would grow up quite quickly and stronger too, which will tone him down. But he would be strict with what they do and how they do it. He would still be possessive over you and paranoid that since his attention won’t be fully on you, you would try to leave him again. So he trusts the kids to take care of that. And they do so.

Things are alright, you could say, obviously not the kind of life you had in mind back in the days. With having strong immortal kids and a husband, but is what it is. Gilbert would tease the shit out of you and sometimes belittle if you act up too much. Ludwig wouldn’t suddenly loose his teeth when it comes down to your or his kids' disobedience.

Things are relatively tame, aside from few arguments, disagreements, tension brewing between nations. You would be rather stable as time goes on, Ludwig would be tamer as well if you behave and stop trying to stir shit up. It’s all good.

That is until….

The winter breeze rushes in as the front door is forcefully opened and then locked. You set your book down on the table next to your armchair as you stand up, the blanket wrapped around you falling carelessly to the ground. You don't care; your eyes are fixed on your eldest son.

"Leonard, what is this?" you cautiously ask him, your breath catching in your throat as you take in the scene. Your senses are overwhelmed by a strong smell of copper, quickly rendering you motionless.

It reminded of you when his twin came in, announcing her utterly obsessive devotion to her boyfriend, who avoided Ludwig's eyes at all cost.

However, she was relatively tame in comparison to this.

Your son, towering over you, almost his father’s height, stood with a manic grin on his face. His dark blond hair messy, eyes glinting with joy but his face— …… they were stained with blood. But that was nothing alarmingly shocking.

No.

It was the poor, shivering girl bundled up tightly in his arms, she was also covered in dark blood, which stained her face and clothes. Sniffling, she attempted to hide her face.

You saw Leonard's eyes roll and frown at her feeble attempt, he brought her closer to give a kiss on her forehead, not minding her flinching away as if it burned. His eyes, lighter than his father's, clashed with yours. A smug look comes on his face along with his familiar grin.

Is he taunting you? Challenging your authority? Or is it a warning?

You wonder if Ludwig knows, or ever wondered that his son committed a bloodbath—

"Fühlt sich vertraut an, Mutter?"

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter seventeen: last suppers and sealed deals

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, sexual situations (consensual § nonconsensual), imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, disassociation, thoughts of self harm and annihilation, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 8820

“She was not so uptight in our youth!” Rhaenyra defended with a nostalgic smile, “We used to be friends once.”

“And I used to be a Faith Militant.” Daemon snorted as he finished off his goblet.

“You jest, yet your eccentricity suggests otherwise.”

Clearly tired of being outdone and outranked that day, the old prince huffed at his wife’s words. “The High Septon and I were only good friends.”

Although the humor didn’t quite reach the eyes of Rhaenyra and Maetilda, the table laughed. Joffrey cackled the hardest despite not quite knowing what was funny. There was a false sense of lightness in the air as everyone sort of pretended they were not mad at anyone, that everything was all a joke. Yet a dark entity lingered in the corner that they all ignored. One that could lash out at any moment.

“Joke all you want. Alicent and I were friends for a very long time, good friends. The real kind.” 

“What happened?” Jace inquired curiously. His voice distorted by the bandaging and swelling around his nose.

“My father married her.”

Both Jace and Luke glanced at their sister-by-marriage before looking back toward their mother. Rhaenyra stroked her swelling belly as she ate.

“Otto plotted all of it. Your father has always trusted him too much.” Daemon grumbled.

In sudden frustration, Rhaenyra shook her head, “Let us stop this conversation. Talk about something else.”

The room fell silent aside from the light patter of rats' feet in and out of the walls of Rhaenyra’s old solar. Another room that had thankfully been left untouched. Maetilda scanned the table with her eyes for any verbal escape.

Joffrey quickly piped up, “Viserys cried all day today!”

“He did? What did the wet nurse do?” Daemon questioned, leaning forward.

“She rocked him and sang to him and fed him and bathed him! His face turned red! He wouldn’t stop!”

“Yes, he must have been angry at something.” Rhaenyra nodded as she furrowed her eyebrows, “He was very tired by this afternoon.”

“Do you plan to birth our sister here in King’s Landing?” Jacaerys wondered aloud, the nasally ‘a’ in landing made the table hold back giggles.

“You three older boys were all born here. Right in my chambers.”

“Me too?” Joffrey gasped.

“Yes, my prince! You were the third!” Rhaenyra smiled at the youngest of the Velaryon boys.

Jacaerys perked up, “Will we come to stay when she arrives?”

Rhaenyra playfully chided her eldest, “We don’t know what the baby will be yet, Jace—“

“I hope it’s a girl!” Joffrey announced.

“But yes, of course you shall come stay.” She finished.

“As long as you’re here, will you make it look normal again?” Luke chimed in.

“Perhaps not by the Worm Moon or by the baby’s arrival, but in time.”

Maetilda finally gathered the strength to ask a question of her own, “If the baby comes after I am wed, may I stay until she does?”

The older two brothers looked to their sister in unison. Dressed finely with her hair now fixed neat. She was to wed the man who stole Baela’s dragon and broke Jacaerys’s nose. She was to betray her brothers, and disappear off to a castle they had never seen before. Clear out in the mountainous Vale. The princess could only hope they would forgive her with time. As she thought of Princess Rhaenys’s words from earlier, Maetilda wondered what kind of future her brothers envisioned. If it still included her after that afternoon. Certainly, it was one of Jace taking over the Throne after his mother and Luke would have the Salt Throne from Lord Corlys. She could not possibly threaten that. Not in Rhaenyra’s solar or in the future. Her betrothed was a second son with no castles to his name. He was no threat either. Only the Hightower side of him.

“Of course, I shall see to it.” Rhaenyra nodded, “You must be here to meet your sister.”

“See! You even admit the babe is a girl!” Luke teased his mother.

“I said nothing of the sort!” She gasped before taking a gulp of tea from her goblet.

Daemon chuckled, “Shall we place bets?” 

“I will not have you teaching my sons to gamble before they even carry their own coin purse!” Rhaenyra scolded.

The Rogue Prince rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Maetilda finished off her own goblet. A servant came to refill it, but she simply grabbed the pitcher itself from their hands. Personally filling her goblet to the brim and leaving it on the table in front of her. She could feel eyes watch her as she carelessly slurped the top until she could safely pick up her drink without spilling. The new red wine was bitter and dry, but it became tolerable the more she drank.

“Thirsty, Lady of Runestone?” Luke barked with laughter.

“Absolutely parched.” The princess retorted, eyes narrowed in opposition.

He smirked back as he briefly held his goblet out, “Would you like mine too?”

With a challenge laid before her, the princess was not about to back down. She was her father’s daughter after all. It was in her nature. Just as a dragon could not help but set fields of crops and livestock ablaze. Her younger brother was trying to provoke her, that much was obvious. He had not had his fill of turmoil that afternoon. He sought to finish what he started. 

“Certainly, if you should be too small to finish it.” Maetilda smiled back.

“Give it here, Luke.” Jace grumbled, trying to take the drink from his younger brother who dodged him.

“It looked like Til needed it more than me.” Lucerys chuckled with a sip as he teased his older brother, “I’m not sharing with you!”

Jace puffed out his chest, proud smirk smeared across his face, “Very well. And I shall remember next time Driftmark needs my assistance!” 

Luke scoffed, “Driftmark? Need your help?” The shake in his voice paired with the darting around of his eyes betrayed his air of confidence.

“With Rhaena in charge, Driftmark shall thrive.” Maetilda smiled mischievously, “Do not listen to him, Luke, we shall all be gray by the time Jace sits the throne.”

“Long live our queen.” A smug Daemon interjected.

“Just because we are in my private solar does not mean you may talk so freely.” Rhaenyra stroked her stomach.

“If the servants hear me, should I be charged with treason?” Her father rolled his eyes. “Does my brother’s bitch scare you so?”

“You should act to the standard your name suggests or be held accountable.” The future Queen stated resolutely.

“Of course, your grace.” His words did not match his tone.

A fire burned behind both pairs of eyes as the long-wedded couple stared each other down menacingly from opposite ends of the table. The princess was exhausted from it, from her day, from everything and everyone. She could hardly stomach the sight of them. Which only encouraged her to drink more. To the point where she could feel it pooling in her stomach. It was unbecoming of her. Something she only recently began to care more about. Perfection. Although she was not quite certain what perfection looked like, she knew she had to have it. She had to embody the very meaning of the word, live it and breathe it until she and the word became one. Perhaps then, she would see a day without an outburst from her father. Perhaps then, she would be able to breathe easy. Like Rhaenys did. Like Laena and Rhaena, and even Baela. Like Queen Alysanne herself. Until then, she could only pretend. Mimic what she saw in them and hope she had done it right.

His words suggested submission, something her father did not do easily. He would much rather fall on his own sword than kneel before another. The King seemed to be the only exception, his older brother by four years. And even then, Prince Daemon’s patience only looked like it grew more thin. It was no secret that before Rhaenyra had been named heir, Daemon would have been the one to fulfill the role. But even Ser Otto Hightower preferred a woman to the Rogue Prince. That would be his legacy. Both of their legacies. No matter how deep the rivalry ran, they would both be two men close enough to the Throne to taste its power — get drunk on it — but would never get close enough to actually wield it.

“We shall leave for Dragonstone on the morrow. When I come back, I will set things right in this castle. While we are apart, I expect you all to reflect on your behavior during this stay. It’s shameful, on all of us. Word of what happened today will travel — word of everything that’s happened. Tell me, have we inspired much loyalty during our time here?” Rhaenyra spoke with a slow and menacing authority in her tone.

The table shamefully hung their heads. Jace, Luke, Maetilda, even Joffrey. All except for Daemon, who only smirked back at his wife.

“We have. We managed to bring the King to his Throne, while his second-in-command has clearly been keeping him from it. We have reminded them who we are. Towers are nothing, but a dragon’s chew toy.”

“There is no proof for such accusations, Daemon. We do not know they are behind it.” Rhaenyra was firm before softening to point out, “Father was sick before we left.”

“Not. like. that.” 

The chair scratched against the stone floor as the Rogue Prince shot to his feet and grumbled out the solar. The door shut loudly behind him before the room was smothered in silence. Maetilda watched as Jace and Luke exchanged looks in the unspoken language only they knew. They had an entire conversation without moving a muscle. Occasionally, the two would take turns glancing at their mother. Following their eyes over to her, Rhaenyra sat deadly still. Hand mid-stroke across her stomach. Her eyes were fixed on where her husband had been. She was frozen for a short moment before she blinked herself back into reality. 

“Are any of you still hungry?” Rhaenyra asked.

“I want dessert!” Joffrey proclaimed.

“Dessert!” The older boys smiled.

Maetilda glanced down at her plate. Mostly empty. She had several servings of spiced pork, to the point where the greens and pomegranate couldn’t be finished. The thought of eating more made her stomach churn, “May I be excused? I am done eating.”

“Yes, my dear. Have a good rest.” Rhaenyra nodded.

“Not parched anymore?” Luke teased.

“I have thrown carafes before, do not tempt me to do it again.”

“Where was all this in the maester’s solar? I only got involved because it was the honorable thing to do.” He pressed, mocking her earlier words.

“That remains true. Throwing the carafe after you’ve been given ample notice is the honorable thing to do — honoring my word.” The princess sassed, “But because I am civilized, I shall choose not to, given the day we have had. Thank you again for throwing blows at my betrothed.”

“Of course! Need I remind you that he is the one who broke my nose?” Jace retorted.

“And who was the one who took his eye?” Maetilda fired back.

“Children.” Rhaenyra brought her authoritative voice back out, gaining the three’s attention. 

In the midst of everything, Joffrey had run to her side and clung to her apprehensively. The tension was thick as Maetilda felt an anger brew in her similar to the one she had at dinner with the Queen. The princess could feel it in her shoulders, squared defensively.

“Him of all people.” Jace shook his head in disappointment.

“I did not choose him.”

“You do not behave as such.”

“And what do you expect me to do?”

“Make him see reason!”

“I cannot even make you see reason!” The princess by title stood to her feet, “When you return to this castle, return with an apology.”

Before he could respond, she turned around and stormed out of the room. Much like her father had. Ser Gunthor had been waiting on just the other side. His face dropped when he saw the tornado in her head, the scowl that dragged down her face. She stormed down the corridor in a random direction, not entirely sure of the way back to her own chambers. As much as she thought she had a good sense of direction after seeing a path at least once, the Red Keep had a way of making her question everything. From which corridor led where, to whether or not her own family still cared for her at all. All the uncertainty felt like a knife to the heart. It made her stomach bubble. She could feel it in her throat. Her limbs shook with each step. Her arms shook at her sides. Never in her life had she been so utterly alone and righteously angered. 

The more she thought, the more certain Maetilda was that her siblings would never speak to her again. Perhaps Rhaena would, but only if Baela was not in ear shot. And she could not blame them. If Maetilda were in their shoes, she would probably feel the same. Once they got word that she demanded an apology from her brothers, there would be nothing nice left to say. They had supported her a few days ago, but she would never see it again. Maetilda’s betrothed broke Jacaerys’s nose, and she demanded an apology from him. She could already hear the impassioned arguments. As her mind ran faster than her feet, she could not hear the sound of her knight’s armor. Nor could she hear him ask if she knew where she was going. It was not until he sped up his pace until he passed her and parked himself promptly in her direct path that she finally remembered he was there. Only then did she stop. But with the emotions coursing through her, she felt too still. Her fingers played with each other as her weight went from foot to foot.

“Mi’lady—“

“Do you think I have betrayed my family?”

“Princess, you shouldn’t talk like that. Especially here.”

“I do not like that they are leaving while I stay here.”

“This shall be the first time you’ll be properly away from Prince Daemon since you were a babe.”

“I wish my mother was still here. Everything would be better.”

“Aye, it would be. ‘Can’t contest you there, mi’lady. But you and I both know the Stranger likes her too much to ever give her back. ‘Bet she’s the only one who can drink ‘em under the table.”

A smile ghosted the princess’s face, “From the stories I have heard, there would be no greater contest.”

“One day, hopefully when we’re both old and shitting ourselves again, we shall get to see it.”

“Are you suggesting that you have stopped?” Her joke almost went unnoticed through the seriousness of her delivery. She simply could not help herself when it came to teasing Ser Gunthor. 

The knight’s eyes bolted around the two of them for any witnesses, “There is no need to announce that to the whole castle!”

A bit of the tension visibly left the princess as she halfheartedly laughed. The knight joined in a bit more boisterously. Like the two old friends they were. They had a humor that only they shared. From the years of spending day after day together. He knew her as well as any of her brothers.

“Now that’s out of the way,” Ser Gunthor sighed as his laughter settled down, only for him to giggle through his next question, “Do you know where you’re going, mi’lady?”

In that moment, she looked around her to find that she did not recognize the corridor they were in at all. Her vision had tunneled in her turmoil, and had most definitely made a wrong turn. Embarrassed, she looked back at her knight with her head hung low. “Do you know the way?”

Ser Gunthor chuckled, “Hardly, but if we put our heads together, we should have more luck, yeah?”

With a nod from the princess, they were off down the corridor again. This time at a more level headed pace.  They used various familiar looking green tapestries and Faith of the Seven statues to guide their way. It took longer than it should have, but they eventually made it to the wing of bedrooms that contained her chambers. Her two handmaids were already waiting for her when the knight opened the door. Ser Gunthor bid her good night before shutting the wood door behind her, staying guard outside it. Her chambers felt cold at the loss of his presence. A part of her wished her knight could have simply sat with her as she was readied for bed. But that would never be appropriate. Her name would forever be tarnished, more than it already was.

The handmaids had less work this time around in taking down her hair. No impossible rats or tangles. The updo was undone into a single thick braid that cascaded down to her tailbone. Adelyn secured the bottom well before both handmaids worked to undress Maetilda and help her into her nightgown. The two worked silently. Not a single hummed note or whispered word under one’s breath. The princess missed the Pentoshi songs and the warm chatter. She missed learning new things about the two baseborn girls with a thousand stories. She missed her old handmaids too, Kayla and Loreyne. The ones who remained behind at Dragonstone, and always would. They knew her better than anyone, better than her own family. The sensitive parts of her scalp, her favorite flowers, the best way to wake her up in the morning, how she liked the temperature of her bath. They read her better than any book. They knew her in and out.

But she would never see them again, not until she returned to Dragonstone. The possibility of which only seemed to dwindle. Instead she would have Noarysa and Adelyn for as long as she remained at the Red Keep. Only six days prior, the two had been as good as strangers. And in only six days, they had earned their princess’s trust. They had proved themselves the most consistent and most reliable two in the entire castle. While there was always the possibility they were telling someone everything they knew, the princess seemed to get the sense that they cared. At least, she wanted to think that they did. They would only have each other for three more moons, and however much longer it took for her new sibling to arrive. Perhaps they would be assigned to her upon her visits to see Aemond and Helaena, but there was no guarantee.

The thought of Aemond made Maetilda uneasy. The image of him storming out of Maester Orwyle’s solar was engraved in her mind. She was certain she would never forget it. He had not looked at her once. Aside from when the maester saw to her very minor injuries. It filled her with worry. She hoped he would make good on the promises he made her, that he hadn’t changed his mind after everything that had happened. His callousness was enough to make her question. He was going to go through with the wedding, that much had been made clear. But would he live at the Red Keep all his life? Would he risk daily confrontations with her brothers once Rhaenyra was Queen? Would they ever find a way to get along? Common ground or understanding? With such uncertainty, would Aemond force his way into Runestone? Would he demand she let him live there? Would her people look to him over her if she were to allow it to happen? Would she allow it all to happen? Or would she even have a choice in the matter?

As the princess had been lost in the depths of her own mind, she almost did not realize her two handmaids had finished their duties and turned to leave. Timidly, she called after them to let them know her father would break fast with her in the morning before wishing them a good evening. They smiled warmly at her, lingering by the door.

“Would you like help getting into bed, Princess?” Noarysa inquired sweetly.

“Thank you, I am afraid I am far too restless.” Maetilda declined, “I shall see you both in the morning.”

The two sweetly curtsied before the door clicked shut behind them. And then it was almost silent. Barefoot and clad in her nightgown, the princess vacantly stood in the middle of the room. Eyes fixed on the door through which her maids left. She felt hollow, filled only with anxiousness, remnants of anger, and the pitcher of wine in her gut. It weakened her legs, made them more malleable. Her arms were loose and limp. Her throat was dry, as if it were coated in a thin film when she swallowed. The light pitter-patter of rats occasionally echoed between the walls. It was a maddening sound. Some tiny feet scurried off into the distance while others only grew closer. The rats certainly knew where the secret passages were. They certainly used them to run about the castle. With only the rat catchers to stop them.

In her solitude, all she could think of were her siblings. Their faces of disgust and betrayal and anger. They hated her. The princess did not know how it all happened so fast. Any of it. Just days ago, she had stood in the corridors with her brothers refusing to swing at a belligerent Aegon first. The three had been as close as ever. They had giggled down the passage until their cheeks were red. At the time, she couldn’t have imagined anything different.

Only evenings prior, she had thrown wine and a carafe at Aegon. All because he had prevented Luke from stepping in between Aemond and Jace. He had done the same thing the princess was just doing that afternoon. He stood up for his brother. He kept the fight fair. Baela’s actions that afternoon were no different than what she herself had done at dinner with the King. What made everything so different? Had she truly switched sides? That had been the last thought on her mind as she dove for her sister. Yet whether her actions had been intentional or not, there was no doubt her father would do something about it. Something that would most likely hurt. And there was no promise he had the patience to wait until their morning meal to deliver his revenge. Perhaps it would be easier in the cloak of night.

The evening air was chilly as the princess opened the door to her balcony. The breeze stung slightly as it cooled her cheeks, a subtle reminder that her day had been real. Her family’s entire stay at the Red Keep had all been real. Not a dream, real. As much as she wished she could wake up from it all like a nightmare, consequences would still be waiting for her when the sun came up. Unknown consequences that only caused her to spiral the more she speculated about them. Perhaps if she were lucky, the sun would never come up. If she were lucky, everything looming over her would simply disappear. All of her troubles and consequences would cease to exist, and all of her family would all get along. If it were a dream, perhaps such things would be possible.

The small stack of books from the library sat at her bedside table. Her eyes were glued to them. Practically in a trance. While alone, all she could do was think. No one had scolded her for the other night. For wandering about the castle late at night, scantily clad in nothing but a nightgown, only to steal books from the Royal Library. If she had been seen by the wrong person, such behavior could have been yet another blow to Princess Rhaenyra’s name. Yet she hadn’t been scolded for it. Although, nothing could have been more disastrous for the King’s Heir than what took place that afternoon. All of her children of age had been involved and only one of Queen Alicent’s. Yet Maetilda had hardly been scolded for that. She felt like she was walking into some sort of trap, but she had no idea what it was or what triggered it. All she knew is that she wanted her siblings back. If they would ever agree to have her again. Filled with an anxious energy, the princess grabbed the book on top and took a seat upon the chaise lounge.

The Mighty Histories of the Bronze Kings. It was the smallest out of the books she had taken. She hoped its size would make it easier to read. Bound in a dark brown leather with bronze titling, she carefully bent the book open to the first page. The Preface, written by Maester Seban. 

“In my many years at Runestone following Aegon’s ascension to the Iron Throne, it was my pleasure to learn of the Vale’s extensive culture, steeped in thousands of years of history. A history that cannot be discussed without first discussing the many Bronze Kings. I was honored to collect my information through many conversations with various different members of the mountain people. Former regality, merchant class, and peasants alike. All of which shall be accredited accordingly.

My accounts shall serve as proof that not even those as stubborn and mighty as rocks saw it in their best interest to bend the knee to our great King. May he also conquer the deserts.”

She read the preface over three times before the words on the page could fully process them without distraction. Before she understood what was being said. A quiet two-tap knock sounded from within her chambers, only a small distance away from where she sat. Picking her head up from the book, she saw nothing out of place. Just like when she awoke from her bad dream the other night. Her chambers were eerily untouched. Nonetheless, she felt a presence. As if the cloaked figure was back again. In an effort to make it appear, she looked back down, clamping her eyes shut for a moment, before looking back up again. Nothing. Putting her book in the seat beside her, the princess stood to look around. Still nothing. She looked out onto her balcony. Finding nothing out of place there, she closed the doors and latched them before pulling the curtains closed.

Facing the room again, it remained empty. She expected the cloaked figure to jump out at any moment. As if it was waiting for her to let her guard down. But the last thing she wanted to do was give the spirit the upper hand. Deciding to face her fears head-on, the princess began checking the corners and crevice of her chambers. Under the bed, in the wardrobe, behind the bookshelf, anywhere she could think. Yet in the midst of her hunt, she did not see the new guest enter.  By the time she turned back to the rest of the room, there was a figure standing before her, but it was not the cloaked ghost. It was Aemond. He had knocked before entering, through an entrance that was not the door. He had knocked just as he had promised.

“I thought you were the ghost.” She whispered.

“Do I haunt you so?” Aemond quipped smugly, just as quiet.

“Presently, it seems. Yes.” 

“And to think I assumed we were allies now.” 

“That’s one way to phrase it. Co-conspirators against the future crown.” 

“Shall we take this to the balcony then? So your friend won’t hear us.”

“I did not welcome you into my chambers, my prince.”

“Do you wish to come to my own then? I owe you many thanks for what you did.”

“So thank me now. Why must we go anywhere?”

“Do you trust me, ñuha dōna?” (my sweet)

“No. Not entirely. The way you stormed off without a word. The way you would not even look at me in the maester’s solar. How can I trust that?”

“Ziry vestragon nyke enkagon kirimvose se iā vaoreznuni.” (It seems I owe both thanks and an apology.)

“Kostōba laesi.” (Astute observation.)

The prince grabbed Maetilda’s hands in his own. The action reminded her of the inappropriate attire she was dressed in, but simultaneously prevented her from covering herself. While he meant for it to comfort her, to pull at her heartstrings, his hands only angered her. She fought away from him.

“What words are so important they cannot be said to me tomorrow after my family has left? I’ll be stuck here for three moons. We shall have plenty of time to talk.��

“Please come with me, Princess.”

“No.” She hesitated, voice firm yet quiet, “We have already made too much of a stir today.”

“I cannot sleep. My mind cannot rest until you have heard my words.” His whispered plea pulled at the princess’s insides.

“And I must trust these words are so dire they truly cannot wait until tomorrow to be spoken?”

“Emā pāsagon lēda nyke?” (Do you trust me?)

“You have already gotten an answer to that question. No. If we are caught, I only came because you threatened me.”

“What a tale that should be.” He tried his best to muffle his laugh, “Did I hold a dagger to you as well?”

“Yes, and said you’d end my life if I didn’t do as you bid.”

“You didn’t come that easy. Did you?”

“Of course not.”

“That would be absurd.” He shook his head, “Shall we go?”

The princess did not budge. She only looked back at him, thinking of all the promises he had made her that morning, “You haven’t changed your mind, have you? About the tower we shall build you.”

He stilled, making her heartbeat quicken anxiously, “You are the Lady of Runestone. Your castle, your land. But I wish to talk.”

The princess’s heart stopped, “Fine. We can go to the balcony. Let me get my cloak.”

She practically ran to her wardrobe. A fire burned her from the inside out, it was as if her feet felt too hot to touch the ground. With the same shaky quickness, she grabbed her traveling cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Her hands struggled with the fastening. Aemond’s eye lit its own fire across her skin as she stood so vulnerably in front of him. The two stood and stared at each other for what felt like the whole night. Something within Maetilda stirred, did not sit right. She knew how wrong it was for him to be there. She knew they could very easily get caught. But Aemond seemed to know just what to say, knew how to intrigue her just enough so that she could not resist him. He seemed to read her mind without hearing her thoughts. She watched as he adjusted his unlaced tunic before moving to open the doors to the balcony.

It was at that moment that the princess realized how underdressed her betrothed was. He was dressed just as inappropriately, certainly not dressed to be visiting her. She wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps his state of dress had been a symptom of his urgency and running mind. He was too deep in thought to consider the clothes on his back. Or lack thereof. The lacing on his shoes was also undone. Perhaps thrown on as an afterthought in his fervor. Perhaps he had to turn back for them. It was the closest he had ever come to resembling Aegon. The way his trousers hung on his hips reminded the princess of how Aegon’s slipped down his legs as he drunkenly ran down the corridor. How proud the Queen would be. Weighed down by a sheathed dagger, the right side hung down more.

Knowing well enough that all of their parents were already angry at them, Maetilda attempted to confidently stride out onto the balcony. She would much rather be flogged through the streets before allowing the prince to see just how much his words had shaken her. She did not want to give her power to him so easily — or at all. Aemond followed behind her, shutting the doors as a way to further block sound. The princess pulled her cloak around herself again, both for warmth and modesty. The evening breeze was cold at their height. Closer to the ground, the night would have been far more comfortable. Peering downward, ant-sized people carried torches as they moved from place to place. At any other moment, she would’ve been mesmerized and entranced. Unable to pull her eyes away. But the presence behind her kept her at attention. Tense and alert.

“It astounds me how each time I look at you, my breath is taken away all the same.” His voice was still hushed, yet not as quiet as before.

“I don’t like compliments that are given as tricks.”

“You think I wish to trick you?”

“You wish to win me over with flattery before you convince me to reconsider the promise you made. You got into a fight with my brothers, and now you want my castle.”

“Ao vīlībagon aōha mandia, ñuha dōna. Ao tymagon isse se tegon, tepagon aōha brōzi syt nyke. Skorkydoso īlon glaesagon mijegon se tolie?” (You fought your own sister, my sweet. You rolled in the dirt, risked your reputation for me. How could we possibly live apart?)

“Ēza daor yet issare iā jēda. Emi va moriot glaestan mijegon se tolie.” (It has not yet been a fortnight. We have always lived apart.)

“Nyke daor glaesagon mijegon ao, lēda se prūmia eman sir.” (I cannot live apart from you, feeling the way I do now.)

“Se ñuha sombāzmion iksis mērī iā tȳne gūrotrir?” (And my castle is simply an additional reward?)

“Your castle is yours. I do not want it. I want you.”

Maetilda was shell shocked, completely hollow. Her mind went blank. Her heart stopped as if it had never started. His words were so direct they felt exposing. As if with three sentences, he suddenly had full access to every thought and feeling she had ever had. As if he could see through her skin and in her guts. It was something that filled her with panic and terror. As much as her heart pounded, she needed to make him stop.

“Skorkydoso kostagon nyke gīmigon gaomā daor pirtir? Ao kessa mērī ērinagon.” (How can I know you are not lying? You have everything to gain.)

“I am sorry. I deeply regret not bidding you farewell before my departure from the maester’s solar. I do hope you will find it in you to forgive me.”

“It is more than that. You barely acknowledged my presence. I felt like I was going mad. Like you were as disgusted with me as my family.”

“It pains me that you feel so hurt from my actions when I have nothing but pride for yours. The only disgust I have is for your family. Not you.”

“I am a part of my family. You cannot feel disgust for them and not feel that same disgust for me.”

“We shall be a family. Our own family.”

“Bona ao kessa sagon se bartos hen?” (That you shall be the head of?)

“Ñuha giez ābrar, eman mērī mirre udlitan naejot ñuha muña.” (My whole life, I have only ever answered to my mother.)

“Qilōni udligon naejot zirȳla kepa. Mirre aōha ābrar, emā udlitan naejot aōha rōvēgrie kepa.” (Who answers to her father. All your life, you have answered to your grandsire.)

“Sir ao ȳdragon hae aōha kepa.” (Now you sound like your father.)

“He is a smart man. I would be foolish to question his assessments. Vestras ao se aōha rōvēgrie kepa jaelagon ñuha sombāzmion.” (He says you and your grandsire want my castle.)

“Lo nyke jeldan aōha sombāzmion, mazeman ziry. Kesan daor epagon aōha udir ēlī.” (If I wanted your castle, I would take it. I would not ask your permission first.)

“Se Vāle māzigon naejot ao lēda vīlībāzma. Sȳrje daor sylugon ziry.” (And the Vale would declare war against you. Best not try it.)

“I mean to keep my promises to you, Maetilda. In return, I ask that you keep me at your castle. I cannot live my life looking over my shoulder in my own home. Please, you cannot let me live like that.”

The princess hesitated. She wanted to tell him no, to remind them of their agreement. But the look on his face made her second guess. His eye full of desperation as it swam in hers for answers, mouth ajar with worry. His eyebrows were raised in question, causing small creases around the strap of his patch. His expression reminded her of the times when they were little. In the small windows of time they slept under the same roof. Maetilda and Helaena would be off in their own world, Aemond always trailed close behind. Whenever the rest of the boys would run into their trio while playing, they never failed to stop and single little Aemond out. His own brother and nephews took pleasure in taunting him. Calling him a girl, mocking his lack of a dragon, pushing him around. The Kingsguard usually stopped them before it got to blows. Every time it happened, Maetilda always saw that look. A cry for help, for mercy, for peace.

“We do not have to decide this tonight. We can talk about everything after we have both had sleep. After my family leaves.” 

“You may have time to think about your response to my proposal. I can sympathize with that.” Aemond nodded resolutely before adjusting the bottom of his tunic, “The issue remains that I cannot sleep.”

“And why is that my concern?”

The prince took small, careful steps forward, “Because it is you that I am thinking about.”

“Picture me counting stitches in a seam. You should fall asleep rather quickly.”

“What was it your father said?” Aemond glanced off for a moment in thought. “I know you wait for my back to turn. You wish to take what is yours.”

“Something of the sort. He won’t give up my castle any easier than me.”

Aemond chuckled breathily, “He was not talking about Runestone, ñuha dōna. He was talking about you.” (my sweet)

“My prince, in order for something to be a joke, it must be funny.”

Before she could react, his hands were cupping her face. Their chests resting against each other. Never had her nightgown felt so thin. Memories of his last visit flashed in her mind. The way he stole her first kiss after professing his love — his desire for love. He had talked to her so differently that night. He had an air of authority, just as her father always did. He spoke of bedding her so eagerly. Just as Aegon had in the corridors. The two were not so different. A realization that scared her. Perhaps as the years went on, Alicent’s eldest sons found common ground. Maetilda had not seen them fight once. Had not heard Aegon insult Aemond even once. The older brother had even stepped to the younger’s defense, at dinner when Lucerys tried to help Jacaerys gang up on Aemond. 

“Princess, I would never hurt you.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks.

Maetilda stared back in confusion. It was her turn to search his face for answers, “And you think my father would?”

“I know he would. I heard him.” Aemond’s voice was so low and serious, it sent shivers down her spine. But worst of all, he was right, “Your father would hurt anyone for the right reason.”

The princess did not know what to say. She was sure her mouth had flapped open and shut like a fish out of water. She felt like one. Unable to breath as the person who had her on a hook and line sat and watched her flounder. While the prince may have been right, Maetilda was still her father’s eldest daughter. Aemond could not possibly be right. She simply could not accept it.

“Dōna, I do not wish to wait for his back to turn.” (Sweet)

“I beg your pardon?”

“I wish to take you right from beneath his nose.”

Her eyes widened in surprise yet again as she watched the prince’s face jump towards hers, crashing their lips together. Just as the first time, she was frozen in shock. His lips moved against hers while she remained still. One of his hands was clamped around her face, crushing her cheekbone under his thumb. The hand that had been petting her hair locked around the back of her head, ensuring she could not pull away. With his hips, he pinned her against the edge of the balcony. The force of him was heavy. It pinched the vertebrae in her spine as the weight of him bent her backward. No wall stood behind her back to catch her. With nothing to anchor her feet, she felt as if she could flip over the side and plummet down to her death. The image of it played in her head. All the while, Aemond continued to kiss her.

Had it been earlier in the day, she would have welcomed it. She eagerly would have kissed him back. Without question or hesitation. But too much had happened. She felt treacherous and guilty. She felt a pending sense of doom. The hand at the back of her head slipped to the base of her neck, lacing fingers into the back of her scalp and tangling themselves into her braid. Aemond pulled away only to rest his forehead against hers.

“Please, Maetilda. Do not deny me.”

“Ao jaelagon naejot gūrogon nyke.  Iksis bisa daor skoros jaelā?” (You wish to take me. Is this not what you want?)

“Jaelan ao.” (I want you.)

“You don’t—”

“Jaelan ao. Jaelan ao. Jaelan ao.” (I want you, I want you, I want you.)

Tears welled in the princess’s eyes as she struggled to shake her head, “Aemond, you can’t. We can’t. Not yet.”

“Maetilda, please, just once. Just once while he is still here. Just once, so he may never deny our union, and then not again until we are wed.”

She could feel the wet trails begin to form down her cheeks, only to be wiped away by thumbs that were not her own. Two hands cupped her face again. Warm, wine and liquor scented breath fanned her into a trance-like state. Her voice was soft, weak, and wavering as she tried to hold her ground, “Mazemilā lēda iā mijegon hen ñuha udir.” (You will take regardless of my word.)

He kissed both cheeks, right next to his thumbs. He kissed her forehead and both temples. He kissed each corner of her mouth before he slowly kissed her again, continuing to bend her backwards. Causing her to yelp. Taking advantage of her open mouth, Aemond caught her bottom lip in between his teeth. He had the grin of a lizard lion, the smirk of a dragon with its dinner in its jaws. She was no different than charred sheep.

“Ilagon syt nyke, dōna. Kostilus.” (Lay down for me, sweet. Please.)

Only then did he peel himself off, giving her back a sense of relief. But Maetilda didn’t move an inch. The two locked eyes for what felt like the longest time. The princess would not dare move. She felt like a mouse, helplessly cornered by a tomcat. One movement and the prince would pounce. 

“Lay down, Maetilda.”

Looking down at the balcony floor, she could barely form words, “Here?”

Aemond shushed her as if she were a crying baby. He stepped forward again, “Shh, shh, shh, shhhhh.” His hands came back up again. This time, they unlaced the fastenings on her cloak. Slowly and carefully, so as not to stress a single stitch or seam. “You are in my hands. Do not fret. Nyke kessa mazverdagon ao sȳrkta emā mirre issare gō. I shall give you se vys se skoros ilagon rēbagon ziry.” (I shall make you feel better than you have ever felt before. [I shall give you] the world and what lays beyond it.)

Pulling away from her without breaking their stare down, Aemond swiftly flicked her cloak out like a blanket. The princess’s knees shook at the sight. The prince was serious, the chill of the breeze confirmed it. More tears slipped down her cheeks. Instead of wiping them away, the prince took a cushion from the bench and laid it down as a pillow. When he made his way back over to her, she could not look at him. Only at the cushion sat atop her cloak — where she was to rest her head. More tears glided past her cheeks and down her neck. Was that truly where she was to be deflowered? On the cold, dusty ground of her balcony. No marriage. No ceremony before the Gods. No dowery. No grand feast. Nothing. 

By the waist, Aemond moved her to stand at the bottom of the cloak. Preceded by his warm, liquor scented breath, came feather-light kisses that started at her cheek. They traced along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone, and up to her shoulder. Tickling her skin all the way. Her heart pounded like war drums in her chest. Overwhelmed with embarrassment for what was to come, she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. The soft tug from the shoulder of her nightgown being gently moved out of place sent off bells of alarm in her head, she instinctively wanted to squeal. But instead, she made a point to bite her mouth shut. More kisses dusted the top of her shoulder.

“Aemond, —“ She tried desperately to keep hold of her resolve.

Another kiss to the corner of her mouth cut her off, followed by the low hum of a familiar tune. Not that of the Pentoshi songs her handmaid sang, but one her father and Laena would sing to her and her young sisters, proudly proclaiming that the girls were three heads in their own right. It was a song from Old Valyria. When she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the bright melody of Lady Laena’s voice. Chirping out the words like the call of a morning bird. 

Drakari pykiros

Tīkummo jemiros

Yn lantyz bartossa

Saelot vāedis

(Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing)

Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis

Se gēlȳn irūdaks

Ānogrose

(From my voice, the fires have spoken, and the price paid, with blood magic)

But Lady Laena’s voice was not truly there. Maetilda knew it wasn’t. Her body laid with the Gods beneath the waves. Her dragon answered to a new rider, and he stood before the princess humming. He was the only one humming. Yet, it was like a ghost lingered around them. The hair on her arms stood on end. Chills electrified her spine. It did not help that the tomcat only continued to close in. Eye alert, claws sharp. The closer he got, the more his humming unsettled her. The voice of Lady Laena still rang on in her ears.

Perzyro udrȳssi

Ezīmptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan

(With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing)

Helping her down with an arm on her back and the other grasping her hands to steady her, Aemond laid Maetilda down on the cloak. His hair tickled her cheek as he hovered over her. The princess’s entire body trembled. Goosebumps erupted across her skin from the ground’s cold touch. More tears escaped out of her eyes. She could hear her heart pound in her ears. Pools of snot began to clog her nose, which only made it harder for her to catch her breath. All the while, the prince undid the knot at the top of her nightgown. She wanted to scream. Her knight would be there in only a few steps. The rest of the castle would undoubtedly hear her too. Her father included. They would find her underneath her betrothed, and everything she had ever dreamed for herself would be ruined. She could not scream.

Hae mērot gierūli

Se hāros bartossi

Prūmȳsa sōvīli

Gevī dāerī

(As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined -- beautifully, freely)

The hum of the song repeated itself on a loop. She could not bare to watch any longer. Each of his boots had haphazardly plopped to their own corner. Maetilda clamped her eyes shut as she felt her betrothed on his knees, positioning one of her legs on either side of him. His trousers came down easy. She could hear him slide them down his thighs. Most of his clothing had already been undone. The cold air bit at her legs, her hips, her torso as her skin became exposed to the night. He had lifted up the bottom of her gown, and she soon felt the fabric bunch at her waist.

Her mouth went dry and her eyes flew open. Anxiously, her hands grabbed at the bunched fabric and tried to cover herself back up. At least down to her thighs. At least enough to keep some dignity in tact. But the tomcat only pushed her hands away, gripping them both in one of his own paws. Aemond held them above her head, using his spare hand to pull at the neck of her gown. Her vision seemed to cloud as her head felt like it was filling with smoke. As if a fire had started burning somewhere inside her. Her organs only blackened the fumes.

It felt warm and cold all at once, causing her to flinch away from the feeling. The fleshy sensation that poked at the place that was never supposed to be touched. The place worth her body weight in gold. Her heart fluttered through the haze clouding her mind. Her gut screamed. A shiver ran through every bone in her body. Aemond used one of his knees to pin her hip down, to keep it from flinching away from his touch again. His free hand came up to his face. Eyes lidded, he stared straight into Maetilda’s soul as he stuck two fingers in his mouth. Coating them in a layer of spit. Without hesitation, his two fingers cut straight down her torso and toward the apex of her thighs. The princess’s gasp covered up the yelp that was lodged in her throat. His hand found refuge between her pillowy thighs. Wet fingers played with her flower, lightly rubbing it in slow circles. 

On instinct, her knees tried to snap together only to be obstructed by the prince’s body. He held her down and kept her knees apart with ease. She tried to squirm, but she could hardly move. Her mind screamed and screamed and screamed. The humming stopped and Lady Laena’s voice was gone. Instead, her father’s voice echoed between her ears. Shouting angrily about how much she disgraced and disgusted him. What if anyone were to find out? What if someone were to hear? Or to walk in? She wouldn’t live to see the sunrise, wouldn’t live to see another day. She would be better off dead. A princess soiled before her wedding day. A lady without morals. A no good harlot. Yet she couldn’t stop Aemond. As filthy as she felt, she didn’t want him to stop. As long as his fingers continued their circles. Sliding his two fingers south, he used his thumb to continue the tantalizingly gentle pattern. The wet pair slid ever so slowly until they reached the lid of the princess’s honeypot. Maetilda’s breath shook. A lilted note spilled out with it. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth, Aemond’s eye seemed to glaze over at the very sound. Velvety lilac deepened to satiny plum. It couldn’t mean anything good.

A yelp escaped her mouth as one of Aemond’s fingers inched inside of her. Splitting her body in two. The prince’s lips soon met her own, muffling the sound of the princess’s quiet whines. His tongue poked its way into her mouth, dominating all of her senses. He consumed her. As if she truly were charred sheep. He only stopped in order to pull his fingers out of her carcass and lick them clean. The feeling was intoxicating, but the view of it even more so.

A/N: this little diddy has probably been over-revised. i’m sorry it took so long!! hopefully it was well worth the wait! happy season 2 premiere day!!!

it’s my first go at anything kinda sexy! i was excited to try it! kinda nervy to post it (hence the hold up) but i hope it does something for you! the freak continues in the next guy though, hope ur cool with that HAH (the next one will be coming much faster)

TAGLIST: @marvelescvpe

xoxo messy

[perfectlywrongformend3s]

Babe-Jeremiah Fisher

A/n: This song describes him so well. If you don't understand then I'm sorry, I would tell you but I would be spoiling the books. But I'm team Conrad all the way so yes he's my favorite. Jere isn't really my favorite, but I love Gavin. He's so funny. But please enjoy this one!

Song: Babe

Written: Sugarland (feat: Taylor Swift)

-Samantha

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'What a shame, Didn't wanna be the one that got away, yeah, Big mistake, broke the sweetest promise, That you never should have made, I'm here on the kitchen floor, you call, but I won't hear it, You said " No one else" '

Your POV

My head was resting on my arms while watching my phone ring for the tenth time this evening. I didn't have the heart to pick it up just to hear Jere's excuse or apologize. The only thing I had going through my head was the day he told me about him sleeping with someone he knew at his school.

That day is so clear to me and it hurts so much just thinking about it. I really wonder if Conrad or Belly knew about this. Hell or even Steven, Laurel and Susanna. I want to call one of them, but I'm so scared about Jeremiah knowing and trying to get the phone to talk to me.

Jeremiah's POV

I stood outside holding my phone and let out a frustrated groan. I just don't know understand why she won't let me explain myself. I was about to call her again when I heard someone speak.

" I would just give her space, Jere."

I turned to find Belly. " I can't stand her not answering. I really need her to hear her voice." I said

She let out a sigh. " Jere, you know what you di..."

I looked back at her and looked away with guilt. " I know! I don't need everyone reminding me!" I said loudly

Before either of us could say anything Conrad and Steven came running out.

" Guys chill." Steven said

I let out a small scoff and turned the other way. " Bro, we know you're upset even though you basically chose that path for yourself, so don't go yelling at any of us." Conrad said

I could hear all three of their footsteps return back inside. I made myself sit down on one of the lounge chairs while holding my phone in my hand.

Your POV

'What a waste, Takin' down pictures and the plans we made, yeah, And it's strange how your face doesn't look so innocent, Your secret had it's consequence and that's on you, babe'

I made myself move to my bedroom so I could throw all the pictures out. I knew if I didn't it would just haunt me for what he did to me. I couldn't get that night out of my head. The next thing I knew was the tears were running down my face. I couldn't make them stop even if I wanted them too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I felt the sun on the side of my face which told me that I probably cried myself to sleep last night. I heard my phone ding, so I looked at it just to make sure it wasn't Jere, but when I saw Connie texted me I was shocked to say the least.

'Hey, um Jere...may be my idiot brother, but I'm always here if you want to talk. I'm always one call away even though you live like two houses down.'

I let out a breathy laugh and text him back. I then got up to see my room trashed. I decided to take time to get myself together.

'Flashback'

I was sitting on the couch in the Fisher's house waiting for Jere to come, since we had plans today. I was starting to get worried when I heard his laugh come from the front of the door. I walked up there to find him talking to someone.

'Since you admitted it (oh), I keep picturin' (oh), Her lips on your neck (oh), I can't unsee it (oh), I hate that because of you (oh), I can't love you, babe what a shame, didn't want to be the one that get away'

"Jere?" I said

He turned around with a surprised look. " Wh...at are you do...ing here?" he stuttered

I looked at him confused. " Um...we made plans, remember."

He turned back to the girl he was talking to, before turning back to me. " Can we talk in my room?" He whispered

I nodded my head. I heard him telling the girl that they would talk soon. When I made it to his room I couldn't make myself sit, so I decided to just stand in the middle of his room.

" I know what you're thinking, but..." Jere started while walking in

" But what, Jere?" I asked

He just looked down. I could just tell that there was more to the story here. " Jere, please just tell me." I whispered trying not to show any emotion

He looked up through his lashes and said, " Tell you what?"

I looked at him with hope that it's not true, but deep down I knew it already. " The truth." I begged

" I think you already figured that out." he said

I could feel the tears starting to fall. " No, no, no." I whispered more to myself

I let out a choked sob before falling to my knees, I knew I should get up and leave, but all I could feel was numbness. " I'm so sorry." He whispered while pulling me into a hug. I pushed him off me, I looked at him through my blurry vision. " Don't touch me!"

He nodded and moved back. I made myself get up to walk to my house away from him and everyone.

Conrad's POV

I was heading to go to the kitchen to grab a drink, but saw Y/n heading for the door. I thought Jere and her were going out. I walked up closer to her only to realize she was crying. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. I could feel her tense up which made my heart break a little for her. " Hey, Y/n/n. Tell me what's wrong?" I said concerned

She just shook her head. I pulled her in for a hug which she immediately melted into. " Ask your idiotic brother." She whimpered

She pulled away and gave me a small sad smile before heading out. I ran back upstairs to Jere's room. " What the hell did you do to her?" I said

He looked up. " Nothing."

I gave him a look. " Bull Jere. Tell me what you did."  

He just stared down at his hands. I whispered, " You didn't cheat on her did you." I held my breath praying it wasn't true. When he didn't answer I was shocked. " OMG!" I paused " Jere, come on! You had the best girl you could have asked for." I stated

All I got from him was silent. I shook my head in disappointment and walked out.

'How could you do this babe? You really blew this, babe, We ain't gettin' through this one, babe, How could you do this babe? This is the last time, This is the last time, This is the last time I'll ever call you, babe,'

Your POV

All I could think about was it was my fault. Did I do something to drive him to do this? I cried to my mom all night. I knew she didn't like seeing me like this, and I felt bad for piling all this on her when she already had her problems.

'Flashback Ends'

'How could you do this, babe? I'm here on the kitchen floor, you call, but I won't hear it, You said "No one else," We ain't gettin' through this one, babe, I break down every time you call, but I won't hear it, This is the last time, We're a wreck, you're the wreckin' ball, This is the last time, You said " no one else", This is the last time, I'll ever call you, "babe". '

Once again I'm in my kitchen sitting on the floor this time watching my phone go off with a picture of Jere and I. I know I shouldn't be crying because he doesn't deserve my tears, but I couldn't help it. I want to text him or at least answer just to tell him it's been over since I found out that he cheated on me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knew I was going to regret the next decision I was going to make, but I had to tell him. I picked my phone up and went to our messages. I hesitated to write, but I knew it would make me somewhat better that he knew.

' Hey Jere, this is hard for me to say, but I know I need to say it. I would love for you to stop calling me for now, maybe just maybe in the near future we can be friends, but that's not an option right now. I just want you to know what you did really broke me and it's hard like really hard for me right now, so this thing with you and I is over and has been over ever since you the day you admitted to cheating. So this is my last good-bye, Jere.'

My thumb was right over the send button. I don't know why it won't push it. It's like my body is numb, or it's telling me not to let go. I know I need to let go and accept that it's happening. I forced my hand to move. Once it was sent I dropped my phone and the tears came down faster.

Jeremiah's POV

I heard my phone ding. I saw that she texted me. I started reading it and broke down. I only kept telling myself how stupid I am and it was making me feel even worse about the whole thing that I did. I just had to accept the fate that this thing with Y/n and I was really over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Omg! I feel like this one is pretty good. I feel like my writing is getting somewhat better these past years and I'm proud to say this. And I am so thankful for all you for reading and commenting plus voting. It makes me so happy! Again I really hope you enjoy this one!

-Samantha

[winniethewife]

You Can’t Always Save Everybody.

(Miguel O’hara x Spidersona!Scarlette Web)

Chapter 2

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Words: 1129

Once Miguel and the others were finally free, they sent Gwen home, this was obviously above her level. Peter and Miguel went to Valentine's apartment only to find it mostly abandoned. Her things lay scattered all around, her books gathered dust, the kitchen empty, and all the blueprints for the gadgets she made for the spider society were torn and burnt around the edges.

“Miguel. Look.” Peter pointed it out, it was her old black and blue spider suit lay over the back of the couch left like she had gone on her last patrol as spider woman, only to leave again as Scarlett Web. Miguel held the fabric in his hand, his face a mixture of sadness, frustration, and anger.

“How the hell did I miss the signs? She needed me…” Miguel mutters mostly to himself. Miguel started pacing around Valentine’s apartment as if he could still find her there. It was a fruitless effort, but his head still refused to accept the reality before his very eyes.

“This isn’t true… not Valentine…” he whispered to himself, as his fingers held the fabric tightly the soft scent of her still lingering on it

They started to search the apartment for anything to help them find her. He was searching her bedroom while Peter was going through her computer in the other room. He about to give up before he found her diary. He flipped through it to try and see if there were any clues to where she might be. As he's looking through he is surprised to find several Polaroids of her and her Miguel, accompanied short journal entries.

A picture of her and Her Miguel dressed in typical gothic teen fashion in high school, He has his arm wrapped around her they’re both smirking at the camera.

“May 18th - Miguel has been calling me this really sweet nickname, Chiquitita. I really love it. I keep calling him Tiger, he thinks it’s funny.”

Miguel couldn’t help but feel his heart break as he read on. He looked at the few Polaroids, his heart dropping as he took in Valentine’s words.

“Chiquitita…” He hadn’t really thought about her relationship with her husband. She didn’t talk about it with him, but this other Miguel called her Chiquitita.

He flipped to a recent entry, no more polaroid pictures filing every page.

“August 4th- I don't know what happened today. Miguel wouldn't talk to me today. Barely looked at me. Did I do something? He's gotten really distant, and I’m trying to be understanding with everything that happened, but today he completely ignored me. I don't understand.” Miguel paused over the single sentence of the next entry. “August 7th- I must have done something terrible for him to treat me this way.”

Miguel could only stare at the page before him the guilt was eating him alive just from the thought of the pain Valentine must have felt.

“August 14th - This new tech I'm working on. It's beyond the ethics of the spider society. This stuff...is lethal. We don't kill people. At least not intentionally. Miguel hasn't been over seeing my work anymore he doesn't come to my lab anymore at all. I don't know why. But I know if he knew what I was working on. Wouldn't approve it anyway.”

“There might not be a way back for Valentine …” he whispered out loud, as he read on through the latest entries.

“September 1st- I don't know how I ever considered him my friend. Miguel went from ignoring me, to cruel side comments to, to this? Sending me on an anomaly mission entirely alone? No back up? I thought I was going to die. And I get back and he's just pissed I couldn't catch it. Yelled at me for like an hour. I've cried over him so often but this is too much. I can't cry anymore.”

Miguel remembers this fight. About a week before she left. Valentine had left because of their fight, where he had hurt her feelings. All of that time, and that was what finally broke her.

“September 9th- I killed a man tonight. I was walking home from the store. He tried to attack me. All I can think of is how Miguel would have reacted. Would he have wanted me to defend myself? Or would he tell me that I should have been more careful, and that as a spider woman I can't get away with things like that. I hate how much control I let him have over me.” At the bottom of this entry is a separate note, “APD-MERCY”

Miguel felt his heart sink when he read the last entry She killed a man. Valentine… Valentine was a murderer. This wasn’t a matter of getting Valentine back for Miguel. He failed at that, this was about stopping her. Peter came in the room with the laptop and a worried look on his face.

“you should look at this.” He says handing him the laptop. It was an article about MERCY, Miguel read it over.  MERCY was a type altering perspective drug or APD. These kinds of drugs are legal for recreational and medical use and are commonly available in this universe. But some kinds are harder to get your hands on. Depending on what kind you took for it would change your point of view. MERCY specifically was used in this universe's Military to help soldiers and veterans move past killing someone and to continue killing, it was unclear if the drug would convince someone who was unwilling to kill to do so, or just prevented the trauma that came with it.

“Dios Mio…If she’s using this…what kind of damage has she done?” Miguel wonders aloud

“I wish I could tell you, nothing like APD’s exists in any other universe we’ve discovered. We are going into completely unknown territory here.” Peter explains carefully, his eyes drifting to the diary in Miguel’s hands. “Mig…How are we going to get her back?”

“I don’t know if we can.” Miguel looks down at the diary again flipping back to the last Polaroid She ever took with her Miguel, they were at central park. It was winter, both of them wearing leather jackets with spikes and embellishments. Valentines raven hair pulled back under a beanie, a hoop in her nose piercing, she always wore a stud now, and a wide smile on her face, one he’d never seen before. This Miguel looked almost just like him, slightly slimmer, an eye brow and lip piercings, a hat pulled over his mussed up hair, he’s resting his head on top of hers, glimmering brown eyes, a smile that seemed most foreign to him on an identical face. He sighs. “But we’ll have to try.”

~

Masterlist

tag: @femmeanonymelives

[anonymousewrites]

There's a Will; There's a Way (Book 4) Chapter Nineteen

Dazai Osamu x Fem! Reader

Chuuya Nakahara x Fem! OC

Chapter Nineteen: Burning End

Summary: Dazai faces Fyodor while (Y/N) and Akira fight at the airport.

Mouse Note: ��​​​​This is in the anime, but it's rewritten because manga spoilers are coming! Please keep that in mind! I will also be posting Chapter Twenty with slight changes today, but Chapter Twenty-One, tomorrow, will have major major manga spoilers.

            The world was ending.

l

            “My, look at this,” said Fyodor as the doors of Mersault opened up. “A perfect starry night, befitting Dazai’s end.”

            “Goal!” cried Gogol. “Fyodor makes it to the finish line in first place! Absolutely fantastic. My very best friend, everyone! So damn awesome!”

            “Save the acclamations, please,” said Fyodor. He put his hands on his hips. “The thing.”

            Gogol swirled his cape, and a case appeared. “You mean this?” He opened it to reveal the antidote to the poison. Fyodor reached for it, but Gogol closed it. “But first! May I ask you something? Dazai was using his pulse to encode his messages to the outside. How were you communicating?”

            Fyodor smirked. “It’s simple.” He glanced behind him at the various guards walking out of Mersault. “Using them.” The guards removed their helmets to reveal they were vampires.

            “I see,” said Gogol. “You had accomplices within the Mersault security forces.” He smiled. “Now it’s yours.” He tossed the case to Fyodor.

            “Indeed.” Fyodor walked past Gogol to the helicopter.

            “Aren’t you taking the antidote?” called Gogol.

            “I’ll take it on the helicopter,” said Fyodor. He reached for the door and frowned at his injured hand. He tsked and narrowed his eyes. Dazai had actually managed to injure him. That was fine. It wouldn’t stop him from getting to (Y/N). Dazai was dead, after all.

            He glanced back. “I can’t pilot the helicopter with my injuries. Please take the stick.”

            The vampires obediently shuffled into the helicopter and started it up while Fyodor reclined in the back.

            “By the way, what became of Sigma?” asked Gogol curiously.

            “He was brave,” said Fyodor, smirking. “He’ll never awaken again, though.”

            “Those who oppose you always meet an untimely demise,” remarked Gogol. “What about you? What will you do, once you’re out of here?”

            “Just as you said,” said Fyodor. His eyes narrowed, and his smirk sharpened. “For starters, you tried to kill me, so I’ll erase you.

            Gogol grinned. “I like it! It’s the beginning of a new game.” He turned away, letting Fyodor leave.

            The case clattered to the ground.

            Gogol blinked and turned around in interest. “Oh, dear. Do you really want to be treating the antidote like that?”

            Blood dripped onto the case.

            Fyodor coughed and wheezed as the vampire in front pushed sharp baton farther into his stomach. Fyodor gripped it and tried to stop it, but the weapon was forced farther in, and blood continued to drip from the widening wound.

            “How did this happen?!” said Gogol.

            “What a shame.”

            Gogol and Fyodor’s head snapped to the entrance of Mersault. Fyodor gritted his teeth.

            “I was so close to dying. But you see…You can’t kill me.” Dazai stepped into the clear air and smiled triumphantly.

            “Dazai…” said Fyodor, forcing the frustrated word out of his mouth, even as blood choked him and he coughed. “How…”

            Dazai smirked. “Unlike you, I don’t have control over all things.” He strolled closer to the helicopter. “My hand was full of uncertain cards. But you had one weakness: You don’t trust anything you can’t manipulate. Allies. Bram took back his special ability at the airport. Ranpo negotiated with him and had him take over the vampire piloting the helicopter. It wasn’t anything we could have planned ahead of time, but I trusted that’s what Ranpo would do.”

            Fyodor’s eyes narrowed and glared with pure fury at Dazai.

            Dazai grinned at his anger. “In fact, if I had to bet, I think (Y/N) removed the sword. She always does the impossible.”

            Fyodor’s rage turned on Dazai. “But you were shot in the head!”

            Dazai grinned and touched his forehead. “Oh, this?” He shrugged. “Yeah, that hurt. That dumbass was supposed to go easy.” He smiled fondly, though.

            “Who are you calling a dumbass?” said a sharp voice.

            Fyodor’s eyes widened in true shock before he made the connection. “I see…”

            “Chuuya was never a vampire to begin with,” said Dazai.

            Chuuya flicked the contacts he’d taken from his eyes away. He cursed when the fake fangs refused to budge. “Fucking hell, it’s not coming out! Wretched boss glued it in!”

            “It was all an act,” said Dazai, walking towards the helicopter and picking up the case. “I was only able to get out of the elevator because Chuuya manipulated gravity.” He stared at Fyodor in satisfaction as the man suffered. “And then, Chuuya shoots me in the head. The bullet stops at my skull. We used to do this all the time, remember?”

            “Suck it!” shouted Chuuya grumpily, still fumbling with the teeth.

            Dazai chuckled before returning to Fyodor. “You couldn’t see how fast the bullet was traveling through the security camera. Also, the water attack was only to distract you from my actual goals, you see.”

            “You actual goal?” asked Fyodor, hands trying to stop his bleeding. It was useless.

            “That wound.” Dazai pointed victoriously at Fyodor’s injured hand. “With your hand injured, you’d have no choice but to let the vampire take the cockpit.” He leaned over Fyodor and smirked. “Remember my face, Fyodor. Remember who beat you. Remember that I sent you to Hell, and (Y/N) is out of your reach for good. She was never going to be yours. Your darkness won’t taint her light.” He stepped back, ever as Fyodor angrily reached for him lurching in his seat. “Goodbye.”

            The vampire directed the helicopter into the sky.

            “Wait!” shouted Fyodor.

            The helicopter spun and slammed into Mersault. It crashed to the ground, and Dazai, Chuuya, and Gogol watched the crumpled vehicle break apart. The engine sparked and turned to flame.

            “Ah…Angelic light…” Fyodor’s last words filtered out into the air.

            And then the helicopter exploded. Dazai watched Fyodor burn in satisfaction. Only once the flames died down did he approach, but he waited with patient satisfaction.

            “So, is that anemic jackass dead?” said Chuuya.

            Dazai picked up Fyodor’s arm, the only piece of him they could identify. “Yeah. Fyodor’s dead. There’s no doubt.”

            “I see.” Gogol walked up solemnly.

            “Congrats, Nikolai,” said Dazai. “You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?”

            “Yeah. I certainly did.” Gogol paused. “No…I didn’t. No…” He reached out and took the amputated arm. “You’re right. I never exchanged many words with Fyodor. But my life since I met him felt nothing like it did prior. Fyodor was right. I fought so I could lose myself. Now, I…” He fell to his knees.

            Dazai turned and walked away.

            “What happened to your usual snark?” said Chuuya.

            “Nah. Not today,” said Dazai. He lifted the case. “I got the antidote, too. Let’s go.” His gaze hardened. “The fight isn’t over. And I need to make sure someone is alright.” (Y/N), my light.

            “Yeah…so do I,” said Chuuya. His mind went to Akira.

            “Aw, is Chuuya going soft?” said Dazai.

            “You wish, bastard!” said Chuuya. “Let’s just keep going.”

            Dazai and Chuuya approached the helicopter touching down at Mersault. They got on, solemnly escorted by some of the Port Mafia men actually left after the vampire outbreak. Dazai opened the case and injected himself with the antidote, sighing in relief.

            “What, not excited to die?” said Chuuya, finally getting the fangs out and throwing them out the window.

            “This would have been a painful death. I’m not interested in that,” said Dazai, shrugging.

            “I can give you a death right here,” challenged Chuuya.

            “You just had the chance to kill me and didn’t! How changeable, Chuuya,” chirped Dazai.

            “Tsk. I wanted that bastard dead first,” muttered Chuuya. “He’s causing enough trouble to somehow be as irritating as you.”

            “Don’t compare me to Fyodor,” said Dazai, voice turning cold.

            Chuuya paused and narrowed his eyes. He understood his former partner better than most. “He really got under your skin, didn’t he?”

            “He threatened someone who’s truly important to me,” said Dazai. “I don’t take lightly to it.”

            Chuuya nearly shivered. He remembered that tone. That was the voice of Dazai the Demon Prodigy, the Port Mafia executive that destroyed enemy organizations like they were nothing, killing for the thrill. Fyodor should count himself lucky he got such a quick death. Chuuya suspected that if Dazai wasn’t unwilling to risk his escape, he would have made sure Fyodor properly suffered for threatening the person close to Dazai.

            “Well!” Dazai brightened and smiled. “He’s dead and burning in hell now, so that’s all the matters!”

            An irk mark appeared on Chuuya’s forehead. “Don’t go acting all giddy now! We’ve still got vampires and the Decay of the Angel on our hands!”

            “Oh, that?” Dazai waved a hand. “I mean, we’ll just be cleanup.”

            “Cleanup?! Fukuchi has his sword, bandage-wasting bastard,” hissed Chuuya.

            “So? (Y/N)’s there. And she’s more than enough to handle him,” said Dazai. Was he worried about her? Of course. He loved her, how could he not worry? “For now, let’s check on Sigma.”

            Chuuya raised a brow. “Isn’t he dead?”

            “Maybe, maybe not. But he and Dostoevsky had a talk supposedly, and I want to know what it was about,” said Dazai. If it had anything to do with (Y/N), Dazai wanted to know. She was strong, but he loved her. He couldn’t help but want to protect her.

            But fundamentally, he knew the truth of her strength—where (Y/N) had the will; she’d find a way.

l

            (Y/N) landed before Fukuchi in a swirl of green light. She stood from her crouched position, gift still alive and ready for a fight as Fukuchi regarded her with surprise and a measure of expectance. He held his sword in one hand and One Order the radio in the other. (Y/N)’s eyes zeroed in on it immediately, and There’s a Will; There’s a Way hummed as it sensed the power radiating from One Order.

            “Come to die just like your companions?” said Fukuchi.

            (Y/N)’s gaze passed over Akira and Fukuzawa’s fallen figures, blood pooling beneath them. Her eyes returned to him, and she stood tall and strong as ever.

            “No. I’ve come to give the world life.”