#hoping to get a chapter of butterscotch up this week

[serraphinm]

♕Chapter 1 - The Crown♕

Notes: This has taken me so long, but it was totally worth it. Hope you all agree. When I wrote this, I thought of The Princess Diaries, but I wanted to make it have magic. There are phones in this world, but nobles are old-fashioned and don't really use them. If you have any questions, put them in the comments, and I'll do my best to answer them!

WC: 8k

Taglist: @bready101

Reblogging and comments are loved and welcomed!!

Field trips were the fucking best. Not only did you get a break from schoolwork, but you also got to run around like an idiot with your friends. The one downside was that I still had to wear my school uniform. Old thing was stiff as a board and smelt like dust, whatever the hell dust smelt like. 

Almost tripping up the stairs, I head into the Midiri National Museum, where our professors have chosen to have us walk around for the next 5 hours. My feet were hurting already. I huff, tighten the straps of my satchel, and pull my hair out from under it. Opening the heavy ass doors, I spot my friends and grin. Before I run over to them, I look at the museum entryway again. The massive walls and high ceilings always manage to steal my breath away. Taking in the details, I walk to my friends. Once I reached them, we exchanged whispered hellos and giggled. Our professor, Professor Hallam, instructs us to go wherever we like as long as we remain in the building. We head to the Royalty section to get a look at the Princess's crown and try it on. According to the legend, if you were the heir to the throne, the crown would glow, but everyone was sure they were just rumors. The King and Queen were assassinated twenty years ago, a month after the Princess was born. And on the same night, the Princess was taken. Many hoped the Princess would try on the crown and return, but I believe that's total bullshit.

"You gotta try on the crown.. come on!!!" A voice says to me.

"Absolutely not, Miriam. I'm pretty sure the thing is cursed."  Miriam was a sweet girl with butterscotch hair and green eyes. We had met at Sareth Academy about 13 moons ago, and she was well aware of how I felt regarding the Royals and the current temporary monarch. This was partially why I chose to apply to the academy in the first place. 

"Not even for a millisecond?" Evelyn practically pleads. She was tall and fair with blue eyes and blonde hair.

 She loved the royals and was thoroughly convinced she was the lost Princess despite having completely different features. When we came here a year ago, she tried on the crown and wore it for the full minute. Magic was funny, though; the crown teleported back into the case with some of her hair. We laughed about it for weeks, commenting on her bald spot as if our lives depended on it. I still don't think she's fully forgiven us for that. My footsteps echo throughout the massive room, and I begin to regret wearing these shoes.

"You guys are well aware how much that crown freaks me out. It's still a big fat no."

Miriam and Evelyn both roll their eyes. They didn't understand why I hated the crown so much. And I sure as hell wasn't about to tell them. We reach the Queen and King painting and bow to it before walking over to the crown.

"You know, Y/n.. every year we come here, you look more and more like Her Majesty..it's almost creepy, honestly.." Evelyn says, her eyes still focused on the painting.

"I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Miriam's voice rings out. Looking at the painting again, I study the Queen's face. I hated to admit it, but we were strikingly similar. We had the same nose and skin tone, and our hair and eye color were the same.

"It is kinda creepy, but a lot of people look like the late Queen. I'm sure Miriam is right." I say before I walk over to the crown with the girls. Evelyn puts it on as soon as she can reach it. Miriam and I chuckle, but she just grins at us. Evelyn sets the crown back on its stand, not wanting to lose her hair again, and steps back.

 That's when I hear it. A small… whisper..

Y/n

My head snaps in different directions, trying to figure out where that is coming from, but it ultimately lands on the crown. My friends look concerned.

"Y/n, you ok?" Miriam says softly as if she were scared of scaring me.

I ponder telling them that I'm hearing voices. This is why I hated the crown. It gave me a terrible headache and it whispered my name. It creeped me the fuck out.

 "It's nothing.. Just thought I heard something." 

Y/n

There it is again.

 What the hell is going on?

 I stare at the crown, almost glaring at it. A group of students comes in, their footsteps like thunder. One of my Professors is among them. My friends' heads snap in that direction, and mine would, too. However, I still stare at the crown as if it were mesmerizing. 

Y/n 

Y/n

Y/n

The voice gets louder, so much so it hurts. I groan and grab my head. Evelyn and Miriam call for the teacher. I hear something about the Prime Minister for some odd reason. Closing my eyes, I try and stop the pain. Dull aches find the smallest corners of my mind as the voice screams.

"Make it stop!" I cry out, my throat going dry. 

Opening my eyes, I see a man dressed in a light red suit. He has blue eyes and very short, combed-over, white hair. He smiles calmly at me and reaches for the crown. I panicked and tried to back away from it. A wall of mass sits a few steps back, though, and I look back to see two guards standing tall. I want to yell at them to move. To do something about the screaming. But it hurts so much I can barely think. The Prime Minister gently holds a hand out to me. To steady me. I take the hand with my own shaking. He gently places the crown on my head. And all is quiet. Before I can even take a deep breath of relief, a blinding white light fills the room. Groans and screams fill my senses, and I close my eyes once more. When I open them, I see everyone staring at me in shock. It clicks then….

I was Midiri's Princess.

How the fuck-

Whom the fuck- 

WHAT THE FUCK

The prime minister's voice pulls me out of my internalized panic and places a hand on my shoulder.

"We've been looking for you for a long time, Your Highness." What he says makes my ears ring and my brain hurt. 

I open my mouth to protest, but he turns to the room before I can. With a booming voice, he announces, "I present to you, her Highness… Princess Y/N L/N!"

He bows to me, and I'm acutely aware of how uncomfortable I am with this situation. Soon, the room follows in varying forms of curtsies and bows. I feel like Percy Jackson when it was revealed he was the son of Poseidon. 

The prime minister raises his head and gives me a look, which I can only assume is meant to be calming. 

Guards escort me to the front doors, and my feet seem to move on their own. Once outside, a large black limo comes around the street corner and stops in front of the museum steps. I want to scream. Say this is all wrong and go back to my friends. But something inside me is telling me this is right and that I can change what I hate about the monarchy. I steel my resolve and, with shaky legs, enter the limo. It felt bigger on the inside than it looked. On the plus side, I didn't feel claustrophobic. On the negative side, I was so overwhelmed and overstimulated that I felt like I was going to puke. The prime minister sat a few seats away from me, and I decided that while I was stuck here, I might as well ask a few questions.

I look up at him and, with a dry mouth, ask, "How did you know to put the crown on me?" 

He looks surprised for a moment, but to be fair, this is the first time I've spoken to him, let alone asked him a question.

"I saw your face.. and saw Her Majesty… I thought it couldn't hurt to try… I'm sorry if I scared you, your Highness." He says gently. I let out a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding and whispered, "What's going to happen now…?"

He gives me a sympathetic look and says, "Now, we begin planning for your coronation. Some instructors will teach you all you need to know, and a seamstress will be by to take measurements for a coronation gown and clothing." He begins listing other things that will need to be done, but I zone out. Switching on the TV, I see news report after news report about me—my face, where I went to school, all of it. 

"How did they find me so fast…?" I ask the prime minister, my head snapping in his direction.

"I'm not sure...However, there will no doubt be paparazzi waiting for you when we arrive at the palace." His voice is stressed, and I can tell he's worried about something, though I can't determine what.

"I'm assuming the Duke and his family will be awaiting my arrival as well," I note darkly. 

Duke Haleson was an all-around dickface, and I didn't need to meet him to know that. As the temporary monarch, he had more power than any person should ever have without proper checks and balances, and it showed. 

"I'm sure he will be there to greet you along with the Duchess. But not to worry, " he says, noticing the look of disdain on my face. “You currently have more power than him as the Princess."

It takes a whole minute for that to sink in before I realize that, yet again, this is real. I pinch myself once just to make sure, and when the pain registers, it too registers. This is not a dream. Then, so suddenly, as if it were lightning, Im determined and a little pissed off. If there's one thing I know about this whole situation, it's that I've been given the power to make things right. Being resentful came with knowing I'd have to clean up the Duke's mess. 

"Your Highness, if I may ask, how much do you know about the Duke and his family?" the Prime Minister asks softly. 

"Well, for starters, I know the Duke is the temporary monarch, which he took over when the King and Queen died… well, I suppose I mean when my parents died.." It felt weird to say that and to be honest, it just made me depressed. "He's the late King's cousin, and I believe he has two sons and a daughter. His eldest son is Emon, and his second son is Oren… I believe they're both 19."

Recalling information about the Duke's family was easier than I thought despite knowing the most about the Duke himself. "His daughter is Elora, and she's 14. I've seen several photos of them in the paper and magazines." 

The Prime minister nods and confirms the information.

"What I don't know are their affinities," I say, subtly asking the Prime Minister. Each member of the royal family by blood had affinities, which I suppose meant I had them too. Power takes form when a royal member reaches 10 and is in tune with their affinities. A type of energy per se. Different kinds of energies lead to various types of affinities and so forth.

He taps his chin as if deciding whether or not to tell me before simply saying, "The Duke has an ice affinity, The Duchess a plant affinity, Emon has a plant affinity as well, I believe Oren has force affinity, and Elora has a surprising teleportation affinity."

It was indeed surprising to have a teleportation affinity. From what I knew, they were extremely rare. 

"A teleportation affinity..?? Jeez.. I bet the Duke loves her.." 

He says nothing and just avoids my eyes. Deep down, I know what that means, so I turn my attention back to the TV.

We pull up to the palace, and cameras are flashing before I even step out. Guards line the pathway; I can see the Duke and his sniveled-up face from here. Someone opens the door, and cameras flash so much that I'm practically blinded. The same person who opened the door held a hand out to me, and I took it. As I stand, the flashes just get worse. Covering my face with my hand and walking, tons of questions are thrown my way. People are screaming my name somewhere, and it takes me a moment to realize there are tons of people with signs and posters outside the gates. I realized they were all there for me, so I decided to wave to them as a show of courtesy. That just makes them scream louder, and I try not to grimace. Focusing my attention on walking, I head toward the Duke. He bows to me, and his family soon follows. I was surprised to find out they'd all be here at once. 

"Are you sure this is the Princess? She looks like a teenager… and she's wearing a school uniform." The Duke comments with a grin on his face. Man, this guy is more pathetic than I thought.

"I'm 20, and this is usually what people wear when going to school, Duke Haleson."

He looks down at me once more as if acknowledging me was some horrible fate he had been subjected to. I keep eye contact with him and try not to glare… or bite his head off.

"My, you have quite the tongue for a young lady…"

"That's Her Highness to you, Duke Haleson. I respect your title; you should respect mine, don't you think?"

His jaw clenches, and I can see the irritation in his eyes. Good, it's about time he understands I won't be pushed around.

The Duke glares at me, poised to speak, but the Duchess interjects with a warm welcome, guiding me into the palace. As she shares captivating stories about the grounds, I struggle to keep my jaw from dropping. The sheer magnificence leaves me in awe when we step into the foyer.

With its soaring ceilings, the space feels vast and inviting. Gold accents glimmer on the walls, while the marble floors shine under the gentle light streaming through grand windows. Splashes of light purple and lush greenery breathe life into the room as vibrant purple flowers and cascading vines adorn both the walls and ceilings.

As we venture further, the beauty of this palace is almost intoxicating, yet there's an underlying weight in the air, a sense of history that seems to seep from every corner. Each detail is meticulously crafted, and I can't shake the idea that beneath this elegance lie untold stories—much like the voice that haunted me earlier.

My thoughts flutter between what the Duchess is saying and how on earth this room is real. We enter the drawing room, and more splashes of purple and gold fill my vision as I'm led to a plush white chair. As she is well known, Duchess Victoria sits across from me while her husband stands and stares. 

"I'm sure you have many questions. Are there any we can answer, Your Highness?" the Prime Minister asks. I suddenly realized that I hadn't even bothered to ask for his name yet. 

"What's your name?"

He looks shocked momentarily before he smiles and introduces himself, "My name is Bennet Winton, Your Highness."

I open my mouth to respond when I hear a chuckle from the Duke. This man was already pissing me off.

"You must really want my attention, Duke Haleson if you can't even keep yourself from being the only one laughing."

He shuts up.

I turn back to Prime Minister Winton and smile at him. "I appreciate your help thus far. My other question is when the coronation will be held and whether I'll be crowned Princess or Queen."

"It will be held in one week. And you shall be crowned Queen." Duke Halesons' cold voice fills the room. The Duchess speaks next, her voice quieter than the Dukes': "Don't worry, dear. We will prepare you for the coronation. I have a lovely seamstress I could recommend if you'd like."

"Thank you.. I would like that. What about education, though? I have no idea how to run a country."

This time, the Prime Minister says, "Not to worry, Your Highness. We have the best professors and instructors across the globe."

"Well, that's good; thankfully, I know quite a lot about nobles and such from studying at Sareth Academy." 

"Sareth Academy, you say. I thought I recognized that uniform from somewhere, " the Prime Minister says warmly. 

I was quite proud of myself for getting into such an elite school. "Yes, I learned quite a lot." 

Learning about people who were far more fortunate tended to anger people, and I was no different. However, attending the school helped me learn about affinities and nobles' power. I wouldn't have my seething hatred for the Duke without my education. Mostly because I'd be ignorant like most people who believe in the royals and nobles. The Duke had been placing people in positions of power who had no idea what they were doing or had too much of an idea and were using it to hurt ordinary people. 

"Oh really…?" 

I take a deep breath. The Duke had yet again tried to undermine me. He must take me for some idiot who just wants to be royalty.

"Duke Haleson, if you're going to be immature, I can get help elsewhere." My voice is unwavering and determined. In a matter of seconds, I see his expression flicker between outrage and calm. He clears his throat as if he were trying to stuff down another rude comment.

"Excuse me?" His voice cracks a little.

"You're not excused." 

Everyone in the room looks like I've just slapped them across the face. Then suddenly,… laughter. Oren laughs and soon follows his brother and then his sister. The Duchess follows naturally. The Prime Minister even cracks a significant smile. I feel a bit ashamed for a moment before I realize… they're laughing at him. Duke Haleson's face is red. I can't tell if it's because of my ridiculous petty comment or because everyone is laughing at him. Maybe a combination of both. 

"Now then.. I'd like to see my room, please." The exhaustion of the whole situation has finally worn me out, and I have decided to give the Duke some undeserved respite. I stand, and the Prime Minister waves a maid over. She looks to be eighteen, though I can't be sure. She curtsies to me and beams me with a smile. I smile back before I turn to the Prime Minister.

"Thank you for your help, Prime Minister.."

"Please, call me Bennet Your Highness. Rest well, and I shall see you in a few days."

He bows once more, and I decide to follow the maid for some well-deserved rest. With one last glance at the people in the room, I realize I may have more allies than I once thought. 

Exhaustion was a bitch, and we weren't friends. There were so many stairs in this palace I thought my legs were going to fall off. I learned the maid's name was Jane. She was seventeen and had been working at the palace for almost a year now. She seemed very shy and surprised by the many questions I was asking her. We reach this massive hallway with an enormous window at the end of it. Flowers and vines crawl up the sides of it in a delicate pattern. Jane snaps me out of my trance by walking up to a set of lovely double doors. They arch at the top with intricate designs along the sides. Everything in this palace was just so damn pretty. She opens the doors, and I feel a breeze. I smell the room before I see it. Vanilla and Rose fill my senses as I try not to trip over my feet when I see the space. It's an open floor plan; everything is marble, gold, and light purple. So simple yet so elegant. A bed the size of my old bathroom lays off to the left with a canopy and vines covering it. The sheer drapes are held up with delicate ribbons made of lace. Picking my jaw off the floor, I take it in the rest of the room. A covered balcony with flowers galore and a view of the gardens. A sitting area that could fit a football team. A massive walk-in closet with so many accessories I can't even count them. A bathroom that shines brighter than my future and a large desk that overlooks the garden. The space feels surreal, like something you'd only see in your dreams. Everything is soft and expensive, and I just want to jump onto the bed… or into the bath… I wasn't about to be picky.

It takes me a few hours to find everything in the space. And a few more to remember the names and faces of my maids. Anais had red hair and blue eyes; Rose had brown hair, a fair nose, and pretty blue eyes; Ivone had deep black hair curling at the ends and brown eyes. While Jane had light brown eyes, freckles, and green eyes. It was odd how close I had gotten used to them. Which also felt weird because these girls would most likely see me naked. At Sareth Academy, they taught us that working with nobles came with having to see them in all states. It was a requirement to know how to serve them even if you weren't going to be in that line of work. I thought it was ridiculous, but you do whatever it takes to learn how to beat the system. 

A lovely woman named Cherry came by as well. She was the palace seamstress that Duchess Victoria had sent over. As the palace seamstress, she took my measurements while I stood on a small fitting room platform. Cherry works quickly and efficiently, but as I'm wearing close to nothing in front of a room of strangers, it was difficult not to shiver. 

"Just a few more measurements, dearie." She chirps as she walks around me. Writing on her notepad, she looks up at me.

"You did wonderful, Your Highness, I'm all finished."

I immediately relax and step down from the platform. A maid whose name I've learned to be Ivone steps forward and holds out a fluffy robe. Slipping it on immediately, I shiver into it. I was thankful to no longer be in my knickers in front of everyone. Cherry waves over another maid whose name I believe to be Anais. She hands her a stack of what looks to be pajamas, and I'm thankful that I have something to wear to bed tonight.

"Rose, could you please get my stationery?" I asked my fourth maid. Somehow, during my panic attack over the crown, I lost my satchel and phone. So, for now, I was stuck writing letters, though it did kind of make me feel more like royalty.

"Of course, Princess," Rose says a little too happily. She runs over to my desk as Cherry packs up. Anais walks over to the double doors on the other side of the room and opens them to my walk-in closet. I watch her go before walking over to my desk and writing a letter to my friends back at the academy. Writing everything I felt on paper left it rushed, but I doubt they would care much. I seal the letter when something crosses my mind. 

Where was the Royal Seal?

I had heard about it in history lessons. It was used when royals sent letters to other countries or when the letter held important information. But if I didn't already have it, that meant only one thing: The Duke hadn't given it up. The Royal Seal was a sign of power, a sign that the current monarch was truly in charge. 

I hand the letter off to Rose, who happily takes it away as I ponder. I needed to get that seal if I was going to be Queen, whether or not I had to take it from his hands. 

"Princess, what would you like for dinner?"

Jane's soft voice reaches my ears, pulling me from my thoughts. I mutter a reply even though I feel too tired and stressed to eat. Usually, I would eat more than I needed, but for some reason, tonight, I just wasn't feeling it. Cherry says her goodbyes and well-wishes and I find myself relaxing a smidge more. I just wanted to be alone.

An hour later, Jane returned with the dinner I had requested. Surprisingly, I managed to get a decent amount down, and soon it was time for bed. Changing into the silk pajamas Cherry gave me, I find myself drawn to the massive bed. My maids leave, and suddenly, I feel everything all at once. Grief for my old life, happiness for my new one, fear and determination for the future. So much has happened in one day, and I feel the exhaustion clawing at my body. The bed surrounds me, and I fall into a deep sleep.

My whole body feels soft. Silk envelops me, and I wonder if I've died and gone to heaven. I open my eyes and see soft sunlight cascading onto the double doors of my room. The warmth is inviting, stirring a sense of calm I didn't know I needed. I yawn and sit up, stretching the sleepy energy right out of me. Glancing at the cord, my maids told me to pull when I awakened. I tug down on it, and a minute later, Rose, Anais, Ivone, and Jane come walking in. Rose pushes what seems to be a gold cart of food and brings it to the little area where I eat. Obviously, I get out of bed and walk over to eat.

After I eat, Cherry returns with dresses she altered to fit me until she can make some new ones for me. I wasn't exactly keen on wearing dresses every day, so I asked her to make me some pantsuits and everyday clothes, too. She seemed a bit shocked that I asked her that but nonetheless made a note of it. Ivone helps me get into one of the dresses, which is super awkward. Ivone doesn't seem to mind, thankfully, and we slip it on. It's a simple day dress made of silk. Rose suggested kitten heels, which I'm thankful for because I did not want to walk around in my uniform shoes any longer. I slip them on, and Anais fills me in on my schedule for the day.

"First, you will meet your new professors at 10 am, a small break for lunch; then you have dancing lessons at 3 pm."

"That is all, yes?" I practically plead. Wanting to be a good ruler and being lazy were both strangling me, and I couldn't decide which to fight off first.

"Yes, Princess, that is all." Rose giggles. I giggled along with her, and soon, I was headed to meet the professors.

The professors were certainly interesting. Despite growing up as a commoner, they seemed shocked by my seemingly decent education. However, one wasn't sure of my abilities and decided to question me further; needless to say, I put her in her place.  

I had also learned the steps to the Rumba, which couldn't have been more awkward. At least my teacher was a woman and not some old creepy guy. The song playing in the background isn't one I've heard before, and later, in my room, I find myself humming it.

"What's that song you're humming Your Highness?" One of my girls asks. Based on the voice, I think it's Ivone. 

"I'm not entirely sure…"

Each day is the same maddening cycle. 

Dresses get delivered.

Professors drone on for hours about history and math.

Lunch.

Dancing class while I try not to look at my feet and not step on hers simultaneously.

It was exhausting.

Thankfully, today would be different because today was my coronation day. The fun part was the ball right after. For hours, I was cleaned, prepped, and clothed. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this whole royalty thing….

I shake my head and steel my resolve. No. I wasn't going to quit now. I had worked too hard, and I could finally make a change. The girls step away from me as it seems they're finally done with their invasive techniques to make me look prettier. I stand and turn to look in the mirror. Doing a double take to make sure it's me, my mouth falls open in a way that isn't very proper. My girls had outdone themselves. My hair was elegantly wrapped into a low bun, and a lovely tiara was placed on my head. A deep purple Coronation Mantle was draped onto my shoulders, and a stunning light purple gown was underneath it. Jewels drip from me like water, and I feel myself twirl before it registers; my coronation was really happening. Grinning, I hug each one of my maids, thankful for their existence. 

"I… This is gorgeous, girls… thank you.." 

They all blush and mutter different responses before Ivone speaks up, "You better hurry Princess; I hear you're riding in an actual carriage to the Coronation Hall!"

An actual carriage, well, at least I'd get to see horses.

I walk down to the foyer and almost stumble over my dress. Walking in a ballgown and heels was more challenging than it looked. I manage to make my way outside and spot the Prime Minister, or Bennet, as he insists I call him. He bows to me and assists me into the open carriage.

"Nervous Your Highness?" His calm voice asks.

"I would be a fool not to be," I mutter as I fiddle with my fingers. Those long fake nails were on, and picking them was so much more challenging.

"Try not to stress too much, Your Highness. It will be over before you even realize it, and after that, your hardest triumph will be the number of marriage proposals you'll have to turn down." 

His joke doesn't help.

"Oh gosh, I didn't even think about proposals…"

"Yes, well, you will be the most powerful woman in the country… unmarried… suppose there's someone on your mind already?" he asks with a chuckle.

It almost warms my heart that he didn't immediately assume I'd be in love with a man.

"No… but I know it'll be hard to meet her in this position.." I say, a little annoyed that my love life is essentially going down the drain.

"Don't fret, Princess. I have a feeling you'll find her." His warm smile almost calms my nerves. 

"Thank you, Bennet."

If I had a dime for every time I had been in a massive building and emerged with a new title of royalty, I'd have two dimes. Which isn't many in the grand scheme of things, but it's odd that it's happened twice. 

The Coronation Hall of Midiri was ablaze with light as thousands of candles flickered above, casting a soft glow on the ornate decorations that adorned the stone walls. Tapestries depicting the kingdom's rich history hung from every corner, while fresh purple blooms filled the air with their intoxicating fragrance. The anticipation in the air was palpable, with nobles from all corners of the realm gathered to witness this momentous occasion—the coronation of Princess Y/N L/N, the new Queen of Midiri. 

Usually, the previous ruler would crown the monarch; however, since my parents were dead, the Prime Minister got the honor. His usually calming voice boomed across the hall, demanding everyone's attention. 

The ceremony was long and grueling, and what pissed me off even more was the fact that the Duke had the audacity to sit in the section reserved for royals. I wished then and there that I knew what my affinity was just so I could use it on his pompous ass. 

The massive crown they put on me practically broke my neck, and I felt so relieved when they took it off. 

I stand before the nobles, and they all rise and bow to me. It feels almost surreal. One week ago, I was a humble student in a country I loved but wanted to change.

 Now, I was its Queen.

I walk out of the Grand Hall, scepter in hand and crown on my head. As I ride back to the palace in the carriage, people scream my name. Guards are stationed on each side of my carriage as I ride through the streets of Midiri. Flowers are thrown in my direction as chants fill the air.

"Long live the Queen!"

"The Queen has arrived!"

"Long may she reign!"

Tears well in my eyes as I smile and wave to the people. Once at the palace, I'm rushed to my room by staff for a bath and a quick change for my appearance at the coronation ball. I would have to meet with delegates so I had to arrive on time. My maids scrub my skin so hard I'm surprised I don't lose any. I dressed, and a new set of jewels graced my body. Thanking my girls, I leave and walk to the ballroom. It was one thing to stand before so many people, and it was another to talk to them all. Maybe even dance with a few if I managed to avoid stepping on their toes. 

The guards notice my arrival and bow to me before telling the announcer that I am here. He bangs his staff on the floor to gain everyone's attention. The talking lowers to whispers, and as the announcer says in a loud voice,

"Presenting Her Majesty, Y/N M/N L/N Queen of Midiri!" 

As I walk out, the room erupts in louder whispers and conversations. I feel everyone's eyes on me, and I try not to panic. Bows and curtsies can be seen from every direction as I clear my throat and begin my little speech.

"Hello all, and welcome to my coronation ball. I appreciate you coming all this way to celebrate with me tonight. As I look out and see so many friendly faces, I can't help but be grateful for each and every one of you. Let us celebrate tonight so we may work hard tomorrow!"

Cheers fill the room as toasts are being made in my honor. I walk to the staircase on my right, and as soon as I come down, men swarm all around me, asking me for dances and to talk. I reject them all and make my way to my throne that sits against the main wall. Sitting down, people begin lining up to meet me. The first people I see are a couple. A very tall blonde woman is on the arm of a shorter man with black curly hair. They bow and curtsy to me, respectively, and I nod my head in acknowledgment. Based on their attire I would assume they're from the country Amaris. It's a gorgeous country known for its beautiful people and goods. They must've crossed the sea to be here, as Amaris is to the south of Midiri across the ocean. 

"Good evening, Your Majesty. My name is Prince Alwyn of Amaris. This is my lovely fiancee, Lady Isabella." Crown Prince Alwyn was known to be a womanizer, so it was a little surprising to see an actual fiancee on his arm.

"Congratulations on your engagement, you two. I wish you all the best. I appreciate you coming all this way for my coronation." 

Lady Isabella blushes before saying, "You're too kind, Your Majesty... Oh! That's right! We've brought you a gift."

She waves over a staff member, and they hand me a delicately carved wooden box. Its rich color and fresh scent catch me off guard, but I school my expression and smile. I open the box to find spices galore inside. Amaris was known to be a merchants' paradise, so many goods were imported to and from there.

"What a lovely gift, thank you!" It's challenging to procure spices here in Midiri, so I offer my appreciation. Trying to be the perfect Queen simply by talking was hard, but they seemed to hear the sincerity in my tone. 

"Please take this as a token of our goodwill and hope for a promising future between our two kingdoms," Prince Alwyn says before he and Lady Isabella depart. I hand the thoughtful gift to a staff member and instruct him to send it to the kitchen for my food. 

Next, Duke and Duchess Haleson step up. Both bow and curtsey to me before I speak.

"Ah, Duke Haleson, I was wondering when I'd see you. It seems you have something of mine. I'd like it back, please." I say ever so politely.

The Duke grins, happy to play my game, "I'm not sure what you mean, Your Majesty... Perhaps you could jog my memory?"

"Hmm, yes, perhaps I will… Duchess Victoria, do you have it?" 

The Duchess grins, and I see the smug smirk the Duke is sporting slip off his face. She reaches into her pocket and holds out the Duke's most prized possession, the Royal Seal. I smile and take it in my hands gently. 

"But- How did you- Victoria!!" The Duke turns his rage on his wife in an instant. But I knew this would happen. I pocket the seal and stand. 

"Duke Haleson, are you seriously so immature that you'd yell in my ballroom?" My voice carries across the room and eyes and necks snap in our direction. Whispers flood the hall, and I can practically see the Duke start to sweat.

"No…of course not Your Majesty…." His voice is quiet to avoid attention.

"Well then. I hope you keep to yourself this evening... Oh, and Duchess Victoria?"

Her eyes meet mine, and she winks before curtsying.

"Just Victoria is fine, Your Majesty."

"Victoria, then… do let me know if he acts up when you two are alone. I won't stand for domestic abuse. Not even from a Duke." 

Hopefully, other ladies in the room realize this also extends to them, and they can contact me. But for now, I focus on the Duke.

"If that is all, you two are dismissed."

The Duke begrudgingly bows, and he and his wife leave. I sit back down and let out a massive breath. If I hadn't had the Duchess's help, I have no idea what I would've done. I rub my temples and prepare for the next person when an almost raspy, calming voice speaks.

"Well, he seemed like a dick."

My heart skips a beat as I look up. She was…. Ineffable. Short auburn hair that looked like an organized mess. I spot a glimpse of a tattoo, but only a sliver. It looked like.. A fern..? She wore a deep grey suit with space pins on the suit jacket and a simple deep green cape. Pale green eyes one could get lost in. And a smirk that stole my breath away.

My heart skips a beat, and I realize I've been staring.

"I- sorry, what did you say..?"

She doesn't seem to judge and just repeats herself.

"I said he seemed like a dick." Chuckling and shaking her head, she smiles down at me.

"Yeah, he's a real piece of work… I, um, I'm sure you know who I am already, but allow me to introduce myself; I'm Y/N Queen of Midiri."

She smiles and bows to me, a slight blush flushing her cheeks.

"Yea, I know, this is your ball, isn't it?" The way she said it wasn't cocky. Almost understanding as she puts her hands in her pockets.

I clear my throat and internally scold myself for being so stupid. Gay panic was a real thing….

"Right. Of course, you know that… my apologies." 

"Oh gosh shit.. Sorry didn't mean to make you feel bad. Look, I'm not too good at this whole conversing with royals thing. Let's just start over, yea? My name is Ellie Williams, I'm the prince of Jackson." 

Jackson… yes, I was familiar with it. However, I knew nothing of the royal family, let alone their affinities. They were a very closed-off family, and few knew anything about them, let alone their customs. 

"Prince, you say…?"

She scratches the side of her neck as if it were a nervous habit.

"Yea.. I don't really like all the frilly princess stuff. Prince just suits me better, I guess. Wait fuck- I didn't mean that frilly things were bad." She quickly says, looking at my dress. She groans into her hands, and I burst out laughing. Her ears turn bright red, and I can't help but feel a little bad.

"That is the first time someone has sworn in front of me properly in the past 168 hours." My giggles spread throughout the room. She looked dumbfounded, and I can't help but beam a smile at her. 

"Wha- that makes me feel even worse!" Her face contorting to one of shame.

"Trust me, it isn't a bad thing. I'm so sick of being treated like a child. It's been driving me crazy. I hope you didn't think I was laughing at you…"

That seemed to help her relax, so I decided to ask her something now that she was calmer.

"Would you care to dance with me?" My voice is as calm and soothing as I can force it to be. However, on the inside, I was shitting bricks, hoping she wouldn't say no. Usually, a dance between a man and a woman meant the prospect of marriage. But no two women had ever danced before. It was completely unheard of, and while most of society had evolved, the nobles stayed in one spot. 

"I'm not a very good dancer; I'm afraid I'd step on your toes."

"So, is that a no…?" I say, feigning disappointment.

"No! No—I would love to dance with you. It was more of a warning…" she clarifies quickly.

"I'm just teasing you, Prince Ellie." I grin as she huffs.

"Could've fooled me." She mutters as she holds a hand out to me.

I take it, and she gently leads me to the dance floor.

"I think I did fool you," I say with a smug grin. She rolls her eyes and huffs a simple "Shut up…"

We stood in the middle of the dance floor, and I felt people begin to realize what I was doing. Prince Ellie wraps a hand around my waist, and I can feel her calloused fingers on my back. I stiffen just a little at the touch of her cold hands, and she mutters a quick sorry.

"It's fine; your hands are just cold, is all.." 

She chuckles and holds my other hand. Merry Go Round of Life begins playing, and I move through the steps I was taught. I discover very quickly that Prince Ellie is a horrid liar. Her dance steps feel precise as she leads me. We twirl around the dance floor, and my grip on her shoulder tightens as she lifts me. When I come back down, I almost tumble into her, but she catches me and swiftly moves me to the next step. I can feel my face heating up from the embarrassment. 

Getting into the rhythm of the Waltz, we reach the peak of the song, and I lock eyes with her. My heart pounds from the exertion, and I feel myself being pulled in by her. When she lifts me again, I feel like I'm floating. Everything from the glittering chandelier to the people in the room just… disappears. 

Locking eyes with her again, I realized then and there how some people fall in love simply by dancing with one another. 

"You're a liar…"

I whisper softly. Ellie looks at me, confused with a ghost of a smile.

"How so?" She whispers back as we twirl again.

 I meet her eyes again and say, "You're a wonderful dancer." 

"I'm only as good as my partner, Your Majesty…" Her ears turned a slight pink.

I want to glare at her and tell her she knows damn well that's not true. But I bite my tongue. We may be dancing together, but we weren't friends.

My gown swirls with me as we move, and I can't help but think of how nice it must be to dance in a suit. Suddenly, I looked back at the others and noticed that no one else was dancing. Everyone is staring at us in awe. I hold onto her tightly, and we move through the last bit of the song. We move in harmony as whispers and murmurs fill the space. Prince Ellie dips me, and when I look into her eyes, all I see is awe. The last notes of the song die out, and she lifts me back up. 

Applause erupts, and Prince Ellie still hasn't let go of my hand. We both curtsey and bow, respectively, as the cheers build. I can hear our deep breaths synching up as we wave and smile.

Pulling her by our connected hands, I rush to the balcony. People part as I open the doors and close them behind us. Walking over to the railing, I lean onto it and let out a massive breath.

"Holy shit…"

"Holy shit is right, I didn't think everyone else would stop dancing." Her voice rings in my ears as I try to calm my breathing. She seemed a little better off than me but must've been in better shape.

"That was… I didn't know…" Forming sentences is hard.

"Yeah…" She mutters breathlessly; she understands. 

"Sorry for dragging you out here… I just figured you might need some air, too, after that."

She says nothing and fiddles with her fingers again. I look back at her and stare into her eyes.

"Call me Y/n…"

She looks stunned, her eyebrows raising. "But you're the Queen.."

"Oh gee, really? I had no idea." I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone. She rolls her eyes yet again, and I smile. 

"Alright, smart ass, no need to get all sarcastic on me... I'll call you Y/n.. but only if you call me Ellie." Her smile is infectious, and I can feel myself grinning wide.

"Alright.. Ellie… tell me, how long are you staying in Midir?"

She walks closer and leans onto the balcony as well.

"Well, Joel said I should stay for a few weeks to 'properly show our acceptance of the new Queen, " she says, using finger quotes. My attempt not to laugh fails, and I chuckle a little.

"Then if you'll be here a while... I'd like to ask you to form an alliance with me." I say, pretending to be all posh. She stands straighter and puts on a fake fancy face.

"My lady, I would be absolutely honored." Her dramatic tone sells it. We burst out in laughter, and she held a hand out for me.

"Freinds?" Eyebrows lowered and small look of hope in her eyes.

"Friends," I say, taking her hand and shaking it. 

"Now that we're friends, I should warn you, I'm new to being this whole... Royal thing. I only found out a week ago."

"Yeah, I heard. Don't stress. I'm terrible at it, too."

"Liar, you're an amazing dancer."

"Well, that's just dancing... I'm far more interested in Savage Starlight than I am running a country.."

"What's Savage Starlight."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say I just slapped her across the face. She looks at me like I have.

"You don't know what Savage Starlight is??" She looks at me incredulously.

"Um…. no..? Should I?"

"Uhhhh.. yea! It's only the most popular comic book series in all of Jackson! I have the ultra-rare editions too. You can read my copies if you want. Just not the ultra-rare ones…Those gotta stay in their packaging."

She looks at me, hopefully.

"Sure, I'll give them a shot."

"Fuck yea!" 

We talked for a bit longer, and I discovered that her favorite color is green and that she plays guitar. Apparently, she has a guard named Dina, with whom she's practically best friends, and a butler named Jesse. They're here with her, and she has offered for me to come to her room to meet them sometime. 

"I'd love to. I'll try and stop by sometime this week."

"Great..I um.. I'm not too good at hosting, but it should still be fun."

"Oh great, another lie," I say, rolling my eyes, my tone heavy with sarcasm.

"It's not a lie!" She says, pretending to be frustrated.

"Uh huh…"

"Uh huh!"

I soon have to withdraw from the conversation. "I'm sorry, Ellie, but I have a lot of people I have to meet with... But I promise to visit you soon."

She frowns but nods in understanding, "It's alright. I get it… Come by soon, yea..?"

"Yea.. I will."

I leave the balcony and close the doors behind me. It takes all I have to not go back and talk to her but I force myself back to my throne. Throughout the rest of the night, I meet nobles as they praise me for absolutely nothing. They're all so… fake. Ellie is the first real friend I have in this world, and I don't want to fuck it up. She is like a breath of fresh air. If fresh air smelt like bergamot and pine. Snapping out of my thoughts, I meet with the final nobles of the evening before I drag myself back to my room. It amazed me how so many people could be sleeping under one roof. 

Immediately taking a bath has to be one of the best decisions I've made today. My feet were so sore from those shoes I debated getting rid of all the heels in my closet. Rose rubs lotion all over me while Ivone deals with my hair. Anais is off getting my dinner, which I'm thankful for. I feel like I'm starving to death. 

A slight knock on the door means Anais has returned.

"Come in!" My voice echoed a bit in the space.

"Here you go, Your Majesty! I got your favorite!"

The smell of the food reaches my nose, and I can feel my stomach rumble. My maids giggle, and I huff.

"Not my fault. I'm so hungry."

"Of course not, Your Majesty," Rose says with a smug smile. I stand and walk over to the food before digging into it. It takes me minutes to eat everything and after I relax in my seat. 

"Girls.. What do you think my affinity will be..?"

They all stop what they're doing and look at me.

"Why do you ask, Your Majesty?" Jane's soothing voice asks.

"Well.. it just seems so interesting. Besides, it's such a staple sign of power... Perhaps I ought to go to the palace Affinity Master.." My thoughts pour out.

"If I were to guess, I'd say you'd have a charisma affinity." Ivone notes.

"Really? Why charisma?" My brows furrow in confusion.

"It just makes sense, doesn't it? You managed to charm the ton in less than a week. I'd say that's certainly something.

"Plus, you managed to convince Duchess Victoria to join your side. That was quite brilliant." Rose speaks up. I had told them about what had happened when I took the Royal Seal from my gown pocket.

"Well, I suppose.."

I decided not to tell them about Ellie just yet. There were a few reasons, but the main one was that I wanted to keep her a secret for a bit longer. 

"I think I'm going to head to bed, ladies. Thank you for your help."

Standing and making my way to the bed, I yawn. Rose turns off the lights as the others finish their tasks, and one by one, they leave the room. 

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow across my room. It was one of those rare, quiet moments when everything just felt peaceful. Soon, I drifted off, thinking of all the good I wanted to do now that I was Queen.

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[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 3

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.08k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up!

Past (iii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

When you were six, Eleven had a bad year for crops. Of course, the ones who felt the brunt of it were the district citizens. Your parents had given you half of their rations plus your own, but that still wasn't much and you were starving. So you snuck into the woods in hopes of finding something to eat when you saw it. A coyote stuck on its side, legs too frail to lift itself. 

It looked gaunt, ribs protruding and spine on display. You knew hunger personally enough to recognize it anywhere. But even as weak as it was, it looked at you like you were prey—growling and snapping its teeth from where it laid on its side. 

You knew it could hurt you. No matter how weak it looked, it was still stronger than you and all it would take was one bite for you to get some kind of infection. With how weak your immune system was, something like that would have killed you almost instantly. So you left it there.

As you sit in front of President Snow, you can't help but be reminded of that coyote. 

He's paler in person, face thinner up close. That doesn't make him any less imposing. You fidget in your seat and glance at the door. You know there are four Peacekeepers stationed outside, guns full of ammo. They'll shoot you down without a second thought if Snow wills it, put a bullet in your skull at the snap of his fingers. 

There are dozens of white roses around you, tucked inside vases on any available surface. Almost innocent if not for their cloying scent. It gives you a headache. You’ve never seen so many roses outside of a funeral.

When you received the letter requesting your presence, you were at a loss. The next Victory Tour wasn't for a couple of months. What business do you have in the Capitol? 

You're so concentrated on your surroundings that it surprises you when he finally starts talking. 

"Forgive me, I never personally commended you for your games. I would have done so a year ago, of course, but there were complications." His gruff voice carries in the room. Your shoulders are stiff with tension. 

Is that it? He invited you to the Capitol—to his office— to what? To salute you? Your stylist didn't have you plucked and waxed just for a pat on the back. There must be more behind this, not that you would ever call him out on that. 

He opens a drawer on his right and pulls out an intricately designed, rectangular canister. He places it in front of you, takes off the lid, and picks up a gold-wrapped piece of candy. 

"Many people don't get to relish in the luxuries of the Capitol. For example, this candy. You didn't get to have many of these growing up in Eleven, did you," he chuckles when you shake your head. He knew the answer to that question before he asked it, "No, of course not. But you're a victor now, you should indulge. Butterscotch?" He offers and it feels like bait. 

You're not sure if you can work up the nerve to say no to him, even over something as trivial as a piece of candy. You nod and he raises his eyebrow. You clear your throat, "Yes, please." 

"Good girl." He mutters approvingly, gloved fingers brushing your palm as he hands the candy to you. You barely hold back a flinch. 

He watches you unwrap the candy and place it in your mouth. It's quiet. You can feel your heartbeat in your teeth. 

"It's good, isn't it?" He asks rhetorically but doesn't continue speaking. He just stares. You can't tell if he wants you to answer or not. And when you finally open your mouth to say something, he cuts you off.

"There's something on your mind. Say it." 

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I—I just didn't think my games were impressive enough to garner your attention." You barely did anything worth a spectacle. Your games might have been entertaining, but you're no Finnick Odair. 

“Now, let's be honest with each other. You're thinking, ‘Surely, he didn't invite me here just to congratulate me’, yes?” He smiles with an encouraging nod, almost like a schoolteacher. Are you that easy to read? First Finnick, now him.

You nod, unsure if any noise that comes out of your mouth will be intelligible. 

"You're quite clever for someone of your background. That's why people love you so much. And it's that love that brings you here today. The people want more of you." 

"I didn't know I was so popular." You naively thought the hype surrounding you and your games would die off with the entrance of a new victor. Will you be interviewed by Caesar? Doing another photoshoot for Capitol Couture? 

“I want to explain something to you, my dear, in a way you’ll understand. Imagine a wolf wanders onto your farm—you know what a wolf is, yes? This wolf hasn’t killed any of your cattle, but it has the potential to. Now, you could always get rid of the wolf, kill it, but that’s only a temporary solution. There will always be other wolves.” He scolds you as if you were the one to suggest it and not him. “Why go through the effort of killing it, when you can tame it—give the wolf a bone, so to speak. You earn its loyalty and it protects the cattle from other predators.” You aren’t sure you really follow what he’s trying to say. Are you the wolf? The cattle? You certainly don’t own the farm.

"In the past, I’ve always resorted to getting rid of my wolves. But I’ve found it’s easier to domesticate them. I'll be completely transparent with you as I want no misunderstandings between us. I am in the business of making wolves happy. And something that'll make them very happy is you," your knees ache with how hard you're gripping them, "not even the most blue-blooded citizens can fight the allure of spending a night with a victor. Especially one as captivating as yourself." 

You stare at each other. Your eyes stunned, his apathetic. You’re able to decipher his needlessly complicated metaphor and you wish he was talking about actual wolves. You’d rather take your chances with the predators in the woods than the ones in the Capitol.

“I...I'm sorry, I don't understand. If this is a money thing—” 

"No, I don't do this for money. Although there is a substantial fee involved, the people who are pushing for this are my key endorsers. You provide this service for them and I ensure their loyalty. Wolf, meet bone." 

You shake your head, suddenly nauseous. "Why would I agree to that?" 

"Why? Do you not care about your mother? What of Seeder and her poor children," he asks, tsking at your confusion. "Eleven is our most populated district. It can stand to lose a few people." You hear the threat he's not saying and throwing up becomes a very, very real possibility. 

You say nothing, swallowing around fear and vomit. He leans back in his chair, probably sickly satisfied at how subdued he’s got you.

You've never hated anyone as much as you hate the man before you. Not the peacekeeper that executed your father, or the Crop Overseer that made it her mission to touch as many of the young farmhands as she could. He's going to whore you out to the highest bidder. No, he's giving your body away like a party favor. 

He steeples his fingers. "There's a party tonight. I can expect to see you there, hmm?" 

You nod slowly before remembering what he wants. "Yes, sir." 

"Good," he releases a puff of air from his nose that you can almost count as a laugh. He slides a key card across the desk. "You will be staying at the Marquis Hotel in room 2077. There are only two people with access to the door: you and the Avox in charge of cleaning it. Unless stated otherwise, you will hold all of your appointments in this room." He's given you the top floor, you note faintly. 

"You will receive your assignments from me personally," he sits a paper card face-down in front of you. "This is the name of your client and what time you can expect them to knock on your door. Along with your room number, in case it slips your mind." You pick both cards off the desk, almost expecting them to burn your fingers. But they're just objects. The only thing that can hurt you here is Snow. 

"You've been very compliant thus far. I hope it's a trait you continue to possess in the future." The sound of his leather gloves squeaking against each other draws your attention for a beat. It's a welcome distraction from the blood rushing in your ears. "Now, there's something important I must ask you." 

You look up at him, shaking where you sit. You know your face is twisted into a scowl and you dig your nails into your thighs. 

What more does he want from you? He’s practically squeezing a stone, expecting blood, but can’t he see you have nothing left for him to take? But there’s something Snow knows that you haven’t considered. If you squeeze a rock hard enough, you get diamonds. Finnick finds you with your back pressed to the wall like you’re the only thing keeping it up, scowling at anyone who tries to start up a conversation with you. 

"What's got you pouting, beautiful?" He teases, approaching you with a good-natured smile. 

He leans in next to you, close enough that your bare arm brushes his satin-covered chest with every breath. He's a drink or two in, you can tell by the slant of his eyes and the flush in his cheeks. 

You contemplate it for a second. Should you tell him? You need someone to talk to, or just to listen to you and he's the closest thing you've ever had to a friend in a very long time, especially in the Capitol. That certainly means something to you. You’re so far from your natural habitat and there’s safety in numbers. Though, you guess you’ve never really left the forest, have you? The same rules apply in the Capitol as they do in the wilderness: blend into your surroundings and if a predator spots you, pray to God they lose interest.

"Can I trust you, Finnick?" You ask in place of an answer, eyes locked on the crowd. Snow never said that you had to keep your arrangement to yourself, but it didn't hurt to be safe. You want to confide in him more than anything, but you need to be sure that Finnick won't trade your secret for another. 

He straightens, sobering at your sudden seriousness. "Yeah. Yeah, of course." 

You stare at him for a moment. You've talked to Finnick a handful of times and only had two meaningful conversations that didn't involve either of you flirting. By all means, you shouldn't trust him. 

But you do. You really do.

You take him by the hand and pull him behind you, dodging socialites left and right, to a narrow corridor that nobody frequents. There are too many ears out there and the only people that walk down this hall are Avoxes. And it's not like they can tell anyone what they hear. 

You stand across from each other, so close that your heels touch his boots when he leans against the wall. You open your mouth, hesitate, and close it. 

Finnick pushes off the wall to touch your shoulder, leaning down to try to catch your eye. "What happened?" 

You keep your gaze down; you don't know if you can stomach the look he'll give you when you tell him. 

“Snow…” You trail off, losing steam fast. Finnick stiffens, his grip on your shoulder as tight as a corpse’s.

“What did Snow do?”

You launch into your explanation, starting with the letter you received and ending with the last question Snow asked you. 

"And, when I agreed, he asked me if…if I was still a virgin. Apparently, there's a high demand for my first time." You pick at the skin around your nails, a habit your prep team admonished you for. Nothing pretty about bleeding, peeling fingers. 

You bite the bullet and look up. His sea-green eyes are rocky and there's a grimace on his face. An angry tilt to his mouth, but that's it. No shock, no disgust, none of the emotions that this kind of revelation warrants. You take in his stance. He's tense, but he's not surprised. Almost as if he expected this.

"Finnick, are you...?" Your voice peters out lamely, unable to put words to what Snow is making you do, what you suspect he's been making Finnick do. 

He rocks on his heels and lets out a slow puff of air from his nose. "Since I won my games." 

You shake your head. That can't be right. "You were only fourteen." 

"Only a select few in Snow's private circle could indulge in my services at first. But once I hit sixteen," he shrugs with a mean smile, "I was fair game." Of course. You had thought Finnick was handsome when he first won, in that passing way thirteen-year-olds often thought of others. Obviously, it was a shared consensus. 

And Snow had said that he planned on speaking to you sooner—when you were younger. Stupid of you to think that he was swayed by something as trivial as morals. 

"Who else is he forcing to do this?" 

"You, me, and any other attractive victor with something to lose." The sleeves of his white blouse rub together as he crosses his arms, a sneer stretched on his pretty face. You're quiet. You think of Seeder. You think of Chaff and Haymitch. Cashmere and Gloss. You think of fourteen-year-old Finnick. You think of them in the same chair you were in, guns at their back and faced with an impossible task. 

Were they as scared as you? 

"I had thought...I thought that he wouldn't ask you," he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes that you recognize. It's the same one he had during that first dance. But you can distinguish it now because you feel it; he looks haunted, "Usually, he'd spring it on you as soon as you win, but he didn't with you, so I thought—I hoped …" He cuts himself off, staring over your shoulder. He bites his lip so hard you know it has to hurt. 

You reach forward, using your thumb to pull his lip away from his teeth. He looks between your eyes for a second and you drop your hand. "Hoped what, Finnick?" 

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "I hoped you were safe." That's...you don't know what that is. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it knocking against your ribcage. You lean your head back with a sigh. You close your eyes and resist the urge to rub at your chest. That's not supposed to happen. This isn't supposed to happen. 

"It almost sounds like you care about me." You joke, voice wavering. You can't do this right now. 

"I do," his arms drop beside him with another shrug, "I care about you." He says plainly, eyes locked on you. Evidently, he's not one to beat around the bush and, usually, you aren’t either. You don't say anything. Speechless is probably a better word for it. And then, he continues on like what he said isn't a revelation within itself. 

"Snow says it's to ensure loyalty, and maybe that's true, but it's not the only reason. His goal, above all else, is to further drive the wedge between victors and the Capitol," he says, an echo of your first conversation. "We're not human, not to them. He made sure of that." 

Neither of you talks, the silence heavy with the truth of that statement. You're well informed now, and you aren't alone in your imprisonment to Snow. You aren't sure what to do with that. It certainly doesn't make you feel better, and it doesn't change the fact that you only have two hours and forty minutes before your appointment. 

Finnick must be able to feel the anxiety wafting off you in waves because he grabs your hand and…pinches the skin between your thumb and forefinger? "What the hell are you doing?" You half-heartedly tug at his grip, more out of reflex than anything else, but he holds on tight. 

"It's a pressure point. You squeeze it when you're stressed or anxious—a trick I learned from Mags." He slides his thumb down to where the bone of your pointer finger meets your thumb and presses down. You both stand like that for at least ten seconds. 

"...It hurts." 

"It's supposed to," he laughs, soft lips pulled into a grin. "The pain, it's supposed to be distracting." It's definitely uncomfortable, but the only thing you're distracted by is his touch. You don't know if it's some kind of placebo effect or if this pressure point shit actually has some validity, but your heart doesn't feel like it'll beat through your ribs anymore. 

Or, the third option. It has nothing to do with the pressure point and everything to do with the man in front of you. This close, his scent engulfs you. Saltwater and something sweet buried under it, a smell you're sure will still be caught in your nose long after you go home. 

He digs in a pocket of his billowy pants and places a card in your hand. 

"Here," it's the same as the one Snow gave you. The only difference is the name, the time, and the room number. 2064, "It's one of my regulars, so I don't need it." He states in such a nonchalant manner, it almost sounds normal to you. 

"Regulars?" You frown before you can catch yourself. A seventeen-year-old shouldn't have regulars. 

"Don't make that face. I don't need your pity. We're in the same boat, remember?" He asks, but it's one of those rhetorical questions that only have one answer. 

"Right." At this point, the waves have capsized your boat. You're drowning, water filling your lungs, but at least you're drowning together. 

"Look, he puts us all on the same floor." He's still holding your hand with both of his. Like it's something delicate, something worth being gentle with. Like it hasn't taken lives. "If you need me, you know where to find me." He offers with a tender squeeze of your hand. And, despite yourself, you believe him. If you need him, Finnick will be there. 

A thought that's just as comforting as it is terrifying. He removes one of his hands from yours and thrusts it forward—correction, one of his pinkies forward in a gesture similar to the one you did months before. You only hesitate for a second before locking yours with his. 

A silent promise.

“Any advice?”

“Advice,” he laughs, short and brittle. “Yeah. Just…breathe and endure. It’s all any of us can really do.” His voice is angry, but his eyes are mournful. That’s definitely not the kind of advice you wanted to hear and you can tell it’s obviously not the kind he wants to give. But what were you expecting, some kind of miracle cure? That’s not the way this works. 

You could always just… disappear. If not physically, then mentally. A trick you picked up in Eleven when the grueling work days got especially long and—Finnick’s pinky is still locked with yours, you hadn’t even registered it. He doesn’t seem too nonplussed about the prolonged contact, quite the opposite, actually.

And, well, it's not like you're complaining.

Present (III) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT FOUR

The escort for District Four, Freesia Ashwind, stands before a rowdy crowd. Most, if not all, of the citizens, are excited to see who will represent them in the Games. 

It makes him sick. 

Finnick stares at the back of her magenta head and cracks his fingers behind him. 

When Finnick was younger, he hated her. Out of all the names she could have picked, all the lives she could have ruined, she picked his. She inadvertently had a hand in the years of suffering he endured. And when he was fourteen, alone and hurting, blaming Snow wasn't enough. 

It's different now. He's older and wiser, and he does still hate her, but no more than he hates every other Capitol. He tunes her out and tries to remember if he's had sex with her. 

After preaching the same spiel she's said every year, she finally says something of substance. 

"Now, normally, it's ladies first. However, since it's such a special occasion, how about we switch it up a bit?" The crowd roars, exhilarated, hanging on to her every word. He's sure she could recite the entire history of Panem and they'd cheer. District Four doesn't suck from the teat of the Capitol like One and Two do, but it's still a wealthy, Career district. 

She approaches the bowl on her right instead of her left. 

He stands alone as the sole male victor. There used to be three others, but they either drowned in their liquor or overdosed on their Morphling. Despite that, she makes a show of it. Swirling her hand around the empty bowl until she plucks the only paper out with a gasp, exaggerated in nature as most people of the Capitol are. 

"Finnick Odair!” He doesn’t know what he was expecting. There—there was no other outcome. Still, he goes cold, heart growing heavy with reality sinking into it. 

Finnick is a good actor. Maybe not the best, but he's certainly up there. Not many people could see through his veneer. It's fragile, cracks and instability on display to anyone who truly knows him—and even then, that's only three people. 

Two of them stand beside him now, waiting to see where the sword will fall. And the other…

Finnick waves to the cheering crowd with a closed-mouth smile. 

The other is lost to him. 

He plays up his enthusiasm, winking and waving. He dons the mask they chose for him: Golden boy of the Capitol, a born killer. Why wouldn't he be excited to get back in the ring? A couple more thoughts like that and maybe he'll start believing it. 

"Ladies next!" A hush settles over the crowd. No one is excited to see this. He glances to his left. Annie is shaking as Mags holds onto her. 

It's so quiet, Finnick can hear the tape tearing off the paper. 

"Annie Cres—” Annie is screaming before Freesia even finishes. He faces forward, biting his cheeks to shit. 

"Oh, it seems we have a volunteer!" He almost breaks his neck from turning so fast. Mags has her hand held high, gesturing to herself. 

The crowd cheers, but this time they cheer for Mags's bravery. Finnick feels like crying. 

As the cameras zoom in on them, he breaks protocol and goes to comfort her. He holds Mags close and kisses the top of her head. He's known her for most of his life and he's still surprised by her selflessness. She must know how high the deck is stacked against her. That, even with him beside her, the odds aren't in her favor. And she still volunteered. There's a reason you and her got along so well. 

He looks at Annie. Her hands are over her ears and she stares back mournfully, more lucid than she's been in years. She makes to come towards them before she's intercepted and ushered off the stage like a sheep. 

Finnick wonders who will take care of her with both of them gone. Annie may not be going into the arena, but this is just as much a death sentence for her as it is for them. 

Right about now, the reaping for Eleven should be taking place. 

Finnick knows Snow well, more than he'd ever admit. He knows, without a doubt, that he put Seeder's name in twice. 

But there's a chance that he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does. Two years is plenty of time for a person to change. God, he hopes he's wrong about you. He hopes you've grown mean and callous, and you wouldn't even think about trading your life for someone else's. 

He hopes you're safe. 

Peacekeepers approach. Far more cordial than they'd be with the lower districts, but still gripping their guns tight. "Right this way, Mr. Odair." One of them says. He and Mags follow after him, like pampered pigs to the slaughter. 

Present (III) - You

[23 & 24 ] - DISTRICT ELEVEN  

You don't remember the walk to the stage. You've been out of it since the Quarter Quell was announced. You remember specific instances of Chaff forcing you and Seeder to train, your mother following you around like a shadow—and when you come to, it's to a sea of despondent faces. Every District Eleven resident, young and old, stands before you. 

Argon Wellway is the same announcer Eleven has had for the past five years. His neon purple hair remains stiff despite the breeze. You've always loved purple. It's an odd dichotomy to see something you love on something you hate. 

He steps to the mic, enthusiastic and jaunty despite the dour reception he receives from his audience.

"Hello, District Eleven! Are we excited for the Quarter Quell," he pauses with a wide smile, every tooth on display. The crowd stays silent, "Well, I certainly am. And so is everyone in the Capitol!" 

He steps back, attitude impervious to everyone around him. "Now, for the men!" 

You pity Chaff. He stands by himself on the left, bearing the weight of being the only male victor of Eleven. He never had a chance. 

Argon approaches the bowl on the left like a magician, showy with big movements. He pulls the card out and stands by the mic. "Chaff Mitchell!" 

Chaff doesn't move from where he stands, there's no point. 

Seeder takes your hand and you squeeze back with numb fingers. You don't know where her kids are, the mass of people too big to pick out three children, but you look for them nonetheless. You wonder what they're feeling. You wonder what you’re feeling.

"On to the female victors. This one is especially exciting, a fifty-fifty chance!" There's not a wrinkle on his face as he smiles, skin too tight with Botox. It makes him look inhuman, fitting. 

"Which one, which one," his fingers dance between the two cards inside the bowl, going back and forth like it was a guessing game and not someone's life on the line. He goes on like that longer than needed before deciding, "Aha! This one." 

He steps back to the mic, tearing the tape off the back of the paper before announcing, "Seeder Howell!"

She is quiet, face twisted in an attempt to keep back tears. Her grip is crushing as if she's scared they will drag her away. And you move without putting much thought into the decision. 

You raise your free hand and say, "I volunteer." You don't yell it, you don't need to. 

Your mother lets out a shrill, throat-shredding scream, her voice only elevated by the silence surrounding it. This will be the last thing you hear from her.

Seeder holds on to your hand as you step forward, grip tight. There are tears in her eyes, lips trembling around words she doesn't have the strength to say. 

"I know," And you do. As a mother, she's grateful, but as your mentor—well, "Let me do this for you." You say, but it isn't a request. You're going back into the arena whether she gives you her blessing or not. You can admit your reasons for volunteering aren't entirely selfless. You're going up against seasoned fighters, all prepared to do what it takes to survive. 

But—you don't have to win. No one expects you to win and that...that thought is relieving. You aren't planning on rolling over in the arena and letting someone get a free kill, but this is something Snow won't be able to work around. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manipulate the outcome of the games. And he'll have no one to blame but himself, no one to punish. It's cowardice, in a way, but you're tired. And you think you've been tired for a long time now. You'd be stupid not to take this ticket out. 

Most eyes pity you. You're essentially volunteering yourself to put your head under the executioner's sword. However, some eyes envy you. You're leaving Eleven. For good. For many of the citizens, death is a small price to pay for freedom. But there’s something else, something everyone in the crowd shares. There’s anger, a righteous fury in every face you see. 

Is this the view your dad had? Are these the faces he saw before he was lynched?

You spot your mom a few rows back, someone holding her up. She's inconsolable. You take a moment to look at her for the last time. After you die, they'll make her move out of your house, but you know without asking that Seeder will take care of her. 

"This is certainly a surprise! Very exciting," Argon grabs the stump of Chaff's right arm and the wrist of your left, lifting them into the air, "We have our tributes!" 

No one claps. You don't expect them to. 

Things move pretty quickly after that. You're given no time to say goodbye. No time to try and run. 

Peacekeepers approach and the hands that grab you are rough with their treatment, dragging you and Chaff in the direction of the train. 

There'll be many victors facing the guillotine, many of your friends forced into a death march.

You look to the sky, a quick glance before you're ushered to the train. It's a sunny day with plump white clouds on a baby blue backdrop. It might be the last time you see the real sky as a free woman. Calm and beautiful despite the carnage happening under it. 

You close your eyes for a moment and think. For the first time in almost two years, you'll see Finnick.

[dcocca]

Hiiii! I hope you had a nice Christmas, or that you get to spend your holidays with someone dear to you. In any case, I send you a hug! 🫂

And this fluffy festive chapter! 🎄

Lots of mulled wine and flirting going on. 😏

I leave an excerpt for you:

Once at the Leicester Square Christmas market, Aziraphale began to feel the festive air that was steadily enveloping London. The lights of the various stalls glittered like stars, their red roofs were cheerful, the chatter of the crowds was merry, and the scent of sweets, coffee, and mulled wine filled the air. It was perhaps a bit too crowded for his liking, but the general atmosphere more than made up for it, lifting his spirits. Walking arm in arm with Maggie certainly helped keep him grounded in the moment, providing him with a comforting sense of companionship. Maggie was so sweet and warm, it was impossible not to feel at ease in her presence.

“Oh, Mr Fell!” Maggie exclaimed suddenly, pointing at a stall a little way ahead. “Shall we get some brownies? They look delicious! I wonder if they’ve got butterscotch ones?”

Aziraphale turned to her, delighted. “Oh, absolutely! I want one with salted caramel.”

Moments later, they had bought their brownies and were eating them on the spot, giggling and doing little dances of delight.

They continued their stroll through the market, chatting and nibbling as they went.

At one point, however, Aziraphale stopped listening to Maggie. Her voice became a background murmur, one among many blending into the buzz of the crowd. His attention had suddenly locked on a point ahead of him, in the middle of the street.

A few metres away, a shadow of black stood out starkly against the sea of festive colours: Crowley. This time, Aziraphale was painfully aware of the small flutter in his heart as his gaze fell on the figure he’d been thinking about all week.

Though dressed in his usual all-black attire, Crowley somehow seemed to be glowing. Like a black hole, he had the uncanny ability to absorb all the light around him and reflect it back as an ethereal halo.

He wasn’t alone.

He was talking to someone else—Nina. The two of them were chatting and laughing as they sipped mulled wine from paper cups.

“Oh, Mr Fell! Look who’s there!” Maggie exclaimed a moment later when she, too, noticed Nina and Crowley amidst the crowd. But Aziraphale was already looking in their direction and responded only by giving Maggie’s arm a gentle squeeze. Maggie seemed to notice—the glance, the squeeze.

“Why don’t we go say hello?” she suggested cheerfully. And without waiting for a reply, still linked arm-in-arm and effectively dragging him along, she led Aziraphale towards the pair.

Tagging @goodomensafterdark 💙❤️

[thetargaryenbride]

Nail To The Coffin - S3 - Chapter 1

Warnings: chasing, hitting 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 4560

A.N: So, season 3 begins. I warn you in advance, this season is gonna get freaky and dark haha Billy and reader's fate gets even more intertwined and lots of angst will follow. Hang in there, dearest readers. Also, WE CELEBRATE HITTING 100K WORDS 🤩🥳 As always, please do make me know if I’ve written certain characters OOC and if you think there is something that can be corrected within the story. Thank you for reading. Hope you like it! 🖤 🥀

Masterlist || S2, Chapter 9 || Chapter 2

Late June 1985, Starcourt Mall, Hawkins

“Alright, hang on a second,” chuckled Robin in disbelief. “You are serious about this? You actually have a girlfriend?”

“Uh, yeah?” Steve lifted his shoulders and furrowed his brows at Robin’s expression of pure cynicism.

“And we’re thinking and talking about the same person, right? Y/N Byers?”

“Yeah, since November. Why is this so hard to believe?” groaned the boy and Robin did a double-take.

“I don’t know, maybe-maybe because she is actually gorgeous and like, prodigy-level smart and you are…you,” she shot him something like a pitying expression and he glared.

“Thank you so much for the confidence boost.”

“Just sayin',” she shrugged before popping a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and he let out a huff before closing the window in her face.

A couple of minutes ago, Steve had told Robin how excited he was that you were coming back from California and she decided to pull his leg. Of course, she knew you were his girlfriend. She had seen you two being all lovey-dovey at school on a couple of occasions. But she just loved messing around with her silly co-worker.  

Not even a minute later, repetitive ringing could be heard and Robin turned around and walked to the counter, rolling her eyes at the group of kids who were hitting the bell again and again.

“Hey, dingus!” she sing sang as she leaned on the counter. “Your children are here!”

“Again? Seriously?” asked Steve defeated as he slid open the window to look at the group and Mike shrugged.

He let out a long exhausted sigh but beckoned them in anyways, opening the backdoors to let them sneak into the staff hallways from where they could enter the cinema unnoticed. 

“I swear if anybody hears about this-“

“We’re dead!” they echoed at the same time and he shook his head before heading back inside and joining Robin up front at the counter. She sent him an ironic look and he grumbled under his breath.

“Excuse me? Can I order a U.S.S butterscotch sundae?” came in a familiar voice and Steve’s head snapped to look at the person, eyes widening in surprise.

“Y/N!” he all but shouted as his face lit up in excitement while Robin looked on with stupor as the boy pretty much threw himself around the counter and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close and lifting you in the air to spin you around, making you erupt in giggles.

“Alright, alright. I missed you too! Now put me down,” you laughed and he set you down clumsily before capturing your lips in a kiss.

“Gosh, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he chuckled breathily and you shook your head.

“It’s only been a week…but I understand how you feel,” you shared knowing looks as you ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back a bit.

“I can’t believe it…You were actually serious about this,” Robin interrupted the moment, making you both turn your heads to face her, bodies still flushed against each other, and you lifted an eyebrow at her perplexed expression. “You were telling the truth this whole time?!” she over-exaggerated with a slight smirk.

“What is she talking about?” you stammered in confusion as you looked at Steve and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly while you pulled away from his embrace.

“She didn’t believe me when I told her you’re my girlfriend,” he put a hand on his hip while the other he threw in frustration.

“I know that it’s hard to believe sometimes but Steve is more than what meets the eye,” you smiled brightly before extending your hand. “Y/N Byers. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepted the handshake and smiled politely at you. “And for the record, I do believe you, dingus. I’m just messing with you,” she addressed him and he gave her the ‘Seriously?’ look, making you giggle.

“Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you but can you cover for me for a bit? Just for awhile, I promise,” asked Steve and the girl nodded.

“Go on, catch up with your girl,” she waved him off and he grinned before taking your hand and dragging you away.

“But I really wanted some ice cream,” you moaned and he halted in his step before rushing back behind the corner to scoop you some big balls of strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla ice cream and dump them in a cone, sprinkling it with some rainbow sprinkles and shoving two wafer sticks in the creamy substance before dashing back to your side and handing it to you. You shook your head at his antics before pecking his cheek and grasping his hand once again, the two of you walking away from his workplace and opting to take a walk through the mall.

“How was your week? What happened in LA? Hope everything went good,” inquired Steve and you hummed as you licked your ice cream.

“Everything was good. I went to UCLA, sorted out some documents and now everything is cemented. I’m starting October first.”

“That’s…great. It’s great!” he grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes and your smile faltered as you pulled him to a stop.

“Steve, I’m…I’m going to visit as often as possible. A-and once I establish myself there you can come visit me too! Maybe you can find a job in LA and that way we’ll be together!” you gave him a hopeful expression and he smiled at you.

“We’ll think it through.”

Suddenly, the power went out, showering the whole mall in darkness and you and Steve looked around in confusion, his grip on your hand tightening.

Not only a minute had passed when the power was turned back on and the two of you relaxed. After everything you’ve been through the past two years, things related to lighting always drew you on edge – be it flickering lights or the power going out. It was a hassle to deal with.

“Let there be light,” joked Steve and you chuckled. “So, what are your plans for the summer? Are you thinking of finding a place to intern at? Or getting a job at the mall?” he asked as you resumed your walking and you shook your head.

“Oh, heavens no. I have worked my ass off since I can remember and I kept working almost until graduation last month. I’ve saved enough money and I’m probably going to find a job in LA when I start uni so I’m thinking of resting until then.”

“That’s a good choice actually. I don’t want you overworking yourself. You totally deserve those couple months of rest after all the working and studying you did,” he nodded in agreement as he gesticulated with his free hand and you smiled. It was very sweet of him to support your decisions as he did. “Besides, we’ll get to spend more time together,” he smiled at you and you pecked his cheek.

The two of you walked around the mall some more, catching up for the missed week before Steve told you he had to finish his shift. You told him to go do his thing while you decided to browse some stores to pass the time.

.

You were currently in Jean Nicole’s, holding a hanger with a white frilly lace dress.    

“Try it on. If anyone can pull off that Bianca Jagger Studio fifty-four look, it’s you,” came in Steve’s voice, making you turn around to find him leaning against the wall admiring you. You put back the hanger and shook your head.

“It’s not gonna be the same without the doves,” you pointed out and he chuckled, uncrossing his arms and taking a couple of steps towards you. You looked him up and down, noticing the tight jeans and shirt that fit him like a glove and complimented every curve and muscle of his body.

He was hot and he was yours.

You curled your finger around his belt hoop and pulled him towards you, making him instinctively wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your lips as he moved his against yours expertly.

“Wanna take that home?” he murmured and you nodded.

“With pleasure,” you spoke quietly against his lips and he smirked, letting out a breathy chuckle. 

You were curled by Steve’s side when you woke up, lips stretching in a smile when you felt his arms around you. You placed a kiss on his biceps and he grunted quietly as he stirred, waking up.

“Morning, sunshine,” you sang out as you turned in his arms so you could face him properly and his eyes fluttered open. You chuckled at his disheveled appearance and ran your hand through his hair to fix it up a bit before placing a kiss on his eyes and nose.

“Stop teasing,” he grumbled before kissing you lazily on the lips and you let out a breathy chuckle as you watched him slowly sit up and rub his neck.

“Well, aren’t you handsome, looking disheveled like that,” you winked and he jumped on top of you, making you squeal as he began peppering your face and neck with kisses. “Stop! It tickles!”

“Never!”

You don’t know how long you just wrestled and tickled and kissed each other but Steve suddenly stopped and you looked at him in confusion, trying to calm your breathing.

“What’s wrong?” you asked and then you saw that his eyes were locked on the scar on your left arm, causing your smile to falter slightly. “It’s ugly,” you muttered after a moment of silence and he scrunched up his forehead, glancing at you.

“What? No way. You look badass,” he stated firmly and you raised your brows.

“Really?” you whispered and he nodded before leaning down and kissing the scar, tracing his lips from the beginning to the end of it before he got lower and lower until he reached the side of your abdomen and began to gently plant kisses on the scarred tissue there. You let out a sigh of contentment as your hand buried in his messy locks, fingers gently caressing his head and sliding down to his neck where you scratched him lightly with your nails, making him shiver and let out a muffled moan.

His hands roamed over your thighs and climbed up and over your abdomen before he also pulled himself up to capture your lips once again.

“You’re beautiful just the way you are. All of you,” he muttered as he looked at you deeply and you smiled.

“And so are you,” your knuckles traced his cheek and he took your hand in his, kissing every finger before nuzzling in your palm. “Alright, lover boy, I hate to break it to you but we gotta run. I have to go home and change clothes. Then I and the others will be going to surprise a certain someone because he’s coming back from summer camp,” you told the boy and his face lit up in realization.

“Henderson!” he exclaimed and you nodded with a smile. “Damn, I missed this boy.”

“I suppose you’ll see him after work…for which you have to prepare to go to…like, now,” you reminded him and his eyes widened as he shot out of bed and ran to his bathroom.

You and Steve parted ways after you freshened up and got dressed. He headed for the mall while you went home to change your clothes and pick up Will. You had your breakfast before you and your brother headed for the Henderson residence, sneaking inside with Claudia’s permission and secrecy. She said she’d skip to the store for some grocery shopping, leaving the whole house to you.

“Alright, I think now’s the time,” you whispered and El nodded before closing her eyes and suddenly, all toys came to life and began marching down the hallway with Dustin following after them fearfully until they came to a stop in the living room and he crouched to inspect them while you snuck behind him.

Everyone blew up the party horns except you who simply shouted “Welcome home!”

Dustin however got startled and he screeched to the high heavens while spraying the Farrah Fawcett spray in Lucas’ direction, getting him in the eyes. It was very comical how the two of them screamed while the rest of you scrunched up your faces in sympathy and tried to hold back your laughter.

“What the hell, guys! Are you trying to kill me!?” yelled the boy as he breathed heavily while lowering the spray.

“Are you!?” wheezed Lucas as he rubbed his eyes with his forearm and Max snorted before grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him towards the kitchen to help him wash his face.

“We just wanted to surprise you,” you chuckled as you went to hug the boy and he let out a long exhale, returning the hug.

“Come on! I have something to show you guys!” exclaimed the boy.

“You guys have fun. I gotta run, though,” you informed them and Dustin frowned.

“Already?”

“I promise I’ll come back later. I just have a couple of stops to make, is all,” you ruffled his hair and he sighed dejectedly but nodded nonetheless. “See you guys later,” you bid them goodbye as you hugged Will and El simultaneously, placing kisses on their heads, before heading out of the house and jumping in your car, driving off towards the pool.

Late November 1984 (a couple of days before your confrontation with Neil)

“Hey,” you called after Billy once you saw him walking towards his car after school. The boy halted in his step and turned to face you, not saying anything. “I wanted to…talk.”

“So they didn’t sew your big mouth at the hospital?” he took a final drag of his cigarette before sharply plucking it out of his mouth and throwing it on the ground. When you just stood there, looking everywhere but him, fidgeting, he let out a sigh. “I’m just joking. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Right,” you chuckled awkwardly. “Of course. Um,” you cleared your throat as you approached the boy and handed him a small wrapped present. He looked at it then back at you and lifted a brow. “I never got to thank you. For bringing me to the hospital and all.”

“I’m pretty sure lover boy was gonna do it either way if I hadn’t knocked him out,” he snorted.

“Yeah, well, that’s true. I should be angry that you beat him up. Frankly, I still am a bit salty about it but I think it’s best if we let bygones be bygones,” you smiled as you handed him the gift and he hesitantly took it off your hand, tearing the paper more gently than you thought he was capable of.

“Is this,” he drawled as his eyes widened and you nodded, smile growing.

“Deep Purple’s newest album, Perfect Strangers, yes,” you responded. “I know how much you love rock, I mean the whole school knows with how you’re always blasting it, so...”

“Thank you.”

That was the first time when you ever saw Billy Hargrove smile genuinely with eyes full of gratitude. It was the first time you’ve seen him show a kind side of himself. You didn’t count the moment of vulnerability during that summer party because he was drunk and delirious back then. Now he was sober and he showed some normalcy. So he did have a good side and it made you wonder what exactly did he go through that made him choose to act the way he did?

And that was the moment when you decided to stop rolling your eyes at him or feeling annoyed every time you saw him and instead try to worm your way into his heart by being kinder to him, secretly hoping that one day he’d start showing more of that good side. 

You pushed open the door and set foot back outside, mindful not to step in any puddles or slip. You saw the boy at his chair, overlooking the pool and you lifted an arm, waving at him. That picked his attention and he straightened up in his seat before climbing down and strolling towards you in that typical Billy walk.

“Fancy seeing you here, Byers,” he greeted you and you smiled.

“I don’t want to bother you while you’re working so I just came by to set a meeting for tomorrow instead.”

“Meeting? Tomorrow? What for?” he arched an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Well, Max’s birthday is coming soon so I intend on doing some shopping. And you’re coming with me,” you informed him and he huffed.

“Is that a threat?”

“If you consider spending time shopping with a friend for your sister’s birthday a threatening experience, then sure,” you quipped and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not my friend,” he drawled. “And she’s not my sister.”

“Oh, c’mon. Just break that pride of yours a tad bit more, will ya? Do something nice for Max. She deserves it,” you gave him a look and he let out a tormented exhale.

“Alright, fine,” he agreed after a while. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow and we’ll go to the mall. Happy?” he grumbled and you grinned.

“Very much so!”

“Aight, now get outta my sight,” he waved his hand dismissively and you waved at him before whirling and leaving.

What you learned about Billy after getting the chance to hang out with him on a couple of occasions, and after discovering the way his father treated him, was that he was a grumpy person who was angry at life, angry at the world, and everything happening in his life was a pure torment, corroding him on the inside. You learned that this was the reason why he acted like a jerk most of the time and why he bullied some people – because he wanted everyone else to feel as bad as he did, so he could not be alone in this torment. It was a very toxic coping mechanism but there were people who weren’t as lucky as you and your brothers were and found bad ways to cope with trauma, falling victim to toxic behaviors and patterns. Such kind of people needed help – to be shown kindness, love, and that things could be done otherwise, that there are other coping mechanisms. Billy was one of these people. And you knew that there was goodness deep down, buried under this tough act he was pulling in order to protect himself from being hurt over and over and all those months you never stopped digging for it, trying to bring it to the surface.

The change wasn’t that big, particularly considering that it’s been only a couple of months, and you kept reminding yourself that “Rome wasn’t built in a day”. But what mattered was that he did change, even if it was by a bit, and you considered it progress.

A step forward.

You could only hope that he would keep on changing and would become the good person you knew he had the capability of being. Not only for his own sake but for Max’s sake because she deserved a good older brother who cared for her.

So you were beyond happy that he agreed to accompany you and pick a gift for her. You were sure that this would definitely contribute to their strengthening bond as siblings.

One good thing you picked on was that he didn’t correct you as often as he used to. Months ago, when you or someone else would call Max his sister, he would immediately cut them off and correct them, rejecting her as sister and saying she was only a ‘step-sister’. But he rarely did that nowadays which gave you hope that he was beginning to accept Max as a sister more and more.

You were excited and hopeful for the change in dynamics and what was to come.

You were excited for this summer.

“Aw, honey, you look amazing,” complimented Joyce as she stopped in her tracks to give you a look and you smiled, thanking her.

You were currently wearing a creamy-colored, frilly sun dress with flowy off-shoulder sleeves that reached your elbows. You had opted for the “elvish” hairstyle as Will called it – braiding front locks into small braids and pinning them on the back of your head while leaving some strands to hang over your ears. You didn’t put much makeup besides some lip gloss and blush because the temperatures were so high you felt like your face would melt within the first couple minutes of stepping outside.

“Are you going on a date with Steve?” she asked knowingly as she adjusted the laundry basket in her hands and you nodded.

“Yes, we’re going out.”

“What plans do you guys have? Or is it a secret?”

“We’re actually planning on going to the Hideaway because Eddie’s band will be playing there tonight and we want to support him,” you informed her with a smile and she returned it.

“It’s lovely how the two of them are friends now, considering they couldn’t stand each other before.”

“Well, sometimes they still get irritated when they’re in the same company but there’s been significant progress for the past two years,” you chuckled as you put down the bottle of perfume you had sprayed yourself with when the phone rang, startling you and Joyce. “I’ll take it,” you told her as you marched to the device and answered it while she returned to her room to leave the dry laundry.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Billy!?” you gasped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion as to why he was calling you. “Is everything ok?”

“I…I need to see you…now,” he said flatly and you blinked astounded.

“Did something bad happen?”

“Can you meet me at the graveyard?”

“The graveyard? Now? I mean…I have a date so whatever it is you want…help with? Will have to be fast, ok?” you asked but the only thing you heard was a hum before the line went dead, leaving you with more questions than answers.

“Everything ok?” inquired Joyce as she returned to the living room and you shrugged.

“I actually don’t know. Um, a friend called and…It seemed like an emergency. I do have some more time before the date so I’ll go check what’s going on.”

“Ok, honey, be careful and have a great evening,” she gave you a peck on the cheek and you ran out of the house and into your car.

Not long after, you were parking by the cemetery and getting out. It was dark and scary and for some reason the air around here felt a bit more chilly, causing a shiver to run down your spine as you slowly walked further into the graveyard, looking for your friend.

“Billy?” you called out when you saw a familiar figure and he turned to face you, chest heaving, hair disheveled, face sweaty and bloody. He looked like death. “What happened!?” you exclaimed as you sprinted to him and looked him over with wide eyes, hands going to grasp his upper arms.

“I don’t know,” he let out breathlessly. “I-I feel like I’m losing my shit, Byers,” he smiled sardonically before it faltered back to a frown and he bit his lip as his eyes darted elsewhere.

“Listen…whatever it is, I will help you, ok? But we have to go to the hospital, Billy, those injuries are just…What happened?”

“I don’t know what happened!” he snapped and you flinched. “I can’t explain it. I don’t,” he rubbed his face in frustration. “I don’t even know why the fuck I called you! There’s-there’s something inside me that-“ he choked on whatever words he wanted to spill out and let out a pained grunt as his hands flew to grasp his head. 

“Billy, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong,” he shook his head as he bent over in pain and let out ragged breaths and pained groans through clenched teeth and shut eyes. Your hand went to grab his arm again while the other rubbed his back soothingly as you slightly bent to try and get a better look. “Billy, talk to me!”

His body leaned and slumped against yours, your hands instantly flying to catch him. He shook and sobbed against you and you just hugged him closely, his head buried in your collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed out and tears gathered in your eyes at seeing such a strong, unwavering boy like Billy completely break in your arms.

“It’s ok,” you breathed out. “It’s ok, I got you. It’s ok,” you whispered as you rubbed his back and held him before he slightly pulled away.

But there was something strange in his look this time. His pupils were dilated and he was looking at you void of emotion. You felt like someone threw cold water on you as you watched him take a step backward and lift his arm and before you could react, he backhanded you so hard that you stumbled and fell on the ground, knees and arms grazing painfully on the stone. You groaned as you turned to look at him.

“What is wrong with you!?” you yelled but your voice died out when you saw him take a step towards you, making you crawl away and use a gravestone as support to help you stand up. You didn’t hesitate to sprint away and your heart beat rapidly when you heard his thumping footsteps right behind you.

You ran for your car, wanting nothing more than to get in and drive away. But just when you were a couple of steps away from the vehicle, your chance at running away was crushed like an ant by a boot when you saw Billy standing there, blocking your path.

You almost stumbled and tripped in your haste to stop yourself from running right into his arms and quickly changed directions, running back inside the cemetery. You threw yourself on the ground behind a gravestone and tried to calm your ragged breathing as you heard the shuffling of footsteps come closer and closer.

“You can’t hide from me, Y/N…I see you,” his uncharacteristically monotonous voice drawled uncomfortably close and you dashed from your hiding place once again. 

And then you felt him grab your hair and pull, bringing you to a sudden stop and making you gasp in pain as you fell back against his chest. His one arm encircled your body to keep you in place while the other wrapped around your neck tightly, immediately cutting off your air supply. You struggled against him and tried to free your arms and kick with your legs but he was too strong.

You managed to headbut him and he let out a groan, his grip loosening. That allowed you to slither under his arms and fall to the ground. Just when you lifted part of your body up, in hopes of running away again, he grabbed you by the leg and pulled, bringing you back down and at his feet.

The last thing you felt was a harsh blow to your head and then everything went black.

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 16

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While  Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a  client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a  sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

Thanks again for the soup!

Not a problem!

You looked like you needed it—Alex quickly deleted the last line. He didn’t want Damián to think he was examining him. He wanted it to look like he was paying attention to Damián a normal amount. A normal person paying a normal amount of attention in a normal budding friendship.

He also didn’t want to let Damián know that after three days, Alex was still thinking about the soup. That after so much time, he was still thinking about the nurturing and the acceptance and the warmth behind the spontaneous act.

And thank you for letting me show you Pretty Woman. Leo said I was, in fact, “extra” about it.

You the perfect amount about it

Alex regretted sending it and cringed when he saw Damián read it. He wanted to un-send it but unfortunately, his outdated phone didn’t have such a feature. His only hope for stopping Damián from reading it was to sprint across town and throw Damián’s phone out a window.

“Alex, can you send a fax for me?”

Alex shoved his phone under his computer monitor, next to a stapler and a stack of Post-It notes. Sally from sales was filling out the final lines of a lengthy form, leaning on his desk. She looked over her glasses at each careful signature and initial.

“Where’s it going to?” Alex asked, standing and taking it.

“Insurance company. Their number’s on the top.”

Alex was the only one in the office who could work his magic on the fax machine. It sat behind his desk, old and cranky. Their copier machine could be connected to their fax line, he told his boss once a month. It would be faster. More convenient. Everyone would be able to use it. But no. There was apparently no point in fixing what wasn’t yet totally, irreparably broken. Alex continued faxing everything from behind his desk after silently sucking up to the machine that was waiting for death to release it from its duties.

“Why do people even request faxes?” Sally asked. “Email is faster.”

“Faxing is more secure,” Alex explained. “It doesn’t violate HIPAA. It’s also really important for some people to have physical documents just in case…”

Sally wasn’t listening. She was looking at her phone. Alex let his sentence die and began running the paperwork through the machine. It slowly ate through each sheet and spit it back out and started its painful journey to dialing.

Alex put a gentle hand on a gray curve of plastic. He believed in it. The little fax machine could do it. One day it’d be able to rest.

Sally reached over mindlessly to grab candy out of the jar sitting on Alex’s desk. She unwrapped a butterscotch and stuck it in her mouth, immediately making a face and spitting it back out into the wrapper.

“When are we getting better candy? It’s Halloween.”

“Halloween’s not actually for another three weeks.”

“It’s October. That’s Halloween enough.”

Alex couldn’t argue with that. But the people would have to wait for the good candy he was keeping stashed away. If he set it out now, everyone would go throw it in a week. And then there would be nothing left with his sweets budget depleted, and then his head would be on a pike. They didn’t realize he was the one keeping peace in the office with his candy selection.

The candy was also, technically speaking, for clients and visitors.

He handed Sally’s paperwork back. “It’s sending,” he said. “I’ll let you know if it fails.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

She walked away, staring at her phone again.

Now that you’ve seen Pretty Woman, I need to know what else you’ve been missing out on. Have you seen Rocky Horror?

Of course I’ve seen Rocky Horror. I think it was part of my sexual awakening

Too much! Too much! Alex wanted to take it all back. He was ready to sprint across the city to drown Damián’s phone in the river.

Mine too!! Was it Rocky or Tim Curry for you?

Alex relaxed in his chair. It was okay. It was okay. Damián wasn’t going to judge.

Actually it was both Tim Curry and Susan Sarandon

Solid people to lust over. What about The Birdcage?

Yeah, I watched that one a long time ago with my dad

Fucking cute.

He’s a big Robin Williams fan, and it’s been one of his attempts to bond with his bi son

We stan your dad. Paris is Burning?

Of course

Okay, I’m out of movies. Your turn. What’s essential to watch?

Alex greeted a client and walked them to the meeting room where his boss was already waiting. He fetched fresh pens and grabbed extra notepads just in case.

Have you ever seen Pokemon?

Yes. Fuck. Leo loved it when he was really little. We’d watch it for hours.

Eve still watches it

If you had a Pokemon, what would it be?

Oh my god. Eve-ee. I need to tell her that one.

Alex let the pun go without comment. He thought about sending a thumbs-down emoji but let it go. He didn’t want to look like a total kill-joy who couldn’t appreciate a pun—and Damián seemed to take his puns pretty seriously.

Honestly, I think a psyduck

Oh no, you’re right. You would have Psyduck.

What about you? What would you have?

Gardevoir is pretty sexy.

Oh I think you misunderstood the question. I asked what Pokemon you would have. Not one that you’d fuck

Was that too much? He shouldn’t have texted that.

But Damián was immediately typing.

Cheeky! Fine. Vulpix.

Aw. Cute. Why?

I think I just want a dog if I’m being honest. Besides, they evolve into Ninetales, and Ninetales is majestic. They’re everything I want to look like.

With the right coat we might be able to achieve that.

As long as I don’t look like a furry. Or a weird aristocrat that gets blood thrown on them from PETA protesters.

I hate to break it to you but saying that you want to dress like a pokemon inherently invites furry energy into the situation

Goddammit

Beginner furry energy, though. Baby’s first fursuit

Nooo

You could probably make some sort of Halloween costume out of it if you ever end up at some fancy costume party, and you’d be safe

I have been a Pokemon for Halloween before. When we were little and Leo had no autonomy, I made us dress up as Eevee and Espeon for Halloween.

That’s adorable!

I was cringe, but Leo was so fucking cute. I modified a toddler’s lion costume for him. I wrapped the mane around his neck and made him ears out of construction paper. I don’t have any pictures, but if I did I would show you because he was so fucking cute.

Wait you wrapped a headpiece around a toddler’s throat?

I should not have been allowed to do that. I don’t think I was well-supervised as a child. Honestly, it’s a miracle I’m alive. And Leo. I probably almost killed him a few times.

One time in high school I was supposed to be watching Eve, but she was crawling around too much so I put her under a laundry basket and put a book on top of that

Oh my god

I got grounded and wasn’t allowed to watch her again until I was in my 20s. I’m surprised she’s allowed to live with me now

Please tell me more stories about the awful things you did to Eve when she was a child. I’m only 10 minutes away.

Alex looked up from his phone. Oh. It was already nearing five. He hadn’t worked on anything in almost an hour. It felt good to have slacked off so much.

He checked the fax machine. A confirmation slip had passed through a while ago. He tucked it away in his desk in case Sally asked for it later.

How had lost so much time? He was only going to text Damián for a few minutes. The end of the day had gone by in a blur while it usually dragged on forever. Alex always listened to everyone else winding down, ignoring their work in favor of conversations. He was always so far away from everyone else, his desk an island in the sea of sales and marketing and accounting.

The front door opened, and Damián slipped in, trying hard to be quiet. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had walked in yelling. No one cared so late in the day if a partner or spouse walked in.

“Sorry I’m early,” he said. “I would have waited outside for a little bit, but it was cold.”

Damián had his arms crossed and tucked close to his chest, but he wasn’t shivering like he had been. He leaned over Alex’s desk.

“This is so much fun,” he said. “Me coming to pick you up from your office job. We’re, like, domestic.”

“Is it fun?”

“Yeah! You have all of your office stuff. Your little phone. Your old people candy is still out.”

Damián picked up a caramel candy and actually put it in his mouth this time. At least someone was appreciating the little hard candies.

Alex walked around his desk to reach Damián’s side. Andrew was standing nearby, slipping on his jacket. Stu talked to him, but Andrew wasn’t listening. He was staring at Damián, eyebrows pressed together and a scowl on his face. Stu kept talking, saying something about his weekend with some woman and not even seeming to notice Damián standing just a few steps away.

Stu was over it all. He didn’t care. There was a chance Stu didn’t even recognize Damián. And overall, that was probably for the best. Apathy and indifference didn’t breed intentional hostility.

Alex could see how Damián got under Andrew’s skin. Damián’s mere presence was offensive. It was like Alex could see Andrew unraveling, finally, losing a grip on himself.

Damián’s cheek bulged out with the candy tucked away in it. “Who’s that?”

Andrew’s bushy eyebrows were furrowed together, and his lips were pursed in anger. He looked away first and walked out the doors with Stu, still silent.

“The dicks that set us up,” Alex said. “The one staring you down was Andrew.”

“He seems a little bit more than just a dick,” Damián said, quietly.

“He’s pretty unpleasant.”

So much so that Alex was starting to have second thoughts about bringing Damián to the party at all. Andrew had never been so openly unpleasant before. Hostile? Could Alex call him that at this stage? Or should he have waited until Andrew got worse?

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” Damián said, evidently thinking the same thing as Alex.

“Probably.”

More workers were leaving, heading towards the doors in pairs and solo. Alex wanted to move forward toward the door, but Damián was staring longingly at Alex’s desk.

“Can I sit at your desk and answer the phone?” Damián asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s 5. No one’s calling.”

“Someone might call, and I think I should be able to fulfill my dream of being a cute, little secretary.”

“And how long have you had this dream?”

“Since last night.” Damián lowered his voice. “I had this client who wanted to roleplay, and I was kinda into it. But then I was thinking, ‘How can I make this more accurate? What if I’m disrespecting Alex’s career—‘”

Alex waved his hands. “I’m not offended.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to appropriate anything.”

“I don’t think you can appropriate being a secretary. It’s not a culture or anything.”

“Sometimes I worry, you know? I thought I should do some research.”

“There’s absolutely nothing sexy about working at a desk all day faxing papers to insurance companies and talking to angry hospital managers.”

“I’ll just get creative.”

“Well, if you need a sensitivity reader then I’ll volunteer my services.”

In the middle of the last wave of workers leaving the office, Martin pushed his way through. He smiled and waved at Alex and Damián. His jacket was slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, here we go,” Damián mumbled.

Martin slipped through to the front desk.

“Hi!” he said. “I saw Marcus was here, and I thought that I’d catch you guys before you left.”

“We were just about to head out—“ Damián began.

“Yeah. Yeah. I won’t keep you.” Martin smiled, awkwardly. Alex was seeing how awkward he actually was when he was detached from the other two. And it had been a while since Alex saw him with Andrew and Stu. “I just wanted to apologize again. Sam and I both apologize. She says she realizes she came off a bit strong.”

Damián nodded. “She did. I would even go so far as to say she was inappropriate.”

Alex wished he could stand up for himself like Damián did. If it were him, he would have been waving his hands and telling Martin not to worry about it just to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible.

Martin was grimacing. “Yeah. We didn’t handle it well. She wants to apologize. She said she got excited and nervous. She does feel really bad about it. I do, too. And I mean, genuinely, we feel bad. We’ve been thinking about it all weekend. We do actually think you and Alex are cool, and we didn’t want to hurt either of you. Again.”

Alex had never been called cool before, and if he weren’t focused on being offended on his fake boyfriend’s behalf, he would have thanked Martin.

“You know, it’s fine,” Damián said in a way that sounded like it was not fine.

“We should have gone into the night more educated,” Martin said.

And that made Damián relax a little. He nodded and then sighed.

“I guess I can’t expect everyone to know everything about those sorts of things,” he said. “I mean, people have just started openly talking about sex work. It was a lot more secretive and taboo 10 years ago—not that it isn’t now. I would never walk down the street shouting that I’m a sex worker because of cops. I honestly think TikTok—you know, despite all the awful things that came with it—you know all about TikTok’s privacy issues, right? They take your data—“

“What Marcus is getting at,” Alex said, “is that he can understand where the ignorance is coming from, not that he’s excusing it. And I assume he accepts the apology?”

Damián nodded. “Yup.”

Alex was impressed by how easily he articulated that. He didn’t even stutter.

“We wanted to extend another invitation to you guys,” Martin said. “Not that you have to accept it.”

One invitation felt like it was meant to smooth things over. Two invitations felt like Martin and Sam were genuinely trying. Alex actually felt good about it.

“We’re having a little party thing on Wednesday. It’s not really much of a party,” Martin said. “We having another couple friend over for drinks and desserts. You guys would probably like them. They’re a little more, uh, sensitive than Sam and I. More educated.”

Alex looked to Damián. “It’s up to you and your schedule.”

“I’m free this Wednesday,” Damián said. “And I think it’s a nice gesture. We could probably make it.”

Martin, isolated, looked so anxious and small. Alex had never realized he wasn’t that much taller than himself. Without Andrew and Stu, he was a little guy with a wife and a few real friends.

“We’ll see you there,” Alex said, with a little more energy because he knew what it all felt like, and if he was tricking the poor guy, then he could definitely be a little nicer to him. “Just let me know your address.”

Damián and Alex ate their Monday dinner together at their usual diner. They had gone there enough that Alex felt like it was a “usual” thing.

“So another $250?” Alex asked when they were walking out together and down the street.

He had meant to ask earlier, but their conversation over dinner had returned to the secretary roleplay and then transitioned toward a viral video turned internet scandal and ended with Damián recommending some of his favorite books. Damián was chatty, almost forgetting he had food in front of him but enthusiastically turning to it when Alex found room to speak.

“Let’s say another $200.”

Christ. Alex’s bank account was going to take a big hit at the end of the month. He would be fine. He would recover. He would just have to take it easy on some other things. No new, fancy coffee. He’d go with something a little more common. He could cut back on delivery and cook more. He could stop funding Eve’s hot chip addiction.

And poor Eve’s new mattress savings wouldn’t see any new deposits any time soon. She would understand. Or she at least wouldn’t complain. It wasn’t like they had made it a habit to slide money in the sad mason jar.

“What do you think Martin and Sam have planned for this week?” Damián asked.

“Hopefully nothing like last week.”

“If so, I say we have a backup plan. I think we should hit up a bar if we walk out on them. That way the whole evening isn’t wasted.”

It had been years since Alex had been out to a bar. It would be exciting. Alex almost hoped that Martin and Sam would fuck up again just so he could have a night of Damián all to himself.

[pacificwanderer]

Hiya! I love reading your fics! I just wanted to say I hope that you’re doing well, that work has calmed down, and that you’re feeling better (at least a little bit!) 💖💖💖

Aww, thanks so much for the note!

Work was crazy (up until pretty much yesterday haha), but I just finished a bunch up and it's more manageable at the moment, so should be better all around :) Hope things are going well for you too!

I've still managed to get some fic work done, in-between all the work work (somehow), so should have some up soon (just stitching together the final parts of some chapters).

Big hugs! Thanks again for reaching out. Appreciate it so much. 💖💖💖

[kinfanfiction]

Bernard x Elf!Reader - Chapter 2 - One Cup of Cocoa

A/N: An author’s note isn’t exactly necessary for this chapter, but I just wanted to say I plan to post a new chapter every day until the day after Xmas! The timeline of this fic directly coincides with how many days there are until this year’s Xmas! Also lmk if you guys are interested in me making male/nb versions of this fic! P.S. Sorry for posting this so close to midnight I lost track of time :,)

     There’s one week until Christmas, which always throws the elves of the North Pole in for a loop. People all over the world are traveling for the holidays so Bernard and Santa are busy trying to find the new addresses to deliver gifts to. The last of the toys are being hurriedly made, causing a few injuries around the workshop, which means you can no longer afford to spend the whole day with baby animals like you’d hoped. Now, you had to fill in all around the workshop. Though, you weren’t surprised, The week before Christmas was always like this. There’s always a distinct difference between 8 days left and 7. You were just glad you and Bernard got to relax a little before crunch time. 

     You went down to the conveyor belt to begin working on a toy train. You were careful, but quick. You were just about finished with the task when you were called over to the candy station to make stocking stuffers. You quickly handed off the train to the elf next to you and ran over to help make candy canes. You immersed yourself in the craft of candy making. You wore special gloves to protect your hands and carefully spun out beautiful and delicious confections. You were back and forth between candy and toy making for a bit before being sent outside to help mitigate polar bear traffic. You bundled yourself up, wondering why you were suddenly on traffic duty. You walked out to see Bernard directing elves to different tasks. You hadn’t seen him since the night before. He turned to face you, a hint of both surprise and joy in his expression. “Y/n!” He exclaimed as you walked over. 

     “Morning Bernard! What sent an elf out of commission for traffic control?” You questioned, to which his eyes widened thinking about the answer. 

     “A polar bear stepped on him. He’s fine now, but the sight of him spilling his guts onto the snow wasn’t pretty.” He said, shaking his head. You cringed as the image of that moment entered your head. “Be extra careful, alright?” He requested, looking concerned at the thought of something like that happening to you. You nodded, worried about that yourself.

     “Don’t worry, I will be.” You assured, before getting to work and taking note from the actions of the other elves around you. You weren’t exactly used to this task, not that you hadn’t done it before, but it’d been a few years. Bernard stayed outside working with other elves, making sure the reindeer were fed and whatnot, but he still made a point to keep an eye on you while you navigated your way through the flow of traffic. He was nervous, he worried about you getting hurt, but you did well, and soon someone else was there to take your place. Eventually, you got a chance to return to caring for the baby animals, but it only lasted about a half hour before you were back at the toy conveyor belt.

     By the end of the day, you felt entirely worn out, after all the running around you’d been doing you felt as if you could barely stand to walk anymore. Then, as you were about to pass out by a pile of fresh butterscotch, Bernard walked by and noticed you. His expression softened from one of intense focus to one of sympathy. You were much more easily exhausted than he was, he’d always known this, and he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t pass out with your head on a table and wake up with a neck cramp. He shook you awake and slumped your arm around his shoulder, getting you to stand up out of your seat. You woke up quickly, and realized what was going on. “Wait, I have more butterscotch to make, that batch wasn’t done yet.” You mumbled, and he continued to walk with you. 

     “Tomorrow.” Was all he responded with, and the two of you walked out of the workshop. The cold night air shocked you, and suddenly you were completely awake and ready to walk on your own. Bernard let you go, and stuffed his hands in his pockets as you continued to walk together. 

     The walk to your house was quiet, you were looking around at your surroundings, and Bernard was looking at you. When you noticed this, you decided to break the silence. “Today was hectic.” You stated with a chuckle. 

     He nodded and hummed, “Mhm, it sure was. How was traffic?” He asked as if he didn’t already know the answer. 

     “A little nerve-racking, but I managed to help out well enough.” You spoke with a shrug. 

     “That’s good- not good that it was nerve-racking, but it’s good you managed.” 

     “Yeah, though I much prefer jobs inside the workshop.” You spoke with a sigh.

     “I can make sure you aren’t assigned outside jobs in the future if you’d like.” Bernard suggested, which made you instantly shake your head. 

     “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that. I wasn't saying that to get out of doing the job, just because I like some tasks better than others doesn’t mean I’d ever try to skip out on a task where I was needed. That wouldn’t be fair to the other elves.” You explained. “You’re the head elf, you out of anyone understands always doing everything asked of you every day without complaint.” 

     Bernard laughed abruptly, “Oh, I complain all the time. Believe me, if I had the option to skip out on a few tasks, I would.” 

     “Well, you don’t have the option, so I shouldn’t either.” You spoke decidedly.

     Bernard smiled softly for a moment before speaking, “Well, I thank you for your solidarity.” 

     The two of you arrived at your door for the second night in a row, and you felt like you weren’t ready to see him go. “Why don’t you come in for some hot cocoa?” You suggested. Bernard wanted so badly to say yes right away, but he had other responsibilities. “I can’t, I have to go back to the shop and finish some paperwork. I’ll see you tomorrow though, alright?” He turned to leave, practically tearing his eyes away from you. Then you grabbed onto his sleeve, and he knew he didn’t stand a chance. He was going in for a cup of cocoa, and there was not a single piece of paperwork in the North Pole that could prevent that.

     “Please. Just one cup and a little bit of company? I’ve hardly seen you all day.” You pleaded. The two of you were so close and yet lost so much time together to the work you had to do all year, every year in preparation for Christmas. Any small moment together meant the world to you. You trusted each other with your life, your deepest, darkest secrets, your strangest thoughts. There was no one you cared for more than Bernard, and there was no one he cared for more than you. 

     He sighed and dropped his head. “It’s impossible to say no to you.” He admitted aloud, before turning back around and walking into your house.

     Bernard sat by the fireplace while you made a batch of hot cocoa on the stove. The warmth of the fire was felt throughout your small home, and it calmed you as a stark contrast to the way the bitter night air made you feel. You based your recipe off of Judy’s, who was of course the hot chocolate expert, but you liked to add a candy cane into yours. You knew Bernard liked the candy cane too, with some marshmallows on top. 

     You handed Bernard’s cocoa over to him and sat down. He was watching the fireplace intently, like he had a lot on his mind. “What’s up?” You asked. He snapped out of his trance and looked at you, stirring his cocoa with the candy cane as he thought about his response. In truth, he was thinking about you, and work. He was always thinking about you and work. For years, he contemplated when would be the right time to tell you how he felt, and he always thought about doing so on Christmas, but every year, when Christmas came, he couldn’t find the courage. Though, as of late he wondered how much longer he could hold this secret in. He trusted you with everything, except his heart, and in a way that made him feel like he was betraying you. From your perspective, if Bernard kept any secrets from you, you were completely oblivious. Of course you felt deeply for him, but you never tried to explore the idea of having romantic feelings for him. You saw him as your best friend only, and you assumed he felt the same. 

     “Oh, nothing, I’m just uhh.. nervous about Christmas approaching, and I hope I get everything right this year.” He said, which was true, it just wasn’t the whole truth. 

     “You always get everything right, try not to overthink it.” You insisted, subconsciously copying him by stirring your cocoa as well.

     He laughed, “Me? Not overthink? Please, you’ve known me what, 800 years? When have you ever known me to be someone who doesn’t overthink?” 

    You laughed with him, “Fair point, but hey, better late than never, right?”

    His laughter faded into a rested smile, “Yeah, better late than never.” He said as he looked towards you. 

     The two of you made eye contact, and as you looked into his eyes, all you could think to say was, “Your eyes look like pools of honey in the light of the fire.” You always had something to say that just made him fall even more in love with you. “They say eyes are the window to the soul, guess that means your eyes are exposing how sweet you really are.” He wanted to kiss you so badly. It took everything in him not to. The only thing stopping him was the deep seated fear of losing you.

     “You’re too kind to me. What did I do to deserve that?” 

     “Hey! Don’t do that, you deserve every bit of kindness sent your way.” You chuckled and shook your head, “What did you do to deserve kindness?” You paraphrased, “Everything you’ve done since the moment we met is something you’ve done to deserve my kindness. I mean, you don’t have to do anything to deserve my kindness, you existing is enough for that.” He had no idea what to say, so he just smiled and looked into the fire thoughtfully. No one ever talked to him with the level of sincerity that you did. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life hiding his feelings for you, he would still die happy knowing he had someone in his life that cared for him that much. 

    The two of you chatted for a while about work, you told him about the gossip you’d heard about some of the other elves, which you made him promise not to share with anyone else, and in turn he told you about some drama between Mr. and Mrs. Claus, which was of course not incredibly dramatic, but it was entertaining. After a while of talking and slowly sipping your now cold chocolate, you began feeling a little drowsy. Once you finished your drink, you set your cup beside you and stared into the flames before you. Bernard was still sipping on his cocoa, hesitant to finish because he knew once he did, it would be time for him to go. While he was thinking of something new to talk about, you were falling asleep, and as you dozed off, you laid your head on his shoulder. Bernard immediately set his drink down and wrapped his arms around you for support, letting your head fall onto his chest. He hoped you wouldn’t wake up for fear that you might hear the alarming rate at which his heart had begun to beat. For a few minutes he just let you sleep on him, and all he could think about was how much he wanted the rest of his nights to be like this. 

     Once he was sure that moving you wouldn’t wake you, he lifted you up and set you in your bed, before pulling a blanket over you. He picked up both of your mugs off the ground, finally drank the last of his cocoa, and then cleaned them in the sink before putting them back in the cupboard, after that he put a gate in front of the fireplace before heading out the front door, and before he shut it he whispered, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

[mysticalrambling]

Ommmmgggggg i just read your lates story of steve rogers arrange marriage. And it was the most heartbreaking story evern written. It was really good although my heart got broken reading it😞I read you will take time in fulfilling request, so you can take a lot of time but I m making a small request🙃Like you have written lots of arranged marriage tropes but they all were angsty in the beginning, can you write something from your perspective on steve rogers arrange marriage which has no angst only lots and lots of fluff. like they are still in arranged marriage but there is no angst they are both trying for their marriage because after all the angst i guess a fluff treat would be nice☺only if you want to

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and the plot line is great. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it.

Perfect Life (S.R)

Steve Rogers Fan Fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: Steve and you get married and you decide to give your marriage a fair chance. You both soon fall in love and you are really happy together. You get pregnant and it is all perfect till the very end.

Warnings: Some mention of blood and angst but otherwise it is all fluff.

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Steve and you were informed by Fury that there will be an arrange marriage. He didn’t give much explanation but simply stated that the government demanded it and you both simply had to oblige. When you were recruited by the Avengers, you were a super soldier just like Bucky under the influence of Hydra. It took a lot of work to get you back from the brain washed state and Steve played a big role in that. You both were partners in the field and best of friends. Many people thought that you both would oppose the idea but you didn’t. Sure, you were confused but you couldn’t fight it if the government ordered it. No one could so you thought you would give it a shot.

You simply asked for sometime to discuss it by yourselves and Fury reluctantly he agreed. He was prepared for a screaming match and being beaten to a pulp by the Captain and the super soldier. However, he was met with calm expressions and thoughtful gazes. It would be a lie if you said that you didn’t feel attracted to one another. So when he left the meeting room, Steve asked you out for dinner. Privacy was needed to discuss this matter and he wanted to do it outside of the compound.

“Are you ready to go, (Y/N)?” Steve knocked on your door at exact eight o’clock. Captain America never liked to be late.

“Yes, I am.” This was the first time he had seen you in a dress. It hugged your curves just right and the maroon dress contrasted beautifully with your skin. You simply looked like an angel. A devil disguised as an angel that it.

“Let’s go.” Steve took you to your favorite restaurant and you felt a little flutter in your heart when you realised that he took notice of the little things.

Clearing your throat, you started to come to the point of the dinner, “So what do you think about this marriage?”

“Um... I am okay with it, I guess. What about you?”

“Same here. I have actually liked you for sometime now and I would be willing to give this marriage a try.”

“I like you as well and same here.” You chuckled when you saw a light blush appear on your partner’s cheek. He found your confidence endearing and that was one of the things that he first noticed about you.

“Okay, good. I just want a simple ceremony with our friends present. Is that okay with you?” There was no point in beating around the bush and so you started the discussion of the wedding arrangements.

“I was thinking the same thing. Let me just text Fury that we are going ahead with the marriage and then we can discuss the rest.” You both enjoyed the dinner to the fullest whilst making small conversation. This was the first time that you actually had fun on a date after hydra and same goes for Steve. They couldn’t keep up a conversation with you when they didn’t know the things you go through on daily basis.

“Do you want to get ice cream? There is a really good ice cream parlor down the street.” Getting out of the restaurant, he helped you get in to your jacket.

You always had a sweet tooth and you were a sucker for ice creams. Steve and you were going to make a good couple because of your similar taste. “Yes, I would love that. So do you know anything about the mission tomorrow?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y detected some illegal shipment coming from one of the abandoned hydra facilities. We think that it is being occupied and you and I are just going to go there and install some cameras for surveillance.” He ordered two scoops of butterscotch and you decided to take a walk while eating.

“What if we encounter some hydra bastards? Do we get to kill them?” You rubbed your hands together in excitement at the thought of ridding the world of hydra scum.

“No, we don’t. We can’t engage so don’t get too excited about it.”

You both reached the compound and all your friends were waiting for you in the lounge. They all pounced on you as Fury had already informed them about the marriage. Natasha had already planned out the bachelor party while Pepper had booked an appointment with the world’s known fashion designer. You kept laughing at all their thrilled expressions and you were feeling sure of your choice by the minute.

The night passed like it and before you know you were off to the mission. Steve was extra protective this time as he won’t let you move a step forward before double checking the hallways first. You just rolled your eyes but you still found it pretty darn cute. No one has ever cared for you like this. But what you didn’t realise was that there was a secret doorway in one of the halls that you passed and you were quickly ambushed by four hydra agents. You got into your super soldier mode and took on the two to your right while Steve went for the left ones.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)? Cap?” Tony’s voice filtered through the comms.

“We have been ambushed but we have it under control.” You talked while slicing the jugular of a blonde six foot man and kicking the other in the shin. Steve also had it under control as he deflected all the attacks with his shield and threw punches when he got an opening.

“Okay. I have agents on standby if you need them.”

“Copy that.” After about five minutes, you had dealt with all of them and got away with only a couple of cuts and bruises.

“Let’s go to the infirmary together.” Steve purposed the idea when you refused Tony’s order to go get checked by the doctors. He didn’t want you to feel like he was ordering you around but he cared about you a lot.

“Only if you insist and Cap, we are getting married at the end of this week.” Kissing him on the lips, you left for the infirmary while he stood there with his mouth agape.

The whole compound was a mess for the whole week and Tony had benched you and Steve because apparently, the bride and groom can not be injured on their wedding day. You were over the moon about this new chapter in your life and so was your fiancé. This was the best thing that has happened to you in a while and you were glad. The ceremony was over before you even knew it with you both reading out your own vows and kissing sweetly when the priest announced you as husband and wife. You loved every minute of it but you were glad when it was over.

“I just wanted to tell you that we can take it slow if you want to.” As soon as Steve entered the room, he tried to clear things up before they got uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to. I told you I had feelings for you and they have grown ever since.”

“I love you, (Y/N). I know it might be too early but-”

“I love you too. Now, kiss me.” You spent the night with your husband and it was perfect. He made you bed in breakfast the next morning and you just enjoyed the whole day with your husband. It was truly a blessing to have Captain America as your husband because he was truly an honest and a moral man.

The next few days for you were spent as a newly married wife and it was perfect. Your friends threw parties and took you both out for dinners; their treat. You didn’t go back to your job for a couple more days and safe to say, it was peaceful. The days were spent with your friends as you all lounged around in the theatre room. At night, it was just you and your husband and it was much more entertaining.

“(Y/N), I have to go on a classified mission with Buck. Are you going to be okay at home, all alone?” Steve kissed the top of your head as he placed the pancakes in front of you.

“I am not going to ask what it is about but I need guarantee that you are going to back to me in one piece.” You mumbled while shoving pancakes in to your mouth. A girl needs her food.

“I will, promise. Love you, babe.”

“Love you too.” There was a moment of silence before you contemplated about what to do with your day.

Entering the kitchen, Tony asked. “What are you doing?”

“Just resting.”

“I am in mood of some homemade cupcakes. Want to bake them with me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Have nothing else to do.” You were worried about Steve because it had been a long while since he had gone on a mission without you.

“Cap is going to be just fine and Bucky is with him. No one can win against that metal arm. My invention is state of the art.” Seeing you distracted, he tried to ease your worries. Pretty soon, you indulged into the whole baking thing and time passed you by.

“Hey, I am home.” Steve was shocked to see the whole kitchen filled with baked goods; counter, oven top, coffee table and chairs. Tony and you might have gone a little overboard with the whole baking thing. It was a good distraction so no one should blame you.

“Hi. You are alright.” A sigh of relief escaped you as you crushed him into a hug.

“I never back down from a promise, princess.” He tucked you under his left arm and picked up a muffin with his right. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was thinking we can go to the amusement park today.” You turned in his arms to give him your puppy dog eyes. He could never say no to you then.

“As you wish, princess.” You both quickly got ready with you wearing a sundress that reached your mid thigh and Steve in a simple black t shity and jeans.

The amusement park had been fun up until you decided that you wanted to go on the roller coaster. The moment it fell downwards from the sky, you looked pale and horrified. For someone who was reluctant to go on the ride, Steve was quite enjoying himself. When it stopped, you found the near trash can and hurled violently. Afterwards, you decided to stick to the slower rides. By the end of the day, you were on a ferris wheel with your husband by your side and your favorite ice cream in your hand. You kissed on top of the ferris wheel. Cliche but that was exactly what you were going for. This was all perfect and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I love you so much.” You whispered lazily as you laid in the bed with the blankets wrapped around you snugly. Today was wonderful but tiring.

“I love you too. (Y/N), have you thought about kids?” He asked reluctantly as he knew that it had only been a month in your marriage. It was a little too early but he just wanted to know.

“I know that they are in my future but I want to wait a year or two. I want to spend sometime with you alone.”

“This is the same thought that I had. Just wanted to get this out of the way.” Kissing you sweetly, he called it a night and dozed off to sleep.

Three years passed you by like they were nothing, Maybe it was because you were too happy. Of course there had been lows in your life like when you and Steve were on the verge of divorce because you were starting to drift apart. But you both worked through it and you were happier ever since. You almost died once in a mission and you weren’t able to get off the bed for three moths. It was painful and Steve was with you every step of the way.

However, there were too many good things that tipped the scale in your favor. Like when Steve brought a puppy as a gift for your first anniversary, Milo. Your love from him only grew afterwards and when you both found out that you were pregnant with your first child, you were over the moon. A tiny version of you and Steve was growing inside of you and it was the best feeling in the world. Labor was extensive but you got her as a reward. Rebecca Grant Rogers.

“Can you please go see her? I fed her about an hour ago.” You kicked your husband out of bed and he whined before getting up. Sleepless nights were finally getting to you both.

Gently cooing to the three months old, Steve picked her from the crib. “Hey bubs. What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Mmmmm” Becca babbled on as she saw her favorite person in front of her. The four month was attached to his hip and you loved the bond between them.

“Let’s go to our room and try to sleep again.” You had drifted to sleep but you stirred awake when he came back to bed with your daughter in his arms.

“She is not going to sleep?”

“No, this little bug just wants to spend time with her parents.” A toothless grin adorned her face as she kept her icy blue eyes on her parents.

“Do you want me to make you laugh, huh, baby?” Tickling her, you got a smile on your face as she laughed out whole heartedly. She was the mini version of Steve but there were hints of you in her as well, like her chin or her smile.

Time passed by and soon it was 3 in the morning. “Let’s sleep now.”

“Yes. We have to go on a mission tomorrow and Nat and Wanda have said that they will babysit Becca for the day.”

“That’s nice.” Steve laid your little girl in the middle of the bed and you both put your arms around her. It was peaceful and you were content with your life.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, babe. Sweet dreams.” You thank Fury everyday for the decision of getting you two married. Your life was just perfect now and nothing could change that.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: I loved writing about Steve and I am open to requests now. I will be working on my own drafts alongside it. You can send in requests but it will take some days for me to get to them:) Love you guys and do tell me if you want to be added to my taglist.

Tag list: @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

[aidanchaser]

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson​

Chapter Fifteen The Heist

Luna Lovegood hated Hogwarts. Yes, she was in Ravenclaw, and yes, she loved learning, but school? School was where curiosity went to die in a long, slow, stretched out sentence.

For Luna, the transition from her family home, where her father had encouraged her explorations and experiments, to a place of high stone walls and demanding bells had been terrible for her, and she’d nearly quit after her first year.

Now she was glad that she had persisted, because school had one thing worthwhile: Ginny Weasley.

When Ginny had hexed those boys for calling her Loony, the stars in the dark night had burst into existence, and school had become not just bearable, but pleasant. Luna had skipped everywhere for the rest of the that week.

This year, however, there was no skipping. Even Herbology, one of Luna’s favourite subjects, was overcast by the horrid cloud that Snape and the Carrows left on the school.

At least Ginny and Neville were in Herbology with her. N.E.W.T.-level courses often combined sixth and seventh years, and Luna was glad to have her closest friends with her at least once a week.

They were currently repotting Venomous Tentacula, which involved lots of soothing whispers and gentle strokes to the stem and vines. Neville worked easily, and Luna did too, even humming a lullaby to her knot of vines as she transferred the plant into a larger pot and carefully aerated the soil.

“Ow!” Ginny hissed, drawing her hand away from her plant.

Luna patted one of her vines and paused her melody. “Did it bite you, Ginny?”

Ginny pressed her wounded hand to her mouth. “Just got me with its leaves. Bloody bastard hates me.”

“You have to be gentle,” she sang, and reached for a watering can.

“I am gentle!”

Luna giggled. Ginny could be gentle, but it was not her natural state by any stretch.

Once Luna had finished repotting her Tentacula, she moved to Ginny’s station to help her work.

“You have to be kind and patient.” Luna ran her fingers along one of the vines. “It’s a sensitive plant.”

Beneath Luna’s hands, the vines no longer lashed out with sharp, sudden outbursts of movement, but instead swayed in time to her humming.

“See?” Luna paused her song. “Now put your fertilizer in that pot.”

Professor Sprout praised them all for their hard work, and congratulated them for finishing the lesson without any bite accidents. “There’s usually at least one of you turned bright purple and on your way up to the hospital wing, but you all did excellent work today,” she beamed at them.

“Hospital wing’s full up anyway,” Hannah Abbott mumbled, just out of Sprout’s earshot, as she cleaned up her work station.

Hannah looked unusually wild today. Her thick plaits were uncharacteristically loose, and dirt streaked her cheeks. She wrestled her book into her bag with the sort of determination one might use when salvaging Snargaluff pods.

Neville reached across his station to hers and picked up her shovel and trowel. “Ernie will be fine,” he murmured, and returned her tools to the greenhouse shed.

Hannah tried and failed to regain control of her trembling lip, then hurried out of the greenhouse before Neville could come back.

It wasn’t just Ernie, who was recovering from a detention after he had called the Daily Prophet “rubbish” and added that he hoped Harry would show up at Hogwarts so he could “put Snape in his place.”

It was Parvati and Padma Patil, who had refused to attend Muggle Studies. Each night that they refused earned them a night of detention, until after three weeks both girls had become too ill to attend any of their classes.

It was Hugh Ward, who had defiantly announced to the boys in his Slytherin dormitory that he was a half-blood.

Luna didn’t know what curses the boys had used to try to punish Hugh for being so proud of his Muggle lineage, but he had been in the hospital wing all week. Luna had visited him, and the Patil twins. She made a point to visit anyone who had been in Dumbledore’s Army, because they were her friends.

On these visits, it was not uncommon for her to find Hannah, helping Madam Pomfrey change linens and administer medicine to those who needed it. Though Hannah never did any of the Charm work in the hospital wing, she watched closely each time Madam Pomfrey cast a spell.

Luna knew that Hannah wanted to become a Healer. Each time Luna visited the hospital wing, she thought about becoming a Healer, too. She liked caring for people, and she was taking enough N.E.W.T.s for it. But so much of Healing was urgent, and Luna had never done well with urgent.

“Must you always move so slowly?” Ginny snapped.

Luna frowned at her gloves as she packed them away. She much preferred the greenhouse to the castle and couldn’t understand why Ginny was so eager to get back. She’d much rather be down here with the fresh air than back with the Carrows.

“Come on,” Ginny whined, “I’m starved.”

Luna squeezed her Herbology textbook between her personal field guide and the thick tome for Transfiguration. With those three texts and her scaly Care of Magical Creatures book, her bag was nearly bursting at the seams.

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast?” Luna shouldered her heavy bag and hurried to the door where Ginny and Neville were waiting.

“I wasn’t hungry at breakfast.”

“Helen said she was sulking in the Owlery after a row with Harry,” Neville whispered, but not as quietly as he should have.

“We didn’t have a row! And anyway, don’t use his name. Someone might hear you.”

“Should we just call him You-Know-Who?” Neville asked with a grin.

Ginny shoved him, none too gently, and picked up her pace, leaving Neville and Luna trailing behind her.

Luna pursed her lips and looked up at Neville. There was something different about him this year, but Luna couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Did you grow taller over the summer?” she asked, and tried to gauge if she was looking up more than she had looked up last year.

“What? Oh — yeah, I did. Gran sent out for a whole new wardrobe.” He wrinkled his nose. “It was only like, an inch I think, but she insisted. I think it was her way of apologising that Mum and Dad were gone most of the summer.”

Luna tilted her head. “I suppose they work quite a lot.”

Neville laughed. “I haven’t seen much of them since… well, I guess since Voldemort came back. I mean, a meal here and there, but usually only one at a time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not bad.” He adjusted his bag. “Their work’s important. And I’ve always had Gran around.”

Luna looked down at her hands. There was dirt under her nails, and she supposed she ought to clean up before lunch, but she liked when her hands were dirty. It reminded her of her mother, who had always smelled like earth and soot. It also reminded her of her father, whose fingers were often stained with ink.

“But you miss them.”

It wasn’t a question. Luna didn’t ask questions she already knew the answers to. There were plenty of other questions to be concerned with.

“What do you think we should call Harry?” she asked. “And I suppose we’ll need names for Ron and Hermione as well. Should we all have secret names? Like cats, perhaps? I should like to be Turnip.”

When she and Neville reached the castle, Ginny was waiting impatiently at the door.

“You both walk slow,” she complained, and stormed inside.

“My,” Luna said, “it must have been quite a bad fight with Parsnip.”

Neville frowned. “No, I don’t like that one.”

“Butterscotch?”

“Hmm…”

“Pickled Herring?”

“Must it be food?”

“I like Pickled Herring, because it sounds like him, but backwards.”

“I suppose.”

Luna waved goodbye to Neville and joined the Ravenclaw table. She sat next to a girl named Kim Sheringham, who Luna did not consider a friend, exactly, but they had lived together for the better part of six years, which might count for something to other people. It just didn’t count very much to Luna.

“Hi, Luna,” said Kim.

“Hello,” Luna said, but remained focused on her lunch

“How was Herbology?”

Luna hummed. “Warm. Pleasant.” She reached for the pitcher and poured herself a glass of water.

“Sounds nice. Listen, do you think you could do me a favour?”

Luna stared at Kim and took a sip from her cup. She waited for Kim to ask for what she really wanted.

Kim faltered, but she’d always been more keen on small talk than Luna. Finally, she said, “Could you tell Flitwick I’m not well? I need to review for the Muggle Studies exam tonight. Please, I just can’t keep all the Sacred Twenty-Eight straight. Just tell Flitwick I fell ill after lunch or something. Any excuse will do.”

Ravenclaws, as a rule, did not skip lessons — unless they had an exam to prepare for.

“I could review with you,” Luna offered, and pretended not to notice the way Kim’s brow furrowed.

“That’s alright, thanks. Just tell him I’m not well. He’ll believe whatever you say, you know.”

Now it was Luna’s turn to frown. She didn’t understand what Kim meant, but she didn’t get to ask because Kim was already leaving.

Luna finished her meal alone, still puzzling over Kim’s comment, and wandered to Charms by herself. She apologised to Flitwick for Kim’s absence, and promised to take notes for two. Flitwick readily accepted her vague excuse, and this only puzzled Luna more. How had Kim known that Flitwick would not press her?

She was distracted throughout class, but her notes were no less for it. She was not sure that they would help Kim — no one ever asked to borrow Luna’s colourful, pictographic notes — but Luna would not mind explaining them.

After Charms, Luna had a free period, while the Gryffindors took their Charms lesson. She passed Ginny and Neville outside Flitwick’s classroom door and smiled. Ginny grinned back, which worried Luna. It was not the sort of grin that suggested Ginny was truly in a better mood; it was Ginny’s mischievous grin.

Luna waited until she was in the library to check the Galleon in her pocket. She had not noticed it grow warm during her Charms lesson, but it must have, for there was a new date and time inscribed where the identification number would be. Tonight, an hour before Muggle Studies.

Whatever Ginny had planned would get them all into trouble, certainly, but Luna at least knew that it would be fun, and fun was in such short supply these days.

There was plenty of time between now and then, so Luna set about working on their personalised field guides for Herbology. She had started adding to it, not just for Herbology, but also for Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was sweet, but Luna did not find him an adept professor. She could appreciate the practicality of his lessons, at least, but had started recording what she learned from their field experiments into her Herbology project. She enjoyed this sort of work, collecting information and organising it. And decorating it.

Professor Flitwick had suggested a career studying magical plants and animals, doing field work, exploring, traveling and notetaking, making discoveries. Luna liked the idea of it, but the way he had presented it sounded tedious. He had mentioned the Ministry and paperwork, almost as if he had been trying to put her off from the job. He had even suggested that she spend her summer reaching out to people at the Ministry to try some job-shadowing, but Luna had a hard time finding people in the Ministry that were not involved with either the Death Eaters, the Rotfang Conspiracy, or the Heliopath Army.

Was it not enough to simply wander?

Luna had never been good at purpose. It was one of the many things she had always admired about Ginny. Ginny had always known who she was and what she wanted. Luna, for all her appearances of self-assurance, wondered and doubted far more than anyone knew.

Luna finished her note about Fire Crabs in preparation for tomorrow’s lesson and waited for the ink to dry. She swung her legs back and forth and stared out of the large window. Neither of her parents had ever made a living on the things they were passionate about. They did things that were uninteresting to fund their curiosities. She wondered if she would end up doing the same.

With a sigh, Luna closed her field guide and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner. Again, she ate alone, but she watched Ginny talk with one of the girls from her dorm. Ginny’s smile was wide but empty, and she tapped her fork anxiously against her plate.

Neville sat alone, picking at his food, and Seamus and Lavender sat together, but they had more interest in the professors’ table than in each other.

Luna shook her head. Gryffindors were always so obvious. If the Carrows were even a little bit smarter, they might have known to be suspicious.

Neville left dinner first, and after an exact count of thirty, Ginny followed. The rest of the D.A. made their way out of the Great Hall in staggered exits. Some relied on a count of their own choosing. Some relied on waiting until a certain number of people had exited before they made their way to the seventh floor.

If Umbridge had taught them anything, it was how to avoid getting caught.

Luna waited until Michael Corner loudly announced that he was going to check on Padma, and trailed after him at her usual aimless pace. When he headed for the hospital wing, Luna went all the way back to Ravenclaw Tower, but instead of climbing the stairs, she slipped down another corridor to the Room of Requirement.

The Room no longer looked as it had for D.A. meetings. In fact, Luna thought it looked rather like a proper classroom. There were even stacks of reference books on some of the desks.

“I thought if anyone did walk in on us, it would look like we were studying,” Neville said, when he saw Luna’s curious glance.

She hummed thoughtfully. “You should ask it not to let anyone walk in on us.”

Neville looked surprised, then frowned and sank into one of the desks. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully.

Luna always appreciated the way Neville took her ideas seriously, rather than laughed at them, or dismissed them instantly, the way so many of her peers and professors did.

Padma and Parvati returned from the hospital wing with Michael, and a small crowd surrounded them, asking if they were alright. Hannah and Susan were notable outliers, clustered by themselves and whispering quietly. Ginny, too, stood alone, trying to count heads, and another girl in a green headscarf, someone Luna had not spoken to since those early days of the D.A., sat by herself.

Luna slipped into the desk beside Atalanta Shafiq. She smiled pleasantly.

“Hello. It’s Atalanta, isn’t it?”

The girl stared at her with large brown eyes. Luna thought she was in fourth year, the same Dennis Creevey would have been in.

“You’re Luna.”

Luna’s smile widened. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows you. You’re one of the people who went to the Ministry with Potter two summers ago.”

“Oh, you mean Pickled Herring.”

Atalanta stared at Luna as if she had lost her mind, a look Luna was used to, though she hadn’t seen it in a while. She hadn’t spent much time with new people recently.

“You’re friends with Hugh, aren’t you?” Luna asked her.

Atalanta nodded. “I know you visit him. How is he?”

“Oh — he’s well. Don’t you see him yourself?”

The girl turned to stare straight ahead. Her face was hard and her voice tight. “He asked me to stop coming. As if everyone doesn’t already know we’re friends — as if he has anyone else to bring him notes —” She broke off abruptly and her nostrils flared. “Everyone knows we were friends with the Creeveys anyway. My lineage doesn’t protect me as much as he thinks it does.”

“It sounds like he cares about you.” Luna hummed. “But you seem like someone who can take care of yourself. It’s okay for both of those things to be true, you know.”

Atalanta did not say anything. Luna appreciated the way the girl considered her words. It was like watching someone put together a puzzle, and Luna loved puzzles.

The door opened and closed one last time for Pearl Lais and Ginny announced, “I think that’s everyone. Let’s get started.”

All conversations ceased as she spoke. Ginny commanded a room with more ease than Harry had. Luna could not help but smile dreamily.

“So as you all know, tonight we have an exam for Muggle Studies.”

“I won’t take it,” Zacharias Smith announced loudly.

“And we fully plan to resume our protest,” Parvati added, voice defiant. Padma looked less confident, but she nodded when Parvati looked at her.

“Standing outside the Muggle Studies classroom is great,” Neville said, “but if we could do something more coordinated and subversive, we might be able to get more students on our side, and you wouldn’t have to go to detention.”

Padma raised an eyebrow. “You have something planned that won’t get us in trouble?”

“As long as we don’t get caught,” Ginny grinned. “I heard Snape threatened to take your Prefect badge. Your protest has been great, but it’s not worth that. We need people like you in charge as much as possible. Let me show you what we have in mind. It’s so easy, even Neville could do it.”

Neville did not look upset by the remark in the least, and pulled a stack of loose parchment from the desk at the front of the classroom. He began passing it out.

“It’s partly a Muggle-trick,” he said, “so it’s perfect for Muggle Studies.”

“There’s a bit of Charm, of course,” Ginny said, “to make it more interesting.”

Ginny and Neville explained the procedure of the prank to the members of Dumbledore’s Army. Everyone had several sheets to practice with, but Luna took to it right away. She found it a rather endearing bit of spellwork, but she knew that Alecto Carrow would hate it. Still, it was a harmless and funny prank. Even if they did get caught, the punishment couldn’t be too severe.

As Luna finished folding her third sheet of parchment, just for something to do with her hands, Ginny slid into the desk next to her.

“Hey,” she said, “I have a special job for you.”

Luna looked up from her parchment as Ginny pressed a small bottle into her hands.

“Neville got that from Herbology today. Can you smear it into Carrow’s book before the exam?”

Luna held up the colourless vial. “Should I wear dragonhide gloves?”

“No, it has to be ingested. Just the corners of the pages will do.”

“How will I get the book?”

“Just ask her for it. Say you need to check your notes or something. She’ll believe whatever you tell her.”

Luna stared into Ginny’s deep brown eyes. “Why?”

“You have an honest face. If I ask, she’ll know something’s up.”

Luna wasn’t sure what it meant that she had an, “honest face,” but it was the nicest compliment Ginny had given her all year, so she took it and pressed it into her memory like she pressed flowers into her field guide.

“I should go now, then,” she said. “So I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about getting caught,” Ginny said. “I’ve got something else planned and she’ll probably single me out for the whole thing.”

Luna didn’t mean to smile, but she did. “I would be honoured to have detention with you,” and she punctuated her statement with a curtsy. Ginny laughed, and it made whatever punishments Luna might receive for smearing poison into Alecto Carrow’s book worth it.

As Ginny had predicted, Professor Carrow did not suspect anything was amiss when Luna arrived at her office early and asked to check her notes against the enormous tome that she read out of during their lessons. She muttered something about Ravenclaws and perfectionism, then left Luna at a desk with her notes and the book.

Carefully, Luna dabbed some of the poison onto her finger and smeared it onto the upper right corners of each page. She pretended to skim some of the pages, and even made a few marks into her own notes to sell the lie, but she wondered if she even needed to. Professor Carrow hardly paid her any mind.

When she had finished, she thanked Professor Carrow, and waited until she was alone in the hallway to wipe her hands clean.

All students were required to take Muggle Studies, and the curriculum was entirely new, so everyone, from first year to seventh, took it together in the Great Hall three evenings a week. Luna found it slightly more entertaining than History of Magic, because while Professor Carrow could drone on much like Professor Binns, Carrow at least took questions, and Luna loved when her friends asked questions.

In their very first class, Neville had challenged every line of Professor Carrow’s reading. She had snappishly asked for his lineage not twenty minutes into class. With a wide grin, Neville had said, “Longbottom and Fawley.”

The other day, Ginny had asked Professor Carrow why they weren’t going to evaluate the Carrow family tree the way they had the Bones family. Professor Carrow had turned red and Luna had expected her to hex Ginny then and there.

Luna had not asked any questions yet, though she had, at one point, raised her hand to point out that it was unfair to accuse Muggles of being liars and cheats when Thicknesse was a continuation of Scrimgeour’s evil plot to bring down the Ministry through the horrors of gum disease. The other students had laughed, and Professor Carrow had given her a condescending smile.

“How could the Ministry allow such plots to happen right under their nose?” Professor Carrow had asked with a sickly smile.

“Same way they allowed Death Eaters to infiltrate and Voldemort to take over,” Neville had said loudly, and he’d gotten a week of detention.

The dining tables were removed from the Great Hall each night of Muggle Studies and were replaced with rows of desks. Students sat by year and by house, so Luna took a seat near the back of one of the Ravenclaw aisles. She thought it was a good thing that the D.A. was largely composed of upper-years. Professor Carrow would be less likely to notice them folding up their exams.

The Great Hall was quiet as students worked on their exams. Quills scratched against parchment and occasionally Luna heard the sound of a page turning as Professor Carrow licked her finger and turned the page of her heavy tome.

As she folded up her exam just like they had practiced in the Room of Requirement, Luna watched Professor Carrow closely. The woman coughed after five pages and reached for her tea. After ten pages, she rubbed her throat and finished her drink. By the fifteenth page, her cheeks were already flushed purple and she looked uncomfortable.

“Professor!” Ginny shouted. She didn’t need to shout, since the hall was as silent as O.W.L.s had been, but as her voice echoed, every head turned to her.

She had her hand stretched as high as she could and she bounced anxiously. “Professor!”

Professor Carrow stood from her desk and frowned down at Ginny. “This is an exam, girl. Be quiet.”

“It’s an emergency, Professor. Can I go? I’ll only be a minute.”

Professor Carrow’s mouth lifted in a sneer. “No.”

“Please, Professor? I mean, I’ll use my exam if I have to, but —”

Laughter rippled across the hall and Ginny grinned.

“Make it quick!” Carrow snapped at her, and Ginny sprinted from the hall.

She really was gone only a minute — both Luna and Professor Carrow counted — and Luna wondered what she possibly could have accomplished during that time.

Ginny maintained an appearance of studiousness as she returned to her exam, and Professor Carrow returned to her book. She rubbed her throat again and looked at her empty tea cup. She snapped her fingers impatiently. A house-elf appeared with a pop and poured her a fresh cup, then vanished just as quickly.

Luna forgot all about the clusters of parchment that decorated her desk. Her focus was wholly on Professor Carrow as the woman inspected the cup of tea. She sniffed it, tapped her wand against it, took a small sip, and seemed satisfied. She finished the cup and went back to her book.

Luna kept watching, and it was another seven pages before Professor Carrow licked her finger and paused. She looked at her hand, at the book, and then directly at Luna. Luna tried to shrink into her seat.

Carrow got to her feet and started down the aisle of Ravenclaw desks with a look of fury that might have cowed a dragon. Luna, however, was spared immediate consequences by a squeak that began on the Gryffindor side of the room, followed closely by a squeak from the Hufflepuff aisle.

Hastily, Luna Animated the collection of parchment mice that she had so carefully constructed during the exam. They joined the chorus of mice that now filled the hall, leaping off of desks and scampering towards Professor Carrow.

Luna didn’t think Professor Carrow was a woman who feared mice, but it at least startled her, and it certainly upset several of the other students, who screamed as the parchment creations scurried over their feet and onto their desks. Students leapt up onto chairs and desks, and the entire hall descended into chaos.

It was impossible to tell, as Ginny and Neville had probably planned, where the mice had come from. Carrow pointed her wand at the ones nearest to her, and they went up in flames, but they were quickly replaced with more. Some tried to climb her skirt while others scampered across the room, nibbling on exams and tearing every piece of parchment to shreds.

“Everyone out!” Carrow snapped, crushing one of the mice under her heel. “Orderly!” she added as a few of the more skittish students bolted for the door.

But even those that ran reached a wall of students who had, for some reason, stalled in the doorway of the Great Hall.

“What now?” Carrow elbowed her way to the front, and Luna stood on her tiptoes to peer over Draco Malfoy’s shoulder. She saw a message painted on the floor of the entrance hall in bright red, impossible to miss.

DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY: NOW RECRUITING

Professor Carrow tried to vanish the mess, but it sparked with fireworks and she leapt backwards. A pair of first years stared in awe. A few upper years laughed.

“Weasley!” Carrow snapped, and a few of the older students waited for the inevitable joke of, “Which one?” before realising that Ginny was the only Weasley left at Hogwarts.

Ginny leaned against the pillar that framed the door into the Great Hall. She smiled at Carrow. “Yes, Professor?”

Professor Carrow lifted her wand. “You’ll get more than detention, brat —”

“Say, Professor,” Ginny said, “you’ve got a little something on your —” Ginny gestured to her face, then paused and gestured to Carrow’s hands, “well — everywhere.”

Professor Carrow looked down at her hands, now bright purple.

“That looks like Venomous Tentacula poison,” said Neville. “You ought to be careful around the greenhouses, Professor.”

Carrow whipped around and aimed her wand at Neville, then searched the crowd for Luna. “You,” she snapped.

Luna raised her eyebrows.

“What’s your name?”

“Lovegood,” Luna said, before it had even occurred to her to lie.

Carrow ran her tongue across her teeth. “Lovegood? Your father runs The Quibbler?”

“Er — yes, Professor.”

“You and Weasley, to the Headmaster Snape’s office immediately.”

Luna started for the stairs, but Ginny folded her arms over her chest and refused to move.

“Weasley!”

“Snape isn’t Headmaster.”

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Pureblooded or not —”

“Last week you called me a blood traitor, but this week you’re suddenly all concerned with —”

“Imperio.”

Luna watched, horrified, as Ginny’s posture relaxed and her dark eyes widened.

“Stop!” Luna cried, which, futile as it was, at least provided cover as Neville drew his wand.

“Stupefy!” Neville shouted, and Professor Carrow fell backwards, sprawled over Ginny’s message on the floor.

A few of the students cheered and footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Amycus Carrow and Argus Filch shoved their way through the crowd of students. They took in the mess of paint on the floor, the unconscious and purple professor, and Neville with his wand drawn.

“What did you do, you filthy brat!” Amycus snarled.

“She was only Stunned,” Seamus Finnigan shouted. “Seemed fair since she was using a bloody Unforgivable!”

“Another week of detention then?” Neville asked, with more bravery than Luna thought anyone should have, considering how many detentions had landed students in the infirmary.

“No, I think your punishment should be a bit more public and swift —”

“Professor?” Malfoy interrupted. He grabbed Luna’s arm and pulled her forward. His Head Boy badge glinted in the candlelight. “Professor Carrow was just about to take Lovegood and Weasley up to the Headmaster’s office. Shall I help you escort them?”

Amycus Carrow did not do well with being interrupted. It was a challenge for him to hold so many thoughts in his head at once.

“Lovegood and Weasley?”

“Yes, sir. They’re responsible for this mess, too. Pansy can help Professor Carrow, here, and I’ll help you get this lot to Professor Snape.”

Luna did not fight Malfoy’s tight grip on her arm as he took her to Snape’s office, not the way Ginny pushed and pulled on Amycus as he dragged her up the stairs. Neville, too, was more docile in Filch’s grip, and he eyed Malfoy suspiciously.

Carrow announced the password, “Asphodel,” and the gargoyle that guarded the stairs to the Headmaster’s office parted with ease.

Luna was so rarely angry. Anger was a concept, something she witnessed in others, and maybe glimpsed in herself the way she could glimpse the edge of the Black Lake on a clear day. She did not feel true anger very often, but as she was pulled up to the Headmaster’s office, it rose in her chest with each step.

It was horribly unfair of Hogwarts, who had denied Umbridge access to the Headmaster’s office, to allow Snape control over it, when Snape was the very one who had killed Dumbledore.

Luna tried to swallow down her anger, but it refused to budge. She hated Hogwarts.

Carrow pounded his fist on the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs and pushed it open.

The Headmaster’s office was different from what Luna remembered. She’d only seen it once before, but she had adored it. There had been so many trinkets bobbing and whizzing about; it had been full of noise and life. It had reminded her of her mother’s office.

Now, however, it was cold and empty, with nothing but a Pensieve in a corner and a desk stacked with parchment. Fawkes’ perch remained, but was empty, and behind the Headmaster’s desk were the frames of all the previous Headmasters, including Dumbledore, fast asleep. She looked away, and settled on Snape’s face. As much as she disliked Snape, looking at him hurt less than looking at Dumbledore’s portrait.

Snape, seated at the Headmaster’s desk, kept his eyes on what looked to Luna like a letter.

“No, please, come right in,” he drawled. “I’m not busy or anything.”

“These students cursed Alecto,” Amycus said. “Stunned her right in the entrance hall.”

“They had nothing to do with it!” Neville snapped. “I Stunned her because she used an Unforgivable on Ginny! It was just me!”

With an eerie amount of care, Snape set the letter aside and finally looked at the group that had invaded his office. His face had no more displeasure than it usually did as he looked at each of them.

“Then give Longbottom a detention,” he finally said to Carrow. “Five feet of lines reading, ‘I will not hex my professors’ ought to do it.”

Luna could not tell if Snape was serious. Amycus appeared to be having the same problem. His jaw worked fruitlessly before he finally sputtered, “That’s it?”

Snape stood. “What would you like me to do? Expel him and send him back to his Dumbledore-fanatic parents? You’re in charge of discipline, Carrow. So discipline them. Can’t you control a few children?” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a cloak. “I have business off of the grounds tonight. I expect that this will be dealt with by the time I return.”

Snape held the door open for them, and Carrow reluctantly led them back down to the corridor. Snape swept past them, dark cloak billowing the way it had as he had paced the aisles during his Potions lessons, and disappeared down the stairs.

Carrow watched him go, a hard look on his face. “Are the dungeons ready, Filch?”

“Oiled the hinges this morning, sir,” Filch said. “Haven’t put the chains back in yet —”

“It’ll do for now.”

Ginny’s thrashing did not hinder Carrow in the slightest as he, Filch, and Malfoy took the three of them downstairs into the dungeons. Their wands were set on a nearby shelf, tauntingly visible but well out of reach, and then the three were left alone until Carrow could come up with something more creative.

“Did you see it?” Neville’s voice was steady, and he leaned almost comfortably against the stone wall.

The iron-wrought bars rattled as Ginny kicked them, but they did not budge. “Of course I saw it. We ought to go for it now, while Snape’s gone.”

Luna eyed a trickle of water that slid from the ceiling and into a small puddle on the floor. She wondered if it came from the Black Lake or a leaky pipe. “What did you notice?” she asked.

“The Sword of Godric Gryffindor,” Ginny said. “Didn’t you see it hanging under Dumbledore’s portrait?”

“Oh. Is it important?”

“Dumbledore left it to Harry,” Neville said. “He needs it. I don’t know how we could get it to him, though.”

“I can talk to him,” Ginny said. “If we could just get out of here —” She kicked again, but the bars did not budge under her assault.

“We aren’t getting out of here.” Neville retrieved a worn piece of parchment and a golden feather from his pocket. He searched for a dry spot on the floor and unfolded the old parchment. “But we can make a plan. Halloween would be good, when everyone’s at the feast.”

Ginny gave the bars one more kick for good measure, then joined Neville on the floor.

Neville pressed the tip of the feather to the parchment like a quill and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Ginny was forced to scrub the entrance hall clean until there was no trace of her graffiti, and students could see their reflection in the polished floor. It took her the better part of three full weeks and her hands were blistered and cracked when she was finished.

Luna spent every night reading out loud from Alecto Carrow’s horrible book, and if she faltered or hesitated in any way, she earned a welt and had to start over. It went on for two weeks.

Neville was left in the dungeons for a week, and did not appear for lessons nor meals. He said nothing about what happened to him, but he flinched when Seamus clapped him on the shoulder at his first meal back.

It wasn’t even an hour later that Susan approached Neville and asked what the revenge plan was. Neville told her to keep her head down until the Halloween feast.

To an outsider, it might have appeared that the Carrows had won. Muggle Studies lessons passed without incident. There were small protests in Dark Arts, but nothing more dramatic than civil disobedience. It was quiet at Hogwarts, until Halloween.

They started small. Seamus and Parvati slipped some of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Exploding Whizz-Bangs into the eggs at breakfast with a Switching Spell. After the chaos of breakfast, Alecto Carrow promised to hold the entire school for an extra hour of Muggle Studies that evening if no one confessed or gave up the perpetrator.

No one said a word.

Lavender took the leaflets from the Daily Prophet with Harry’s face and the bounty and modified them. Instead of “Undesirable No 1” the leaflet read, “Desirable Chosen 1” which was enough of a change to get their point across. She lamented that Dean could have done better, but the rest of the D.A. praised her work.

The leaflets were blown up to twice their size and pasted into windows all across the castle, with the help of everyone in the D.A. Every common room, from Gryffindor to Slytherin, was plastered with Harry’s face.

By lunch, the Carrows were scorching walls left and right, and Atalanta Shafiq told everyone that the Carrows had accidentally blasted a hole through the Slytherin Common room right into the Black Lake and flooded the dormitories.

Neville’s job was an unfortunate one, but he took it with grace. He waited until lunch was nearly over, then shouted at Crabbe and asked, “I know you said you’re a pureblood, but isn’t there a bit of troll in your tree? Was it on your mother or father’s side?”

Crabbe threw a hex that sent Neville flying five feet backwards and when he got up, he was puking up something slimy. Hannah escorted him to the hospital wing.

Ginny’s role for the day revolved around being as suspicious as possible without getting into real trouble. She ducked through hidden corridors. She paused to fiddle with her bag or her shoes. Luna stayed close with her for most of it, until after Transfiguration, they ducked out of Amycus’ careful watch by slipping into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Demelza was waiting for them. “Ready?” she asked.

Ginny nodded and plucked out a strand of her hair.

Luna left the bathroom with Demelza, but Amycus Carrow saw exactly what he expected to see: Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley heading down to the Halloween feast.

Luna watched Demelza sit next to Helen Donoghue and engage Helen as easily as if she really were Ginny. Amycus stood at the door, eyes intent on Ginny. Luna could not help but smile, despite her trepidation at her own task.

She ate slowly, unsure how full her stomach ought to be. She looked at the professors and bit her tongue when she noticed that Snape was missing. Their plan hinged on Snape being out of his office.

Well, it was too late for them to change course now. Neville was waiting for her in the hospital wing, and Ginny was probably already hiding out by the Headmaster’s office.

Luna took a deep breath, pulled the bright yellow half of a Fainting Fancy from her pocket, and swallowed.

She woke with a headache in a corridor not far from the hospital wing with Neville and Michael Corner leaning over her. She licked her lips and tried to swallow down the spiced pepper flavour that seemed stuck to her tongue. She decided that she didn’t care for the second half of those Fainting Fancies.

“Are you alright?” Michael asked her.

Luna sat up and rubbed her throbbing head. “I fell,” she said.

“I tried to catch you. You should have warned me when you were going to do it.”

“It’s alright,” Neville said.

Luna gagged. His breath smelled like Porlock dung.

“You’d better get back to the feast,” Neville told Michael. “The less time you’re with us, the better it’ll look for you.”

“Are you alright?” Luna asked Neville as Michael hurried back to the Great Hall.

Neville grimaced. “I was hoping for boils. Madam Pomfrey says I’ll be tasting acid for a week, but she was at least able to stop the puking, so we can go ahead with the plan. Everything seems to be going well so far.”

“Oh… there is one thing…”

Luna told him that she had not seen Snape at the feast. Neville checked the map while they walked.

“I don’t see him at all,” Neville frowned. He ran his finger across the Marauder’s Map. “Oh — he’s just arrived at the gates. What do you think he left for?”

“Perhaps he’s joined a league of vampires. Halloween is a special holiday for them.”

“Then I guess we’d better hurry up before he finds us and drinks our blood.” Neville squinted at the map. “You catch up with Ginny. I have an idea. Peeves is just around the corner and if he can stall…”

Neville was still talking as he disappeared behind a tapestry of Mordicus Egg cooking over an open fire. Luna paused to watch the heavy tapestry resettle in Neville’s wake. The threads of the flames seemed alive as they rippled back and forth, until finally the tapestry stilled.

She skipped on ahead to the gargoyle at the end of the corridor. She spun around once in a circle, and did not see Ginny. So she spun again, and this time Ginny stepped out from behind a suit of armor.

“How’s Demelza doing?” Ginny asked.

“She’s very good at being you,” Luna said, then said, “Asphodel,” to the statue. It stepped aside easily and Luna hummed. “I really thought he would have changed it.”

“It’s a good thing he didn’t. Where’s Neville?”

“He said to go on without him.”

Ginny was already halfway up the stairs. “Alohomora,” she said, and the lock on the office door clicked open. She shoved the heavy door with her shoulder.

Ginny ran in for the sword, and Luna listened at the door. While she listened, her eyes roved over the portraits. Their oily eyes were fixed on Ginny as she lifted the Sword of Godric Gryffindor from its display.

“Breaking and entering!” one portrait shouted. “In the Headmaster’s office!”

“Put that sword back, child,” Dilys Derwent said in a kinder voice. “I’m sure you mean well, but —”

“Thievery!” Phineas Nigellus Black shrieked at her. “Unheard of! In my time —”

“Treachery!” one woman with a thick wand shouted.

“You’re the traitors!” Ginny shouted back at them. “Letting Snape in here — helping him — and after what he did to Dumbledore!”

She broke off and stared at Dumbledore’s portrait. It’s gold frame glistened, and the impression of Dumbledore stared back at her, as still and as unmoving as any Muggle portrait.

Luna abandoned her post at the door and came to Ginny’s side. She stared at Dumbledore’s portrait and felt her heart grow heavy, the way it did each time she passed her mother’s office in the basement of their family home.

“Ginny,” she whispered, “we should go. You can’t argue with what’s been done.”

“It isn’t fair.” Ginny turned her fierce glare on all the portraits, then back onto Dumbledore’s still portrait. “You know what the sword is for, what it can do. Tell them.”

The portrait did not so much as blink at her.

“Ginny.” Luna tugged on her arm.

Ginny’s lower lip trembled, and she turned away from Dumbledore’s portrait. Luna pulled her towards the door, but froze on the first step.

Ginny heard it too — footsteps coming up for them.

They backed into the office, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run as Snape and the Carrows burst into the office. Ginny brandished the sword as she might a wand for a duel. Luna did not have time to reach for her wand as Amycus Carrow thrust Neville at her. He fell into her and she staggered under his weight.

“You two,” Alecto Carrow sneered, “are supposed to be in the hospital wing.”

“Oh, but I feel much better,” Luna said. Neville only groaned.

“How’d you find us?” Ginny snapped.

“Hogwarts is a castle filled with portraits, Miss Weasley. I think you can figure out the rest.” Snape waved his wand and Ginny jumped as if the sword had burned her. It clattered to the ground and she clutched her hand to her chest.

“I thought,” Snape drawled, “I asked you two to control these children.”

“We did —” Amycus protested. “We have — she was just in the Hall, I swear.”

“I think a detention in the Forbidden Forest ought to teach them a lesson or two. Every night for the next week. From sundown to midnight.”

Luna tipped her head to one side. “But —”

Ginny squeezed her wrist and she stopped talking.

But that meant they would be with Hagrid instead of at Muggle Studies lessons. She wondered if Snape just didn’t realise when Muggle Studies lessons were. Did he think they were during normal lesson hours?

“And what if they try it again?” the Carrows asked.

Snape removed his cloak and pulled out a smudged piece of parchment from his pocket. “I expect you’ll prevent them from trying again.” He glanced at the sword on the floor. “I’ll have it removed from Hogwarts, then this will no longer be a problem.”

As he tucked the parchment into a book on his desk, Luna was certain that the smudge of ink was actually a small black pawprint. She supposed if Snape was a vampire, he must have a familiar by now.

Snape took a seat at his desk and surveyed the small crowd in his office. “Well? Is there a reason you’re all still here?”

The Carrows shoved Ginny towards the door, and Luna helped Neville limp down the stairs.

“Yes, I know,” she heard Snape say as the door closed. “I can have a duplicate ready in days.”

And as the latch on the door clicked, Luna thought that she heard the familiar rumble of Dumbledore’s voice.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

It was midnight, but no one was keen on heading back to the castle just yet. Ginny sat down in the grass and leaned against one of the trees on the edge of the forest, still in view of Hagrid’s hut, but away from where Neville was helping Hagrid pick Moondew for Madam Rosmerta’s Butterbeer.

Luna crouched down beside her.

“Do you think the Carrows will come and collect us?” Ginny asked. “Or could we stay out here all night?”

Luna ran her hand over the trunk of the tree. She loved the transition from the soft moss to the rough bark and back again.

“It’s just so empty in the common room,” Ginny said. “Is it like that in Ravenclaw?”

Luna crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. She thought for a moment. “A bit. Terry Boot never came back. Mandy checks for his name in the paper every day. Anthony Goldstein wasn’t a Muggle-born, but his family left for Canada after Dumbledore’s funeral, and they don’t plan to come back any time soon.” She plucked a small dandelion flower from the grass by her knee. “I expect it’s worst in Hufflepuff.”

Ginny folded her arms over her chest and looked up at the stars over Hagrid’s hut. “I miss him, Luna. I miss him so much, but when we talk it’s like he isn’t there. And I — I know you probably don’t want to hear it — I’m sorry — but I don’t know that I have anyone else —”

Luna reached for another dandelion and folded the stems into the beginning of a flower chain. “I will never take half of you,” Luna said, “and I don’t believe that you are one to give halves.”

Ginny’s laugh was sad. It made Luna’s chest ache. She leaned against Ginny and continued working on her flower chain.

They sat in silence, until nearly two, when Hagrid insisted they return to their bunks.

“I’ll walk yeh ter the castle,” he said, “but don’ let Filch catch you on your way up.”

Neville waved the map. “We’ll be alright. As long as any portraits don’t get involved.”

Luna tied off the flower chain into a crown and stood. She spun in a circle and dropped the circlet on Ginny’s head. “Up we go,” she said, holding her hand out to Ginny.

Ginny took it. “Thanks, Luna.”

Luna smiled. She pulled Ginny along and hurried to catch up with Neville. She took his hand as well.

Luna hated Hogwarts, and she had no desire to go back behind those high stone walls, but at least she did not have to go alone. At least she could go with friends.

[deliriumsdelight7]

TMI Tuesday

Current mood: blugh (I assume.  I’m actually typing this at noon on Monday).  I’ll throw the “why” of it under a tag, because there’s DEFINITELY going to be some oversharing.

My writing’s been a bit slow lately.  The muse fled from my Mad Rumbelle oneshots.  I still have every intention of finishing, but it won’t be in time for the end of March.

I managed to get another chapter of One Thing Forever True posted the other night.  This was my first time writing a time-jump chapter.  I wanted to show the blossoming relationship between Belle and Rumpel over time without dedicating too many chapters to it; after all, this is a Beauty and the Beast story, and we don’t even have a Beast yet!

I’m still plugging away at the next chapters for FFA and Finding a Cure.  Hoping to have both of those out in the next week or so, but it really depends on how I’m feeling.  

I’m here all day to answer asks!  Oversharing rant behind the tag.

I’m stuck on a clear liquid diet today.  My guts are... not doing so hot lately, so I’ve got a colonoscopy and endoscopy scheduled for tomorrow.  I REALLY hope they find out what’s wrong with me; I’m at the point where even standing for more than five minutes at a time increases the pain.  Even just basic cooking and cleaning makes the pain worse.

I’m not gonna lie: I’m tired, guys.  I’m stuck on the couch with a heat pad on my back pretty much all day, every day.  I have to keep myself sedated to keep my anxiety down, because my anxiety also worsens my symptoms.  Most days I have to choke down food, because I have no appetite and my stomach can’t handle much.  My home life is suffering.  My mental health is suffering.  My marriage is suffering (though my husband is doing his best to put on a brave face).  Writing is the only thing keeping me sane anymore, and with the constant stress and sedation, even that is a struggle.  

But my day ended on a brighter note!  I got a raise at work (which doesn’t remotely keep up with inflation, but it helps).  And amazingly, for my clear liquid diet... I.  Can have.  BUTTERSCOTCH!  Cheapo milk-free butterscotch, but still - my eighty-year-old heart rejoices.

So... yeah.  If you guys want to send me asks - about a WIP, or about me as a person/writer, or just any topic whatsoever, that’d be really cool.  I could definitely use the distraction!

[tsarinastorm]

AA: Ashes to Ashes- Adam Sackler/Reader- Chapter 5

Rating: Explicit.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the taglist

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Adam was contently sitting at the table with Y/N, her friends and Bagel, who was happily resting his head on Adam’s thigh. Y/N had invited him to have lunch with her friends, normally he would have avoided such socialization but he was willing to try to make Y/N happy. He liked that she was introducing him to important people in her life, which meant that she was at least contemplating the possibility of them being a couple. And she had her arm stretched on the back of his chair, with her body angled into him. Her hand was brushing his shoulder.  Turns out Y/N’s friends were kind, funny, and easy to be around. There was Victoria, the blonde, who was a ‘blogger’ whatever the hell that meant; then there was Bria the one with pink hair who was an artist, and there was Cori, who was a lawyer like Y/N. He was surprised that the group of them had a genuine friendship not like the jealousy and scheming that defined Hannah’s and Jessa’s friendships.

           Honestly, after meeting her friends, Adam was more puzzled by her friendship with Jessa. She seemed to have real friendships so why was she holding onto what she thought was friendship with Jessa? Why couldn’t she see that Jessa would fuck her over the first chance she gets, and not even feel bad about it? Maybe Y/N was just too kind-hearted to see the bad in other people, he hoped Jessa doesn’t screw her over. When he zones back into the conversation, his face goes red when Cori asks, “So how long have you guys been fucking?” Y/N chokes on her drink. Victoria slaps Cori on the arm and scolds her, “That’s none of our business.”

           “We’re not fucking, we’re friends.” Y/N finally answers and shoots dagger at her friend for asking. Cori is unbothered by her threats as she chuckles and mutters under her breath, “Still going with that story then…”

           The group says their goodbyes and go their separate ways. He and Y/N are going back to his place, she’s offered to help him run his lines for an upcoming audition. Though he wonders if he’ll be able to concentrate with Y/N wearing that thin sundress that she was strutting around in. Adam curses the weather, it should be starting to cool down, and instead they’re in the middle of another heat wave. Another heat wave means Y/N wearing less clothing, which normally he wouldn’t complain about, he certainly enjoyed the view, but it was difficult to concentrate when his dick was hard.

             “Run them again,” Y/N says standing up, rolling her neck, and then she walks towards the window. The sun hits her body just right and Adam can see through her dress, and he can feel himself drooling. Her body looks just as perfect as he’s imagined it would, if only he could remove the obstruction of that dress. He can also feel his dick hardening with interest. He makes himself look away and think of puppies dying, or any other depressing thought. Y/N walks over to him, shakes the script in front his face saying, “Hello? Did you hear me at all? Run them again, Ads.”

           ‘Ads’ is the nickname she’d bestowed upon him and he was growing to like it. He calls her ‘tiger’ but sometimes he calls her ‘kid,’ he can’t help it. He responds with a sigh then goes into character, reading his lines. She smiles at him and he grins back.

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

It had now been two and a half weeks since Adam had showed up on your doorstep saying that he and Jessa broke up. You had spent every day together since, you were adamant about keeping it just friends but it was clear that Adam had other feelings. Adam wanted the two of you to be together, and you were falling for him, feeling those butterflies in your stomach, but he was your friend’s ex. It wasn’t that long ago that he was her boyfriend.

           There had been hand touching, hugs, and gentle, borderline displays of affections. That had been more than enough to make you burn. He called and told you had got the role, you insisted on celebrating. Adam didn’t want to go out, so you settled on a night in. You made dinner, or attempted to make dinner in your crockpot, and you baked some sweets, for yourself. Maybe you could convince Adam to try them too.

           Then you hear a buzz at the door, Bagel barks and you go to let Adam in. Bagel jumps on as soon as he’s through the door. He scratches his belly then walks towards you. You offer him a hug, telling him, “Congrats! I’m so proud of you, I know you’ll be amazing!”

           Your arms wrap around his waist and his body engulfs yours. You love how his body always feels warm against yours and how his arms feel like a wall around you. His hands grip your waist and yours move up around his neck. Your head rests on his chest and his on your shoulder. Neither of you move, you’re each enjoying the intimacy. Then, Bagel comes up and tries to get in between the two of you, he’s clearly jealous, though you’re too sure which one of you he’s jealous over.

           The two of slowly part, you drop your arms awkwardly to your sides, then your timer goes off. You rush into the kitchen and pull the cookie tray out of the oven. Adam follows you and starts examining the cookies, he refrains from grabbing one but asks, “What kind are those?”

           “They’re butterscotch pecan cookies. And over there is the main course: beef roast and veggies.” You tell him and he walks over to examine the main meal too. He then smirks, lifts the crockpot lid, inhales, and says, “Oh you’re spoiling me.”

           You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction. Then, he looks around like he’s noticed something different, and plays with the kitchen light switch before asking, “Why is your light not working?”

           “Because the light bulb burned out and I can’t reach the light fixture to switch it out. My ladder is too short. I need to get a taller one.” You admit and now you feel embarrassed because you should have fixed it long ago, or asked for help. But you had adjusted to having dim light in the kitchen.

           “Damn…tiger you should have told me. Where’s your ladder?” He asks and you motion towards the utility closet. Before you know it, Adam is walking back into the kitchen with the step ladder and is asking for more tools: a screwdriver, and a light bulb. You recover them and play assistant. Then, you have real light in your kitchen again, you thank him. He just responds with, “That’s what I’m around for. Why didn’t you tell me when it happened? I could have fixed it earlier.”

           “I mean it’s not your job to do that stuff for me.” You finally answer and you notice that he’s down away from the ladder and close to you. The smell of his cologne hits you, and you’re feeling overwhelmed. When he’s around you feel like a horny, socially awkward teenager who’s around their crush, it’s the Adam Sackler curse. He then goes for a plate and hands you one. Then, the bastard winks at you saying, “Ladies first.”

           ******

           The two of you settled on the couch after dinner to watch a movie, and you can’t help but be reminded of the last time you were in this situation with Adam. You weren’t about to allow a repeat event to happen, no matter how much you wanted it to happen. You’re starting to get sleepy and you look at the clock. You’re shocked to see that it’s 1 am.  When you gaze over at Adam, it’s obvious he’s tired too because his eyes are drooping and he’s being very quiet.

           Standing and stretching, you tell him, “Ads, it’s 1 am. I’m going to bed.” He looks at you and groans in response. Then, he asks, “Can I crash here, I don’t feel like walking home.”

           “Uh sure.” You say and you go to go about your nightly routine. After showering, skin care and brushing your teeth, you creep out to check on Adam. Last time he slept over, he curled in a ball and slept peacefully on the couch, you expected to see the same sight. Nope. Now, his long limbs were hanging over the couch, and he was turning his body trying to get comfortable. It looked pathetic and you’d have to be cruel-hearted to leave him like that.

           “Adam, you’re too big for the couch. You can sleep with me. Just sleep.” He snaps his head in your direction, and nods in agreement. Underneath his agreement, you can tell he’s enjoying the fact you told him he can sleep with you, maybe a little too much. There was a damn good chance you’d regret this decision within minutes, but you were sleepy and horny so your brain wasn’t functioning at a high level. Somewhere along the way, Adam has stripped his clothes and is now in his briefs. You roll your eyes and decide that as long as they stay on, you can deal with it.

           After turning down your bed and laying in your normal position, Adam sneaks in behind you, bringing the covers up over you both. He pauses for a moment, contemplating which position he should sleep. Then, he asks, “Can I spoon you? I won’t be weird about it but it helps me sleep.”

           “Okay just don’t get handsy.” You reply. He scoots closer to you, you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. Then you feel his arms snake around your waist and his legs move in behind yours. You can feel the steady pace of his breathing and the warmth of his chest on your back.

           “G’night, Y/N,” you hear him exhale. You whisper, “Good night, Adam.” You were hoping you’d fall asleep fast but deep sleep never hit you. Maybe it was the human heater wrapping himself around you, or maybe it was because you were horny. Your sex life had been going through a dry spell lately, you hadn’t time to pleasure yourself lately either and now you were stuck in a bed with a man that you were very sexually attracted to. You were going to combust.

           You snake your hands down into your panties, thankful you were a nightgown instead of pajama shorts. Your fingers dip into your folds when you feel Adam move behind you. Damn, there goes that plan. You lay still and hope he goes back to sleep, then you can feel his arm moving too. His breath is getting more and more ragged.

           Finally, you turn your head to peak at him, and you were not prepared for the sight. He was jerking his cock in your bed, with you less than a foot away. Your eyes trail up and down the length of his dick. Impressive, it’s long and thick, like you’ve always imagined. Suddenly, he notices you staring at him. You see his emotions go from embarrassment to satisfaction within seconds He finally informs you, “I can’t sleep unless I cum. Do you like what you see.”

           You nod your head and you notice your hand is still in your panties. You start to rock your hips against your hand to gain some friction on your throbbing clit. You hope the way your body is angled that it will prevent Adam from seeing it. You have no luck.

           “Fuck you’re jerking it too.” He says and now he’s watching you. You decide to give him a show, you pull down your top so he can see your tits and you move so you’re sitting facing him. You spread your legs and rub circles on your clit. Adam’s eyes are blown black with lust and his face looks wild while his hand strokes his cock from base to tip even faster. When you look back at up at his face, you notice that he’s not looking at you.

           “What the fuck? Look at me! You’re playing with your cock in my bed and I’m showing you my body!” His eyes go to you and they stay locked on you. He finally says, “Sorry I didn’t think I was allowed to look.”

           “You better be thinking of me while you’re jerking your cock.” You tell him as you dip your fingers into your heat then go back up to rub your clit. He says, “Fuck, I think of you every time I touch my cock. I think of your mouth, your tits, your tight, perfect cunt.”

           His dirty talk is really getting you off so you move your hand faster. The sounds of slapping flesh fill the room. You tell him, “Do you think of me sucking you off, or about how your cock will split my pussy?”

           “Fuck, both! You’d probably both you dirty whore.” He spews back. You keep going, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer as a tingle starts to grow. You keep the filthy talk going, “You’d probably want to cum on my tits.”

           “Damn right I do. I want my cum all over your fucking body, paint you with it.” As your orgasm looms, you pull back, you don’t want to cum before he does, you’re enjoying this too much. Adam’s voice jars you when he asks, “Are you gonna cum?”

           “Don’t you want to cum first?” you ask. He shakes his head and he slows his hand before saying, “Want to see you cum first.” You then rub long, big circles all around your clit, you’re so wet you can feel it dripping. You moan as you cum, your back arches and your legs quiver. You’re sure from the way you’re sitting that Adam can see your pussy pulsing.

           Adam cums moments later, cum going all over his chest, and he lets out a low moan. That low moan is a sound you want to hear from him again, you wish it was you that elicited that noise from him. You both lay there, totally spent and neither of you want to look away. It feels more intimate than most sex that you’ve had, this is true intimacy.

           You finally chuckle, “So do you do this with all of your friends?”

           “Ha! Just the ones I really like.” He replies with a big goofy smile on his face. You pull the top of your shirt back over your chest. You realize that he’s still watching you, you answer back with, “Does this mean I’m your best friend?”

           “No you’re more of a temporary friend,” he says in a serious tone as he looks up at the ceiling. What the hell is that supposed to mean, you think to yourself. You then ask for an explanation, “Temporary friend?”

           “It means you’re my friend for now…until you stop fighting your desire and stop punishing us both.” He says, his eyes feel like they’re burrowing into your soul. You force your eyes from him. You get out of bed saying, “You know what? I’m not having this conversation when you’re in my bed with your dick out.”

           “I think it’s the best time to have it.” You hear him say as you go into your bathroom. You get out a hand towel, wet in the sink and then go back to your bed. Adam’s watching you curiously, and is about to ask what you’re doing when you start cleaning up the mess he’s made of himself. His hand brushes yours with a light touch and you give him a close-lipped smile. He then thanks you.

           You put the towel in the clothes hamper and when you return to bed, you’re sitting to face Adam. He looks at you like he’s unsure what to do next, as if he’s debating something within his head. You place a hand on his cheek, then lean into kiss him. At first, it’s chaste, tentative, just lips. Then, his hand goes to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in the hair there, it’s enough to make you gasp. The moment you gasp his tongue in your mouth wrestling against yours, savoring your taste.

           Your phone rings and you shout in frustration. Adam huffs in response and his lips go to your neck. When you grab your phone, it shows up as an unknown caller. Adam mumbles on the pulse point in your throat, “Please don’t answer that.”

           You turn, throw the phone on the end table and pull his mouth to yours again. You’re now straddling his waist, his mouth on yours, your body pressed against his and you can feel his cock hardening against your mound. His mouth goes back down to your neck, licking, kissing, and leaving marks as his large hands finds your tits. He squeezes them, before tugging on your nipples, which gets a content sigh from you. Then he’s pulling your night shirt off and after a moment of staring again, his mouth dives into the space in between your breasts. He murmurs, “Perfect fucking tits. I always knew it, better than I pictured.”

           “Did you picture them a lot?” You say as his mouth attaches to your nipple, tongue swirling around your nipple, then releasing it to watch it pebble. Before giving your other breast the same treatment he answers your question, “I pictured it every time I saw you, and every time I jacked off after.”

           Suddenly, he’s flipped you so he’s on top of you, his face lingering above yours, his hand is pinning yours. You spread your legs and now he’s grinding his cock against you, it’s hitting your clit and you’re still over-stimulated from your orgasm. You reach down, pull down his briefs, and start stroking his cock. It feels like hot velvet in your hands, you trace your fingers along the vein, and rub your thumb on his tip, spreading the precum that’s dripping. He groans at your touch, then he’s shuffling to pull your panties off of you. After he’s thrown them somewhere on your floor. You tell him, “I want you inside me, now.”

           He asks, “Do I need a condom?”

           You answer with a question, “You don’t need one, but I’d prefer you wear one. There should be one in the top drawer.” He opens the drawer and pulls one out. You can tell he wants to ask you about it but he keeps his mouth closed. He opens it and puts it on.

           “You want my cock?” He asks as he lines up at your entrance. You pull your legs up so your knees are nearly at your chest. You nod in response, and he enters you in one quick thrust. Fuck it’s a good burn, you feel filled to the brim. He gives you a moment to adjust before he picks up the pace, settling into a rhythm. He says, “You like my cock?”

           “Yeah I like your cock. Do you like my cunt?” you ask and he pounds into you harder, when he drags out, he hits your g-spot. He answers, “Fuck yes. Every time I fucked Jessa I pretended it was your cunt I was fucking.”

           He snaps his hips again, and he hits your g-spot again. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep your legs pulled up. The bed is rocking, the headboard bouncing off the wall. He tells you, “I like seeing your tits bounce.”

           He looks down and admires them. You tell him, “keep fucking me like this, I’m close.” He follows your instructions, keeping the pace the same and his hips in the same position. Your right hand moves from around his neck to stroke your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to cum between your earlier orgasm and the g-spot action. You’re almost embarrassed by how desperate and pornstar worthy your moan feels like, your body jolts, and you swear you can see stars. Or you totally black out. Either way, it was an out of body experience. Adam’s voice brings you back to reality, “Your cunt is squeezing my cock. Fuck you’re tight.”

           “Get on your hands and knees,” he commands, and you follow his instructions this time. You’re still out of it from your orgasm, you feel his hand grip your hip before his cock enters you again. Then he’s leaning over you, you can feel his chest on your back, his arm around yours, and every snap of his hips hits you strongly. His rhythm gets sloppier, you can hear his breath accelerate. You clench your pussy around his cock then release it a few times. He cums with a grunt, his hips thrust a few more times as he rides out his orgasm.

Then, he collapses beside you and you lay facing him. Adam takes the condom off and throws it in the garbage can near your bed. He leans in over you and gives you a searing kiss before pulling away and placing a kiss on your forehead. You tell him, “In case no one has told you- you deserve to be happy and to be loved.”

“And in case no one has ever told you- so do you.” He says as he pulls you close and you can’t fight sleep anymore. You sleep peacefully with his arms around you.

****

When you wake up in the morning, you’re sweaty and Adam has a death grip on you. His arms are wrapped around your waist, and his leg is draped over yours. You manage to get out of bed. Bagel is still asleep on the couch, and you go to start your Keurig. Your phone starts ringing and it’s that unknown caller who called last night. You reluctantly answer in case it’s some kind of emergency, “Hello.”

“It’s Jessa.”

[chief-of-restless-hearts]

Chapter 2: Indentured

.  .  . 

“HA,” Robin crowed, with one fist planted firmly on his hip while the other pointed down at his conquered foe. “HA HA HA!”

“Heh...” Joker whined from the floor, on his back, grinning blankly at the ceiling, “hh...”

Batman, tied onto the conveyor belt that would have fed him feet-first into the chomping jaws of a giant set of fake teeth, was staring with what Dick hoped was approval. Winning a laughing contest on a bet to save your partner wasn’t as effortless as he made it look.

“Robin the boy wonder, that laughing daredevil, reigns as champion! Y’see, pasty, a real clown mighta actually given me a run for my money, but y--” He broke off into a hacking cough and staggered over to untie Bruce. “Ack, B,” he wheezed, “'m done now.”

 . . .

  “You shoulda seen it Alfie, Joker was all like, ‘bet you can’t dodge bullets, boy blunder’, an’ then I went, ‘well I bet you can’t out-laugh me you pasty faker,’ and the--” he coughed, breaking off with a grimace. The cookie, warm butterscotch--one of his favorites, stuck dry in his raw throat. He choked it down anyway.

Bruce was still ignoring the tray Alfred had laid out by the batcomputer. Still ignoring both of them. Dick leaned closer to Alfred. “I think you should check B for a concussion,” he stage whispered. “I saved his neck using nothin’ but wit an’ derring-do and I’m still waitin’ on my thank you.”

“Perhaps he is tired, Master Dick, as you both should be at this unconscionably early hour.” Alfred directed a heated glance at Bruce’s still-turned back.

Dick rolled his eyes and wobbled toward the showers, letting the disappointment roll off his shoulders as he unclipped his cape.

“Dick. Listen to me.” Interrupted mid-yawn, Dick turned to see Bruce standing and taking a step closer; his unmasked face looked hard and stern. “Do not ever, under any circumstance, place your life on the line for mine again.”

Dick’s laugh came out as sharp and painful as the confused sting of hurt in his chest. “Gee, you’re welcome, B.”

“The same applies for any hostage,” Bruce continued, unfazed.

Dick’s brow furrowed incredulously. “But just last week you--”

“Listen!” Bruce barked. Dick blinked; Bruce never raised his voice at him--but Bruce’s expression, though strained and intense, didn’t even look angry. “Your life is not a bargaining chip,” he continued, his tone lower but still wire-tight. “In any crisis situation you are to get away as fast as possible, and if you can’t do that I want you to buy time for me to reach you.”

The finality and command ingrained in Bruce’s tone enraged him as rapidly as it always did.

“Wha--what are you even--” he broke off furiously. “Bruce, are you seriously asking me to walk away and leave you to die? Let anyone die?” His voice, high and hoarse and furious, cracked against his will; Bruce was approaching, about to shut him down, and Dick shook his head fiercely. “Cuz ‘m not gonna let you die. I’m not--”

His throat gave out, broke into coughing from deep in his chest, and he groaned, shaking his head again, not looking at Bruce. “...‘m not,” he choked.

Bruce was crouching before him, saying nothing. Dick couldn’t have said more if he’d wanted to.

“Alfred,” Bruce said quietly.

“I’ll prepare the young master some tea and honey,” Alfred replied, equally subdued. Dick had forgotten he was there.

Dick felt Bruce’s eyes lingering on him, studying, but Dick still couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s late,” Bruce said at last. “Do you have homework, or...” He trailed off. Maybe his internal clock was kicking in too.

“School’s in like, three hours,” Dick mumbled, shrugging, and suddenly his eyes felt heavy. “Don’t think homework’s gonna be the issue.”

“This has been happening far too frequently of late,” Alfred said, with that disapproving tone in his voice again. “I am frankly shocked that his grades have not yet suffered.”

“I can handle it,” Dick croaked earnestly, “I can sleep later, it’s fine.”

“We will...discuss your patrol schedule,” Bruce said, haltingly, his expression pinched strangely as though he were hurt, but Dick had checked him over on the way back to the batmobile and he’d seemed fine-- “But not now,” he continued, and reached out to gently squeeze Dick’s shoulder. “You should get to bed.”

Swallowing the dread that was losing Robin, his only way of really doing anything worthwhile and the most time he ever got to spend with Bruce, Dick turned back to the showers. He’d have more fight in him later, but...just now he felt more tired than he’d ever been.

“Dick,” Bruce said. Dick didn’t turn this time. “I’ll meet you and Alfred upstairs in a minute. I could use some of that tea, too.”

Dick hesitated, but as he headed on to the showers the weight in his chest lightened just a little, and when at last he was upstairs on the sitting room couch with a hot mug cradled between his pajama clad legs and chest, Bruce was beside him, staring at yesterday’s half-finished chess game as though it held the answer to every question in the universe. The windows were pale, Dick still hadn’t slept, and he took another long hot sip of the drink and closed his eyes as it slid down his aching throat.

“I...need you to understand, Dick,” Bruce said, after some thirty minutes of honeyed tea silence. His tone, low and grave, told Dick what he was about to say. Dick raised his mug to disguise his scowl. Bruce cleared his throat, and now he was looking at him. “My life will never be worth the sacrifice of yours. And if...I ever allowed you to bring harm to yourself, I--” he broke off, covering his mouth, and as Dick saw the pinched look returning around Bruce’s eyes his anger slipped away. “You’re my responsibility,” Bruce said, his voice as rough as Dick’s. “If anything happened to you...”

You don’t get it, Dick didn’t say, what’s the point of me going out there to watch your back and make a difference if I can’t give it my all.

“Patrol’s gonna be a lot quieter without me,” he mumbled into his mug.

Bruce paused, and then his mug settled on the coffee table with a decisive clink. “Then we’ll work on making the upstairs louder. Starting tomorrow. You’ve earned a sick day or two--after all, it’s not every day that someone manages to take the Joker down without a single blow.”

A broad, toothy grin stretched across Dick’s face, and as Bruce met his gaze the barest hint of a smile formed on his face too. “If your teachers ask we’ll just say you have a frog in your throat.”

Dick laughed, quiet and sore but from deep in his stomach, and leaned into the sturdy warmth of Bruce’s arm. Golden light trickled in through the tall windows to join the light from the flickering hearth, and at last he let his eyes fall closed.

 . . .

  The clicking latch was enough. Dick snapped awake and had already flipped backward into a defensive stance on the bed when the door opened. He took in Deathstro--no, ‘Slade’s’ silhouette in the doorway, with his heart thumping in his ears.

Slade was in costume, but unmasked. “Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen down the hall,” he said.

And he left.

Dick stared blankly at the empty doorway for a moment before collapsing back on the bed with a groan. It was embarrassing to have fallen asleep and left himself vulnerable in enemy territory, but already his aching body told him that he hadn’t slept anywhere near long enough to recover from the day before.

He had spent most of the night staring at the camera built into the opposite wall. Slade hadn’t even bothered disguising it. The room was little more than a frigid cell with bare whitewashed halls, unfurnished beyond the camera and the bed he lay on--though there was a door that led to an even tinier adjoining bathroom.

The bathroom contained a shower stall, a toilet, and a sink. It was not equipped with a lock.

The door to the hall was equipped with one...from the outside. Slade hadn’t locked it.

Dick wouldn’t have expected that to make him feel less safe.

He couldn’t remember much of his nightmare, but he did remember Kory’s face, and the way she had looked at him when he--

Dick pressed his icy hands over his face and waited for his breathing to slow. He would...make it up to her. Just as soon as he got out.

He still owed her a movie night. It wasn’t going to be a date, just a movie--but she’d never been to one before, and after the whole Red X mess he had owed it to her--he had promised it to her, and...they would miss the showing if he didn’t get out soon. Of course that was assuming that she wouldn’t still hate him even after he explained everything. He wouldn’t blame her if she did--he couldn’t, not after what he’d done to her, both before and after what Slade had made him do, but...

it couldn’t end like this.

He wouldn’t let it.

Shrill beeping sent him jumping out of his skin again. It was coming from what looked like a comm build into the wall beside his bed--an alarm, then. It continued screeching into his ears as he, very bitterly, rolled out of bed.

 . . .

 He found Slade leaning against the kitchen counter, unmasked but still in costume with coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. Dick halted in the doorway and waited there stiffly until Slade’s gaze fixed on him.

“If you managed to get lost in a hall lined with locked doors, that is pretty impressive,” Slade said. He paused before taking a sip from his mug, and arched an eyebrow at him. “And in case you missed any, I did lock all of them.”

Dick only glared at him.

He had taken his time going down the hall, counting the cameras and defiantly staring into each of them as he tried every door in turn. And they had all been locked, including the unmarked door to the main room.

“Eat,” Slade said more brusquely, and tossed a small clipboard onto the counter island between them, beside the plate of food that Dick had been making a concentrated effort not to look at. “You’ll make up for the wasted time later.”

Eyeing the food hungrily but suspiciously, Dick didn’t even approach the table. Slade snorted impatiently. “If I wanted to drug you I wouldn’t use your food to do it. Eat now or go hungry.”

Dick hadn’t eaten since the previous morning, and was starved enough to risk taking Slade at his word. He held a distrustful eye on Slade as he gulped down the chokingly strong coffee and protein-rich but bland food that Slade apparently considered a breakfast.

Slade began describing the contents of the clipboard that Dick had yet to look at. Slade was outlining the day’s regimen of workouts and training down to the last minute of the day...and talked as though he were introducing Dick to the new norm, his new life.

Dick’s appetite dried up completely (but still, somehow, left his gnawing hunger completely intact).

But he had no reason to start thinking so fatalistically. Even if he didn’t find his own way out of this mess, the Titans or Batman would figure everything out before Slade took things too far. Not that Dick intended to wait around for them to clean up his mess.

Bruce didn’t need to hear about this.

If Dick was going to see him again--and now, suddenly and forcefully, he wanted to--he didn’t want to go through the humiliation of seeing Bruce proven right. What happened to Jay was...it wasn’t going to happen again. And he didn’t need Bruce to protect him.

He chewed robotically, kept his eye on Slade and maintained the appearance of listening, but his mind was already wandering the mental map of the base that he was trying to assemble. So far he had counted two possible escape routes. The front way (obviously), and the oversized fan he’d glimpsed stars through the night before during that little game of hide and seek with Slade on the gears. But his search wasn’t finished. A place this large had to have multiple vents leading to the surface. It was just a matter of finding them, and he had time, even if he did want nothing more than to get as far away from Slade as possible.

But he needed to do something first. He needed to undo all the damage he had done, all the ways that he had betrayed some of the best friends he’d ever had.

 . . .

 “I don’t know about you, but I am totally capable of subduing someone without crushing their windpipe.” Dick was still poised before the training dummy, gripping the staff with both sweat-slick palms and trying to ignore the fatigue tremors working their way through his body.

But he had made the grave error of turning his back on Slade, who was just behind his shoulder--and moving. Dick wheeled only for Slade to grab him by the shoulders and steer him toward the dummy again.

“For me that won’t be enough. Resume your position.”

Dick shifted his grip on the staff and stiffly resumed his stance.

“No,” Slade said curtly. He reached over Dick’s shoulder to grab his forearm. Dick jerked violently in the hold, which only tightened. “You are going to enter the proper offensive stance,” Slade said, his voice dripping condescension.

“I don’t need to--”

“Twelve point five million dollars...” Slade said slowly, deliberately. “That was the offer from the HIVE that I refused in favor of sparing the Titans, and that is what you owe me. I really am asking very little in return.” Slade’s hands moved to adjust Dick’s rigid grip on the staff. This time, Dick let him. “Now, this time complete the maneuver correctly.”

Cold spread from Dick’s heart to his fingertips.

The price placed on his friends’ lives was, somehow, at the same time too much and far too little.

He jabbed the end of his staff under the dummy’s chin in a sharp, sudden strike. The neck snapped in two, the detached head toppling to the floor with a single morbid bounce.

“Adequate,” Slade said, then added, “for a self-taught amateur.”

Dick went very still. Slade should have had no way of knowing that.

Slade was moving away, and Dick risked a look at his face while the blind side was facing him. But his expression appeared perfectly neutral, and in the few (but still too many) hours that Dick had known Slade he had grown no better at reading him.

“Now,” Slade continued, and he touched his own throat just above the armored plate. “Strike me here with that same maneuver. Just that one, no improvisation--but try to hit me.”

After an uncertain beat, Dick struck out. Slade edged sideways just before the staff would have touched him, but he was frowning. “Again,” he instructed, and Dick did. But something inside him twisted with every lunge. By the fourth time he realized what he was doing just as Slade grabbed the staff mid-strike.

“You’re faltering,” he snapped. “Try again, and this time try to hit me. Hold back again and I will show you what those attacks should look like firsthand.”

A flush spread across Dick’s face, but he moved again. Just as he had before, Slade evaded effortlessly--but by a much narrower margin. Dick hadn’t even realized that he had been tilting his strikes off-center at the last instant, and his cheeks stung with embarrassment. He had been holding back from hurting Deathstroke.

Deathstroke.

“Better,” Slade said, but had him continue anyway.

Again, and again, and again.

But Slade should not have known about that.

 . . .

 Dick couldn’t stop thinking about the attack on Wayne Tower.

Slade had known about his staff training, and he shouldn’t have, and if he knew about that, he hadn’t just been spying on Titans Tower where Robin had taken to keeping his mask on even around his new teammates. The possibilities were ugly. All of them.

His hands and knees were on the mat, one arm cradling his chest as he gasped for breath and tried uselessly to get his focus back. He was nowhere near in the headspace for combat training, but what only made it worse was that Slade was holding back. Those hits, if thrown with the full force that Slade had given him before, would have laid him out flat and likely crushed his ribs.

--But Dick had told Slade he already had a father and then Slade had sent him to sabotage Wayne Tower. Dick was supposed to be a detective. What was he supposed to deduce from that? And if he was right, if Slade knew, then even if Slade didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to take out his current most dangerous opponent he could just as easily destroy Batman’s crusade for good. That would prove a deathblow for Gotham, and if Dick knew Bruce--and he did--it would be one for him too.

And it would be all Dick’s fault.

A rod cracked against his ear. He reeled backward in shock, his head ringing from the blow, and his attention snapping back to Slade who was looming over him with staff in hand, masked, but there was no disguising his dark expression.

“Are you ignoring me, Renegade?”

Dick stared up at him blankly for a moment before it sank in that he had zoned out mid-sparring session. And...had Slade been speaking?

Slade continued staring down at him while Dick scrounged desperately for some kind of excuse that wasn’t an apology, when Slade exhaled and angled his head slightly. “You’ve been quiet.” he said at last.

Was that a question? As moments ticked by, Dick realized that it was. Hastily he hefted the staff that had been forgotten in his hand and resumed a defensive sparring position. He held it, swallowing anxiously as he waited.

At last Slade raised his own staff. “Very well,” he said, and lunged at him.

 . . .

 Slade straightened, reattached his staff to his belt, dismissed him, and the last training session of the night was over.

Dick turned away and braced himself to keep his weary shoulders squared and his posture straight until he reached the room he never would have expected to actually want to return to. But where else was there to go to escape Slade and the constriction around his throat and chest that only barely managed to trap every desperate question behind his teeth.

“Is there something on your mind?” Slade’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“No,” Dick said hastily, his eyes only darting to and away from Slade’s.

“Renegade.” The word had an edge to it. A warning.

Dick gritted his teeth and pretended to misunderstand its meaning. “No, ‘sir’.”

The word tasted like acid on his tongue.

 . . .

 The alarm woke him with all the subtlety of an electric jolt. Sluggishly, he winced. The noise was weirdly abrasive, and why did the air taste like metal and his bed feel so...

His fingers curled tight around the blanket that wasn’t his and reality slammed into his chest like a hammer.

He wasn’t in Titans Tower. Wasn’t in the manor. He was buried under layers of lead-lined asphalt in Deathstroke’s secret base, and yesterday was going to happen again and then keep happening, over and over and--

No.

No, it wouldn’t.

He made himself get up, wash, dress into the uniform again, and as he made his way down to the kitchen he tried his best not to think too deeply about the spirit gum that he had found conveniently left on the sink to use for his mask.

 . . .

 Dick pivoted midair and caught the bar again as he fell, letting the swing of his own weight carry him up into the air again.

The bars were icy in his grip, not too different from the bars he’d spent half his life practicing on. They helped enhance the illusion, if he closed his eyes and pretended that he was surrounded by the damp but comfortable recesses of the batcave.

Slade would still be watching him from below, but Dick wanted to close his eyes and forget that. He didn’t need to look to catch the next bar and then let it carry him up again into a double somersault.

“Are you planning to spend the day up there, Renegade?”

Dick flinched, his eyes flying open to see the bar racing up toward him. He grasped out quickly--only barely hooking his fingers around it, the grip too loose to do anything but slow his descent. He tucked and landed in a roll that jarred every bone in his body, but he was still aware enough to snap into alertness as Slade approached him where he was still crouched on the floor.

He scrambled to his feet, but he hadn’t even caught his breath.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you, since you were so clearly enjoying yourself, but that isn’t what you’re here for, is it?”

Dick just stared at Slade’s masked face. He couldn’t read him, not a single inch of him.

After a prolonged period of silence Slade crossed his arms. “Whatever’s distracting you, you need to be more careful. I wouldn’t have caught you this time.”

Dick scowled at the allusion to their fight the week before. Dick had gotten careless, Deathstroke had landed a blow to his gut that sent him toppling over the edge of the building--and then a hand had caught him by the wrist.

‘I’m not through with you.’

And now, of course, Dick knew what that meant.

Swallowing back another wave of dread at the reminder of how long Slade must have been planning for this, Dick turned and reached for the schedule he had left on the nearby desk.

“That’s it? Nothing?” The voice behind him almost sneered. Dick’s hand froze an inch away from the papers. “It used to be impossible to shut you up.”

This time expectancy hung stagnant in the air without any disguise of friendliness. And Dick couldn’t have held it in a single moment longer.

“Do you know who I am?” he burst out. Slade surveyed him for a moment, and Dick rephrased the question, this time trying to suppress the urgency in his tone. “Do you...know my civilian name.”

Slade laughed. Dick flinched at the short, harsh sound. “Kid, you have more than enough to worry about without wasting time worrying about your former mentor’s secrets.”

Dick nearly yelled the question at him again, and just barely bit it back. But the anger was working its way into his face. It was burning, twisting into something ugly, and he barely wheeled away in time to hide it.

“Renegade!” A heavy hand clapped over his shoulder and Slade’s voice dropped to a growl. “You do not walk away when I am speaking to you.”

Dick whirled and ripped Slade’s hand away. “You’re a monster, you know that?” he snarled at Slade’s face, and when the visible eye narrowed he didn’t stop. “You’re doing the same thing to the Titans that you always do, you do the same thing again and again and--you can’t just put price tags on people’s lives. You can’t!”

He stopped, and he was nearly shaking with rage. Slade’s face was still twisted under the mask, but the reaction Dick was braced for never came.

“Maybe not,” Slade said lowly, with steel backing each measured word. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

Dick was about to snap back, but Slade was looking at him. And then, suddenly, Slade’s meaning clicked in his mind. Dick remembered, and he went very still.

Slade turned away.

“Isn’t there somewhere you need to be?” His voice was deadly quiet. Dick stared at Slade’s back, hesitating, cold to the bone. “Go,” Slade hissed.

Finally, Dick turned to leave. Lunch break had been listed next on the schedule.

“Renegade.” Dick halted. Slade had spoken without turning, his voice flatter than before. “Remember that debt.”

 . . .

 A horrifically vivid image of Bruce collapsing, his skin pulsing with lethal nanotech, sliced viciously through Dick’s mind. He lurched to a stop halfway down the hall, leaning against the wall with still-tacky paint that peeled away in places all over the base to reveal plates of lead--lead, and if Slade knew enough to repel Superman, what did he have waiting for Batman--and breathe, and breathe.

He needed to move quickly. Because he couldn’t run and he couldn’t afford to wait for a rescue that might never come. Couldn’t count on them discovering the probes and saving themselves, because apparently he had some kind of stupid talent for endangering the lives of everyone he’d ever touched and he was not about to let Slade take Batman down too.

Bruce would be angry when he found out, but Dick had already gone and played himself as a bargaining chip and all those promises Bruce had Dick make all those years ago--that was just Bruce being an idiot. He always acted like his own life was expendable, like seeing him get hurt didn’t tear Dick apart. Maybe he had been Bruce’s responsibility once upon a time, but Batman was still Robin’s responsibility and he always would be. Maybe, someday, Bruce would understand. Dick knew Kory would understand--of all of them she would, because as much as none of them liked to talk about it, she understood what it was like to have your life traded away for the greater good. Willingly or not.

He could fix this in one go. He could act quickly, so suddenly that Slade wouldn’t reach him until it was already done, and then whatever happened next would be worth it. He’d try to run. He probably wouldn’t get far, and he didn’t especially want to die for anyone, but...there were worse things.

What he really wanted was a second chance. He didn’t even want to think about the serious possibility that he might have cried wolf one too many times. He had so much to make up for, to so many, and...there were some things he needed to tell Bruce, too. He’d meant what he told Slade earlier. He did have a father--a living one. And even if Bruce didn’t feel the same...Dick wanted a chance to tell him that.

And that meant that he couldn’t afford to wait on this any longer.

He just needed to reach the central computer.

 . . .

 The thundering in his chest drowned out the echoing clank of gears, measuring the precious seconds as they passed. Dick grabbed a fistful of wires under the computer console and slashed through them with the knife he’d managed to smuggle out of the training room in his boot to use as a lockpick.

The computers from the end of the main room overlaid with the massive display screens were wired directly into the device that triggered the probes. He just needed to penetrate the initial defense system to tap into the system’s inner workings and then he’d be on his own turf, doing a simple job that he’d done a hundred times before. He would short-circuit the devices, rendering them completely harmless just so long as he did this correctly, and carefully…

The screen flickered with static, and as soon as it cleared his eager fingers were racing across the keyboard.

It took an instant too long to notice that new images had flickered onto the screen. Familiar ones. Layouts that displayed his friends’ vascular systems flooded with the mechanical infection.

At the bottom of each screen pulsed a single word that made his heart drop like a stone into the pit of his stomach:

[[Activated]]

[[Activated]]

[[Activated]]

[[Activated]]

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Dick whirled to see Deathstroke standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed almost casually, but his gaze through the mask was hard as stone.

Dick glanced desperately at the screen again. At the flashing activation alerts.

“You seem to have made a mistake, Renegade.” Deathstroke’s eye narrowed to a slit. “Need any help?”

“You need to...stop it,” Dick faltered, eyes darting again between the screen and Deathstroke’s face, “I...it...”

Deathstroke didn’t budge an inch, not in his posture leaning against the doorframe, and not in his gaze that remained unshifting from Dick’s face.

Deathstroke had known. He had known everything, and suddenly it sank in that he must have expected him to try this from the very beginning. He’d wired the computers with a failsafe to kill the Titans, and now he was waiting for something and Dick had no idea what more he wanted.

“Please,” he forced out, the word high and desperate and painfully unnatural, “Just make it stop!”

For an excruciating moment Dick could almost feel his own flesh crawling with the same nanotech that could be eating away at his friends from the inside out while he just stood there doing nothing and it was all his fault he was so stupid--

Deathstroke was pushing away from the door to approach the computer.

“I suppose,” he said dryly, typing rapidly until the pulsing lights faded to blank screens, “that there are other ways to deal with you.”

Dick was hemmed into the dusty corner beside the computer, with only Deathstroke standing between him and the broad space where he would have a fighting chance at running.

The instant Deathstroke’s fingers stilled over the keyboard, he bolted.

Deathstroke whipped around, sweeping out a leg that grazed Dick’s shins as he leapt back out of range. The evasion forced him to give ground and then sheer survival instinct consigned his entire being to blocking, dodging, and evading even while knowing that he was being herded ever further back into the corner.

He needed more space to avoid those lightning-quick reflexes that kept pace with his speed in a way that Batman never had--space that he didn’t have--and his resistance, restricted to the defensive by Deathstroke’s rapid-fire attacks, bought him less than a minute. He fell for a feint and Deathstroke’s grip closed around his wrist, twisted, and threw him.

The wall slammed into his back. It might have forced his lungs up his throat for the way his chest constricted. He gaped uselessly for air he couldn’t take in until the tightness receded into all-encompassing burning in...his ribs...

“Honestly,” Deathstroke’s voice was saying, and approaching, “how far did you think you would get. This place is as rigged over as you are.”

He wheezed, and couldn’t breathe--and his spotty vision cleared only just in time to raise his arms to absorb the brunt of Deathstroke’s kick. He had barely managed his first fresh breath before the next blow came--a fist to the gut that knocked the air out all over again. He barely felt the blow to his jaw that followed.

A knee rammed into his middle, and that was it, he was gagging, on his side, his entire body convulsing helplessly. Blood coated his teeth, his tongue, bubbling over his lips, claws were digging into his chest and he couldn’t breathe.

“So, Renegade,” Deathstroke was bending down; Dick wanted to move, his fingers twitched instead, “you don’t want this apprenticeship?” Fingers curled over his chest, twisting around kevlar till it ripped, dragging him off the floor; his eyes cracked open and Deathstroke’s mask was an inch from his face, twisted with undisguisable fury. “Well,” he hissed, “I want my son back. So it sounds like neither of us are about to get what we want.”

Deathstroke was straightening. He was hauling Dick toward the open doorway, Dick’s feet were skidding uselessly under him, and his eyes widened with alarmed realization. Grabbing Deathstroke’s wrist with both hands he struggled against the clamped iron fingers--and then Deathstroke let go.

Dick’s back slammed into the floor. He gagged a desperate, garbled cough, blinking at new stars spotting the shadowed ceiling. And then Deathstroke was grabbing his ankle. Pulling. He was being dragged.

Just aware enough to be alarmed, he flailed weakly in an attempt to right himself. Deathstroke just gave his ankle a yank that sent him flopping back down again. Cement dragged against his ribs, left them screaming with searing pain; he tried twisting sideways off the floor. Dizzying exhaustion dropped him before Deathstroke could do it himself. Blinking through swimming vision, he barely recognized his own door before Deathstroke yanked him through the opening.

The vicious motion might as well have broken his ribs all over again from the way the breath stole out of him. His teeth were clenched so tightly he thought they might break too.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to glimpse Deathstroke’s silhouette towering in the doorway.

“Enjoy the quiet,” it said, and the slamming door’s impact against the doorframe echoed across the floor and his ribs. The room drowned in complete darkness, and a soft click told him that the room would remain in that state indefinitely.

Slowly, he rolled onto his side, gritting his teeth to hold back the keen building up in the back of his throat. He touched his mask to activate night vision, and let his arm slump back onto the floor.

For now, there was no point in moving. He could just...rest here. Close his eyes, and try to choke down the acidic cocktail of blood, bile, and shame that coated his throat and gripped it like a vise.

[stefciastark]

MIT ~ Webpril Day 5

A/N: This one was particularly hard for me to write, just considering generic semi-plotless one-shots were never my strong suit. So here is some really generic pointless IronDad and SpiderSon that's set in a bit of an AU where Tony survives the snap and comes out of it unscathed (because I just need some generic fluff). Sorry if there are any writing and/or continuity mistakes. Wrote this one quite late and haven't been feeling 100% today, but wanted to take a crack nonetheless :)  Also, I absolutely see Peter as the type that will bring his own pillow from home because he can't sleep as well on random pillows. Either that or I'm projecting again lmao

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

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Peter was glad the door opened automatically as F.R.I.D.A.Y. buzzed him through, arms full of enough duffel bags and pillows to make him look like he was going camping for a week. This was the first time he’d set foot in the new Avengers facility since Thanos levelled it almost two years prior. It’d taken almost that whole period to reconstruct everything from the ground up, and Peter was impressed at how nearly identical it looked to the last time he was there, pre-Snap.

Of course, leave it to Tony to want to build it back as it was. After all, it was one of his babies; practical and virtually perfection, the building just screamed ‘Tony Stark’.

Subtlety was the name of the game in the facility. Small lights soundlessly lit Peter’s path, quietly directing him to the part of the structure that Tony had territorially claimed as his. Tony had promised Peter his own bedroom, and Peter was more than excited to dump his numerous bags on the floor and just take a breather.

In the few months he’d had off since graduating from high school, he hadn’t had a single moment to himself. Not that he could really complain. Most of his time was occupied by Ned and MJ, whether that was both of them together or spending time one-on-one. He’d already told Ned that he’d gotten into MIT and would be moving interstate in a little over a month and a half, but there was one conversation he was absolutely dreading, and that was with MJ. Since Junior year, their relationship had been pretty perfect, if Peter said so himself, and he was loathe to see it end over him moving to Massachusetts. Sure, they could make it work – it wasn’t that far, and Peter really wanted it to work. After some deliberating, Peter decided he’d ask Mr Stark; he’d know the answer.

As he rounded the final corner, his eyes were met with a large glass cube-shaped room, windows tinted like charcoal that almost reminded Peter of the Tesseract. Not that he’d ever seen it in person, but he’d seen enough video footage courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. to vaguely know what it looked like. Aside from not glowing, not being blue, and not having the menacing aura of the little Shining Cube of Death, the resemblance was uncanny.

Peter froze in the centre of the hall as F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice chimed overhead. “Welcome Peter, Boss is waiting for you in the lab when you are ready. You may drop your belongings in your room.”

Taking confident steps forward, Peter only then realised he had no idea where he was going. Pausing momentarily, he paused to ask the A.I, “Uh Fri, where -”

“It is the third door on your right.”

“Thanks!” Peter bounded down the hall, needing to gracelessly manoeuvre and shimmy the door handle down. There was no dignity in putting all his bags down only to pick them back up again while propping the door open with his foot, all the while looking as if he were developing a new yoga position. As the black door swung open, he marvelled for a moment at how despite it having been a high gloss lacquered finish, there wasn’t a single fingerprint from where he’d pushed it open along the lock stile.

Dropping his bags haphazardly at the foot of the queen bed (draped in the softest looking navy satin sheets Peter had ever seen and he had to stop himself right then and there from just passing out on top of them), he freshened up in the bathroom, changed from his T-shirt to a smart-casual button up, and made his way back to the Not Tesseract.

Once he found the entrance – after checking three out of its four sides – the door slid open, and he was greeted by a room that could aptly be described as every tech geek’s fantasy. Peter wasn’t quite sure if he was hallucinating, what with the numerous colourful and interactable holograms floating in various parts of the room, a few artificially intelligent robots doing their own thing because of course they were, and Tony Stark standing as enigmatic as ever bent over his latest project that looked an awful lot like a new Spider-suit upgrade. Peter only hoped that one day he would be able to exude the same confidence and charisma that Tony managed to accomplish just by breathing.

Tony looked up at the sound of the door sliding shut behind Peter and shot him a smile that bled with pride. “Congratulations on MIT, kid. You know,” Tony removed his reading glasses (since when did Tony wear reading glasses?), “I always knew you had it in you. Then again, I’m usually right about these things.” He paused in front of Peter, and Peter forced himself to smile in return.

Truth be told, Peter had been struggling with some Imposter syndrome after receiving his acceptance letter. It wasn’t that he felt he didn’t do well enough in school, he absolutely did. He didn’t want to say anything for being afraid of what the answer would be, but he had a nagging feeling that Tony may have pulled some strings on his behalf, what with being one of MIT’s greatest alumnus and all. Over the years it had come up in conversation, subtly woven in between how he was doing in school, how his relationship with MJ was faring, and who was definitively going to be named New York’s best pizzeria – it was a topic of conversation which had gotten quite unabashedly heated, and they still could not come to a conclusion.  

All Peter ended up saying in response, quite pathetically in his opinion, was a half muttered, “Thanks, Mr Stark.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, and Peter made as much effort as possible to look anywhere but straight into the eyes of his mentor.

“That didn’t sound happy. What’s going on?”

Peter was naïve to think that Tony wouldn’t notice his subdued response to getting admitted to the university of his dreams. He was following in the footsteps of his mentor, a man who became like his father, but Peter was torn between feeling honoured at being Tony Stark’s legacy, and between wanting to be his own man and achieve out of merit and not just affiliation. Maybe that made him sound ungrateful, but to almost everyone at school, he’d been Peter Parker: that kid doing the Stark internship. Peter Parker: that kid who hung out with Captain America a few times. Peter Parker: Anthony Stark’s prodigious ‘adopted’ son.

“N-nothing, I was just uh,” Peter decided any other dumb excuse would be better than ‘hey, so I feel like my acceptance into MIT is one big joke and so am I.’ He eventually settled on, “I was actually wanting to study Biophysics, if that’s okay with you.”

Tony looked unconvinced, but to Peter’s relief, he let it go. “Do whatever you want, it’s your life, kid. Have you picked your subjects yet?” Tony walked back towards the largest and most central computer station, summoned a large projection of Google on the far back wall that was surrounded by a mini bar setup and black leather couches, and handed Peter a tablet after he had shook his head ‘no’ in response.

“C’mere,” Tony said, having made his way over to the kitchenette. He poured an ounce of liqueur the colour of butterscotch from a crystal decanter that looked as if it cost more than Peter’s whole apartment into one crystalline glass, and only put a smidgeon of the liquid caramel into the other. Peter took a crack and guessed that it was scotch. Gesturing for Peter to sit next to him on the couch, he handed Peter one of the glasses.

Peter took hold of it, setting the tablet on top of his thigh. At some point, the display must have changed over to MIT’s Biological Engineering ‘Courses Offered’ page, and Peter’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t realise how nervous he was about his future, how much weight he had put on himself to pick the right subjects and pursue the right major. It was the first time he’d really felt like a normal kid his age in a long, long time.

“I’m not promoting underage drinking, so you better not say anything to your Aunt May, okay?” Despite the stern look on Tony’s face, Peter knew Tony for long enough to detect the mischievous undertone to his words.

Despite his best attempts, Peter felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He had never known his father, and he hadn’t really entertained the thought that he would ever be able to share his first drink with someone who he considered to be his ‘dad’ in any sense of the word. Yet here he was.

“Congratulations.” Tony looked at Peter as their glasses clinked together. His dark eyes were warm with pride and a special type of second-hand excitement only a parental figure could experience, eager to be a part of the next chapter of life Peter was about to embark on.

“Thanks, but couldn’t’ve done it without you.” The liquid burned its way down Peter’s throat as he took his first and only sip from the glass, Tony having only put just enough to taste. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand not knowing how much Tony pulled strings for him at the MIT admissions.

Peter groaned internally when Tony didn’t correct him on his comment, hoping that he would have taken the bait and saved Peter the awkwardness of asking straight up whether his achievements were based on his own merit or his fortunate affiliations.

“Right, let’s have a look at your classes.”

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

The time displayed on the projection was now showing 12:48am. Peter’s eyes had begun burning about an hour prior. While his usual bedtime was usually the early hours of the morning, the exhaustion of having to manage his anxiety and responses while in the observant company of Tony Stark left him feeling withered and needing to enter the void that was the realm of sleep.

“Thanks so much for tonight Mr Stark,” he was cut off by a yawn as he made a move to head back to his welcoming satin sheets, “but I’m gonna head to bed and get some of those sweet -” and once more, “- sweet dreams.”

Tony just gave Peter a closed-lipped smile and nodded his head towards the door, the bags under his eyes telling Peter it wouldn’t be long before he went to bed too. Peter wondered with some concern how long it had been since Tony had a good night’s sleep, and if this was day two on what might end up being a three-day long passion-project fuelled bender. If the slowly rotating blueprints of what looked like a newly designed Spider-suit gauntlet were anything to go by, there was a higher chance than Peter initially thought that Tony would not be sleeping tonight.

Disappointed in himself that he couldn’t muster the courage to ask Tony if his Imposter syndrome regarding MIT was founded, he made his way to exit the room, fully prepared instead to pursue the subject tomorrow when he was far less tired. As the door automatically slid open as Peter approached it, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his cheeks as he heard Tony call out from where he had just stood up from the settee. Maybe he didn’t have to get his answer tomorrow after all.

“In case you were wondering, it was all you, kid.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Animal (14)

Chadwick Boseman X Original Female Character “Sianna”

Chapter Warning: Cursing, Angst, Plot, Plenty of Words, Slow Burn

Word Count: 4.9k

Note:  I hope you guys enjoy this. By the way, Tumblr is on the BS and flagged every chapter because my old mood board had a portrayal of backshots. LMFAO!!!! So new mood board. 

I censored my mood board, let’s see if it gets flagged. LOL

**Loosely edited/Proofread***

Thank you guys for reading!!!  If you enjoyed this please LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT. ❤️ ❤️

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

-Chadwick-

“It’s not Netflix and Chill. It’s not Netflix and Chill. She is the mother of your children. Show her you’re not just another sex-craved black man. You have depth. You have substance and standards. You’re not easy.”

 He sat in his car in the traffic on the freeway looking at himself as he recited his lecture. He’d said this or something similar to himself quite a few times and each time he’d ended up doing the opposite. The club, the picnic by the lake, it was endless, especially when he’d wanted more from the picnic date. His thoughts went back to the first night he ever met you and how things were so effortless. You made him laugh, made him think and lit a flame that had long been dormant, even Simone hadn’t lit that spark. When the sun rose and he saw you beside him he knew he wanted to see you again. Then Barbados happened and now thanks to Barbados the two of you were joined forever—through lives you’d created.

 He’d thought a lot over the last near three weeks and had spoken to his brother Kevin about things and he was grateful he and Kevin were so close. He’d given him some great advice and important insight, insight he needed from someone who really knew him away from the grind of Hollywood. He knew what he wanted, he just had to figure out how what he wanted fit into what you wanted.

 Honks brought him back to reality and the fact that traffic was finally moving. He maneuvered the rest of the drive in a little over fifteen minutes. When he pulled onto your street, he drove to the end of the cul-de-sac where your house sat. It was a quaint modernly built two-story home that seemed to suit you. He parked in the driveway behind your car and sat there for a few moments and tried to gain some perspective and control over her nervousness.

By the time he rang your bell, he’d sat in your driveway for over five minutes and he’d barely been able to calm himself down. This was out of character for him, he was normally so self-assured, so mellow. When you opened the door the scent of brown sugar, cinnamon and gardenia hit him first. Then his eyes took in how your stomach had popped out.

 “Hi.”

 He looked up to your face and took in your wide smile, a smile he couldn’t help but mirror.

 “Hi.

 “What in the world is all of that?” You nodded to his filled arms.

 “Uh, some of this and that.”

 “Come in. I’m not one hundred percent sure my neighbors aren’t gossips who love to spy.” He snorted and walked through the door inside. Without being told he began kicking off his shoes, then he turned to you. Your smile was wider.

 “What?”

 “Nothing, nothing.”

 He looked down to his feet where your eyes were.

 “I’m a black man and know the importance of taking shoes off when you go inside someone’s home.”

 You nodded and held up your thumbs and looked to his hands.

 “Want me to take anything?” He angled his side out to you, the side where he held a bouquet of flowers.

“Those.” You smiled and took the bouquet and smelled them.

 “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

 “Of course.” The look you gave him was a concealed one. He bet with time and familiarity he would be able to decipher it, but right now it left him a little confused.

 “Come, follow me to the kitchen.” You walked ahead and he trailed behind. His eyes roamed your figure, down the small of your back to the flare of your hips and down your legs. He was plenty acquainted with your curves without clothes, but in clothes, he liked even more.

 When you got into the kitchen you placed the flowers on the counter and that was where he placed the items he carried. “Ready to tell me what all this is?”

 “Well, every craving must be filled, so hot wings from this vegan southern place that is close to my house, they’re amazing. Ice-cream, a few different flavors, you looked like you could either be a vanilla, butterscotch, almond pistachio or cherry jubilee kind of woman so I brought them all. Also, no craving fulfillment is complete without those chocolate-covered strawberries. I called in a favor from someone I know over at Godiva and this is their largest order—seventy.”

 Your eyes were as big as the full moon he knew was shining in the night sky.

 “Oh, my goodness, Chad, you really didn’t have to do this.”

 “Oh, I know, I wanted to. It can’t be easy carrying a baby, let alone two and I wanted to show you that I care.” You flared your nose and pinched your lips, smiled and in a matter of seconds. the smile faded and turned into a frown before tears rolled down your cheeks. Confusion rushed through him and he just stood there unsure what to do.

 “Uh—I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Say something—”

 “No, no. I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know what this is.”

 You walked away, ripped off a piece of paper towel and dabbed at your eyes and sniffled. He was afraid to move; he didn’t know if he would do something else that set you off.

 “I’m sorry. Oh my god, how embarrassing. We’re going to blame it on hormones. According to my doctor, I’m filled with enough for three women.”

 You took a deep breath and released it then looked at him with a smile on your face as if nothing had happened.

 “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 “I’m sure. Thank you for all of this. It’s very—sweet of you.”

 “You’re welcome.”

 “Oh my god, Netflix is waiting.” You made a move to take some of what he brought but he stopped you.

 “Just so you know, all of these are my favorites.” You brought the pints of ice cream to the freezer and put three in but held on to the pistachio almond.

 “Seems like a good place to start.”

 When the two of you got comfortable in the living room you scanned the TV for a movie while he opened the container of food.

 “Sci-Fi good?”

 “Oh, thank god, I thought you were going to put something on like The Notebook, or even The Best Man.”

 You laughed, then narrowed your eyes at him.

 “Look, just because I’m pregnant does not mean I want to watch some romantic tearjerker.”

 “I see and I am relieved.”

 You smiled at him and he skimmed your face. In the low lite and glow from the television, you looked good, happy.

 “Speaking of pregnant, you look it.”

 “Are you calling me fat?”

 “God no. no, no, no. not fat. Just the last time I saw you, I could barely tell. Now, you have a full-on belly.”

 “First of all, calm down. Second, yeah. I’m told I should expect to get bigger, carrying twins is no joke. My doctor says I’ll probably gain seventy pounds.”

 “Wow, seventy? I take it you’re not very happy with that.”

 You put a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth and shrugged. “I’ve put it into perspective, even come to terms with the fact that I’ll be in maternity wear in a week or two. It even got me thinking about incorporating a maternity line.”

 He chuckled. Every day you were growing even more pregnant and you were planning ways to increase your workload. Your determination and ambition were very attractive to him. He liked to know there was someone else like him, someone else just as hungry for success.

 “More work, not less I see.”

 “I have three and a halfish, four months to get it all out of my system.”

 The opening credits began and again silence fell between the two of you. He tried to focus on the movie and not you, but your movements always caught his eye. You ate the hot wings without a thought that he was beside you. After a few wings, you took a few spoonfuls of ice cream, then repeated the action. You looked perfectly content and he was happy for it. he was happy that things weren’t awkward between you especially given the state of things and all that had transpired between you. This was a great relief and it also assured him that his recent decision had the potential to work.

 The movie was not corny or low budget it was actually a well-done piece of science fiction and he enjoyed it. when the closing credits rolled you were sitting with your legs crossed in the couch, your hands nestled underneath the swell of your belly and your back leaned back which sent your breasts hoisted into the air. Unintentionally his eyes locked onto those breasts. They were bigger than he remembered, and he could see several veins protruding from underneath your mocha skin. Slowly his tongue darted across his lips wetting them, he was suddenly thirstier than ever. When he looked to your face your eyes were on him. He’d been caught. His immediate response was to apologize and avert his eyes, but he didn’t, instead, he held your gaze.

 “Sianna—”

 You reached out and took his hand and placed it on your stomach. As soon as he touched you he felt the flutters of kicks underneath his hand. Slowly his eyes widened as he looked at you, then they dropped to your belly.

 “Oh my god. Is that?” You nodded.

 “They’ve been very active today,” you said.

 He got closer; he’d never felt this before. With his friend when his wife was pregnant, he’d felt her stomach once or twice, but it wasn’t like this. This was completely different. He had no relation to her child, who was now his goddaughter. Right here, he had a relation, and he felt a connection. Slowly he slid off the couch and settled in front of you and placed his other hand to join the first and he just kept them there feeling not only the kicks but the energy of the babies—his babies. They felt strong. He felt their light and it was bright. They were meant for great things.

A smile spread across his face, then he looked to you.

 “How does it feel?”

 “At first it was strange, now—I’m starting to like it. sometimes I’ll forget what’s going on and then out of nowhere I get a kick and I’m right back to reality.”

 He smiled even more; he could picture you getting lost with work until they kicked.

 “Seems like they’re showing some personality already. They want to constantly be thought of.” You smiled at him and nodded.

 “They kick more when you talk. They must like your voice.”

 His smile was wide, toothy and completely genuine. Your smile faltered and a look of confusion washed over you. He wanted to know all your looks, wanted to know you so well that he was never confused again about how you felt, or what you were thinking.

 “I’ve been thinking a lot,” he began.

 “About what?”

 “About um—about this, the babies, you—us.”

 He felt like he’d never spoken to a woman in his life.

 “It was a lot to think over, and a lot to process and I couldn’t really—I’m sorry it took so long.”

 “Eh, it’s fine. You’re right it’s a lot. You needed the right amount of time. It’s not something to just jump into without knowing just what you’re jumping into.”

 He rubbed your belly again and got lost there.

 “I would like to be involved. I know neither of us planned this, and we probably would have not chosen to enter this like this. I know you wanted to be more established with your career and maybe married, and I would have liked to have dated you first, showed you who I am and why we’re perfect for each other and things like that but here we are. Backward and out of order don’t mean this is something unwelcomed. I’ve always wanted kids, and I want to be there for these babies in any capacity you’ll allow. I want to be there for you.”

 You bit your bottom lip and stared at him contemplatively. This look he kind of recognized, he’d seen it before, but it didn’t mean he knew what it meant.

 “You’re so quiet, I’m trying so hard to read you, but I can’t and it’s driving me crazy. What do you want?”

 “You.”

 His eyebrows shot up again. He hadn’t expected that.

 “I mean you to be involved. They are yours Chad, I didn’t make them alone and I don’t want to take you away from them. I don’t want them to not grow up having a father in their life. It hit me today that they may very well come out looking like you and it would be so meaningful for them to know they look like their father.”

 He nodded and smiled small. It was a thought he just thought of. He could have a son that looked like him, or a daughter with his nose, or eyes. It gave him a lite feeling. He looked back to you and decided he wanted his daughter to look like you.

 “We have to approach this right. You’re this huge star and I don’t want them to become tabloid fodder.”

 “I get that Sianna, I don’t want that either. I want to protect them from that, protect you.”

 The two of you stared again and spoke nonverbally. He wasn’t sure how the two of you were going to do this, but he knew he wanted a lot more than just being in the babies’ lives.

 “Sianna.”

 Taking a chance, he slipped the hem of your shirt above your navel and exposed your belly. He slowly caressed your skin and gawked at your beauty. It was something else to see you uncovered and nude, but to see you like this knowing you were carrying his children made him want you more than he’d ever wanted anything. He lowered his lips to your burgeoning belly and kissed your bump once, twice and a third.

 He softly placed his forehead onto your belly and closed his eyes and tried to connect with the two lives inside you. Your hand touched his jaw and tipped his face to meet yours. You bit your bottom lip, uncrossed your legs and slid off the edge of the couch and down onto his lap. Your belly was pressed to him, but his eyes were glued to yours. He brought his hand to your cheek and softly grazed your skin. You closed your eyes and nuzzled your cheek in his palm.

 “Chad.” It was a whisper, but it made his entire being rumble. His other hand gripped your hip and squeezed. “Sianna, I want to be involved with them, but I want to be in your life too, not just theirs. I want you to be in my life, not just as my children’s mother, but—more.”

 He heard your gulp, but you didn’t move. Your eyes looked unsure but your hand on his shoulder didn’t seem unsure. It moved higher to his neck and back to his jaw where you toyed with his beard.

 “What do you want? Do you want me involved, like really involved?”

 “Yes, Chad.”

 “Do you only want me in their lives? Do you want me in yours?”

 You bit your bottom lip and he couldn’t anymore.  He had to touch them. He quickly closed the gap between you and pressed his lips to yours. Neither of you moved, you just stayed there with your lips touching, it was as if you both were feeling it out. Your lips were the first to move against his and he reciprocated and softly kissed you. It began slow and exploratory but transitioned easily until the passion he’d always felt for you took over. He moaned onto your lips and you echoed the same moan as you latched your fingers behind his neck holding his head in place as you took over the kiss.

 You began rocking back and forth on his lap and he couldn’t help but grab your ass and squeeze. You bit his bottom lip and pulled back and groaned. “Fuck.”

 He smiled and made a move to kiss you again, but you pressed the tips of your fingers to his lips, stopping him.

 “Chad wait. Mmm.”

 “What’s wrong?”

 “Don’t you think this is too much?”

 “Too much?”

 “Yeah, the babies, and whatever is happening here between us. Don’t you think we should focus on one of those and make the babies a priority?”

 “Why can’t we do both?”

 “What if we rock the boat and fall out again and it jeopardizes your relationship with them or our ability to effectively co-parent.”

 He was hopeful before but with every word you spoke, that hope slowly faltered.

 “So—so you don’t want me?”

You didn’t look like you knew what you wanted. As soon as he recognized that disappointment filled him. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he’d blown it.

 “Chad—I just—I want to do the best for the babies. I don’t want to ruin things anymore.”

 “What if we don’t ruin anything Sianna? What if we finally give in to everything we’ve wanted since the day we met in Jamaica?”

 “It was sex--,” you began before he cut you off.

 “It was never about the sex and I’m convinced you know that by now. You have to.”

 He cupped your cheeks and swiped his thumb across your bottom lip.

 “I do want you Chad.” He smiled and pulled you closer.

 “Then let me have you, Sianna. Haven’t we wasted enough time?”

 “Sometimes we have to give up what we want to do what’s right—what’s best,” you theorized.

 He studied your face trying to figure out if you really meant that.

 “You don’t really mean that Sianna.”

 You looked down and rested your forehead against his. Your eyes closed and a few seconds later he felt the kicks of the babies against him. Neither of you moved for several long moments. When the kicks died down and all was silent and still again you sighed out.

 “I do mean it. You should go.”

 It was like a kick in the balls and a punch to the gut all at once. You lifted yourself off him and walked across the room leaving him to sit there for a little longer. After letting the words sink in, he stood and looked to you. Your back was turned to him as you stared out the window before you walked out of the room toward the front door. When he joined you in the foyer you had the door open. He nodded and walked out onto your front steps and stopped.

 “Sianna.” He turned to face you resolved in the conviction he felt for what he was about to say.

 “It doesn’t matter what happens between us. Nothing could ever come between me being there for them one hundred percent. Nothing could jeopardize my relationship with those babies, nothing.”

 Once the words were out, he walked away to his car and pulled out without looking back to you standing on the porch. He was filled with so many emotions he didn’t know which to focus on. One thing was paramount, he was going to be a father.   

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[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 2: “Daffodils”

A/N: Have I mentioned this entire fic came to me while listening to Big Fish the musical?

Masterlist

•••

It had been three months since you had last seen Arthur, and you had come to terms with your husband’s death. You ended up in Richfield, a large city just on the other side of the Grizzlies. Quite literally, there was a mountain between you and your old life.

You saw Arthur in the bookstore when you pulled a book from a shelf, he was there for a split second staring right back at you through the shelves with a shy smile and twinkling blue eyes that dazzled like Flat Iron Lake. It took your breath away and pure joy and panic swelled in your heart every time. He was there at the end of the street, packing up Boadicea, just around the corner of the saloon, but when you blinked and came to your senses, he was gone. You knew it was insane, and you knew damn well he wasn’t coming back from the grave, but still you relished those moments, only if he was there for less than a second. It was like the winds from the Grizzlies had come down and swept him away, and with those winds, your hope. But those winds brought in the spring air, the ones that began to regrow your garden that had froze over.

Time was a wise healer. Arthur’s death was devastating and painful and everyday you felt the aftermath of your past mistakes. You had only recently been married to Arthur, only two months prior to his death so barely anyone knew that you had taken up the last name Morgan. Still, you kept your answers short when people asked you of your life before Richfield “The City of Opportunity”. You feared someone would recognize you, so you stayed from the more crowded areas of the city.

Life had been rough since the gang’s demise but things were beginning to look up, you rode with John for a month until you decided Richfield was where you wanted to be. John had enough on his plate, trying to keep him and his family alive in a cruel world, and he wanted to put as much distance as he could between him and wherever the hell Dutch and Micah were. Abigail begged you to stay a little longer with them, but you declined the offer. Richfield was a good of a place as any other.

Luckily, you were able to find a job at a general store within a few days of getting dropped off in Richfield and you had enough money to rent a small apartment above the general store within two weeks of your arrival there. Richfield was a new industrial city, lots of steel mills, but the people weren’t your average city folk. It was up and coming, so many of the citizens had lived there when it was just a small farming town. The only farms left were the ones on the outskirts of the city, but most of them had been turned commercial.

Richfield was a new start, you only hoped you could leave that old life behind even if you did still hold onto some hope that Arthur was still alive. That small sliver of wishful thinking was waning everyday, the odds of him making it off that mountain were greatly against him and you had come to terms with it then, but after no word from any of your former friends you began to become worried of your friends fates.

•••

Arthur’s cough got better with each passing day. It had been three months since Charles pulled a dying Arthur into Wapiti. At the beginning of his treatment, it was horrible, Charles was sure he would wake up one day and Arthur would be dead, but months passed and he hadn’t died yet.

His coughing was less frequent and with less ferocity, Charles had brought Arthur into the Valentine doctor a week ago, and there had been less fluid in his lungs which was a wonderful sign. Arthur’s body was fighting a hard battle, the recovery was slow and painstaking. The first month was dreadful and he was bedridden, fevers accompanied him frequently creating horrible dreams and delirious moments. He had passed out from coughing the second month once when Charles was out hunting and the healer woman, Mahala had nursed him back to health.

During the second month, Charles decided to begin building a home four miles south of Wapiti. The people of a Wapiti had given them so much already, it would be rude to take more from a group of people who had already lost so much.

It was a small cabin near a lake, but it was strong and sturdy. Wildlife was abundant there. Arthur wasn’t quite strong enough for the move yet, but soon he would be. Arthur claimed he was ready to go, but Charles knew better. Arthur was becoming ansty and the people of Wapiti were weary of his long stay and the people Charles and Arthur used to be associated with.

Charles spoke little of the gang and Arthur hadn’t asked about you, but he sure did think about you. Arthur decided it was the best at the moment if he didn’t seek you out, he would just pull himself deeper into his sickness. It tore at him that he thought this way, that he was so selfish, but it was simply for the best. It was wiser to allow the dust to settle then to kick up even more. Arthur worried for you constantly and he secretly hoped you were searching for him too even if he knew that you presumed him dead. You had both said your goodbyes, and Arthur was fine with being dead to you at the moment.

•••

“Why do you wear that ring? You’ve never mentioned being married.” Lee asked you one day while you swept the floors of the general store. He had no filter, but he never intentionally said something that would hurt you.

“It was my husband’s ring.” You said bluntly, continuing with your sweeping. You stopped to fix a jar of peaches that had fallen over and you remembered Arthur’s secret sweet tooth he had, that only you and Jack had known about.

Lee was taken aback by your short answer, his hands stopped counting the money in the drawer.

“Oh.. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” His ears burned with shame, cursing his curious tongue.

“It’s alright.” You said shaking your head.

It was late at night, the general store had been closed for an hour. A caravan had stopped during the day, and the patrons were rowdy, they messed up the towers of canned foods and didn’t bother to pick them back up so it took even longer to close the store. The caravan was a mirror of the gang, near 25 men and women, a few children. It was bittersweet to see them, even if they had messed up your store, you knew your group was far from civilized. You longed for the days around the campfire, everyone laughing and smiling, but it had been so long since then, and much had changed.

Lee was a close friend of yours, he was the son of the old man who owned the shop, and the only other worker there. He was playful and teased you a lot, but he was kind and thoughtful. You could tell he was sweet on you, and perhaps you were a little bit as well. It was too soon, Arthur barely dead and you were already blushing around another man. It was shameful.

You finally finished your sweeping, Lee leaned against the counter, eyeing a butterscotch sweet next to the counter. You sighed.

“Just take it.”

Lee grinned like a child, plucking the butterscotch off the small dish.

He turned around towards the front door, locking it with ease. You turned towards the stairs that led up to your apartment. Lee and his father's apartment was directly below yours.

Lee quickly opened the door for you, the stairwell was dim. You hated walking up it, it was steep and rickety. The building itself was one of the oldest in the city, it held heavy memories. Lee’s mother had passed away in the house while giving birth to her second child, Lee’s little sister, Anastasia. Anastasia ran away when she was 17, to marry an outlaw. Apparently, that got her killed. Lee received word of her death a few years ago, he hadn’t seen her since the day she left, he didn’t even know where she was buried. The life of an outlaw never ended well.

Lee never spoke of her much, all you knew was that she was passionate and opinionated, a true wild card and you could tell the outlaw life would’ve done her well. Lee had a strong hate for outlaws and criminals because of it, he still didn’t know about your past and you intended to keep it that way.

Lee’s father was a kind man, he was quiet but you could tell he loved Lee very much. He wasn’t around much, he spent most of his time in his room but occasionally he would help run the shop.

You reached the platform outside of Lee’s apartment. He stopped right behind you, dangerously close. Your heart pounded in your ears. It didn’t help that the platform was incredibly small either. You turned to face him.

“Give me your hand.” He said, almost a whisper. You reached out your hand and he placed a small round object on it, under further inspection you realized it was a butterscotch candy.

You smiled, looking back up at him. He had a shy grin plastered on his face. You were thankful of the darkness of the stairwell, otherwise he would have seen your ferocious blushing.

“Goodnight, Lee.” You kissed him on the cheek, grasping your candy firmly in your palm, and you calmly made your way up to your apartment, leaving Lee flustered on the doorstep.

•••

On a particularly warm day, despite it being fall, Arthur arose from his bed to take a walk around the perimeter. Mahala eyed him cautiously but he simply smiled, something he was becoming better at. Mahala had become close with Arthur, she was like another Miss Grimshaw, a tough love mother to him. Charles was out for the day, and Rains Fall was nowhere to be found. It was quiet in the village.

The sun was bright and the crispness of the air felt wonderful to Arthur. His legs were still tense from lying down for so long, they felt heavy and strange.

Arthur missed the days of hunting, just getting on Boadicea and riding into the sunset. He missed not being watched every second, Mahala and Charles fretting over him every second. He missed the days where he could spread his wings and fly. He was caged at the moment, and an injured bird cannot fly. An injured bird still has the instinct to soar, even if the owners are particularly kind.

But Arthur knew this calm, peacefulness was just what he needed. After a life of running, he needed a place to become grounded for once.

He found himself walking further and further, farther than he’d ever walked before. He found himself at a slow stream, the water trickling over the rocks. The birds sang through the trees and Arthur found himself sitting down next to the water.

He studied the terrain, wishing he would have kept his journal with him. This was a perfect place for a landscape sketch. The next time Charles went into Valentine, he would have to ask for a new journal.

On the other side of the stream, there was a bright yellow flower. It was strange to see, it stuck out against the dark greens and grays of the forest.

“It’s a daffodil.” A voice spoke from behind him, making him jump. Mahala stood next to Arthur, her hands on her hips.

“What would have happened if something attacked you out here? Could you have fought them off?” She asked the former outlaw, glaring at him like she had caught her child with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Well I didn’t get attacked, did I? Besides, I was just lookin’ at that flower. What'd you say it was? A daffodil?” He asked, pointing towards the sun colored flower.

Mahala glared at him before returning her attention to the flower, her gaze softened.

“Yes. The rebirth flower.”

[moonlit-imagines]

Chicago (Part 2)

Steve Harrington x Wheeler!reader

warnings:

a/n: im an awful writer n i dont think ill be writing another chapter

prompt: yeehaw

part 1

“You didn’t tell me he was your ex-boyfriend.” You said as you rolled your eyes at Nancy.

“That’s because it doesn’t matter, we’re both past our relationship and you guys would be a perfect pair.” Nancy explained.

“It would’ve been some nice information to share, that’s all I’m saying.” You lifted your hands.

“Well, now you’re too deep in to hesitate. If you knew before, you would be having second thoughts.” She shrugged. You shook your head with a smirk and grabbed your bag. “Going to see him?”

“Maybe...” You avoided her eye contact with a slight laugh. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

—————

“Ahoy, mate!” Steve shouted at the counter.

“Ahoy, dork!” You retorted. Steve laughed at your comeback and kissed you from over the counter.

“My shift ends in twenty, want some ice cream?” Steve grabbed a waffle cone. “USS Butterscotch?” You nodded, then heard yelling in the breakroom.

“What’s going on?” You asked Steve. He packed your cone and handed it to you.

“They found some secret Russian code and traced it back here. They’re having some secret mission tonight, wanna come?” Steve explained. You took a bite of your ice cream and contemplated the idea.

“Hell yes.” You replied. You headed to the back to listen to the mission debriefing.

—————

How did you end up in an secret Russian elevator? Bad choices. That’s how. You were pacing around this elevator while the other four where screaming at each other.

“Shut up!” You shouted and everyone turned to your direction. You took a deep breath and they did the same before going back to screaming. You spent eight hours in there before having to crawl out the top and hide from the Big Bad Russians. Fortunately, you didn’t get caught and you roamed their base freely. Even got to see Steve fight a Russian soldier. But eventually you all got caught, it was only a matter of time. The kids got away, luckily. But you were interrogated. You put up a good fight, though.

Steve, Robin, and you were strapped together and freaking out. Soon enough, you were injected with something and began to feel it a bit later. It was all shits and giggles for a while, then the children came to save the day. You thought you were hallucinating. Back to the surface you went, you even got to see a movie.

“Hey, Steve, hey, hey, guess what?” You tapped his shoulder repeatedly.

“What?” He asked with a smile.

“Chicken butt!” You and him both died laughing.

“Shh!” The lady behind you stuck a finger to her mouth.

“Shhhhhh!” You replied.

“Guess what?” Steve whispered.

“What?” You answered.

“You’re adorable!” He and you broke into laughter again, and were shushed.

“Come here, lovebirds.” Robin dragged you out of the theater. “Water fountain!” She pointed. All three of you took turns drinking. Then you got dizzy and hauled ass the the bathrooms, where you puked up your insides.

“Think we got it out of our systems?” You asked as you backed your head against the wall and reached under the stall to grab Steve’s hand.

“Ceiling stopped spinning.” Steve muttered.

“Ask me something.” Robin instructed.

“When’s the last time you peed your pants?” Steve asked.

“Today.” She replied and you all started laughing. “When they pulled out the bone saw!” Your giggles filled the bathroom and Dustin kicked the door open.

“Come on!” He shouted. There were Russians guarding the exits, so you made a run for it. Then you heard a crash and looked up from behind the counter you were hiding at. You were completely lost on how the car from the food court had been thrown across the mall. You looked up to see El and the group of kids you met a week ago, along with a newer face. And your cousins.

“Nancy? Mike? What the hell?!” You started freaking out with Robin, but Steve grabbed you.

“Hey, slow down. We’ll catch you up.” Steve pulled you into a hug. You listened to Nancy’s story about the monster attacking Hawkins and how it was coming and the gate was under the mall.

“Wait, that’s what we saw down there? That was a portal to another dimension?!” You started freaking out again. Steve took your arm and wrapped his arm around the front of you, kissing the top of your head. Nancy smiled at that, and Mike eyed Steve. Then El collapsed on the floor. You all rushed to her side and watched Nancy’s boyfriend cut her leg open. You couldn’t bare to watch and hear her screams.

“I don’t understand what all of this is.” You told Steve. “She has powers? There’s an inter-dimensional demon in Hawkins? A bunch of kids are the ones who always fight it? You’re all messing with me, aren’t you?” You started laughing anxiously.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, grabbing your hand.

“Sorry, yeah, when I start freaking out I laugh hysterically.” You laughed harder. Steve pulled you into another hug, which calmed your fit of laughter after a moment. You were breathing a bit hard and shook your head. “One week in Hawkins and this is what it has to offer.”

“Hey, everything’ll be fine. It always is.” Steve assured.

“Y/N?” Nancy called to you. “Can you use one of these.” She handed you a revolver.

“I was raised by Todd Wheeler in Chicago, of course I can use one of these.” You checked how many bullets were left inside. Fully loaded, six bullets ready to go.

—————

You were not expecting anything that night had to offer. When Nancy brought you and Mike home, you all washed up and went to bed. She came to see how you were doing, and the answer was “not good.” Your cousin sat at the edge of your bed and talked to you about anything to get it off your mind.

“How are you doing with Steve?” She asked you. You sat up straight against your headboard and smiled.

“Good, good. We’re not official yet, but he’s been treating me well so far. I hope it goes somewhere. Do you think it’s weird? Like, since we’re cousins?” You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them.

“No! No, it’s not weird, don’t worry. I really think you and Steve are gonna be a good couple, and you know everything about the Upside Down situation, which is a bonus. It’s hard when you can’t talk to the other person about that.” She explained. “You should go see him tomorrow.” The two of you talked until you passed out on your bed. Karen caught sight of that in the morning and smiled to herself. She looked forward to you being apart of her family.

Morning came and you were woken up by Steve.

“Sorry, your aunt let me inside and told me I should wake you.” He whispered, not wanting to wake Nancy. “Do you want to go somewhere with me? I don’t care where, just...somewhere.”

“Yeah, let me get dressed.” You grabbed some clothes from your closet and got ready im the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had bruises around your torso and marks on your face that you tried your best to cover. You took a deep breath and emerged from the bathroom.

“Ready?” Steve asked as her grabbed your hand. You nodded and he led you out of the house. You stepped into his car and he hesitated to start it. “Are you okay after last night?”

“I’m okay, Steve. Don’t worry.” You grabbed his hand. “Let’s just go somewhere peaceful where we don’t need to think about the supernatural.”

“Say no more,” Steve started the car and drove down Maple Street, “I know the perfect place.”