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shenanigans-and-imagines · 1 year ago

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I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you. What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached. There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes. You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them. Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you. Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Anytime.”

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes. No doubt he had heard everything.

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you.

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry.

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.”

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it.

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs.

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air.

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

The next several days carried on in much the same way. Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences.

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut.

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile.

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another.

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice.

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated.

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side.

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent.

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience.

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship. If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more.

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp. He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do.

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow.

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse.

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent.

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said.

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands.

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.”

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth.

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this.

“Do you need more?” you asked.

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes.

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.”

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?”

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.”

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.”

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion.

Without further protest you accepted the potion.

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve.

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional.

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give.

Any nerves that remained slipped away. You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past.

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had.

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin.

“Oh?”

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much.

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light.

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.”

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you.

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure.

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers.

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

“And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.”

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward.

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide.

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.”

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control.

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful.

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul.

It was true, all of it.

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough.

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time.

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff.

“Well?” you prompted.

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else. Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind. Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury. He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him. You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment.

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly.

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face.

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate.

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.”

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable.

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much.

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water.

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm.

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.”

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.”

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow.

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own.

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced.

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

Tag List:

@ambrolyer, @cassiecasluciluce, @tamwritesstuff, @hallowedandhungry, @mangomonk, @amefuyuu, @righteous-scamp, @starved-kitten, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @twinkliker3000, @unrestrictedbyreality, @screechingphantommaker, @becksynthetic, @black-sapphic, @dicenete, @isharaneith, @sarcasticlittlebook, @catsandskyrimcafe, @sora-o-kaku, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ka-du-trur, @baldursgateslittlestar, @rakilein

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #asexual #asexual!reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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shinestarhwaa · 1 year ago

Note

16,25,32,69-yunsanhwa please? thxx.!

I got a little too excited with this one HAHA I'm sorry, I hope you enjoy it cuz I rly did xo

WHAT HAPPENS IN LONDON || YUNSANHWA

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Ateez!Yunho/San/Seonghwa x manager!reader

Word Count: 3k

Tags/warnings: Idol!AU, Dom!Yunho, Dom!San, Sub!Seonghwa, Sub!reader, Foursome, Dirty Talk, M x M (only SanHwa), bottom!Seonghwa, top!San, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (m receiving), lots of orgasms, handjob, Seonghwa is a wee bit pervy, voyeurism

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @1-800-shedevil @glintneon123 @mjyungi

ENJOY!

It had been a fun evening so far, walking around the city with the three boys. They treated you on a meal and you showed them various locations and even took videos of their silly Tiktok ideas.

They were lovely really, very different from the artists you had worked with before. You've had two managing jobs before but they didn't last long because of various reasons, but you got hired by KQ for Ateez and you couldn't be happier.

It paid well and they treated you nicely. They always made you laugh and made sure you were comfortable while you're the one who should take care of them instead. Somewhere in your heart you felt like they truly cared for you and you really felt like you didn't deserve them.

After safely getting them back to their hotel, San invited you and the other two boys into his room for a nightcap. After some begging and pleading you finally agreed and entered his room.

As Seonghwa and Yunho had already sat down on the chairs you stood a little awkwardly beside San's bed, drink in your hand. "Just sit, manager-nim," San pouted, pulling your sweater. You couldn't help but smile at the boy and you nodded, sitting down next to him.

The conversation carried on normally until Yunho decided to ask you more personal questions. "So, you're not involved with anyone, manager-nim?" He asked. You shook your head and laughed a bit sheepish. "No, it has been a while, I'm too busy with you idiots," you answered with a grin.

"Oh, really? Well then I'm sorry," Yunho apologized, "we should make up for that in some way right?"

You locked eyes with Yunho as your mouth went dry. What did he mean by that? "I mean, it is only fair," he carried on, "you're taking good care of us as our manager, Y/N, but who's gonna take care of you?"

The way his name fell off your lips made you feel all tingly, a feeling you tried to ignore and block out, but it was impossible because his deep voice send shivers and all kinds of signals directly down to your core.

"I-I...," you stammered, "I can take perfectly good care of myself, I have my own apartment and I don't have debts-." "I believe that isn't what Yunho meant," Seonghwa chimed in. His stare was a little more intense than you were used to from him, his soft and shiny boba eyes gone.

"You know what we mean," San suddenly hushed by your ear, "who's there to please you? I bet we can do it better than you and your little toys could." "T-toys?" You gasped. "We know what's in that red bag of yours, remember the day you slept in our hotelroom last month?" San asked, reminiscing the night where you lost your keys so you crashed on their couch.

"You looked in my bag?" You asked, nervously. "Well, it was open for everyone to see so, yes, I saw what was in there," San confessed. "But believe me, my cock is bigger than that, I could please you so much better than that thing... I bet all three of us could."

You swallowed thickly and crossed your legs. "I-I don't know San, this all seems quite unprofessional," you muttered. "It's just one night, Y/N, and besides that, no one has to know about it," Yunho said. You hesitated, looking at the gorgeous men in front of you.

It was too good to be true right? Three hot and famous men wanting to have sex with you in a beautiful hotelroom on the other side of the world? But how could you say no if they looked at you like this?

"How... would that work?" You asked carefully, earning a few glances and smirks from the boys. "Well you know how sex works right? You can't be a virgin," San grinned. "No, no I know... I'm not a virgin," you said, blushing, "it's just... how would it work with the four of us...? You'd all be naked in front of each other, is that not a problem for you?"

San smirked and let his hand glide over your thigh. "I'm kinda excited about it, actually," he confessed. "Always have been curious about seeing their cocks hard and leaking...," he went on, "and Seonghwa hyungies hole."

Seonghwa blushed and his eyes went wide as he tried to hide his growing boner with his sweater. "Wh-whatt?" He giggled as he looked away, unable to face him. "You heard me." What did he say?

"I don't care what you guys want, all I know is that right know I'm gonna rip off those stupid tight clothes and I'm gonna ravish your naked body," Yunho grunted. "Hm, we'll share," San said.

San kissed your lips and you immediately melted in his embrace. You had always wondered what his arms felt like, his big strong arms that drove every woman on the planet absolutely insane and they felt great.

San kept kissing you as Yunho got on his knees in front of you, pulling down your skirt and spreading your legs a little, seeing the wet patch on your underwear. "Ooh, did we get you wet, Y/N?" Yunho smirked. You broke off the kiss with San, already missing his soft lips as you nodded and slipped your panties off. Yunho nearly growled at the sight of your bare pussy in front of him, running his hands over your soft thighs.

San undid your blouse and bra in a few simple motions, leaving you completely naked. You felt so exposed, looking at the three completely clothed boys and they caught up on it quickly. One by one they started to undress, leaving just their underwear on.

Yunho got between your legs again and licked a stripe up from the bottom of your cunt all the way to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. "O-Oh, Yunie," you panted out, making Yunho grin as he heard the nickname you always gave him roll from your tongue in the form of a moan.

"Yunie, Yunie, Yunie!" You moaned as he fucked you with his tongue and occasionally sucked on your clit. "Stay quiet dear, they'll be able to hear us," San smirked as he kissed your neck and fondled your breasts. You saw Seonghwa in the corner of the room, clearly nervous but palming his crotch as he watched Yunho eat your pussy.

"A-Are you not joining in, Seonghwa?" You asked him, as you were kind of hoping he would come closer and pleasure you. He was a little shy, but he nodded and came closer, sitting on your left side. "If we're gonna do this I want all three of you," you said in a husky tone as you kissed his neck and latched your tongue on his sensitive skin.

His brows furrowed and he swallowed thickly, clearly getting harder from your actions. Your hand reached Yunho's dark hair and pulled it slightly. He looked up at you from between your legs and moaned against your pussy as he kept eating you out.

"So when did you start thinking about fucking me?" You panted out as you grinded your sex on Yunho's tongue. "Hmm, for months now," he moaned against your cunt. You moaned out his name again, a little louder this time.

"You want them all to hear, don't you? You want everyone to hear how good Yunie's making you feel?" San smirked. You couldn't even form a proper sentence because Yunho was currently bringing you to fucking paradise on that skilled tongue. Your moans grew louder as your orgasm washed over you, body trembling in San's embrace.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Seonghwa breathed out as he watched Yunho ride out your orgasm, licking your pussy clean. "Yeah? You want in too, hyung?" San smirked. Seonghwa bit his lip and nodded. He really seemed to be a bit more submissive towards the other boys, wondering what he would be like to you.

"Kiss first then," San stated, pulling Seonghwa closer by his neck and crashing their lips together. Fuck. You were squished between them as they made out, your pussy clenching around nothing as you got needier and needier.

Suddenly you felt two of San's thick fingers in your cunt, pushing in and out of you, making you moan out. Seonghwa reached for your pussy too, rubbing your clit with his middlefinger as San kept fucking you with his fingers. You cried out and clenched around their fingers, the pleasure being so good. ''O-Oh my fucking God,'' you moaned out as Seonghwa picked up the pace. This way you could never last long.

Before you knew it you came again, arousal seeping out of you and coating San's fingers. The boys pulled their hands away and ended the kiss and San held his fingers in front of Seonghwa's mouth, ordering him to lick them off. Seonghwa sucked San's fingers clean while looking at him so intensely as you pulled San's underwear down.

San's dick was rather girthy and thick and it nearly made you drool. Wow, fuck. You got on your knees in front of him and Seonghwa followed your lead. ''I think our hyung is a little needy for cock, don't you think?'' Yunho grinned as he sat on one of the chairs, stroking his erection through his underwear. ''Are you needy for cock, Seonghwa hyung?'' San asked, raising his right eyebrow.

Seonghwa's cheeks and ears were red, so embarrassed but God, it was so cute. ''Can I?'' Seonghwa asked with a small voice. ''Hm... What about Y/N then?'' San asked. Seonghwa thought for a few seconds until Yunho showed up naked and sat next to San. ''She can suck my cock first.''

You swallowed thickly as you saw his big cock sitting between his legs. ''Wow,'' you breathed out, ''where the fuck do you hide this thing?'' Yunho laughed and leaned back a little. ''If you suck it well enough I'll let you ride it.'' You nodded and quickly got to work.

Yunho's muscles tensed when he felt your hot, wet mouth swallow his cock. Your head bobbed up and down as you used your hands on the part you couldn't fit in your mouth. The idol threw back his head and moaned out as he watched your 'innocent' eyes look up at him.

Suddenly you heard groaning beside you as well, making you let go of Yunho's cock with a pop and watch the two men in awe. Seonghwa was sucking San's dick as if it were the sexiest porno in existance, it looked and sounded so incredibly sinful.

The slurping sounds and the moans Seonghwa let out as he gagged on San's cock made your pussy throb. San was moaning and thrusting his hips upwards, fucking his hyung's throat. You gasped as Yunho grabbed your by your hair and forced you back down on his cock. You moaned and gagged around his member as he made you choke on it, fucking your mouth just the way San was doing to Seonghwa.

Yunho and San gave each other a glance, smirking as they were abusing your throat's for their pleasure. ''Fuck, that's so good, such a good girl,'' Yunho moaned as he felt his release coming closer. ''Are you gonna cum Yunie?'' San smirked. ''Fuck yeah, gonna paint her throat all white, ah!'' he moaned out as he came deep in your throat, forcing you to swallow his seeds. You let go of his cock with a pop and you panted out.

Seonghwa was still working on San's cock, drool all over his chin and down the base of San's shaft. ''I'm gonna cum in your mouth now and you're gonna fucking take my load,'' San grunted, ''you're gonna fucking take it, okay baby?'' Seonghwa moaned around his cock before swallowing the big load that San released with a loud moan. Seonghwa panted heavily when he got off his wet cock, tears in his eyes. ''That's a good boy,'' San said as he caressed Seonghwa's hair.

''Fuck, this is the hottest thing I've ever experienced,'' you breathed out as you got on Yunho's lap, hands over his toned chest. You pushed him down to lay flat on the bed as you mounted his cock, letting it sink all the way in. You let out a long moan as you felt him stretch you out.

''I-I want all of you, please, all of you at once,'' you whimpered as you bounced lightly on Yunho's length. ''Oh? You want all of us at once? What a naughty little girl,'' Yunho smirked, ''well you heard her boys.'' ''Hm, you're one to like having all her holes filled don't ya?'' San smirked. ''You're not fucking my ass San, do you understand? You're not fucking my ass'' you said, rolling your eyes, knowing about his ass-obsession. San laughed and nodded as he got behind you. ''I promise I won't fuck your ass, only Hwa's.''

San slid his rigid cock right next to Yunho's, deep into your pussy. ''Oh-Oh my God!'' You cried out. ''What about me?'' a now naked Seonghwa asked with his boba eyes. God, those eyes. ''Kiss me,'' you whimpered, pulling him close by his hip. Seonghwa got closer and passionately kissed you on the mouth, driving you inside with his soft lips.

Yunho and San slowly started moving inside you, making you moan into Seonghwa's mouth. You took his long cock in your hand, pumping it up and down slowly, trying to match Yunho and San's pace. Seonghwa moaned along with you and bucked his hips up.

''I had no idea Seonghwa hyung was this filthy,'' Yunho smirked as he rolled his hips up into you. San and Yunho were moving faster, fucking you harder and it felt so good that you could barely keep on kissing Seonghwa. You kept moaning and moaning, eventually breaking the kiss and resting your head against his shoulder. You kept pumping his cock rapidly, earning the most beautiful moans from the boy.

''O-Oh my, you're driving me insane,'' he moaned out. ''Hmm... I always knew he was filthy, I still live with him,'' San smirked before continuing, ''He's always fucking touching himself, fucking himself, listening to us when we're jerking off, he's a little pervert,'' San smirked. Seonghwa could only nodd, whine and moan at San's words,

''I-I'm sorry, I don't wanna be a pervert,'' he cried out, ''I-I just couldn't help it!'' ''It's okay babyboy, it's okay,'' San cooed, ''I'm gonna take care of you after this.''

San's hips thrusted quickly into you, his balls softly clashing against your ass. ''Fuck, you are so good for us,'' Yunho moaned. ''Y-Yes, so good for you, so good for you, I'll fucking let you ruin me whenever you guys want I promise y-you can use my pussy,'' you moaned out. ''Oh? You want us to use your pussy as a good little fucktoy when we're on the road? Well I cannot say no to that.''

''Yes, please, please, please!'' You begged them as you kept working your hand on Seonghwa's cock. He bucked his hips up in the air and started fucking your fist, cumming all over it with a loud moan before he could even announce it.

''What a filthy boy,'' San said, smirking as he pounded into you, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. You let go of Seonghwa's cock as you felt forward onto Yunho's chest, moaning out from the friction you got on your clit. ''Oh look at you, you're close aren't you?'' Yunho said, smirking. ''Y-Yes, Yunie, yes! G-Gonna cum so hard,'' you moaned loudly. San and Yunho thrusted a few more times before they send you over the edge, making you scream out in pleasure.

Only seconds later Yunho came as well, spilling inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out of you and so did San, seeing him watch the three of you by himself. San laid Seonghwa down and smirked at the innocent-looking boy. ''Shall I fill you up now, huh?

''Y-Yes, please, please I've been wanting you for so long,'' he cried out. You and Yunho felt quite fucked out so you laid in his arms as you watched San lube up his dick and slide it into Seonghwa's puckering hole.

''I'm gonna fucking make you scream, hyung,'' he panted out as he let the older one adjust to his size. ''Please, have no mercy on me, I can take it.'' ''I know you can, I've seen that dildo underneath your bed,'' San smirked. Seonghwa's eyes grew wide as San moved inside him, starting off with a rough and fast pace.

He already earned so many sinful, slutty moans from him, making you think that Seonghwa went in the wrong entertainment business cause damn he was sexier and hotter than any pornstar you've ever seen.

''Yeah, you like that baby?'' he smirked as he plunged deeper inside him. San grabbed Seonghwa's cock and jerked it off as he kept fucking him, turning him into a moaning mess. ''I-I'm not gonna last long like this!'' Seonghwa moaned out, ''Your cock is too good, too fucking good!''

San smirked and absolutely went nuts inside him, ramming his cock deep inside him and letting out the most animalistic groans. ''Fuck me, fuck me hard, give me your cum, please!'' Seonghwa begged. With a few more jerks of his hips San released inside Seonghwa, moaning out his name.

Seonghwa moaned louder as he felt his orgasm approach, clenching down on San's cock, milking him dry. San's dom facade slowly broke down as his pleasure took over and watched Seonghwa unravel beneath him, spilling all over his hand and abs.

After getting cleaned up you wished the boys good night before getting back to your own hotelroom, rethinking the shenanigans of earlier and you couldn't help but smile. This was definitely not gonna be the last time this was happening.

What happens in London, doesn't stay back in London. It's comin' back home, you thought.

#kpop #ateez #smut #seonghwa #san #yunho #shinestarhwaa's promptlist❤️#shinestarhwaa

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Note

Reader’s childhood friend gets dumped by Rafe, and then when the reader moves to town, they get back at Rafe, by breaking his heart.

thank you for this request ahhh i'm obsessed! (I've never seen john tucker must die but i hope this is along the right lines of what we were after lol.) i feel so bad ab hurting him :'(

anyway happy halloween guys!! i hope everyone has so much fun :))

rafe cameron must die - r.c.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 3k

tags/warnings: toxic af reader, cheating, manipulation, swearing, read at your own discretion (but nothing else really that deep).

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

After your best friend showed up on your doorstep in New York with tears in her eyes and her favourite pillow under her arm, you knew you had to do something.

She had lived in New York most of her life, having only left you a few years before to move down to the Outer Banks with her family. You missed her dearly, but you hardly went a day without talking or a holiday without her coming home- that is, until she starting dating Rafe Cameron.

Over the last year your friend had fallen off your radar, not for a lack of you trying. But with her crying with her head in your lap, she confessed that she never meant to hurt you, but it was Rafe who had insisted that she didn't need her connections back home, and would roll his eyes when she mentioned anyone he didn't know personally. This got to the point where she just stopped, and made the mistake of listening to him when he drilled into her that you didn't even care if you couldn't be bothered to come visit. Luckily for you, while manipulative and abusive, Rafe also was careless- and your best friend told you he never even bothered to remember your name.

You dried her tears after days, shedding a fair few yourself upon hearing about how your friend's ex had treated her and how he broke up with her over text after no-call, no-showing their one-year anniversary date. You couldn't take it. You had to fix this somehow.

You had always been one for silent, secret revenge. Like spreading rumours about people who had done you wrong and never laying claim to the story, homie-hopping the friend group of a boy who refused to give you the respect of labeling your relationship, or even taking the liberty of sleeping with all of another girls ex-boyfriend's if she had given you one too many dirty looks. They didn't have to know about it in order for you to maintain your confidence- you knew what you did, and that was enough. This time, though, it wasn't you they had hurt. It was your best friend, the purest, kindest of souls who couldn't hurt a fly if you handed her the swatter and somehow held it still.

Rafe Cameron had to know the mistake he made by treating the wrong girl the wrong way, and you would make sure that he would. As you got off the ferry in Kildare with a suitcase in your hand, your mind was already reeling with every last thing you could do to him to make him feel what your best friend did- to hurt him the way he deserved. Rafe Cameron must die.

After scrubbing your social media's of any evidence of each other, your friend gave you the name of the country club he frequented. You had been quick to apply for every job they had open, and you landed one as a cart girl- it was perfect. You couldn't be more pleased with the position, you got to drive around on a drink cart in whatever short skirt you pleased, serving drinks and snacks to rich men who tipped generously and to most importantly, Rafe Cameron.

He had been intrigued from the first time he laid eyes on you. You were pretty, and seemingly so nice, and better yet; you were new in town. To him, you didn't know anything of him and his reputation, his drug habit, or his family name. He didn't know that you knew it all.

"Good morning Mr. Cameron." You smile, pulling up next to his tee-off point and quickly but casually stepping out of the cart. "Your usual today?"

"Come on, you can call me Rafe. My dad is 'Mr. Cameron'." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head at you and already digging for his wallet.

"That he is." You agree with a slight laugh, digging through your cooler to grab his favourite brand of beer and a shot. "First one is on me." You insist, holding the shot out for him as he looks up from where he was shuffling through the bills in his wallet.

"What's the occasion?" Rafe chuckles, furrowing his brow as he grabs the small glass from you.

"I don't know, it's always a good day when my favourite client is in early." You shrug, painting an innocent smile on your face.

"I'm your favourite, huh?" He smirks, accentuating the statement by taking the shot as you crack open his beer and hold it out to him to chase with.

"Of course you are." You hum, watching him as he trades the shot glass for the can in your hand.

"Well, that's funny, actually, because you're my favourite cart girl." Rafe smiles at you, and you return it, looking down and brushing your hair back out of your face.

"That's real sweet, thank you." You blush, fighting back the urge to scowl at how honestly fake he is. He's not this nice person he pretends to be- but he doesn't know that you aren't either. How long could the two of you play this game before one of you shows your cards? You're hoping that you get the chance to go first.

"You're welcome." Rafe smirks, nodding at you, reaching for his wallet again. God- he is so obnoxious you could vomit. "Here, this is a tip then if the drinks are free." He hands you a fifty, and you once again resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Oh, wow, thank you." You smile sheepishly, taking it from him and tucking the bill into your bra.

"Don't worry about it." He smiles, leaning on his club as he watches you go to get back in the cart. "Hey, Y/N?"

Bingo.

You turn and put that smile back on, humming and tilting your head at him expectantly.

"Want to grab drinks after your shift? I know this great country club with a really cool bar."

Of course he wants to take you out to the club you work at- and to think that's funny, too? What a joke.

"Yeah! I would like that." You nod with a smile.

Your first few dates went... swimmingly. Perfectly to plan, anyway. Rafe would always pay, and you would always act a little nervous. You would wear sundresses- your friend said they were his favourite, and you played into his interests. You made a strong impression that you were one to be easily manipulated, and he was falling for it. Hard.

You were walking down the beach, hand in hand, taking the time to look at the beautiful view of the ocean while the boy next to you watched you intently, as if you were the only girl in the world. Right now, to him, you were. "Hey, Y/N, so I was thinking..."

"Oh, were you?" You tease, giggling as you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I was," Rafe chuckles, gently swinging your hand. "I was thinking that maybe I'd like you to be my girlfriend, a more official thing. If you want, of course."

"Really?" You smile, chewing your bottom lip as you look up at him.

"Yeah, of course. You're really cool, and kind, and so beautiful, and I was just hoping you were feeling the same way I was." It was sweet, you can see how he roped in your friend so effortlessly.

"Aw, well, yes, I would love that, Rafe."

When you got back to your apartment that night, you were quick to text your friend and tell her he was all in. The plan was working out beautifully, and while she felt guilty, you reassured her that karma was on your side- and it would be the only justice he ever would face.

You spent the following month as Rafe's dream girl. Within three weeks of him asking you to be his girlfriend, he had told you he loved you over a shared bottle of wine on his yacht. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy this new lifestyle he was giving you, but you were much more excited by the idea of all of this blowing up in his face. You had considered the route of revenge porn, even going so far as to save some illicit pictures of him that you asked for, but even for you, that feels too far.

Safe to say, though, it's only a matter of a few months before he's all in, and you're all in with his friends, and thankfully, his family. He didn't get on with his sister, which worked out for you considering that her boyfriend, John B, was a pogue- and your overly possessive boyfriend had a wonderfully convenient distaste for pogues.

"Sarah! How are you? I didn't expect to see you here!" You smile, walking up to her and immediately pulling her in for a hug.

"Uh, at a boneyard party?" Sarah chuckles, hugging you back and looking over your shoulder at her friends, sharing a confused look with them.

"Well, yeah. I guess you're right." You giggle, pulling away and looking around at her friends. "These must be your friends! I've heard so much about you guys."

"Uh, yeah, everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is John B, Kie, Pope, and JJ." She introduces you and you smile politely, giving them a small wave. "Y/N is Rafe's girlfriend."

"Nice to meet you." Pope says, but it sounds more like a question. It would be suspicious that Rafe's girlfriend would want anything to do with pogues.

"I just moved here a few months ago. I'm still trying to make friends and stuff." You shrug. "Really I've heard only good things about you guys."

Kie scoffs at this, bringing her cup up to her lips and shaking her head.

"What?" You giggle, furrowing your brow.

"As if Rafe would have anything nice to say about us." JJ agrees with his friend.

"Well, Rafe is... you know. Rafe."

"You could say that." John B says sarcastically and Sarah hits his shoulder.

"He's just... Actually, never mind. I shouldn't say that." You laugh it off, hoping one of them will take the bait.

They all look at each other, and a silent interaction takes place that you hope you're reading correctly. "Hey, can I grab you another drink?" JJ offers after a moment.

You nod and smile. "Yeah! Sounds good, I'm not drunk enough to be getting these shoes dirty like this. I still feel guilty about it." You laugh.

"Alright then! Tell me- have you ever done a shotgun before?"

The night progresses just as planned, with you getting sloppy drunk. Or, outwardly, sloppy drunk. You'd "accidentally" spilled over half of your drinks, gravitating closer and closer to JJ. He was cute anyways, and funny, and who were you to deny yourself the pleasure of being around someone you actually liked after months of faking it with Rafe?

You fire off a text to him, asking him to "pretty please" come pick you up from this party, and he replies within a minute promising he'd be there soon, and, the icing on the cake, that he loved you.

Now was most definitely the right time to get this whole thing over with.

"So, you were saying earlier about Rafe..." John B asks, leaning on Sarah's shoulder as she nudges him, shooting him a look that says 'don't be too obvious'.

"Oh! Well like I said, I probably shouldn't say..." You giggle, leaning into JJ's side more as he slots his arm around your waist to steady you.

"C'mon, Y/N/N, you can tell us. We won't tell a soul." JJ promises, squeezing you gently.

"Okay, well, In that case, he's kind of... weird, I guess? When we're alone he's just so clingy and whiney and kind of annoying." You slur out, giggling and covering your face. "I mean, I love him, but like, it's a lot."

You watch as their faces collectively light up, John B and JJ trying their best not to laugh. "And! And, you seriously can't tell anyone I told you this..." You cut them off, shaking your head and pretending to stumble a bit. "It's like... quite small. Honestly, I feel bad for him. The sex is so bad."

You laugh as everyone else does, already knowing you've lit the fire for a rumour to spread. Not that it was entirely true, but you figured it was a nice touch. Something for him to remember you by after you're back in New York and he's still fighting off the small dick allegations.

"That's... yeah that sucks." JJ laughs, running his hand down your back. "I have to tell you, though, no one's ever said that about me." He whispers the last part to you so no one else could hear, but you're sure they got the general idea.

You hum, taking another sip from your can as you turn in his arm. "Come with me to grab another drink?" You whisper back and he nods.

"Guys! We'll be back, just going to grab another drink." JJ explains, already leading you off.

"Don't tell anyone what I said about Rafe!" You laugh, pointing at them as you walk away, sure to be loud enough to draw looks from other kids scattered around.

"Come on, this way." You grab his hand and lead him away from where you stashed your drinks, up toward the road.

"Don't you want your drink?" JJ asks, confused as you turn to face him, shaking your can to demonstrate that it's still almost entirely full.

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. "What about your boyfriend?"

"What about him?" You say, stopping next to a tree, chewing on your lip as you look up at the boy in front of you.

"Nothing." JJ says quietly, shaking his head as you lean in, catching headlights approaching in your peripheral vision.

You pull JJ closer to you, his lips pressed to yours and you tangle your fingers in his hair as the lights get closer, brighter.

Rafe makes his way down the road, repeatedly trying to call you. No answer after your text, but he just sums it up to you being too drunk to make out what's on the screen. He loves it when you're drunk, you're giggly, and fun, and more relaxed than normal. It's not a side of you he sees often.

Rafe is beginning to think you're changing him, for the better. He's never loved someone so much, he fell fast and hard for a girl who was perfect for him. Soulmate was a word he swore he never believed in, that was until he got to know you.

When he caught a look at you in his headlights, making out with JJ fucking Maybank, he could swear his heart stopped. Typically he'd be angry- he's not a stranger to being cheated on, or doing the cheating, but with you, it was so different. He was more mature now. Apparently, maturity meant heartbreak.

"Y/N? Is that you?" Rafe calls out, getting out of the truck as JJ disappears back down to the beach. He already knew the answer.

"Rafe! Uh, hi!" You giggle nervously, deciding to play this out a little longer as he walks up to you.

"Who were you with?" He asks, stopping a few feet away as his voice cracks.

"Oh! Uhm, just a friend." You answer, keeping your distance.

"Oh, okay. Well, let's go, then. I'll get you home." He mumbles, a tear falling which he quickly wipes away as he turns to head back to the truck. Hopefully, the few seconds he isn't facing you are enough to compose himself.

"What, that's it?" You scoff, crossing your arms. The sudden sobriety in your voice caught him off-guard. "I really expected more from you, Rafe Cameron."

He turns, brow furrowed as he looks you over. Sober as ever, he's sure of it. "What?"

"What?" You mock him, rolling your eyes. "I'm disappointed. Honestly. Not even a screaming match?"

Rafe pauses for a moment, shaking his head slightly as if it would help him interpret the situation. "Y/N, I'm not going to fight with you. I'm going to pretend I didn't see what I'm pretty sure I just saw, and we're going to move on. Okay?"

"I'd rather not, actually." You reply, feet planted firmly where you stood. "Are you crying?" You ask, leaning in a little and squinting in the headlights to see better. "Oh, my, god. You are crying!"

"What are you laughing at? You cheated on me!" He defends, wiping his eyes rapidly as his voice shakes.

"Aw." You laugh, clutching your drink to your chest with a fake pout. "It really worked, didn't it?"

Rafe looks down at the ground now, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Tell me, how does it feel?" You ask. "I'd like to pass it on to a friend. I mean, she already knows, because you cheated on her. Then blamed her, and then hit her when she pointed the finger back at you. Oh, and that was after you ghosted her and broke up with her with a snapchat."

He just shakes his head again, chewing now on the side of his nail as tears continue to fall.

"Nothing? Not even a word?" You ask, waving your hand in his direction to grab his attention.

"I love you." He mutters, a weak attempt at regaining your favour.

This only succeeds in making you laugh. "So I win!" You drop your can so you can give yourself a round of applause.

"Rafe Cameron, I have never met someone as fake, and sick, and as cruel as you are." You recite, stepping closer with every word. "You are going to die alone. And you'll deserve it."

"You will too." Rafe counters, taking a deep breath. "You are just as cruel and sick as I am." He spits, regaining enough confidence to be angry. "What kind of person takes months out of their life to move to a new city just to fuck up someone else's life?"

"You don't even know the extent of what I did yet." You whisper, face to face with him now. "Go ahead. Hit me. I won't press charges. I won't need to."

His fists are clenched at his sides, jaw shut so tight his temples are starting to ache as angry tears continue to fall.

"You can't, can you?" You continue, taking a step back now, smiling and shaking your head. "You're pathetic, Rafe Cameron!" You call, turning and walking back down the path.

He watches you walk away, heartbroken as he huffs with anger. That's what he gets for changing. That's what he gets for trusting you.

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jebewonmorelike · 2 years ago

Text

Devil by the Whiteboard

wc: 4.2k (so i was way off lmao) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: MEAN!hanbin he is not nice so be forewarned but the ending suggests he can possibly be fixed maybe but no promises; being alone with a mean person in a hallway; light swears; angst but only towards the end; i wrote that they go to an academy but it could be a university it doesn't change the story summary: booksmart!reader is ready to finally win the scholastic decathlon, but a series of coincidental unfortunate events that couldn't possibly have anything to do with studentbodypresident!hanbin threaten to ruin their chances once more. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ guys i did it, i finished my masterpiece. i hope you like it. academic play on the title of the txt song, i know-- clever. the scholastic decathlon is inspired by the one in high school musical. also pls don't make fun of me for not knowing how science or chemistry works, i was literally advance in science but my chem teacher in high school was on academic probation for being such a bad teacher and we all nearly failed our regional exams so. anyway pls excuse this or lightly roast me in the tags or comments. i hope you enjoy mean!shanbin... this one might need a part 2... or a prequel. or both. I'M SO EXCITED I FINISHED THIS OMFG I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

(part two— ��i didn’t think you had it in you”)

It's 7 P.M. on a Friday and there's nowhere in the world you'd rather be than at the Regional Scholastic Decathlon Finals. You're about to partake in your favorite extracurricular activity: more academics. There's only one thing you wish you could change...

"I'm so honored to be competing as a team leader in the Regional Scholastic Decathlon Finals," Hanbin says into the handheld microphone. "And I'm even more honored to be competing against who I believe to be the most worthy opponents."

You fight the urge to gag at the Student Body President standing next to you on the makeshift stage.

"And you know each other well, I've been told," the announcer adds with a laugh. "You and (Y/N) are something of academic rivals, yes?"

Hanbin laughs, smile lines on his cheeks only adding to his innocent, clean-cut image. "In the most respectful way. Wouldn't you agree, (Y/N)?"

There are, in truth, very few things you'd agree less with. Coming from a private academy for gifted students, there were several different Scholastic Decathlon teams at your school. The Green Team, the Red Team and the Yellow Team had all already been eliminated this semester, which left the Blue Team (led by Hanbin) and the Pink Team (led by you).

There had also been a new Purple Team formed at the beginning of this year, but they were disbanded when the headmaster found out the "experiments" they were conducting in the science labs were a bit unorthodox.

You honestly weren't sure how much of a "worthy opponent" the Pink Team was at this rate. The Blue Team had won Regionals for three semesters straight and it didn't seem like their streak would end any time soon...

Not with Sung Hanbin on their side.

You glance at the walking, talking cinnamon roll standing next to you and wish fervently that all his teeth would fall out. "Right. Respectful," you chime quietly into your own microphone.

"And (Y/N)! It seems this is always where the Pink Team meets its demise under your leadership," the announcer notes, a bit too happily if you're being honest. "What makes you think you can beat Hanbin this time?"

The audience of family, friends, and teachers laughs awkwardly at the dig of a question. You swallow nervously, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you answer.

You and Hanbin were total opposites, both competing for the tile of top student since your first year at the academy. He was friendly, outgoing-- a networker, even. When the election for Student Body President came around each year, there weren't any votes cast for anyone except Sung Hanbin (and you knew that for a fact since you were the one counting them). You were more of a behind-the-scenes overachiever. Acing every class, developing plans and putting them into action, and keeping your head down in the hallways to avoid any unwanted social interaction.

Though President Hanbin had been asked to recite a speech for Teacher's Appreciation Week, it was Secretary (Y/N) who had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning writing it.

"I don't think I can beat Hanbin," you say finally. "But I do think the Pink Team can beat the Blue Team. I think that's what you meant to ask, right?"

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence before Hanbin grins, extending his hand for you to shake. "I couldn't agree more. This event is about our teams, not us. Every team member has worked hard to prove their abilities tonight."

You watch as the audience absolutely melts at the handsome boy's charming smile and his words of camaraderie that were merely a more attractive repackaging of your previous reply. You pull your hand back from his as quickly as possible.

The announcer smiles in admiration at the boy to his right. “You are entirely correct, Hanbin. My mistake. And what a wonderful sentiment for you to share with us.”

It barely even phases you anymore: the hold Hanbin could have on people. Maybe you’d have been captivated too, if you weren’t the one person who--.

“(Y/N)?” The announcer prompts, his tone indicating that this isn’t the first time he called your name. “Any words for your team?”

“Oh,” you mumble, mentally shaking off the embarrassment of daydreaming during a regional competition. "Let's do our best! No matter the outcome, though we will strive for a good one, I'm incredibly proud of the work my amazing team has done so far this year and you all should be as well. Fighting!"

"That's just swell," the announcer replies rather unenthusiastically. "Hanbin?"

Hanbin nods, smiling graciously at the announcer and the crowd. "We've put in so much time and effort this semester and I truly believe our labor of love has blossomed into a winning fruit. And, even on the chance that we don't take this win, I will still be so proud of that fruit that is my amazing team. Fighting!"

The audience applauds and the scream sitting in your throat is now desperately trying to claw its way out. Instead, you just smile.

"Hanbin has such a way with words, doesn't he?" The announcer muses to you.

"He does," you agree politely, muttering under your breath, "If that 'way' is stealing them."

"Then let's get this Regional Final started!" The announcer's words are met with applause as you rejoin your team behind your table.

"We've got this," your teammate Maria encourages, patting you on the back gently. "It's our turn to win!"

You nod, smiling at your team and giving them two thumbs up. "Let's win this! Fighting!"

The first subject of the Super Relay is mathematics, an event where each team's members must rotate in a line to solve a new equation while racing against both their opponent and the clock. As the team leader, you are last in line as you will have the least amount of time left on the clock to solve your equation.

Unfortunately, Sung Hanbin is also at the end of the Blue Team's line. While you're better at economics, history, literature, and geography, Hanbin has a slight leg up on you in the math and science departments. But you had been studying overtime and, even if you didn't manage to beat his time in this round, you were confident you could follow closely enough behind that your team would not be hurting for points.

As soon as both teams are set in their positions, the announcer raises one arm. "On your marks, get set..."

"Go!" He signals, lowering his arm as Maria rushes to the shared whiteboard.

Her equation flashes on the screen and you exhale with relief. Maria was the weakest at maths on your team, so she always went first in relays so the other four team members could make up the time. This equation is fairly straightforward and in her wheelhouse, so you're able to relax for awhile.

Each team member finishes their equation, placing their markers on the whiteboard shelf and joining the end of the line until it's finally your turn to solve. David throws his marker down too harshly and it falls to the ground, rolling to the other team's side.

Hanbin is now racing up to the whiteboard for his team, but on his way he bends down and reaches under the chair that your team's marker has rolled under. After a moment, he resurfaces; marker in hand as he smiles at you sweetly, holding it out to you as you run up to the whiteboard.

"I think you might need this," he jokes politely. You give him a nod and tear off the cap as you quickly memorize your equation, smiling to yourself as you realize you've practiced this exact problem in a workbook just last week.

"And look at this sportsmanship from Sung Hanbin!" The announcer commends. "He's the Student Body President for a reason, folks."

You put your marker to the board, attempting to copy your equation as you ignore the adoring audience's endless mumbling about Hanbin. As you write, however, you suddenly realize that the marker in your hand isn't producing any ink.

Panic flows through you as you scribble it desperately against the whiteboard trying to get the ink flowing again, but your efforts are fruitless. You turn to the announcer in a frenzy.

"Please, my marker isn't working!" You exclaim, looking to the judges' table for assistance.

"It worked fine for the previous team member," the announcer contests, watching as you show him the lack of ink. "But, yes, it seems to be out of ink."

He walks to the judges table as your heart sits in your stomach, terrified that some fluke could completely ruin your team's chances of finally beating the Blue Team. You glance over at Hanbin, who, much to your surprise, is looking back at you concernedly.

A judge brings you another approved marker and you resume solving your equation frantically, despite the judge relaying that you would have ten seconds added to your permitted time due to the mishap.

After about 45 seconds, you check Hanbin's progress and your spirit is renewed when you see how quickly you've caught up to him. You're now only two lines behind him in the equation and you can tell Hanbin is caught off guard by your speed.

After another thirty seconds, Hanbin steps back from the whiteboard and nods as he double checks his math. He circles his answer and lays his marker down on the shelf, running to the stop clock and hitting his team's timer.

The audience cheers at the Blue Team leader's probable victory, but you don't let it throw you. Another nine seconds and your answer is circled on the board as you run to the buzzer and stop the clock. Your team surrounds you excitedly, praising you for your focus during the stressful situation and your noticeably quick solving of the equation.

After the judges finalize the results of the mathematics portion of the Super Relay, they hand the announcer a script card. "The results are in! The winner of the mathematics Super Relay is... The Pink Team!"

Your team starts to cheer, jumping up and down ecstatically around you as you remain absolutely shocked at the unexpected win.

You watch as the announcer's eyebrows furrow confusedly, rereading the script card to check if the result is correct.. "Huh. Mathematics is usually where the Pink Team has the most trouble, but with the additional ten seconds added to their time clock... The Pink Team wins by just 0.45 seconds."

You can't help but notice that the announcer looks concerned by the results, but before you can analyze him further you're pulled into your team's celebration. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hanbin chewing his lip nervously at the Blue Team's defeat.

You're halfway through the Science portion of the Super Relay when your beaker begins to boil. You watch as it bubbles furiously when it's merely supposed to be simmering on the hotplate.

You hover your hand over the hotplate, panic turning into confusion when you feel a low amount of heat that couldn't possibly be boiling the solution in this beaker. Unfortunately the alternative to a hotplate turned up too high was much worse...

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," you whisper, taking the beaker off of your hotplate with your gloved hands. As expected, the beaker continues to bubble over even after being removed from heat and you stare at the mixture in horror.

Where had you messed up?

You look around at the different tubes on your table, reading the labels of each vial carefully to see if you'd poured in the wrong liquid by mistake. You check each empty tube, verifying that they were in fact the liquids you had thought they were.

But there's one label that catches your eye in particular. The side of it is sticking up slightly and, cautiously, you peel it off to reveal another label underneath.

Glycerin.

Thankfully it wouldn't kill you, but it was a huge nuisance. You'd have to remake the solution and, as you glance at the time clock, you realize your prospects of finishing are hopeless.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

Hanbin hits his team's buzzer in the knick of time, the crowd erupting into applause for the school's golden boy. You chew your cheek, willing yourself not to cry as your team members begin to comfort you. Just as you compose yourself, you hear shouts coming from the other side of the room.

"(Y/N) couldn't even finish the experiment!" One of the younger Blue Team members taunts, smirking at you. "Pink Team is going down!"

"Maybe they should consider appointing a new leader," another Blue Team member jeers. "(Y/N) is clearly--."

"That's not very kind, Ilsung," Hanbin interrupts, placing a hand on the shoulder of both of the younger team members sternly. "Everyone here is trying their best and, unfortunately, mistakes are very easy to make under pressure."

"I didn't make a mistake. The--," you start to correct, but Hanbin has already stepped up onto his metaphorical soapbox once more.

"Whether we are winners in the competition or not, we are the losing team if we don't treat our opponents with the respect they deserve," Hanbin concludes, turning back to face the audience.

"Once again, Sung Hanbin proves his humility and kindness," the announcer coos as Hanbin shakes his head to politely deflect the compliment with a smile. "Exactly what we'd expect from the Fall Regional Scholastic Decathlon champion."

"What!?" You exclaim. "He didn't even win yet!"

"Anyway," the announcer continues as the judges hand him the results, "the winner of the science portion of the Super Relay is... The Blue Team! Obviously!"

You laugh hopelessly. "Obviously, he said."

"It's alright," David reassures. "Double the points in the final Humanities portion. The Blue Team has nothing on us!"

You nod, smiling reluctantly. "You're right. We can still win this! I believe in all of you. Let's do this!"

Pink Team is ahead 44 to 36 when you finally step up to the podium to answer your set of twenty humanities questions. Hanbin steps up to his podium, picking up his buzzer and breathing deeply in preparation for the upcoming questions in his weakest area.

You pick up your buzzer, placing your thumb on the trigger comfortably so that it doesn't cramp when you press it rapidly.

"Good luck," Hanbin says, smiling at you cutely.

"Yeah," you manage to reply without throwing up. "You too."

You fire off the five economics questions easily, hitting the buzzer a full second before Hanbin each time. You're on a roll and you don't have any intentions of slowing down.

"Now we'll move onto literature," the announcer prompts, rearranging his script cards.

"One second, please," Hanbin calls suddenly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "This is embarrassing but I think there's something in my shoe. Can I be allowed to remove it?"

The judges look at each other momentarily before nodding. "Quickly," one agrees.

Hanbin bends down, untying his shoelace and shaking out his shoe. You look out at the audience, who are all both visibly and audibly fawning over how adorable the Blue Team leader is.

"So endearing, that Sung Hanbin," the announcer remarks fondly.

Hanbin finally hops back up to his feet, nodding at the judges and the audience respectfully. "Please forgive me for the delay."

"No worries at all. Let's jump right back into it then," the announcer segways. "Question six: What is the name of the collection of 85 articles written by Alexander Hamilton, John Jay—.”

You smile as you press your buzzer, but confusion sweeps over you when Hanbin’s buzzer sounds first.

“The Federalist Papers,” he answers, but you can hear a bit of uncertainty in his voice.

“Correct,” the announcer says. “Question seven: Name the correct order of the three cantos of The Divine Com—.”

You press your buzzer, Hanbin’s buzzer ringing out again.

“Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso,” the Blue Team leader answers correctly again.

You go through five more questions like this— knowing the answer to them all immediately only to somehow be beaten by Hanbin’s buzzer.

“Um, excuse me?” You ask before the start of the history round. “I think… I think there’s something wrong with my buzzer!"

The announcer turns to the judges who allow the complaint with a nod. "Please test your buzzer several times," the judge on the end requests, gesturing for you to proceed.

You press the button on your buzzer and hear it ring. You press it once more and it rings again. The third time you press it, your cheeks heat up with utter embarrassment. You could've sworn it wasn't working just a moment ago...

You smile uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," you apologize quickly, mortified as your bottom lip tucks between your lips shyly.

"It's okay," Hanbin answers, smile lines appearing on his perfect cheeks. "I know this last section is usually not my best, but I promise it's just because I've been studying so hard. I would be thrown off guard too!"

The audience laughs at his humorous compassion, your error only making way for another opportunity to boost Hanbin's morale. You swear you feel yourself shrinking down, down, down to the size of an ant as Hanbin gets every last point in the final round of the Super Relay.

You pressed the buzzer in the middle of every question.

"It's okay, (Y/N)," Maria says, resting her head on your shoulder. "I'm sure all of that stuff with the marker just threw you off. That wasn't your fault."

You shake your head, completely perplexed by how this had happened and now also beginning to questioning your sanity. "I was pressing the buzzer," you assert, fighting off another round of tears welling up in your eyes as the adrenaline of the competition wheres off.

"I pressed the buzzer every time."

"We'll get 'em next semester, (Y/N)!" David encourages. "And they'll never see it coming."

You force yourself to smile, not wanting to to show the team your real emotions. Had you really not been pressing the buzzer? Were you actually going crazy?

"Mm," you agree quietly. "Pink Team: Spring Regional Scholastic Decathlon Champions! We'll make it happen!"

Your team all puts their hands into the circle, shouting, "1, 2, 3: Pink Team on Top!" After saying your temporary goodbyes, you walk through the empty hallway behind the gym and hang your lab coat up on the designated rack. As you secure your lab coat on the hook, you hear a mumbling coming from around the corner.

"Here's five hundred," you hear a familiar voice say as you tiptoe quietly to the end of the hall. "I'll get you the other half by Monday."

"Are you kidding me? You said you'd have it in full! Should've known the kid that was paying me to help him cheat in a Scholastic Decathlon would end up screwing me."

You peak your head out slowly around the corner, taking care not to make any loud sounds that might get you caught.

"Guess that's on you then. By Monday."

As the two men start to go their separate ways, you duck back behind the wall and try to control the rampant beating of your heart. You desperately attempt to silence your breathing as you hear one set of footsteps approach, closing your eyes and exhaling with relief when they continue down the hallway and past your hiding spot in the adjacent corridor.

With your hands over your eyes, you rub your face as tension bubbles to the surface. "Oh my god," you squeak out as the interaction you just witnessed sinks in.

Suddenly, something slams down above your head on the locker you're leaning against and rips you from your thought spiral.

"I'm glad you're finally starting to see my appeal," Hanbin says with a smirk, both hands pressed firmly against the locker on either side of your head. "But I think god might be a bit too much, even by my standards."

You swallow nervously, having had the displeasure of being confronted by Hanbin like this numerous times before. You look around to check if by some miracle there's anyone still lingering in the hallway that's witnessing this.

"Just me," Hanbin seemingly reads your mind. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"Y-you--... You..." He tilts his head expectantly, waiting for you to stop tripping over your own tongue. "You cheated?"

"Oh," Hanbin coos mockingly. "Did I?"

You nod, feeling your bottom lip shake. "You paid that announcer to give you all the answers."

"What?" He asks, face scrunching up in confusion. "He didn't give me the--... You think I, the reigning Regional Champion, need someone to give me the answers? Come on, (Y/N), I know you're smarter than that."

You blink back at him silently, watching as his face lights up in amusement.

"Do you actually have that little self-confidence?" He asks, shaking his head at you in amazement. "You really think your marker just happened to stop working right when it was your turn to solve? Or that the glycerin tube was just coincidentally mislabeled?"

Your lips part as Hanbin pieces the truth together for you.

"You and I both know you pressed that buzzer first every single time," he says earnestly, pouting at you sadly. "Are you really that insecure that you'd believe you were going crazy before you'd believe that I'd rigged your buzzer while I was fixing my shoe?"

"You... you..." You attempt to protest, but once again your stammering proves why you're always just Hanbin's ghostwriter.

His eyebrows furrow in concern and it's unnervingly genuine. "Seriously, (Y/N)? Now you're kind of just making me sad."

The patronizing from Hanbin is the last straw. He can steal your words, he can call you names, he can even sabotage your efforts...

But the moment Sung Hanbin begins to pity you is the moment you can no longer just stand there and take it.

"I'm gonna tell everybody," you threaten, but your voice comes out far too soft and shaky for him to take it seriously.

"I'm sure you are," he mocks, smirking at you. "I'm sure this time you won't just suck it up like you always do."

You lean forward, your face now just a couple inches from Hanbin's and you swear you see just the smallest flash of panic in his eyes at your action. "You're right," you agree. "You're always right, Hanbin."

He stares back at you, unmoving.

"That's why I'm so disappointed," you admit, sentiment suddenly shifting. "It wasn't my lack of confidence that made the possibility that you cheated unfathomable to me. It was honestly that, even after everything we've been through, I've always thought a bit more of you than that."

Hanbin leans back, hands falling to his sides as he continues to frown at you.

"I really don't like you, Hanbin, and I don't like always being in your shadow, but the truth is: you make a much better leader than I would," you confess, everything you've wanted to say now flowing freely out of your mouth. "And up until tonight, I thought that if I had to stand in a shadow, at least it was of someone who on some level deserved to be casting one."

Hanbin just blinks, his lips parting slightly as you study him. When he continues to refuse to react, you turn on your heels and begin to walk back down the hallway in the direction that you'd come from. You're halfway to the doors when Hanbin's voice suddenly rings out behind you:

"Join my team next semester."

You turn around quickly, one eyebrow raised in shock. "What!?"

"You heard me," he replies calmly.

"That's--... That's ridiculous! And your team is full anyway."

"Not for you, it's not," Hanbin quips, walking up to you.

"But--... But--."

"Come on, (Y/N). You just said it yourself: you were never meant to be a leader," Hanbin says as he stops in front of you. "But you're smarter than me. That's why I needed to set you back. There was no way I could've beaten you fair and square this time and you know it."

You stare at him wordlessly, wondering what you did in your past life to have to suffer the acquaintanceship of such an infuriating man.

"Even being thrown off by your stupid marker, you knew that equation like the back of your hand," he continues definitively. "If you had spoken up about the mislabeled tube. If you had trusted yourself about the buzzer..."

"But you knew I wouldn't."

He nods. "So join my team. Anyways, I... I could really use you," he says, a sheepish look on his face that you've never seen him wear around you before. "Blue Team is always able to win Regionals because I know how to beat the Pink Team-- I know how to beat you. But we always lose at Sectionals because the smartest person at our school was on the team we just beat."

You bite your lip, chewing on Hanbin's words as you feel both intensely offended and unfortunately flattered. But you could never let him know the latter. "What about anything that I just said makes you think I would join the team of some cheating asshole?"

To your surprise, he just laughs. "I've never heard you swear before. It's kind of..." He clears his throat, trailing off before he finishes his sentence. "If I'm being honest, your sudden display of willpower is kind of throwing me."

"Well I hope it throws you into another dimension, you self-righteous prick," you respond, turning back around furiously and continuing to walk down the hallway towards the exit doors-- shaking your head at the audacity of the boy called Sung Hanbin.

"Then can I pitch an alternative?" Hanbin calls as your fingers grip the door handle.

You pause, not realizing the mistake you've made as Hanbin's voice ricochets off the walls of the gym hallway:

"Go out with me."

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j0kers-light · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiiii!!! Can I be known as 🥁anon? I was the one who requested Jokers music taste and the instrument one!! (So glad you liked them btw, you write so welll!!!!!!)

How about 10 signs that joker is in love/likes someone and his love language? I mainly imagine him as someone who denies the idea (just like in HL) but still acts on his feelings in his own way- maybe leaving gifts around and denying any sort of accountability for them?

“I’m telling you, you’ve had that necklace on before” - “Huh? I didn’t even know you liked hand bags.” - “You SERIOUSLY forgot you owned that car?”

Welcome 🥁 anon!!

A huge hey hi to you! Yes, your requests were so much fun to fill, I hope I did them some justice! Ahh! Thank you, I'm happy you love mi work! 😭😭🥹

Lol, ten signs that Joker is in love? YOU MEAN, TEN THINGS HE HATES ABOUT YOU? 🥴 sorry not sorry.

Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy 🥁 anon! 🖤✨

Denial is a river in Egypt because Joker refuses to admit that he loves you! But he's a man where the saying, "Actions speak louder than words” applies. He won't say it (lol Meg from Hercules) but there will be signs he’s in love.

Joker is already attentive but he's even more so as he begins to accept his feelings. He listens and retains the tiniest details about you so he can use the information for later. J shocks you when he remembers your obscure food order (and the extra sauces) when you only said it once in passing three months ago. Joker doesn't know, but his love language is heavy influenced by actions.

Another sign is Joker being more supportive. He's always in your corner motivating you to do anything you set your mind to but now he's more focused on your future with him. If you want a promotion, one is suspiciously available the next week or if you can't take the stress of your job and want to quit, Joker will offer to support you financially. You ask for it, Joker will make it happen.

Joker becomes more protective than ever. If the security cameras and secret detail wasn't enough proof how much Joker loves you, the way his eyes never leave your sight in public, the way he rests his hand on your lower back in crowds, or protects you from danger (that he may or may not have caused) is telling. Joker has never been a knight in shining armor before and he loves having something to protect. He will always protect his Light and takes his responsibility seriously.

Once he admits he's falling hard, Joker will become clingy and start introducing his love language of physical touch to you more. For years, he never let anyone close but you have that honor now. He holds you close while you're cooking, he plays with your hands during movie night marathons, and he denies enjoying cuddles—he's just cold—but you know better. Joker can't stop touching you in someway shape or fashion. He’s addicted now.

Which brings us to another sign. Gift giving is another one of Joker's strong love languages but this man will deny deny deny ever getting you anything!! He leaves them around for you to find and dramatically gasps when you do. "Gee Bunny, I don’t know why there's a shiny new hand bag on your bed.. I didn't know ya liked 'em." Or, "Ya don't know your own closet Bunny? This new winter coat still has the uhh, tag on it." Followed by a, "What a coincidence! Twenty-nine reported subway muggings just this week and you win a uhhh surprise car! Don't ya re-mem-ber entering that contest doll?" Joker loves buying you things but he sucks at lying.

Joker tends to forget his version of love is not normal so he gets possessive a lot. He's a jealous man by nature and if he sees competition, he will eliminate it. You don't need to know why the flirtatious guy at the front lobby no longer works there, or the guy that gave you his number was found dead the following day.. The thing is! Joker finally admitted that he loves you! He will not let anyone take you away from him.

Another sign from Joker is his sudden willingness to communicate. J is a mysterious, closed off individual. Its an honor to know anything about him so when J sits you down and opens up about his time spent in Arkham or explains what his childhood was like (but cautious, it could still be lies)— consider it a miracle. Joker is opening up to you! He wants you to know more about him and his shy, hesitant eyes staring into yours shows that he's vulnerable doing so. Don't take advantage of him in this state or you'll lose him forever.

Speaking of forever, you know Joker is all about planning. His backup plans have backup plans from B-Z. One day he found himself staring up at the ceiling planning on how to make things official with you and now it’s all he can think about. You’re not a secret and he’s tired of treating you like one. It'll be dangerous if he announces you as his girl, (you'll never be safe) but Joker wants the world to know that you love him so he stares off into the void and plots a way for it to work.

Contrary to popular belief Joker is not cold hearted. He can be passionate when the need arises and he cranks it up to 100% with you. Joker never had a healthy relationship so he tends to forget the intensity in which he loves you. He has so much emotion to give that he literally leaves you breathless. His kisses are greedy and desperate, and the way he clings to you during sex makes you combust with love. This man doesn't even know he can destroy you with a single touch and it’s better he remains blissfully unaware.

And lastly. The ultimate sign that Joker loves you. The moment Joker takes you to his main hideout, walking hand in hand, where anyone can see— is the moment you know he loves you. When Joker exposes you to his world, there’s no going back. You’re the one and when he orders all of his men in for a manatory meeting you're in tears. It’s finally happening.

"Good evening gentle men. I have a special announcement tonight." Joker pulls you to stand in front of him and proceeds to wrap his arms around you possessively.

Your heart is beating out of your chest while all of these men stare at you in shock. You don't blame them.

Joker is nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck but you miss the dark gleam in his eyes. They spell murder for anyone that dares to defy him. He scanned the crowd, looking for any naysayers.

"This is my Bunny and I'll kill anyone.. who's gotta problem with it."

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sunandflame · 2 years ago

Text

Flame and Water, Chapter 2

Summary: You are the Water Pillars Tsuguko and for some reason you are terrified of the Flame Pillar. Kyojuro x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none (yet)

Word Count: 588

A/N: I am sorry, I know the first chapter had 1,9k words and this one is so short? I just realize that I love to write shorter things as it keeps me motiviated and therefore has a shorter waiting time. I hope you all still enjoy it. 💙

Masterlist of Flame and Water

Such golden eyes that faded into red. You have never seen before such an unique eyecolor in your life and if you didn’t knew it better you felt yourself loss in them, but only for seconds before the realization kicked in. Your face turning bright red and with a quick movement you jumped off him, feeling your heart beating out of your chest. It was so unusual to you that you were holding your uniform with a tight grip around your chest, while kneeling on one knee. Why was your heart beating so fast? And why were your cheeks so hot? Control your breath and heart rate, you thought to yourself.

You hadn't noticed how Rengoku was already back on his feet and slowly walking towards you. "Wow! The execution and power of your attacks are wonderful! And you also mastered your concentrated breathing! Very good!"

Your head snapped to him, looking at him in disbelief, while trying to control your heartbeat. He was… praising you and you didn’t know how to feel about that. Especially since you were the one who attacked him in your anger. You didn’t understand it. What was he praising? That you were not even able to hit him once? Was he making fun of you?

“Train a little more with Tomioka and then nothing stands in your way for becoming a Hashira." And there it was again, reminding you why you were boiling with anger just seconds before. It was over, no matter what he said. You were not a Tsuguko anymore, so why does he keep talking? He should simply shut up. But he didn't stop his talking. Didn't stopped his praising. Didn't stopped walking towards you. "And how you were to withstand me! You are nearly strong as Kanroji-"

"SHUT UP!"

Did that... just come out of your mouth? You've never yelled at anyone in your life. Let alone even raise your voice to anyone. You were shocked and surprised, your hands clasping over your mouth. You never had an outburst in your life, not even- You shook your head to let go of the immediate memory. You wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Even Rengoku had stopped and watched you with surprised eyes, not expecting your first words towards him would be to shut up. He saw how you quickly gathered your calm face and wanted to walk away but he had enough of the wait. With a quick movement he catches you by your wrist and forced you to turn towards him. "Why are you running away again? Hey l/n-san." His voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard. "I want to talk to you."

Your gaze met his again and your face was giving nothing away. You were calm like water, but the trembling of your hands and legs betrayed you and he was aware of it. Aware how you tried desperately trying to suppress the emerging panic and fear that was bubbling inside you. "Let go off me... please..." Your voice was low and quiet.

"No, not before you promise not to run away from me anymore." His patience had thinned. He had waited for days, even weeks, always watching you practice with Tomioka just so he had a tiny chance to talk to you. But every time you escaped him like running water. No, he would not let you escape again before he could finally ask you what had been bothering him for weeks. "Let's sit down and talk first."

🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥

Again if you want to be tagged or removed, just reply down below. Every reblog and like is appreciated 💙

Taglist: @krillfromsky @kingmultiverse404 @deepressed @nelissecrectplace @yomoya-girl @theycallmemrsbarnes

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writingforstraykids · 1 year ago

Text

My beloved cutie mooties🥺🖤

(edited 12.05.24)

🖤@atinyniki🖤

Niki, my beautiful sunshine, I'm so grateful to have you through thick and thin. I'm still convinced you're cute and idc whether you accept that or not. I love talking to you and you're one of the kindest people I know (unless you yell at me you meanie...joking obviously, chill guys😂🖤) I'll always be there for you...also pls stop spending so much money on me cutie😭 Keep shining sunny bunny...love you, pretty girl🖤

🖤@zehina🖤

my beloved (not so silent anymore) bestie, i love our shared European confusion and confusing the others together in return. you're such a cute little kitty and we all know u love being called cute so...you're very cute, deal with it🤭I love our shared stupidity whenever we talk about the boys and seriously, every time you send me your part for the rambles I'd drop to my knees and pay for it bc holy shit. I'll always be there if you need me, keep fighting lovey. love you unnie🖤

🖤@galaxycatdrawz🖤

azzy, I'm so proud of slowly pulling you a little from the shadows you were hiding in😂 also...idk how I managed to do so, but I'm still laughing about achieving most of your tumblr milestones😭 i love sharing requests with you, working out ideas or simply do as you said and write what my brain couldn't figure out. thank you for always being there for me and sharing your brilliant brain with me, co-writer🤭 also it's such a bummer we live so far away bc after what we talked about so far I know you'd be the best cuddle buddy🥺 love you azzy my cutest little thing🖤

🖤@jinnie-ret 🖤

jinnie my dear, even though we haven't talked that much so far, I always love it when we get the chance🤭 can't wait to get to know you better as well and I'm already so excited for that fic👀looveeee your writing sm🖤

🖤@sona1800🖤

you're my newest mootie and I love you so much already it's ridiculous (niki can confirm that🥹) you're always so sweet and you literally outshine every fic with your loving reblogs and comments (I'm just too speechless to answer properly, I really love them🥺) so yeah, that's why you got the tag "the cutest" 🤭🖤

🖤@silverstarburst🖤

Ash. my dear, we don't have that much time to talk usually because you're either working or I'm asleep (a rarity but still). Nevertheless, you have a special place in my heart by now and I'm thankful for your presence in my life. I know who to text if I need someone to kick ass. Your reblogs make me smile like some idiot every time, thank you so much for appreciating my lil dummy ideas so much. love you mama wolf🖤

🖤@slutforchanlix🖤

Miu, babyy, I've made you cry way too often with stuff like this—my bad. I know it's not always easy, but you're one of the kindest people I know, and I love that I have someone with whom I can talk in my native language for once. You're a sweetheart and thank you for always being there for me. I still plan to meet you one day hehe. Long story short, you're amazing, don't let anyone else try to make you believe anything less than that. Bin immer für dich da🖤

🖤@michelle4eve🖤

heyy mimi, we haven't talked much so far...sometimes accidentally when you mistook my icon for niki's I hope that's easier now😂😉 you seem like such a kind soul and I hope we'll get closer over time (no rush dear!) I'm happy over each of your reblogs, especially after you told us you're too shy to do so sometimes. I really appreciate it, you cutie🖤

🖤@chrizzztopherbang🖤

I always loved seeing you pop up in my notifications with your sweet comments. I already think you're a sweetheart, I know we haven't talked that much yet. Still, I loved prereading your fics and getting a glimpse into your genius brain. Don't give up writing as long as you have fun with it, because you're truly amazing at it🖤

🖤@wolfyychan🖤

You've been around on my prior blog already and still my stupid brain didn't realize you've changed usernames for so long😭😂 I always look forward to your excited comments and reblogs, they're truly a boost of motiviation ngl. Hope to have you around for a long time🤭🖤

🖤@james-is-here🖤

Your excitement for that Minchan series made me think about writing bonus chapters for the first time in months. I really love seeing how you get so invested in some of the stories, which makes me want to do better hehe. Also...omg...I'm still thinking about that one fic you wrote a while ago🫠 I'm excited to see what's next and hope we'll get the chance to maybe talk some more🖤

🖤@queer-possum🖤

Without giving away too much, your brain is amazing. I love your requests so much and you're always so kind when I get back to you to make sure I get everything right. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about certain topics and stuff I haven't so far🖤

🖤@chanandminhoenthusiast🖤

love, love, loveee your blog (for obvious inspirational reasons😉) you seemed like a very sweet soul whenever we talked before and I'll always be there if you need someone to talk, even about the most random bullshit😂🖤

🖤@palindrome969🖤

You're such a lovely person, I can't even put it into words properly. Your writing is beautiful and I'm still in love with that stargazing fic with Channie😭 always love talking to you and seeing your comments🖤

🖤@5starluvr🖤

I've told you so before, I wanna kiss your brain so bad sometimes. The stuff you come up with for me to write is brilliant. I can't wait to finish more of your requests and share ideas as soon as possible! Love you hehe🖤

🖤@mellhwang🖤

Heyy sweetie, I love seeing you in my notes and I swear I'll get that Minchan x Hyunjin thing done for you!! Thank you for all the love, dear🖤

🖤@lost-in-avoidance🖤

The amount of times I made you choke back tears at work is...concerning and I'm so sorry, I don't do it on purpose, I swear😭😂 your reblogs are always so genuine and make me feel like I did exactly what I wanted to with the fic in question. I appreciate your words so much, thank you!

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

what comes of telling the truth (or even part of it)

Summary: The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

Word count: 10.7K+ | Pairing: Yelena x Kate, Past Yelena x Reader | Tags: Light angst, fluff-ish

A/N: This is for all of my ILGOSS readers. Requested by anon:

Wait may I ask for a short story or one-shot on how Yelena and Kate ended up together? I'm still kinda curious tbh lol. Kate's patience is applaudable, but I can't help but think what if Kate is just a rebound

I had fun writing this oneshot because I have a soft spot for the sex-first-feelings-later trope :P

Masterlist

It's not stalking if you just happen to be in the same row of seats at the same event. Even if, for instance, you're based in New York and the event is in Chicago, and attending isn't exactly obligatory.

Right?

Kate Bishop insists it's not. She's read numerous discussions on Reddit about stalking, and none seemed to describe a situation like hers.

The thing is, she didn't exactly think it all through. Just like any rich girl prone to making impulsive decisions when money isn't an issue, she snagged the first flight to Chicago upon hearing about a chance to see Yelena again.

She didn't factor in that Yelena had upped and left with only a text as a goodbye. She didn't ponder over the fact that Yelena seldom replied to her messages since moving to a different state, if she even did at all. Had Kate truly heeded these signs, she wouldn't be anywhere near the front row where Yelena sits, nonchalant with a passive countenance. She wouldn't have spent the last half hour or so ruminating on how to approach her. Instead, she'd be back in the Hamptons, sipping on Piña Coladas without a concern, because that's what Bishops customarily do on their weekends.

Except, reading the situation has never been her strong suit. She's always been forthright with her feelings and actions. It's what Yelena claimed to like about her, so here she is, simply being herself.

Kate glances towards Yelena from the corner of her eye, trying to discern any signs of emotion. For anyone else in the room, Yelena appears unmoved, but Kate, with her intimate knowledge of the girl, can see the minute shift in her posture, the almost imperceptible crease in her brow. She's always been good at noticing the subtleties in people, especially when it came to Yelena. But perhaps this is where the problem began.

They never labeled what they had. It started off as casual. Friends with benefits, they'd joked in the beginning, no strings attached. Yet Kate, somewhere along the way, had tied a rope around her own heart. Her mistake was entering the arrangement already having fallen for the girl. And it didn't even begin when they started sleeping together. It happened way before Kate got to know the taste of her skin, the way a smile would sneak onto her lips with a contented sigh after she climaxed, or the way she'd clutch at Kate's shirt when Kate did something just right—too right.

Kate had believed she was okay with it, that she could handle being just a detour in Yelena’s life. But then she saw it—the way Yelena's walls crumbled when you came into the picture. It was a poignant twist of irony, watching Yelena fall unapologetically in love when she’d always been so cautious, so guarded around Kate. The woman who had so adamantly refused to be ensnared by love was openly enthralled by it when it came from someone else. Kate would listen, forcing a smile, as Yelena talked about you, and it would eat away at her insides. She tried to be supportive. But that didn't work out either. In the end, Kate still lost her.

And now, sitting mere feet away yet worlds apart, Kate grapples with truths that are lodged in her throat. She wonders if Yelena will ever see her as more than just a diversion, a temporary harbor. It's a cruel thought, and one that Kate can't shake off. But she knows herself. She won't run from the situation. Instead, she'll face it, no matter how much it tears at her. Because, for better or worse, that's just who she is.

She only gathers enough courage by the end of the seminar.

When the final speaker steps off the stage, and the flurry of applause begins to die down, Kate takes a steadying breath. She tells herself it's just Yelena—even though everything has changed. Her heart pummels against her ribs, a restless plea, as she forces her legs to move in Yelena’s direction.

“Yelena,” she calls out softly when she's a few steps behind her.

Yelena turns, and for a moment, there’s no recognition in her eyes. Then, something flickers—surprise, confusion, a touch of alarm.

“Kate?”

Kate nods, her palms sweaty. “Yeah, hey. It's been a while.”

Yelena’s eyes scrutinize her, searching for something. Perhaps a reason for why Kate would be here, in Chicago, after all this time and after everything that's happened.

“What are you doing here?” The question isn’t accusatory or harsh. Just curious.

“I…uh, I wanted to see you,” Kate admits, more to herself than to Yelena. “I mean, I was already here for this convention, saw you walk by, and thought I'd drop in to say hi.”

Yelena’s smile is a little too tight for Kate’s liking. This isn't unfolding anywhere near how she had hoped.

“Hi,” Yelena utters nonchalantly, her gaze skimming over Kate's shoulder to whatever holds her attention beyond.

Kate swallows the lump in her throat, trying to push past the frosty reception. “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab coffee or something, you know, catch up,” Kate says, offering a lopsided smile that she hopes might charm Yelena into agreeing.

But Yelena merely offers a tepid one in return, her eyes hard and unyielding. “I appreciate it, but I have plans,” she replies.

“Oh, okay,” Kate responds, doing her best to conceal the sting of rejection that pierces through her. She fumbles for a moment before managing to continue, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m staying at the Evergreen Hotel for a couple more days. I'm on the 32nd floor, room 3206. Not that...uh, you need to know...but just in case.”

Yelena’s green eyes remain inscrutable. “It was nice seeing you, Kate,” she finally murmurs. “Enjoy your time in Chicago.”

And just like that, she's walking away, leaving Kate standing amidst the dissipating crowd, trying to make sense of the chasm that has seemingly formed between them.

Someone rings her hotel room at 11:45 in the evening.

Kate, snug in her pajamas and reading a brochure about the local Chicago sights, isn't expecting visitors. She moves to the peephole and is caught off guard when she recognizes the eyes staring back. Yelena's pupils are dilated, clearly indicating she's made several stops before her feet brought her here.

Opening the door hesitantly, Kate takes in Yelena's entire demeanor: the set of her jaw, the tightness in her posture, the fiery look in her eyes that seems to oscillate between anger and something that immediately shoots a jolt of desire down her core. “Yelena?” she whispers, a hint of trepidation in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Yelena doesn’t answer. Her breathing is ragged and uneven, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Kate's.

“Look,” Kate says, her voice shaky, “if you could just give me a moment to change out of my pajamas, maybe we can get coffee in the hotel lobby or—”

“Why did you tell me you were staying here?” Yelena questions, her voice dangerously low.

Taken aback, Kate blinks a few times, panic bubbling up in her throat. “I-I don't—”

Without a word, Yelena steps forward, closing the distance between them. Her hands cradle Kate’s face, and she crashes into her in a kiss that’s hard and desperate. Kate is momentarily stunned, her thoughts obliterated by the sudden onslaught of lips and tongue. But then she reacts, wrapping her arms around Yelena’s waist and nearly lifting her as they move deeper into the living room. She uses her foot to kick the door shut behind them as Yelena takes command of the kiss, pushing into Kate with an urgency.

It’s been too long. But still—

But still, it feels instinctual, the way Kate's lips gravitate to that spot just below Yelena's ear, applying just the right amount of pressure to elicit that familiar sigh from her. Yelena's hand finds its way to the nape of Kate's neck, fingers intertwining with her hair before pulling roughly to break the kiss.

“Yelena…”

But Yelena pins her with a look, a surprisingly vulnerable one. “No talking, please,” she breathes. “No talking.”

Yelena's never begged her before. To Kate's embarrassment, it's usually been the other way around. It's only hitting Kate now that their months of estrangement have deeper repercussions than she initially realized.

But before she can process the thought further, Yelena’s fingers are impatient as they fumble with the buttons of Kate's shirt, all while her lips never leave Kate's, each kiss deepening in urgency. Kate's hands, equally fervent, roam over Yelena's back, gripping at her shirt and pulling her even closer. They maneuver around the space, half-stumbling, half-guiding each other towards the bedroom. With a soft thud, Kate is gently pushed back onto the plush mattress, Yelena hovering above her.

The ritual is as familiar to Kate as the back of her hand, yet a feeling stirs within her that this time might stand apart from the rest—perhaps the moment when her dreams finally bleed into reality.

So she gives Yelena everything she has to offer—and then some.

When it's all done and Kate is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, with Yelena softly snoring beside her, a thin sheet loosely covering her bare torso, Kate's mind spins erratically.

Yelena’s proximity, so desperately craved for months, now feels like an intrusion into a grief that she’s scarcely begun to comprehend. She acknowledges that her sudden appearance in Chicago, after everything that transpired, may now seem more self-serving than she'd intended.

She hadn't fully grasped the depth of Yelena's pain—pain so consuming that Yelena felt the need to flee to another state just to find a semblance of peace.

Morning light seeps through the curtains as Kate busies herself in the hotel kitchenette. She tries to make breakfast, aiming for familiarity in a situation that's anything but. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the hotel room as she meticulously flips pieces of golden-brown french toast, trying to keep herself focused on the task.

Then, the muted sound of a door draws her attention. Yelena steps out of the bedroom, dressed and seemingly ready for the day. Her appearance, so sudden and unexpected, makes Kate's heart race. She becomes acutely aware of her own state: clad in nothing but an oversized shirt that barely reaches her thighs, exposing her legs and the curve of her panties.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Kate offers meekly.

Yelena gives a slight nod. “Thanks, but I think I'm going to head out.”

Her eyes momentarily drop to the floor. Then, with deliberate steps, she closes the distance between them. Leaning in, she places an awkward kiss on Kate's cheek, then sidesteps her and makes her way to the door.

Kate remains still, eyes locked on the french toast that's now charring at the edges. With a sigh, she turns off the stove and contemplates what other sights Chicago might offer beyond the iconic bean.

Kate has her dinner early in the evening and waits by the door, just in case Yelena decides to show up again.

She doesn’t.

After spending another 48 hours sequestered in her hotel room, she packs her bags to head back to New York.

As soon as Yelena arrives at her apartment after her night with Kate, she heads directly to the shower.

The hot water cascades over her, but it does little to soothe the turmoil roiling inside her. Each droplet feels like a sting of reality, a reminder of the choices she’s made. She rubs the soap with more force than necessary, the lather not just cleansing her skin but also representing her desperate attempt to wash away the guilt.

It's not Kate she's trying to forget. It's her own actions, her own reasons for going to that hotel room. She’s aware she’s used Kate’s affection for her own comfort far too many times, each encounter chipping away at what little integrity she feels she has left. She hates herself for it. For taking refuge in Kate's warmth, for using her time and time again, and then leaving her in the cold morning light.

The guilt, more than anything, is what Yelena wishes she could wash away. She wishes she could stop the cycle, stop using Kate as a balm for her wounds. She wishes she could face her head-on, with honesty. But in this very moment, all she can do is rinse, lather, and hope that someday, she finds the strength to break free from her own destructive patterns.

Months pass without them seeing each other until Yelena returns to New York. Her media company sent her back for training, placing her under the guidance of someone who, in Yelena’s opinion, was a “complete unknown”. It's only a matter of time before she runs into Kate Bishop.

That happens sooner than Yelena expected when three days after her arrival, they bump into each other at a more upscale gathering. Yelena's attendance was mandated even before her first official workday, with the primary goal of extensive networking. She wears a sleek black strapless gown that reveals a fair amount of cleavage, but even that doesn't catch Kate’s attention. Instead, Kate's focus is clearly on the date accompanying her, arm-in-arm. Yelena’s hand is clutching the arm of another man, but he's just a work friend of hers who, coincidentally, is also gay. Clearly, she's not the one with the upper hand in this situation. Not that she—

Yelena is taken by surprise, not noticing Kate's approach until she's almost beside her. “Yelena, hi,” Kate says softly, standing just centimeters away. She looks stunning in her three-piece suit, her hair pulled back with a few curly waves framing her oceanic eyes.

Yelena manages a, “Kate,” in reply, before turning to her companion and saying, “You said you wanted to talk to the chief?” Her friend appears confused for a brief moment but then nods in eager agreement. She excuses herself quickly, not catching the brief, tight smile that graces Kate’s lips.

“Chief? Really?” her friend teases as soon as they're safely distant from her current source of distress.

Yelena rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. “I needed a quick exit strategy.”

Chuckling, her friend replies, “From Kate Bishop? Come on, Yel. You two have history. Ducking away like she's the plague isn't the mature way to handle things.”

Yelena lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I know, I know. It's just... the last time we met, the morning after was... less than ideal.”

“The morning after?” His eyes widen in realization. “You slept with her again?”

Yelena bites her lower lip and nods. His gaze sweeps the room, likely searching for Kate, before settling on her attempting to subtly look in their direction. “Well, that complicates things,” he muses.

“Tell me about it,” Yelena mutters, taking a sip from her champagne glass.

“Why don’t you just talk to her. Set things straight—”

She arches an eyebrow, “You think one casual chat is going to fix things?”

“Reminding her that you don’t have feelings for her and never will might just do the trick,” he says with an amused grin. “You don’t have feelings for her right?”

Yelena hesitates for just a moment, her eyes not meeting his, “Of course not,” she replies, her voice not as steady as she'd hoped.

He studies her, a knowing look in his eyes. Just as he's about to comment on her poor lying skills, Kate approaches again, this time without her date.

Kate's eyes are fixed on Yelena as she draws closer. “Mind if I steal her for a second?” she asks, not really waiting for an answer as her hand gently wraps around Yelena's elbow. Her touch sends a chill through Yelena, an electrifying jolt that she’s been trying to forget for months.

He simply nods, giving Yelena a sympathetic glance before prancing towards the bar.

Kate guides Yelena slightly away from the crowd, not to a secluded corner but just a few steps away to offer a modicum of privacy. Yelena finally extricates her arm from Kate's grip, building a wall with her posture. “What do you want, Kate?”

“I want to talk,” Kate simply says.

Yelena lets out a sigh, her jawline tensing. “Go on.”

Kate takes a moment, ensuring her words would be precise, “I'm not here to rekindle anything or chase after you. I'm not that naive anymore. You don't have to avoid me or disappear when I'm around. I'm over you. And I just... I want us to be able to coexist, especially in circles like these.”

Yelena's lips slightly part in surprise, the slightest quiver of something akin to pain shadowing her features upon absorbing Kate's frank words. Kate, with her perpetual, unfiltered candor, always did have a way of stripping a situation down to its stark, naked truth. But isn’t this precisely what Yelena wanted? To be free of the guilt, of the heavy, choking shroud that's been her constant companion since she left that hotel room months ago? Kate doesn't want her anymore. This should ease things, shouldn't it?

Yet, why does a peculiar tightness settle in her chest, a subtle ache that she dare not explore? Yelena swallows hard, facing the blunt force of Kate's liberation with a brittle nod.

“If that’s what you want,” Yelena manages to say.

Kate tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as they scrutinize Yelena's face, seeking, probing. A ghost of a smile curls on her lips, devoid of genuine mirth as she observes the other woman’s discomfort, palpable even amidst the high-society glitter surrounding them.

“What I want?” she echoes, voice imbued with a tempered steeliness, “Yelena, I'm handing you exactly what you've shown you want.”

Yelena’s eyes flutter away from Kate’s, uneasy, yet a stony facade refuses to let her susceptibility bleed into view.

“You’ve always made it abundantly clear where I stand,” Kate murmurs. “And I’ve been nothing but annoyingly stubborn about it.”

“Kate, I never intended to—”

“It’s okay,” Kate interrupts softly. “I kept coming to you with these expectations, but you were clear from the start. You said it was just about sex—nothing more. I just hoped... maybe that could change with time.”

Yelena's throat constricts, the words she needs to say lodged firmly behind a barrier of guilt and self-reproach. “I’m sorry,” Kate adds, her voice thin and fragile, yet it reverberates loudly in Yelena’s ears.

“I—” Yelena begins, but the words falter, the apology sticking in her throat. It was her who owed Kate apologies—a sea of them, for every late-night encounter, every hurried departure in the dawn light.

She inhales sharply, fingers twitching at her side. “Kate, if there's anyone who should be apologizing, it’s me,” she finally says. “I’ve been selfish and unfair, and I took advantage of your feelings because it was convenient for me, and it allowed me to ignore my own.”

“I'm not blameless here either,” Kate says.

“It's not the same," Yelena persists, “I knew what I was doing each time I—”

“But so did I, Yelena,” Kate breaks in, her steadiness unwavering. “Every time I came to you, I knew what it was and what it wasn't. I chose to stay, each time. That’s on me.”

It feels like they’ve reached an impasse, neither knowing what comes after telling the truth—or even a part of it.

“So, what do we do now?” Yelena murmurs.

Before Kate can muster an answer, the sound of footsteps draws their attention. Kate's date slides smoothly into view, holding two glasses filled with a bubbling amber liquid. Upon seeing her for the second time, Yelena notices that she's an incredibly attractive woman who carries an air of elegance about her with effortless grace.

“There you are!” she exclaims to Kate with a smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Kate, her eyes still lingering on Yelena, slowly pivots towards her, an almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. She gives her date a brief smile before glancing back at Yelena one last time.

“It was nice seeing you, Yelena,” she says, mirroring the same words Yelena had used months ago, before turning away to enjoy the rest of the night with someone else.

As the noise of the event surrounds them, Yelena's friend returns, looking between her and the departing figure of Kate and her beautiful date.

“Is it over?” he asks cautiously.

Yelena's gaze is distant, her eyes unfocused, but she finally blinks, pulling herself back to the present.

Her voice is a little shaky when she replies, “I need a drink.”

Kate was the first person she felt a connection to when she first came back to New York. The city's crowded streets and glaring lights felt foreign, like a twisted mockery of a place she once called home. The skyscrapers towered, the taxis honked, and the people bustled about, but none of that felt familiar to her—as if the welcome banner had been replaced with a glaring message that this was not the same place she had left eight years ago.

The airport had been a blur of faces, each one more indifferent to her existence than the last. She half-expected, perhaps even hoped, to see her sister's familiar face waiting for her among the crowd, but all she was met with were strangers hurrying past, engrossed in their own worlds. Natasha was continents away, in places she couldn’t know about, shouldn’t know about.

And then there was you—the only other person she considered family, the only other face she yearned to see upon her return. Yelena could've called you if she wanted. Natasha handed her your number, with the faint hope that Yelena might muster the will to congratulate you over the phone. But she never did, aware that she wouldn't genuinely mean it if she said she was happy for you.

Her fingers itched to grab her phone and dial your number, knowing you'd come to pick her up. Not necessarily because you missed her in the same way, but because you were always the kind of person who'd pick up a friend from the airport—and it wouldn’t matter to you that you hadn’t spoken a word to each other in years.

Yet, as much as Yelena yearned to see you, your image was interwoven with the pain of unattainable desire. She didn't want to see your face, so happy and fulfilled without her in it. Because the memories would flood back: your smile, the scent of your skin, the way your voice would tenderly wrap around her name. You were married—have been married for quite some time now. And that simple fact was a barrier, insurmountable and cruel.

“Need a ride?”

Yelena quickly turned to her left, where a woman about her age stood with dark hair and soft blue eyes.

“Cabs are pretty scarce around this time,” the woman explained, adjusting the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder. “I mean, you could try booking one, but…”

Yelena's cheeks flushed. It was one thing to come back to a city after so long and feel lost; it was another entirely to admit it. She hesitated, wrestling with the unfamiliar interface of the rideshare app on her phone. “ll just wait,” she said defensively, trying to hide her discomfort.

The woman gave her a skeptical look but seemed more amused than annoyed. “I'm Kate,” she said, extending her hand with a warm smile. “Kate Bishop.”

Yelena took a moment before she accepted it. “Yelena.”

“Well, now that we're not strangers, how about that ride? My car's right outside.”

Yelena paused, studying Kate. The offer was tempting. There was something disarmingly genuine about Kate, and Yelena couldn't detect any malice or ulterior motives in her eyes. Still, she was guarded, her defenses up.

“Why would you offer me—a stranger—a ride?” Yelena asked.

“You're not entirely a stranger, Yelena,” Kate replied with a chuckle.

Their eyes locked, and in that brief moment, Yelena felt an odd sense of kinship. A sigh escaped her lips. “Okay, fine,” she conceded, “But just to Manhattan.”

Kate's smile grew, reaching her eyes. “Just to Manhattan.”

Yelena steps into the high-rise building, an architectural masterpiece of glass and steel, shimmering under the vibrant New York sun. It’s her first day on this temporary assignment, and her stomach churns with a blend of anticipation and anxiety.

She catches snippets of dialogue as she goes: project timelines, deadlines, and weekend plans. Yelena keeps her gaze forward, absorbing the understated opulence of the work environment. It’s a world she recognizes with every fiber of her being, and she’s ready to play her part.

As she steps into the elevator, ascending towards the upper levels of the corporate tower, Yelena takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the introductions, handshakes, and the performative exchange of pleasantries. The first day in a new environment is always a bit disconcerting, but she’s not new to adapting, to molding herself into whatever shape a situation requires.

“Yelena, right?”

The elevator door opens to reveal a woman Yelena recognizes from the previous night. It's not just any woman she encountered during her diligent networking; it's the very woman who was on Kate's arm, that Yelena begrudgingly recalls she paraded around like some kind of trophy throughout the evening.

Yelena nods, maintaining a neutral expression, as she exits the elevator and the woman steps in, effectively switching places.

“I'd love to chat more when I return. Just need my coffee fix,” the woman says, winking at Yelena just before the elevator doors close between them.

Yelena lets out an exasperated sigh as she searches for her cubicle. She doesn't anticipate having that chat and silently hopes that today's encounter is the last time she'll see that woman, or if possible, for the duration of her time in this office.

The next several moments don't go the way Yelena expected. Especially the part where she discovers Kate's date is her new boss.

Yelena feels a slight pressure in her temples as she hears the name. “Georgia Thompson.” The friendly demeanor and confident handshake of the woman in front of her sharply contrasts the casual, almost indifferent demeanor she exhibited at the gala.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Thompson,” she replies, trying to sound as composed as possible.

Georgia offers a polite smile, her eyes assessing Yelena for a moment longer than she’s comfortable with. “Likewise. And please, call me Georgia.” It's only now that she picks up on the accent and realizes she's British.

Blonde, British, her boss, and apparently Kate’s new girlfriend. Just great. The universe couldn't be clearer about how much it enjoys playing tricks on her.

Yelena nods, pushing down the nerves bubbling inside her. She mentally kicks herself for not doing a thorough background check on her new employers, but how was she supposed to foresee this twist?

“I've heard great things about your work, Yelena. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can bring to our team,” Georgia says.

“Thank you. I'll do my best.”

Georgia leans back in her chair, the slight quirk of her eyebrow revealing she’s perhaps more perceptive than Yelena initially gave her credit for. “I hope you find the environment here conducive to your work. Everyone is very supportive, and we like to think of ourselves as a family.”

Yelena wonders if the emphasis is deliberate, a subtle hint at the glaring elephant in the room. Neither has acknowledged their encounter from the other night.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Yelena responds, trying to steer the conversation back to professional matters. “I've already been given some assignments, and I'm eager to delve into them.”

Georgia nods approvingly. “Good. If you have any questions or need any support, don't hesitate to ask.”

Are you aware of my history with Kate? Do you plan on making my life a living hell for the next several months?

None of these questions escape her lips. Like every job, this one comes with complexities and trade-offs that she has no choice but to endure. She believes she can manage. After all, enduring seems to be all she's doing these days.

Kate eventually drops by the office one evening. It's just a week later, and with everyone gone, Yelena is saddled with another article destined for the fluff column for the following day.

Kate's unexpected entrance startles Yelena, her fingers slipping from the keyboard and sending a disjointed string of characters cascading across her screen, a stark contrast to the meticulously formulated words she had previously been weaving together. A sigh escapes Yelena as she straightens in her chair, muscles tensing, her gaze fixating on the other woman’s reflection in the darkened computer screen next to hers.

Thankfully, it’s who Kate speaks up first. “Working late?”

“Deadlines,” Yelena mutters, rubbing her forehead and trying not to sound as exasperated as she feels. “And what brings you here?”

“Was in the neighborhood and thought I'd surprise Georgia,” Kate replies with a nonchalant shrug, though her eyes are searching Yelena's for any reaction. “But I guess she left already.”

“Seems so. You just missed her by maybe half an hour.”

Kate hums, letting her gaze wander around the mostly empty office. “This place hasn't changed much since I interned here,” she muses.

“You interned here?” Yelena's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Yeah. Before everything,” Kate says with a faint smile. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Her eyes roam the open workspace before settling on Yelena's and the stack of papers next to her. “Looks like you’ve made yourself at home quickly.”

Yelena shrugs, fingers lightly drumming against the edge of her desk. “Work doesn't do itself.”

The semblance of casual conversation can't veil the tension that simmers just beneath the surface. Kate’s next words are a soft, cautious probe, “How have things been with Georgia?”

She’s testing the waters, Yelena observes.

“Professional,” Yelena replies curtly.

A small, almost rueful smile grazes Kate’s lips. “She’s good at what she does. Keeps things running smoothly.”

“She seems to,” Yelena agrees, resisting the urge to delve into whatever Kate is aiming at. “Is there something you needed, Kate? I'm on a tight deadline here.”

Kate’s eyes, instead of responding immediately, drop to the takeout bag in her hands, then flick back to Yelena’s face. It's as if she’s doing a calculus of how far to press, of how much of Yelena's abruptness to overlook.

“Actually,” she starts, her tone light and easy, “I came bearing food. It's way too much for one person.” She tilts her head, hoisting up a slightly crumpled brown bag. “Care to join me?”

Yelena is on the verge of formulating a polite refusal when her stomach, as if on cue, betrays her with a telling growl. She winces, slightly mortified, realizing her last meal was hours ago.

“Sounds like someone's hungry,” Kate teases, her grin infectious.

Yelena considers the offer, her resolve wobbling precariously on the edge between pragmatic hunger and the need to maintain an emotional distance.

“I don't think—” she starts, but Kate, undeterred, strides closer, placing the bag on a nearby empty desk.

“No strings, Yelena,” she says, an undertone of sincerity seeping through. “Just dinner. It’s been a long day, and it looks like you haven’t moved from this spot for hours.”

A small fortress of skepticism still guards Yelena’s expression, but she doesn’t stop Kate as she begins unpacking the containers from the bag. The rich, fragrant scents of stir-fried noodles and spicy broth waft through the air, momentarily making the whole room feel a bit warmer, a bit friendlier. It reminds her of the countless nights they shared meals at the office, back when they worked for the same company, a time when their friendship flourished alongside their physical hunger for one another.

Silently, Yelena concedes, rolling her chair over to join Kate, who’s already begun dividing the food into two portions. They eat in relative silence for a few moments, when Yelena then, prompted by a momentary surge of curiosity, asks, “Where did you guys meet?”

“We were seated next to each other on my flight back to New York,” Kate says after a thoughtful pause. “From Chicago. When I… when we attended that convention.”

She's torn between laughing or pressing her lips together upon learning that Kate met her new love on a plane, at an airport, echoing their own initial encounter.

“Does Georgia know about…”

Kate raises her eyebrows inquisitively. Yelena just motions between the two of them, drawing a soft chuckle from Kate.

“Right. Yes, she's aware. I told her the moment she said you’d be working under her,” Kate says.

Yelena's heart pulses an erratic rhythm at Kate's words. She fiddles with her fork, twirling it aimlessly between her fingers.

“And she was okay with it?” Yelena asks.

“Georgia is...different. She believes in leaving the past where it belongs,” Kate says. Yelena knows she probably doesn’t mean anything by it, yet it subtly pricks at her own propensity to keep one foot persistently anchored in the past.

“I'm glad,” Yelena finally murmurs. “I just... I didn't want it to be a problem.”

Kate reaches across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Yelena's for a fleeting second. “It won't be. We're all adults here. Just... make sure you're okay, alright?”

Yelena nods slowly, taking a deep breath. It's obvious to her now, more than ever, that some bridges aren't burned but simply left to weather the passage of time.

Yelena tries to get back into the dating scene. She registers on three distinct dating apps, uniformly using the same profile photo and an unvarnished bio that reads: Female. Twenty-nine. Single.

Her inbox becomes a conveyor belt of recycled greetings: “Hey”, “You're cute”, and “What are you doing tonight?” It's an endless cascade of faces and screen names, none of which pierce through the monotony of singledom.

She swipes through profiles, a sea of faces belonging to people she will never meet, let alone speak to. There’s the overly chiseled man with a bio that hints at a penchant for arrogance. The vivacious woman with wild curls, a quote from Virginia Woolf emblazoned on her profile. The musician, shrouded in a cloud of recreational smoke, guitar in hand, always accompanied by a loyal puppy—because, of course, there's always that magnetism of a puppy. And then there's the corporate maven, every strand of hair in place, an entire life airbrushed into LinkedIn perfection.

But Yelena is searching for something else—though what exactly, she is not certain. Yelena’s fingers hover over her phone, frozen mid-swipe, as Georgia and Kate emerge from the former’s office. Dressed less formally than usual, with Kate in a chic blazer and jeans combo and Georgia in a strikingly simple dress, it’s evident that the office is not their final destination for the evening.

Yelena inadvertently becomes a secret spectator to their private moment, and she ducks her head back down, suddenly intensely interested in the glowing screen before her. But her attention strays, her ears fine-tuning to the whisper of their voices as they linger by the office door.

“...really looking forward to tonight,” Georgia is saying, her slightly husky with an intimate inflection.

“Me too,” Kate replies.

Yelena feels an involuntary lump form in her throat, and she realizes she’s holding her breath. Why the sight of them, so blissfully unaware of her prying eyes, should stir this maelstrom within her, she isn’t quite sure. It’s not jealousy, she tries to reassure herself. But what is it then? Resignation? Loneliness?

Regret?

They depart, leaving behind Yelena’s questions unanswered. A notification pings—a message from a woman whose profile Yelena doesn’t remember viewing. She clicks on it in a semi-distracted state, reads a greeting that is refreshingly devoid of clichés or overtly sexual overtones, and something, just something, flickers within her.

Twenty minutes over their agreed time, and her date is nowhere in sight. She had replayed their messages in her head, made certain she got the place and time right. Had even arrived a little early to ensure she wouldn’t keep her date waiting. But as the minutes tick by, Yelena’s optimism dwindles.

Her hand flutters to the hem of her dress, pulling it down nervously. She had chosen it with such care earlier, wanting to make the right impression. Now, she just feels stupid for even trying.

Yelena glances out, her mood sinking further as she realizes she's been stood up, and now she's trapped by the rain without an umbrella. Taking a deep breath, Yelena signals the waiter, requesting her bill with a tilt of her head and a brief but curt nod. Just as she's slipping her phone back into her purse, her focus inadvertently drifts towards the entrance of the restaurant.

And there you are.

How could she not notice you? She could pick you out from any crowd. Your jaw, sharply defined, always gave way to the tender curvatures of your facial features in a manner that she found endlessly fascinating. Your ear, peculiarly unique in its shape, partially covered by wet strands that have escaped your messy ponytail.

She watches, a strange tightness forming in her chest, as you speak to the bartender, presumably ordering something to alleviate the chill from your damp clothes. Yelena’s voice, when it finds its way out, bears a semblance of leniency that was lacking the last time they saw each other.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes hesitantly veer towards her, interlacing surprise and something else she can’t quite discern. There’s a beat of silence where you simply regard each other, before you navigate through the tight arrangement of tables and subdued chatter to join her.

“Hi,” you murmur, a tentative smile on your lips as you hover near her table, waiting for an invitation to sit across from her.

She nods, eyes minutely tracing the droplets of rain as they adhere to your eyelashes, “You’re soaked.”

You glance down, surveying the damage of the moody weather this afternoon. “It seems so.”

Before she can think about whether she'll regret this later or not, Yelena motions, inviting you to take a seat across from her.

Later that night, as she walks back to her apartment, she comes to two realizations.

First, that she’s no longer in love with you. When she asked you about Wanda, she detected a shift in your expression, a subtle hardening of your features. You had explained, sipping on that hastily ordered whiskey, that you and Wanda spent a year apart, and you didn't return to her on the day you had promised to reunite. You’d been in Montauk for the better part of a year, caring for your ailing mother. It's a noble thing, to put one's life on hold and step up for family. It’s endearing and also a bit tragic. Your brief time today in Manhattan was to check in on Wanda, having boarded a three and a half hour train just for a mere five seconds of her.

She remembers your slight smile, a tad rueful, when you mentioned passing by the café. “Wanted a glimpse of her, you know? Just to see how she's doing. Then, the rain,” you'd said, rolling your eyes at the unexpected twist nature had thrown your way.

The irony wasn’t lost on her, that this could have been her third chance, her third window to potentially be with you. You were there, and you were single, and you were still the person she used to love. But there was no stirring of old romantic sentiments, no lit flame of rekindling feelings. She was touched, not tempted, by your vulnerable predicament.

Like a raging inferno that had burned brightly, fiercely, and then reduced to warm, comforting embers. It wasn’t gone, and she knew it never truly would be, but it had transformed into something else. She thinks love works in that way; never diminishing, but perhaps always changing. Her memories with you, sharp and painful, have softened around the edges, allowing her to accept things as they are, not as they could have been.

Her keys jingle in hand as she unlocks her apartment door, step inside, and decides that she is ready to take the next step with you and be your friend.

As she closes the door behind her, Yelena is hit with a second insight: she longs to fall in love again. She realizes she's kept her heart guarded for a long time ever since you took up residence there and then left.

With a slow exhale, she leans back against the door, allowing the coolness of the wood to seep through her blouse, grounding her in the present moment. She allows a laugh, letting it envelop her to her heart’s content. She's weary of being the Yelena that left you, the one that wasn’t chosen by you. More than anything, she wants to be reborn. To become a Yelena who no longer clings to the misguided notion that love, to be real, must come with an undercurrent of hurt.

Her hand presses against her heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her palm, affirming her presence, her life, her capacity to heal and be whole again. Yelena realizes that she wants to fall in love where it does not require her to fragment herself, to withhold pieces in safeguard against an inevitable heartache. Love should be able to exist, she thinks, without the persistent ache of sacrifice, without the constant dread of its impermanence looming overhead.

Finally, as Yelena drifts into the embrace of her bed, she imagines that future, feels the potential of it thrumming in the space around her. A face lingers in her thoughts—perhaps, if circumstances change and she offers Yelena a second chance to reciprocate all she's given, that face might belong to the future she yearns for.

Yelena's documents fly everywhere as Georgia slams them down onto her desk.

“This is not up to our standards, Yelena. You can do better,” Georgia snaps.

Taken aback, Yelena tries to form a response, but is cut off. “I need this revised and on my desk by the end of the day,” Georgia orders.

Throughout the day, it doesn't get any better. Every time their paths cross, Georgia finds something to pick at, each criticism more biting than the last.

Desperate for a semblance of understanding, Yelena decides to shoot Kate a text during her lunch break. With a forced lightness, she types, What did you put in my boss’ coffee today? 😂 She's tearing through everything I submit!

Send.

The little ‘delivered’ sign morphs into ‘read’, yet the response she half-hopes for, half-dreads never comes. Yelena stares at her phone, then back to her computer screen, the cursor blinking accusingly at her. A deep sigh unfurls from her as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and refocuses on the draft. She can't help but be bothered that Kate leaves her on read, especially since Kate used to reply to Yelena immediately before.

This inattention is, paradoxically, an attention to the details Yelena wishes she could ignore. She had wanted to step out of this, out of feeling sidelined, unimportant.

However, Yelena squares her shoulders.

If Georgia desires perfection, Yelena will morph her work into an epitome of immaculate journalism, and she will do it without riding on Kate’s coattails. Biting down gently on her lower lip, Yelena delves back into the article, rephrasing and refining. But even then, as she polishes each sentence, part of her is attentive, waiting for the buzz of her phone, indicating Kate has replied. Yet, the only sound accompanying her through the ensuing hours is the rhythmic clack of her keyboard.

She doesn't hear from Kate for the rest of the day.

Two days later, the entire atmosphere of the office seems to have undergone a transformation. This is especially evident with the heady scent of lilies and roses filling the open space. Yelena, having arrived early, watches from her cubicle as coworkers trickle in, all casting appreciative or curious glances toward the opulent floral arrangement in Georgia’s office.

When her boss arrives, she’s an entirely different persona from the tempest of the day before. There's a different air about her today—lighter, tender, almost apologetic.

Georgia, making her way to Yelena’s desk, clears her throat, a barely-perceptible flush gracing her cheeks.

As Yelena makes her way to her workstation, Georgia calls out to her. “Yelena, a moment?”

Cautiously, Yelena approaches her desk. “Yes, Georgia?”

Georgia stands up, her posture relaxed and her face apologetic. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It wasn't professional or warranted. I had a lot on my mind, and it was wrong to take it out on you.”

Yelena nods, her relief merely presented as a tight smile on her lips. “Thank you for saying that, Georgia.”

Georgia smiles faintly. “It's the least I can do.”

Late in the afternoon, Yelena hears the unmistakable sound of Kate's voice, its playful timbre unmistakable even from her desk. She's arrived to pick up her girlfriend. She’s greeted by Georgia's lit-up face, and they exchange a quick, affectionate kiss which Yelena pretends not to notice, even though it plays at the edges of her peripheral vision.

But then, Georgia pauses, pulling her phone from her bag with a look of mild annoyance. “Damn, I forgot about this call. Give me a minute, okay?”

Kate nods, shooting Georgia an understanding smile. “Take your time.”

Kate nods, a small but genuine smile playing on her lips as Georgia steps away, phone already at her ear. Yelena, sensing an opportunity, doesn’t let herself overthink it. She rises from her desk and approaches Kate with measured steps, her heart pulsing a bit harder in her chest.

“Hey,” Yelena begins nervously, hands slipping into her back pockets, unsure why she feels this way. “How’s it going?” Small talk doesn’t come naturally to her, but she hasn’t heard from Kate, and a small voice in her head is screaming that she probably did something wrong.

Kate, slightly startled, turns to face Yelena, her expression neutral. “Yelena.”

The exchange is awkward, stilted, but Yelena is not giving up just yet. “The flowers look beautiful. You picked perfectly,” she says genuinely.

For a fraction of a second, Kate's demeanor seems to soften, but it's fleeting. “Georgia likes lilies,” she states flatly.

Yelena swallows, pressing on despite the stonewall response. “Kate, is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Kate responds, the single word sharp and clipped, her gaze darting elsewhere, anywhere but Yelena.

Yelena's patience wears thin, and she scoffs, “Clearly, it's not.” Taking a deep breath, she admits, “Look, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Kate cuts her off, voice cold, eyes finally meeting Yelena’s with a veiled hardness. “It’s not about you.”

Yelena, taken aback by the frigidity in Kate’s words, hesitates but doesn’t back down. “Then what is it about? We can talk—”

“No,” Kate retorts, an unsettling firmness in her voice. “We can’t.”

But before Yelena can argue, before she can claw at the barriers Kate's erected, Georgia re-emerges from her office. She has finished her call and strides over, her arm sliding through Kate's with an intimacy that seems second nature.

“Oh! Yelena, you’re still here. Working late again?” Georgia asks.

Kate, without offering Yelena another glance, merely nods in Georgia's direction. “Ready to go?”

Georgia beams at Kate. “Yes, let’s.” Then she turns her attention back to Yelena. “Good night, Yelena. And thank you for the hard work. I’ll see your draft on my desk first thing tomorrow?”

Yelena nods, though her focus is still on Kate. “Of course, Georgia. Good night,” she murmurs, stepping aside to let the pair pass by her.

She clenches the Broadway ticket in her hand, the one she had intended to give Kate if she'd been allowed to apologize for... well, for whatever she evidently did wrong. Because to Yelena, that distant demeanor doesn’t resemble 'nothing' at all. Kate has never shut her out like this, not even when Yelena repeatedly broke her heart.

She can't remember the last time she and Natasha hung out alone together. Oh, actually, she does remember. The memory just makes her cringe now, to the point where she wishes she could crawl into a cave and never come out. It was at Natasha's apartment, the morning she decided she was leaving you, with only enough clothes for the night.

Yelena plays with the olive in her martini, stirring it idly. Her sister smirks behind her own drink—the usual on the rocks—and says, “You're doing that thing again.”

Her reference is obvious, even without the specifics. But still, Yelena looks up, an innocent look on her face, the corners of her lips quirking in a half-smile. “What thing?”

“That deep-in-thought look. The same one you wore when you first came home, trying hard not to ask about her.”

Yelena sighs, her gaze dropping to her drink. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me? Always.” Natasha gives a knowing smile.

Rubbing her forehead, Yelena nods slowly. “I ran into Y/N the other week. And then there’s this awkward situation with Kate and her girlfriend... who also happens to be my boss.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lift subtly at the mention of Kate—at how Yelena said her name. “I see,” she says cautiously.

“And Y/N…” Yelena’s voice trails off as she momentarily loses herself in thought, the stirred feelings forming a tight ball in her stomach.

After a pause, Natasha gently prompts, “What about Y/N?”

Yelena sighs, fiddling with the stem of her glass. “I miss her. I partly blame myself for, sort of, pushing her to be in a relationship with me—”

“You didn't, Yelena. You can't force anyone to do anything.”

“Perhaps,” Yelena interjects, raising a finger. “But I'm not going to ignore my own faults in everything that transpired between us. She wasn’t ready to be with anyone, and I should have been a better friend instead of stepping into the role of a girlfriend.”

“Alright, alright,” Natasha says, leaning back, trying not to roll her eyes. “So what happened next?”

“And we talked about her current situation with Wanda. Did you know about that?”

Natasha nods. “It’s complicated.”

Yelena snorts, “When is it not?” Taking a pause, she adds, “But that’s not why I brought her up. I had an epiphany.”

“Oh?”

“I finally moved on. Like, truly moved on from her.”

Natasha smiles. “Yelena, that’s… I’m happy for you.”

Yelena takes a breath, preparing herself for what she’s going to say next. “And that revelation led to another—”

But Natasha smoothly beats her to it. “You’re in love with Kate.”

Yelena's laughter is louder than she expects, as she quickly responds, “No, I’m not.”

“Okay, maybe you’re not in love with her. But I’m pretty sure you more than like her.”

Yelena's grin fades a bit. She sips on her martini, trying to buy herself some time. “What makes you say that?”

“That slightly panicked look you have right now? Classic.”

“It’s not…” Yelena starts, then stops, searching for the right words. “It’s not like that. We're friends. Good friends. And it's complicated.”

“Nothing worth having ever comes easy, you know?” Natasha says, signaling the bartender for another drink.

Worth having. Kate has always been worth it, Yelena realizes now. What she isn't sure of is whether she's worthy of Kate. But it shouldn’t matter if she is right?

Kate has Georgia.

Natasha reaches over, placing her hand over Yelena's, like she can read every thought that’s going inside Yelena’s head right now. “You won’t know until you try. And whatever you decide, remember that it’s okay to be happy. It’s also okay to have wishes and regrets. We’re all human, after all.”

Maybe time is yet to be on Yelena’s side. Still, she silently bargains with the universe, or whoever might be listening, for another chance to try.

Yelena walks through the low-lit ambiance of the pub. A corner has been reserved for the surprise party. Colorful balloons float above tables and a banner reading, Happy Birthday, Georgia! is draped across the exposed brick wall. She struggles a little to carry the collective gift from the office on a reserved table, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Kate. The brunette is across the room, arranging last-minute decorations. She recalls her own birthdays this very woman made special for her, from surprise parties to intimate evenings with just wine, cake, and conversations that stretched till sunrise.

Taking a deep breath, Yelena approaches her, hoping to clear the air between them.

“Hey,” she says, holding up the gift. “I brought the present from everyone.”

Kate looks up, her eyes cold and distant. “You can put it on the table.”

The curt response irks Yelena, and she finally lets out her frustration. “What's your deal?”

Kate looks around, seemingly trying to avoid the confrontation, but Yelena’s gaze stubbornly follows her every move, keeping her grounded. “I saw you,” Kate finally admits with a sigh. “With Y/N.”

Yelena sets her jaw at the mention of your name. She hadn’t realized Kate knew about that. How did she know? Albeit defensively, she responds, “So? We're friends.”

“Why is it so easy for you to be friends with her?” Kate's voice notches higher, catching the glances of a few restaurant staff nearby. “To make an effort to be in her life? Why do you make it so hard for me to stay in yours? Why do you push me away?”

She should’ve anticipated that Kate wouldn’t beat around the bush when confronted, but it still didn’t prepare her for how hard Kate’s words hit her. In a split second, Yelena grabs Kate's arm, gently yet with urgency, pulling her towards the restroom. Inside, she locks the door behind them, making sure they wouldn't be disturbed. But even as they are locked away from the prying eyes of the outside world, Yelena tightly holds onto Kate's wrist, her heart pounding against her ribcage. But Kate retreats from her personal space and leans against the cold tiled wall, her breaths uneven.

“You need to start from the beginning,” Yelena says firmly. “How did you know I saw Y/N?”

Kate’s gaze drops, “I was nearby that day, getting a gift for Georgia. I saw you two together.”

Yelena, feeling cornered, repeats, “We're just friends. Can't I have friends?”

“It's not about you having friends. With Y/N, it seems effortless. But with me? It feels like pulling teeth,” Kate's voice cracks.

“What—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don't, Yelena. Don’t pretend you don’t know why this is happening,” Kate huffs. “I talked myself into being okay with how easily you coast through our friendship, as if we didn’t sleep together in Chicago and you didn’t avoid me for months.”

Yelena blinks rapidly, memories of that trip to Chicago flooding her mind. The hotel room, the smell of the cologne Kate wore, the way Kate's lips had felt against hers. The guilt she felt afterwards, causing her to distance herself. Her chest constricts, eyes welling up as Kate's words cut through her defenses. Chicago was a sore spot, a turning point that she hadn’t allowed herself to examine closely since it happened.

“I can’t justify my actions after Chicago,” Yelena whispers, even if the slightest hitch in her breath can be heard in the small confines of the bathroom. “And I can’t even begin to explain why I did what I did. Just that…” She sighs, grappling with the words. “I felt horrible. Not just about Chicago, but about feeling like I used you for a long time.”

“I have never resented you for not returning my feelings,” Kate says with a small, sad smile. She's never overtly asked Yelena for more, even though it was clear she wanted it. Yet, it still hurts her how easily Yelena seems to let her go when things get tough between them.

“T-That's just it, Kate. With Y/N, it’s s-safe. Safe in a way I knew what to expect. I knew she could hurt me, and I knew I could handle it, survive it. But with you...” Yelena hesitates, turning to grip the edge of a sink. “With you, it’s not safe. It’s terrifying because you could break me so easily.”

Kate's eyes soften even as her chin trembles. “I would never want to break you, Yelena,” she says just when the image of her girlfriend comes to mind—her girlfriend who’s arriving in half an hour to celebrate her birthday, the very one she organized. “Georgia... she was there. She wanted to be with me and didn’t make me feel like I was hard to love.”

“I never thought you were hard to love,” she confesses quietly, “I just—I wasn’t—”

“What?” Kate all but screams.

Yelena closes her eyes as she allows the words to finally fall from her trembling lips. “I just thought I wasn't good enough to love you.”

Kate steps closer, her smile edged with a hint of madness, her eyes glistening as they catch every veiled truth in Yelena’s carefully shielded confession. “What the hell are you talking about? You were always enough, Yelena. You were always more than enough.”

In that split-second, Yelena closes the distance between them, lips angling towards Kate's, driven by a longing that has simmered below the surface for too long. But just as their lips are about to meet, Kate abruptly pulls back.

Clearing her throat and breaking eye contact, Kate mutters, “I-I need to check if Georgia's already on her way here.”

Yelena feels as if a bucket of ice-cold water has been dumped over her. She feels her cheeks warming with shame. She takes a step back, forcing herself to breathe steadily.

“I... I'm sorry,” she says. “I shouldn't have done that.”

Kate runs a hand through her hair, looking just as frazzled.

“Go,” Yelena urges softly. “You should go see her.”

For a moment, Kate seems torn, caught between staying and leaving. But then, she nods slowly and exits the bathroom, leaving Yelena still reeling from the almost kiss.

The door clicks softly behind Kate, and Yelena lets out a long-held breath. She turns the tap on, letting the cold water run over her fingers before she splashes water onto her face, the coolness of it a brief respite from the burning behind her eyes.

Minutes feel like hours, but eventually, Yelena gathers the courage to exit the bathroom. The room outside is livelier now. Among the new arrivals, Georgia stands out, her laughter echoing as she wraps her arms around Kate from behind. Some people wave at Yelena in greeting. She musters a weak smile in return, but her focus is on leaving.

Without looking back, she immerses herself into the evening, letting the city lights guide her away.

She's not masochistic enough to complete her temporary assignment in New York, enduring the sight of Kate with Georgia at least three times a week, and hands in her resignation the following Monday.

On her last day, Georgia squeezes her hand as she thanks Yelena for all her hard work. When she offhandedly asks Yelena about her future plans, Yelena simply shakes her head, replying, “Back to Chicago, but beyond that, I'm not sure.”

She thinks about what’s next for her the entire plane ride back to Chicago. But mostly, she thinks about Kate, about what-ifs and once-weres. She wonders how long this person will haunt her, just as you once did.

However, she's blindsided when she discovers Kate sitting on the floor next to her apartment door.

Yelena freezes, keys in hand, as her gaze settles on Kate. The hallway lighting softly caresses Kate's face, highlighting the weariness in her eyes and the strands of hair that fall out of place. She's cradling a coffee cup, and her coat is wrapped tightly around her, but Yelena can still see the trembling in her hands.

“K-Kate?” Yelena blinks several times, attempting to make sense of Kate here in Chicago, right outside of her apartment. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“A few... hours,” Kate says, stifling a yawn.

“Why didn't you call or text me?”

Kate shakes her head, a faint, melancholy smile touching her lips. “Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

Confusion clouds Yelena's features. “A surprise?”

Kate sighs, looking down at the coffee cup she's clutching, “I mean... a romantic surprise.”

Yelena feels her heart skip a beat. “What are you saying?”

“Georgia and I... we're over.”

“Since when?”

“Since the morning after her birthday party,” Kate reveals grimly, not with regret but with sadness. It’s quiet for a while, neither of them saying anything until Kate looks up, and her eyes aren’t sad anymore, just hopeful. “I realized I had to end it the moment I felt how strongly I wanted to reach out and kiss you that day in the bathroom. When you tried... I couldn't ignore what that meant for me.”

Yelena takes a moment before she slowly lowers herself to sit beside Kate on the cold floor. The two of them side by side, shoulders nearly touching.

“So, you've been camped outside my door for hours because of... feelings?” Yelena teases, barely restraining a foolish grin, still acclimating to the sensation of allowing herself to be happy.

Kate leans back, her head hitting the wall with a rather loud thud and Yelena can no longer hold back a chuckle from escaping her. “When you put it like that, it sounds rather silly, doesn't it?”

“A bit,” Yelena teases, but her eyes are kind. “You could've just called.”

“I didn’t want to call,” Kate murmurs. “I needed to see you.”

“And where have you been this past month, after breaking up with Georgia?”

“Waiting for you to finish your stint working under her.”

Yelena quirks an eyebrow.

Kate grins and tenderly tucks a strand of Yelena’s hair behind her ear. “I want to do everything right with you.”

Yelena covers Kate's hand with her own, holding it in her lap. “I’m sorry about Georgia,” she says.

Kate narrows her eyes and half-smiles. “You’re not, but thanks.”

Yelena lets out a breathy laugh, her thumb tracing circles on Kate's hand. “I’m sincere about that,” she says. “I thought she was good for you, and I am truly sorry if I ruined things for you.”

“No, Yelena, you didn’t complicate things. You just...” Kate pauses, swallowing dryly, “It's always been you I've wanted. I’m not used to lying to myself. I couldn't be with someone else knowing there was even a sliver of hope you might feel the same.”

“Kate, I—”

Kate tilts her head, waiting, a hopeful expectancy hanging in the air.

“I feel the same,” Yelena breathes out, so softly that Kate leans in to catch every syllable.

Kate's lips curl into a smile, and it grows and grows to its brightest, and Yelena thinks about how she wants to be the one to cause it, over and over again.

“You do?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it, to admit it. I'm not used to...this.”

“To what?” Kate asks.

“To being loved first,” Yelena confesses with a shrug. “I’m always the one who cares more, the one who waits, who tries harder. I didn't recognize it when it was given to me without having to fight for it.”

Kate cups Yelena's cheek, her thumb brushing against her skin tenderly. “Well,” she whispers. “You better get used to it then.”

Tears form in Yelena's eyes, but she brushes them away quickly. “It's going to take some time,” she admits. “To trust, to believe that this is real and not just another heartbreak waiting to happen.”

“I promise to be patient,” Kate says, and Yelena finds it so easy and natural to believe her every word. “So, what happens now?”

“Dinner,” Yelena says, nodding towards her apartment. “And then we figure it out together.”

With a nod, Kate leans in and Yelena meets her half way.

They kiss for the first time after laying all their cards on the table.

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x you #yelena belova #yelena belova fanfiction #marvel #marvel wlw #my fics #my writing #ILGOSS #yelena x reader #yelena x female reader #ilgoss oneshot #yelena x kate #yelena belova x kate bishop #kate bishop #natasha romanoff

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morningstarfirstsin · 14 days ago

Text

Shooting Stars (1/20)

(A/N: Many of my older works don't have proofreading and, well, I'm not a native speaker either. English is not my first language. Therefore, I ask for patience, but I believe you will find some grammatical errors here (and many more in older works).

That said, this text is interactive, giving the reader space to fit into the character, but she has a name and appearance, she is a transmigrant (yes, I know, but its my favorite trope and I almost never find any fics that fall under those terms :<)

There will be spoilers. There will be lore breaking. MC is female as the “real MC”.

I hope you like the fic. I hope it's as fun for everyone as it has been for me, marinating in this idea and finally having the willpower to write again. The tailcoat I was inspired by is this one here, from Alice in Wonderland )

Summary: You lived for them. You died for them. That was the only thing that made sense, the prophecy given to you said. You were sure of it. Live for them, die for them, make them happy. Let them live their lives with the ones they love the most and only so you'll be free to finally leave this looping of suffering.

You gave your heart, your soul, your life and your years. You gave your freedom so they could be free to love. Be free to live. And yet... Why is the story repeating itself?

Why are they coming back to you?!?

Pairing: Sylus | Zayne | Xavier | Rafayel | Caleb x female!reader

Important tags for this whole series: Angst, Fluff, Smut, reader is in denial, Past Lives, Mild Gore, Blood, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, All love interests fall in love with reader, reader is not MC

Chapters: (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) Read it on AO3

A tired sigh left your lips. As you hugged one of your swords and played with the small rabbit-shaped charm, time seemed to pass slowly, almost imperceptibly. The air felt still and heavy around the palace and as much as you truly wanted to make this story happen as fast as possible, it was basically impossible to rush things any further than they had already been rushed.

The number of times you sat across from your MC and talked to her, tried to understand why she didn't accept either of Xavier's two marriage proposals, why she seemed to be so resistant to the prince when things should be so much simpler .

Everything seemed so complex when, in fact, everything was supposed to be so easy and even so, the reason seemed to be invisible to the eyes of your creation. With another tired sigh, your eyes turned toward the tower clock. It was already more than 6 o'clock in the afternoon and the prince would soon leave the meeting he had been summoned to, so it was necessary to be prepared to assume the role of a watchdog once again.

Adjusting the black mask that covered from your nose to your chin, making half of your face unknown to absolutely anyone, you put away your sword once again and stretched for a moment. Your muscles tensed and then relaxed.

“Still guarding His Highness?” - A familiar male voice caught your attention. With a gentle smile on his lips, the boy who spoke directly to you was Jeremiah, one of Xavier's other royal guards and one of his best friends. He was adorable, even more so up close like that.

"Yes." - Despite your short answer and the robotic voice expelled by the mask, you held a look full of affection and sympathy for the boy. The process of being as cold and distant as possible was complex, especially in a world where you didn't belong and were desperately alone, but there was a reason for this behavior.

Soon both Xavier and Jeremiah were preparing to take the long-awaited journey to the past and you would need to play an essential role when that happened.

“Always monosyllabic. It's a shame you don't engage more than half a dozen words on a lovely day, Zero. I would really like to know a little more about you…” - And dramatically, Jeremiah threw his shoulders up, sighing deeply. - “Well, I'll leave before his highness thinks I'm interfering with your work.”

And with a wave, the brunette walked in the opposite direction from which he had come, his steps as light as that of an experienced knight should be.

That brought a thought to your mind. After so many years of training and scars that marred your whole body, you weren't sure how many times you had lived or how old you were in general. You stopped counting after the first two hundred, since in this life alone, you were almost sure you already had surpassed three hundred years old. The only thing you truly knew was why you were here and what your mission was.

Ironically -or perhaps not-, after reading so many books and comics on this topic, something similar had happened. The weird part was that you didn't remember dying in your last life. Furthermore, some things still seemed to have survived in your memory. For example, here in the world of Love and Deepspace, they didn't speak your native language, no. They spoke what you called “common”, a language you learned as soon as you started speaking.

Another important point was: Your memory of this world began when you cried the first time, on your mother's lap. It had been many, many years. You have literally lived entire lives in completely different timelines. Lives where you were close to Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus and now, Xavier. It was strange to say that you didn't understand or know for sure which of these lives had been the first or whether what was happening at the moment was real or just a memory. But before your brain could get lost in any more wondering about questions you couldn't answer yourself, a noise caught your attention.

With a click, the door opened, and from inside, some members of the imperial family began to come out. Xavier had been one of the last and, as usual, you started walking behind him without saying a single word. His gaze focused in search of any danger, despite his relaxed posture.

“Zero…” - The prince called your name for what seemed like the first time in his entire existence. Now you were already away from any area where there were other passersby in the palace, even if you were still moving on your way to Xavier's room.

With a bit of shock, since the prince was usually indifferent and cold towards everyone he didn't consider close, you just nodded, still following behind the blonde, waiting for what he had to say. It seemed ridiculous that a wave was enough, especially when you weren't leading the way, but you knew the prince too well to know that he had seen your nod and, a few seconds later, as you arrived in front of his bedroom door, he invited you inside.

Shaking your head in a negative manner, you remained outside, expression as neutral as possible, indicating that you would not enter.

“I need to talk to you about… Well, you know about who. And I would like to do it in a way that I am comfortable with.” - his voice sounded tired, bordering on exhaustion and that was the only thing that convinced you to take a very hesitant step into the prince's room.

"Thanks." - He said, closing the door and then going to sit on the sofa in the small leisure area that the immense royal bedroom offered. - “I don't know if I could say that you must be wondering a lot of things since… I don't think I even remember what your voice sounds like anymore. But... I'd like to ask you a favor. Certain things are going to happen and… I would like you to protect her. Never leave her side.”

Your gaze fell on the blonde's hands, fingers intertwined, muscles contracting with some anxiety. He was certainly talking about his farewell, his future journey and how he was putting his plans into action for your MC to become queen of Philos. This was one of the moments you were eagerly awaiting. You would finally accomplish something that had never been done before, that timeline would be broken and you would be responsible for it in no time.

With a rare smile on your lips -even though they were hidden by the mask-, you knelt down in front of Xavier, one hand resting on your knee and the other on the floor. Lowering your head, you dared to speak a few words this time.

“I swear on my life that I will keep her safe as long as I live.” - The robotic voice sounded with a little emotion. Maybe it was the tiredness that had finally spread like cancer through your body and soul. Living so many lives and dying all of them, remembering the loved ones you had all this time, family and friends, as well as the people you loved so much in the 'real world'. All that weight finally felt like it had been dumped on your shoulders once and for all.

“I…” - Xavier seemed shocked. His eyes widened slightly, but then he smiled gently. It was the first time he had smiled at you and he was as beautiful as every time he had smiled through a screen. - "Thanks." - and with a hand on your shoulder he seemed to have conveyed everything he always wanted to say during the entire time he was in the company of his beloved MC. You knew how important she was to him, but little did the prince himself know of your plans.

With a nod, again, you stood up and left the room, standing guard outside. Even during the early hours of the dawn, there was no tiredness in your system. It felt like your heart was pumping blood faster than ever, an expected state of adrenaline when you only had one chance to make things work.

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Our old tale is found in the annals of Philo’s history.

Wandering bards sing of it throughout the land.

For hundreds of years, Philo’s throne sat empty. Now the crownless queen of legends foretold regains her scepter.

Philos is to be ushered in a new spring. in darkness does one claim a glimmer. The new queen shall bring the dying Philos its real end.

As she sat on her cold throne, at the bottom of the steps, her Grandis Knight, Xavier stared at her. A queen’s coronation ceremony should be a day of bliss, yet, he chose that day to bid her farewell.

“Are you not afraid the Backtrackers suspect you betrayed them for a private audience?” - Your mc asked, her voice shaky.

“They are aware.” - Xavier sighed and averted his eyes for a second. - “As a knight, it’s my duty to attend to Your Majesty.”

A moment of silence made the throne room colder than before, quieter than the normal. Your eyes never wandered away, staring directly at Xavier while he spoke to your mc. She was beautiful, so much that it pained you to see this scene repeating again and yet, you’ve spoken no words, in a guarding stance beside your new queen as you promised.

“... Are you truly leaving?” - Her eyes were glassy, full of non-shared tears.

“The spaceship is ready.”

“Your trip is one of danger and uncertainty!”

Shaking his head, Xavier didn’t reply right away. If only so that he could extend his own stay, even if just a little, if only to hear her breathe, so that he could just hear her heart beat for the last time.

“Our safety is assured so long as Your Majesty doesn’t call our steel into battle.”

Your Majesty. He addressed her with a cool indifference. He hadn’t addressed her with her own name for years and now, seeing him stand, she realized it’s been some time since she got a good look at her Grandis Knight.

“You’ve already made up your mind. In that case…” - Your MC spoke, rising from her throne and walking down the steps, standing before Xavier. - “I’ll tell the citizens. The Grandis Knight perished in battle. I shall give him the highest honor.”

He smiled at her. His voice was so ever soft and full of affection, one she couldn’t have noticed for how her heart was broken.

“Your Majesty has my gratitude.”

The wind sweeps into the room, the tassel with a star-shaped charm swaying on his sword. Nightfall obscures the tassel and without saying another word, Xavier takes his leave, his steps echoing through the room.

When you heard the door close completely, you examined every part of that large hall with your eyes. Your MC knelt on the floor and started crying profusely. Sobs of a lost love for a journey that would have no return.

You took a few steps forward, walking down the steps of the throne and standing next to the queen. Placing one hand in front of your face and the other behind, touching a device on the back of your neck, you removed the mask. Something you had never done in front of any of the people who lived in that palace. In fact, the last people who had truly seen your face had long since perished.

"Your Majesty." - Your voice was low, almost like a whisper in the silent night. A melodic voice that went well with the long pastel pink hair you grew. Your eyes were almost hidden beneath a fringe that urgently asked for a cut, but even so, nothing was a mystery anymore, not for your queen and you had only done that because you knew she would never remember your face.

“Z-Zero?” - Your MC's voice was still weak and longing, choked. Her eyes widened for a moment as she admired your face, her fingers reaching out and gently brushing against your skin, feeling the softness and plump, pink lips.

A toothy smile showed your dear mc that she could continue her curious caress while you yourself moved your hand to caress your creation's cheek. It was a strange feeling, it wasn't the feeling of motherhood you get with a child, it was more like seeing something you were a part of, now forging its own path.

“I'm sorry about that. I've seen and rewatched this story so many times and... My return home depends on your happiness... So I'm going to break some rules. I hope you forgive me.” - With a soft kiss on your queen's forehead, you murmured a few words and the world around you seemed to enter a great state of… glitching.

Your MC didn't even have time to say anything, she was paralyzed like everything else at that moment. The entire world had bent to your will. With a snap of your fingers, you were facing the spaceship that Xavier and Jeremiah would board in a few minutes for the mission back to the past.

You opened the door and carried your queen inside, laying her gently on one of the beds in the dorm. With another snap of your fingers, her clothes were already organized in the correct compartments and the amount of supplies needed for the trip had been re-established.

“I hope you live a peaceful and happy life. Give Jeremiah some love for me, I’m sure he’ll be a great gardener.” - You said with a smile on your face and walked out of the machine, letting the door close again.

Time came to an end and you disappeared into the darkness, just waiting for things to happen according to your will. Xavier and Jeremiah boarded the ship, adjusted the coordinates and left Philos. Using a device that would be similar to a GPS, you followed their departure until their return could no longer be something tangible and only then, with a sigh, did you unpause the rest of the world around you.

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Walking to the Starfall Forest, you entered the forest safely. That would be the last time you would need to do something. Or maybe it was the first. Maybe it was just a memory. It didn't matter the order of any of the timelines, just that you were certain that by completing this final task, you would finally have your freedom returned.

After all, the prophecy, before the countless times you were born -or had been born- was always the same: “Seek for the true happy ending. Allow the chance to love for those who never manage to consummate it.” and there was nothing that made more sense than simply changing the story of each of the characters you loved so much. Yes, these boys never seemed to have a happy ending, with their tragic pasts and broken hearts.

Wide steps made your path shorter and shorter, white pants that outlined your curves and highlighted your rear, black knee-high boots and a blue tailcoat with details in gold threads, made the air of royalty more intense than ever. It was especially sad to know that, despite all the flower details in your hair, your jewelry - however discreet, they were still there and were exuberant to the attentive eyes -, no one would see you that night. Literally dressed to kill. The mask was no longer part of your current uniform.

Your hair, long enough to reach your waist, was gently swayed by Philos' gentle breeze, as if it were a relief that you had finally arrived on that planet to put a real end to such a monstrous situation.

Pulling your two swords from their respective sheaths, your next movement was too quick for any creature or wanderer to follow. You were destroying the core of that damned land. Never again would those humans make sacrifices to keep their selfish lives extended.

Your consciousness slowly faded away as your sword destroyed every barrier on the planet’s protocore, trees and creatures being destroyed in a white flash, a merciful way to go, you thought. At least it would be painless, as all the pain on that planet now passed through your veins to the point where you expected to wake up back in your own bed. Back to your world.

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

When you opened your eyes again, you were in an alley. Your mask was on the floor as blood fell from your nose and mouth. Several men were on the ground, huddled together and stacked on top of each other.

Blurred vision and a feeling of nausea, you realized you were in a fight. What had happened this time? The world seemed much less technological than on Philos, but your mask... Hearing some footsteps nearby, you tried to get up, supporting yourself with one of your swords as you pulled your mask and fitted it back onto your face.

Your body was heavy and your arms were making a Herculean effort to maintain support for your swords. You knew you needed to walk faster and you forced your own body to follow as much as possible.

Not that you knew how to go. Or where to go to. But your feet were dragged towards what felt like a familiar place. Entering the automated building, the robot recognized your face, even if it was bruised and swollen behind the mask, granting you access to the elevator.

You don't remember when your eyes closed, but you felt a warmth, as if something was holding you gently and not letting you fall to the ground. Your consciousness faded.

At some point, in the midst of a delirious fever, your eyes opened and closed, but everything was spinning and your stomach no longer seemed to want to contain anything inside it. Turning your face to the side, you vomited everything you had previously ingested along with blood.

You heard some noises of footsteps, more than one person was moving in that environment, someone seemed to curse almost silently while another person gently held your torso and hair.

“She needs to go to the hospital right now. I can’t treat her here.” - A cold and harsh voice sounded above you. It matched the cold touch of the hands that held you.

“Her arms… Her arms are turning… black. Would this… be necrosis?” - Another voice, less rigid, spoke. Familiar like the first.

"No. That’s her evol.” - Another male voice. How many men were there in this place? 3? 4? Your head was too dizzy to answer that question. - “Luke and Kieran are heading here, let's take her to the hospital, help me find other clothes to dress her.”

“I don't think there's time to put other clothes on her right now. As much as I hate the idea of leaving her in this state, let's prioritize getting her back to my car. Let me try to stabilize evol, after all, this heart is hers.” - Maybe you have been answered. 4 men? But there were two more that were mentioned… were they already here?

When you felt a warm touch on your skin, your eyes opened wide, but you couldn't see anything. A scream left your lips as you writhed in pain and tried your best to get away from whatever they were doing to you.

“Shit, hold her straight, just a little longer, I’m making her evol regress!!!” - The person who had touched you shouted, a few more pairs of hands came to hold you. Whether it was seconds, minutes, hours or an eternity, you didn't know, but before falling into oblivion once again, all you heard was the voice from the someone who had touched you previously and cried out to be in possession of your heart. - “Shhhh… It’s okay, cutie. You'll be fine…”

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