#there’s war and hate and everything is expensive and I can’t.. I’m not a part of this world. I’m too poor and sickly and so it all seems…

[floral-hex]

Two hours. I got two hours of sleep. I’m so frustrated with myself.

Went to the ER. Everyone was very nice. They gave me an IV bag of fluids (I was dehydrated! Sad cactus!) and a little ativan (teeny dose), which was nice at the time! Just a little amount, but the (mostly) quiet room, fluids, and meds managed to relax me a lot. Could have fallen asleep if the bed was actually comfortable. Then they packed me up, gave me another little Ativan to take home for tonight, and said they’d contact my primary. Cool cool. Got some much needed food on the way home, then took the pill and got comfy. Again, smallest dosage they make, so no feeling too good. Managed to muscle past my anxiety to fall asleep, and… 2 hours. Woke up. Tried to go back to sleep. Too frustrated and anxious and I feel like crap. What should I do? Just eat a whole gummy and hope that knocks me out? For me, that feels like playing roulette. Could work, yeah. Could make me sleepy and pliable. Could also backfire and make me feel sick and extra anxious for another 5 or 6 hours. What do I do? Roll back up to the ER? “Hewwo, I woke up and I need more benzos 👉👈🥺” haha funny, but I’ve seriously been thinking about it 😑

God, I’m miserable. Been sitting outside on the porch for a bit. Not quite an hour. Needed to get out of the apartment, but tbh, nearly 4am outside isn’t doing much for me. I just feel alone. It wouldn’t help with sleeping, per se, but just someone, I dunno, hugging or holding me for a few minutes would honestly save me a little. What a mess. Oh yeah, and apparently my kidneys are going 👎👎👎 down. Bad meat. Not great test results. Not what I’m focusing on tonight. I’m a mess. Anyway, this was my update. Sorry for all the walls of text. Suppose this is mainly for me to look back on in the future, but can’t pretend it’s not at least a little validating to put this all out into the world and knowing that maybe one or two people read this and I didn’t suffer completely without recognition. Yeah…

[gay-dorito-dust]

This is so cute, please request part 2 of their newborn son, Peter B Parker visiting his best friend shyreader at the hospital, he gives her son a couple onesies like spider man theme or one that’s says “mommy boy”. I can’t stop thinking about Peter being the godfather of her son ♥️💙 https://www.tumblr.com/gay-dorito-dust/721470690012839936/i-thought-this-is-cute-but-please-request-like

A/n: Godfather Peter B Parker is in the house! I love this idea! I also added Peter being asked in being the godfather just cuz. Miguel might be ooc.

Peter came to the hospital as soon as Miguel caught wind that you were going into to labour, so it wouldn’t be of any surprise that along the way Peter had to calm down Miguel before entering the hospital because his claws were coming out and retreating constantly, his breathing was way off and just overall allowing his mind wander to less then pleasant thoughts in regards to your future together, and the dangers it’ll put you both in.

Peter somewhat understood the position Miguel was in as it was the same one he was in when MJ went into labour with Mayday. He didn’t believe he’d be a good father, hell he didn’t even know where to start in learning how to be a good parent for his unborn kid, but he was lucky to have someone like MJ to help him unpack and deconstruct every notion he had when it came to parenthood.

So he only wanted to pay that kindness forward by helping Miguel unpack and deconstruct everything because the moment he steps foot into that room, he’ll be needing to bring everything to the table because you’ll be needing him now more then ever, during quite literally the most important moment of your lives.

‘What if I forget about her?’ Miguel asked in a panic, his claws out in full display as his scarlet eyes shone with a multitude of emotions behind his specially designed glasses that helped him against combat his light sensitivity.

‘You won’t.’ Peter told him. ‘She’ll always be with you during every step of the way. Even if you may not realise it but Gabriella has always been with you…it’s impossible to forget your first child but that shouldn’t mean that your child with y/n should take her place within your heart nor play second fiddle to her.’ Peter hated seeing his friend look so lost and at war with himself because it went against everything he knew about Miguel. However Peter knew that his friend needed him and even if he tried to bite his head off for it, Peter knew he’d always be there for a friend in need.

‘What if I’m not ready to go through all this again? What if I’m not ready to loose them both, to loose everything again because I couldn’t protect them?’ Miguel asked, looking over at Peter for guidance. ‘Then what’ll I do?’ Peter squared up his jaw and furrowed his brows as he reached a hand out to grab ahold of Miguel’s shoulder, feeling him flinch beneath his touch.

‘Then you cherish them until you can’t.’ Peter told him. ‘You cherish them, you love them, you nurture them, you do everything in your power, not only as y/n’s partner but as a soon to be father and you do what we Spider-Men do best; protect those that we love until the bitter end.’

Needless to say after that, Miguel understood why Peter was so revered, not just as Spider-Man but as Peter Parker also. Yeah he may crack jokes to his expenses and take to things not as seriously as he probably should, but at the end of the day Peter always proved himself as to why he was such a guiding source for those who’ve gotten lost along the way; For he himself was lost once too and just wanted to be the person he wished he had to guide him during those moments of crisis, loss and grief.

Skipping ahead to when Gabriel is born and bursting with excitement, Peter bought a shit ton of baby onesies and even bought a matching crocheted Spider-Man hat that was closely matching the colours on Miguel’s suit for when he was older. Most of all he was excited that Mayday wasn’t going to be the only Spiderling anymore, his mind having gone rampant with all the play date ideas your son and his daughter would go on. He just so happy but upon arrival, the question you and Miguel ask of him made him all the more happier.

‘Peter, will you be Gabriel’s godfather?’ You asked, watching as his grin stretched from ear to ear.

‘Me? A godfather? What does Miguel think about this?’ He asked.

‘I was the one who pitched the idea,’ Miguel told him, still holding little Gabriel in his arms as he slept. ‘Y/n was merely the seal of approval.’ You shoot Miguel a look before looking back to your best friend, who was seemingly having a hard time comprehending that it was Miguel who wanted him as the Godfather of his son from how the gobsmacked looked upon his face.

‘So…will you be Gabriel’s godfather?’ You asked and with happy tears in his eyes, Peter took both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as he whispered his answer: ‘yes.’

‘I almost forgot, I brought Gabriel a little something.’ Peter said as he pulled away to reach for the bag he had brought and began to pull out onesie, after onesie, after onesie that you couldn’t help but think that Peter was more prepared and well equipped for Gabriel then you and Miguel. ‘You bought Gabriel baby onesies?’ You inquired playfully as you lifted one that read ‘mommy’s boy’ before putting it down to pick up at another that had the blue and red colour scheme of a Spidey suit, followed with the spider insignia on the front and back.

‘Not only that but also,’ Peter dug further into the bag and pulled out the crocheted Spider-Man hat, ‘ a Spider-Man hat?’ You asked, taking a closer look at it. Peter shrugs as he leans back into his chair. ‘This is only for when he gets bigger, as if we put this on him now it might as well cover up his entire body.’

Before Miguel could say anything, you gently nudged him in the side and smiled at your friend, ‘thank you Peter, I’ll be sure to put all of them into use, especially this one.’ You gestured to the onesie that said ‘mommy’s boy.’

Sooner or later Peter’s phone wasn’t only just dedicated to his daughter Mayday but it was also dedicated to Gabriel O’hara; his godson.

[catindabag]

TBOSAS AU ✨CRACK! TAKE✨: The 10th HG Mentors According to Drunk Dean Highbottom. (Part 2)

⭐️❄️⭐️

I advise you, my fellow friends to read part one for context, but here are all the parts anyway: [1] [3] [4]

⭐️MENTORS⭐️

Clam Asia Dove Goat (Clemensia Dovecote)

Very kind, but sometimes rude to me.☹️

Takes note on everything and everyone.

Is the true popular likable girl.

Might be allergic to reptiles and peanut butter.

Is deathly afraid of frogs and spiders.

Hates the snakey snakeys.

Once stole Dr. Gaul’s pet rabbit mutt for “research” purposes.

Gave me free peppermint ice cream for my birthday.🥹

Your family is the only normal and decent family that I have met so far.

Can you ask your father to lower my electricity bills?🥺

Humble, but will punch you if threatened.

Who lied and told you that your skincare routine was superior to mine?

My skincare routine is THE BEST!😤

Will forgive anyone for a cheese tart.

Directly reports to Capitol News if something “bad” happened at school.

Tried to defame me for treating a certain student “unfairly,” just because they were poor AF.🙄

Might give her a demerit for that stunt later.

Threatened to report me for being drunk while giving a lecture, or whatever that mean.😪

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by actually planning a good strategy.

Per Symphony Prize (Persephone Price)

Willingly ate that “maid stew.”

Is maybe a secret cannibal.

Is on her “Unhinged Girl” era.

Might eat anyone anything if hungry.

Has no food preference.

Is currently dating the Dumpster Diver.

Why are you even dating that loser?🤨

Likes to scare people on the holidays.

Your father is crazy AF.

By the way, your meat(?) pies were delicious. 10 out of 10, will want to eat again.

Your family runs the railroad industry, but your food delivery services are slow AF.

I might give you a demerit for that stupid reason alone.

Is passive-aggressive towards me.☹️

Is quite skilled with a knife.

Home economics and cooking are not your forte.

Likes to troll the freshmen.

The only student who will survive a famine.

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by unspeakable means.🤢

Turban Can Bill (Urban Canville)

Is highly intelligent, but socially stupid.

Perfected freaking calculus for goodness sake!

King of the math freaks.

A super nerd of nerds.

You still failed to avoid hanging out with a bunch of idiots in your class.

Your family only got filthy rich by successfully hacking one of Mama Cardew’s bank accounts.

I know that you intentionally broke my very expensive vase last semester, just because I gave you a 98 on a stupid essay.

You need therapy!

Knows how to professionally hack the school computers.

Stop changing your stupid classmates’ grades!!😡🔪

I knew that you were the one who freaking blocked me from accessing the school Wi-Fi as a joke.

I might use you for a secret cyber crime scheme later.

Thinks he’s too cool for school.

Has a short temper. Like, really short.

I can’t believe that your anger issues helped you become a top performing student.😩

Why the heck did you call the National Security when you lost your f*ckin’ calculator?!

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by being too pissed off and too angry to die.

Liver Cardew? Libya Adieu? (Livia Cardew)

Her mama will kill you for a dollar.

Super rich AF.🙄

Haven’t you heard? Her mama runs the largest bank in all of Panem.

Your family is literally the IRS.

Can destroy the economy if you offend her.

Loves anything pink and sparkly.

Is very mean to everyone, especially to me.

It’s really unfair that your car sparkles under the sun.

Why are you bullying a certain student for being a war orphan?!😠

I’m the only one who is allowed to bully that war orphan!!😤

Willing to skip school to shop and gossip.

Cannot and will not be blackmailed.

Spoiled AF, but everyone already knows that.🙄💅

Politically untouchable.

Stop taxing me for being drunk all the time!

I know your family can and will personally send anyone to the poorer Districts for unpaid taxes.

Will assassinate anyone if they wear the same dress as her at the same event.

Yes, I know. Your scary mama will burn Panem to the ground if you were ever reaped as a Tribute for the Hunger Games.

I Owe Casper (Io Jasper)

Super smart, but painfully awkward.

Likes biology and chemistry a lot.

May unlock the secrets of love and the universe.

You almost shut down my school by “accidentally” flooding the hallways with freaking chlorine!!

Stole my dog and dyed it f*ckin’ lime green for some reason.😠🔪

Another certified nerd of danger.

You should consider dating Mr. Anger Issues.

Your family only got rich when they discovered the method of levitating jets and hovercrafts.

Your mommy is an unhinged scientist who works under an insane woman!

Will dissect anyone if given the chance.

May have created a mutt on accident.

You do know that Dr. Gaul hates you for stealing her cute feral squirrel mutt last semester.

Can sneak and kill anyone with a scalpel.

You are an insufferable know-it-all.

High IQ, low EQ.

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by polluting the Arena with deadly chemicals.

Florist Friend? Flower Friend? (Florus Friend)

Your name makes sense because your parents are the friendliest landscape designers that I’ve ever met.

Does not like outdoor activities for some reason.

Stole bleach for hair reasons.

Wants to become a lawyer, but does not even follow my rules.😩

Is secretly a proud delinquent.

Locked me once in a broom closet!😡

Might break the law for a free gallon of hair conditioner.

Why are you only friendly to kittens baby cats?

Loves to change and dye his hair to match the trends of the season.

Hates rainy days and gloomy nights.

Your parents must be so disappointed when you told them that you hate gardening.

You do know your family only became rich by being the largest landscaping company in all of Panem.

Almost died from eating a moldy cheesy roll. To be fair, it was your fault.

By the way, your mama wants me to pay for your ambulance fee.☹️

Is sadly allergic to dogs.

Is deathly afraid of eating expired food after that last incident.

Will NEVER win the Hunger Games. How could he? This kid is freaking allergic to rain!

[hyperfixationmess123]

Ok so this is a short Lucifer, Supernatural and Good Omens crossover I wrote. 

Should I make this into a whole fic and post on ao3? 

------

They did it. Armageddon didn’t happen. Adam stopped it. 

A loud crack sounded from behind them. 

“No. This can’t be right. I swear I threw her into an empty universe.” a tall, dark haired brit said.

“Lucifer! Slow down!” a woman called after him.

The brit in the expensive suit didn’t listen to her.

“Lucifer!” she yelled. 

“I’m just going to ask them something, relax.” he called as he turned around and walked backwards, still heading to the group.

The woman suddenly disappeared and reappeared a few feet in front of him as he turned back around. 

“I’m just saying we should be careful. I mean, you’re you, a lot of universes are very wary and untrusting of you.” 

“As they should be. I’m the devil after all.” 

“Yeah, but you’re still a lot nicer than most versions of you.”

“Lucifer?” came a confused voice. 

“Indeed. I need to speak to your god. It’s urgent.” he said with that signature smile.

“I can feel mom's presence here. She created this world.”

“Eden. That’s impossible. She could create, but she wasn’t strong enough to create all this.”

“I’m the First Creation you little shit. I was the first thing she and dad created. I’ve known her for billions of years longer than you have, I know her presence and this is it. All this is hers.”

“Hey. You’re an angel. Go upstairs and tell your god it's urgent and that we need to meet with her.”

“I’m not just an angel. I’m Gabriel, and I’m not taking orders from you.”

The two looked at him with a slightly disgusted look.

“You’re Gabriel?” Lucifer judged.

“Suddenly I’m glad our Gabriel is how he is. Damn, you look like you have a whole tree up your ass. Relax dude.” Eden spoke.

“Lucifer? Eden?” a voice boomed. It was her. A ray of light shone brightly and a woman stepped out.

“Mom.” Eden smiled at the familiar face. “Still hanging on to Charlotte's face I see.”

“What can I say? She was a stunning lady.” she smiled. “Now what are you two doing here? I never thought I’d see you two again.”

“Dad’s destroying the multiverse.”

“What.”

“He’s wiping the slate clean. Everything he’s created that still exists is being destroyed.”

“He didn’t create this world. I did.”

“He created the empty universe we threw you into. You just created everything inside it.”

“He has no right to destroy my masterpiece!”

“Oh I think I do.” a new voice came.

“You.” 

“Honey, I’m home.”

“What on earth has gotten into you?”

“I grew bored. I’m going to start a new project, I just need to wipe the slate clean first.”

“Just because you’re angry that two random people managed to get free of your narrative doesn’t mean that you have to erase every single universe.”

“I made a mistake giving humans free will.”

“Hey Chuck!” another voice came. The new arrivals were a blond, young man and two taller older men.

“You really are a pain in the ass aren’t you?”

“It’s what we are best at apparently. Why don’t you take a hit at us before you un-create us. It’s us you hate.” the shortest to the two older men tempted.

“You know. That’s a good idea.” Chuck said and then started throwing punches at them. 

Eden gasped. “That’s brilliant.”

“What?” Charlotte asked.

“Look at Jack.” Said boy's eyes were glowing gold as he absorbed the godly energy Chuck released as he beat the brothers to a pulp. 

“Who is that boy?” 

“My son apparently. My monster was released from its cage and impregnated some poor woman. Since the monster has a part of my grace, the boy is technically mine.”

“How old is he?”

“Three.”

“A three year old nephilim is going to be your new god? Are you crazy?”

“I’ll guide him, and take over if he wishes to be with his family, after we fix what’s left of heaven. There’s been a civil war for the last five years. There are only seven angels left in the whole of heaven.”

“What? Where was he?”

“Gone. He has been missing for millions of years. He only decided to show up again because we released The Darkness.”

“Amara is free? Why hasn’t she destroyed everything?”

“She tried, but then they made up for a while, and then she moved on, decided to take a vacation and enjoy what humanity has to offer. He became jealous and angry.”

They watched as Chuck turned to face the young nephilim. He looked him straight in the eyes as he snapped his fingers. His dark expression turned into terror as nothing happened as he tried again and again. The glowing eyes of the boy suddenly looked terrifying. The boy grabbed Chuck’s head and absorbed the rest of his powers.

“Nephilims are powerful, but not this powerful. How is he able to do this?”

“He died, but we managed to rip him out of The Empty, not without consequence though.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jack.” Lucifer smiled softly.

“You seem changed Luci. You’re not hateful and angry anymore.”

“I know. I met someone. She changed me, and helped me find my purpose again.”

“Oh really?”

“A detective. His detective as he keeps saying.”

“I realized that I’m going to help souls move on. I’m not going to torture souls anymore. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Wow! You really have changed. I’m so happy for you.”

The two bloody, beaten up brothers limped over to them.

“Hey. Let me.” Eden spoke and touched their foreheads, healing them.

“Thanks.” Sam smiled. “Hey Charlotte.”

“Hello boys.”

“What are we doing with him?” Dean asked, nodding towards the whimpering Chuck on the ground.

“I’ll have him here. Out of your way and out of your universe. It’s clear you have a lot of rebuilding to do. The last thing you need to be concerned about is him.”

“Almighty?” a shy voice questioned. Charlotte turned around.

“Aziraphale.” she smiled.

“Are-” he swallowed thickly. “Are you angry?”

“Angry?”

“That we stopped Armageddon?”

“No, not at all. I’m proud. Armageddon was a test. A test to see if you would blindly follow orders or question it. Armageddon was never going to happen. The world is perfect as it is, or, well, almost perfect. But I’m not about to destroy the planet to end a feud that probably isn’t going to end anyway. Now that the great test has passed, I’ll be around more. You’re my children after all, I shouldn’t leave you alone.” 

[bvidzsoo]

Ahhh, I finally get to answer this, sorry for being MIA, I wasn’t in the right headspace to answer any feedback lately 😭🩷 but you always know how to cheer me up and keep my motivated, Mina, like I’m grinning so hard reading all of this!

Ahh where do I even start? Honestly, I didn’t even consider making San a tribute/victor despite him totally giving District 2 vibes (which is tickling a part of my brain that should be silent because I can’t write another HG themed oneshot for San, okay?!) but when I saw the DC photos, honestly, him as a stylist instantly clicked in my brain, he looks so expensive ahhh, anyways.

Honestly, the Hunger Games themselves are already horrible and atrocious, but the real games only start once you’ve become a victor because now you’re under 24/7 surveillance done by Snow (<3 LMAO) so shit hits the fan. I’m glad I managed to portray their emotions and struggles well, because I really wanted people to see how troubled MC was after everything. And even if San was a significant person for Panem, especially the Capitol, he’s still too small to do anything against Snow (who I know you hate, but I have a love-hate relationship with that man which you already know LMAO).

I also LIVE for soft men and honestly…if anyone ever dedicates a whole ass collection for me I’m deadass marrying them on the spot, like. Also, tmi but that little detail wasn’t planned for the plot, it just came on the moment while I was writing it lmao. And, well, you certainly will see a LOT of Finnick, Mingi, and Yunho in our beloved golden retriever’s part, and well, Mina, don’t hate me but I don’t think it has a very happy ending (spoiler?) 😃✌🏻but to gaslight you, in my head MC and San reach District 13 and they live happily ever after (at least until the whole war happens lol).

Thank uuu for always admiring my moodboards, I always enjoy doing those the most and try to capture the essence of my stories! So I’m happy someone pays attention to those too!🩷 u and Orsi always do, at least ^^

I hope you’ll enjoy Yuyu’s part next, and well, you can throw (paper) rocks at me afterwards 🫶🏻✌🏻

Your worst mistake...

ᨒ District 4 ✧ one of Panem's wealthiest districts, plays an essential role in bringing the bounty of the sea, victors: Mags Flanagan, Annie Cresta, Finnick Odair

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: stylist!Choi San x victor!female reader

ᨒ Warning: gore, descriptions of murder, beheading (sort of, mostly implied), violence, blood, weapon use, injuries, ptsd, slightly suggestive, co-dependency, probably unhealthy attachments, slight weight shaming (don't do that!) ᨒ Word count: 25.7k ᨒ Rating: mature, nc-17 ᨒ Genre: Hunger Games!au; forbidden love!au, set before Katniss and Peeta became victors ᨒ Summary: Your innocence was stripped the day you were reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games. The life you had known, and the joy of living well were all just forgotten aspirations. The Games were cruel and terrifying, and they changed anyone who emerged as a victor, who took the crown and returned to the living. And was all that pain, terror, and haunting memories worth it? Was it worth living a life as a monster? Perhaps, yes, it was, if a man was determined enough to show you what tenderness and love meant, that to him you had never changed. But that man was Choi San, a stylist from the Capitol, another gem adored by the masses, so, could he really love you?

A/N: And.it's.here! Hello, my lovelies, happy weekend, I hope you can unwind with this little story. ^^ It's a happy end, that I can promise (or is it haha, jk don't worry). This became so long that I thought it would never end, it really tried to kick my ass. You don't exactly have to read Mingi's part first, but I'm just letting you know it exists and it happens before whatever goes down in this story, some new dynamics are introduced through this story that you don't get to see in his :)). Let me know if I have to add anything else into the warnings and pls take them seriously, our MC is a victor and there are sequences where she's in the games, so yes, there's murder and blood and stuff, although I don't think I made them too descriptive, stay mindful still. Also! The MC is eighteen and San in his early twenties, just wanted to clear that up. I hope you enjoy and lmk what you thought, I love hearing your thoughts! I can't wait to write Yunho's part, that one is going to be a handful omg hihi divider

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was cold, the surface beneath sturdy and slippery almost, my body pressing heavily into it. Nothing made sense, I couldn’t open my eyes, I couldn’t call out for help, and it felt like I was endlessly falling into the void. My lips parted but apart from a pained whine nothing managed to come past, vocal cords heavy and aching from the lack of hydration, from having screamed too loud and too much. It was hard to breathe, something was pressing down against my chest, heavy and cold to the point my heart started pumping blood faster, my eyelids fighting against my brain as I tried to open them.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

The burn in my left calf was excruciating, I tried to hold onto something, fingers flexing, trying to reach for anything to no avail. My head was thumping painfully and my nostrils stung from the sanitised air I was breathing in, mouth parting when a violent cough shook my body, forcing me to turn onto my right side. Feeling nothing underneath me all of a sudden, my eyes flew open with a loud gasp, fingers curling around the edge of the surface I was lying on. Cold, hard, metallic tables were all around me, the white lights blinding as they made my head ache more violently.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

Another harsh cough shook my body and I started trembling as I realized just how cold I was, the gown I was wearing was thin and almost sheer, making me whip my head around to search for clues as to where I could be at the moment. I could have sworn I was in the Arena just seconds before, dirty ground shaking underneath my feet as I tumbled to my knees, an arrow slicing my calf open as my arms burned as I mustered up my last power and threw the axe ahead. There was a sickening crack, but I couldn’t see as my vision was darkening, my body begging for a good rest. Perhaps it was finally over, perhaps the suffering would be gone if I let go now.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

But I realized I wasn’t in the Arena anymore as my right arm burned where different IV drips entered it, liquid entering my body and making me shudder as the sight of the tubes made me feel sick to my stomach. My chapped lips hurt as I tried to lick them, trying to sit up and call out for help, but my head was too dizzy and my body complained at every minuscule move as I rolled onto my back, whining again as pain surged throughout my whole body. I couldn’t breathe for a second, lungs heaving for air as another violent cough tore through my throat, making my eyes widen when I felt liquid trail down the side of my face.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

My fingertips were red when I lowered them, my skin covered in goosebumps as my eyes fixated on the white ceiling. Was this what others called Heaven? Was I dead, or perhaps tethering on the line between life and death? This year was my last entry to the Hunger Games, I shouldn’t have been reaped, but that’s not how these games worked. I gulped, eyes filling with tears when I realized I would be the Capitol’s slave now if I survived this last trial, wired up to machines in a white place that made my body shake and call out for a name that only brought more pain than protection. San.

“The winner of the 73rd Hunger Games is the female tribute from District 4. Congratulations, Miss Kwon, your journey was long and strenuous, you may rest now.” I tried to fight it, to tell them to let me go, to let me succumb to nothingness, but the pounding in my head worsened and the lights only became brighter, all force and will leaving my body as I lay limply on top of the metallic table. A weak attempt at a cry for help left my lips as my eyes succumbed to the haze coating my mind, kidnapping any thought and free will.

I was nothing but a pawn in a greater game.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

I was back home, in District 4. The ocean was by my feet as I blinked my eyes open, confused and disoriented as I looked out towards the never-ending water, lips trembling when I realized I was home. I inhaled shakily as I crouched down, fingers reaching out for the oncoming wave. The water was cold and soaked the ends of my white dress, my feet sunk into the wet sand now, steady but nerves shaky as I raised my wet hand to my nose and lips. I was home. The water was still as salty as ever and it smelled of home. My heart lurched as I shakily stood again, gripping my dress tightly as I stepped towards the water, wondering whether the waves would engulf my whole being and turn me into foam, returning me to where I had come from.

My eyes stung the longer I stared out towards the horizon, the sun hidden behind white clouds. The beach was eerily empty apart from myself and the seagulls, and I took a shaky breath when the bell of a fishing boat chimed out in the distance. My heart felt less heavy, less afraid of a future that promised certain death. I was home and I was free, I was myself again, I could pick up where I had left off, and I could live the life I always wished for. I could get inside my father’s fishing boat and go out onto the water with him, I could collect pearls and braid pretty bracelets and sell them at the day market, I could roam the busy streets again and I could see my loved ones, hug them and tell them how much I had missed them.

But I had learned that our lives were never predictable, no matter how much we planned and how much we thought ahead, something—or someone—always managed to stir it up, it would always find ways to disturb the mundane and change your whole perception of an ever-changing future. I didn’t hear him, the waves were loud and downed out all sounds beside my breaths, and I gasped when I felt strong arms circle around my waist, pull me back into a strong chest, cold nose buried in my neck as hot breath fanned over my skin. I froze for a second, scared and uncertain, wondering who would hold me so dearly, so lovingly, so tenderly despite the power he held in his hands. And then it clicked, his honey-like cologne mingling with the salty air of the ocean, I knew it was him. It was San.

Muscles tensing and body freezing, my eyes widened as my mind didn’t know whether it wanted to turn around and hide against him, or push him away and run as far away as possible. In the end, the longing and burning want had won the battle as I grabbed his warm arms, exposed as he wore a sleeveless tank top, and I turned in his loving hold, facing him. His tan skin seemed to come alive under the evening light of the tired sun, and his face remained void of worry or fear as a single dimple appeared on his cheek when his lips pulled to the side. His naturally sharp and small eyes became even smaller as they creased with his smile, turning into nothing but friendly and loving slits as San hugged me closer to himself.

“I have missed you,” His deep voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, soft and careful as his expression didn’t falter, “You returned to me.”

I gulped, hands shaking as I wondered whether this was a dream, San’s presence was too strong for it to be something made up by my mind. I had never held him like this before, it would’ve been impossible to dream of a man that was never mine to begin with, “San.”

“Yes, my love—”

“San.” It seemed like I couldn’t say anything else, hands raising as I gripped the collar of his tank top tightly, yanking him down as my eyes ran over his features, looking for any tale-tell sign that he wasn’t real. But he was here, he was holding me, he was smiling at me, and his eyes held kindness as he raised his hand, cupping my cheek as his thumb swept over my bottom lip once, then twice.

“I’m here, my love, forever here.” And unable to hold back anymore, I grabbed him by the nape and pulled him down, pressing his red lips against mine, hungry to claim what should have been mine from the beginning. It felt like anything I had previously experienced, his lips were warm and they seemed to sit perfectly against mine, careful but eager to explore my own lips as if he were a starved man. I gasped as I felt San pull me against his body, tilting my head back for better access, our lips parting as we took a second to gasp into each other’s mouths. It felt freeing, it felt safe to be held like this by him, to be loved and to know you had someone waiting for you, someone you could return to no matter how much life had changed you.

“Don’t leave me, please.” I managed to whisper when our lips parted for another breather, close enough to brush together when one of us spoke. San hummed, running his fingers through my short hair, a motion that was calming and assuring that he was here with me and for me. He smiled again and nodded once, nuzzling his nose against mine as I finally felt the tension ease from my muscles, letting me enjoy my freedom. I would never have to return to the Arena or the Capitol, Snow couldn’t do anything to me now. But as if my words were heard by some deity, or President Snow itself, the sky darkened unnaturally fast, waves high as they crashed against the shore, forcing San and I to move away, closer to the rocks and the pathway that led down to the beach. My eyes furrowed as I faced the ocean, the sky menacing as lightning struck in the distance, and I turned my head to look at San when I felt him release me.

His expression was one of ease, as if nothing bothered him, as if the weather seemed normal to him. He chuckled as his eyes settled on the horizon, “There’s something soothing about a storm, don’t you think?”

Storms out on the ocean were terrifying, but I couldn’t find my words as the wind tousled his dark hair, his white clothes clinging to his sturdy body as I tried to hold the skirt of my dress down. It was cold, I could see my breath and that was unnatural too, but I couldn’t peel my eyes off San, enraptured by the vision of him in the eye of a storm. He didn’t look out of place here, by my side, in District 4. His beauty might have been over the top, but with all the makeup gone, he looked like he could belong here, with the people of the district. Cheeks warming at the thought, I opened my mouth to answer his question, but two things happened at once. Thunder cracked loudly, making me flinch as it shook the ground and made my ears ring even after it was over, and San’s eyes suddenly steeled, arm reaching out as he aggressively pushed me back.

My eyes widened in confusion as I watched his stance become defensive, small eyes turning dangerous as he sneered, the cross necklace hanging between his pecks just a show since people like him believed in no gods, they were the gods, “San?”

But when his mouth opened, lips curling into words, no sound came out, just a loud gasp and small eyes turning so wide they could’ve popped. Confused for a few more seconds, I yelped when something warm sprayed onto me, dripping down the side of my face as it covered my hair, face, and even dress, slowly dripping down. Half of an axe stuck out from the back of San’s head, lodged in perfectly to kill him not quite instantly but certainly painfully. Something gurgled left his mouth, something I couldn’t understand as his body shook, eyes becoming hazy when he fell to one knee. My body shook as I stood frozen in shock, our white clothes coated in San’s hot red blood, dripping and tainting our hands. I couldn’t do anything as I watched his limbs grow heavy, his skin turn sickly pale until nothing was left of the man, just a lifeless body which was now crumbled into the sand, seeping red everywhere around us.

I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t even see anymore as the metallic scent of blood invaded my senses, making me gag before I could stop myself, throat tight as bile rose higher and higher. No, who had done this? Who wanted to strip me of my last thread of happiness? I couldn’t lose him, not San. And before I knew it, a scream so loud it ruptured my vocal cords tore through my throat, blood pooling in my mouth until I couldn’t breathe and feel anymore. Not San too, what did they want from me? I yelped as I felt cold knuckles pressing against my hot cheeks, chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to push at the hands, body shaking and mind reeling.

“It’s alright, hey,” The feminine voice was gentle, but I couldn’t calm down, where was I, “Y/N, it was just a bad dream, it’s alright, I’m here now.”

I didn’t understand. What was a bad dream? Where was San? Where was I? What’s happened to me? What’s happened to everyone?

“Focus on my voice,” The feminine voice spoke up again as finally the darkness was replaced with a faint golden glow, forcing my eyes to adjust to the light and my surroundings, “You’re back in the Capitol, in your room at the training centre, you’re safe. It’s me, your mentor, Joohyun.”

Joohyun, yes, I knew her. I shoot up in a sitting position, gripping her hands frantically as my mind felt scrambled, all over the place while I still couldn’t quite breathe, “Where—what happened? Why am I—San?”

My mentor just sighed and beckoned me over, pressing my head against her chest despite my reluctance, “You won the Games, Y/N, you’re the new victor of District 4. It’s going to be okay, I promise, I’ll be there for you and so will be everyone else who knows what it means to win the Games.”

“But San?” I asked in a whisper as I finally relaxed against Joohyun, letting her cradle me against her chest as if I were a baby who needed soothing.

“San is…here.” Joohyun spoke calmly but her tone was strained, “You’ll see him tomorrow, you need to rest now, Y/N.”

I hummed, mind filled with the image of San’s lifeless body lying at my feet. It made my lungs constrict and I gripped at the sheets, trying to prevent a panic attack as Joohyun sighed, gently pushing me back by the shoulders, “You should have some water first.”

I nodded and took it from her wordlessly, downing the cup of water as my throat felt parched, my eyes burning from how dry they were. Joohyun watched me wordlessly as I fiddled with the cup in my hands, breaths regulated but my mind still wasn’t present, lost in the vividity of the bad dream.

“I know you won’t be able to sleep, but you must try.” Joohyun spoke up when she realized I wouldn’t say anything to her, she looked tired, older than she was, as if the Games had worn her out too, “It might feel suffocating at times, but you’re not alone in this, so don’t be afraid to reach out. Your interview, it’s…tomorrow, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stall it, President Snow wants you up and running for the public as soon as possible. You gave everyone quite the scare when you passed out, the Capitol thought they wouldn’t have a victor to celebrate this year.”

“Maybe it would have been better like that.” I found myself muttering as I looked down at the cup in my hands. Joohyun gulped, looking towards the huge windows that had been darkened so the city lights wouldn’t bother me. I missed the ocean, I wanted to go home. With sadness ridden in her eyes, Joohyun leaned forward and took the cup from my hands, patting them gently before she stood.

“I’m glad you returned.” She said quietly, eyes avoiding mine when she looked up, “The real Games start only now, Y/N.”

I didn’t know what her answer meant, but I didn’t want to find out as my mind screamed for me to sleep, my muscles protesting when I reached out for the remote control to change the blackness of the window into one of the ocean that resembled District 4 rather accurately. Alone in a room that bore only unpleasant memories, a reminder of the life I was stripped of, I lay on my side, facing the sparkling blue water foaming at the top as the waves crashed, and I couldn’t help but hum to myself a lullaby that only the sailors of District 4 knew.

            I wasn’t ready. My heart thundered in my chest as my makeup artists fluttered around me, making sure everything was perfect, eyeshadow staying in place as my skin felt like melting off by how much product had been put on it. I stayed silent and parted my lips when Mingyu, an intimidatingly tall man, leaned down to tap a red-coated thin brush against my lips, coating them in a sickening red as I watched myself through the mirror. It reminded me of all the blood I had to spill in the Arena, of my own blood that seemed to constantly cling to my body, the smell reminding me of the monster I had become. I flinched when Hinata’s hand patted my bare shoulder encouragingly, a small tiara now placed on top of my head, nestled into the unnatural bun she and her assistant, an Avox, managed to somehow pull together despite the short length of my hair.

I felt cold despite the warm temperature of the room and my throat seemed to constrict each time I tried to respond to the people surrounding me, who were genuinely happy to have me back. I hadn’t had the chance to grow close with them as we only had a few days to prepare for the Games, but I appreciated the effort they put into making me look presentable. After all, their job mattered a lot since they had to make me look desirable to the public, for the Capitol. And still, as the white fabric clung to my body tightly, a net-like brown fabric draping down from my hips well below where the skirt of my dress ended, I was reminded of my stylist’s gentle touch anytime he had to dress me. Today he wasn’t here to help out, to soothe my nerves with quiet words and a sharp gaze that was filled with regret but also admiration. The desperate need to see San was maddening as Joohyun stormed inside the dressing room, her eyes slightly wide as she was panting. She wore an elegant white suit, matching her petite form well.

“Is she ready?” She addressed the team still fussing around me, Mingyu, now frowning as he added more blush to my cheeks, spoke up.

“Last minute touch-ups, Flickerman can wait another few minutes.”

“But I’m afraid President Snow can’t.” Joohyun’s voice dropped as Mingyu stiffened, looking over my head at Hinata, who looked just as displeased as her teammate.

“Fine, but I still need to clip the pearls—”

“I’ll do it.” The room fell silent as I stiffened in my seat, eyes widening just a little bit as the man that’s been haunting my every thought since I had met him appeared in the doorway. I gulped, watching Joohyun’s expression settle into unease as she nodded towards the door, Mingyu and Hinata stepping away from me as they understood Joohyun’s implication, “Leave us alone.”

“Don’t take too long, San.” Joohyun’s voice held a warning and I gripped the edge of the seat harshly, long fake nails sinking into the leather. Hinata offered San a smile as she handed over the pearls to him as she passed by him and it felt like all air left the room when the door closed behind San and only the two of us remained inside. I gulped, eyes boring into his through the mirror, and I couldn’t help but let the harsh words tumble past my red-stained lips.

“I hate you.” A beat of silence passed as I stood, still watching San through the mirror, taken aback by his beauty and elegance in the white suit he wore, highlighting his sharp features and tan complex. His blazer was low cut and placed everything the Capitol found desirable on display, his pants long enough to obscure his shoes, and his coat was long too as it hid his large build fairly well. My breath caught in my throat when San took a tentative step further inside the room, grip tightening around the pearls.

“I know.” And as always, his tone was soft and his face was ridden with guilt and worry, and I couldn’t hold back anymore as my mind screamed at me to move towards him, to touch him, to feel him. It was maddening how much I yearned for the stylist, for a man who was from the Capitol, for the first person who had faith in me and encouraged me to never give up, even when the odds seemed to be against my favour. I gulped, licking my lips as I came face to face with him and the need to hold him was strong enough to make me cup his cheeks, watching as his eyes fluttered closed. He exhaled loudly, jaw clenching when I stepped closer, and before he could open his eyes and I would get lost in their depth and warmth, I pressed my lips against his hungrily. I hadn’t given in previously to the want, I feared that if I did so, I would be a dead woman the second the canon went off in the Arena. And I hated myself because I was ridden with regret the whole time, thinking back on what we could’ve had in the few days that I had before the Games. And I hated myself even more for wanting to return because of him, because of San, to hold him and be held, to kiss him and be kissed, to be his if he wanted me too.

His lips felt warm, a little wet as I couldn’t control myself and sped up the kiss, our lips smacking together loudly as San finally touched me, gripping my hip harshly as he yanked my body into his. It felt unreal to be so close to him, to feel his body warmth and to smell his expensive and sweet cologne, to inhale the air he exhaled. His lips were just as eager as mine, parting in invitation and moulding perfectly against mine when I considered pulling back, remembering Joohyun’s words, but San chased after my lips like a starved man, a whine leaving his mouth when I finally caved in and let my tongue press against his tentatively. Something fell to the floor and then I felt San’s other hand hold onto my nape as his tongue lapped at mine, pushing and pulling, exploring my mouth as he held onto me like he was afraid I would disappear, and I could’ve sworn he’d consume my whole being until nothing was left of me. I didn’t want him to let go, I was afraid if he did the door would open and Peacekeepers would yank us away, and tell us that we’d be punished for our actions. But my lungs were on fire and I felt tears prick at my closed eyes and I couldn’t let Mingyu and Hinata’s work go to waste, so with a gentle hand against his exposed chest, I pushed him away, making San gasp.

I gulped, struggling to find my breath as San’s forehead came down against mine, arms moving so that I was in his embrace now. A shuddered breath left my mouth as I clung to him, fingers gripping his coat' tightly at his sides as we remained silent, basking in the other’s warmth and scent, which had become familiar by now.

“I was afraid,” San muttered lowly, gulping as if he had to pause to collect himself, “so afraid I’d lose you.”

I shuddered, the horrors of the Arena still fresh in my mind as I could still see the lifeless faces behind my eyes whenever I closed them. Hands slightly shaking, I blinked my eyes open when it felt like my lungs tried to prevent me from breathing and I looked at San’s perfect face, forever mesmerized by his beauty.

“I fought really hard to come back,” I whispered, my heart clenching when San’s eyes opened, boring into mine sharply, “I wanted to survive so desperately, I—I had to come back to you, I—what had you done to me, San? Why do I want you so badly?”

San gulped, eyebrows furrowing as his jaw clenched again, and I knew I must’ve said the wrong thing because his face became devoid of any emotion, however, his embrace only tightened as he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I was just trying to be supportive, I didn’t mean to make you—care for me.”

“Do you not care for me back?” My voice sounded weak, and I hated the disappointment that followed when San failed to answer me. I nodded wordlessly and untangled my tight grip from San’s coat, trying to step back, but San hadn’t released me yet from his embrace. He looked conflicted like he didn’t know what was right to say at the moment, and I preferred him not to say anything if he was so uncertain.

“I care for you, of course, I do.” His voice was a whisper as he leaned forward, lips brushing against my ear and it made goosebumps appear on my skin, “But it’s dangerous, I shouldn’t care and neither should you.”

I knew this, of course, I did, but I couldn’t help it. Not when he was the reason I stood here, alive and frightened beyond my mind about what the future had in store for me. Joohyun was right, the Games were just starting and I was defenceless in front of an enemy that could destroy me just with simple words.

“Let’s not keep President Snow waiting, hm?” San’s arms disappeared at once from around my body and I shivered, taken aback by the sudden change of temperature as he had an easy smile on his lips, dimple on his cheek. He crouched down and grabbed the fallen pearls, standing in front of me with a professional look on his face. The first time I had seen San he was at the train station, ready to welcome the tributes of District 4 with a wide friendly smile on his lips and a stance that screamed confidence. He was dressed to the nines, in burgundy satin pants and a sheer black blouse tucked in, a cropped fur coat draped around his wide shoulders. His already sharp eyes were accentuated even more by the dark purple smokey eyeshadow and his lips were a burgundy red, matching his pants and his nails, which resembled blood as they were tainted in peculiar patterns. I knew I couldn’t trust the man, he was just a flashy asshole from the Capitol, only here to doll me up and make me look desirable to the public, and probably for his own sadistic tendencies. But I was wrong, San was a soft-spoken and emotional being, eyes expressive even when his face remained blank.

He was the first one to tell me I was stronger than I looked, that he saw the shimmer in my eyes turn into fire when it came to survival. He told me he would bet on me if he could, that he knew I had it in me to become a victor. He said he wasn’t ready to let me go just yet, not when he had never met someone quite like me before. Apparently, my eyes were big and full of wonder, eager to discover more despite my predicament. And the night before the Games, when I couldn’t sleep and felt on the verge of a panic attack, he stumbled through my threshold in a drunken stupor, confessing his adoration for me and his desperate need to have me, to hold me and truly know me. I couldn’t promise him anything, but I told him I’d try to return, that I’d do my best to come back to him, then he broke down crying and as he hiccupped while I held him, I heard him mutter that he’s never seen anyone as radiant and beautiful as me before. And he doomed me from that second on, because all I wanted moving forward was for him to hold me when I returned.

The sheer fabric was sparkly as the beads were sewn into it and it sat loosely around my shoulders, chest and back, stopping just above my stomach. It felt heavy as San walked around me to clip the back together, adjusting it until it sat against the rest of my dress the way it was supposed to. San’s designs were beautiful, I had been sceptical of them at first, but when I realized he didn’t intend to make me something the Capitol would lust over but rather admire, I grew to trust him and thanked him for making me feel beautiful if even for a fleeting moment, “Hold onto me.”

And he offered me his arm as we both faced the door, my hands trembling in fear as San pushed it open, walking us towards the stage with flashing lights, the TV anchor’s voice all of a sudden booming as he spoke into his microphone. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it as I felt frozen, holding onto San for stability when Joohyun and the rest of the makeup team appeared next to us. Joohyun’s eyebrows were furrowed when she looked at us and she gently coaxed my fingers away from San’s coat, holding my hand instead as she guided me towards the stage, just to where the backstage wall ended. It caught Caesar Flickerman’s attention and his eyes lit up at once, a high-pitched sound escaping his throat as he faced the audience with eagerness.

“Don’t let them see.” Joohyun’s voice was harsh as she turned her head to look at me, “And remember, you are lucky to be alive, for having been offered this chance to participate in the Games, and you are proud and honoured to be standing on this stage again.”

I took a shaky breath as I nodded my head, Joohyun’s words from this morning still fresh in my mind. The Capitol wasn’t allowed to see the turmoil in my head, the struggle, the fear and the pain which hid just underneath the surface. I had to keep up a strong front, to smile and gloat about my victory as if all the lost lives meant nothing to me, as if killing all those innocent children didn’t bother me at all. My throat tightened and I tried to grip Joohyun’s hand harder, but Caesar was calling out my name and the crowd was roaring loudly, and before I could even think about running back to the dressing room, a warm hand on my lower back pushed me forward.

The lights were blinding and the cheers and claps deafening, and I froze when I felt the TV anchor’s cold fingers graze my arm, run down to my wrist and then hand as he raised it to press a swift kiss against my knuckles as a greeting. I didn’t flinch, and before all the fear could swallow me whole, I plastered a big smile onto my face, laughing gently when Caesar lowered my hand from his face but still held onto it once he noticed I was wearing really high stilettos.

“Oh, my!” He exclaimed as if he was a child who just got their present on their birthday, “You look absolutely gorgeous, Miss Kwon.”

I chuckled and looked away abashed as he led us towards the two fancy armchairs, “Thank you, but it’s mostly thanks to my makeup team and my stylist—”

“Ah, yes!” He exclaimed before I could even finish my sentence, and I was glad I could hold onto his hand for stability because my ankles threatened to give out once I faced the crowd, “Choi San! What a man he is! Everyone loves him, I bet you do too, Miss Kwon?”

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, but harmless, and I took my seat once Caesar gesticulated towards it, “Yes, he’s really good at what he does. His creations are breathtaking.”

“Well, yes, he certainly overdid himself with this mermaid but sailor-like outfit,” Caesar took a deep breath before he faced the crowd, smiling so widely that it must’ve hurt, “Don’t you just love it?!”

And the crowd cheered, some even standing up to clap, to stick out more as I tried to continue to smile in a way that looked thankful but also abashed. Caesar was referring to my outfit, but I wished to be invisible at this exact moment. My hands shook but I hid them by interlacing my fingers and lowering them in my lap. Silence finally settled upon the room and I gulped, perhaps too loudly, because Caesar chuckled as he looked back at me amused.

“Well, look at our mermaid—can I call you that?” No, I didn’t want to be called a mermaid, I didn’t want to be associated with a mythical creature that was innocent and pure.

“You can call me whatever you wish,” My voice was warm and dripped with honey, I tried not to look surprised by myself, “I do look like a mermaid, don’t I?”

The crowd cheered again and I let my smile widen as I looked towards them, thankful for the blinding lights as I couldn’t see their faces. The people from the Capitol made me sick with their over-the-top extravaganza and the ease they could live with, I didn’t want to see them.

“Well, Miss Kwon, now that we’ve settled that you are our little mermaid,” Caesar leaned in with a worried expression, lips downturned and eyebrows furrowed, he looked genuine, “Tell us, how do you feel?”

I gulped, suddenly the silence making my skin itch as everyone waited for my answer. I smiled as I tried to look back to where I knew Joohyun stood, but then her words rang through my mind and I leaned back in the chair, trying to look casual, “Well, how am I supposed to feel? I just won the Games, Caesar, and it wasn’t easy. I’m on cloud nine, actually, I got a good night’s sleep and now I’m ready to tackle whatever the Capitol throws my way next.”

“Brilliant!” Caesar shouted, making me flinch, but I laughed as the crowd cheered once again, I could see the camera zoom in on my face, so I made sure my smile was wide and as genuine as possible, “You have a way with your words that just keeps me on my toes, you know, Miss Kwon? I bet the people love it too! Tell us, is there anything you cannot wait to do now that you’re out of the Arena?”

I took a deep breath as I faced the camera, my next words genuine, “I miss my parents and I miss the ocean, so I cannot wait to return home, actually.”

“Ah, yes,” Caesar had a compassionate look on his face as he reached out to pat my hands reassuringly, “District 4 became a richer district thanks to your contribution to their victors’, I bet they can’t wait to meet you.”

“And I cannot wait to meet them too,” I gulped, hoping I sounded genuine to those who were watching us, “I’ve always looked up to our victors, they are strong and brave and they’ve made our District shine every chance they could.”

“And now you are part of them too,” Caesar had a cheeky grin on his face as he mirrored my stance and leaned back into his armchair comfortably, “But before you return, you’ve still got a few days in the Capitol. Aren’t you just excited to meet everyone at the party?”

I was dreading that moment, but I tried to look as enthusiastic as possible as I perked up, sitting up straighter, “Yes! I’ve heard of these parties ever since I was a little girl, I cannot wait to meet everyone. And I’m also overly curious about my outfit too.”

“San will certainly overdo himself again,” Caesar was beaming as he spoke of my stylist, everyone in the Capitol was head over heels for San, “I am so excited to see what he has in store for us, do you reckon he’ll wear something pompous himself?”

I chuckled as my fingers tightened against each other, “Well, when has he not?”

The crowd and Caesar laughed and I smiled too, wanting to glance back to where I knew the team was watching me, but my body felt stiff as suddenly Caesar turned serious, licking his lips as he crossed one leg over the other, “I bet everyone would love it if we talked more about our beloved San, but this day is about you, Miss Kwon, and I have to mention your amazing kills. You have a sharp precision that’s hard to miss and even I was amazed by them, despite having seen many Games before. What’s your secret? I bet no one expected you to pick an axe as your weapon of choice since you are from District 4.”

“I—” I gulped, my body suddenly becoming cold as my mind reeled at the vivid memories flashing behind my eyes. The scent of blood, the vision of tearing flesh and the screams that haunted my nightmares, it was too much. My heart was pumping blood fast and my ears were ringing as the lights became too bright, Caesar's voice seemed distant when he called my name and I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but then I remembered Joohyun’s words and I knew I had to keep it together, it was all for the show, “Well, first of all, thank you, Caesar. I am honoured that you think so highly of my skills, I cannot say I worked hard to gain them, but I did train as much as I could before the Games, you know? My father is a fisherman so I would often help him out with cutting up the fish, I—I just associated the axe with a butcher’s knife.”

“Fascinating.” Caesar's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he paid close attention to my words, and I resisted the itch to scratch at my neck, which felt on fire, “You keep on impressing me every time you speak, you’re truly full of surprises, Miss Kwon, we haven’t had a victor like you quite in a while.”

“You’re too kind.” I averted my eyes and realized they were burning from being too dry, the lights made my head thump and the corset was too tight around my torso, I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Nonsense,” Caesar chuckled and then grinned mischievously, “Before I let you go enjoy your victory, let’s rewatch my favourite kills! They are truly marvellous.”

I gasped quietly as a small screen suddenly appeared in front of us, and Caesar clapped his hands, the lights dimming as the video was played on the big screens behind us as well. My eyes fixated on myself in the video, on the frantic look in my eyes as I grabbed the axe from the Cornucopia and flung it towards the way too young child when he tried to sneak up on me. My jaw clenched and I flinched every time I watched the axe I was gripping tightly make contact with human flesh, drowning out the gasps and cheers of the crowd as well as Caesar's elated yelps whenever I took out someone again. It felt like my own personal hell to watch myself kill someone, to watch the lifeless look in my eyes, the elated expression on my face whenever the canon went off. I was covered in blood, it was matted to my hair, and it had ruined my clothes too, but I failed to notice it as I roamed around aimlessly, eyes cold and crazed as I searched for my next victim. I looked desperate, I had felt desperate, and it made tears gather in my eyes when the footage shifted to my last kill, the one of which I barely had any recollection of, but my body reacted so viscerally that I feared I would empty my stomach’s contents right in front of everyone.

I continued looking at the screen but I wasn’t seeing anything anymore, my brain had given up on my surroundings, on what was happening to me and around me. I was there, merely a shell of who I used to be, and I didn’t want to see even one more second of the monster that slayed everyone without remorse on her face. At last, Caesar finally clapped his hands and the lights were strong again and he was squealing and yelping, but I couldn’t hear anything. I felt hands grip my arm and help me stand, then it was raised in the air and everyone cheered again, people standing up as they clapped loudly for me. Caesar's shrill voice called my name again and announced me as this year's victor, and when it was time for me to finally get off the stage, I turned emotionlessly and gave a last wave to the camera as I tried not to tumble while I walked to where I knew Joohyun stood at.

“And thus, I had been Caesar Flickerman, thank you for your attention and see you really soon, don’t forget to tune in for the Hunger Games’ lotto that I’ll be hosting in just a few hours!” And then my legs finally gave out as a sob tore through my throat, knees shaking as I fell to the cold ground, making everyone gasp as Joohyun sprung towards me, hissing at the staff to bring me a blanket and for the lights to be turned off so that nobody would see us. She called my name but I couldn’t hear her, the dress was suffocating and my face felt heavy with all the makeup on it, I needed to be somewhere far away from here. I gripped the beautiful pearl top and gave it one tug, making it fall apart and spread all over the floor as Hinata and Mingyu gasped, crowding around me. My hands were trying to undo the corset before anyone could react, and then I felt a warm presence behind me grip my arms painfully, shaking me to the point I had to look up in a daze.

San’s face was coated in worry as I exhaled ragged, only now realizing that I was hyperventilating, “Don’t make me wear white—I don’t—San, I don’t want to wear white ever again, please.”

He kneeled in front of me, and with a sharp nod of his head Mingyu and Hinata were gone, only Joohyun remaining close by with the blanket in her hands, eyebrows furrowed and gaze sharp as she watched San collect me in his arms, “I know, my love, no more white. I promise. “

I couldn’t bear to see something so innocent and pure get tainted by blood again.

            Being at the Victor’s Party was possibly as bad as being forced inside the Arena. It was filled to the brim with pompous Capitol people who drank until they couldn’t stand on their feet anymore, eating until they had to throw up just to eat some more. Their voices were loud and they were constantly laughing, clinking their glasses together and asking me to exchange quick words with them, which would turn into an excruciatingly long conversation that made my skin itch and my disgust show as I struggled to control my facial expressions. I wanted to go home, I couldn’t stay any longer in this wretched place, and I could’ve cried in happiness when I noticed Finnick Odair, District 4’s youngest victor, approach me with a charming smile. He was, surprisingly, covered from head to toe, his dark blue suit tailored to his body, enhancing his sun-kissed complex, his blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. He looked handsome and he knew it as he carried himself with a confident aura, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips always pulled to the side into a smirk or an amused grin. I had never spoken to him before, but he was a very popular victor and so I knew him from seeing him from time to time on the TV or at the market back in District 4.

“My, my, my,” Finnick’s tone was amused as he came to a stop next to me, towering over me, much like San, “you’re hounding our victor and you aren’t even ashamed of it.”

As if Finnick had just said the joke of the year, the five people surrounding us broke out in loud laughter, throwing their heads back as Finnick threw me a sneaky glance. It wasn’t hard to miss the irritation he managed to mask well in that split second and I felt myself relax for being seen, for being understood by such an important person. I would’ve never guessed Finnick hated the Capitol just as much as any other person from the districts, but it was reassuring to know he wasn’t so different from us after all.

“If only they were just hounding me,” I muttered bitterly as the other five were still busy giggling behind their champagne glasses, my eyes fell on Finnick, “and not asking me to bed them as well.”

Finnick’s jaw ticked but he didn’t react to my comment as his smile became wider when the lady standing next to him touched his arm, Finnick gave her a flirtatious look. Her eyelashes were unnaturally long and she reeked of alcohol, her lips pink and way too plump, but Finnick didn’t flinch away, instead he reciprocated her flirty look, “I hadn’t seen you in a while, Odair.”

“Such a shame, isn’t it?” He said with sadness in his tone, and I watched him curiously as the lady rubbed his bicep for a second too long.

“Are you free tonight?” Finnick’s smile stayed in place as he pretended to think, then leaned closer to the lady and lowered his voice.

“I might be,” The lady’s cheeks flushed instantly as she averted her eyes, “Have you missed me a lot?”

“Yes, so much.” She bit her lower lip provocatively and I averted my eyes as I felt bile rise in my throat. My empty glass was suddenly snatched from my hands and replaced with another one filled to the brim with champagne, and I tried to hide my nausea at the thought of having to drink another sip of that bitter liquid.

“Maybe we’ll meet again, then,” Finnick concluded before his attention was on the men around us, greeting them with handshakes and letting them touch his cheek, making me give them a weird look. They were eager to ask questions from Finnick, but he politely turned them down and instead sneaked his arm around my bare shoulders, pulling me into his side with a cheeky grin.

“I’m sure you’d all understand if I stole Miss Kwon away, right?” His eyebrows furrowed in hesitance, and I was amazed by his acting skills, “We never got the chance to speak properly, I’d like to show her around as her elder from the District.”

“Yes, go ahead!” The people exclaimed and even pushed us away, not before one man grabbed my hands and pressed a disgustingly wet kiss against my knuckles, his teeth yellow despite his fancy way of living, his eyes filled with lust as they raked over my body. I pretended I didn’t see as I gripped Finnick’s arm and allowed him to lead us away, somewhere quieter, he took my glass of champagne away too and threw it in the trashcan, surprising me.

“Never drink anything they hand you,” His voice was low so that no one would hear, his perfectly charming smile still on his lips. I tried my best to look just like him, at ease with a flirty smile on my lips, “You can drink what you take from a tray or table, but never what they hand you, understood?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said with a grateful smile as I turned my head to face him, wanting to ask so much more, but I knew now wasn’t the time or place. We’d have plenty of time back in District 4, “And thank you for saving me, I didn’t know what excuse to come up with to get away from them finally.”

“Never say you’re going to the bathroom either,” Finnick smiled widely at someone who waved at him from the crowd as we came to a standstill next to a white pillar, “They find it as an invitation to go somewhere secluded with you, and you don’t want that.”

“I really don’t,” I sighed frustrated as my scalp itched from how tight the braids Hinata had done were, “Thank you, Finnick, really.”

He finally looked at me with a knowing look on his face, his charming smile finally dropping as his eyes hardened. He looked tired and fed-up, but his voice remained soft and careful, “I’ll protect you as much as I can, just as Joohyun has been doing, but even we are powerless at times, I’m sorry. Another friendly advice, however, is if you want to ditch someone here, just say you saw someone you know and take off before they can speak up. They won’t follow you, they are too lazy to do that.”

“Do you enjoy these parties?” The question bubbled past my lips before I could stop myself and I averted my eyes when Finnick’s filled with amusement, a dimple forming on his cheek when he smiled genuinely for the first time. He reminded me of San, Finnick’s smile was beautiful too but never to San’s extent. San was here too somewhere, swept up in the crowd, with the people he belonged to. His outfit was revealing, all black and fitting his body like a second skin. I felt like I couldn’t look at him when we met, feeling like I was sinning just by letting him lace up my dress. He had listened to my request, my dress was a dark blue, much like Finnick’s suit, and the fabric bunched under my knees into ruffles, fading into ivory to resemble the foam of the ocean. It was beautiful, San had said this style was called ‘mermaid’ as he wished to play into the crowd's likes. Apparently, President Snow had also told him to make me wear a dress that fit the nickname Flickerman had given me, and I was nervous when I found out about this. Joohyun’s face was stern and her eyes a silent warning when we arrived at the scene, one nod of her head was enough to tell me to watch myself and not to cause a scene.

I was doing fine so far, it got hard at times and all I wished for was to hide and go to bed, but I was doing better than I thought I would. I managed not to hyperventilate nor sob when a couple approached me and asked me to reenact one of the kills I had done in the Arena, apparently, it was their son’s favourite from this season. Schooling my expressions was the hardest, I managed not to throw up once they finished talking, but I couldn’t help but glower at them with disgust, managing to scare them off when I showed them just exactly what they wanted to see. Apparently, it wasn’t so entertaining to watch someone kill another when they were standing right in front of you, gripping a knife with a twisted look on their face. The hypocrisy these people lived with flew past my mind as I was unable to understand or relate to them.

“I loathe these parties, Y/N, everything you see on TV,” Finnick paused for a dramatic effect as he leaned towards me, eyes wide, “if fake. You’ll learn with time how to manage everything, but it’ll never get easy.”

“I should’ve died in that Arena,” I whispered under my breath, watching pity reflect on Finnick’s face as he released a long sigh.

“Maybe we all should’ve, but think about your family.” I felt a hand grip my shoulder, so I looked up at Finnick, “They are happy and glad to have you back, so even if we should be dead, knowing you’ll be able to see them again should bring a little joy while you’re cooped up in the Capitol.”

“I am happy, as much as I can be at the moment.” I said with conviction, “But I’m a monster now, and I don’t think they are ready to face me yet. I’m not—I don’t feel like I’m the same person anymore.”

“Because you’re not.” Finnick’s tone was hard but harmless at the same time. His eyes were void of any emotion, he seemed absent from the conversation as his hand fell from my shoulder, “You’ll never be the person you were before you stepped foot into the Arena, and you’ll have to learn to accept it. We might be monsters, but don’t forget the biggest one out of all of us.”

I gulped, not missing the implication of Finnick’s words. President Coriolanus Snow. He was the biggest monster, our biggest enemy, a tyrant who only took and took from the Districts without giving anything back, who tried to make the Capitol flourish despite the blood on their hands. It was unfair, but who was I to make a change? I was too insignificant to start a spark for which the people from the districts were desperately waiting.

“Hello,” Both Finnick and I tensed as a deep voice spoke up behind us, a little bit hesitant, “Sorry to bother you, President Snow asked me to fetch the new victor…”

Finnick and I turned our heads, coming face to face with a man who was taller than even Finnick. He towered over the both of us, skin ashen and cheeks hollow as his small and sharp eyes were obscured by his black hair falling over his forehead. His shoulders were hunched forward and the skin of his neck was red where the collar of his white shirt ended. I knew him, I saw him on the TV last year. He killed his own district’s female tribute to win.

“Ah, Mingi!” Finnick, springing forward and hugging the man as he ignored the other victor’s clear discomfort, was beaming all of a sudden, “I had been wondering all night long where you were hiding now.”

I watched the two as Mingi looked down at his shoes, not attempting to step out of Finnick’s side hug, “The bathroom was cramped so I found a nice balcony—until Snow found me, of course.”

“Oh, no,” Finnick whispered, lips pulled into a tight line, “did he say anything?”

“Nothing bad, surprisingly.” Mingi shrugged and looked relieved when Finnick finally released him, “Just inquired about my well-being and—her.”

“I see.” Finnick’s voice was compassionate and my eyebrows furrowed as I didn’t quite understand what they were talking about, but I realised it wasn’t my place to pry. Eyes falling on me, I tried to smile at the tall man but he looked like he wanted to die, and it made me anxious as I didn’t know how to approach him, “Well, I’ll leave you two be. See you around, yes?”

“Yes,” Mingi muttered as Finnick nodded at me before he slipped away, leaving the other man and me in an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m Kwon Y/N, pleased to meet you.” I offered a hand for the man to shake and he reluctantly did, his handshake surprisingly firm despite his tame behaviour.

“I’m Song Mingi, you—you did well, I’m sorry.” His words were confusing but they made complete sense somehow, and I felt tears prick at my eyes all of a sudden. But I couldn’t let them fall, not right as I was about to meet President Snow, and Mingyu worked for two hours on my makeup.

“Thank you,” My voice was hoarse and Mingi looked at my face for the first time, surprised, “I did my best even though I wish I hadn’t.”

Understanding passed over Mingi’s features as he nodded once, then pointed reluctantly towards the stairs I failed to notice when Finnick and I had stopped next to the pillar, “You shouldn’t keep President Snow waiting.”

I nodded and followed after Mingi as his long legs took hurried steps, making me have to run to catch up with him on the stairs, but I remained silent as I realized he wasn’t much of a talker. He looked like he didn’t want to hide the turmoil going on inside his mind, and I admired him for it as he wasn’t afraid of what the people would think. I wanted to do the same, but Joohyun instructed me against it, telling me that if the Capitol didn’t find me desirable, I’d be thrown to the side, and that never meant good. I wondered whether Mingi had been thrown to the side too, but seeing him here made me realize I had heard people whisper about him while I was forced to mingle with them.

“Is he—do you think he’ll punish me?” I found myself asking as Mingi led us down a long corridor with plenty of doors on both sides.

“Did you do anything bad?” He asked as he glanced over his shoulder. I bit my lip and shrugged.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then no, he won’t.” Mingi’s answer was curt and it felt like he wanted to say more, but he abruptly stopped in front of a door and sighed heavily, “This is President Snow’s office, I’ll wait for you here.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.” For the first time, Mingi looked in my eyes with concern coating his features, and I gulped as I stepped forward and knocked on the sturdy wooden door. If Mingi didn’t want to leave me, I wouldn’t ask him to, too scared that I wouldn’t leave Snow’s office ever again. At least one person knew where I was if anything were to happen to me. The door opened before I could push it open and my muscles tensed as I took a deep breath and pushed it further open, stepping inside. It was cool inside the office and my mind blanched at the avid stench of blood in the air, I tried to keep my composure and my heart from racing. My skin itched when President Snow’s lips pulled into an amused grin, beckoning me further inside with his hand. The door closed behind me and I jumped, glancing back and wishing Mingi would’ve entered with me.

“Miss Kwon,” President Snow smiled, flattening his hands on the surface of his table. The colour matched the door’s, “Congratulations on becoming a victor, you’ve certainly done your utmost best. You’ve impressed quite a few people here.”

“Thank you, President Snow.” I bowed my head respectfully, glad that my voice didn’t waver like every particle of my body did. I pushed my hands behind my back to hide their tremor and looked into President Snow’s dark eyes.

“How do you find the Capitol, little mermaid?” I hated that nickname and it was probably easy to tell as President Snow chuckled, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly. His office was huge, bookshelves lined the walls to my left and right and the lights were dim despite it being dark outside. A vase of white roses sat in the corner on top of Snow’s desk, and I didn’t miss the one tucked in his suit’s pocket.

“It’s—different.” I gulped, trying to sound nonchalant, “It’s big and beautiful, full of life, I suppose.”

“But you miss District 4, yes?” Snow quirked an eyebrow, expression turning serious. I nodded wordlessly and he hummed, looking sideways and out the window. The partygoers were visible from here and as I followed his line of sight my eyes widened slightly when I spotted San, who was leaning into a velvet cushion as hands roamed his chest, a silver cross dangling between his pecks. Everyone seemed to be taken with him as he laughed and drank champagne, smirking with a flirtatious look on his sharp features at both men and women alike, “And you wish to still return home, don’t you?”

I gulped and tore my eyes away from the sight, freezing with President Snow’s eyes fixated on me with a curious glint in them, “Yes, I would really like to return home. I miss the ocean and my parents.”

“And you won’t miss anything from the Capitol?”

What was I supposed to say? Was this a trap? I gulped and cleared my throat, scavenging my brain for an answer.

“Maybe—the pretty dresses?” President Snow’s head fell back as he started laughing, eyes holding an amused twinkle when he looked back at me.

“And not the one that makes those dresses?” I felt my blood run cold as President Snow had a knowing smile on his lips as he leaned forward in his chair, arms coming to rest on his table.

“I—I’ll miss Hinata and Mingyu, and San—San too, of course.” I hated how vulnerable I sounded, my voice weak and shaky, “They were my team and they—they made me pretty, so I—”

“Miss Kwon,” President Snow’s tone was tired and low as he interrupted my pitiful stammering, “People like Mr. Choi and you don’t belong together. He was born here and you were not, if you can bear heartbreak then I have nothing else to say, but look at him. Don’t you think you’ll never be enough for him? That he’ll always see you as a dirty little thing from a fishing district that reeks of seafood?”

I gulped, throat constricting as tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn’t turn my head, I couldn’t look at San again. President Snow was right, I had always known this, I had never even thought further about whatever could be between us. I knew this, but hearing the words said out loud only made it sting more, “Get yourself together, Miss Kwon. You’re a smart girl and if you know what’s best for you, forget about Mr. Choi now. You know it’ll never happen, and if you don’t want to believe it, then let me tell you this. I’ll never allow it, Miss Kwon, you can’t have Mr. Choi, he’s mine and the Capitol’s.”

I exhaled forcefully and bit my tongue as I looked up, blinking away the tears rapidly as my jaw clenched, “You can’t own a person, President Snow.”

“Can’t I?” He snickered as he leaned back in his chair once again, “Speak to Finnick Odair again, perhaps, ask more questions this time. I’m sure he has lots of tales about me and the Capitol. Or perhaps you could tell Mr. Song that the fence he likes to climb could be re-electrified any second—”

“Why are you threatening others when this is about me?!” My voice raised as my eyebrows furrowed and President Snow smiled, tapping his cheek as he grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“Because it’s not just about you, Miss Kwon, it’s about everything I own.” A cough ripped through President Snow’s chest, and I watched with furrowed eyebrows as he pressed the white handkerchief against his mouth. Was it possible for him to catch a cold? He was still human, after all, “And you, victors, are my propriety. I can do whatever to you, whenever I want to. And you are not to see Mr. Choi after tonight ever again, do you understand me?”

My body went rigid and I gulped, the voices in my head screaming at me to grab a pencil and stab him through the neck, to end the man’s life who has caused so much anguish to all of us. My heart pumped fast and my hands shook as anger seemed to flame underneath my skin and I gulped, trying to clear the red fog inside my brain, the insatiable thirst to get rid of the person that was such a threat to not just me, but everyone. But it also scared me how violently I would react now, how my first thought at a little inconvenience was to kill—this wasn’t me. The me before the Games would’ve never resorted to murder, and it scared me to the point I felt my breaths turn uneven as President Snow’s eyes continued to bore into mine curiously, a wondering expression crossing his features. My throat was tight as I opened my lips to speak, and I clenched my hands into fists as I raised my head higher and looked into the man’s eyes, “I understand.”

And whatever he seemed on my face must’ve been satisfying enough because with a flick of his wrist, he dismissed me, and I turned without any respect or pleasantries as I stormed towards the door and ripped it open, letting it slam behind me. I stepped into the corridor, male voices fading into silence as my chest raised and fell rapidly, my hands shaking as I stared ahead and out the big windows, eyes fixated on San as he leaned towards a red-head and whispered in her ear, making her giggle and lean into him, a hand placed high on his thigh.

“Y/N?” An unfamiliar voice snapped me out of my thoughts as I sharply turned my head, eyes falling on the man standing next to Mingi. He was taller, just barely, and his features were soft and cautious as he tried to offer me a smile, “Uh, sorry, I’m Jeong Yunho, Mingi said he’d wait for you so I did too.”

Mingi remained silent as he looked between us and I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves, to forget everything President Snow had just said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to storm out like that, I—the conversation was rather unpleasant.”

“Yes, it usually is with him.” Yunho said with a chuckle and grabbed Mingi’s arm as he nodded towards the end of the corridor, “But I don’t think we should discuss that here out of all places.”

That managed to bring a small smile to my lips and I nodded in agreement as I turned to head down the corridor. The two men caught up with me and walked next to me with Yunho in the middle.

“The whole place is full of cameras, Yunho, it doesn’t matter where we talk about it,” Mingi grumbled and Yunho shrugged, glancing at me.

“Well, yes, but I think Snow finds it more exciting if we talk about him ‘behind his back’, you know?” His tone was amused and I felt my tense muscles ease a little as we started descending the stairs. Something about Yunho was calming, he had an air about him which made you feel at ease. I was glad he was here even though I had no idea who he was minutes ago. His Games weren’t as popular as the other ones so people tended to gloss over him, even though now I could recall them.

“Thank you for waiting for me, you didn’t have to,” I spoke up as we arrived at the bottom of the stairs and the two tall men faced me with smiles on their faces. Mingi’s was miniscule but it was there as Yunho just shrugged and threw an arm around the other one, and I watched with surprise as Mingi didn’t flinch nor look uncomfortable with the touch. They seemed to be familiar with each other.

“Sure, it was no biggie.” The way Yunho spoke wasn’t familiar, but I welcomed it as his whole persona felt safe and friendly, “If you want a good hiding spot, you’ll find Mingi and me behind the sweets table.”

Mingi rolled his eyes but didn’t interject and only nodded, eyes lowering, “Yunho has a sweet tooth, but it’s a surprisingly good hiding spot. Everyone is too busy looking at all the delicacies to notice us.”

I chuckled and nodded, grateful for their friendliness and offer of a good hiding spot, I happened to also have a sweet tooth, “Thank you, I might as well just go now and—”

“Excuse me,” A voice I knew too well spoke up from behind me and I stiffened, eyes averting when Mingi and Yunho shared a look, “Do you mind if I steal Miss Kwon for a dance?”

“Not at all!” Yunho said beaming and patted Mingi’s back before they both bowed their heads and hurried away, Yunho whispering to Mingi furiously as Mingi just shook his head. I let my eyes follow the two until I couldn’t see them anymore, Snow’s words echoing in my mind when I felt a gentle hand wrap around my bicep. I flinched and then hated the look of hurt and confusion on San’s face as he turned me around to face him, lowering his head as I avoided looking into his eyes.

“Talk to me, Y/N, what happened?” He whispered softly and my jaw clenched, skin burning where he touched me. I yearned to hold him, to step closer and close the gap between our bodies, but Snow was watching. Everyone was watching.

“Nothing.” I lied and finally looked into San’s sharp eyes which were filled with worry. His hand slowly slipped from my bicep, tracing my skin, and I shivered as he found my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine. I refrained from pulling away, Joohyun’s warning echoing in my head, I couldn’t cause a scene. Not here and not right now.

“Will you dance with me?”

“Yes.”

When I was with San it felt like the world disappeared around us, like nobody but him and I existed. It was a peaceful feeling, but also frightening. I could lose myself in his eyes and then I would lose track of everything around myself. It was daunting, but also a feeling which filled me with hope and warmth, making my heart beat faster. I couldn’t focus on the crowd as San walked us towards the orchestra, couples dancing all around as they laughed and conversed, paying little attention to San’s and my presence. My skin flared when San smiled softly and gently held my waist, guiding me closer to his broad body, his features relaxed despite my own tense muscles. Even though I couldn’t peel my eyes off him, I was rather aware of all the people that surrounded us, of the whispers and pointed fingers towards us. I suppose dancing with your stylist wasn’t a foreign thing to do, but said stylist was Choi San, of course, the whole world watched on curiously, making assumptions and pointing fingers.

“Focus on me, my love.” San’s voice was barely a whisper, mindful of all the eager ears surrounding us as a couple came rather close. I couldn’t nod but I offered him my hand as I placed my other one on his shoulder, his sheer shirt’s fabric rough against my skin. He held me firmly as a soft smile appeared on his lips, feet taking off as he led the dance, whirling me around with an ease that surprised even me. People made way for us as I stared up into San’s eyes, my heart thumping so fast it felt like I was on the verge of fainting. But I knew I wasn’t, I was aware that I felt like this because of San, because he was here, looking at me deeply with a gentle smile on his lips, ignoring everyone else around us, holding me close as if he was afraid I’d disappear if he didn’t. His cologne was sweet and had become a familiar scent by now, I couldn’t help but lower my head until I was able to inhale it, muscles finally softening as the ringing of my ears finally ceased too and I could focus on the tune of the classical music.

“Where had you gone to? I couldn’t find you.” San’s deep voice carried a hint of worry, and I took a quick look around before looking back up into his eyes.

“President Snow requested to see me,” I answered, bile rising in my throat as suddenly I felt like a jester, here to parade myself around with someone whom I didn’t belong with. President Snow was right. It was clear as day that San and I had nothing in common, that San could never love a person like me. His skin was soft and free of blemish, he smelled sweet like honey and vanilla, and his clothes were of the finest quality. I, on the other hand, had unruly hair and skin that was neither soft nor scar-free, and my clothes looked like they had seen better days. But tonight, due to San’s immense talent, I felt like a princess, like someone worthy to stand in front of him even if it wasn’t real. I failed to notice the quick flash of fear on San’s face as I was lost in my thoughts, but then a squeeze to my waist and a chuckled apology as we almost collided into a couple brought me back to the present.

“Did he say something that felt threatening?” San asked with an amused chuckle, eyebrows slightly furrowed. There was nothing funny about what he had just asked and I knew he realized that when my jaw clenched, and I turned my head away to gaze at the couples around us. Unfortunately, President Snow was out on his balcony, watching the party closely, and our eyes met. The breath caught in my throat and I averted my eyes quickly, looking back at San as I felt myself press harder against him. It was irrational how quickly fear spread through my body, the desperation to keep San close at all costs back, and my fingers fisted his shirt as my eyes shook.

“He—he—San—” And San’s expression fell when he realized his words were true, and his face lowered as he looked at me with panic written all over his features, “He knows, San, President Snow knows that we—he knows.”

I couldn’t say it, my hands shook and my throat felt tight as I tried to take deep breaths. It felt like everyone was watching us, like everyone had a vicious grin on their lips and had their fingers pointed at us, taunting us with words that never left their mouths but my brain didn’t fail to conjure them up still. San made a sudden move and whirled us around so my back was facing President Snow, then, almost with a scowl on his face, he raised his head and stared up. My irrational fear only grew as I whispered his name, afraid of what he’d do next, knowing that President Snow would do something bad to perhaps the both of us. But San just grinned, wide from ear to ear, and then nodded his head in Snow’s direction, almost tauntingly.

“I know that he knows,” His tone was harsh as he looked back down at me and stopped moving, his hand creeping lower until it pressed against my lower back harshly, “And I don’t give a fuck, because if he as much as touches me, the Capitol will turn against him.”

“What about me?” I whispered, aware of how beloved San was by everyone here. But I wasn’t, despite being a victor, I’ll always be just a girl from District 4 from a fisher family.

“If anyone damages anything precious to me, I’ll destroy them.” San’s jaw was set tight as he lowered his head, and for a second, I was afraid he’d kiss me. But his hand slipped from mine and instead, he curled a stray strand around his finger before he pushed it behind my ear, fingers brushing against my jaw as he smiled at me softly, “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Nobody is safe from him, San,” I whispered as San’s face fell, eyes darkening as he averted them and started moving again, albeit paying less attention to those around us. And I couldn’t help but glance back and find President Snow’s eyes narrowed at us before he cocked an eyebrow, making my heart race against my chest as I gulped and faced ahead again, eyes meeting Joohyun’s. She looked displeased as she subtly shook her head at me, and then her cold eyes fell on Yunho as he offered to dance with her, she didn’t turn him down.

We were all just Snow’s pawns, figures on his chessboard he played with when he got too bored of those in his vicinity.

            The bare trees seemed endless as I weaved through between them, frostbite chilling my bones as my thick jacket was undone and the zipper of my sweater was unzipped too, making my chest ache from both the cold and exhaustion. My hiding spot had been discovered when I foolishly fell asleep last night by the small fire I managed to conjure, teeth chattering and fingertips numb to the point I had tears streaking down my face, wondering whether I’d survive another night in the Arena. If the other tributes didn’t get me, then the relenting cold certainly would. And now, in the early hours of the morning with dawn upon the fake horizon, all I could do was flee and pray for a miracle as my pursuers howled and continued taunting me as they sprinted after me, gaining on me each minute.

The axe was heavy in my hand as my feet tangled in the dry weed of the forest floor and I yelped as I slipped and nearly tumbled to the ground, straight into my axe. My heart was thundering in my chest as I gasped for air, whimpering when I realized my mistake as I frantically looked for a hiding spot. Anything would’ve been good at this point, a cave, a fallen lodge big enough to hide my body, or even a tree that I could climb. Being from District 4, where it was always warm and the only thing I had to climb were the ropes of a ship to reach the mizenmast, I was at a great disadvantage compared to the districts that came from familiar scenery. The cold seemed to be the most unbearable thing out of everything, covering my body in constant goosebumps as I yearned for the warmth of the sun and the breeze of the ocean. Each day that passed, however long or short due to the Gamemakers' choices, felt like I was living in hell, feeling like it would never end.

I didn’t consider myself a religious person, but I found myself praying for something, asking for salvation, if there was anyone out there listening to me. And it felt wrong, especially when I had to fight for my life, to think of the one man that’s been plaguing my thoughts ever since I had met him, but if there was a god, I knew it would be him. My eyes fell on a tree large enough to offer shelter and I quickly hid behind its trunk as my chasers gained on me, their mocking louder and louder. My chest was rising and falling rapidly, my hands shook uncontrollably, and my face felt frozen despite the adrenaline that kept my blood fizzling, my cheeks burning from both the biting chill and the fear that coursed through my veins. With numb fingers, I managed to zip my sweater together and felt instant relief even at the little warmth it offered for my exposed chest, but then the voices got louder and I froze, pressing my free hand against my mouth to try and be as quiet as possible as I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Where are you, little fish?” The male voice was amused as it taunted, soft in a way that made me sick to my stomach. I bit my bottom lip to bite back the whimper that threatened to leave it, terrified now that the three career tributes had closed in on me. They were right there, somewhere behind the tree I hid by, “Come on out now, don’t make us look for you.”

“Yes, fishy, we just want to talk.” Despite the warm timbre of the female tribute, my muscles cramped up and my mind screamed at me to take off running again. But they were too close and one of them had throwing knives, I couldn’t outrun three people, not when they had a male with them who was twice my size.

“You are a career tribute too,” The third voice, harsh and impatient, spat out, “so why are you running? We’ve been in the Games for four days now and we’ve been looking for you, but you keep running!”

I gulped, trying to take deep breaths as quietly as possible as my grip tightened around the handle of my axe. They had stopped moving too and were no doubt trying to spot me, and suddenly I was thankful for having a smaller build despite being someone who worked on a ship on the daily. My parents had always wanted a boy who could help out my father and take on the family legacy, and instead, they had a small girl who cried too much and whose skin bruised too easily. But I didn’t want to disappoint them, so I steeled my nerves and went out on the ocean with my father, learning everything I had in order to become a good fisherman. It was hard, and sometimes too demanding for someone who lacked muscle and sheer force, but it taught me that nothing was impossible as long as you had your mind set to it. And when I had been reaped as a tribute for the 73rd Hunger Games, all I could think about was the ocean and how I wasn’t ready to die just yet, not when I hadn’t even fallen in love yet. I had too much to lose yet nothing at all, and when the stylist assigned for my district looked at me with sharp eyes but a simple smile and told me that I could do it, that I could come back to him, that he trusted me and believed in me, some sick and twisted part of me clung to his words like they were my own personal prayer, as if it would save me from my fate, from doom, and the Arena that would kill twenty-three innocent lives.

“We want you on our team, little fish, your score wasn’t impressive but I saw you kill that little boy at the Cornucopia, we know you’re strong.” The male tribute spoke up again, making me inhale as I contemplated my next move, knowing that I just signed myself up for my death.

With a sharp exhale I knew they have heard me, I disclosed my hiding spot willingly, “Fuck you.”

And the next thing I knew was a throwing knife lodged into the bark of the tree, close to my ear as my eyes widened, but the simmering rage was back underneath my skin, making my blood boil as it overshadowed my terror. I wanted to live, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to go home, I wanted to hug my mother and help my father again, I wanted to swim in the ocean and I wanted—I wanted to see San again, I wanted to return to him. I wasted no more seconds as I gripped the handle of the throwing knife again and yanked it out of the tree, twisting around the trunk and sending it hurling mindlessly. I didn’t wait for another reaction as I took off again, thighs burning from exertion and knees aching as the soles of my feet hit the ground with force, propelling me forward more and more. I wouldn’t stop, I wouldn’t look back. More howls and screams followed after me, instructions barked out as the three tributes chased after me, but I wouldn’t stop, I wouldn’t look back. There was a bridge that looked too old not far from here, my only hope lay in that bridge, that it would collapse under their weights if I managed to outrun them and not fall to my death with them.

But at the next turn, a sharp pain shot up from my left calf and I yelped, losing my footing as I tumbled to the ground, twisting and rolling until I hit the side of a boulder. White mist left my mouth as I breathed through it, my axe had fallen somewhere next to me as pain spread through my spine, my left calf pulsing. I dared take a glance at it and sucked in a harsh breath when I realized a throwing knife was lodged deeply into it. I was bleeding, it made my hands shake as I grabbed the handle and bit down on my bottom lip, yanking it out at once before I could chicken out. My pursuers were suddenly around me, surrounding me with wicked grins on their faces and I grit my teeth, looking them dead in the eyes as my fingers tightened around the handle of the throwing knife that didn’t belong to me.

“Sweet girl, what are you going to do now?” The female with a harsh tone, a tribute from District 2, sneered and took a taunting step toward me, “Didn’t they tell you fishes out of water die?”

I scoffed, unamused and pained as my left side ached where I had hit the boulder, but I lifted my chin and surveyed her face, looking for a flicker of regret, but when I found none, I made up my mind for good this time. Fishing gave you a certain precision, you had to know when to throw the net in the water, when to yank it up, where to cut and how to clean the fish of its scales, it was all about timing and making it quick. So, without wasting any more minutes, I rose to my knees as I flung the throwing knife towards the tribute from District 2 and watched as she blinked at me with confusion written all over her face, eyes slowly looking up to her forehead as the knife was lodged perfectly in the middle of it, a scream dying on her lips as she fell forward with a hollow look on her face. Nobody moved and nobody said anything as my chest fell and raised quickly, my pants loud as the male tribute watched with an open mouth, the whisper of her name leaving his lips as the other female screamed out in rage, her eyes furious as she pounced on me without a second of hesitation.

I groaned as my head hit the ground when she pushed me down, and despite having all those weapons on her, her hands curled around my neck in a deathly grip, making my eyes widen as my fingers curled around her wrists, trying to pry them off. The male tribute was saying something behind us, but I couldn’t focus on him as I realized just how quickly the air was leaving my lungs, my body thrashing around as I tried to force the female off me. It wasn’t working and my throat felt like it would be snapped in two as I tried to gasp for air, eyes bulging as the female tribute looked at me with spite, saliva coating her lips as her face was red from the brute force she was using. I couldn’t die, no, I hadn’t gotten this far just to die at the hands of a career tribute. I was desperate too to survive, just like them, but I didn’t taunt those I killed, I didn’t chase them around and mocked them before I finally put them out of their misery. They didn’t deserve kindness or mercy, and I wasn’t going to give it to them.

One hand abandoning the girl’s wrist, my fingers twisted into the hair that was on the side of her head and despite the black spots covering my vision, I mustered up all my power to push her head to the side, crashing it against the boulder. She gasped loudly and her grip around my throat weakened for a minuscule second, I wasted no more time as I yanked her head away and then slammed it back against the boulder, gasping loudly as the air scraped the back of my throat and sent me into a vicious coughing fit, my eyes watering when the tribute’s hands loosened even more. The aggressive air flow made my lungs ache as I coughed even louder, finding more power in my body as I could finally breathe, and I slammed the girl’s head into the boulder once again before pushing her limp body off me. The canon went off two times as I lay on the ground numbly, staring up at the fake sky as I tried to breathe even again, craving water to wash the burn down in my throat.

But if the canon only went off twice, it meant the male tribute was still alive, and as my head snapped up to look for him, his teary eyes fell on me before they steeled, becoming cold and void of emotion. Realizing I couldn’t do anything now but fight, I sprung to my feet despite the state of my body, despite my desperate need to succumb to nothingness. And when my fingers touched the handle of my axe and its familiar weight settled in my hands, reminding me where I was and who I was, my eyes fell on the male tribute with hatred and spite as I staggered on my feet, watching as he also grabbed his weapon. It was shorter than a sword but longer than a knife, and I gulped but didn’t let it deter me. Not even when he came running towards me and I had to dodge his raised arm last minute, realizing frantically how small and easily disposable I was against him.

And as desperation grabbed at my throat, my body shaking in terror but determination as well, I realized something. I wanted to live, I wanted to survive and I wanted to return home, but not to District 4, no, into the arms of the man I had fallen for in the few days I had been at the Capitol, the man who made me look beautiful and desirable for the first time in my life, the man who believed me and begged me to do my best and return to him. I wanted to live for Choi San and I wanted to know what his lips felt like pressed against mine, what his cologne smelled like, and what being wrapped in his big, but comforting, arms felt like. My emotions were conflicting, I wanted to hate him, to curse his name and scream at him—he was from the Capitol, part of the reason why I was forced to live my life in fear each year The Reaping came around, ultimately falling victim for their wicked games—I knew we didn’t belong together, it was shameful to fall for a man like him, but at the same time I couldn’t help but recall the tenderness in his eyes, in his touch, in his words, and I’ve never felt safer, freer and happier.

I wanted to see San again.

With a memory that was hazy and a numb mind, I only came to it when I heard the third canon go off, warm blood dripping from my hands and face, stench unbearable as I crumbled next to the dead body and heaved for air, bile rising in my throat as I vomited whatever little my body had inside my stomach. And I cried as I dragged myself away from the gruesome scene, now four innocent lives hanging over my head, their deaths bloodying my hands and forever burned inside my memories, a weight I could never get rid of. We were all victims in a greater game, and all we could do was endure and continue living, if not for ourselves, then for the lives we had taken.

            Now that the moment I had been waiting for came, I wasn’t so enthusiastic about it anymore. I wanted to go home, of course, I did, but going home meant not seeing San until the next Hunger Games. It meant being separated from the man I had grown attached to in an alarmingly short time, the only man who’d ever managed to make my heart beat faster. I didn’t understand what part of San made me so enraptured with him, and no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t figure it out. It made no sense, it felt twisted and somehow sick too, shameful, but I couldn’t stop myself as my eyes found his, my whole being feeling alive when a small dimpled smile appeared on his face. The makeup team was here to say their last goodbyes and the vast train felt empty without the male tribute I had arrived with. It felt colder and scarier than on our arrival, and I didn’t want to go, not yet. I needed more days, perhaps even weeks, with San. But President Snow’s words were ever present in the back of my mind and his threats frightened me. I knew I had no choice but to live a lowkey life if I wanted my loved ones safe.

“Ah, I always hate this part,” Mingyu said with a sigh, his face fallen, “but we’ll see each other soon, no?”

“For the Victory Tour.” San’s voice was smooth and emotionless, but I noticed the way his eyes didn’t move on from me, the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed with every gulp he took.

“Which will be next month.” Joohyun’s sharp voice cut through as she looked between San and me, her jaw set tight. Hinata just sighed and turned towards my mentor with a sullen face, and to my surprise, Joohyun opened her arms and beckoned her over for a hug.

“Take care,” She said quietly as Hinata stepped back, a tear rolling down her cheek, “We’ll see each other in no time.”

“Please use the facial masks I have given you,” Hinata pleaded as Mingyu offered Joohyun a hesitant hug as well, her petite form disappearing in his huge arms, “Your skin is literally perfect, I’m afraid the salt water will destroy it.”

“It won’t.” A smile played at Joohyun’s lips, but she nodded still, “But I’ll use them, for your peace of mind.”

“Thank you!” Hinata’s eyes lit up and I faced my two makeup artists as they hugged me at once, making me chuckle and shy away when Mingyu ruffled my short hair fondly. San and Joohyun exchanged no words, but an understanding look passed between them before Joohyun sighed, taking a look at her wristwatch.

“The train leaves in fifteen minutes, San.” And to my surprise, I watched as my makeup team and Joohyun walked over to the compartment’s automated door, knowing looks passing their faces.

“See you soon, Y/N, let Joohyun help you wear your facial masks, please!” Hinata seemed to be obsessed with keeping our skin hydrated and moisturized, terms I learned only upon my arrival to the Capitol, and I nodded so that she’d leave with a peaceful heart.

“Take care!” Mingyu called before the doors closed in front of them, leaving San and me alone in the compartment which was bigger than my old bedroom. I interlaced my fingers in front of me and looked at the floor, wanting to say so much yet unable to do so. San moved first, approaching me with hurried steps and I didn’t expect to feel his warm hand cup my cheek and raise my head. His dark eyebrows were furrowed and worry was written all over his face, his skin clear of any cosmetical product. He was glowing underneath the natural light, he looked gorgeous. My body seemed to relax at the close proximity and I nuzzled my face into his palm, turning my head to kiss his wrist as San’s eyes softened, lips downturned.

“I don’t want to go just yet,” I whispered and held San’s other hand, our fingers intertwining.

“We’ll meet soon again,” He tried to reassure us, but it only made me long for him more, even if he was standing right in front of me, “Until then, you have Joohyun and even Finnick to help you if something is amiss. Don’t be afraid, I know your family cannot wait to see you, you’ll be fine, my love.”

“How can I be fine if you’re not there, San?” He gulped hard, jaw clenching as tears sprung into my eyes. The thought of being separated from him sounded excruciating, I really didn’t want to go. I wanted San to hold me, reassure me, and be there for every waking moment of mine, otherwise, it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“You’ll be, no—I’ll find a way to be there, my love, if not physically, I’ll try to send pieces of myself to you.” He cupped my face as he leaned down, breath ghosting over my face as our eyes bore into each other deeply, “I promise, I won’t abandon you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

“Will you write to me?” I asked in a whisper, feeling a flicker of hope spark in my chest and San licked his lips, his eyes falling on my parted ones.

“I’ll try, I really will.” He whispered and then leaned in, eyes fluttering closed as our lips brushed together, hesitant at first, almost coaxing. I stepped closer and leaned into him, my arms around his torso holding him firmly as my fingers twisted into the flannel white shirt he wore, my body now wrapped in his honey-like cologne. San’s grip turned surer, more secure, as he tilted my head back, our lips moving languidly, taking our time as if we weren’t in a hurry. And for a split second, I managed to forget all my insecurities and fears as San’s whole being consumed mine, his lips moulding perfectly against mine as he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it and kissing me with more fervour. One hand slipping into my hair and fisting the short strands firmly had me keening as I held San’s jaw, the pace of our kiss quickening as he walked me backwards until my thighs were pressing against something hard, forcing my knees to bend slightly as I tried to stabilize myself by a hand behind me, pressed firmly on the surface of the table.

And it felt as if San was trying to steal not just my breath but my soul too when his mouth parted, tongue asking for permission as it swept over my bottom lip. I had never been kissed like this before, neither held nor desired so fervently, and my mind swam in a daze as San’s body pressed against mine, firm and demanding, as my lips parted just slightly, hesitantly. But San’s tongue was insistent as it licked against my teeth and then finally into my mouth as I gasped in the back of my throat, holding onto his broad shoulders when a calloused hand on my lower back made it arch, leaning my upper body back as my lungs burned in a way I never wanted it to end, not painfully but longingly. His tongue was hot and sharp as it glided against mine, alternating between sucking and just simply exploring my mouth, coaxing more sounds out of me as my body started shaking, stimulated in a way it hadn’t been before. I didn’t want us to separate as San pulled slightly away, making me chase after his lips with a desperate need settling deep in my bones, my fingers slipping up to his neck as our lips met again, my fingernails pressing marks into his tan skin. But we didn’t have enough time, we never would, and when my lungs started screaming for air again and San had to pull back, he pressed his forehead against mine, panting loudly while he peppered kisses all over my cheeks—I felt at ease. For the first time in my life, my mind was silent, my body was relaxed, and I felt indestructible.

“I’ll find a way to you, I promise,” San whispered when the train whistled and my heart suddenly lurched into my throat, bringing that deep-rooted desperation back.

“I love you, San.” The words slipped past before I could even ponder on them, making San’s eyes widen as he froze, hands gently holding my waist as he helped me stand up straight. My eyes shook as I stared into his wide eyes, desperate to hear an answer, to hear him say the words back to me, to confirm that he cared for me just as deeply as I did for him.

His swollen red lips pressed against my forehead with a quiet hum and I felt on the verge of tears when I heard the compartment’s door open behind San, his body big as it obscured my view, “I love you too, Y/N.”

His words were quiet but firm, assuring, and definite as he looked me in the eyes with a sad smile, thumb rubbing my cheek when the train whistled again, giving its final warning before it took off. And I wanted him to stay, but I had to let go. San belonged in the Capitol and I didn’t. I was just a simple girl from District 4, our love never to be consumed as it should’ve been from the very beginning. But I found the strength to smile, to hope for a future by San’s side as he detached himself from me, our fingers grazing together still when I stole a swift last kiss from him. Joohyun had her eyes fixated on the floor as she stood by the entrance, but when San walked towards her, she looked up. She seemed tired, the coldness was gone from her eyes, and she looked at us with pity—it hurt.

“Stay safe, Joo.” San patted her cheek before he was out of the compartment, never once looking back. I gulped, eyes falling onto the window as Hinata and Mingyu were now joined by San, a few Peacekeepers standing behind them to ensure everyone’s safety. Tears threatened to gloss over my eyes but I stopped them, fearful that I wouldn’t see San’s face anymore as I hurried towards the window, feeling the train lurch forward. Hinata and Mingyu waved as Joohyun joined me, her lips pulled into a small smile as she waved back, but San just watched with a stoic expression on his face, turning his back when the train lurched forward again, slowly taking off this time. Something in my chest felt heavy as San took off, never once turning back to look at me, taking both Hinata and Mingyu off guard as they looked at the retreating stylist with confused expressions. And when I couldn’t see them anymore, Joohyun’s cold fingers wrapped around my bicep and pulled me away from the window, guiding me towards a couch as my legs finally gave out and I crumbled into the soft cushion, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“The ocean awaits us, Y/N,” Joohyun whispered as I felt her manicured fingers in my hair, gently petting my head, mind lost somewhere as she stared ahead mindlessly. I was finally going home.

3 months later

            Adjusting to the life of a Victor came easier to me than I had expected. My parents welcomed me home with open arms and tearful eyes, holding me as my mother sobbed loudly while my father pressed kisses against my hair, telling me how happy he was that I was standing in front of them once again. I couldn’t tell them all the terror that came with standing in front of them, the mental torture I had endured because I was alive, I just couldn’t. So, I never let them know, that whenever I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see myself but a girl covered in blood from head to toe with a sinister smile on her lips, eyes dazed and hungry to kill. It was a monster staring back at me, not the innocent eighteen-year-old girl I was before I left for the Games. The District welcomed me back warmly as well, with people patting me on the back and congratulating me while Finnick stood with a bouquet in his arms when our train arrived at the station. Joohyun didn’t say much as the Peacekeepers led us towards a tinted car, ushering us inside as then I realized we were headed towards the Victor’s Village. My parents had been moved to the house when I was announced as the winner, apparently. All of my belongings were there, yet my room felt foreign, impersonal.

But over time, I learned to accept this new lifestyle as I slowly started adjusting to the small changes. People now greeted me on the streets, bowing their heads and asking whether they could talk to me when I had a little free time. At the market, everyone seemed to be wanting to buy our catch of the day, leaving the other vendors with grimaces on their faces. It was odd how suddenly everyone wanted my attention, wanted to befriend my parents even, calling us over for dinner or even lunch on Sundays. But I didn’t wish to mingle with those I wasn’t important to before the Games and kept to myself while remaining respectful towards everyone. Joohyun, unsurprisingly, wasn’t around as much, but she checked in every week and would sometimes come knocking on our door late at night, asking whether I would walk with her on the beach. Our walks were always filled with silence and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing and familiar. I was home, I finally felt at ease, away from the prying eyes of the Capitol and the curious people who had no idea what having privacy meant.

Yet still, something was missing. A big part of my heart was constantly aching, yearning, wishing for the one person I couldn’t have. San was in the Capitol, living his life like before, thriving each day as he released a new collection, called ‘The Little Mermaid’. Everyone theorised it was about me, but San denied the gossip and said he was merely inspired as it had been a long time since a tribute he worked with had won the Games. Apparently, San has always wanted to see the ocean, to let his feet sink into the cold and wet sand, lay down on a blanket and let the sun kiss his skin, warming it until he couldn’t bear it anymore and would have to cool down in the cool ocean. I hung onto his every word as he spoke, eyes gleaming and jewellery shining underneath the artificial lights of the studio with a backdrop of the ocean from District 4. I could feel my mother’s eyes on the side of my face as my eyes welled with tears, and unable to take the yearning inside my body, I stormed off before San could finish his interview.

But he had kept his promise. He sent almost every second week something that was his, a little piece of himself. I couldn’t help but look forward to it, anticipating the moment Mr. Yoon would knock on our door late at night, slipping San’s letters through underneath the door. Mr. Yoon was risking his job by receiving San’s letters and delivering them to me, but apparently, the two had grown up together and were good friends. Mr. Yoon became a Peacekeeper at a young age, following his father’s footsteps, and he was doing his best to rise in the ranks. He was granted more freedom due to his father’s status among the Peacekeepers, and he only took advantage of it when it came to delivering San’s letters. I was forever grateful to Mr. Yoon, rewarding him with baked goods whenever we would cross paths at the market or in the square.

Today had been a similar day, my blood was simmering underneath my skin and I had been fidgety all day long, trying to help my mother around the kitchen as it’s been a stormy day and my father and I couldn’t sail out onto the water. Finnick was over too, conversing with Annie in our living room as the TV was on. Apparently, Mags wanted to air out the whole house and sent the two out for a walk, but Annie ended up remembering she hadn’t seen me in a while, so, they decided to stop by. Despite Joohyun having been my mentor, I was closer to Finnick and Annie as they both seemed to understand my heartbreak and unspoken longing. Annie was a young healthy woman, but she wasn’t completely sane anymore, and she needed Finnick by her side at all times. Whenever he had to go to the Capitol, she’d isolate herself and not talk to anyone for days, but surprisingly she had allowed me inside her room one morning when I had made her breakfast together with Mags. She didn’t speak to me, she didn’t look at me and she didn’t get out of bed, but her hand shot out from underneath the blanket and held my wrist for a few seconds, squeezing it. I knew she was there for me in her own way, and I did everything I could to be there for her in my own way.

The house we lived in was massive and clearly too spacious for three people only, so my mother would often invite over either the other victors or our relatives, who had an envious glint in their eyes each time. If only they knew the sacrifices that came with living a lavished life, still controlled by the Capitol, even more so than before.

“Honey, should we add more carrots?” My mother asked with confusion as she stirred the soup, one hand on her hip. I put the knife I was holding down and walked up to her, glancing inside the pot.

“No, unless you plan on having over the whole district?” I raised an eyebrow at her and she chuckled, looking over her shoulder towards where the living room was. Annie was giggling and Finnick’s hushed words were audible but intangible.

“I did invite Mags and Joohyun too for lunch, so maybe I’ll add two more carrots.” My mother mused to herself as I hummed, leaning my hip against the counter. There was a TV in the kitchen too and it was on, volume louder than the one in the living room. Ceaser Flickerman was on, blabbering about whatever hot news that concerned the Capitol, some gossip about victors from Districts 1 and 2 before he mentioned San’s new collection again, talking about a party held not long ago to celebrate his new release. My ears perked up at that as I walked towards the table, grabbing the remote control to give it more volume, eyes glued to the TV as San’s grinning face appeared on it.

He was dressed in loose leather pants and a white, with an intricate design, adorned his torso, pulled in at his waist to make his shoulders seem even broader. His bare arms were kept warm by a thick fur coat that reached his ankles, and big golden necklaces and rings complemented his outfit. His eyebrows were black and sharp, and his dark hair was gelled back too, sharpening his features even more as it gave him a dangerous look. His eye makeup was completely black and his lips weren’t their usual red colour, but a more muted coral. And despite San always wearing jewellery that was big and chunky, his ears were adorned with pearls, giving his whole look an unusual touch. He looked masculine and dangerous, commanding almost, but the pearls decorating his ears somehow softened his features, especially when he laughed or smiled. It was endearing, breathtaking, and hard to look at without feeling my body shake, wanting to crumble to the floor.

Because Snow was a vicious person, San and I never met for my Victory Tour. He wasn’t allowed to come, apparently cooped up with designing ten dresses for President Snow’s niece, rendering him unable to accompany the team for the tour. His designs were sent with Hinata and Mingyu, and Momo, one of San’s apprentices, came as a replacement for him. I knew Snow had done this on purpose, but I couldn’t help but cry when the team came and there was no sight of San, my whole world breaking as my longing only worsened. Being this far away from him had started feeling painful, and I didn’t know for how much longer I could go on like this.

“Would you look at that!” Caesar's shrill exclamation snapped me out of my thoughts as my mother flinched too, glancing over her shoulder in wonder, “That’s Choi San, everyone, look at him!”

His laughter drilled inside my mind as more footage of San was shown as he drank glass after glass of champagne, accepting them from others as they handed it to him, Finnick’s warning ringing in my ears. You weren’t supposed to accept any drink that was handed to you, but perhaps it was different for San because he was from the Capitol too. But the more images flashed across the screen, the hazier his eyes became, his smile wider and lazier, movements sluggish as he danced around women and men, laughing and stealing food playfully off of others' plates. I gulped, my heart thumping loudly when Caesar's smirking face came into view, his microphone held close to his mouth,

“And would you look at that, had our lovely bachelor finally found a sweetheart?” It felt like the world stilled around me when the images shifted and it showed San cradling the face of a woman with fiery red hair, wild and short, face heavily clad in makeup as her eyes were unnaturally yellow. She wore a white dress, barely covering her cleavage as it glinted like diamonds under the lights. She looked at San with awe in her eyes, mesmerized by my stylist as he spoke to her words we couldn’t hear, hiding her further in the corner as he crowded against her body, “Ah, young love, I still remember what it feels like. It’s intense, raw and so rejuvenating, it was about time our beloved San found his match, no? I just hope we can still have him to ourselves from time to time!”

Caesar's shrill laughter echoed in my ears as I felt my blood simmer underneath my skin, ears ringing as my eyes remained glued to the screen where images of San sitting in a chair surrounded by ladies could be seen, even men flaunting around him. My jaw hurt and I hadn’t even realized just how tightly I was clenching it together, my body trembled as uncontrollable rage shook it. I saw red in front of my eyes, so vibrant that it blinded me as I heard something crash loudly, my breaths coming out in loud puffs as I felt the desire to hold something until I broke it with my bare hands, smashing it into tiny bits, destroying it until nothing was left of it. My chest felt tight and my thoughts were jumbled as I heard someone call my name, but I couldn’t focus, I just wanted to—kill. Kill whoever touched San, whoever dared separate us, whoever denied our love. And I knew I could do it, all I had to do was grab a— “Y/N!”

I jumped, gasping loudly for air as I felt my face burning, my eyes wide as I looked around myself, oblivious to my actions. Finnick’s face was contorted in worry as he stood the closest to me, hands held out in front of himself as he kept his distance as if I was a dangerous animal ready to pounce on him.

“Y/N.” My mother’s scared whisper finally snapped me out of my confusion as my eyes frantically surveyed the kitchen, widening when I realized the knife I was using to cut vegetables was now tightly gripped in my hand, held in a way that could easily harm anyone. As if burned by the silver, I released it from my tight grip, letting it clatter to the ground as my eyes settled on the remote control that was now broken into bits and pieces.

“I—” I tried to steady my breathing, but my body shook and I was scared. Scared of myself and of what I would’ve done if Finnick hadn’t managed to snap me out of my crazed thoughts. I wasn’t like this before the Games, something was wrong with me, I was a monster now, “I’m so sorry, I—I didn’t mean to, I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It was Annie who spoke up, her voice light and her face surprisingly understanding. She walked inside the kitchen, avoiding the broken remote control as she passed Finnick and nodded at my mother, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Her words hit hard, breaking the wall surrounding my mind and the emotions I tried to keep intact all this time, especially in front of my parents. I wanted to cry, to sob, but no sound left my mouth as Annie’s arms came around me, holding me tightly against her. I wanted to react, to scream, break more things, but I was numb and unable to move as she started humming a song I didn’t know. My mother had tears in her eyes when I looked at her but she didn’t look disgusted or afraid, she just looked like she didn’t know what to do as she turned her back to me, hunching over the counter as she continued to cry. I let Annie hold me as Finnick kneeled and gathered the broken pieces of the remote control, grabbing the knife too as he went over to my mother to offer her a side hug, muttering something to her quietly.

“You’re not broken even if you think you are.” Annie’s words seemed to only cut deeper into my heart as she had an absent look on her face when she finally detached herself from me, “If you give in to the monsters crawling inside your head, it means Snow wins. Don’t let him win, Y/N, you’re stronger than that.”

I nodded wordlessly as Annie smiled brightly and genuinely for the first time since I had known her. Finnick watched her closely, eyes holding affection, only making me remember San and the warmth of his eyes, of his embrace. I missed San, so much, and it felt like I broke apart a little bit more each day we spent apart. My mother wiped at her cheek with the sleeves of her blouse and continued cooking like nothing had happened, asking Finnick to set the table. The rain had stopped hours ago and my father had left for the market, he was supposed to return any time now for lunch. As I wanted to walk over to my mother and apologize, the bell of the front door rang twice. My heart leapt into my throat and I raced towards it, disregarding Finnick and Annie’s confused looks. It was Mr. Yoon, San’s letter had arrived. Nobody besides my mother knew that I was exchanging letters with somebody from the Capitol, and it was supposed to stay like that. I grabbed the letter off the floor and paid no attention to the rest of the people as I raced up the stairs towards my room, tearing the envelope apart as my hands shook with anticipation, eyes running over San’s familiar handwriting. It was elegant and beautiful, just like him.

My love,

I shall tell you this each time I write to you, even if it hasn’t changed, but I miss you dearly. I dream of you nightly and I fantasize about you daily. I miss your laughter, your pouty red lips, your eyes full of wonder and love, your skin which glints under the lights like they were meshed with gems. I miss your flowery scent, the gentleness of your touch, and the adoration in your eyes whenever you as much as glanced at me. Sometimes I miss you so much that I lose myself in my thoughts, in my memories, for hours on end, thinking about you, about your day, wondering how you are doing and what you are thinking of. Unfortunately, I still haven’t found a safe way for you to write back to me, and I know it must be so much harder for you than it is for me, but please wait for me. I’m looking for ways, searching endlessly to find a way to hear your words too, but at least I sleep assured knowing that my letters reach you, that I can fulfil my promises.

I haven’t been sleeping much lately, but fear not, I am well, I’m just trying to keep up with the deadlines. I wanted my new collection to come out before this month ends because summer doesn’t last forever and it’s themed after you, yes, my little mermaid. I know you hate the nickname, but to me, it’s like having a little part of you with me, just like what the letters are for you. I don’t know when this letter will finally reach you, hopefully before the Capitol shows anything of my collection and of the after-party, but know that every single pearl adorning my body was imported from District 4, specifically from your family. I know you love to collect pearls, you’ve told me so multiple times, so I asked my dear friend Yoon Jeonghan to only buy those that have been yielded by your hands, this way it’s even more meaningful, more personal. I wish the pearls could carry the warmth of your hands until they reach me, letting me feel you despite the distance between us. This whole collection…it’s to show my devotion to you, to tell you that I am yours and that I cannot wait to see you. I miss you, Y/N, but I have told you that already. I do not know when we’ll meet again, but just know that no man, status, rule or distance can keep us separated for much longer. Times are changing, my love, I can feel it in the air. Something is brewing and I’m afraid once it hits us, it won’t be pretty. I do not wish to wait around for it to happen, but I cannot disclose anything else, I’m afraid. I do not wish to put you in danger if this accidentally ends up in the wrong hands, although I trust my dear friend, Jeonghan. Before I end my thoughts, I shall ask you to ignore everything you might see or hear through the TV, whatever Caesar Flickerman and the other anchors speculate, they are not true. I do not care for anyone else but you in this world, and whatever you see is for publicity, it’s because I must keep up a front. If I didn’t, it would raise suspicion, it would sabotage me from seeing you before the next Games. Have faith and a little trust in me, even if I’m not deserving of it, I promise nobody owns my heart like you do.

I shall end my letter here, sitting by my window under the lamplight, wishing for you to be by my side. I hope the victors and your parents treat you well, and that Joohyun didn’t shut herself away from you like she usually does with everyone. It might not seem so, but the two of us are friends, and I worry about her frequently. Finnick is an honourable man too, I know he’ll take care of you if hardship arises, perhaps let him know when you can that the marigolds were prettier this year than last. Of course, do not say I have told you this, just let it slip during one of your conversations. I must go now, but remember, I love you. Until we shall meet,

Your beloved,

Choi San.

            Every muscle burned as I tried to lift the fork, even my fingers felt like they weighed kilos. My chest ached and despite my stomach growling, I couldn’t seem to gulp my food down, the orange juice in the cup by my hand my only hope as it washed down the unchewed food I still forced inside my mouth. It was sickening and I tried not to look disgusted as everyone seemed to be enjoying their dinner. Today had been horrible, it’s been only the second day of training, but I already knew that I wouldn’t survive past the second day in the Games. I had watched the other tributes, specifically those from Districts 1 and 2, and concluded that if I came face to face with them in the Arena, I’d beg them to kill me fast so that I could go painlessly. It was a frightening thought and it made my whole body shake as I somehow veered away from them and tried to learn something new, something I wasn’t good at to ensure my survival even if for just a little longer.

The table had been silent at the beginning, but the male tribute who sat to my left had spoken up about how he learned how to correctly hold throwing knives and was thinking of choosing those as his main weapons. The mentor in charge of him, not Finnick Odair as apparently Snow didn’t let him partake in the Games this year, was sceptical of Jisung’s, the male tribute, weapon of choice and told him to go for something bigger and stronger. My mentor, Bae Joohyun, just sat in silence as she ate the bloody beef on her plate, her lifeless eyes glancing up from time to time when her mentor partner would crack insensitive jokes about all the children that died in the Arena and would keep on dying. Jisung was just a child too, barely sixteen years old, but he didn’t react to the comments, only placed more meat on my plate despite me not touching it. The makeup team and the stylist stayed over for dinner tonight after they took our measurements and discussed with us what we wanted to wear for the parade.

The stylist, Choi San, was unlike any man I had seen before. He was intimidating and cold, his small eyes were sharp and bore into yours with an alarming intensity. Whenever I looked at him, he was already looking at me with a blank expression on his face, but his eyes felt like they could read my mind, like he could see right inside it and tell just how scared I was. I couldn’t hold his gaze for too long, shy, and also slightly animus towards him since he was from the Capitol. It was very obvious he lived a lavished lifestyle, his clothes expensive and his cologne sweet and strong. He also had no shame as he wore a mesh shirt, completely see-through and showing off the nipple piercings he had in both buds, a cross necklace hanging between his well-built pecks. His shoulders were broad and yet his waist was small, he wasn’t the tallest man but he still towered over my smaller form. He was breathtaking and I felt ashamed whenever my eyes strayed towards him, looking and admiring him, wondering what type of person he was underneath all that makeup and the pompous clothes.

“Well, Y/N,” One of the stylist’s apprentices spoke up suddenly, her name was Jurin, “Why aren’t you eating? You are already very thin.”

Silence settled upon the table and my muscles stiffened as I felt put on the spot, but she just continued, “There’s no reason to fit in your clothes if you cannot lift a simple sword to protect yourself in the Arena.”

“Can you lift a sword?” I didn’t mean to snap, I didn’t even want to answer her, but my fatigue and waves of nausea got the better of me, tipping me over the edge as I looked at her expression full of judgment, her purple eyes narrowed.

“I’m not required to lift one,” Her tone was snobby, I watched as my stylist lowered his fork from his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head to look at Jurin, “but I probably could, if I had to.”

“Why don’t you go into the Arena, then, Jurin?” I asked with a wide smile, letting my fork and knife clatter against my plate loudly. Tense silence fell over the table as Jisung curled into himself, Joohyun’s glare was sharp as she looked towards Jurin, and Jisung’s mentor only chuckled, throwing back a shot of whiskey.

“Because I’m not a disposable rag.” That said everything about the people from the Capitol, about what they thought of us, how they viewed us. It was enough to make my blood boil as I pushed my chair back, standing up with a clenched jaw. Choi San’s fork clattered against the plate loudly too as his head whipped around, eyes glaring at his apprentice.

“Not yet, anyway.” I hissed, eyes narrowing into slits as Jurin paused, one eyebrow raising in a taunt, “Your cakey makeup will eventually melt your face off, and all those fake things on you that you call beautiful? Yeah, they’ll make you look like a rag at some point, not that you don’t look like one already—”

“How dare you!” Jurin screeched as she raised her knife, springing up to her feet with an appalled expression. Joohyun scoffed with an irritated look on her face and eyed the other woman, her tone eerily calm.

“Sit down before I make you, wench.” Jurin screeched again as if the world was ending, and despite how unwell I was feeling, it satisfied me to hear my mentor defend me against the delusional and disrespectful woman.

“You disgraces think that—”

“Enough!” I flinched when the stylist’s voice boomed, making tears spring into Jurin’s eyes. She looked at San as if she was betrayed, then she started sobbing loudly as she slammed her chair onto the floor while turning around to storm out of the dining hall. Poor Jisung sat frozen, and I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as his mentor started laughing loudly, eyes falling on Jisung.

“See? I told you women are sensitive, all you have to do is comment about their appearance in the Arena, and they’ll turn against each other without you doing anything.”

“Not now, Jongin.” Joohyun hissed as Jongin chuckled, holding his arms up in mock innocence. With my stomach churning and bile rising to my throat, I took a shaky breath and lowered my eyes, feeling ashamed and on the verge of throwing up. The makeup artists looked like they didn’t know how to react, the tall guy called Mingyu was mid-bite as he shared a confused look with the blue-haired girl, Hinata.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be in my room,” I muttered under my breath as I bowed my head and took off, pressing my hand against my mouth as I took deep breaths, rushing towards my room. The doors were automated and they opened by themselves as I reached the end of the corridor, taking off into a sprint as I felt like I’d throw up anytime now. My mind was a jumbled mess and my emotions were all over the place. I was terrified, and I didn’t know what to do anymore to become the strongest, the smartest. I had no idea how to become appealing to the Capitol so that they’d sponsor me and help me survive, I had no idea whether I was capable of killing or not.

My knees ached when I finally reached the toilet and kneeled rather harshly, heaving but not throwing up. My mind was only torturing my body, proving just how weak I was, incapable of doing anything to save myself. After flossing my mouth and washing my face with cold water, I tied my short hair in a low ponytail and headed back to my room to change into my pyjamas, however, I halted when I realized someone was inside my room. A frightened gasp left my mouth and the figure whirled around, looking sheepish as his hand slowly pushed the little notebook I brought with me away from him. It was something my mother had made for me. Ever since I was born, she’d note down my days, she’d draw for me in it, and tell me how she had felt that day. It was heartwarming and sweet, it brought me comfort when I was terrified and saw no light at the end of the tunnel.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry or enter your room without permission, but I—” My stylist, San, gulped nervously, “I was worried about you. You barely ate anything and you look sickly, is something wrong?”

I released a shuddered breath and leaned back against the closed door of the adjacent bathroom, “I’m terrified.”

My words hung heavily between us as San gulped again, looking at the floor before he slowly looked back up at me, into my eyes, “What Jurin had said…I apologize. She’s spoiled and very insensitive, you shouldn’t listen to her.”

“And you shouldn’t apologize for her.” I muttered as my arms circled my torso, holding myself to bring a little comfort, “But thank you…San.”

He sighed loudly, licking his lips as he took a tentative step towards me, making me freeze. Jurin had been the one to take my measurement while San stood back and watched, noting down the numbers, sometimes instructing Jurin where to measure again and which body parts to skip. I could feel my heart slowly quicken, flushing my cheeks a light red colour as San walked closer and closer.

“I’m sorry you have to be here,” Before I could tell him that it wasn’t directly his fault, he continued with a big inhale, “I’m sorry I can’t do anything to stop this from happening. Jisung is barely sixteen years old and you are eighteen, you’re both so young, and all I can do is dress you up to make you look desirable for the Capitol. I’m a horrible person, but I—I want them to see how gorgeous you are, Y/N, I want them to look at you and want you to win. I want them to fall in love with you and root for you, and I want—I want you to return to me. I believe in you, I can see it in your eyes, the way you move and think, you’re strong, Y/N, let Joohyun coach you and you will live, I know you will.”

My eyes were round as I stared up at San in surprise as he came to a standstill in front of me, eyebrows deeply furrowed and voice raspy as he took a big breath, gulping as his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. I didn’t understand where this was coming from, but I felt my heart race as I stared at San dumbfounded, arms dropping from around my torso as I gulped, slowly nodding my head.

“I—I’ll do my best,” I whispered, unsure of what I was supposed to say as San’s eyebrows furrowed more, face contorting into an emotion I couldn’t read. His left hand reached out, but he stopped before it could touch me.

“May—may I hug you?” He asked quietly, lowering his head so that I couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. My eyebrows raised in surprise and I froze, confused, but not opposed to the idea. I nodded slowly, trying to relax when he grabbed my arm and gently guided me towards himself, his sweet cologne engulfing my senses as my eyes fluttered closed, taken aback by his warmth as San’s arms circled my shoulders and pressed my head into his chest. He released a shaky breath as I stood in his arms, frozen, heart racing in my chest as I slowly raised my hands, hugging him around his middle. I hadn’t been hugged like this before, not by anyone who wasn’t my father, and yet, this embrace felt different. It was charged with something I couldn’t name yet, it felt warm and full of silent promises that I didn’t fully understand. And when San’s lips pressed against the top of my head, I understood that this ran deeper, that he needed me to return to him, that he was here because he couldn’t go back to his apartment without telling me all of that. And I knew it was wrong that I was letting him hold me like this, he was from the Capitol and he was just like the others, probably, but I couldn’t help but melt into his arms, a small smile grazing my lips.

That is until I heard the slash of something, warm and red liquid dropping onto my head until it slowly started streaming down my face, getting into my eyes, nose, and lips. I gasped and tried to pull myself out of San’s embrace, but his arms only tightened around me and a very familiar cackle could be heard behind him. He was too big and I couldn’t see past his shoulders, but when his arms finally fell limp and I pushed him backwards, a scream ripped through my throat. The front of my clothes was coated in blood—in San’s blood and the person who still held onto the handle of the axe that was lodged into his skull was���me.

“Y/N!” The alarmed voice that called my name made another scream freeze in my throat as I gasped, eyes flying open. My heart was beating frantically and it was pitch dark inside the room, only instilling more fear into me as I grasped for whoever was inside the room with me, gasping and yelping when warm arms grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up into a sitting position, “Y/N, it’s me, it’s okay now, shh.”

I was crying, I realized as I buried my face into my mother’s chest, letting the sobs wrack my body as I clung to her, her hands patting my back and shushing me as she rocked us back and forth. I could still feel San’s blood coating my body, the smell nauseating and its taste even worse as it got into my mouth when I screamed. What was a memory, something that had happened, was twisted by my sick mind and turned into a nightmare, into something I would’ve never done to San.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” My mother muttered into my hair as my sobs turned into hiccups, “you never said anything so I thought you were fine, I’m so sorry for not noticing it. I’m here, I’m always here for you, and so is your father, Y/N, you can tell us anything.”

I sniffed loudly as I raised my head and hugged my mother tightly, resting my head on her shoulder. She let out a loud sigh and hugged me back just as tightly, pressing a kiss against my temple, “I didn’t want you to worry. I can carry this burden on my own, mom, I didn’t want you to see the monster I had become—”

“You’re not a monster, my baby.” My mother’s voice broke and she pulled back, holding my head as she looked me in the eyes. I could see her now that my own eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and her eyes were filled with tears as I continued to sniff loudly, “You are courageous and smart. You did what every other victor had done before, Y/N, you’re not a monster. I love you, your father loves you, nothing can change that, ever.”

I sniffed and nodded, her words soothing despite the storm still raging inside my mind. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, the longing was too much, the memories and my actions were haunting me. I felt incomplete without him here, I was slowly breaking more and more, “I’m in love with San, mom.”

“With Choi San?”

“Yes, I love him.”

“Oh, my baby,” A sad smile crossed my mother’s features, “It’s okay, it’s okay. Come here.”

And she released me as she crawled further onto the bed, pulling the covers back as she got underneath them, laying on the empty side of my king-sized bed. She opened her arms and smiled softly as I turned towards her, pulling the covers over our bodies as I let her hug me and lull me back to sleep with her soft singing.

I never saw Jurin again after that evening.

            A week passed since my confession and nothing has changed, proving my fears fruitless. My mother never brought up the subject again, she didn’t tell my father either, but she did ask one evening while we watched the sunset from our back porch whether the letters I kept receiving were from San. She looked worried, like she wanted to advise me against meddling with San, but she knew too that it was too late for that now. I was in love with San, nothing could change my heart’s desires anymore. It was saddening how badly I was taking his absence. I had started seeing his face in others, hearing his voice when he wasn’t even there, trying to recall his touches only to panickedly realize they weren’t as vivid anymore. It was horrifying how quickly my thoughts were spiralling, sending me into something I would call depression. I didn’t want to see anyone anymore, yet Joohyun’s presence brought me comfort. Perhaps it was because she had been there for me, watching out and helping me during my Games, perhaps it was because she had seen me and San together, a reminder that it wasn’t just something my mind had made up.

And despite how obvious it was that I wasn’t doing well, my parents never left my side, not even when I yelled at them to leave me alone. They were understanding and as loving as ever, and they didn’t let me wallow in misery. Today I had little to no force or willpower to get out of bed, but my mother needed a few vegetables and my father was out on the ocean, sailing his boat without me. I had to go to the market whether I liked it or not. The cacophony of the place was disorienting and the sun was too hot today, making it hard to breathe as I tried to avoid crashing into anyone. The basket hung from my arm as I paid the vendor for the eggplants I had bought, and feeling self-conscious, I let my eyes survey the market. Something felt amiss, like eyes were constantly following me. Many people looked at me given that they knew who I was, but there was one set of eyes that remained on me constantly, watching from the shadows, from someplace I couldn’t see. My heartbeat picked up as I thought about the worst-case scenario. Maybe San had been caught, his letters were found, and now whoever President Snow had sent after me was here to torture my family and me.

I tried to remain calm as I hurriedly left the market, hoping that the insistent eyes would go away, but as I rushed through the busy cobbled streets of the District, I realized someone was following me now. I gulped and tried to find a path that was fast yet intricate so that my pursuer wouldn’t be able to keep up with me. It felt like I was back in the Arena, chased and mocked, reminded of how fragile I was, of how easily I could lose my life to others who were bigger and more powerful. I took a left turn, breaking off into a sprint when I heard footsteps echo behind me, and realized the streets were becoming deserted as it was noon and nobody was outside unless they were headed for the market. I didn’t dare look back as I turned onto an alleyway, gripping the basket firmly as I ran down the narrow pathway, turning to my right as I had foolishly forgotten that it was a dead-end. My chest fell and rose quickly, making me stop in the middle of the alley as I was forced to face my mistake.

The footsteps came to a stop behind me and my muscles tensed up, my jaw gritting as I gripped the basket’s handle tighter, wondering whether I could use it to defend myself. If I hurled it at my chaser, then maybe I could escape while they were too busy dodging the heavy basket. Realizing that I had been through worse in the Arena, I took a deep breath and then swiftly turned around, ready to throw my basket towards the person, until I realized who stood in front of me. I froze, eyebrows furrowing and my mouth falling open the longer I looked at the man facing me, breathing hard from having had to chase me. He looked nothing like the stylist I had met in the Capitol all these months ago. He wore simple beige trousers and a white shirt which was buttoned down to the middle of his chest, which was glistening with sweat due to the hot air of District 4. His black hair fell over his forehead, some strands falling into his sharp eyes. His face was devoid of any makeup and he looked like any other man, blending in well with those from District 4, his complex tan and beautiful.

Basket tumbling to the ground, I didn’t even notice my legs take off without my command, carrying me towards San as I leapt into his arms, gasping when our bodies collided together. He was real, he was here. San was in District 4, holding me tightly against his body as my arms circled his neck, thighs squeezing his hips as my ankles hooked together. He still smelled the same, still as sweet and honey-like, his skin was hot and his embrace warm as San staggered for a second, his hands fisting my blue dress as one of my hands tangled into the soft hair on the back of his head.

“My love.” His voice was low, but still warm and filled with longing, with care, “Oh, Y/N, I have missed you—so much.”

His voice broke at the same time my tears fell down my cheeks and I thought I couldn’t hold him tighter, but I did as I pulled my head back just enough to press kiss after kiss against his neck. San shuddered against my body, his chest rising and falling rapidly as I felt my mind settle, my thoughts finally silent, and my heart void of the ache and longing I have felt ever since we parted ways.

“San.” My voice broke as he pulled his head back until we could look into each other’s eyes and I didn’t wait any longer, I crashed our lips together as San groaned, holding me even tighter against himself. I didn’t care who happened to see us, I didn’t care if we were caught as our lips moved frantically, insatiable, and desperate to press together more and more and more. I whined when our tongues met, and it felt rushed and painful when our teeth clinked together, but I didn’t care because I was in San’s arms—San was here, with me. Our breaths were ragged when we finally parted, foreheads pressed together as my eyes remained closed, just drinking in the emotions swirling in my chest, so powerful that it felt like my heart was about to burst, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” San answered before I even finished my sentence and I opened my eyes, unable to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to mind as he adjusted his grip around me, holding me more comfortably.

“How—just—what are you doing here?” My mind was reeling with scenarios, I needed an answer. I had to know that everything was alright, that President Snow hadn’t done anything to him.

“It doesn’t matter how,” San’s eyebrows furrowed and mine did too when I realized he looked anxious, “but we can’t stay here for any longer.”

I nodded, gulping, “Of course, let’s go to my house, it’s safer—”

“No, Y/N.” San’s voice was serious, sharp, as he shook his head, “We can’t stay in District 4 and we can’t stay in the Capitol either.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in a whisper, feeling dread take over my body as San carefully lowered me to the ground, cupping my cheeks as he raised my head. My hands held onto his arms as I looked up into his warm eyes, now filled with worry and unease.

“I broke many rules while coming here, I…” He sighed and bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes for a split second, “I disobeyed Snow’s orders. If he finds us, he’ll kill you as a way of punishing me—or worse, he’ll kill me and your family to make you hurt knowing it would hurt me more than anything that I left you on your own—”

“I don’t understand,” I shook my head, cutting San off, “Where can we go if we—we’ll die, San, it doesn’t matter—”

“No, Y/N, you have to listen to me.” He gulped and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, voice shaking slightly as he continued, “I know it will sound crazy, but District 13 wasn’t destroyed by the Capitol. We can—we must go, I have it arranged already. Do you trust me, my love?”

“I do, San, of course, I do, but—” I gulped, feeling uncertain, “This sounds impossible, it’s crazy. If we get caught, we’ll both—”

“We won’t get caught.” San’s tone held determination, like he was completely sure that we wouldn’t get caught, “Jeonghan is coming with us, we have a boat waiting for us, he can get us out. I have spoken to President Coin, District 13th’s leader, she’s waiting for us. We can do it, Y/N, please. I’m sick of Snow, I’m sick of the Capitol, I just want to live the rest of my life with you by my side, happy, and free. Come with me, my love.”

A free future, a future where President Snow couldn’t control us anymore, tell us what to do or separate us from each other. A future where I could be by San’s side, far away from the scrutinising eyes, from the people who would never approve of our relationship. I was in love with San, so much so that I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him leave me behind. I couldn’t live without him anymore, I couldn’t let him walk away again, I couldn’t be on my own anymore, surrounded by people who would never understand me like San does. He believed in me, he cheered me on, he knew I could return—he loves me.

“Okay,” I whispered, nodding my head as San’s eyes widened as if he had thought I wouldn’t go with him, “Yes, I will go with you, my love. I trust you.”

San’s whole face lit up at my words and the biggest smile I have ever seen on his face appeared, eyes filling with tears as he pulled me into his arms, his embrace tight and suffocating. Just like his love for me.

“I love you so much that it hurts, Y/N.” San said as he released me, intertwining our fingers, “The boat leaves in an hour, we can’t take too many things with us, but maybe a few—”

“No.” I shook my head, smiling at him, “I have everything I need right here, in front of me.”

A tear rolled down San’s cheek as I pressed up on my tip toes and kissed it away, pressing our cheeks together as my heart felt like it couldn’t be contained inside my chest anymore, bursting and racing so hard it felt like I was having palpitations while my ears started ringing. And I meant what I had said, San was the only thing I needed, nothing and nobody else. Our eyes met as San pressed a kiss against our intertwined fingers, the basket long forgotten on the ground as we rounded the corner, headed towards the port where Jeonghan was waiting for us on our getaway boat,

“May the odds be ever in your favour.” ~ Suzzane Collins.

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[norwegianbelle]

Introductions

~This is from my other website I started, but overall abandoned due to me liking tumblr a bit more. I still like what I wrote, so here it is!~

With America's independence day being tomorrow, America is on my mind. This has been the case for a while now, however. No matter where you are in the world, home will always be home. I think, however, I may getting too far ahead of myself. Let's start with introductions.

My name is Kaitlyn. I was born in Charleston, South Carolina and I am in my mid-20's. I'm right in that juicy little age range where people debate about if I'm a millennial or Gen-Z and I usually choose whichever side is cooler in the context of the conversation. You know how it goes. I don't want to give out too much personal details here because it is the internet and I am not an idiot.

I was born in Charleston, as previously mentioned, but I also was raised there, too. For those reading and don't really know what culture in Charleston was like, I'll try to paint a nifty picture for you. Charleston is home to palmetto trees and the sea breeze. It was where the American Civil War started (Fort Sumter) and it also is home to the world's largest sweet tea. No, that isn't a joke. It is actually a thing. See below:

I know it says Summerville, but any true Charlestonian (or anyone from Summerville for that matter) will tell you it's "part of the Charleston area." Charleston is very much a tourist town, through and through. Summers are the peak season for traffic jams and expensive hotel room rates, but this is because the weather is perfect for going to the beach. Which, wouldn't you know, Charleston has one nearby (Isle of Palms.) That mixed in with the vigorous bar scene, it makes for the perfect destination for bachlor(ette) parties and people from Ohio to vacation at.

It is by no means perfect, however. Because of Charleston being such a big tourist town, many city funds go into taking advantage of the boom in the summers. Corrupt politicians make life hard for those without that live on the peninsula and even further inland. North Charleston has one of the highest crimes rates in America and it is very evident when moving past the area why that is: dilapidated houses, homeless people baking in the hot summer heat, potholes in roads that will permanently damage your car even if you are paying attention and can't avoid it. It is ruthless for those who were dealt a shitty hand, with the average rent being just shy of $2,000. And, lucky me, I was dealt an excessively shitty hand.

Despite the title of this, I won't be delving too deep. Just know that I've seen all the worst sides of America and how broken it is. Maybe as time goes on and in proper contexts, I'll give more details, but for now...

During what I like to call my "Growth Period," (Ya know, like an insane person) I met my now husband. He and I met on an online mobile game if you could believe it! We connected immediately and I knew within a few weeks he would be the one I would marry. And I was right! He took a bit more convincing, however. This was back in 2017, and he didn't propose until 2020. It was very cute. Over a voice call and everything (don't worry, ladies, he did a proper one later.)

After he proposed, we started looking into ways to get me to Norway. Given that my life in America wasn't great and my husband had family in Norway, we decided our best chance for a good life together was there. It took a while, especially with COVID, but finally, in December of 2022, the day after Christmas, I made landfall in Bergen (It was supposed to be on Christmas, but my flight in Detroit got cancelled. Cheers to that winter storm. I hate you.)

Coming to Norway was a huge change. there were a lot of different things happening. I was so used to being independent and relying on myself and then suddenly, I had to rely strictly on my husband. Not because that's what he wanted, but because I literally couldn't work. I suddenly went from having to do everything, to doing nothing and it was a jarring change. I also had to get used to the drastically different weather. Did you know that in Charleston it has snowed twice in, like, 20 years? Yeah, that was a big change.

Now, I'm here. Six months later and still doing nothing. Except writing about it. That's why I think I started this. To feel like I am actually doing something with my time that may be impactful to someone, somewhere. I feel like in America, moving to any Scandinavian country is romanticized. I've seen it all over social media, and I have to say that it was not at all what I expected. I expected the move here to solve all my problems, but they reality was I now had no distractions. I had to face my problems instead of just trying to focus on surviving and that's the one of the hard parts they don't tell you about. This blog will essentially be my online diary as I maneuver a very difficult change. I'll post recipes, journal entries, life updates to anyone who cares. I'll give some actual insight into what living here is like. Not the sparkly bullshit the vacationers try to sell you. Coming from a tourist town, I am intimately aware that living in a place is much different than visiting, and Norway is no exception.

I mentioned earlier how home will always be home. And I stand by that. I do find myself missing some parts of America. It is by no means perfect, but I miss the familiarity of it all. I miss how I could tell people where to go to find a good taco or where the nearest gas station was. I miss how I was easily able to navigate conversations with strangers because I knew what was culturally appropriate to talk about. I miss fried chicken.

That's not to say that Norway is all doom and gloom. There are perks to living here that you've probably heard of like good healthcare, good food and produce, wonderful scenery. It is a wonderful place, I just have a lot more to go off with America than I do here. I hope that in the coming years, I'll find myself feeling more at home here in Norway than in America.

Until next time! Happy 4th, America! Hope you enjoy your endless fireworks and BBQ's in the backyard!

[bubblybubbubs]

Stuck With Me (3)

Summary - Draco’s POV on losing his soulmate

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count - 3.5k

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1  2 

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Sometimes Draco thought about how different his life would be had he not left you, had you not gotten hurt and lost your fucking memory.

It was truly ridiculous, the universe was actively conspiring against him, he was sure of it.

His current living situation just proved that further to him. “Wake the fuck up.” Blaise said slowly pouring water on his face even though Blaise himself was evidently groggy. “I will kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Draco was unsure as to why Blaise had chosen to live in a crappy apartment when his family Manor was free. He missed his silk sheets and expensive pillows. Yet sadly the ministry had decided they wanted to take that leaving Draco on Blaise’s smelly consignment store couch. Had he gotten completely cut off by his family? Perhaps, it would make the disgustingly plain beans and toasts they ate daily make a lot more sense. He’d hate to think that Blaise fed them this by choice.

“Guess who wrote.” Blaise said, wiggling a letter in Draco’s face.

“Loud ginger?”

“Loud ginger.” He confirmed dropping it in on Draco’s face. “You should answer her before we get a howler, then we’ll really see how loud the ginger can get.” Draco looked at the letter, Ginny’s name was scrawled on the envelope and the aggressiveness of the signature made him heavily considering not opening it but the possibility of getting a howler from her convinced him otherwise.

Draco,

You are the worst and I hate you. I’m not sure if you care anymore given that you have refused to make contact with her but y/n is doing fine. I mean sure she’s been asking about her soulmate and lying to her is slowly killing me, but I’m glad you and Blaise are having fun in your bachelor pad and that you have successfully cleared your amnesiac soulmate out of your head.  

Looking forward to hearing your pathetic excuses,

Ginny Weasley.

It was way too fucking early for this.

-

Things were strange.

You had gotten most of your memories back but everything was very different than what you remembered, everyone was different after the war.

The Weasleys, oh the poor Weasleys, they were like your family but the life has been sucked out of them without Fred. They had all tried to hide it from you, they believed you were already going through enough and you didn’t need their problems too. Ginny especially, she hadn’t left your side since you woke up. You kind of felt bad for Harry because whenever he wanted to spend some one on one time with Ginny she always insisted you tagged along.

For example whatever the fuck this current situation was.

“I’m really sorry Harry.” You whispered to him. “I told her I’d be fine alone.”

At first it had sort of made sense how careful everyone had been around you, but at this point it was exhausting. You would walk into a room and it would just go silent. You lost your memory, not your basic communication skills.

“It’s fine, I understand Ginny can be quite persistent.”

“What about me.” Ginny said hooking her arms with the both of you.

“Just that I don’t think I should be going on your dates anymore, it’s kind-“

“Ginny.” Harry said interrupting you pointing towards a boy down the street. He was blonde and lanky, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You had seen Ginny mad, in fact it was one of the first things to come back to you. Her calm fury was something that hadn’t remained constant since she was young and right now you saw it on her face as she stared daggers into the boy.

She scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

“This might take a while.” Harry said quietly, shaking his head. “Come on we can meet Ginny there.” You stole a glance across the street as Harry dragged you away. Ginny was yelling at the boy but he didn’t seem to care because he wasn’t looking at her he was looking at you. You felt your face heat up and you looked away from him following Harry. “Who was that, should I know him?”

Harry paused for a minute.

He had that face that people had whenever they were walking on eggshells around you.“He went to school with us but I don’t think you two were ever friends.” The way he didn’t look you in the eyes screamed to you that he was lying.Harry was always a horrible bloody liar.

-

It was really hard for Draco to process what Ginny was saying. Her anger had gone right to her face and Draco had been silently betting with himself as to how long it would take for her face to turn the same color as her hair. “Your face is really red.” Draco said, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Are you drunk.” Ginny said stoically.

Was he? It was likely, he honestly couldn't remember the morning or yesterday. The days were sort of blending together.

“Malfoy.” Ginny said. Usually when people used his name they were yelling at him or were angry at him. But Ginny said it with pity which somehow felt worse.

“I don’t get why you're doing this to yourself.” She said. “You’re miserable.” He deserved to be miserable.

“It’s for the best.”

“How’s that.”

Draco had no interest in divulging his feelings to weaslette of all people, but it seemed his judgement was slightly impaired by the alcohol he may or may not had been drinking. “I’m going to fucking Azakban Ginevra,I just dont see the point in telling her I’m her soulmate and possibly facing rejection just for me to be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco huffed. “Even if she somehow forgave me, I doubt the dementors will be allowing conjugal visits.”

“There are no more dementors at Azkaban, Kingsley got rid of them.”

Now normally Draco was against hitting girls but he was considering it heavily. “Thank you Weasley. I feel way better, I’m sure Azkaban is a paradise now. Remind me to send Kingsley a thank you letter.”

“Draco.” Ginny said.

Gross, hearing Ginny say his first name with pity felt even worse.

“You’re not going to Azkaban, Harry agreed to speak at your trial.”

“Oh great he’ll testify to the one time I helped him, I’m sure it’ll cancel everything else out.” He said. “I’m not a good person Weasley, that’s why I know I’m going to Azkaban, because I deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re staying away from y/n?” Ginny said even angrier than before. “Is this some sort of self punishment.”

Draco stayed quiet.

“Merlin, Draco go to fucking therapy.” Ginny huffed. “You’re not the only one that’ll suffer because of your self pity. She needs her fucking soulmate back, as much as I hate you for everything you’ve put her through I can’t argue with the fucking universe and neither can you.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have fucking gotten involved with her in the first place, it’s only put her in danger.” He took a deep shaky breath. “And her losing her memory was the universe’s way of telling me to stay away.”

He had known for a long time that she was too good for him  

It was dark and he was tired, turns out making potter stinks badges and teaching all of Slytherin clever chants was demanding. Draco wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his dorm until of course he heard quiet sobs. He was a firm believer that crying in public was pathetic, especially in a hallway where anyone could stumble across you. And he might’ve told them that had it not been you. He had been thinking about you, not that he would ever tell anyone that ever. But how could he not, you were his soulmate and that had to mean something.

He barely had time to think as his feet moved on their own bringing him in front of you.

“Why are you crying.”

Merlin, could he have been any less compassionate.

“Why do you care Malfoy.” You said.

He hated the way you looked pretty even if your eyes were all puffy and your face was all red.

“I don’t.”

He did. He even started to walk away for dramatic effect of course.

“I’m scared.” It felt weird to hear sincere words from you that weren't you yelling at him, and he hated the fact that he didn't hate it. “Harry has his first task tomorrow he could get hurt or worse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t tell him I told you this but he has to be some sort of invincible to defeat Voldemort at the age of 1. Don't you think?”He could hardly believe the words he was saying.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finished off.

Draco sat tensely, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He couldn't hug you could he? No that would be seriously overstepping. You would probably punch him in the face, again. After all you had been the one who wanted to forget about the whole soulmate thing and of course you were a halfblood and a gryffindor on top of that. It would never work.

For once he hated being right.

-

You were actively weighing how likely it was for Ginny to kill you if you woke her up.

Very, is what you eventually came up with. Maybe you could play the amnesia card.

“What do you want y/n.” Ginny grogged from under her. “I’ve been listening to you shifting around for the last hour.”

You had been staying at the Weasley’s and you had absolutely refused to take Fred’s bed so that had resulted in a cramped hammock floating in Ginny’s room.

You turned around to face her with a sorry look on your face.

“Did I know that boy, the one you were yelling at.” You said. “I just feel like I knew him.”

Ginny was quiet the same way Harry was. “No.” She said turning away from you. “No you didn’t.”

“Ginny-”

“Y/n please don’t.” Ginny said, cutting you off. “It’s not for me to tell, if it was believe me you’d already know.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where.”

“To Hogwarts.”

It was embarrassing. Everyone had gone already; they had been able to at least attempt to cope with the trauma they had endured. And you who couldn't even remember the bloody war couldn't work up the nerves to go.

Ginny stared at you for a bit before muttering. “Hermione and Ron are going soon, they’ll likely let you join them.” You were about to make an argument about going on your own before Ginny turned back around nonverbally telling you that the conversation was over.

You still couldn’t sleep and not from lack of trying. Your mind was whirring, ever since you had seen Ginny yell at the boy your lack of memory seemed to be feeling different. And your fear was beginning to settle in, your doctor said that some memories may never come back and that thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t feel all that different, Ginny said you were the same whenever you asked. But she could be lying (since she seemed to be in the habit of doing so these days) and you would never know because you had amnesia.

-

Draco was regretting not taking his plea deal. He would much rather be sleeping in Azkaban than waking up on Blaise’s concerningly uncomfortable couch to an angry looking ginger towering over him. No one seemed to value his rest and it was getting ridiculous. He pressed his eyes closed and pull his blanket further over his face in hopes that maybe Ginevra would disappear. Sadly that was not the case and Ginny ripped the blanket off of him leaving Draco quite cold.

Ginny stared down at him as she stood impatiently at the foot of the couch.

“Blaise someone broke into your flat.”

“I noticed mate.” Blaise said who looked just as exhausted hunched over his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked remember, or were you drunk too?”

Ginny did not look amused and Draco almost felt bad for being so difficult but then he remembered he didn't care.

“Y/n’s going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. She’s likely going to get her memories back.” Ginny said. “Thought you should know.”

Draco sat up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny said taking a deep breath. “You need to be there.”

“How so?”

“She’s going to remember all the shitty things you’ve done to her and are yet to apologize for and you’re going to lose your soulmate for good.”

“I don't see how me being there will change that.”

Ginny didn't answer him rather she walked towards his chimney. “You know what, screw you. I truly do not care if you go, I just thought you should have the choice that's all.”

Ginny didn't look at Draco, rather giving Blaise a short nod before using the floo to go back to the Burrow.

Draco let himself fall back down to the couch as he listened to Blaises loudly chow down his cereal.

“So are you going to go?” Blaise said his mouth still full.

He felt bad for Blaise’s mum all that money on etiquette lessons for what?

“No.” Draco said, burying his head in his pillow.

“You’re a tosser.”

“I can live with that.”

He could and he has. If he had a sickle for everytime he was called some variation of ‘tosser’ he certainly would not be sleeping on Blaise’s couch.

“I’m calling Pansy.” Blaise didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. But Pansy was another story, Pansy scared everyone, especially the people that loved her which sadly included Draco. “I will kill you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you know she’ll knock some sense into you.”

“I have a lot of sense.” Draco groaned. “In fact I have too much sense.”

Blaise ignored Draco’s exaggerated groans as he called Pansy.The call was short or maybe it was long, all Draco knew was that Pansy was standing over him with that look on her face.

“I’m not going, and you’re not changing my mind Pansy.”

“Blaise leave.” Pansy ordered.

Blaise looked insulted. “This is my house.”

“You call this a house?”

Blaise huffed mumbling under his breath curses at Pansy.

“That was rude.”

“So you're going to lecture me on rudeness now, that's rich coming from you.”

“I dont care.”

“You look and smell like shit, I can tell you ‘don’t care’.” Pansy said.

Never in her life had Pansy been one to sugar coat things and apparently she had no intention of starting to do so. Draco was going to argue it was the couch but he realized he couldn't remember the last time he showered so he kept his mouth shut. Draco a year ago would’ve drowned himself in the black lake had he known he’d come to be like this.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m pulling the card.”

“Pansy no that’s not fair.” Draco said sitting up.

“Fair?”

Poor choice of words.

“Draco, do I have to remind you my soulmate is dead, I stopped feeling tugs and being able to talk to my soulmate when i was 13. Your soulmate is alive by some fucking miracle, and frankly you’re being a selfish prick.”

“Oh.” He always hated when Pansy talked about it. Not because he didn't care but according to Pansy because he cared too much and the last time he had shown any sign of pity towards Pansy it had not gone well for him.

“What lies do you have Ginevra feeding her, does she think she has no soulmate, does she think her soulmate is dead?”

“She doesn’t think she has a soulmate.” Draco said in a low voice, he wasn't proud of what he was doing but he also knew he had no choice. “She was in her coma during the tug. I figured by the time the next one rolls around I have something figured out.”

“And what about you.” She asked. “She may not remember you but you’ll remember her, you'll never forget that you have a soulmate out there that you refuse to see.”

“I won't let myself ruin her.”

“She’s a grown woman, I find it demeaning that you don't see her capable of making her own damn choices.”

“What?”

“You think she'll hate you, you think she’ll be ruined, you think she’s better off. What about what she thinks? You think she'd be okay with you slowly killing yourself?”

“You're a bitch Pansy.”

“So I’ve been told.” She looked towards the clock.

“Come on lets get you something to eat.”

She reached her hand out for Draco to grab.

“I can walk to the kitchen without holding your hand thank you very much.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Draco’s arm.

“What are you-”

Draco’s sentence was cut off by Pansy apparating them both out of the loft.

-

Draco had gone to his fair share of therapy, did it ever work? no, Draco would rather die before talking about his feelings with a stranger but he had been taught his fair share of anger exercises . And Merlin did they come in handy, truly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling Pansy as she stood there with a smug face looking at the rubble that once was Hogwarts.

“Pansy.” Draco said slowly.

“Shut up, look she’s right there.”

“I’m not ready Pansy.” Draco said wiping his palms on his pants out of stress. “I wanted to bring her flowers.”

“flowers?”

“Forget me nots.” He said with a sardonic dry chuckle. “It was our unofficial flower, ironic isn’t it.”

“The fact that you have an unofficial flower makes me want to throw up.”

“I need flowers.” He said. Pansy groaned before searching the grass. She picked up a dandelion swirling her wand transfiguring it into a bouquet of forget me nots.

“Here, go.” He was about to give another excuse but Pansy apperated away. The one time he needed her she leaves.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to approach her without seeming like a stalker.

His thoughts were disrupted by Hermione and Ron walking up to him. He wanted to turn around so bad but he had no doubt that if he did so Hermione and Ron wouldn’t hesitate to curse him.

“Granger, Weasley.” He said sticking his hands as deep as his pockets would allow him.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged.

“Just go talk to her.” Ron said.

“Thats why Im here.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but Draco didn’t feel like fighting Weasley.

Draco had never felt such anxiety because of another person. He had always been confident and walked around like he owned the world, but now he felt scared.He watched you as you traced your hands across the bricks of Hogwarts, his steps faltering as he came closer to you.

“Hi Y/n.” He called out.

You turned to look at him. Draco’s heart felt heavy at the way you looked at him, not any recognition in your eyes. You had once looked at him with such love, then such hate but now you looked at him with nothing. because right now that’s what he was to you, and it broke his heart.

“You.” You said stepping closer. “You were the one talking to Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking, she yelled I stood there.”

“Ginny does that a lot.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” He said.

You spotted the flowers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, who did you lose?”

His hands tightened on the flowers.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You said. “I lost my friend Fred, and my memory. But I don't feel like I lost it since I can't remember ever having it. But I miss Fred.”

He studied every centimeter of your face noting the subtle changes he didn’t notice the last time he saw you as you rambled on about Fred anxiously.

“You.” He said voice wavering. “I lost you.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry I-“

“don’t know who I am?” He said with a dry laugh. “I was sort of expecting that.”

You didn’t say anything studying his face for anything that sparked a memory in you.

He dug through his jacket pocket pulling out a photo.

His hands were sweating and he tried his best not to touch your hand. Partially because he didn’t want you to feel his sweaty hands and because he feared he would break down at the realization that you were finally here in front of him.

“I’m Draco and you’re my soulmate.” He said

-

AN THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART THE LAST PART WILL BE THE NEXT PART

[soundtrack-scribe]

Phantom Pain

Summary: Trauma bonding turns into a full blown crush with Bucky

Word Count: 2.9k

And away, and away we go!

__

You heard the startled gasps behind you as you lowered your body before pulling yourself up on the pull up bar again. “Yes?” you questioned, repeating another rep.

“I-I-I-” a teenage boy's voice stuttered. “Mr. Stark!” he yelled in slight panic.

You sighed, letting go of the bar and landing on your feet. “Yes?” you repeated, turning to face the lanky teenager with his mop of brown hair, and his companion, a girl a few years older, stifling giggles into her hands, both of their cheeks flushed. “Oh,” you said in realization. “You must be Peter. Uh, Tony’s in the lab, I think.”

Peter nodded mutely, before quickly dashing out of the training room, leaving you face to face with the young woman. “Gay,” you said simply. “And I think Vision’s with Tony.”

Her blush deepened, as she too, hightailed it out of the room with a muttered “Tony has a brother?”

You chuckled quietly to yourself. Of course your brother wouldn’t have told his newest members about you. Something about it not being vital information, and liking the shock value of it.

“And this is the training room,” a voice you did recognize said as Steve came into your line of sight, a man matching his stature trailing behind him silently. “Oh, hey, Stark.”

“Capsicle,” you greeted with a salute.

“Stark?” the other man asked in confusion. “I thought-”

“Fortunately there’s two of us,” you corrected. “Or unfortunately, depending on your opinion of Starks in general. Y/N,” you introduced yourself, offering out your hand.

“Bucky,” the man said, shaking your hand.

“Nightmares, again?” Steve asked you, his eyes glancing about the room.

“Sometimes you frighten me with how observant you are, Rogers,” you said grimly.

“Nightmares?” Bucky questioned, intrigue painting the features of his perfectly sculpted face.

“An unfortunate lingering side effect of my time in the Army, yeah,” you explained. “Something I’m sure you can relate to,” you added with a pointed glance at Bucky’s left arm which was completely metal, your mind already curious to how it worked, and how to make it better. “Working out helps. Something about physical exertion canceling out mental exertion.”

“Well, I might have to join you some time. See if your theory holds up.”

You held out your arms, gesturing about the giant training room. “Feel free. Everything here is open 24/7 to accommodate the mad geniuses and PTSD freaks.”

“And which one are you?” Bucky asked. And you knew it was a stupid question given what little information you had already provided him with. But you could also recognize a flirting edge when you heard one.

“I feel like the answer’s obvious. But, in the event that it’s not, I’m both. Pleasure to meet you, Bucky. And welcome to Avengers headquarters.”

~~~

A couple nights later, you were in the lab tinkering about, when you saw Bucky walk by in gym shorts and a tank top, his hair pulled back in a small bun. “Can’t sleep, huh?” you called out.

His body tensed as he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was you. “Yeah. Thought I’d try out your theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” you assured, before refocusing on what you’d been working on.

“You have a lot of faith in a theory I’ve yet to test for myself,” Bucky said, stepping into the lab with you.

“I don’t do faith. I do facts,” you replied bluntly.

“Mmm, then how do you know it’s a good theory?”

“A good theory isn't whether it’s proven to be correct or not. A good theory is about being able to be repeated and replicated. Tested multiple times over and over. My theory just also happens to be correct.”

“Wow, you are a Stark.”

“I’m not an idiot, is what you mean. But rest assured I don’t have the same level of arrogance my brother inherited from our father. Or at least, I like to believe I don’t. But, results don’t lie. The physical exertion that comes from working out is enough to distract the brain from the mental exertion that comes from unwanted memories. Is it perfect? No, because it’s not a cure. But it does well enough anyway. And you can take my word for it. Or Rhodey’s, or Sam’s, or Steve’s. And that’s just the military crew. Or, you can test it for yourself. As I said, it’s a good theory. Very testable.”

Bucky’s tongue clicked in his cheek. “Mmm, and if it’s such a good theory, why are you here in the lab instead of in the training room?”

“A distraction, is a distraction, is a distraction. And I have work to do.”

“And what is it that you’re working on?” he asked, stepping closer to peer over your shoulder.

“Prosthetic limbs for amputees. Ones that aren’t hunks of metal. No offense.”

“None taken. I didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.”

“Right… Sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize. Something more… realistic looking would be nice. But the metal’s worked so far. Enhances already enhanced abilities.”

A shudder went down your spine. “Right. Super soldier strength mixed in with whatever tech is loaded up in that thing. I’ve taken a lot of hits in my day that I’d hate to experience again, but I’d do it if it meant a guarantee of never being on the receiving end of being hit by that. Like… the damage you were able to inflict on Tony, even in his suit…” you let out a low whistle. “Damn… no thanks.”

“Sorry? I think?”

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Please. It’s not that he didn’t deserve it. The amount of times I wish I could clock him myself… My only regret was having not been there to actually see it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you and Tony don’t actually get along?”

“Oh, we do. It’s just… typical sibling shit, I suppose. We had different ways of coping with our parents dying. He went the standard billionaire spoiled brat route. I went to the Army. He took over the company. I stayed in the Army. He realized the damage the company was actually doing and became Iron Man. I was part of that damage.”

“Shit…”

Again, you waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s my older brother. I love him. He’s rectified a lot of his past by helping turn Stark Industries into the Avengers. He's, dare I say, gained a conscience. But he’s also far from perfect. Still too arrogant for his own good. But I like him a lot better these days than I used to. I mean, I’m here.”

“So… you work for him? Doing what exactly?”

“Yes, and no. I live and work here, yes. But I don’t necessarily work for my brother. I help him and Bruce out a lot. Perks of not being an Avenger myself means I’m here to keep working when they’re gone. But, for the most part I keep to myself doing my own project.”

“Right, the prosthetic limbs. Personal reasons?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Seen my fair share of wounded vets. And seen my fair share of their struggle with shitty prosthetics. And even if they are complete shit, they’re also expensive. But I’m in a position where I can make non-shitty ones and, pun not intended, not have them cost people an arm and a leg. So, that’s what I do. Each prototype gets me closer and closer to making them as realistic as possible. Restoring range of motion you won’t get with cheap plastic wrapped around steel. It’s like… a complete limb transplant. Or that’s the ultimate goal anyway. Make prosthetics so real it’s like you never lost a limb in the first place.”

“That’s… noble of you.”

You shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for broken things.”

Bucky smiled at that.

~~~

For the next handful of months, it wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to find you awake in the lab, or for you to find him awake in the training room.

Some nights, the two of you would work out your frustrations of the memories that haunted you both, and you’d tease him about how it wasn’t fair you always drenched through your shirt while he barely broke a sweat, smiling at the way he’d laugh.

Other nights, the two of you would swap war stories while he watched you work in the lab, and when you gathered up the courage to ask to run tests on how the tech in his arm worked to further your own research, he willingly obliged.

“So… were you just an enlisted soldier, or an officer?” he asked one night while you tinkered away.

“An officer. Made First Lieutenant.”

“That’s just below Steve. Which…”

“Is still lower than Sergeant, yes,” you laughed. “Technically anyway. But as an officer, I would still outrank you.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… no offense, but First Lieutenant isn’t exactly brag worthy. I imagine you meant to go further. What happened? Was it the damage you mentioned with Tony?”

You nodded. “Yeah. The same accident that started his whole Iron Man gimmick was the same accident that ended my career.”

Bucky nodded, and you knew he wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to pry or overstep. And you were grateful for that. It was one thing to own up that your PTSD stemmed from an incident that ended your military career. It was also one thing to own up to how your experience in the military drove you towards creating prosthetic limbs. But to admit that there was a deep personal connection between the two? That wasn’t something you liked to fess up to. “I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said, feeling the need to say something about your half confession. To acknowledge it without asking more.

You smiled wryly at him. “It’s f-” Your face twisted, and your fingers white-knuckled the table as pain flashed through your leg.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “You okay?” he asked, moving around the table towards you, his hands hovering nearby in case you fell.

“Knife!” you gasped out, gritting your teeth and humming loudly to keep from screaming out in the pain you knew wasn’t real. “Get me a knife!”

Bucky stood there, frozen, staring at you in horror.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you barked at him. “I know you have a knife on you! Give it to me! That’s an order, Sergeant!”

That snapped Bucky into action. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “Here!”

The sharp steel glinted in the lights as you took it from him and promptly shoved it deep into your right shin.

“What the fuck?!” Bucky yelped, jumping back. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he repeated when no blood came pouring out of the wound as you yanked the knife back out.

“Aaaahhhh,” you sighed in relief, the pain ebbing away. You relaxed the tension in your body, breathing slowly. “Fuck… hate when that happens.”

“What… the… actual… fuck?” Bucky asked for a third time in a low whisper.

“Relax, it’s fake,” you said, flashing the knife. “See? No blood.”

“I- I-” he stammered.

“It’s called phantom limb pain. Happens in amputees all the time.” You took a seat, pushing up your pant leg to your knee, detaching the prosthetic and tossing it uselessly onto the work table. “Piece of shit,” you muttered, before pulling a tape-recorder out of your pocket. “Prototype 27. Failure, as of,” you spared a glance down at the date on your watch, speaking that into the tape recorder as well. “What?” you asked Bucky who was staring at you with his mouth hanging open.

“That explains… so much. But… why didn’t you just tell me?”

You shrugged. “It’s not something I tell people. Lost my leg in an explosion caused by weapons my family made? Yeah, not exactly a conversation starter.”

“I get that, but… c’mon. It’s me.” He gestured at his left arm.

“Yes, you who- and please don’t take offense to this- doesn’t remember the trauma of losing his arm, and has never experienced the pain that is phantom limb pain.”

“I don’t remember the trauma thanks to years of more trauma that is being brain-washed, and having my mind controlled,” he replied in a clipped tone.

“Yes, the entire world is aware of your trauma, Barnes. Must be nice to have people be aware of what you’ve gone through.”

“People would be aware of what you’ve gone through too, if you’d tell us instead of hiding in jeans and sweatpants!”

“Why would I tell people?! For sympathy?! Or to hear them tell me that I deserved it?! Because news flash, both of those outcomes fucking suck!”

His face crumpled. “Why would anyone think you deserved this?”

You scoffed at his naivety. “It’s poetic justice, Bucky. My own family took my leg. They took Tony’s heart, too, but hey! Look what he made as a result! Isn’t it fuckin’ marvelous?! Tony Stark loses his heart, but gains a soul. Y/N Stark. Loses his leg, and nobody cares.” The words were bitter on your tongue.

“You don’t strike me as the pity party type.”

“I’m not. That’s why I don’t tell people. And yes, maybe there’s a selfish part of me that does what I do strictly for me. Maybe I never would have thought to do all this if I wasn’t an amputee myself. But I’m here, and I’m doing it. And I’m not going to use my story to gain attention and credit that I don’t even want in the first place. Tony thrives in the spotlight. Me? Never been my thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think your project’s pretty great. And I don’t see your personal attachment to it as a hindrance. If anything, I bet it pushes you further. To keep trying, even when what you have is already worlds better than what’s available already. But I also get wanting to keep parts of you to yourself. The sympathy vote isn’t the best feeling.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. “And I’m sorry for what I said about how it must be nice to have people aware of your trauma. Well… I’m sorry for how I said it. There’s quite a laundry list of things that will turn me into an asshole, and phantom limb pain ranks pretty high on that list. But I didn’t mean it as an attack, and if it came across that way, I do apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it. To an extent you’re right. The whole world knowing what happened to me… it dulls the shock value of a lot of things. Justifies a lot of my actions. So, for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial. But sometimes I wish I could just… I dunno. Be Bucky without people making their assumptions about what that means.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I try to make it a habit of drawing my own conclusions about people rather than listening to the assumptions others have made about them. So, at least with me, you can be Bucky, and that can be however you want it to look.”

“Thanks. I’d uh… I’d like that.” He smiled softly at you, and you smiled back, watching as a blush crept over his face. “Um… Are you going to need help back to your room? Cuz I can help, if you need me to.” The blush grew darker as he shifted his eyes about the room.

“Uh…” you stammered, a blush coming to your own face. Normally when you tossed aside a rejected prosthetic, you either stayed in the lab until you made a new one, reattached the useless one and begrudgingly dealt with it until you felt up to making a new one, or, in super rare cases when you were sure you were alone, wheeled yourself about the headquarters in a chair. But, here was Bucky, offering to help hobble you off to your room. And the thought of him helping support your weight, or God forbid carry you was enough to make your heart sped up. “Even without the weight of a leg, I’m still not exactly light, or small,” you told him. You weren’t as tall as Bucky, that was true, and you certainly didn’t have super soldier serum running through your veins. But you were still very much the standard rugged American soldier type with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles of your own.

Bucky just scoffed at the notion before picking you up in his arms.

“Jesus, fuck!” you exclaimed, throwing an arm around his neck to help support your weight as he headed for the door of the lab. “I swear if you drop me…”

Bucky chuckled, his chest rumbling into your side. “Relax. I’m not gonna drop you. Now, tell me where I’m going.”

You rattled off the quickest route to your room, both hating the vulnerability of being carried in his arms, and loving the security of it.

“See?” he beamed proudly, as he set you on your bed. “Told ya I wouldn’t drop you.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

“Bucky, wait,” you called out when he turned to leave. “Um… Would you mind maybe staying?”

“Here? With you? In your room?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the 1940s gentleman thing is real charming.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s um… You know I’m gay, right?”

“Well… That makes the, uh… oh, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but that makes having a crush on you a lot easier. Or a lot worse, depending on how things go.”

He blinked at you in confusion, not sure if he was hearing you correctly.

“I like you, Bucky. So are you gonna stay?”

He grinned, happily walking back over to you. “I like you too. And yeah, I’ll stay.”

__

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[loyally-unfaithful]

domestic life hc—tartaglia | childe

word count: 2.8k

pairing: tartaglia | childe/gn!reader

genre: fluff

a/n:  idk man i got the childe brainrot,, fictional kgb member, i love you <3

who kisses the other on the nose and the one receiving the kiss blushes?

childe would do it a lot to you, especially at the beginning of your relationship.

not that he doesn’t like giving you nose kisses—he still loves kissing you in general <3

it’s just that when you both just started out, your reaction would be more potent. you’d be more flustered, stammering as you stared him with wide eyes.

if you asked him why, he’d give a smile that’s so painfully honeyed, while his eyes twinkled with mischief.

« you’re just too cute when you act all shy. » his voice teasing.

but here’s the secret.

he is not immune to nose boops.

do not hesitate to do it to him!! give him a taste of his own medicine!!!

he will not expect your boldness and he will be caught very off guard.

his own reaction would be just or even more incredible than yours, actually sksksksk.

tease him and reap the rewards man.

he’d snap up and blink at you, surprised. not quite believing that yes, actually, two can play at this game. he’d try to stutter out a witty comeback, but it holds no bite due to the furious blush covering his face.

either way, the both of you would laugh it out.

nowadays tho, you mostly just playfully roll your eyes at him and smile lazily, waiting until he gives you a kiss on the lips too.

who sits on their partner’s lap as they wrap their arms around their partners neck?

this man is your throne and you will sit on your rightful place.

real talk tho, childe makes a p decent chair considering. and he actually likes having you on his lap—it gives him free and unrestricted access to everything.

his arms would snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him. he’s not letting his prey you go anytime soon, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands may even wander elsewhere.

maybe you’ll simply hold each other close, tenderly closing the distance between the two of you, happy to have his affection, and him yours.

or maybe he’ll take it as an opportunity to kiss you, roughly, with desire, with want, until you’re breathless and your lips are bruised. this position, you think, as you feel his hand sneak under your clothes and trace your bare skin (which now feels unbearably hot), may also lead to something else. something more.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

who kisses the inside of their partner’s palm before reassuring them everything is going to be okay?

before setting off on his travels, childe would press a gentle kiss on the inside of your hand, reassuring. it’s a message, a reminder, a promise.

a promise that he’ll stay safe, that’ll he’ll return to you, unharmed.

he does it to soothe your worries and let you know that there was nothing to be worried about—he doesn’t want you to get all stressed on his behalf. as much as it pains him to part from you for too long, he needs to do what he must; but he’ll be thinking of you and your health every step of the way.

so like

to go on a bit of a tangent

we know that childe’s work, as a fatui—a harbinger no less—is of course very dangerous. and even though he’s more than capable of handling whatever his travels throw at him, you can’t help but be worried for him.

and i also feel like, if you didn’t know this [his true nature] from the get-go, he’d hide his actual line of work or obfuscate most of the details from you.

it’s because he doesn’t want to stress you with the more gruesome details.

if you were never aware of the darker side of his profession, then he’d rather not have your perception of him be tainted. in your eyes, he was just sweet, darling tartaglia—not the murderer or weapon of war that he really was—and he'd prefer to keep it that way.

he’s aware that fatuis get bad rap as is, and he doesn’t know how he’d feel if his status made you afraid of him, or even worse, detest him. you hating him was the last thing he wanted.

you generally respect his boundaries, and accept whatever vague descriptions he gives you about his current “commission” (location, length of time). you have your doubts about his work as a “merchant”, but you have faith that he’ll see his endeavours through, even if you yourself are unsure and concerned.

anyway i…

i’m getting horribly off topic 0A0

moving on—

who initiates the forehead touch™?

after a long day of gruelling work, he’d probably long for your touch and affection, without exactly having the energy left to really vocalise his feelings. 

or at least, eloquently.

that’s why on quiet evenings, he’d seek you out and gently press his forehead against yours, pleased; you happy enough to follow his lead.

maybe childe lays his head on your lap while you play with his hair, untangling knots that have somehow formed in his unruly hair. at some point, he may reach out and pull you closer, close enough that your foreheads are touching. close enough to feel his warm breath fan your face.

you have to bend down a bit, and truthfully the position’s awkward, but your back’s protests are the last thing in your mind as you stare back into his pearlescent blue eyes.

despite his weariness, your comfort brings a smile to his face.

sometimes, he may even murmur something about how happy he was to be back home.

no words are exchanged, but there doesn’t need to be.

the love is there, and the both of you are content enough to simply revel in it.

where do they first say “I love you”?

things such as “i love you” and “i need you” are hard to utter for childe.

it’s a sign of weakness for him, and it’s a sign of weakness he does not wish to reveal nor acknowledge. if he says it, if he says that he loves you, he’s admitting a defect.

he has very little allies, and his enemies would not hesitate to take advantage of any leverage they can get. he doesn’t want you to be in danger because of him, he doesn’t want you to be used against him.

so admitting such vulnerability is very difficult for him.

however, though childe may be cold and calculated, tartaglia, ajax, is a man of feelings.

despite his consternation, he puts great importance over his loyalties and whom he offers his love to.

the first time he admits that he loves you, it is with great difficulty, as if it was a sin he shan’t utter.

he loves you, he thinks, but he cannot vocalise.

the first time he admits it, it was an accident. an impulse, the words whispered out against his consent, escaping before he was able to hold them in.

he carelessly lets the phrase out, and a part of him regrets while the other rejoices.

you make him weak when no other stands a chance to subjugate him so.

he hates it and he loves it oh so much.

it’s so so dangerous, and yet he is addicted.

he loves you.

who wraps their arms around their partner who’s cooking?

ok so like, it’s canon:

his siblings acknowledge him as the “the bestest big brother ever!” because he can cook and do housework. we stan a househusband.

anyway, this means that he’s at least a decent chef.

but because of his busy schedule as a harbinger, he rarely ever finds the time to cook, or to even be home. when he does get home, he would greet you before promptly passing tf out.

so he’d usually buy food when he remembers to eat. besides, his salary pretty much allows him to savour whatever liyue delicacy he wants to. the price, whatever it may have been, was negligible.

but honestly, truly, regardless of how luxurious and mouth-watering such expensive dishes were, nothing could beat home cooking. it hit different.

knowing this, you tended to prepare enough for two during dinner and save his portion on the dining table for when he gets home while you retreated to bed.

but on the off chance that he does get a day off, you best bet he’ll spend all that time within your presence. he is not letting you out of his sight and his arm’s reach.

he’ll ask you what you wanted to do. what you wanted to eat; he would treat you to anything, to repay your kindness, your thoughtfulness, as a way to say thank you, to say he’s glad to have you here and that he honestly truly cares for you.

you didn’t have to make him food but u did 🥺

if you said you just wanted something homemade, or if you wanted to taste what traditional snezhnayan food, he’d be more than happy to make you some of his favourite comfort food.

honestly you’re just shook that the man knows how to cook, and is quite good at it. an unexpected talent that makes you go “damn he’s the one, lads.”

as he works his magic, you’d help him around here and there, bringing this and chopping that. but for the most part, you’d just be his distraction and annoy him.

he will also annoy you back tbh.

playful digs and shade will be thrown… among other things being thrown…

yeah… cleaning up the kitchen is going to be a pain after this…

but he wouldn’t have it any other way—neither would you, for that matter.

you’re either gonna make something very delicious or nothing’s getting done, there’s no in between. you set the tone for this day dkfjd

if you want a chance in hell to actually get to eat something at the end, your best plan is to just wrap your arms around him and rest your chin on his shoulder. you’d pepper his skin with kisses while he tries his best to not be distracted from the task at hand (and maybe not slice his hand open with a knife).

oh well, what’s a little collateral damage here and there?

he’s here.

he’s yours, at least for now.

and you will take advantage of this.

who breaks out the first aid kit when the other gets a paper cut?

paternal cell.

paternal cell.

paternal cell.

we know childe do be a family man tho.

like let’s be honest, this man is a family man.

he loves his siblings and he loves his family. he has a very honest protective streak over his family and proclaimed loved ones. he hates seeing them hurt or unhappy so he will do anything to avoid such a situation.

if it does happen, he will do his damndest to remedy it.

so if he sees you getting hurt, even if it was simply just a paper cut, you best believe it’s protective ajax time and he’s pulling out the first aid kit.

bandaids, antiseptic, anti-inflammatory lotion, you name it. you tell him you don’t actually need half of these items and he shushes you before fussing over you.

he is making sure whatever ailment you have will heal up nicely and quickly.

he doesn’t want to see ur hurt :( and he rlly hopes u heal as fast as possible. you being hurt hurts him tenfold.

but not to worry, if he gets hurts? you’re also there very very quickly. you will rush to his side and you will fret over him, and his heart will fall all over for you once more, because you care about him and honestly it’s a nice feeling.

to be cared for.

maybe he doesn’t mind getting hurt if it means you would give him all of your attention and dote on him.

he just has to make sure you don’t find out he’s been getting injured intentionally because that’s instant banishment to the sofa for at least a few days.

who cuddles up to the other?

i like to imagine childe is a pretty affectionate dude, as in, he’s pretty touchy-feely. there’s also a little bit of possessiveness i think.

a lot of pda with this guy.

he wants to hold you close, he wants to be able to feel you near him.

so regardless of the time and place, he will make it known that you’re his, as he is yours.

it is no different as to when you’re in private. he’d snuggle up to you.

idk he just likes being near you? holding you, touching you, feeling you.

sometimes he can be a little restless in bed. if he doesn’t immediately conk out, he might build up some nighttime anxiety and paranoia. having you sleep soundly besides him makes it a little more bearable. it makes him feel safe and it certainly grounds him.

he finds that he sleeps a lot better and wakes up feeling a little more refreshed when you’re there with him.

of course, you were more than happy to reciprocate and curl up to him, his arms enveloping you.

though he might make a bit of a fuss and whinge, he lowkey highkey likes being in your arms. he won’t admit it, but being the little spoon is nice actually.

childe won’t ask for it or anything, he still wants to save face, but as you cuddle, the two of you would gradually shift until he has his head over your chest and he can hear the rhythmic beating of your heart. calming him.

who falls asleep on who? what is their reaction when the other falls asleep on them?

because of his job as a harbinger (not that you know that), he rarely ever comes home early or during normal human waking hours, so despite your determination you’re usually asleep by the time he slips inside your shared home.

that or by the time childe was comfortably sat next to you, more than happy to cuddle and listen to you ramble on about your day your excitement has already worn off, and in its place, drowsiness.

but it’s ok.

he would smile softly to himself, you asleep in his arms, small smile gracing your own lips, and gently lift up and carry you to your shared bedroom. slowly, carefully, he’d place himself near you without waking you up.

oh well, it can’t be helped. he’s happy enough to be around you, to have someone waiting for him.

but on the off chance you’re still awake while he was asleep, you would definitely take this chance to admire him, quietly watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

without that characteristic smug and self-satisfied grin, you’d wager he looked “innocent” you chuckle. but “innocent” and “childe” don’t belong in the same sentence.

stroking his hair, you’d notice how he looked so peaceful, carefree, even, when he’s asleep, and you long for the time when he’d look such a way when he was awake

you’d gently kiss his forehead, unable to bring yourself to break his peaceful repose to bring him to bed. instead, you wrapped a blanket you nabbed from childe’s bedroom around his shoulders and settle in his arms, happy to be near the man you love.

the next day, the both of you may wake up with terribly stiff necks rip

who likes to be held and who likes to hold?

i feel as if this is a shared sentiment. you both hold each one another an equal amount. ^u^

he’s used to being the older brother, the protector to his younger siblings, and he doesn’t oppose to having that role.

so in true childe fashion, he’d tease you for being all cuddly and insatiably hungry for his affection, but coddles you all the same (because he just loves the thought of, and being, held close).

you on the other hand love being adored by the object of your affection, paying no mind to his quips (ok maybe paying a little mind, as you huff and playfully hit him for being mean).

it’s ok though. he makes it up through his actions. and being paid attention to, cared for, adored and cherished by childe? you revel in it.

when you take him in your arms, he feels immensely happy and relieved.

to know that you care for him, that you’re looking out for him and that you love him—it brings forth a part of him he has long believed to have locked away and discarded.

a part of him that would’ve been considered weak, a part of him that wishes to be vulnerable, protected, and loved.

he figures that when it’s with you, it’s alright. he embraces it all the same because he trusts you.

you’re both smitten and you think to yourself that it’s alright his way.

because you have his heart, and he has yours.

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[br-disaster]

Nie Huaisang’s outfits appreciation post

After the terrible loss of our second best dressed cultivator and fashion icon Nie Mingjue, the cultivation world now lacks one of it’s pillars. But little did they know, our fashion king had a disciple, someone capable of honoring his legacy in many ways.

While we all grief, a new icon rises.

And I’m here to prove that Nie Huaisang deserves his late brother’s title not only because Mingjue’s no longer serving looks -may his fashionable soul rest in peace-, but because Huaisang has always been a stylish icon on his own.

I mean, this look right here is enough proof:

 Huaisang has quite a lot of robes, and they are all so different, I decided to compile them chronologically:

1. the “assigned fashionable at birth”one

Look at this small bean with his cream-colored robes. Whoever chose this color for him did a great job, though it’s a bit weird that they looked at baby Mingjue and went “all you’ll wear is dark gray from now on” and then Huaisang was born and “cream it is!” And we don’t really see anybody else from the Nie sect wearing this color, I wonder if it has anything to do with Huaisang’s mom, or if it’s just for the dark\light color contrast,  the two young masters can’t possibly wear the same colors, it would ruin the aesthetic.

 It looks just like his main-possibly-stay-at-home-robes, like he just really loved this especific set and had a lot of other robes that looked just the same growing up.

Really small, really cute, makes you want to carry him around saying: look at my baby, he’s so stylish!

2. the “good old Gusu days” one

This is like a uniform, there’s nothing really special about it. But I’d like to point out two things:

One: the silver embroidery on the shoulders and the silver on his waist belt matches the pristine white of his robes really well.

Two: look how wide his shouders look, there you go, Huaisang, keeping the Nie shoulder game strong!

3. The “it’s called fashion, dage” one

Cream-colored again! It embodies teen!Huaisang’s aesthetic perfectly: it’s expensive, it’s pretty, it looks comfortable, but it’s minimalistic.

I mean, I have no idea if it is actually expensive, but it surely looks expensive.

It has no discernable patterns, but the fabric just looks so good, look at the texture. It looks warm and heavy (rip Ji Li). And it’s pleated, look at him! Everything about this one screams rich-carefree-spoiled-delicate-pretty-gongzi.

And well, we see him strolling around and getting in trouble instead of going straight home in this robes, then on Fatal Journey we see him painting landscapes instead of practicing and claiming he doesn’t want to become the Nie sect leader in this very set of robes. Maybe he has indeed been wearing similar robes since his childhood and wants to, you know, go back to when things were as simple as taking the long way home coming back from Gusu.

4. the “didn’t really engage on the war but needed to look good regardless” one

This one is so pretty, y’all. It’s silver and white and gray, the brothers  are matching with their disciples’ robes, you won’t find a Sect with a superior fashion sense.

I can totally understand why he didn’t change to some post-Sunshot robes. Imagine looking this good at home, with none of your friends or disciples or brother to see you. Nope. This robes belong to a banquet, even one as unpleasing and akward as this one.

(They technically saw him, since he wore the same robes while they were planning the whole Sunshot thing, but no one was paying attention to it, right? And you can’t let such a nice look go to waste)

One of my favorites, for sure. It even matches his fan. It’s peak aesthetic.

5. the “I’m only here for the food and the drama” one

I didn’t really like this one at first. It looked kinda futuristic in my head, you know? It’s probably just the really structured fabric and the color, but It was a bit too much.

But now, looking at it as I take screenshots, I like them. It’s bold and fierce and remember the shoulder accessories being a code for battle? Well, I doubt Huaisang shot a single arrow that day, but he was supposed to be competing, so it makes a lot of sense that he’s dressed like this while his brother is wearing his pretty, dark yet lighter civillian robes to watch him.

He’s even wearing epaulettes (well, I trust that that’s the name) that matches the ones Mingjue wore with his Sunshot robes! Are they the same pair? Did he borrow it? Or do they secretly comission the same robes and accessories  and wear them on alternate occasions?

These are the most battle-coded (and at the same time is not battle-coded at all, it’s too ostentatious) robes we see him wearing until now, and he is representing his sect at the hunt, he has to look like a proper heir that is capable of fighting, whether he likes it or not - and judging by how unenthusiastic he was during the opening shoot-the-wen-prisioners ceremony, I’d say he was not enjoying it at all-.

But it’s such a cool look, I really like it now.

6. the “he will throw hands with a non-corporeal entity while giving his big brother all the love and understanding he deserves” one

 This may look like the same robes we usually wears at home, but they lack the pleated part and I don’t think his long sleeves would fit inside his wirst thingy, which I now know it’s called a vambrace or a bracer,  they were quite wide sleeves.

Anyway, we again have his minimalistic aesthetic. No patterns, the only addition being the outer robe that realy looks like the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, except with no sleeves; and the bracers\vambraces.

But look how different this looks in comparison with the previous one; he wasn’t fighting shit in those pompous silver robes, but he was so determined here, ready to face anything. This is the difference between a battle-coded look and a battle-codded Huaisang.

It’s practical, it’s pretty, looks comfortable and it’s perfect for scolding your older brother then comforting him because he gets emotional when people argue with him, ok?

Huaisang is the best younger brother, fight me

8.the “sad, sad” one

I’ll just say that the inner robes are really similar to the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, though they are not the same. Perhaps my theory that they did comission a lot of similar itens is correct after all.

I don’t think this look is particularly good, and the context surely doesn’t help at all, but it’s interesting to see him in gray and black.

 Overall, I hate it here.

9. the “somehow even worse” one

Look, if I had to compile all his outfits, I had to include this one. But there’s nothing to say about it except just looking at him wearing it makes me sad.

10. the “you didn’t see that coming, did you?” one

This one here is a trick, ok? At this point of the story we have no idea of what’s going on and if this misterious person is important or not; all we know is that he is quite fond of patterns and dark clothing. And that he has some money.

But damn, once we find out who this is, it instantly becomes something else entirely. 

It’s so fucking DARK!! It’s Wei Wuxian’s kind of dark, it’s crazy to think our boy Huaisang, who’s been wearing light grays, white and cream all his life would come up with something like that. It doesn’t even look Nie, and that’s probably what he was going for, y’know, so no one could recognize him and all of that.

But jesus, this look is just wow.  It’s perfect for a scheming mastermind, even though we don’t really know about it yet. The scales pattern is really nice and I love when he wears this sort of robe, with the fitted sleeves and the extra fabric at the shoulders. The flame (I think) pattern is nice too, though it’s a bit too much here, just a bit. But he seems to like this pattern a lot, so let him have it

And the craziest part is: we know these robes. And i’ve seen a couple of posts about them, it’s the same inner robe he wore at the Phoenix Mountain night hunt competition, almost 16 years ago. 

Like what are these robes made of??

11. the “sneaky, sneaky” one

The famous Nie pattern, am I right?

I love all theories about this one and as I took the screenshots, I noticed how his inner robe is the same as robe number 8. Huaisang says no to excessive buying, please reuse your clothes!

I’m particularly fond of the theory that Nie Mingjue comissioned robes for both his didi and his boyfriend Xichen, but I can accept that Huaisang just inherited his brother’s robes, though the flame pattern (once again proving we won’t guess Huaisang is behind everything not even after seeing him wearing the same patterns as in episode one twice) at the bottom is definetly a Huaisang thing.

I really like how heavy it looks, and the black thin stripe.We know it’s the same pattern as Xichen’s robe but seeing it combined with the back and light gray of the Nies really gives it a distinct identity.

12. the “and the oscar goes to...” one

Look at him, all innocent-looking placing all the chess pieces on their right places. Gotta love director Nie.  And it makes so much sense that he would wear something as light as this robes for this moment. He wore light colors for most of his youth, when he was carefree and naive and harmless; he cultivated a reputation of being dependent, fearful and stupid even. In this moment, more than ever, he needs people to believe this is exactly who he is, and what’s the best way of doing it?

Yes, reminding them of your old self. All he does is pretend and lie while he cries and faints.  A director and an actor too!

Throw yourself at your brother’s sworn brothers trying to look harmless while annoying the hell out of them? check.

Faint conveniently as your brother’s murderer lies at your face about killing said brother because even you have limits and you can’t watch that fuckery and not want to murder him right there? check.

Pretend to be stupid while conducting the protagonist and pretty much everybody else to ask the right questions and therefore unmask the terrible things your nemesis did?  also check.

And the robes are really pretty, look at the texture at the bottom right!! Silver and white go really well together. Wide, wide sleeves and this heavy-looking fabric. Superb, really, one of my favorites again.

And look at him carrying his saber (which he  probably left at Pier Lotus later)!

13. the “...and cut!” one

Look at these robes and tell me they don’t absolutely look like something Nie Mingjue would wear. You know he would. 

And it’s such a contrast to his previous robes. The white and silver one for looking innocent and lost and funny; the dark gray to look like a serious sect leader who will endorse the accusations against his enemy (Ok, he did act confused and lost and innocent in these robes, but he also showed real shock and grief and sadness, he did show his true feelings too)

He’s honoring his brother here, he did it, he brought justice to him, he defeated his brother’s murderer.  He spent years wanting and waiting for this moment, it’s only fair he would do so while looking so much like his beloved older brother.

I love everything about this look. The color palette is almost the same as the one robe his brother wore to the post-Sunshot campaign banquet. The dark,shining gray, the black, the thin bronze\golden stripe at the collar. Even that extra overlaid fabric at the bottom front of his robes is the same as Mingjue used to wear. Beautiful, really.

He would be really proud of you, I hope you know that, Huaisang.

14. the “I may or may not steal your chief cultivator status, watch out Wangji” one

I know he would never steal Wangji’s post, cql!NHS doesn’t even want it; but like, we deserved Chief cultivator!Huaisang, right? So it was worth the joke, I think.

The inner light gray robe yet AGAIN, I suspect this is his favorite inner robe.

We have some bold patterns here, so elegant. I really like when he wears this kind of outer robe, accentuating his shoulders, suits him really well, And this is such a Nie color palette, just like the previous one. In fact, Huaisang wears way more dark colors than we give him credit for. Especially after becoming sect leader. 

Sleeve game on point too, really long. And it matches his fan as well.

Lovely look, I wish we could have seen more.

In conclusion: 

King of versatility, resusing 16 year-old robes AND looking damn good while doing it! He looks good scheming, he looks good lying, he looks good fainting, he even looks good tricking people into stabbing other people!

 Name a more iconic king, I’ll wait.

[quibblesandscribbles]

Centaurworld Rewrite: A Serious Adventure AU - S1E1 Outline

I’m doing rewrite outlines, prepare for some AU. That being said, I still like several parts of Centaurworld a lot, namely Rider, Horse, Wammawink, and whatever the hell is going on with the Nowhere King, and hope there’s a second season to watch (which I will if Netflix doesn’t ruin our hopes and dreams).

Anyways, here’s like, a rewrite or whatever. I will probably post the outlines as I go, episode by episode. Will I get to them all? ADHD-willing, we’ll see. Also feel free to use these ideas/outlines? I don’t mind. 

Also assume there are songs in this even if I don’t specifically mention all of them. Also I guess this rewrite kinda chains the 1st and 2nd episodes together as a two parter? Maybe, idk.

Also I’ll preface this with this too: I ship Wammahorse, yes I SHIPSHIP it. Moving on.

Some headcanons before we start:

Warworld (*the world Rider and Horse are from) is a Low Fantasy Setting, there IS magic, but it comes in two variations, either very subtle low-powered but relatively uncommon, or Terrifyingly Powerful and so extremely rare to the point that it’s not very well known and “just myths” (usually for Big Baddies)

Ideas for Horse’s Degree of Sapience Prior to Worldhopping:

A: Horse was just a regular, non-magical horse, and their exposure to the Artifact and Centaurworld has essentially made them a Fully Uplifted Animal. - This is interesting, but ultimately a difficult idea to convey because it would require a lot more setup and wouldn’t exactly fit Horse’s characterization without some rework. This is an amazing idea, but I won’t be using it because it would slow things down too much.

B: Horse is a low-fantasy magic steed raised as warhorse/war asset, who is much smarter than your average animal steed/companion similar to a DND Ranger’s pets, or Mabari from Dragon Age, or a Ranger Horse from John Flanagan’s ‘Ranger’s Apprentice.’ The combined exposure to the Artifact and Centaurworld could account for her gaining speech and her body expressing limited physical adaptation to Centaurworld’s different physics (her body’s new extended range of motion for example) but of course I’ll be limiting this because having stakes make it more fun imho. This is my favorite, I’m using this.

Horse would’ve been considered a very valuable war asset (trained warhorses are like, historical ferraris, expensive as hell, i can only imagine what low-magical smart warhorses would be valued at), though still ultimately expendable for the war effort like anything else

Let Horse have horse behaviors (*can you tell I haven’t really left my horse phase behind lol)! Nipping and grooming behaviors as affection or warnings, ear positions to indicate mood, grazing to eat, laying down only when truly relaxed, sleeping standing up. COME ON.

Centaurworld is a High Fantasy world with an Absurdist bent but with darker undertones, similar to how Adventure Time is, with an extremely high saturation of magic, maybe you could even theorize that due to the Splitting of the Two Worlds that all the magic is being Dammed up in Centaurworld like a river or reservoir, this could be a future plot thread that could be picked up in a later season.

Basic Changes: 

Durpleton, Glendale, Ched and Zulius are supporting cast, not main

Durpleton is less stupid and more of a Kronk-expy: a little dim but ultimately kind/means well, has at least 1 life skill he’s good at buried in there though for the life of me I can’t think of one right now.

Glendale’s Narrative Framing: Glendale is amazing, but the kleptomania will be allotted ONE (or two) joke mentions but narratively isn’t treated like one after, somehow establish that her kleptomania is directly intertwined with her anxiety levels. Are there other denizens of the Valley that know the Herd? Are they mad at Glendale for stealing things? Does Wammawink have to constantly run interference to cover for Glendale? Probably.

Make Ched look like less of a pointless asshole: Have him show concern for his friends’ safety and his suspicion of outsiders, AKA Horse. If he’s going to be a jerk, at least let it serve a purpose.

Zulius can stay roughly the same - Zulius is great okay, just don’t tell me there’s backstory and then NOT TELL OR SHOW US ANY CLUES about what said backstory/history IS! (other than forcing us infer/project the headcanon[?] that him and Splendib might’ve been exes, from how they act around each other without any other context/visual/or confirming exposition we literally know nothing other than Splendib and him split/had a nasty falling out and Splendib took the glittercats and the career in the divorce.)

S1E1: Hello Rainbow Road

Opening scene in Warworld

If these episodes were allowed to be longer (shuddup it’s my AU), have the scene open with Horse sees Rider comes running out of some underground castle ruin catacombs and ominous roaring and clanging behind her as she deliberately sets off a dungeon booby trap (arrows or fire) she must’ve avoided while dungeon crawling earlier, and Horse runs towards her and circles at a canter and then Rider does a Running Mount (mounting a horse while the horse is in motion) and shoots an arrow at that flies offscreen

Smash cut to the DRAWBRIDGE door falling and Rider and Horse come galloping out while dodging some javelins and arrows and 1.5 seconds later 1-4 armored minotaurs (the lizardmen?) riding some coursers (swift horses or horselike creatures idk have fun) gallop behind in hot pursuit.

WARWORLD CHASE/FIGHT SCENE

Rider and Horse take out 2 of the pursuers on the run have Rider stay on horseback, dodge and make 1 pursuer shoot/javelin another 1 into a nasty-looking fall, and then Rider nails another 1 right through the helmet visor with an arrow. Have Rider throw a smoke bomb or something at the 2 remaining ones trying to catch up.

2 Enemies left but Horse is forced to skid to a stop as the suspension bridge approaches, then a tense moment forced to walk in order to escape safely across the suspension bridge which Rider cuts once they’re across. Maybe have 1 of the minotaur pursuers having been on the bridge somewhat behind them before Rider had to cut the line, sending the enemy hurtling down below. The remaining minotaur scout stares at them ominously from the other side before leaving.

Have Rider breath a sigh of relief

Smash cut to Horse and Rider traveling across a wartorn landscape, start Horse’s internal monologue narrative until they finally get to the hill and see the ruins of their village

Everything from this point to Horse getting transported to Centaurworld is the same as canon

Not Actually a DREAMVISION SEQUENCE: 

Shot/Animated from Horse’s 1st Person POV: Darkness, the sound of whooshing Horse falls, shimmering flash colors [if this were an actual show pls put a Epilepsy warning at the beginning of the ep], then a loud Splash as Horse falls into Dark Water. POV looks down and we see Horse’s front legs and a bottomless abyss below and a then flash of green and off-white from deep below, then look up to see blue light, see the swimming motions of Horse’s front legs and getting closer to the Blue Light

Horse wakes up, blinking, alone (no Durpleton)

Horse gets up looks around, doesn’t see Rider anywhere and starts makes Whinnying sounds (specifically, Whinnying is a social horse call, like specifically going, “Rider where are you!?” in IRL horse)

“And what are you supposed to be?” the “camera” wheels around to see Ched who has landed on Horse just within reach of her tail so Horse lets out a startled squeal (the Horse noise, not the human one) and does that thing where horses use their tails to swat away insects which sends Ched FLYING as Horse’s squealing morphs into her Talking/Yelling “what the heck is going on?!”

Horse does what panicked horses do, she runs

Horse stumbles into meeting Durpleton, who freaks her out more

Meeting kinda the same as canon but with less constant emphasis on reminding the audience that the writer’s can’t write comedy

Wammawink and Horse meet, Ched flies in and goes “hey that asshole kicked my a-I mean attacked me, but I totally beat ‘em.”

Horse tries to leave, discovers the Barrier, tries to get through, fails multiple times, but only 3-4 attempts shown with time passage show by the time of day changing, have Horse’ talking to herself a bit about how utterly weird the talking words thing is, that this is a “human” thing why is this HAPPENING she needs to get back

Waste less time on the visual gags of the Barrier repelling Horse, also get rid of the Tree Catapult scene because it doesn’t jive with Horse being a horse, why do they know how to make a catapult? Also because I hate how it basically shows us that Horse has no physical danger or chance of injury from being FLUNG around like Pokemon’s Team Rocket.

Have the rest of the centaur Herd come up to and talk to Horse while Horse is trying to get through the Barrier, and Horse talks about the outside and her world and doing things, squeeze in some convo about how there’s no (current) war in Centaurworld and how Horse thinks that that “freedom must be nice.” Anyways these conversations are what has Glendale, Zulius and Durpleton at least considering the ups of leaving.

Durpleton: Durpleton approaches Horse alone and asks about where she’s from, what’s home like, expositiony bits for Warworld and how much Horse needs to get herself and the Artifact back to Rider; Horse should say something offhand, like how she dreamed about exploring the world with Rider after the War seeing new things together, to which we’d cut to a shot of Durpleton looking thoughtful, before asking a completely unrelated question before Horse asks to be left alone. He doesn’t go originally, but gets distracted by something (butterfly?) and trots off.

Wammawink, Ched & Glendale: Atop a hill, Wammawink looks up to see stormclouds gathering off in the distance and comments that they’re going to be in for some rough weather, then goes over to offer Horse food, but gets distracted by some other Valley Denizens who are mad suspicious that Glendale is responsible for something of theirs that’s missing. Leaving Wammawink to go off and have to run interference leaving Glendale to approach Horse alone. Horse will learn that there’s no (current) war in Centaurworld but there was one historically, and Glendale will offhandedly mention that they’ve stolen everything from everyone in the Valley at least 4 times and with the unspoken implication of boredom. Ched will butt in and heckle Horse like, “could you leave any quieter?” and Horse sniping back, ears pinned back and animated horse stress behaviors. And Horse’s last failed attempt at passing the Barrier has them drop the Artifact, and we get a shot of Glendale spotting and eyes widening at seeing the Artifact unattended on the ground, then we get a smash cut of Glendale getting herded away by Ched.

Zulius: Goes over to ask about Horse’s avante garde accessories (her bridle, saddle & armor[barding]), makes comments on her style/aesthetic and asks where he could find some. Horse loses her patience, and says that she Needs to concentrate on getting back to someone they care a lot about and could you please just go away? 

Horse: (voiced as a rhetorical question) “Haven’t you ever wanted to go back to someone you loved before?”

Zulius gets a Look on his face, then he’d puff up, cover up the Armor Piercing Question’s effect on him with more bluster and then turn away as it gets later

Around sunset, Horse finally gives in to go ask Wammawink what’s up, and how can they leave.

Wammawink tries to feed them and convince them to stay, but Horse waves her off and moves away while muttering something about coming up with a plan

Speaking of plans, the Herd excluding Wammawink (& Ched) start talking about being bored, and mention Horse saying stuff about exploring the world (taken out of context, deliberately)

Wammawink, smelling the ugly head of discontent, sighs in defeat at not being able to recruit this new outcast in the Herd and approaches a grazing Horse and says she’ll help her through it with her magic(not admitting that the Barrier is her magic working in the first place because it’s not relevant right now okay) but then we get the “What’s magic?” bit from Horse and the rest of the Herd butts in with the Song. They wander off to go to bed afterwards, and Horse wants to go Now but Wammawink says that she’ll help Horse leave the Barrier but only in the morning because “you look tired”

Horse: “That doesn’t matter.” *awkward silence*

Wammawink, sadly: “Of course it does.” *Horse has already walked away*

The sun finishes setting as the wind blows the plants and through Wammawink’s fur (ominously) and she shivers, going back to the campfire

DREAM SEQUENCE: It’s dark, then we get a flashback dream of a younger Rider and Horse, idk a memory of something to showcase them either while in training or really show their Bond okay? End with them sitting around a campfire with other young soldiers and horses, someone is humming something (the first few bars of the Nowhere King’s Lullaby, no actual words yet). Then Dream!Rider turns to face Horse and asks, “how could you?”

Horse: “How could I what?”

Dream!Rider: “How could you leave me behind?” (The humming grows louder, there’s a lute being played, growing discordant)

Then Horse starts calling into the darkness/void, “I’m coming back for you, Rider! Just hang on, alright?!”

Rider: “Oh Horse, it’s already too late for me.”

“Rider!” Horse yells as they jolt awake, standing, because horses typically sleep standing up.

It’s dawn but the wind and stormy weather signs are picking up but not here yet, Wammawink walks Horse to the edge of the Valley barrier and tries to convince Horse to stay here where it’s safe, but Horse refuses to be deterred

Brief shot of Glendale hiding a bunch of things from her Tummy Hammerspace in order to simulate the feeling of stealing things again later, including the Artifact which falls on the ground

A shot of Durpleton seeing and picking up the Artifact and spotting Wammawink and Horse some distance away going toward the barrier’s edge

Wammawink hangs back on a hill, glowy hands and the magic wall flickers and disappears, and Horse immediately breaks into a gallop and disappears into the forest, Wammawink sighs and turns away

Indeterminate amount of time later, Wammawink recasts the Barrier, and Durpleton misses breakfast so Wammawink enlists Ched to help her look for him because Ched can fly

Cut to a shot of Horse dropping from a canter to a trot on the Rainbow Road, it’s grown darker and the stormclouds are in the sky. Distant thunder booms overhead, and a few scattered raindrops start to fall

“Heyyyy! You forgot your necklaceeee!” a shout from behind

Horse looks back and sees a running Durpleton holding the Artifact, and stops, he catches up to Horse and is gasping, “Wow, you run fast, hoooo, *deep breaths* you’re really *another gasp* athletic! Anyways you forgot your Necklace.”

Durpleton ties the broken string into a necklace around Horse’s neck and Horse thanks them and wishes them a safe journey back to the Valley, but as this happens the rain gradually falls harder. Then the sounds of the Rest of the Herd finally catching up happen, and Wammawink mother hens Durpleton and wants take everyone back home but then a loud BOOM of thunder and lightning overhead, and then it starts to Pour down rain, forcing Horse and co to find shelter until it lets up. Maybe have someone mention something about landslides being a possibility? Durpleton asks how they found them so fast, dim remember, then brief flashback.

FLASHBACK: Wammawink and co searching and calling out for Durpleton everywhere in the Valley, and realize that he must’ve followed Horse for some reason when Zulius FINALLY shows up and mentions that he remembers Durpleton saying he was gonna give Horse back her necklace. The recast Barrier is brought down and they leave the Valley to bring back their friend.

Back to the present where the group has taken shelter as the storm picks up more, and thunder booms overhead, Horse has some nervous horse body language going on, then we get to hear her mutter-singing or humming the “I never fear the drums of war” to calm herself down, but with more stanzas please, when asked she says it’s a battle hymn that Rider sang.

If Horse was humming, Wammawink could ask why she doesn’t sing, she’s sure that Horse has a lovely voice

Horse goes “I’m a horse, I don’t sing.”

Wammawink tries to be encouraging, Horse is resistant

Wammawink invites her to eat (AGAIN) but Horse still turns her (love and affection) down (AGAIN!) and says she’s fine with grazing and Glendale pipes in excitedly that they have decided that they want to travel with Horse (Ched pipes up that he didn’t agree to this) but pls help us convince Wammawink and Horse protests but someone points out to ask “do you even know where you’re going” and they have a point

Horse acknowledges this and relents, states some stuff about how she’s not going to slow down much however. Then Glendale, Zulius and Durpleton rejoice, Ched acts tsundere, but Wammawink looks nervous and wrings her hands together and relents that “they’ll go with Horse as far as the nearest Shaman” and Ched will go, “hey don’t you know he-” and Wammawink shushes him quickly with a gigglecake

Wammawink doubles down on the mother henning behavior

Horse doesn’t eat Wammawink’s gigglecakes but grazes by herself nearby, occasionally answering a question or two when engaged by the others (not Wammawink) and Wammawink mentions how the weather probably won’t let up for very long and they should take it slow and that Horse should bundle up

Horse disagrees but its bedtime and a bedtime song occurs in the backdrop as a restless Horse struggles to stay alert and awake but eventually falls asleep

VISION SEQUENCE: A shimmer of soft blue light, then shots of Rider ducking and weaving, her sword flashing as she tries to weave her way through a horde of enemy soldiers, blood spatters, then an enemy archer takes aim at a fleeing Rider, and Horse calls out a warning. 

Rider turns her head with a surprised look on her face suddenly just enough that the arrow buries itself into her shoulder instead the middle of her back and then she stumbles, one of her arms going limp, but everything goes dark before we can see if she fell

Everything goes dark and the din of war fades away, we get a shot of Horse’s hooves splashing and making ripples into dark water but the camera doesn’t follow her, we hear Horse’s cries for Rider fade, growing further and further away

Still dark, but in the silence we hear distant sound, drip, drip, drip, drip.

Then the episode ends and the credits roll.

[thechangeling]

But you like her better: Part 1

This fic features Kit's potential new girlfriend hinted at in a letter from Tessa to Magnus in CC's newsletter. A bunch of people in the fandom built her from the ground up @littlx-songbxrd @foxglove-airmid @the-wckd-powers @adoravel-fenomeno and @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood to name a few, and gave her a personality, name and backround. Their name is Marí.

Kit uses he/they pronouns in this fic and Marí uses she/they.

Cw: Disassociation (or at least how I experience it idk it might not be the same for everyone), negative self talk, self injurious stims, and bad coping mechanisms.

Title is from Heather by Conan Gray.

Marìa. Marí as she preferred to be called, was a bubbly kind soul with a wide inviting smile and a melodic voice.

Even Ty could admit that they were quite beautiful, despite not seeing women (or in Marí's case anyone who was particularly alienated with womanhood,) in a romantic or sexual light. It took him awhile to realize he was gay, but when he did it just seemed so obvious. He had gone through a minor phase of experimentation at the scholomance when he was younger but it hadn't lasted long.

Still Marí was stunning. And perhaps what made her even more stunning was her kindness and generosity. Ty had met her on the beach in LA while she and her parents were visiting the LA institute for a downworlder/shadowhunter summit being held by Helen, Aline, Mark and Cristina, similar to the one Julian held in 2012.

Ty noticed that Tessa and Jem were present, but Kit was not. He was not exactly sure how that should make him feel. So Ty elected to push the pain in his chest further down. To shove all if his unresolved feelings and worries and questions about Kit Herondale back into the metaphorical box and move on.

So he had gone outside to walk on the beach to distract himself when he found Marí sitting on the sand and crying.

Apparently according to them, they had come across a few dead moon jellyfish, or Aurelia aurita as was more scientifically accurate, that had washed up on the beach.

Ty remembered being moved by how she had such compassion for another living creature who wasn't even a person. It was rare. Ty had helped her bury them. She seemed wary and a little hostile around him at first, noticing his runes. She was clutching her body tightly. Ty noticed her anxiety and told her how he was also a lover of aquatic life and he found marine biology fascinating. This had prompted her to instantly change demeanor and become very excited and start jumping up and down and waving her hands before she told him that she was studying marine biology at university in Devon.

The mention of Devon should gave promoted Ty to wonder if Marí knew Kit but he was still putting up mental blocks to protect himself from the Kit situation so it hadn't crossed Ty's mind.

They had sat on the beach and talked for hours. Marí told him their name and that they used she/they pronouns. They also told Ty that they were from Devon, but their family was from Loiza, a city on the Northeastern coast of Puerto Rico. And also that they were all werewolves who pretty much hated shadowhunters but he seemed ok because he liked jellyfish. They mentioned that marine biology was one of their special interests and that they were autistic and had ADHD.

It would have been the perfect opportunity to tell Marí about him also being autistic but Ty being guarded and asocial, decided not to and told her as little as possible. He supposed he had some trust issues after everything. He mentioned his name, that he was attending the scholomance, and a few basic facts about his family. He also talked about his friend Alyssa Reyes. 

Alyssa or Ali as he called her, was a werewolf with Maia's pack in New York. She was assigned as a liaison to the scholomance to act as a bridge between the werewolves and future centurions. And BOY had she complained about it. Alyssa was basically the president of the fuck shadowhunters club and she was autistic and had ADHD. She and Marí would have gotten along quite well.

Marí overall did most of the talking but she didn't seem to mind. On the contrary.

Ty had no idea that by that point they were already dating Kit.

When Kit returned with apologetic smiles and a new found charisma and confidence, he also brought her. And she was so happy to see Ty again that he felt so guilty for feeling torn up inside.

Ty couldn't hate Marí. Not even if he tried. They hadn't done anything wrong and neither had Kit. So Ty would just have to settle for hating himself for being angry over nothing.

Kit and Ty weren't really talking. Sure they had exchanged some words together when basically forced to, but Kit was being standoffish and Ty was still feeling a little annoyed. But mostly hurt. Ty had heard that Kit was using he/they pronouns and now identified as genderfluid. He had so many questions for Kit but Ty knew he couldn't ask. At least not right now.

Currently Ty was watching Kit and Marí talking. Kit was in the middle of telling her what looked to be a funny story based on the way she was laughing. Kit pushed a lock of dark curly hair back behind her ear and smiled.

Ty felt queasy. He bit his lip and averted his gaze trying to shake off the horrible feeling. Everytime he saw them together his chest felt like it was being squeezed by a juicer. Like he was being crushed and torn up on the inside and it was his fault. Just like it was his fault that Kit left. Or maybe that wasn't true. Maybe it was just inevitable but that didn't make it any easier.

Ty didn't have the right to be jealous or upset. He had no claim over Kit. He was being ridiculous he told himself as he attempted to shove all of these dark feelings into the box.

But this time it wasn't working.

"Alright you look like you're about to snap crackle and pop," Ty heard a voice say beside him. "What gives Sherlock?"

Ty looked up to see Alyssa Reyes standing next to him. When they had all congregated together in the LA institute and Kit had brought Marí and his friend Janessa back with them. Ty had decided to bring his lucky charm and close friend with him.

When Alyssa first came to the scholomance things were quite rough. But they had connected, first on the basis of being autistic and then through other things. Ali also had a love of mysteries and the two of them together were quite the team. The two of them had become incredibly close. Anush called her Irene because she was the only one who could outsmart Ty.

Speaking of Anush..

He was currently still back at the scholomance. They had both decided it was best for him to stay behind so they could spend some time apart. They had recently broken up after Ty finally realized he wasn't in a good place emotionally to date anyone. Ty had been forced to put Livvy's spirit to rest permanently when it started to have an affect on the mortal world negativity. It had been Livvy herself who had begged Ty to save the world at her expense.

That had been about a month ago and Ty was still relatively numb. He had a feeling it would begin to hurt eventually. Just not yet.

"Hey did you hear me?" Alyssa raised her voice. "What's wrong?" Ty refocused on his friend.

She was wearing her costume for the Halloween party they were all attending tonight. Kit, Ty, Dru, Alyssa, Marí, Jaime, Janessa and Thaís. It was Dru herself who had suggested they need a break from essentially preparing themselves for what was probably going to be another war. So they were headed to a vampire hosted party at a club in downtown LA. Alyssa had been sure to grab earplugs for Ty and herself which he was grateful for.

Alyssa was dressed as Aeryn Sun from Farscape, one of the many autistic coded characters from scifi that she was obsessed with. She was wearing a long black leather trench coat with black leather pants and a black tank top. Her dark brown hair was pulled back onto a long braid traveling down to her lower back. She even had leather boots and a fake blaster gun holstered at her thigh to complete the look.

And Ty of course, was dressed as Sherlock.

Ty shook his head at her. "Nothing Ali I'm fine."

Alyssa glowered at him. "Bullshit you're fine. I thought we agreed never to lie to each other?"

Ty sighed, gazing back at Kit and Marí, still smiling at each other. Alyssa followed his gaze.

"Oh you're jealous aren't you!" She declared matter of factly. Ty instantly shushed her.

"Oh relax they can't hear us, she muttered. We're too far away." She twirled her long braid and stimmed with the ends of it. "You know if you plan on taking your anger out on that lovely girl, a member of our COMMUNITY no less, who has done absolutely nothing wrong, then I'm like legally required to throw hands," she said with a smile.

Ty didn't smile back. "I wouldn't," he murmered, looking down. He had been flicking his fingers lazily at his sides, but now Ty found that wasn't good enough. He dug his fingernails into his right palm.

Alyssa looked concerned. "Hey I was just kidding," she said softly. She took his hand that had been creating little half-moon red divots on his skin and carefully threaded his fingers through her own.

Ali squeezed Ty's hand. "You know I'm on your side no matter what." He squeezed back.

Ty looked at the couple again. Emotions swirled all around his heart like little ribbons grazing against the sides. It wasn't just jealousy neccessary and Ty was a little shocked to find that he wasn't angry anymore. He was just...what?

Sad?

Sad didn't even begin to feel like it covered it. He felt so lost. And alone. And.... He felt himself starting to drift away, separating from himself. Ty could hear the fuzzy far away echo of someone trying to speak to him, but he couldn't make out the words. They were getting further and further away.

Everything was blurry and out of focus.

"Ty!" He heard a voice shout. With a jolt he was snapped back into his body. He turned to face Alyssa who was staring at him, looking obviously alarmed.

But the worst part was that everyone else was staring at him too. Including Kit. They looked  shocked, but also something else that Ty couldn't quite pinpoint. There was an air of desperation to their voice when they asked,

"Are you ok?"

Was Ty ok?

It was such a funny question coming from Kit who hadn't spoken more than two words to him this whole time.

Kit who had left.

Ty didn't know what else to do except laugh. He burst laughing hysterically, almost falling from his position of where he was leaning against the wall. He desperately tried to gasp for air as he cackled.

Everyone was staring at him looking horrified. Dru pulled out her phone as if she was contemplating calling someone, then decided against it. Tears were starting to roll down Ty's cheeks as he kept laughing.

Alyssa grabbed his arm. "Alright, come with me," she ordered, dragging him to the side. Ty managed to stop laughing as she guided him firmly into the training room.

Ty's eyes were still blurry with tears, so he wiped them away. Alyssa was smiling at him softly, looking sympathetic. "It's gonna be ok Ty,: she cooed, taking his hand again. Alyssa began to rub slow soothing circles onto his palm.

"Ok, you wanna tell me what's going on now?" She asked gently. Ty sniffed and used his other hand to wipe away the rest of his tears.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted. "I don't know how to describe or explain it.

Alyssa nodded. "Well, try. You can use quotes or song lyrics if you want." Ty smiled. He was grateful that Ali understood.

Ty chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. "It feels like a tear in my heart. Like a part of me is missing and I just can't feel it," he quoted. Alyssa stared at him, pondering. She continued to stroke his hand.

"Do you think what you're missing is Kit?" She asked. "Do you miss him?"

Ty glared at Alyssa and snatched his hand back. "No," he said firmly. "I don't."

Ali rolled her eyes. "Jesus you're almost as bad at love as I am! It's like trying to open a rusted toolbox with a fork getting you to open up!" She snapped.

Ty bared his teeth under closed lips and glowered at her. "Well maybe I never asked for your help!"

"Well maybe you should calm down and recognize that I'm your friend and I'm worried about you!" She shouted back.

Guilt instantly washed over him, pricking his skin. Ty squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry Ali," he whispered.

He wished he could cry. Now more than ever Ty wished he could make himself cry. Over Livvy, over Kit. Over the coming battle. Over everything.

"Do you love them?" He heard her ask. There was no need to ask who she meant.

Ty opened his eyes. This was the thing he never acknowledged. Never said outloud. Never even let himself think it. Because it was terrifying. The acknowledgement of the truth.

The truth was that Ty would probably give his life just to see that adorable smile one more time. That he could tell you how many freckles Kit had because he had spent so many hours staring at Kit and counting them.

The truth was that when Kit held him, he felt closer to anyone then he ever had in his entire life. Ty had sat outside of Kit's door for hours, days even when they had first arrived because he had felt something, even then. Something pulling at him from the other side of that door like a magnet. He told himself it was just curiosity. A scientific curiosity.

It was the only thing that could logically explain Ty's obsession. It wasn't serious. It wasn't-

"I love him," Ty admitted shakily, breaking the silence. Even Alyssa looked a little suprised.

"I'm in love with Kit."

Before Ali could respond, Ty sensed movement by the training room door which they had forgotten to close. Ty instantly whipped around to see who it was, wondering frantically if they had overheard what Ty had said.

Standing in the door frame wearing her Mortica Addams costume for the party, complete with a jet black long wig was Marí.

And the look on their face suggested to Ty that they had heard every word.

I will try and get part 2 up as soon as I can! It will be from Marí's perspective.

The song Ty quotes is Can you hold me by NF.

Tag list: @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @arangiajoan @queenlilith43 @adoravel-fenomeno

[falsegoodnight]

a new header??? it matches better <3 these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with a star (*). 

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 28th only

—

main list ~

✰ Don’t Wait Up by reliablyimperfect | NR | 1k

Without Harry’s warmth next to him, he felt the chill of the air creep over his skin. He tugged the blanket down from where Harry kept one draped over the back of the couch for him, grateful. With the blanket, he instantly felt warmer, but it backfired when his eyes began to droop again. Trying to keep his eyes open was impossible, and he was consciously aware of how long his blinks were becoming. They stay closed longer and longer until, eventually, they didn’t open again.

so soft and sweet and lovely! made my heart feel so warm <3 will return to this for some quick comfort in the future!

✰ my ugly mouth kept running by @hadestyles | E | 4k

Sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

rori’s lush writing + abo + exes to lovers = absolute perfection. my fic cameo gives it a bonus too :’) definitely one of my rori favs 

✰ i’ve loved you three summers now honey, i want them all by @softloubabie | M | 4k

The restaurant was small and bright, soft colors filled the walls and tables and fairy lights hung from everywhere. From what Harry had read, the food wasn’t overly expensive but it was still comparable to what you would get at one of the more expensive places. If Harry could he would take Louis to the biggest most expensive and extravagant restaurants to do what he planned to tonight, but this would do.

After being led to their table Harry nervously tapped his jacket pocket, sighing in relief when he felt the small box still there. Tonight was the night. He couldn’t wait till it was time to surprise Louis with all the gifts he got for him. Then finally the big surprise.

so cute and sweet! their kids were so adorable and the proposal so lovely!! they love each other so much <3

✰ love me in between the future and the past by navigator & quitter | E | 11k

Harry's scared of history repeating itself.

this honestly hurt to read but in such a raw and emotional way?? was mad at harry and then sad for him :( this writer duo’s fics never fail to amaze me!

✰ sunshine on my mind by @raspberryoatss | E | 13k

Louis visits Harry in Portland

this was so sweet and lovely! the perfect addition to this wonderful universe! pip’s characterizations and fluff never fails to make my heart feel warm <3

✰ rapture in the dark by @stylinsonsupporter | T | 13k

Harry Styles is a breakout musician who has shed his boyband label in favor of embracing his inner brooding rockstar. His PR team think that his rebrand is the perfect time for Harry to come out of the closet and have devised the perfect plan for doing so. Enter Louis Tomlinson, up and coming (and very openly homosexual) model whose public image as America's Sweetheart is the perfect foil for Harry's new edge. From a PR standpoint, it's a dream come true - a power couple that can slowly coax the public into accepting Harry's altered image. The only problem? They hate each other.

always love a good fake dating au and this is no exception! and model louis >> really enjoyed this!

✰ Maybe, Baby* by thoughtsickles | M | 16k | mpreg

It all feels too easy, too good to be true. It all feels like a scene from Louis' daydreams, the kind of life he'd always imagined he'd have when he was younger and bored at his momma's work, sneaking around the hallways of the maternity ward until the nurses let him in to hold the babies. He'd felt so important being allowed to touch them. He'd told them stories of the lives they were going to have, houses with nice wallpaper that wasn't peeling, yards filled with sunshine and flowers and grass that never went yellow. A hammock to nap in, cuddled up with his husband.

You can't stay here, he tells himself, but Baby doesn't want to listen.

have reread this one quite a bit of times now and it still makes me so happy <3 this Louis and Harry deserve the world <333

✰ Let Me Inside by reliablyimperfect | E | 18k

Louis is Harry’s boss, but Harry is the boss of Louis. 

loved this one! really enjoyed the balance between h&l and how they maintained their dynamic in subtle ways outside of the bedroom while also keeping it separate. very much enjoyed the jealousy as well <3

✰ a scintilla of predilection by @dehydratedpoolfics | T | 20k

There, in the far back of the room, next to the only available seat left, is none other than Harry Styles. Harry, who grew up next door to him, who knew all his secrets as a child and played FIFA with him on Saturday mornings after he would spend the night Friday evenings every week, whose curly hair would tickle his nose as they held each other during bitter cold nights that made his room glow a haunting blue.

love ex-childhood friends with misunderstandings!! louis was so cute and i loved his poetry <3 harry too was so stupid but so smitten and lovely :’) really enjoyed this!

✰ Keeping The Flame Alive by @crazyupsetter​ | E | 20k

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

✰ like it’s a game* by @soldouthaz | E | 32k

There is little Harry hates more than truth or dare.

And Louis.

queen of enemies to lovers! it’s been a while since i’ve reread this but too absolutely no surprise, it’s just as amazing as always <3 sarah never misses!

✰ Too Young To Know by @2tiedships2 | M | 35k

Harry doesn’t present as an alpha… until he does.

really enjoyed this as per usual! exes to lovers is my jam and the added angst of Louis dating someone else at the beginning... love <3

✰ Some Things Take Root* by  navigator & quitter | E | 50k

Louis' ex doesn't get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

stumbled upon this randomly and decided to reread on a whim... ended up staying up to read it in one sitting! so good!

✰ Safe and Sound (You’ll Always Be) by @all-these-larrythings | E | 58k

When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It's just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can't get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break.

i don’t know how i’ve never read this before??? it was absolutely amazing though! perfect blend of humor and fluff and tension and angst <3

✰ Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) by @youreyesonlarry | E | 74k

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. 

the slow burn in this fic killed me - which is to say, it was perfect! loved how they progressed from working together to being friends to something more and how much they genuinely cared for each other! the hockey was so fun too!

✰ Call Out My Name by frenchkiss | E | 102k

Apparently, it's bad PR to fall in love with the omega you hired to help you through your rut.

Harry Styles begs to differ.

ellen truly knocked it out of the park with this one!! had everything i could ever want: abo, famous/non-famous, fluff, humor, angst, drama, and more! i loved it from beginning to end!

wips ~

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies | E | 64k | 7/11

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

am thoroughly enjoying each chapter!! it’s been a wild ride so far and although things are currently calm, i am still on edge!! but i trust mar with my life <3

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved | E | 83k | 8/16 

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

caught up last night! still really enjoying every chapter and can’t wait to see what happens next!! things are *happening* with h&l and answers are being given!! (love the jealousy too!)

non-1d ~

✰ Keep Me Close (I Need Your Faith) by @princelouisau | E | 23k

Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love and in doing so, had broken the one rule he knew he couldn’t come back from. As quickly as he realised, he decided that he must never dare speak it. He resigned himself to loving Draco in silence.

first foray into reading drarry... and, to no one’s surprise, i loved it! beautiful writing as always and beautiful atmosphere! it’s really not a shock that i fell for these characters and their story when danielle is behind it <3 it had me entranced from beginning to end!!

finally, i myself actually posted a fic this month:

my fics ~

✰ yesterday came suddenly by me | E | 49k | mpreg 

Harry the deadliest member of the NYC assassins’ guild, is forced to face a seemingly impossible task in hopes of finally leaving the underground behind for good, but when ghosts from the past come back to haunt him, escaping the darkness becomes that much harder.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[nejibaby]

The Only Thing I Got Right

Pairings: Ace x Y/N

A/N: I just finished watching the Marineford Arc and I cried so much so I wrote this on a whim. Sorry in advance if there are grammatical errors and spelling mistakes. It's the tears' fault, I swear! 😭 ((I just desperately wanted Ace to survive, you know? 😭))

This song reminds me of Ace, idk why.

You’re shaking. It would’ve been nice if it was because of the cold or if it was from excitement, but this isn’t the case. You’re shaking from fear, from anxiety. Today, Ace, the love of your life, is going to be executed and you didn’t know if you’d make it on time. You barely got out of Impel Down alive with the help of Ace’s little brother, Luffy.

You hate the fact that you got thrown there with Ace courtesy of Teach, or should you say, Blackbeard. You hate the fact that you couldn’t save Ace from Blackbeard no matter how hard you tried fighting him. It was frustrating, but if a Devil Fruit user like Ace had no match for him, what more of you? You have no powers like that, the only thing that you have is your knowledge on Rokushiki and daggers.

You got imprisoned at Level 3 of Impel Down while Ace was rumored to be on Level 5. Being thrown on a relatively lower level was understandable, even if you are part of Whitebeard’s crew, you are no commander like Ace. Still, even if you are weaker than Ace, you desperately wanted to go get him out of there but it was impossible. Or so you thought.

When you saw a Straw Hat on a male running around with two others on Level 3, you instantly knew it was Luffy. It seemed like god was in your favor because apparently one of your cellmates, who you came to learn was Mr. 2 from Baroque Works, was Luffy’s friend. When he got Mr. 2 out of the shackles, you begged to come with them, telling him your relationship with Ace. Luckily for you, Luffy needed all the help he could get so he easily got you out with the help of the other prisoner he was with. It was all chaos after that.

You’re currently hiding in the crow’s nest of the Marine ship you helped steal alongside Crocodile, Mr. 1, and Jinbei. Your body is already aching from all the running and fighting you did just to escape Impel Down. But even before that, your body had already been tired from the lack of nutrition and of sleep. How could you even dare to sleep knowing Ace was somewhere else, probably beaten to a pulp? And if that wasn’t enough, the sudden knowledge of him being executed in a few hours added more strain and tension to your body. You didn’t want anyone to see you in such a state. You didn’t want anyone to pity you.

But if you’re hurting this much, then it must’ve been so much harder for Luffy. You make a mental note to talk to him before crashing to Marineford. For now though, you need to rest — not only for your body, but for your mind as well. You have to be ready, the worst is yet to come. When you closed your eyes, you welcomed sleep like an old forgotten friend.

Your sleep didn’t last long, however, because of both the nightmare of Ace reaching out for you with bloodied hands and of the waters that suddenly rocked the whole ship. Before you could even get down the crow’s nest, the ship abruptly stilled and the air chilled. When you looked down, you clenched your teeth at the sight of the sea that turned into ice.

A mental clock was ticking like a time bomb in your mind. How were you supposed to save Ace now?

As if hearing your question, Luffy started gathering the people in the ship about his plan. At this point, you would do anything just to get to Ace so you didn’t hesitate to help him in his plan on freeing the ship from the ice. But the next thing you know, you were falling after kicking the thick layer of ice as hard as you can.

Just as you looked down to where you’re supposed to land, you realized that it was Marineford and the war had already started. With a little tilt of your head, you see Ace in the scaffold, shackled up. Worry was etched on his face, his focus on Luffy. You could almost hear him saying how stupid his little brother is.

Was it wrong to smile at the sight of him at a time like this? But how could you not? He’s still alive! You have a chance at saving him. You release a sigh of relief.

You try not to draw his attention to you. He already has a lot to worry about — namely, the Whitebeard pirates, the allied pirates, and Luffy. It was a good decision that you didn’t change out of your prison clothes, it was easier not to get noticed by him this way. For all he knows, you’re just one of the many escapees Luffy helped. You want to keep it that way. At least for now.

There’s no time to waste, so when you landed, you immediately head off to the direction of the scaffold. After seeing that Ace was still alive, you feel yourself get pumped up again. You fight each and every Marine who tries to stop you.

No matter how hard each blow you receive, no matter how painful each swipe of the swords you get, no matter how many times you get knocked down, you keep on fighting. You keep on standing up. There’s only so much your Tekkai could do when you’re severely outnumbered. Nevertheless, you keep on going. Nevermind the multiple cuts and bruises you have. There is only one thing in your mind and that is saving Ace. Even at the expense of your own life.

From the way Luffy fought at Impel Down, you know he’s incredibly strong and tenacious so you find yourself backing him up. You don’t go near him, knowing Ace’s attention was on him, but you guard him from your side. Not a single Marine was able to pass through you from your side of the battlefield. But you can’t cover every area for him. Despite that, he managed to take down anyone who was in his way.

Your ears are ringing from all the overlapping noises of guns being fired, screams of agony from pirates and Marines, swords clanging, and hurried footsteps. At one point, you block all of the sounds while you focus on your own breathing as you run.

Even when everyone stopped moving to watch as Pops descended the Moby Dick and made his move, you continued running. You have to keep up with Luffy. There’s no way you’d let Ace die.

The only moment you actually stopped running was when Luffy unconsciously used the Conqueror’s Haki. So he can do that too, you thought.

That was also the moment you actually got to look at the surroundings properly and realized that Pops had been stabbed. Your knees buck from the sight and you fall down. Regret immediately flooding your body. You’re so focused on trying to save Ace that you didn’t notice Pops needed help too.

The Marines took this opportunity to attack you. Just as a sword was about to hit you, McGuy blocked it.

“What are you doing, Y/N? Snap out of it. This is war. There’s no way we’d be able to rescue Ace if you don’t get your bearings straight!”

The harshness in his tone brought you back to reality. He’s right. Pops ordered everyone to lend their strength to Luffy, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do.

You, along with everyone else, push yourselves to your limits to help Luffy. He did not disappoint. He even punched his own grandfather, Garp, just to be able to reach Ace and free him.

The moment the scaffold collapsed, you almost collapsed with it. Tears start falling from your eyes as you see Ace finally free from his shackles. A smile has finally graced his face as he fought side by side with his brother. At that moment, you think that he’s at his brightest when he’s with his sworn brother. You couldn’t be any more happier.

Now that he is free, it’s time to figure out how to escape. Everyone’s running towards the ships but you stop after noticing Pops wasn’t making the same movement.

“The order I’m about to give will be my final captain’s order!” Pops announces. “You and I will be parting here.”

Your breath hitched at the declaration.

“All of you, make sure you survive, and reunite with each other in the New World!”

You don’t listen to whatever he says next. You refuse to. You stand your ground. You’re not going to abandon the man who warmly accepted you into his family without hesitation despite knowing all of the crimes you committed.

As if sensing your refusal, he turns slightly to your direction, “Are you disobeying your captain’s orders?!”

Stupid old man, he should know by now that you’re no good at following orders.

Ace is one of the last persons to follow his order. You turn away from the conversation they are having, knowing it was a private matter.

When they’re done talking and Ace finally starts running towards the ship, Pops turns to you. He doesn’t talk, he just looks at you.

Shame suddenly overcomes you. You didn’t get to stop Ace from coming for Teach. When he left, you begged Pops everyday to allow you to set sail, promising that you’d bring Ace back. When he finally allowed you, you didn’t waste any time. But even when you found him, you couldn’t bring him back, it was too late and you were just too weak. It was your fault this happened. “Pops, I’m sorry I—”

“I did this. This is all my fault.”

“But—”

He shut you up with his stare.

“Let’s leave here together,” you plead.

But he doesn’t reply. With his stare, you can tell that he isn’t backing down on his order, no matter how much you persuade him to. You release a shaky breath. With tears streaming down your face, you gave one last bow and one last thank you.

And then you ran.

The others are already further away from you but you notice a group of them stopping in their tracks. There in the center of the commotion is Akainu and Ace, seemingly discussing something.

There’s no time for this, you thought.

“—In other words, Whitebeard is an eternal loser, who will never surpass Roger. That’s all he is. Everything I’ve said is the truth,” the admiral says. “He reigned the seas for decades, yet he never became a king or gained anything.”

You clench your jaw at the bullshit he’s spouting, after everything Pops had done to save you, you’re livid to hear him be deduced as a loser. But regardless of the anger rising in front of you, you know this wasn’t the time to get riled up.

The thing is, Ace gets easily riled up. It’s one of his flaws as a person. So when he starts walking to Akainu’s direction, Izo is first to shout, “Don’t fall for it, Ace! Turn back!”

But it’s no use.

That’s when you let your presence known, you shout at the top of your lungs, “Just turn back, Ace!”

Everyone whips their head at the sound of your voice, except Ace and Akainu.

Even you, who are usually able to keep Ace in check, couldn’t snap him out of his anger.

It’s too late.

They exchange blows. Ace falls down, magma is far greater than fire, after all.

“The Pirate King, Gold Roger. Dragon, the Revolutionary. These two men’s sons being stepbrothers is quite a frightening thought.” Akainu says.

When he looks over at Luffy’s direction, you immediately know what he plans to do. You don’t even think twice. There is no second to waste.

“Soru.”

The sound of your voice finally reaches Ace. His eyes widen in realization of what’s going to happen.

“Wait!” He pleads.

But before he could even stand up, you already placed yourself in front of Luffy. “Tekkai.”

But the admiral’s strength and power is far greater than your ability. His fist goes through your chest.

“Y/N!” Ace shouts.

The rest of Division Commanders are in shock.

Akainu clicks his tongue at the sight of you and detaches his fist from your body.

You slump, Luffy catching you in the process. “Oi, Y/N-chan... What did you…? Why did y-you d-do that?” He asks.

In no time, Ace comes to Luffy’s side. “Y/N…”

You smile sweetly at the two men and then you turn to Luffy. “You’re Ace’s brother, silly. Of course I’d do this for you.” You cough out blood and then hiss at the pain.

“Stop talking!” Ace demands.

While Luffy and Ace are distracted, Akainu makes his move once again. But the slight motion didn’t go unnoticed by Jimbei and the Division Commanders. Even if you aren’t a Commander, you acted like Ace’s right hand. To the crew, you’re as important as Ace is. There’s no way they wouldn’t fight for you. So altogether they start covering for the three of you.

You feel your body shutting down on you. You could barely hear Ace calling for a doctor and Luffy desperately asking Ivankov to help you. But you know it’s no use. “I… can tell my body is at its limit,” you whisper.

Ace doesn’t agree, then he gently takes your body from Luffy. “No, I’m going to find someone else who can help—”

“Ace…”

“—you. There’s got to be someone who—“

“Ace… My organs have been burnt. I know this’ll be the end of me.”

“No, don’t talk like you’re dying, Y/N!”

“But I am…” You say. “Look Ace, don’t worry, okay? I was prepared to die when I came here. I was ready to die just to get you out of here.”

“Why would you…”

“Because I love you,” you whisper. “You know… when I take a look at my life and all of my crimes, you’re the only thing that I think I got right.”

Ace hides his face on your neck as he hugs you. With the little strength you have left, you give a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. “Don’t go around disobeying the captain’s order and don’t go around breaking your promise to Luffy. You said you won’t die, right?”

You feel Ace nod at your words.

“Go to the ships and take everyone else. Please don’t follow me too soon.”

Ace hugs you tighter, panting as he continues to cry.

A small smile reaches your lips once again. At least this time he’ll listen, you think. “I can’t raise my voice anymore but please tell Pops and everyone else, even Luffy, they made my life worthwhile. I’m sorry if our journey ends he—”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence because darkness had consumed you.

[oopskashish]

Her sweet love

A/N: this is for the writing challenge of @heloisedaphnebrightmore and @haracelovestruck . I enjoyed writing this so much, thank you for organizing the event💘

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Summary: After a lil prank of Y/N's friend, Draco takes care of her.

Warnings: a bit of a prank, a lil drowning but it doesn't happen too much, and too much fluff

Y/N and Emma were walking along side with the Black Lake, chattering away in the mildly cold weather of early November.

"My little brother has this obsession with those Weasley products and ended up spending his entire monthly allowance on puking pastilles." Emma laughed.

"You know, he is going to get money out of you." Y/N says idly, looking at the the clouded canvas of the sky, painted in the shades of greys and dull blue, somehow still looking beautiful.

"He can try."

"He was successful last year." Y/N murmur, pulling the sleeves of her sweater to cover her cold hands.

"That was last year." Emma insisted.

"If you say so." She replies, halting to look at the lake. The lively shades of turquoise was dancing fascinatingly in the waters where the giant squid and merfolks resided.

"You know," said Emma with a notorious twinkle in her brown eyes, "you can take a dip if you want."

Before y/n could have processed a word of her friend, she was in the water, with a force stinging her skin a little. She opened her eyes only to close them again. She pushed her way to the surface, and she gasped for the air.

The chill of the air combined with that of water was enough to freeze. Her teeth chattered, as she squeezed her eyes shut with her mouth gaping to inhale as much oxygen she could.

Emma had her head thrown back, her contagious laughter filling in the empty silence. Emma hunched over, trying to control her giggles, however the attempt was pathetic.

Y/N scowled and swam to the edge. She grasped her friend's ankle and pulled an unsuspecting Emma into the water.

Now it was her turn to laugh as Emma too gasped for air as she came to the surface. Y/N giggles as her furious friend glared at her and splashed water.

The splash war began, both of them laughing as they were practically drowning one another.

"STOP!"

The pair turned to a pair of Slytherin and a Ravenclaw.

"Hi Draco." Y/N smiles at the boy with clenched jaw and his eyes furious but the concern in them made her relax under his stare which would have normally made someone scared.

"Get out of the water, you two." Oscar says, a bit too sternly for their liking.

"Its just some good fun, love." Emma bats her eyelashes innocently at her boyfriend.

"Y/N will get sick," Draco snaps.

"And so will you." Oscar adds.

The girls sighed in frustration as they were pulled out of the water by the help of their friends.

Oscar was fussing over his girlfriend, muttering enchantments that would warm her shivering figure.

While Draco swished his wand, moodily muttering the spell which dried her clothes. She was still quaking with the chill that seemed to bury in her bones.

"Come here, I can warm you up." He mutters, taking her hand and pulling her closer. He took off his warm robes and sweater, leaving himself in a thin shirt.

"You'll get cold, Draco." Y/N pouts.

"You are already quivering," he states. "Arms up."

Y/N reluctantly raises her arms and lets him pull down the warm woolen sweater, and then he wraps her up his robe, checking over her once again.

Y/N was however ecstatic because of the scent that his clothes had. The expensive cologne blended in with cinnamon and apples, the green ones of course, with a touch of parchment was so captivating, and so uniquely him.

"I have told you so many times to not go into the lake when it's cold, but you never listen to me. Now look at you, being so cold." He grumbled, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm.

She leaned into him, loving how he rubbed his warm hands against her back. His concern made her melt into a puddle of love that was only meant for him, and no one else.

"Ah, someone had a dunk in the lake?" Blaise smirks, walking towards them.

Draco didn't say a word but took his friend's scarf and wrapped it around Y/N's neck.

"OI!"

"Shut it, Zabini." Draco snaps, pulling Y/N closer to himself, taking her cold hands and rubbing them.

"You're still freezing," he grumbles against her cheek, holding her impossibly close to his warm body. He had taken her hands in his and brought near his mouth and was blowing warm air into them, as he rubbed them.

"You don't need to do this, Draco." Y/N pesters, trying to take her hands away so that she can give back the scarf but Draco didn't let her do it.

"Let's get you a hot chocolate." Draco pulls her away from the group to lead her to the castle.

"My bag!" She exclaims, trying to stop him. Draco only twirled his wand in his fingers and flicked it, the bag swiftly coming towards the two of you. He took it and swung it on his shoulders.

Draco noticed how their steps were perectly synchronised, and unknowingly he smiled. With her on his side, he has started admiring little things in life and was slowly starting to appreciate them too.

"Draco?" She asks sweetly.

"Yes, love?" He glances at her.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

Y/N leaned more into his arms. He was somehow still warm in the windy weather. She had wrapped both her hands around his, letting his body heat bleed into her.

Draco enjoyed holding her this close, and he smiles as he watched her play with the rings that were cladding his slender fingers.

He ignored all the stares towards them and led her to the kitchens. He tickled the pear of the painting and the door opened. He had practically molded his best friend into his side as they entered.

"Master Draco, Mistress Y/N! What can we get you?" The house elves ask, gathering around them.

"Only some hot chocolate, nothing else." Draco said in a dismissive tone.

"Be polite." She whispered into his ear. Draco did nothing but pulled her into a hug, resting his cheek against her wet hair which were air drying themselves.

"I'm sorry if I was mean to you but I can't have you falling sick, sweetheart." He murmurs in her ear, and a shiver ran down her back at their closeness.

"Sorry." She croons into his chest, keeping her blushing face hidden there.

"Don't say that." He whispers back, running his fingers though her hair and untangling some knots. He smiled a little at the warm feeling that was spreading from his chest into his entire body by holding her close.

She gave him the surreal amount of happiness and warmth that he never knew existed. Her smile was enough to make his bad days into good ones.

He remembered seeing her in his second year when he was having a duel with Potter in the middle of the hallway. She ended up being hit by a hex and Draco didn't know why, but he ran to her and made sure she was alright.

From there, their friendship bloomed. It took a while for them to get closer, but after that stage, they have been inseparable. Even Lucius took a liking for her, which was both suprising yet not so surprising.

Y/N was a half blood and a Hufflepuff, which was already guaranteeing her to get in the line of people Lucius hates, but it was easy to love her. She was intelligent and charming, without even trying.

It took a while but Lucius come to terms with her well enough while Narcissa absolutely adored her with everything she has in herself.

While Draco, he was ready to summon universe if that's what it meant to see that winsome smile that invades his thoughts at any second of the day. He found perfection in her imperfections, thoroughly convinced that she is a wonder that somehow has blessed his life, and he loved her with all his heart and soul.

"Sir?" He heard the squeaky voice of the house elf. He parted away from his best friend and took the two mugs, and y/n took hers from his hand before he could have protested.

But subtly it made him happy because he could have an arm wrapped around her waist. They both went out of the kitchens and wordlessly made their way to the Slytherin common room.

Draco said the password and led her inside. He took her to his private dorm, which he got by his father's money request.

Draco opened the dorm for her, letting her go inside first to which she murmur a quick thank you. Draco let her keep their mugs of hot chocolate on his study table while he searched for some warm clothes.

He pulled out a black sweatshirt and joggers of the same colour and handed them to her. She made her way to the washroom and changed into them, folding the hem of the pants twice so that it could fit her waist.

When she came back, Draco had changed into some comfortable clothes and was sitting on the bed, staring at the fire.

She took this moment to admire the masterpiece of the human he is. The fire was making his silky white hair almost sparkle while his deep grey eyes were focused on the fire.

His elbows were on his knees and his hands were clasped together. His whole body was relaxed into the position and he was looking effortlessly glorious.

He was beyond enthralling to her, confident and head strong to his belief though some of his values changed after he met her. She was happy that he grew out of bullying and changed into a boy who was still brooding, but lovely as ever.

Draco's eyes snapped to her figure which was drowning in his sweatshirt. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched her pad towards him, her cheeks warm with a delightful blush. They wordlessly took their mugs and sat down in front of the fire.

"Would you mind?" Draco asks her, his heart pumping faster as he gestured her to sit in his lap. She smiled a little and sat in his lap, letting his arms wrap around her and cuddle into her small figure.

She took out her wand and accioed her bag that was on the couch. She rummaged through it and took out a packet.

"What's this?" Draco asks in a whisper.

"Mini marshmallows." She answered, taking a handful and putting them in her drink.

"Would you like to try some?" She blinked up at him.

"Sure."

She put in some in his drink too, then packed it up and levitated her bag back to couch. She leaned against his chest, as she stretched her legs.

Draco gingerly tried it, his eyes widening after the sip. "Salazar, this is incredible. Why don't wizards have it?"

"Because muggles are better." She smiled up at him as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Anyway, this is he tiny version of a marshmallow. Usually they're this big." She showed the measurement by her thumb and index finger.

"Why do you like the mini ones then?" Draco asks her, pulling her closer to him.

"Well, when I was little-"

"Was?" Draco interrupts her, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

She narrowed her eyes into a glare, her nose scrunching up as she did so. She got even more annoyed when he smiled at her.

"As much as I love you and respect you, your anger barely intimidates me." Draco chuckles at her.

"I can be very scary." She states.

"You indeed look very intimidating as you hold this cup by both your hands, wearing my clothes that are practically drowning you, as you sit in my lap. I am terrified." He laughs.

She started to get off his lap but his arms wrapped around her waist before she could have done so.

"Noooo." He whined, pulling her impossibly closer and burying his head in her neck, his arms firmly wrapper around her waist. "Don't go, I am sorry, love."

Y/N smiled, this side of Draco was unseen by the world. The one that wanted affection all the time, the side that made her heart flutter in delight whenever it came out when they were alone.

"Draco." She croons, her hand sliding into those silky hair.

He hummed back in response, pressing a kiss on her neck.

"You're sweet, really really sweet." She whispers softly.

"Only to you." Draco states, pulling away and looking into her eyes as his hand slid up, along her side and then cupping her face. His eyes shamelessly fell on her lips and he stared at them, resisting himself the pleasure of devouring her lips.

Y/N heart melted as she watched the boy she loved so hopelessly look at her lips like that. As if he wanted her, just like she wanted him. She nodded at him when he looked at her for permission.

Draco lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against hers, his soul exploding at the gentle touch. He reached out for one of her legs which were sprawled across his lap, and placed it on his other side of the hip and pulled her closer.

He memorised those sinfully addicting lips which made see heaven with closed eyes. The sweetness of her lips due to hot chocolate was unparalleled and all he wanted was to kiss her till the sun couldn't shine.

Y/N mewled against his lips when he tilted his head and kissed her deeply. She was getting drunk off the kiss which had her head spinning. Her hands fisted the fabric of his sweatshirt, trying her best not to moan into the kiss.

Her head was getting heavier with pleasure and she pulled away for oxygen, resting her head against his chest, her eyes closed as she panted. She was still clutching his sweatshirt for some reason she neither knew nor cared to find out.

"You just kissed me." She awed, opening her eyes to look at the boy who was already looking down at her with disbelief in his eyes, but the way he held her so endearingly made her know that he was only shocked due to the bliss.

"I think so."

She smiled at him. "And you are not apologizing for once."

"No, sorry," he breathed, burying his head in her hair. "Sorry for not doing this sooner."

She smiled as she lifted his head, cupping that beautiful face she loved so much. "Don't apologise." She whispers, gently rubbing her thumbs against his jaw. He leaned into her touch, a soft sigh escaping his oh-so-kissable lips.

"I love you," she croons, making him snap his head towards her in surprise.

Those beautiful words that he so longed to hear from her were finally said and Draco couldn't feel anything but happiness that bursted into his chest and echoed in his bones.

His tongue went dry when tried to say those words back. He couldn't, he just couldn't.

So he leaned in and kissed her again, making her roll her eyes back into her sockets as he kissed her deeper, more hungrily as if he had been starving for her presence for eternities and now she is finally her.

She smiled into the kiss, not being able to resist to do so. She knew saying those words will be tough for him, but she was happy.

She didn't need to hear something she felt every single second they spent time together.

He always looked out for her, making sure she is comfortable with whatever is happening around them or otherwise it had to change. Whether it was the situation or the people, Draco dealt with everyone who dared to upset her in terrifying manner.

He always held her close to him, as if she was the stars to his sky. He walked her to every class even if it meant sprinting down half a dozen of stairs to reach his class within 2 minutes, he was ready to do it.

That overwhelming urge to make her happy showed her that he loved her unconditionally. His heart was hers and hers only for this life and all lives to come.

Draco parted away, panting. He smiled back at her, his heart fluttering when he saw that winsome smile stretched across her lips. He leaned in and kissed her smile, whispering how much he loved her without uttering a word.

He picked her up as he stood up and carried her to his bed. He laid her down, and hovered over her.

"My sweet girl." He whispered, pressing tiny loving kisses all over her face which made her giggle loudly, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders.

"Stay the night?" He asks her, pressing a kiss on her nose and then leaning away just a little.

"Okay." She whispers.

They drowned each other in love, holding onto each other as letters of a word, clinging onto each other to have some meaning.

-/-/-/-/-

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