#jumping his bones so hard every time he comes out of the arena

[wildsaltair]

@nihillist-blog I am still losing my mind over this screencap you got. I zoomed it in because I’m so obsessed with it. I am eternally grateful to you

[moonchildstyles]

fender

it's 1976, and harry is the biggest rockstar in the world and y/n never thought she would have the chance to meet her idol. especially not like this.

wordcount: 12k+

—————

(Y/N) swore she could feel every note from the blaring speakers in her veins, her bones rattling from the base. Her skin was heated, a sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch. Bodies were packed all around her, dancing and jumping, hands in the air just as hers were. The bar of the barricade pressed heavily against her stomach, holding her back with a cool punch through her clothing. She'd never been to a concert by herself before, but she was finding she didn't mind the fact she was on her own, her dancing much more inhibited with her voice beginning to crackle from the sheer pitch of the screams she was letting out. 

Before her, up high on the stage with the bright lights cloaking his form, was her favorite rockstar. 

Harry Styles. 

In flared bell bottoms, and chest bare, he pranced across the stage, taking in every adoring eye trained on him. His trusted guitarist was shredding away on his neon orange Fender, taking care of the hard work so Harry could swagger about the stage with his microphone swinging in his hand. Sweat dripped down the blocks of his muscles, shimmering as if he had spread the glitter on his eyes over the rest of his body. His lips were curled in a lopsided smile, smug and cocky; he was more than aware of the fact that thousands had filled this arena just to see him. 

Another upside to having made it to this show by herself, (Y/N) didn't feel all that silly when she screamed that much louder when he strided over to her side of the stage. Dimples dented the rockstar's cheeks as he took in the adoration being flung at him from all sides. He scanned through the crowd, taking in every set of sparkling eyes and no doubt spotting every beautiful face that was more than willing to do just about anything for him. 

While this was the first time (Y/N) had the privilege of seeing Harry live (after having missed both his '73, and '75 tours, it seemed '76 was finally her year) it was no secret just how much love he liked to share with his fans. He never denied it in interviews and more than once photographs of women draped over him had come to light and landed on the front cover of tabloids, or anonymous sources sharing details of sordid nights in his bed. Whenever confronted with questions about those stories or who he was pictured with, he famously gave a dimpled smile and shrugged it of, saying something about how he fell in love easily and didn't shy away from the feeling. 

She wondered what she saw when he looked out at the huddles of people looking up at him tonight—if he saw someone he could fall in love with for the night. 

As the song continued on, it was time for his next verse though he didn't stray from this side of the stage. He brought the microphone to his lips, crooning his famous lyrics in perfect melody with the rest of his band. He put on a show where he stood as he sang a particularly suggestive line while trailing a hand down his bare stomach, hooking a finger into the waist of his pants to bring them down for a teasing peek of more skin before snapping back into place. 

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her lungs, immensely grateful for how close she'd made it to the stage. She wouldn't have been able to see the thatch of hair he revealed had she been any farther back. Screamed erupted around her, Harry seemingly liking the reaction so much he had to pull away from his microphone to let out a bubble of laughter. By the time he went back to doing his job, there was a particularly smug smile on his lips with matching dimples and amused eyes.

He continued to sing even as pairs of panties and lacy bras were thrown up to the stage, women screaming for his attention with their shirts pressed up to expose their chests. He weaved around the set up, playing with his bandmates to the excitement of his fans. He soaked it all in with exuberant confidence, shining under the stage lights and he put on his show. (Y/N) felt breathless as she sang along with him, her bones rattling as the pit danced around her, pushing her harder against the barricade at her stomach. 

By the time the final lines of the song came around, he had made his way back to (Y/N)'s side of the stage. She and the fans around her danced and sang along, her voice scratching in the back of her throat as she gazed up at him. The tune ended in a flourish of drum beats, heavy and bone rattling through the arena. 

Harry finished with phantom punches to the air in time with the drum beats just before the lights went down for a flickering moment. His chest was heaving by the time the lights came up once more, his band breaking to take sips of water, his guitarist changing out instruments for another, just as flashy, guitar. The spotlight was dead center on Harry, his eyes casting far out to the rest of the packed arena before him. (Y/N) went her mouth drop into a gape as she took in the man before her—no photograph able to do him justice. 

"Everyone still doing good? Having fun?" his voice boomed through the speakers, gesticulating with his hands as if he could reach to the back stretches of the venue. The arena erupted once more, pitched screams calling for his attention. He let out a breathy laugh into the microphone. "I'd hope so," he crooned, "because I'm having a wonderful time. So many pretty faces—thank y'for coming to see me tonight." 

He reveled under the cheers given to him, going quiet as he turned his gaze down, to the pit closest to him. 

To where (Y/N) was standing right in front of him. 

His eyes lingered over the rows behind her before coming closer, stopping a little too close for comfort. 

(Y/N) didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but was he looking at her?

"And what about right here?" he asked, bending down to one knee at the edge of the stage as if he wasn't close enough already, "Having fun?" 

Those around her burst into screams, pressing behind her as if they could surge through her and get closer to the rockstar. Her vision was vignetted with all the reaching hands attempting to touch him, fingers outstretched. (Y/N)'s reaction was stuck in her chest, her body stunned into paralysis with sweaty hands tightening around the barricade bar.

His only acknowledgment of the rest of the world came in the form of a quirked lip while his eyes stayed fixed to one spot. The longer she blinked up at him, no reaction, his smile grew, a brow lifting. 

Whatever view the rest of the venue was getting had another round of raucous reactions. 

Finally mustering enough wherewithal, (Y/N) nodded her head, her mouth still in a small gape. 

The quirk in his lips tilted that much more, a dimple settling in his cheek with a hint of the white of his teeth. "Yeah?" 

Though inaudible compared to the ruckus around her, she nodded her head with a parroted, "Yeah." 

His eyes lingered on her for a passing moment, the tip of his tongue peaking out to skim the blunt of his teeth. Around her, (Y/N) could feel the screams just as much as she heard them, the volume coasting over her skin and seeping through her pores.

"'M gonna make tonight the best night of your life, yeah?" he pressed, speaking directly to her though the world had their own view of the moment.

Another stunned wave touched (Y/N)'s bones, stuttering her lungs and knocking her breath askew. If she wasn't being delusional—something she couldn't be one hundred percent sure of—there was a chance Harry's eyes touched over the neckline of her top, following the line of her exposed skin. 

She gave him a small nod. 

He gave her another smile before rising to the full of his height once more, the stretch of his body on display. Waltzing over the stage, (Y/N) knew he was speaking, pointing out more in the crowd and doing what he did best by enchanting the masses and bending them to his will, though she didn't hear a word of it. 

The trail of his gaze left behind a warmth like he had touched her with his own hands, enough pressure lingering on her skin even when another song started up. 

Once the first verse of the song had played, (Y/N) felt her body come back to life slowly, the gravity of the moment beginning to turn into adrenaline. The man she had a hidden poster of had just made eye contact with her and told her he'd make her night special. Harry Styles had looked at her. 

Thank god she showed up early tonight. This barricade was now holy ground as far as she was concerned. 

Just as she began to sway along with the rest of the bodies around her, checking back into reality, the rockstar swaggered across the stage once more, taking his time to prowl before her. 

He looked out in the crowd, reaching far back before trailing closer to where she stood just in front of him once more. He shuttered a single eye in a wink to her with a stanza of particularly suggestive lyrics dripping from his lips.

This time she couldn't help the scream that bellowed from her lungs, only spurred on by the grin on his face.

—————

"See? If you ask nicely, y'get what y'want, don't you?" 

Harry's booming voice reawakened the arena. He was giving them the encore they had been begging him for once he exited the stage, the chants of his name being enough to have his band reenter with the rockstar himself following closely behind. (Y/N)'s heart thundered in her chest, cheers leaving her throat. 

Mourning the end of the show could wait another ten minutes. 

The opening notes of a new tune started, the shredding of the guitar screeching through the arena. (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of Harry as he pranced across the space, his jeans sitting low on his hips (at the right angle, she swore she saw a decidedly thick bulge at his crotch—more than just needing a readjustment).

(Y/N) only had a chance to hear the first few lines of the opening verse before a large man in all black came to block her view. If not for the fact she was currently—as promised—having the best night of her life, she would have thrown a fit. She instead attempted to crane her neck around this block and catch glimpses of Harry for the last few moments of the night.

"Sweetheart," he yelled against the bass coming from the speakers, "You're coming with me." 

Blinking, (Y/N) forced her gaze to settle on this man. Just as she feared, he was looking right at her as he spoke. 

Though she was largely unwilling to not pay attention to the concert of her life, she didn't think she had much of a choice in ignoring this man. 

"Me?" she enunciated, pointing at herself if he wasn't able to hear her right. 

"Yes, you," he said again, eyes trained on her, "Now. Before the end of the show."

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't imagine she was any more rowdy than the rest of the crowd (especially, as she still had all of her undergarments on and her nose clean), but she was the one being removed? 

"Why?" she sputtered, anchoring to her spot. 

The man's lips thinned, unimpressed with her pushback. "I've been asked to bring you backstage." 

(Y/N) blanched at the new information. "By who?" she pressed, not entirely believing this moment. 

The man sighed, his shoulders lifting. He caught her gaze, holding it as he jerked his head to gesture to the stage behind him. 

Right where Harry Styles was prancing about, low slung jeans and all.

She blinked at him, flicking between his enlarged gaze to the rockstar at his back. "Really?" 

"Yes," he insisted, "And I would like to take you now while we still have the space." 

(Y/N) didn't immediately move, switching her eyes to Harry Styles, in all of his glistening glory. The curls on the top of his head were slick with sweat, but still managed to flop so handsomely over his features. His tattoos shuddered over his skin, animating with every belting note and roll of his body. 

He had promised to make this the best night of her life, and she couldn't imagine any better way than to meet him backstage. 

With the help of the man in black, she crossed the barricade with the eyes of those around her following closely behind. He led her carefully around the stage and through different equipment on quick feet, the music being left behind with the private backstage area before her. 

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Harry, with his microphone cord coiled around his hand and sparkling eyes, winked at her once more. 

—————

Sitting alone in what she figured was Harry's dressing room, (Y/N) could hear the final encore being played through the walls. While a part of her was itching to run back out, to catch those moments she had been looking forward to from the second she had bought her ticket, she was practically bolted to her spot. 

All around her were small relics of the man out on that stage. An herbal candle sat with a pool of melted wax on the vanity table, anchoring down a blue cloth. Flecks of glitter seemed to stick to near every surface, leaving specks of light dotted across every surface, including the familiar container of makeup remover reflected in the mirror. A faded t-shirt was on the ground, next to a rumpled pair of athletic sweats. A bottle of cologne balanced on the edge, just a bump away from falling to the floor. 

Her fingers fumbled in her lap, her heart puttering in her chest. She was backstage at a Harry Styles concert after being requested by the man himself. Knowing his discography well enough, every note that rocked through the walls acted like a ticking time clock, counting down to the moment she would no longer be alone in this dressing room. 

Muffled through the arena, she heard the music crescendoing, heavy drumbeats and addicting guitar riffs ruffling the structure. Harry's voice played over the music, though it was clear he wasn't singing. Was he saying his goodbyes for the night? 

The thought had her heart jumping into her throat, head going blank. 

Should she stand up? Should she meet him up there? Would he like her outfit or was the cutout between her breasts too much? Oh god, what was she going to say? 

Her pulse was kicked into overdrive when she heard a ruckus start up backstage, more voices piping up than she'd heard in the last ten minutes. Harry's voice had disappeared from the muffled tone he'd had on stage, making her pulse kick up that much more. 

How close was he? Was anyone else going to come back here with him? Would he think her pants were stupid?

The long line of questions came to a halt the second the doorknob turned, the sound seemingly louder than the band playing the show out back on the stage. A muffled goodbye sounded on the other side before the first glimpse of the rockstar could be seen.

He was looking over his shoulder, speaking to someone she couldn't see around the broad strokes of his frame. His bare skin shimmered with sweat and glitter, animating his tattoos over the blocks of his muscles. The denim of his jeans were tight around his thighs though the waist still managed to fall some down his hips, showcasing a pair of leafy tattoos. He was saying something, a string of words that she missed completely over the roaring in her ears. 

It felt like hours, watching him say his final goodbyes to whoever, before he finally turned around to face her. 

Had her mouth already been dropped open, or was that just a side effect of seeing the green of his eyes up close? 

"Hi," he smiled at her, moving towards his vanity table to retrieve the blue cloth held down under the candle, "How are you?" 

Blinking, (Y/N) practically stumbled to her feet, her hands behind her back in a fumbling mess. "Hi. I'm good, thank you. How are you?" 

A small smile touched his lips, "'M alright, thanks. 'M Harry." 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to smile, a breath of laughter falling from her lips. "Oh, you're Harry! Got it," she attempted to joke, feeling one of the many strings tensing her shoulders being cut when he rewarded her with a bubbling laugh. "I'm (Y/N)." 

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he shared, a single curl flopping over his forehead as he ran the cloth over his face and down his neck, "'M happy y'made it back here—was worried y'weren't going to come after seeing y'talk to Paul." 

"I was just a little confused," she explained, noting the way his eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, "I couldn't believe you were actually asking for me." 

"No?" he pressed, raising a brow with a quirk to his lips. He leant against the vanity counter, giving her all of his attention as if he wasn't shirtless with a sweaty chest staring at her. "And why is that, hm?" 

Somehow, even without the amps and speakers booming throughout the venue, his voice held more impact in the quiet dressing room. The bass seemed heavier, his accent more drawling, the draw of his lips more alluring without a microphone in the way. 

"Um," she started, blinking the stars out of her eyes, "Just... There was a lot going on out there—I didn't think you could even see me over the lights—or the bras." 

Harry laughed, dimples popping into his cheeks with a light in his eyes. "Yeah, there was a lot out there tonight. Want anything before 's all cleaned up out there?" 

He gestured out the door of his dressing room while (Y/N) shrugged. "Maybe. Was there anything pretty?" 

The way he let his eyes drop heavily to her body, touching over the cutout on her top and the soft of her midriff exposed by the cropped fit almost made (Y/N) want to stumble back. When he dared to meet her eyes once more, he had a coy curl to his lips as if she hadn't been there as he dragged his eyes over her. 

"I can think of a couple of things that might look pretty on you." 

Despite the small laugh that puffed from her lips, her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't wanted to get too far ahead of herself when she was first asked to meet him backstage, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked at her and still think this was nothing more than a friendly conversation. 

"If there's anything you don't want, I'll take," she countered, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of her heartbeat with the way it was rushing through her ears. 

The coy smile on his mouth turned into something more genuine then, amusement in his eyes. "Yeah? Y'saw anything y'think I need to take home?" 

Even with the squeeze of her lungs, the nervous pit in her stomach, (Y/N) saw her own opportunity being dangled before her. She hoped she came off as nonchalant as she pictured as she shrugged, canting her head with a slight lick of her gaze down his chest. "I think you look good enough right now." 

While there was still a lingering flush on his cheeks from the stage, the adrenaline clearly visible on his features, her words seemingly only fanned him hotter. The cloth he held was now dropped to the vanity, his empty hands coming to rest on the lip of the counter behind him. His arms flexed at his sides, veins popping out on his forearms. 

"Good enough for what?" he pressed, a spark skittering through his eyes.

He hadn't shot her down. He was flirting back. Oh, god. 

What would one of the women in the magazines say? How did they flirt with him so effortlessly to be invited for a fanciful—even if fleeting—night? 

"You tell me," she countered, the only syllables that were able to squeak through her throat. 

Dimples were deep in his cheeks by the time he turned around, collecting the bottle of makeup remover before pouring some on his cloth. He began wiping away the glitter as he found her eyes in the mirror. 

"The band and I are going back to the hotel with a few friends—maybe party a little. Y'wanna come?" 

Bubbling excitement like what she felt out on the arena floor reentered her stomach. A bright smile touched her features. 

"I'd love to."

—————

"Pick your poison, darling." 

(Y/N) didn't even know there were hotel rooms with fully stocked bars, but here was one right before her. A liquor tray behind the counter was decorated with plenty of bottles and decanters, more than half already missing gulps. Harry was acting as her bartender while the rest of the band and various guests were traipsing around the suite, the door to the hallway left wide open as they milled in and out. Music pumped through a set of stereo speakers, a member of Harry's band acting as DJ with various records and cassettes being switched in and out upon the players. 

More than one familiar face swept through the suite, people she'd seen in the crowd of the arena tonight alongside those she'd met backstage. Some left the bathrooms with wide eyes and sniffling noses, others with hair bigger than when they had gone in and lipstick askew with a partner behind them. It was nowhere near the kind of party she had pictured when following after Harry, but she'd never been around rockstars before either. 

Flitting her gaze over the various bottles surrounding Harry, (Y/N) canted her head. "Anything sweet." 

Harry hummed, a slight quirk to his lips as he started fiddling about the different bottles. "Should've guessed, hm?" 

"Why do you say that?" 

Leaning on the bar, arms folded underneath her chest with her breasts pushed up, (Y/N) watched with her eyes lingering on his hands. All of his stage adornments, including his rings, had been left behind when he changed into something decidedly less ostentatious for this party, leaving the length of his fingers bare for her eyes to feast upon. 

"Jus' had a feeling," he smiled at her, his eye falling into a wink. 

(Y/N) watched with the same rapt attention she had given him on stage as he mixed her drink. He pulled bottles of clear liquor together with various juices, working in smooth movements as a brightly colored cocktail came together. Everything he did came off as fluid and practiced, the same kind of ease he offered to the stage with every note he belted and swagger of his hips.

"We jus' got here," Harry murmured, knocking her attention from his hands to his amused gaze, "Y'can't keep looking at me like that unless you're ready for our night to end." 

Her breath caught in her throat. He'd told her earlier that this entire floor had been booked out for him and his band, but his room was at the very end. The biggest suite, he'd said—with a terrace and everything. 

Would it be so bad to find out what his room looked like so early?

Attempting her best nonchalant facade, (Y/N) shrugged, a coy smile on her face. It was enough to make Harry laugh. 

She could see him open his mouth to say something only to be cut off by a shout of his name from across the room. He whipped to face the call, the baby curls drying on the back of his neck giving a bounce at the motion. (Y/N) turned to follow his line of sight, seeing a semi-familiar face she had passed when backstage heading towards them with a beaming smile. 

"I didn't know you were here! Took you forever to clean up, I thought you were spending the night at the venue," the man joked, pushing long dreads over his shoulder. His dark eyes danced over to (Y/N) for a fleeting second, his grin widening. "Is this your friend Mitch was telling me about?" 

Rounding the bar with a fluorescent drink in his hand, Harry handed off the glass to (Y/N) (no ice, the crystal warm from his hand) before slinging his arm over her shoulder. She felt a shiver touch the bottom of her spine, though she used all of her effort to keep it pinned down.

Harry shrugged her closer to him, the side of her breast pushing against him through the thin material of her top. "Yeah, this is (Y/N). Met at the show—saw her pretty face right in the front row." 

Harry's friend looked at her with raised brows, amusement laced in his eyes as he followed the length of Harry's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? Liked the show?" 

(Y/N) eagerly nodded, Harry's hold slipping from around her shoulders to be readjusted around her waist with a flex. She could feel his eyes on her face as he awaited her answer. "Loved it," she chirped, smiling with a cant to her head, "I've never seen him live before, so tonight was really amazing. I feel really lucky." 

Maybe she was laying it on thick—she already made it backstage with his arm around her waist, she didn't have to catch his attention anymore—,but she liked seeing the dimples denting into his cheeks as he listened to her. 

"I didn't know tonight was your first time," he mumbled to her, voice low as if they didn't have another person standing just in front of them, watching on with amused eyes. 

"I'd feel lucky too if I were you," the man continued, his voice lilting in a tease, "Most of Harry's friends never make it past the dressing room."

"Alright, Jay," Harry cut in, voice louder than a moment before as he suddenly steered them towards the end of the conversation, "I'll see y'later. Thanks." 

Jay only laughed it off, seemingly having achieved the reaction he wanted from Harry. (Y/N) didn't let herself linger on the motion of Harry's other friends—she knew she wasn't first and would most likely not be the last. Some of her wildest dreams had been reached just by meeting him, she could be happy with whatever she was granted tonight. Even if it was just that: one night. 

"Sorry," Harry murmured, saving face as he guided (Y/N) away from Jay and towards the sitting area where most of the musicians were huddled together with drinks and records splayed across the coffee table. She ignored the faint lines of white scattered over the recognizable covers. "He likes to get on m'nerves, I think." 

"It's alright," (Y/N) reassured, watching as Harry sunk into the one cushion left on the couch, "I thought it was funny." 

Harry raised a brow at her, a sly smile on his lips, "'M sure y'did. C'mere darling."

He gestured her to his lap, opening his arms for her to plant herself on his thighs. Looking at him with his eyes trained upwards at her, sparkling and a bit lazy after putting on an energetic show, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She had to make a point to see from tripping all over herself to take up his invitation. 

There were eyes all around that watched as she took her spot on Harry's spread thighs, taking note of his arm wrapping around her middle to keep her steady. She had her own eyes down looking at her pretty drink as she hid the smile on her face. The cropped cut of her top allowed his palms to press against the bare skin of her waist, calluses roughening his touch from his years of playing different guitars. She was sure he could feel the line of goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch, including the circuit his thumb started up around the waistline of her pants. 

(Y/N) brought her head up when she heard the call of Harry's name from one of the many sitting around the coffee table. The guitarist—Mitch—had his head tilted, looking at Harry with a sly smile on his face. 

"Mitchell?" Harry drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice as he pulsed a hand on (Y/N)'s waist. 

"Are you going to introduce any of us to your friend?" 

While Mitch and others in the circle didn't look particularly surprised to see someone on Harry's arm, it appeared Jay wasn't kidding with his comment about a rare few of Harry's friends making it past the dressing room. 

"This is (Y/N), everyone," Harry relented, his voice low despite the music blasting just behind them. Nonetheless, everyone gave him rapt attention as if he had a microphone in his hand. "(Y/N), this is everyone." 

"Hi, everyone," (Y/N) smiled, hoping she came off funnier than she sounded to herself,  "Nice to meet you." 

She could feel Harry laugh, his chest puffing from behind her. She took another sip of her drink, hiding her proud smile. 

Conversation bubbled up then, some words slurred and slow while others were rambling at a rapid pace. (Y/N) sipped her drink as she took in the environment, listening in as if she were watching a movie. Harry's rumbling voice was an anchor at her back, his hand on her thigh keeping her attention as she tuned into his voice. 

Behind her, he and Mitch were talking about the new customer Fender that was being made in Harry's honor. Perfect for the next album, she'd heard, the information brightening up her face. 

"What are y'smiling about, hm? Something funny?" Harry's lips brushed the back of her ear, his voice drifting down the column of her neck. As he spoke he shifted his hand up to land on her waist, giving the curve a tickling squeeze. She jumped in his lap, holding her drink tight to her chest as she let out a gasping laugh. 

"No," she smiled, turning to face him as he gazed up at her, "Just... New music? Already?" 

"'M always working on something," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet as if conspiring with her on sensitive secrets. 

Curling in his chest, (Y/N) could still hear the rivers of conversations flowing around them, eyes that landed on her as she cuddled up to a rockstar, but she kept her eyes on him. "Really? But you're on tour." 

He shrugged around her. "There's always something to write about," he told her, eyes dragging down her face until he landed on her lips, "Something worth making a song about." 

Her skin heated, feeling his gaze as if he touched her with his calloused fingers. Feeling his attention so heavily was like finishing her drink and standing on a rooftop over the city: exhilarating. How had anyone before her survived these kinds of moments—been bold enough to sit through them without taking down every second and memorializing it?

She wasn't sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had the corner of his lips turning upwards. A smug smile molded his features. 

"What did I say about looking at me like that?" he murmured, his words teasing though the grip on her hip was far from. 

Canting her head, she matched his gaze, his grip on her keeping her grounded. "I thought you liked it." 

In that moment, his eyes seemingly darkened, pupil dilating. If not for the rest of the noise around them—the music and loud conversation—she wondered what his instincts would have urged him to do. 

"I do," he crooned, shifting under her with his hand still on her hip. 

The way he moved underneath her had her position adjusted on his lap, pushing the curve of her ass right against the middle of his thighs. A hard ridge pressed against her. Emphasizing his point exactly. 

"Oh," she sighed, feeling breathless as if she were still flush against the barricade with an illuminated rockstar before her. It was that memory of him swaggering about the stage, picking her face out and singing the songs she'd listened to like gospel, that had a burst of confidence in her chest. That rockstar had picked her. 

Keeping her eyes on his, she whispered, "Can I hear some of the new music? In your suite?" 

She didn't have to elaborate any further, Harry catching on to the undercurrent to her words. A single dimple touched his cheek, his hand pulsing around her hip. "Let's go." 

(Y/N) stood first off of his lap with Harry following after, reaching to take her hand in his. 

"Leaving already?" Mitch piped up, his eyes dancing with amusement as Harry turned to face him. 

"Gonna show her some of the stuff we've been working on," Harry drawled, nonchalant as he began inching towards the door, "Back in m'room." 

"Coming back?" 

Harry glanced at (Y/N) then, a silent communication that had her sheepishly smiling. "Probably not." 

"Right," Mitch said, brows bouncing over his eyes, "See you in the morning." 

Without much ceremony, Harry made their getaway for the night, leading her out into the hall. Stragglers were stationed around the ajar door, some with a lingering powder under their nose, others with hair messed up more than what (Y/N) was sure was intentional, matching the smudged makeup. Harry only gave them an acknowledging nod before heading down the corridor with her in tow. 

It was a short walk to the door, though (Y/N) hoped to be able to recall every step down the hall, every beat of her heart against her ribs in the morning. 

"After you," he crooned, opening the door with a flourish as he stood to the side. 

She gave him a smiling nod as she crossed the threshold. The press of his gaze could be felt on her backside. 

Flicking the lights on, a true suite was presented to her. She could only see the bedroom through a cracked door. The main living area, though much more put together compared to the room they'd just left, it was still clear a rockstar was crashing there. Random clothing was strewn about the space, open suitcases full of stage clothing as well as casual pieces. A heavy boombox with an array of tapes scattered around it was placed atop the television. 

It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, given the rumors of what rock stars got up to in hotel rooms, but she figured that was what the extra rooms were for. It wasn't much fun sleeping in a mess, especially when on stage every night with little sleep to boot. 

"Didn't have time to clean up today, sorry," Harry said, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder at him, setting her cocktail on the counter of the kitchenette as she walked deeper into the suite. "Too busy?" 

Dimples in his cheeks, he walked slowly as he followed her in. "A little bit." 

Stepping around the mess, she found herself by the sound system, rifling through the cassettes he had around it. The plastic casing gleamed in the light, more than a handful scattered on the television stand. A few familiar, newer albums stood out. 

Bowie, Station to Station. Queen, Day at the Races. Ramones' debut. Elton John, Blue Moves.

One empty case was beside the player, the cover flipped open with the tape missing. Flicking it back, the cover of ABBA's Arrival shone. 

"ABBA?" 

Behind her, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder. "What? Y'don't like disco?" 

"I do," she laughed, turning around to face him, "Just didn't picture you as a dancing queen, that's all. You look a little bit older than seventeen." 

Harry clasped his hands behind her back, his fingers pressing into the bare skin presented through the crop of her shirt. His features were softened as he matched her gaze, eyes hooded and heavy. "Does that disqualify me?" 

"Probably." She wasn't sure when they started whispering, when his fingertips on her back began to creep under the hem of her top, but she melted into his touch with her own hands settling on his chest. 

"Still like me?" 

It should have been annoying to hear him speak this way. It wasn't hard to detect the cockiness—near arrogance—in his voice; he knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. It should have turned her off and had her taking her leave. 

But, it only had the opposite effect. His confidence was a warmth hitting her stomach.

With him so close, their bodies flush, she didn't have to try very hard when she shifted her hips to feel the bulge in his pants pressing to the small of her stomach. 

"Yeah," she answered simply, voice suddenly breathless. 

Just as she expected, a smug smile had his lips curling. His hooded gaze traveled around her features, the tip of his tongue skimming the corner of his mouth.

"How much?" 

This was the moment, she decided. There was no way she was in a rockstar's hotel room, after being plucked from the crowd at his request, feet away from his bedroom, and not going to take the opportunity that was being offered on a silver platter. 

"I can show you." 

That had to have been what he wanted to hear, given the fact he surged forward and sealed his lips to hers. 

Unsurprisingly (not that she'd thought about it, or anything), his lips were soft, molding to the shape of her own glossed pair. He slotted his mouth to fit her top lip between the pillows of his two, the tip of his tongue slicking the seam. The smoky taste of the whisky he'd drunk back in the other suite lingered on his tongue, mixing with the sweet liquor of her own sips. 

His hands on her back flattened out, leaving on her bare skin between the waist of her pants and the cropped hem of her top, with the other slipping underneath. His palm was aligned with the knobs of her spine, spanning between her shoulder blades under the thin material of her top.

Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. The soft sound of their lips parting and meeting once more filled his hotel room, slick and messy. His tongue snaked out, sampling a taste of her own when she opened her mouth just enough for him. (Y/N)'s chest shuddered. 

She was kissing Harry fucking Styles. 

She hadn't kept a diary in years, but she was going to have to crack open a new one just to write out every detail of this moment. (Though, she might leave out the bit about how ABBA's Dancing Queen got them there).

"What are y'smiling about?" 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, hands traveling up his chest to follow the broad stretch of his shoulders. 

He pulled away, keeping his body close to hers as he gazed down at her. His lips were glossed with their shared spit, his pupils blown. "You're smiling. What's funny, hm?" 

His hand under her top shifted until he had his palm over her side, lining up with the ladder of her ribs. Goosebumps touched over her heated skin. 

"Nothing," she murmured, her own hands moving until she had his cheeks cupped in her palms. "Just... This is crazy." 

His eyes practically sparkled with the way she breathlessly spoke. Leaning close, he nudged his nose against hers, eyes slitted. "Yeah?" 

Gone was the smile on her face as she listened to the same voice that had soundtracked her life for the last handful of years. All while he looked at her with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes, his hard cock pressing through the material of his pants. 

"Yeah," she parroted, breathy with the word sweeping over his lips. 

It was his turn to smile, surging forward to smear his lips against hers. It was a lingering press, just a bit clumsy with the way his nose knocked hers. She was expecting him to tip his head and deepen the kiss once more, only for him to pull away. 

"I think I promised some new music, right, love?" 

Blinking up at him through her lashes, in a second she was transported back to the other suite, where she had conjured up the story of sneaking to his room to hear new tracks. That felt like hours ago—like she had been a different person back then. Someone who had never kissed Harry Styles before, at least. 

"Right," she smiled, playing along with the game he was proposing, "In your bedroom?" 

A smile grew on his lips. "Of course. Where else?" 

She let out a breathy laugh as she followed after him, hands twined together as they left behind the cassettes and strewn clothing for his darkened bedroom. Different from the rest of the suite, only lamps are left to light the room. Only a single standing lamp beside the rumpled bed was flicked on, leaving a small wash of light sitting on the messy sheets and the bedside table on the opposing side. The space holding a smokey sweet scent, matching the fragrance of his skin. A mess of unlabelled cassettes occupied the bedside table, with another more compact player off to the side. 

Shooting her a lopsided smile, Harry led her to the side table. His hand still in hers, he rifled through the tapes with his free hand. 

"What do y'want to listen to first?" 

The blank bricks held no indication of what could be on them other than a silver sharpie marking them as demos with different numbers. 

"This is your new music?" she murmured, eyes widening when she realized what she was looking at. 

"Mhm," he hummed, the weight of his eyes hitting the line of her profile, "Wanna hear m'favorites?" 

Looking at him through the fan of her lashes, she gave him a nod, pretending as if she wasn't as excited as she really was. She figured being giddy over a couple of tapes wasn't exactly a sexy look. 

Deft fingers pulled out a tape marked as Demo #4 before setting it into the player. Through the speakers, the sound was crackly and quiet compared to the records of his voice she had in her bedroom. The guitar started first, the chords wavy and psychedelic, the guitarist letting the notes linger as if they were melting through the speakers. 

Just as a familiar voice sounded over the notes, Harry pulled her flush to his chest with the help of the grip on her hand. His free hand cupped her cheek, his lips meeting hers in a clumsy mess. He fit her bottom lip between his two, immediately touching the tip of his tongue to the full center of her lip. (Y/N) didn't have to think before she had her mouth parted, letting him in once more. 

Letting go of his hand, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging to him. She hadn't been aware her nails could be felt through the thin fabric until a shuddering breath rocked his chest. 

Walking her the short steps backwards, Harry blindly guided her to the edge of the bed. Her knees gave way to the mattress before she fell backwards, Harry following after with his hips fit between her thighs. 

The chains of his necklace dangled over the base of her throat, a cool point of clarity against the rising warmth of her skin. His hands skated down her sides, grazing the bare skin presented from the cut of her top. Her hips fit against his like a puzzle piece, cradling as he pushed against her core with lingering rocks. 

While his hands roamed over her form with their lips locked, (Y/N) took advantage of her position under him and locked a leg over his hip. Reaching up, she racked her fingers through his hair. The curls threaded around her fingers, a low rumble coming from his throat when she pulled just enough at the roots. 

The bass of his moan came just as there was a peak to his voice playing through the cassette player. (Y/N) was reminded she was making out with a rockstar to his own unreleased music. Her hips rocked upwards at the thought. 

Harry began to kiss down her chin, over her neck, and to the shelf of her collarbones while he fit the lengths of his fingers under the material of her top. Her bare skin sang for him, blood rushing through her veins. 

His lips travelled down until he hit the neckline of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmured into her skin, the words sinking into her pores. 

"Uh-huh," she nodded, goosebumps rising when the tip of his nose brushed her neck. "Please." 

She could feel the way he smiled at her response, the curl pressed into her skin before he bit at the line of her collarbone. Her grip in his hair tightened at the short sting, her leg curling that much more around his hip. 

As promised, Harry, with his hands underneath her shirt, helped slide it over her head. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from his hair and raised up from the bed long enough for him to slip it off her form and for the garment to become another piece of clothing puddled on the floor. 

Without a bra, her breasts were exposed to the buttery light of the lamp. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her chest rising and falling with each breath she pulled in. Harry didn't wait before he lowered his face to her breasts, smearing his lips over the swells. He scraped his teeth along the plush skin, leaving tender marks in his wake. Her hands once again found his hair, burying her fingers among the strands. 

After a particularly harsh bite, she pulled his hair harshly. She could feel the sly smile that touched at his lips. 

"Feeling good, baby? Like it when I bite you?"

 She gave a clumsy nod of her head, mouth opened in a soundless nod. With her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her nipple, wanting the sting of his bite on the tender bud. 

He didn't immediately give in, only pecking a soft kiss to the peak before looking up at her through the frame of his lashes. "Want me rough? Like it like that?" 

Mindlessly nodding, she keened at the rumbling of his voice. "I like it rough," she bubbled, speaking over the unedited melodies of his voice. 

Instead of responding, Harry gave her what she wanted, his teeth scraping over her nipple. With her hands still in his hair, she gripped the strands at the roots, her back bowing into his lips. Her lips parted with a breathy moan. 

Harry took care of her, his mouth skating over her breasts. His teeth left tender spots—some she almost wanted to leave bruises—with his tongue following in the way, soothing the marks. Her stomach tightened with every wet press of his mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips. He played with the waist of her bottoms, his kiss following slowly after as he trailed down the soft of her stomach. The tip of his nose skimmed her skin, a tickling feeling rising in her chest that had a burst of laughter bubbling out. 

With his lips still attached to her, he peered up at her through his lashes. A slow smile stretched his lips, the curl pressing into her skin. 

"You're always laughing, baby," he murmured, "What is it this time, hm?" 

"Tickles," she laughed, the melody floating over the next track playing off of Demo #4.

A plume of his own rumbling laughter grazed her stomach, goosebumps raising on her skin. Cushioned by the messy, tobacco scented sheets, (Y/N) watched with laughter edging on her lips as he nuzzled into her stomach. He made a show of hitting the waist of her pants with his fingers hooked into the band. 

From between her thighs, he looked up at her with hooded eyes. "Gonna take these off, baby. 'S that alright?" 

"Uh-huh," she nodded. With his hair out of reach of her hands, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he worked, fingers curling into the sheets. 

With deft hands, Harry made quick work of the garment. It didn't take long before her pants and boots were on the ground beside her discarded top, leaving (Y/N) in nothing more than a pair of string panties. 

(It was done as a joke almost, when she was getting ready, to pick panties as if she was going to be showing off for someone after the show. She'd never been more grateful for that delusional choice).

Harry was still fully clothed as he took his place once more between her legs, laying the broad of his body flush to hers. Her breasts were pressed into the solid blocks of muscle of his chest, only the thin material of his top separating her skin from his. He sealed his lips to hers once more, getting a taste of her tongue against his in broad strokes.

It was her turn to start stripping him, keeping her mouth to his as she plucked at the neckline of his shirt. 

He pulled away with a breath, lips spit-slicked and kiss-swollen. He looked all too satisfied with himself as he gazed down at her, pulling off his shirt. Throwing it somewhere in the room, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to catch the landing before he was crowding around her once more. 

"Trying to get me naked?" he murmured, a teasing thread through his tone, "Think 'm that easy, love?" 

"I'm hoping," she smiled, pecking a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. She could taste the smear of her lipstick on his skin. 

Chasing after her mouth, he trailed his lips over her cheek, following the line of her cheekbone. Whispering to her, lips brushing her ear, he said, "Y'want me, baby? Tell me." 

Between the press of his covered cock against her pussy, the rumble of his voice through her chest and against the shell of his ear, her eyes fluttered to a close. Her mouth was dropped in a gape, her breathing stilted. 

"I want you," she said, suddenly breathless, "I-I've thought about this before." 

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah? What've y'thought about, baby?" 

"Yeah," she repeated dazedly, sucking in a harsh gasp when ground down hard between her legs. "I—um—I wondered if all the stories were true. If-if you are really like how everyone says." 

"Is that why y'dressed like this tonight? Hoping you'd find out for yourself?" 

She didn't want to melt over how cocky he was, how sure of himself over assuming she had dressed with him in mind. But, he was right—she wanted him to at least see her, remember her if she was lucky enough. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine her cutout crop top and tight pants would land her here. 

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head. "I wanted to know if your songs were true." 

"Which ones?" 

"The ones," she stalled when she felt his hand slip between their bodies, tickling over soft curves of her body until he reached the apex of her thighs.  "Um—the ones about... You sing a lot about eating pussy." 

His laugh was warm, bubbling over her. "I do, don't I?"

"Almost two albums worth," she teased, a lighthearted tone running under her words before she was cut off. 

Between her legs, he made no ceremony of the way he pulled her panties to the side and dragged his fingers through her folds. It wasn't until he split her open that she realized just how wet she'd become. Slick noises from between her legs filled the bedrooms, two of Harry's fingers slipping through her slit in long strokes, prodding at her weeping hole and nudging her clit, in a smooth circuit. 

"What did y'think about when you'd hear those songs?" Harry asked as if she had any mind left to comprehend anything but his touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut when he circled her clit in a teasing touch, she dug her nails into the strapping muscles of his biceps. Under her hands she could feel the way the hand between her legs had his arm flexing with every movement.

"Huh?" 

Through a smile he pressed a messy kiss to the space before her ear. "What did y'think about when y'had your fingers in your pussy?" 

The blunt wording had her insides tightening, a squeeze she was sure he could feel as he brushed over her opening. 

"How did I fuck you in your pretty head, hm? Tell me, baby." 

Her mouth had a mind of its own as she started blabbering off without a thought. "Hard—You'd fuck me hard. I-I'd let you do anything to me, daddy." 

His hand between her legs lagged, lingering close to her clit but not close enough. "What was that?" 

"What?" she mumbled, turning her head in hopes of catching him in a kiss. 

Harry pulled away, just out of reach though he kept his hooded eyes on hers. "What did y'jus' say?" 

Blinking at his question, she attempted to cast her mind back enough to catch any memory of what she said. It dawned on her slowly, the kind of word she let slip from her imagination and into the real world. 

"Um," she floundered, skin flushing in a different way than just a heartbeat before. 

His smile grew, lopsided and entertained over her tied tongue. Leaning over her, he nudged his nose against hers, the full of his lips just barely brushing over hers. 

"Y'called me daddy." 

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Her hands tightened around his biceps. 

"Say it again, baby." 

Her mouth dropped into a gape. He wanted her to say it again?

"What?" 

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice melding with the crackly tape soundtracking this moment, "'S alright—I know y'want to." 

How was she supposed to say no to that?

Hyperaware of the way her voice wrapped around the word, she hoped it would be just as intriguing to him this second time. 

"Daddy." 

A rumbling moan left his chest just before he dove down, slotting his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Between her legs, he didn't hesitate before he slipped his fingers inside. The length of the digits were fit snug inside, opening her up as he gave a few cursory thrusts through. She could barely even kiss him back, her face screwing up in pleasure at the jolting touch with her lips parting. Harry slipped his tongue inside, licking over her own as he stroked his fingers through her pulsing walls.

Her breathing completely stalled when he curled his fingers, the calloused pads pressing into the spongy spot hidden among her walls. There were only a few times when she'd had the patience to find the spot herself, her memories of the sensation paling in comparison to what was happening to her now. Instinctively, she wanted to close her thighs, keep his hand from moving anywhere away from her. Harry's free hand came down and cupped the soft inside of her thigh, and splayed her legs open wide for him. 

"Again," he ordered, the command falling on her tongue. 

It didn't take a single thought before she was falling to his instruction. "Daddy—fuck." 

"Feel good, baby?" he crooned, breathy and heated against her mouth. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined. 

"I bet it does," he teased, "Can barely keep still for me, huh? For daddy?"

 Her stomach wound itself tight at the sound of his accent, the same voice she'd listened to through her headphones and the crackles of her record player, wrapped around the title. This was what her fantasies were made of. 

"Liked that?" he drawled, a sly smile working onto her lips, "Could feel how much y'liked that. Is this what y'thought about when you'd fuck yourself, baby?" 

Rocking her hips up into his hand, he never lagged on circling the spongy wall inside her, only breaking when he opted to thrust deep inside to keep her on edge. His palm was pressed headily against her clit, the heel smeared heavily over it with every lingering stroke through her insides. 

"Al-always you," she breathlessly admitted, "Always wanted you there with me." 

"I know, baby. Y'need me, huh?" 

"Yes, daddy," she panted, eyes rolling to the back of her head. 

Dropping his forehead to rest on the apple of her cheek, she felt Harry's own heavy breaths  sweeping over her heated skin. "You're gonna come for me, baby. I want y'to come on m'fingers, then 'm gonna fuck you like y'want."  

He didn't give her any room to respond as he kept his palm heavy on her clit and drilled the pads of his fingers to the sensitive spot inside her. He didn't relent, her senses becoming overwhelmed with nothing but him. Even the sheets smelled of him, there was nowhere she could turn without finding more of him to pull in. 

Her toes curled as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure brewing in her stomach, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps. She could feel her insides tightening, ribboning together in a contracting bow. (Y/N) wasn't even sure if her lungs were working around the pounding of her heart, her breathing shallow. 

Suddenly, the pleasure she was feeling and floating in was too much. Her muscles were bunched almost too tight, snug around his fingers and sucking him in as if there were more to be taken.

Letting go of his arm, she reached for his wrist for an anchor. "I—Wa—Harry, I—" 

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, shifting until he caught her swollen lips in a kiss, "You're gonna squirt f'me, yeah? Make a mess with me." 

"I—I've never—I can't—"

"You can. You can and you will, baby. Squirt for daddy." 

The culmination of the way he talked to her—the rockstar she'd admired for years—the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the sound of his unreleased music filtering through the heated room, and every stroke of his fingers through her pulsing walls had her giving way to his command. 

(Y/N) swore every bit of her body bunched, her hand tight around the bones of his wrist, toes curls, and eyes squeezed shut. Harry never relented, working her through the heaviest weight in her stomach. In a heartbeat, everything her body was squeezing, holding inside herself, let go. 

A gush came from between her legs, rushing out around the plug of his fingers in her pussy. Every shallow motion of his hand against her went from slick to completely wet sounding, every beat of his fingers coaxing another rush of cum from her. 

With her mouth dropped in a wordless gape, (Y/N) felt Harry's eyes on her with the way her skin buzzed, hyperaware. Her mind was cast elsewhere, miles away with her body anchored right where she was underneath him. She wasn't sure when she would come back—if she even wanted to with the way the feeling washed over each of her nerve endings. 

"Look at that," he murmured in awe, his voice finally sounding like more than a rumble through the rushing heartbeat in her ears. "Jus' like I asked. So good, baby. So good f'me." 

The descent was slow, the aftershock of her orgasm lingering in her bones until it finally relented enough for her to crack her eyes open. Harry looked down at her, satisfied with dark eyes trained on her features. With a jolting touch to her clit, he pulled his hand out from her pulsing walls, leaving her swollen and sensitive between her thighs. 

She could feel the inside of her thighs slick with her release, Harry's hand that landed on her hip just as sticky. Dipping his head down, he caught her in a languid kiss, nose nudging the bridge of hers. He was a bit too proud of himself, she thought, a dazed smile touching her lips. 

"Told you, y'could," he mumbled into her kiss, "Gotta listen to me more, hm?" 

"Maybe next time," she sighed, too out of it to try too hard to play along. 

"Maybe, next time," he repeated, letting out a plume of laughter for the both of them. Letting go of her hip, she could feel Harry fiddling with the waist of his pants, fingertips brushing against her sensitive core. "Ready f'me to fuck you? 

Her lashes fluttered in a blink, remembering his promise of giving her more tonight. Peering down at where his hands pushed down the band of his pants, she watched as his cock bobbed against his toned stomach. It was flushed red, head ruddy and slick with a vein vining along the shaft. A pearl of precum clung to the blocked muscles of his abs, where the length hit high under his navel. 

Just the sight of his hard cock had her stomach twining once more. Truthfully, she wouldn't have imagined anything less—not with the way he carried himself. 

"Baby," Harry sang, grabbing her attention, "Are y'ready? Gotta say it—tell me y'want me." 

Whatever he saw on her face was enough to have a dimple denting his cheek, more than satisfied with the desire in her eyes. "I want you," she said, despite the quivering muscles in her thighs, "Please, daddy." 

His features shifted at her words, darkening as his eyes dragged heavily over her body. The way he looked at her was enough to have goosebumps on her skin, lungs squeezing. 

"Think 'm gonna fit?" he crooned, fisting his length as he dragged the crown through her slit. 

Before she could answer, he laid his cock against the small of her stomach, lining it up to show just how far inside he would reach once sinking in. His balls pressed against her clit, setting a jolt up her spine. She could feel him throbbing, matching the rhythm of her heart. 

"We-We'll make it fit." 

His laugh was melodious, lighthearted amongst the atmosphere cultivated between them. He cut himself off when he reared his hips back and nudged the head of his cock against her opening, a soft wet noise slicking through the room. Nothing seemed to be too funny, then. 

Reaching for the wrist to the hand keeping her thighs spread, (Y/N) anchored herself to him with the grip. She felt her walls split open as he pushed through, the flare of his head nudging through the squeezing pulses. A lingering whine sung from her throat, breathless and pitched.

Harry seemingly held his breath as he bottomed out inside her, his base smearing against her clit. He reached the farthest parts of her, crowding in her stomach.  A whine of his name fell from her lips, her head falling back into the mattress with her eyes falling closed. 

Falling over her, Harry rested his forehead on the shelf of her collarbones, a heavy breath fanning across her heated skin. The press of his body atop hers was a comforting weight, keeping her wriggling form steady among the sheets. 

A whispered curse was felt against her skin just before Harry reared his hips back. The slide of his cock through her walls gave a pleasant burn, reminding her just how far she was stretching to fit him in. The slick of her gushing orgasm was more than enough to help him through the pulsing, wet noises sodding from where their bodies joined. 

Just as she adjusted to the slide of his length, Harry thrusted forward once more, keeping her stretched around him. He curated a rhythm, spearing through her in lingering draws. The breath was knocked out of her everytime, matching the heavy breaths Harry panted. 

"So wet for me, baby," he murmured, voice strained, "Fuck—Gonna make y'squirt for me again, yeah? Gonna do it again for daddy?" 

A loud moan filtered from her, reverberating through her chest with her head thrown back. This wasn't going to take long, she was sure. She was already twisted up inside, incredibly sensitive given the kind of pleasure he'd given her just minutes before. Every time he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside, the ridge ground against the spongy spot hidden between her walls. As soon as he sank inside, her clit was pressed against his base. Each touch stole her breath, lungs stilted. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she frantically agreed, "I—I'm so close—fuck."

 "I know y'are," he crooned, teeth gritted, "'M gonna—Where do y'want me, baby? 

Her answer was immediate, a breathy moan, "My tits."

She could feel the way he twitched inside her, nudging hard against her snug walls. "I can do that for you, baby. Is thi-this what you've thought about—what y'wanted when y'came to m'show tonight?" 

Reaching up and looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close once more, their mouths resting against one another though there was no energy to be had to turn it into a kiss. "You made me so wet during the show," she admitted, the words sweeping across his mouth, "I wanted you to fuck me so bad." 

His hips bucked harshly against her own. "As soon as I saw you," he started, his voice graveled, "I knew I was taking y'home tonight." 

He caught her in a kiss, messy and off-centered. He plucked his teeth against her bottom lip, the sting running down her spine in a clarifying jolt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles crossing behind his back as he kept her close, disrupting his rhythm. Her toes curled as his thrusts turned into lingering rolls against her, shooting his head deeper. 

This time, the growing spiral in her stomach came on quickly. The knot she was now familiar with built quickly, heavy and tight with every grind of his base against her clit. It was all too much, enough to have her crying into his mouth. 

"Squirt for me, baby," he murmured, coaxing her closer to the edge with every rumble of his voice, "Show daddy how much y'want me." 

She didn't have to think—unable to think—her orgasm came rushing. Though it wasn't quite as messy as the first time, she could still feel the gush between her legs, fighting against the plug of his cock. It was hard and fast, knocking the breath out of her to leave her mouth dropped in a silent gape. 

It wasn't until she was beginning to see the other side that she heard Harry's voice, a string of curses, coming out through gritted teeth, could be heard. She was still high in the clouds when he pulled out, shifting up to his knees on the bed until he was hovering above her. Cracking her eyes open, she could see the same wild look in his eyes that she was sure was in hers, dazed and out of this world. 

Fisting his length, his hand squelched along his shaft for only a handful of pumps until his cum gushed over her. Just as she asked, the ropes landed across her chest. Her skin was already heated enough, but the trails he left over her breasts were that much more. The sight of him working his own cock was enough to have her breathless once more, though her body was too sensitive to feel anything but a jolt through her nerve endings. 

Harry with his head thrown back, moaned out her name and strings of curses. Even these moments sounded like notes, perfect for setting to music. 

Once the world came back into focus, (Y/N) could feel cum drying on her chest, her own wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. Harry dropped to the mattress beside her, chest heaving and flushed. His eyes were closed though his head was turned to face her, raspberry lips swollen and parted. 

With the limited light from the lamp, he was bathed in buttery warmth. His chest sparkled with a sheen of sweat, droplets having run between the blocks of muscle underneath the inked lines of his tattoos. 

He took his time joining her back in this moment, his eyes shuttered closed as he ran her eyes over his features. If she had a camera with her, she would have had to take a shot of this—the moment pretty enough to end up as an album cover. The haze in her head did little to stop her from reaching out and tracing her fingertips over his face, just barely grazing her skin in glancing touches. 

A blooming smile made its way onto his lips, dimples denting his cheeks.  

"C'mere," he murmured, voice graveled and rocky. 

Despite the drying cum on her skin, Harry welcomed her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Holding her close, he nosed at the top of her head, uncaring about the sweat entwined in the strands of her hair. 

(Y/N) practically melted into his hold. She hadn't expected cuddling was a part of the package tonight. 

Her body grew heavy in his hold, the night's events catching up to her. Even without everything happening in this hotel—from the party to being invited into his suite—she had also been to a concert tonight, flush to the barricade. Her body was spent, even if her head pinged with reminders of just who had made it that way. 

It wasn't until the crackling stopped that she realized that the tape finally ended, needing to be replaced or turned to the other side. She couldn't even be bummed that she missed out on these unreleased tracks. She'd hear them again someday, probably. She wouldn't have this night again. 

She wasn't sure how long they laid with one another, cuddled and messy, before Harry's voice poked through the silence. 

"What are y'doing this summer?" 

A plume of laughter left her lips. Now was the time for small talk? 

"I don't know," she smiled, "Why?" 

Playing with the ends of her hair, Harry's tone was casual as he spoke, "Well, m'next show is this Saturday. Y'coming with me?" 

Her heart lagged. 

"What?" 

It was his turn to let out a breathy laugh. "I want y'to come with me, love. We could do this every night for as long as y'want." 

Before she could think better of it, another question blurted from her lips. "Why?" 

Harry paused. "Y'make me laugh—and cum faster than I should, but don't tell anyone that." 

In the dark of his suite, clothes puddled on the floor and bodies sticky, (Y/N) couldn't wait to pick up a diary just to write out how they laughed together. 

"You're that easy?" 

"I suppose I am, love." 

—————

its been a super long time since I wrote something with the plain intent of writing smut so I hope this turned out well shufshfuhs thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or requests!

[pregnant-piggy]

World Tour

Sirius Black x reader, band AU

Words: 12k

Written for @slytherinquill​‘s writing challenge!

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write a band AU for so long now and here it is! I worked really hard on it and I so hope you like it!

Never in your whole life had you thought that you would get where you are right now; rushing through the airport with no one less than James Potter, the guitarist of the world famous band The Marauders.

You had been a fan of them for years, ever since they started. You watched them grow from little teenage boys doing covers on YouTube to the twenty-four year olds they were now, selling out arenas. The aforementioned James Potter and his electric guitar were a golden combination, Remus Lupin mastered the art of playing the bass, Peter Pettigrew never missed a single beat on the drums and then you had Sirius Black. Lead singer. He looked like how you would imagine one; thick, black hair, angelic bone structure, mysterious eyes and a voice like a child of the devil and an angel. To say that thousands of girls were just fan of him was an understatement.

Even you bore a little crush on him. But how could you not? The man was a god.

How you ever ended up in this situation was still vague to you. Not because you didn't know what had happened but because it all went so fast. Just a month ago you were still in your own apartment, plucking on your guitar, contemplating whether it was all worth it. You had been making music for years now and you had never had your big breakthrough. Though your friends and family told you that it would come and that you were a wonderful singer and your songs were amazing, you had been close to giving up. It was then that James reposted an Instagram video of you singing their song She's not mine and everything blew up. Your Instagram got a boost and the comments wouldn't stop. The Marauders' management hit you up, asked you to record a song with the men and a week later you were a big star.

The experience with the four men in the studio was something you had never done before. You wrote your songs in the safety of your bedroom, where all the failed ones never left. Now you suddenly had been surrounded by four professional artists plus another three songwriters. The song was written in three days, the title Don’t rush assigned to it, and recorded in two. The sixth day was a day for rest, that you had spent at Remus' house with him and Peter. You had gotten to know the men better. You had learned that James had an obvious crush on the manager's assistant, Lily, that Peter lived with his parents because he didn't see the need of buying a house when he was away all the time, that Remus had learned how to play the bass from his grandfather and pictures had shown that that man was the embodiment of rock'n'roll-grandfather, and that it was Sirius who had come up with the idea of starting a band.

The seventh day had been release day. The song came out at midnight and you had anxiously waited at home with your roommate, Tiffany, until it was time. She had been the biggest fan of the song at the first note and when your voice synchronised with Sirius' she had started to cry. She had kept on playing the song, while you got phone calls from your family and friends.

To promote the new song you and the boys had visited radio station after radio station. You had existed on coffee that day; you had promptly fallen asleep in your living room at three in the morning, while Tiffany was still gushing over your song and the fact that you had met The Marauders, and you had to be at the first studio at 6 AM. Coffee had been your saviour.

Interviews were something you had never done before, just like anything you had gone through that week. At the first radio stations, the boys had taken you under their wings, helping you with answers and pushing you in the right direction. Over the day you had learned how to act in interviews and how to laugh away questions, an useful skill you had noted as the interviewers had asked you about your personal life.

You had thought that that would be it. Or at least, that the song would be the end of your collaboration with The Marauders. They had explained to you that they were going on tour just three weeks later and that maybe they would invite you to one of their shows.

Of course you had been a bit sad to see it end there. In just that week you had grown to like those men a lot. You had spent a lot of time with them and your personalities matched. It was easy and fun to hang around with them.

So when the week was over and it had been time for you to get back to your normal life, that you thought would never be the same again, you had spent the first day home with Tiffany, telling her everything about your experience. You had stayed on the couch with her the whole day and fell asleep late at night, relaxing for the first time that week.

However you relaxation had not been long. The next morning you had gotten a call that had turned your life upside down and was the reason why you were at the airport now;

You were going on tour with The Marauders.

‘What took you so long?’ Remus asked, tilling his suitcase on the counter of the check-in desk.

You panted and bowed forward to catch your breath. James patted you on your back and brushed it lightly. ‘I lost my lock.’

‘You lost your lock?’ Remus said and he turned away from the lady behind the desk to see if James was serious.

The lady behind the counter watched the back of Remus’ head impatiently as this one burst into laughter and shook his head. Peter, who had noticed that the lady was looking rather grumpy and might have realised that she wouldn’t get any happier by the fact that there were more suitcases coming, pushed Remus back to the desk.

Meanwhile you had caught your breath and were standing straight up again. You pushed your suitcase behind Remus and stood next to him, waiting for him to finish with checking in his bags. ‘We lost it somewhere on our way and James wanted to get it back.’

‘How good a lock can it be if it fell off?’ Peter asked, raising his eyebrow so high that it disappeared behind his blond hair.

‘It wouldn’t have fallen off, if someone didn’t bump their suitcase into mine!’ James whined and he looked at you.

‘It was not my fault! You suddenly took a turn! What was I supposed to do? Jump over it?’ you asked sarcastically, sending James a smile.

It was your turn to check in and while you smiled at the grumpy lady, you apologised for making such a scene. She just shrugged and said nothing as she continued to weigh your suitcase and then pushed it to the space behind her desk, where the bags disappeared to be loaded into the airport. She handed you your boarding pass and then called for the next one.

- - - - - -

The air in the airplane was cold. You hid your hands in the sleeves of your sweater and wrapped your arms around your body. You were sitting next to the window and you looked outside. The plane had to take off yet, but you already felt the nerves rushing through your body like you always had when you were in plane. Not that it happened that often, but enough to recognise the feeling.

It was still early in the morning. The skies were just turning blue and there was dew on the windowpane. The first rays of sun broke through and the windows of the airport-building reflected the orange light.

You figured that this wouldn’t be the last time that you would be on a plane this early. Another city every day, or every two days, meant that you would be travelling a lot. But something about the cold and humid morning air was refreshing. The promise of another great day rose with the sun.

However, despite the fresh air and the rising sun, you were tired. You hadn’t slept a lot last night; Tiffany had thrown a little bon-voyage party and had invited your friends. Before the party you had had dinner with your parents. Your mother had cried tears of happiness as she had said goodbye and you just had hoped that was because she was happy for you. Your father had made you promise to him that you would be careful around the four men. You had laughed and told him that nothing would happen with them, but you had promised him, since you feared he wouldn’t let you go if you didn’t. The party Tiffany had thrown wasn’t big; just a few friends, but it had lasted till late at night and you had had to be at the airport at four o’clock.

Your sleep schedule was completely messed up and you feared that it wouldn’t go back to normal for a while.

The voice of the pilot sounded through the airplane and you were pulled from your thoughts. His calm voice soothed none of your nerves, instead only made them worse. You clasped the fabric of your sweater in your hands and took a deep breath as you closed your eyes.

‘If you’re scared of flying, we have a problem,’ James’ voice sounded next to you and you opened your eyes at him.

‘I am not scared of flying, don’t worry,’ you said, your voice quivering a bit. ‘I’m just nervous and excited for everything.’

‘I get that,’ James said, nodding his head. ‘I remember our first time going on tour. Remus knew the whole planning by heart and he took every opportunity to tell us it. Peter cried when he had to say goodbye to his parents; they’re very close you know?’

‘I heard,’ you said and James looked surprised at you. ‘He told me when I was at Remus’ a while back.’

‘Oh, right. Anyway, he cried and we did not hesitate to mock him about it. Poor guy had a terrible first day,’ James chuckled and his eyes glistened with mirth, ‘Sirius was nervous too, but he wouldn’t show it. To this day, he still thinks that we didn’t hear him whispering motivating words to himself before the show-’

‘I wasn’t!’

Sirius, who sat in front of you and James, turned around and looked at you through the space between the seats. You giggled and rested your hands on your thighs, not in your sides anymore.

‘You were!’ James cried out, while Sirius shook his head. ‘I clearly remember you telling yourself that you “could do it, because I am good”.’

Sirius opened his mouth and then closed it again. He shot James an angry glare and then turned back around in his seat, starting to talk to Remus. You looked at James and smiled. ‘What about you?’

‘Oh, I was nervous too. But I kept myself together quite well, if I say so myself.’

Remus and Sirius snorted in front of you and turned around in their seats. Their faces, as they looked at James like he had just told a joke, made you chuckle. James made sputtering sounds, but Remus cut him off before he could say anything.

‘He held my hand the entire flight and was so nervous for the first show that he forgot his lyrics in the first song.’

‘Remus!’                                                      

You laughed and nudged James playfully. ‘Come on, it’s funny! It could always be worse…’

‘What do you mean?’ James asked and Remus and Sirius looked curious at you. You shrugged and played with the sleeves of your sweater as you answered.

‘When I had my first performance, I threw up right before I had to go on stage. I had to play three songs while smelling like vomit.’

James and Sirius burst out into laughter and Remus shot you an apologetic look. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched James wipe away a tear from the corner of his eye. For a moment you had forgotten about the take-off and when you looked outside you realised that you were already in the sky. The airport was left behind and you watched the city get smaller and smaller with the seconds.

The little scene down on the earth had your attention until the plane flew into the clouds and you could see nothing but white. You turned back to James, who was watching a film on the little screen installed in the chair in front of him. He mouthed along the words of the protagonist as this one spoke.

You fished your earbuds out of your pocket and put on your music as you turned back to look outside. You pulled your knees up to your chest and closed your eyes for a second as the melody took over you.

Music always had a way to make you feel all the emotions at once. For you it wasn’t just a way to pass time, it was something so much bigger than that. Ever since you were young you had been singing. You had driven your parents crazy, though deep down they were happy to see you passionate about something at such a young age. Any music you could get your hands to, you would listen to. Your mother had dozens of records and you always asked her to play them. Often your brother had complained because he wanted to listen to different music than you. But with your angel eyes you could always win your parents for you.

Guitar lessons had seemed like the most logical thing for you. You had enjoyed learning the chords and soon you could play guitar better than your father, who had been trying to learn how to play for years then. At twelve you had started to write your own songs. Back then they were simple songs with simple lyrics about that one boy crush you had had. As you matured, so did your songs with you. More often they were about the things you felt and the darker periods in your life. Many times your mother had said that you had gift to turn emotions into words.

At the age of sixteen you had recorded your first cover. You had posted it on your Instagram account and then the anxious waiting had begun. A week it had been before someone had commented saying that you had a great voice and that they wouldn’t be surprised to hear more of you. You had been euphoric. After a month you had ten comments, all good ones.  The second video you posted was a cover of a song of The Marauders; Lies are fine. It was, at the time, your favourite song of them and to this day the song held a special place in your heart. Again you got some good comments, but for the first time in your life, you had read that someone didn’t like your voice. Now you were quite good at handling hate, but back then it had been enough to break you down. For a month you hadn’t sung and your friends had to show you all the good reactions for you to realise that it was just one opinion.

Ever since you had started to sing your own songs, you had felt liberated in a way. It was easier to sing your own words than someone else’s. The hate had gone on, of course it had, but you had built a wall in front of it. Only a few times something had broken the wall down and then it was patched up quickly again.

You had grown strong over the years and music had formed your life.

- - - - - -

The first place was New York. Management had wanted to start the tour with a big show. Two nights the band would perform at Madison Square Garden. The venue had been booked full both nights. There was not a single place left.

There was one day to install yourself in the city and to get used to the big stadium. You arrived in the city just as it was waking up. Cars were already driving like maniacs over the busy streets and you feared for your life as you looked out of the window of the van you were sitting in. Cars drove by fast and close. The so typical yellow cabs were the worst; driving almost straight into the sidewalk to stop for people and then racing away as soon as the passenger had taken their seat.

The driver of your van wasn’t much different either. He took sharp corners and only stopped abruptly for red lights. With ever turn he took you were pushed out of your seat, one time against the window, the other time against Sirius, who was sitting next to you.

As the driver took another turn, you shifted so you were practically in Sirius’ lap. You placed your hand on his leg not to fall over and his hands caught you.

‘Watch out, darling,’ he smirked when you pushed yourself back to your seat.

‘It’s not my fault that guy drives like he’s got a death wish,’ you grumbled and pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands. Sirius laughed and shook his head as he watched you shoot an angry glare at the driver’s head.

‘So got any plans for today?’ you asked, turning your gaze away from the man and looking at Sirius. ‘Other than checking out the venue?’

‘Not really,’ Sirius shrugged. ‘Why, do you got plans?’

‘My plan is to drop dead on my bed and sleep for the rest of the day,’ you said. ‘Care to join me?’

‘I don’t think there would be much sleeping when I’m in bed with you,’ Sirius smirked. ‘There’s no way you can resist me.’

You laughed and shook your head. ‘I don’t know, I seem to be doing fine now.’

‘That’s only what you think, darling. Deep down you’re burning with desire.’

‘Huh, so it seems…’

It was like this with all Sirius’ jokes around you. The flirtatious tone, winks, nicknames. You knew he was only kidding, but still the jokes made you get hot on the inside and a little flustered. You tried to comment back on him, but that didn’t work all times.

The van stopped at the hotel and the driver, much to your surprise, as you had thought that he would drive off the second you stepped out of the vehicle, took your suitcases from the back of the car.

Together with the boys you stepped into the luxurious hotel. The floors were white marble stones and on the ceilings hung golden chandeliers with crystals that sparkled in the sunlight that came through the big window at the front of the building.

It was a surprise to you how the hotel wasn’t loaded with fans yet. From what you had always heard, fans would find out where artist were staying before even they knew. But there was no one on the streets and not one of the people in the lobby looked up when your group walked in.

Your footsteps echoed in the silent hall. You felt utterly underdressed in your sweater and black jeans as you looked around you and saw women in neat dresses and men in suits. You tried to fix your hair, which you feared was peeking out on all sides. Your fingers untangled a tiny knot while you listened to the manager talk to the receptionist.

‘Alright, your rooms are on the fifth floor. Two to six. Tonight we’ll go to the venue but I’ll text you the details,’ the manager said and handed you, Sirius, Peter, James and Remus a room key.

Your room was number six, on the corner of the building so you had windows on two sides. It was by far the most luxe hotel room you had ever stayed in and you were a little disappointed you would only stay here for three days. Though it wasn’t a massive room –it only existed of a bathroom and a bedroom with a small corner where a big chair stood –it looked like everything, from the rug on the floor to the paintings on the walls, was more expensive than your apartment.

You opened the curtains in front of the windows that lead to your balcony, that was connected to the balconies of the others, and the light washed over the room. It was only ten in the morning, but sleep took over you as soon as your head hit the pillow. You didn’t even change; all you had done was take off your shoes.

- - - - - -

Anxiously you sat in the dressing room, staring at yourself in the big mirror that covered one side of the wall above the dressing tables. The round, yellow light bulbs that surrounded the mirror were reflected in your eyes.

You were nervous. More nervous than you thought you would be. The silence in the room only added to your anxiety. The boys had been called away for a moment, to take a last view of the stage before the stadium filled with fans.

Your phone lied open on the sofa next to you. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone through Twitter, but you just couldn’t resist. There were a lot of people wishing you good luck, but you also saw some tweets saying that taking you with The Marauders on tour was the worse decision they had ever made. Doubts had started to play in your head and now it was all you could think about in that silent room.

Luckily the silence was broken when your phone started to ring. Scaring up from the sound you almost fell of the couch as you looked around the room to see what it was. Quickly you noticed your phone and a feeling of relieve washed over you as you read your roommates name on the screen.

‘Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU AT THE VENUE YET? ARE THEY THERE?!’ Tiffany yelled through the phone before you could even say hi to her.

‘Nice to talk to you too, Tif,’ you laughed. ‘I am at the venue actually. The show’s in two hours.’

‘I know, I wanted to talk to you before all the madness begins. How are you holding up?’

‘Nervous. What if I mess up? What if I forget the lyrics? What if I do something embarrassing on stage? There are so many people who will see it.’

‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ Tiffany said. ‘You have had performances before and the guys wouldn’t have asked you if they didn’t think you were any good.’

You sighed and smiled to your phone, though Tiffany couldn’t see it. You asked about home and while Tiffany started to tell you about your friends, you heard some noises coming from the hall. Not two seconds later, the door of the dressing room burst open and a laughing James and Sirius entered, followed by Peter and Remus, who had a smile on their face, but weren’t as much laughing as their two friends.

You took one glance at them and then turned back to your phone, catching Tiffany’s last words. ‘…so now I have to visit her parents, while she is away with Jason. Can you believe it?’

‘What can I say, I always thought she was weird,’ you answered and only now the boys seemed to notice you were on the phone. They silenced and watched you as you awkwardly continued to talk to Tiffany. ‘Just be careful around her, okay? I don’t want to see you all caught up in her things, when she is out having fun. You’re better than that.’

‘I know,’ Tiffany sighed and then there was a silence. ‘Well, call me tomorrow, okay? I want to hear everything!’

‘I will. Goodbye, I love you,’ you said and put down your phone after Tiffany had said her goodbyes too.

The four men were looking at you expectantly, but you ignored their looks and walked to the corner of the room, where a little fridge stood, to grab a bottle of water. You felt their eyes pricking in your back and when you turned around you were met with four staring gazes. You suppressed a smile and sat back down on the couch, next to Sirius.

‘So, everything settled for later?’ you asked, taking a sip from your water.

You met Remus’ eye and he noticed you were teasing them. Everything about their faces told you that they wanted to know who you just told ‘I love you’ to, but you wouldn’t give in so easily. Remus shot you a smile and then started to talk about the stage, taking the other three’s attention of the cause for a while.

It was only an hour later, as James, Peter and Remus were out checking their instruments, the subject of your phone call came back. You were walking up and down in the room and Sirius was lying on the couch, his eyes focused on his phone. You were softly rehearsing your text one more time, as the nerves were making their way up to your throat now. You feared that if you didn’t find a way to calm down soon, you would not even be able to sing.

‘Who was that on the phone?’ Sirius asked out of nowhere, startling you in your walking.

‘Why?’ you asked, tilting your head to the side.

‘Just curious who the subject of your love interest is.’

‘Don’t be jealous, you know you’re the only one,’ you smirked and grabbed an empty water bottle. Your fingers played with the label on it for a few seconds and then you threw it away.

‘No boyfriend then?’ Sirius asked and you stared at him for a minute before you shook your head. ‘Come sit,’ Sirius ordered while he pushed himself up from the couch and patted the empty space next to him. Hesitantly you sat down next to him. ‘I won’t bite,’ Sirius laughed. ‘Unless you’re into that of course.’

You blushed and shook your head, not able to keep the scoff inside your mouth. Staring at your hands you took a deep breath. Sirius’ gaze was focused on the side of your face and when you breathed out he placed a hand on your back, rubbing it lightly. You felt butterflies fly up in your stomach and you closed your eyes for a second.

‘You don’t have to be nervous, darling. You have a beautiful voice, you fit really well with the group and not to mention you’re gorgeous,’ Sirius said and his hand kept still on your back. The blood rushed to your cheeks and you smiled, looking up to Sirius as you opened your eyes again.

‘Thank you,’ you whispered.

‘And if that doesn’t help, you can always imagine everyone naked. That helps in all situations,’ Sirius added with a wink, his eyes gliding over your body for a second.

‘I’m going to strangle you,’ you said with a laugh, pushing Sirius away from you.

‘Is that a threat or a promise? Stop confusing me,’ Sirius said, his smirk evident on his face. You got up from the couch and walked to the door, swaying your hips exaggerated and throwing your hair over your shoulder as you looked back at him. His eyes were focused on your bum and you smirked as you stepped through the door.

‘Whatever you want it to be, dear,’ you said before disappearing and your smile grew at hearing Sirius sigh as his body hit the cushions of the couch.

- - - - - -

The crowd was cheering and yelling as The Marauders played a song from their newest album, Disaster. You mouthed along the words while you stood backstage, watching the band play from the side. They performed with such a passion and love for their music that you couldn’t but smile. You had seen their performances countless of times online and you had been at a show once, but that was four years ago. In those four years they had grown from teenage boys to men. Their style had matured with them, but still their music had something that had been there from the start; passion.

‘You’re up next,’ the stage manager told you and pushed you to the stairs that lead to the stage. You wrapped your hands around your waist and took in a deep breath. Someone pushed a microphone in your hand and pushed you even closer to the stairs, so you were almost standing on them now.

‘Our next song is one we’re particularly proud of,’ Remus said and from your place you could see James trying to calm the crowd down a little. ‘It’s something we have worked hard and specially fast on.’

The crowd eased a little and you felt your heart beating in your chest. This was it; the moment you had been waiting for ever since you started writing music. A big stadium filled with people who wanted to listen to your song.

‘Please welcome to the stage the lovely Y/N!’

With fierce steps you climbed the stairs. The view that came to your sight as you took your place next to Sirius was something that you already knew nothing in your life could top. Thousands of people cheered, yelled and screamed your name. There were lights from phones and cameras everywhere and you were blinded as a spotlight was placed on you.

Anxiously you turned to Sirius, who was standing next to you and he gave you a smile and a wink. You relaxed and even dared to smile at the crowd in front of you. You could hear the screaming of hundreds of girls somewhere in the section closest to the stage and you chuckled lightly, remembering what it was like to stand there and be so close to your favourite band.

‘You ready?’ Sirius mouthed at you and when you nodded he looked at Peter over his head, who started to tick his drumsticks to the beat of the song. The bass joined in and you forgot about the crowd as the tunes of the song you had worked so hard on the past month filled the stadium.

‘Don’t you think about me tonight

I’ll still be there in the morning

In the sunrise we’ll reunite

Our heads empty and dark inside’

Every last nerve that you had disappeared as the first words left your mouth. At the first verse, the crowd was totally silent, never having heard you live before. But when you sang the last word of the verse, they burst loose and the screaming filled your arms, likely to be remembered for a lifetime.

As you looked at the people in front of you, you realised why singers loved touring so much. The adrenalin that filled your body before now had turned into excitement and utter happiness as you heard all the people sing along with you. The words left your mouth without thinking and you interacted with Sirius as if you had been doing so your entire life. His grey eyes were what you were focused mostly on as you sang the words of the chorus together, your voices synchronising in a way no one had ever heard before.

‘Don’t rush

I will wait for you

Take time

Leave your love behind’

You smiled at Sirius and he smiled back at you, the first honest and happy smile you had gotten from him and you were enchanted. All his smiles had been smirks and sarcastic grins till now, but this was a sight that was just as impressing as everything that was happening around you. And as Sirius took over and his smile disappeared as he sang further, you realised that you would anything to just see that smile again.

‘So just take your time

Cause I’ll wait for you’

The last notes sounded through the stadium. Sirius took you in his arms and lifted you off the ground as he spun you around. You laughed relieved and excitedly and pressed a kiss on Sirius’ cheek when he put you back down again. The audience screamed like it was the end of their life and you felt like crying, so happy.

- - - - - -

The sunlight was shining through the curtains in front of the windows. It was still early in the morning. Early meaning 6.30 AM.

The alarm on your phone woke you from your sleep. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes and searched with your hand for the phone on your nightstand. Your hand passed various objects before it found the phone. With a sigh you turned off the alarm and plummeted back in your pillow.

The high of last night still hadn’t fully disappeared and when you thought about it, you still got butterflies in your stomach. It was surreal to you to see the thousands of people in that concert hall, all singing along to a song that you had helped writing, that you were singing.

And maybe the high would have stayed all day, if you didn’t have to get up so early in the morning. But you would not complain. You were on tour with a world famous band. This was your dream and if that meant getting little sleep and early mornings, then so be it.

An interview had been planned for eight o’clock, but you had to be there at least twenty minutes earlier. Another sigh escaped your mouth as you got up from your bed and stumbled to the bathroom.

Surprisingly, you didn’t even look so bad for so little sleep. The bags under your eyes were not even that dark and though your hair was a big mess, you looked like you had at least a six hour sleep. Which you hadn’t.

After the show, the boys and you had had a little party with the crew to celebrate the first show. It had been fun to learn everyone better. You had talked to Lily, the manager’s assistant and the girl James had a crush on. She was really nice to you and you hit it off well. You laughed with her at James’ lame attempts to ask her out, what made James a little annoyed as he was sitting close to you and listening to your conversation.

The hot water of your shower relaxed your muscles. You let the warm water stream over your face, the drops rolling over your cheeks and nose. You washed your hair and when you breathed in the scent of your shampoo that was spreading in steam through the whole bathroom, you were in a different world for a moment.

You were so deeply concentrated that you didn’t hear someone entering your room, until the person knocked on your door and you were startled from your daydream.

‘Who’s there?’ you asked loudly, making your voice clear over the running water.

‘Sirius,’ the answer was.

‘Hold on a minute!’ you yelled and finished your shower.

As the water was turned off a silence filled the bathroom. You reached for your towel and dried your body as quickly as you could. You turned around to take your clothes and then you realised that you had left them in the bedroom, since you had not expected any company so early in the morning.

Cursing under your breath you wrapped the towel around your body and brushed your hair so it looked at least a little presentable. You unlocked the bathroom door and barefooted you walked to your bed, where Sirius was sitting, playing with the remote of the television.

You tried to ignore the blush on your face as you made your way over to your suitcase and took your clothes out of it, your back to Sirius. You could feel his gaze on your body as you bowed forward to grab a shirt.

‘What’s up?’ you asked, killing the awkward silence.

‘I was wondering if you were awake yet,’ Sirius answered and he quickly averted his eyes when you turned back around.

‘I was,’ you said and you smiled at Sirius. You walked back to the bathroom to get dressed, but let the door open so you could talk to Sirius.

‘So how’d you sleep?’ Sirius asked, his voice echoing on the tiles of the room you were in.

‘Fine, little, but good,’ you mumbled.

You informed after Sirius’ sleep and after that a silence fell over the two of you. You were doing your make-up in the mirror, not having your shirt on yet in case you’d drop your mascara, which unfortunately happened more often than you liked, while you listened to the news anchor talking about a robbery in a local supermarket.

The silence was broken by your phone that had started to ring. Your hand flinched at the sudden sound and the brush of your mascara shot up against your skin, making a big black stain below your eyebrow. You quickly grabbed a towel and cleaned the black make-up from your face as the phone kept on ringing.

‘It’s yours…’ Sirius said from the bedroom.

‘Gimme,’ you muttered, lowering the towel from your head. You left the bathroom and walked to where Sirius was sitting with your phone in his hand. Immediately you recognised Tiffany’s picture on the screen and you smiled to yourself. You took the phone from Sirius and raised your eyebrow at him as he was staring at you. It was only then you realised that you were wearing nothing but a bra and pants. You scoffed and pushed Sirius back on the bed, making him flash his smirk at you. You rolled your eyes and answered your phone.

‘Y/N, YOU’RE ALL OVER THE INTERNET!’ Tiffany screamed through the phone. ‘HAVE YOU SEEN IT YET? I’M SURE YOU HAVE! YOU NEED TO TELL ME EVERYTHING!’

You chuckled at your friend’s enthusiastic voice, that was so loud Sirius probably had heard it too. ‘Tiff, Tiff, relax please,’ you eased her. ‘Listen, I have to get ready, so I’ll give you to Sirius for five minutes, alright?’

‘y/n, don’t you dare-’ Tiffany started, but you had already given the phone to Sirius, who had his mouth open when he got the phone from you. You gave him a smile and disappeared in the bathroom again.

Continuing with your make-up, you listened to Sirius talking to Tiffany, who was probably going to kill you when you got back home. You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Sirius laughed a few times and by his words the conversation seemed to flow quite easily.

Once you were totally dressed, you got back to the bed and sat down next to Sirius who quickly gave your phone back.

‘Love, it’s me again,’ you said and Tiffany sighed relieved.

‘y/n, I swear, the next time I see you…’

You laughed, while you put on your shoes. Catching Tiffany up with what had happened last night, you walked with Sirius to breakfast.

‘Your friend’s a handful,’ Sirius said after you had hung up on Tiffany.

‘She is, but she’s wonderful and has been nothing but supportive ever since I met her. I couldn’t wish for a better friend,’ you said as you stepped into the hall where they served breakfast. You sat down next to James, who was already sitting there with Remus.

Sirius sat down next to you and poured you coffee from the can that stood on the table. ‘I’ve got to say, I am a little disappointed you decided to put on a shirt, darling,’ Sirius grinned and next to you James choked on his orange juice.

‘Excuse me?’ he coughed.

You patted him on his back and shook your head. ‘Nothing, Sirius just can’t get the picture of me in my bra out of his head.’

‘I don’t think anyone ever could, dear.’

‘Sirius, please,’ Remus said. ‘It’s breakfast. Save your jokes for later.’

‘And how is it a joke, Rem?’ Sirius asked looking at his friend over his cup.

- - - - - -

‘Welcome back to Sirius XM, where we are currently joined by no one less than The Marauders and y/n, who is joining the band on their tour! Their new song Don’t rush, is out since a month and last night was the first show, kicking off The Marauders’ world tour. We have all five of them in our studio!’

The two radio hosts, whom you had learned were Raj and Marshall, sat on the other side of the table. You sat on the far left with Remus next to you. Since the studio wasn’t exactly built for five guests, you and Remus had to share a microphone, just as Sirius and James had to. The only difference was that you and Remus were both mature enough to let each other talk, while Sirius and James kept pushing the mic in the other’s nose.

‘Peter, starting with you. Are you excited for this tour? Any cities you are looking forward to visit?’ Marshall asked.

‘I am really excited for tour, yes. This album is something we worked really hard on and I think I speak for all of us when I say that this might be the best we have written so far,’ Peter answered, a smile spreading on his face as he talked about the album. ‘That being said, I am looking forward to every city we will visit. Every show is special and every crowd is awesome.’

‘Remus, Peter says this album is your best yet. Care to weigh in?’

‘I agree with Pete. We poured our heart and soul into this album and I really love how it turned out in the end. This music is different than our previous albums, but I think that doesn’t make it any less better. These songs are more about ourselves, about our insecurities and fears, but also about our happy moments.’

‘It’s our up and downs,’ James chimed in and Remus nodded.

‘Yes. And I think that is the beauty of it. It has something that everyone recognises. Nobody’s life is perfect and nobody lives on “ups” alone. We wanted to create something that shows that’s it’s okay to feel down or scared. It is okay to be insecure, because everyone is,’ Remus said and the other three boys nodded.

‘y/n,’ Raj said. ‘As a listener of the album, someone who didn’t know the thought behind the album, did you feel the same way when you listened to it?’

‘I did,’ you answered. ‘I first listened to the album alone at midnight, when it was released, and I am not ashamed to say that it definitely brought me to tears. I really think the guys got the message across.’  

Remus nudged you thankfully and you smiled at him, as Raj asked Sirius and James about a particular song. You listened with interest and smiled at the passion that the men had as they talked about their music.

‘And then y/n came into the picture, working with you on Don’t rush, which is a banger by the way. y/n, how was it working with the band?’ Raj asked.

‘It was all very new to me. I am used to writing songs on my own and now there were suddenly a lot of people around me. But it was an experience I will never forget.’

‘Did you have a lot of influence on the song?’

‘I think we all equally contributed to the song. The meaning behind it is definitely one that I recognise. We all tend to rush into the things that seem exciting and in doing so we often forget the way we get there. It is important to take your time and I think the song described that perfectly.’

‘James, how was working with her? What was she like?’

‘She was such a good person, not like us,’ James grinned and Sirius sniffed. ‘It was refreshing to work with y/n. She took us all back to that feeling we had when we first started writing songs. I think in a way she has improved us all, because she made us stand still and look at how much we have accomplished already. Sometimes you forget to look at that when your life is so busy. I am forever thankful for the friendship I have built with her.’

‘You’re gonna make me cry here, James,’ you said and wiped away a tear from your eyes. Remus put his arm around you and placed a kiss on the side of your head, while the others chuckled at you.

‘Sirius and y/n, we have to talk about your performance last night,’ Marshall said and he looked at you and Sirius. ‘I assume you have seen the way social media exploded after last night’s show?’

You nodded and chuckled as you thought back of the reaction of your friends and family. Your brother had sent you a video of your parents watching your performance for the first time and their reaction warmed your heart. Your mother was jumping around and had waved her arms through the air and your father had stood watching the video with tears on his face.

‘Fans have been speculating all around and I hope I am not crossing any boundaries here, but I do have to ask,’ Raj said and he leaned forward over the desk. ‘Are you two together?’

A silence fell over the studio as you looked at Sirius. He smirked at you and you smiled as you shook your head. ‘No, were not,’ you said and Raj frowned.

‘Really? You seemed to have quite some chemistry on the stage.’

‘The art of music,’ Sirius shrugged. ‘It can make anyone believe anything.’

- - - - - -

At the next show you were more relaxed. Now the nervousness of the first show was gone, you had found that you quite enjoyed the adrenalin that was rushing through your veins right before you went on stage. And even better was the joy that filled you when you stood on the stage.

Singing the song with Sirius had something magical to it. It wasn’t just the crowds that screamed the lyrics along or the music that reached to your bones. No, the best part was the smile that Sirius wore when he looked at you. For a moment you forgot everything around you when Sirius flashed you that smile.

The band played show after show and travelled all through North America. The cities you passed were all greater than the other. You went to places you had always wanted to visit and met new people.

The other thing that was just as fun as singing on a big stage every night, was meeting all the fans. And not even The Marauders’ fans; you had even met people that were fan of just you. People asking for pictures with you, for your autograph, anything. It was a new experience for you, but you adored every one of them. It had thrown you off at first when someone told you that you had saved their life, but the band had taken you under their wings and had explained how to deal with such situations.

You were beyond thankful to have those four guys around you. You had learned so much from them and you knew that you would have never made it if it wasn’t for their help.

In the time you spent with the boys, preparing before the show, talking after, the interviews, sleeping on the tour bus together, you really got to know them. You learned so much about them in such a little time and you were sure that even after the tour you would stay friends with them. You teased each other continuously , but where the teases with Remus, James and Peter were all innocent, with Sirius there was always another layer to them. Always a smirk or a wink. Not that you minded; you liked the little jokes and innuendos.

And if you were completely frank with yourself, you just liked Sirius.

- - - - - -

It was long dark as you lied in the uncomfortable bed of the tour bus. You were glad to at least have a bed and not have to sleep on a couch or something, but you had to admit that sleeping was very hard on those things.

You stared at the empty ceiling that was way too close to your face for your liking and thought of what you had read earlier.

You had been warned before not to believe the things people on social media said, but that was easier said than done. How could you not let those hateful words get to you?

Though you had dealt with hate comments more, these had been worse than ever before. There were people saying that you couldn’t sing and that you were ugly and fat, but that was nothing new. The things that hurt you the most were the people that said you were just on tour with the guys because you were an easy lay. Someone even said that you were just there to help them blow off some steam.

A tear escaped your eye and rolled over your face to fall on your pillow. You sighed sadly and got up. You jerked away the curtains before your bed and stepped out of it, bumping your head in the process. You cursed something under your breath as you walked to the back of the bus, where there was place to sit.

‘Who hurt you?’ Sirius chuckled as you sat down sighing.

He was lying on the couch in his grey sweatpants and an old T-shirt with his headphones in. He had a smile on his mouth, but that changed when he saw how you were looking. He took of his headphones and threw his phone to the side.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked genuinely.

‘It’s nothing,’ you muttered, playing with the edge of your sweater sleeves. ‘Just stupid people that suggest I’m a slut.’

‘What?’ Sirius asked and he moved closer to you.

You took out your phone and showed him the tweets. Sirius cursed out loud when he read them and he threw your phone behind you on the couch. He took your hands and forced you to look at him.

‘Listen to me,’ he said, his voice low. ‘You are not a slut, okay? You are the most incredible woman I have ever met. You are magnificent, lovely, beautiful, intelligent, witty and you have the most beautiful voice. My dear, if I couldn’t hold you in my arms, I would believe you are an angel.’

You smiled through your tears and wrapped your arms around Sirius’ neck.

‘They are just pity, little, jealous people that have nothing better to do in their lives. I wish I could protect you from them, but there will be more. Will you just promise me one thing?’ Sirius asked and you pulled away from him. ‘Never listen to them. Never doubt yourself. If you weren’t a good singer I wouldn’t have asked for you to come to tour with us.’

‘You asked for that?’ you said surprised.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Sirius said and he suddenly became a little awkward. ‘I had such fun writing with you, and the guys too, and I could not stop working together with you after just one song. So I asked out manager if you could tour with us.’

You smiled thankfully at Sirius and pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘Thank you, Sirius. And I promise. If I’m good enough for Sirius Black to come to tour with him, I am good enough to not believe those haters.’

‘You’ll always be good enough for me, darling,’ Sirius said with a wink and he got his usual cocky smile back. ‘Even better, if I say so.’

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you leant in to his chest. His cold fingers rested on your forearm and you felt a sparkle rushing through your body. You tried to ignore the little butterflies in your stomach, but the longer you sat with Sirius, the bigger they became.

‘I like having you here,’ Sirius said, his deep voice reaching to your bones.

‘You do?’

‘Yeah, you’re a refreshment from James’ lame jokes, Remus’ boring facts and whatever Peter tells. He’s not a great storyteller, that man.’

‘Well, I like being here,’ you said, turning a little so you could look at Sirius. His arms lowered and his hand rested on your hip as you leaned with your elbow on the back of the couch. You draped your legs over Sirius’ lap and played with his curls as you talked. ‘I do miss my family and friends though. Talking on the phone and face timing is not the same as actually being with them.’

‘I know, I hear the guys complain about that too.’

‘You not?’

‘No, I don’t talk to my family anymore.’

‘Oh,’ was all you said and you stopped twirling his black curls around your finger as you looked at him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’

‘It’s alright,’ Sirius smiled at you. ‘I left home when I was seventeen, moved in with James, lived there for a while before I got my own place. I got the perfect tragic background for an artist.’

You chuckled sadly and reached for Sirius’ hair again. There was a silence that stretched out through the whole bus. You stared at the black hair in your hands while you tried to ignore Sirius’ gaze on you.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ you whispered as if breaking the silence was a crime. Sirius nodded and rested his head back into your hand. He closed his eyes as your nails scratched his skin. It was something you used to see your mother do to your father when he was upset and you did it to your brother when you were younger.

‘I should go back to bed,’ you said after a while and made effort to get off the couch.

‘Or you could stay here,’ Sirius said as he pulled you back against his chest, making you fall on top of him on the sofa. ‘Those beds suck. I am far more comfortable.’

The couch was deep enough for two people to lie next to each other and you settled close to Sirius, his chest against yours.

‘Well, I can’t disagree with that,’ you grinned as you buried your neck in his chest.

Sirius placed his arm over your waist and pulled you closer to him. You listened to his heartbeat and you quickly found yourself dozing off.

‘Goodnight, love,’ Sirius whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

‘Goodnight, Sirius.’

- - - - - -

One benefit of touring with a band was that there was always someone around. If you wanted to play a game you could go to James, if you wanted to have a conversation you could go to Remus, for fun stories Peter was available and Sirius was always there if you needed a cuddle.

You appreciated the company but you were also glad if you had some time alone. And though that was hard as you woke up in a bus with the men, rehearsed, spent free time with them, then played a show with them and after that hung out with them until you fell asleep in the same bus, only for the cycle to start again the next day, there were some moments that you were alone. Like when you got coffee in the morning for everyone, while the boys were still asleep. Or if they decided to practice on the stage longer and you could sneak off to the back of the bus with a book. Those were little moments of peace that you found yourself enjoying more and more as the tour continued.

However, you were immensely grateful for all the fun moments you had with the band. You were basically living your lifelong dream right now and you’d be an idiot if you didn’t realise that. You got to see what it was like to have fans all around the world, to have people come up to you and ask for a photo, to be recognised in the streets. At first it had been a bit weird to you, but over the time you had learned how to handle such situations and how to say ‘no’.

Maybe that was the hardest part. Saying no. You knew that you had to set boundaries between personal and public life, but if someone came up to you, you were quick to take a photo with them or to talk to them. The guys taught you that it was important for yourself to sometimes just say no. Your fans had to respects your boundaries and if they didn’t then they couldn’t be called your fans.

- - - - - -

‘Ready for tonight?’ Peter asked as he sat down next to you and handed you a cup of tea.

‘Thank you. Yeah, I think I am. My family’s coming over, so I’m really excited,’ you answered.

This night, Tiffany, your brother and your parents were coming over to see your show. You had been talking to Tiffany over the phone for the past time and she was super enthusiastic to see the show. You had gotten them backstage-passes so they could see you before the show.

‘Are we gonna meet them?’ James asked, taking place on your other side.

‘Oh, you’re not going to get out of that,’ you chuckled. ‘Tiff is asking about you guys all the time.’

‘Tiff, eh? And what’s she like?’ Sirius asked as he pushed Peter aside to sit next to you. ‘Anything we might enjoy?’

There it was, that cheeky wink that made your stomach turn upside down. Combined with the smirk that seemed to be glued to his face.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ you said. ‘She’s pretty fond of Remus.’

You grinned back at him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt your butterflies in your stomach. The blood rushed to your cheeks and you tried to play it cool by starting a conversation with Remus and James.

Sirius was listening to your conversation while his fingers drummed on your upper arm. He hummed a song and you felt the bass of his voice thrumming in your chest. He brought his head closer casually and his voice was closer to your ear. Subconsciously you placed your hand on his thigh and his humming stopped. He twisted his head to you and you looked up from your conversation with the others.

‘What?’ you asked when you saw Sirius was raising his eyebrow at you.

His eyes shifted to your hand and then back to your face. ‘Enjoying yourself?’

You gave his thigh a little squeeze and smiled. ‘Very much.’

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing left his mouth. A smirk formed on your face when you turned back to your conversation. James cocked his eyebrow at Sirius and you heard the latter sniff next to you.

The ringing of your phone caught your attention. You jumped up from the couch, Sirius’ hand falling off your shoulder and sliding along the curve of your body, and you reached for your phone on the other side of the dressing room.

Tiffany’s voice was yelling through the room as you answered your phone, telling you that she and your family had landed and were on the way to their hotel. ‘It’s so great here, honey! I can’t wait to see you! I am so- What do you want?! Och, just leave me alone for a second!’

You laughed at Tiffany’s angry words as you heard your brother’s voice in the back. You knew she had always had a thing for him. Every time he came over she always made sure she was at her best. You had teased her endlessly about it. She made dinner for him countless times and always gave him a little more than the other guests. She was always stealing glances at him and sitting next to him, their legs pressed together.

But you didn’t think your brother minded. He liked her just as much if not more. And you teased him with it too. But he was reluctant of his feelings. Though he seemed to flirt with Tiffany now, from what you could hear.

Lily, the assistant, knocked on the door and when it opened revealed her head. She, when she noticed you were on the phone, whispered something to the men on the other side of the room. Tiffany was still talking to you about how much she liked wherever she was right now and you let her ramble on, turning to the guys to ask what Lily said.

‘We have to leave in five minutes,’ Remus mumbled.

‘Tiff, I have to go, honey,’ you said, cutting off Tiffany’s speech. ‘Okay? I’ll talk to you later. Love you.’

- - - - - -

The crowd was making a lot of noise as they filled the hall. You stood backstage in the hallway of the dressing room, but you could still hear them. You could feel the nerves slowly rising in your body. This wouldn’t be a night any different from the other nights the past month, but yet you felt more nervous than normal.

Anxiously you paced up and down in front of the door of the dressing room, waiting for your family and Tiffany to arrive. Your brother had sent you a text, saying that they were at the venue but after that you hadn’t heard from him.

Maybe that was why you were nervous. You had never played for such a big crowd with your family there. They had been at many of your little shows, but never one this big. You knew they were proud of you and that they would like it, but you couldn’t stop the nerves.

‘Darling, calm down. What are you so nervous for?’ asked Sirius as he left the dressing room and found you walking up and down.

He lifted his arms and you buried your face in his chest, as he wrapped his hands around your waist. ‘I don’t know,’ you mumbled, hugging more tightly onto Sirius.

‘You’re a great singer, your family will love you, the fans love you, the band loves you,’ Sirius’ voice got to a whisper, ‘I love you.’

Maybe he thought that the crowds were so loud that you wouldn’t hear it. Maybe he thought that if he whispered you wouldn’t hear. Or maybe he wanted you to hear. You didn’t know what he thought, but you knew one thing.

You heard.

Your body froze for a second and you lifted your head from Sirius’ chest. You stared at him with big eyes and you were unable to answer. Unable to tell him that you loved him too. Because you loved him too. You had known for a while, but you were too scared to admit it to yourself.

Sirius stared back at you with questioning eyes. A tiny smile formed on your mouth but before you could say anything, you heard footsteps.

You let go of Sirius, your hands lingering on his body and your chest aching for letting him go, and at the same time your parents, brother and Tiffany came around the corner. Your friend launched herself at you and you caught her in your arms. She immediately started talking about how much she had missed you, how silent the house was without you and how all your other friends were jealous of you.

Tiffany was still talking while you hugged your brother, who looked at your roommate with a goofy smile. You pinched his cheek and stuck out your tongue at him before you whispered: ‘So are you together yet?’

Your brother immediately averted his eyes from Tiffany and stared at you. He scrunched his eyebrows together at you and hit you playfully on the head. ‘Are you together with Mr. Singer yet?’

Your happy smile disappeared for a second as you were reminded of the moment that was just interrupted. But your grin came back quickly and you laughed at your brother. ‘Hm, I think I have made more progress than you,’ you said mysteriously and you winked before you stepped to your parents.

‘Oh, princess!’ your mother exclaimed and she engulfed you in her tight embrace. ‘Your father and I are so proud of you! We have seen ever video of every show!’

You hugged your father and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. ‘Good job, angel,’ your father said and your eyes watered up as you saw the tears in his.

‘And dare I say, you have quite the chemistry with that long haired man!’ your mother giggled. You looked over your shoulder at Sirius, who was occupied with Tiffany talking to him. He looked as distressed as when he first talked to Tiffany at your first night in New York. He caught your gaze and you waved at him before turning back to your parents. Your mother had a smug smile on her face and your father was looking over your shoulder at Sirius, with furrowed eyebrows.

‘Yes, Sirius has proven to be an absolute gentleman,’ you said, pulling your father from staring at Sirius. ‘You should meet the others too! Everyone is so nice!’

You saved Sirius from Tiffany, who seemed could not stop talking, and pulled your friend with you to the dressing room.

‘You have to tell me everything about you and my brother tonight,’ you whispered at her, while everyone else followed you. ‘And don’t tell me nothing has happened!’ you said when you saw her opening her mouth. ‘I know him and the way he looks at you tells me something has happened!’

Your family meeting The Marauders was as if your two families met. Your father immediately was drawn to Peter, your mother fussed over James, who was quickly saved by your brother and Tiffany sat down next to Remus. You winked at him and then raised your eyebrows at Tiffany and he burst out into laughter.

You sat down on the chair furthest away from everyone and watched the scene happily, though a little embarrassed at the way your family acted. The nerves that you had felt a while ago had gone and you were excited to play the show tonight.

After a while, James sat down next to you, after he was released from your mother’s conversation. He handed you a beer and you greedily accepted it. Maybe inviting your parents and your brother and Tiffany at the same time wasn’t such a good idea after all.

‘Where’s Sirius?’ James asked you.

Sirius hadn’t joined you and your family in the dressing room and you feared you had messed up by not answering to his confession. You wanted to look for him, but you knew all hell would break loose if you left your family alone.

‘I don’t know,’ you said, taking a sip from the bottle. ‘I was talking with him, but we were interrupted by these idiots.’ You gesture at your father who is doing a little weird dance in the middle of the room.

It wasn’t unusual for you to see this side of your parents, but you had hoped they would not show it in front of people whom they had never met. You knew they were crazy, but no one else needed to know.

‘Oh, well,’ James said nonchalant. ‘I am sure he’ll come back soon.’

- - - - - -

But Sirius didn’t. The next time you saw him was long after your family had been brought to their places and right before he was about to go on stage. In the dark you could see his silhouette contrasting with the lights from the stage. He was fumbling the microphone in his hands, as you had learned he only did when he was nervous.

You walked over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder. ‘Hey,’ you said softly. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ he snapped back and you removed your hand from his body.

‘Sorry,’ you mumbled. ‘I know we never got to finish our conversation, but I just-’

‘Twenty seconds!’ the stage manager yelled, interrupting you.

‘I’ll see you there, right?’ Sirius asked, his voice cold and distant. ‘Just… do what you always do.’

Sirius stepped away from you to the stairs and you watched his figure with tears in your eyes as he climbed the stage with the rest of the band. James looked back at you and pointed at Sirius before ticking the side of his head. You chuckled through the tears and blew James a kiss before he disappeared into the bright lights.

Watching the men perform was still so inspiring to you. The passion that they had was something that you hoped to achieve some day yourself. They didn’t just make music, they made magic. You would never get tired of watching it.

‘Now I think it is time we bring out the person who is an immense support to us and who you all love. And if you don’t, well, then just cover your ears or something… Here’s y/n!’ James shouted and the audience screamed as you walked on stage.

You stood next to Sirius and for the first time since the tour started you felt like you were back at the first show again. All the insecurities came back to you in a wave and you felt a little dizzy. You grabbed Sirius’ arm for balance and he looked quickly at you, before averting his eyes again.

You knew that his was the only way to reach him. Through music, through his lyrics. If he didn’t want to talk with you, then fine. But you knew that he would listen to you if you sang to him.

So you sang the song with all the passion and love that you had in your body.

‘Won’t you please just look at me?

And listen to my heart

As I tell you all the stories

To never be apart

If this is what you’re feeling

Then tell me one more time

Will you take my heart along

And leave this all behind?’

Sirius looked at you, like he had done all those nights before, but something in his face was different. You smiled at him and put out your hand for him to take. He looked from your hand to your face and then the biggest smile you had seen all tour appeared on his face as he took your hand in his and squeezed it a little.

‘Don’t rush

I will wait for you

Take time

Leave your love behind’

A tear slid down your cheek as you looked at the big crowd in front of you that was singing along every word that left your mouth. The flashlights of phones waved through the air as in one movement.

‘Love, don’t break my heart again

Just push it to the side

I will still be waiting here

So you just take your time’

Sirius wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You both stopped singing for a minute and listened to the audience as they sang from the top of their longs. Even the band stopped playing and all that could be heard were the thousands of voices from the fans.

Pressing a kiss to the side of your head, Sirius whispered: ‘I love you, darling.’

You looked at him and smiled, while he wiped away the tears on your cheek. ‘I love you too.’

‘So know that I will love you still

Even if you take so long

Leave this place but come back please

For you are everything to me’

The last melodies of the song started and you intertwined your fingers with Sirius’ as you poured all your feelings into the last words.

‘So just take your time

Cause I’ll wait for you’

----------

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MASTERLIST

[aewhore]

A night of fun ~ Rhea Ripley x reader

(A/N: This is an AU based on The women’s War Games match in 2019,(pls watch this match before reading, also just watch it again if you can because it's stellar.)where instead of Candice it's you and Rhea vs all team Shayna. I also tried to keep the match section short so there may be a bit of time jumping but it shouldn't be too jarring.)  

Summary: You’re Rhea’s Girlfriend and you both have a very hard fought wargames match and have a fluffy celebration after in the locker room 

You stood on the stage with the rest of your team, Trash talking to the other side, as you awaited Shayna’ entrance. When she finally strolled out onto the ramp you look to your left to see your girlfriend of 3 years Rhea Ripley staring not only daggers but the whole kitchen sink at the soon to be former women’s champion. As soon as you all turn to your respective teams to strategize who will enter the cage first, You see Io strutting down to the steel structure. Seeing her act so cocky makes your blood boil. “You want her babe? Go get her” Rhea says daring you to get the payback she knows you deserve on your former best friend turned enemy. You storm down to the rings after Io and as soon as you're both locked in the cage, the fight is on. You and Io lay into one another, letting every built up emotion add extra blow to your strikes but as soon as you start to maintain the upper hand over Io the timer runs out and Bianca is added to the mix and you're quickly fighting a losing battle as you are down at a 2 on 1 disadvantage. You can hear Rhea yelling encouragement from the cage but it's hard to listen when all you can focus on is how you can feel the sickening bounce of your head meeting the canvas as Bianca powerbombs you 3 times before chucking you into the steel cage wall. After a head splitting running dropkick to the head from Io, you were thankful to hear the countdown start as it indicated you were getting a teammate in the cage.   

You look up at the sound of the buzzer to see Rhea making her way down to the ring. “HOLD TIGHT BABY, RHEA’S BRINGING SOME TOYS” you can’t help but do a double take as at home that would mean something completely different but you see her reach under the ring for garbage cans and kendo sticks and you know your night of fun has barely begun. You hear the crowd start singing ‘Rhea’s gonna kill you’ and you can’t disagree as you help set up a bridge of chairs for Rhea to put Bianca through. Before the bridge can be used a brawl breaks out with Io coming back for more as the timer runs down again meaning team Shayna would be getting another teammate setting you and Rhea at a 3 on 2 disadvantage. You hear Kay Lee Ray enter the cage before you see her as she lays you and Rhea out with chair shots to the midsection and back. Out of the corner of your eye you see Kay lee and Bianca setting Rhea up on the chair bridge, a bolt of adrenaline runs through you as you run to knock Bianca off the top rope before she can do damage to your girlfriend. You start to beat down Bianca in the corner when you feel Kay Lee and Io underneath you setting you up for a suplex onto the pile of chairs below. You’re pulled backwards in the blink of an eye and immediately your vision goes white for a split second from sheer pain alone. You look over to see Rhea wraith in pain after a 450 from Bianca, You reach out your hand and she squeezes it to show you she’s still in this fight with you. The sound of the buzzer indicating that your team was getting a teammate filled you with relief as the playing field would be evened out for yourself and Rhea. However this relief quickly turned to confusion as you saw the mayhem at the top of the ramp. You watch on in horror as Dakota viciously attacks Tegan. You hear Rhea’s screams of frustration as reality sets in, your team is two down, This match is now a 4 on 2. You see Shayna laughing from her shark cage on the ramp as she realizes that the victory is almost guaranteed to be hers, but as long as there is air in your lungs you are going to win this match for Rhea. 

You look over at Rhea and you can see she’s panicking “How are you not fucking terrified right now?” You can tell she’s confused by your calm demeanor. “Compared to the family get-togethers I’m forced to attend twice a year, this is actually rather tame.” Rhea cracks a smile at this, her panic seeps through “We’re screwed Y/N!” she quietly grumbles to you, “Well, if we're going down, why not make all these bitches hurt real bad as we go down” You and Rhea share an evil laugh as you turn your attention back to the other girls that were locked in the cage with you. To hell with the number advantage, you both weren’t going out without a bang. Yourself and Io were brawling in one ring, Rhea was left with Bianca and Kay Lee in the other as Shayna strolled down to the cage to enter and start the match. Io got the upper hand over you and forced you to watch the 3 on 1 attack on Rhea as Shayna entered to officially start war games. As the match progresses you equalize Kay Lee and Io with a DDT to hurry over and save Rhea from Shayna handcuffing her to the ropes. You and Rhea cautiously stand in the no man’s land between the two rings as you silently give each other permission to to be as reckless and deranged as you both see fit.  

You were catching your breath as you look up to see Rhea has Io in the Prism trap but suddenly you feel someone drag you off your feet into the air by your neck and it's too late when you realize it’s Shayna and she has you in a standing kirifuda clutch. You’re trying to scream at Rhea not to let Io go but your lack of air supply prevents anything from coming out. You scratch at Shayna’s eyes and she releases you at the same time that Kay Lee attacks Rhea to release Io. As the match rages on the violence keeps building and building. Spot after spot, you and Rhea keep kicking out, you both keep each other in the game. You watch as Rhea handcuffs herself to Baszler and you can’t help but hold your breath as the energy in the arena builds in wait to what Rhea is going to do now that she has the upper hand, literally, over the women’s champion. An earth shattering riptide onto awaiting chairs and Shayna is out for the three count. As soon as Rhea is freed from her handcuff you sprint to her in your well earned victorious celebration. Rhea lifts you off the ground and spins you around in a bone crushing hug that only she could give. She lets you down and you both hobble to the back after basking in the crowds' rapturous applause. 

As you both make your way back to your shared locker room Rhea is stopped by Triple H as he congratulates the both of you on a fantastic performance and begins talking to Rhea about her upcoming title shot. You began to zone out Hunter’s words as you stared at Rhea’s practically glowing face, her hair was chaotic as it stuck in every direction but still managed to frame her face perfectly. Her pale blue eyes beamed with pride and joy as she saw the championship within her reach come next takeover. Before you know it Hunter is bidding his farewell as Rhea slips her arm back around your midsection pulling you into her side as you both finish your victory lap in your locker room. As you go to you bag you turn to ask Rhea how she’s feel only to discover she had flopped face down into the sofa. You chuckle to yourself as you hear her start to loudly fake snore. You turn back to your luggage as you start to strip out of your gear. ”Oh wow” you hear Rhea damn near moan as you turn towards her in only your bra and underwear. “I have a confession to make.” Her words were slurred, eyes almost comically wide. “I...I’m super gay and hopelessly in love with you.” You can’t help but burst out in giggles at Rhea’s “confession” You see Rhea pout as you put on your shirt. “I...I know...we’re dating, sweetheart. We have been for a while now” she slowly gets up from her lying position on the couch to hug you from behind “I know that baby girl, and what a happy while it’s been.” Rhea loving says as she lays gentle kisses at the base of your neck. “I couldn’t help but notice.. You have a matching set on” Rhea’s hand move to rub your hips and up your sides, “I knew we’d win so i thought I’d give you a nice bonus when we got back to the hotel.” You feel Rhea let you go as she rushes back to her luggage to frantically pack everything. “Well what are we waiting for let’s go” You can’t help but fall even more in love with her as she comedically “packs” (more like violently throwing your things in the general direction of your bag) your things and rushes out the door to start the second act of your night of fun. 

[chironshorseass]

“Just like in Star Wars?” for percabeth? interested to see what you do with that one!

I can’t seem to stop writing pre tlo percabeth. hmm maybe i just have A Thing for the pining.

read on ao3

Annabeth had always liked the arena.

She likes how it’s a place where she can be ruthless with no judgment. She likes the familiar feeling of sand crunching against sneakers, only to find it later on her socks, leaving an orange stain. Likes how the smell of sweat was one of hard work and perseverance. Where she can always let go, not worrying about camp problems or of the world dying, for just a moment.

Only her body and her knife. Skin glistening, straw flying from dummies.

Moving swiftly. Freely.

Sometimes, the arena truly does catch up with her. Like right now.

“Nice one, ‘Beth,” a deep voice calls, clapping one, two, three times.

Percy. Of course.

She didn’t notice that he’d been standing right behind her all this time. Panting hard, she turns to the sound of his voice.

He raises his eyebrows, eyeing the straw littered across the amber sand. “I think the dummies have a true fear for you.”

“I don’t think so. They’re dead by now.”

This is his way of asking for a truce, she knows.

It had been so long since she’d last seen him, until yesterday that is. His death is imminent, his friends count on him, her nightmares are breathed to life by the war...and all he’s done is leave the penalties aside to relax in New York City.

Just yesterday morning, they’d fought about it, like they always do nowadays. It’s only now that he’s trying to make amends, to lay a bandaid against the gaping wound of a prophecy bigger than both of them.

“I mean,” he says, scratching his curls. “They were already dead in the first place, so…”

“Are you challenging me to a duel?”

“When did I say that?”

“Well”—she spreads her arms, showcasing her destruction—“You’re criticizing my work, as though you could do better.”

He snorts, switching Riptide—in pen form—from his left hand to his right. A nervous habit of his. “So what if I am?”

“You’re kinda rusty now,” she says nonchalantly, taking satisfaction in the way his eyes darken like they always do whenever she challenges him. “You know...with all that time spent outside of camp.”

Percy sighs, shoulders slumped. The sight of him like this makes her feel a twinge of sympathy, but only a twinge.

“Look. I already said I’m sorry. I didn’t come here for you to tell me again—”

“It’s fine, Perce. I’m not that mad at you, anymore.”

“‘That mad?’” he repeats, an eyebrow raised. “Really?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, really. I let it all out with the straw dummies, see?”

“And who says that you won’t keep letting it out on me if we—hypothetically—spar?”

“Hmm. No promises.”

“‘Kay.” He shrugs. “I’m used to that, anyway.”

Annabeth could sense it now, his sarcastic wit. Sometimes, it was endearing, but other times...he could damn well use it against her. Like when they fought. Two magnets, polar opposites.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Seaweed Brain.”

His green eyes twinkle, the same way the sea reflects the morning rays of the sun. “Why should I be scared? We’re good at fighting.”

Silence.

Good at fighting about what? Good at fighting each other in every possible way.

His expression turns into a wince. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever. Are you going to uncap Riptide or what?”

“Just like in Star Wars?” he asks, that cheeky grin spreading across his face again. “With the lightsaber thing or whatever?”

“Oh my gods, Percy, you’ve done this before—”

“But I always wanted to say that!”

“You’re so gonna lose.”

“In your dreams, Wise Girl.”

She wants to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. By kissing him or beating him, or maybe both.

And that’s when their dangerous dance begins.

Annabeth is the first to strike, followed by Percy blocking her knife, quicker than a hunting cheetah. Maybe he isn’t as rusty as she thought.

This changes nothing.

There’s a fire burning in his eyes, like lightning flashing by the sea. It’s too distracting, too hypnotizing, but she shakes it off and slashes, again and again. Mercilessly. Violently.

He returns the favor, and it's maddening how easily he can move with his sword, as though it were an extension to his arm, while simultaneously making her heart pound like a giant drum. And not just because of their fast-paced sparring.

“Glad to see,” she pants, “that you’ve been training.”

His sword glints in the fevered sun, and he has the nerve to laugh. “Chiron’s been keeping me busy around here.”

“No matter,” she says, blocking one especially rattling strike that she feels all the way to her bones. She closes the distance between them, partly because of her much smaller blade, and partly because she wants him to meet her eyes. “I’ll kick your ass, anyway.”

“Nice to know...” Another blow. “That you just wanted...to kick my ass.”

She comes at him again. “I’ve been wanting to kick your ass all week.”

They stay that way, fighting, long enough for some stragglers to keep watch. She hears the hum of demigods talking, probably about them, but she pays it no mind. It’s only her and Percy, celestial bronze clashing. Dust moves along with their feet, twirling around them in clouds.

Annabeth nearly misses his downward strike, too wrapped up in the way his shirt begins to cling to his skin, in the way his muscles flex and unflex to the rhythm of their fight.

She jumps back before she’s cleaved in two.

They're separated enough for her to catch her breath, but she doesn’t miss the smug look on Percy’s face. Even though he too, is huffing and puffing.

She glances up, noticing for the first time that they have an audience. Across the arena, Silena throws her a thumbs up while Clarisse shakes her head.

“Don’t be such a pussy!” she hollers to Annabeth. “Go get him!”

It’s enough to rile her up again. She turns to face Percy. He just grins.

“Getting tired?”

She exhales, blowing away a curl that had stuck to her forehead. “You wish.”

-

Her strike is the one that finally trips him up. Or maybe it’s her leg. But it’s no matter. Because Annabeth manages to disarm Percy, leaving him on his knees.

His face reflects light, like a shimmering pool, beautiful and mesmerizing. But she can’t think of that now. She presses her knife against his neck.

“Guess you beat me after all.”

“Yield,” is all she says.

She shifts her knife, lifting his chin up. The movement is sharp and quick, but there’s something powerful about it, the moment painted before her in a frozen orb. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. Up and down.

She can’t look away, feeling everything and nothing at once.

His green green eyes are ablaze, locked with hers. He’s glowing, she’s sure of it. Her hands shake as she watches a bead of sweat settle across his collarbones, but she steadies her knife before it’s too late.

Strong and powerful. That’s what the campers have to say about him. And she doesn’t disagree with them. But then again...he’d surrendered to her. He’s beautiful this way, she decides.

I just want to be on good terms with you, he seems to say.

But the moment is gone as quickly as it began.

She finally hears the wolf whistling, the catcalls. Sighing, Annabeth lowers her knife and extends a hand. He accepts it, standing up way too close for her liking. From here, she can make out the smell of sweat coming off of him.

“Well played, Percy.”

He nods, that troublemaker smile tugging at his lips. Her stomach tumbles, not knowing what to make of it after what had happened.

His expression transforms into something else, though. It becomes one of those easy smiles that he shares with few people, where you get to glimpse a piece of his heart, just for a few seconds.

“Uh...it was nice doing this with you,” he says.

“You mean nearly killing each other?”

“You could say that. Or…” he looks down, then glances at her briefly, nervously. “Or just doing things with you. You make sparring all the more interesting.”

She shoves his shoulder lightly, and he laughs, breaking the tension.

“I’m glad I can be interesting to you.”

His eyes soften. “You’re more than that.”

She nods. Some things never change,

“Well, then...maybe think about training with me instead of Chiron. You know, since we’re so good at fighting.”

“Will do.”

“...See you tomorrow, then,” she says.

And before she can glimpse the look on his face, she vanishes into the crowd of onlookers.

[oligbia]

Heels Over Head

Izuku MidoriyaXReader SFW, Fluff

Midoriya tightened his glare, brows furrowed, green hair falling into his face. His scowl turned into a smile, determination seeping from his skin in the form of beads of sweat. He was not going to lose. His arms were purple, bones broken from overdoing his somewhat new quirk.

You flung yourself upwards again, your quirk launching you high into the hair. You quickly started a decent, nose-diving at rapid speed to Midoriya. You knew he was better suited to use his arms at this point in training, he wouldn't be able to reach you this high. You began to rotate your body, coming down on him with your fist extended like a screw gun onto a board.

You struck him in the head, sending him flying back. His limp body skidded off of the fighting circle, and he showed no sign of getting up. You flung forward yourself, still unsure of the best way to land after falling from such a tall height. You hit the ground with a large 'oof'. You were pretty sure you heard your ankle break, or at least get a pretty gnarly fracture.

You heard Present Mic announce you as the round's winner, but you were struggling to get up and bask in your victory yourself. You may have won your round of the Sports Festival, but you weren't sure you could make another. You finally found the strength to get up, your weight visibly shifted off your damaged ankle. A classmate rushed over to you, and you draped an arm over their shoulder and shifted your weight onto them. You watched as they loaded an unconscious Midoriya onto a stretcher and wheeled him to an infirmary.

Your classmate droned on and on about the Sports Festival, your win over Midoriya, and needing to make sure you can compete next round to 'do your class justice.' But, honestly, you were more worried about Midoriya. You hadn't met him prior to today, but you still felt guilty. Your goal was to beat him- not make him unconscious. He was a fair oppinant, he gave you a run for your money. He had a lead on you for a while, but once he started to break his bones his restraint became his downfall. You took that chance to take a few hard blows to him, landing you where you are now.

You and your classmate stumbled into the infirmary, and they dropped you into a chair to wait. You hadn't had a chance to look at your ankle yet, but in the chair you did. It was bruised all around your foot, the purple and yellow hues almost looking black at points. Both ankles were swollen, but the bruised one was two or three times the size of the other.  

You heard a few final remarks faintly from Recovery Girl, something about taking time to rest and a concussion. You weren't able to see her, but from the sounds of her voice she was behind a curtain on the other end of the infirmary. You watched as she wandered over to you, her tiny legs shuffling under her.

“You’re the young girl who fought Young Midoriya. Good fight…” She survives your ankle, “...nasty results.” She pokes at your bruised ankle, you grimace with pain. A strong throbbing pain shot through your foot. “This one is definitely broken, but lucky for you young lady, the other is just sprained. Nothing I can’t fix for you, deary.”

You watched curiously as she placed a long kiss on your broken ankle, but you didn’t notice any immediate changes.

“It should be better after a half hour or so, in the meantime I will wrap up your other ankle. You should be fine to compete later if you want.”

You smiled and thanked her. She worked on wrapping up the sprained ankle, some of the pressure already relieving. Almost on cue after finishing, she received a call to go to the arena to care for a student on sight- something about the explosive kid from 1-A and a girl he took down. She told you that you were welcomed to stay until you could see yourself out and offered you a pair of crutches before she scurried away.

You sat in silence for a while before you heard faint mumbling coming from behind the curtain. Curiosity got the better of you, and you got up on the crutches, wandering over to the curtain. You drew it back a little, peaking your head behind it.

Midoriya sat propped up in bed, his gym uniform a little torn and twisted up, exposing his bruised abdomen. His arms were wrapped up, but less purple. It was a safe bet that Recovery Girl gave him the same treatment that you had received. His left eye had a pretty bad bruise, making his already dark iris seem even darker. He was scribbling into a notebook, mumbling to himself. You cleared your throat and his eyes shot up to meet yours.

His eyes widened and he quickly closed his notebook, shoving it to the side and trying to move it out of sight. “Ah! I’m so sorry, I probably was being loud!” His voice was frantic and he stumbled over his words.

You peered over to his side. “What were you doing?”

“I was taking notes. I write about different things I think can make me a good hero.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry I beat you up real bad…”

He smiled, his posture relaxing some. “It’s alright. I’ve seen worse.” He lifts his arms up. “I break these pretty often, actually.” He chuckles a little. You looked at him awkwardly, unsure of the joke.

“You had me beat for a while. I wasn’t sure I would win. I’m no good at distanced combat.”

He looked down at your ankles, noticing their state. “Well, your quirk is based on your feet, right? Actually, I have some questions about that…” he pulled out his notebook again. He started flipping through pages of it quickly. You sat down at the edge of the bed, square with his torso. Midoriya, not aware of your presence, began to ramble on about different strategies he had noticed about your quirk. You didn’t have a complex quirk by any means. Your feet had invisible springs, allowing you to jump to incredible heights. It had it’s limitations like everyone else’s. You watched his face, eyes constantly drawing to the large bruise over his eye and the gash on his lip that had been caked over with dried blood. Without thinking much about it, you pulled the wet rag from the bedside table next to Midoriya and gently patted at his lip, trying to clean off some of the blood.

Shivers traveled down Midoriya’s spine at the feeling of the cool washcloth patting gently on his bottom lip. He stopped his thoughts abruptly, looking up at you. Your eyes were focused on his lip, unable to meet his. His pupils grew in shock at your care, especially considering you had just kicked his ass and you had another fight later.

Noticing his silence, you filled in some blanks for him, still dabbing his bottom lip. “My quirk is essentially large invisible springs on the bottoms of my feet. But, like springs, you can't constantly jump high. You have to get a handful of small jumps before a big one. It’s almost like a trampoline, I guess.”

Your eyes finally meet his, and you give him a quick smile. His eyes trace your face, trying to memorize every detail of it. He thought you were quite cute, he was particularly fond of the way your hair was still messy from the fight and the way your eyes seemed to hold an extra layer of determination behind them. He watched as you placed the rag next to you and ran a finger along his cheekbone, caressing the bruise covering his eye.

“Your eye is really swollen, I’m sorry about that too…”

“No! No, no it’s alright. It was an honor to get kicked in the head by you, L/N.” His voice cracked at the beginning, your intimate gesture taking him by surprise. You laughed a little, moving your hand off his face. “Whatever you say, Midoriya.”

He watched as you stood up, taking the crutches under your arms. “I have another fight with some kid from your class- Tokoyami, I think. Anyways, I don’t expect to beat him. My quirk isn’t any match for that shadow thing he has.”

Midoriya smiled, “Well, at least you can say you beat the problem child.”

You shook your head and smiled, grabbing the notebook from his chest. Before he could start panicking and asking for it back, you flipped to the page with a drawing of you and notes about your quirk. You scribbled out your number for him.

“Call me sometime, problem child.”

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter fourteen: tin roof rusted

word count: ~10.7k

rating: m

warnings: references to ~sexual activities~, canon typical forced drug use, mentions of cannibalism, canon-typical violence, everybody playing fucking mental chess all the time meanwhile elliot is just trying to have some fun playing fucking CHECKERS. the usual!

notes: hi hello! this chapter was a bit hard for me to work through, because the two things that are the hardest for me to write are 1.) more than two characters in one scene and 2.) combat or action, and this has both of them. but: i digress! i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed, despite all things, writing it (because it WAS fun). and i mean it when i say: WE'RE FINALLY KICKING IT OFF, BABY. EDIT: I CANNOT BELIEVE I DIDNT THANK @vasiktomis thank u for being an angel and always talking through plot problems with me, i LOVE LOVE LOVE you !!!!

special thank you as always to my loves @starcrier & @shallow-gravy for letting me borrow their eyeballs on this, as well as @faithchel and @lilwritingraven lending me help in my first time writing faith's voice. in case you're wondering what it's like to read any of these chapters in their rough draft form, it's a lot of correcting grammar and misspellings and half-finished sentences because i literally jump around like a maniac when i'm writing if an idea occurs to me, so everyone say "thank you star and gravy for making this a readable piece of content"!

and thank you as always to everyone who reads this. this really is a passion project of mine and it means so much to me to know that even on person out on the World Wide Web(TM) is enjoying it. <3

Faith could tell that something had changed.

In fact, a lot of things had changed. All of them, every single one of them, was different—compressed, under duress, skeletons unjustly fit into their skin. No room in the bone arena of their skulls for all of the light they’d had before.

And she was the only one who saw.

Well, she’d always been the only one who saw. Except for Joseph, of course, but his eyes were always set forward, never back to them; never making sure that they were close enough behind to make it through the proverbial door, always assured by the fact that if they were meant to make it to Eden with him, they would. And so here she was, seeing.

Seeing the way Joseph would lean into the dark-haired woman, Isolde; the way his lips curved, the way his eyes darted to her mouth. Longing. Joseph didn’t long for things. But he did, now, in a strange and inexorable way, always close to the brunette and finding occasions to touch her. It was the thing that he did: foster affection, even in the bleakest of places, and this was no exception. Nearly every moment of theirs was spent together, but when they were apart, the smell of expensive perfume trailed after him, clinging faintly from enduring proximity alone.

And she saw the way, too, that he looked at the vet, Arden—Jacob’s “friend”. Muted disdain. Mistrust. Things that Joseph certainly thought that he could disguise himself, things he thought he manicured carefully with a polite exchange every time they were in the same proximity (never initiated by Arden herself, only always by Joseph). Testing the waters.

Yes, Faith thought, things have changed. Are changing, present-tense and not past. Things have changed and are in the act of changing now, right under our feet. And I don’t like it.

It was inevitable, in a lot of ways, but there were some things that she could control.

Like Staci Pratt.

“Hello, deputy,” she greeted once he’d come around the corner of the chapel. She’d been standing outside of it, pleased to enjoy a brief respite from the snowfall.

Her words made him flinch, his movements grinding to a halt. Jacob really had done a number on him, hadn’t he? “Have a nice walk?”

Pratt’s expression soured. He was a sulky kind of fellow, his face gaunt from malnourishment and his dark eyes haunted, darting. He never met hers for long. There had been a flicker of attitude when he’d mouthed off about the sermon, which seemed to have caught Jacob off-guard.

He said, “I guess.”

“You guess,” Faith repeated. “You’re given the freedom to wander around, and you guess that you like it?”

The brunette paused. He wet his lips nervously, shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. Jacob was too busy to worry about whether or not Pratt was behaving himself—too busy focusing on the Hunter, slaughtering her Angels, making them disappear left and right—to keep an eye on him. To make sure that the conditioning stuck. But Faith wasn’t too busy. She was seeing.

Pratt said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you do,” Faith demurred. She swept a hand over the lapel of his jacket, brushing the snow off of it. It was late afternoon, milky light filtering in through the clouds, and unflattering color palette on Pratt; it washed him out, shadowed the hollows of his face and highlighted their skeletal angles. “When has Jacob ever let you wander around without a chaperone?”

“I’m not—a toddler,” he managed out, having swallowed back what she was sure was a flinch when she reached up. Faith’s eyes narrowed a little. He continued to not meet her gaze; instead, he slid his eyes to the side, like maybe he was worried about someone sneaking up on him.

“Where did you go?” Faith asked sweetly.

His eyes darted back to hers briefly. “Huh?”

“For your walk,” she clarified patiently. “Where did you go?”

“I-I—” He took a step back, in what appeared to be an effort to put some distance between them. “I don’t, uh—”

“It’s just a question, Deputy Pratt,” she murmured. “Where did you walk? Behind the chapel? Over by the bunkhouses? Down by the water? Surely you went somewhere.”

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” he replied defensively, “I was just—y’know, just—”

“I don’t,” Faith cut in over him, dripping the words in honey on their way out of her mouth, “know, Staci Pratt. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“By the water,” he snapped out uneasily. “Just wanted to get—get some f-fresh air.”

“Mm.”

She waited. She waited, and watched Staci Pratt squirm for a minute, unsure if he was able to excuse himself from the conversation or not—and doubly unsure what else there was to be said on the subject of his late-afternoon-walk, she was sure. Still, Faith remained quiet, scanning the courtyard leisurely as she let the silence stretch out between them.

It wasn’t until Pratt opened his mouth to say something that Faith turned her eyes back to him and said, “Are you relieved Jacob’s going to be gone?”

His mouth snapped shut, and then opened again to say something, and then closed again; he looked like a fish, glassy-eyed and panicked. Faith smiled serenely.

“You can be honest with me, Staci.” She tilted her head, watching him. “If you are.”

“If I’m—what?”

“Relieved,” she reiterated, feeling the annoyance sparking in her voice, “that Jacob isn’t going to be around for a little while.”

His expression twisted, crumpled on itself. It was clear that Jacob had pushed him—and pushed him, and pushed him, until now he was a kicked dog, waiting for someone’s outstretched hand to mean pain and not kindness. It was good. It meant that he would be afraid of incurring their wrath, should he have gotten any funny ideas about going against them.

Before Faith could prompt him more, the door to the chapel behind her opened and Staci’s eyes flickered to whoever it was over her shoulder.

“Oh,” came Isolde’s voice. “What’re you doing out and about?”

Faith turned to look at her. A little smile ticked the corners of the brunette’s mouth when their eyes met. She had clearly been speaking to Pratt.

“Deputy Pratt was just going for a walk,” Faith informed Isolde. “Down by the water, he says.”

“Is that so?”

“No,” Pratt replied quickly. “I wasn’t—”

Faith lifted her brows. She said, coyly, “But you told me you were.”

“I’m done,” he insisted, “with the walk. I-I’m not still—I’m not going on the walk, I’ve just—”

“This is all very interesting, Mr. Pratt,” Isolde interjected briskly, “but I don’t have a particular care whether you were walking or if you are now going on a walk.” She cinched her coat snugly around her waist, waving a gloved hand. “Cease being.”

Faith watched, amusedly, as Pratt’s face flushed red from the dismissal; he looked terribly like he wanted to say something in response, but after their last little spat after Joseph’s sermon, she imagined he wasn’t keen on it.

Pratt looked at Faith. She smiled.

“That means be somewhere else,” Isolde drawled, stepping down from the chapel’s doorway to stop beside Faith, tugging a glove more securely onto her hand. “In case you didn’t pick that up from your time indulging in Mario Savio.”

The man’s jaw clenched, the fabric of the jacket pockets shifting from what Faith could only assume were his fists tightening. Oh, he did want so badly to say something, didn’t he? Go on, she thought, meeting his gaze, I’d like to see it.

He did not. He ducked his head and turned to trudge through the snow. As Pratt departed to slink back to the bunkhouse, Isolde let out a little sigh.

“Can’t put my finger on that one just yet,” she muttered. Her eyes returned to Faith, her expression smoothing out. “I didn’t interrupt your fun, did I?”

“No,” Faith replied sweetly, “I was actually waiting for you.”

Their handy-dandy expert had been all but inaccessible on her own since her arrival. Joseph was always beckoning for her; the crook of his fingers, the tilt of his head, meaningful gazes thrown across the room. If it wasn’t him, it was time for sleep, or she was having Jacob take her out far enough to get cell service again—which Faith thought must mean that she had family, perhaps, or friends out there in the world.

Isolde blinked at her for a moment. She glanced back at the door to the chapel—where, undoubtedly, Joseph waited; to comb through his next sermon, to discuss the logistics of what was going to be happening next, to figure out how best to placate the masses and raise morale—and then said, “Well, you’ve got me.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Faith suggested. “You know, present-tense. Not past.” And then: “I want to check something.”

Isolde smiled wryly. The expression only changed a little when Faith took one gloved hand of hers and set off, following the paths that had been shoveled and worn down by other members of Eden’s Gate. The brunette seemed uncomfortable with the familiarity of the touch, much in the same way she seemed to be gritting her teeth through the moments of closeness with Joseph.

Squeezing her hand, Faith said, “I’m excited for Elliot and John to come back.”

“That makes one of us.”

“You’re not?” Curiouser and curiouser.

The woman stifled a sigh, clearing her throat as they headed down a slope that would take them closer to the water. “John is not one of my favorite people in the world, at this moment.”

“And you don’t know Elliot,” she prompted.

“And I don’t know Elliot,” Isolde agreed.

“Well, I’m excited.” She beamed, puffing out warm air as they came down to the water’s edge. “I’ve always wanted a sister. Do you have siblings?”

“Me?” The brunette looked uneasy at the prompting. Faith wondered, briefly, if anyone had asked her anything about herself since she’d arrived—or if it had just been Isolde, come here, Isolde, do this. It felt familiar. She’d once been the come here, do this girl; with the arrival of the Family, and their subsequent terroristic acts against her family, Faith supposed a different set of skills were needed at the moment.

Not that she minded, not really. This allowed her to take a step back. And See.

“Yes, you,” she replied playfully, glancing out at the water for a moment. Dark clouds were rolling in on the horizon. “I want to know everything about you.”

“Oh,” Sol said absently, her eyes drifting. “I’m not all that interesting. I’d much rather hear about...”

Her voice trailed off. Faith followed her gaze. There, in the snow, a set of footprints meeting another set somewhere close to shore—and then away. Away, around the bend of the island, going and going and going, much farther than she thought someone who was part of Eden’s Gate ought to be going.

“Where did Pratt say he was taking a walk?” Isolde asked, her voice a little tart.

Faith smiled. “Down here, by the water.”

“I see.”

Do you? Faith wondered, watching the way the brunette’s eyes flickered, silently working something over in her mind. Do you see?

“I thought it was odd, that he was going for a walk,” Faith ventured after a moment. “He’s supposed to be staying with Dr. Hale.”

The brunette made a soft noise; her eyes slid back to Faith for a moment, narrowing thoughtfully, as though she were considering something else outside of what appeared to have been a mystery guest.

“Let’s head back in,” Isolde announced after a quiet moment had lapsed. “It’s freezing out. You can ask me whatever you’d like. And, you’re right—”

She paused, and dark brows furrowed, all discomfort at Faith’s closeness and their linked hands apparently forgotten.

“It is odd.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John could not stop thinking about it.

He tried, often; for the hours that he spent driving, he tried to push the scene fresh out of a horror movie from his mind and think about something else. Anything else. Not even replaying the moments they’d spent together before that, the way she tasted and smelled and felt—not even that could wash it from his mind, like a bad aftertaste.

The drag of nails against the door. The whispering.

Bloom. Eat. Grin.

The sound of feet hitting the pavement. The whispering.

Bloom. Eat. Grin.

Who had been on the other side of that door? Who had been talking to his wife? Who had been asking her, in hushed voices, to let them in?

Wrath, do you want to bloom in me?

Beside him, Elliot slept fitfully. Uneasily. She shifted and changed positions every few minutes, until she finally gave up and pulled her seat back into the sitting position to watch the landscape go by. John’s eyes burned with exhaustion. They’d left the motel hours ago, but even that wasn’t a comfort. Especially with the memory sitting heavy in his mind of Elliot’s head tilting, the click of her molars grind, the way she said I see you. I see your color.

He’d heard that before, he thought. Hadn’t he? Somewhere? Seeing color, seeing someone’s color. See? Don’t you see?

Ase’s fingers, linking with Elliot’s. Blood spilling out of her, insides painting the grass of the Sacred Skies camp. Her mouth moving listlessly. But it wasn’t listlessly. She was saying something, to Elliot, that night. Back then.

Do you see?

“John.”

Ase, do you see? And Elliot, agonized, moaning in pain like a trapped animal.

“John,” Elliot said again, her voice sharper. He blinked a few times. “The light’s green.”

So it was.

He carefully turned down the street that was going to take them out of this town—another nothing-name, nobody-lives-here town hours out past where their motel had been located—and onto the highway. This was not at all what he had wanted. The plan had always been to get Elliot, bring her home, hunker down for the end. Then she’d see, wouldn’t she? She’d see he was right all along, and that everything he’d done had been for her—for them—and that the little twinge of want he’d seen on her face and in her eyes when he opened her skin with her sin wasn’t bad. It was cleansing. Purifying. He’d always known how good it was going to look on her, and he was right. It looked perfect.

What he wouldn’t give to be back in that room, feeling her breath stutter and watching her lashes flicker between pain and desire.

“Maybe I should drive for a while,” she suggested after a moment, drawing his attention back to the present. John cleared his throat.

“I’m fine.” Out of the corner of his eye, he gauged her—watched for any sign of that strange, sly cruelty that had been dredged up out of her. Thinking back on it now, the way she’d smiled in her dreaming state, it had been like she knew he didn’t want her to open the door—and she was going to do it anyway. “You got less sleep than I did.”

“You don’t know that,” Elliot defended, slinking down against the seat a little more.

“I do,” John replied. “Because I know you.”

“Well,��� she said, and did not elaborate. There, again, was that little thrill blooming hot and humid in his chest—knowing that she was coming to understand.

They drove for a few moments in silence, only the sound of the car rumbling and the snow getting wiped from the windshield; Boomer snored once or twice in the back seat, and John was certain that Elliot had dozed off when she said, “I’ve been thinking about names.”

He had just clicked the cruise control on the highway when she said it, his eyes flickering over to her inquisitively. “For?”

“The baby,” Elliot replied a little dryly, like he should have guessed that—and he supposed that he should have, but he had wanted to hear her say it. She wasn’t saying our baby, but she was saying the baby, and it included him. It was saying, you know, the baby, which kept him under the umbrella of who the baby belonged to.

“Ah, yes.” He felt the corner of his mouth ticking upward. “The baby.”

He hesitated. There was something sticking uneasily to his ribs. He tried to soothe his frayed nerves by thinking, we’ll be back home and Joseph will see how good I’ve done, how tamed she is for me. He’ll see and he’ll be pleased.

The uneasiness squirmed viciously in his stomach.

“I like the name Nolan,” Elliot said after a minute. He saw her hand smooth absently over the very subtle slope of her tummy. She had not struck him as particularly maternal, in the time that they’d been together, but seeing little gestures like this—seeing her hand rest there, protectively, like their baby comforted her—made his throat feel a little tight. “It was my grandfather’s name.”

“Paternal?” he idled, watching her eyes flash to him.

“No, John,” she replied dryly. “My maternal grandfather. If my dad was barely around, what makes you think I knew my paternal grandparents at all?”

“It’s not crazy to think. Grandparents step up, sometimes.” He shrugged, and then reached over the console of the Jeep. His hand found hers and interlaced their fingers together absently. He felt her stiffen a little, like she was thinking of pulling it away, and then relaxed and let him stay there. “I can’t believe you didn’t suggest John Junior.”

Her expression scrunched up. “Don’t be foul.”

John flashed her a smile. They still had a full day’s travel ahead of them, at least, but if they didn’t stop for anything except gas—and that’s what he intended—they’d be rolling into Hope County sooner rather than later. They’d be home. Joseph would be pleased—

That doesn’t feel as comforting as it used to.

—and Elliot would see that everything he had done had been for them.

“I like Nolan,” he clarified, after a moment. Elliot made a little noise, like it pleased her.

“I—” She paused. Her thumb absently swept over one of his knuckles, and she closed her mouth, pressing her lips together.

John’s gaze flickered over her before he refocused on the road. “What is it, Ell?”

The almost-blonde (that copper was still hanging on strong) grimaced a little and then cleared her throat. “I’m not happy about going back.”

He fixed his gaze on the road, but left his hand where it was. He didn’t say anything. He wanted to—so badly, he wanted to say, well, it’s better, don’t you think? Better for us, for the baby, to not have to worry about your mother or Pritchard or the memories that house dredges up, or the woman in the street or the sleepwalking?—but he didn’t. He waited.

“I’m not going to bite my tongue,” she told him, “and play nice with Joseph.”

“You can’t,” he replied quickly. “You cannot fight him the entire time, Ell. You just can’t.”

“Like fuck I can’t,” she snapped.

“You cannot,” he reiterated sharply. “It’s not just about you anymore. It’s not good for the baby—”

“I know it’s not just about me, Scarlet.” Elliot’s voice was cutting, and she disentangled their fingers, shifting in the passenger seat to put more distance between them. John’s molars ground together.

Petulant, he thought. Ungrateful. Impudent. Even now, she’s willfully obtuse—it would be so easy for her to just—to just—

But she had never just. And he didn’t like her just, only liked her exactly as she was, even when her venom and her Wrath was turned on him, liked that she had retained those sharp edges and that she let him in past them. It had been, he thought as he rested his hand back on the console, truly a labor of love to shove himself past all of those sharp edges and get in to all the grit and gore of his girl. He had been more than happy to do it. There was nothing quite so purifying as pain.

Still, the Scarlet moniker stung.

Willing the tightness out of his voice, John replied, “Well, I wish I was like your mother. Maybe then she wouldn’t have spent the entire time talking about how my tattoos mean I’ll burst into flame the second I walk into a church.”

“I won’t fucking do it,” Elliot answered, her voice tight, apparently not assuaged by his attempt at humor. “I won’t fucking do it, John. I’m not coming back just to watch you go nuclear the second he tells you that he’s proud of you, okay? And you’re right, it’s not just about me anymore, and it sure as fuck isn’t just about you, either.”

He swallowed back the venom. He liked her Wrath, but this was a little too close to how things had been before—you should see yourself, she’d spat at him, practically falling over just to—

“You should get some sleep,” is what he finally settled on.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“I mean it,” he reiterated irritably. “You can’t be sleepwalking off to God knows where with our baby, Ell.”

That shut her up. That had her mouth clamping shut, shifting in her seat so that more of her back was facing him, the physical cold shoulder. It shut her up, and John regretted saying it out loud, because he immediately thought of the way she’d been crying in her car that day when she’d said, Would you have even come for me if I didn’t have the baby?, or the frantic, panicked way she’d said, I’m not crazy.

John sighed. “Elliot.”

There was no response. She stayed put exactly where she was, breathing tiredly through her nose once.

“I’m—”

He stopped short. He was waiting for her to cut him off. She said nothing. He said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nothing.

“Ell?” Still she did not answer him, instead opting to shrug the throw blanket she’d pulled up from the floor beneath her seat further up to her chin, remaining dutifully silent. She was doing it on purpose. She was doing it because she knew that he wanted the back-and-forth, because she knew that he couldn’t stand it when she was withholding from him, and it was working.

And he couldn’t even comfort himself with the knowledge that they would be back in Hope County.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Elliot woke next, it was to John’s voice.

Ugh, she thought. I’m so over it.

Still, it persisted, the timbre of his voice rousing her from her uneasy sleep, plagued by more uneasy dreams—blurs of color and light and anxiety, wadding up tight in her throat.

“Come on,” John said, gently jostling her until she sat up a little more. “I’ve put the back seats down. Let’s sleep a little.”

“Where are we?” she asked groggily, displacing her irritation with him in favor of resting her hand in the crook of his neck. The steady thrum of his pulse under her fingers, the smell of his faded cologne washing over her. In her half-asleep state, it provided some comfort, even as she shivered her way out of the passenger seat and crept around to the back of the Jeep.

“A campground,” John replied, his voice welling with disdain, even now. Even when they had no reason to be picky. “In Iowa. Close to the South Dakota border.”

“Oh,” she said. She was so tired; it was as though getting some sleep had made her even more tired, had reminded her body of what she had been lacking. Exhaustedly, she crawled into the nest-like space John had laid out in the back with the seats laid flat, Boomer tucked up into the corner close to the door and buried into one of the sweaters she’d shed during the drive.

John climbed in beside her, closing the back of the Jeep and then pulling several more blankets up. He scrolled through a timer on his phone for a moment before he set it and then tucked it to the side, rolling to look at her.

“You done ignoring me?” he murmured.

“Mm.” She shifted, wadding the blankets up. “You done bein’ a fuckhead?”

“Your accent comes out when you’re tired.”

“No it doesn’t.”

In the dark, she could see the vague outline of him grinning. He was quiet for a moment before he reached up, hesitating and then brushing some of the hair from her face.

“We’re on the same team, Elliot,” John said.

“Are we?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was tired, and emotional; fuck, she was so over being this emotional. “Feels all the time like it’s just me, hoping you’re gonna come around and never getting what I need.”

Not what I want. It was what I need.

“We are,” John insisted.

“Then start acting like it,” Elliot snapped, the sleepy slur of her words clearing up a little in the wake of her irritation. “I told you, John. I told you—you can’t be sitting around with one foot over there and one foot over here. You were right, it’s not just about me now. There’s the baby, too. I won’t—” She bit the word out, crushing it with the emotional duress that tried to seep into her voice. “—have you one foot in and one foot out when the baby’s here. You’re either in it or you’re not. Don’t make me choose for you.”

John’s expression flattened. He sighed, passing a hand over his face, digging the pads of his fingers into his eyes for a moment. She tried not to think about the way he’d said I love you back at the motel, moaning it into her neck and sparking that little tiny part of her that wanted it so badly. He’d said it that day, too, when she’d been crying in the car. Of course I would have come. I love you. Had her mother said she loved her a single time since she’d been back?

I just want you to mean it, she thought exhaustedly, closing her eyes and rolling onto her other side, back to him. I just want you to mean it when you say you love me. I just want someone to fucking mean it, even just once.

“Elliot,” he murmured, shifting closer to her and nosing past the hair at the nape of her neck. She felt the hesitant slide of his hand against her hip; closing her eyes more tightly, she scooted closer to Boomer, brushing John’s hand off of her. He couldn’t just crowd up in her space with sweet touches every time she was mad. He’d have to learn how to do better, or drop the act.

“Ell.” He didn’t try and touch her again. She was glad for it, even if the fanning of his breath across the back of her neck had been comforting. “We’ll be home soon.”

“Sure, John,” she replied tiredly.

Whatever that means.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Alright, I’m going.”

Jacob’s announcement came in the early afternoon. Isolde glanced up from where she had been meticulously combing over inventory. It wasn’t great. It wasn’t even remotely close to great. And she still didn’t know, quite, what to fucking do; Jacob’s earlier question of whether she was going to leave or not still hung over her. Mocked her for her indecision. For the worm of doubt in her head that maybe, there was some truth to what Joseph was saying.

If she left, she’d have to take the first flight to Turkey to be with her family. Nineteen hours in the air. A fucking nightmare. There was—from what her father had told her on their phone call—no going back to Georgia, not right now, not when things in the U.N. were so fucking tense, and not when someone kept throwing around a nuclear threat like confetti. Straight from dad’s mouth, too, not her own words.

“Going?” she prompted, setting her pen down and crossing her arms over her chest. The heater in the corner of the bunkhouse sputtered weakly. Arden hadn’t even bothered to look up from her book when Jacob came in. One of the hairy beasts she called Castor or Pollux—Isolde had not yet determined which was which—had curled up on her feet on the bed as she read, the other stretched out on the floor. They both looked at her as soon as Jacob had stepped inside, as though to wait for some kind of signal from her.

“To the Vet’s Center,” he clarified. His gaze flickered from her to Arden. “Ade?”

The blonde scribbled something in the margins of her book. “Jake.”

“Where’s Pratt?”

“I told him to go eat something,” she idled. “He looks about ninety pounds soaking wet, as they say. Though if I had to actually estimate, I’d say maybe one-twenty more like. How much did he weigh before? One-fifty? Little more?”

“He’s supposed to be staying with you, here,” Jacob replied dryly. He sighed, glancing out the door and then back in. “You’re giving him too much leash.”

“You pushed him too far.” Arden’s voice was flat, non-committal; she still had not disengaged from her book, despite the words coming out of her mouth, which were clearly a criticism. Isolde shifted in her seat, coming to a stand.

“Well,” she began, searching absently for her coat, “I think I was supposed to go help—”

“I pushed him exactly where he’s supposed to be.” Jacob had stepped into the bunkhouse entirely, now, the frown deep-set on his features. “If you’re going to levy a criticism, Arden, do me the favor of making eye contact.”

“I don’t have to look you in your eyes to tell you you’re wrong,” Arden murmured. “You pushed him too far. You left a beat dog with no structure and no faculties to survive with alone, in inclement weather conditions—”

“It’s snow.”

“—for almost two months,” she finished, completely glossing over his interjection. “No resources. No way to contact you. You made him absolutely reliant on you to do literally everything, and then you left him—alone. So now, I have to give him more leash.” She clicked her pen, snapped the book shut, and looked at the dogs. “Go on then, boys.”

They hopped to their feet and darted over to Jacob, big tails whooshing noisily. Isolde watched them nosing Jacob’s hand for attention and pets, and then looked at Jacob. His expression was tight.

“Isolde,” he said. The tone of his voice said, give us a minute.

“On my way out,” she replied briskly, sliding her coat on and gathering up her papers. “Pardon me, hounds.”

Jacob herded them to the side as she made her way out, closing the door behind her and letting out a breath. She could hear a moment of silence stretching in the bunkhouse behind her before the redhead’s voice came through the door: “Say what you want to say, Arden, I can tell when you’re biting your tongue.”

And then, barely a moment’s hesitation: “I just can’t help but wonder about the legitimacy of Joseph’s guidance,” Arden was saying. “You’re your own man, Jacob. You know when someone is making poor decisions.”

“Pratt isn’t, and wasn’t, a ‘poor’—”

“I’m not talking about Pratt anymore. Jacob, I’m giving you the eye contact you wanted to tell you that I think you need to reassess what...”

Isolde let out a long, warm exhale of breath before she began trekking across the compound, the argument trailing out to nothing behind her. She did not hear it; she did not think about the implications of what appeared to be the only rational person in this fucking place having an opinion on leadership. It had dumped another seven inches in the night, and now bedraggled members of Eden’s Gate—as if they hadn’t looked bedraggled from the minute she’d gotten there—were struggling to re-shovel walkways. This couldn’t be typical Montana weather, could it? No, she didn’t think so. Even now, those thick, heavy clouds from before had begun to move in, swollen and black-dark with unshed snow.

She saw Pratt sitting on the chapel steps, bundled up in a coat and scarf, hands tucked cross-ways over his chest.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, drawing his eyes to her. His mouth twisted in a grimace and he looked away.

“I’m just minding my own business.”

“Sure,” she replied. She thought about the walk she’d taken with Faith down to the water, and the extra pair of footprints. “You do a lot of that? Say, with a friend?”

Pratt’s eyes darted to hers. “Of...”

“Minding your own business,” she clarified tartly. “Do you mind your own business, sometimes with a friend?”

The deputy’s expression was blank. Isolde rolled her eyes—he was either incredibly stupid, or he was playing stupid, and she didn’t think it was the latter.

“I don’t, uh,” he began, “know what—”

“Why don’t you show me where you went for a walk,” she suggested coolly. “I’ve got time. Could use the company. Where did you say you went, again? I’d like to know the best places to go mind my business.”

Pratt swallowed thickly, coming to a stand with an abrupt awkwardness that implied panic. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and said, “I’m not r-really—”

He stammered for a second more, clearly struggling to come up with a reason not to, but was cut off by the sound of an alarm blaring at the end of the compound. Doors all across the compound opened, heads peeking out, guns gripped in dirty, calloused hands. Isolde had never seen so many fucking guns in one place.

“Sol!” Jacob’s voice broke through the sound of the alarm rattling around.

“What’s that alarm?” Pratt asked, his voice having gone a little high. “What’s going on? Do you—”

Isolde slapped her hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” she snapped. A dark vehicle had started pulling in through the front gates of the compound. And then she heard the look-out from the gate shout:

“The Baptist is home!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Really had to throw up an alarm for you, huh?”

John sighed. In the time since their argument, Elliot had said almost nothing to him—just a no, yes, no thanks, I’m fine whenever he suggested eating or taking a break. Now, as they pulled into the compound, she radiated only absolute tension, the softness of even the way she had sought him out in her sleep that night they’d slept in the back of the Jeep having departed completely.

“Better safe than sorry,” he muttered, pulling the Jeep up further under the compound’s archways. “Elliot, before we get out, I want—”

“That’s him,” she interrupted, her voice spiking a little, fingers quickly undoing her buckle. “They didn’t kill him, Jesus Christ—”

And before he could stop her, she was climbing out of the passenger side of the car, forcing John to throw the Jeep into park halfway under the trellis; he turned the car off and opened his door, swallowing thickly as he watched Elliot trudge her way through the snow just to be met halfway by Staci Pratt.

“Holy shit,” Pratt was saying, squeezing her shoulders and then putting his hands on her face and neck and then his hands in her hair, John’s stomach somersaulting viciously. “Fuck fuck fuck, I thought you weren’t going to come back, Elli—”

Elliot’s voice was thick, emotional. “Of course I was coming back,” John heard her say as he approached, having opted to leave the vicious attack dog in the back of the car. “Of course I’d come back for you, Pratt, I’m so sorry, I thought you—I thought you left with everyone else.”

“John.”

His attention was dragged away from the sight—Pratt, touching her, touching my Elliot, touching her like he knows her, like he knows her the way I do, not my Elliot—to the sight of his eldest brother and his business partner making their way over. Jacob had a big grin on his face, almost relieved, but Isolde looked as displeased as ever.

“I was hoping for a bigger reception,” John admitted tightly, his eyes cutting to his wife again. She was wrapped up in a bear hug. Sickening. “Balloons. Maybe a champagne bottle.”

“I ought to fucking bottle you!” Isolde snapped. Her eyes darted over his face for a second, like she was taking inventory of his state of being, before she said, “Took you long enough, anyway. Fucker.”

Jacob added, “There’s a lot to catch up on, and not a lot of time to waste. I’m just on my way out, myself.”

“It’s going to be a minute.” John hated the jealousy blooming in his voice, but there was no stopping it, not when Elliot’s hands were fluttering over Pratt’s face like a besotted maiden, not when she kept saying things like are you okay? Are you alright? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, like she owed him anything. “Where are you going?”

“Well,” Jacob said, “let’s wrap that up, shall we?”

He’d barely the time to register that Jacob hadn’t answered his question before his eldest brother was moving. One second, John felt himself stewing over the way Elliot’s hands went to Pratt’s face, moving endlessly like they didn’t know where they wanted to land—and the way she let Pratt touch her, brushing the hair from her face and choking out some indiscernible nonsense.

And then Jacob clapped a hand on Pratt’s shoulder and said, “Alright, Peaches, I think that’s enough,” and maybe—in hindsight—John would have considered the possibility of Jacob doing it because he saw the way it bothered him. But in truth, the real reason was probably a bit less honorable and likely had to do more with his eldest brother’s innate desire to push Elliot’s buttons.

Unfortunately, there was no button to be pushed this time. Only a hairpin trigger to be tripped.

Jacob’s hand landed; the words came out of his mouth; John started to say, “Now, wait,”; and Elliot’s hand lunged out to grab the offending hand at the wrist, wrenching it viciously off of Pratt’s shoulder.

There was only a beat of silence before the eldest Seed said calmly, “Hellcat.”

John saw Elliot’s grip tighten. Red welled slowly where she’d latched on with her hand, breaking skin in the half-moon shape of the nail bite. Jacob could have pulled away; he had almost a foot on Elliot and two times the brute strength, but instead his eyes narrowed and he stayed exactly put where she’d kept him.

“Something you’d like to say?” he needled.

“Don’t,” she bit out, “push my fucking buttons, Seed.”

“Pratt is a reward for good behavior,” the Soldier rumbled, voice pitched low with warning, “that means—”

John’s hand brushed Elliot’s shoulder as he cautioned, “Jacob—”

“The reward for good behavior is you get to keep your hand after putting it this close to me," she seethed. Her free hand had curled possessively into the front of Pratt’s shirt. That’s my person, it said, I have so few, I have so few of them left. "So are you going to say thank you, Jacob?"

A tense, uncomfortable moment stretched, until Pratt said, “It’s—it’s fine, Elli.”

“It’s not fine,” Elliot bit out, not once looking away from Jacob.

“It’s really okay—”

John gave Elliot’s shoulder a squeeze. Her lashes fluttered. He could feel Pratt’s eyes boring into him when he nosed past the hair at her ear to murmur, “Come on, Ell.”

It was a strange kind of satisfaction to watch her drop Jacob’s wrist like it repulsed her, blood under her fingernails and her expression hard.

“I’m not fucking done with you,” she told the redhead.

“Counting on it,” Jacob replied evenly. And then, gesturing at her hair: “I like the dye job. You’re looking more like a Seed.”

Elliot made a disgusted noise, her other hand still gripping Pratt’s shoulder and the weaponized one hanging at her side. John smoothed his thumb over her shoulder again, shooting Jacob a cautioning look before he said, “Let’s get our things unloaded, don’t you think?”

“You’re finally home!”

It was Faith, now, the sweet timbre of her voice breaking through the background chatter between Isolde and Jacob and the members of Eden’s Gate that had flocked to the front of the chapel. The blonde beamed at him, but her eyes immediately went to Elliot. Trailing behind her at a leisurely pace was Joseph.

While his sister crowded up to Elliot like a moth to flame, Joseph’s attention was fixed on him.

I won’t bite my tongue and play nice with Joseph.

John went to meet his brother halfway, a strange kind of anxiety encouraging him to keep distance between Joseph and his wife. For now. Just for now, he reasoned, just while Elliot was still so stressed out about Pratt and the car ride. Once they got settled in, it would be different; Joseph wanted her here. Her and the baby, both.

His brother reached up; the calluses of Joseph’s fingers brushed the juncture where his shoulder and neck met, squeezing there for a moment.

“We’re happy you’re home,” Joseph said, and he sounded like he meant it—his voice bloomed with warmth, and he pressed their foreheads together, just like he had done before. “It’s not the same without you here.” And then, pulling back and looking at Elliot: “All three of you.”

He watched Pratt’s expression crumple and twist at the words. Faith was saying something excitedly to Elliot, something about how much she’d missed having her around, and his wife only looked to be half-listening; it was like Joseph’s acknowledgment of her existence in their space had put her on edge, immediately.

“Jacob said he was leaving?” John asked, trying to pull the attention elsewhere. Joseph’s mouth thinned.

“Yes. There’s a lot to go over, since you’ve been gone. You should come in to the chapel.”

“Of course,” he agreed quickly. The strange, giddy nervousness fluttered up in his throat. “I’m sure I can—”

“John,” Elliot interjected, “help me unpack the car.”

“Pratt can help,” Joseph replied mildly. “Can’t you, Pratt?”

The deputy shifted on his feet, nodding numbly. Automatically, robotically, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, Elli, I can—”

She wasn’t looking at Pratt. She wasn’t even looking at Joseph. She was looking at him, and as Pratt rambled about how he’d be happy to help, of course he’d be happy to help, she said, “I want John to help me unpack the car.” Her eyes flickered to Joseph. She did that little thing where she tilted her chin up in defiance before she added, “The three-day car ride really took it out of me.”

His brother’s hand dropped from his shoulder. John shifted on his feet. He looked at Joseph and said, “I can—”

“Go, of course,” Joseph cut in over him. “Your wife is with child. The best thing right now would be making sure she gets settled in.”

“Then I’ll head out now,” Jacob announced, fishing car keys out of his pocket. “And be back before dinner.”

“If you’re sure.”

Jacob nodded at the question. Joseph gave John’s shoulder a final squeeze before he moved back toward the chapel steps; he made a single beckoning of his fingers, which did the miraculous act of drawing Isolde over to him. His brother’s head ducked to say something in a low voice into her ear, something he couldn’t quite make out.

“Peaches,” Jacob barked. “Get in the bunkhouse.”

The brunette grimaced and took Elliot’s hand—infuriating, impertinent fucking deputy—and squeezed. “I’ll find you,” he whispered, and she nodded and gave him another tight around-the-neck hug before she turned and met John halfway to the car. Her fingers brushed his as they trudged back to the Jeep.

“Happy?” he asked. He was trying not to sound petulant.

“Not hardly,” Elliot replied. She paused, and then grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers. “John?”

He made a low noise, stopping as they reached the front of the Jeep. He kept replaying it in his mind: Pratt grimy fingers in Elliot’s hair, on her cheeks and her neck, their foreheads pressed together as Elliot said I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. The idea that maybe they had been romantically entangled, once, refused to leave his mind. Had they been interested in each other? Had they kissed? More?

“If you do one thing for me,” she began, drawing him out of his thoughts, “promise me you won’t leave me alone with Joseph.”

John’s throat felt tight. “Ell—”

“I mean it,” she insisted. Her voice was a little tight. “I’m—trusting you.” And then she squeezed his hand and reiterated, “Please, John.”

After roughly twenty-four hours of the silent treatment, this felt nice—but he also knew Joseph would want to talk to Elliot. Alone. Even if John thought there was no reason, and even if John thought that maybe he didn’t want Joseph getting alone time with Elliot. For no reason, really. No reason in particular.

“Okay,” he murmured. “I promise.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jacob knew, instantly, that something was wrong.

The drive to the Veteran’s Center was a brisk one. Quick and easy, nothing out of the ordinary. It was so unremarkable that it passed in next to no time, it felt like. Arriving at the Veteran’s Center, however, proved to be much more unsettling, because he thought, something’s not fucking right.

The problem was figuring out what. There were plenty of indicators, of course—the speakers on their tall posts toppled over, some breaking the glass into the windows; the lack of life, anywhere. He knew that most animals had fled closer to town for resources now that the snow had been falling almost nonstop, but when he opened the door into the Veteran’s Center, he got the distinct sense that the area had been devoid of critters and other lifeforms for quite awhile.

Sans Pratt, of course.

He wondered, briefly, what it was that had driven Pratt out into the snow. He said it was because he’d seen the Hunter, slaughtering his Chosen, but he didn’t know that he believed it; Staci Pratt was weak, capable of having his ear bent to almost any show of dominance, and with the Family afoot he couldn’t completely rule out the idea that he was operating under different pretenses than he had before. Arden's accusation that he'd pushed the deputy too far still sat in the back of his head, squirming and writhing, reminding him that he'd likes how well Arden could read people—until it turned a critical eye on him.

If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.

He thought he had done enough to ensure that Staci Pratt feared retribution more than he wanted revenge. He thought, but there were little pinpricks of things that made him suspicious—Pratt, mouthing off about the sermon right in front of him. Pratt, skulking around like a scavenger. His eyes were more hungry than they were afraid, even if they shied away from him whenever he barked out an order for Pratt’s attention.

Jacob pushed open the door to the Veteran’s Center, letting it swing shut behind him. The inside smelled strong and earthy, and the heaters had been cranked up, rattling in the walls and the ceilings, turning it into a sauna. Each time he passed a vent, he was blasted with that smell again; humid, fetid wet earth and greens. Jacob picked his way carefully past one of the toppled speaker-poles, protruding through the window, broken glass crunching underfoot and the air so viciously hot that felt like it was sucking the breath right out of his lungs.

It occurred to Jacob that either Pratt had been here to witness this trashing, or someone had done this in the very short time between when he’d been here and when he’d left. Neither option was one that Jacob enjoyed entertaining for very long—though he was inclined, more and more, to think that it was something he had either witnessed or been party to. Time apart had brought Pratt some kind of willfulness that needed to be stamped out—and quickly.

As soon as he opened the door to his office, two things happened: Jacob was hit with a single overwhelming, earthy smell, and the sound of a drum roll echoed, tinny and noisy, before music started blaring in through the speakers. It took a second in the vicious, rattling din of pure sound echoing off of the walls and every metal surface in the office for him to realize what song it was.

If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says 15 miles to the Looooooooooooove Shack!

“What the fuck,” he muttered, fingers curling tight around the grip of his gun. Trap, the alarm bells in his head were screaming. It’s a trap, we knew it was going to be a trap and we fucking came here anyway. Music vibrated through the floors and the walls, the poles of the speakers shaking in the windows where they had been busted through. It was impossible to hear himself, let alone his thoughts, but that didn’t matter—

The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get-to-gether!

—because every neuron was firing rapidly, pumping blood straight to all of his vital organs as the speakers vibrated so loudly against the linoleum floors that he could feel it up in his molars. The door into the surveillance room rattled once, the handle jerking wildly. He didn’t remember putting anyone in there, nor anything.

Something thumped against the door. He glanced at his desk, and then at the door again; pale, ghostly-white fingers snaked beneath the bottom gripping and then shaking the door in its frame. He was sure if the music had been down, he would have heard the breathing hissing through the gap where the floor and the door didn’t quite meet.

This was not good.

Love Shack, that’s where it’s at!

This was very bad.

Love Shack, that’s where it’s at!

Someone had been here since Pratt had left, and

The whole shack shimmies!

someone had put something

The whole shack shimmies!

in that room for him to find.

Or to find him.

The door rattled again, this time more forcefully, shaking in the entire door frame like someone was throwing their entire body weight into it.

The whole shack shimmies when everybody’s moving around and around and arou—

Something hard and metal connected with the back of his knees, sending pain radiating straight up his spine and him staggering a few steps forward. Jacob’s hand shot out to steady himself against the edge of his desk—papers scattered loosely, with disregard, across the top of it, fluttering to the ground as the metal feet screamed against the linoleum.

Jacob ground his molars together and pushed himself into full standing again, turning quickly to see an—unfortunately—familiar face. There was barely a second to take in the crooked smile around a burning cigarette before she swung what he recognized as an aluminum bat into the side of his knees.

Hard.

It blistered pain; even above the music, the sound of the impact was painful on its own, let alone the actual physical connection of metal to his knees—too old, he thought faintly, I’m too fucking old for this bullshit—and he bit down through it and lifted the rifle in his hands. It was a sluggish, too-slow movement, and he knew that, his limbs feeling like lead; but above all else, he didn’t want to think about the knowledge that he was only upright because he had the desk behind him, or about the waves of agony echoing through his skeleton like a death knell. All he wanted to think about was getting his shot in.

Everybody’s movin’, everybody’s groovin’, baby!

She grabbed the muzzle of the rifle and wrenched it to the side, away from where it was aimed at her. It was surprising, the iron force she held the gun with. All that wasted potential, he thought through the muggy haze.

Jacob could see the grip of her other hand tightening on the baseball bat a split second before she swung it. It was just enough time for him to drop his hold on the gun and brute force the blow into his forearm rather than taking it straight to the ribs, gripping the fattest part of the bat with his hand and using the opening to lurch forward.

It was not a pleasant experience, headbutting the Hunter. Instantly he felt the skin on his forehead split from the impact, the wet, hot flood of blood down from his hairline tickling the edge of his nose; the smell of nicotine filled up his senses, for a second providing a brief reprieve from the humid smell of wet earth that had filled the Veteran’s Center. But it was a pleasant experience to watch her reel back, to see the anger flickering across her otherwise smug expression.

Folks lining up outside just to get doooooown!

The Hunter spit blood out of her mouth, tossing the rifle she’d departed their grip-lock with down the stairs and out of reach. No matter, he thought; she was a few inches shorter than him, and probably a hundred pounds lighter. He wouldn’t need a rifle to put her down.

The door behind him rattled. He would need a gun to put whatever the fuck that was down.

The Hunter shrugged out of her heavy coat, discarding it on the floor. Jacob held the aluminum bat—his prize, now—comfortably in his hand, rolling his wrist and testing the weight absently. Everything in his body was screaming; the air felt thick and humid, the clarity the smoke had given him gone as the floral scent from the vents overwhelmed everything except for the pain shooting through his knees, which was now a constant, fiery burn. He thought he recognized that smell; in passing through the burnt embers of Fall’s End, and from the night they’d fished Elliot out of the woods, when John’s eyes had been blown black and his gestures over-exaggerated like he had to work all the harder to get his body to move.

Pain shot up his spine in a sharp, red-hot needle, almost staggering. He narrowed his eyes. No weakness. There’s no room for the weak in Eden. Sacrifice the—

“You made me drop my cigarette,” the Hunter said, wiping the blood from her mouth and interrupting his mantra.

“Says on the sign,” he replied, his voice coming out hoarse from the blood he’d swallowed as he indicated the No Smoking sign hanging on the door. Fuck, it was hot; the room felt like it was swimming, the ground stretching out beneath him until it felt like there were miles between him and the Hunter. “That shit’ll kill you.”

Love Shack, baby, Love Shack! Love Shack, baby, Love Shack!

The Hunter rolled her shoulders. “Did that sign go up before or after the forced cannibalization?”

“Before,” Jacob gritted out between his teeth, “and I abided by the rule. I’m...” He took in a breath. It felt like breathing in hot bathwater. “...not an animal.”

The Hunter flashed her teeth at him. They were cherry-red stained. “How ya feelin’?”

“Fine,” he spat. He did not feel fine.

“Yeah?” She looked pleased. “Lookin’ a little flush, soldier.”

She had wandered closer. Closer than he’d anticipated, nor realized; the walls kept fucking stretching, making everything around him seem wobbly and farther away until it was right there, up in his face. The closeness of the Hunter kick-started him, swinging the bat in his grip with every intention of colliding it with the side of her face—but she stepped leisurely out of the way, like it was nothing, and the bat hit air. Whooshed comedically over the sound of The B-52’s chanting in his head, over and over again.

The Hunter used the moment to push down on his shoulder, far enough that he was nearly unbalanced, before her foot came down on his knee—pushing, and pushing, splitting pain straight to his skull until it bloomed violent starbursts behind his eyes.

“Ouchie,” she crooned. “Tender?”

“F—” He swallowed thickly. Even that felt like sandpaper, like his muscles were grinding against each other. “Fucking bitch.”

It felt good to get that one out.

He dropped the bat in favor of gripping her calf, trying to shove her foot off of the spot she had battered twice in a row with a metal bat. This only seemed to encourage her to push down harder, until the front of his knees hit the floor, the bat skittering out of his reach again, clattering against the floor.

The music had died down into the quieter part of the song. The Hunter fished something out of her back pocket; the sound of the metal clinking dragged bright yellow streaks in front of his eyes, and the linoleum stretched out like a conveyor belt beneath him, and his breath felt laborious even through the heavy, painful pounding of blood through his eyes, and yes—he knew, now. This had been a trap, she had been counting on his return, and she had planned for it.

Fucker.

“You nutties have some interesting ideas,” she said, slapping the handcuff onto his wrist where he still gripped the dark jean-clad leg before clipping the empty one to the handle of the desk drawer. “Took me a little while to haul all of those fuckin’ lobotomized creeps all the way over here, too. But I was doing some light reading on your stuff, using drugs and music and all that good-good fun—by the way, your writing?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, nose scrunching. “Little dry, buddy. You ever taken a class? I bet not. You don’t look the type. Anyway, spent hours just getting them fuckin’ blitzed. Starved the little bastards. Been running this big ass heater into that room for hours. They’re real fuckin’ hungry, you know.” She flashed a smile. “Yeah, you do know about that.”

Bang bang bang on the door baby!

The Hunter crouched down to his eye-level as he breathed through his nose and tried to keep his heart-rate down; he guessed that she’d stuffed the vents with whatever it was they had been using to drug John, and just thinking that made his heart jump unsteadily in his chest, crawling up his throat. Every single sound bled color in front of his eyes, making his vision swim. He was vaguely aware of the rattling of the door just a few feet away.

She hadn’t been killing Faith’s Angels. She had been taking them.

“Always hear about how animals will chew their own foot off to get out of a trap,” she continued lazily. “And despite what you said, I’ve been dying to see how much of a fuckin’ animal you are, old man.”

She was close, now, though. Close enough that he could grab her—bash her face into the desk, fish the key out of wherever she was keeping it; Jacob’s eyes narrowed through blistering heat and pain, sweat or blood or maybe both dripping down into the corner of his mouth.

“What’s the saying?” The Hunter cocked her head, dark eyes glittering. She was enjoying this. “‘He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man’.”

“I don’t think,” Jacob ground out between his teeth, “this is what Samuel Johnson fucking meant when he said that.”

He swung his free hand, not cuffed, at her head. He thought, shame the hair’s so short, with only skin available to snatch at. There was a second where he got the sickening sense of satisfaction of colliding his closed fist to the side of her face, clumsy and sluggish though the movement was; his fingers reached, grabbing for anything that he could get a hold on—even a fucking earring would have sufficed—but she snatched his wrist and slapped his hand back to the ground.

It was only a split second of him trying to get mobility back before she produced a hunting knife from her back and drove it into the top of his thigh without blinking; but her eyes were almost all pupil now, like this little song and dance they’d been doing was more effective than the drug. It probably was; he didn’t know how long they’d been dosing themselves on their own shit to build up an immunity.

Jacob bit down through the agonized, infuriated sound that tried to crawl out of his throat. Blood flooded his mouth.

“You men and your hands,” the Hunter tsked, but there was a bit of venom in her voice now. “Always grabbing at things you oughtn’t be.” She pulled the knife out with a salacious, wet noise, waggling the crimson-wetted blade of it as though to scold him. “Bad doggy.”

“Fuck you,” Jacob spat. Blood spittle sprayed her face. Her mouth downturned, and she used one gloved hand to wipe it from her eye as though to brush snow from her face and not his spit.

“Better get that checked out,” she replied, coming to a stand again and gesturing to the knife wound on his leg. “Looks nasty.”

Knock a little louder, baby.

Coming to a stand, she moved to the door and cocked her head, listening to the heavy thump of what Jacob knew now to be one of Faith’s Angels against the door. The Hunter looked at him.

Bang bang bang on the door baby!

“You think they like the song?” she asked. Jacob pulled at the handcuff. Absently, dragging himself into a full sitting position now. The bat was too far. She was out of reach.

I! Can’t! Hear! You!

“Probably not your taste,” she continued. “But we love it.”

She slammed her fist against the door in time with the Bang baaaaang! On the door, baby! in the song, and now the door rattled viciously, agitation incited by the overwhelming stimulation of sound and movement. She did it again; smashed her fist against the door, rattled the doorknob until over the sound of the song he heard a furious, inhuman wail on the other side of the door. He struggled to try and stand; she’d clipped him to the lowest drawer, and it had him hunching, eye-level with the desk.

“Don’t,” Jacob managed out hoarsely, “stop fucking—”

“No, wait!” she cut in over him. “This is my favorite part!”

The music cut out. He heard, shrilly and splitting through his head, another half-snarled scream coming out through the door. The Hunter grinned at him. She stepped away from the door once the wood at the bottom started to splinter, bloodied fingers clawing rabidly to pull the door apart.

“Tiiiiiiiiiin roof!” Her grin split wider. “Rusted.” The drum hit from the music break came on, and she winked, and then picked her jacket up from the floor as she made her way to the door.

Love Shack, baby, Love Shack!

“Don’t worry,” the Hunter called over the music and the heavy breathing as the Angels started pulling the plywood door apart, spitting more blood from her mouth. “The weak have their purpose. You’ll understand that soon enough.”

As soon as he heard the sound of her feet hitting the stairs on the way down, Jacob yanked viciously on the drawer. He didn’t need her coming back up, not yet—not until he had two hands ready to grab and rip and tear—and it took three more clumsy, muggy jerks of his arm to rip the drawer’s shell out of the slot with a noisy clatter.

“Okay,” he breathed to himself, over the sound of Love Shack kicking into repeat again. The Angels, frenzied and gaunt and baring yellowed teeth at him like feral dogs, started shoving at each other to get through the hole they’d broken through the door enough; bloodied, splintered fingers spread crimson against the linoleum and their sickly skin. Through the window, he heard what he thought had to be the roar of flames.

My truck, he thought venomously as he tore the end of his shirt, wrapping it frantically over the stab wound in his leg to try and slow the bleeding. Fuck fuck fuck fucking bitch fucking—

The first Angel shoved its way through the hole in the door, the fabric of its shirt and then its skin tearing on the splintered wood. Jacob gripped the handle of the drawer tightly and gritted his teeth through the radiating pain.

The weak have their purpose, she’d said, like she knew anything about that, spitting his own words back in his face to mock him.

Jacob bit down through the pain, the vision fogging and fizzing. Don’t be fucking weak, that voice inside of him said. I have purpose. I have my purpose. I know my purpose. Cull the herd. Cull the herd.

The Angel hissed viciously at him. They had been trained to recognize Heralds, but whatever the Hunter had done to them had fried their brains beyond even that rote memorization. Jacob rolled his shoulder and sucked his teeth.

Cull the fucking herd.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XVII

masterlist; my links

CW: blood, death

Phew, when i first started this fic (way back when in august last year, i think) i didn’t expect it to become a multi-chapter nor did i expect it to go in literally any of the directions it went in. with each new chapter the boys cooked up something different and apparently more and more dark. nonetheless this has been one of the most absolute fun, exciting, and rewarding fics i’ve ever put out there because 1. i just kind of did whatever i liked with it (plot holes be damned) and 2. because the interaction i got from this fic was mind-boggling. Every plot twist brought a gasp, an angst gremlin, and a sweet supporter to my doorstep (i cant name anyone because you all swopped roles continuously). 

when i started writing this chapter tbh i was dreading it because how on earth do i get myself out of the sheer monstrosity that i dug myself into in the last one? but i wrote some words and even though they were all wrong and it was only seven hundred of them at least i had written something you know? but then i was at the beach and the ocean water was shoving itself into my lungs and the salt was stinging my eyes and i literally couldn’t have been happier if i tried and suddenly i just kind of knew what i wanted to write... or rather i knew i wanted to write and these troublesome princes knew how they wanted their story to close. yes, indeed, close. somehow, without me realising it, we kind of got to the last chapter. i truly didn’t think this would be it but with each word i put down it just kept drawing closer and closer to a close. and i can’t force this fic to be anything but what it is. So, my dear ones, this is the last chapter of Kingdom Collisions. thank you for coming along, i hope with all my heart you enjoyed it even a fraction as much as i did. I love these Princes so hard and Nish, Gretch, and A can tell you how sad i was to see them end. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Since it’s been a hot minute since the previous chapter, here’s a recap:

Prince Jason Grace stumbles from the mouth of the arena and falls to his knees in front of the platform.

“Kill him Perseus.” A voice glimmers around him, leaking in through the ringing in his ears.

“Come home Prince,” That voice lilts, “Do not die so far from the sea.”

Jason looks up at him, blue eyes hazy, a dagger loose in his clasp. “Hello Prince.”

Percy steps down from the platform, and takes the dagger from his husband’s hands. It is almost sickening how easily he gives it over.

The crowd stomps its feet: they are ready for blood; they are ready for slaughter.

He holds the dagger up, making sure it glints in the sun. And then he draws his husband close until there is nothing between their bodies, not space, not even air.

“Let’s go home my love.” He whispers. “We will not die so far from the sea.”

Prince Perseus Jackson brings the blade down.

[image has alt text]

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Prince Perseus Jackson knows he’s going to die today. It is not a feeling, or a morbid premonition. It is the cold, hard truth. If he does not the world will continue to suffer for it. And what kind of prince would he be if he allowed his people to suffer? His father would say he’d be a coward. His father did not know the meaning of the word until he screamed as a blade sunk into his chest. Percy wonders how a man made from the Rivers themselves, can die by knife. He supposes when you spend long enough pretending to be human, you die like one too.

All the same Percy must take his last breath today, before the setting sun has managed to hide for the night. Before the darkness can wrap around his bones like cigarette smoke, and keep him trapped once more. 

But first, Percy must kill his husband. 

The crowd is violent; their need for bloodshed a hyena’s cackle in his head. He cannot keep them out. He cannot keep them at bay. It drives into his blood, makes every dangerous drop slosh through him, as wild as the rivers of his father. As wild as the blue eyes staring him down.

Perseus Jackson looks at his husband, barely an inch apart, so close it seems no room is left for air. He can’t breathe, so it must have been pushed away, pushed out. Those blue eyes, as striking as the brilliant sky above them, are looking at him with so much… sorrow, love, joy, rage? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know and it terrifies him. He knows and that scares him more. Prince Jason Grace is looking at him with delight and it makes him want to sin.

“I will find you again, my love.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of his ear. He feels that beautiful body shudder underneath him.

The musician’s box echoes with the notes of the wind, a melody that rackets around in his head, bouncing off the walls of his memories. He has died to this tune many times. Died as a king, and a peasant, and a squallor, and a whore, and every form of human scum and royalty alike. They all bleed the same in the end. All die with regrets on their tongue, and the unconquering falsehood of love in their hearts, as if that alone is enough to save them. He has never been safe from death. But love saves him all the same. He wonders if he will die again.

“I will not be lost.” Jason whispers back, so quiet, so full of sweet darkness.

Percy slams the blade into his Jason’s heart and watches as the light from beckoning eyes morphs into a smile that surrenders the world. He doesn’t acknowledge the warmth at his side. There is only his Prince, his husband, his other half, his, his, his. 

“I will be waiting.” Jason Grace grins. Jason Grace dies.

Already he can feel the absence of his other. It is not a dull ache, nor a sharp one. It is not really an ache at all. Rather as if a veil has been placed over him, leeching the world of colour and light. Leeching him of any goodness. What is a destroyer, without his healer?

The Prince of Mare pulls the knife out of his husband’s chest and holds it up to the crowd. His smile dances, violence coating the angles of his face like a liquid mask. The colosseum responds in vigour, chanting his name, chanting the name of Princess Piper Mclean, chanting victory as if they’ve won. Dust begins to settle at his feet, settle then jump as they jump, then settle once more. And endless dance. He knows the score by heart. 

“What you have witnessed today my good people,” The woman in power stands in her box, surveying the scene before her with triumph in her brown, glinting eyes. “Is the beginning of forever, again.”

The people cheer, clap, stomp their feet, make the stone underneath them quiver.

A drop of blood falls to the floor.

“We have completed what our ancestors could not. We have made sure that the threat— ” She sneers at them; at him in his bloodied rags, and the husband still in his arms, limp and fast growing cold. “The threat of Our Downfall may never rise from the ashes.”

The deafening sound of celebration is a vice around his throat. He wants to rip the air from their lungs, make their joy a noose around their necks. They celebrate the loss of a life as if it were the birth of a thousand more; they celebrate the death of his husband as if they had won the war. But they have never seen war. And his past selves, rushing up to him in these moments, like reeling pictures, smile at the prospect. They seem to gather in his mind, grinning with endless terror and say, so very softly, “You think this is war? We’ve only just begun.”

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

“My people,” Piper’s voice is a lull in the tides, a blind comfort to distract from the storm ahead. “We have severed the wings of a phoenix so it may never rise again.”

The crowd stomps, he stomps with them. A fissure runs under his feet, small, unnoticeable. Blood drips down, down, down, into the cracks. There is nothing left for him here. He smiles, soft and small. It is a smile only he knows exists.

With a gentleness he does not possess for anyone else but the man before him he lays his husband down, wincing as the dusty platform touches that beautiful golden skin. But he does not have time to make it clean. To give him a worthy place to rest. He only has right now. Eternity is a second in itself.

And when Prince Perseus stands, straight and unburdened. He reveals the last piece in a twisted puzzle. For sticking out of his own side— the side his prince was pressed against— is a dagger of his own. One that is killing him slowly.

The people are still cheering, Princess Piper is still revelling in her glory. She looks ethereal up on her dais, every bit the goddess she craves to be. Her brown skin shines in the brightening sun, her black hair flowing down, down, down past her hips, swishing at her thighs. And the crown that sits on her head, perched there as if it was too scared to be trapped to such power, glints almost menacingly, jewels reflecting onto the people closest to her. To the woman at her side. Annabeth, sister to Jason, lover to Piper, and honorary daughter of Hekima, sees him. Sees all of him and goes as pale as the moon. She grabs her lover’s arm, points a shaky finger in their direction, at the blade in his side.

The look of horror on their faces is almost enough to make him laugh; it’s certainly enough to make him smile. He watches on as their plans unravel, remembering the deadly words Piper had said to him all those days ago. “Instead we will kill one of you and keep the other continually alive.” But what good would that do, if he had killed them both, if he made sure his blood was smeared across his husband’s wound; if he made sure his husband’s blood could not be used to heal them. He has become the destroyer they so badly wanted. 

Prince Perseus Jackson falls to his knees, at the symphony of a princess’s screech. And as he looks to his side, his fingers find the cool hand of Jason Grace. The sky is a lover’s blue. He closes his eyes. He finds his husband amongst the dead. And ever so slowly, the colosseum starts to crumble. For the blood from his wound seeps into the cracks running rivers of their own, and eats at the stone that holds the people, the power, the world. He has become his father. His mind is fill of his own stories, just like his mother. He feels the cold band on his husband’s finger. He becomes life.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

The walls behind her turn to dust in slow motion. She sees particles fall, land at her feet in never-ending waterfalls. Her gaze tilts to the sky where she half expects to find it raining blue, as if the whole world would collapse on top of them. She can hear the screaming, she doesn’t known if it’s joy or fear. Sh doesn’t know if anyone has realised what’s just happened, if they know the true extent of her failure. 

“PIPER!” That voice is so far away, but it is one she recognizes. One she has loved since she was left on a lover’s bench ten years prior. “We have to go, we have to stop it from reaching the water.”

A pale hand gestures in front of her, to the crimson rivers speeding across the ground. They are the prettiest canals she’s ever seen. She wants to— 

“PIPER,” The time for shock has gone, and in it’s place is a violent need to save herself, to be saved. “We have to get out of here, this whole place is going to come down.”

When she looks to Annabeth, grey eyes bright with fear, she is struck with feeling so deep she fears she may drown. It wouldn't’ matter; she’ll be dead before she gets to submerge.

“My people,” Her voice is loud, blessedly steady, as she surveys the uneasy crowd who are only now noticing the red brooks bubbling up to meet them. “We must leave here at once. The colosseum is no longer safe. I urge you to go home to your famililes, to pack important things and make your way as far from the oceans and rivers as possible. Danger is here, and it is not a force we can fight.”

A thousand eyes look at her, emotions blatant on their faces ranging from denial, to anger, to fear, to the worst of them all, resignation. Those are the ones, she knows, who have lived through this before, in some way or the other. Whether in a past life, or the echo of their current one through stories carried down.

The ground underneath them shakes, making their feet stumble, their legs quiver. It is laughing at them, at the idea that they can escape this destruction. It has done this a thousand times before, it will do it a thousand more. The end has never been about them. They cannot escape it, no matter where they run, how hard they pray. And people are. Praying. They don’t know it is their gods who order this. Their gods who have no care for the lives of them when they can create a million more. In the end they are pawns to an endless game of chess. The first to be discarded, despite how hard they fight to prove useful. And Jason, her lover’s brother, and Perseus, her own ex lover, are soldiers sent to do their duty. Pawns themselves, maybe knights. But gods they have never been, and gods they will never become.

Annabeth’s hand is warm in hers as they race to their death. Her blonde curls fly behind her and Piper thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And then the princess looks to her and she changes her mind. With each glance, each step, each squeeze of their skin, she changes and changes and changes. Until the beauty cannot be pinned to a single thing, until it is a tapestry continuously incomplete, of all the features that make up her love. If she— when, when she dies she will do it with this image in her mind.

And then they’re at the river, the one that feeds her kingdom, the one that runs into to the forest and branches to the five other kingdoms, before feeding into Perseus’s own and out to the ocean. There is no red tainting it’s glistening blue. They have time, maybe, just maybe they have time to save the only home they have ever known, the only one they ever will. 

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Quickly, with a haste she has never seen, Annabeth pulls a single match from her pocket.

“Will you grant me permission, my love?” Her princess nods to the little stick.

There is only one way to stop a stream from turning towards a river. She nods. “For the kingdoms.”

“For the kingdoms.” The blonde echoes. She strikes the match.

Sunshine yellow flame bursts from the small head, and as it settles it turns orange, blue, goes back to yellow. Annabeth lets it fall to the floor.

And they both watch, flames dancing in their eyes, as the little match catches a dry leaf, which catches dry wood, which catches, and catches, and catches.

They clasp hands, look at each other. Piper runs a finger down a freckled cheek, skin already so warm from the blaze before them.

“Let us live.” Her princess whispers.

They jump into the river. The forest burns to an inferno behind them.

But there, trickling slowly, as if it has all the time in the world, is a single stream of blood. It creeps through the forest, turning already charring soil to nothing. The fire jumps over it, around it, beyond it. The fire does not stop it. 

A single drop of blood catches on a shard of blackened stick, once a match, and as the wind blows it carries the wood over over over. It lands in the river. The stick floats away. The blood spreads wide.

And two princesses, still hand in hand, frantically swimming for their life, start to crumble to ash, like the forest they had left to burn.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Perseus Jackson opens his eyes to sky blue, ice blue, saviour blue. And he cannot help but smile.

“Where have you been, my love?”

“Just had to take care of some things before i could join you.” He reaches up a hand to caress a golden cheek, warm and reddening under his touch.

“Are we finally free?” That voice is so soft, full of angled hope.

“Till the next time.” He sees that hope startle and shape before him, as if it can bend to fit around steeled will.

“What shall we do while we wait?”

“As long as we are together,” He brushes back a lock of gold. “It does not matter to me.”

“Might i suggest, staying here for the next decade at the very least?” A laughing reply, one that heats him to his bones.

“Your wish,” His green eyes sparkle dangerously, deliciously, “Is my salvation.”

“Wicked, wicked being.” Lips find his, press to him. It is so familiar, and somehow new all at once. As if the shadows they are made from need to get used to the light within them once more. As if they have not done this for a millennia, longer. 

“I cannot help it when i’m with you.”

“And you are always with me,” Those blue eyes set him on fire.

“Yes,” He says simply. He touches the golden chest, the heart within. His heart.

“What shall we be in the next life?” The question is soft against his skin, raising bumps across his arms.

“I think i shall be a painter,” He muses, lips falling to a shoulder. They trace their way up, catching on collarbones and the crook of a neck, and the dimple behind an ear. “And you, my sweet? How do you intend for us to meet?”

“I think i shall like to be your nude model.” That grin is enough to cause a flush through his form.

“And who will be our heroes?”

“The queen of course.” The blonde’s voice gets conspiratorially low, “I’m her favourite servant you see, and she cannot bear the idea of anyone else seeing me naked.”

He cannot hold in his laughter, the mind of his other half an endless stream of amusement. “And how do we intend to end it this time?”

“That’s up to you dear one.” The being curled into him smiles, “I can only heal, and you know i will only heal you.”

“You make me such a villian.” His expression is violent, and beautiful, so so beautiful.

“We have never been anything else.” 

He stares into the face of eternal love and is struck by the thought that it is all for him, that it has only ever been for him. He cradles a golden face in his hand, and with a deep unhurried breath, kisses Jason.

For the infinite time in his endless life, Perseus tastes fire.

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

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01 : to Nish for loving this fic harder than anyone, and for loving me harder still.

@queen-of-demons-and-hell : to Gretch for always being there even though were many countries, and many timezones apart

@leyontheway : to Ley for the endless and unwavering support and for making me smile no matter what

@sparkythunderstorm : to Lily for the continuous love and the wonderful comments

@comradefurudate : to avatar for the hilarious interactions and for loving this the way you did. Your comments made my day.

@aalikun : to ali for the theories and the comments that made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt

to A : you don’t have a tumblr account but you asked if you could read one of my fanfics and i sent you this one and you sent me back a 3 minute long voice note telling me every reason you loved it and i cannot begin to explain to you how much it means to me. i listen to the vn all the time. i love you.

and to every single one of you who liked, and/or commented on this fic: you are special to me in every way that matters and i think about you all the time.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Forever

One Shot: Snack

Summary: Katie’s hungry…and there’s only one snack she’s pining for.

Warnings: Language!! Smut (NSFW)

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Rogers (nee Stark)

A/N:  If you are currently reading Stark Spangled Banner for the first time as it is being reposted then this contains MAJOR SPOILERS and I recommend you wait until you’ve finished so you don’t spoil anything!

This was more self gratification after seeing the photo below...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve grabbed his thermos mug full of coffee before he headed out to the hallway, meeting Katie at the bottom of the stairs with a fully dressed and clean Jamie in front of her, freshly changed Aurora on her hip.

“You ready son?” he looked at Jamie.

“Just need my jacket.” he nodded.

“It’s on the peg by the door.” Katie said, giving Steve a peck on the lips.

“Love you.” he smiled at her, before he kissed Rori’s head and she grinned at him.

“You too, have a good day.” Katie smiled, as she waved them both out of the door.

The Rogers’ household routine in the mornings always seemed to go the same. Family breakfast, change the kids, wave Steve and Jamie off…but no matter what time they got up in the morning it always seemed to be a rush. And she knew it was going to get even worse when she went back to work in a couple of months. But, as she walked into the kitchen and placed Rori in her bouncer seat with a teething ring, she looked around and realised she wouldn’t have it any other way.

As she tidied and set another pot of coffee going she spotted Steve’s wallet on the side she rolled her eyes and fired him a quick message telling him he had forgotten it.  His response was almost instantaneous and she smiled, arranging to drop it in to him at lunchtime.

Once she was done she settled at the table and logged into her emails, smiling as she had one from Emmy asking her to read over one of her essays before submission. She had an agreement with the teenager, that she would proof read and highlight areas where there were errors or parts which could be improved but would point blank refuse to provide either corrections or detailed suggestions as she was keen that the work was Emmy’s own.  Not that she needed much help, their eldest was a brainbox and currently flying high in her first Semester at Harvard.

And, according to her email, was coming home this weekend for the first time in 4 weeks.

Which in Katie’s opinion called for a family dinner. So she set about organising it, except the group chat kind of went a bit haywire when Emmy flipped out, sending a copy of a photo she’d seen of Steve that had been taken that morning which was trending on twitter.

Katie snorted at Emmy’s disgust but then her attention diverted fully to the photo of Steve. It must have been taken by one of his students earlier that day, and was apparently posted on twitter accompanied with the tag line of “My tutor is a snack”

Katie had to laugh because as much as she wasn’t sure that it was appropriate for students to be taking photos if their tutors on such a way, she couldn’t deny that her husband was a snack. In fact, he was more like a 4 course fucking meal in the photo in question. He was sat in a chair, reading a paper. It was ridiculously innocuous, but there was something about it that set every nerve in Katie’s body on edge. His jaw line, his hands, his wrists…holy hell he was channelling some big Daddy Vibes.

She was squirming all morning after seeing that photo. By the time she met Steve for lunch she was ready to jump his bones but there wasn’t really much opportunity to do that in the public arena of the coffee shop.

“Hey baby doll.” Steve smiled as he spotted Katie pushing Rori’s buggy through the door, standing up to greet her, hand on the glass pane to keep the door open slightly.

“Hi handsome.” she smiled, accepting the kiss he dropped to her cheek before he turned his attention to Rori, picking her up out of the pram. She giggled and waved her arms and legs, grabbing at his beard. He sat back down on the leather sofa, Katie dropping his wallet onto the low table in front of them.

“Thanks.” he said “Luckily I had a twenty in my pocket or I’d have been severely caffeine deprived this morning.”

He looked up as the waiter came over and they placed their orders for a couple of paninis and coffees before Katie sat back, nestling into the space under his arm which was resting across the back of the sofa.

Katie smirked “Had a good morning Daddy?” “Stop it.” he said in a low voice, shooting her a look as he bounced Rori on his knee. She flashed him an innocent one of her own back and he rolled his eyes before she laughed.

“I’m sorry but…it really is a damned good photo…” she fished out her phone “And Emmy was right. Steve Rogers Snack is trending.” Steve groaned. “I know, I’ve been getting screenshots off Sam all morning, well I was until I blocked him as well.”

“As well?” she frowned “You mean you actually did block Bucky?”

“He sent me a clown picture.” Steve shuddered “So yeah. I did. I’ll unblock em later. Maybe” he said, waving his hand.

Katie shook her head, watching him for a moment as he concentrated on Rori who was now chewing at her hand. Reaching into the changing bag, Katie handed over a teething ring which he took and passed over with a smile, Rori making some form of babble back as she shoved it in her mouth eagerly.

“She’s looking more like you each day.” he said, smiling and looking back at Katie.

“You think?” Katie asked, looking at her daughter.

Steve nodded. And he meant it. Whereas Jamie was a carbon copy of him, he felt that Aurora was in turn going to be the double of her mother. Her eyes were almost completely green now, and her hair was dark too. She had her mother’s nose and face shape although Katie insisted the cheekbones were definitely from the Rogers’ side, not that Steve could see it. “She’s beautiful.”

“Charmer.” Katie smiled

“Only for you.” he shot back, winking.

****

Seeing Steve at Lunchtime had done nothing to stop or help with Katie’s spiking libido. It really was ridiculous how much of effect a fucking photograph taken on the sly was having on her, so much so she was ready to jump his bones the moment he walked through the door, but with the two kids being around there wasn’t much chance of that.

“Momma!”

Rori let out a shriek at the sound of her brother’s voice and grinned as he ran into the room.

“Hey baby, did you have a good day?” she asked, looking up from where she was sat on the rug playing with their youngest, and he nodded.

“Yeah but tomorrow is gonna be even better as it’s soccer day!” he grinned. Katie smiled, Jamie hadn’t been at school for very long but he already loved soccer and baseball practice. She ruffled his hair and glanced up at Steve who was leaning in the doorway, still in that fucking jacket…

Steve spotted the look on his wife’s face straight away. He knew it well enough. A thirst, a lust, desire…

“Jamie, why don’t you take your bag upstairs and get changed?” Steve tore his eyes off Katie’s to look at his son.

“Can I play on my computer?” he asked hopefully.

“Just until dinner.” Katie said, looking at him.

He gave a triumphant yell and stood up, bounding out of the room.

“Speaking of dinner I better start it.” Katie said, standing up. “You ok to watch her?”

“Course I am.” Steve chuckled “She’s my daughter.”

“Just checking.” she said, brushing past him in the doorway. She stopped and glanced at him, her hands running up the lapels of his jacket and he gave a smirk.

“You really like this jacket huh?”

“Almost as much as I liked the stealth suit.” she agreed before she looked him up and down, making no attempt to disguise the fact she was as she bit her lip and headed off up the hallway.

Steve waited until she had gone and let out a soft groan. Since her dirty little Daddy comment before he’d had a semi-hard on all fucking day. And now, after that little display he was turned on even more.  Taking a deep breath he knelt down on the floor and tickled Rori’s tummy where she was grabbing at the baby gym she was underneath. He could hear Katie gently humming and after another minute or two he picked Rori up and carried her through to the kitchen, placing her down in the playpen in the corner of the room.

Without a word he crossed over to where Katie was stood reaching into the cupboard for something. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back towards him, his lips gently skating up her neck.

“This what you want?” he asked softly and she gave a grin, tilting her head to look at him.

“What gave you that idea?” she asked.

“Just a hunch…” he muttered, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss, before his mouth moved to her jawline, one hand straying to the button on her jeans. He popped it easily and worked his hand into the front of her underwear and she gave a soft gasp as his fingers began to play with her sensitive flesh.

“You know…” he continued to speak as her sighs slipped from her mouth “I’ve wanted this all day doll, you’ve had me pining for you…”

“Yeah, well, the feeling’s been mutual…” she said softly, arching her back and taking a sudden breath as two of his fingers slipped insider her. She pushed back slightly, the curve of her ass pressing into his groin and he gave a hiss.

“Fuck baby…” he said through gritted teeth, and he gave a disgruntled wimper as his hand stopped what it had been doing.

“Steve…”

“Such an impatient brat…”he chastised, his mouth on her neck and as she closed her eyes she could hear the tell-tale sound of his belt buckle being undone and the zip on his flies being pulled down. His hands retuned to the front of her jeans undoing them the rest of the way and sliding them down wither panties to her ankles. As he stood up, his hands gently traced the curves of her calves to the outside of her thighs and he grabbed her hips pulling her back towards him before he bent her gently forward, nudging her legs as wide apart as the clothing round her ankle would permit.

He didn’t say another word as he pushed into her in one glide, burying himself to the hilt. Katie let out a groan, her hands slipping forward on the kitchen counter slightly as he bottomed out, before he gently pulled back and did the same again and again, hands gripping at her hips as he continued.  He leaned over to nip at her neck, causing her to whimper, one hand moving from her hip to clasp her jaw, tipping her head round to meet him. His lips crashed onto hers in a hungry, domineering kiss, swallowing her dirty little moan as he picked up the pace, his hips rutting forward faster.

She gave a loud, low purr of delight as he slid his mouth to the pulse point on her neck, before he let out a growl of his own and glanced down at the point where their bodies were joined, the sight of him slamming into her worked him up even more.

His rhythm became faster, and Katie felt her hips banging against the side of the marble surface tops. She knew there would likely be some bruises there tomorrow but at that point in time she really didn’t care. Her hands tightened around the edge of the kitchen counter, her hips bucking back into his, desperate to feel him as much as she could, the feel of him brushing against her spot was finally scratching that itch, satisfying that hunger she’d been feeling all day.

“Fuck you feel so good doll…” he praised, lips warm on the shell of her ear as she arched her back slightly, letting out another keen of desire and she felt the animal in her belly beginning to stir. Steve could read the signs well enough by now to know she was close, and he moved one hand to stroke between her legs whilst he continued his relentless rhythm.

“Stevie…” she stuttered his name, before her voice became nothing but a strangled, hoarse cry and she tightened around him, her legs buckling slightly. He tightened his arm around her belly as he felt the familiar white hot ribbons surge through his body as he let himself go, his rhythm faltering as he emptied himself inside her with a groan.

Katie laughed softly as he moved back, his hands gently gliding up her arms as he kissed the back of her neck softly before he stepped back to allow herself to pull up her clothes as he tucked himself away and fastened his buckle.

“Now I gotta stand here, in damp panties and cook…” she turned and looked at him, sliding her arms round his neck.

“Well, that serves you right for snacking before dinner.” he grinned, as she let out a bark of a laugh before he dropped his head slightly, running his nose up against hers “Let’s hope you haven’t ruined your appetite completely for desert….”

[ilguna]

Redamancy - Chapter Two (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, mention of murder.

wc; 8.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

One second, you’re running through a dark forest. With your heart pounding in your ears, hot breath tingling your lips, legs aching and burning the more you push on. You weave through the trees, fingertips scraping against the bark. You’ll move one way, but jerk the other when you hear a voice call your name. Loud, teasing, and hauntingly familiar. You reach the top of the cliff, with nowhere else to run. One blurry glance behind you, and you know that you can’t stay. 

Your only option is to jump.

Before you have the chance to reconsider, the wind is already whistling in your ears, clothes painfully whipping at your skin. You can see the water coming closer and closer, the jarring rocks becoming more clear. From the height you jumped at, the water is concrete, and the rocks are spears. You’re about to hit the water and feel every single bone break in your body--

The next second, you’re jolting awake, now in the Capitol. For a moment, you can’t catch your breath, feeling the painful ache in your lungs from sucking in air while you ran. With shaky fingers, you wrap your hands around your throat, closing your eyes. You’re safe, they can’t get you here.

The only place they reign in is your nightmares, and even then sometimes they lose. They just got lucky this time, they caught you off guard. Next time, they’re not likely to be as lucky.

When you feel like you’ve got a hold of reality again, you open your eyes and stare into the sun yellow room. It takes a second for you to realize that it’s not the morning dull color, it’s the afternoon one. The sun that makes the room warmer and feel like home. You sit straight up in bed, immediately looking to the clock.

It’s past noon. Your tributes went to the Training Center by themselves, with hardly any direction. You doubt that Elysia gave them the advice that you would, you’re not even sure if she’s authorized to say stuff like that. Which means that they might have just gone and screwed up their big debut to the gamemakers, something that will surely have an effect on their score later on.

You bury your face in your hands, letting out a soft groan. You wipe the sleep from your eyes, and then slip out of bed to take a quick shower to wake you up. As soon as you’re done, you let the Capitol machines have their way with your hair, making it as soft as silk, and free of tangles. All that’s left to do is to style, but you leave it alone today.

You spin the ring around on your finger, already feeling nerves growing in your stomach as if Elysia will yell at you for slacking on your duties. Out of all your years of mentoring alone, you’ve never slept in. You’ve never had a day where you just forgot to get up on time to tell the tributes what to do.

You knew you should’ve taken it easy on the alcohol last night. It wasn’t even that you, Elysia and the stylists stayed up late, because you didn’t. You talked for maybe half an hour to forty-five minutes after Finnick left. You went straight to bed after that because you were afraid something like this would happen. At least you were right, and you know that you won’t be doing this ever again.

As much as you enjoy being around your Capitol friends, and the nights where you can celebrate like that, they’re not good for you. They throw you off, and since this year has already been different from the start, you’re already on your way down a different path. There’s no reason to start slacking now.

Elysia isn’t in the dining room, and she isn’t in the living room either. The apartment is as empty as it was yesterday when you came around for lunch. You should’ve expected this, with your luck, Elysia is doing what you’re supposed to be doing. And she’s already swamped with trying to keep things on track.

You pause in the doorway of the hallway, staring into the apartment, feeling tired and miserable. You don’t know where to go, or how to start. To the stylists? Find Elysia? Wait for the tributes to come back and tell you how their first day went? Is there even time for a quick bite before you go? Probably not.

You take a single step towards the door, figuring that you’ll start off with the easiest place to go; the stylists, and work your way from there. They might have some idea on where your trusty Capitol escort is. Then, the front door opens, and you’re met with Finnick’s red face, running a hand through his hair.

The door slips shut behind him, he’s definitely distracted. It’s like he doesn’t even see you, with how he moves to the living room and turns on the tv. You open your mouth, going to question what he’s doing, but he finds the channel. There’s no time to ask, you gravitate towards the television set as if it’s got you under mind control.

Once in a blue moon, the gamemakers will hint at what the arena will be. It’s rare, even more rare than allowing two tributes to win the Hunger Games together. Finnick hears the tapping of your shoes against the steps, and looks over his shoulder briefly. Your mouth falls open slightly, eyes glued to the screen.

The tributes are never allowed to see the broadcast, and the gamemakers show it once. Which is exactly why Finnick’s out of breath, he must have ran all the way here to make it in time. It’s a good thing that you got up thirty minutes ago, or you would’ve had to take Finnick’s word for what they’re showing. 

It’s a beautiful landscape, like it is every year. One that manages to look better than the last. The Capitol has done it all when it comes to arenas; from deserts, to islands, to frozen tundras, to cities that are nothing but crumbs after the rebellion. They’re all intricately planned, and they were ready years before they were actually used.

The Capitol doesn’t show much, only one snapshot of the arena. You have to figure out the mystery of what this year’s nightmare personality may be. What will be the final twist that they have to offer? During your games, there wasn’t one. You and Finnick made it entertaining all by yourself. But other games need that little push to make it memorable.

The picture on screen is of a deep green hill with thin trees and colorful flowers. They won’t do much for hiding, not even climbing. They’ll hold body weight, but it’s hard to climb trees that you can almost wrap your body around twice. There’s a stream, maybe a bit bigger than a stream. Blue water, clear as day. Makes you suspicious that it’s not as clean as it appears to be. It’s hard to trust good-looking water after you’ve been betrayed once before.

There’s a small building, a shack like the one you had in your games. Only, this one is much more beaten down. It’s roof is caving in, definitely looks like wood rot, it won’t provide much protection. Especially since the door is half gone and there’s no windows. A strong enough gust of wind could blow the place down.

But that’s not the main attraction, something as simple as a shack could be easily written off with the monster behind it. In fact, you don’t think you’ve seen anything more terrifying in the Hunger Games before. At the start of this new decade, the gamemakers are trying something new this year. Luminous fear.

It’s a large dam, a great wall of grey concrete. The only thing that stands between the rest of the arena, and an unfathomable amount of water. You’re not sure that knowing how to swim could save anyone in this situation. Just staring at it, you think that there’s a ton of water being hidden behind the dam. 

You’ve never seen a dam in person before. You know that District Five has one, though. It’s what gives the districts and the Capitol most of their power. Get rid of that, and there’s a nation-wide blackout. From what you’ve gathered when you’ve seen it on tv, it’s fucking huge. A hundred times bigger than what’s going to be in the 70th Hunger Games arena. 

This dam compared to the one in District Five, is childsplay. But that’s where you stop underestimating it, because it’s still dangerous. The gamemakers wouldn’t choose to shower it unless they had ill intentions. You cross your arms slightly, using one of your hands to play with your lower lip while you stare.

Unfortunately, you can’t tell the tributes about what you’ve seen. Neither can anyone else, it’s cheating and the tributes will be targeted inside of the arena because of it. If they tell anyone that they know about it beforehand, it’s an immediate target. If the tribute never goes towards where the snapshot was given, then they’re a target too.

Normally, no one breaks the rules because of this. It’s too risky to have the Capitol find out. But you’re sure that Districts One and Two will find a way around this rule, because they always do. It’s their tributes funeral, the faster they get killed, the better chances your tributes have.

The program zooms in on the dam a little, you’re sure that they’re getting ready to take it away. So, you try and memorize the last that you can, thinking that you’ll need to locate the placement in the arena when you have the chance. But you’re stopped when you see something dark on the screen. You move forward, squinting, wiping the screen under the assumption that it’s a hair or a smear of alcohol from Pleurisy when she continued to drink last night.

But it doesn’t come off, and the more you stare, the more your blood begins to run cold. It’s not on your side of the screen, it’s on theirs. It’s thin, barely noticeable if you’re not looking for it. And you just found it by accident. They zoomed in on purpose.

No human structure is unbreakable. Not even the better creations.

This wasn’t a mistake, they wanted a mentor to notice that the dam is cracking.

“What is that?” Finnick asks.

“A crack.” Your hand falls, you back up to look at the whole scene one last time before it disappears, “There’s more.”

It’s gone right after. There’s a warning issued right after not to warn the tributes or find a way to prepare them in advance. Doing so will result in immediate trouble for the mentor. But your mind is already finding ways to make up for it.

You can’t brainstorm out loud here, maybe somewhere in the street, away from the Tribute Center. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, Finnick turns off the tv since the main show is over, and they’re not talking about it at all. 

A low hum sounds from you. A plot is already beginning in your head for a subtle way to push your tributes in the right direction. You’d say that you’ve never cheated in the Hunger Games before, but then again, your tributes have trained since they were children.

You’re already cheaters, what’s a little more?

“I talked to the tributes this morning.”

“About what?” You ask, pressing your lips together for a moment. 

You then turn your body away, heading up the steps and to the dining room table. You wish you could write your thoughts onto a pad of paper. But paper is traceable, they’ll be able to find out that it came from you guys.

“About training.” Finnick says, following you, “You weren’t up this morning.”

“I had too much to drink last night.” You thank the avox that delivers your late lunch. You pause for a moment, thinking over what Finnick has just said, and then you turn to him, “You were at the table this morning?”

“You said you would fill me in.” Finnick says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I figured the best time for you to do that would be this morning before you got busy. But you didn’t show up so…” he trails off for a moment, picking up a sugar-covered grape, turning it over in his fingers, “I told the tributes that they should show off their skills to the careers.

“They told me that they don’t want to ally themselves with the careers, and I told them that was fine. They don’t have to succumb to the pressure of the tradition of teaming up. All that matters is that they show the careers that they’re just as good and they’ll be missing out on two good tributes.” Finnick looks at you.

“And they’re keeping at least one hidden?”

“Yes.” Finnick nods, and then eats the grape, “I warned them that this might start an early rivalry that they probably won’t be able to remedy. Annie and Marsh don’t care, as long as the careers won’t try and be friends, they’ll figure it out. I don’t think they want an alliance with anyone.”

“Figured that much out already.” You say, “Thank you for doing that for me.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, his eyes casting downwards. You two eat in silence, and just when it seems like he’s about to leave, Elysia comes back.

“Did you see?” She asks, she’s pulling off some black gloves that she’s wearing. Actually, she seems to be dressed in all black.

“Who died?” You ask in return, earning a snort from Finnick.

Elysia rolls her eyes, “The broadcast—“

“Yeah, we saw it.”

You and Finnick get up from the table, making a triangle with Elysia. You rub your face slightly, “They showed the dam for a reason, we’ve already figured it out. This year is a handful already.”

Elysia stares between you and Finnick for a moment, eyes shifting from side to side like she’s deciding something. Like if you and Finnick are finally back to being a team, or are coincidentally together at the moment. Although, the two of you were sitting at the table together, so you can see why.

You don’t mind teamwork. If Finnick wants to go all in, he can be your guest. You’re not the problem here, maybe pushing him isn’t a perfect idea, but neither is letting him run free. The second that Finnick comes to the conclusion that he’s ready for it again, you’ll be unstoppable. All he needs to do is say yes.

“The tributes might be feeling a little overwhelmed after today,” she says, her eyes darken a bit. Secret meanings, they’re hidden everywhere. “The balcony would be a good place for a pep talk after dinner.”

Elysia’s a rule breaker too, it seems. Suggesting that you take your tributes out there and warn them in some way. This is why you like her, she’s not naive and stupid like the other escorts. You got lucky, placed with a woman who might not be on your side all the time, but there are times she waivers and caves.

“I think they might like the lights of the city.” you agree, nodding your head, “Smart thinking.”

Finnick’s caught on too, he nods, and then stretches his arms, “I’m going to take a quick nap. The two of you will be here to collect the tributes, so I’m off duty.” 

He turns, heading up the steps. Elysia bids him a short goodbye, and then the two of you wait for him to be gone completely before she starts to gossip, “You should’ve seen him this morning. Normally, he’s not so serious but he stepped up when he realized that you weren’t coming out.” she pauses, and then her eyebrows push in, “Was that on purpose?”

“No, it wasn’t.” you shift on your feet, checking the clock on the wall. There’s about half an hour before the tributes come back, “I’m not surprised. Once a victor, always a victor. It’s hard not to mentor when you know that the tributes need your help. It’s hard not to be overbearing and in control, either. Took me a while to figure that out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Don’t plan on it.” you tell her, “I only slacked because I drank. I’m just lucky Finnick didn’t stay out too late. How’s the Capitol liking Four?”

“They’re excited about the volunteers, I’ve been talking them up all day. I’m going to go back out for a little while and check up on Laurel and Pleurisy. Have anything you want me to pass along?”

“No, but we should probably have the token talk tonight as dinner, or tomorrow at breakfast.” 

She snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something this morning. You threw me off.”

“The last time, I promise.”

“Good.” She says, heading down the steps, “Try not to obsess over the broadcast, (Y/n). Annie and Marsh are fit, it’ll take a miracle to bring them down.”

“Don’t jinx us.” you joke.

She leaves through the elevator, you wander around the apartment for a minute, deciding if it’s worth it to stay out here. But in the end, you sit on the couch and pull out a book to read. Capitol fashion, the past trends and how they affect today. The last time you checked, they’re still drooling over the idea of gems and expensive fabrics.

Anything to make them look expensive and upper class. But you know their secrets, after years of mentoring and talking to sponsors, you’ve begun to notice when they’re faking. People who aren’t rich, invest in the Hunger Games in hopes that they’ll win it all back. The betting room is an intoxicating place if you’re in debt and need a place to be flashy.

The truth is, the Capitol isn’t all silver and gold. They’ve got their own lower class, but the difference between their lower class and the districts is that the districts will help each other. If your neighbors needed a babysitter or dinner for the night, your doors were open. You’re all a tight-knit community normally, but with the Hunger Games, it makes you even closer.

Annie and Marsh come through the elevator, foreheads glistening, sweat stains under their arms and down their backs. Needless to say, you think that they had a good workout. They pause in the doorway, Marsh leans over to catch his breath, Annie seems pretty happy.

“Hey,” you fold the book halfway, “Sorry for not being up this morning. How did your first day go?”

“Good!” Annie beams, “We’re good at a lot of things in there, so there’s not much to learn. I think that we’ll spend the last day going through stations that we don’t know just in case.”

“That’s good. Anyone offer an alliance?”

“Not really looking for one.” Marsh stands, he’s in worse shape than Annie is. His face is redder, like he ran a couple of miles in the heat, “But no offers, we’ll let you know if there are any.”

You nod, “Go shower and get ready for dinner, Elysia will come and get you when it’s time.” you watch as they start to go, “Oh! Also, be quiet in the hall.”

“We will.” Annie says.

You read in the living room for a little while longer, but end up packing it up and heading to your room to relax and make a phone call back home. Reed’s the one that picks up, letting you know that everything is going just fine. He passes the phone around after that, you get an array of greetings and questions about what’s happening and what you think is going on.

Unfortunately, you can’t tell them that you saw the arena, either. It’s a surprise for them too. You know that Reed won’t tell anyone, he’s got the whole Capitol-Hunger Games thing on lock. But sometimes Mox forgets what’s supposed to be secrets, and what isn’t. One slip to Caspian, and the whole secret will be out. And it’ll be traced right back to you, because you’re the one that keeps the Dorazio families company.

You wrap it up with Alyssum, listening to her talk about whatever comes to mind. You only get off the phone when you see that dinner is drawing closer. By the time you’re able to get off the phone, you barely make it to the table before the tributes. You and Finnick ask lots of questions at dinner, curious about how they’re feeling and sizing up the competition.

As always, every single year, the only threat they can come up with is the careers. You constantly remind them that they’re careers too, and today proved that, “If you showed off like Finnick told you to, you just threatened them and everyone else in that gym. And it’s going to be even worse now that you’re not allies with them. The other tributes are going to have two groups to worry about. You two, and the careers.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the careers pick you guys out first in the arena.” Finnick says, picking at his food, “You’re going to be the first threat, especially if you score high during training.”

You snap your fingers, catching Annie and Marshs’ attention, since their eyes have drifted, “Don’t get nervous. It just means that your odds are increasing, and more people are going to like you. It’s an opportunity, remember that.”

“What if they offer an alliance?” Annie asks, shaking her head slightly, “They haven’t yet, but what if they ask?”

“You tell them no.” Finnick says, “Saying it straight to their faces is going to get the message across. They’re more likely to back off then, but it’ll be temporary.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s obvious.”

Marsh clears his throat, “I’m worried that they’ll follow us after the bloodbath.”

“Don’t stay in the cornucopia.” you say, “In fact, I wouldn’t go that deep in. You’ll get sponsors, they’ll fill the gaps that you’re missing. You two just have to focus on running. The careers will be caught up in the bloodbath, as they always are. They’ll be too busy to follow you guys.”

“I hope so.” Marsh says.

You sigh, sitting back in the chair, “You guys need to remember that you’re ready for this. Four and five years of fighting and memorizing. You are just as dangerous as they are at this point. You’re scared now, think that you might be inferior, but the truth is that in a fight, you’re going to hold up. You’ll see.”

Think down, you’ll perform down. You want to tell them that the longer they underestimate themselves, the more they won’t realize their true potential. They’ll never measure up the way that they’re supposed to. You open your mouth, to say exactly what you’re thinking, because you’re the mentor and you should know better than them.

Finnick’s eyes shift to you, waiting for what you’re going to say. But you hesitate, because you know that mindset doesn’t work for everyone. You got chosen for the Hunger Games, you didn’t volunteer like they did. Unlike them, you didn’t have a choice but to go. The only thing that kept you going the entire time before and inside of the arena was family, and thinking that you were more than you actually were.

You’re not sure that’s going to work with them. They know who they are, they know the things they’ve learned and the worth they hold. They’re just nervous, you don’t need to tell them that they’ll do fine inside of the arena. Everyone has their moments of doubt, right? But you don’t remember having it this bad, and considering you age, you should’ve been depressed.

Once again, it was family that was keeping you alive. The constant visualization of you being the last one standing while your name was announced over the arena. You also knew that you were going to do well that year. It was a gut feeling. Just like how it’s a gut feeling that Annie or Marsh is gonna live this year.

You close your mouth, smiling slightly at Finnick. His lips part momentarily, and then he mimics your own smile. You think he’s realized this too. The constant reassurance of your tributes is babying them. They’re just nervous, they know that they’re going to do well. You could let up on the pressure, but they need it. They’re going to be under pressure inside of the arena, too. 

“Are you guys done? There’s something I want to talk to you guys about.” you wipe your mouth with the napkin, and then stand up from the table.

“I--yeah.” Annie carefully stacks her plates and bowls into a neat pile for the avox to collect. Marsh is much sloppier, but tries to be as considerate as she is. You think that she has experience in this type of thing.

You raise your eyebrows at Finnick, who’s still seated at the table. He shakes his head, “I’m busy tonight.”

“Stay safe, then.” you tell him, and then start up the steps, “Come on, you two.”

They don’t say a word behind you, not even a question on where you’re taking them. You bring them deeper into the apartment, around to the balcony that’s off to the side. The top floor--District Twelve’s floor--has a better balcony, one that blends in better. But you’ve explored this place plenty of times, you know it’s secrets now.

You hum, unlock the door and then open it. A gust of wind blows through the doors, warm and welcoming. It reminds you of the salty air from District Four, also hot during the summer after baking in the sun all day. Annie goes through the door first, thanking you quietly for holding it open. You press your hand to Marsh’s back, pushing him out a little quicker.

Looking behind you, there’s no one. The hallway is dark because you didn’t turn on the light. And it’s empty, because the floor’s don’t hold peacekeepers. They rarely even have Capitol attendants waiting around every corner. Which means that you guys should be just fine outside. Since it’s windy, it’ll be harder to hear you if there are cameras and microphones.

You shut the door tightly behind you, and join the tributes at the railing. The city below is bright and alive, as it always is at night. The Capitol is full of a bunch of insomniacs. They never are up during the morning, but they’re wide awake at night. Sometimes, you think that you can relate to them in this sense, but for a different reason. For a while, you were afraid of the dark too.

Marsh leans over the railing, like he’s testing its sturdiness. Your eyes scan over the wall, until you find the windchime. Pulling it down from the roof, you toss it right over the edge without a single warning to the tributes. On the way down, it continues to clink and whistle.

“What was that for?” Marsh asks, eyebrows knit together, eyes on you.

“Just in case you get any bright ideas. Watch.” you say, and they do. It takes a couple of seconds, but the windchimes hit the forcefield and come bouncing right back. When you catch them in your hand, they’re as black as charcoal and no longer sounding as delicate as they did before. 

You crush the wood in your fist and watch the wood turn to crumbs. Then, you drop it off to the side. Marsh has now backed off of the railing, crossing his arms. Annie takes one step back, but still looks over the edge curiously.

“We’re close in age.” you start, looking out to the city too, “I’m only two-three years older than you two. Finnick is even less than that, so I can understand why it’s hard to believe us when we tell you that you’ll do just fine inside of the games. We haven’t been inside of the games for a while, and our track record is far from perfect when it comes to mentoring.”

You look at them now, you’ve got their attention, “Believe me when I say that this year is different. You two are special, more capable than the tributes in the past were. Your lives have revolved around this idea since you signed up for the boarding school. You have fought hard to get to this point. Don’t give up on yourselves now. This is the most important part.

“It’s hard to know what to prepare yourselves with when it comes to training.” you pause for a second, trying to figure out how to word this. You know exactly what they should use, even if you never used it personally, “Tomorrow, I want you to focus on agility.”

You look between their faces, trying to read their expressions. Annie is smart, you know that she’ll catch on. Marsh is a different story, he’s always driven by explanations. You can’t give him one this time, which might ruin your subtle plan to push them in the right way. In the gymnasium, they have blocks for agility training. You hop from block to block, that gradually gets higher. It’s timed, but that’s not the important part.

They’ll learn how to assess the ground that they’re going for. Maybe help them when it comes to picking and choosing where to place their feet, strengthening their confidence in non-dominant feet. The better they’re at with going up and down uneven ground, the better.

“Okay.” Annie says, “I was looking at that today already, so I think that it would be a good idea.” Her eyes then land on Marsh, who stares right at her. He trusts her, that’s a good thing when it comes to allies. It might be his downfall if she ever plans on betraying him, though.

“Sure.” Marsh finally agrees, and then looks at you, “You’re the expert.”

“Don’t get me wrong, this is your games. You’re the ones going into the arena, so you should be planning out what you want. But trust me on this one, okay?” the wind has died down, the previous cover is now gone, “Go to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Annie says, her eyes show that she understands, and you give her a gentle nod.

They go back inside, but you stay outside for a little while longer, leaning against the railing as you stare into the city of the Capitol. A place that’s so pretty on the outside, but absolutely ugly on the inside. The definition of how looks can be deceiving.

Hopefully that idea can apply to your tributes next.

--

“Good morning!” You yell, clapping your hands together as you come out from the hallway.

No one is looking awake this morning, and you can’t really blame them. Annie and Marsh have been working hard at training for the past two days. Lucky for them, today is the last. But it also means the private training scores happen this afternoon. 

Finnick leans his head against his hand, watching as you come to the table. He looks fairly amused by your enthusiasm, and how your tributes are lacking.

“In the Training Center today, you’ll have the first half of the day for training, but after lunch is time for scoring.” You sit at your spot, “Don’t stress out about it too much. If you kept a skill that you’re good at hidden, then you’ll do just fine. After training, you’ll come back here. And then we’ll wait to see what happens.”

The avox delivers a plate of food, you don’t hesitate with starting to eat. Honestly, the more you look at your tributes, the more they start to look green. They’re picking at their food, not really looking at you or Finnick. It’s definitely the nerves kicking up again. Yesterday they did so good with not even feeling it.

You share a brief look with Finnick, he’s playing with the rope bracelet around his wrist. It looks exactly like the one he had when you guys were inside of the arena, but you know that it’s new. If you remember correctly, the last bracelet broke just after the Victory Tour. Guess it fulfilled it’s duty, and Finnick got a new one because of it.

“Tomorrow we’ll have a different sort of day, it’ll be more relaxing,” you continue, picking up the mug of light brown coffee, “And then it’s interviews.”

“Just like that, huh?” Marsh mutters, pushing around the food on his plate.

“You guys should eat, you’ll need the energy.” Finnick says, “Even if it’s not much.”

Annie listens, but Marsh’s heart still isn’t into it. You try to keep conversation light with them, but they’re duds, so you switch to Elysia to talk about how tomorrow will happen. Elysia knows more about proper etiquette when it comes to being on stage, so she’ll be the one taking care of how Annie walks in heels and how they respond to questions.

Which just leaves you and Finnick to decide their personalities on stage.

You wish Annie and Marsh good luck, “The first thing you do in that private room is breathe, got it? Calm yourselves down.” you then give them a smile and let them go. 

Elysia isn’t too far behind, going to do her daily duties of rounding up people that could potentially sponsor your tributes in the arena. It leaves you and Finnick at the table, left to figure things out on your own.

“I think we can put Annie down as kind.” You say, “Or have her try to talk smart to get people to look at her more.” you rub your forehead with an open palm, “But if she scores low, then talking smart won’t do anything.”

“At least one of them have to act dangerous.” Finnick says, you nod slightly, “Or the both of them. Even if they score low, they can still be mean on stage.”

“It’ll just take the effect of it away.” pressing your lips together, you stare off at the wall for a while, “We’re just going to have to wait and see, I guess.” 

When you place your hand down on the table a little too hard, you can hear your ring clink against the table. Standing, you stretch your arms and move some hair out of your face.

“Where are you off to?”

“Tribute tattoos.” you say, and then pause, “Not for actually tributes, for my parents. I should be back before they’re done, but to be fair, when we came back from ours, Anchor and Mags were nowhere to be seen. It’ll be good for them, not knowing what to do next.” you start down the steps, “Teaches them some independence.”

You get all the way to the front door, looking behind you to Finnick. He’s absently staring at you, like he’s waiting for something. A while ago, when you and Finnick were still dating, you used to describe him as a golden retriever, because he’s loyal and would love to go with you, if you asked.

You wonder what happened to the loyal part. You press down on the door handle, “You’re invited if you want to go. I think they take walk-ins.”

“One of us should be here.” He says.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” you let out a small laugh, “Or are you just scared of needles, Odair?” You give him a cheeky grin, opening the door and leaving, “I’ll see you later.”

You get all the way to the elevator, inside with the button pressed when Finnick rounds the corner, hand covering the doors before they can close. It’s hard not to give him another big smile, especially with the annoyed look on his face. Secretly, you know that he liked the invite, and he’s going to enjoy your company.

“What’s with the tattoo obsession?” he asks.

You scoff, “Obsession? This’ll be my second one, thank you.”

“And the first one being…?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

You roll your eyes. You’re pretty sure he was around for this one, but you lift the hair off of the back of your neck anyway, turning to let him see. It should be a D3, obviously for District Three. You got it for Blaire, you knew him for so little time, but you’re sure he was your best friend inside of the arena. 

“Oh, I remember that.” Finnick says, “Looks like it needs a touch-up.” he mutters, and then you feel cold fingers against the back of your neck. He runs his finger over it, but it’s gone quickly, “Just for Blaire, right?”

“Didn’t really know Verda.” you let your hair down.

“Yeah, that’s true.” He says, the two of you walk side by side out of the elevator and to the front doors, which is currently fairly crowded by a group. 

They’re not dressed in bright colors or solid white, so they can’t be Capitol people or peacekeepers. And if they are stylists, they’re definitely dialed back a lot like Laurel is. Out of all the stylists that you’ve seen come and go, she’s definitely more tame than the rest. Even your prep team is pretty normal-looking.

The closer you get, the more it dawns on you. It’s a pack of mentors, four of them all gathered together in the middle of the lobby. You take the initiative, going in front of Finnick to lead him through. From afar, it was hard to see who exactly, but now you know that it’s District One and Two’s mentors; Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria and Wade. 

You’ve worked with them in the past, they’re not bad people to be around. But they have the career mindset going on all the time, it’s hard to be around them. They all won their games years ago--with the exception of Wade, who won a year or two ago--and they’re still living life like that doesn’t matter.

You guess the career complex really themselves worked into their brains. Whereas your tributes have moments of anxiety and hesitation, their tributes never do. But a downside of that is the impulsive and brashness when they’re inside of the arena. It never hurts to think things through, but they don’t do that. It’s why you knew that Trink and Lennox would follow your treasure trail, because they wouldn’t think ahead about how they’re wandering right into your trap.

To be fair, though, they did think that you were severely injured. You also were several years younger than them, and had never trained the way they did for their entire lives. Then again, you scored high, you took down Horace. They should never have kept you around for as long as they did. It’s the same reason why you took down Allio; because he was a threat. And you were too.

“Hey, guys.” you call, making them look over.

You’re sure that they’re getting ready for a celebration, considering their tributes never score badly. However, you think this is the last day where all the tributes will get to intermingle the way they have been for the past couple of days. Tomorrow they’re inside, the day after they get brief moments on stage and after interviews to swap compliments. Then they’re straight to the arena.

“(Y/n)!” Cashmere says, she opens her arm, you go ahead and give her a hug, “We haven’t seen you since the Tribute Parade. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re hiding from us.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely hiding.” you laugh, they do too.

“Our tributes want to have an alliance with yours.” Enobaria says, “They haven’t had the chance to ask, so they wanted us to give it a try.”

You open your mouth to tell them that it’s not going to happen this year, but Finnick’s speaking over you, “Our tributes aren’t really looking for an alliance this year, they want to go it alone.”

Every single one of them share the same confused expression. You almost laugh, but clear your throat instead, “Annie and Marsh are working as a pair this year. We didn’t want to push them on an alliance if they didn’t want one.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Cashmere says, “I hope they know what they’re doing in the arena.”

“They’re definitely a couple of fighters, that’s for sure.” you shift on your feet, and steal a glance at Finnick to make sure that he’s not uncomfortable. You could talk to these four all day, it’s hard not to make friends with the other mentors when you’re by yourself.

At some point, their sponsors became your sponsors by default. You worked together, all hands in to make sure that one of your tributes would come out. It worked for a while, Cashmere and Gloss got a male victor almost immediately, and so did Enobaria and Kurt. The only reason why the new male victor from One isn’t a mentor is because Cashmere and Gloss are siblings; they like to work together.

“Two volunteers in the same year is new.” Gloss says slowly, you and him stare at each other, “What are you guys up to?”

“Same thing you guys are.” 

Wade sneers, “Clearly it isn’t as good.”

Your eyes find Wade, he hasn’t warmed up to you the same way that Kurt did. He’s still a naive boy, only eighteen. He’s still got a lot to learn when it comes to mentoring. That making enemies shouldn’t be the top priority on the list. When your tributes team up, you’ll want the other mentors to be cooperative.

“I’d be careful if I were you.” Finnick says, you can hear the smile in his words, “You might just end up eating those words.”

One last look over him, and then it’s back to your favorite three, “Anyway, you guys know Finnick, right?”

“Yeah! Honestly I was a little surprised when I saw him at the Tribute Parade.” Cashmere says, “What’s got you back on the move, Peacock?”

You can hardly hide the surprise that washes over you. The use of his Capitol-given nickname has got to sting, especially with everything that the Capitol does to him. You know that every time that it’s brought up with you, your mood dies instantly and you make sure that the person never brings it up again.

You press your lips together, eyes slowly making their way to him. Finnick’s a lot smoother than you are when it comes to holding back his emotions sometimes, “(Y/n)’s pretty convincing when she’s threatening you.”

A smile creeps onto your face, “I only had to do it once, so you know it’s pretty effective.”

“It’s nice to see you two together again.” Enobaria says, “Where are you two off to?”

“I’m getting a tattoo, I invited Finnick along.” the clock on the wall says that you’ve got about a half hour before your appointment, “We should probably get going, don’t want to make my favorite artist unhappy.”

“It was nice to see you.” Gloss says, “We’ll pass on the word to our tributes.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you guys later.” you wave, to your favorite three.

You only get a couple steps away, before you’re grabbing Wade’s collar with both hands, yanking him towards you. He’s quick, pressing both of his hands to your shoulders and leaning away. But his eyes are searching your face, panic expressed through his eyes at the dead serious look you’re giving him.

“Next time, you should watch how you talk to me. Otherwise, you’ll have a pretty problem on your hands.” you shove him back, “And my eyes are up here, fuckhead.”

You hold the door open for Finnick, give Wade a final glare, and then turn your back to them. After you’ve rounded the corner, you roll your eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, you beat me to it.” Finnick says, “I was going to say something.”

“I’m on top of it. I’ve always been on top of it.” you then give Finnick a smile, “Not my first rodeo, cowboy.”

Finnick’s face twists, “Don’t call me that, ever.”

You laugh at his face, “Bet it’s better than being called Peacock, huh?”

He shrugs, “I don’t mind it all that much. It could be worse.” and then his eyes fall on you, suggesting your title without even saying a word.

Your jaw sets, you grit your teeth and look away. You don’t want to be known as a name so harsh, it’s not who you are. Only in unique moments does the name seem to fit like it does. Leave it to Finnick to get something so delicate and flowery, and for you to be known as the opposite.

The Executioner. And yet, you can’t get any of your tributes to follow in the same bloody footsteps that you’ve walked. 

“I wish they’d picked something else.”

“Like what?” Finnick asks, it’s quiet for a moment, until he breaks it with his own laugh, “The Betrayer.”

“Traitor.” you correct, “And to be fair, I’ve heard that one too. During the Victory Tour, don’t you remember District Two shouting that at me? They weren’t very happy.”

“Who cares what District Two thinks?” Finnick scoffs, “District Eight felt the same way about me. It’s not my fault that their older teenagers don’t know how to take care of themselves.”

That’s fair, actually. One of the tributes was eighteen, the other was seventeen. Both went at Finnick, you think that the girl died first and the boy died second. He came around later when you were half-dead inside of the cave. Finnick never stopped working for the title even while you were gone.

“Either way, I got the short straw.”

Finnick’s voice is quiet, “I think it makes you fierce.”

You look over your shoulder, eyes finding Finnick’s. Soft, green, gentle. Genuine. He’s the first to smile, the light reaching his eyes. Just for a second, you can see the boy he used to be, making your heart twist sadly. You won’t ever get him back, will you?

You smile too.

--

The tattoo’s don’t take long, just like how you expected. Permanently embedded in the skin on your collarbone, are the names of your parents. With Ryatt, your father, on top, and your mother, Aesira, on bottom. You would’ve got them over your heart, but you and Finnick agreed that it was too cheesy.

Finnick decided to go down the same path you did. So, after you got your tattoos done, you sat off to the side and watched as Finnick got his own family on his left shoulder blade. Just like how your parents are gone, his entire family is gone too, including his younger brother.

That summer was by far the hardest for the both of you.

It took months to find out, but eventually Laurel came around with the details. The following year, when you were eighteen and Finnick had turned seventeen, you were told exactly why everything crashed and burned the year before. 

The Capitol is sick, a lot worse than you originally thought. Forget the marketing towards new victors, and the Hunger Games themselves. If a victor is good-looking and sponsors do ‘well’, they’re given the victor as a reward. President Coriolanus Snow himself talks to the victor, tells them that they either go into prostitution, or they get a surprise disaster.

Well, Finnick didn’t decline at first. He came back to the Tribute Center and broke up with you, actually. Finnick tried to back out of the deal a couple of days later, but Snow had already made up his mind. Finnick missed an important arrangement that Snow set up, and in return, Snow killed Finnick’s entire family in one swoop without batting an eye.

You vaguely remember Finnick being upset, but it really came down on him when you got back to District Four. You knew about his family dying when you came back, not all the rest. The only people Finnick invited to the funeral was your family, and that was the last time the two of you have ever been close. After that, the warmth turned to ice, and there was no reviving it.

You can’t imagine coming home to an empty house every year. You don’t know how Finnick does it. Even if he doesn’t want to take part in the mentorship or the boarding school, you’d think that he’d come out and train teenagers, anyway. It’s better than being shut in a place so quiet and cemetery-like. The times you’re alone in your own house gives you chills.

Finnick doesn’t seem so sullen after the tattoo. He looks a little more alive, actually. He doesn’t have to say it, you already know that he’s glad he came along. The two of you end up coming after the tributes, though. It’s well past lunch, almost time for dinner.

As much as you enjoy Finnick’s presence, you end up outside on the balcony again by yourself. You like the fresh air and the serenity of being away from the others. You could always do the same thing in your room, but it doesn’t have the same effect. Out here, you don’t feel like you’re being watched.

Elysia comes and gets you on her way to get your tributes for dinner. You thank her, as always, and then make your way to the dining room. Finnick’s standing next to Pleurisy and Laurel when you get out there. Once they see you, it’s big smiles and bright chatter.

“How was it?” you ask, looking to Annie and Marsh.

Annie’s got a small smile on her face, “I think that I’ve scored high. The gamemakers looked interested in what I had to offer, so that was a pretty good sign.”

“What about you?” Finnick asks.

Marsh shrugs slightly, “I was nervous and fumbled, barely recovered.”

“Fumbling is normal, the gamemakers hardly react to it.” you tell him, “Trust me, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. Even I missed when I was with the gamemakers.”

“And you scored a ten.” Marsh says.

“And I scored a ten.” you repeat.

It seems to raise his spirits enough for him to talk more during dinner. Afterwards, you all gather on the couches. Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy sit together in one bunch. You and Finnick next to each other, and Annie and Marsh take up the middle of the couch to see the screen dead on.

“Just before it starts, you guys should know that it’s normal for the careers to score between eights and tens. Rarely does anyone have the skill to get above a ten.” you say, and then Elysia turns the tv on.

Caesar Flickerman comes onto the screen with a white smile. It’s time to get started, it’ll start with District One, boys first. A picture of their faces will appear on screen, and their numbers will flash below.

You’re fully expecting a hard start with District One, since they always score high, but you’re genuinely surprised when the boy scores an eight and the girl a nine. Your mouth falls open, a laugh passing through you, “Well, there’s a twist.”

“Seriously.” Finnick says, “Looks like you two don’t have anything to worry about, after all.”

District Two isn’t as tough, the boy gets a ten, the girl a nine. Which means that Enobaria and Wade have triumphed over Cashmere and Gloss for the first time in years. Rarely do they score over District One. Yes, this year is surely something else, isn’t it?

Three isn’t as memorable, but when Marsh appears on screen, the room falls into a hush. You lean your elbows on your knees, fingers laced together, “District Four, Marsh Millilio with a score of nine.” Caesar smiles.

“Oh!” you laugh, sitting up.

All of you give Marsh a pretty good congratulations, shaking his shoulder and exchanging grins. The tension seems to dissipate from his body, and he relaxes against the couch, “If I did good, then so did Annie.”

“District Four, Annie Cresta, also with a score of nine.”

There’s loud cheering, Annie’s face turns a burning shade of red, but she’s definitely as excited as the rest of you. You can’t imagine how good the two of them are feeling right now. They’re careers, through and through. 

They’ve got high scores. All that’s left is to sweep the Capitol off their feet during the interviews.

--

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @acatalepsyy

[trashbunnywrites]

Fix you hisoka x reader

Tw: hisoka

Many people wanted a part 2 so here it is ^^

Part one

:readmore:

When you try your best, but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

The smell of bleach and blood covered your nose. The empty white walls glared at you. Something woke you, what was it again ? Putting your hand on your baby in confusion trying to remember why you were here in the first place. The feel of the rough sheets and empty stomach made you jump.

“MY BABY”

You screamed in a hopeless cry. You’re alone here , does that mean you lost your baby ?

Your body screamed in pain , but the pain your chest was stronger. Pulling all the cords off of you as you jumped , looking for you baby.

Your legs screamed in protest as you collapsed, how long have you been here ?

“MY BABY. GIVE ME MY BABY”

Screamed of grief echoed as running was heard. You were a sobbing mess. What happened while you were out ? The baby was early but they have to be okay.

“Ma’am please calm down your baby is fine.”

A gentle yet firm hand tried holding you up from the floor. You were inconsolable, if the baby was fine then where are they ?

Being pulled up by firm hands like a princess. They tears blur your vision. Being lowered to the bed as your carrier held your face firmly facing him. Wait , you know him ?

“She’s okay , you have a healthy baby girl and she’s near the nurse went to get her”

“..... k …. kastro?”

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something, you can't replace

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

You’ve never thought you’ll be the happiest you ever were by hearing a child cry. Breaking eye contact with him and landing your eyes on the small bundle in the nurse’s arms.

Once placed in your arms , you hugged her close as your tears slowly returned. Her crying stupid as her golden eyes looked at you in curiosity.

You felt yourself giggle as you touched her with your thumb. She looked like him , but she was yours. That curious loving look. She’s perfect.

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard the strongest female fighter was carrying that bastards child”

“Hmmmm”

You were too focused on the Angel in your hands to actually care about what he was saying. Her sweet precious face. Smiling at her , her chubby cheeks raised as she smiled back at you. Kissing her face feeling an intense love for this little creature.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t know about her , if he did he would’ve been here wanting to train her so he can fight and kill her later.”

Every single cell in your body froze. Looking up at him in wide eyes as you hugged your little princess close to you. Activating your aura as a warning.

“Calm down , I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He quickly dismissed waving his hand.

“I want to kill that pretentious bastard and I need your help. I’m assuming you’d want him dead as well”

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Rehabilitation was hard , everything in your body screamed in rejection but you didn’t stop. When you returned home , all you wanted to do was lay down and sleep but you didn’t.

Everything in you wanted to protect your baby girl. Your new purpose in life. She made your day brighter , her sweet smile , musically laugh , and even her loud cries.

Magie was her name , which means magic in German. Hisoka called himself the magician and magie was his best work to ever exist.

On weekends you and kastro train over and over again. You were rusty and he needed someone he can trust to perfect his new hatsu. One he’s sure to take down hisoka. He was strong but needed help on other aspects like conjuring.

You weren’t sure he’d succeed so you practiced your own new hatsu. You know kastro wants to take down hisoka , but you can’t trust him with this. As much as you wanted to , you couldn’t. It’s your own way of protecting yourself and magie from him. You’re not taking chances.

Even if he was warming his way into your heart , magie will always be your number 1.

And high up above or down below

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try, you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Returning to your former glory and even beyond that , was the result of all the training you did. The months of hard work and sparring with kastro made the time move quick. He was a stable in your life now.

Training and returning home together , spending time since you both live in heaven’s arena. Him helping with magie and cuddling after exhausting yourselves. it was perfect.

Your status was unknown and you were too much of a coward to ask. You liked this , you were happy.

Standing near kastro as he was preparing to finally have his fight with hisoka , your hand clinched at his robes as his name was called. He looked at you Questionably.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Your eyes cashed down as you heard him chuckles. Fingers raising your face to his as soft lips pressed against your own in a chaste kiss.

“When I return let’s have dinner , my treat”

He winked as your cheeks felt warm. Walking away you had to stop yourself from dragging him back. What’s with this need to make him stay ?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Your screams got lost in the audience cheers. No no no no no no no ! This can’t be happening !

Seeing kastro lose his cool as hisoka exposed his trick and getting punched in the chin , made you run towards the front.

What can you do ? You had no idea but the needs to be closer to him was strong. To somehow help him. The audience were crowding the front but you fought your way.

Your heart erupted in anguish seeing the man you just had feelings for fall in front of your eyes.

“You’ll die in a frenzy dance”

The smug sultry voice of the redhead echoed in your mind. Why is he ruining your life again ?! He walked away as the medics went to carry your close to be lover body away.

Returning to your home was painful , the sight of magie made everything feel a little better. You’re not alone , you have your child. Your precious adorable baby girl.

carrying her and singing , as your tears fell and heart broke. She was everything you needed. Even if you lose anymore , as long as she’s with you you’re okay.

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something, you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face and I

Tears stream down your face

I promise you, I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face and I

Fighting was all you ever did. You were good at it. Thanks to kastro you became even better. Being known as someone who raised from the ashes made your story even more poetic.

Too many challengers came and went , as you stood on the top with other floor masters. It was exhausting and satisfying.

Walking away as the people cheered , you raised your head high. You’re a fighter , a survivor , and you refuse to lose anymore.

“Such a sweet tasty thing , how come we never talked before ❤️?”

The voice of your nightmare made you turn around. A similar face to your child yet so different. The face you used to love so much before and now you feel nothing.

“What do you want ?”

He walked towards you as you kept your ground and maintained eye contact. You refuse to bend again.

“My such a scary look ♦️ have we been together before ? You look so familiar ♠️ “

“Do you need anything ?”

“Dinner would be nice ❤️”

How dare he ? You were enraged. How dare he forgets about you after leaving you like that , kills your lover , and asks you out like nothing happened ?!

“You can always eat shit asshole”

You said between gritted teeths as you gave him your back. You felt him activating his aura as you did to yours. You felt him throwing his bungee gum at you.

“What the …? ♠️ “

You heard his confused voice , as his aura fell instead of sticking to you.

“You like it ? It’s my new hatsu I call it, stiff hate : saffola oil it has properties of water and oil”

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm and mocking as his face went through the five stages of grief in front of you.

Walking away laughing loudly as he unleashed his bloodlust. It felt so good you couldn’t help yourself. The amount of times you dreamt of this moment. You rendered his hatsu useless and he knew it.

He can attempt to fight you , but you refuse to accept anything to do with him. You have a child to protect and as much as you’d love to punch him you can’t.

Magie is your priority.

A shadowed figure appeared while you were enjoying your victory blocking your view.

Who ?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

“Can you autograph my book?”

You looked at the gentleman in front of you. He was holding a suspicious looking book , with a hand imprint on it.

You felt a presence near when you talked to hisoka , was that him ?

Grabbing his pen and autographing the pages refusing to touch the cover. You saw his face as his brows knit trying to get you to hold the book , something is wrong with that book after all.

Handing back his pen you smiled at him as he looked at you with a fake smile of his own.

“You were really amazing out there ! I heard you can defeat hisoka’s special magic. Is that true ?”

“You saw me do it, stop pretending you’re a fan. Also , next time you want to act like a normal audience member dress as one”

You pointed at his black on black leather outfit that made you think of your teenage emo phase. His hair was slicked back and a weird tattoo on his face. Did he honestly think you’ll be fooled by his words when he looked like that ?

He chuckled as his grey eyes assisted you with intelligence.

“Many fell for it , but I guess you’re a lot smarter than them. I’m staying here for a fight soon , I hope it’s not the last time we run into each other. I’d hate to lose a chance with a pretty and smart lady like you”

You felt yourself laugh , wow is he hitting on you ? What’s with you and attracting all sorts of weirdos ?

“Kill that clown for me and I’ll gladly marry you if you want let alone seeing each other”

You said laughing. Something in his eyes darkened as he smiled wider.

“It’s a promise.”

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [64]

vi. exit wounds 

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: angst (we sad, my friends), injuries, blood.

Summary: heartbroken, you try to navigate your life and an impending war, all while trying to keep it together.

a/n: i feel like yall have been wanting this update since i broke your heart on friday, so here we are!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

As soon as Octavia announces the retreat, you offer to take Indra and a few of the other badly injured people back to Polis in the rover to see Jackson. Octavia gives you her blessing, especially when she sees you warily eyeing Echo and Bellamy. You know you have her sympathy, your dislike for Echo just as strong as Octavia’s. Clarke and Madi offer to ride with you, to keep you company, but you deny them, wanting to spend the time alone. 

After the last few people are loaded into the back of the rover, you head towards the driver’s side door, ready to drive off. As you reach for the handle, you hear someone call your name, and the voice makes your stomach sink, aware of exactly who is calling out to you. You hesitate, trying to decide if you want to turn and face Bellamy right now, but the very thought of doing so brings tears to your eyes and you decide against it. Instead you pull yourself into the rover and drive off, ignoring him as you drive the vehicle past him. Only once he’s behind you do you spare a glance in the rearview mirror, watching as he looks at the retreating rover with heartbreak.

You scoff, annoyed that he’s upset when it’s you that should be hurt by him and his actions. It’s bad enough that he decided to date Echo knowing all the terrible things that she’s done, but the fact that he didn’t even tell you feels much worse. You’ve been on the ground with him for days, and while it’s definitely been stressful and chaotic, you wish that he had tried harder to tell you, warn you. Instead, you had to find out when you saw them kiss. A reunion kiss that was meant for you, not her.

You feel tears rise to your eyes, squeezing your throat, making it hard to breath, and you pull over for a second, unable to see past the emotion. You sit and cry, hard, ignoring the fact that there are at least 10 people in the back of the rover, waiting for you to get them back to Polis. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand come down on your shoulder, and when you turn to look, you see Indra looking at you, expression regretful, her voice sounding weak as she says, “I know what he means to you, Wanlida, but a warrior does not mourn those she has lost until the war is won.”

You nod your head and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that she’s right. Your family and your home are in trouble, along with the people in the rover with you. Right now, it’s more important that you get them to Polis. And so, you start the rover back up and continue to Polis, keeping yourself busy to keep your mind off of everything. As soon as you arrive, you help unload the injured and take them into the bunker, before assisting Jackson as he helps doctor those in need. The rest of the group makes it back in a few hours, the return hike much shorter than the initial journey, and one of the Wonkru members from the desert lets you know that Octavia and Clarke are looking for you in the main office. You thank them for passing along the message before you head that way, curious on what this is about.

As soon as you get there, you enter and see Clarke checking on Octavia's worm wound, making sure it’s healing well. Octavia glances at you as you come to stand beside Madi, who is watching intently, and the Wonkru leader doesn’t hesitate in giving you a serious look. “My brother will come to his senses.”

Your gaze drops to your shoes, not wanting to talk about this, not now, and you can feel everyone’s gaze on you as you compose yourself, lift your head, and hum, “Maybe.”

Everyone seems to sense how uncomfortable you are, because the topic quickly changes, and Octavia’s gaze falls on Madi, who is watching Clarke clean the queen’s wounds in awe. Clarke glances at her and smiles before muttering, “Madi's a big fan. She's heard every story about the girl under the floor who saved the human race.”

Octavia turns her gaze towards Madi, nodding at her with respect. “Now what's your story? You survived six years of radiation? What's your secret?”

“Synthetic nightblood, like us.” Clarke starts to bandage Octavia’s wound, the lie rolling off her tongue easily. “We took her to Becca's lab and shared our bone marrow to keep her alive.”

“You're lucky the twins found you.”

Madi nods, opening her mouth to say something, when the door to the office swings open and Cooper steps inside. “Ready to move?”

Clarke finishes up the bandage and answers for Octavia, “She needs another day's rest.”

“She needs to be with her people.”

Octavia seems to agree, because she stands, allowing Cooper to hand her her armor. “I'm done licking my wounds. Let's go remind the others what we promised them.”

As she starts to step towards the door, Octavia turns your way. “My banishment of Echo still stands. I’m going to deliver the news now, I’d like for you to be there.”

You glance at Clarke, who nods, and though you aren't ready to confront this, you think that maybe it’ll be easier with Octavia at your side. So you nod, and Octavia smiles quickly before settling her expression into a more serious one. She motions for you to follow her and you do, taking the journey out of the bunker and back up to the surface, into the streets of Polis. The clouds hang low above the streets, dropping a cool rain onto the people that are gathered below, and you’re thankful for it. Maybe it’ll hide your tears if you cry.

Octavia pulls you to her side, the two of you walking together as equals, while Cooper hangs back slightly. As you move down the street, some people turn away, some stop to whisper, and you realize now how much tension hangs in the air over the people of Wonkru. Octavia senses it too, because she turns to Cooper, voice sounding accusatory, “You said they needed to see me, but they can barely look at me. What aren't you telling me?”

“Word has spread about our defeat in the wasteland. Diyoza's firepower has crippled us. The soil here is dead, I don't care how much it rains, it won't be arable for years. And, as you know, the hydrofarm can barely produce enough-”

Octavia cuts her off, sounding upset, “Stop it. We have faced worse odds than this.”

“Yes, but now we know the warning signs of rebellion. I once betrayed you when you were vulnerable, when Wonkru was living in fear.” 

Your brows pull together, curious about the history between the Red Queen and her loyal servant. However, you don't get the chance to ask, because a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Octavia.”

You and Octavia turn, coming face to face with Echo and Bellamy. You were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you stand in front of them, all you feel is anger. Ferocious, white hot anger, pulsing through your blood. If you could, you’d take the knife on your thigh and plunge it into Echo’s heart, letting her feel the hurt that she’s caused you. Echo avoids your eyes, but Bellamy doesn’t, his gaze searching your face for any sign of what you’re feeling. He must sense the anger, because he seems taken aback, not expecting the fire that moves through you. You remember what he said to you before he left, I’ll always be in awe of your anger, and you wonder if he still feels that way now, when so much of it is directed at him. 

You watch him shake his head a little, trying to clear his thoughts, before he looks at his sister, “Glad to see you back on your feet. Echo tried to get in to see you, but they wouldn't let-”

“What is she doing here?”

You are surprised by how meek Echo sounds when she responds, reminding you nothing of the bloodthirsty spy you knew six years ago. “I just wanted to thank you for saving my people.”

“They're not your people.” The anger in Octavia’s voice is palpable, and you find yourself thankful that she’s not going to back down from this. “Azgeda is a memory. There is only Wonkru, and there is no place in it for you.”

Bellamy immediately cuts in, his face fallen. “I know you two have history, but Echo is on our side. She proved herself dozens of times on the ring.”

“This isn't the ring.” Octavia turns slightly, raising her voice to be heard by those around you. “Wonkru, I banished this murderer from the bunker six years ago. My judgement still stands!”

“O.”

She turns back to her brother, stepping closer to deliver her last message with a threatening whisper. “She has 24 hours. If she's still here by then, she fights in the arena.”

She turns, holding out her hand to you, and you glance at Bellamy, watching as he shakes his head, disapproving of the situation. The act makes you defiant, and you want him angry, just like he’s made you, so you smile and take Octavia’s hand, allowing her to whisk you away from the couple. Bellamy, never one to give up without a fight, jogs after the two of you, calling out to you both. “Octavia! Octavia, stop. It was six years ago, you just can't cast her out! She won't survive! Natshana, please! Just let me explain!”

Octavia ignores her brother, fully intent on staying true to her word, but you spin around at the mention of your nickname, pulling Octavia to a stop beside you. You can’t believe he has the nerve to use a nickname he gave you when the two of you were still together, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that!”

His expression pulls into one of hurt, and he opens his mouth to say something, but he is cut off by a warning call from a nearby horn. You turn and lock eyes with the Wonkru leader, both of you looking worried, before you hear a sonic boom, the same one you heard when Diyoza’s ship landed the first time. You look up, eyes finding the small ship in the sky, and as it flies closer, everyone starts to panic. There’s a stampede heading in your direction as everyone runs to the bunker and to safety, and Octavia starts to back away until she sees that her brother isn't following. “Bellamy, get in the bunker.”

“Not without Echo.”

He gives you one last look before he turns and runs off, not even giving you a chance to stop him as he leaves in search of his girlfriend. You feel a pang in your heart knowing that it’s her he’s worrying about, and not you. You stand there frozen, watching him leave, and Octavia does the same, in disbelief that he chose the spy over the two of you. Cooper grabs Octavia’s arm, getting her attention, “Blodreina, look!”

You both follow her pointed finger to the sky, watching as giant metal crates fall from the ship, before it turns and flies away, no bomb dropped. The metal crates fall to the ground slowly, aided by parachutes, before they hit the ground and the sides pop open. You watch in surprise as a bunch of apples roll out, and as you step forward to get a closer look, you see it’s stuffed with all kinds of fruits and vegetables from the valley. You jump in surprise when you hear Diyoza’s voice, coming from a speaker attached to the top of the crates. “People of Wonkru, this is Colonel Diyoza offering you a chance for peace. I know you’ve all suffered, I know you're hungry, and so many of you are weary of Octavia's rule, but now you have a choice. Abandon your weapons, leave Wonkru behind, and join us in Shallow Valley. We have plenty of food and shelter for those seeking a better life. When our ship returns tonight, head for the wastelands. Anyone waiting for us outside the ruins will be rescued. But come unarmed. If Octavia attacks our ship, we will retaliate against your city with lethal force. We're watching everything, always.”

Octavia grabs a weapon from one of the men nearby and swings it towards the speaker, knocking the antenna off the top and ending the transmission. But somewhere nearby, one of the other crates finishes the message for all of you to hear. “There is a place in the valley for all of us, so please choose wisely.”

Octavia turns to Cooper, voice low, and eerily calm. “Get everyone into the bunker. Now.”

Cooper does as she’s told and gathers everyone that still lingers outside to send them back into the bunker. Miller, who has just come out of the bunker to see what the commotion is, stops at Octavia’s side, expression blank. “What are your orders, Blodreina?”

“Burn it. Burn it all, until there’s nothing left.”

You look at her in shock, not pleased to see perfectly good food go to waste, but Miller immediately does as she says and gathers the guards, directing all of them to set the food supply on fire. You stand and watch one of them burn until nothing remains but ashes, lost in your thoughts, not realizing that everyone has left you behind without another word. Everyone, that is, except for Bellamy. 

You don't notice him at first, too lost in your own head, but gradually you become aware of the hairs on the back of your neck lifting, standing at attention underneath someone’s gaze. You turn around quickly, hand reaching for your knife, but you drop it when you realize it’s him. Your face falls, not pleased to see him, or be near him, reminding you of the first few weeks that you knew him. You see a look of hurt pass his features at your expression, and he walks closer to you, coming to a stop at your side. “I thought you were dead.”

Your jaw clenches with anger, and you harden your heart, refusing to let his broken whisper sway your feelings. Instead, you latch onto your lingering anger, turning and directing it towards him. “I know. But that’s not why I’m upset. It hurts me to see you with Echo, but the worst part is that you didn't tell me, Bellamy. You knew how I felt about you, how much I loved you, and you knew how excited I was to have you back on Earth. And still, not once did you tell me that you moved on with someone else.”

Bellamy’s expression sinks, and he whispers, “Loved?”

“What?”

“You said loved, past tense.”

You tense up, not even realizing you said it, and one check of your emotions lets you know that it isn't true. You love him, of course you do, but it would be so much easier if you didn't. Coping with this would be much easier if you felt nothing towards him, if you hadn't spent the last 6 years dreaming of the life you wanted to build with him as soon as you saw him. But you ignore his hurt, and your own, and let your anger crackle like electricity around you. “Do you love her?”

He freezes, caught off guard by the question, before his expression goes neutral. You can tell he’s trying to hide something, his feelings for Echo probably, and it tells you everything you need to know. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he's cut off by your twin, who stands near the base of the rubble and calls your name. When you look towards her, she motions back towards the bunker. “There’s a meeting we need to crash.”

You nod, letting her know you heard her, before turning back to Bellamy. You decide to leave him with one last painful remark, hoping it hurts him, just like this hurts you. “Guess you found someone else to tell you about the stars.”

You wait just long enough to see his face fall before you turn and walk towards your sister, sorrow flooding through you quickly, cooling the fire within you. You hate hurting Bellamy, even now, but losing your other half is something that would break even the strongest of people. You briefly wonder if you have a second to shed a few tears before the meeting, before Clarke quickly destroys those plans by calling out to your former lover, “You too, Bellamy! You need to be there.”

You glare at your twin, and she gives you a sympathetic look as you reach her, her voice soft when she whispers, “You know I wouldn’t invite him unless I had to. But it’s his sister, and he needs to be there.”

You just nod, not trusting your voice, as the two of you wait for him to catch up before heading back into the bunker and towards the main office. Monty and Harper are already there and waiting when the three of you arrive, clearly all on the same page, while you and Bellamy are in the dark. Clarke pushes inside with no hesitation, unfazed by the angry glares that are turning in your direction. 

“This is a private meeting.”

Octavia waves off Miller’s dissent, “It's fine.”

“We all have people in that valley that need our help.”

“If you're talking about your mother, I am not interested in rescuing traitors. I'm trying to prevent more of them.”

Bellamy stares at his sister in disbelief, his voice rising as he lectures her, “Your people are hungry and you're worrying about defectors? We should stop wasting time looking for enemies in Polis, and we should start trying to find a way back into that valley!”

“Last time I checked, Diyoza can see our every move.”

Harper speaks up from her place in the back of the group, motioning towards her boyfriend. “That's where Monty comes in.”

“Laser-comm.” He holds up a radio, showing it to Octavia. “It's dialed right into their mother ship. All I need is a relay tower on the ground that we build out of scrap, and a computer. I should be able to blind the eye from right here.”

“Good plan. Once it's down, we can attack.”

“Miller, set Monty up. Cooper, shoot anyone who tries to defect. We're done here.” She brushes past all of you, heading towards the door. “Time to train.”

Everyone disperses, and you, Clarke, and Bellamy step outside, watching Octavia disappear into the bunker. Bellamy mutters, “That is not my sister.”

You don’t answer, still content on ignoring him, but Clarke doesn't say anything either. You glance her way and see that she is staring off into the distance, and you follow her gaze to see why. Madi is talking with Gaia, both of them smiling. Clarke glances over at you, worried, and you nod. “Go get her. I think I’m gonna stop by for a training session.”

Clarke barely looks your way as she answers, “Let me know if you find out anything.”

You both walk down the ramp together, towards the talking pair, but you immediately continue past them, giving Madi’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as you move past. She grins at you as you continue by and you smile back at her before following the path that Octavia took into the bunker, leaving Bellamy and any thoughts about him behind without a word. You can tell you’re on the right track, because you hear the sounds of fighting growing louder as you draw closer. Finally, you come upon an open door at the end of a hallway, where Octavia now fights Cooper, easily beating the woman. “I told you not to go easy.”

Cooper steps away, looking apologetic, and you call out, “Got time for one more?”

Octavia looks to where you stand in the doorway, face breaking into a grin. “Cooper, give her your sword.”

You accept the weapon as she hands it to you, brushing past you and out the door, muttering, “Your funeral.”

You step into the room and onto the training room floor, you and Octavia circling each other with predatory grins on your faces. Octavia is the first to make a move, lunging towards you and swinging her sword around, but you lift your sword and block the blow, listening to the sound of metal clanging as it echoes in the room. You reach out and push her hand down and away, spinning your body, bringing your sword with it, and nearly hitting her before she blocks you at the last second. As she does, she looks at you, studying you, before asking, “What do you think about Echo?”

Just the mention of her name sends fire flowing through you, boiling your anger up and over, and you answer her question with an aggressive series of attacks that she barely manages to block. On the last one, as the two of you stand staring each other down, you mutter, “You already know the answer to that.”

“She nearly killed you in Mount Weather.”

You pull back, and lift the shirt on your right side, revealing one of the few scars you received on that fateful trip to the Mountain. You counter her point with, “And she nearly killed you on that cliff.”

You remember the fear and rage you had at the announcement of Octavia’s death, and she must feel the same way about her near death experience, because she answers you with a similarly aggressive response, lunging at you with an onslaught of attacks. You manage to block each one, but on the last one, she uses your focus on the blocking to kick you backwards, knocking you on your back. You feel the air rush out of your lungs in one fell swoop, and you groan as the impact hits the bulletwound on your shoulder, improving day by day, but not able to withstand this kind of trauma. Octavia stands over you, looking down at you, and she mutters, “And now she’s taken Bellamy from you.”

You stare up at her, wondering what angle she’s playing, or if she just wants to hurt you for no reason. But then she extends her hand to you, which you eye warily before taking it. She pulls you to your feet, both of you now standing close, and she whispers, “Her 24 hours is ticking by, but Bellamy seems intent on going with her. What will you do then?”

“I don't know. Bellamy has my heart, but if Echo has his, then I won't stand in their way.”

Her head tips to the side and she tsks, giving you a disapproving look. “That’s not the Invisible Twin that I know. The girl I know fights for what belongs to her.”

“I’d do anything for Bellamy, you know that Octavia. That includes letting him be happy with someone else, no matter what it costs me. I only ever wanted him happy.” As soon as you say it, you know you mean it. Because despite the hurt, the anger, and the pain it will cause you, you will do anything to see Bellamy happy, to see him smile. Even if that means watching him love Echo.

You hear someone clear their throat near the door, and you turn towards them, your eyes falling on Bellamy. You’re not sure how much of the conversation he heard, but it’s clear he caught some of it because he’s watching you with an intense look. Although you just told Octavia you just want to see him happy, that doesn't mean you’re over your hurt just like that. You nod at Octavia, “Thanks for the training.”

She nods back at you, and you head towards the door, extending Cooper’s sword out to Bellamy. You think of Octavia’s words to you, and start to wonder if it was just her way of riling you up so you’d give her a good fight. It’s hard to know for sure, but you decide to warn Bellamy just the same. “She won't hold back. Neither should you.”

Your fingers brush as he takes the sword from you, electricity going up both of your arms. You lock eyes, and he looks like he wants to say something to you, until you cut your eyes at him, warning him not to. He nods, accepting your anger for now, and without another word, you brush past him and out the door, walking away from the love of your life in search of the only family you have left. 

-

You find Madi and Clarke in the tent she set up in the streets of Polis, none of you wanting to spend any more time in the bunker than necessary. After a quick dinner, you mumble something about feeling tired and you curl up in your sleeping bag, intent on crying yourself to sleep after your emotionally taxing day. 

You're not asleep for very long when you’re woken up by the soft sounds of a conversation being held in the tent. You open your eyes slowly, your back to the people talking, listening in on the conversation. 

“It was hard for a while, really hard, but we survived, thanks to Octavia.”

It takes you a second, but you realize it’s Niylah’s voice, quiet in the confines of the tent. You hear Clarke’s sarcastic reply follow, “You mean, Blodreina?”

“How do you explain the sun to someone who's never seen it?”

Clarke seems to hesitate for a second, and you’re sure the comment on the sun has her gaze swinging over to Madi. You brush your fingers over your own necklace, reassured by the silver moon that hangs around your neck before you hear Clarke ask, “And what about the Flame?”

“What about it? The time of the Commanders is over.”

“Does Gaia still have it?”

“They say you made her into a Natblida. Is that true?”

“Yeah.”

“I can still tell when you're lying.” You tense up at Niylah’s response, knowing that Madi being a true Nightblood, not a created one like you and Clarke, puts her in danger. Niylah may say that the time of the Commanders is over, but you know that not everyone believes that. There are people that would kneel to Madi, without hesitation, and given all you’ve seen from Octavia, that is not a situation you are eager to have her in.

You jump when you hear a clang of metal outside, followed by the sounds of Niylah and Clarke slipping from the tent. You rise from your bed and grab your knife, stepping out of the tent just in time to see a hooded figure standing in front of the door, holding a rag over a blonde person’s mouth. Your stomach drops, thinking it’s Clarke and you immediately hold a knife to their throat, close enough now that you can see the person in the hooded figure’s arms is not Clarke. They freeze and lower Niylah’s unconscious body to the ground. Clarke, who is standing nearby, gets a look at the hooded figure’s face first and whispers, “Gaia? What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Protecting the true last Natblida, as my order has always done.”

You look at Clarke, silently asking her what she wants you to do, and she nods, letting you know it’s okay for now. You lower the knife but keep it close, and Gaia grabs Niylah’s body and starts to drag her away before whispering, “Come on, you two.”

You and Clarke follow her into an abandoned building, closing the door behind you as you spin towards Gaia and look at her in confusion. “Whose side are you on? What are you, Fleimkepa or Wonkru?”

“Blodreina saved my life, but that doesn't mean I can forget my faith.”

She unrolls a leather satchel and you and Clarke watch on, trying to figure out what she’s doing. She reaches for a bottle of liquid, and Clarke puts the pieces together first, reaching out and putting her hand on Gaia’s arm to stop her. “You are out of your mind if you think I'm gonna let you kill my friend.”

“Niylah is not your friend. You're Wonkru or you're the enemy, that's what she believes. If you want to protect Madi, this is the only way.”

“Madi is not a threat to Octavia, she's a child.”

Gaia turns on her, looking at her in earnest.  “Yes, a Nightblood child who appeared two days after we rose from the ashes. That's no coincidence, Clarke. Octavia's not going to see it that way, and neither do I.”

Clarke quickly pulls out her knife and reaches out to grab Gaia, holding the weapon to her throat before either of you realize what she’s doing. “Listen to me, if you think you can force the Flame on Madi-”

Gaia cuts her off, “I would never do that. And I'm not the one you should be afraid of.”

Niylah starts to stir from her place on the table, effectively ending the conversation. Clarke releases Gaia, and nods towards the door. “Go, before she sees you.” 

Gaia turns and steps towards the door, and your twin turns to you. “Get back to Madi, start packing our things. When that transport comes, all three of us are going to be on it.”

You nod your head and slip out the door, jogging back to your tent and grabbing each of your packs, stuffing the most important things inside of them. Clarke drops into the tent a second later, silently passing things to you and helping you to grab what the three of you need. She hands you her sketchpad, the one she turned into a book of pictures for Madi, who must have been flipping through it earlier, because it's open to a picture of Bellamy. Your stomach drops and you’re sure your face does too, because Clarke whispers, “We should tell them, just so they won’t worry.”

“Yeah.”

You put the sketchpad in her pack, and she starts to rise, but you put your hand on your arm to stop her. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, but you force them down and whisper, “It might be the last time I see him. I want to say goodbye.”

She nods, honoring your wishes, and she pulls you into a hug before you go. “It's going to be okay, la lune. I promise.”

A few of your tears spill down your cheeks, triggered by the comfort your twin gives you, and you pull away, wiping them from your face. “Get Madi ready, I’ll be back soon.”

You turn and head out of the tent, moving through the dark streets of Polis to the second camp area set up just around the corner. You’re thankful that the couple chose to camp out over here, because it means you’re less likely to run into them or see them together. Now, however, you know you’re walking right into the lion’s den, preparing to do something that will just break your heart even further. You don’t know what’s worse: Bellamy going to space without the chance for you to say goodbye, or you leaving to go to Shallow Valley and getting to say goodbye, but knowing that Bellamy will always be just out of reach for you. 

When you get to Bellamy and Echo’s tent, you step close to the door, opening your mouth to call out to them, not wanting a repeat of the time you walked in on Bellamy and Raven. But just as you start to announce your presence, you hear Echo’s stressed voice float towards you, through the tent. “Bellamy, I just can’t okay? You may not see it, but everyone else can, me included. You still love her, and she still loves you. I know that you love me, but not the way you love her. And that’s okay, I understand, the heart wants what it wants. But I deserve more than that. I deserve to be loved by someone who can love me fully and completely.”

You freeze in place, goosebumps erupting along your skin as you start to realize that they’re talking about you. Bellamy’s voice sounds distressed when he retorts, “Echo, I do love you fully and completely.”

“Not the way you think you do. Things changed the second Madi saved us from those prisoners and told us the twins were still alive and in trouble.” You feel tears well up in your eyes as you stand silently outside of the tent, waiting with bated breath. “I didn't want to accept it at first, but the past couple of days away from you really opened my eyes. You two belong together. And maybe if she had died in Praimfaya, things could be different for us down here on Earth, but maybe our love was always meant to stay up on the ring. Maybe it wasn't made to last beyond that.”

Your heart breaks at the realization that if what Echo is saying is true, Bellamy still loves you. And here you stand, outside of his tent, preparing to announce your departure to Shallow Valley, leaving him, and the possibility of love, behind. But you know that Madi’s life is at risk here, and Octavia and Wonkru are too unstable to handle the threat of a real Nightblood child, so you know what you have to do. You step back from the tent a little and call out, “Bellamy, Echo, are you guys in here?”

You hear movement from inside the tent, and a second later Bellamy steps out, followed by Echo. They stand a few feet apart, looking uncomfortable, and you notice the pack on her back. “Are you defecting?”

“Not exactly.” You look at her in confusion, but she nods her head towards Bellamy. “He can explain, I have people I need to find.”

You nod, and the former couple stands and looks at each other awkwardly before exchanging a quick hug. They avoid eye contact the entire time and pull away quickly before Echo nods at you in goodbye and disappears into the crowd. You hear the rumble of the approaching transport ship, and you and Bellamy both look towards the sky, watching as it draws closer. You turn to Bellamy, about to begin your goodbyes when you hear Clarke call your name. You turn in her direction, watching as she tells Madi to stay put before she jogs over to the two of you. The first thing she takes note of is Echo’s absence, and she looks at Bellamy. “Where’s Echo? Is she defecting?”

“Not exactly.” He nods for both of you to follow him as he starts to step away. “Come on, I'll explain in the bunker.”

You shake your head, already denying his request. “Bellamy, we're leaving too.”

“What?”

A look of hurt passes over his face, and you resist the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him, kiss him, knowing that right now, things aren’t right. Instead you mutter, “It's not safe for us here.”

“No, you don't understand. Echo's defecting so we can take down the eye, and once it's down-”

Clarke cuts him off, disinterested in hearing their plan. “No, you don't understand. Diyoza is the least of our concerns. Your sister is dangerous, and Madi's…”

She turns to glance back in Madi’s direction, about to expand on the danger she’s in, but when she looks that way, her eyes widen in alarm. You turn around, finding that the place Madi was standing in is now empty, the young Nightblood now missing. Clarke grabs your hand and starts to pull you away, “We have to find her.”

You glance back at Bellamy and find that he is already following you, eyes scanning the area around him for any sign of Madi. You feel a pang in your heart, melting at the fact that he’s searching for Madi even though he doesn't have to, even though he barely knows her. But he’s searching because he knows that she’s important to you and Clarke, and you again have to resist the urge to sweep him up in your arms. 

Clarke pulls you down the street, all three of you looking for Madi and calling out to her. “Madi!”

“Madi, where are you?”

Suddenly, the transport flies right overhead, lowering to the ground nearby, and you turn to Clarke in alarm. “We're out of time.”

The three of you stand there, looking at each other, trying to think on what to do, when a shot rings out nearby. All of your expressions morph into confusion as you hear another shot and a distant cry of pain, before Clarke whispers in horror, “They're shooting at the defectors.”

The three of you take off again, following the steady sound of the gunshots that ring out every few seconds, until finally you see the barrel of a gun sticking out a window, bullets firing from it. You get Clarke and Bellamy’s attention and point up to it, “There!”

“On me.” You and Clarke nod and he pulls out his pistol. Clarke does the same, pushing you behind her so she can protect you. You silently curse yourself for leaving your gun in your pack, never very good at carrying it around with you. Ultimately, it doesn't matter, because Bellamy leads your trio up the stairs and kicks open the door, him and Clarke pointing their weapons at Cooper, who stands looking at you without an ounce of shame. “Cooper, what the hell is wrong with you? Octavia said to let them go.”

Her head cocks to the side, as if she doesn't understand his question. “Who do you think gave me the order?”

“Where is she?”

“In her office, waiting to hear that it’s done.”

As soon as she says it, Cooper pushes past all of you, exiting the room with a blank stare on her face. You, Bellamy, and Clarke all turn and run from the building, heading straight to the bunker to talk to Octavia. But as soon as you climb through the door and down the stairs, Clarke gets a glimpse of a familiar looking figure standing in the atrium with the Red Queen. She immediately takes off running towards her, yelling, “Madi? Madi!”

All three of you try to push through the door and run down to them, but you’re held back by a set of guards near the door. Clarke looks down at the pair, in complete distress, and yells, “Octavia, get away from her!”

Madi looks your way, trying to comfort her. “Clarke, it's okay, I came to her.” Madi turns back to Octavia, who lifts the knife in her hand and slices open her palm. As she reaches out for Madi, she commands, “Let them pass.”

Clarke immediately takes off running towards them, and you and Bellamy jog after her, hearing Octavia’s voice float up to you as you get closer. “Nau oso tai so op kom won jus. Yo laik Wonkru.”

Now we bind ourselves in one blood. You are Wonkru. As soon as you reach the atrium where they both stand, you see that Madi and Octavia’s hands are clasped together, blood dripping from their joined palms. Clarke snaps, “What the hell are you doing?”

“It's okay. She knows everything.”

You and Clarke exchange a worried look before looking at Octavia, who returns her knife to her belt and nods at the two of you. “I understand why you lied, you were just trying to protect her. But Madi no longer needs your protection, she has mine.”

She turns her gaze away from you and back to Madi, reaching her bloody hand up to grip Madi’s chin and hold her gaze with her own. “I know what it's like to be the girl under the floor. You don't have to be afraid anymore, your training begins tomorrow.”

And then she drops her hand, leaving a red and black blood streak behind on Madi’s cheek, smiling at you and Clarke before she turns and leaves the atrium, heading up to the office. Bellamy shifts from his place behind you before following her, and you can hear the muffled sounds of them arguing before they even get the door closed. You ignore it for now, turning to look at Madi and Clarke, who looks between you both with worry. “I know you're both mad, but I told her I didn't want to be Commander. I did it to keep you safe, because Diyoza would kill you both if we went back to the valley.”

Clarke pulls bandages from her pocket for Madi’s hand, and gives her a serious look. “It’s our job to keep you safe. And you just made it a whole lot harder.”

Madi looks upset, and Clarke steps away, trying to calm herself down. You drop to your knees in front of the young Nightblood and wipe the blood from her face as she whispers, “I was just trying to help, ani.”

You smile at her, nodding, trying to show that you aren't upset with her. “I know, little sun. Everything is going to be okay.”

You hear a door slam behind you as soon as the words leave your mouth, and you turn and find Bellamy standing outside of the office, fuming. He meets your gaze, looking upset, and you realize now that you aren’t sure you believe your words to Madi. A ship full of prisoners has taken over your home, the love of your life just got dumped by someone else, and the youngest member of your family is now in trouble because of the color of her blood. You take a deep breath and send a silent prayer to the Universe asking for a lucky break, just this once. 

You hope against hope that it listens. 

-

next chapter

[brittlecakes92]

You shouldn’t have been there

(I have decided that since I haven’t really seen any Taven fics I am going to change that! I am going off of a prompt list and my goal is to be able to finish all of them using Taven! This is pretty lengthy, so I hope you enjoy if you read! ) You finished digging the last hole to plant the flowers that lady Delia asked you too for the upcoming visitors. Jade and Kitana sat on the stone wall, watching you as your worked. You had been wrapped up in your work for the past few weeks, so busy that you barely had time to see them, or Taven for that matter. Grabbing the purple blossom with blue streaks you began planting them in the order you were asked, a pink and yellow soon followed starting the repeat of a pattern. You wiped the sweat from your brow before sitting back on your heels, looking at your work. "Did you ask Taven to take you to the arena?" Jade asked, her left leg crossed over her right. You raised your brows in an exasperated manner. "I've tried, and every time it's been the same two letter answer." You responded before standing up and dusting your hands off on the skirt that you wore. You walked over to where Kitana and Jade sat. Kitana looked like she was lost in thought for a moment.  "Why not come with us?" Kitana asked. She knew she and Jade were more then capable to be able to protect you. You furrowed your brow. You've always heard the guards talk about the late night matches, and have heard talks about the people of Edenia when you would walk through the market to purchase what you needed. To say it peaked your interest would be an understatement.  "But Taven.." You began, before Jade raised a brow in amusement slinking off of the walk and making her way towards you. She rested her left wrist on your shoulder before speaking.  "You know, he doesn't have to know everything." She started. You could feel the guilt creep up at entertaining the thought.  "Taven won't find out. Plus we are going to be there to protect you." Kitana added before sliding off of the wall herself and walking over to where you and Jade stood. You took a deep breath and bit the inside of your cheek. You knew what you were about to do was reckless, dangerous even, but you knew that Kitana and Jade were fearsome in their own rights. You started to open your mouth to give a reply, when a fourth voice startled you.  "What won't I find out?" Jumping you three looked over to see the Edenian prince leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest and brow raised in amusement.  "Ta- My lord." you caught yourself before bowing to him. You paused for a moment, thinking of a lie before continuing to speak.  "Kitana and Jade had offered to take me to see the moon flowers since we haven't been able to spend time together. We wanted to catch up. I was going to ask you, but I knew that you were busy, so I didn't want to bother you." You could feel your mouth go dry after the lies that fell from your mouth. Taven leaned forward, pushing himself off of the tree before uncrossing his arms and walking towards you. He pushed a strand of hair away from your face.  "Are you sure?" He asked, his chocolate eyes searching yours. You gave him a small smile before nodding your head, your heart panged with guilt.  "My lord -Jade began to speak drawing his attention- We haven't been able to spend anytime with y/n and wanted to take this opportunity to catch up." Her charming smile adorned her face as she spoke to him. "Very well.. Please keep her safe." Taven spoke. Kitana and Jade both agreeing before taking their leave, promising you that they would arrive back in a few hours. You turned your attention back to Taven, taking his hand and quickly placing a kiss to the palm of it. "Everything will be okay." You reassured him, or were you trying to reassure yourself? Taven smiled before pulling you closer to him. His lips brushed against your forehead.  "Promise you will be careful, there are people out there that would stop at nothing to get to me." The thought alone made his grip on you tighten. "I promise my love." You told him before placing a hand on his cheek. He smiled and stepped back, watching as you gathered the gardening equipment and made your way to the storage room. Taven watched until you were out of sight, his smile dropping, and an authoritative tone replacing the gentler one he used with you. He watched as a few guards were doing their patrols and stopped one. "You." He called out, catching his attention. The guard quickly made his way over to were the Prince stood. "You."  "Yes my lord." He stood straight waiting to hear what Taven had to say.  "Y/n is leaving the palace tonight. I have duty else where with my Father and Brother. I want you to follow them and keep and eye, if anything is out of place, you report to me immediately. Do you understand?" He turned his attention to the guard who bowed. Taven knew you weren't telling him the full truth. "Understood my lord." ----------------------- The glow of the full moon shone into your open window. Reaching up, you grabbed the cloak that was hanging on a hook, quickly putting it on before fastening it into place. You took another breath to calm yourself down before you walked down the halls to the main entrance where Kitana and Jade were waiting. You stopped in the hall when you saw the wing that Taven resided in, his room was dark. He, his father, and Daegon had to go survey an opening that had appeared to make sure nothing nefarious came from it. You took a deep breath, before facing forward again and continuing on to the exit of the hall. You were going and coming back, nothing bad would happen, you had to keep reminding yourself. When you stepped out into the night air you could see Kitana and Jade waiting on you, with quick steps you made your way over to where they waited. "Are you ready for some excitement?" Jade asked in a playful tone causing you to chuckle and nod your head. "I am more then ready." You answered before falling into step with the two Edenians. You three chatted about anything and everything, catching up on the lives of each other. The streets of the market were still, silent. You had never seen them in the dead of night, always with the hustle and bustle of the day. As you approached the colosseum you furrowed your brow.  You knew Taven would be very upset if he knew that you were here. Kitana looked over and noticed the furrow in your brow. She placed a hand on your shoulder gently. "We can take you back if you want." She reassured you, giving you the choice. Taking a deep breath you pursed your lips to the side and shook your head. You came this far, and if this was the only chance you got to be here, you were going to take advantage of it.  "It's okay. Taven won't know, and I know you two will be able to keep me safe if something happens." You gave her a soft smile which she returned before nodding her head and nudging her head in the direction of the entrance. The guard that was tasked in watching you quickly dipped back into the shadows shaking his head and he turned back to head to where Taven would be.  You made your way down a narrow hallway that was lit by the light amber glow of lanterns, you kicked up dust as you walked, making it a little hard to breath. You saw a light, and the roar of cheers that grew louder and louder the closer you ventured, the smell of blood, sweat, and booze filled your senses, and you finally saw the crowd. Everything was loud, between the sounds of flesh striking flesh, and the crowd growing more excited with each strike, it was hard to not feel disoriented. You looked around the room, and your couldn't help but feel a little anxious. Jade grabbed your hand and began to navigate with your through the crowd to find the perfect seat close to the action. All different races filled the stadium, some you've heard about in passing but never seen. Between that and the action your heart began to race in excitement when you calmed down enough to enjoy this. You weaved your way through people until you came to a stop. An Edenian man and a Tarkantan were in the ring. Blood was splattered all over the ground, and you could easily tell who had the upper hand in this fight. The fighters circled each other, a deep chuckle leaving the Tarkantans sharp grin. The Edenian man stumbled a little, blood dripping down his face and blurring his vision, he straightened himself out, taking a deep breath to try and keep himself alert and aware. The Tarkantan stepped forward faking the man out, before charging forward and grabbing the man, quickly throwing him down to the floor and kneeling on him, striking him in the face. The crunch of bones made you recoil and feel queasy. You watched the man get back up to his feet before the Tarkantan to shove him back down, his hand grasped his shoulder. He peered into the crowd, listening to the roar, and the chants of 'Finish him' The Tarkantan laid eyes on you, narrowing his eyes a realization struck him. Drawing his right arm back, you watched as a blade made of bone protruded from his arm. Without hesitation he brought it forward, and stabbed it in the center of the mans forehead. You watched as he fell to the ground in a heap, his legs twitching. Jade looked over to you and noticed to uneasy look on your face. "Are you alright?" She asked placing a hand on your shoulder and searching your face, waiting for your answer. You shock your head.  "I need to go outside and get air." You told her before pushing your way through the crowd back to the direction of the entrance. Unbeknownst to you, the Tarkantan in the ring found his two comrades. and looked in your direction. They nodded in understanding and began to make their way after you, he would join when he could. Stepping out of the ring he made his way to the stairs that lead up to the stands. Meeting his two comrades. “Looks like the princes whore is out without him. I think it is time to send him an important message." The other two chuckled darkly before all three of them began to stalk you out of the coliseum. When you finally emerged you found and tree and leaned against it letting the night air hit your face. You took deep breaths and steadied yourself pushing down the nausea that creeped up on you. "Well, well. Does the prince know you are out here?" You turned you head in the direction of the voice. You watched as the Tarkantan emerged from the shadows, flanked on both sides by the other two that chuckled, ready for the hunt. You straightened up before running your hands over the rush bark, trying to find leverage for yourself. "He does, he is with me tonight." You hoped your voice didn't waver when you spoke. The main Tarkantan raised an eyebrow, easily seeing through your lie. He laughed darkly before shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest.  "You're here with the two Edenian women, that arrogant prick nowhere to be seen." He started to approach you, and you took a step back, wishing you had asked Jade or Kitana to come out with you. His laugh grew louder. "Don't worry yourself.. we just want to make sure you are returned to the prince.. in pieces if need be." Panic coursed its way through your veins, pushing yourself completely from the tree, you had to force yourself to flee, frozen in fear. 'MOVE' You internally screamed to yourself, your legs carrying you back towards the way to the palace. The winds stung your eyes causing them to tear up. You pushed yourself harder when you heard there foot steps not far behind you. You wanted to scream, but you knew no one would hear you. You wanted Taven to be here. Your throat burned from your labored breathing and when you finally made your way back to the market place you stopped, bending over to catch our breath as your chest and stomach cramped up. You sat up when you noticed the quietness. No foot steps, nothing besides your harsh breathing. You forced yourself to take deep breaths to calm down walking carefully and keeping an eye on your surrounding.  They were toying with you and you couldn't lose your cool at this time. You started to regret not telling Taven the truth as you walked past the empty stalls keeping an eye out for any movement. Hearing the sliding of rock, you whipped your head around to see one of the Tarkantans, blades drawn about to land on you, you let out a scream before falling to the side, you crawled backwards as you watched the stall give way, the sound of wood splintering. Letting out a sob you pushed yourself up and started to run again. Your legs felt like jelly, causing you to stumble. Your hands shook as you could hear gravel shift as the three Tarkantans began to close in on you. Taking a deep breath you pushed up on your hands to be grabbed and thrown back into the gravel. It bit into your arms and leg, the breath being knocked from you by the force alone. Sitting up you let out a pained yelp when one of the Tarkantans grabbed your hair roughly and pulled you up so you were resting on your shins. You reached up to try and pry his hands from your hair, for him to yank harder. You watched as the other two began to stalk forward, blades slowly protruding before you opened your mouth to scream for Taven. The leader quickly clasped his hand over your mouth. Panicked, you bit down on his hand as hard as you could. When he pulled back you took the chance to yell for him. "Taven!" Your throat seized up and your breathing stopped when you felt the contact of the Tarkantans fist with your face. The force knocking you back and the pain made you feel disoriented. He grabbed for you and pulled you up to your feet angrily. You knew he couldn't hear you, you didn't even know where he had gone exactly.  "The only way he will find you is in a pool of your own blood!" He spat, before pushing you down to your knees. You looked up when you saw the feet of the other two, their arms drawn back beside their heads before bringing them down. You closed your eyes and your breathing stopped as you waited for the pain of impact. Instead, you heard the scream of one, opening your eyes and looking up you saw as two hands were on either side of the Tarkantans head before a crack could be heard, watching as he feel to the ground. You wanted to cry with relief when you saw Taven.  Those feelings quickly being halted when you saw the look on his face. Letting out a yell the Tarkantan made a swipe at Taven. He ducked and weaved to the side before reaching down and ripping off the arm of the dead Tarkantan, using his arm blade to impale the other one. The leader snarled before standing you up and placing his blade to your throat.  "That will be the last mistake you ever make." Taven warned before stepping forward towards the both of you. You never broke eye contact with him. "If that means taking something precious away from you, so be it." He snarled. Taven leaped up before bringing his fist down to the ground, causing a tremor making you both become unstable, you fell to the side as the Tarkantan let go of you, extending both blades and letting out a yell he leaped forward towards Taven. Rolling to the side he got to his feet, his fist connecting with the Tarkantans chin before he with drew his drake sword. Sparks flew when the blades crossed each other, moving further back you watched as Taven brought his foot down snapping the shin of his opponent. As soon as he feel to the ground Taven drew back his sword making quick work of cutting off his head. You heard his head hit the ground with a thud and watched it roll, before a much heavier thud followed. You looked up to see Taven approach you, squatting down in front of you. His eyes were filled with anger, you have never seen him like this before. Not even during training. Reaching out a hand his finger tips ghosted the blue and purple bruise that began to bloom under your eye. Grabbing your forearm he helped you stand up. "Taven- He silenced you holding up a hand before he started pacing, both of his hands finding purchase on his hips.  "You lied to me- He began- not only that you almost got yourself killed." You watched him, tears began to brim your eyes and your mouth dried at his words. "I knew you wouldn't have let me come if I told you the truth." You replied, speaking past the lump in your throat. He stopped his pacing and turned his gaze to you, you watched as he approached you.  "YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THERE!" Grabbing your chin he tilted you head back slightly to look at him. His breathing becoming raspy from anger. The look on your face caused his face to drop, and you listened as he took deep breaths to calm down. Tilting your chin to the side he got a better look at your face.  "Do you understand the kind of enemies I have? The kind that will stop at nothing to hurt me, no matter who it is. " His voice was calm, but you could hear the stern seriousness behind his words. You nodded your head, getting a first hand taste. He let out a sigh before straightening up your face, moving his hand to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb carefully running across your bruised cheek. "I can't protect you if you lie to me. Did you ever stop to think about that? I could never live with myself if something happened to you." He began before moving both his hands to your shoulders, pulling you into an embrace. Letting out a shaky breath you leaned your forehead against his collar bone as your hands found their way to his sides, balling up the tunic in your fists and you finally felt calm for the night, all the anxiety, the guilt, the fear, coming out as you could feel the tears finally spill over. You let out a silent sob, Taven moving his hands behind your back pulling you closer as he rested his chin on top of your head. Pushing your head back you looked up at him, Taven moved his hands to cup your cheeks, wiping away the tears. "I'm so sorry Taven. I didn't think any of this would happen." Leaning down Taven placed a kiss on your forehead, your hands coming up to rest on his wrists before his lips connected with yours. You kissed him back, you grip tightening around his wrists. He pulled back, his eyes connecting with yours again. "Do not lie to me again. I can't lose you." You nodded your head, before feeling his lips brush against your forehead, letting go of you, he reached down, lacing his fingers with yours as you both began to make you way back to the palace.

[taurusart07]

The Savior of Fire

Hi guys, this is my first time posting a fic I did for the @grishaversebigbang. I had so much fun making this adventure with mu OCs and I was really happy of working with talented artists who showed the same passion for my characters as I did. 

Summary: After many reports of Grisha caravans with newly foundling (children) recruits are being raided by mercenaries or even undercover Druskelle. Grisha soldier Dimitri Alexand rov (OC), gets assigned with the mission of finding these missing children and the ones responsible for their kidnapping.  

Materialki: @awtetsuya27 (https://awtetsuya27.tumblr.com/post/661317187569614848/story-the-savior-of-fire-by-taurusart07-link)

@yourpancakefulness (https://yourpancakefulness.tumblr.com/post/661319128844500992/dimitri-wanted-to-leave-something-to-commemorate)

Soon to be on AO3.

For now here’s a link to the finished docs if you want to read now. 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NQDnS1Ul9Y-p6RdNKpEk7G6MMsLMv1p_LBEPwpVPtlM/edit?usp=sharing

Chapter 1: 

Even at his worst, being around fire was always a comfort for Dimitri. Knowing he could take control of the situation surrounded by his element calmed his nerves. And even before he discovered he was a Grisha Inferni, he found comfort looking at the flame of a candle or getting lost in the dancing blazes of a fireplace.

When the Grisha examiners arrived at his small farm near Ryevost to find out about his nature, Dimitri was both excited and sad about going to live at the Little palace. For once he was ready to embrace his abilities and serve his country. But also, he felt bad for leaving his mother alone. After the loss of his father she was all he had left. However the Grisha assured him she would be safe if he left. He knew the risks, many enemy spies roamed the lands and could be on the hunt for Grisha at any time. 

Time passed, and the Ravkan Civil war had ended with The Drakling’s death. Afterwards the second army was reformed and the Etherealki order was now led by General Soya Nasyalensy. Now there was more activity of Grisha helping through the war, getting along with the Otkazat’sya and the first army made the war effort much easier. But the enemy kept resisting. More missions began to be assigned to small grisha groups, and no one was more enthusiastic about it than Dimitri. 

“Why are you so eager to leave the Little Palace to the front lines?” Asked a young Grisha Squaller. 

“Because,” Began Dimitri shoving his messy dark curly hair aside. “It’s been too long since I’ve been here. I want to see some action. Something I can prove myself” The squaller looked at him doubtfully, but of course, no one really understood Dimitri. 

He walked down the halls of the Little palace, towards the training grounds, where his instructor was waiting for him. For the greater part of his last year, Dimitri hadn’t really done full extense sessions of training, since his incident in the mountains of Petrazoi near Ryevost. On a recon mission. Dimitri had fallen deep into a cave where he was sure there was no way he was gonna get out of there alive, for he heard a fierce snarl come from the darkness of the cave. A wolf happened to land there as well, and at that moment that quiet cave became a battlefield for survival. Dimitri spent quite some time fighting off the wolf. his fire was not strong since his strength was quickly taken away by the constant struggle of keeping the predator’s fangs away from him.  

After intense hours fighting off the animal, Dimitri came out triumphant, seriously injured but he had managed to kill the Wolf. And once he did, he found out that this animal was an amplifier. Not like the sacred amplifiers Morozova created, but a natural one. At first, Dimitri wasn’t sure if he should take on its bones to merge with them, but when he wanted to check on it. He had a vision, It was almost as other Grisha with amplifiers described them. Right in front of the dead wolf, Dimitri saw a luminescent copy of the animal, bowing to him, out of respect.

 Hours after that, the rescue team arrived, and Dimitri’s injuries had to be taken care of at the little palace, so he requested them to take the dead wolf with him, and told them about its nature. The healers tended his wounds and suggested him rest since the bites of the wolf had been quite deep, some scratches in his torso and back would also take some time to heal properly. 

It had been nearly a year since that day, and during that year he felt incompetent by having these bambraces made out of the bones of the wolf, and not be able to push himself once more. But all that has changed now.    

“Are you ready to try this Dimitri?” Asked Oleg, an experienced Inferni trainer who began mentoring Dimitri from his first day at the little palace. Dimitri gave a silent nod and thus his teacher began an easy attack on him, something he could fend off. But to Dimitri, this felt too easy. With just a single hand gesture and his fists he managed to effortlessly push the incoming fire away from him. Another burst of flames were thrown at him, and without struggle he managed to dodge and even redirect some of the fire into Oleg. Now it was his turn to attack. His dark, almost coal colored gloves with red embroidery ready, and his mind focusing on trying to use the enhancement of his amplifier. He launched forward and threw a massive explosion of iridescent red and yellow sparks right to Oleg. His teacher managed to evade the attack with an impressive jump and still maintained a regal posture, as he dismissed the fire around him, clearing up the arena. 

“It seems you haven't lost any condition. And your technique has improved” Regarded Oleg “I’m quite impressed, your amplifier has indeed enhanced the heat on your fire as well, though you still need to work on precision” 

Dimitri Couldn’t expect more. Even though the healers had told him that he needed rest, and very moderate training, the truth was that inside his room there was none of it. He continued on with his training in complete silence and without anyone's knowledge of it. His fires had to be very low in size if he didn’t want to light up the entire little palace. Once again he began to send flames towards his mentor. As he kept on, the enhancement of the amplifier began to settle in with Dimitri’s will. 

Oleg started to give him more demanding shots of fire, seeing that Dimitri wasn’t so rusty at all. He sent out a gigantic wave of flames, only to distract him, and get closer to engage in hand in hand combat. Dimitri managed to block some of the attacks as they began to get more and more constant, not giving him time to pack a punch at Oleg, or even stunt him or get him out of his way. His feet almost reached the edge of the arena, when he decided to pull out a trick he invented on his secret sessions. It required minimal movement, but a great deal of concentration. As he kept Blocking Oleg from taking him off the limits of the arena. “You ready to give it a rest boy?” Teased Oleg. 

Dimitri began to feel the heat accumulating in his forearms and hands, however he did not feel any pain, unlike Oleg, who was rapidly disengaged once the heat hurt him enough. 

“Looks like you learned some tricks on your own” Said Oleg, surprised. 

“It wasn’t so hard, and as you can see it doesn’t require much mobility” Explained Dimitri, worried he would get in trouble for not following strict instructions from the Healers.

“Regardless,” Added Oleg, taking off his gloves, and shoving away the sweat on his slightly wrinkles forehead, “You should've at least told someone, in case anything happened” He dismissed Dimitri, and let him join his fellow comrades, who were impressed by the skill he showed at the arena, and was asked to show them how to do that trick. 

“It’s not gonna be that useful, don’t you think?” Said one of the older Inferni. “We barely get into hand to hand fighting. Most Druskelle I’ve encountered had been reduced to ashes before getting near me” He bragged. Dimitri did not take his opinion at all, since he was always told by Oleg to always expect the worst of a situation and no to rely always on his power. Dimitri left the Training grounds on his own. He mostly didn’t hang out with many of his own, just with Pyotr, another inferni who he grew close to after they both were taken under the mentroy of Oleg. As he reached the halls of the palace. He was first planning on going to his room and getting some rest, cause even though he had not lost his edge, he definitely lost some resistance, however that would not stop him. Going past the library he saw some young durasts studying on some books, furthermore he was about to get to his room, when he got caught by an old familiar voice. 

“Dimitri!'' It was his old  life time friend Pyotr, he was sporting his typical blue kefta with spiky red embroidery on it. His hair was much larger than he remembered. And his light fair skin was covered with some minor scars obtained at the battlefield. He ran towards his friend and partner in crime, and embraced him with a hug. They hadn't seen each other for almost a year, since most inferni were sent to the front lines along with the Heartrenders and the first army. When Pyotr and the rest got orders to leave, Dimitri was barely tended by the healers after the encounter at the cave. 

“It’s been so long my friend,” Said Dimitri “How are things on the Fjerdan front line?” He asked. They constantly received reports every other night, however the casualties were hardly named, and the letters he received from his best friend told so little. 

“Well… Pretty intense as you can see'' Answered Pyotr, pointing at his scars on his face “Fortunately they’re not gonna get permanent… But yes, things are tough. The Fjerdans are getting more brutal, even with our strengths combined, both armies are barely resisting” he said. 

“Then why are you here?” Asked Dimitri. 

“To escort you,”His friend answered. 

What? Thought Dimitri . “Where?” 

“Just come with me. Trust me.” Said Pyotr, taking Dimitri back to the halls, without giving any more details on where they were going. But he had to trust his lifelong friend, just as he always did. 

When Dimitri Finally arrived  he was completely out of words. Right inside of a rounded dark room illuminated by bright lights, was the Triumvirate in front of him. Genya Saffin leader of the Corporalki and talented tailor, David Kostyk master fabrikator and head of the Materialki, and lastly the fierce and only Zoya Nasyalensky General of the etherealki. Among them were many more Grisha commanders and lieutenants discussing the war effort.    

“Is it Him?” asked General Zoya to Pyotr. Dimitri remembered reading some letters of his friend about how sometimes they were saved by Zoya and her powerful winds and storms she summoned. However he did not expect to have direct contact with her, with any of the triumvirate. Pyotr nodded to her and so Dimitri walked forward trying to not show his excitement and fear by being in the presence of his leaders. 

“Dimitri Alexandrov, at your service. Grisha inferni, former member of the seventh regiment.” His answer sounded as if he were reading it outloud in front of a class. Some Grisha in the crowd found his answer funny and some looked doubtful at him. “Former member?” Questioned Zoya. 

“I had an incident a year ago,” Explained Dimitri. “Ever since that I’ve been on break. But I’m more than ready to be back in the field, I swear” It was true. The least he wanted was to be back in his room training in complete silence. He wanted to hear the roar of his fires.  

“I’m not sending you to the battlefield,” She began. Her deep black hair hanging on her sides and her blue kefta shimmered with the lights. “There have been some events across the country that concern us,” What could she possibly be talking about?. Dimitri just kept his mouth silent and let her explain. “As some of the guards have informed. The caravans of examiners that went to the first near cities have not arrived and It’s been long since they left the palace in order to find new grisha among children” Informed Zoya. “Only a wounded squaller managed to arrive at the palace yesterday. He claims their caravan had been raided by unknown enemies, who took the children captive, and killed our Grisha brothers and sisters.” 

Thoughts of his past began to run through Dimitri’s head, Of how they prick his arm to reveal his inferni powers, of his arrival at the little palace, and his first training lessons with Oleg, along with Pyotr. If what Zoya said was true, then children just like he once was, were not only taken away from their families but from their future, as a soldier, and as a Grisha. People like Dimitri were still not seen with the best intentions around the world. The Fjerdans burned Grisha at the stake, while the Shu dedicated extensive experiments on them. Ketterdam wasn’t a good place either, for they were mostly sold out as indentures for the wealthiest merchants. But children offered something more to those countries. The Shu might try to dissect their living bodies to further investigations, and the Fjerdans might even want to try out the dangerous drug, Jurda Perm on them, as for the ketterdam businesses, those children without the dominion of their powers, may just as well be slaves or even delight se the carnal desires of sick old men around that treacherous city. 

“As for what our records show, the examiner parties we’ve sent out have been to the south, from Sikursk, Caryeva, Keramzim, Kribirsk, and the west to Os Kervo, and their near villages and farms” Said Zoya, showing everything she explained on a three dimensional map, of all ravka and the north and south borders. It was still not big enough to fill the entire table, as the pieces had connections like a puzzle that Dimitri guessed were pieces of the other countries. 

“Just yesterday we sent out a crew towards Ryevost, and another to Balakirev” Said Genya, her soft voice filled the entire room, and it was quite hard for Dimitri to not look at her eyepatch, a symbol of what happened to her at the civil war. 

“Which means they should be arriving there by now, and the parties heading north still have to report on arrival” she continued. “We need to find out who are these captors, if they’re druskelle or mercenaries after a high price on Grisha children”

“Will you do that, Dimitri?” Asked Zoya out of nowhere. Dimitri has always expected an assignment, he just didn’t expect it to be of such importance.   

“You want me to look for these children?” He asked, the question was pretty dumb of his part, but his mind still hung over the task he had ahead” 

“I’ve heard that you kept asking for open assignments the whole year, even with your condition in mind” Said Zoya. “Also a fellow comrade of yours spoke fondly of your determination, and aptitude for this job” She glanced subtly at Pyotr. “You must assemble a team with Grisha in which you can put your whole trust on this job, You are expected to leave tomorrow at dawn” She said finally, heading towards distance, to hand him an archive with the details of his first mission after a very long time. 

“I will not let you down, General” Said Dimitri, “I'll find those kids and bring them home”  He said as he was Dismissed by Zoya. He began wondering how he could carry such a test on himself, he wondered who he would contact to join him. As he left the room, walking through the halls, Pyotr intercepted him, congratulating him for receiving such an important job. “It won’t be easy” said Pyotr, “You'll definitely need one or two Heartrenders, and possibly another etherealki” 

“I know just one who can come with me,'' said Dimitri, looking at his friend while they kept walking. 

“Who?” wondered Pyotr naively. 

“You, idiot,” Replied Dimitri, laughing. Of course he would need his best friend in this, He always reminded Dimitri of what he was capable of and more. “You really thought I would do this without you?”   

They kept planning who else to bring, Dimitri didn’t want a whole group as that might draw attention when they needed it less. He definitely agreed with Pyotr, they would need at least a heartrender, And dimitri knew who was fit for this Job. 

 “You’re insane” Said Pyotr, “Raol Ralevsky is the most hated Grisha among his class” 

“And that attitude of his and his incredible skill is what we need” Explained Dimitri. He was his first immediate choice. Besides, Dimitri knew he wasn’t that awful, as Raol once helped Dimitri to control his amplifier, for he also had one within his neck, a massive claw of a Tiger he once hunted. 

“I heard he once took about six Druskelle on his own, completely destroyed their bodies, that man shows no mercy”

“Once again proving my point, we don’t know if these captors are Fjerdans or not, or how many are there when they attack the caravans. Just trust me on this, we need to get Raol, I need you to let him know, just tell him Dimitri is asking him for this”

“You're gonna tell me that now you’re friends with him?” Asked Pyotr, appalled “More of an ally at the palace” Replied Dimitri, as he left his friend to be alone in his room. 

Inside of the grand place he had for his own, he took off his blue kefta, and hung it on a chair near his wardrobe. The room curtains were completely blocking the last hours of light the sun had left. He took off an ointment from the drawer at his bed. with the small red bottle in hand Dimitri walked to the next room at his dorm, where he mostly trained and where a silver bathtub was waiting for him with warm water. He placed the bottle on a small table near a full body mirror. The ointment was a tonic given to him by the healers to help the deepest wounds heal up, but it didn’t seem to do any effect. However he continued on hoping it would work one day.  

He took off his white shirt that was covered by the kefta. revealing his scarred light brown skin, reminiscent of his mother who came from Novyi Zem. His leaned but chiseled torso still hadn’t lost the massive scar that crossed from all over his chest to his belly. Dimitri poured some of the ointment on his right hand and slowly began to rub it across the scar. He then turned around and using the mirror he began to apply more of it across the few scars left on his back. After a couple minutes, the ointment dried off and Dimitri striped of the rest of his clothes to enter the bathtub, and for once, in the heat of the water, the smallest pain that was attached to him the whole day vanished. 

He knew that he would not receive any of these glimpses of pain relief for the next days or weeks during his mission, but he preferred being outside, in the heat of the action and in the heat of a royal bath.

[storydays]

Season 1, ep 6,p1

-The Next Day-

You were humming happily, brushing Neo's fur as he groaned happily."Feels good huh, Neo?" You laugh as he looked at you and flopped onto his back, exposing his belly for you to brush. "Ha! Okay, point taken." Suddenly your radio playing music turned into something unexpected. "Good morning, citizens of Republic City. This is Amon. I hope you all enjoyed last night's pro-bending match because it will be the last.' You turned to the radio, your body frozen in fear as the man continued to talk.

"It's time for this city to stop worshiping bending athletes as if they were heroes. I am calling on the council to shut down the bending arena and cancel the finals or else there will be severe consequences." With that ominous message, the radio went dead. You jumped when Neo nudged your arm in concern. Sighing shakily, you smiled even though it didn't reach your (e/c) eyes. "I'm okay, but how do you feel about taking a swim?"

*At City Hall*

You walked in with your Uncle Tenzin and immediately took your seats, Tenzin placing a hand on your shoulder in comfort. "Here we go." You whispered.

*20 minutes later*

The door made a loud bang sound as the Avatar and your teammates walked in. Your Uncle stood up, addressing her. "Korra, you shouldn't be here! This is a closed meeting." "As the Avatar and a pro-bending player, I have a right to be heard. You can't cancel the finals." she stated, walking closer. "I know winning the championship means a lot to you, but as far as I'm concerned, we need to shut the arena down." the Airbending master stood his ground.

"What about the rest of you?" demanded the Avatar. "Tarrlok, surely there's no way your backing down from Amon, are you?" "Actually, Tenzin and I agree for once." "The council is unanimous--we're closing the arena." "No!" Mako cried. "You can't!" agreed Bolin. "(Y/N), what about you? Out of everyone here, pro-bending means the most to you." Korra tried desperately. You looked at her, with a mix of emotions. "Yes, but it'd be selfish of me to want the arena open for my own needs. Part of our job is to protect the innocent, Korra." She turned to Tarrlok, confusion clear in her face.

"I thought you of all people would take a stand against Amon." He glanced at you quickly before turning his attention to the blue eyed girl in front of you. "While I am committed to bringing that lunatic to justice, I will not put innocent lives in danger at stake just so you and your friends can play a game." At that point, Mako had enough. "Pro-bending might only be a game to you, but think of what it means to the city. Right now, the arena is the one place where benders and non-benders can gather in once place to watch benders--" "Beat each other up..in peace! It's an inspiration to everyone!" You couldn't help but laugh at the Earthbender.

"I appreciate your naive idealism, but you're ignoring the reality of the situation." Tarrlok replied coolly. "The reality is: if you close the arena, you let Amon win!" Korra tried once more. "I'm sorry, but the decision has been made. This meeting is adjourned." Before he could bang the hammer, a wire came out of no where and snapped the wooden hammer in half. Everyone watched mesmerized as Lin pulled it back to her suit.

She raised an eyebrow before speaking. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with the Avatar." "You do?" "You do?" "Yeah, you do?" You, Tarrlok and Korra wondered. "I expected this kind of cut and run response from Tenzin, but the rest of you?" You cough to cover your laugh at Lin's jab at your Uncle. "Come on, show a little more backbone. It's time the benders of this city displayed some strength and unity against these equalists." Her green eyes peered at you in particular.

"We must prevent the conflict between benders and non-benders from escalating to into an all-war! The council is not changing its position, Lin." "Now just a moment, Tenzin. Let us hear what our esteemed Chief of Police has in mind." Your Uncle tossed his hands up, as Lin began to talk. "If you keep the arena open, my metal benders and I will provide extra security during the championship match." "As will I." Everyone turned to you in shock.

"But (Y/N)--" Mako started as you held up a hand. "Right now, the lives of the benders are more important than a championship. Korra will take my place, and I will be in the crowd to jump in if needed." Lin looked at you with a hint of pride, and while Tenzin felt pride for you as well, the fear of you being hurt was stronger. "There's no one better to deal with Chi-blockers. Our armor is impervious to their attacks."

"Are you saying that you will be personally responsibility for the safety of the spectators in the arena?" Tarrlok sneered. "I guarantee it." Your Aunt said firmly. "It is hard to argue with Chief Beifong's track record. If she and (Y/N) are confident her elite officers can protect the arena, then she has my vote. I am changing my vote--who is with me?" The Earth, Fire and Southern Water Tribe representatives raised their hands and Tenzin knew he was defeated.

"The arena stays open. Good luck in the finals." Your teammates cheered, while you sent them a weary smile. "And good luck to you, Chief Beifong and (Y/N)." With that you waked off, your hair swishing behind you. Your teammates, Aunt and Uncle watched as you left. Korra turned to the woman next to her. "Thank you--" "I didn't do it just for you. I also did it for (Y/N), he's been different for a while, and I think this will help him."

"A word, please, Lin." The woman followed out of ear shot, but was unaware of you meditating in the rafters. "Tarrlok is playing you, and I don't want to see you (Y/N) get hurt." "I know what I'm doing, and the risks that come with it. As for (Y/N), he's stronger than you give him credit for, he's not that same child he once was." "In that case, I'm going to be by your sides during the match."

You peeked an eye at his figure, waiting for his response, "It's for (Y/N) and Korra. I want to make sure they're safe." "Do what you want. It's not like I've ever been able to stop you before." With that she stalked off, ignoring Korra as she tried to approach the woman. Korra turned to your Uncle with an annoyed look. "What is her problem? Even when she's on my side, she's against me." "I've known Lin since we were children; she's always been challenging."

"What did your father do to make her hate the Avatar so much?" "My father and Lin got along famously...I'm afraid her issues are with me." Korra seemed to have a light bulb moment. "Wait a second, it all makes sense. You and Beifong, Beifong and you....you two were a couple!" You sputtered a laugh, as your uncle replied. "What? How...where'd you get that idea?" "Ha! Your wife." Korra smirked as your Uncle muttered.

"Criminy! I'll have to have a word with her.." "So, Pema stole you from Beifong? I'm surprised our 'esteemed Chief of Police' didn't throw her in jail." Korra mused, looking at Tenzin as he looked back wistfully. "Oh she tried. Anyway, Pema didn't steal me. Lin and I had been growing apart for some time; we both had different goals in life--why am I telling you this?" he sputtered.

Your curious (e/c) eyes glowed slightly in the dark from your hiding spot, as you watched their interaction. "It all happened a long time ago, and we've moved past it." "Apparently Beifong hasn't." Your Uncle clenched his fists. "What do you...? Of course she has. Anyway, this isn't any of your business." He began storming away and Korra could't resist calling out, "See you at home, Mister Heartbreaker!" she laughed, before yelping as you appeared out of nowhere.

"Gah! We should put a bell around your neck, (Y/N)." You chuckle at her. "Sorry, Korra, but you should be more aware of your surroundings. And that is what we're going to work on when we're waterbending." You started to walk away with your hands clapsed behind your back when Korra wondered, "(Y/N), how come you train with the airbenders and I when you're a waterbender?" 'Finally.' You turned towards the girl with a giant smirk on your face. "Well, now you're asking the right questions, Korra. But I'm hungry! Let's go find something to eat! Your treat!"

Your laughter echoed in the halls as Korra chased after you, demanding an answer.

*The next morning*

You opened your eyes to see your Aunt Pema holding a plate of food in offering in front of you. Her green eyes sparkled with motherly concern and love. "Be safe tonight, (Y/N)." She said, sitting next to you before you fell in peaceful silence.

*That night*

You pulled your hair into a high ponytail, similar to Korra's hairstyle, before tightening your armor Aunt Lin gave you for your 18th birthday. "All clear, Chief. " an officer called to her, her intimidating presence powering over yours. She made hand signals before turning her attention to the approaching Airbender behind you. "How is the security sweep going?" "Fine." the Earthbender said dryly."They checked under the stands?"

"Yes, Uncle." "And you have enough officers to cover all points of entry?" With a irritated sigh, she turned to him. "I have the skies, the bay, and every nook and cranny of this place covered. Now leave me alone and let me do my job." You rolled your eyes, and walked away from the bickering adults in search of your tiny companion. "Nevermore! Where are yo--"  Suddenly the (f/c) dragon appeared with a bone in her mouth.

"Ah! Nevermore what is in your mouth?" You yelped, trying to take it out of her mouth. It was comical: you the oh so stotic (Y/N) fighting with a baby dragon. She thought it was a game of tug a war and you were sorely losing. A soft giggle in the corner caught your attention and you looked towards a grinning Asami as she came out of the corner.

"Relax (Y/N), it's a vegan chicken bone. I know how you feel about how much meat she eats." You smiled in relief that your pet hadn't take an actual bone from somewhere else. "Heh, thanks Asami." She then pursed her lips and studied you for a moment while you were chanting silently in your head for her not to say anything about your almost full on confession.

"So, (Y/N) about what you said the other day,--" "What do you mean? I say a lot of stuff the other days." You tilted your head, making you look like a polar bear pup. Nevermore looked at you with a look that screamed, "Tell her the TRUTH," You turned away from the girl, with a hand cupping your ear, "Huh, what's that Aunt Lin? You need to talk to me?" You turned to the unimpressed girl with a grin. "Sorry, Asami; They're calling me, so I gotta--bye!" You left as quick as your feet carried you away.

The dragon looked at Asami who looked at her and they both laughed at your silliness when really Asami wanted to talk to you.

*20 minutes later*

"The anticipation is palpable as we are just moments away from the championship match. Will the Wolfbats' ferocity help them repeat as champs or will the under dog Fire Ferrets serve up a surprising bowl of smack down soup?" You scoff next to your Aunt and Uncle who looked at you curiously, "It isn't a surprise if he says it." You said sassily making them chuckle at you.

"Introducing the challengers, the Future Industries Fire Ferrets!" The crowd went wild as Bolin started doing some silly poses. "Oh it seems the Avatar is filling in for (Y/N) today! But where is the young Councilman?" wondered the MC as your fans began booing and calling for you. Lin smirked and elbowed you from where you crossed your arms. "Seems like someone's got himself a fan club."

Even though you were part Bumi, you were also part Lotus. She was a shy and reserved thing. That's a part of her personality that you got as well. You chuckled bashfully. "Nah, they just like having me for bets." You looked closer at the Ferrets, noting Korra was rolling her eyes at Mako. Nevermore chirped from your shoulder, and you snicker.

"You said it, girl." Pabu started chirping from the ring making Nevermore fly up and breath fire onto Bolin's Earth disk making the crowd cheer in wonder. "And their opponents! The WHite Falls Wolf Bats!" Said team started howling and cheering while you rolled your eyes at their dramatic entrance.

You held your arm out for the baby dragon to land on like a hawk. "Isn't the leader of the Wolf Bats your ex?" Tenzin asked while Lin sent him the stink eye. "Yes Uncle he is. Jerk." You sniffed in disdain. "The champs and challengers face off at the starting line and here we go!" Your left eye twitched as your ex tried to get Korra with some dirty trick.  "Tahno tries to clean the Avatar's clock with some dirty water-boxing. Ming shakes off Mako's attack and returns the favor."

Mako and Korra were both knocked into second and Bolin was soon knocked back after making you wince. "Ahh, maybe I should've made Korra be on guard duty." You face palmed at the girl as your aunt laughed slightly at your misery.

Nevermore chirped from where she was perched on your shoulder, making you bark a laugh.

"Hush Nevermore or no meat for you for a week."

You got a nip on the ear for that.

"Ow!"

[the-goth-catte]

A Shifting of the Sands: II

The roar of the bloodthirsty crowd in the arena rumbled like a persistent, pervasive thunder in the tunnels below the blood sands. The individual voices, the sounds that one could pick out to distinguish anything as even remotely related to mankind, were so muffled and dulled through the thick layers of stone and long twisting passages that what remained was an almost inhuman roar. A tempest of voices, a wall of humanity all calling out for one thing: blood. The fights had been going for some time now, so long that Naalie had lost track of how many bells had come and gone since the opening contest; she often wondered what it was that kept those men and women so enrapt, so enthralled that they would spend the better part of an entire day watching the trained fighters of the gladiators’ guild dance their deadly dance over and over again. Certainly after so long it became repetitious, did it not? While, yes, the different acts all fought with different styles… but when one got down to it, how different could any of it have been?

The young Miqo’te woman crouched in one of the many narrow, dimly lit passages beneath the arena proper; her back rested against the cold stone of the wall, though the majority of her scant weight was supported by the taut muscles of her calves. All of her gear, save the plumed helm which rested beside her, was polished and equipped, the weight of the steel, leather, and cloth a familiar comfort to her. Many of her colleagues cracked wise that her attire must weigh as much as she did, and while it wasn’t quite so burdensome as that the armor did add a significant amount to her overall weight. In moments like these, when the call would soon come that her fight was next, Naalie found herself repeating this same routine time and time again: crouch in the dark tunnels and allow the weight of arms and armor to ground her, to center her. It reminded her that she was in this moment, in the now, and that no matter what came next nothing could change that. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic: inhale to the count of five, exhale for seven, hold for five, repeat. It kept her heartbeat from slamming wildly in her chest, and the anxiety that always came with an impending fight from running wild with her emotions. At least… it usually kept her anxiety in check. 

This fight… this one was unlike the others. She’d faced challenges, gone up against odds that she’d been unlikely to best - and won. This wasn’t even supposed to be a challenging fight, according to the word from the back alley bookies taking bets on the outcomes. While the Hrothgar she was pitted against was significantly larger than her, the skill with which she wielded a sword outclassed him in nearly every imaginable way. Light and nimble, Naalie glided like a shadow over the blood soaked sands to strike quick, hard, and decisively. There was little at risk in this fight. What gnawed at the back of her mind, instead, was the cryptic warning that came some weeks earlier while finding a measure of solace in the desert night.

The Lalafellen man hadn’t identified himself, only insinuated that he was a man of power and influence. The exchange had played out in her mind’s eye repeatedly in the days that followed, twisting and turning the encounter every which way to make sense of it; part of her wondered if he’d been bluffing, some costumed man with a mummer’s farce trying to scam her into providing a big pay out, while the remainders believed he was legitimately who he suggested he might have been. What would happen if she didn’t do what was so kindly asked of her? She, and her tribe, had so very little that there wasn’t much that could be taken from them; she had very few personal ties, fewer still beyond her immediate family. And what of her opponent? Had the man approached him as well with some enticing offer to encourage him to win? Or simply told him he would be going over in their bout? Undoubtedly he’d done something with Bjornulf, Naalie just couldn’t guess what it might have been. In silent frustration, the young Miqo’te woman leaned her head back and began idly bouncing it against the stone behind her; it hurt, but it distracted her from the racing thoughts swirling about her mind.

Far above her, Naalie heard the crowd roar with approval at some unknown deed that had just transpired; whatever it was, it had been exciting. A particular bloody outcome? A surprising upset for one of the underdog fighters? … A death? Those weren’t uncommon in the dangerous world that revolved around the Ul’dah Bloodsands. Would she soon meet such an ignoble ending, sprawled in the dirt and grime while the fans who had so loyally cheered for her now called for her death? A slow sigh slipped past her lips, and Naalie’s eyelids dropped tightly closed. In that moment, the sounds of the arena seemed to fade, becoming a dull background roar… a white noise she could tune out. It was a strange, unexpected moment of peace, which left her yearning for somebody, anybody, that she could reach out to.

"Vhenna!" the call came from somewhere to her right, just around the corner of the tunnel. "You're on next. Get your ass up to the gate."

Her silence broken, Naalie let out one more quiet sigh before pushing up to her feet. The footfalls that carried her down the tunnel were leaden, her body refusing to cooperate with the demands she was making of it; each step felt as if she were walking to her execution, a sense of dread lingering about her being with a strong defiance running to her core. No matter how this day went, no matter the outcome of this fight, she knew that things would never again be the same.

-----

Sand kicked up into an arc as Bjornulf the Hellsbeast slammed the head of his mighty mace into the ground where Naalie had been standing but a scant few beats of the heart before; the thick metal hit with such force that the percussion could not only be felt by the nimble Miqo'te, but actually heard over the cheers and jeers of the spectators. Naalie wasn't sure if they called out in excitement as she easily twisted to the side before the blow fell, or if they were disappointed that her flesh and bones hadn't been crushed instead of the sand.

The way she moved wasn't unlike that of a dancer, albeit one decked in heavy armor and wielding a short sword; as the mace came hurtling down, Naalie had jumped to the side, twisting in air and coming down in a crouch a few fulms to the left. Was the crouch necessary? No. The crowd, though, usually ate that kind of thing up... and anything you could do to get the crowd wanting to see more of you was well worth doing. As she lifted her head, magenta eyes slowly lifted toward the rings of spectators looking down on them (yet another fan-favorite move that she tried to throw into the fray when she could). She tried to tell herself that she wasn't looking for anybody in particular, but she knew in her core that she was damn well looking for that Lalafell. The quick, stolen glance wasn't long enough to make out any faces, however; in the heat of the moment, in the midst of battle, she could scare spare more than a few heartbeats to play around before getting back to business.

As the tan Hrothgar began to heft his mace from where it has embedded itself in the sand, Naalie dove and rolled forward behind where his legs were planted; there was the briefest bits of hesitation as she brought out her blade to attack.

Should I? He warned me...

Flash

The bright lights of the arena caught the reflection of Naalie's blade, flashing brightly as the steel bit into the bare flesh and fur of her opponent. The man groaned aloud as the keen edge dug deep into the muscle of his thigh, mouth contorting into the shape of a silent scream and eyes narrowing. Blood poured free, matting the fur of his legs and spilling down onto the already stained sands below.

The crowd went wild, on their feet and cheering wildly.

All... but one.

In the sea of sound and moving bodies, there was one lone figure; Naalie caught but a glance as her eyes flicked back up to the ground, a few heartbeats at most... but she was sure. The ostentatious clothes, the smug expression, the two flanking morons. Yeah, it was him.

The corners of her mouth turned downward in a scowl. The entire fight until now had been spent in a mounting state of dread and indecision, not knowing what to do... what would be best for her career, or her well being. But seeing that short statured pompous ass standing in the crowd, watching her with his judgmental expression... Naalie knew.

As Bjornulf staggered forward, his right leg no longer fully supporting his weight, Naalie began to strike. She never went immediately for one killing blow, unless it was a guaranteed success. She preferred, instead, to dart in and out and make numerous strikes to further hinder their ability to attack or defend themselves. Precise cuts crippled his other leg, bringing the big Hroth down to his knees; his right arm was shortly rendered useless as he made the mistake of lifting it to guard against a blow, taking several ilms of cold steel into his flesh. Naalie was fairly certain she felt bone scraping against her blade when she slid it from the wound she'd created, and from the amount of blood that began to pour out it wouldn't have surprised her. He was helpless now. He knew it. She knew it. The crowd knew it. And the crowd... the crowd was going wild, their lust for blood and death at a pitch.

Naalie stood before the felled Hroth, blade held outstretched with tip pointing down at him. His eyes were wide and watery, but his brave face held as he stared potential death in the eye. It wasn't at her helpless foe that she looked, but to the mass of humanity beyond him... through the cheering fans... to a single, solitary Lalafell. With a defiant incline of her chin, Naalie's voice rang out in the arena.

"I refuse to kill this helpless gladiator." She paused, her eyes lowering to meet those of Bjornulf. "Yield," she demanded.

His breath came in pants, gasping for air through the pain of his wounds and the shame of his defeat. "He..." Bjornulf started, his voice low... low enough that his words were lost to all save a single Miqo'te. "... He promised... me riches... if I could kill you. And...  he... he promised suffering... if I couldn't." Bjornulf spat, red phlegm staining the sand at Naalie's sandals. "You... have to... finish it."

The desperation was heavy in his words, carrying the weight of his fear and chilling Naalie to her core. Before she could process this, the Hrothgar lunged forward with a strength she didn't realize he still possessed; the severity of his wounds made it a clumsy endeavor at best, but Naalie saw it for what it was worth: an opening to give his death some glory, so he would pass from this world a fighter on his feet rather than a weakling on his knees.

With a quick motion, Naalie stepped to the side as he staggered in front of her; turning her sword in hand, Naalie brought the point downward just behind his clavicle. It cut through flesh and down into his pumping heart, stilling the organ. With a cry, Naalie jerked her blade free; the cooling corpse of Bjornulf slumped face-first into the sands as his life's blood spilled across the aptly named arena's floor.

Bitter tears stinging her eyes, Naalie lifted her head to stare out to the crowd in victory. She saw none of the cheering faces, the contorted fans enrapt with the spectacle before them. Only a solitary Lalafell turning his back and slowly walking away.