#my sister is also being annoying because she asked for ‘practical’ gifts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

targaryennumberonelover · 1 year

Text

Betrothed.

Summary: In which reader is from the north (house Glover), but is betrothed to Daemon, and is annoyed of the southron ladies at court, and gets very excited to see Cregan Stark when he visits from the North as it reminds her of home. Reader spends a great deal of time with Cregan, who is a very pleased guest, almost completely ignoring her betrothed. This prompts Daemon's jealousy, because who else can have you but him?

Notes: This wound up being fairly vanilla. Also my first proper, non-crack fic. Also my first time on this app + first time writing Daemon; so yay! Big milestone. Saw some other stories on this app and got inspired (+love the font). Idk how to write short stories, so girl is long + very loosely spell/grammar checked (should be ok but some parts might be odd). I personally love the northern reader concept lol, hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: swearing, canon-typical misogyny, Daemon Targaryen (man needs a whole warning, bffr)

In Deepwood Motte you detested late summer snows, they ate away the summer of your early childhood. You always envied Winterfell for the boiling water that runs through the castle walls; and rejoiced each time your house stayed as guests there. What you had envied most, as a babe, was warmth of the south. Now, however, that you had arrived in the southron lands, you missed those late summer snows terribly.

The south was unbearably hot, you'd have servants delivering you iced milk each day, and too often would you remind them to keep it unsweetened. The heat was not half as over bearing as the ladies of court and all their gossip. Back home, there was scarcely any gossip or other wasteful activities. You spent your youth being educated by the septa, learning the lady ways, and once you came of age, you spent your time putting those ways into practice.

The southron ladies always bragged of their luxuries, which were considered nonsensical in the north, their sweets and silks and careless grandeur. It was draining, sickening, even. Even ever modest Queen Alicent, soon to be your sister by law, would agree with the court ladies when they offered you a sweet as though it was an thing utterly unknown to your northern self, and on occasion would ask you to try a tart or cake she enjoyed.

The only person's company you could find peace in this blasted place was your betrothed, Daemon Targaryen. He was not overbearing, was not mocking of your northernness, but rather found common aspects in your values. Often, you two would walk together, and when there was a moment of respite from both of your busy schedules, he would take you to the skies on the back of Caraxes. You'd even visited Dragonstone, once, but most briefly.

Today was no different. The summer sun bore down over King's Landing, and despite the lush shade provided by the garden plants and sandy canopies that were stretched over head, you were hot. Despite the thick honey, you sipped on the iced milk gratefully, and made a mental reminder to gift the poor servants who fanned you generously later.

"These cakes are quite nice," one of the southron ladies said, sliding over a plate full of thick, layered cakes that smelt so strongly of sugar you might've smelt them when Daemon offered you a ride on Caraxes, leagues in the sky. You'd much rather be on Caraxes, with Daemon holding you close, leagues in the sky rather than here. You wished he would come and save you, but alas, you were stuck between a rock and several smothering southerners.

You smiled politely and took the smallest bite of one. "You're right, my lady, these are quite... tasty." You lick your lips, and are momentarily forlorn when there's nothing unsweet to remove the thick taste from your mouth.

Another southron lady seems to remember something, and rushes to finish her bite, fanning her hand in the air to invite our attention to her. "Have you heard?" She asks once she has swallowed, "lady [name], this would be of great interest to you, the good northfolk, like yourself, are coming to the Keep for a visit."

Despite the almost taunting way she says 'northfolk,' you find yourself intrigued. "Which house?" You ask, and your curiosity is not unheard. They seem to hold back snickers as another one of the ladies reply.

"The House Stark, and their party." She says, smugly, though you are lost as to why. It baffles you further how they regard the Starks, the wardens of the north, so casually. Did they not realise that every northern house beyond the neck swore their fealty to the Starks? The negative thoughts do not linger long, for you can't help but be excited at the thought of seeing Cregan Stark once more. In your childhood you had become acquainted with him, and his lord father offered your father a place on his table on several occasions, and later on he did the same.

You smile, widely, and ask, "do you know when they are to arrive?"

The southron ladies seem to look amongst each other for a moment, and it is Queen Alicent who replies from behind us. "They are to arrive on the morrow, Lady [Name]." You did not notice her arrival, and all seem to turn and stand to greet her.

"Queen Alicent," you exclaim, rising to bow to her. "I must excuse myself, I'm afraid I must prepare to see my fellow northfolk. I must catch you at court later, your grace." You give the ladies of court a small nod, before slipping away the way Alicent had came, glad to find respite from the suffocation of court.

The following morning you had dressed more northernly than you had in your entire stay here. You wore a gown with grey over white, with slim fur trimming, little enough that you wouldn't boil. It felt pleasant to be wearing northern colours once more, over the golds and silvers and silky things the south fashioned themselves in. You even found an old pin with the gauntlet of Glover on it, and wore it most proudly as you broke your fast with the court ladies. It was boring and tiresome, as it usually was, but you braved on without complaint and with a smile until, finally, the word came the Starks had arrived.

It took you little time to find yourself in the vast throne room, standing happily by Daemon, your sweet betrothed, awaiting Cregan Stark and his party. It had been nearly two years since you had last seen the Lord of Winterfell, never finding cause to visit before your betrothal, and finding it impossible to do so after.

"Eager, are we?" Daemon hums, noting your excitement. You do not make it difficult. You're practically jumping up and down in anticipation.

You look up at him with a small chuckle, "yes, I'm afraid so." You say, looking down the length of the throne room, a tad disappointed when there are no northerners marching down the hall. "Whilst the south has it's certain... qualities, it has been difficult not to miss the north."

Daemon only chuckles, seemingly amused by both your enthusiasm and desire not to offend any southerners by your distaste for their society.

When the Starks arrive, murmurs flutter around the hall for a moment, then spread madly like wildfire. They come down the hallway, proud and honourable as the Starks are, and bow down to their king and his new queen. There are compliments exchanged, and brief conversation, all the while you're teetering away, waiting for a moment to greet Cregan Stark; when it finally comes, it feels like you are back home.

"It is good of you to make the trip, Lord Stark," you smile as you speak, "not only for the court, but for myself. It may be selfish, but I've been missing the north terribly."

Cregan laughs, lightly so, at my comment. "And the north as been missing you, Lady Glover. Your house is morose without you, and Deepwood Motte emptier than ever. It is a shame you are not to return, you'd make a fine lady for the north."

You let out a laugh at his words, and speak, almost bashfully, "you are too kind, my lord. I am sure my family is doing fine with out me. I would love to return, alas, my place is in the south now."

Cregan lets out a long sigh, and rests a sympathetic touch on your arm. "Alas indeed, but if you ever feel inclined to visit, both Deepwood Motte and Winterfell would be more than glad to take you." He offers, and you smile warmly up at him. You have missed the north grievously, and it brings you deep comfort to speak with a northerner, and to see the direwolf of House Stark, the embodiment of the north, in plenty now.

"It would be good to have another northerner to keep me company, show me the ways of the south... if you would be so kind, my lady?" Cregan asks after a moment of respite, and you are to kind to decline, too glad to have another north soul to save you from the court ladies to say no.

So, you give him your prettiest smile and say, "of course, my lord. I'd be honoured."

Perhaps it was the way he spoke to you, how he called you a lady for the north, never of the north, the sly remarks he would make about the south, of how utterly glad and honoured he would be to take you in the north. Perhaps it was the light touches he placed on your arm, your back, and the way you returned them so innocently. Or, perhaps it was the fact that for the last two day's he had been in King's Landing you had utterly ignored him that made Cregan Stark not sit right with Daemon Targaryen.

More than once he'd clenched his fists and gritted his jaw and ignored the way you two laughed together, the obscene amount of time you spent together. How interested you had been in his gnarly, overgrown dog that slobbered after him everywhere he went. Daemon was left baffled, why would you want a dog when you could have a dragon? He couldn't understand your obsession with the Stark boy, and watching you ignore him and give into the flirtatious prick made him angrier than words could explain.

He didn't know how often his hand strained around his cup until his knuckles went white, or how often he took long sips of his wine to keep himself from saying something that would ruin your happiness. It was the only reason he put up with the ugly cunt as he flirted with you, took advantage of your innocence. He'd longed to kill him, but seeing you more content at court than ever before had prompted him not to.

His patience was wavering thin now, as the two of you sat together, ate together, practically glued at the hip as you laughed over something trivial. Jealousy burned in his stomach, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

And when the feasting was over, and it came time to dance, he wanted to slam his fist down when the bastard stood up before you. "Your hand, my lady?" He asked, with a gross smirk he was sure you'd perceive as a kind smile. "For a dance." He adds, and it is like a cruel taunt directed to him. Did the boy not know you were betrothed to him? That you were happy with a prince? That you didn't want a little lordling instead?

"Yes, of course," you agree, ever glad to indulge in his northernness. Daemon feels his nails dig roughly into his palms as he clenches his fist, and he doesn't care if he draws blood. All he can feel is horrible, terrible jealousy. You were his betrothed, his and his alone. Who did this winter cunt think he was?

He might've ripped off the bard's head for playing such a jovial tune. He watched as Cregan's hands gripped your waist and twirl you around the room. He reached for his goblet and tilted it it back into mouth, and when it emptied, he jerked over a serving girl and had her fill it to the brim. He'd drank overmuch already, but it was all he could do to not knock that poor boy to his feet like the dog he was.

His eyes remained fixed on you like a predator to prey. He watched as the bastard spun you into the crowd, as he lifted you by your waist, at the wide grin on flashing on your lips. Your pretty lips that were meant to be his, and his alone. He took another long sip from his cup. Through the gowns and the jewels he watched you with the ugly winter dog.

And, when Cregan Stark dipped his head down and whispered something to you, too close to your ear for his liking, making you through your head back in laughter, Daemon had enough. He stood up, his movements too sharp, sending his chair scraping behind him. He navigated his way through the heart of lords and ladies, past some drunken fool lifting a serving girl and spinning her in the air whilst the tray she carried clattered onto the ground.

Soon enough his hand found it's way to your shoulder, and held onto you a little too tight as he yanked you away from your dance with the winter boy. "You don't mind if I share a dance with my betrothed, do you, lordling?" He asked, his tone curt; he saw no reason to give this bastard any respect. Trying to steal his own betrothed from right under his nose. No, he would not have it.

His eyes seemed to squeeze with delight and his smirk widen as he watched Cregan's face twitch. "Of course, my prince," he says with a smile, and a short bout of laughter so fake Daemon might've puked. "I do hope you enjoy your time together." The winter dog says, and lift's up his betrothed's hand and gives it a disgusting kiss. The nerve.

"Thank you," you murmur, ever the sweetheart, as Cregan Stark finally takes his leave. You watch after him as he disappears into the crowd, as Daemon's grip on your shoulder holds you tight against him. Once the Stark boy is well and truely gone into the mass, he releases you momentarily.

When you dance again, it is him gripping your hips, it is him picking you up and twirling you around the room. Exactly the way it should be. "You seemed to be enjoying your time together," Daemon croons, looking down at your face with devilish eyes. There is anger in his voice, but it is swallowed up by his affection for you.

"Yes, I suppose I was." You say, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "IT is nice to have a break from the southron ladies, to have a friend who doesn't mock my northernness."

Daemon's eyes narrow, and he lets out a short hum, his head tilting to a side as he watches you. "I think the little lordling wanted to be more than just your friend, sweet thing." He murmurs.

Your soft expression furrows into one of confusion, and you let out a slight scoff. It's almost amusing how disbelieving you are that pissy lord of the north took an interest in you. "Lord Cregan is merely a friend, I assure you," you say, ever innocent in your ways.

"Oh, my sweet thing, you can not be so naive. Surely you've seen the way that dog eyes you," he says, shaking his head, "it's disgusting, frankly."

You laugh nervously, your head swishing back and forth in denial. "He would never, he knows I am betrothed. I haven't shown any interest in him, regardless." You argue. It's almost frustrating how you jump to defend the boy's actions, but he can not blame you. The ladies of Westeros are often too sheltered, made to think every lord is a gentleman. Sure, you knew of whores and cunts, but Daemon found there was much your sweet, trusting nature kept from your grasp.

He runs a hand gently down your cheek and offers you a kind smile. "Oh, my princess, your betrothal only makes you want him more. Do you not see the strays that sniff under the tables for food just beyond their reach? It matters not if you'll have him or not, he wants you the same." He coos, tilting your chin up to look at him. "The mutt wants something nice to warm his tiny little cock, and what better than a prince's wife?"

"Even if what you say is true," you pause for a moment, perhaps you're contemplating the truth of his words, or uneasy by his vulgar language. With a weak smile but a firm gaze, you finish, "I would never entertain his desire."

Daemon smirks at that, "of course not." He says, proudly so. "Why walk a bitch when you can ride a dragon?"

491 notes · View notes

kankuroplease · 5 months

Note

speaking of the uchiha + senju brothers, what would they be like if they had a sister?

I assume you mean in my founder au?

It’s a little difficult to tell with the wording, but I’ll go with that I wouldn’t envy any girl with them as brothers tho😂

Uchiha Sister

Madara - protective, not just anyone would be allowed to approach her. Also the type of brother to tell her to not be a push over because he’s not going to hold her hand through life. Toughen up.

Inari - exactly the same. Gender doesn’t change how he treats his siblings. He’d be her shoulder to cry on when she needs it and cheer her on with her pursuits.

Kota - overly protective and annoying with it. “Where are you going?” “Who’s going to be there?” “Cover up”, etc. definitely threatens any guy he thinks isn’t worth her time. Might ask her for girl advice when he’s drunk, just depends.

Tenko - “girl” talk bestie. would help her with her makeup, hair, as well as point out the potential suitors with money and good hearts (also who doesn’t have a receding hair). Nothing but the best for his sister. She needs a cover story for any reason? He’s got her. She needs to cover up some love bites? He’s got the perfect powder trick for that.

Izuna - as long as she’s not an idiot, he’ll treat her like the others. Even if she is an idiot that only cares about vanity and flowers, that’s his sister and only he can call her that 💀 literally her first bully.

Senju Sister

Hashirama - he’s still the fun older brother, but she’s definitely going to have to hear about possibly marrying for the better of the Hidden Leaf at least once. Definitely the type of brother to instantly pick up when she’s in a bad mood fast and ask what’s wrong/if he can do anything to make it better.

Tobirama - practically her built in etiquette tutor as well as sergeant. She wouldn’t get out of difficult training just because she’s a woman. He would give her an awkward but reassuring pat on the head and a quiet “sorry” when she’s actually having a hard time because of him. He wants what’s best for her and that includes being able to adapt well to warfare and social situations.

Kawarama - he’d encourage her to live her own life and live it boldly. Don’t let anyone tell her who she should be, y’know? But when he’s not being the cool brother, he’s probably stealing food off her plate and barging into her room just to annoy her.

Itama - gets her a lot of pretty gifts just because and would try to convince her that being a scholar or a housewife is where she’d be happiest in life. ESPECIALLY if she looks like their mother, please just stay off of the battlefield and live a LONG happy life 😭

#ask #kpz naruto founder au #kpz firestorm 🔥#kpz distance between ⛩️

25 notes · View notes

themultifandomgal · 2 years

Text

Shelby Sister-Ghosts

"There's no such things as ghosts YN"

Isaiah, your best friend sighs taking a long drag from his cigarette

"But Is, I hear things at night, sometimes in the day when I'm alone too"

"You'll get locked up talking like that"

"Is, I'm being serious!" you practically yell at Isaiah "Tom said gran was a medium, could talk to spirits, Aunt Poll has a gift when it comes to babies and I'm hearing shit, what if I..."

"Ok YN, you are my best friend and I believe you every time you tell me something, but there's no such thing as ghosts. Now sit down and drink your drink" he nods towards the half full glass on the table. You sigh sitting down and taking a sip of your drink

"John used to tell me this story about a woman who lived in our house before us. She died because her husband murdered her and now she haunts the place. I swear I've heard her"

"It's just a story your brother told you to scare you and now it's worked"

"Who said I'm scared? You know what stay the night at the betting shop alone and then tell me ghosts aren't real"

"Fine" Isaiah groans.

"Blankets, water, food and a pillow" I show Isaiah the makeshift bed I have made for him "I'll be upstairs in my room if you need me to comfort you"

"Yeah yeah off you go YN I'll be fine" Isaiah tells me. I hold my hands in the air and walk out. I head upstairs and see Tommys light on, I knock it before walking in

"Hey Tom Is is staying over in the betting shop because he doesn't believe me that it's haunted"

"He's in for a long night" Tom chuckles. Out of all of my siblings he's the only one to believe me "goodnight YN"

"Night Tom" I close his door behind me and then into my room. I get changed and get into my bed.

I'm woken up in the middle of the night to being shuck

"YN, YN"

"What?" I reply to Isaiah annoyed

"You were right, there's a bloody ghost downstairs"

"Really? oh cool" I roll over so I'm not facing him

"I saw it YN, a woman. The story John told you is real"

"I know" I groan still half asleep

"YN can you come and look"

"Fine" I roll my eyes and slowly get out of bed. We walk downstairs and into the betting shop, there's nothing in there... at the moment "do you want to stay in the house? not that that's any better"

"Can I sleep on you bedroom floor" the lights then flick on causing Isaiah to scream as my aunt Polly is stood at the door

"Will you pair shut up. All I can hear is you freaking out" Polly points to Isaiah

"Sorry Poll" Isaiah looks down at his feet

"Bed, both of you" we both make our way to my room and I get Isaiah sorted on my bedroom floor

"Thank you YN"

"So do you believe me now?"

"Yes. I believe you"

"Good" I get into my bed "oh also if you wake up and there's a little boy in the room that's just...."

"Finn I know"

"No it's William, he had TB. Goodnight Is"

"Wait, what. You can't just tell me that and then go to sleep"

"I can and I will"

"But YN..."

"Shhh go to sleep"

"I suppose he got scared then?" I hear Tommys voice. I open my eyes and see my 3 older siblings looking at Isaiah on my floor

"At least he slept on the floor" Arthur comments

"Does he believe you now about the ghosts"

"Yes I think he does" I laugh getting out of bed

"You gonna wake him up?" John asks

"Na he had a bad night last night. Think William came to say hi" I walk past my brothers who all chuckles

"Poor lad" Tommy says as we make our way downstairs

"YN ghosts aren't real" Arthur sighs

"You sure about that. Maybe tonight I'll ask William to go say hi to you"

"Err no no thank you. No thank you William" Arthur shouts out looking around him

"I'm hungry, let's eat" I walk into the kitchen with my brothers following me

"Sleep well YN?"

"Like a baby. Is however I don't think got much sleep" aunt Polly smiled and gives me a knowing wink.

#peaky blinders #shelby sister #sister shelby #arthur shelby #tommy shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinder imagine

110 notes · View notes

hamliet · 2 years

Note

Hey!

I've got a question for you if you could've had any storylines on qaf for the characters that we didn't get what would you pick?

My choices would be

Deep dive into Brian's addiction issues

More exploration of Justin and his art, showing him at college and the process. The consequences on himself post his trauma affecting his dream career choice. Seeing him make actual proper art instead of fleeting shots here and there

Emmett getting to have either a family member/or friend from his past introduced I'm sure he was the only one who never got one which is a hate crime

Keeping Michael's friend from Season 1 around a bit longer counteracting Brian's all straight people are evil narrative, especially after she came around after Brian outed Michael and was a good friend to him. It would've been funny to see how Brian would've coped with him having a straight female friend hanging around plus showing not to judge all people the same there are ones who are willing to learn and be allies.

What a great ask!! Thank you!

JUSTIN AND MOLLY JUSTIN AND MOLLY JUSTIN AND MOLLY--

Ahem. First of all, honestly, I love all your suggestions.

The idea of Tracy continuing to pop up post season 3 is great, and I'd have liked to see more of her friendship with Michael. Emmett’s family situation being explored also had potential (like, my assumption is that they’re all dead or he’s estranged, but it’d be interesting to explore that). I would also have loved the idea of Brian’s addiction issues being addressed—Ted’s arc, and Blake's, explored addiction well, so you don't need to tumble Brian down a spiral so much as you could have increased the foiling between them to give Brian a bit of a challenge/wake up call.

As for Justin’s art--yes. 100%. Especially since art is symbolic of his life (like, Justin literally points out he's been drawing practically since birth, because art is his life), I'd have liked to see his career given more focus!

In general, as for what I'd change in addition to yours... well, most changes I would make would be to further flesh some of the already-existing plot lines out because they could have worked far better than they did (such as fleshing out Justin’s PTSD/dealing with PTSD throughout the series, which would make the Pink Posse arc fit much better).

I would also replace the... lesbian cheating and custody battle with a new story that served the same thematic and character purpose, but without the repetitive nature and the icky subtext. I’d build Lindsay towards making a final confrontation of her desire to have the perfect image and Melanie confronting her own insecurities about never being enough for Lindsay through a plot line involving Melanie’s professional life post-pregnancy. I don’t think we got any relatives of Melanie’s either, just like Emmett, actually, so exploring Mel's family is another option. But since Mel's so focused on her career, and her focus is part of the stereotype she turns out to be so much more than, I would have to say fleshing out her career and making that a central part of her arc would be awesome.

Some other ideas:

Deb and Rodney bond more after Vic’s death.

Bring Reverend Tom back at some point. Kinda vague, but I'd have liked this.

But the main one?

FLESH OUT JUSTIN’s SISTER. It’s a crime we only see Molly a handful of times in season 1 and the very start of season 2. A crime, I tell you.

Why? Because Molly so clearly adores Justin. Even when she’s annoying him, she does so by imitating him. He comments that after he’s gone she’ll have “appropriated my coolest stuff” and post-bashing, Craig mentions that Molly gives him updates on Justin’s health and well-being. In other words, Molly loves Justin (unlike Craig), and seeing him bond with her as part of both of them growing up would have been a gift.

You could then explore Molly as Justin’s inner child, especially once she’s a little older and in middle school (seasons 4 and 5) and thereby capable of being her own character. You could also use a plot line of Justin and Molly bonding to further develop Debbie and Vic even, especially if you set it post-Vic’s death. There’s a lot you could do with this to foil Brian and Justin, too, as all major plot lines and relationships tended to do (because their love story embodied each and every central theme).

Like, Justin mimics Brian at times, especially when he is more immature, but grows to love him and be loved as his own self. Molly mimics Justin. Even though clearly a brother/sister relationship isn't the same as romance, love is still a tie between them. Justin choosing to appreciate Molly's imitation as the admiration it is, while encouraging her to be her own person... like Brian did for him.

You could also have Molly and Justin foil Brian and Claire. Molly is about the same age as Claire’s kids, too, so you could even have them meet at school or whatever and have a conflict there and Justin give her advice and support. Not gonna lie, I'd also have loved to see Jennifer learn a little more about Brian's family, if only to see her rage.

There’s so much potential for Molly and Justin's relationship benefitting the series as a whole, and I’d have loved to see it delved into.

#ask hamliet #qaf #queer as folk #qaf us 2000 #justin taylor #brian kinney #debbie novotny #melinds #melanie marcus #lindsay peterson #britin #jennifer taylor #vic grassi #molly taylor #queer as folk us 2000

26 notes · View notes

papers-from-a-ghost · 1 year

Text

The bus has always been the same since the first i entered this school, at first grade thinking it'll be a fresh start from the lonely feelings i gained from kindergarten. The door latches open to the right of me, snapping me out of this reading trance i've picked up recently.

I usually have these soon-to-be blackouts in my memories when there are no thoughts, or anything of note to take, or give, at those specific moments. Other than the fact that i'm listening to the same indie-bands on repeat with headphones i've essentially attached to the deepest inner parts of my ears. I never move anywhere or anyhow without these earbuds; except for maybe showers. of course.

I hop down the doors with one mellow pink book in my right hand, and an opposing hand attempting to balance as my left. Walking, or atleast attempting to walk, down the cracked pavements at the front of my house.

Before moving any further through the entrance, i notice the christmas tree moved out to the left of me. That's honestly pretty early, atleast as a concept for these places. I check out the delivered packages nearby if anything i got arrived, there being nothing, and find myself gravitating towards the leftover giftboxes from the tree that moved.

Its kind of sad folding out the letters attached to these boxes to confirm that these are, yet again, prop boxes to look like real gifts that've been used for the 4th year in a row. There's a part of me that wishes i was as happy as i was then in seeing gift wrap to rip and uncover, but things are different now. All of that's kinda gone, i guess that's what age does.

or maybe what the world.-

"Oh! your back!"

my dad says as he walks out from the side hallway, still in his still-blue scrub suit.

"How was school?" he asks, as if he isn't about to retreat back to his clinic before hearing anything more than a minute and half of discussion.

"Pretty ok, nothing much happened. Everyone def knew about us going to Bali though."

"They did-??"

"Yes, but it wasn't all that bad."

For context, we arrived back home yesterday. If that wasn't evident now.

"How did they know?".

To be proven guilty, i did post pictures on my instagram because it was bound to be leaked by my sisters. Then again it could've not, so i'm still guilty of this before his rationalization. "Oh! maybe they saw the tags on facebook."

...Aha ..yes that's it.

I'd say internally, later reciprocating the same words a second later.

His voice soon fades as i ascend up the stairs to my room, with the mess i left from yesterday still sitting on my bed. This mess includes a complimentary half folded comforter, a horned biking helmet in fake leather, and a coincidental cat sleeping by my pillow; their head being rested by it too.

I approach and she scrambles to put her chin above my fingers. She may be lazy, and a bit smart and smug, but atleast she's comfy. I could also find comfort in the collage i've left on my bed when we did come back from Bali, but i'd rather not lay down and feel annoyed at the stated being felt by my feet; or legs; or pray to god not my ankles (half joking).

I'm not sure what to do knowing i've picked this practice up without much of an outline or end goal, but i do get a notification from someone familiar.

Zildjian started following you!

I haven't heard that name since middle school, and honestly i vaguely remember them with a square figure and complimentary square glasses.

or was that Zen?

No, Zildjian was the dude who knew karate and was somewhere in the first few grade years.

Anyways, it is beyond odd however that they started following me now of all times, just as we were getting back to school from christmas break. I mean i'm always open to seeing old or familiar friends, especially one that i haven't really heard from yet. I'll finish that thought once i stop drifiting to a sudden nap though.

#bad writing #writing #novel #personal #writer

0 notes

h0nkch0c0late · 3 years

Text

Mad Thomas

Fear street 1666 Mad Thomas x Reader

Summary: Mad Thomas, Aka the town drunk. Y/n Miller, Aka Hannah Miller's sister and the Pastor's daughter. What happens when she gets stopped by Thomas on her way to the forest for the fruits of the land thing?

Warnings: smut I guess? Well kind of smut??? It's not really smut???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Y/n!" Her mother called to her from the kitchen, slight evidence of annoyance in her voice, causing Y/n to sigh and walk away from her chores in her room.

"Yes, mother? What is it?" She asked somewhat quietly as she approached her mother.

"Can you see why your sister is taking so long with her chore outside?" Her mother clearly looked upset.

Y/n nodded, walking to the door and opening it, seeing Hannah talking to Sarah Fier.

Y/n smiled at Sarah, having no problem with her she didn't see why not, Sarah smiling back at her as Hannah looked to her sister.

"What is it?" Hannah asked timidly.

"Mother wanted to know what has been taking you so long out here-"

Y/n was interrupted by their mother, "and that she has to come back inside!"

Y/n rolled her eyes, "and that you have to come back inside. Don't worry, I won't tell her that you've been talking to Sarah." She said in almost a whisper, careful to not let their mother hear.

Sarah sighed, "I'll see you tonight, Hannah."

Hannah nodded to her, "of course." She then walked past Y/n into the house, their mother starting to say harsh things to her as Y/n started to close the door behind her.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Miller's direction turned towards her other daughter.

Y/n turned her head towards her, "going to check on father, is all." She lied.

Mrs. Miller huffed as a response, letting Y/n go.

Y/n smiled at her mother before closing the door behind her, looking towards Sarah.

"The full moon rises before nightfall." She said with a smile.

"A good night to enjoy the fruits of the land. You're going too?" Sarah raised a brow in surprise.

Y/n chuckled, "why of course. I may be the Pastor's responsible daughter, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun once in a while right? And Hannah needs it since our mother has been especially hard on her lately." She sighed as she started walking with Sarah.

Sarah nodded in understanding, "it's because of me, isn't it?"

"Most likely. I wouldn't be too worried though. Just as long as you don't do anything bad, I'm sure you both will be fine." Y/n explained, examining the people around her, waving to Abigail as she dragged Constance off with her.

Y/n looked down to see a bag in Sarah's hand, and that they were headed in the direction of Solomone Goode's home. "What have you got in that bag of yours?" She asked.

"One of the piglets that had gotten stuck. I wanted to give it to Solomone as a gift." Sarah responded, and just as she said that, a small oink came from inside of the bag.

Y/n chuckled, "Ah, alright well I'll leave you to it. I might as well actually check on my father while I'm outside."

"I'll leave you to it, then." But just as Sarah was about to leave, the door to the outhouse burst open, a drunken Thomas stumbled out of it.

Both girls groaned in annoyance at the boy as he stumbled towards them.

"I can see A secret about you, girl." Thomas said as he walked straight towards Sarah.

"And a good day to you too, Thomas." Sarah replied calmly, though slightly annoyed by his presence, trying to step forward away from him but he stopped her.

"Don't you want to hear it?" Thomas questioned.

"Thomas, leave her alone she doesn't want to deal with you right now." Y/n said, grabbing his arm.

Sarah nodded, "please just leave me alone."

But Thomas didn't listen, he just shook Y/n's hand off, contuing to bother Sarah. "I can see everything. I can see all the dark secrets in Union."

Sarah scoffs, "you must be busy." She then pushed Thomas away and started to walk, Y/n gasping as Thomas persisted, grabbing onto Sarah again.

"I see darkness in you, girl!" He said as Sarah struggled in his grip.

Y/n grabbed him, forcing him off of Sarah and pushing him. "Be still, Thomas!" Y/n warned as Sarah glared at the man. Thomas just laughed.

"Sarah, it's best if you go now." Y/n sighed, eyeing Thomas to make sure he doesn't go after Sarah again.

Sarah nodded, then turned around and continued her walk to Solomone's home.

"Beware, Sarah Fier!" Thomas laughed again.

Y/n scoffed, "Thomas, would you please stop being so crude to Sarah? She's done nothing wrong."

Though it seemed that Thomas wasn't exactly listening to her words, only looking at her and grabbing her wrist, leaning in closer to her.

"And you, you hold many secrets." He told, holding her wrist tightly but not too tightly, which is strange for him.

Y/n's cheeks started to turn pink, her face feeling warm as she stuttered, "i-i have no idea what you are talking about. You are completely mad, Thomas."

Thomas smirked, letting go of her wrist, "you hide behind a facade, girl. But I know who you really are." His eyes practically pierced through her own.

Y/n's heart was beating erratically at how close he was, and the lowness of his voice...she knew he was just drunk and had no understanding of his words, but she almost felt like he did in fact know.

But it was something even she didn't want to admit. She didn't want to admit that Y/n Miller, the Pastor's daughter, was in love with the town's famous drunk, Mad Thomas. But she couldn't help it. There was just something about him that made her so strangely attracted to him, but she could never put a finger on it.

He laughed once more, walking away (more like stumbling away).

Y/n sighed, taking a moment to calm her flushed cheeks before spotting her father and heading her way towards him.

-------------------------------------------------------

Y/n took a deep breath as she took small, quiet steps down the stairs in her house quiet as to not wake up her parents, and saw her sister at the door.

They nodded at each other, linking arms and walking towards the forest.

Lizzie and Sarah appeared, stealing Hannah away to collect the berries as Y/n chuckled to herself, continuing on her way to the party.

As she entered the woods, she heard ruffling noises behind the trees. Of course she thought nothing of it, the thought of one of the party-goers or an animal only crossing her mind.

But as she walked further, she was suddenly pulled behind a tree, she shrieked, a hand quickly covering her mouth as she was pushed up against it.

She recognized it immediately, looking up to see the face of Thomas. Though she had calmed down a bit, she was still a little freaked out about the sudden actions of him. "T-Thomas what are you doing?"

Thomas had a smirk on his face as he looked at her, "you're mother and father wouldn't like if they found out you were out here at night. I expected this from your sister, but from you? I would have never guessed."

"What I do is none of your business, Thomas. And my parents do not control me." Y/n stood her ground, but Thomas was so close she could feel his warm breath on her face. She was trying her best not to show her blush.

Thomas chuckled darkly, "now now, there's no need to lie. I know you care about what your parents think."

Y/n's eyes narrowed, "you know nothing." Her heart was thumping so loud in her ears she swore everyone could hear it.

But Thomas ignored her, "I also know that you feel something for me. I see it in your eyes every time you look in my direction."

Y/n scoffed, "you really do live up to your name, Mad Thomas. I feel no such things for you. Your drunken mind must be playing tricks on you." Her breaths were becoming sharp as Thomas leaned in closer to her.

Thomas chuckled once again, "there is no need to lie, love. I've got secrets of my own." He lifts one of his hands that were pinning her against the tree, gently pushing away some of her hair away from her face, then stroking her cheek lightly.

The action and nickname caused a shiver to go down her spine, her cheeks getting warmer as she kept her gaze on his own, her breath hitching. "A-and what are t-those secrets, Thomas?"

He leaned in more, his lips close to her ear as he whispered, "why should I tell you mine, if you won't admit your own?"

Y/n went silent for just a moment, then sighed. "If I admit mine, would you tell me yours?" She said in almost a whisper.

He leaned his head back to her face, "I will do better. I'll show you." He moved his body closer to her this time, holding her gaze.

It made her weak at the knees, her trying her best not to fall. "Alright, you want to know?"

Thomas nodded.

"I-Im in love with you. I know I shouldn't be, but i can't get those thoughts out of my head. There's just something about you that irks me so much but at the same time makes my head spin."

His eyes widened in surprise, he was only just teasing her after all. He didn't know she actually felt that way about him. He quickly went back to normal, plastering his famous smirk back onto his face, "and what kind of thoughts are those?"

Y/n gulped, "that is something you do not need to know. Now, it is your turn. What is the secret you so desperately want to show me?"

Thomas kept his eyes on her as he slid his hands down to the strings that held the front opening of her dress closed, "my secret is this."

She gasped as he began to pull at them, loosening the top of her dress and having it come undone.

Her hand instinctively reached out to grab his wrist, stopping him. "What are you doing, Thomas?! We aren't even wed!" She whispered.

Thomas shushed her, putting his hand back onto her now-bare chest. "Don't worry, dear."

A shiver went down her spine again, "for a man who listens to God and tells one of my greatest friends practically the devil, you sure do a lot of sinning yourself." She smirked, suddenly gathering courage.

Thomas' eyes narrowed a little, "that is different." He growled.

"Oh? How so?" She began to tease him, though one of his hands were still on her chest, she thought nothing of it.

Thomas' mouth opened and closed, trying to find words but coming up with none. He then pushed himself away from her, turning around to leave.

Before he could, Y/n grabbed his wrist, making him turn towards him. "Now hold on a minute, Thomas. Who said I wanted you to stop? You cannot leave me here like this without having done anything to me." She snarked.

"Why should I? You did try and use my own words against me." He said as he walked closer to her once again.

"Surely you can take a joke?" She questioned with a smile.

Thomas rolled his eyes, then suddenly pushed her against the tree for the second time, leaning in close to her, their lips noses only a few inches apart.

Y/n didn't wipe the smile off her face as she guided one of his hands back to her chest, the sleeves of her dress slowly falling down causing it to slide off of her shoulders slightly.

Thomas smirked at her, his mood quickly changing before he kissed her deeply, hands gliding into places they normally shouldn't be, his lips traveling down to her neck as she leaned her head back on the tree in pure ecstacy, never having had this experience before, it was a new...amazing feeling.

-------------------------------------------------------

Y/n entered the part of the forest where the rest of the teens were, looking around to see Sarah and Hannah missing, while the others were all dancing and hanging around, some even making out with each other.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked to see Lizzie, who looked at her with a disapproving yet concerned look.

"You're late. What took you so long?" Lizzie asked.

Y/n's mind thought back to the previous events, a small smile appearing on her face, "I, uh, got... distracted."

-------------------------------------------------------

Aaaaaaa I told you guys I would impulsively write a Mad Thomas fic and here it is! Pls there's just something about Thomas, man. Something about him that I just can't describe it 😩😩😩😩 anyways this turned out longer than I expected it to but its fine qkrhwbebejen3nej

#fear street #imagine #x reader #fear street 1666 #mad thomas #mad thomas x reader

210 notes · View notes

nightwishesworld · 3 years

Note

Oh, I have a request! How about the daughters (who love the reader very much) always taking the reader and practically stealing her every time she’s with Alcina? (Cuz we need more daughters and reader interaction 🥲) And maybe to the point of our precious big dommy mommy gettin ya know ya know jealous? ;)) HAHGSHAHAHAHA, that would be hilarious to see. Anyways, hope you’re havin’ a great time~ ✌🏻till next time!

I’m so sorry this took me so long anon! I’ve gotten more requests than I ever thought I would and I’m starting to get behind. This was a really sweet one to put together though- really enjoyed it!

Slight Gore warning for Cassandra! Nothing too detailed but it is referenced. If you don’t like it just skip her

Bela

Being the eldest sibling has made her the most level-headed of the three. After decades of ending squabbles between her younger sisters, she’s discovered the pleasures of retail therapy.

She takes great joy in popping off to neighboring villages for a few hours perusing the various aromatherapy shops.

And she takes even greater pleasure bringing you along. Dragging you, really. Even if you’re otherwise busy. Sometimes she’ll buy you a few scents or lotions that catch your eye.

She calls it “compensation for being dragged away from Mother,” but really she’s just happy to spoil you

Also loves asking you for literature recommendations. As vast as the castle’s library is, Bela had read through most of the literature over her lifetime

Is absolutely fascinated by modern day novels.

She takes you on a day-long shopping spree visiting five surrounding villages just blowing through money buying almost every book that peaks her interest

Most of your time together is spent relaxing in the library talking about your novels.

Eventually you’ve collected enough books to make an entirely new section in the library just for the two of you.

Even when cuddled up with Alcina in the library, there is simply no escaping Bela when she’s looking for recommendations or simply someone to talk to

At the end of the day, you really didn’t mind. You were more than happy to spend time with all the girls and happy they wanted to spend time with you.

You knew as annoyed as Alcina got when interrupted she found it incredibly sweet that her daughters will go out of their way to be with you

Cassandra (Cassi)

Suffers from middle child syndrome hardcore

She’s a bit too old to understand Bela’s interests, but too old to join Daniela in her delusional fantasies. So naturally, she tries to cling onto you.

At first she tries to convince you to enter the basement with her so she can show you her “Art Gallery,” but Alcina forbade it. So things between you and Cassi went quiet for awhile

Alcina says Cassandra is an artist of some sort and all her work is done in the basement

After about a month of silence Cassandra came barrelling into your private study with some kind of canvas in her hands

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, y/n, but I’ve been working really hard on your gift.”

You gush, “oh Cassi, you didn’t have to make me anything. That’s so sweet of you.”

She eagerly flips over the canvas to reveal her painting of a human heart.

It was beautifully detailed, the heart really jumped off the page against the black background...but something was off about it. It took a minute for you to realize it but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. The heart was painted with blood.

You were lost for words.

“Well?” Cassi, asked with a broad smile on her face. “Do you like it?”

All you could do at first was nod you head. “Oh Cassandra, its gorgeous. You really made this?”

The girl’s eyes were rapturous. “It’s my favorite hobby! But this particular piece was my first try at observational painting. I hope I did a good job...”

“Are you kidding Cassi? It’s beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it. Can I hang it on my wall?”

She lunges at you, wrapping you in a suffocating hug. “Thank you, y/n. I made it a heart so you know how much we love having you here with us.”

Tears were starting to prick your eyes. “I love you guys, too.”

You looked up lust long enough to see Alcina walk in your study, roll her eyes and walk right back out.

Daniela (Dani)

Being the youngest Dimitrescu definitely has its advantages and Daniela knows how to use every single one.

Gets away with absolutely everything and anything under the sun. Even things her older sisters could only dream of getting away with and it irritates them to no end.

Daniela is definitely the most daring of the three. Always pushing her boundaries with her mother and will go out of her way to annoy Alcina just for funsies.

Is comfortable (and has) appearing in your bedroom while your, erm...busy with Alcina. Literally grabs you by the arm and swoops you away in a swarm of moths giggling the entire time. You hear Alcina shouting obscenities as you’re taken away.

You’re both thoroughly embarrassed.

Daniela seems to be, just like her mother, very needy. Attention starved if you will. So of course, she’s in need of your presence every hour. Sometimes more.

And for the dumbest freaking reasons!

“Y/n come quick! Look at the birds in the garden. They’re so pretty!”

You laugh at her excitement “They’re crows, Dani. We see them every day.”

Other times she will drag you to her room and pull out her vast collection of weapons and tell you different stories associated with each one. You loved hearing how passionate Daniela was about her collection.

On a few rare occasions, she even gifted you a set of daggers, or crossbow, or whatever your favorite weapon is.

“You don’t own any y/n, which means you’re vulnerable to attacks. One day I’ll teach you how to use them.”

BONUS: Alcina being absolutely done with her girls not sharing

Late hours of the night are Alcina’s favorite time of day

She gets to relax in bed with you all to herself while shedding away all the stresses from the day.

More often than not she’ll lazily sip a glass of wine and reread her favorite novel to you while you’re nestled in her lap.

It was the only time of day she knew she had you all to herself

...usually...

One night all three of her daughters barged in your bedroom arguing who you would spend time with first. Alcina tried shouting over them to take control of the situation, but none of them were even paying her attention.

Situations like this call for drastic measures.

Alcina covered your ears and shouted at her girls from the top of her lungs. Once she knew she had their attention she reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a...spray bottle? They were about to laugh at her before she explained that the spray bottle contained holy water.

That scared them enough to make them back up a few steps. Daniela even hisssed at her, baring her fangs like a feral animal.

“I am tired of you three stealing away my y/n and I’ve reached my breaking point. This is the one time of day I’m allowed exclusive time with them and I will not have you getting in the way of that.”

You couldn’t process what was happening before you. Was Alcina really prepared to spray her own daughters with holy water just because she wouldn’t get her cuddles tonight? Really?

Daniela felt bold tonight. “As if you would actually do it. I bet that’s not even holy water.”

Alcina only arched a brow. “Well you’re more than welcome to come see for yourself, Daniela. By all means.”

The redhead was about to do just that until Bela pulled her backwards. “I guess we can wait and see y/n tomorrow. Goodnight, mother. Goodnight, y/n.”

As soon as Alcina knew they were gone she fell back onto the mattress, pulling you with her, peppering you in kisses.

“Darling,” you ask. “Is that really holy water?”

She chuckles into your neck. “No, it’s not, and they should have known that. If it were I wouldn’t have been able to hold it without it making me feel ill. But they’ll figure that out eventually and once they do they’ll be back.”

“What then?”

“Pelting them with fake silver should do the trick.”

#lady dimitrescu x reader #tall vampire lady #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

586 notes · View notes

probablytenderjourneys · 3 years

Text

jude and cardan headcanons that make my heart warm

Cardan often waits to fall asleep after Jude does because he likes to look at her and see her relaxed, an expression on her face that he rarely sees

every now and then, at revels, a member of the court would say something that is slightly offensive about Jude, not enough for them to be punished but enough to annoy her. Cardan puts a hand on her thigh under the table and gives it a squeeze to calm her down. Surprisingly, it works.

the land loves Jude, and adapts to her very easily despite her mortality. The smells she always liked about Faerie are suddenly more noticeable in the air and sometimes when she walks, flower grow in the shape of her feet.

Cardan is extremely proud and refuses to get rid of the flowers, even if they sometimes grow in their room

at night, when neither can sleep, they go to the gardens and bloom flowers of all kinds. Jude glows with happiness that she finally masters some magic and her expression is enough to lit Cardan on fire. When they return to their room, if they even make it back, they can't keep their hands to themselves.

on lazy nights, they lie in bed, closely embraced and trace each other's scars. Cardan kisses the scar in Jude's palm and Jude pulls Cardan closer to her.

when she's really tired, or overworked(because Jude does not know how to relax) she has nightmares. She dreams of her time in the Undersea, of Nicasia's cruelty and Balekin's lips on hers and when she opens her eyes, in the darkness of the room, Cardan looks too much like him. She whispers softly 'Cardan?' and he wraps his tail around her to pull her closer, as if he could push her into his body, into his soul and keep her safe there. He replies 'I'm here, my love' and starts playing with her hair. She immediately exhales in relief. She is the Queen of Elfhame and she loves Cardan.

Whenever Jude touches Cardan's cheek, or kisses his forehead or hugs him, it's as if Cardan melts into the touch. Before Jude he rarely had the chance to experience comforting, soft touches and now he can't get enough of them. He feels all her love seep into his skin through those touches and once she notices, she finds every opportunity to touch him.

Cardan also has nightmares- sometimes they're about Balekin and the punishment he endured at his brother's hands. These fill Jude with such an anger that she wants to murder Balekin all over again. She vows to Cardan that she'll get revenge on everyone who ever hurt him and since his entire family is dead and therefore not accesible for her to torment them, she finds little ways to make Asha's life a nightmare. Other times, Cardan dreams about losing Jude to the Undersea, and when that happens he screams her name. She touches his cheek and kisses him softly and swears she'll never leave his side.

In public, they always play a game of who can annoy the other more. Their banter is a mystery to the courtiers but they always laugh and although they swear they are annoyed at each other, everyone can see the love in their eyes.

In private, they're all soft touches and I love you's whispered in the dark.

When they're bored, they sneak out of the palace and walk through the rest of the isle. They are in disguise which allows Cardan to practice what he learned from the Roach and Jude to spy and listen to what the people say when they think no one hears.

Cardan loves to visit Vivi and Oak and Orianna, even Madoc, in the mortal world. With time, Madoc learned to accept his defeat. He understands now that while he always said that family comes first, it never did for him, not truly. Now, with the possibility of war and bloodshed forever taken from him, he finally understands that he is grateful to have Orianna at his side, and to watch Oak grow. Orianna left her pretentious manners behind in Faerie and learns to treat Cardan not as the High King, but as a child that needs love and protection and comfort. She cooks his favourite foods when they go to visit, and Madoc starts treating him with respect once he realizes that Cardan can and does make a good king. They sometimes talk strategy, and when Cardan suggets something that surprises Madoc, he proudly clasps a hand on the King's shoulder and gives him half a satisfied smirk. To Cardan, it almost feels as having a father.

Vivi adores when Cardan visits and so does Heather. He's funny and charming and it's so clear that he adores Jude that Vivi can't help being proud and delirious with happiness.

Oak loves when Cardan and Jude visit because Cardan always brings gifts, and chases him around. Jude looks at them with a look that Oak rarely saw while growing up, relaxed and unguarded. Oak loves Cardan for making his sister so happy.

Taryn treats Cardan exactly as she would a brother. Her child is a big crier and it takes ages to calm them down when they start crying. Cardan can calm the baby within seconds, making funny faces and spinning the baby around in his arms. Whenever they visit, Jude and Cardan shower the child with all the love they didn't feel when they were younger.

Taryn and Jude sometimes try to pose as each other to see if they can trick Cardan. They can't. Cardan can guess which one is Jude with barely a glance at them. Jude loves him even more for it. She loves that her husband can tell the difference between them

The Ghost, The Roach and The Bomb visit often too. The Bomb makes toys for Oak and Taryn's baby, The Roach performs tricks with coins and the Ghost plays hide and seek with Oak. Oak can never seem to find him, but he soon picks up a few tricks and it becomes harder and harder for the Ghost to find the kid.

Cardan is happy because he finally has a family that loves him.

Jude's heart swells with joy when she see Cardan becoming more and more comfortable with himself and with the people around him. He once said that he didn't knew if they could take off their armours after wearing them for so long, but he seems like he found a way. His heart is less guarded, and his smiles are brighter. Her heart becomes becomes lighter too.

They never have children of their own, but they love watching the children of their people run around and play at revels. They don't allow any kind of cruelty when it comes to children and if they ever see a parent treating their child wrong, they make sure it won't happen again.

They are feared by their people, Jude with her fierceness and Cardan with his quick wit and sassy mouth. But they are also loved. People fear betraying them because they fear losing the love the King and Queen have for their subjects.

Cardan turns out to be a greater king than Eldred ever was.

Jude becomes quickly admired by their subjects, for her bravery and resilience and everything that she did and does. Young girls are fascinated by her and often come up to their Queen to tell her how they wish to be like her when they grow up.

Jude and Cardan are happy and in love for a long time.

One day, Jude remembers how Balekin asked her if she wanted to become one of them, a long, long time ago.

She asks Cardan if it's possible to turn a mortal into a Faerie and they start researching.

Turns out, it is possible.

Cardan and Jude are happy and in love not only for a long time, but forever.

#tfota #holly black #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude and cardan #high king of elfhame #high queen of elfhame #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #taryn duarte #madoc #orianna #oak #headcanon

382 notes · View notes

mediocre-writerr · 3 years

Text

you belong with me [cassie howard]

cassie howard x fem reader

requested: Hey! Can I request a f! reader x Cassie Howard fic where the reader is in love with Cassie, but it's like a slow burn happy holidays! xx

key: italics stand for rue’s voiceover! enjoy

*not my gif*

Y/N Y/L/N and Cassie Howard have been best friends since they were little. Y/N was always there for Cassie during her whole childhood. Watching her from the sidelines as her figure skating became more and more incredible.

“Y/N! When are you gonna get off your lazy bum and join us?” Cassie’s dad asks during one of their many ice skating practice sessions.

You were taken back by surprise and you looked towards Cassie who was giving you her best pouty lips and eyes, “Oh okay.”

You strapped on the ice skates that the Howard family bought you for your 10th birthday. A gift you rarely used. But was still grateful for nevertheless.

Back before your Cassie started getting into ice skating your family was big about hockey. So you knew the in’s and out’s of ice skating, but you weren’t good at doing cool tricks.

“Y/N, you’re a natural!” Cassie says as you start skating towards her.

And it’s like she jinxed you or something because you started slipping. Flailing your hands up in the air. But she caught you and the two of you just stared at each other smiling coyly.

Her lips were inches away from yours. But her dad cleared her throat, looking at the two of you with a small smirk on his face.

Y/N and Cassie were inseparable, nothing seemed to ever get in between them. Lexi always gave Y/N looks and have conversations where she tried to make her think that it was something more than just a friendship, but she was easy to laugh off or ignore.

Lexi thought of Y/N as a second sister growing up together and having Y/N be over all the time. So when she saw the way Y/N looked at her older sister she couldn’t help but want to protect her.

She didn’t want you to get hurt, but how could Cassie ever hurt Y/N?

Y/N loved Cassie more than a friend. There was never a specific moment when Y/N found out she liked Cassie. It was everything about her, all of the moments leading up to since they were young kids.

Much to her disappoint, Cassie’s underlying daddy issues made her attached to boys in more ways than anyone could ever possibly. She fell in love too fast and dare I say it, was too naive.

Cassie wanted to be loved and never wanted to be alone. She wanted all the boys no matter how stupid, sweet, or mean they were. And that led to many nights of crying in Y/N’s arms about some boy who leaked her nudes or made a sex tape or broke her heart.

“Y/N?” she whispers over the phone, her voice already cracking.

You shot up from laying down on your bed and instantly woke up at the sound of your first love crying, “Hey is everything okay?”

“No. I can’t. Someone made a sex tape of me and leaked it and I just really need you.” she whispers, trying to get all of the words out.

“I’ll be there in five.”

Luckily for the two of you, you didn't live far. And before you knew it you were climbing in her bedroom window.

She instantly pulled you into a hug and you wrapped your arms around her waist. Placing a hand on the back of her head to pull her close. You started rubbing the back of her head, threading your fingers through her hair.

“It’s gonna be okay.” I whisper, “I’m here now. You’re gonna be okay.”

Y/N always protected Cassie. Ever since the first pictures of her nudes were leaked she was there to let her cry. Her first sex tape was leaked, Y/N was there. A boy broke her heart, Y/N was there to pick up the pieces to put her back together.

Y/N hoped that one day she wouldn’t feel this way anymore. Or one day Cassie would realize that she was there all along. But it never happened. And it seemed like it would never happen when Cassie started dating McKay.

Y/N insisted she wasn’t jealous, but she also insisted she wasn’t jealous about all of Cassie’s suitors.

“McKay is a good guy Y/N!” Cassie yells.

The two of you were having yet another argument. And you weren’t angry at her or at McKay, you were just tired. So fucking tired.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Cassie asked, “This is your third snide comment this week about McKay this week and it’s only 10 am on a Monday!”

“I’m sorry for being bitter. I’m just tired.” you whisper.

Lexi gave you a sympathetic smile and look. And you just smiled back softly.

See you weren’t jealous. That would involve anger and you weren’t angry. You didn’t hate McKay.

Sure, there were thing that he did that was questionable at best, but he was wasn’t the worst out of all of Cassie’s boyfriends.

Even though your happiness was slowly dwindling away each time you saw them at a party. Or each time she canceled plans to go hang out with him instead of you. Or each time you saw them kiss.

Even though all of it was fading away in you. She didn’t deserve to lose anything when she was so happy. So you tried to stay the same for her and not act any differently.

Lexi had been a good friend to Y/N and did her best to try and pull her out of it. The annual carnival was coming up and it used to be a tradition for the three girls to go together, but Cassie was busy with McKay...again.

The two of you ran into McKay on the way to the Ferris Wheel. Much to both of your surprise you didn’t find Cassie next to him, “Where’s Cassie?” Lexi asked.

“Oh I don’t know we called it a night a couple hours ago.” he said with a shrug before going back to Nate and Mr. Jacobs.

Both of you looked at each other and immediately knew something was up. Agreeing to split up both of you searched the carnival in chance to find her.

That’s when you saw her going around the carrousel with Daniel. She was grinding against the pole of the horse. And Daniel looked like he was getting turned on by it.

But there was something about her that was off. She looked high. You were gonna leave, but you decided to wait for the ride to stop. Before ultimately taking her home, you didn’t want some asshole like Daniel to take advantage of her in the state she was in.

As soon as the ride stopped you hopped the fence that separated the line to get to her. Despite all the yelling from the person who controls the ride you made your way to Cassie.

“Hey Cassie. How about we get you out of here, okay?” you ask.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were here.” she slurs and you nod smiling.

“I’m right here.” you whisper to her, unbuckling her seatbelt and lifting her off.

Daniel scoffed, “What the fuck Y/L/N?! We were in the middle of something!” he yelled annoyed.

“Not anymore.” you reply.

You guided her towards the exit, but saw that she was stumbling and it was hard for her to walk. So you did what you thought was best and picked her up bridal style.

Cassie wrapped her arms around your neck and nestled into your chest, “Can you believe McKay said to people we weren’t dating? We were just chilling. He literally told me that he loved me yesterday.” she says angrily.

“I’m sorry love. You don’t deserve that.” you whisper back as you saw Lexi, Jules, and Rue running towards the two of you.

Lexi looked at her sister frantically, “Is she okay? Do you need help? I can get her for you.

“Lex take a breath,” you whisper and she nods taking a deep breath, “She’s okay, she just looks a little high off of something. But I got her.”

Lexi nods and we all get into Cassie’s car. Jules and Rue decided to stay at the carnival a little longer, but we thought it was best if we got her home.

Cassie passed out across your lap as you just ran your fingers through her hair. Staring at the beautiful girl in front of you.

“I wish she could see that you were always there for her. She needs someone like you in her life.” Lex whispers looking at you through the rearview mirror.

But the thing is Cassie never noticed. As much as she would hate to agree with me, she took Y/N for granted most of the time. She just assumed that her best friend since basically birth would always be there for her.

She learned that the hard way.

You were more tired than usual as you sat on the couch of McKay’s house. You were at one of his infamous parties seated next to Lexi, Rue, and Jules.

Lexi and Rue begged you to come and you agreed without hesitation. But then you realized that you would have to see them dancing close to one another, kissing, and just being with each other.

The other three girls proceeded in conversation, but you were too tired to contribute. So despite all of the loud music and drunk people, you laid your head on Lexi’s shoulder trying your hardest to just shut everything out for a few minutes.

And you were about to shut everything out when you heard your name being slurred, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You opened your eyes a little, not wanting to leave the comfortable spot you found on Lexi’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing, Cassie, really. I just have a headache.” you whisper, trying your best to smile at her.

“Why are you lying to me?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Of course she knew when you were lying,

“Just let it go, please.” you pleaded with her.

You didn’t want all of this to come out now. Not when she was tipsy. Not when all of your friends and a bunch of random strangers were around to hear.

“No Y/N! I can’t! It’s like you’ve been falling into this pit of sadness for I don’t even know how many months now! I just want to know what happened. You’re supposed to trust me. I trust you. So why can’t you trust me?” she whispered sadly.

“3 months.” I whisper simply.

“What?” she asks.

And it was all coming out right now. Despite all your wishes and prayers to not to.

“I’ve been falling into a pit of sadness for three months. Ever since you started falling for McKay.” you whisper and it looks like the wheels are turning in her head, “I can’t trust you because I’m in love with you!”

You finally yell out, letting all the feelings that you’ve had pent up to finally come out. Lexi squeezed your hand lightly to let you know that she’ll be right here.

“What?” Cassie asks, her mouth open agape as she just stared.

“I always have been! And now it’s too late. I’m not angry with you and I don’t hate McKay. I’m just tired. I’m tired of feeling like I’m just there now when everything goes wrong in your life. When you and McKay fight or when you need someone to pick you up when you’re drunk. I’ve always been there for you and I’m tired of it not being enough.” and with that you got up and you left.

She didn’t try chasing after you. No one did. They all knew you needed your time and your space to regroup.

And just like that the non-related conjoined twins were separated. Neither of them talked or hung out. The only time they would see each other is passing in the hallway exchanging small smiles.

It was weird for the both of them. No small study sessions or move nights. Just them alone.

Cassie didn’t like not having Y/N there, but every time Y/N tried talking to her she would just avoid her.

During the time Y/N was gone she realized that Y/N was right. Lexi gave her a stern talking to. Lexi’s talk was basically her singing that one Taylor Swift song.

You know the one that goes like...

Dreaming about the day where you wake up and find that what you’re looking for has been here the whole time. Then something about short skirts and t-shirts, I don’t fucking know.

And that’s when Cassie knew. Cassie Howard was in love with Y/N Y/L/N.

Then the infamous night happened, where everything came pouring out...literally. It was raining outside.

Your phone buzzed with a text and your heart stopped at the name that popped up onto your phone.

With a text that read meet me outside. You looked outside your window and saw the raindrops that stained your window pane. And made out the small figure that is the blonde girl.

You grabbed a hoodie from your closet before running downstairs and to the middle of the street.

“Cassie! What are you doing? It is pouring!” you yell the hood covering your head.

You stepped closer to her throwing the hoodie you grabbed from your closet over her head. She was standing there wearing nothing, but a long sleeve shirt and jeans.

“You still care about me?” she asks barely above a whisper voice.

You let out a sigh, “Just because we stopped talking doesn’t mean I stopped caring.”

Out of nowhere Cassie pulled you closer to her by the waist placing her lips on yours. You didn’t kiss back at first, but it didn’t take you long to kiss her back. Your two lips moving in perfect motion, you only pulled away when you felt like you were gonna pass out.

“I love you. I always have and I’m sorry I took you for granted. And I’m sorry I didn’t see that you were right in front of me all along. I love you. I am so sorry-” she was about to go on, but you cut her off with a quicker kiss.

She smiles into the kiss before pulling away, “I love you so much, but this was very dramatic.” you whisper with a smile that matched Cassie’s.

She giggled lightly before pecking your nose.

#cassie howard #cassie howard imagine #cassie howard imagines #cassie howard x reader #cassie howard x fem reader

658 notes · View notes

anagentinwriting · 3 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 15

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 4800+

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, fighting

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

“Okay, girl. Let’s move onto your two-three combo, and then you are going to come at me with a right hook as if it was your ex’s face,” Val instructed, holding up her mitts.

You dropped your hands, looking at her. “I’m not doing this because I want to kick his abusive ass. I am doing this for me. To build up my confidence and get stronger.”

“Yeah, yeah. You just want to look good naked for Rogers.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and you started punching the mitts. “Thata girl, I knew I could hit a nerve,” she chuckled to herself.

You completed a few more rounds, then Val decided it was time for a cool down. You nodded, breathing heavy, and stepped out of the ring. You wiped the sweat from your brow with your forearm while Val came over to help get you out of the gloves.

“You’re killing it, YN. Like, if someone ever decided to jump you, well, I think they would lose a hand.”

You chuckled at Val’s compliment. “Thanks, I do feel more confident in my movements, and my punches feel like they have more power behind them.”

“They do,” she agreed, “but it’s not hard enough to make me need to ice my hands or anything, like some of the coaches have to do when M’Baku is practicing.” She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head. “Men always have to be the strongest, but they’re not always the smartest.” She let out an annoyed sigh, rolling her eyes. “How are things with Rogers?”

You smiled as she started to untie your other glove. “He’s good. I think we’re good. Why, what’s the gossip at the station?”

“There’s not much. He tends to keep to himself about you, but there are times when he does get all flustered, blushy, and red when we pick on him about you. It’s cute,” Val smirked, eyeing you over, feeling yourself have the same reaction as him. “Have you two kindled the flame yet?” She wiggled her eyebrows, making your face heat up even more.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Don’t tell me then,” she winked. “When Carol and I talk about you two, we think you two look good together, and from what you both have been through, you both deserve a win, and I’m happy you two found each other.”

You smiled, undoing the hand wraps. “Thanks, Val. Speaking of Carol--” you peeked up at her, watching her closely “--how are things? Have you told the crew yet?”

“Not yet, but I am sure most of them already suspect something is going on?” Val shrugged, taking a sip out of her water bottle.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I mean, they’re men,” you chuckled, rotating your wrists back and forth.

“Good point,” she laughed, tilting her water bottle at you. “They can be a little slower at picking up hints.”

____________

You sat on the couch folding laundry, following a developing armed robbery happening downtown at the Ideal Federal Saving Bank.

“Christine, how are things looking there? Have any of the robbers been identified?” Megan Henderson asked from the KTLA studio to Christine Everheart at the scene.

“Yes, Megan. We know two of the assailants at this time, Jack Rollins and Jasper Sitwell. They are two notorious criminals who have been involved in numerous robberies throughout the state of California, Nevada, and Arizona. We are still unsure about the three other associates assisting with this robbery at this time…”

The monitor by the front door started buzzing, pulling you away from the screen to see who was there. You smiled at the screen, seeing Thor waving at the camera with his hands full of groceries, and you buzzed him in.

You walked over to grab the remote, seeing the film crew circling the bank in a helicopter, and switched off the tv. You would need Thor's full attention when he helps you make your mom's chocolate chip cookies for fire safety at the station tomorrow.

“Sister, I come bearing gifts,” Thor shouted, somehow being able to open the front door with his hands full. “And did you see that robbery hostage situation--” he pointed in the direction to downtown LA “--Nat and Clint have their hands full with this one.”

“Yeah, they do,” you agreed, leading Thor to the kitchen to drop off the bags on the counter. You furrowed your brows at the multiple bags of groceries. “What did you all get? All I needed was flour, chocolate chips, and eggs.”

“They were having a sale, and I couldn’t resist.” He lifted up a six-pack of beer, smiling like a child on their birthday.

“Well, that’s not going to take you long to finish,” you smirked at him, pulling groceries from the bags.

“No, I got this for us to drink while we bake mom’s cookies,” Thor added with a sincere smile, scratching his beard. “You know brother-sister bonding. I also grabbed snacks, so we are less tempted to eat all the cookies.”

You grinned, staring at him in awe. “Sounds like fun, let’s get these cookies started.”

“And I’ll open a beer for you and supervise,” Thor added, going into the drawer to get the bottle opener, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

___________

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” Thor watched over your shoulders while you started creaming the butter and sugar together. “I don’t remember mom using one of these fancy mixers. She did it with one of those hand mixer thingies.”

“It just makes it go quicker,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “And you can do a bigger batch.”

“They’re not going to taste the same.”

“This is how I’ve always made them. You have literally watched me make these cookies with this machine before.”

“Oh well, I noticed they tasted different.”

“You’re insufferable, Thor,” you stated, turning around and pushing him to the other side of the counter. He laughed, taking a seat on the stool across from you. “Do you want to find my cookie scoop? You’re scooping once I have everything mixed.”

“Finnneee,” he dragged out, complaining. He went over to the drawer and pulled out the scoop, and returned to the stool. “How have things been going with Steve?”

“It’s been fun,” you smiled, adding the eggs to the mixer bowl and turning it on.

“I’m glad. I’m the one who told Steve he could date you.”

“Wait,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “did he ask for permission?”

“No, I just told him that if I had to choose someone from the station to date you, I’d pick him.”

“Oooooh, so you picked him for me?” You scoffed, eyeing him while you added the dries in a little at a time.

“No, no, nothing like that. You can make your own decisions, but you’re a good person, and I wanted you to be with a good man. Besides, Steve is an old fashion guy, and with Dad not around anymore to ask, I figured I was the next best choice since I am the eldest.”

“And Loki was okay with your decision.” You scraped the bowl, adding in the chocolate chips and turning the mixer back on.

“Well...I didn't ask him per se, but I think he would agree with me on this,” Thor stated, taking a sip of his beer.

“But, when have either of you agreed on anything...ever?” You turned off the machine, taking the bowl off, and started scraping the dough off the paddle. “Besides, you know I can make my own decisions right. I’m an adult.”

“Yes, of course,” he chuckled, playing around with the cookie scoop until it flew out of his hand and skimmed across the kitchen island. “Of course.” He nodded.

“Says the man child, playing with a cookie scoop,” you snorted, shaking your head.

The last batch of cookies was in the oven, and the rest were cooling on sheets of newspaper. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get a few stares when you made cookies with an audience, but every time you made them with your mom, she’d use a spatula to get them off the pan and then place them on newspaper. You didn’t want to break that little tradition you got from her.

Thor plopped down on a stool at your small island. “Why did I have to scoop them all?” Thor asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“They’re for your job, I’m not going to do all the work,” you sassed, shaking your head, forcing him to crack a side smile. “Now you wash, and I’ll dry.”

“Do I have to? I just sat down,” he asked with a slight frown.

“Yes,” you stated as he groaned, standing up and making his way to the sink.

He let out a loud sigh, turning on the faucet, and narrowing his eyes in your direction. You stuck out your tongue at him while you continued to put ingredients away. He sighed loudly again, and you gave him the side-eye as he leaned against the counter, watching the suds magically appear in the water. “I’m happy for you.”

“Okay?” You replied more in a question than a statement. You narrowed your eyes at him, not knowing where that came from.

“It’s nice to see you smiling and having fun again. You know, putting yourself out there. It’s nice having the sister I grew up with back. I’ve missed her.” He stood up straight, cracking a child-like smile at you.

“Me too,” you smirked, leaning against the counter.

He turned back to the sink, placing a few dishes in, and started washing them before placing them on the drying rack. It was weird to watch him do civilized things because he never did them when he was younger. When he left New York, the annoying older brother you grew up with started taking responsibility for his actions. While most actions not involving his nightly escapades. You take a sip of your beer, grabbing a clean cloth to dry, and start putting the dishes away.

“I filed for divorce yesterday,” you mentioned, hearing Thor drop what he was washing into the sink.

He placed his hands on the edge of the sink, clenching his jaw at the sudsy sink.

“He’s going to know where you are. Are you okay with taking that risk?” He inquired, scratching at the short beard on his face, turning to you.

“I know it’s a risk, but the only way I am ever gonna feel free of him…is to be free of him.”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Are you going to feel safe here? Cause I can take the couch and stay for a few days. I can take work off and…”

“Thor, Thor,” you interrupted, placing your hand on his upper arm. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know, I just… I want… I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I know, and I will be,” you smiled at him, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Steve gonna come and stay with you?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” You shrugged, keeping a close eye on your brother; his bottom lip trembled as his eyes darted in all directions. “Is everything alright?”

He nodded his head aggressively. “Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine,” he stated in a high-pitched voice, laughing it off. “But um…I think it would be better if someone stayed here with you, so I know… so we--we all know you’re safe,” he stumbled over his words, wringing his hands together. “Have you at least talked to Loki? What does he think? Does he want me to stay with you?” He asked, rambling on in one breath.

“I was going to call him tonight and let him know,” you informed softly, trying to calm him down. “Thor--” his worried-filled eyes connected with yours “--I’ll be okay. Okay?” You gave him a reassuring nod. “I know after what happened before...that you blame yourself or you feel like you failed, but you didn’t. I don’t blame you for what happened because it wasn’t any of your doing. I put myself in that situation, and I continued to go back.”

“But, I could have gotten you out of that situation. I am the eldest, and I should’ve done a better job at protecting you, or at the very least, listening to you. I shouldn’t have taken Billy’s side, and for that, I blame myself,” he sniffled, clearing his throat.

“Thor--” you rubbed his arm, making him look at you “--Billy is and will always be a master manipulator. We all fell for it…”

“Loki didn’t. He saw right through the man,” Thor tried to reason, raising his eyebrows.

“But he didn’t stop me from going back to Billy. I mean, he tried, but Billy already had me wrapped around his finger.” You paused, biting your lip. “There is no sense in playing the blame game when the only person we should be blaming is Billy.” Thor opened his mouth to say something, but you continued. “You’ve helped me more these last few months than you will ever realize. Don’t think about the past and how you could’ve helped me, but think about right now, and how you did help me. I still don’t know how to thank you for it.”

“You can thank me by letting someone stay with you for a couple of weeks.”

“Wow...we’re still on that,” you scoffed, forcing a trembling chuckle out of him. “I know open communication was never our family's forte, but I love you, brother.”

“Love you, too, sis,” he smiled, leaning towards you and pulling you into a hug.

___________

You walked into the station through the open garage doors, noticing the spotless, shiny red trucks glistening in the sun, bringing a sense of ease over you and a smile to your face. This place felt like a second home that came with a family that you didn’t know you needed. You spotted Steve helping a few guys set up chairs in front of a portable tv while others set up tables for interactive activities for the kids to participate in. There were even goody bags with plastic red firemen hats and the treat table that continued to grow.

“YN, I see you got talked into making something, too?” You looked over to see Nat, holding a pan of brownies, and you lifted your two containers of cookies. “I swear these boys wouldn't survive without us. I mean, Val and Carol would be safe, but the boys.” She shot you a tight smile, shaking her head.

“Agreed,” you chuckled.

“And there is my nerd now, I’ll be back,” she winked, walking over to Bucky. She handed him the brownies, and he leaned down and kissed her ever so gently.

“It’s disgusting, isn't it?” You looked to your right to see Sam with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes.

“I think it’s kind of sweet,” You chuckled, rubbing your lips together and glancing at them one more time. Steve caught your eye, and a sweet smile broke across his face. “You’ll find someone, Sam. You’re such a catch.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted.

“Would some cookies help?” You offered, handing him the containers.

“Yes.” Sam grinned his gap-tooth smile, taking the container. “Thank you, YN. This is why you’re my favorite.” He took a bite out of one of the cookies, walking away, holding it up in the air. “The best batch yet.”

Steve shook his head at a grinning Sam, walking over to you, and pulled you into a hug. You giggled into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist, and he started swaying back and forth. You rested your chin on his chest, staring up at him. He leaned down, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“How did Bucky and Steve get girls like that?” Sam asked Val at the treat table.

“I guess some people just get lucky.” Val shrugged, and Sam angrily took a bite out of another cookie.

“Want some ice cream?”

“Yes, I want all the ice cream,” Sam added, following Val to the break room.

“Question--” Steve stopped swaying and pulled away from you “--do you have any plans for tonight?”

“No, why do you have something planned,” he teased, shooting you his signature smirk.

“Maybe.”

“What are we doing?”

“I’m afraid that is classified, but I have something for you.” You reached into your purse, pulling out a manila folder, handing it to him.

Steve narrowed his eyes in curiosity. He opened the folder, his eyes scanning it over. “Divorce papers. This is a big step, YN,” He smiled at you, but it quickly dropped to concern. “Billy is going to know where you are.”

“I know, but I feel like it is time to put the past behind me and move on with my life.”

“Okay, as long as you’re ready, then I’m here for you with whatever you need.”

“I know,” you smiled shyly.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Thor clasped a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m proud of her,” Steve winked, making your smile spread wider.

“As am I,” Thor smiled, squeezing Steve’s shoulder.

You shake your head at them. “I better get to my shift, but Sam has the cookies, and I want my containers back ASAP, or I am going to hurt you, Thor.” You stated, walking backwards.

“I’ll make sure they are in your possession tonight.” Thor saluted, making you shake your head.

“Have a good shift, YN. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Just know this, Steve, if you hurt my little sister, we will have more than words,” Thor stated, squeezing Steve’s shoulder a little harder watching you walk out of the station with Nat by your side.

Steve nodded, turning to him. “I don’t intend to.”

“Good man.” Thor patted him on the shoulder, giving him a closed-mouth smile. “Before she met you, she was lost in her own little world. Fighting the beast, invading her dreams, and trying to tackle her own troubles. She thought she could only rely on herself to make the important choices but soon realized she had supporters, like you and me. So, thank you, Steve, for helping bring my sister back.”

Steve nodded to Thor as the tall man went back to help the group set up.

“Did he threaten you?” Bucky asked with a breathy laugh, coming over to him.

“Ahh…yeah…sort of….I think.” Steve's eyebrows knit together, trying to figure out what exactly just happened. “But, I’m gonna make a quick call.”

“Do your thing, pal?” Bucky patted him on the shoulder and went over to help the group finish up.

Steve took out his phone until he found the name he was looking for; He brought it to his ear as soon as it started to ring.

“Hey, Steve. How’s it going?”

“I’m good. Listen, I’m not going to be able to play pool tonight. I got a...I got a date,” Steve smiled at his own words, scratching at his beard.

“Oh, is this the one you have been kind of seeing?”

“Yeah, YN.”

“Good for you, man.”

“Thanks, but I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

“I have a feeling we’ll see each other soon. Have a good night, Steve.”

“Bye, Jig,” Steve smiled, sliding the phone back into his pocket, and headed over to finish getting everything ready for fire safety.

__________

The team stood by one of the open garage doors in anticipation for the first group of young students and their teachers to arrive. The workout room was transformed into a small teaching area, complete with fold-out chairs and a roll-away tv. Snacks and goody bags were also waiting for them with a welcoming banner hanging from the second-story loft.

Steve let out a deep breath with his hands on his hips, eyeing at what they were able to accomplish. It looked very welcoming, but he didn’t know what was going to happen. He liked kids but wasn’t always great at talking to them, but Carol reassured them that the first group of students might not go as planned, but they had another six to make up for it.

“First group approaching,” Sam shouted, going over to the door to greet them. Sam shook the teacher's hand, flashing her his famous gap-tooth smile.

Bucky scoffed beside Steve, gripping his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous, pal. Just avoid swearing or talking about anything too scary. Kids think we are badasses, and they look up to us. We are heroes to them.”

Steve swallowed, nodding at him. He rubbed his hands together, taking in the twenty little kids, grabbing snacks, and taking their seats while Carol stood in front of them with a huge smile.

“How’s everyone doing today?” Carol asked, earning a group of students shouting while others remained silent. “I’m glad to hear it. My name is Captain Carol Danvers, but you can call me Ace, and I am in charge of Station 107. Those wearing the dark blue shirts around you are my teammates.” She pointed to Sam, who then introduced himself as they went around the room. “Now that you know my team, what are your names?”

The teachers introduced themselves before the kids went around the room saying their names. Steve stood off to the side, nodding his head, trying to remember every kid’s name. His eyes stopped on one familiar little girl, Morgan Stark. She caught his eye, and she waved with an exciting smile on her face. He nodded at her, mimicking her expression on his face. Steve noticed she also waved at Sam. Seeing her brought back the memory of his first encounter with YN and losing his dispatcher cherry while saving Morgan from the electrified pool in the process.

“Do any of you know the number to call in case someone needs help?” Danvers asked, bringing Steve's attention back to the present. Hands flew into the air, including Morgans. Danvers pointed to one of the students, and he replied with 911.

Steve zoned out as Danvers continued to talk with the young kids. His eyes traveled around the room, noticing how some of the teachers would catch his eye but then quickly look away. He smirked, realizing Thor and YN weren’t kidding when they said the teachers would flirt with them. Thor winked at one of them, and she blushed, unable to keep the smile off her face. Steve shook his head at them, returning his attention to Danvers.

“....when you dial 911, your call gets directed to a dispatcher, and they use a system called CAD, which is a computer-aided dispatch. They punch the address you give them in, and the dispatcher can figure out what unit is closest for them to send help. Now, how many of you know your address?” A few hands shot up, and Carol nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t just go home and talk to your parents about it. They love to watch you learn and would be more than willing to help.” She nodded, clasping her hands together. “We are going to watch a quick safety video and then break off into groups and do a few different activities and see some cool things. How’s that sound?” She got a few cheers from the students while the others kept quiet. Danvers smiled, switching the tv on and pushing play on the DVD player, before stepping off to the side.

The kids broke off into four smaller groups; Bucky and Steve took their group around, showing them different trucks, and explained their purpose. Steve couldn’t help but smile when the kids’ faces brightened up upon seeing the inside of the trucks. They did their best to explain what some of the equipment inside was, but most of the kids seemed too excited to listen. According to Bucky, kids like seeing the trucks and could care less about the other activities they had set up.

The first group's time was coming to an end, and the team could see the next class approaching in the distance. The team handed out gift bags, and all the kids were smiling and putting on their red plastic hats. The teachers told the students to say thank you, and they did so in unison before they retreated towards the door.

Steve stood by the entrance waving goodbye to the previous class, awaiting to greet the next class. He felt a tug on his pants, and he looked down to see Morgan smiling up at him.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be up there with your partner?” He leaned down to her eye level, resting a knee on the ground.

“She is waiting,” she pointed to her, and Steve smirked, seeing her waiting impatiently. “Besides, my teacher is still talking to the tall one.”

He glanced over to see the tall one was Thor, and he was doing the thing he always did. “Look at that, you’re right.” He nodded. “What can I do for you, Morgan?”

“I wanted to give you this--” she handed him a homemade card “--the tall one helped me make it at the coloring table.” She rocked back and forth on her feet and blushed.

“Aww, thank you.” He opened the card, reading: Thank you, Fireman Steve, for saving me, and it was an image of her in a pool with him on one side and Sam was on the other. “You’re welcome. I like it. You are quite the artist.”

She smiled. “I gave one to Fireman Sam, too.” She pointed at him with a smile.

“I’m sure he loved it, too.” Steve smiled at it. “I'm going to have to put this on my fridge at home.” He chuckled, and in an instance, the little girl wrapped her little arms around her neck and pulled him close. He patted her on the back and pulled away. “Stay out of trouble, and don’t get into any more electrified pools.”

She shot him a funny look. “You too,” she smiled, running over to her partner.

Her teacher passed by him, folding a piece of paper and sliding it into her pocket, which Steve could only assume to be Thor's number. He shook his head, looking back at Thor to see him staring at her retreating figure.

Thor caught Steve's eye, and he shrugged. “What? I like women, but you know, not in a creepy way.”

After the first class came through, the rest of the groups were easy; having got the lay-of-the-land and knowing what to say. Although towards the end of the day, the older kids, the 2nd graders, asked more daring questions, in which Steve tried to keep it G or PG.

“And with that, class is dismissed,” Danvers stated, plopping down in one of the fold-up chairs, sighing loudly.

“Hear, hear,” Sam nodded, plopping down next to her. “It’s the repetition that gets me. I could go home and fall asleep right now. Who knew kids could be so exhausting. I praise the teachers cause I know I couldn’t put up with their shit all the time.” Everyone murmured in agreement.

“How are you all tired?” Thor asked with his hands on his hips.

“We weren’t at the coloring station. We were explaining and answering questions trying to keep things kid-friendly.”

“Well, you should’ve been. In my opinion, it’s the best station.”

“No, the trucks are, the arts and crafts station is the boring table. The kids were talking about it,” Bucky added, folding up a few chairs.

“Doesn’t matter, I got a few numbers. And...” he walked over to the snack table, taking the last of YN cookies “--I got the last cookie,” he chuckled, taking a bite.

“Let’s quit complaining about what activity was better and remember it was about teaching the kids,” Danvers stated. “Now, let’s get this cleaned up, so the crew can do their job tonight.” Everyone mumbled, nodding in agreement.

Thor snapped the container to your Tupperware shut, shoving the last bite of cookie in his mouth. “I could drop off the Tupperware tonight if you’d like. I’m meeting up with her after her shift,” Steve offered, packing up the leftover snacks.

“Yes, I suppose you could, but if they go missing and she doesn’t get them. This all comes back to me, and I don’t need that on my conscience right now.”

“Probably a good idea you do it then,” Steve chuckled.

____________

Standing in front of the mirror, you try to get your hair to do a thing, but it isn’t doing the thing, so you decide to leave it as is. A buzzing sound at the front door brings an excited smile to your face. You trotted down the stairs, seeing Steve and Cosmo at the gate. You buzzed them in and went into the kitchen to grab two wine glasses and a bottle from your stash. You set them on the kitchen island, hearing Cosmo barking on the other side of the door. You smirked to yourself, walking over to the front door, remembering Steve mentioning how much Cosmo missed you. It was utter nonsense, but you couldn’t help but smile. You opened the front door, and your smile quickly disappeared.

“Billy.”

“Hi, honey. Did you miss me?”

_________

AN: Thanks for reading part 15! Those pesky cliffhangers! Where did Billy come from? Has he been watching her this whole time? Hmmmm....any theories?! And of course, all of this had to happen when things between her and Steve were finally going forward. It's almost like I planned it! Muwahaha! And speaking of Steve...what could’ve happened to him and Cosmo? Besides the ending, did you like Thor and her little chitchat, the brother-sister bonding sesh. We did learn that Thor clearly still blames himself for what happened way back then, but maybe now after their little chat, he will finally start forgiving himself, but who knows with the current revelation happening! 😬 And Val and Carol, did anyone guess that happening?! Also, did you enjoy fire safety day?! I thought it would be a good throwback to the first chapter and bring Morgan back, and I thought it would just be cute seeing the team trying to keep things G/PG when talking about their job. Haha! Better prepare yourself for the next couple chapters, cause things are going get deep! As always thanks for reading, comments always welcome!

149 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Like The Stars Hold The Moon

Written By : @katnissmellarkkkk

Prompt 59 : "Katniss dad is a victor, he won his hunger games and is a mentor. Peeta is reaped for the games and Katniss begs her dad to help him win the games. [submitted by anonymous]“

Hi! It feels like there’s so much I need to say here and I can’t remember any of it now! This is obviously–if you read the summary, which I assume you did and that’s why you’re here hahaha–an EFE prompt. It was submitted by an anonymous person, so I don’t know specifically if this is what you wanted but I really hope this is good enough that you’ll be fulfilled?

I don’t think there is much more to say? I hope everyone who reads this has a good day! I wrote plenty of this on Easter so I’d like to thank Jesus for rising again. And I feel like the prompt alone is a sufficient summary but just so you know, this heavily features Katniss, Peeta (obvi), Haymitch and Katniss’ father, Hunter (I named him, that’s not canon, I know).

This fic I likely going to be a three-shot with an opportunity for a sequel three-shot. Oh and also, thank you to the anon who sent the prompt!

Oh and this got really long, so I’m just going to submit the first part on here and then I’ll add a link at the bottom to continue reading on AO3. I’ve never done this before so I don’t know if I’m doing it right?

Okay, if you read all my talking, bye now!

Rated T for the canon violence.

At the reaping for the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, Matty Knick drew out the names of a ”very special boy“ and ”a very special girl“ from the reaping bowls. She read them off in a bright voice and matched the sentiment with an out of place perky smile. The girl’s name was Heather Branch.

And the boy’s was Hunter Everdeen.

Of course, everyone knows the story of Hunter Everdeen.

Year of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games.

"So Hunter,” Caesar Flickerman leans toward the victor, absolutely electrified, and says, “tell us, tell us. How excited are you for the games this year?”

The camera focuses in on gray eyes, the color of a storm cloud or a cleanly polished knife. Dangerous and hard and cunning.

Or protective and frightful and angry.

Or warm and loving and kind.

“I’m about as excited as I always am, Caesar,” he shoots back, not a trace of even so much as a smirk on his face. Not even so much as a lift from the corner of his mouth.

And still, the crowd of Capitol idiots burst out in laughter, as if they just heard the funniest joke in the world, as if this was Hunter’s desired response to the words.

As if the conversation wasn’t about teenagers—and some as young as twelve—killing other teenagers.

“And what about you, Haymitch?” Caesar asks next, segueing from one aggravated man to another.

“I’m looking forward to the free drinks,” Haymitch says while tipping back dark gold colored liquid into his mouth. Almost as an afterthought, he gestures wide and sloppy to the crowd, igniting cacophonous sounds from the population once more. “And of course, the social interaction with all you lovely people.”

No one in the audience recognizes the insult. No one understands the blatant sarcasm at their expense.

Here in District Twelve though, we do. As exemplified by Peeta’s laugh, vibrating against my back. “Shh,” I hush, laser focused on the enormous television screen before us.

“Daddy’s not speaking anymore,” Prim reminds me from the other room, where she’s currently flipping through a magazine our father sent.

“Well, be quiet before he does,” I snap, elbowing Peeta when he rolls his eyes now. “Stop it, I haven’t seen him in weeks,” I complain, fixing him with a fierce glare.

“I know,” he murmurs agreeably, gently kissing my temple. “But he’ll be home in a few days.”

As if they could hear our exchange from inside the television box, Caesar turns his attention back to my father. “Hunter, how excited are you to get home to District Twelve?”

At that, his eyes genuinely light up with ferocity. “I’m counting the minutes,” he replies, but still manages to keep his tone cool. He adamantly refuses to give away his true emotion to even a single soul in the Capitol. It’s his way of withholding power from their greedy, glitter covered hands.

But I see the change in him. Prim, from her position against the doorframe, sees it. I’m positive my mother, who’s watching with our brother from the comfort of our house sees it as well.

Our father’s eyes are now alive again, the permanent frown his mouth resides in on every televised appearance loosens a bit, his brows aren’t knit so closely together any longer.

Caesar Flickerman sees the change too evidently.

“Look at those silver coins!” He bellows, gesturing for the cameras to put my father in a close up now. “They just lit up like the stars when talking about home. Tell me, Hunter Everdeen, how’s the family back in District Twelve?”

At that, my father makes a considerable effort to transform his entire expression into a mask of indifference. “They’re good,” he states evenly, his tone clipped. Making it blatant to even the airheaded Capitol citizens that he refuses to speak publicly about his family.

“Because you’re not property of the Capitol, baby,” he told me once, while on a walk in the woods. “You’re not anyone’s property.”

“What about you and mommy?”

“You’re our responsibility, but not our property.” He’d knelt down to my height, which happened to be the shortest in my second grade class. “Property implies ownership, Katniss. And no one owns you. No one owns you or your sister. Remember that for me. And never let yourself forget it.”

“You’re daughters are both old enough for the reaping, am I right?” Caesar presses further, and my sister and I automatically sigh. Knowing the response that’s bound to come.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks, as he still remains completely clueless. I shake my head instead of offering an explanation though, leaning further into his chest.

Peeta won’t understand. He was raised in town by merchants—the owners of the bakery, to be specific. He’s never understood the fierce protectiveness, the instantaneous fury, the irrational tunnel vision, that appears when a victor’s child is mentioned entering the games.

Peeta’s never even met my father. I’m not impatient by any stretch of the imagination to put the two of them in the same room, to watch my father chew my boyfriend up and devour him alive, to abide by his rules and regulations that will surely come with dating.

He doesn’t know Peeta and I have even so much as shaken hands. I’ve never so much as left him even the slightest hint. Not even when I’ve accompanied him to the bakery for the occasional trade with Peeta’s father, the baker himself.

Like both Prim and I predicted, our father is now on edge, his breathing uneven and his nostrils flaring. “Yes. Both my girls are of age,” he says after a long beat, his tone hard and jagged.

Caesar though is either oblivious or is extraordinarily practiced at appearing obtuse. “Well, wouldn’t it be something if either of them were chosen for the games? Am I right?” He directs his questions to the audience. “Don’t we all love a family story?” His words elicit cheers and hollers and a murderous glint in my father’s silver eyes. The camera only catches it for a moment’s time before quickly flitting away, towards the much more enjoyable image of the Captiolites chattering like chipmunks at the very idea.

And suddenly I feel Peeta’s arm tighten around me, the vision of me—the only person in the world he’s certain that he loves—being taken away from our home here in Twelve and tossed into an arena with kids twice her size, too much for even his naïve mind.

“Don’t we all believe in Mr. Everdeen,” the talk show host continues to push and I feel my typical annoyance with the odd man bleed into anger. “I mean, he brought home Mr. Abernathy here.” And with one single hand gesture from Caesar, the entire interview’s focus re-centers on Haymitch.

And unlike my father, he doesn’t even miss a beat before replying.

“Barely,” he mutters with a last swig of his drink, cleaning the glass. “And he was stingy with the gifts.”

Next to him, my father relaxes a bit. Haymitch always brings out a bit of levity in him, even on his worst days.

After all, in my father’s eyes, the paunchy drunk is a symbol of hope.

Haymitch is the only person my father’s ever brought him. He’s the only other living victor inside the confines of Twelve.

Not to mention his closest friend.

And my surrogate uncle, I note, a bit ironically. Haymitch and I have a far different relationship than he has with anyone else in my family but he’s always been there, has known me since the day I was born, often has dinner at our house, rain or shine, no matter how much he annoys my mother, and he’s an irreplaceable member of my family.

The audience is still riled up from Haymitch and howling with laughter—a bit too much, in my opinion—but my father can’t let the subject of his children go before adding one last sentiment.

“Don’t worry, Caesar. If either of my girls are reaped, trust me,” he states, louder and far more pronounced than anything else he’s said the entire interview. “They will be the victor. There’s not a tribute in the arena that would survive against my girl.”

For as long as I can remember, my father had taken me to the woods. He sometimes claims the first time he looked down at me in my mother’s arms, at a mere two days old, he saw a familiar hunger in my eyes.

Not a hunger for food. District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest in the country of Panem, but luckily, my family is one of the richest.

Unlike my schoolmates, I’ve never once had to worry about having enough to eat for lunch. My parents never worried that we’d starve to death or that Prim and I could be taken from their grasp by authorities. They never worried about supplying us with whatever we needed—they gave us more than we ever could have wanted—and they never had to fret that we’d be sent to the mines for work one day.

No, we were far too wealthy and far too famous for any of that.

But my parents had a far different batch of worries to keep them up at night. Not about food or finances or anything remotely common in Twelve.

No, they had to worry about cameras peaking into the privacy of our home and photos being taken without our knowledge and my face or Prim’s face being splashed across every magazine and newspaper in the country.

They worried about the almost insatiable thirst the Capitol seems to have for more family dynamics among the victors.

Especially after the recent back-to-back sibling victories led the hunger games to higher ratings and revenues in the Capitol.

When I was a child, my mother coached me to never go into town without my father by my side. Which sounds easy enough, until my father’s extensive vacations to the Capitol are taken into consideration. For as long as I can remember, my father would leave at random stretches of time, for weeks on end. To go play puppet for a population so dumb, so completely isolated from the rest of the country, that they took his anger for sarcasm. They took his bite as charm. They believed his glare was an act, was part of his appeal, when in reality my father had rebelled against performing for the last twenty-seven years.

When he was gone, our lives became strict. Bedtimes came earlier, curtains remained drawn day in and day out, our mother never wanted to sing or dance or even so much as smile with her husband gone.

But when he was home, sunshine peaked in our windows again. It danced on the floor and it swept us away with its gentle affection.

There was music and laughter and sweets and toys. He never returned from the Capitol empty-handed. He brought back expensive jewels for our mother, he built me and Prim a fancy treehouse in the backyard, put up a large, golden swing-set, went as far as purchasing as many cakes and breads as he could hold from the Mellark Bakery.

Peeta’s parents bakery.

Since I was two, further back than I can even retain, my father would take me out to the woods, would hold my hand and tell me old stories of District Twelve’s past, detail insane urban legends, teach me about plants and berries and trees and the direction of the wind.

And for as long as I can remember, I idolized him. He was so confident and so charismatic and so kind. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. It felt like an honor to me that I received far more his end of the gene line than my mother’s. She was regarded as a beauty in her youth, but he was one of the most magnificent people in the country. Having his coloring and the same silver eyes felt like a special gift, awarded every single time someone marveled at how similar we appear.

But my father was gone often and the unpredictable lengths of his stays in the large, foreign city was one of the only constants my family ever knew. So it really came as no surprise when my mother phoned the cabin only minutes after Caesar’s interview was over.

“I’ll get it,” Prim says flatly after a moment, throwing a sardonic glance at me and Peeta on the couch. Now in a much different entanglement than we had been while watching the talk-show.

“Thanks,” I murmur unintelligibly against Peeta’s mouth, before closing my eyes in pleasure.

“Don’t strain yourselves,” she can’t stop herself from tacking on the end.

“We’ll try not to while you’re still here,” Peeta murmurs cheekily, moving his lips downwards, towards my neck, right onto my pulse point. I let out a somewhat ridiculous squeak in response.

“Hello?” Prim says lightly into the receiver, already knowing it’s our mother. No one else calls this phone, inside this hidden cabin, located in the woods surrounding Twelve.

The woods in which officials fenced off years ago. The woods in which it’s illegal to enter. The woods in which my father has taken me to hunt for families less fortunate than ours since I was a small infant.

It’s not a typical cabin found in the outskirts of Twelve. No, ordinarily a cabin out here—a cabin anywhere in Panem, really—is nothing more than a broken down shack. There’s normally nothing other than an unsteady foundation, a freezing damp floor and an unlit fireplace.

But somewhere along the lines, in the years before I was born, my parents resurrected this place from the depths of despair and expanded it, rebuilt it, refurnished and redecorated and turned it into a vast, warm, safe second home for all of us to run away to when we felt the need.

Prim listens into the receiver for a long moment before she sighs deeply and beckons me. “Katniss, can you?”

Instantly, I break away from Peeta’s embrace, cupping his face and pulling him back from my collarbone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I scramble off the couch, my anxiety abruptly spiked. “Did something happen?” I search Prim’s eyes as I take the phone from her but, to my utter relief, all I find there is blatant, unmasked disappointment.

I already know what my mother is going to say before I put the phone to my ear. “Hi?”

“Hi, honey,” she murmurs, her voice both strained and higher than typical. Which indicates she’s trying to put up a front for us right now, when she’d rather be moping in bed. “Your father just called. Evidently Effie Trinket informed him he has more scheduled commitments to fulfill before he can come home.”

I deflate, already prepard, knowing this was coming. Isn’t it always coming inadvertently? My father has never been home when he was scheduled to be in my life. No matter the holiday, the birthday, the emergency or event, the Capitol demands that they comes first to him. Not even my birth could upstage his commitments. He wasn’t allowed to return home to Twelve, to meet his firstborn child, until his press events were done and over with.

It’s no wonder he refuses to put on show for those people.

“Okay,” I mumble after a moment, not even convinced my mother is even still there on the other end.

“It’ll be alright,” she says, as positively as she can. “He’ll be home as soon.”

“Yeah.” I try and fail miserably to match her tone. I inherited my father’s ability to act. Or inability, that is.

There’s the faint sound of crying in the background, and my heart aches a bit. “I’m sorry, honey, I have to go check on Archer,” she apologizes as a way of saying goodbye.

I make my way into the kitchen as soon as we hang up. Prim is standing by the counter, staring at the same magazine our father sent three weeks ago.

Peeta comes up behind me then, his hand rubbing my back in comforting circles. “Your father delayed again?”

I nod silently, as my eyes focused on my little sister now. She’s trying her best to hold back the upset that’s threatening to take over.

And without hesitation, my instincts to protect my family from anything and everything painful kick in. “Prim, it’s okay. It’s probably only going to be another week before he’s back,” I console, stepping closer to her small frame and touching her back.

It’s all the initiation she needs before spinning around into my arms and clinging onto me tight. “He’s never around,” she cries into my neck—I’m not much taller than her—as her shoulders shake with tears.

I feel Peeta’s eyes on me, measuring my reaction to Prim’s words. He’s heard me cry the same thing time and time again, he knows the familiarity of this scene better than anyone should.

“He tries his best, Prim,” I whisper thickly into her long, blonde hair. She’s fair and light, like our mother. Like a merchant or peacekeeper. Looking at my little sister, you’d never consider her to be the daughter of a man from the Seam.

But you’d easily believe that she was a girl raised in Victor’s Village and I suppose that’s what counts. Where we were raised and not where we could have been, if things had gone different.

“He’s never really going to be ours though,” she weeps and I don’t have words to comfort her now. Because she’s right.

Our father will always belong to the Capitol, first and foremost.

And not even his children can upstage that.

Prim leaves not long later, to head home to Victor’s Village and more than likely curl up with our mother for the night. They’ve both always been so alike, so much softer and more hopeful than me. I half expect every trip of our father’s to double in time, if not triple. After a lifetime of disappointments, I can’t help but prepare myself.

It’s not that they’re weak for believing. It’s that I have too much Hunter Everdeen in me. I have too much pessimism crawling inside my bones to ever fully trust that he’s really coming home until he’s already stepped off the train in Twelve.

Too many hours of my childhood were spent, wearing fancy stockings and warm, fur-lined coats, standing at the train station, only to welcome a load of cargo and no father in sight. Too many times were phone calls answered in tears. Too many night spent crying, clinging to my father’s hunting jacket, so disoriented by the hazardous schedule in which our lives were ran, waiting for my father to phone, waiting for him to walk through the front door, waiting for him to sneak up on us in the middle of the night or pull us from class on a school day.

That was the true constant in my life. Waiting for my father to finally come home, knowing every moment we shared was on borrowed time. Knowing that he’d never truly belong to us. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to hear my mother’s bedroom door slam and lock, waiting to hear Prim cry or Archer wail, waiting to see that defeated glint in my father’s slate gaze.

I close the cabin door behind my sister now, knowing with confidence that she’ll make it home alright, even with the sun currently setting in the faded blue sky.

Our father never took Prim hunting like he did me, never brought her out to the woods and taught her to shoot a bow and arrow, never showed her how to trap and kill an animal. But even still, the path from the cabin to our home in Victor’s Village is imprinted in our brains, like a birthmark or tattoo. We’d be able to find our way to and from, even if we were sleepwalking.

As would Peeta. Considering this is the place he spends the majority of his time.

Considering this cabin may as well be his permanent address.

And if it weren’t illegal, it very well might be, I think to myself wryly as I walk over to where he’s leaning against the doorframe now.

“Hello,” I greet again, hopping onto my tiptoes and kissing his lips lightly.

He grasps my hips, smiling against my mouth. “Don’t you have to get home too?” He hesitantly asks, his desire to keep me here bleeding through every caress of his fingers, as they trail underneath my loose shirt, sliding upwards and causing an electric current to ripple through the core of my body.

But I just shake my head at his inquiry, moving my mouth from his to kiss down the side of his face, underneath his jawline.

“Mmm,” he moans after a long moment, before suddenly putting a few more inches between us. “Are you sure your mother won’t miss you?”

Peeta’s always been considerate of my mother. Too considerate sometimes, if I do say so myself. Bordering on obsessive.

He is obsessed with keeping her approval, with never crossing any invisible line, with never even so much as mildly exasperating her.

I suppose it’s only natural though. She is the only parental figure he has in his life.

I’ve never been too enthusiastic to introduce him to my father and he’s never pushed the issue too far. Hunter Everdeen is a practical legend around Twelve—and beloved across the entirety of Panem—but he’s the reason, I’ve always privately felt, that I was isolated from all my classmates.

Sure, I’m already not the most friendly person to start with, in anyone’s book. As Haymitch never hesitates to tell me. But there was already very little chance of me making friends in school anyway. Being the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games’ child dropped the chances of play-dates or sleepovers drastically. My father trusts no one. Not with his children.

And I didn’t mind for the most part. I’m too like him to enjoy people much anyway. This whole notion was much harder on Prim, who adored her fellow classmates and easily endeared herself to them as well. But no matter how darling my little sister may be, nothing changed our father’s mind and when he was set on something, it was practically written in stone.

I can’t even imagine how Peeta must feel, having to live in fear for the entire last year of our little secret being exposed. I may be nervous about how my father will react, but Peeta has to be outright petrified.

“My mother will be fine,” I murmur, rolling my eyes as I lean back against the wall now. “She’s got Prim and Archie to keep her sane until my father’s home.”

Peeta chuckles at me, a mirthful smile in his eyes. “And you got me,” he teases, tapping my nose with his finger.

I giggle in a way I withheld until Prim left. I wasn’t about to give her ammunition to mock me later on. “All to myself,” I add, matching his expression now. “For unlimited hours of the day.”

“That’s my girl, looking on the bright side.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s me.” I’m the exact opposite of an optimist. I prefer expecting the worse and setting expectations low. Maybe it’s a learned behavior but, at least that way, I’m not crushed like my mother when things don’t pan out the way I want.

Peeta mistakes the look on my face to be one of hidden disappointment. “You’re father will be home soon, sweetheart. They can’t keep him in the Capitol forever.”

“Can’t they?” I mumble, not expecting an answer. Before he can offer one—because Peeta is nothing if not a fixer—I quickly segue to a new topic. “Where do you think you’ll go when my father does come home?”

He just shrugs the question off though, completely unbothered. “Anywhere but home,” he says simply, his stunning blue eyes clear as the sky they remind me of.

“Anywhere but there,” I agree, my smile twisting into a grimace.

A year ago, when I was barely fifteen, President Snow—Panem’s true Gamemaker, my father always said—demanded every victor extend their stay in the Capitol, even after the games ended that year. He gave no outright reason and my father was cagey to speak on the subject, but in the end, the president’s word was law and there was no room for argument. President Snow can demand of us whatever he wishes.

It was a cold, dreary autumn that year, with early snowfall, which was the leading cause to the significant increase in accidents and injuries. My mother, the born healer, had more patients than she could handle, and even while training Prim as her assistant, she required my help. I was to head to town and purchase a list of herbs from the apothecary shop her parents still owned. The people who disowned her, who had little to no interest in her after she married a man from the Seam, victor or not. The people who never cared to meet their own grandchildren, to acknowledge our existence even as we passed right by their shop, in their plain sight.

I was dragging my feet the entire walk there, already with a sour taste in my mouth, when I heard the loudest wail my ears had every registered. When I heard sharp words being screamed out, when the sound of a boy sobbing filled the air.

And my instincts took over, my every sense focused on finding the hurt and helping them, altogether forgoing the trip for my mother’s herbs.

I followed the commotion to the bakery’s backdoor. Right through the open threshold, it was crystal clear, the baker’s wife—the witch, as many of the kids at school referred to her—had beaten her youngest son senselessly.

He’s in my year, I’d realized abruptly, staring with an agape mouth at his bloody face. His eye was swelling and his nose and lip were smeared scarlet and the only thing that crossed my mind at first, was I recognized him as the blonde boy with the colorful notebook, who could never meet my eyes and always wore long sleeves.

Of course, I snapped out of the daze after only a moment. The witch turned and caught sight of me, snapping that no Seam brat was going to get any free handouts from her and to scatter before she called the Peacekeepers.

Something about the unmasked prejudice against the Seam, a place where people in Twelve had next to nothing and were seen as lesser than the merchants, jolted me into action.

“Get your hand off him!” I’d demanded, using my entire body weight, just as my father taught me, to push the door open as she tried to close it in my face. “Let him go or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

At that, I heard an ugly laugh and the door flew open again, my exerted force throwing it back into the wall.

“I’m serious, child,” she snaps, her blue eyes narrow and her mouth in a snide smirk. “I will call the Peacekeepers to remove you from my shop-”

I didn’t even let her finish. I wasn’t one to be messed with. Not when I just witnessed something awful firsthand, not when I had it in my power to do something.

I knew then I couldn’t bring my father home. He was owned by the president and the Capitol. To an extent, we all were. And I knew I couldn’t stop the games from happening or the possibility of my name being pulled from the reaping bowl. I couldn’t always make my mother come out of her room or even out of her bed, when her illness struck bad. And I couldn’t stop my siblings from crying for our father at night.

But I knew that day in the bakery, I had the power over Mrs. Mellark and I wasn’t going to let her get away with hurting her son anymore.

“Call them,” I dared, not an ounce of insecurity in my voice. “Cray is an old family friend.” He was actually indebted to my father, who’d kept the man’s secrets for too many years to count. But family friend rolled off the tongue more effectively.

“Head Peacekeeper is now making friends in the Seam?” She spat in disbelief. “No wonder this district is so rundown.”

She laughed humorlessly, but my focus was pulled towards the boy. He was covering the left side of his face, as if it hurt too badly to release. As if he was trying to stop his eye from swelling, stop his nose from gushing blood. As if he could hold his now split lip together with nothing more than the palm of his hand.

The sight hurt my heart to see. It burned a fire inside of me that only a true injustice could set alight.

“My father is Hunter Everdeen,” I snapped in the woman’s direction, not even basking in satisfaction when her face drained of all color. The idea that a scrappy little girl with olive skin and dark hair was the child of the most powerful man in all of Twelve struck a cord inside even the witch. “Still wanna make that call?”

The woman’s face was caught between anger and shock when I glanced at her again. And I hated her for it. I hated her and every single person in this district who hurt their kids, who took out their grievances on them, who made them cower and quiver in fear. Who raised them to be afraid of those they loved in a world already so awful.

I know I live a privileged life but, deep in my bones, I know even if things were different, my parents wouldn’t have laid a hand on us. Even if we were so poor I had to take tesserae, even if we were starving to the point of no return, even if we were practically homeless in the Seam, my parents would never hurt us.

“Leave,” the witch spoke then, but her voice was void of all emotion.

“Not without him,” I refused, my eyes planted on the wounded boy in front of me. The boy who was doing everything to avoid looking me in the eye, too busy covering his battered face.

I heard a sound caught between a groan and a shriek, before a cutting board was tossed across the room. “Just go!” She shouted at her son, causing him to flinch severely. “Just go with her!”

On her order, which sounded more distraught than angry, the boy had stormed out the back door and into the chilly evening air, still covering his face desperately, still looking utterly ashamed.

But he waited for me to catch up with him. He waited for me to guide him away from that awful woman he was forced to call his mother.

He didn’t flinch when I touched his arm nor when I took his hand. And when I led him away from the town and towards the village, he followed me without complaint.

Actually, he followed me without a single word.

I realized this just as my house came into view. “You never told me your name?” I whispered, looking up at him gently.

He had tears leaking from his eyes that he was doing his best to ignore, the bleeding on the left side of his face had barely even lightened up, his eye was swelling bigger and bigger, and yet, he chuckled a little at the question. “I’ve been in your class since kindergarten, Katniss.”

I felt my cheeks burn pink, even under the darkening sky. “I know.” But I still peered up at him, curiously waiting for him to tell me.

“It’s Peeta,” he finally answered, maybe a bit satirical.

“Peeta Mellark,” I suddenly recognized.

“Mhmm. Figured you’d pick up the last name.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s printed across the bakery in huge letters?”

“Oh.” He chuckled at my ignorance, causing my blush to deepen.

And I realized immediately how much I liked the sound of his laugh. How I liked being the reason for the sound.

My stomach did a complete flip at the notion and my ears abruptly felt hot, but I tried to push all this away, needing to get him to my mother.

“Wait,” he halted before I could even reached the front door. “Is your mother in there?”

I shot him a confused look. “Yeah, of course? Who else-”

I didn’t even get a chance to finish though. “I really don’t want anyone else to know about this,” he pleads, his eyes looking as frightened as they did with the witch.

“Peeta-” I start, opening my mouth argue, to convince him to go into the house and let my mother treat his injuries. To let me get him help.

But one look inside his desolated, defeated, terrified eyes and I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t put him through any more than he’d already gone through. Not when he’d eventually have to go face the witch again at home.

“Okay,” I whispered, and I felt him squeeze the hand I didn’t realize I was still clutching. “Let me take you somewhere else. And I’ll try to fix you up myself.”

I wasn’t a healer like my mother and Prim. I was a hunter, just like my father, just like his very name, through and through. But I had witnessed enough of what my mother did—my father had forced me to witness enough of what she did, in case I ever needed the knowledge—and I was confident I had the expertise to help him.

My decision was validated by the relief in Peeta’s eyes, by the visible exhale he expelled from inside. He was ashamed, I realized, of his abuse. He was embarrassed to let anyone know what was happening behind closed doors.

I guided him by the hand outside the village, through the Seam—a place in which he’d never been before—and to the fence line.

“Isn’t it electrified?” He asked, his grip on my palm tightening. I liked the sensation for some reason. I liked the way his big hand felt wrapped around my small one. I liked how he wanted to hold onto me in the darkness.

“Nope,” I say, and let out a proud giggle. Or maybe a nervous one. Whenever I think back to this night, I can never tell.

“How do you know?” His blonde eyebrows knit together, still afraid in a way I’d never had to be. My father had taught me everything there was to know about the woods from a young age.

“Listen,” I urge softly, leaning my ear towards the fence.

He cranes forward too, waiting for the buzz of electricity to fill his ears. Only, just as I knew, it never does. Because it never has. The fence’s electricity was shut off long before we were even born.

I watched as his face registered the silence, as he realized and trusted I was right. And I beamed at him, before showing him the way my father slips beyond the fence and guiding him through the trees, towards the cabin, buried deep inside the woods.

It took an hour to find, not because of the blackened sky, but because Peeta’s face hurt so badly that his gait was slowed. But I remained patient, even though that was never my strong suit either. I waited for him to pick up the pace, to be ready to move, to find our way through the tall green trees. I pulled all the branches I could see out of his path, used the moon as our flashlight and didn’t complain once when he stumbled along the way.

By the time we got to the cabin, it had to be past Archer’s bedtime. My mother would be worried sick for me, but I soothed myself that she had plenty on her plate. I’m her firstborn. The child she understands the least, the one who’s like her husband in body and soul. I knew I was probably near the bottom of her worry list.

The very first thing I did when we entered the cabin was order Peeta to sit down in the dining room. I gathered my mother’s first aid kit from the bathroom, wet a rag in cool water and I got to work cleaning the blood from his face.

“This has to be gross for you,” he murmurs after a long stretch of silence. His eyes betrayed how self-conscious he must have felt.

Trying to alleviate his anxiety, I pretended to shrug it off. “My mother cleans wounds all the time. At our kitchen table, no less.”

Peeta made a noise that indicated he didn’t buy my act of ease. “I heard at school that you run from the sick and injured.”

I raised my eyebrows at the comment. No one at school talked about me. No one knew me well enough to. People stopped trying to get close to any of Hunter Everdeen’s kids years ago.

The longer I stared at Peeta in disbelief, the more he seemed to lose confidence in his statement. “Maybe I didn't hear it,” he finally amended. I brought the damp cloth back up to his face again as a reward, tenderly wiping away the blood, before using the clean side to set against his swelling lid, hoping to offer some pain reduction there as well. “Maybe I saw it,” he added sheepishly.

I furrowed my brows, even more perplexed by the elaboration. “Saw it?”

“When Leaf Barker tripped and broke his knee in Physical Education last year? You were almost green when you bolted out of the gymnasium.”

His words conjured up a vague image. Still though, something about this felt odd to me.

“How do you remember that better than I do?”

At that, Peeta shrugged. “I guess, I notice you sometimes?”

“What do you mean, sometimes?” I pressed, none of his words suddenly making a bit of sense.

“Why did you stick up for me tonight?” He abruptly segued, his expression shifting into something of defense, like he’s trying to deflect.

But I’m not one to be deterred. “I wasn’t going to stand there and watch your mother hurt you,” I stated, my voice remaining firm. “Why?”

He continued to walk around my question. “Is tonight the first night you ever noticed me?”

I pulled my hand and the damp cloth away from his wounded face, reaching in the kit to grab a white cream I’d seen my mother and Prim both use on swelling before. “Yes,” I finally replied, because I don’t know what else to say. That I saw him glance at me sometimes and then watched as his eyes flit away? That I noticed how he doodled in math class, because he found the subject boring? That I’d seen him lift a sack easily over his shoulder at the bakery and watched him beat almost every upperclassmen at wrestling, even while three years their junior?

None of that seems even remotely relevant to mention.

“When was the first time you noticed me?” I shot back, still being careful to apply the cream with only the lightest pressure to his battered eye.

“Kindergarten,” he instantly blurted out, his tone simple and bold.

I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before chuckling, catching the joke. “Funny.”

“I’m serious,” he refuted, peaking his good eye open, the sky meeting a silver dollar as our gaze locked. And I see that he is serious somehow.

“What?”

“The first day of kindergarten,” he continued, after a long beat of me just staring him. His confidence had wavered once again and he was looking a bit regretful that he’d put this out in the open. “You were wearing a red velvet dress and brown stockings. Your hair was in two braids instead of one and your ribbons matched your dress. The teacher asked during music assembly who knew The Valley Song and your hand shot right up. She put you on a stool and you sang it, clear as day, for everyone to hear. Even the birds outside stopped to listen. And from that moment on… I was a goner.”

I just continued to look at him in disbelief, unable to put the pieces of what he’s said together. Finally, I whispered, “you’re telling the truth?”

“I’ve had a crush on you for forever,” he admitted, his singularly open eye giving away his nerves at the admission. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I know you didn’t even know my name until tonight but I just wanted to say, in case we never have the chance to speak again-”

“Stop,” I cut him off, my mind already about to explode. “Stop, um…” I refused to look at him as I spoke, furiously staring down at my lap. “I need more time to… process this.”

He had a crush on me since the first day of kindergarten? He’d heard me sing and from that day forward he held a hidden candle for me?

And he never once worked up the courage to talk to me?

Dozens of moments suddenly race through my mind.

Cerulean blue eyes finding me in a crowd countless times and then pulling away as soon as I meet them. The time I wanted to play a stupid game at recess and a stocky blonde boy volunteered to be team captain, and then picked me first. The stunning drawing I found in my locker last year on Sweetheart’s Day, that I was convinced was put there by mistake, though it bore a striking resemblance to the doodles on Peeta’s notebook.

And before I could stop it, I felt myself begin to shake with nerves.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, seeing my frightened reaction. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… I didn’t know if I’d ever get the opportunity to tell you again-”

“Shhh,” I hushed, picking up the damp cloth once more. “Let me take care of your face. And then…” I hesitated again, unsure what to say in this situation. I had exactly zero experiences to compare this to. “Tomorrow we can talk more.”

Peeta nodded amicably, staying silent for the reminder of my ministrations. I felt a terrible pang of guilt for not responding the way he’d probably hoped, but there was still a part of me too stunned to even fully register the confession.

I was an outcast. I’d never fit in with the kids at school, neither town or Seam. I don’t look like the merchants and I’m too rich for the Seam folk. I would have been alone all the time at school if it weren’t for Madge Undersee, the mayor’s daughter who sat with me at lunch and partnered with me in class.

How could anyone have even noticed me to be anything other than strange? I barely spoke, even in classes where I knew all the answers. And I hardly participated in games or gossip. I had a father who insisted most days on picking me up himself from school, not allowing me to walk home alone like the other kids.

But the look in Peeta’s eyes was earnest. He wasn’t playing some elaborate trick on me, he wasn’t trying to coerce me into confessing something as well so he could humiliate me. He was being genuine in every way I could tell. And I had my father’s senses.

The same senses that helped him win his hunger games.

A new thought struck me out of the blue. Peeta seemed too kind and too considerate to have a mother who beat him like this. He doesn’t fit the profile of the kids in the community home, brought there by even less abuse than I witnessed firsthand tonight.

The insane urge to get to know him more, to learn more about this complete stranger who I went out on an impulsive limb for suddenly surges through my brain.

It wouldn’t be a good idea, I told myself. He’s a merchant and I’m the daughter of a victor. Two titles that seem not far apart in theory but are miles away from the other in practice. And I’m not experienced with people the way he is. I don’t know how to make friends or how to maintain them. I don’t know what he expects from me but it’s surely more than I know how to give. I don’t know what to say in a situation like this. Haymitch always tells me I’m as romantic as dirt.

But is that what I want to be? I asked myself as I finished fixing Peeta up. Do I want to be romantic? Do I want to be that girl who holds her boyfriend’s hand in the town square and kisses him under the moonlight? Do I want to put an embroidered ribbon in my hair and wear an expensive dress from the Capitol to go to the Sweetheart’s Dance? Do I want to sneak in through my bedroom window at the crack of dawn so my father won’t know I’ve been out all night?

If I could learn to be romantic, would I want to be?

And naturally, the answer I’ve always known automatically seeps through my brain. No. I’m not like my mother and Prim. I’m practical by nature, rather than fanciful. I’ve never truly obsessed about falling in love or fawned over even the most incredible looking men on the television.

But something held me back now. Something inside me said that answer, the truth I’d always known, is suddenly not entirely accurate anymore.

Because I find that I did want those things I just described. I did want to have someone to hold, someone to laugh with, someone who conjured up that same flip in my stomach as Peeta did earlier when he laughed.

I wanted the same kind of love my parents had. The kind of love that brought them both to life, despite the horrible circumstances they’d both separately endured. I wanted the kind of love that they showed me was possible, even in a world as bleak and as inhumane as Panem felt at times.

I only realized how long I’d been silent, contemplating my inner desires, when Peeta offered a minuscule smile and stood up slowly to leave.

I opened my mouth to speak but when his eyes met mine, every thought in my head was magically wiped away. I had nothing to say, nothing that could be of any sort of consequence, that could mean anything in comparison to his confession.

“I should head back to town,” he murmured, trying to appear nonchalant. “Face my mother. Hope she’s in a better mood now-”

But I couldn’t stand the idea of him returning to the witch, the idea of going to school tomorrow and acting like his words weren’t still spinning around my brain, the idea of even sleeping soundly tonight.

“Peeta,” I called just as he was about to reach the front door. “Wait!”

He turned towards me, looking puzzled by my outburst. “What’s wrong?”

And I don’t know what came over me. I still can’t place what made me—a girl who had never been decisive a day in her life—fling myself across the room and smash my lips onto his.

He didn’t respond at first. I caught him too completely by surprise. His lips hung there, frozen, as mine pushed against his, with too much force and an overload of desperation.

But I felt an incredible stirring in my chest, an odd sensation that felt akin to a giggle amplified.

And when he finally recovered from the shock of it all, his hands both came to rest on either side of my hips, his mouth began to move against mine, his knees bent to reach my height with more success, and the stirring turned to a fiery spark. I know he felt it too, as the kiss was swiftly disturbed by his wide grin.

“Don’t go back home tonight,” I gasped out, looking up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

His gaze melted as he took me in, he head bobbing in agreement without even needing to consider my request.

“Okay,” he’d whispered with a dazed smile, his blue eyes impossibly wild and sleepy at the same time.

His expression, his spirit somehow, was contagious, and I found myself somewhere stuck between a laugh and a blush when I replied.

“Okay.”

After that night, Peeta rarely went back home. I had called my mother and let her know I was staying at the cabin, but intentionally eluded telling her that the baker’s son was joining me. We’d spent the entire night talking in front of the fire, making each other laugh. The bashfulness I felt from my unexpected kiss stayed in my gut, causing me to bubble up with embarrassed laughter every so often.

But instead of that making things awkward, it cut the tension pretty smoothly. It was only months later did Peeta confess he’d felt just as nervous and just as shy about spending time with me. He was charismatic, I realize even that first night. Ironically funny. He was nice, in a way I rarely have found anyone to be. And, the more time went on, the more my desire grew to stay close to him. The more often I was around him, the more painfully I missed him when we were apart.

It was only a matter of time until my mother found out—not least of all, because my siblings accidentally caught us kissing in back of the school, a month to the day we first spoke.

I always imagined she’d be strict on me, the firstborn, when it came to dating. Especially in the world we lived in. Especially with my father’s position. I truly thought she’d forbid a relationship until I was of age. Maybe I was wrong about her. Or maybe she just saw how I looked at Peeta and understood that I wasn’t just being careless or rebellious. That whatever magnetic connection I felt towards Peeta wasn’t just an ordinary school-aged fling.

To my surprise as well, my mother seemed to take on a very similar stance to me when it came to Peeta and my father. Keeping the news of this entanglement from her husband’s ears was almost her idea.

“What are you thinking about?” Peeta asks me now, bringing me back to the present moment. His fingers tickle my neck as they brush my hair back behind my ear, touching one of the satin green ribbons weaved throughout my loose braids.

“You,” I reply coyly, shooting him a sly glance as I slip past him to head back towards the kitchen.

“Me?” He calls in mock disbelief. He trails up behind me, catching me by the waist and swinging me into his arms without warning.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, automatically wrapping myself around him as I try to steady my balance midair.

“What, baby?”

“Put me down, baby,” I mock, pressing my nose to his now, rubbing them together.

“I like holding you though,” he whispers, like he’s confessing some huge secret.

“Until your arms gets tired-”

“That was one time, Katniss.”

“I’m just reminding you,” I say with an air of superiority. “You don’t always appreciate holding me.”

At that, his demeanor falls a little. “I do when I realize I won’t be seeing you much in a few days.”

I feel my heart sink now too. As excited as I am at the prospect of my father coming home, after weeks apart, I always have to be a little more careful upon his first days back.

He always likes to spend time at the cabin and go for long walks in the woods upon his return. Spend more time in nature than the indoors, stay far away from people outside our family, sleep under the stars by the lake. The Capitol is apparently luxurious, but in my father’s own words, it is void of any true or natural beauty. Everything is artificial, man-made, concocted and orchestrated. There’s nothing that compares in his mind—or mine either—to a cool breeze on a sunny day spent in the meadow where the dandelions grow tall.

“But I’ll still see you in school?” I say, though my voice comes out as more of a plea. Peeta doesn’t always like to attend school these days, not when he knows his parents can easily track him down there.

His father, the baker himself, took the ambiguous loss of his youngest—his favorite—son particularly hard. It was only a matter of weeks after I intercepted his mother beating him that Peeta definitively decided to sever ties with majority of his family.

I’d like to say he made the choice all on his own but that’d be a lie. I watched as the physical bruises on his skin healed, as he began to peel back emotional layer upon layer to me, as he slowly told me what really had been going on in the Mellark’s family home. And I can’t say that I was impartial to his decision to cut the connection to a mother with a bruising fist and a father who closed his eyes and let it happen.

“Delly’s parents usually make me go to school so…” He shrugs it off, like it’s of no consequence, his arms hoisting me higher against his chest.

But I feel a sudden wave of gratitude towards the Cartwrights. They may be a little too jolly for my liking and their daughter, Delly, maybe can’t take a hint to save her life, but at least they always watch out for Peeta’s well-being. At least they cover for him when his mother come sniffing around and they feed him what they can afford and force him to attend class, where I’ll be able to see him.

“Good,” I murmur, at peace now. My father will be home soon and Peeta will be safely tucked away with his best friend.

I lean down and kiss his nose sweetly, reveling in the tender moment. His lips follow my lead and begin to plant themselves across my chin, underneath my jaw, causing me to squirm and squeal at the sensation.

“So,” he murmurs against my throat. “We have the entire place to ourselves, for the whole night, huh?”

His audacious smile elicits my own. “At least.” My father’s delays usually mean a minimum of two days.

Within a minute, Peeta has me on my back, against the softly quilted bed of my upstairs room. He takes his time helping me out of my clothes before I hurriedly shove his off, impatient and hungry.

He, of course, finds time to crack a joke. “Good thing Archie is too young to come here unchaperoned. Or else we’d never get the chance to do this.”

I roll my eyes and shove his mouth off my collarbone, utterly disgusted now. “Talking about my baby brother is one sure way to turn me off, Peeta.”

Archer, my three-old-brother, was an unexpected surprise, to put it lightly. My parents were done with two girls. My father joked him and my mother were both already set with one clone each, but alas, the year of the Seventieth Hunger Games was a year full of shocks.

A few months before the games that year, the coal mines—the industry Twelve is known for—exploded. Right in the middle of the afternoon, as everyone was obliviously going about their day.

It was a close call for many and one more reason my father is beloved around these parts. If he hadn’t been at the right place, at the right time, if he hadn’t volunteered to go with Prim and her class on a field trip down to the mines that day, there was a chance that no one would have noticed the gas leak.

It was too late to do anything by the time my father pointed it out, but his warning and the fact that people in Twelve take his word very seriously, managed to save the lives the inevitable explosion would have otherwise cost.

Through the outpouring of gratitude, and the overwhelming media coverage my whole family was abruptly bombarded with, my parents made the decision to pull me and Prim from school for a while, to hole up in the remodeled cabin, where no one could find us because of its illegal location.

I’ve never ask and I don't ever want to know when my parents conceived Archer. But about nine months after the vacation from the world, my mother gave birth to a little boy who looked identical to me and my father.

“Sorry,” Peeta whispers with a chuckle, collapsing beside me. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He moves to kiss my stomach, to trace circles on my hips like he always does. But I shake my head, a different request—or more like it, demand—on my mind.

“Tell me the story of how you first fell in love with me?”

Peeta rolls his eyes. Very dramatically. “You mean a year ago?”

“I mean in kindergarten,” I say with a smirk and then let out a shriek of surprise when he pounces on me, his lips attacking my neck.

“Aren’t you tired of that story yet?” He asks, his voice edging on exasperated.

“You never tire of a classic.” I give him a pout, knowing he never refuses me anything when I pull that trick.

I’m right, as per usual. “Fine,” he relents, but his eyes tell me that he enjoys telling this tale more than he leads on. “Come here.” He holds open his arms and waits for me to crawl into them, to settle against his chest.

I lay there for a long moment, my pointer finger running up and down the center of his bicep, as my ear rests against his heartbeat, patiently waiting for him to begin.

“It was the very first day of school. You were wearing a red, velvet dress…”

Read the rest on AO3

#katnissmellarkkkk #prompt 59 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

154 notes · View notes

miamlfy · 4 years

Text

Homemade Rings

A/N: I am on a roll with these fics. Heres another Draco fic for all you Draco lovers, my next fic will for sure be a Sirius x reader. I’ve had this idea for a while now and I’m not sure if I like it or not. Give me feedback on it, I want to know ways on how to improve. Anyways, send in some requests. I wanna hear your ideas!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy X Potter! Reader

Summary: Draco’s parents find out about his relationship with Harry’s twin sister and they do not like it.

Warnings: Lucius being an abusive prick. Jily is alive (obviously) and some Wolfstar, if you squint.

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Enjoy!

(Not my gif, credit to whoever made it)

Waking up, the smell of bacon hits your nostrils. You sit up on your bed and stretch out your arms, letting out a loud yawn. Looking around your room, your school books were sprawled out on your desk from last night. To prepare for the upcoming OWL’s. your teachers assigned work for the summer and expected all fifth years to have it complete by September. It was utterly rubbish but you wanted top scores, so you dealt with it.

Leaving your warm bed, you made your way downstairs and entered the kitchen, “Good morning dad, good morning mum.” You said, giving each parent a kiss on the cheek. You sat down at your regular chair, next to your dad.

“Y/n, be a dear and call your brother downstairs.” Your mum said while placing pancakes onto your fathers plate.

“Harry, get your ass downstairs! Mum made breakfast which dad and I are gonna eat all if you don’t come eat now!” You yelled, making Lily jump and your dad earning a glare from her for laughing.

“Not like that Y/n and watch your language. Merlin knows where you get those words from.” You laughed mumbling a ‘uncle Sirius’ and began nibbling on a piece of bacon. Harry made his way downstairs and sat down next to you.

“Did you really have to yell? Your annoying voice probably made the whole house shake.” Your twin rubbed his eyes, as he was still half asleep.

“Awe did I disturb the dream you had about Ginny?” You teased taking a bite from your piece of toast, a light blush formed on his face.

“How was your dream about Dr— Ow!” You kicked him in the leg before he could finish his sentence, sending him a death glare as well. Your parents didn’t know about your relationship with Draco, the both of you made an agreement to wait to tell each others families. The only reason Harry knew was because he caught you and Draco making out in the quidditch locker rooms, which he deeply wishes he could erase the memory of his enemy having his sister against the wall.

“Dreaming about who now?” James asked, looking at you suspiciously.

You put on your most innocent smile and turned your gaze to him, “No one daddy, Harry is just being an idiot. Isn’t that right Harry?” You asked, turning back to your twin brother.

Harry nodded his head in agreement while rubbing the area where you kicked him. James stared at you for a few more seconds, then began talking about any recent quidditch news. When he found out Harry joined Gryffindors quidditch team in first year and you joining in your second year, he was over the moon. He bragged about it to anyone who would listen and made sure to attend every game you two had. Which also meant that you and Harry had to have practice outside of school whenever you were both home. Thankfully this summer he took it down a notch on the training since he heard Oliver Wood put the Gryffindor team through rigorous training day and night. You could still feel your bones being sore even if its been months since then.

After breakfast, Lily made you and Harry clean up which only resulted in an argument involving who would wash the dishes. You ended up throwing water at Harry, who did the same the to you. Lily sent James to stop the two of you but that only made James join in on the water fight. It ended once Lily walked in and made the three of your clean it all up, without magic.

“I asked for two kids and I ended up with three!” She exclaimed after shoving a mop into your dads hand and left the room. The three of erupted into a laughing fit and began to clean up.

When Draco woke up that morning, he knew something was going to happen that day and his guts were giving him the indication that it wasn’t something good. He dragged himself out of bed and got dressed. Going to his nightstand, he picked up the ring you gifted him for his birthday on the train ride back home. The minute you gave him the ring, he loved it. It was one of the only items he owned that was handmade with love. You told him how you made it with your uncle Remus. He placed it on his right ring finger and walked down to eat his breakfast.

He saw his mother already sitting down with a book in her hands and a cup of tea to her left. He sat down and his breakfast was placed in front of him.

Narcissa looked down, noticing the ‘new’ ring on his finger, “Where did you the ring from?” She questioned.

Draco looked down and stared at it while his spoke, “Oh um a friend gifted it to me as a birthday present.” He avoided his mothers eyes, she always knew when he lied and he hoped she would drop it. It wasn’t a full lie either.

“Friend as in girlfriend?” A smile grew on her face, Draco looked at her now. “You don’t have to hide it from me Draco, tell me about her. Oh! Lucius dear, Draco was just about to tell me about his girlfriend.” Narcissa spoke, becoming more eager to hear about the girl who stole her sons heart. Lucius sat down across from his wife and motioned for Draco to start speaking.

Draco’s palms started to sweat and his face began to redden. “What’s her name?” Narcissa asked.

“Her n-name is Y/n.” He stuttered, he wiped his hands on his trousers. Last time he felt this nervous was when he asked you out.

“And her last name?” Lucius asked, growing interested. He heard the name before, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. Draco knew his parents weren’t going to drop the conversation until they were satisfied. He sighed, preparing for the outcome. He looked over to his mother, who was smiling and waiting for him to respond.

Draco looked back down to his ring, “Her last name is Potter.”

Narcissa’s smile quickly turned to a frown and Lucius dropped the fork onto his plate.

“Don’t play jokes, Draco. They aren’t pleasant,” Draco shook his head at his fathers words, “well then I guess you’ll just have to end it then. We cannot be associated with blood traitors, especially the Potters. They are awful people.”

Draco began growing angry at his fathers words, gripping the fork in his hands tighter. Although he didn’t like Harry and was annoyed by his presence, Draco simply couldn’t categorize your family as awful. Suddenly a wave of confidence hit Draco and before thinking, he stood up to Lucius.

“You’re the awful one father, you’re simply judging Y/n’s family because you didn’t like her father back in school. I love her a lot and I refuse to break up with her.” Lucius stood up abruptly snd forced Draco to stand up. Holding him up by the collar of his shirt, Lucius slammed Draco against the wall. Narcissa let out a yell.

“You will not speak to me like that in my own house! You will break up with her Draco!” Draco flinched at his fathers shouts but he hasn’t about to back down.

“I’m not breaking up with her.” He looked directly into his fathers eyes and tried shoving him off.

Lucius threw Draco onto the hard floor, the side of his face began to pound in pain as it hit the floor. “Then you can leave and never come back.” Lucius walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the silent house.

Turning to face his mother, Narcissa simply turned around and left the room. Draco wiped away the blood that was running down his, now broken, nose. He quickly made his way up back to his bedroom and began packing. He’d much rather lose the two people who made his life miserable rather the girl who showed how to love others and himself. He left his bedroom, he debated saying goodbye to his mother but decided against it. He didn’t want to make the situation worse.

Arriving at Godrics Hollow, he ignored the people giving him weird looks. No doubt that they were all confused at the boy who appeared like he just got out of a rough fight and was walking around in none summer clothing.

He stood in front of your house feeling stupid. He shouldn’t have showed up here and instead went somewhere else. He’s never meet your family, only your brother of course. What if they didn’t want him there? What if you didn’t want him there?

His felt as if he lost control of his body because now he found himself knocking on the front door, 'too late now’, he thought. He could hear loud laughs coming from the other side of the door, his heart swelled when he heard yours. Draco also began to grow sadder, those laughs were coming from everyone inside the house, something he never got to experience in his. Knocking once more, he started to hear footsteps approaching the door.

You and your family were seated in the living room, eating cookies that your mum and you made together the night before. Your brother and dad were no help of course, along with your uncle Sirius. You were quite surprised he hasn’t showed up yet, Sirius was there almost everyday and Remus could only stop him so many times.

Laughing at some stupid dad joke James made, knocking was heard in the living room. James got up to answer it. He immediately recognized him as Malfoy’s son, the platinum blonde hair was also an obvious factor.

“Draco, what brings you here?” James grew more concerned when he saw Draco’s bruised face and blood coated nose, “here come in, come in.” He helped Draco into the foyer and called out to Lily. He couldn’t help but let his mind go back to when Sirius was in a similar position when they were 16.

You and Harry looked at each other confused, were your ears playing jokes on you or was Draco actually at your door? Your eyes widened and were filled with concern when your parents brought Draco to the couch. Almost as a reflex, you made you way to him and cupped his face with your hands. Draco winced at your touch, tears began to cloud your eyesight. You never seen him like this before, the only time you saw get hurt was back in third year with the hippogriff incident.

“Harry, go get the first aid kit and my wand,” you looked over to your brother as your mother spoke, he was frozen. His face filled with shock, he knew Lucius could be mean but he never thought he would hurt his own son. “Harry now please.” Back to reality, he nodded and went to grab the items Lily asked for.

Words couldn’t form in your mouth, you wanted to ask him how this happened and why it happened. In the back of your mind, you felt as if you already knew the answers to your questions. Draco wiped away the tears the spilled from your eyes with his thumb, you smiled sweetly at him. Your brother came back and handed the things to Lily, Harry moved you to give your parents space to heal Draco.

Once they finished, they left the room to give you two space, your closeness to him already confirmed that you two were together. They noticed the ring you made on his finger, as well. Silence surrounded the room as you laid next to him. Neither of you wanting to ruin the quietness.

“It was father,” Draco spoke softly, you looked up and stared at him, “mother saw the ring and started asking questions. I told them about you and father got angry. Mother didn’t do anything, she didn’t even try to stop him when he kicked me out.” His voice breaking as he spoke, tears that he held in, were now streaming down his face.

You held him tightly and let him cry it out, it was rare to see Draco like this and you knew he needed all the support he could get right now. You helped him enter your bedroom and laid him down on your bed. Harry let him borrow some of his clothes, as much as he didn’t like Draco, Harry knew this wasn’t about him and he knew he had to be friend not an enemy to Draco right now.

You let Draco fall asleep, whispering reassuring words to him. Once you were sure he was sleeping, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen to help your mom with dinner. Lily noticed you walk in and motioned you to help cut the vegetables.

“How long have you guys been together for?” Your mothers soft voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Nearly a year and before you get upset with me, we both wanted to wait till we told our families. We were just worried that something like this would happen.” Lily simply nodded and gave you a smile.

“Well you two look well for each other and I couldn’t be more grateful.” The two of continued to cook in silence.

Draco woke up from your bed and he saw a note on your nightstand, ‘Don’t worry love, I’m in the kitchen helping mum with dinner. Feel free to come down and sit in the living room, love you.’ He smiled and looked in the mirror, he face looked a lot better but it was still bruised.

He left your room and looked around in the hallway, Harry’s room was across from yours. The door was slightly open, he noticed a few posters on his wall. Mostly of quidditch. His parents never allowed him to put posters on his walls, they thought it was ugly and didn’t match the aesthetic the Manor held.

He walked down the stairs and entered the living room, he noticed your dad sitting in one of the chairs, reading a books. Making his way towards the same couch he was once on, he sat down and James looked up from his book, giving him a warm smile.

“Lily and Y/n are finishing up dinner, I’m assuming you must be starving.” Draco gave him a nod.

“I want to thank you, Mr. Potter for allowing me in your home. I know I just showed up without warning, which I apologize for but it was the only place that came to mind.” Draco played with the rings on his fingers.

“Please don’t apologize, this isn’t the first time something similar like this has happened and we can only accept you with open arms, and please call me James. Being called ‘Mr. Potter’ makes me feel old.” James set his book down on the coffee table, “I’m not going to lie Draco, when Harry and Y/n came home for the holidays in their first year and told us about how you would bully them, or more bullied Harry and his friends, I wanted nothing more than to set you straight. But I look at you now and I see a boy who grew up with the wrong beliefs. I can tell now, that you merely were engraved with the wrong words. I remember when Harry told me you and Y/n became friends in third year and although I didn’t enjoy it at first, I knew my little girl would help you become better and see things in a different light.” Draco’s eyes glistened.

“The ring your wearing,” James pointed out the ring Draco was wearing on his finger, “she said she made it for someone special and someone she loved. The second I saw it on you, I knew just how much you mean to her, the way she described every detail on it to Lily and seeing how happy it made her, made me incredibly happy and wonder who was the lucky boy or girl making my daughter gleam with happiness. You are family now, Draco. We will always be there for each other and you are welcomed to stay here for as long as you need to. The Potters will always welcome you with open arms and warm food, clothes, and whatever you need. Don’t feel like a stranger here.”

You stood by the door, as you saw your dad and boyfriend hug it out. You cleared your throat while smiling widely, “Dinner is ready, mum said to call Harry down dad.”

“Harry, dinner is ready! Hurry up or you’re going to miss out!” Your dad shouted, already making his way to the dinner table.

“Oh for merlin’s sake James, not again.” Lily scolded.

You held out your hand towards Draco, “Come love, dinner is extremely delicious tonight.” Draco smiled and took your hand.

Harry entered the room, “Dad please stop yelling, you and Y/n really need to stop doing that already.” Giving a smile to Draco, he sat down across from you.

“Never dear brother, what were you doing anyways? Trying to come up with a plan to sneak into the girls dorms and make out with Ginny?” You teased, Harry threw a piece of bread at you.

“Oh good luck on that Harry, Sirius and I could never figure it out. Let me know how it goes.” Lily hit James’ head,

“Don’t encourage him dad, the last thing mum needs is a later from him explaining how he got Ginny pregnant.” Now it was Harry’s turn to kick you, “Ow!”

“Speaking of which, Draco you will be sleeping with Harry in the meantime while we prep a room for you, I am way too young and handsome to become a grandfather.”

“Of course sir, Harry you won’t mind if I put up some Slytherin posters right?” Draco gave a cheeky smile to Harry, which resulted in Harry’s having a playful scowl on his face.

“Wait dad, I thought you were fifty?” You said.

“Hey! I’m far from fifty!”

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x sister!reader #jily au

756 notes · View notes

weasleydream · 3 years

Text

siblings are the angels who lift you up when your wings forget to fly

Another idea i’ve struggled to write, but i really love it! do you think i should make it a series? we would see different moments of the triplets life, it’s something i would love to write!

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist

(photo not mine)

“There’s no way you’re coming with us Y/N, that’s all.”

For absolutely everyone, my triplets, Fred and George, were funny guys never afraid of anything. But Merlin, when it came to me…

The atmosphere at the 12, Grimmauld Place had been really tense since the beginning of the day, when some members of the Order and our family had gathered to talk about the most important mission of all: bringing Harry safe and sound to the Burrow. The first plan had been simple and only involved Mad-Eye, but since the Ministry of Magic had been infiltrated by Death Eaters, we had to think of something else. That’s how Mundungus had come up with the idea of using Polyjuice Potion, which could work only if six people volunteered to enter Harry's skin. We had been seven to agree taking the risk, and when Mad-Eye had grumbled one of us would stay with Mum and Ginny at the Burrow (which Ginny didn’t like at all even though she hadn’t her word to say), Fred had claimed I would.

Now, he, George and I were arguing because I didn’t want to stay on the sidelines.

“You know you don’t have to decide for me, right?”

“We just want you safe and sound, Y/N.” intervened George. “We know you can do this, but we would be worried and -”

“And you think I won’t be?” I interrupted him. Fred and George exchanged a look I couldn’t read, which annoyed me a bit more. They had always been like this, with this deep connexion I didn’t share with anyone. Don’t get me wrong; I was extremely close to them and we understood each other perfectly, but there was something unique between these two. “Practically all our family will be in danger, and you two will be out there without me and- and if anything happens, I don’t know what-”

“That’s exactly why you’re going to stay at home.” Fred put his hand on my shoulder. “If you’re not out there, nothing will happen to you and if, by the greatest of misfortunes, we die tragically, you’ll be there to carry our legacy. What do you think?” he added with a wink.

“I think you’re a git. You’re both gits.” I mumbled before storming out.

At this point, I knew arguing was useless: the plan was ready, and all of this was bigger than just my worries. But I just couldn’t picture myself waiting patiently on the couch while they were outside, threatened to be killed at every second, fearing the moment they would come back injured, and dreading the moment someone would tell me they were dead. I would have given anything to be able to go with them, even though risking my life to not fear for my family was selfish.

I was downing the stairs as quietly as possible - even Filch hadn’t ever uttered insults as demeaning as the ones Sirius’ mother loved to throw to us - when shouts came to me. They seemed to come from a little room at the end of the corridor and I recognized Remus’ voice. I slowly approached the door. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, just to know if I could help, but what I heard made me stop.

“You can’t go! I forbid you, you just can’t put yourself in danger!”

“But that’s my job, Remus!” It was Tonks, and her voice was high-pitched. I was sure her hair was currently bright red. “And the plan is ready, we can’t change it.”

“We can ask Y/N to take your place and-”

“And let her put herself in danger like this?” interrupted Tonks. “She’s too young!”

I groaned and decided to make my big entrance.

“What’s happening?” I asked with my most innocent voice while opening the door.

I met Remus’ eyes and mentally scolded myself. I used to reserve that voice for the professors when Fred, George and I were caught after a prank and I had forgotten for a second that Remus had heard it more than once. Now, he knew for sure I had heard everything.

“Nothing!” replied quickly Tonks. “Nothing! Tell me Y/N, can you go and ask Molly if-”

“She’s pregnant.”

A long silence followed, during which Tonks was glaring at Remus who was looking at me with a determined look. And me, between the two, looking at them in turn with my mouth wide open, I was understanding why she couldn’t possibly participate in the mission.

“Y/N, I’m begging you, you have to exchange places with her!” said Remus.

“Of course.” I immediately agreed. “I’ll do it, yes, you can’t put your life and your baby’s in danger.” Another silence and I exclaimed. “I’ve almost forgotten! Congratulations!”

But the couple didn’t seem in the mood of rejoicing and they were still tense.

“Do you think Molly will agree?” finally asked Tonks.

“She won’t really have the choice.” I shrugged.

“And Fred and George?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll understand.”

_ _ _

“Are you crazy? We told you no!”

How could I think they would be okay with that?

I had joined Mum, Dad, Ginny, Fred and George in the kitchen. They were talking about how Aunt Muriel would be happy to see two members of the Order bursting in her place when I had innocently dropped the news. Ginny was glaring at me, Mum and Dad sharing worried glances, George rolling his eyes and Fred infuriated.

“You do remember you have no right to forbid me anything, right?” I asked sarcastically.

“She’s right, boys.” intervened Dad, which caused him to deal with some murderous looks. “She’s as adult as you both are.”

“Yes, I’m even older than you, George. Respect your elders.”

“Shut up, there’s only twenty minutes of difference between us!” replicated George.

“That’s twenty minutes of constructive experiences more than you have.”

“Stop this!” interrupted Mum. “Stop now, or else I swear none of you will go out there. Y/N, whose place will you take?”

“And why?” added Fred.

“Tonks is pregnant.”

Mum seemed torn between her concern for us and the happiness brought by the news of a baby’s arrival.

“I understand…” muttered Dad. “That means you will protect someone else. Are you sure you will be okay? Maybe you can trade place with Fleur, I’m sure she will-”

“No, it’s okay! Bill wants to stay with her, I can’t separate them.”

Plus, I had understood during the meeting that Tonks would have been paired with Ron, and I was relieved to be able to stay with him. I knew my little brother had a true gift when it came to finding the problems, even more than Fred, George and I. And even though I loved all my siblings unconditionally, I had always had a soft spot for Ron. I was feeling like I had to be the one staying with him for this mission.

“What’s happening here? I bet all London can feel the tension.”

Ron had opened the door but was staying on the doorstep, eyeing us all suspiciously.

“Yes Y/N, what’s happening here?” asked Fred in a cranky way that was getting on my nerves.

“Hope you still know how to fly on a broom, I won’t wait for you.” I winked and Ron smiled before frowning when George groaned.

_ _ _

“Come on guys, you’re not going to ignore me forever!” I whined as Fred left the kitchen unceremoniously.

Mum shot a glance at me and turned her attention back to the pie she was baking. We were back at the Burrow and the house, even though it wasn’t particularly emptier than usual, was more silent. Something like a heavy tension seemed to be stifling all the sounds, and it made it even more obvious that my brothers were mad at me. If George was just a bit more withdrawn when he was in the same room as me, it was a whole other story with Fred. It’s not like I didn’t know he would be the worst about it because let’s be honest, I knew he was the most impulsive. But not speaking to me in three days? It was childish and definitely hurtful.

“You know he’s just worried, right?”

George’s voice made me jump and I looked up. His back was resting against the back door. He was just standing there, his hands deep in his pockets and his eyes soft.

“All I know is that he’s being a prat.” I muttered.

Of course I knew he was worried, not only about me but also about the rest of our family. I knew this little voice he had probably in his head, the one that said There’s no way everyone is going to come back alive.

“And you’re being a prat too, Georgie.”

“Shut up.”

“You, shut up.”

George rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Sometimes I wonder why I even tolerate you.” he said while patting my shoulder as he walked past me.

“Because you love me?”

“Obviously.”

“George?”

He stopped and looked back at me, his eyes a bit darker than usual.

“I know,” he sighed heavily and grabbed a chair to sit next to me.

For a minute or two, we watched silently as Mum was walking everywhere in the kitchen, grabbing things and putting them elsewhere, cleaning a corner of the table and placing an apple back on the basket. She eventually left the kitchen to go I didn’t know where, clearly disappointed as we hadn’t said anything else yet.

“I’m as scared as you are, Y/N.” murmured George. “And so is Fred. You know how he is,” he added with a humourless chuckle.

“Of course I know. George, we’ll be six out there, there’s no way-”

“Talking about our bright future without me? I’m hurt.”

Fred grabbed a third chair and pushed his way between George and I, the beginning of a smile on his lips.

“Oh, so you suddenly remembered I’m your sister?”

“Yeah but unfortunately I haven’t forgotten how stubborn and annoying you can be.”

“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve told me these days. Oh wait- that’s the only thing you told me!”

George was watching out bickerings with a smirk.

“Sometimes I wonder who is really the youngest,” he stated.

The effect was immediate. Fred and I shared a glance before defending with an all renewed vigour our oldest-ness, and we kept screaming until George’s chuckles made us stop.

“Here, I was beginning to think I would have to get Mum involved to get you two to talk again!”

“Same for me!”

Mum entered the kitchen again, a small smile on her lips. She made her way toward her, caressing my cheek and ruffling the boys’ hair before sitting in front of us. Any trace of joy had left her face; at this moment, the realization that she had never looked older hit me, hard.

“I know we’ll all be worried to death tomorrow,” she began, and her lower lip trembled, making her stop a second. “I know it, but I also know how you three will be. I just wanted to remind you that no matter how hard it’ll be, you’ll need to focus on getting home safe and sound. Okay?”

“Come on Mum, you know we’re always focused!”

_ _ _

“Y/N, you need to focus!”

Ron’s voice arrived in my ears like a distant echo, but the urgency in his tone made me look away from the spot in the sky where the green light had just disappeared. I didn’t know who it was, but my mind couldn’t stop imagining the worse even though I didn’t even know what exactly the worse would be. Fred, George, Dad, Bill, my heart was aching at the very thought of one of them even slightly hurt.

“Y/N!”

My instinct reacted for me, and my broom swerved violently to dodge the curse. Ron came closer to me and accelerated, making me understand I had to follow him.

“Ron!”

For a split second, I thought that he had been hit and was going to fall off his broom, but it was knowing very little about my little brother. Not only did he dodge and regain his balance, but also stupefied the Death Eater, the spell hitting him right between the eyes. I didn’t have enough time to say anything though, because an intense sensation of heat enveloped me. With horror, I realized my broom was burning, and the responsible was just behind us with four of his friends.

“Ron, leave!”

I barely registered him shaking his head and extending an arm toward me.

“Y/N, take my hand!”

I couldn’t though, because I was falling, fast. The sound of my scream was getting lost in the deafening noise of the wind in my ears. The floor was getting closer and closer, and my thoughts got confused, becoming nothing more than an ocean of regrets, the biggest of them being failing my brothers, my family. I wouldn’t get Ron home, I wouldn’t get to see Fred and George again, and Bill’s wedding, I wouldn’t be able to hug my parents and Ginny, to reconcile with Percy and to hear Charlie’s stories.

The vague thought that I still had a few seconds to live crossed my mind, and then I closed my eyes.

_ _ _

It wasn’t the soreness of my body that woke me up, or the flow of thoughts that was crossing my mind, but Ron’s rambling.

“Bloody hell,” he said, “what’s wrong with this family? No one is able to stay safe, crazy that we’re even still alive. ‘Ron, leave’? Seriously, Y/N? Come on I’m not a coward and certainly not a quitter, I thought you knew me better than that. You’re getting heavy though, I would love it if you-”

“That was mean.” I murmured.

All absorbed by his thoughts, Ron realized two seconds later I had spoken up and almost dropped me.

“Y/N! Glad to hear your voice! You scared me to death earlier, I barely caught you before it was too late but I broke my broom. That’s why,” he stopped before letting go of me and wrapping an arm around my waist as I faltered, “we’re walking to Muriel’s. I think we’re almost there- here, isn’t it this awful tea room she loves?”

“You mean the one George almost set on fire when we were four? You’re right, it’s just here.”

_ _ _

Saying that Muriel wasn’t pleased with us being late would be a massive understatement. The portkey disappeared just before our eyes, meaning that we would have to take another broom, and it obviously wasn’t going to happen without us receiving “the lecture Molly and Arthur should have given to all of you when still in the crib”. If usually it was hard to listen to Muriel rambling about our lack of education, at the moment it was definitely the most infuriating thing I had ever experienced. It was getting more and more on my nerves, and I would have exploded if Ron hadn’t decided he had had enough.

“Listen Aunt Muriel, we’ll finish this great conversation at the wedding okay? We have to go back home. Bye!” he added with a loud voice to cover Muriel’s protests.

We got out and snuck into one of the neighbour’s garden to grab a broom. It was old and not very well maintained - which made Ron groan, how could someone with a Firebolt leave it in the garden all night long? - and eventually flew back home.

I heard Ron mumbling something but the wind didn’t bring his voice to my ears, only vague sounds. I was behind him, tightening his waist as hard as I could as I didn’t trust my arms. They were shaking, as were my legs and pretty much all the rest of my body. I was trying to convince myself that it was because of my fall, but vicious images of Fred or George or anyone in my family being hurt kept creeping in my mind. It was a huge relief that the Burrow appeared in my sight, and as soon as our feet hit the ground, Ron let go of the broom to join Harry and Hermione, who were waiting in the garden, and I rushed to the door, oblivious to the voices calling for me.

I had never actually felt my heart stopping beating. Sometimes, it was very close calls, like the day McGonagall had told us Ginny had disappeared in the Chamber of Secrets, but the second I registered the dried blood and the hole…

“George!”

My voice was high pitched, my sight blurry and my legs trembling, and I didn’t even hear what was said after my entrance. In a breath, I had crossed the living-room and I was now hugging George as tight as I could. My arms didn’t stop moving, trying to get a better hold on his body to make sure he wouldn’t leave and get himself in danger more than he had already.

“George… Georgie you- you-”

“I’m okay Y/N, don’t worry. Don’t worry.” he added softly.

I looked up, not even realizing I was crying. Once I was sure George wouldn’t magically disappear in the next seconds, I let go of him to engulf Fred in an equally tight hug. His arms wrapped strongly around me, and after a few seconds I grabbed George’s sleeve and pulled him toward us.

I didn’t know if the living room had become silent or if I just wasn’t paying attention to anything that wasn’t Fred and George's breath. I could have stayed like that for years, making sure they were alive, they were okay and here with me, but they obviously decided otherwise. Fred pushed me gently backwards, and my eyes fell on him after having watched worriedly George’s weak movement to lie back on the couch.

“Where the hell were you? What happened to Ron and you? Y/N, do you even have an idea on how worried we were?”

“I- we were followed and- Ron, he saved my life. I was falling and-”

“Falling?”

Fred’s horrified look only left his face when Ron finally entered the living-room, followed by Harry, Hermione and Bill and Fleur, who had just arrived. I jumped on my feet and rushed to Bill and Ron, hugging them both tightly before being pulled out of the embrace by Mum, and then it became a blur because of all the hugs that succeeded one another.

Such sentimentalism was rare in our family, and it was in time like these that I regretted it the most.

_ _ _

Everyone had gone to bed for a while. Fred and I were sitting on the floor next to the couch, keeping an eye on George who was sleeping soundly. His pain had only seemed to fade away when he had closed his eyes, and he had gotten two hours of sleep so far.

“You should sleep,” I murmured when Fred yawned extensively.

“If you don’t sleep, I don’t sleep either.”

“And I’m the stubborn one?”

Fred chuckled.

“Guess that’s something we share.”

A moment of silence followed, the both of us watching George stirring weakly.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes…” whispered Fred. “When I saw him I just- I didn’t even freak out, it was so much more than that. So much worse.”

“It felt like I just died on the spot.” I added on the same tone, my voice so low George probably wouldn’t have heard it if he had been awake. “I’ve never felt that before and I- I would give everything to never feel it again.”

“I’ve never seen Dad like that before. It scared me, Y/N. I thought ‘If Dad loses his calm like that- it’s not good, right?’”

Fred wiped a tear from his cheeks and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“And then you weren’t coming back. For a second, I thought the both of you had left me and-”

“It’ll never happen Fred.” I interrupted him, my voice not really steadier than his. “Never. It’s the three of us, there’s no other way. Believe it or not, but you’re quite good to be around.”

“I’m flattered, Y/N.” Here it was, this smirk I liked to see, the one he, George and I used to have almost daily. “I could say the same for you, actually.”

“You know what? I think I’ll sleep. You should too, Freddie.”

“I will. Good night, insufferable little sister.”

“Barely little sister.” I mumbled before closing my eyes, comfortably snuggled against Fred, just next to George, in the warmth of our childhood home.

Safe.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #george weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george x reader #sibling reader #weasley reader #triplets

202 notes · View notes