#my grandmother would shout at them and tell them it's too loud

[dreamauri]

out of pure boredom, i created an f1 track that goes through the fucking pyramids <3

[httpsserene]

𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚 - 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 (& 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏)

summary: you and lando are blessed with a beautiful baby boy. content warning: fluff, humor, slightly suggestive at times, and mainly crack/shitpost energy. reader owns & works in her bakery in monaco. images used are not mine. pairing: lando norris x fem!black!reader (& platonic oscar pastry) genre: smau & written fic combination (it's a longgg one)

author's notes: y'all i'm warning you i took it too far this time. it's long aslllll. but it might be the best thing i've ever offered to f1 tumblr in my entire career.

grab a snack, drink, and tuck yourself into a comfortable position xxx

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imessage • preseason 2023

That’s how you find yourself outside of the MTC in the mid-morning two days later. You’re mildly…exhausted, after commandeering the kitchen in Lando’s Silverstone flat to make a sickening amount of banana bread to feed all of McLaren. After tipping your Uber to the MTC double what the ride costs (for allowing you to stuff his car with a hundred pounds of your decadent treat and helping you unload them into the lobby), you’re greeted with warm welcomes and hungry eyes from the staff. Eager to eat, they’re quick to find you a couple of carts to help you move all the banana bread to the communal area. You’re walking backward to make sure none of your sliced loaves fall, smiling with all the workers as they follow you through the building. Setting up shop, you hand out your sliced banana bread, chatting and catching up with everyone as they sing praises over your sweet treat. Word travels around the MTC quickly when it comes to you bringing baked goods and it comes as no surprise to you when you see a perplexed and overwhelmed Oscar Piastri join the line. You’re bursting with excitement and anticipation by the time he’s picking up his slice.

“Thank you for the banana bread,” Oscar expresses softly, his smile boxy.

“Oh, of course,” you dismiss his gratitude lightly, struggling to keep your cuteness aggression at bay, “I’ve been doing this for the factory since Lando joined–and I figured it would be a good welcoming gift for you!”

“Wait–are you Lando’s girlfriend?” Oscar chokes on his bite of bread.

You rush forward to pat his back, ordering for someone to get him a glass of water; you would hate to be responsible for the death of Mclaren’s rookie driver. When his airways are cleared, you exchange proper greetings and you are quick to make sure Lando has been treating him well. 

“Honestly, I should’ve known it was you” Oscar chuckles, “Lando cannot stop talking about you. Zak had to establish a rule that only allowed him to mention you two times an hour.”

“That must have been rough for him,” you snort dryly, “the rule was five times an hour last year. Anyways, Oscar–who do you main on Mario Kart? This could make or break our friendship.”

You find yourself enamored with Oscar as the conversation goes on. He stands and keeps you company as you continue to hand out banana bread. It’s mostly you doing the talking; Oscar’s quiet, a man of few words but he listens well. He has a sarcastic sense of humor that is similar to Lando’s yet completely different: Lando’s jokes are loud, Oscar’s are hushed. He’s humble, shy even, flustering when you lightly tease him. You’re well past having Oscar as your friend—you’re convinced that he’s achieved little brother or son status.

“Banana Bread!” Zak shouts as he walks up to the two of you, Lando at his side, “Please tell me this is your homemade version?”

“I would never settle for store-bought banana bread,” you gasp dramatically, “It’s homemade as always, Zak. This time I did my grandmother’s recipe instead of my own.”

The CEO practically jumps with glee and rushes to grab a couple of slices–he’s only had this version of the dessert once, and swore it changed his life. Lando walks to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before nodding at Oscar.

“What do you think, love, “Lando hums to you softly, “Did he pass the test?”

You blink up at him and whisper, “I invited him over for dinner tonight—do you think we can use one of the printers here to print out adoption forms?”

bahrain • 2023

After qualifying, it felt like you and Zak were the only people in the garage who remained optimistic for race day. Lando was less than pleased with placing 11th; he parroted words of positivity and hope for improvement but in the privacy of your hotel room he crumbled. He buried his face in your neck muffling just how low his expectations for this season are. You tried to convince him it was too early in the season—the first race weekend—to make that decision but, he was too in his feelings to see reason. 

Oscar was disappointed in himself for placing 18th. When he took off his helmet after returning to the garage, you could see the doubt in his skills lingering through his eyes. You pulled him to sit with you as you continued to wait for the second session to begin and gently reassured him that this wasn’t an accurate representation of his skills; Formula One is a massive change from Formula Two. Oscar nodded at your reassurance but you could tell he was still freshly in shock at his “terrible” performance so your logical advice wasn’t believed. 

On race day, however, you found your positivity dip as well. Oscar DNF’d on lap 13 and rage filled the spot that optimism used to inhabit. The Australian was handling his retirement better than you were; he brushed off everybody’s apologies and went straight to reviewing his data and watching Lando’s race—you, however, wanted to snap at any of his mechanics that walked by. It wasn’t like Lando’s race was any better if you could call what he was doing a race. Slow pit stops, six pit stops at that, the fast lap gamble failure, finishing last, and being two laps down from the race leader…Zak took one glance at you and quickly made himself scarce.

You rode back with both of the boys to the hotel and nearly cried for them with how down the mood was. On the walk to your rooms, Oscar attempted to exchange goodbyes with you and Lando before you cut him off.

“Uh-uh, nope,” you shook your head, “I pre-ordered dinner for us. Come eat?”

Oscar stuttered, “O-oh? I don’t want to intrude–”

“Oscar Jack Piastri,” both he and Lando winced at the sound of his full name, “I’m not going to let either one of you go to bed on an empty stomach. You’re going to eat dinner with me and Lan and you’re going to drink several glasses of water so I can make sure you’re properly rehydrated. Understood?”

“I would love to have dinner with you guys,” Oscar blinked at you in fear, “Also, how do you know my middle name?”

You laughed as you unlocked the door, holding it open for both of the boys as you walked in, “I had a wonderful conversation with your mother, of course.”

“When did you meet my mom?!”

australia • 2023

You were on the edge of losing your voice as you screamed and cheered with Nicole Piastri and Adam Norris for both of the McLaren boys and their double points finishes. The two drivers finishing in the midfield felt like the team had figured something out for Oscar’s home race (if you ignored how almost half of the drivers retired their cars). The Piastri’s invited everyone to a local restaurant to celebrate Oscar’s first points in Formula One, but before you and Lando headed out, the two of you nearly lost your minds.

The two of you forced him to pose with his car and take several pictures with it, strongly suggesting that he smiles big and wide for the camera. Fernando and Lewis walked by and burst into laughter, claiming that you and Lando were treating Oscar like a child. So, obviously, the two of you committed to the bit. You guys cooed and called Oscar’s name, clapping and jumping to pretend like he was a toddler whose attention needed to be grabbed to have him look at the camera. The rookie cringed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as he tried to convince you guys to stop making a fuss over him.

Lando gasped, sickened at Oscar’s words, “Oscar! How could you say such a thing to your mother and me? We only want to celebrate our boy!”

You nodded furiously in agreement, nearly breaking character at the dumbfounded look that rose to the Australian’s face.

“What the fuck,” Oscar blurted out, yet he continued to smile for your camera.

“Oh my god!” You said appalled, “Lando did you teach our son that foul language?! I told you not to curse in front of the baby!”

instagram • bakewithyn • april 6th • melbourne ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren, markwebber, and 413,257 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday oscar 🥳 there’s no birthday gift like scoring your FIRST EVER POINTS in f1 at your HOME race but !!! i’m super happyyy you enjoyed the 🐨 cookies i made for you (lando helped ig 😐) 🤗🤗🤗

tagged oscarpiastri

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📌 yninstagram ps! these are limited edition cookies at my bakery for oscar piastri day!!! first come first serve until sell out! all proceeds go to the australian koala foundation as it was oscar’s personal request 😇

➥ user charitable king shit fr 👑

➥ user FUCK i wish i was rich enough to visit/live in monaco

➥ user don't worry, they're nearly sold out already and the bakery opened three hours ago !!!!

nicolepiastri these were so tasty! i wish i had your baking skills

➥ yninstagram tysm mama piastri !!! i'm blushing

➥ user mama piastri???? im crying

user the koala photo with the bow 😩

➥user what r u talking about?? i only see a picture of oscar with a bow?

➥ user fr i only see oscar 😵‍💫

user "lando helped ig" what did he do? look pretty the entire time you baked LMAO

➥ landonorris actually i was allowed to put the ingredients in the bowls AND preheat the oven too 😤

➥ landonorris and i always look pretty wtf

➥ user omg...yn gave him the toddler tasks 💀💀💀

oscarpiastri the cookies were so good! they nearly tasted better than my first points felt

➥ yninstagram omg high praise from the man himself 🤯

➥ oscarpiastri had to fight my sisters to make sure they didn't only leave me with crumbs

➥ user oh i understand that eldest sibling battle

➥ user my little sisters bite i think they have rabies

➥ user oh what a shame. euthanasia is an option 🤗

miami • 2023

The energy after Miami was rightfully terrible. The car is shit; Lando lost a position from where he qualified to make him P17 and Oscar maintained his P19. It’s hot, and humid, and everyone in the garage is miserable. McLaren is a family. When the boys don’t do good, everybody understands and feels their pain. Nobody likes seeing the boys with frowns on their lips and sadness in their eyes, but it’s becoming a usual appearance during this season. So to turn those frowns upside down, you went on a hunt for some cold treats. You got Lando a frozen lemonade and Oscar an ice cream sandwich—it’s a safe choice, you hadn’t necessarily thought about asking him what kind of ice cream he prefers. 

You found Oscar staring at the wall, eyes focused forward but his mind somewhere else. You tapped him gently on the shoulder, offering him a small smile when he looked at you. He tried to offer you a smile of his own but couldn’t manage to hold it for more than a couple seconds. You presented the ice cream sandwich to him and he looked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you would give it to him.

“F-for,” his voice cracks awkwardly, “For me?”

You hummed, ruffling his hair and taking a seat on the couch next to him, “No, for the King of England. Yes–for you Oscar.”

He thanked you shyly and quickly began to unwrap the packaging, munching away happily. You took a second to text Lando your location and inform him of the frozen lemonade waiting for him, and when you turned to look back at Oscar—the kid was a mess. He wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the dessert sandwich and you’re convinced he managed to spill more of it than he ingested. The ice cream was painted across the lower half of his face and dripping down his hands–you caught a drop of it with a napkin before it fell and stained his shirt.

“Jesus, Oscar!” you scolded him, “I look away for two seconds and you make a mess!”

Oscar shrugged at you, feigning innocence, but you saw the staple redness of embarrassment begin to tint his chubby cheeks. You snapped your fingers in remembrance before you moved to rifle through your purse, Oscar staring at you with wide eyes as he continued to snack away. You exclaimed in delight, showing off a pair of wet wipes you remembered to bring with you. Oscar accepted the offered wipes and you watched carefully to make sure he removed all the smudges of ice cream from his hands and face.

“Hi, lovely girl,” Lando approached you, throwing himself onto the sofa next to you. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and temple before grabbing his now lemonade slushy and taking a look at Oscar.

“Woah, mate,” Lando teased, “Did you lose in a fight against the ice cream sandwich?”

Oscar rolled his eyes and ignored Lando as he finished cleaning up. Once he was done, you gathered all of the dirty wipes on the table to be thrown away. You and Lando both watched Oscar as he ate the rest of his snack in fear of another mess occurring—and, then you had a bright idea. Leaning forward, you took a dry napkin and tucked it into the collar of his McLaren polo, creating a makeshift bib. 

“Lando, remind me to get our son ice cream in a cup from now on!”

twitter • may 14th

instagram • landonorris • may 23rd • monte carlo ⚑

liked by, bakewithyn, charlesleclerc, fernandoalonso, and 502,113 others

landonorris: does it still count as a date night if your boy and his best friend are building legos in the next room🤨

tagged bakewithyn, oscarpiastri, logansargeant

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user "your boy" WTF DOES THAT MEAN ‼️‼️‼️

user they're building legos before the race weekend starts 🤧

user has oscar been staying with lando since last week?

➥ user i thought he was just sleeping over for one night 🧐

adamnorris does this make me a grandfather?

➥ user what the hell is happening

➥ landonorris um? surprise haha 😀

bakewithyn it's a great date night! it's comforting knowing ozzy's in the next room over

➥ bakewithyn i have separation anxiety :)

➥ landonorris me too omg this was my best idea ever

➥ user this is like a reverse 13th reason- it's like my 1st reason i'm glad to be alive

➥ user ozzy 🫠

landonorris logan and osc just went silent. chat, should i be worried?

➥ user i'll bet my life savings that one of them has a lego shoved up their nose 😬

➥ user when kids go quiet it's never good !!!!

qatar • 2023

You cried an embarrassing amount of times this weekend. Your son won his first sprint race in his Formula One career, and his father—your boyfriend—was up there on the podium with him to celebrate. It seems like you have to make another special dessert for your bakery to celebrate both of your boys, but you can worry about brainstorming ideas when you stop crying into Andrea Stella’s shoulder in the middle of the pit lane. You’re sure that your face will be posted all over Twitter in a couple of hours.

A part of you wished that Lando had won the sprint race, just as he probably wanted the same thing. But, as both of you made eye contact with each other over Oscar’s head, the Australian rambling endlessly as he hugged his trophy on your hotel room floor, both of you knew that there was no better outcome this weekend than Oscar getting a taste of victory. Lando’s win will come in due time. A P2, P3 finish on Sunday was just the proof everyone needed of McLaren’s improvement and the threat they may pose to Red Bull next year. 

são paulo • 2023

You had the Grand Prix playing on your phone as you did some prep work for the bakery. The race ended and you couldn’t help but feel happy, yet relieved for the race to be over for different reasons. Lando had a wonderful drive today, and Oscar had the opposite; you were just glad it wasn’t a DNF for him.

You had only just begun wiping down the counters when the sound of the post-race show is interrupted by the ringtone you have set for Oscar. You paused quickly, scooping your phone up to answer.

“Hi, Ozzy,” you cooed gently, “How are you feeling? Sorry about your race buddy, that was unfortunate.”

“It happens, I guess. I feel like shit, mostly. Like I let the team down.”

“No way, Oscar! You’re not letting anybody down. Your race result today wasn’t the result of your skills, it was the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a racing incident. If anybody tells you differently, let me know. I’ll rip their vocal cords out.”

Oscar’s laugh crackled through the receiver. “Yes, mum. I’ll let you know. I really want some of your chocolate chip cookies, they’re the perfect bad race remedy.”

“Well, I’m flying out in a few hours to meet you guys in Brazil so I can celebrate Lando’s—sorry, excuse me—your father’s birthday with him. I think there may be some time for me in my schedule to make some cookies with you.”

“Really? We should make some for Lando too! Wait, before you leave, I left his birthday gift—”

“—In our apartment, I remember! I already packed it in my luggage, I wouldn’t forget.”

“You’re the best, seriously.”

“Mhm, I know. Also, we should share some of these cookies with Charles too, his radio message made me cry.”

“Okay, he can have one cookie.”

“Oscar Jack,” you said dryly.

“Yes, sharing is caring or whatever. He can have like...two.”

instagram • bakewithyn • november 13th • las vegas ⚑

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, f1, oscarpiastri and 353,764 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday to lando norris. he's a pretty cool guy, a great dad, and the perfect boyfriend. love you lots, baby, and i'll love you forever xxx

tagged landonorris

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user wait is this a pregnancy announcement 😨

user this is giving engagement reveal

charlesleclerc bro. if i didn't know you guys i would think your caption was serious 😣

➥ bakewithyn get pranked LOL XD

➥ user oh i feel like i just got catfished

➥ user wait so lando didn't propose nor did he put a baby in her 😒

➥ user I WANTED A BABY NORRIS

➥ user oscar exists? he's literally their child

oscarpiastri no fr i thought i was about to learn i had a sibling otw from this post

➥ bakewithyn ozzy we would've told you???

➥ landonorris you literally bought the card for me

➥ oscarpiastri a boy can hope for a younger sibling can he not :(

➥ bakewithyn so close 😚 no you can't! hope that helps xo

➥ landonorris sorry osc, it's your mum's decision 🤷‍♂️

➥ user does this mean lando wants an actual kid

mclaren admin was terrified ngl 😅

➥ mclaren i thought you really posted an engagement and pregnancy reveal without letting me know 😭

➥ landonorris sorry admin, i'll keep you in the loop in the future

➥ user landoyn engagement soon??????

twitter • november 18th • las vegas ⚑

twitter • preseason 2024

miami • 2024

Lando had you pinned to the wall in his driver's room, with his hands tangled in your curls and his mouth devouring yours. Your moans are muffled into his lips as you grind against his thigh. You tried to multitask, struggling to pull his driver’s suit down. Lando lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and neither of you cared to pull away at the sound of your foot hitting his P1 trophy and knocking it over. One of his hands fell from your hair to grasp at the smooth brown skin of your neck, his palm acting as a warm weighted choker on your throat and you broke away from the kiss to moan. 

“Fuck, Lando—get naked,” you whined desperately, “we don’t have much time for you to tease me right now!”

Lando laughed as he moved to press kisses along your jawline and behind your ear. You felt his lips part on your skin, his breath ghosting over you causing goosebumps to rise, but it’s not his voice you hear.

“Lando, they need us for pictures—OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK,” yelped Oscar, the sound of his hand smacking over his eyes reverberating around the room.

You shrieked in surprise, pushing your boyfriend away from you as you speedily readjusted your clothes. Lando positioned himself in front of you, his back facing you allowing you a little more privacy as he speedily fixed his suit around his waist.

“Learn how to knock, kid,” Lando huffed, no shame found in his words, “You interrupted my winning celebration.”

You screamed in dismay, slapping the back of Lando’s head and Oscar began to stumble out of the room, bumping into the doorframe as he still covered his eyes.

“Yeah, knock in the future, I understand,” Oscar sounds like he’s about to cry, “I feel like I just saw my mum and dad having sex!”

instagram • bakewithyn • may 12th • mama's house ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 551,012 others

bakewithyn: LOOK AT MY SON 🥺🥺 PRIDE IS NOT THE WORD IM LOOKING FOR 🗣️🗣️🔊🔊 (happy mother's day to all the beautiful mamas x)

tagged oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri did dad get you anything 🙃

➥ user 👀👀👀

➥ landonorris well i would've if SOMEBODY told me we were celebrating this year 🤬🤬🤬🤬

➥ oscarpiastri i didn't know i *had* to tell you

➥ user wowwwww lando

➥ user shameful honestly 😕

markwebber happy milf day

➥ markwebber *mother's day sorry typo

➥ bakewithyn what the fuck ☠️☠️☠️

➥ user that was not a typo mark

➥ user sir u are not slick LMAO

➥ bakewithyn i mean...oscar wouldn't mind a step dad, his fatther didn't get me anything today :(

➥ landonorris AYO BABY PLEASE 🧎‍♂️

oscarpiastri you know what would be an even better mother's day gift? getting a puppy 🤭

➥ bakewithyn we are not getting a puppy ozzy.

➥ landonorris should've clued me in osc i might've convinced her for you

➥ oscarpiastri :[

monaco • 2024

You’re about to crash THE FUCK out. At first, it was a little half-joke. Oscar’s home race in Australia, his 1/16th home race in China, and his 3/16th home race in Italy. You originally thought his tweet about “searching for his Monegasque roots” was cute, but you didn’t expect Charles Marc Herve Perceval (Demon Spawn) Leclerc to step into your playing field.

Who the hell does he think he is? Offering to adopt your son? And, Oscar is going along with it? And, the Miami Grand Prix account making a “Certificate of Adoption?” You started to like Miami after Lando won there; and now they’ve betrayed you. Every fan jumped on the bandwagon, thinking that this was the most adorable thing to happen. Like Oscar hasn’t been your child the minute he stepped foot into the MTC in Silverstone. Like he didn’t give you a Mother’s Day present? The Monegasques have some nerve; you were close with Charles and Alex but, now they’ve encroached on your and Lando’s territory. You’re committing several murders today. 

You laughed hysterically when Oscar joined Lando and you for lunch, mentioning that Charles and Alex invited him to eat with the rest of the Leclercs at family dinner after qualifying. You agreed to let him but not without making sure Charles and Alex are qualified for the job. Lando also cornered you in the kitchen and persuaded you to allow Oscar to go; swaying you with the idea of a real date night. You never realized just how much time you guys spend with your son. When’s the last time you guys had a break from being “mum and dad?" It was an appealing offer, but you were serious about clarifying expectations to the thieving couple.

twitter • may 25th • monaco

instagram • bakewithyn • may 25th • date night ⚑

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, nicolepiastri and 236,978 others

bakewithyn: a little night off from parenting was needed x

tagged landonorris

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user okay mamiiiii

user all parents deserve to relax !!!

oscarpiastri do you even miss me ☹️

➥ user damn he goin through it

➥ charlesleclerc i literally just got him to smile and now he's crying again 😒

➥ landonorris your mum and i love you lots osc

➥ oscarpiastri :]

alexandrasaintmleux take full advantage of having no children in the house 😈😈😈

➥ charlesleclerc leo will keep him distracted for as longggg as possible 😏

➥ user lando only needs about three minutes 🥱

➥ user wow that's a really long time fr

oscarpiastri mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

instagram • landonorris • june 16th • daddy's home ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, angryginge, bakewithyn and 436,812 others

landonorris: father's day done right. my child and his mother made a cake for me, family photo slide two, and my son slide three. what more can a man want.

tagged bakewithyn and oscarpiastri

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user this man never misses a chance to call himself daddy

user too fucking funny 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

bakewithyn happy father's day, daddy xxx

➥ user OHMYGOD 😖🤢🤮

➥ user on my internet⁉️⁉️⁉️

➥ landonorris even happier now x

user this new wave of parents concerns me...

oscarpiastri the cake was good wasn't it???

➥ landonorris it was perfect, seriously

➥ oscarpiastri i know you both said there's no way we'd get a puppy but hear me out i've thought of something better

➥ oscarpiastri working on giving me a younger sibling :]

➥ user YES BABY NORRIS ‼️‼️‼️

➥ landonorris @/bakewithyn ?

➥ bakewithyn ask me again in a couple of years

© httpsserene2024

[raiynnah]

Rescue

@wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 676

“Let’s go save your damsel in distress,” James says to Remus through a chuckle. He’s nervous—they all are—and trying to hide it through the many jokes that don’t land quite right. 

Rolling his eyes, he tells James, “Sirius is not a princess locked away in a tower.”

“Are you sure?” Peter squeaks out, looking a bit green in the face as he peeks over the car window at Grimmauld Place. “Because I’m not convinced his mum doesn’t breathe fire.” They hadn’t needed much convincing with teenage invincibility on their side but now, with the danger ominously staring right at them, the fear is beginning to set in.

“Ok, what’s the plan, Moony?” Remus groans, thinking hard. Of course James wouldn’t have planned anything before storming through their houses and recruiting them for this insanely reckless rescue mission. Remus would do anything for his boyfriend though, especially to help him escape the dragon’s clutches, so he analyses their way in. He can’t even be mad at James for it.

“I’ll go up there and ring the doorbell to distract Kreacher…” He cruelly puts Kreacher in the role of the troll on the bridge, something which he’ll have to mention to Sirius later, who’d find it hilarious. “Wormtail will sneak in and open that window on the left that’s shrouded by those bushes from the inside. Prongs, you’ll sneak in there and go up to Padfoot’s room..” The plan unfolds in front of him as the minutes pass, his mind buzzing with adrenaline.

When he walks up to the forbidding door of Sirius’ nightmarish house, he gulps audibly, fear brimming in his chest, and knocks three times on the door. It creaks open to reveal Kreacher’s wrinkled face and stone-cold glare. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a rat run past them and into the house.

“Uh, hi!” Remus says, a fake smile plastered to his face. “I was hoping you could help me out here. You see—”

“What does the halfbreed want?” Kreacher asks, visibly annoyed. Remus winces.

“Well, I was on my daily walk today, just enjoying the good weather, you know?” It’s cloudy and cold but he continues. “When I realised that I was enjoying it a bit too much! You know how it is.” He raises his voice as he hears stumbling in the background, but Kreacher doesn’t seem to notice. “And then I realised I was lost! My grandmother always said…” 

He babbles on fruitlessly, repetitions and pauses blurring in his monologue, fear drilling through him. Minutes creep by slowly and Remus can see Kreacher getting increasingly irritated. He fidgets uncomfortably at the way those beady eyes look right through his soul.

“...And that’s when I saw your house and realised, wow, am I lucky that—” Kreacher slams the door shut and he can’t help but sigh in relief. Still, he waits for a couple seconds before making his way back to the car. Remus hurries into the driver’s seat, from where he watches the house for what feels like hours. It’s not until James and Peter are running out, Sirius hot on their trail, shouting “Go, go, go!” that he starts the car.

His friends jump in, both James and Peter in the back with a nod of unspoken agreement. Sirius looks lovely, wrenching the car door from Remus’ other side open, hair flying loose and a pillow lines pressed into his cheek. He pulls Remus in for a passionate kiss, slamming the door shut with his other hand at the same time as his mother rushes out of the house in fury. 

“Hi, Moony,” he says, drowsiness still in his voice, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” Remus steps on the gas and they speed away, the others making faces at Walburga from the back window. He’d saved his princess from the tower and he can’t wait to see Sirius’ face (offended and amused) when he says that out loud. He knows James will keep the jokes going for days, might as well get a head start.

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 29)

WARNING: Mentions of death

—————

Margaery and I had still been sitting on the floor of her balcony when Ser Elias knocked on the door. It was so loud and quick we had both known instantly why he had come. Our presence was needed urgently in the great hall.

“Are you certain you’ll be alright? I can always speak on your behalf,” I offered, rising from the stone ground and brushing my dress off. Margaery shook her head with a sort of acceptance.

“I’ll be fine. It is important that they see me.”

I reached for Margaery’s hands and helped her up, letting out a small sigh of exertion as I did. We quickly made our way to the door, opening it to find Ser Elias looking at us frantically. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off with a nod.

“We know, Elias. Is my husband already in the great hall?” I questioned, linking my arm with Margaery’s as we followed him down to the more public areas of the Red Keep.

“Not yet, my lady. But the shouting over the subject of succession has already begun,” he informed, looking at me over his shoulder as we went down the stairs.

“And what has been the most prominent verdict?”

“As one might expect, the various lords are quite against Myrcella becoming queen, even despite the fact that she is a child of Robert Baratheon. When I was there with your father and grandmother, the discussion had moved to the subject of a possible child. That was when Lady Olenna sent me to come find you two. She correctly assumed you would be together,” Elias explained, looking between us as we approached the entrance of the great hall.

I pressed my lips together somewhat nervously, looking over at Margaery and giving her hand a squeeze. She would have to admit it was not possible that she was pregnant, for otherwise the kingdoms would remain in absolute ruin for months.

“It is not too late to go back, Margaery. I can always tell them you are too grief stricken to appear at court,” I whispered, trying to save her whatever pain I possibly could; it was my job as a sister.

“I promise I’ll be alright, (Y/N). I would rather take the slight embarrassment than lie and watch all of King’s Landing crumble under the issue of succession,” she said, letting go of my arm as we reached the double doors. I wanted to tell her it likely would anyway.

As they opened, I could hear nothing but yelling. Men and women covered the entire room, all of them either arguing or trying to stop the arguing but inevitably joining in. I allowed Margaery to go first, letting people notice that she had arrived.

“Everybody move aside for Queen Margaery!” Ser Elias shouted, voice booming out and echoing against the high ceiling. As people realized my sister was present, it became quieter and quieter, though the harsh whispers never stopped. Margaery and I made our way through the middle of the room, and although she continued up the steps towards the throne, I detoured and stepped into the crowd. My grandmother and father were both relatively easy to find in the middle of the room, and people moved aside for me anyways, lest they somehow offend the Nightshade of the Garden and Tywin Lannister’s wife.

“My lords, my ladies. I understand better than anyone that the death of the king was extremely sudden and unexpected. I also understand that with no brothers, the subject of who will sit on the iron throne now has become a rather intense topic. I am sorry to inform all of you… that I am not- not currently pregnant, and it is entirely impossible that I am simply unaware of being so.”

Margaery’s voice was rather loud in the hall, even despite the fact that people were whispering amongst themselves as she spoke. When she had finished and people realized there was absolutely no possibility of the king having a son, the yelling resumed.

As my sister came down from the platform, many were asking her what was to be done. The only words I could read on her lips were ‘I don’t know’. Margaery made her way to us, and my grandmother instantly embraced her. I sighed out as I looked around at the conflict, feeling a miserable migraine coming to me.

Gods, where was Tywin?

The lack of my husband's presence was making me nervous, for what could possibly be taking so long? Plus, he was desperately needed here, as people had begun physically fighting each other too. If he didn’t arrive soon, people were going to end up dead. I could only hear the shouts of anger, now entirely about the subject of Tommen’s uncles and whose claim was ‘better.’

“The kingslayer cannot break his vow! He gave up all titles and therefore cannot become our king!”

“And you would have the imp instead? He’ll go just like Robert Baratheon did, whoring and drinking until his last day. Plus, we’d be putting some half Frey on the throne after him, what kind of king do you think a Frey would make for?”

“Even if it wasn’t a very good one, at least it's the correct way to pass on the throne! Jaime Lannister doesn’t even have any heirs.”

“And if we put him on the throne, every lord in Westeros will be begging him to marry their daughters. Jaime Lannister makes more sense than the imp by a mile!”

“Lord Tyrion is ten times smarter than that golden handed knight. Why would we give the kingdoms to a swordsman and not someone strategic who has already got experience with it?”

“Nearly every king in our history has been some dumb cunt with a sword, don’t you already know that? Who gives a damn about having a strategic king, that’s why we have Tywin Lannister!”

“As I said earlier, the imp is the only legal choice! Jaime Lannister’s oath to the kingsguard is too binding to look past, and it’s not as if King Tommen had any other uncles, you dumb cunt!”

“Who says that it’s got to be an uncle? If you want a king who can get something done and rule well, why can’t it be-”

My eavesdropping was cut off by the distinct slamming of the great hall’s doors, and more than a few conversations were silenced by the man at the top of the steps. My husband stood there entirely still, and in less than 15 seconds every argument had gone completely silent and every physical fight had been resolved. It had become so quiet that you could’ve heard a pin drop, and all the nobles had organized themselves into the proper order, a clear path in the middle of the room and the most high status among us at the front. Well, my family had already been relatively close to the front, but everyone else had moved more definitely behind us. It gave me the odd sensation of watching a chess board rearrange itself.

Tywin descended into the room, and his footsteps on the rough stone floor were the loudest sound in the room. Cersei, Myrcella, and Prince Trystane followed behind him, and several bowed their heads in respect. It deeply saddened me to see their red, wet eyes, but it made me simultaneously even happier that I had gone with Jaime to retrieve Myrcella, or else Cersei might’ve not had any children at all now. 

I watched the trio behind Tywin stand at the front right side of the hall, though he continued up the steps towards the throne. He stood before it, turning to address the crowd. His eyes met mine before he began, though only for a moment.

“My lords and ladies, as the hand of the king, it is my duty to make certain that whatever happens following the king’s death happens smoothly, and that presently means I must address quite a few things. To begin with, the assassins responsible for King Tommen’s death have been found and are currently in the black cells. They will be tried at the end of this week and charged on the same day. They will be punished accordingly. Secondly, I am well aware that the subject of succession is unclear, and that there are varying opinions on the subject. However, this is no excuse for the pathetic kind of behavior I saw upon entering this hall. There will be no immature comments made nor brutish fighting over the subject, for it will not be tolerated.”

The words slipped so easily from Tywin’s mouth it was as if he had said them a thousand times, and I had never seen a man in such a stressful position looking so relaxed and collected. My husband.

There was utter silence, as though everyone knew he wished to continue. He took a deep breath and blinked a few times, scanning the crowd. When he landed on me, I watched his eyes flicker back and forth between Margaery and I, and I understood that he was asking a question. There had been a slight change in his eyes, though not enough for anybody but me to notice. I shook my head ‘no’ at him; my sister was certainly not pregnant. 

He faced the entire hall again, lips parting in preparation to speak. It had been so natural that I doubted a single soul there knew I had just told him all he needed to know. They would most assuredly wonder how he had so quickly been informed of Margaery’s status despite not being present to hear her say it. 

“Because there is no possibility of King Tommen having a son, the subject will be decided as it has been in history. Or at the very least in a similar manner, for I wish to be much more efficient with the decision of successor than King Jaehaerys and his great council was. Court will reconvene after dinner in three or so hours, at which time a vote will be held over the next ruler of Westeros,” Tywin explained, his voice loud and clear as he spoke. He did not falter once, and he was moving his eyes around the crowd at a constant speed. He was not anxious nor was he frozen, the sign of a perfect public speaker. 

He descended from the platform, leaving the hall just as quickly as he had entered, and I found myself smiling as people turned to watch him exit. There was a soft shuffling of feet and clothes, but not a word was uttered. Once my husband had gone out of the double doors, people began to speak again. 

The two men I had been listening to beforehand continued their conversation, giving me quite a shock in the process.

“As I was saying, if you want an efficient king who works hard and rules well, why not just put Tywin Lannister on the iron chair? His ass was probably shaped by the gods for the damned thing, and you just saw the way he handled that.”

“Ha! You’re probably right. I suppose he’s the one already doing it all anyway, even if he isn’t the most direct claim.”

“Not only that, but he has serious experience. I doubt there’s a man alive who’s spent as much time in charge of all seven kingdoms. There’s not a damn thing he wouldn’t know how to handle.”

“I wonder who he’d choose as his hand. It would be rather odd to see him without the pin, if we’re honest. Maybe he’ll go on doing it all the same.”

The two men shared a laugh, and their conversation was certainly much more relaxed than it had been previously. They’d found common ground.

“Perhaps his brother. Kevan Lannister has always been a smart man, he’d do the job well. Seven hells, maybe he’d even choose his wife. I hear she’s sharper than valyrian steel.”

“She ought to be if they’re going around calling her all these names like ‘Bladed Tongue’ and ‘the Nightshade of the Garden’.”

“Yes, well, in any case, I think Tywin Lannister is who people ought to consider. It’s the only reasonable choice, especially after that display he just gave. Come, let’s go have dinner in one of the halls. I expect there will be some good conversation.”

I saw the two men move away in my peripheral, and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding in. Somehow, I thought breathing might make them realize I was rather close and make them stop. Not only that, but I feared the slightest movement might make me begin to shake.

Tywin? The king?

I swallowed the dryness in my throat, processing now that my grandmother had been speaking with Margaery and I for the last several minutes, though I had not a clue what she was saying. All I could think about was what I’d heard.

I wondered if perhaps other people in the hall had also considered that my husband had a claim, and suddenly I felt stupid. I hadn’t even thought about the possibility of Tywin having a claim, because to me he was always going to be the hand of the king. How could he be anything else?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the two men I’d been listening to the entire afternoon had a point. The gods had shaped Tywin for the throne. Not once in all of his years had he cut himself on the damned thing, and though it was probably just a coincidence, it was odd to consider that nearly all bad kings had ended up hurt by it at some point. 

Not only that, but there were plenty of tales of Tywin’s confidence and natural look upon the throne. If I was correct, even Stannis Baratheon had thought Tywin was king when he visited Kings Landing as a boy. 

I had begun to shake now, for all of these facts were unable to leave my head. It was dizzying, and I wanted nothing more than to lay down. To lay down in Tywin’s bed in the tower of the hand with his arms holding me tight.

“My dear, are you quite alright?”

I snapped out of it when I realized my grandmother was addressing me, and I once again attempted to swallow the awful dryness in my throat that seemingly could not go away. I nodded, but both her and Margaery knew better than that. My father had excused himself from the conversation at some point, it appeared. 

“You’re shaking, (Y/N),” Margaery pointed out, deep concern in her face. For a moment it felt like I was her younger sister. She had just lost her husband and here I was, making her feel nervous.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’ve just begun to feel a bit ill, that’s all. I’m not sure why,” I said, sighing out and squeezing my eyes shut. The migraine was even worse now.

“Dinner ought to help. Come, both of you. We’ll all eat in my room tonight,” my grandmother suggested, offering my sister her arm. Margaery took it gratefully, and I could see in her eyes that she was still beyond upset. Even in my state of shock, I wished more than anything that I could take her pain for her. Such was the duty and love of an older sister. 

With each step towards my grandmother's chambers I felt as though I might faint, which was an odd thing. It was even more strange for me to consider how I was actually feeling about what I’d heard. Was I opposed to Tywin being king? Did I like the idea? Did I like the idea of being queen?

Surely that was the role my sister was born for, not me. It had always been that way. Tommen the king, Tywin the hand, Margaery the queen, and I the leader. It felt as though we were filling in shoes that weren’t ours.

At least, I would be. Tywin had always been called the king without a crown, after all. But I was certainly no Margaery, compassionate towards all and constantly public about it. Only used to leading soldiers, I was the very opposite, and I feared that my husband was too. 

With that in mind, I also considered how despised he was for the sacking of King's Landing. Surely the commoners had not forgotten, and with so many assassinations, how could I not be wary? Although I wanted to take Margaery’s pain for her, I was not sure that if I were in the same situation I would be able to take my own pain. 

These thoughts were all abandoned with the opening of my grandmother’s door, however, and I took a deep breath to fully bring myself back to the present. She muttered something to a maid about fetching supper, and just a moment later I found myself sitting at the table with her and Margaery.

Gods, I really was out of it. All of us were.

“Grandmother, do you think he suffered? Do you think- do you think it was painful?” Margaery asked after a moment, sipping her wine in consolation. My grandmother thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head.

“No, dearest. I expect something like that is quick and painless. You mustn't worry yourself with it.”

I watched her reach across the table to grab Margaery’s hand, and I drank from my own cup to hold back the knowledge that it had not been quick and painless. I knew that for certain, as the Battle of Blackwater had been one of the most horrific sights and sounds in memory. It made my heart break for Tommen.

The maids had come back in with our food then, and I was more than just a little shocked. It had been under 5 minutes, which was certainly the shortest I’d ever waited for a meal. I guessed that they wanted to make sure that at least this aspect of our day wasn’t awful.

“(Y/N), may I ask you, who do you expect will be the next king? I doubt they’d put Myrcella on the throne, and your husband probably has some insight,” Margaery inquired after a moment. The room had been far too silent for a while, and the air felt stale somehow.

“I expect her husband will be the next king. I heard quite a lot of chatter about it in the hall,” my grandmother answered rather drolly, not giving me an opportunity to. She knew that I would attempt to lie and say that Tyrion had the best claim.

Margaery made no effort to hide her shock, and I found myself not wanting to meet her eyes. I instead acted as though the food on my plate was insanely interesting, moving it around with my fork for a moment before taking a bite.

“Truly?”

That was directed at me, not my grandmother, and I was forced to speak upon it. Finally lifting my head up, I took a deep breath and replied.

“I’m not entirely certain, Margaery. I heard discussion of it in the throne room, but it’s also entirely possible that Tyrion could become king. Myrcella is a woman, and Jaime’s role in the kingsguard is too large for people to overlook I fear. So that leaves Tyrion and my husband, who I somehow hadn’t even considered a candidate until just a few minutes ago.”

I felt cheated, in a way. Tywin had certainly known that he was a viable option, and yet he had said nothing about it to me. Why? Did he fear that the subject would overwhelm me or frighten me?

Well, I supposed it had done both.

“And, if Lord Tywin were to become the king, then that would obviously make your sister queen. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’d be able to seduce this one,” my grandmother added on, smiling at her own joke about my husband. It admittedly made me laugh a little, but not enough to take away the fear of being queen. 

“Yes, and I don’t think I’d want to seduce this one. You’re the only one who’s got the patience for him,” Margaery said with a small giggle, giving my hand a squeeze from beside me at the table. I scoffed despite knowing that she was entirely correct.

“Well, I fear I wouldn’t be nearly as good of a queen as you were,” I noted, voicing one of my biggest fears. The prospect of Tywin becoming king, I knew, did not scare me half as much as the prospect of me becoming queen.

“Well don’t, it’s not true. You may not be so sociable as me, but that’s only because you’re more genuine. You’re adored in Highgarden, I’m certain the same is possible in King's Landing. You’ve always been rather strategic with your reforms and innovations, which would be quite useful,” Margaery assured me, and I could tell that she meant it. 

“And you’re not upset? You’ve always wanted to be queen,” I questioned, knowing that since the day she’d learned to speak it had practically been the only thing she desired.

“Well, I am upset. I- I’m going to miss Tommen quite a lot. I wouldn’t say that I loved him as you love your husband, but I did care about him. I cared about him very much. But as for my position, I’m not upset at all. If there was somebody else that I would want as queen, it’s you,” she said, continuing to soothe the nerves that seemed to be consuming me.

“It would be rather amusing if after all of this Lord Tyrion was chosen after all,” my grandmother joked, suddenly deciding to join our conversation. I smiled, knowing she was right. There was no reason to become anxious about it when I had no idea who the lords of the court would end up picking. It was also somewhat surprising to me that Tywin had opted to make the vote so soon, but the more I thought about it the more I realized it was probably smart.

To have it done quickly and put a new king on the throne made significantly more sense than notifying all seven kingdoms that once again, the line of succession was a bit murky. To do so would’ve been inviting others to take their chance at claiming the iron throne. Gods, men were so stupid.

In any case, to do it this way would put a Lannister on the throne and cement our position there. In that sense, our position applied to both my marriage and my own identity. The Lannisters on the throne and the Tyrells right beside them.

Plus, whatever child that Loras and Sansa had would end up married to the child of Tyrion and Roslin Frey, and that meant we would stay connected to the throne. Although, realizing that made my blood run cold for a moment. If Tywin did end up on the throne, would he choose Tyrion as his heir?

He had seemed quite adamant that he did not want children from me, but would he now desire a different heir than Tyrion?

I exhaled, escaping my thoughts as I ate. I was getting far too ahead of myself, and I needed to stop thinking so much. No matter what happened in the next few hours, I felt certain that it would all be worked out. With Tywin at my side, how could it not be?

—————

After dinner the great hall was significantly calmer than it had been beforehand. I assumed most men had worked out their difference of beliefs over a meal, or I at least prayed they did. My family was standing at the front of the room, but truthfully I wished Tywin would come in already so I could join him. I’d been without him all day, and under such stressful circumstances it had been absolutely awful.

“Grandmother, how do you suspect they’ll count the votes? To ensure honesty, anyways,” Margaery questioned, which admittedly also interested me. There hadn’t been a vote in over a century and a half, and that scenario had been quite different.

“I suspect they’ll use colored stones. It is far easier to lie about the words on paper than it is to lie about the color of something. And that way everyone else can see it too,” my grandmother reasoned, sighing and snapping at some maid to go fetch her a chair. I didn’t blame her, we had been doing quite a lot of standing today.

The hall went suddenly quiet, and when I turned around I noticed my husband coming down the walkway in the middle of the room. To watch so many people go quiet out of respect was somehow frightening. Surely any man worth going quiet over was one you respected—or feared—enough to be king.

Tywin paused at the front of the room, turning his head to look at me and extending his arm. Understanding that he wished for me to be with him, I stepped out toward him and took his arm. Everyone remained silent until the two of us had settled into place on the right side of the room. 

Once the chatter started up again, I looked up at Tywin and opened my mouth. When I did, I found that no words could escape. It almost felt as though I was stuck in a dream. Tywin understood whatever I was feeling, for he sighed and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. I couldn’t help leaning against his arm, feeling so utterly exhausted by the day which would seemingly never end. 

Slowly but surely, all of the nobles in the Red Keep gathered on the floor and gallery of the great hall, either ready to vote or anxious to see who would be picked. Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion, and Myrcella had all joined us too. Prince Trystane looked beyond upset despite the fact that his wife was entirely content, and I had the feeling that he felt she deserved the throne. He was correct, for by right it was hers.

But when had the lords of Westeros ever permitted a woman to have what is rightfully hers?

Once Tywin had decided that a sufficient number of people were present, he broke away from me and ascended up the stairs. Varys and Pycelle followed behind him, and I guessed that he had asked them to be in charge of counting the votes. It made me rather happy, for Varys had always been adamant about the good of the realm even if Pycelle just sucked up to my husband.

“With dinner finished, voting will now commence. Grand Maester Pycelle will read off the scroll and call for the lords present. When your name is called, approach and vote,” Tywin said simply, not caring to get into the details. It was all quite artificial and ceremonial, but I supposed things like this had to be. Although, if I hadn’t been so tired, I probably would’ve teased Tywin for it.

I watched him come back down to the crowd, and I instantly took his arm once he had returned to my side. I was being overly clingy, but it was hard not to be when I was stressed and emotional like this. I was so anxious I felt that keeping my dinner down would be a strenuous task.

“Your vote will be signified by a rock. There are four here, red, yellow, blue, and green. They represent the following: red for Lord Tywin Lannister, yellow for Lord Tyrion Lannister, blue for Ser Jaime Lannister, and green for the Princess Myrcella Baratheon,” Pycelle explained, holding up each colored rock as he did. There was something so incredibly droll and procedural about hearing it that only Pycelle could’ve explained it.

Although, seeing the red rock made my insides turn, for how could such a simple and pointless object have such a large effect on my life? I would quite obviously support my husband no matter what, but I secretly prayed that we might simply continue living in relative peace.

For the next two hours, every man in the hall—besides those with a claim—voted. I could not see how many rocks of each color had been taken, for they were in a wooden box. The set up, put simply, was that of a table in front of the iron throne, with one box containing the stones and the other covered with a small opening at the top for the stones to be placed through. The sound of rocks hitting each other had been going on continuously, and I was grateful when it was over.

“Princess, My Lords, if you might come up here while the votes are read,” Pycelle said, turning to the front row once the last voter had returned to his spot amongst the crowd. Tywin stiffened suddenly, as if he was coming back to reality and wished otherwise. He turned and looked down at me, still clinging to his arm. Somehow, I was no longer the most dangerous woman in Westeros. I wasn’t the Bladed Tongue or the Nightshade of the Garden. None of that nonsense.

Right now I just felt like a frightened little girl.

That in itself was unsettling, because I hadn’t experienced such a feeling in over a decade. It was a sort of powerless feeling, the feeling one gets when they start to lose control of their own life. In the last two hours, I had clung so tightly to my husband out of fear that perhaps he might slip away too.

“Will you stand up there with me?” he asked, voice low and quiet. There was no visible emotion on his face, either. He might’ve been asking what the time was.

I found that words would not escape my throat, but I nodded at him as a reply. We went up the steps together then, everybody else following behind us as we did. Similarly, Trystane stood with Myrcella on the opposite side of the platform. I noticed that they were holding hands, and it made me oddly sentimental. Myrcella would have been a good queen. 

I was jolted from my thoughts by the sound of Pycelle clearing his throat, but I did not turn around to face him. I could see him in my peripheral, attempting to pry the top of the box off so he could count the votes. Awkwardly, Varys had to step in and assist him.

“V-Very well. The votes will be called out, and each stone will be placed into its corresponding basket. As I said before, red for Lord Tywin Lannister, yellow for Lord Tyrion Lannister…”

As Pycelle continued with his procedure, I heard Tywin’s sharp, annoyed inhale beside me. If not so public or dire a setting, I would’ve laughed. It seemed that despite all his devotion to the Lannisters, Pycelle was the singular most annoying man in all of King's Landing. And it wasn’t helping that his voice would bring the sentence upon us.

“The first vote… Lord Tywin Lannister.”

I heard the sound of the stone hitting the wicker basket, and it made me exhale shakily. I knew I had to remain calm, for it was entirely possible that my husband just so happened to be the first vote, but somehow I understood that wasn’t the case. 

“...Lord Tyrion Lannister.”

That had been the second vote, and it eased my nerves a bit. However, Tyrion was standing right beside me, and I could feel his nerves too. I couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to be king, and I suspected that he did. Unfortunately for both of us, then, the next seven votes were for my husband.

It felt as though every time I heard Tywin’s name I got closer and closer to passing out, and yet I had to stand there emotionless. I wanted more than anything for Tywin to turn toward me and say it would all be alright, but he couldn’t. All either of us could do was stand there and begin to accept it.

There were then several more votes for Tyrion, and a few for Jaime and Myrcella, which rather surprised me. Neither Jaime nor Myrcella looked pleased to hear their names, but it made me rather happy, for I hadn’t entirely expected Myrcella to get that many votes at all. Still, the continuing trend was overwhelmingly directed toward my husband, and at a certain point we had both realized that.

I heard Tywin sigh, and for the first time I couldn’t keep myself from looking up at him. I watched him blink a few times, and his lips parted for a moment as he inhaled. His eyes scanned the great hall, and then he turned his head ever so slightly to look down at me. When our eyes met, I felt oddly comforted, because while there was a look of defeat in his eyes, there was somehow also a look of acceptance. He had been condemned to play this part, but he would do it and he would do it well. That was who Tywin Lannister was.

And nobody would know that he had sighed that day, and nobody would ever stop to consider that the look he had given me was not one of triumph but of apology. But it did not matter, because I knew. 

At that moment, when Tywin looked down at me and silently admitted that he would be king, I remember it clicked in my head. The sight of the White Hart suddenly made sense, and it made me want to cry. Even the most powerful man in Westeros was still subjected to the gods’ sick game. 

“And our last vote… the Lord Tywin Lannister,” Pycelle announced, the last stone clacking against the already full basket. My hand had begun to shake, and Tywin let go of my arm as a response. When our hands were at our sides, he took mine in his, giving it a good squeeze. It was the only comfort he could currently give to his overwhelmed wife, but it was enough. 

“With a total of 206 votes, there are 23 votes for Princess Myrcella Baratheon, 34 votes for Ser Jaime Lannister, 57 votes for Lord Tyrion Lannister… and 92 votes for Lord Tywin Lannister,” Varys read off, stepping before the entire hall as he did.

There was a sort of bone chilling silence as everyone in the great hall processed the news, and it almost made me laugh. There should not have been any shock, everyone present should’ve known this would happen. I should’ve known.

A man among the crowd stepped into the isle then, and the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed was heard. I could see the metallic shine of his weapon, and all present watched as he lifted it into the air.

“To his grace, Tywin Lannister, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, the First Men, and Protector of the Realm!”

The man's shouts echoed throughout the room, and suddenly it was not just him but the entire hall. Hundreds of swords were drawn, and a rhythmic chanting of Tywin’s name was all I could hear. 

My husband remained unphased, of course, standing there just as he had been for the last few hours with a respectful and balanced expression. I, on the other hand, had begun to feel some sort of horrible pride. Tommen had died only hours earlier, and yet watching the entire hall cheer for my husband and choose him as their new king made my heart swell. 

There certainly was something sick about it, the continual replacement of kings and lords, and yet that never came into anybody’s consideration. All that ever mattered was that the iron throne was kept warm, not that the cold body was mourned.

And still, I was no better. I could’ve stood there for hours watching the way those men cheered for Tywin. Because yes, he certainly was feared by many, but no man could deny that he was fit for the throne. Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in Westeros. Now he was its king too. 

But when he gave my hand another squeeze, I knew it was not those titles which mattered to him most, or perhaps at all. I understood it then, that the only title for which he cared was that of Tywin Lannister, my husband. 

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[okwritingandpain]

Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Chapter 6: Now and Then

15 minutes earlier...

Paul adjusts his shirt vigorously, muttering to himself. He couldn't believe how John acted. He couldn't understand the gall he had. He had to talk to him. John should be there soon. Anytime. Paul would wait.

"Sir, can you help me?" Paul forgot where he was for a moment. He stood outside the train station, eyes glossing over the brick walls and decrepit structure.

Paul finally looked over at the woman who spoke to him. Her outward appearance was aged, sullen eyes, and a sunken face. Her hair, which once was dark, is now gray in the light.

"Yes, of course, ma'am. What do you need?" Paul asks, meeting the woman's gaze.

"I can't get my luggage out of my car," she says, pointing to the open trunk. Paul walks over, reaching for some of the luggage. He pulls out a couple of bags for the woman. She smiles brightly like a sweet grandmother.

"Is this all ma'am?" He asks, setting them by her and closing the trunk.

"OH, thank you, dear. Any girl would be lucky to have such a sweet boy helping them." The woman says. He thinks about you and then John.

"Yes, any girl..." Paul mutters. The woman raises her eyebrow.

"What's on your mind, dear?" she asks. Paul feels bad that the woman saw he was feeling conflicted. He didn't want to project his issues onto her.

"It's complicated. My friend group is having issues..." he explains, leaning against her car.

"Well, spill it, dear. I don't have all day," the woman croaks. She reminds him of the women who would spread gossip while their kids played. He scratches his neck, brushing his brown hair out of his face.

"I like someone and I think they know I like them...I think everybody knows I like them. Well, except for one person." He shakes his head, picking up the luggage. The woman starts walking closer to the station as he carries the luggage for her.

"Why don't you ask them out?" she asks, waddling along.

"They're dating someone," he replies, nearing the closest platform. He hoped the poor woman didn't have to walk too far.

"Don't let that stop you from telling them how you feel, dear." she smiles at him. Paul can't help but crack a smile at her.

"That’s a little bold for my taste," he says.

"If it's not bold for me, then it's not bold for you," she replies, chuckling to herself. Paul laughs with her as they pass a couple of platforms. Finally, the two stopped. He helped the woman with her luggage onto the train.

"Thank you for the lovely chat." Paul smiles at her.

"Have a lovely day, dear." The woman sits down on the train as Paul gets off. He waves her off and continues looking for John.

He knew John was heading out with the band today. He would be on his way by now. He walks back towards the woman's car, which sits on the side of the road like the rest.

Paul sits on a bench, searching the crowds of people for his friend-he thinks they're still friends-appears.

He thinks about you and John. He thinks about George and Ringo. He thinks of everything he's done wrong. Everything he feels the guilt and embarrassment for.

Paul closes his eyes for a minute, his hands drum on his legs. He blinks a couple of times before noticing something is off. Then, he felt the hollow feeling in his pocket.

"Hey!" he shouts, watching someone run off with some money he had in his pocket. He jumps off the bench and runs after the person into the street. He heard a loud sound, someone yelling, what was it?

In only a few seconds, Paul felt something hit him.

A couple of hours later...

You see Ringo first. He's coughing and looks sickly, but he's the first to make it to the hospital. He's standing outside, seemingly lost in thought as he admires the large building. You walk over to him, hugging him tightly. He hesitantly hugs you back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers in your ear.

"What are you apologizing for?" She looks up (or down, I mean he's 5'8) at him.

"Everything, I've been away for so long..." he shakes his head.

"Your sickness is at fault, not you." You reply. He nods, looking at the hospital's doors. You both walk in, heading to the reception desk. The inside is sleek and dull, unwelcoming. A woman looks up at both of you.

"Are you here for the boy?" she asks, a look of sorrow in her eyes. She knew, you didn't know how, but she knew. It made your stomach churn and Ringo pats your shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am," you reply, holding on to Ringo's arm. George walks in while you wait for the receptionist to fill out some paperwork. He hugs you and greets Ringo, who he hasn't seen in probably forever.

"Where's John?" you ask, clutching Ringo's arm tighter. George shakes his head and shrugs.

"I haven't talked to him in a few days. Did you not see him on the way here?" George asks, fidgeting from his nerves.

"I went to his house when I found out, but he wasn't there."

"What a coincidence," Ringo mutters and you punch him in the arm.

"John had nothing to do with the accident," you say.

"We were supposed to go to the train station, just not today," George says, "our plan was to head out tomorrow."

"Paul didn't know that," you whisper, mostly to yourself. The receptionist lets them in. The boys guide you through the hospital to see Paul.

The whole story had startled you from the inside out. You felt so bad about leaving him now, about John leaving him too. All it took was for them to actually talk to each other instead of just ignoring each other. Wise words that ultimately meant nothing right now, at least not for how Paul and John were acting.

You wished that you knew what kept them fighting. Maybe you could have solved this by now if you knew.

Inside, Paul's family gathered around a hospital bed. Paul is snuggled up in the bed with bandages over one of his eyes and the rest of his body. He isn't talking much, but he looked alright (by car collision standards).

His face instantly perked up when he saw his friends. He even sat up in bed much to his family's dismay. Even though he looked like a total wreck, his smile shone brightly at the prospect of seeing the people he loved the most.

"I'm so happy to see you guys," he cheers. He looks to be in pain as he speaks. His parents lean him back onto the bed. You rush over to his side, gripping one of his hands. He smiles up at you, seeing the fear struck in your eyes.

Ringo and George stand on the other side of the bed, muttering to one another. Paul's good eye jumps between the two sides of the bed, looking at your sorrowed face and his dismayed friends.

"Where's John?" he asks. His eyes fill with hope as you look away. You truly didn't know where he was.

"He's on his way...I believe..."

Meanwhile, across town...

"Do you ever learn how to shut up?" John asks Pete. Pete glares at him, returning to playing his drum set.

The boys sat in Pete's basement, where his parents could tolerate their playing. John came to Pete whenever he didn't have any of the other guys to talk to. His head pounded with thoughts that he wished he could erase.

John strummed his guitar in the corner, thinking about how quickly he dipped after you left his side. He immediately left, not wanting to be anywhere near you or anybody for that matter. How could he be so stupid? If only you knew how he felt, how Paul felt...

"You know, every now and then you have to actually be the bigger man," Pete says, silencing the symbol. "Your girl’s not going to take you back unless you actually tell her what the bloody hell is going on."

"I miss her," John whispers, "I miss him. I miss all of them! I wish I could find the words to tell them I'm sorry for all of this..."

"Don't tell them then," Pete replies, "do what you do best. I'll leave you be for a minute." he gets up and heads back upstairs. John stands alone with his guitar, the guitar didn't feel right though. He set it down, examining Pete's very old grand piano that sat in the corner. He said it was out of tune, but John was drawn to it.

He sat down, messing around with a few chords.

"Now and then...I miss you..." he begins, the notes dancing along his fingers with out of tune keys that clash and dissonant with each other. It felt like his friends, it felt like his family.

It felt like home.

"If we have to start again..." John stops playing.

He frowns for a second, seeing something edged into the piano. His smile quickly returns once he sees the words.

"Paul, John, George, and Ringo...forever,"

John knows what he has to do now. He's going to win you back, he's going to fix everything with Paul. They're going to be a band again, they're going to be friends again. Everything will be perfect, he just knows it. It's going to take a little time, a little sweat, but all the glory of music writing that he loves.

"I know it's true, it's all because of you..." he gets up from the piano and grabs a sheet of paper. He frantically searches for a pen to scribble down the words jumbling in his head.

Pete always hid his pens in a compartment in his desk so his brothers wouldn't take them. John practically rips the compartment door off, takes out a pen and begins to write. The words float off the page and surround him in musical bliss that nearly makes him cry.

It was perfect, they would love it.

You would love it.

Paul would too.

"John!" Pete calls from upstairs.

"One second!"

"Get up here now!" Pete shouts back, causing John to roll his eyes. He folds the paper and puts it into his pocket before he makes his way up the old stairs.

"Mimi?" Is the first thing he says. He was surprised she even knew where Pete lived.

"We need to go now, John," she says, ushering him towards the door. John is confused, he's never seen Mimi so in a hurry.

"What's going on?" he asks, looking at Pete for any answers. He shrugs, walking out of the room. Mimi successfully kicks John out of the house, huffing as she does so.

"We need to get to the hospital," she continues, marching her way down the street. Jeez, that woman could move.

"What happened!?" John burst. Did something happen to you? He couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt.

"Paul got in an accident, a car hit him," Mimi finally answers. John stops suddenly once he hears the truth. It's not what he expected at all.

"Paul's at the hospital?" he whispers. All the fighting and all the hatred that stewed from something he couldn't control now ate at him differently. How could he be so stupid? How could he not protect his best friend? Was this his fault? It sure felt like it. He could scream at the thought.

All he knew is that he had to get to Paul, no matter what it took. He had to explain...he had to fix all of this, but first he needed his guitar which he left at Pete's a block back. 

@sabrielka-133

[kindred-sims]

Part 2/2

TW: Emotional abuse, verbal abuse

"How dare I? How dare you! I'm a guest in your home, is this how you would treat your guests?" Sterling scoffed at Caleb. "Really, I would've thought that even simple farm folk could raise their children with at least some manners..."

"...Jo, go put Carrie back to bed. I don't want her here for this."

Caleb spoke both sternly and plainly, keeping his angered gaze focused on his father-in-law as Jo numbly walked out of the room with their daughter in tow. He hadn't been proud for yelling in front of the two of them as he had, but his anger had been kindled, and he could no longer force himself to remain as pleasant as he'd tried to be all evening.

As far as he was concerned, Mr. Blythe had crossed a very strong limit with his words. And that was a limit that no man should ever dare cross as long as a Wakefield was around.

"If you must know Mr. Blythe, my parents did raise me to have good manners, and they certainly raised me to be gracious," He tried to keep his voice level, but his ire was too hard to disguise, and it was taking everything in him to not begin shouting again.

"But they also taught me to put my family first above anything else, and that's what I'm doing now. For that, I'm not going to let you stand around and continue belittling my wife any longer--"

"I'm sorry, your wife?" The other man let out a harsh chuckle. "Forgive me for saying so, but I believe she's been my daughter longer than she's been your wife. I'll treat her however the hell I please, and I'll be damned if some oafish farmer is going to tell me what to do!"

"Papa, that's enough!"

Try as she might, Jo hadn't been able to bring herself to leave Caleb alone with her father, and had swiftly returned after ensuring that Carrie was settled. She didn't know why, but overhearing his insults toward Caleb -- combined with the nasty things he had to say about Carrie, had caused something inside of her to snap, and she knew she couldn't stay quiet anymore.

She didn't want to either.

For nearly twenty-one years she'd been dealing with his cruelty, and she was done playing the timid creature.

"Oh, you stay out of this, girl, this doesn't concern you--"

"No. I think it does," She spoke firmly, stepping between Caleb and her father. "Papa, my whole life you've been treating me as if I'm an inconvenience to you, and you've never once given me any indication that you love me or actually care for me. And for what reason? Because I'm not the son you wanted?"

"Christ, Josephine, I've heard all I want to hear--"

"I'm not finished yet," Jo kept on, both her voice and body trembling something terrible. She was terrified, but she couldn't stop. "I could've handled it, you know? If you only came here to insult me further, but you didn't. You've not only insulted me, but you deliberately chose to insult both my husband and child, and I refuse. I refuse to let you do those things any longer."

"Like hell you can refuse me, I'm your goddamn father! I'm the only family you have left you ungrateful brat! What do you think your mother would say, or your grandmother?"

"I'm not a child anymore, Papa!"

Jo surprised even herself with how loud she became, but she didn't back down. So many years of hurt, so many years of pain all came spilling out in that one sentence, and by God did it feel so freeing.

"That isn't going to work with me anymore, it won't. You're not my family, you have never been my family," she continued "I have Caleb and Carrie now, I don't need anything from you. I don't want anything else."

"Well I--"

"And furthermore, if I do have a son someday, I will never tell you. Because I'd rather my children have no grandfather at all versus one who is a cruel, selfish excuse of a man."

Sterling looked taken aback by all these words, staring at Jo like he was trying to figure out where his shy, meek daughter had gone. Maybe this was who she really was, maybe he'd never known her at all.

Either way, it was nothing Jo would lose sleep over.

Still seated on the couch, Cora was the next to say something, her voice a hushed whisper.

"Sterling, I think its best we leave now..."

He didn't respond, stood silently for about another minute, before finally grumbling under his breath and following his wife out of the parlor. He glanced back one more time as they departed, a searing fire burning in his expression.

"I hope you're satisfied, Josephine, truly. I thought marrying you off to this simpleton might humble your selfish ways, but I can see now that that was only a fool's dream," he said cruelly, but Jo refused to look at him, keeping her back turned. By now, her resolve had crumbled, and she refused to let him see her cry. Not as he had so many other times before.

"You'll get what you want, mark my words. You couldn't pay me to come back to this pigsty, even if I wanted to. You won't be seeing me, or a cent of your inheritance for that matter. I have every intention to have everything transferred to Edward as soon as he turns eighteen. At least I know the family fortune will be in more...competent hands."

"Oh keep your damn money, Mr. Blythe, we certainly don't need it." Caleb hissed, refusing to take his eyes off either of the Blythes until they'd left the house. He turned to Jo, and it only took one glance at her face for him to pull her into a tight embrace.

"Its over now, love. They're gone, you can cry," He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body shuddering. "I've got you, its alright..."

"God, he's so horrible. He's so horrible, Caleb, how dare he say such awful things!" Her voice was muffled, yet audible enough to know that it was breaking. "About you, about Carrie...what did she do to him besides exist? She's only a baby, she didn't do anything, she couldn't have..."

His entire shoulder soon became doused in her tears, but Caleb didn't care. Only kept holding her, until he was sure she was going to be okay. That she was going to feel safe again. Because while he may be an oafish farmer who couldn't read or write all that well, he knew how to care.

He knew how to love.

Because he loved Jo more than her father could ever claim to. He'd meant every word of his wedding vows the day he'd recited them, and he had every intention to uphold them for as long as the Good Lord would allow him.

[skygazer0516]

Titanic: A New Life pt. 10

Trigger Warning: Domestic Abuse 

There it was a ticket for the Titanic was in her hand. She was holding her way out. Then, as fast as the hope came, reality set in. 

“Lara, I can’t possibly take this.” Claire insisted. 

“Of course, you can Claire.” Lara replied. 

“But this is too much. You obviously bought this for yourselves. Use it.” Claire was trying to hand the ticket back.  

“Claire, it’s not going to be used by us. We were going to use it to move to New York so Jacque could set up his own practice. However, my grandmother has fallen on her death bed and I can’t leave her now. You know how close she and I are. So, Jacque has graciously agreed to postpone moving and setting up his practice. At least for the time being.” Lara explained. 

“I thought Jaque had to take over the family business. How can he do that in New York?” Claire inquired. Hoping she could change the subject matter. 

“Well, eventually he will. His parents are reluctant to have him leave England. He had to make a deal with them.” She explained as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He can go to New York,” she stated, “But he must do so with his own money. Then, when the day comes, he must return to England to take care of the family business. That is why the “second-class” ticket.” Lara explained. 

“So, you were just going to up and move? Without telling me?” Claire knew this trick would work. She hated manipulating her friend, but the subject matter had to change. 

“Claire. No, I wasn’t going to leave without telling you. How could you even think that?” Lara questioned. “These plans have been in motion for a while. I wasn’t going to tell you until things were finalized. When my grandmother fell deathly ill, we had to change plans. So, I didn’t tell you. Don’t think I have forgotten the whole point. The ticket is yours. Please say you’ll use it.” Lara pointed out.  

Claire couldn’t contain all the emotions nor the questions she had no answer to anymore. “But how can I possibly do this?” She said as she quickly rose to her feet. “I have nothing packed, no money and nowhere to go when I get there.” She hadn’t noticed that she was shouting and pacing across the floor. 

“Well, Claire, if you would sit back down and breathe, I would be happy to go over all of that.” Lara gestured to the seat beside her. Claire was too nervous to sit but she did stop pacing. “Now, Bradley is at work, yes?” Claire nodded. “Good. We can go over there pack a trunk and you can stay here for the night. Then, we wake up early and take you to the docks tomorrow morning.” 

“But what happens when Bradley gets home and sees that I’m not there. This is the first place he’ll go to look for me.” Claire said through the tears and short painful breaths. 

“Well, he simply won’t be able to find you darling.” Lara said with a slight grin. “Follow me.” Lara said, reaching out her hand and grabbing the hurricane lamp off the table with the other. 

Claire grabbed her friend's hand and followed her up the stairs to where the guest bedrooms were. They passed all the black and white to sepia photographs leading to the paintings of the St. Du Bois line. Each hanging in a golden frame that set against the emerald walls. As they climbed the stairs Claire’s eyes dried and her breath grew calmer. 

“Ah, this is it.” Lara said, stopping abruptly in front of a bookshelf. “Now where is it?” she asked waving her fingers across the many book titles while holding the light with her other hand. “Ah, here it is!” She proclaimed as she stopped her finger over Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein.” “Let’s see pull twice and.” As Lara pulled the book a second time a loud clicking sound sprang from behind the shelf making it ajar from the wall.  

Claire couldn’t believe her eyes. She had heard of older homes having secret rooms and stairways but had never seen them in person before. 

“Oh my god! A secret room?” Claire asked flabbergasted. 

“Yes!” Lara replied. “These stairs lead up to the attic where there is a secret space. So secret, in fact, that you cannot tell that it’s there even from standing in the attic itself. I have always wanted to use it and now seems like the right time and purpose.” Lara pulled the shelf away from the wall to reveal the staircase behind it. “Shall we?” Lara asked. 

Claire was in too much shock and wonder to even think about hesitating. They climbed the narrow stairwell up to the secret room. Lara took out the two different keys and unlocked both a lock above and below the doorknob.  

Claire couldn’t believe her eyes. This room was spacious, well-lit with golden sconces and decorated to the nines. There was a bed big enough for the king himself, a sitting area and three bookshelves that were built into the walls. Just like the walls below, this room too, had the emerald green and gold aesthetic. 

“Lara this is. I can’t. Wow.” Claire knew more words but couldn’t seem to express them at that moment.  

“Claire, I know things right now seem scary and uncertain. But” Lara sat the lamp down to grab her friend’s hands, “my dear friend don’t think about the right now and start thinking about the future. What will happen if you stay?” She asked. But before Claire could answer, Lara answered, “Yes, there is a possibility that he could change. It is very small and most likely will not ever happen. What happens if he takes it too far next time? What if you don’t wake up?” she asked, trying not to let her friend know how upset she truly was. “I would be so lost if you left me here.” They were both starting to cry, again. “Claire, you are my best friend. Don’t be afraid to leave. Be afraid to stay.” Lara said looking into Claire’s watery eyes. 

“Lara. I still don’t...” Claire started. 

“Claire, please do this for me!” Lara broke as she lost all the sense of dignity that she had had up till this moment. “I can’t bear to watch you die! Not when there was something I could do to stop it!” Lara embraced Claire in a hug. “Please Claire! He’ll kill you and I can’t!” 

“Lara, I’ll be okay.” Claire said softly as she wrapped her arms around her distraught friend as she started to cry harder than before. 

“No!” Lara Screamed. “No, Claire you won’t!” Lara’s voice was booming, her words broken by sobs and erratic breaths. “Claire, please, please do this for me. Okay? This weekend was too close! You say you’ll be okay, but you won’t be! You’re too special to die! So, please? Please? You’re my best friend and I won’t be able to live with myself!”  

Claire could not deny her friends anymore. “Okay, Okay,” she whispered her agreement. “But we still have things to iron out.” 

“That’s fair.” Laura said through her sobs as she and Claire released each other. “What else is there to iron out?” She asked as they made their way to the small sitting area. 

As they sat on the couch Claire began to think about everything all at once.  

“Well, I have the ticket, the room and we can get my clothes. But what about the after? I will still have no money and no place to go once the ship gets to New York.” Claire stated. 

“Claire, we have thought of that too.” Lara proclaimed proudly. “Jacque and I have already purchased the new manor in New York City. Until my grandmother passes, we will need someone to help keep the house organized.” She pointed out. “There will be a small handful of butlers and maids, so you won’t have to do much. And we would be glad to have you live with us for a time. We have also set you up with a bank account that has two-thousand American dollars in it.” Lara explained. 

“Wow you two have seriously thought this through.” Claire exclaimed. “This is still a lot to take in. In just one single afternoon, I am just to change everything.” 

“Yes, but what you are leaving behind is better left in the past.” Lara said. 

“Well then. Do you have the time?” Claire asked. 

Lara pulled on the golden chain that her watch was attached to. The time was a little past ten in the morning. Claire knew that if this was going to happen, they needed to go now.   

They rode to Claire’s house in a nice horse-drawn carriage. Lily was brought along to help speed up the process of packing. As they rode Claire could not ignore the knots in her stomach and the thought racing through her head. What am I doing? This can’t be happening. What if I fail in New York? What if he’s right and I can’t make it without him? Who will love me now? Is it, really, as bad as it seems? Claire knew the answer to that one but was still afraid of the truth. 

Suddenly, Claire felt Lara’s hand grab her own. As if her friend knew that she was a nervous wreck. Claire could breathe and relax a little with this simple gesture from her friend.  

They reached Claire’s house and chills hit their bodies. Bradley was standing at the door. 

[notkijoon]

“ worrying won’t do you any good. ”

yeah, that's what they always say.

their day starts off on a positive note. it's one of those rare summer days that foreshadow the turn of the season soon to come, a day where kijoon can actually wear a flannel and jeans working outside and not be forced to change his attire every hour until work is over. something he can write home about is his level of productivity today while daeun isn't around (somewhat of a surprise now to quite a few people who have grown accustom to daeun's recent increased presence). his grandmother is actually happy to see her grandson working solo because as much as she has come to grow fond of them, she has noticed a distinguishable lag in kijoon's work when he is there.

ie. the working for ten minutes and then getting distracted and wandering off to find daeun to talk to him for half an hour and then back to work for ten and back again to daeun to check on how they're doing. oh, and obviously, the obvious puppy eyes. she sees the signs loud and clear.

she's not wrong. when daeun isn't around, kijoon has nothing to keep him from his work. but on the flip side, when daeun isn't around, kijoon has nothing to keep him from his thoughts.

it was a conversation, albeit a short one, because daeun doesn't technically owe kijoon an explanation for anything and he knows that. he had been biting down on the inside of his cheek so hard when daeun told him about how jiwoo would be coming to town to visit the following week that he actually started to bleed. all kijoon knew about jiwoo prior to this was the sheer amount of audacity this fool had treating daeun the way he did — how someone could look at such beauty and consciously opt to ignore it. how daeun could ever come second, third, maybe even last to jiwoo was possible for him to wrap his mind around; thoughts swim in his head from the moment he wakes up 'till the moment he's finally washed the farm off him for the day and drives with a little too much pent up frustration into town.

he's glad at least jaewon and keith are there to get a few hazy ipas into his system quickly. it's not a good sign returning to his bad coping habits from years ago, but it's the only way kijoon can get the edge off before he sees daeun again post their conversation. in between each buzzed thought that tells him he needs to do something to convince daeun that this man is no good for him, the logical side battles that it's not his place. a hard pill for him to swallow, daeun is not his and he has no authority over what he chooses to do. ultimately, kijoon wants the best for daeun, which is to not be with this user, and a few shots later (no thanks to the bartender who hooked jaewon up, mistakenly assuming they were having a good time), kijoon is tipsy and ungracefully stepping his way through the crowd to the only crown of blonde hair in the sea of people. jaewon and keith exchange concerned glances and trail him at a distance.

kijoon always finds his way back to him.

"i — listen," what was it about the logical side of his brain telling him this isn't his place? oh yeah, fuck that. all bets are off when there's alcohol involved. "i'm not tryna' disrespect him or anything, but, damn, what is it about him that you like so much?" kijoon is shouting over the speaker that daeun has chosen to inconveniently sit directly next to. "it's just... he's not a good guy, bruh. how many times has he actually texted you since you've been here? when was the last time he asked you how you were? have you told him ... "

about the time you and me sat out to watch the sunset together talking for hours? about how you lay with me in the bed of my pickup truck to stargaze in my backyard? or how about the time you let me hold you in my arms at the beach and you tried to play it off like it was casual, but we both know these conversations we keep having are conveniently leaving out so many details?

that would be his heart talking. right now, it's just the booze.

" ... never mind. anyways, what i'm trying to say is, what's the point in him coming to visit? does he even want to see you?" man is no different from a lion. when they become territorial, they will do anything to protect what they think is theirs. kijoon's ego is in a weakened state and he's floundering any possible way to salvage it. he wants to tell daeun he's scared of the inevitable truth that once jiwoo comes to visit that he'll be put on the back burner to some scrawny narcissist who has probably never even touched grass in his life. the thought of it makes his alcohol churn in his stomach.

even when daeun is drinking too, they still have that beautiful summer glow. kijoon can see the frustration bubbling to the surface in the furrow of daeun's arched brows, and this is all so unfair, because seeing daeun upset with him only continues to propel him to prod further at the subject. he leans closer to daeun, the buzz giving him that distinct i'm about at my limit and if i drink more i'm going to turn into a raging fucking dragon and burn this entire establishment down sort of lean. "come on, daeun. are you listening to me?"

"worrying won't do you any good," they answer. a bad one. there's nothing like emotional dismissiveness to get kijoon fired up.

he chuckles sarcastically and throws his head back. "really?" his tone has bite to it, bite he hasn't used with daeun before and never in his fairytale fantasies did he picture the two of them going tit-for-tat. he's pissed off now, because why is daeun upset at him for pointing out the truth? what the fuck has he done besides, well, literally almost everyfuckingthing with him? "that's all you have to say to everything i've just said? wow." he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, clicking his tongue. "you sure have a way with words, daeun."

jaewon and keith continue to monitor them intently from a few tables over.

[sunfloweronthebeach]

Me moving three timezones away to another continent, told him about my 6PM weekday flight, expecting excuses. Sorry, the time is inconvenient. I don’t think I would make it. Something of sort.

My own mother who works at the effing airport said well, it wouldn’t work for me. Too late. I’d be on the company bus heading home at that time.

But he counted on his fingers and thinking out loud he said, can I make it? Yes, I can. I’ll just take a leave that afternoon to be sure.

We probably won’t meet again after you moved. When you come back I wouldn’t be here, my grandmother said.

You don’t have to come see me off, I said, because I’m tired of being disappointed. Same as that china rabbit in that one story, my heart could not take another heartbreak. It’s too weary and tired. It’s inconvenient. Weird time. I know. Don’t worry about it.

Someone told me men and women express love differently. Women are more verbal, as in how I insist on telling everyone I love that I love them as much as possible, and men are more creatures of habit. You want to know if a man loves you? Just watch his actions.

His arm dashed out to stop me from walking into traffic.

The same hand that, ten years later, pulled me to stand against him on a narrow footpath away from rogue cars and lorries tonight.

Keep this, he handed me the canvas bag he won from a game of lucky draw, so it will remind you of… his voice trailed off. I think he was smiling under the mask. …here.

He shook his head. My two best friends looked each other in the eyes and nodded in agreement, no room for excuses or discussion, we want to.

I can’t believe it has been ten years, he kept saying all through the night. We started university ten years ago.

We’ve known each other for ten years, I added. We have been friends for ten years.

He nodded, lips pressed thin together pensively, our conversation stirred towards getting older and the inevitability of death, and I knew exactly what he meant without a word.

You are important to me. I would very much like it if you would stay a part of my life.

And I’m sitting here alone in my bed, crying happy tears, shouting silently in my head:

I love you. I love you. I love you.

‘It’s dark. Let me wait for your ride with you.’

‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.’

‘It would be really good to see you.’

‘Just remember I’m here. You can talk to me anytime about anything you want. Anything at all.’

‘I don’t have anyone else that gets me like you do.’

‘If you are going then I’m going’

‘I don’t care what time it is. Please just call me.’

‘Take care of yourself’ because I cannot anymore.

‘Text me when you got home.’

‘Of course I will worry.’

‘Sometimes I wonder why you still care about me.’ ‘It just can’t be help’

‘Sorry I don’t have any present.’

‘Your friendship is more than enough.’

‘I just want to know what you like so I can be the way you want.’

‘You don’t have to.’ You are just right the way you are.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[l-r-christian]

Title: The noble stag's daughter: The first ball with family

First one here - Thunder Monster - First Crush

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Soft!Mikaelsons, Fluff, protective Mikaelsons

A/N: Can I just say I feel like Finn got the shit end of the stick. Like I feel that Klaus shouldn't have kept him daggered for so long but I also feel he would value his siblings more than Esther.

It was Y/N's first family ball well one she would remember and had gotten back from dress shopping with Rebekah. The six year old stopped seeing Finn making her smile brightly as she wasn't aware he was undaggered.

"Uncle Finn!" Y/N shouted running to him as the vampire smiled brightly seeing his niece scooping her up into his arms.

"What about me squirt?" Kol asked as Finn put Y/N down watching run to Kol as he tossed her in the air. Finn watch a bit worried but trusted Kol and Y/N buried her face in Kol's neck.

"I missed you both Uncle Kol and Finn." Y/N said sniffled making both vampires frown and hurt their hearts hearing her little cries. Kol passed Y/N to Finn who rubbed her back as Elijah and Klaus walked in.

"What happened?" Elijah asked gently taking his daughter hearing her soft cries as Kol narrowed his eyes at Klaus.

"She remembered how we were daggered." Kol answered as Elijah frowned and Klaus looked guilty as the three brothers stared him down. She calmed down an let her down so Rebekah could ready for the ball.

Y/N was in Finn's arms sitting on his forearm dressed in beautiful lavender and soft pink lace princess style dress with white flats. Y/N was watching everyone with her uncle who she liked because he was quite tall and she see over people.

"That is Miss Elena Gilbert." Y/N tells Finn pointing the human out to her uncle then pointed out Damon to him.

"That's the rude vampire that tried killing uncle Nik. So please be careful?"

"Of course little one." Finn says kissing her temple as Kol came up wanting to dance with the girl. Y/N giggled as Kol spinning them both smiling brightly enjoying hearing her giggles.

"Elijah?" Elena questioned as the Original turned hold his tired daughter who gripped his suit jacket. Elijah smiled politely at the human girl as Y/N was fighting to stay awake.

"Elena, did your meeting with my mother go well?"

"Uh....yeah. Humm who is this?"

"My daughter, Y/N. Our youngest Mikaelson." Elijah says rubbing his daughter's back as Elena was surprised. Now the guilt began to climb within Elena as she stared at Y/N and Elijah picked up on her racing heart. Finn stepped over to them.

"I'll take her to bed." Finn says softly heart melting as Y/N nuzzled in to his neck as Elijah smiled kissing her head.

"Place her in my room. It is more quiet." Elijah says as Finn nodded taking her upstairs as Elena watched.

"I...I didn't know you had a daughter." Elena said taking Elijah's arm when he held it out to her.

"We try to not to let people outside of family to know of our youngest." Elijah said walking with Elena as the human girl felt worst since Esther wants her children dead and now they were going to orphan a little girl.

"Morning little one." Finn says in the morning as Y/N came walking in and Rebekah following after her making sure the girl didn't run into walls since she was quite tired.

"What are you up today?" Rebekah asked as Y/N smiled at her aunt and uncle while the others were slowly coming in.

"Going to go get new paints and a book with daddy." Y/N chirped smiling as Finn placed a plate down for her.

"Good morning children." The siblings froze hearing Esther's voice and Finn was quick to pass Y/N to Kol then stand with Elijah and Klaus. Esther stared at her sons more so Finn who seemed to stay away from her to be around his siblings.

"Still won't let me see the young one."

"She is every sensitive to magic. We don't want to overwhelm her." Elijah answered his mother see how Esther looked over his shoulder to see Y/N. Esther stared sensing the magic the girl held.

"I see well I shall leave." And with that Esther left the room and Siblings relaxed. Y/N looked at her father confused on why she couldn't see her grandmother.

"Why can't grandma see me?" Y/N asked out loud getting everyone's attention and Klaus was quick to answer.

"Because you are too strong little witch. You'll blow Esther away." Klaus answered her making the small girl laugh as they didn't want her to believe it was because of her.

"Daddy can uncle Finn join us?"

"Of course if he wants too." Elijah says as everyone fell into a calm rhythm as for the first time in centuries the siblings felt human.

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can we get sequel to goose’s best friend??? That was fantastic

I'll have you all know I had this saved under the working title "Goose's Mom Has Got It Going On"

Goose's Best Friend, Part 2

Part 1

Summary: After finding out your flirty pen-pal was Carol Danvers, you have to see if you can look past your shared past and make it work.

Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,897

A date with Carol Danvers was dangerous. There were about a million things that could go horribly wrong, all of which you ran over in your head as you walked to the cafe down the street, the blonde in question at your side. Neither of you had spoken a single word since you’d agreed to a coffee date after she’d shown up at your apartment and admitted that she had been the girl you’d been flirting with over the little notes on Goose’s collar.

When she’d first showed up at your door, you’d refused her.

You hated Carol Danvers, right? She was arrogant, self-centred, and an all-around pain in the ass. She was not a joy to be around and that had never, not once, been debatable. Not until that moment when, for some unknown reason, your heart skipped a beat when that too-familiar grin crossed her lips. You’d managed to ignore the feeling, tightening your grip on the doorknob to ready yourself to shut the passage that was open between you.

“Danvers,” you’d said, suppressing the shake in your voice. “Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Wasted my time? What do you mean?”

“We’ve never gotten along much, have we? Who’s to say that should start now?”

You’d tried to shut the door, then, but she’d put her foot in the way. “Coffee. Tomorrow morning.”

Uncertainty was something you thought you’d never see in the eyes of the army pilot. Yet, there she’d stood, gaze cast just past your head at the golden numbers nailed to your apartment door. It was something that made you momentarily forget just who it was. That show of uncertainty was comforting to you. It showed she’d changed. If she could change her attitude for just a moment then, who was to say she couldn’t change her attitude just a little more? You wanted to meet the Carol who had sent you all those notes.

“Tomorrow morning,” you’d agreed. Then you’d shut the door.

Now, here you were, walking into the small cafe at her side. She held the door open for you, an awkward smile tugging at her lips as she did. Your smile was just as forced, and the quiet thank you just as uncomfortable. Neither of you fit into the atmosphere one bit. It was calm, peaceful, and comfortable inside. You were wringing your hands together because you weren’t sure what to do with them, and your gaze was locked to the ground, unsure if you should be looking at Carol or not.

You finally stepped up to the front of the line, eyes travelling over the board quickly. Carol ordered a black coffee, and then her eyes turned to you. You cleared your throat hard before you ordered yourself a drink. When the barista asked suddenly, if it was together or separate, you and Carol both tensed up impossibly more. Her mouth opened and then shut once as she tried to find words. After forty-five seconds of tense silence, you whipped your wallet out.

“Together. Credit.”

You paid for both drinks and then moved to wait for them to be prepared. The entire time you waited, neither you nor Carol spoke a word. Instead, you bathed in the most uncomfortable silence you’d ever felt before in your entire life. Finally, the drinks arrived. You handed Carol hers, and she led you to a table in the corner. You both sat down, the silence reigning until you finally decided to clear your throat and be the first to speak.

“So, you have a cat.”

“Yeah. He’s a good cat. I got him from a friend,” Carol said, before sipping her drink. “Long story.”

You decided not to prod about that. You didn’t know her well enough to. Instead, you only nodded in response. You took to glancing around the room, something that gave you a reason to look away from Carol whilst not seeming awkward about it. There weren’t many other people in the cafe, and you didn’t stare too long at any one of them, lest they think you were being rude. Eventually, your gaze moved back to the blonde across from you.

“So, I guess this was unexpected,” Carol laughed tightly. “Me, I mean.”

“I was surprised. It was… unexpected,” you repeated.

“You don’t sound overly pleased.”

You had to stop and think about that. You’d been avoiding pondering just how you felt about this. When you’d worked up the confidence to ask your anonymous pen-pal to a coffee date, you’d been quite excited. Once you’d found out just who you’d asked on a date, though, your feelings had changed. You were still open to it, even if you were a little more hesitant. It made you nervous. Carol Danvers had never liked you and you’d never liked her. She’d spent every moment you’d ever spent with her teasing and taunting you and you’d never enjoyed it.

“Surprised,” you repeated. “We’ve never much gotten along.”

Carol shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t ecstatic either, you know.”

That was starting to sound a little more like the Carol you knew. Of course she would say something like that. For a second you had to stop and remind yourself of who you were talking to. You took a deep breath, focused on the warm drink in your hands, and then looked back up at the army pilot. She wasn’t looking at you, the comment she’d made obviously not having meant anything to her. That fact almost made you even angrier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carol only let her gaze flicker to you once before turning it back to whatever she was looking at behind you. “I mean it’s you,” she said nonchalantly. She looked back at you. “But I came anyway. After those notes, how couldn’t I?”

“You came anyway,” you repeated with a scoff. “And that was right after you overlooked the fact that it was me, right?”

Your voice had risen just enough that the table next to you was able to hear your conversation. They may have been trying to be discreet about it, but you know the young couple sitting across each other, hands clasped under the table, were listening in. Every once in a while their eyes would wander to your table, their conversation had dropped, and they were leaning a little closer than necessary. You wanted to give them a rude gesture with your hands, but then again, you wanted to give that same gesture to your date.

Carol rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you did mean.”

“You’re not exactly my type, you know.”

“And what’s that mean, Danvers? I'm not exciting enough for you? Pardon me for enjoying peace and quiet.” You stood up. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the coffee.”

You stood up and left your half-empty drink on the table, making for the exit. Carol didn’t stop you.

*

You were half tempted to hang up on the woman that was on and on in your ear. You lay back against the arm of the sofa, tucking the cordless phone between your ear and your shoulder. You grabbed the TV remote off the end table beside you and turned the TV on. It was the time of day for your favourite TV show. The sound of the theme song caught the attention of your best friend. She gave a very loud shout of protest, making you scramble for the phone to pull it away from your ear.

“You are not seriously watching TV right now!”

“I am seriously watching TV. Miami Vice is on.”

“You need to go knock on Carol’s door, and-”

You snarled. After the whole incident with the notes on Goose’s collar, you’d been unable to not think about the sweet side of Carol. When you saw her or saw Goose, it’d been all you thought about. But you’d gotten over it. Once more Carol no longer elicited any feelings other than rage. That was how you liked it. There was no want for anything else. In fact, you made sure that Carol no longer took up more than five minutes of your thoughts. You didn’t need to let her rule your life like that.

“I won’t do any such thing. I’d rather date the Wicked Witch of the fucking West.”

“Well, pretty soon that’s going to be your only option left.”

“You should see me right now. I've practically fallen off my seat with laughter,” you said, sarcasm coating your words.

There was a knock at your door before she could answer. You didn’t even tell her as you put the phone down on the coffee table, turned the volume down on the TV, and headed for the front door. You opened it up without checking who it was, and your eyebrows furrowed momentarily when no one was there. When Goose strode into your apartment with confidence, though, you couldn’t help but smile. You shut the door behind him and picked up the phone once more.

“Sorry. I had to get the door,” you muttered, jamming the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you reached for the cat treats.

“Was it Carol?”

“It was not,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It was my new best friend.”

“New best friend?!” She hesitated a moment. “It’s that cat, isn’t it?”

You decided not to dignify that with an answer. You turned to hand Goose one of the treats, only to find that he’d disappeared. You glanced every which way to find him, but the tabby was nowhere in sight. His presence was announced when you heard the shatter from the living room. The red mug that your grandmother had given you for your birthday was in pieces on the floor. You scowled at the cat, but when he glanced up at you with wide eyes, you found you couldn’t stay mad at him. Instead, you grabbed the dustpan and hung up the phone with a quick apology.

As you swept the red pieces of ceramic off the floor, you glance up at Goose. Casually, he licked one of his front paws where he was sat upon the coffee table. You might have looked away, but you noticed the small piece of paper taped around his collar. There was some unidentifiable feeling swirling around in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Carol since the incident in the cafe. You had half a mind to just leave the paper where it was, but you found, as you dumped the broken mug in the trash and tried to resume watching your show, you couldn’t get your mind off it. Finally, when Goose made to stride past you, you reached out and took it.

For a few long moments, you held it folded in your hands. There was no way there was any sort of apology on the small note. That was not the style of Carol Danvers. Not that you knew, anyway. You turned it over a few more times in your hands before you finally unfolded it, still hesitating before you read it. Goose was watching you as if he were interested to see what your expression might be. You glanced down at the untidy scrawl that belonged to your least-favourite neighbour.

Can we talk?

You wanted to write out a simple no as a reply. She didn’t deserve that, did she? Not when you’d already given her a chance after she’d been nothing but terrible to you for well over a year. You crumpled the note and threw it across the room, watching it fall on the floor beside the TV. With nothing more than a simple grumble, you reached for the TV remote, turning up the volume, sitting back, and putting all of your attention into the show in front of you.

*

The sun streaming through the window of your bedroom was blinding. You’d been too distracted to remember to close the curtains the night before, so it was unobstructed as it was amplified by the glass pane in your window and shone into your eyes. With a hand raised to protect your eyes, you glanced over at the digital clock that was sat on your nightstand. You’d slept in. That fact didn’t surprise you much. You hadn’t slept much.

Only when you let your head fall back against the pillows once more, eyes squeezed shut to protect them from the bright light, did you realize the second presence you could feel in your room. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little surprised that it was still present. You reached out with your left arm, using it to feel around the bed to find them. It didn’t take long, the other body being well within your reach. Your hand made contact so that you were both awake.

“You’re still here,” you mumbled, stretching as you turned your head to meet open eyes. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Of course, Goose didn’t answer.

He’d been your companion the night before when you’d been tossing and turning, unable to get your brain to stop thinking about Carol’s note that was still crumpled into a small ball on the floor in your living room. He’d sat by your side and let you stroke the fur on his head as your mind raced, your own thoughts not letting you get a good night’s sleep. Eventually, he’d even curled up next to you on your bed, a strong sense of comfort coming from the action. You ran a hand over his head.

“Thanks, Buddy.”

He mewed in response.

You decided it was well time to get up, so you rolled off the bed. The first thing you did was jump in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the stress from the night before. When you emerged in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Goose was still on the bed. You waved for him to follow you into the kitchen. You started the coffee maker and went to the fridge to grab the creamer. There was none left. You groaned, the noise drowned out by Goose’s loud cry from behind you. He was sitting by the empty bag of treats.

“Yeah, me too,” you grumbled. “Wait here. I’ll go get more.”

So, you grabbed your keys, slid your feet into your shoes, and headed out the front door. You weren’t expected for Carol to be there, hand raised as if she’d been preparing to knock on the door. For a brief moment, she glanced behind you to take a look at Goose on the kitchen counter. Her gaze moved back to you. You were still a little shocked, not having been prepared for the early-morning (or, technically, early-afternoon) encounter outside your door.

“He stayed the night?” She asked.

“Mhm.”

It was a stupid response, and you cursed yourself for it right away. She didn’t seem to think twice of it. Her eyes were searching your face carefully. You didn’t know what she was looking for, but you were forcing yourself from blushing bright red. Judging by the absence of her usual smirk, she didn’t know that. You shut the door behind you, stepping around Carol to remove yourself from the closeness you’d been forced into.

“I was just going to get some coffee creamer. Did you want him back?” You said, shoving the keys into your pocket.

“No,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

You could’ve slammed your palm into your forehead. Of course that’s why she was looking for you. She’d actually told you that she’d wanted to talk. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d sought you out to do just that. You supposed that’s what you got for not giving her a response. You nodded, finally, and leaned against the wall behind you, arms crossed over your chest. It was a posture that made you look closed off, and that was exactly what you wanted.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” she began slowly. “And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I’ve lived here.”

Maybe you’d been mistaken. Maybe she did know how to apologize.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I’m sorry I stormed out.”

“I was just… I was hoping you’d give me another chance. Maybe lunch this time. On me.”

You sighed. “How many chances do you think you deserve, Carol?”

You’d meant to ask the question with anger. It had been intended as something rhetorical. What it came out as, though, was hurt and broken. At some point, it had become a sincere question. With eyes just as sincere, though, Carol took one single step closer.

“I just need one more.”

You hesitated. She’d hurt you. She was dangerous. But she didn’t want much. Just one more chance. You wanted to give it to her. You wanted to let her try and prove herself. That’s what your heart wanted. Your head was powerful, though, and rejected the feelings of your heart. It was screaming something different.

It was only one more chance, but you had to decide if she deserved it.

“Why don’t you start by walking with me to the store?” You offered.

Carol nodded. “I can do that.”

And, just maybe, that was the start of one more chance.

[pregnant-piggy]

The Crow’s Nest

The Crows x reader

words: 12.1k

warnings: underage drinking, fire, character death, guns

A/N: am I slowly indoctrinating you with my pirate obsession? perhaps... ;) this is based on a dream I had while reading the first book and it wouldn’t leave me until I had written it. Let me know what you think of it! <3

translations (part real languages, part fictional):

Teufel -- devil

Fortell meg -- tell me

Jer elsker pe -- I love you

Faen -- fuck, damn

Goede morgen -- good morning

The grey waves hit against the hull of The Teufel, rocking the ship back and forth in the restless water. The howling wind creeped around every corner, finding even the warmest spots to cool the air and sparing no one from its breeze. The old sails fluttered in the force of the wind and loud slaps could be heard whenever the canvas hit against the mast. Little raindrops were falling from the sky, creating a layer of damp on everything in the open. 

Thunder sounded far away in the sky, back in the open sea, but The Teufel was going the other way. Kerch was approaching steadily and if the winds didn’t turn suddenly, the ship would reach land before the sun had fully set. 

The coastline of Ketterdam, the city The Teufel would arrive at, was peculiar with its high buildings and built-up streets. The lights of the city lit up the sky like an orange halo in the darkening heavens. 

You leaned with two arms on the railing of the ship, watching the city approach over the water. Behind you the strongest members of the crew were working on the sails, steering the schooner into the right direction. You listened to the shouts and orders with half an ear, imagining what the city of Ketterdam would be like and where you would go after the ship had moored. Unlike many of the older ones in the crew you had never been to Kerch before. In the last two years The Teufel hadn’t gotten close to the island, finding enough profit near the coasts of Novyi Zem. Three weeks ago, however, the captain had ordered to turn the sails and head South, much to your delight. 

Your entire life you had heard stories about Kerch. When you were very little, you had asked your grandmother over and over again to tell you about her trips to Ketterdam. Though you had been too young to understand most of what her stories meant, you had adored how your grandma was able to take you to a different world with her words only. It was a gift that you most admired and one that she had passed on to you. 

Your parents passed away in a futile attempt to protect the town against the brutality of the land’s council. You had been just seven years old and the surviving neighbours hadn’t known what to do with you, so you had been sent to a boarding school in the countryside. Far away from the danger of the city they’d said, but you had known it was just to get rid of you. You had grown up in a strict environment, in a house full of stern teachers and meek children. But even there you hadn’t forgotten about your grandmother’s stories. Although the students thought you were odd, they would all gather around you in the sleeping hall after midnight when the teachers were to bed and you would tell them a story the same way your grandma had told them to you. 

The older you had gotten the more trouble you’d seemed to cause. Obeying the rules had soon proven not to be something for you, at least not when you thought the rules were useless. With every year you’d grown older, you had found more ways to plant mischief. The punishments had gotten harder every time but you had refused to bend to their rules. Eventually they had been the one to give up and they had kicked you out of the school. At the age of fourteen you had been a homeless orphan only good for trouble. 

For weeks you had travelled on your own and you had ended up at the harbour, where you had stumbled upon The Teufel. At first the captain had refused to take you on; he had no use for a child. It had been your talent to speak Kerch, Ravkan and a little bit of Fjerdan that had gotten you on board the ship that would become your new home. 

For the past two years you had travelled along with the crew, learning to live on the ocean. Not a moment you had regretted your decision. The crew had accepted you as part of their family. The captain, Nerseh, had taken you on as his own daughter, learning you the tricks of maintaining a crew. Mayranoush, the quartermaster, was a strict woman who had at first scared you because she had seemed to be so much like your teachers at the boarding school. After a while you had gotten used to her, however, and it was from her that you had learnt how to shoot and how to read people’s faces like an open book. From the sailing master you learned how to read maps and the gunners had tried to teach you how to aim, but you had never mastered that skill. Stefan had taught you how to fight with a sword, Marina taught you the ropes and Hai learned you basic first aid and other cures that were necessary in combat. 

In two years you had learned enough to make yourself useful on the ship and you had grown from just their translator to a valuable member of the crew. The Teufel was your home and you could not think of a better place for you. 

“Are you excited?” Stefan stood next to you and followed your gaze to the skyline of Ketterdam. 

You tore your eyes from the city and looked at the big blond man with his bright blue eyes. When you first stepped on the ship he was the first one of the crew to approach you and you had been surprised by the Fjerdan’s conviviality. Your teachers had always taught you that the people from Fjerda were cold and distant. But ten minutes spent in Stefan’s company proved all of that wrong. He had guided you in your first weeks and now he was your best friend, and your first friend. 

“I am,” you nodded. “I’ve been dreaming about this place since I was a toddler. I can’t wait to see what it's like.” 

Stefan smiled at you and leaned down on the railing next to you, his arm against yours. A warm feeling washed over you and sparkles shot through your upper body. The wind had died down to a light breeze and your hair wavered behind your neck as the wind blew directly into your face. A scent of smoke, burned sugar and oil filled your nose and you closed your eyes, taking in the smell and registering the different scents. This was the essence that your grandmother had talked about and now you were experiencing it yourself. 

When you opened your eyes you noticed that Stefan was watching you intently. You smiled and raised one arm from the railing so you could turn to him. He wanted to say something to you, you could see it in his face. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” he stammered, his pale cheeks blossoming red immediately. 

“Fortell meg, Fjerdan,” you ordered Stefan to tell you and, though you didn’t think it was possible, his cheeks got even redder. 

The big, blushing man looked away from you and cleared his throat. His gaze was pointed at his feet and then he turned it to the horizon. The wind was playing with the blond curls of his hair, that looked golden in the light of the setting sun. He cleared his throat again and then he mumbled something. 

“I can’t hear you, doofus,” you laughed and nudged your shoulder against Stefan’s arm. “A little louder, please.” 

Stefan sighed and turned his head to look at you. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on your upper arm. The feeling of his warm hand on your bare arm made your heart flutter. Your lips parted and you sucked in a little breath. 

“Jer elsker pe,” Stefan whispered. I love you. 

Your heart stopped. The pulse in your chest disappeared for a moment and when your heart beat again, it did twice as hard. Stefan was no Heartrender but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat too. 

“Stefan, I—” you started, taking Stefan’s other hand in yours. 

However before you could go on, Captain Nerseh appeared from his hut and started shouting over the main deck. “Stefan! I need you up front!” Nerseh said and he walked to the forecastle deck, ordering the rest of the crew on his way. Stefan was still standing in front of you, your hands holding his but his face turned to the captain. This one turned around. “Now, please!” 

The Fjerdan let go of you and hurried away, leaving you on your own. You held onto the railing for support as you felt your weight shift to your legs. All the excitement you had felt just mere minutes ago had now completely vanished and you looked around panicky. Not even a lifetime on sea could have prepared you for that. 

-=-=-

The Jolly Roger was changed for a neutral flag with the colours of Novyi Zem and The Teufel navigated into the Fifth Harbour of Ketterdam. Once the anchor had been lowered and the ship lay still, a small party was sent out to get stock while the others were free to go wherever they wanted. 

Stefan was sent with the quartermaster, Mayranoush, and Hai for food and ammunition and he was off the schooner before you could follow him. You watched him leave the Harbour, standing on the main deck. His blonde hair shone in the last rays of sunshine and he was visible for a long time, until his figure disappeared in the bigger crowd. Gone before you could talk to him. 

“I want y'all back at twelve bells,” Captain Nerseh said and he waved the rest of the crew off. 

Hesitantly you walked off The Teufel onto the docks. The first few steps were wobbly and uneven, as it had been a few weeks since you had last walked on land, but after shaking your feet and legs, you got used to walking again. Those familiar tingles, that you always got when walking on shore after so long on sea, shot through your legs and you were filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement. 

Here on land the scent was even stronger, luring you into the streets. You glanced back at The Teufel over your shoulder and shrugged off the uneasy feeling you got at the thought of leaving your home behind in the harbour. Pulling up your boots a little, you turned away and stepped into the city, finally experiencing what you had dreamed of for so long. 

The streets of Ketterdam were unlike any other place you had ever been. Big crowds of tourists and inhabitants were moving as one through the small streets of the Lid. Men, women and children all walked through each other, barely taking notice of the persons passing them. The lights coming through the shop windows casted yellow and white shapes on the cobblestoned ground, with which the shadows of the people danced. 

You followed the crowd into the buzzing parts of town, falling in step with the other tourists. Many years ago your grandmother had told you that the Lid was filled with gambling houses and it was the place where the most tourists stuck around. And indeed, as you walked on the crowd gradually got thinner with people leaving right and left to fall into the temptation of the colourful buildings decorated with bright lights. Faint music combined with the loud chatter of people in all languages hung in the salty air, like a blanket that was thrown over this part of the city. 

However, all that you could think of was Stefan’s face and his words. Jer elsker pe. In a haze you walked through the busy streets, hearing Stefan’s voice over and over in your head. His touch was imprinted on your skin, the place where his hand had been was burning hot on your arm. 

You had known, that was the worst part. For a few weeks you had known. You had sensed it whenever he was looking at you or when he was touching you. The look on his face was different from before. There had been a softness on the Fjerdan’s face that hadn’t been there before. A weakness. It was an undeliberate thought, but it made its way in your mind anyway. If the past ten years of your life had taught you one thing it was that you had to hide your weaknesses. From enemies and friends. 

It had been a particular hot night at the boarding school and you hadn’t been able to sleep. That day a new girl had arrived at the school and she’d sat down next to you at breakfast. Many of the others had scowled at her but she had ignored them and instead introduced herself as Lotty. It was the first time that someone had voluntarily come to you and the rest of the day you had spent getting Lotty familiar with the school and its surroundings. 

You’d heard the girl stirring next to you and padded over to her. Upon seeing your face, a smile had spread on Lotty’s face and you had whispered: “Want to get out of here?”

Very cautiously you and Lotty had left the sleeping hall and on your toes you had run through the empty corridors of the school building. All the teachers had been asleep already and the big clock in the hall had showed that it was two hours after midnight. 

The front door had opened with a small squeak and the dark night air had welcomed you and Lotty outside. The gardens of the boarding school surrounded the entire building with grass, flowers and low bushes. A sweet, humid scent had hung in the air, the result of the sun that had shone on the flowers all day. 

You and Lotty had sat down in the middle of a flower bed and you had told her about everything. For the first time in your life you’d felt like you had a friend and you had trusted her with some of the secrets you knew about the school’s building. For hours you two had sat outside, until the sun had started to rise and the petals of the flowers had started to collect the morning humidity. As you had gotten up, you’d put your hand on the ground to push yourself up and you felt something crawl under your palm. You had squealed and stumbled back quickly, staring in disgust at the place where you had put your hand. There on the ground a thick spider had quickly crawled away under the flowers. 

Lotty’d started to laugh and you had scolded her. Spiders had always scared you and no matter how much you’d tried to get over it, whenever you saw one you couldn’t help but shudder. 

Back at the sleeping hall you had fallen into a restless sleep for the last few hours, dreaming of a thousand legs and jaws. When you’d woken up, Lotty hadn’t been there and at breakfast she had sat with the other children, not with you. 

The next morning you had woken up with something crawling up your arm and the sound of laughter. 

And now Stefan had shown you his weakness. Though you would never use it against him like Lotty had done to you, there was something that bothered you now you knew his weakness. What if unintentionally you would cause him trouble or danger?

“Watch where you’re going!” a man sneered and he roughly pushed past you. 

You shook your head out of your thoughts and looked around. The bright gambling dens had been replaced by small, tall and crooked houses made by all different sorts of bricks and wooden beams for support. The streets were still busy but this was a different crowd. People with comical masks and cloaks moved in little groups, quickly and rushed, as if they were afraid someone would stop them. A few people wore gaudy suits and moved proudly over the streets, their hands in their pockets. The others wore more ragged clothes in dark colours and they walked with their heads down to the ground. 

You were in the Barrel, undoubtedly. The gambling houses were still there, but more scattered. Still they weren’t much different from the ones on the Lid; a lot of dramatic lightning and flashing colours, all so that the most people would come in. 

The East Stave was on your left. You had refused ever to step foot near the brothels on the West Stave. The horrid stories that your grandmother had told you had already been enough to keep you away and the rumours you had heard from the crew on The Teufel had only added to that. 

Your legs were getting tired from walking so much and the unnerving thoughts were still whirling through your head. On The Teufel you would have searched for Stefan and gotten drunk with him hidden somewhere on the deck, but Stefan wasn’t here and The Teufel was far back in the harbour. So instead you searched for the least ostentatious building and eventually settled on a gambling club called the Crow Club. 

A silver crow hung over the entrance of the club and you looked up to it as you walked under it, entering the building. You stepped into a big hall that was parted in two by a lowered floor in the back. The black lacquered walls had no windows and all sense of night and day was lost as soon as you stepped inside. The little clock around your neck told you it was little after ten bells. That meant that you had one hour and a half before you had to go back. 

You sat on one of the crimson stools at the bar and ordered a drink from the man behind it. He eyed you for a moment and you noticed he was contemplating whether to give someone your age a drink, but he seemed to decide that profit is profit and poured you a drink. You watched him while he worked for a moment. He was not as old as you had thought him to be. The only wrinkles in his face were near the corners of his mouth and the cracks next to his eyes. His skin was dark bronze and his hair pitch black, almost like the walls around him. And what he lacked in height he seemed to be making up in strength, as his arms were muscular and he looked strong enough to throw a man twice his size out of the place. 

The drink burned in your throat, but you threw it all in anyway. For a moment your gullet was on fire and the next moment it was gone. The years among a group of adult pirates had learned you how to take your drinks. 

You asked the bartender for another and you didn’t miss the surprise on his face, but turned the other way, looking at the parlor around you. Most of the tables in the lower part of the room were occupied by a variety of people. In the left corner of the room sat a couple, their feet entangled under the table, but their eyes fanatically looking at the other. 

At a table closer to you sat a woman in a bright red dress with feathers in her hair. From your place you could see the cards in her hand and if you stretched your neck a little you could also see the cards of her neighbour. The table was playing Ridderspel, a simple card game played with the lower numbers of the cards. It was a game to make little money quickly and one of the most played card games in gambling houses everywhere. 

The woman had two sevens, an eight and a four of the crow-marked cards in her hand and she pushed forward four little red chips when the dealer asked to place the bets. Her neighbour pushed forward two grey chips and the man opposite of her one grey and one red one. The dealer collected the chips and stacked them in the middle of the table. 

On The Teufel you had played many games of Ridderspel with the crew. However, after a while they had banned you from playing games for money. It hadn’t taken long for you to see connections between the faces of people and their cards. You could see a pattern in the order they played their cards and knew after showing the first card of the game who would win.

It had started with Ridderspel. One dark night under the light of a lantern you had been playing the game with Stefan and two others of the crew, Vinay and Cilka, when you had noticed that whenever Cilka got her cards the lightest frown would form on her face if she didn’t get good cards. It was invisible to anyone else, but you saw how her eyebrows would twitch shortly. You knew that everyone had their tells, some more obvious than others, but after that night you had searched the others’ signs. Vinay’s shoulders would slump a little if he had bad cards and Stefan’s eyes would flicker shortly over the table if his cards were good. 

After you had learned their signs, you’d noticed that there was a pattern in the way they played their cards. If they had bad cards, they played the highest first, hoping to at least get a little out of the game. If they had good cards, they would hold their highest cards for the end, but they wouldn’t play their lowest card first either. It was a complicated strategy, a difficult trick on your mind, but after months of examining the game, both playing and from afar, you found the pattern. From there on it wasn’t difficult to find the patterns in other games and soon you were banned from playing games on the entire ship. 

However, whenever you were on land and there was a gambling house in the city, the crew would often ask you if you could just play some games so they could get some money. You knew that with you playing at the table the game wasn’t fair anymore, but you would do it night after night if that meant you could do something for your crew. 

Now, you knew that the woman in red had a good chance of winning the game. She tapped her fingers on her thigh and kept staring at her cards. So much for a bluffing face. The dealer asked to play the first card and the woman threw one of her sevens on the table. Not the highest and not the lowest. Her neighbours answered by throwing an eight and a five. 

The next round was played and now the woman played her four, receiving another eight and a seven. She is playing out her opponents. If they wanted to win, they would have to change the course, but you feared it was already too late for them. The woman threw her eight on the table and the others a seven and a five. The last card was played and at her seven, the woman got a six and a four. 

As the dealer started to count the points you turned away; you didn’t need to count the points to know that the woman in the red dress had won the game. 

“Another one, please,” you said to the barman in Kerch and he nodded at you. Curiosity could be read off his face even by those who didn’t have your talent of understanding facial expressions. 

When he gave you your glass his eyes lingered on your clothes and you realised how idiotic you must look in this environment. Though the people in the hall weren’t all wearing evening dresses or three-piece suits, you knew that someone in a black jacket and leather boots to their knees would stand out. Consciously you stroke a hand over the braids in your hair and looked at the bartender. 

“Don’t worry,” he said as he noticed your looks. “Many tourists come dressed up.” 

You tilted your head to the side and hesitated telling him the truth. Figuring there wouldn’t come much trouble from doing so, you sat up and shook your head. “These are my normal clothes.” 

The barkeeper cocked an eyebrow and then went on with cleaning the glasses. You stared at the brown liquid in your glass before you knocked it back and softly placed your glass back on the bar. The movement caught the attention of the man behind the bar and he lifted the bottle, silently asking if you wanted another one. 

“Sure,” you answered and pushed your glass forward. 

The way the man filled the glass reminded you of how Stefan used to fill your glass. While you preferred to drink straight from the bottle, he would always insist on taking glasses from the galley. 

“We can at least pretend we’re fancy,” he’d say, as you were hidden in the shadows of the back of the ship. 

A faint smile played on your lips as you thought back of Stefan, but your inside burned as you heard his last words back in your head. Jer elsker pe. The truth was that you weren’t quite sure if you loved Stefan back. He had always been close to you and you appreciated him being such a good friend to you, but you didn’t love him the way he loved you. At least, that’s what you thought. You had never really experienced love before, so how could you know what it felt like? 

“Maybe you should slow on those,” the bartender said as you placed yet another empty glass on the bar. 

“No,” you rasped, fighting the burn in your throat. “I’ve had worse.” 

“I can stop giving you, y’know?” the man said as you lifted your glass again for another. 

“And not get paid? You wouldn’t.” 

The barkeeper laughed and poured you another glass. This time you didn’t immediately drink it all, but you turned around on your stool and looked at the biggest table on the floor. It was an oval-shaped table, lined with the same crimson of the seat you were sitting on, and around it sat seven people. Dice lay in the middle of the table, surrounded by grey, black and red chips and a stack of cards. 

Even in the noise of the other tables and people walking between them, the conversations at the big table were clear. 

“You’re bluffing!” the man on the right shouted. He was big in all aspects someone could be big. The hems of his trousers were too high up his legs and the sleeves of his jacket were too short. The golden buttons of his blouse were about to burst and his hat kept sliding off his head because it didn’t fit well. His appearance was only mimicked more by his dark red cheeks and the little drops of sweat that were rolling down his face. 

“Am not,” the lanky, dark brown man on the other side of the table said. He had a wicked grin on his handsome face and seemed to be in his element. His feet were lying on the edge of the table and he held his cards loosely in his hand, like they were to fall any moment. 

“How could you—? You don’t— No one—” the big man started and the colour drained from his face. You had missed what the beginning of the conversation was, but surely it was not something the big man wanted to come out. 

“Maybe you should try to keep such information to yourself,” the tall guy said. “Now, are you in or out?” 

The surrounding men at the table nervously shifted in their seats as they looked at the big man. He patted his head with a silk handkerchief and stared at his cards for a moment. A new set of sweat seemed to pour over his forehead and eventually he threw his cards open on the table. ‘I’m out.’ 

The man got up from the table and he hurried away, followed by the other five men. They walked past you in a queue outside and when they were all gone, the guy at the table smiled pleased.

“He was bluffing,” you noted, after taking a quick glance at the cards that were lying open on the table. 

“What?” the barman asked, who had watched the play with you, and you were reminded that you were not alone. 

A warm rush spread in your cheeks and you turned your head to the bartender. “That guy was bluffing to scare the man away.” 

The man squeezed his eyes at you and said a little too late: “Why’d you think that?” 

“Look at the cards on the table,” you said and peered back at the big table. “That man on the left had two of the highest and the person two seats from him had another. I can’t see the cards on this side of the table, but whatever they are, this guy can never have enough to win.” 

The barman looked at you for a few seconds. “How do you know?” 

You looked out over the hall, scanning the games on other tables. “You learn things,” you shrugged and then nodded to a little table closer by. “See that guy? How he is glancing between his cards and the dealer’s hands?” The barkeeper leaned forward over the bar and looked at where you were pointing. “He has good cards and is trying not to let anyone notice it.” 

The man leaned back from the bar and filled your glass without you even asking. He rested one hand on the bar and looked at you. “Where did you learn that?” 

“Well, you have to do something on a ship,” you said, swirling the drink. “Eventually staring at the stars all night gets a bit boring.” 

The barman snorted laughingly. “You’re from a ship?” Then he looked at your outfit again and he nodded. “Now that makes a lot more sense,” he mumbled. “When did you arrive?” 

“About an hour ago,” you answered and pulled the clock from your blouse. 

Meanwhile, the handsome guy from the big table walked to the bar and he greeted the bartender as he sat down one seat away from you. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and stopped at the guns on his hips. The clock lowered without you realising and you gave up on trying to hide your stare. 

The two pearl-handled guns shone in the light from above and you shook your head in disbelief. Zemini-made revolvers were rare, and you would know. You had heard stories about them from your mates on The Teufel, but none of them had ever even had one in their hands. Only Nerseh in his younger years had owned one, but he had lost it in a battle. The Zemini guns were feared among your crew and there were two of them right next to you now. 

“See anything you like, darling?” the guy asked and your eyes shot from his revolvers to his face. He had that same mischievous smile on his lips and there was a glimmer in his eyes as he raised his eyebrow at you. 

“Those are pretty rare guns,” you said, ignoring the guy’s suggestive tone. 

He took one of the revolvers from the holster and let it twirl in his fingers. Though you didn’t want to, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the ease with which the boy handled his guns. You had gotten quite familiar with your own guns, but you had yet to learn that. 

The boy must have seen your googling eyes because he smiled a bit more real now and said: “I know, Zemini-made. You don’t find that very oft—” 

“Faen!” you interrupted in Fjerdan, using the word that you had heard Stefan say so often. You had looked at your watch and realised that it was much later than you had thought it was. It was already a quarter till midnight and it would take you at least twenty minutes to get back to the harbour. You jumped from your seat, threw some coins on the bar and straightened your coat, mumbling: “Stupid windowless walls…” 

Without sparing another look at the two guys you left behind you stormed out of the Crow Club into the street. Rain was pouring down from the sky and you shivered at the sudden cold. For a second you looked around and scanned your surroundings and then you hurried off in the direction you had come from. 

People passed you in a blur of colours and shadows as you ran over the streets, desperately trying to find a way back to the harbour. The captain wouldn’t appreciate you being late and it would most likely cause you a night scrubbing the deck on a night you actually had been free. But perhaps Stefan would accompany you. 

Your mind automatically seemed to find a way to think of your best friend. The situation in the gambling hall had taken your mind off him for a minute but now your logical senses were numbed by the alcohol the Fjerdan was back again. Stefan could’ve easily found his way back. The boy could find a route almost everywhere, even in a place you had never been before. He would just follow the direction of the sun or look at the leaves on a tree and know where you were. 

But Stefan wasn’t there to guide you back. He was probably already back at The Teufel, waiting impatiently on you. 

Every alley looked the same and all the gambling houses had the same flashy lights. You didn’t know if you were moving forward or just running in circles. Somewhere above in the sky you heard the twelve bells that told you you had to be back already. With the feeling you had passed the house on the corner of the street three times before, you ran on, ignoring the protesting people if you ran into them. You almost fell over your own feet and nearly stumbled into a girl dressed all in dark clothes. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pushing away from her softly but when you turned around to her she was nowhere to be seen on the street. You were too much in a hurry to worry about that and ran on, sighing in relief when you saw the fluorescent lights from the Lid. 

The Lid was filled with more people than the Barrel you ran from and it was harder to manage a way through. You pushed and threw yourself between people, growing a little nauseous from the smell of so many bodies together combined with the smells that came from the kitchens around. As you hurried through the tourists, your breath was high in your throat and you could feel your heart beating in your head. Heavy breaths fell over your lips but you refused to take a moment to rest. 

The glittery lanes were soon exchanged for the dark open space of the harbour. The cobblestones echoed the sounds of your footsteps as you ran. People shot you weird looks as you raced past them. 

The closer you came to where The Teufel lay, the busier it became, but instead of searching for a reason you just hoped that you could still make it past them. However, the crowd became too big for you to run as fast as you had and you slowed your pace slightly. You zigzagged between people and pushed them aside, getting various insults thrown at your head. As you came closer to the inner circle of the crowd, you realised that they weren’t just randomly standing there; they were standing around The Teufel. 

You stopped running completely and approached the busiest part of the crowd at walking pace. Now you weren’t focusing on your own thoughts you heard that the people were all muttering and talking with each other—and that the people closer to the water were screaming and shouting. 

The few people that stood in between you and your destination you pushed aside softly and the closer you got the more you felt a strange heat on your face. When the woman in front of you stepped aside, your jaw dropped. 

There, in the water, right where it had been when you left earlier this night, lay The Teufel completely in flames. Not a single part of the main deck had been spared, flames were reaching high up in the sky, eating the masts like a monstrous creature. Thick dark grey clouds hung above the ship in the dark blue night sky. The flames curled around the hull of The Teufel, like a devil claiming its prey. Wooden walls collapsed, iron melted and ropes caught fire, sending the flames up to destroy the crow’s nest. 

Among the chaos on the shore and the sound of the fire, all you could think about was one thing. My family. The shouting and cackling couldn’t drown out the screams of terror that came from the belly of the ship. Cries for help, prayers to all gods and saints. Your crew was in there. Your people were inside of a burning ship. Your friends and family. They were all trapped. 

It could have been you. If you hadn’t lost track of time, you would’ve been there with them. You would have arrived before the twelve bells, gone inside with the others and would be trapped in there now. It could have been you, but instead it was your crew. And you didn’t know what was worse. 

There was nothing you could do. No way to run on the ship and free your mates without catching fire yourself. No way to stop that fire that was capturing The Teufel. No human could do it, no grisha either. This was more than an accidental fire, this was controlled. Don’t fight a bigger power without knowing its weaknesses. It was a phrase your father would say to you whenever you had been mad at the world as a child. The advice he had ignored before he had gone to fight his way into death. You didn’t know what the fire’s weaknesses were, if there were any weaknesses at all. All you could do was stand on the shore with your hands clasped over your chest and your eyes stuck on what had once been The Teufel. What had once been your home. 

The screams of the crew were engraving themselves in your mind, cutting you open and leaving deep wounds. The last bit of your hope had been left behind on that ship and was now burning away, leaving nothing but a hollow chest. 

Time passed by as you stood on the shore, watching the last remains of your home falling apart. You didn’t look away when the fire burst through the portholes in the hull of the ship and you didn’t flinch as you heard the last sounds you would ever hear from your crewmates. You took it all in, soaked your mind in the pain, feeling the shock and terror making place for fury. One day, you promised yourself. One day you would find a way to get revenge. 

You knew that in a city like this news would spread fast. Surely before sunrise all the people in Ketterdam would know of the ship that had burned away in Fifth Harbour. You wouldn’t be safe; not from the questions of the people and not from whoever had done this. You were sure that they wouldn’t be too keen on having missed someone from the crew before they blew it up. Chances were big that, if anyone ever found out that you had belonged to The Teufel, your days would be numbered. 

Fortunately you hadn’t told anyone you were part of The Teufel’s crew. Anyone but the barman at the Crow Club. You hadn’t literally told him, but you were sure he could put two and two together. 

Once the fire had been settled and the ashes of the wood were only still smoldering, you straightened your back. You would find the barman and ask him not to tell anyone. Or perhaps you would find your ending in the streets of the Barrel. The Teufel had been your home for two years, but it was time to get moving. 

-=-=-

The Crow Club stood proudly in front of you. Rain was running down your face, following the lines of your neck into your blouse. You were cold and your entire body was shaking but you knew that was more from the shock than the rain. In the back of your head you still heard the screams but you tried to block them out as you stepped to the gambling house. 

As you walked closer to the entrance, a boy stepped in front of the door, blocking your way. He was huge with arms full of tattoos and a mouth full of crooked teeth, some of them missing, and when you approached him you realised he was watching you. He expected me. This guy had been waiting for you, he had known that you would come back. How could he?

Hesitating you went forward. You had already seen the gun on his belt and you were quite sure if you turned around and walked away he wouldn’t be afraid to use it. In front of the boy you stopped and leaned to the side to look inside the building. 

“I’m sorry, could I go inside?” you asked, your voice mellow and innocent. “I would really like to warm up a little.” 

The man just tilted his head to the side and his lips turned into a stupid grin. His hand rested casually on his gun, though you knew that all his moves had been precisely calculated. Whether by himself or someone’s orders was your next guess. 

“You better follow me,” the boy said and his eyes glassily looked at you. 

“Do I have a choice then?” 

“No.” The man took his gun from his belt and easily pointed it to your chest. If he shot now he wouldn’t kill you, just harm you. So he wants me alive. 

“Fine, fine,” you mumbled and lifted your arms in the air to show you were defenceless. 

The guy roughly pushed you away from the door and held the barrel to your back as he led you away from the Crow Club. 

You weren’t sure why the boy didn’t just put a bullet through your head. If he was part of whoever had burned down The Teufel, why would he want you to stay alive? The rest had been murdered mercilessly, what did they have in mind for you? 

However, if he wasn’t not part of the fire, why did he want to have you at all? You couldn’t think of anything you had done wrong or of any danger you could be. You were pretty much just a harmless teen in a strange city. 

The man pushed you through the street and over a bridge. You made a few turns into small alleys and streets, passing houses in all shapes and kinds. Behind some windows flickered a soft light, others were dark. You heard screaming from one house and music from the house next to it. Laughter of children and cursing from adults. 

You stopped in front of a house that looked exactly like all the others; crippled and on the brink of collapse. The guy held his gun to you as he kicked open the door and then pressed the barrel deeper in your back to make you walk. Slowly you passed over the threshold and stood still in the hall of the house. 

Much different from what you had expected, the inside of the house was not damaged like the outside. While the colours and construction did look old, the house was built to survive for longer than just a few years. 

“Up,” the man mumbled and he nodded to the stairs. 

You followed his order and headed up the stairs, feeling your legs ache from all the walking on land you had done in the past hours. Though you got used quite fast to the difference, a sudden change from sea to shore did have its effects on your body. Especially if you crossed an entire city twice in one night. 

The staircase led to a landing with many doors. The house wasn’t particularly big and with that many doors, you figured the rooms must be small. You wondered what this house was used for. It almost had the feeling of a hostel, but there wouldn’t be many guests if putting a gun to someone’s head was their way of advertising. 

“That room,” said the guy and he gestured at one of the doors in the corridor. 

The wooden planks creaked under the weight of your body. The door of the room was closed and the man with the gun knocked on it with much more restraint than you expected from someone who had just abducted you from the streets. 

It was silent for a moment as you and the man waited for the door to open. Your heart was beating in your throat and you swallowed deeply. Nerves were running through your body, sending tingles down to your fingertips. 

The door opened and before you had time to look inside, the guy pushed you inside and closed the door again behind you. You were inside a small room, with a bed, a chair and a closet that put half the room in shadows. On the wall opposite of the door was a little window, showing the side of another building that stood next to the house. The window reminded you of the portholes inside the hold of a ship, your least favourite place as there was very little light. 

However, the room didn’t have much space in your mind as your attention was caught by the person in the room. He could not be much older than you yet it felt like this boy had more character than an old man. His face was hidden in the shadows but you could make out the hard lines framed by sleek black hair. His eyes shone like emeralds under his dark brows and there was a malicious glance in them when they rested on you. 

“Sit,” he spoke and the rock salt rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. “Please.”

You sat down on the simple wooden chair in the middle of the room, though you rather would’ve kept standing. The boy was towering over you now, standing in front of you, leaning on his cane. Your eyes slid to the silver handle under his gloved hands. It had the shape of a crow’s head.  

 “Who are you?” you asked, trying to calm the nerves you felt rushing through you. You weren’t necessarily afraid of the boy, but you also couldn’t deny the unease in your body.

The boy cocked his head to the side and the smallest wicked grin played on his lips. “An hour ago a ship was set ablaze in Fifth Harbour,” the boy said and you looked away from his stern gaze. “The Teufel. A rather bold way of naming a ship, after the devil, isn’t it? Nothing is left of The Teufel, no plank, no crewmate. Or at least, so is said. That is why you are here, not y/n?” 

Your head snapped up to the boy and your eyes narrowed at him. “You know my name?” 

“I know lots, y/n, and your name happens to be on that list,” the boy said and it was a little harder for him to hide his smirk. He’s enjoying it, you realised in disbelief. This is what he’s trained for. “I also know that you are the only living crewmate and that you visited my club this evening.” 

“Your club?” You frowned—he seemed way too young to have a successful gambling club. 

“Yes, my club,” the boy repeated and he shifted his weight, letting a sigh fall from his lips. “You sat at the bar and ordered more drinks in two hours than an average adult would in four hours.” 

You looked back at your feet. You knew you had trouble staying away from the drinks, but that didn’t make it any nicer when someone pointed it out. At sea it had never really mattered—the others had drunk with you and as long as you did your duties successfully the captain didn’t care if you were sober or not. 

“You spoke with no one and just watched the games, until my barman got some information out of you,” the boy went on and you felt his gaze on you. “He said you were able to determine the outcome of the game after just the first card was played.” 

“So?” you shrugged. Surely that was not why the boy had gotten you there and it was definitely not something that was on your mind right now. All you could think of were the screams and the longer you sat in the dark room, the more cramped it became. 

“Can you?” 

“I don’t see how—” 

“Answer the question.” His voice was hard and cold, but laced with curiosity that he failed to hide from you. 

“I guess I can, yes.” 

The boy stayed silent for a while and the tension in the room reached for your throat. You had never been one for small rooms, that’s why you had chosen for the sea. And now the anxiety of all that had happened that night was piling up on your chest, like someone pressing down on you. The walls were closing in on you, leaving you gasping for breath. Your clothes were still wet and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck, but you were no longer cold. 

You clenched your hands around the fabric of your blouse, feeling it crumple between your fingers. But even in your panicked state you could see the change in demeanor in the boy. He planned this. He had known this would happen, he had deliberately put you in this room, knowing what it would do to you. 

“What do you want from me?” you breathed, looking up to meet his eyes, and then added with an intensity you didn’t know was in you: “Did you kill them?” 

The hard expression on the boy’s face fell for a moment as he looked at you. For a minute he turned into a boy his age, someone with a soul. “I promise you I didn’t kill them. I had nothing to do with the fire.” Then he straightened his back and slammed his cane on the floor, pulling himself out of the moment. “I have business. We’ll continue in the morning.” 

The boy limped to the door and the cane suddenly made more sense. He pulled the door open and stepped through it when you interrupted him. 

“Who are you?” 

He looked over his shoulder and casted a dark glance at your figure. You had stood up from your chair and were still holding onto the back for balance. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t read and you feared that it wouldn’t be the last time that happened. 

“Kaz Brekker. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

-=-=-

The mattress you were lying on was lumpy and hard, forcing your back to straighten in a way it never had to. The blanket was itchy and heavy and pressed hard on your chest, not allowing you to take deep breaths. 

You were shifting in and out of sleep, unable to tell reality from imagination. One moment you were staring at the dark ceiling above you, the next you were sitting alone in the hold of The Teufel. The room around you moved in front of your eyes, the shadows dancing on the walls. In the ship, water slowly rose around you. You tried to get up, tried to run away, but it was as if you were glued to the floor. Unable to move you sat waiting for the rising water to reach for your throat. 

Something moved in the room. It was a flicker of a shadow in the corner of your eye but enough for you to notice. You forced your eyes open, but the water was rising so quickly it was impossible for you to focus on anything else. The water level was at your jaw now. You took a final breath and the shadow in the room moved again. Closing your eyes against the water, it rose above your nose. 

Then there was more movement. The shadow was coming closer to you, moving with the grace of a cloud. 

Feeling the water on your face, you opened your eyes and shot up in the bed. The water disappeared and you were in the dark room again, shaking and coughing. Yet the threat wasn’t gone; the shadow was still in the corner. 

You shifted to the side and rested your back against the cold wall, looking at the shadow in anticipation. While your heart was beating in your throat, you calmly looked ahead of you until the shadow moved from the corner. 

“How did you see me?” the shadow asked and you shrugged. 

“You move like a spider.” And I’m afraid of spiders. 

Out of the shadows stepped a young girl, hidden in a flowy cloak that moved along with her. The lack of light threw a veil over the room, covering it with a black and white filter, but still you could make out the brown skin of the girl and her almost black eyes, that were staring right at you. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though it would be no surprise if the girl had something to do with your meeting with Brekker a few hours ago. 

“Look,” the girl said and she moved to sit next to you on the bed. You caught a shimmer of something near her wrists, but when you looked at her she was wearing a light smile. “This isn’t the worst place to end up. You have walked through these streets; you know where you could have ended.” 

You thought back of earlier this evening when you were walking through the roads of the Barrel for the first time. The girl was right; if you hadn’t been brought to where you were now you could have turned into the colourless types that you had seen or, worse, you could have ended up in one of the brothels. 

“Kaz doesn’t just take anyone in,” the girl continued. “He must think you have some use, or he would have left you on the streets.”

You snorted; that wasn’t exactly a much better prospect. 

The girl must have guessed your thought because she chuckled shortly. “I know it does not seem like it now, but trust me—this is the right place to be.” 

Silence filled the room for a minute as you thought about the girl’s words. Instinct told you that you could trust her, and that her trust once lost, was lost forever. There were so many questions you wanted to ask her but you were afraid of the answers. You preferred mystery over knowledge right now. 

The shadow girl was looking at you with pity on her face, like she felt bad for your situation. There was sympathy behind her eyes and compassion in her touch as she placed her hand shortly over yours, giving it the lightest squeeze. 

“What’s your name?” you asked, your throat tightening at the threat of tears. 

The girl stared at you for a second and then she gave you a smile. “Inej,” she said. “But you might hear of me as the Wraith.” 

Inej got up from her place on the bed and walked to the door. Her cloak fluttered behind her through the air as she walked, falling against her legs when she halted. She turned around to you. “Kaz will send someone to get you in the morning.” 

“What will happen?” 

“I don’t know what he has planned,” Inej sighed. “But I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do.” 

She shot you a final smile and left the room silently. The shadow disappeared as quietly as it had come. 

-=-=-

You didn’t know if you had slept at all. Undoubtedly you had dozed off for a while, but for most of the night you had just lain on your back staring at the stains on the ceiling above you. When the morning sun had brightened your room, the hope that it might all be a dream had disappeared when reality came in crashing hard. 

The clothes you had worn last night had dried from the rain, but they no longer brought the comfort they used to. Here wearing those clothes meant that you stood out; you couldn’t blend in. When the same guy as last night had knocked on your door and ordered you to follow him you had left your jacket behind, deciding that the rest of your outfit was conspicuous enough on its own. 

Last night in the dark the house had been silent, but now you heard noise everywhere. There were many more doors than you had thought and behind every one lay a secret. The house seemed bigger now it was light. Although there was no direct sunlight in the corridors you could sense that it was day. Last night you had felt mystery as you had walked through the corridors but now it felt more like the boarding school you had gone to with all the whispers. 

“Where are we going?” you asked the boy who had brought you to this house. 

“Crow Club,” he grumbled and then kept silent. 

You walked the same route you had last night, but now the streets were deserted and the houses quiet. The Barrel was the part of Ketterdam that lived at night. 

The big, silver crow that hung above the entrance of the Crow Club like a guardian quickly came to your sight and you shivered lightly. Entering that club was what had gotten you in this situation and you feared you would only get deeper in this mess when you entered again. 

However, the big guy behind you left you no choice and before you even had time to think he had already pushed you over the threshold. 

Stumbling inside you were greeted by the same black, windowless walls and the same stuffed scent. The crimson stools at the bar were unoccupied but the tables on the gambling floor were played on, despite the early hours. Games of Ridderspel and Spijker were in full motion as you were led through a door on the side of the room. 

“Close the door behind you, Pim,” a voice from the shadows said and the boy who had led you there, apparently named Pim, closed the door. 

You looked at the strange scene in front of you. You hadn’t known what to expect but it sure wasn’t a gambling parlor. There was one big table in the middle of the room and around it stood eight chairs. Only one of the chairs was occupied and with a jolt you recognised the boy from the Zemeni guns. 

“Goede morgen,” he smiled at you as he leaned back in his chair. “Care for a game?” 

“What?” You stood rooted to the ground, staring in confusion at the guy at the table. 

From the shadows on the side of the room Kaz Brekker stepped. The loud, rhythmic thud from his cane on the floor was the only sound in the room as he walked to the table. He stopped in the middle and looked up at you with his hard cold gaze. 

“Play a game,” he said, resting his two hands on the crow head of his cane. 

“I don’t understand,” you tried. 

“It’s easy,” Brekker said. “You said you were good at card games, right? So prove it—play a game with Jesper.”

Jesper, the boy at the table, flashed his smile full of white teeth at you and raised his eyebrows. It felt like a trap, but you couldn’t forget what Inej had said to you that night. I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do. An invitation to a game wouldn’t be your end. 

Behind you Pim stepped closer to you and put his hand on your shoulder to push you forward. Within a second you had turned around and taken hold of his arm, twisting it dangerously close to breaking. The boy looked at you with somewhat of fright on his face and there was a little wave of triumph in your stomach. The emotions of the situation got the better of you and your heart was racing as you felt the anger rushing through your veins.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed through gritted teeth and pushed his arm a little further. “Understand?” 

Pim’s eyes flashed to the two people behind you and he recollected himself. He pulled his arm from your grip and stepped back to the door, avoiding your eyes and looking gruffly ahead. 

You turned around and found Jesper looking at you in awe and even Brekker couldn’t hide his surprise. Then you nodded at the two men and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Let’s play then.”

Brekker nodded approvingly and shuffled the cards with his gloved hands. Your eyes were glued to the smooth movement of the crows imprinted cards. They slid through the fingers of the pale black-haired smoothly like water. 

“I assume you know Ridderspel?” the gloved dealer asked as he placed four cards in front of you on the table. 

“Of course,” you said, watching Jesper intently as this one got his cards. 

Because everything in the situation was new for you, it would take you two or three rounds before you would get used to the game. All, from the cards and chairs to your opponent and the dealer, was unfamiliar to you and combining that with the pressure of supposably your life on the line only made it easier to overlook things. 

Therefore you had to pay extra attention, and mostly to Jesper. His easygoing attitude and big smile were dangerous tricks that could throw you off without any difficulty but you wouldn’t fall for them. You were looking for little things that would give him away, like the slightest falter of his smile, a tiny frown or nervous twitch. 

Jesper picked up his cards and you watched him from the corner of your eyes as you pretended to look at your own cards. For this round however those wouldn’t really matter. First you had to find Jesper’s tell. That you might lose and give him confidence was only an additional benefit; people made more mistakes when they’re blinded by the price. 

At first nothing seemed to happen. Jesper kept the same smirk on his face and played the round with nonchalance, taking all but one pair in the game. Triumphantly he leaned his chair back on two chair legs and stacked his chips in front of him. 

“Don’t worry love, you’ll get it later,” he said, giving you a wink.

You shot him a sweet smile back and took the new cards off the table. After one look you had them memorised and you looked at Jesper. He was looking at his cards with sparkles in his eyes, but yet again it was no different than before. 

Silently you cursed yourself. Last night he had seemed so open and easy to read, but you realised now that there were many more layers to the guy with the pearl-handled revolvers. 

Again you lost the game, now with all your cards being lost to Jesper. His pile of red chips was building and yours was only getting lower. You looked at your chips. If you didn’t win soon the game would be over and you’d lose, and you didn’t want to think what consequences that had. 

The third game were the last cards of the deck before it was shuffled again. Your hand was to your benefit with no card lower than six. You knew there weren’t many high cards, if any at all, left in the game since Jesper had beaten you with high numbers every time. That meant that he would have low cards and now was the perfect time to watch his reaction. 

You took a new approach to finding his tell. Instead of focusing on his facial expressions, that he proved to have under control, you now concentrated on his body language. His shoulders hung relaxed and his arms were resting on the edge of the table. Though you couldn’t see his legs under the table, you knew they weren’t standing neatly on the ground but were instead crossed or at least moving. Nothing in his posture gave him away. 

Until it did. It was a flash of a second, if you’d blinked you wouldn't have seen it. For a fraction of time Jesper’s shoulders fell and his arms stiffened. No one else in the room noticed it, but your senses became hypersensitive. 

Then, when you looked at his face, you saw more. His smirk wasn’t genuine anymore and the sparkles in his eyes weren’t as bright as before. It were minuscule changes, but big messages to you. 

“I raise,” you spoke calmly and you pushed forward the last of your chips. It was all or nothing. 

You saw Brekker raising his eyebrow in the corner of your eye, but you were focused on Jesper. His brows furrowed a little and he pushed forward the same amount. Though he had chips left, if you won this round you would have much more than he, meaning you won this game. 

“Let’s play,” you grinned and opened with your six, your lowest card, but still a rather high card. 

Jesper’s card would be crucial. If he had higher than a six, he would play that and you wouldn’t win the game. If he had a six, he would play that one  and the cards would be evened out, but you would know that the six was his highest card. If he played anything lower than a six it would mean that you had won the game, for no one would lose a round on purpose and play a lower card when they had a higher one. 

Expectantly you looked at Jesper. His smirk had gone and made place for a frown as he looked at the card on the table. His joyful bluffing face was nowhere to be seen and a sigh fell from his lips when he realised his defeat. He threw a five on the table and sunk back in his chair. 

With a grin on your face you played the rest of the round and won all Jesper’s cards. At the end of the game, you rested your chin on your folded hands and smiled at Jesper. “You know what?” you started and Jesper looked up at you. “I think I got it.”

-=-=-

Kaz and Jesper had left the room after the game and Pim was standing on the outside of the door, making sure no one would get in. They had not said a word to you when they left and now you were alone in the silent gambling parlor. At least, that’s what they wanted you to believe. 

“Inej,” you said. “Come out please.” 

No matter how focused you had been on the game, you hadn’t missed the little shadow sneaking inside near the end. And you hadn’t missed how Brekker’s eyes had shifted to one particular corner while he was watching your game with Jesper. 

The girl appeared from the shadow and silently walked over to you, giving you a small smile. “How did you know I was here?” 

“Because you wanted to be seen,” you simply said and by the way her eyes widened you knew you were right. “I don’t really know you, but I have the feeling you can be really invisible if you want. Me seeing you is not a coincidence or special talent of mine. You wanted me to see you.” 

Inej chuckled softly and shook her head. “How do you do that? Knowing what I feel by just looking at me?” 

You smiled and shrugged. “I had a tutor,” you said. “Mayranoush was her name. She taught me how to know people before they even see you.”

The memory of The Teufel’s quartermaster hurt. The weird situation you were in had taken your mind off the loss for a moment, but now there was nothing to distract you the pain came double as hard. 

You thought of your crew and how much you already missed them. Captain Nerseh and his brusque manners but warm heart; Marina and her cheerfulness; Vinay, who was the only one who still had wanted to play games with you. You missed them all so much and you couldn’t believe that they weren’t there anymore. 

But the one you missed the most was Stefan. He had been your best friend for the past two years, you had spent every day together and never had you thought you’d have to say goodbye. You thought of his last words to you. Back then you hadn’t known what to say, but now as you were sitting there without him you knew that you loved him too. But it was too late. 

“Jer elsker pe,” you whispered to yourself. 

“What?” Inej asked and you looked up. You had forgotten she was sitting next to you, so silent she was. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled and then turned to her. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Inej answered and she smiled at you. 

“Have you ever loved someone?” 

Inej’s eyes flickered to the door Kaz had just left through and then she looked at you in silence for a minute. “No,” she said finally. “Never loved like that. Why?” 

You stared at the upholstered table in front of you and swallowed away the pain in your throat. “I just… It hurts so much. Everyone always says that love is the most beautiful thing in the world, but no one ever mentions the pain…” 

“Maybe the pain makes you appreciate it more,” Inej said. “Often we don’t see what we have until it’s gone.” 

A tear rolled down your cheek and you shook your head. Inej was right; you hadn’t known you loved Stefan until he was gone. But that didn’t matter anymore. There was no way you could get the Fjerdan back and you wouldn’t turn into a mess trying to find one. You would keep your love for him deep in your heart until it was nothing more than a memory. 

“Life’s not fair,” you said and you wiped the tears from your face. “But I’ll get my even.” 

“How?” Inej asked and you turned to her. 

“I will find who burned down my home and I will destroy them to the ground they’re standing on.” 

“I suggest you find help for that,” the cold voice of Kaz Brekker said. 

You looked to your side to meet Kaz and Jesper. Pim was standing inside of the room again, still avoiding your eyes when you looked at him. Jesper was watching you with a smirk and he winked at you when he caught your eyes. 

Finally you turned to Brekker, who was looking at you with a peculiar expression. There was something playing around his lips that you would almost call a smile and his eyes had lost the ice cold gaze. 

“Who do you suggest?” you asked, looking up at Kaz. 

He shrugged half and said, before he walked away: “I have some connections.” 

Pim and he disappeared behind the door and you were left dumbfounded with Inej and Jesper. The latter placed his hand on your shoulder and chuckled. You looked between him and Inej and raised an eyebrow. “What just happened?” 

“I think you just became a member of the Dregs.” 

- - - - - 

special thanks to @awritingtree​ for the support and encouragement <3

there’s no taglist yet, but let me know if youw ant to be added to the SoC-taglist!

MASTERLIST

[ncssian]

A Favor: Bonus Scene (Gwynriel)

takes place immediately after Part 19 of A Favor. <1k words

***

Gwyn wakes to blackness with someone’s legs tucked between hers. She freezes for a second, struggling to remember where she is, when it comes back to her: she’s in Nesta’s boyfriend’s cabin. Those are Emerie’s legs. No one attempted anything nefarious while she was asleep, as far as she knows, but her mouth feels thick and dry, and she has a pounding headache from the singular can of beer Emerie got her to chug.

Groaning, she untangles herself from Emerie and clambers to her feet. Water. She needs water.

In the dark kitchen, the clock over the oven tells her it’s nearly five in the morning. Shuffling around until she finds a glass, she fills it up from the fridge and downs it in one gulp. She’s halfway through her second glass when the lamps over the kitchen island flick on, and she nearly chokes in surprise. Coughing, she spins around to find Cassian’s brother looking just as surprised to find her there.

Gwyn composes herself, wiping spilled water from her chin. “Oh, hey,” she croaks.

Az is fully dressed, thank god, but his tangled hair is damp like he just came out of the shower. He nods, mutters a “hey” back, and heads for a cabinet. Gwyn stands awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen with her half-finished water, knowing she can make a run for it if she really needs to, but not wanting to be thought of as a weirdo. She still feels the sting of embarrassment whenever she remembers her first meeting with Cassian.

Besides, Az is cool, right? He’s not nearly as hulking as Cassian or as intimidating as most men she’s interacted with, and he moves with a cadence that almost feels nostalgic.

It makes the nosy part of herself ask, “Did you just wake up?”

Az stiffens like he wasn’t expecting small talk. “No,” he answers curtly, getting out a mug and turning on the coffeemaker. When Gwyn waits for more, he adds, “I didn’t go to sleep in the first place.”

Has Gwyn lost her ability to interact with men, or did she never have it? She frowns curiously at Az’s back. Or is it just this man?

Maybe it’s because Nesta and Emerie are only one shout away, or maybe it’s because she can’t feel a lick of aggression coming from Az, but Gwyn pokes, “Why not?”

He shrugs, watching coffee pour into his mug. “Just ‘cause I couldn’t.”

His bluntness nudges at some long-forgotten memory in Gwyn’s head, making her even more curious. She sets her glass down and crosses her arms, determined to find out who he reminds her of. “Something troubling your soul?” she prods. “My grandmother used to tell me the sleepless were those who carry lots of darkness around with them.”

Slowly, Az leans his fists on the countertop and looks at her directly for the first time since he entered the kitchen. A sudden jolt of recognition passes through Gwyn at his frank hazel stare. “You talk a lot, don’t you?” he says.

She remembers now. Remembers where she knows that odd demeanor from, and regrets lingering here for so long. “I’ll stop bothering you, then,” she says, forcing a light laugh. “I’m gonna head back to bed now.” She spins around on her heel, hoping to book it out of there.

“Gwyneth Berdara?” His voice halts her in her tracks. He sounds slow, inquisitive.

She freezes with her back to him, which is answer enough. “It is you,” he says, recognition lightening his tone.

And he’s Az, short for…

Turning around warily, Gwyn smiles a tight smile. “Azriel.”

He points at himself. “Remember me? From—”

“Third grade, yeah.” The same kid who fell off the monkey bars and landed on her head. “You were held back a year because you were a little…” She taps her temple.

“Dumb?”

“I was going to say ‘funny’.” The kid she remembers would trip over his own shoelaces, giggle at random things like clouds passing by, and was generally an easy punching bag for the students of Ms. Quinn’s third grade class. But wow, has he grown up. Gwyn has a feeling he doesn’t get easily bullied these days, not with the muscles and stunning beauty.

Azriel laughs out loud at Gwyn’s response, and the sound shocks her. “You were funny, too,” he notes with a growing smile, leaning against the counter with his coffee forgotten. “What did everyone call you? Was it Freckleface?”

Gwyn feels her face turning red, likely highlighting those very freckles right now. Gone is the reserved Az that play-fights with Nesta and broodily eats cookies, replaced by a goblin that only wants to torment her. She’s horrified. “There’s no need to bring that up again,” she tries to encourage. “It wasn’t a very creative name in the first place.”

“Eight year olds aren’t known for their creativity, Freckleface,” he retorts. “Besides, we had lots of other names for you. Bigfoot, Gwyneth the Friendly Giant, Carrot Top,” he counts them off on his fingers.

“That’s enough!” Gwyn holds her hands up in surrender. “Please stop.” No one deserves to relive their elementary school nightmares like that. “If we could go about our lives pretending we’ve never met before, that would be great,” she pleads.

He hisses in a breath, pretending to think. “I don’t know. It would be hard for me to forget the girl who made me eat dirt on the playground.”

She makes a sound of protest. “You nearly broke my neck! I think we’re even.” She really hopes they’re even.

He stares her down for a long moment, then shrugs. “Eh.”

Her eyes widen. “What does that mean?”

Azriel ignores her question, saying instead, “It was nice running into you.” He grabs his coffee and winks as he heads for the door. “See you around, Freckles.”

***

a/n: gwyn is tall 🤝 azriel is a little shit

tags: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 13

Hello friends we have come to the end of Cult Girl. Thank you all for hyping me up throughout this story and giving me the confidence to actually post my work. Y/n and Hannibal throw a dinner party.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the entire kitchen in that homey mid-morning glow. You were enjoying your coffee and scrolling through an article on your phone.

"Senator Hatch reportedly coughed up his late wife's toe on the floor of the precinct." You read out loud. "Huh. Wonder how that could have happened."

You side-eyed Hannibal, who was contentedly sharpening his knives. Placing a rather large meat cleaver to the side, he met your gaze. "I have my ways."

You finished off your coffee and brought the mug to the sink. "There was no way Theresa was going to survive that night, was there?"

"Clever girl." Hannibal praised.

"You were going to kill her if I didn't, were you?" You felt a smile coming on. "Did everything turn out as expected?"

"Darling, this all went much better than I could have ever hoped for." He smirked. "See, I had the whole evening mapped out. I was hoping you'd be the one to deliver justice and kill her, but I had to prepare for the possibility that you wouldn't."

You folded your arms and leaned against the island. "Is that why I was so sick that day?"

You could have sworn you saw some hesitation in Hannibal's face. Maybe even a touch of regret. "Yes. You needed an alibi. It was as easy as removing a single birth control pill from your packet. You'd see it was missing and think you'd already taken your medicine-"

"So I'd neglect to take my focus meds." You cut in. "Yeah, I knew something was off."

"By the end of the day, you'd be experiencing full withdrawal symptoms." Hannibal nodded. "I don't take any pleasure in upsetting the delicate balance of your brain chemistry, and for that I am sorry. I did what I had to."

"Yeah, don't ever do that again." You ordered, no disarming smile in sight. "I need those meds to function."

"I promise you, darling," Hannibal said, sincerely. "I would never keep you from being anything but your very best. I was just looking after you."

"I suppose now that all this is out in the open, you won't need to pull any shit like that again." You muttered. "But I'm still going to keep my pills at my apartment."

"That reminds me." He said. "Would you like to invite your roommates for dinner tonight? I've prepared a wonderful Spanish-inspired menu that's perfect for entertaining."

"I'd love for you to meet my friends, but, they all keep such weird hours I doubt they'll all be free tonight." You shrugged. "I'll give them a call though."

"Wonderful." He smiled. "You make arrangements while I prepare the kitchen."

You stepped into the office and called up Pilar. She answered within the minute.

"[F/N]!" She near shouted. "Holy fuck, how are you doing?"

"I'm actually doing..." you looked back into the kitchen, watching your beloved Hannibal in his element. "Really well."

"I heard about your cousin." Pilar cut in. "One down, two to go."

You snorted. "No fucking shit."

"Sorry, was that okay for me to say?" She apologized. "I know you said Theresa was a bitch, but it's your trauma and I-"

"No, you're fine." You laughed. "She was a bitch. Hey, do you have any plans tonight?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so." She answered. "Why?"

"Hannibal wants to invite you all for dinner tonight." You said with an audible smile. "Y'know, to celebrate the bitch's death."

"Yo! Steph!" Pilar shouted across the room. "Wake Randy up! We're having dinner at [F/N]'s rich boyfriend's house!"

You could make out Stephanie's voice in the background. "It's about damn time. We've been waiting for her to redistribute the wealth."

"She means thank you for the invitation." Pilar corrected.

"It's not like I had to twist his arm or anything. It was his idea." You chuckled. "He loves having guests. And excuses to dress up."

"Oh so we're getting fancy, huh?" Pilar's voice turned up in excitement.

"Hey [F/N]!" Randy snatched the phone from Pilar. "Text me the menu for tonight. My girlfriend'll steal a nice bottle of wine to pair. She's a pro, she works over at Cavatappi's wine and spirits."

"Much obliged, Randy." You said. "I'll see you guys at seven."

You returned to the kitchen with a smile. "They're coming."

"Well, we don’t have a moment to lose, then." Hannibal placed something wrapped in butcher paper on the counter. "Come now. Let me show you how to properly prepare a heart.

You and Hannibal spent the rest of the morning and the whole afternoon preparing a bountiful meal. You reveled in the irony of finally finding a space for Theresa in your life. That space just so happened to be on the stove.

Seven came far too quickly, but your friends were always a welcome sight. You greeted them at the door with hugs, Hannibal watching with stoic adoration.

"Guys, this is Hannibal Lecter, my partner." You introduced. "Hannibal, this is Pilar, Stephanie and Miranda."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies." Hannibal greeted. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

"Here you go, Dr. Lecter." Randy handed him a bottle of wine. "Thank you for inviting us."

Hannibal examined the bottle. "Yes, this will pair quite nicely with our meal. Thank you very much. [F/N], could you show our guests to the dining room?"

You nodded and accepted the bottle, given the extra responsibility of pouring. You led your friends to the dining room and wasted no time distributing the alcohol.

"A toast." Stephanie rose her glass. "Too many of history's worst have had the privilege of dying on their own terms. Today, we celebrate the death of one who didn't: Theresa [L/N]."

"She will join her sisters Nancy Reagan and Madame Nhu in hell tonight." You concurred, tapping your glasses together with a series of satisfying clinks.

"Okay, you need to spill." Randy scooted her chair up and leaned towards you. "How the hell did you get away with it?"

"Well, it helped a lot that her husband was already a felon." You teased. "If I didn't kill her, he was going to eventually."

Pilar made a face. "I can't believe it took actual murder to get that latter-day lump thrown in prison."

"Well, the LDS church is a very influential organization with a stronghold on all of Utah." You explained. "There's a long history of legitimizing sex abuse there."

"We know, cult girl." Stephanie laughed. "You remind us every time your pedophile cousin-in-law comes up. Relax and take your victories where you can get them.” 

“Ladies,” Hannibal entered. You rushed to his side to help him with the dinner plates. “Have we ever tried organ meat before?” 

Everyone’s eyes found Pilar. 

“Braised liver is delicious and you guys are just cowards.” Pilar protested. “I will die on this hill.” 

Hannibal smiled and presented your friends with their plates. “You are a woman of good tastes, Pilar. Our first course is Riñones al Jerez.” 

“Kidneys.” Randy translated. “Who’s kidneys are we eating today, Dr. Lecter?” 

He tilted his head. “Theresa’s, of course.” 

“I don’t care whose organs you harvested.” Stephanie said, her eyes rolling back into her head. “This is delicious.” 

You and Hannibal shared a glance and a smile. 

You and your roommates devoured the Riñones al Jerez, then dug into the next serving of heart stewed with chickpeas and olives. You finished off the evening with natillas de leche and a bottle of Sauternes Hannibal just happened to have lying around. 

“This is the first time since like, Keith Raniere got sentenced that I’ve seen [F/N] happy-drunk.” Stephanie observed.

“Or even just... happy." Pilar said, looking at Hannibal. "I'll have some of whatever she's having, please."

"My pleasure." Hannibal poured her another glass of wine.

Your phone began to buzz on the table, capturing the attention of your guests. You didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Nobody else in the world had such horrid timing.

"Shit, you've got to answer it here!" Stephanie pleaded. "So we can all give her a piece of our mind!"

You looked over to Hannibal, who you knew was just as curious.

You dragged the answer icon across the screen and put it on speaker. You gestured for your friends to be quiet. "Yeah?"

"Well look who finally decided to pick up." Grandma said. "Thank you for gracing me with your attention. I know you have so much going on right now, you're just too busy to pick up the phone and talk to your grieving grandmother."

"For your information..." you stumbled over your words. "I was interrogated by the police yesterday. I think that counts as having something going on."

"Are you drunk?" Her voice was laced with a disproportionate level of disgust.

"I'm grieving too, Beatrice." You counter. "What, suddenly you're the only one who can drink the pain away? That's not very democratic of you."

"In your state, you shouldn't even be thinking of alcohol!" Grandma scolded. "You of all people should know the effects alcohol has on an unborn baby."

You smacked yourself on the head. Of course Theresa would plant a seed to fuck you over one last time. "Did Theresa actually tell you I was pregnant?"

"It was her last message to me, actually. Anyway, you're coming home." Grandma said, without so much as waiting for a response. "I won't have my great grandchild living in that dangerous city that your cousin was killed in."

You exchanged looks with your friends, who were going through the same combination of emotions as you were. Grandma's words just seemed to fade out as you shared an entire nonverbal conversation with the people around you.

"And you're leaving that terrible, terrible man."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and looked at you, waiting to see how you'd respond. You knew what you had to do. It was finally time. You did something you should have done a long time ago.

"No." You said, your nerves loosened by the wine.

"What?"

"No. And I mean it." A big smile crossed your lips. "Theresa lied to you. I'm not pregnant. And you have to live with the fact that your granddaughter's last words to you were a blatant lie."

Hannibal looked at you with pride and your friends began to silently gas you up with encouraging gestures. "

"...And that you're the only one to blame for her deception." You continued. "You raised her in your own image."

"This is why I refuse to let you raise my great grandchild with that man!" She wailed. "He's twisted your mind against me! He's made you cruel!"

"Hannibal made me see clearly that you made me cruel." You said with absolute certainty. "You'll never see me again."

"Don't be like your mother, [F/N]." Grandma snarled. "Don't cut people out for trying to help."

"You'll never see me again." You repeated and decided to leave it at that. You ended the call and blocked the number, joined by an eruption of excitement from your friends.

It was finally over. Your life could truly begin.

[fangirl-writes]

Pop Culture

Benny Weir x Reader

Request:  hey i hope ur doing well! would u be able to do a benny x fem!reader where she’s really popular and has a crush on him and isn’t shy about it. benny likes her a lot too but he’s scared that she’ll just end up leaving him for another popular kid. so she makes multiple public declarations as well as takes him on a string of extravagant dates to show him how much she truly likes him.

Warning(s): none. A lot of star wars references. Like. A LOT.

Notes: I am doing fine thank you! Sorry for taking so long with this one. This was cute. I got a little side tracked from the main request and just went all in with the star wars theme, I’m so sorry.

Y/N L/N was one of the most popular girls in school. That was undoubtable. She was a cheerleader, head of the prom committee, former homecoming queen, and her parents were one of the richest people in town.

But the fact that she had the biggest crush on Benny Weir, resident star wars lover, science wiz, and all around huge geek? Unbelievable.

Extremely unbelievable in Benny’s opinion, even if she had grown up in the house across the street from him.

And Y/N wasn’t shy about her crush on him. In fact, she was very unsubtle about it.

She left him hoards of candy in his locker, hung a bouquet of roses for valentine’s day, and stood on a cafeteria table to wish him the grandest of happy birthdays. 

“Benny!” She cooed as she walked down the hallway with some of her other friends, who were currently rolling their eyes so far into the back of their heads that the nerd squad thought they might get stuck.

“Oh, no,” Benny said, a blush spreading across his cheeks as she approached him, Ethan, and Rory, leaving her posse behind.

“Benny, I rented out the entire movie theater for a star wars marathon this weekend, if you’re free?” She asked.

Benny could barely concentrate on what she said because of how close she was. He could smell her sugary perfume and see the school fluorescents shining in her pretty (e/c) eyes.

He stumbled over his words for a minute before spitting out, “Can’t! Already got plans with Ethan, can’t back out, been planning it for months, years, a whole decade. Can’t miss it.”

“We have?”

Benny elbowed Ethan in the ribs.

“Oh. Right, those plans. Yeah.”

You frowned, looking disappointed. “Oh. Okay.”

Your smile returned for a minute. “Can we reschedule then? Is tonight good for you?”

“Ah, well, you know what-”

The screech of the school bell interrupted him and he looked relieved.

“Well, look at that, saved by the bell! Sorry, Y/N, gotta get to class.” He took off down the hallway. It was the fastest Ethan had ever seen Benny run.

You turned to Ethan, looking more devastated than ever. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“Who? Benny?” he replied. “No. No, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Then why does he keep giving me excuses? The old Benny would straight up turn me down...” You said, crossing your arms and staring at the floor.

Ethan put a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Benny absolutely doesn’t hate you. He’s just...nervous, I guess.”

“Nervous?” You echoed. “About what?”

“Well, you’re really popular and he’s...well, he’s Benny. He’s just afraid that you’re gonna leave him for someone like David Stachowski.”

You pulled a face. “Hairy Dave? No thanks. He’s dog.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ethan muttered.

“And you guys know I’m the same Y/N, right? Just because I run with a more popular crowd doesn’t mean I stopped liking nerdy things and stopped thinking about my nerdy friends.”

Ethan laughed. “It’s just a big change from how it used to be. You don’t have braces and a star wars backpack anymore.”

You returned the laugh, remembering how you used to be. “Well, I’ll just have to prove it to him. Will you help me?”

Ethan’s face contorted. “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Come on! Help me, Ethan Skywalker! You’re my only hope!”

Ethan sighed. You got him.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” You wrapped him in a hug. “Now let’s get to class!”

***

“Is everything ready?” You asked Ethan over the phone.

“Yeah, good on your end?” He replied.

“Yep. Movie theater is set. All up to you now.”

“On it.” He said before hanging up and shoving the phone in his pocket. He took a deep breath before bursting into Benny’s house and running up the stairs frantically.

“Benny!” Ethan shouted slamming his bedroom door open.

Benny let out a high pitched scream, falling from his desk chair onto the floor.

“They’ve got Y/N!”

“What?!” Benny bolted upright. “Who’s got Y/N?”

“A couple vampires out for revenge. They must have seen us talking at school the other day. They’ve got her trapped at the movie theater-”

“What are we waiting for?” Benny said, bolting out the door passed Ethan. “Let’s go! Grandma I’m taking the car!”

Ethan waved to Benny’s grandmother as he ran passed her, following Benny out the door.

He hoped this worked.

***

Benny parked the car and was about to run into the theater, guns blazing, but Ethan caught his elbow.

“Wait, wait, we can’t just burst in there! Look!” He said, pointing to the sign that read ‘Star Wars Original Trilogy Marathon - Tonight Only!’ People stood in a line out of the theater, dressed to impress in various Star Wars get ups.

Benny cursed. “Of course, the one time we need to get in there quickly they’re having a special screening.”

“We can use the side door,” Ethan said. “And here” - he handed Benny a storm trooper helmet - “we’ve gotta blend in or they’ll see us coming.”

Benny groaned. “They could be sucking her dry right now!”

“They want us, not her. And Y/N is not helpless. And I’ve got Erica and Sarah already in there scoping the place.”

“You called them before me!”

“They’re vampires!”

Benny just grumbled and put the helmet on, crossing his arms.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Put on the costume and let’s go.”

***

Ethan and Benny snuck through the side door, dressed fully in storm trooper get up.

“This sucks, E. I can’t see a thing in this helmet.”

“What do you want from me, B?” Ethan retorted.

He suddenly let out a gasp and turned to Ethan. “Oh my god, E. This is a New Hope. I’m Han, you’re Luke, and Y/N is Leia. Yes! This is like my perfect dream.”

Ethan groaned. “I wish I could argue with you.”

“Ethan, Benny!”

The two turned to see Sarah and Erica running their way.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Ethan asked.

“What?” Benny turned to Ethan. “You called them, right?”

“Uh-”

“There’s a bunch of vampires here. Some of Jesse’s old friends that want revenge for his death.” Sarah explained.

“They’ve got the whole place on lockdown. They’re planning on locking all the star wars nerds in here and feasting.” Erica said.

“Oh my god, this is exactly like Star Wars!” Benny gushed.

“Yeah, okay, Han Solo, chill.” Ethan said. “But that does give me an idea. Where are they hiding?”

***

Erica scowled as Ethan and Benny led them up the stairs like prisoners. “I never agreed to being Chewbacca.”

“Shh. No choice.” Ethan retorted before pushing open the door to the control room.

There were three vampires sitting in there, they were staring out the small window, watching the movie before turning to the now open door.

“Who are you? And what have you here?” One of them sneered.

“We’re with you. Had to dress up to blend in. Caught these two trying to pull the fire alarm. Thought you might want to deal with them.”

Erica hissed at them and the leader, grabbed her by the chin. “Such a pretty face. Shame we’ll have to kill you.”

Erica kneed him in the crotch, making him groan.

“Look out! They’re loose!” Benny quoted, letting go of Sarah’s arms so that she could assist in beating the crap out of the three of them.

It was a good thing that Star Wars was a rather loud movie or the crowd might have been alarmed by all of the noise.

“All right, you scum,” Benny said, grabbing one that was barely conscious. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Benny-”

“Tell me!”

“Benny!”

“What?” Benny yelled at Ethan.

“They don’t have her. This was supposed to be a surprise for you. We were gonna find her in one of the empty rooms in the theater and then she was gonna take you to an empty theater and you two were gonna watch the marathon together. But now she’s alone in a room with a bunch of vampires around.”

“What?” Benny shouted. “For the love of- You go and get her, we’ll hold them here.”

“You mean we” - Erica gestured between her and Sarah - “will hold them.”

“Yeah, whatever, just go her!”

Benny pulled off the helmet and sighed.

“She really likes you, you know.” Sarah said.

“Come on,” Benny said with a bitter laugh. “Maybe right now, but once she gets me she’ll be off to the next guy in a week. That’s how they all are.”

“Not Y/N.” Erica replied. “She doesn’t get around. Never has. Her last boyfriend was a dick so if she’s pursuing you, she must really like you.”

Benny sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m just scared. We kinda run in two different circles now, you know?”

“And you can’t overlap? According to what? The rules of high school? The world isn’t so black and white, Benny.” Sarah encouraged.

****

Ethan rushed down the hallway, looking on the door numbers for 2187 (a number you had modified for the surprise).

“Yes!” Ethan said, reaching the door. He quickly pulled it open to find you laying there on a table, decked out in an impressive Princess Leia costume. It looked like you’d fallen asleep.

“Y/N!” He called and you sat up.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” You said cheekily. “Where’s Benny?”

Ethan rolled his eyes, pulling off his helmet. “No time!”

“Come on, say the line!”

“What? No, you don’t understand-”

“Ethan! Say the line!” You whined.

He sighed. “I’m Ethan Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you.”

You grinned broadly. “Thank you.”

“But seriously, I’m rescuing you. There are vampires here, and we need to get back to Benny, Sarah, and Erica.

“What?” You shouted, processing the information.

“Sarah and Erica are vampires. Good ones. But there are evil ones here that are planning on sucking the souls out of everyone in the theater and we’ve got to get them and you out of here.”

“What? Where’s Benny?”

“Come on!” Ethan encouraged and, just like the movie, you ran out first despite not knowing where you were going.

***

You met back up with Benny, Sarah, and Erica in the hallway, as they were backed against the wall with more vampires on the way.

“Where are they all coming from?” Sarah said, spraying a holy water gun and knocking one down.

“I don’t know but I know for sure we can’t get out that way.” Benny said.

“Looks like you cut off our only escape route. All the doors are that way!” You replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry, perhaps you'd like it back in your cell, Princess Leia!” Benny bit back at you sarcastically.

“Ethan, are the sprinklers still lined with holy water?”

“I don’t know. I never did anything to take it out.”

“Let’s give it a try!” Erica said, pulling out her lighter and holding it up to the sprinkler above her head, covering herself with her leather jacket and Sarah holding up an umbrella she had been using as a weapon.

The water almost immediately started spraying out, setting off the fire alarm and soaking the vampires attacking you, burning and hissing all the way down.

“What is your problem?” You hissed at Benny.

“Well, we wouldn’t be cornered if you hadn’t lured me here! And by using Ethan! I feel betrayed!”

“Oh, I’m sorry for trying to prove to you that I like you!”

“Ha! If you really liked me you wouldn’t have become so popular! Leaving your real friends to rot in geek town!”

“That wasn’t my fault! I did what I liked! You guys are the ones who thought I needed to change just because I did similar activities to the other rich kids!”

“Guys!” Ethan interrupted. “Not the time! We need a way out. Now.”

“Oh for the love of-” You rolled your eyes and opened up the trash cute. “Everybody in!”

“Ew. Do we have to go full star wars?” Sarah asked.

“Would you rather chance the holy water river?” You replied, pointing to the floor that was slowly filling up with more water.

“Good point. Let’s go!”

Sarah entered first, followed by Erica, then Ethan, then you, then Benny.

You all were spit out into the dumpster that was full of candy wrappers, old popcorn, and soda cups.

Erica toppled into Sarah and Ethan rammed into her. You managed to avoid their collision only to have Benny slam into you from behind.

You all groaned at the impact and rolled around for a minute, picking popcorn and sticky candy out of your hair and clothes.

“Oh, I’m gonna need a shower.” Ethan groaned.

“After this I think you all deserve a spa.” You said. “I’ll buy.”

“You better.”

“Well, that was not how I foresaw this night going,” You said, standing up with the others and pulling a candy wrapper out of your hair.

Benny stood up, picking garbage off his clothes, and let out a chuckle. “What? Did you think that I was gonna give in just because of your big gesture?”

You turned on him with fiery eyes. “Would you just get it through your thick skull? I like you, okay? I’m not gonna break up with you in a week, I’m not gonna cheat on you, I’m not gonna try to convert you to a jock. Benny I’ve liked you since third grade! I just got enough confidence to tell you and you keep avoiding me every chance you get! If you don’t like me would you just tell me? It would save me a lot of time and money!”

“Not that that would be a problem for you, rich girl!”

“Well, I’m sorry my parents are wealthy! I’m sorry you live with your grandmother and not in a mansion! We’re different but quit painting me as the villain in your pathetic hero story!”

You both were fuming at each other. Erica, Sarah, and Ethan were standing with wide eyes watching this go down.

“Well, maybe if you had just stuck with your real friends we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“I did! You guys are the ones who treated me like I’d been converted to a cult!”

“Not much different!”

“What is your problem with popular people? You have some sort of nerd code that says you can’t get along with them? Weren’t you the one who was friends with David Stachowski?”

“That’s a different story! He chose us!”

“So did I!”

“No. You didn’t choose us, you chose to have sleepovers with the cheerleaders and go to country club parties and be homecoming queen!”

“I can have more than one group of friends, you know? But do you know who I had hoped would be there for me when I needed it? You guys. Ethan was. You’re the one who keeps running away from me!”

“Well, I’m sorry I think I’m not good enough for you!”

“You’ve always been good enough for me!”

“Well, then I guess I’m saying yes!”

“To what?”

“Everything. All of it. Every date you’ve asked me on, every invitation to a dance, every declaration of love. Yes. I love you. Yes.”

Tears were in your eyes now and you threw yourself into his arms, burying your face into his neck.

Benny hugged you back, as tightly as he could without hurting you.

“You smell like garbage,” you whispered.

He laughed. “So do you.”

Suddenly there was clapping from behind you.

You turned to see Erica slow-clapping. “Well, as much fun and as that rom-com moment was. Can we get out of the dumpster now?”

And you did.

It was safe to say your Leia dress was probably ruined, but you would probably keep it anyway.

Benny held your hand all the way to the car.

You hoped this was the start of something wonderful.

[reidgraygubler]

multiply (kyle orfman/reader)

Title: multiply Request: no Couple: Kyle Orfman/Fem!reader Category: angst/smut w/ a taste of fluff Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, mild hatefuck, grinding/groping, heavy petting, light breathplay (hand over mouth and nose) breeding/impregnation kink, fingering), zombies and zombies eating humans, death, descriptions of death, death of a grandparent (grandmother), mentions of guns and gun violence (but none actually happening), petnames (kitten/officer) Word Count: 5,943 Summary: After narrowly escaping her grandmother eating her, Reader is on her own to find other civilization. She meets the Orfman family and they take her in for safety. Reader and Kyle share a special bond. A/N: I am in love with this piece, so I hope you guys love it as much as I do. thank you to @reidetic for beta/editing this for me! this was also written for @imagining-in-the-margins "there was only one bed" trope challenge for june! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

My grandmother was alive… And then she was dead… And now she’s alive again. Which is very confusing because I watched her die. Like I can’t be the only person experiencing this, right? It’s not some weird fever dream either, I don’t think. This has to be a town wide phenomenon.

My grandmother was acting totally normal too. As if she didn’t die. She was living life day to day, making cookies, knitting, and sipping her tea, just like she did before she died. It was like life went back to normal. And then… She tried to eat me. That’s definitely not normal. Is it?

Who eats another person!? Zombies! That’s who! And how do you kill a zombie? I don’t really like that answer. Because I love my grandmother. She’d do nothing to hurt me, except eat me, I guess.

I gotta get out of this house. It’s not safe to stay in the house with her anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. So instead of killing her, like any other sane person would do, I just left. I packed my backpack with a few clothes, snacks and water, and I left.

Turns out it was a lot more than a town wide phenomenon. It was country wide. Everyone was experiencing their dead loved ones returning from the dead. Just showing up, like how my grandmother just showed up. It caused something of an uprise, too, considering people don’t just come back to life after being dead, and they’re eating other humans. It wasn’t an uprise. It was terror, pure terror of the people who didn’t die and come back to life.

I hadn’t left my house in a while, at least since my grandmother came back. So I didn’t realize just how dire the situation was. Piles of burnt stuff were all over the place. Cars with shattered windshields were crashed into trees or homes. And the number of bodies just on the street was… incredibly disturbing.

I needed to find any sign of civilization, and quickly. There was no telling just how long I’d make it alone. I probably only had enough water for the next day or two. And the only zombie movies I’ve seen were Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland, and that wasn’t very helpful… Well maybe Zombieland was helpful.

A long branch with a sharp and pointy end was sitting in the middle of the road. I grabbed it, hoping it’d be enough of a weapon to protect me from the disaster around me. I silently hoped, and prayed to whatever God was up there, that I’d find safety before nightfall.

I was beginning to lose hope as the sun started setting; the sky lighting up with the fires around the town. Several people wearing orange jumpsuits came running around the corner, each carrying various weapons in their hands and over their backs. I nearly fell to the ground because of how startled I was. I tried to pay attention to the crowd around me, but the pavement chewed up the palms of my hands.

A guy with a crew cut hairstyle seemingly looked in charge. Weird to have a gangly and scrawny man be in charge of a zombie take out group. He had this weird stature that he held, like he was trying to be intimidating but not everyone took him seriously.

The guy looked right at me and pointed a gun at my head. I slowly lifted my hands and stared at him.

“D-Don’t shoot! I’m human!” I shouted as I stared at him. He stared back, stepping closer to me. He dropped his gun away from me, but still kept his guard up.

“Human my ass!” The guy with the crewcut shouted. I looked at my hands, watching as blood began seeping from my palms. I quickly looked back at him, hoping he’d look at the human blood.

"Thoughts on smooth jazz?!" he asked in a loud tone. I stared up at him, feeling the terror bubble up my throat.

"I-I… Not my first choice in music?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I wondered what this had to do with anything.

"Thoughts on dirt?!"

"Ew? Good for gardening? I don’t know!” I shouted back before I stumbled to my feet. The guy with the crew cut cautiously stepped closer to me as he examined my face and body. I’d assume it was because he was looking for any impurities I could possibly have. “I almost had to kill my grandmother. But… But I had to leave. I couldn’t do it. So I left. I left because she lunged at me… from across the table,” I mumbled as he stepped back. “I just need somewhere.. To lie low for the time being. I promise I’m safe.” I whispered as I looked at him. The guy looked back at the rest of his team, gauging their thoughts and concerns about letting me go with them.

“You can come with us. But the second you turn your back on us, or turn into them, don't be shocked when I’m the one to put a bullet into your head,” his voice got scary low as he stepped right up to me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Understood,” I whispered as I looked up at him.

I was shoved into the middle of the crowd of orange jumpsuits. The guy with the crewcut took the lead and brought us to a house that was guarded by tall cement and steel fencing. The people who were currently occupying this home knew how to keep themselves safe.

We entered the fenced in yard of the house, the leader making sure everyone got in safely, and no undead beings followed us. Then we entered the house. I was half expecting it to be stripped down, or decayed. But when we got in… It looked like a normal home, just no power, and the windows boarded up.

“Oh! A new person!” A woman exclaimed once I stood in the area that was once a living room. She came right up to my side, looking at me with a bright smile. She was very happy that I was here. “Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” she cooed as she threw her arms around me. I froze, my body refusing to move as she embraced me.

“I-I…” I swallowed roughly as she pulled away from me. I barely had time to say anything else as she pulled us to sit on the couch.

“I’m Judy Orfman. Kyle is my son.” She smiled as she gestured towards the crew cut guy wearing the orange jumpsuit.

“Mom,” Kyle muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. I snickered as I looked back at Judy. I smiled softly as I gave her my name. It was weird how homey this place felt, albeit our situation in the world. Part of me wondered if Judy had any part in that.

“My husband, Noah, is out right now. And my other son, Zach, is with one of the women. She also had to kill her grandmother,” Judy whispered that last part. I looked at her with wide eyes, feeling a certain nervousness settle in the pit of my stomach. I could tell she meant well, and I shouldn’t be scared around anyone here. Everything that’s happened is just unsettling. When I woke up this morning I wasn’t expecting to have to escape zombies.

“Is it okay i-if I lie down? I’m just very tired after everything that’s happened.” I I looked between Judy and Kyle.

“Oh! Kyle, honey, you should let her sleep in your room. She obviously needs it,” Judy spoke to her son as she carefully smoothed out my hair. I looked at her with a small smile. I loved how motherly she was. It was definitely something I needed in a time like this.

“I’m not going to do that, Mom.”

“We don’t have any more bed space. You’re the only person with a bed big enough to hold two people. We aren’t going to force her to sleep on the floor or on the couch.”

“I-I don’t have an issue with the flo-”

“Non-sense! Kyle has plenty of space!” Judy clapped her hands together as she glared at Kyle. Kyle looked back at her with wide eyes before dropping his head and mumbling something. Even though Kyle was in charge of the orange jumpsuits, Judy was the head of household. Anyone could argue with her, but she would end up getting her way no matter what. Kyle probably knew better than to fight his mother.

“So it’s agreed then! You guys will share the room!” Judy smiled brightly. “Just no funny business.” She then glared between me and Kyle. I looked at her with wide eyes before shaking my head.

“Ugh! Ew! With him!”

“Her?! Are you serious?”

Even though I basically said what he said, I was still hurt by his utter disgust behind his words. I tried not letting it bother me as I grabbed my backpack and stood up.

“Why don’t you show her around? The bathroom, kitchen, bedroom.” Judy stood up beside me as she looked at her son. Kyle begrudgingly moved towards the opening of the living room, leading off to a new area.

“C’mon,” he grumbled as he looked over at me. I looked at Judy before looking back at Kyle. I dropped my head before dashing up beside him.

Every room he showed, I was met with a new person distraught by the events of the day. Kyle just showed me the room. I didn’t really know what I was expecting when he showed me around the house.

“Finally, this is where I sleep,” Kyle muttered as he gestured towards the closed off bedroom. A small smile grew on my lips as I entered the room, heading right towards the bed. Kyle, however, stopped me by grabbing my backpack and pulling me back to the door. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Judy said I could sleep in here, too. So I figured I should take my side of the bed.” I looked up at him, folding my arms over my chest. A smirk grew across Kyle’s lips before he nodded. At this point we were standing toe-to-toe, and our chests were practically pressed together.

“You’re adorable,” he muttered before pulling my backpack off my back and tossing it to the left side of the bed. “If I find out you’re cuddling with me, you’re outta here. And if I see you going through my shit… You’re dead.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” I whispered before looking away from him. I walked away from him and towards the bed. Even though I wasn’t facing him, I could feel Kyle’s eyes on me as I went through my bag. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me? Or are you going to let me sleep peacefully?” I asked as I dropped my shoulders and the things I was holding.

“Until I know you won’t fuck around with stuff you’re not supposed to…” He spoke out loud. I rolled my eyes before turning to face him.

“Do you want me to just mess with your stuff while you’re here?” I asked as I walked back around to his side of the bed. Kyle’s eyes widened and his jaw steeled as I went to his night stand. “Or will you leave me alone so I can get some rest?”

“I’ll leave you alone the second you back away from that nightstand.” His words were quick and sharp as he spoke. A small smirk grew across my lips as I looked back at him. I stepped away from the night stand and stood in the middle of the room. “I’ll come back in an hour,” he muttered before leaving the room.

With a deep sigh, I returned to my side of the room, finally getting ready to lie down for the first time in what feels like days.

{***}{***}{***}

I don’t think time exists anymore. Ever since the world went to shit, it feels like days felt longer than 24 hours. So it was hard to say how long I’d been in this safe house. I wished time was still relevant...

I try not to let things bother me. But I feel like it’s especially hard in this house with all of these people I hardly know. It was even harder because I was still sharing a room with Kyle. And he is probably the worst person I’ve ever met. He talks in his sleep. But he wouldn’t own up to that. Noooo, he’s too good for that.

The first night I realized he was talking in his sleep wasn’t too bad, mostly because it was him talking about stuff that happened before before a stupid zombie apocolyspe. But now it’s just annoying shit. I never get a moment alone anymore.

For a moment of privacy, I sat in the closet. It was just for a moment before the doors swung open and a woman my age sat down beside me.

“Zach wants to go to a stupid graveyard today,” Erica muttered as she sat down. I looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “He wants to visit Beth’s stupid grave.”

“Beth’s his ex-girlfriend, right?” I asked, still unsure of who people were here. She nodded as she began picking at the loose threads on her pants. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Erica.”

“Okay, but when the dead start trying to kill me, then I’m going to talk ill of the dead.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” I muttered as I looked at the floor in front of us. “It’s still not really safe to do that… Little weird.” I glanced back at Erica with a raised brow. She looked back at me and grimaced. I had nothing else to say, granted conversations between us didn’t last too long. We had nothing in common other than our grandmothers tried eating us, therefore we had to kill them. So what was the use of us talking? I knew a friendship would never grow between us.

With a resigned sigh, I stood up, leaving Erica in the closet alone. I ignored her bothersome questions as I walked away from her. I didn’t want to be around her, or really anyone. So I went to the safest place I could think of, hoping no one else would be there, my shared bedroom with Kyle.

Of course, it’d just be my luck that Kyle would also be there. He was sitting at his desk, wearing nothing by his boxers while he cleaned his gun. I just didn’t realize that till I had fully entered the room.

“What the fuck!? What are you doing?! Don’t you knock!?” he shouted as I entered the room more. I turned and looked at him, my eyes wide as I stared at him. “S-Stop staring! Are you crazy!?”

“Me crazy!? You’re the one cleaning your gun half naked!” I shouted as I gestured at his attire. I quickly threw a hand over my eyes as I blindly searched for the bed.

“It's how I relax!” He shouted back. Once my body finally touched the bed, I laid back, quickly throwing a pillow over my face. “Can you leave?”

“How come you get to relax but I don’t? Roommates remember?” I sat up and glared at him. He glared back at me, keeping his hands on his gun.

“It’s so funny to me that you were going to be a police officer?” I scoffed as I laid back. That seemed to strike a chord in him, causing him to stand and look at him.

“What? I didn’t tell-”

“You talk in your sleep,

“No I don’t, Kitten,” Kyle retorted. I stared at him for a moment, trying to comprehend what he just called me. Kitten? Really? Seriously? “If anyone talks in their sleep, it’s you.” He pointed at me. I smirked and shrugged.

“If you say so… Officer.” I grinned before reaching up to shut the lamp off. Kyle stayed sitting in the darkness. I could only imagine his face was beet red, and his knuckles were white as a ghost as he held his gun.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Kyle’s voice came through the mild darkness. I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me.

“Taking a nap, Officer, because it’s how I relax.”

{***}{***}{***}

It had to have been the middle of the night. I couldn’t be too sure. I just knew it was late at night, and Kyle’s whole entire body was clinging to mine as he talked.

“Someone’s gotta repopulate the world… Why… Why don’t you do it with me?” Kyle mumbled into my chest. I stiffened as his hands drifted all over my body. “You’re like the only feasible person to do it with.”

“Okay, first off, rude,” I muttered as I shoved his body off mine. It was impossible to keep him off me though, because the moment his body was away from mine, he knew, and instantly wrapped his arms back around me ten times harder than before. “Secondly, haven’t you heard of personal space,” I groaned as I laid perfectly still on my back. I finally just gave in and let him keep his arms around me. No use in fighting that.

“C’mon, Kitten,” he mused as he nuzzled his head into my chest more. I widened my eyes and looked down at him. “We’d make some pretty cute kids.”

I hate this so fucking much. And there was no way I was getting out of this. I just wish this was when I knew the weird sex dreams started...

{***}{***}{***}

I laid perfectly still on the bed. The lights were off, and Kyle was perfectly asleep. I was envious of his sleep. The last time I had a peaceful night of rest was ages ago. The nightmares I had were awful, keeping me awake till dawn. But also, Kyle also talked in his sleep and always clung to me like his life depended on it.

I’d be lying if I said Kyle and I hadn’t gotten close. Even though part of me still hated him, the other part of me knew that he was probably the last person I had to be friends with, other than his mother and Erica.

With a deep groan, I shoved Kyle awake, nearly pushing him to the floor.

“What the hell was that for!?” he shouted from his spot on the ground beside the bed.

“You know when you talk in your sleep…” I spoke aloud. I kept my eyes on him as he glared at me.

“No I don’t,”

“You sure about that, Officer. How else would I know you wanted to be a cop?” I scoffed as I stood up off the bed. Kyle watched as I walked around the bed and stood at the foot of it.

“You… You read through my personal belongings.” He shot back as he stood to his feet.

“Y-You have a diary,” I stifled my laughter as I looked at him. Kyle glared at me again. “No, I only know that because you talk in your sleep. And at first it didn’t bother me too much because it was cute shit like being a police officer, or having a family and kids, and cute shit… But now… For the last week, Kyle, you have been having sex dreams. And I wake up to you clinging to me…” I lifted an accusing finger as I spoke. Kyle looked at me, waiting for me to continue my rant. Which was rather surprising because he hardly lets people finish their thoughts or rants before he interprets them. “Do you know how weird that is?! Having sex dreams about someone who’s just sleeping next to you?” I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand if he was going to say anything. “Whatever, I’m going to help Judy.” I scoffed before turning to leave the room.

“With what? It’s midnight!” He gestured to the dark window. Yeah, that was true. Judy was probably asleep. I just needed to get out of the room and let my frustrations be out instead of held in.

“With something!” I shouted at him.

“Kitten, wait,” Kyle started before grabbing my wrist and pulling me to face him. I spun around on my toes and looked right at him. I couldn’t help but feel annoyance grow on my face as I stared.

“Why do you call me that!?” I shouted at him. Kyle stayed silent as he stared up at me. I could see a certain confusion grow on his face as he tried to connect the dots to my question. “Kitten! Why do you call me that?! You’ve called me that since I got here.”

“Well… I…” Kyle paused for a moment. I watched as his mouth opened and closed a few times, and his jaw clenching momentarily. I stared at him, as he sat in thought for a very long time.

“Whatever,” I scoffed as I turned to leave again.

“Because you’re attractive…” He finally spoke after an eternity of silence. He looked up at me with a stilled face. “Because I’d fuck you,” he stated truthfully. I blinked, taking a step back before I stared at him.

“That’s a bit of a raunchy way to say you want to sleep with me.” I folded my arms over my chest. Kyle smirked before shrugging. “I’ve been sleeping with you for the last month.”

“You-You know what I meant,” he muttered as he approached me again. I stopped right in front of me, our toes just barely touching. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to have sex with me?”

“You… You want to have sex… During the end of the world. Bit cliche don’t you think?” I was still taken aback that he just asked that. I’m still stuck in the argument we had less than 10 minutes ago. And now he wants to have sex with me?

“Well I wouldn’t say that it’s the end of the world. But that’s essentially what I’m saying… Yeah, I wanna have sex with you, during the end of the world.” Kyle shrugged as he looked at me.

“If you say so… Officer,” I whispered with a shrug. Kyle looked at me, his jaw stealing at my words. “Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.” I smirked at him. I could tell my words did something to him. It was obvious that he did indeed want someone to repopulate with. And I was the winner of that contest. Not that I’m complaining.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that,” he warned as he cornered me between his body and the bed. I took a deep breath as I looked at him, feeling my heart rate pick up in my chest. He still made it possible for me to escape if I wanted to. But, at this point, who says I wanted to escape?

“Why? D-Does it do something to you, Officer?” I whispered as I lifted my hands to his shirt. A small smirk grew across his lips as I smoothed out the wrinkleiness of the fabric against his torso. I could feel the semi toneness of his chest through the light fabric.

“You tell me yourself, Kitten,” he muttered before pressing his hips into mine. My breath was instantly knocked from my lungs as his bulge pressed into my legs. “Tell me now… If you want to stop…” he half growled into my mouth. I quickly shook my head as he pressed his groin into me more.

“P-Please,” I whispered before I pulled my lips between my teeth.

“Please what, Kitten?”

“Don’t stop,” I whimpered into his mouth. He looked down at me, a pleased smirk growing on his lips before he quickly pressed his mouth along my face and then down my jaw. It was impossible to stay down on earth the moment he began leaving little bites across my neck. A soft whimper fell from my lips as he pushed me back down on the bed.

“We gotta be quiet… My parents are in the next room over. Don’t want them hearing us,” he whispered into my ear as he quickly threw a hand over my mouth. I took a deep breath before he pressed his thumb over my nose. “You think you can do that for me, Kitten?” He kept his voice low, almost a growl as he spoke. With his other hand, he carefully pushed past my pajamas and cupped my pussy.

I wanted to nod, but I knew the nod would mean nothing the second I whimpered again. Kyle smirked as he slowly moved his fingers over my clothed sex. I don’t think I’d be able to be quiet...

It just got harder to stay quiet the second he started stroking my clit over my panties. He knew exactly what he was doing. Driving me nuts, that’s what. He could’ve gone slower, and I would’ve hated him for it… Or loved him. At this point they were both interchangeable.

I bit down so hard on my lips I was sure they’d bleed as he moved my underwear to the side. My lungs slowly grew a blaze, feeling a certain tightness in my chest as he slowly moved a finger between my folds, slowly pressing it into my entrance. A dark smirk grew across his lips as he withdrew his hand.

“I didn’t know a kitten could get so wet,” Kyle mused as looked at his glistening fingers. He quickly glanced at me, his smirk growing daker by the second. Then he carefully stuck his fingers between his lips, sucking on them for a brief moment. A soft whimper came from me, causing him to laugh. “She tastes good, too,” he hummed.

Kyle carefully dragged his hand down my side, tracing over my waist and hips, before diving back into my pants and underwear. He knew exactly what he was doing, on purposely making me make noises. Because the second he started stroking over my clit, I couldn’t stop any sound that came from my mouth, even with his hand over it.

“This is already better than any dream I had, Kitten,” he murmured in my ear. I swallowed roughly and nodded. He smirked as he gently pushed a finger into me, quickly followed by a second. “If you’re quiet I’ll move my hand.”

I hummed as I closed my eyes, my head lolling to the side. Kyle dragged his hand from my mouth, sliding it down to my chest. My lips stayed between my teeth, forcing myself to be quiet as he started massaging my breasts.

“D-Don’t stop, whatever you do… Please k-keep going,” I struggled to say as his movements hastened. His thumb carefully brushed against my clit, causing me to push my head back into the bed beneath me.

“You like this, don’t you?” Kyle laughed lightly. I could feel my chest lifting away from the bed the heavier my breath grew. “How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this? Since you’ve been used?”

“Kyle, Kyle, please,” I bit down on my lower lip. I brought one of my hands to rest over my mouth, while the other held his arm.

“I’d call you a desperate, but I’m the one having sex dreams of you.”

The funny thing is… I was desperate. Even though he was the one having the sex dreams, I was the one having the thoughts when I was awake. And a lot of the thoughts were hoping this would happen. Guess we’re bothing having dreams coming true.

It was only a matter of moments before I was finishing over his hand. My eyes stayed closed as I tried catching up with time. And in the few moments I had, Kyle had climbed off the bed and quickly undressed, leaving me still in my pajamas. I didn’t feel rushed, but I hated that I was still wearing clothes.

Once I had my moment of recollection, I sat up, peeling my shirt off and kicking my pants to the floor. I was too busy undressing to even notice that Kyle was staring at me, watching my quickness and excitement. But when I finally did sit back and look at him, he was watching me with a smirk on his lips.

I tried not to let my eyes linger on his body for too long. When I noticed his hard length, I couldn’t help but stare. Then he laughed, forcing me to look up at his face and swallow roughly.

“No, please, keep staring,” he muttered with a smirk. I slowly blinked before shaking my head, silently lifting my hand to him. I could feel my sudden neediness radiating off my body, surely Kyle could sense it from where he was standing.

When he didn’t move, I slowly moved my legs apart, making it so there was space for him to kneel comfortably. He smirked again before crawling onto the bed, coming right up to my face.

“Tell me, Kitten, how badly do you want this,” he whispered against my lips. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Use your words. I trust you know how. You were pretty vocal a few moments ago.”

“I don’t think you understand, Officer, how bad I need you,” I murmured as I looked up at him. The corner of his lips twitched at the nickname I had so lovingly given him. “Only you can help me.”

“Damn right I am,” he muttered before roughly pressing his lips to mine. I threw my arms around his neck as he moved so his length was pressing against me. My breathing stuttered slightly before I began gasping for air as he very slowly entered me.

Once he was fully sheathed in me, Kyle knelt straight up. I stared at him, watching as he hooked his arms under my knees. With that, he managed to press deeper into me, inciting a moan from me.

“More,” I tried to whisper as I looked up at him. His eyes locked with mine for a moment before rolling his hips into mine. He fell into a steady rhythm, hitting the right spots at just the right times.

Any conversation between us ceased to exist, leaving us with struggling moans and gasps for breath. My hands ran over my body, trying to relieve myself of something.

Kyle dropped one of my legs, bringing his hand to between my legs. My head fell back before rolling to rest against my shoulder, feeling the eventual relief in my abdomen.

“You feel so good, Kitten,” Kyle mumbled before dropping my other leg and coming back down to my face. I huffed out a breath of air before lifting a hand to his head. “Better than anything I could ever imagine,” he added before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed, pushing my fingers through his hair.

“I’m gon-gonna cum,” I whined before biting my teeth into his shoulder. Kyle ran his hands up my back before pulling me close.

“Yeah?” he groaned into my ear. I nodded as my breathing grew ragged. “Me too,” he added as his movements grew faulty. He pressed his forehead to mine, his heavy breath fanning across my skin. My eyes stayed glued to his.

“Do it, please do it,” I whimpered. Kyle’s eyes grew darker the moment the heaviness of my words hit him. I don’t think I was supposed to notice his brief pause, but I did. “I’m serious.”

“You know what-”

“God, Kyle, I know. I know what it’ll mean,” I cut him off, lifting my back up into his body. He looked at me for a brief moment before capturing my lips in a gentle kiss. I threw my arms around his neck, holding him close to me.

“If that’s what you want,” he moaned, his movements turning sloppy. I knew I wasn’t about to last long. “Someone’s gotta have my kid.”

“Let it be me then,” I cried out. My legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place. “Please.” My whole body tensed around his as my head fell back as I tried to keep quiet. Kyle looked down at me before putting his hand over my mouth. Then a warmth- that I didn’t realize that I missed- grew in my stomach.

Kyle fell, laying against my body. With that, we fell into silence. The only sound was our heavy breathing and the sounds of crickets outside. The silence was nice though.

“My mother better not find out about this,” Kyle said after an eternity. I laughed and shook my head.

“Then you better hope I don’t end up pregnant, because she’ll find out eventually,” I sighed deeply as I brought my hands to hold the back of his head. His body stiffened before he lifted his head to look down at me.

“I’ll tell her in the morning.”

“Well you don’t have to do that,” I laughed. He stared at me for a moment. “You tell her she’ll probably break us apart. And, well, like I said earlier… Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.”

“No, yeah, you’re right. She’d probably kill me if she found out we’re having sex,” he stated before trying to move away from me. “Actually I think she’d kill me then pray I come back to life for that kid.”

“I’m not living through someone trying to eat me twice.”

“I can change that,” he teased with a smile. I stared at him once I realized what he meant.

“Tomorrow night please. I’m so tired.”

“If you say so,” Kyle laughed before slipping out of the bed.

Some months after the apocalypse ended

“You look mighty dashing in that uniform, Officer.” I looked at Kyle as I smoothed out the few wrinkles in his shirt. I tried my hardest to hold the young boy in my arms the moment he became fussy.

“Don’t start that now. I can’t be late,” Kyle warned as he looked back at me. I smiled and shrugged.

I looked up at Kyle with a soft smile on my lips. Although our son was young, he tried to blindly reach out for his father, but failed as he was just out of the child’s reach. “Be safe out there,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his.

“Of course I will.”

“Good, because your little man will be pissed if he finds out you’re not coming home.” I smiled before kissing him again. “But I think I’ll be even more pissed than your kid.”

“Please. I’ll come home in one piece, with no bites.”

“You better, Officer.” I smirked again.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Kyle scoffed before rolling his eyes. I smiled and nodded.

“Good luck out there. Judy’s making dinner so be home in a timely manner.”

“Okay, for real, I gotta go. See you later, Little Man.” Kyle smiled as he rubbed the top of his son’s head. I smiled before puckering my lips. “And I’ll be home before you know it.” He quickly pecked my lips. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. See ya later.” I swung our son over to my other hip, resting him gently on my hip. I turned around and slowly walked back up to our home.

“It’s not too soon for another one, is it?!” He shouted from the end of the driveway. I turned and looked at him as I made it to the front door.

“If anything, we can practice!”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

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