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kumkaniudaku · 2 months ago

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Stay A While (4)

Summary: A storm in Shelby Springs threatens to take away everything Terry loves.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4,131

Part: 4 of 5

Warnings: Mentions of violence.

Chapters: One. Two. Three

The past was a funny thing.

In an instant, all of the promise and joy of tomorrow could be snatched away, ruined by the sins of yesterday no matter how deep they were buried in the Earth.

When Terry limped away from Shelby Springs just before the heat of Summer could settle into the air, he expected to be gone for good. He’d taken his bruises like a man and cut his losses, never to speak of the horror he’d experienced at the brink of death. Horrors that flashed through his mind as he sat with his back aching in a wooden chair at Summer McBride’s kitchen table.

Soft humming by the stove kept him tethered to reality though the present conversation had long turned into background murmurs. Summer sat opposite him, smart tablet in hand, as she scrolled through documents and videos sorted in a digital folder labeled evidence.

“They didn’t delete every video. The especially heinous ones, they kept on a separate drive for blackmail if they didn’t get what they wanted. Mike’s in here.” No answer. Terry maintained his focus on the wallpaper just past her head, not blinking. “D’you hear me, Terry? Terry?”

Still no answer. Summer peeled her concerned gaze from his face and directed it toward Patrice as she started to step closer. Patrice offered her an apologetic smile and touched Terry’s back to rub slow, soothing circles. He stiffened at her touch before picking a new spot in the room for his undivided attention.

“TJ, if you don’t wanna see the video, we understand. Right, Summer?”

Summer nodded though she disagreed. “Right. But, you gotta know they might show this one in court tomorrow. I’d rather you be prepared now.”

“It’s your call. Say the word and we’ll stop right here.”

Patrice punctuated her statement with a kiss atop Terry’s head before draping her arms over his shoulders.

He sighed and reached across his body for her hand. “How bad is it?”

Once again, Summer looked to Patrice for guidance. A nod gave her permission to tell the truth.

“Not life threatenin’ but…pretty bad.”

“Play it. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

With trepidation, Summer pressed play on the video and slid the tablet across the table.

Terry and Patrice watched the last known footage of Mike as he encountered officers Marston and Lann. What started as a traffic stop with Mike as the passenger devolved into a brutal beating. Each blow to his body felt like a gut punch to Terry as he watched, tears welling up in his waterline.

“Oh my God,” Patrice whispered to herself. “Maybe we should stop right here.”

Terry shook his head and clenched his jaw, his eyes never leaving the screen. “No. Let it finish.”

Watching the beating in its entirety became his self-inflicted punishment. He should’ve been there to protect his baby cousin. The least he could do, in his mind, was experience a fraction of the pain Mike was subjected to, even if it made him sick to his stomach.

The video ended abruptly with no resolution outside of Mike being cuffed and thrown in the back of a cruiser like a wild animal. Patrice gripped Terry a little tighter, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck just as a tear slid down his cheek. Summer sat across the table with her head bowed in silent prayer.

Sniffling and the rhythmic tick, tick, tick of a wall clock were the only sounds in the room, leaving space for shared grief among the unlikely group of vigilantes.

After some time, Terry swiped at his face to rid himself of the evidence of his sadness and forced out his question in a hoarse voice. “So what’s next? What do I gotta do to make these motherfuckers pay?”

“Just tell your story. The defense is gonna antagonize you. They’ll try to make you confused, get you turned around and caught up in a lie, but you can’t let ‘em. Edwin Carter’s on the prosecution and he owes me a favor so, he’ll handle your prep. He should be here soon if you’re feeling up to it.”

Terry mulled over the thought of rigorous back and forth before looking to Patrice for her opinion. “What you think, Treece?”

“I think that every one of these pieces of shit should rot in hell. If you wanna fight, let’s fight. But as soon as it’s too much, we’ll pack up the truck and go home. No explanation needed. Fuck ‘em. No offense, Summer.”

“Understandable. None taken.”

“Fuck ‘em,” he parroted, chuckling at the sound of his sweet girl cursing like a hardened criminal. He looked at Summer who waited expectantly for an answer as he slid the tablet back to her. “Tell me about Carter. You think he’s in this like we are?”

“I know he is. He’s got a vested interest in seeing Burne and that whole department crumble. Been on his heels for years. This was just the right time to bring the hammer down. He’ll take care of you.”

“Then we’ll take care of him,” Patrice interjected. “You think he’d be down for a hot meal?”

“If he ain’t, I sure as hell am. I haven’t cooked in here in ages.”

“Come grab as much as you’d like. TJ, I’ll make your plate.”

A kiss on the forehead was Patrice’s way of exiting the conversation to busy herself with dinner preparation, leaving Summer and Terry at the table alone. Summer watched him reckon with his decision and cleared her throat for his attention as she stood.

“She’s good for you. Don’t screw it up. Take it from me.”

Don’t screw it up.

The simple sentence sat with Terry through his half-eaten dinner and grueling trial prep with Edwin once he arrived. For hours they meticulously picked through Terry’s story, poking holes to simulate the courtroom and inducing stress to ensure that he was prepared. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His throat burned from repeating the same words over and over and over until they were seared into his brain. He left that house in the middle of nowhere emotionally exhausted and nearly regretting his decision to answer Summer’s call to action.

Terry’s chest had grown tight with anxiety that followed him back to their cramped hotel room on the outskirts of town in what Summer considered a safe zone for him and Patrice.

The amber glow underneath the bathroom door was the only light in the room. It was barely visible as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling listening to the sound of running water while Patrice brushed her teeth. Mike’s video played in his head on a demented loop. Every scream and crack of their fists against his flesh was magnified in the theater of his mind. He was a man tormented with no end in sight.

He didn’t hear when Patrice shut off the water or when she called his name to see if he was awake. He only felt the empty spot beside him dip as she climbed into bed. She cozied up next to him without speaking, throwing her leg across his waist and laying her head on his chest once he’d opened his arm to welcome her presence.

“I thought you were asleep,” she whispered in the dark.

“Not yet. Was waiting on you.”

“That’s sweet.”

His chest rose and fell quickly with his chuckle. The feeling made her smile in the dark though he couldn’t see.

They lay in silence for several minutes, both of them listening to the other breathe as a soundtrack to the night. Patrice felt herself dozing off until Terry’s deep voice cut through the still air.

“I’m scared, Treece.”

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yeah? You wanna talk about it.”

“Not really. Can you just…talk? About anything. I need to hear your voice.”

“Of course, baby.” Patrice nestled closer to Terry, earning a tight hug as a wordless thank you for her understanding. “Sometimes I think about the first time we met. I’d heard about you from some of the girls in homeroom, but they made you sound like some random dickhead on the football team. But you were so sweet. And that smile, God that smile. I’d never seen anything like it. I still haven’t.”

“What’d you think about me then?”

Patrice sighed from the sweet memory. “I thought you were special because you were kind and smart even though your friends weren’t. I thought you were too skinny to be so tall, too. You looked like you hadn’t grown into your body yet.”

Terry chuckled. He vividly remembered spending hours in their garage gym each week desperately trying to bulk up so that he could shed the gangly giant image that had followed him from middle to high school.

“What do you think about me now?”

Running her fingers along his arm, Patrice stopped at the gunshot wound on his shoulder. She traced the raised scar before sliding her hand back down to lace her fingers with his.

“I think you’re beautiful inside and out. I think that in every single galaxy, you’re my person. And, even if there’s one where you’re not, I’d still spend my whole life searching for you because your absence would leave me feeling empty inside.”

In the pitch-black room, they searched for each other, desperate to share their affection. Their tongues danced a beautiful waltz together in lockstep. The subtle smack of lips joining and separating raised the hair on the back of Terry’s neck as he fought to restrain himself. Not here. Not now. Not before he had the opportunity to do right by her and make their union official in some grand gesture he hadn’t nailed down the plan for just yet.

He owed her more than rushed sex in a low-rank hotel on the eve of what could be a life-changing moment for them.

Sensing his reluctance, Patrice abandoned her thoughts of straddling his waist and pulled away from the kiss to take a breath. Terry gently rolled them over beneath the sheets to act as the big spoon in their equation.

“I love you. So much,” he whispered in her ear, this time making sure that she heard every syllable.

Patrice lifted her head to look over her shoulder and kissed his bottom lip. “I heard you the first time. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“Marry me.”

Patrice’s giggle soon turned into full on laughter, prompting Terry to join in despite his simple statement not being intended as a joke. She settled in and began lulling herself to sleep by dragging her finger along the outline of his Bad Brains tattoo that she’d committed to memory.

“One day, maybe.”

Unfortunately, sleep never came for Terry. He spent the entire night listening to the soft snoring Patrice swore didn’t exist and thinking through every scenario for the hours ahead. If they were quick, they could skip town and leave all of this shit behind. Maybe they could settle somewhere like Detroit or Chicago. She’d get a new job as a teacher and he could find work doing anything as long as she was happy. She’d never go for that convoluted plan, but it was a good enough distraction from his reality.

In the morning, when the sun was high and the earthy aroma of a midnight rain had settled over the city, Patrice and Terry stood hand in hand in front of the courthouse with Summer by their side.

It was now or never and, on the last day of testimonies, now was the only option.

Patrice sat with the rest of the spectators beside Summer, her eyes trained on Terry as he fidgeted with his tie on the witness stand. Chief Burne sat beside his attorney with a smug grin plastered on his weathered face. He was convinced that every minute of this trial was a farce. Soon a jury of his peers would find him not guilty of crimes he surely committed and he could get on with the status quo. This wasn’t his first rodeo. The system was made for men like him.

Without a word, the defense attorney stood up and started toward Terry. He pretended to clean his glasses before speaking, adding flare to his one-man show.

“Terrence. Or do you prefer Terry?”

“Terrence, please.”

“Right.” the attorney responded with a curt smile. “Terrence, shall we begin?”

A rhetorical question. There was no way out.

For what felt like an eternity, Terry was subjected to question after question regarding his whereabouts, his training, his motives, and why the twelve people sitting on his left should believe that the Shelby Springs police department was a corrupt organization headed by a man intent on defrauding citizens from here to Atlanta out of their hard-earned money.

Sweat pooled under his arms like the remnants of a monsoon. His heart raced with every thinly veiled accusation. His cuticles were nearly picked raw from his nervous scratching. He felt nauseous, highly irritable, and alone with every face in the room seeming to frown back at him like he was the one on trial for countless atrocities.

In the sea of adversaries, Patrice kept her gaze sympathetic in hopes that he would take her expression as a life raft in a raging storm.

Closing arguments came after a short recess, leaving Chief Burne’s fate and serval victim’s justice in the hands of twelve strangers randomly selected to balance metaphorical scales of guilt and innocence.

The wait was unbearable and energy draining. So much so that he couldn’t find the wherewithal to engage with Patrice over dinner at a local diner while she gushed over the quality of their evening special.

“Getting solid Nashville hot chicken outside of Nashville is like a miracle. We should play the lotto tonight too.” Terry acknowledged her excitement with a quick half smile, barely looking away from the window he was resting against. Patrice persisted. “How’s your food?”

“It’s, uh, it’s good. Solid steak. Potatoes could’ve been cooked longer, I guess.”

“Want me to send it back,” she asked, preparing to flag down the young waitress servicing them for the night.

Terry declined and pushed his food around the plate. “I’m not even hungry. We can box it up for you to eat in the morning.”

“Alright. Well, how’s football going? Anything new?”

“Nope. Teenage boys still smell like sweat and weed 24/7. If they don’t tighten up, they can kiss that dream of a state championship goodbye.”

“That’s why they have you, Drill Sergeant. Whip ‘em into shape.”

“I don’t really have the energy for all that these days.”

Solem silence settled over the pair as Patrice studied his tired, sunken eyes and sagging shoulders. He looked defeated and for good reason. If she could hand him a win on a platter, she’d spare no expense and sacrifice anything to make it happen just to see him smile again.

A quiet sigh escaped past her lips before she rested her fork across her plate. “I’m gonna run to the restroom then we can get out of here, okay?”

He didn’t answer or look her in the eyes to signal that he’d heard anything she said and she didn’t push him despite feeling completely disregarded.

Half of him wanted to chase behind her and drop to his knees in a dramatic apology. Hurting her was never his intention, but the weight of the world was crushing him relentlessly.

Footsteps approaching the table moments later made him take a deep breath in preparation for an apology or paying the bill. The opportunity never came.

Instead, he found himself face to face with Sandy Burne and that devilish grin he’d grown to despise.

“Terry Richmond. We meet again and, somehow, under even worse circumstances. Enjoying your last meal before things get real bad?”

“We can test how bad they can get if you’re feeling ambitious tonight. I got some gas left in the tank from the last time we saw each other.”

Sandy chuckled and widened his stance. “Better save it, son. You’re not too far out of Shelby to avoid consequences and repercussions should things escalate the way they did before.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I never make threats. I write checks that me and my men cash. Ask Mike.”

Terry could feel his heart rate reaching dangerous levels. He wanted to cause physical harm, break limbs, step on throats - anything to inflict pain on an everpresent thorn in his side.

Burne relished the opportunity to make him uncomfortable. He took note of Terry’s fingers curling into a fist against the table as he stared straight ahead. “Ooh, are we upset? We could take things to the parking lot if you’re feeling ambitious.”

Impulse control had faded where the need for violent retribution stepped in. Common sense was out the door. Terry’s eyes darted between the entrance and the small group of men that had formed outside the window awaiting his next move. He sized them up, ranking them from the least to the greatest threat, and made his decision.

He began to move out of the booth.

“Sandy fuckin’ Burne, you peckerwood son of a bitch. To what do we owe the displeasure of seeing your worn out, leathery face up close? Zoo couldn’t hold you?”

Patrice stepped closer, her tone deceivingly jovial though she meant every word as a targeted insult.

Sandy took a step back to let her pass as she headed back to her seat across from Terry. He scoffed at the idea that she could speak to him with no regard for his position in society.

“I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Oh, God no! I don’t frolic with terrorists or walk in lockstep with the wicked. You’re a God-fearing man, right?”

“I am.”

“Good. You should be. Because your time is coming, Sandy Burne. I’m sure of it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Patrice looked him up and down, her eyes briefly stopping at the light right spot around his left ring finger where a wedding band presumably once sat. She smiled and flickered her gaze back up to his face screwed in a scowl.

“Nothing your wife hadn’t already said when she left your sorry ass for somebody with a functioning brain and half-decent dick. Kathy was her name, right? I bet she doesn’t even think of you anymore. But she and her lawyer would be glad to hear that you’re carrying around that pistol off duty. It’d be enough to keep you from those sweet girls for good, wouldn’t it?”

Shock came first on Burne’s face. His mouth hung open in clear confusion before he recovered with a steely glare. His hand twitched on the handle of his gun in apparent anger. Terry pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable. If he moved quickly, he could disarm him, take the beating that was sure to follow, and end up in a holding cell for the weekend to save Patrice from danger.

She, however, wasn’t the least bit concerned. She had dealt with men like Sandy Burne before. And, if she knew his type like she thought he did, he only purported a willingness to utilize real violence to get ahead. In reality, he was a man desperate for power in the most sneaky, backhanded way possible.

She kept a poker face, staring at Sandy with the same force he showed to her until he slowly pulled his hand off his weapon and tapped his fingers on the table.

“When all of this is over and I’m back at my desk, take your gal and get out of my town, son. Don’t come back unless you are personally invited by the mayor himself. And even then think twice. I’ve given you two too many chances. Three times and both of you are out.”

Burne didn’t leave room for additional conversation. He scanned Patrice’s face a final time to commit it to memory just in case she followed through on her thinly veiled promise to expose him to his ex-wife’s divorce attorney. He wanted to capture a mental picture of the executioner committed to destroying his life piece by piece if he made a false move.

A final curt smile was all he left behind before exiting the same way he came and taking his cast of bandits with him. Both Terry and Patrice watched until they were clear of the parking lot and gone into the night to speak.

“Let’s make sure we’re packed and ready to go first thing in the morning. Don’t leave anything up to chance.” Terry instructed, pulling out his wallet to toss enough money on the table to cover the bill and tip. “How did you know that about his wife?”

“Edwin Carter is good people.”

Terry didn’t need further explanation. The less he knew, the better.

What he did need was a morsel of Patrice’s optimism that she tried to share once they returned to their hotel room.

“Look. If things don’t go our way here, I need you to leave without me. Go home, grab as much as you can, then go stay with your parents or my parents. It won’t be safe for you to live alone.”

“Everything will be fine. Get some sleep.”

The conversation came back to him as they filed into the courtroom with the surprising news of a decision. Days of no rest had left him weary and something like a warm zombie with vacant eyes and trembling hands.

According to Edwin, reaching a verdict this soon in a case that was rushed to this degree was unusual. He didn’t know what to make of the timeline. He could only hope for the best.

Apprehensive chatter in the room ceased once the judge stepped out of her chambers and approached the bench. Everyone stood in reverence at the behest of the bailiff before quickly settling in silence.

The judge adjusted in her seat and then addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to remind you that once the verdict is read, there should be no outbursts. Please ensure that you maintain proper courtroom etiquette and remain seated until the jury has exited the room. If we’re all on the same page, has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” the foreperson answered, standing with the decision in his hand. The judge gestured for him to continue.

Terry gripped Patrice’s hand, unknowingly holding his breath in preparation for the worst. Summer bowed her head again in prayer. Patrice closed her eyes and tilted her head toward heaven.

Count 1: Guilty. Count 2: Guilty. Count 3: Guilty.

Guilty down the line. Each alleged crime culminated in the same result. Justice seemingly served. A criminal enabled by a corrupt system was finally stripped of power and forced to convene with the very people he’d helped put away.

A whirlwind of handcuffs, shouting, and a struggle sent Sandy Burne to his next destination and the trio outside the courthouse onto the steps to celebrate an unexpected triumph.

They exchanged hugs and happy tears until the crowd had cleared and they were the only three left in the area.

Summer extended her hand toward Terry for a shake. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Terry. I’ll text you something profound every once in a while if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Take care, Summer. Keep me updated on your girl.”

“You got it.” She turned to Patrice who rejected the handshake and pulled her in for a warm embrace. They rocked side to side, squeezing tighter. “I appreciate your help. And your cookin’.”

“Come by the house any time, you hear? There’s always a spot for you at our table.”

One more squeeze was their silent signal to let go and say another goodbye before Terry and Patrice were left standing alone.

Terry looked out into the distance, a smile ghosting at the corner of his full lips. Optimism.

“You ready to get out of here? I think we could get to Atlanta by the evening and stay overnight if we book it.”

“What if we didn’t go home,” he asked. His head turned to get a look at Patrice’s confused expression. She searched his bright eyes for hints at his end goal.

“I’m due back at work in a few days, Terry. Break is almost over.”

“I’ll have you back before then. Let’s celebrate first, though. I know the perfect place. You trust me?”

Patrice took a deep breath and nodded. “You know I do.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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hannie-dul-set · 7 months ago

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats.

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.”

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss.

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of.

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?”

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. “First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out.

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting.

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack.

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream).

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?”

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.”

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you.

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation.

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all.

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. “—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut. “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame.

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in.

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together.

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?”

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended.

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old.

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air.

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you.

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums.

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt x you #tomorror x together x you #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fanfic #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you

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maidragoste · 1 year ago

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The Parent Trap: Chapter Two

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After the disastrous divorce between Aemond Targaryen and Y/n Velaryon the twins Baelon and Aemon were separated. Each was raised by one of their parents. Baelon was raised by his father while Aemon was raised by his mother. Years later they both meet at a summer camp and discover the existence of the other. The twins realize that there are many secrets in their family, eager to discover their past, they put together a plan to deceive their parents.

Masterlist

Thank you for your support, I was nervous that people wouldn't like it because the fic wasn't the same as the movie so I'm very happy to read all your comments. REBLOGS, comments and likes are always appreciated 🥰🥰💕💕💕

Btw, I made two playlists for this fic. One is from Aemond and the Reader and another is from Reader and Aegon. As I keep writing I'll probably add more songs or even delete some, who knows. If you have songs for me to add or are curious to know why, you are welcome to write to me in my inbox.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Ten years earlier

Your leg kept moving up and down. Your eyes are constantly directed to the door, expecting that at any moment Aemond would return home. You tried to distract yourself by watching TV but you were too anxious. Your mind couldn't focus on the stupid movie because all you could think about was the positive sign on the pregnancy tests you had taken that afternoon with Rhaena and Jace by your side. You regretted telling them to leave. If they were with you they would be preventing you from locking yourself in your own mind. They would make you tell them your fears and they would try to calm you down. The three of them would be making plans. You might even be practicing with Jace how the hell tell Aemond they were going to be parents.

You and Aemond would be parents. You would be a mother. You always knew you would have children, you wanted the happily ever after with the wedding and children like they always showed in the movies, but now you are terrified. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You're barely twenty-three years old, you haven't even finished your second year of editorial editing. It was assumed that when you had children you would be at least over twenty-seven, your career—a career you were truly passionate about—would be finished, you would have a good job, and you would be married. You tried to console yourself by telling yourself that at least you're in a stable relationship. You and Aemond have been dating for three years. You two knew each other since you were little because your godmother is Aemond's older sister and then you ended up attending the same school so you spent a lot of time together. You still remember like it was yesterday how nervous you were when you first kissed Aemond during New Year's. You were afraid of ruining your friendship and that things would become awkward but he didn't pull away when you kissed him he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him. That night they hid from everyone and spent the rest of the celebration kissing. The next day they started dating. From there everything was wonderful. Like any couple, you and Aemond have your run-ins—like when you argued because you didn't like the way he behaved with Jace, your best friend, or when Aemond got mad at you because you made the two of you leave the restaurant you were having a date at. to pick up a drunk Aegon in a bar again—but there was definitely more joy than displeasure in your relationship with Aemond. You saw yourself having a future with him, you could see yourself perfectly next to him in your white dress. You can imagine Aemond putting a baby to sleep while he lulls it to sleep in High Valyrian. Are you sure you want a future with Aemond. But you're terrified of his reaction to this unexpected news. What would you do if Aemond didn't want to keep the baby? You would have to break up with him. Even though you were scared, you knew you wanted to keep the baby. That was clear to you.

You heard the door open and it didn't take long for your boyfriend to enter. You got up from the couch and went to hug him. Whenever he returned home you welcomed him with a hug and kisses. This time you held on to him longer than usual, wanting to remember the feeling of Aemond's arms around you in case this was the last time.

You were about to kiss him but he turned your face away from him making your heart skip a beat. Before you could move away he gently grabbed your chin and studied you carefully. Of course, he had realized something was happening to you when you were clinging so fiercely to him.

“What's wrong?” he asked. Aemond first wanted to know what was happening to you before you kissed him.

Once again you regretted kicking Rhaena and Jace out. At least you should have taken advantage of this time alone to practice in front of the mirror how to tell your boyfriend that you are pregnant. Or you could have called your parents to help you. Although knowing them they would tell you to keep the secret so that the three of them could plan a big announcement together. But you couldn't wait, you need to know now what Aemond was thinking. You needed to know whether or not he would be with you on this trip.

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend called you, feeling his concern growing with every second that you remained silent.

“I think I'm pregnant” You closed your eyes feeling frustrated with yourself and hurried to correct yourself “I mean, I'm pregnant” You tried not to panic as you felt him move away from you “I haven't had any blood tests done yet but I'm One hundred percent sure I'm pregnant. I took five pregnancy tests and they all came back positive.”Your nerves were evident because you were talking faster than normal and you couldn't stop gesturing with your hands.

Aemond felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on him. This was not in his plans. Right now he was focused on opening his own publishing house, he needed to focus all of his attention on that, he didn't need a distraction and a baby would be that. Taking care of a child would take up too much time. But I couldn't tell you that. I'd be an idiot if I told you that. His mother didn't raise him to be an idiot.

“Marry me,” he said, knowing it was the right thing to do. Besides, ever since you two moved in together, he knew you were going to get married. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life waking up next to you, he wants your face to be the first and last thing he sees, he wants to come home and always be greeted with your kisses, he wants you to tell him about your day while the two of you have dinner, He wants to hear your theories about the TV shows you watch together. Aemond wants everything with you, even the most mundane things like going grocery shopping or walking the dogs. He loves you. The only reasons Aemond hadn't proposed to you already was because he wanted to wait until you finished college and he wanted his publishing company to be established. Planning a wedding was a big deal and you two didn't have time for that. But now it didn't matter anymore. “Marry me,” he said again with a smile as he saw how you opened your eyes and looked at him as if he were giving you the moon.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, feeling like an idiot for doubting Aemond. Maybe it wasn't the romantic proposal you had dreamed of but you didn't care. You were so relieved and so glad you didn't have to do this alone.

“Yes,” you responded with your heart racing and tears in your eyes. “Yes!” you repeated louder this time before throwing yourself into your fiancé's arms. You began to laugh as Aemond picked you up and spun you around. Your fears were forgotten. The only thing you felt at that moment was happiness.

Present

Aemon found it strange that when he arrived at camp Rickon was not waiting for him at the entrance like the previous years. He assumed this time that the trip had tired him too much and he went to take a nap in his cabin. So he decided to go there first instead of searching for him throughout the rest of the camp. If Rickon wasn't there at least he would leave his suitcases so he could walk comfortably.

When he entered the cabin he expected to find it empty or his best friend sleeping. He never imagined that an almost exact copy of him would be found walking back and forth all over the place. Aemon is not proud but his first reaction is to scream and throw his suitcase at him with all his might.

“Dude, what the hell?!” his copy shouted, barely managing to cum in time to avoid being hit.

“What happened?!” Rickon asked, also screaming, running out of the bathroom. “Aemon you finally arrived!” He ran to hug him.

Aemon barely moved his arms to hug Rickon but his eyes did not leave the other boy who was too similar to him. The copy of him didn't stop looking at him either, the two of them were studying each other. The only difference is that the stranger had much shorter hair than Aemon and did not have tanned skin like him. But Aemon knew that if he hadn't been sailing in the sun with his grandparents just a few days ago then he would look just like the copy of him.

"Who is he?" Aemon asked breaking the hug, no longer able to stand his curiosity. If he had encountered the copy of him years ago he would have thought that it was some kind of prank by Rickon or that maybe it was an evil clone but now he knew that it didn't make sense. The only logical explanation he could think of was that he had a missing twin but that didn't make sense because his mom would never hide something as big as this from him.

“Aemon do you need glasses? It's obvious that he's a copy of you," said the dark-haired boy, earning an angry look from the other two boys. “Don't do that, it's weird,” he complained.

“I am not Aemon's copy. In any case, he is my copy,” declared the short-haired boy.

“I met Aemon before so you are a copy of him.”

“Wait, why does he know my name?” Aemon interrupted before the other two continued fighting over who the copy was. He needed to know what was going on before he gave him a headache. Although since he saw the stranger he began to feel bad. It was disconcerting to see someone just like himself. He made him feel uncomfortable. Not even Joffrey looked that much like him, and she was his brother.

Aemon wanted to know who this boy was, why he looked so much like him, and why this was the first time he had met him. But at the same time, he was afraid. He could already sense that his life would be different after this camp. He decided to sit on the nearest bed to avoid running out and ask one of the caregivers for his cell phone to call his parents to come back to look for him. Maybe he should have let Mom walk him to the cabin like she wanted.

“Your friend thought I was you, he came up shouting your name when I was with my uncle Daeron. My uncle said that he knew you and that I should stay with Rickon until you showed up. Now I see why he insisted so much."

Aemon was sure he had heard Daeron's name before but he was sure he had never met him. Without realizing it he began to move his leg up and down trying to remember that he knew about Daeron but nothing came to mind.

“I am Baelon Targaryen,” the boy introduced himself, looking at him with concern and Aemon squeezed his leg to prevent himself from moving it further. “I think I'm your twin.”

“No,” the long-haired boy denied instantly.

“Dude, we're literally copies of each other!” Baelon said, frustration evident in his voice, pointing at Aemon and then at himself.

Rickon gave Baelon a look telling him to shut up. In the few hours that he had known him, Baelon had never seen Rickon so serious, so he crossed his arms indignantly and watched silently and attentively as Stark sat next to his twin.

“I know it seems crazy, Aemon, but I really think Baelon is right,” said the dark-haired boy, looking at his friend with concern. Rickon wouldn't know how to react either if he suddenly found out that he had a twin. “The two are copies of each other. Besides, he grew up without knowing his mom and you grew up without knowing your dad. I don't think it's a coincidence. Just like I don't think it's a coincidence that Baelon's uncle knew you."

Aemon looked at his best friend before turning his attention to his possible new brother. “When were you born?”

"June 20th. I guess just like you," said Baelon, and was satisfied when he saw that his twin nodded. "I have a photo of Mom!" He suddenly remembered the photo that he had stolen from Dad a long time ago and that he had hidden in his luggage. “You can see her and confirm that she is our mom,” he said excitedly, thinking that this way Aemon could no longer deny his relationship. He couldn't help but be excited at the thought that he was no longer alone, he had a brother. He had always seen how close his uncle Daeron was to his dad and his other uncles and he remembered wanting to have the same.

Baelon ran to grab his suitcase and began to take out all of his clothes, not caring about the mess, until he found the latest Boku no Hero manga that he was reading and triumphantly pulled out one of the pages the photo of her mother with him in her arms while she kissed his cheek, her eyes were only on him, not caring to look at the camera.

“Look,” he said, handing the photo proudly to Aemon. The photo wasn't complete, it was obvious that someone had cut it in half but Baelon didn't care. That photo was one of his most prized possessions. He looked at her every day before going to sleep because he reminded him that his mom loves him.

“Oh, shit,” Aemon muttered before handing the photo back to him.

“It's her, right?” Baelon asked, watching with anticipation as it was now Aemon who was searching for something in his suitcase. Aemon, unlike him, was not throwing his clothes everywhere. He felt his heart race when he saw how his twin took out a notebook and took something out of it.

“Is this your dad?” Aemon asked, giving him a photo. Baelon nodded several times, unable to say anything out of emotion. His dad wasn't looking at the camera but he wasn't looking at the baby he was holding either. He just looked to the side with a smile.

Baelon took both photos and placed them side by side on the bed. The photo was now complete. Dad was looking at Mom. If Baelon hadn't been so engrossed in looking at the photo then he would have noticed Aemon and Rickon exchanging glances.

“I told you we're twins!” Baelon said with a big smile once he snapped out of the shock of nudging Aemon.

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nameless-ken · 9 months ago

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Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

I'm so excited about my brand new series! Not going to lie this first chapter was difficult for me to write. I have a serious battle with the dreaded delete button!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It truly means a lot to me how excited you have been for this series <3 Comment below to be added to the taglist.

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading!

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: mostly angst with some slight rude remarks/bullying

Introduction to the series here!

Masterlist

(had this song in my head while writing this chapter)

In the tumultuous whirlwind of your teenage existence, embarking on your final year of high school, you've recently become aware of a singular truth: put full trust into the future that stretches far beyond the grasp of your present moment. Amidst the unexpected certainties that await, there's one you never anticipated – Billy Hargrove.

Billy reigns as the new king of Hawkins High, his “coronation” following the departure of Steve "The Hair" Harrington. He embodies the archetype of a manic attention-seeker, parading through the halls with a rotating carousel of girls, each week presenting a fresh face to the crowded hallways. It's a spectacle that leaves you utterly perplexed, unable to fathom the allure that draws countless girls into his orbit, only to be summarily discarded days later.

Thankfully, you've managed to maintain a safe distance from Billy and his band of lunatics, skillfully navigating the school corridors to avoid any unwanted encounters. While you share a few classes with his entourage, you've strategically positioned yourself in the front row, creating a buffer zone that shields you from their antics.

However, fate has a penchant for upheaval, as evidenced by your first detention – a consequence of arriving late to homeroom on three separate occasions. As you begrudgingly endure the mind-numbing 30-minute sentence after school, Robin, your loquacious best friend, offers her trademark blend of sympathy and sarcasm.

“They seriously gave you a detention for that? Couldn’t you pull the ‘I’m a straight A student who has never gotten in trouble before, please help dear little me this one time’ on them?”

“Sadly no. I definitely tried to get out of it but they’ve been cracking down on a bunch of seniors for a couple weeks now.”

“I'll wait up for you after band practice.” Robin slams her locker shut.

“Thanks. See you later.” You turn to go down the opposite hallway than her.

“Have fun troublemaker.” Robin pokes fun at your new “status” and you give her the finger back jokingly before you both wave and disappear down your own paths.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to the monotony of detention, selecting a seat near the window to alleviate the stifling atmosphere of confinement. The rules plastered on the board, NO FOOD. NO TALKING. STAY IN YOUR SEAT, serve as a constant reminder of the school’s misguided attempts at discipline.

You roll your eyes at the obnoxious nature of this situation. Why do schools think detention is ever going to work? You are put in a room for a certain amount of time with other delinquents. If anything you’re setting up a scenario for more trouble to happen.

You pull out the current book you're reading, ignoring all the rest of the students who walk in.

“Alright, welcome to detention. I have quite a lot of work to finish so I will be checking in periodically. When it’s your time to leave per your detention slip, come see me in my classroom and I’ll sign you out. Please respect the rules.” Mr. Thomson, the junior science teacher turned detention overseer, delivers a perfunctory address before retreating to his sanctuary, leaving the delinquent assembly to their own devices.

Amidst the murmurs of discontent, Billy's name resonates like a discordant note, signaling the unwelcome intrusion of Hawkins High's reigning sovereign.

“Are we gonna flake out again Billy?” It didn’t even cross your mind about the possibility of being stuck in the same room as him.

“Can’t. I’ve skipped so many that they want to try and expel me.”

“That'd be hardcore to see.”

“Not to my dad it wouldn’t. Besides, it's not that bad. We have quite the sight sitting up there in the left corner today.”

As Billy and his cohorts encroach upon your solitude, you bury your nose in your book in a feeble attempt to shield yourself from their presence.

“Let’s have some fun.” You turn another page as footsteps echo towards you, stopping in front of your occupance. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

You don’t give him the time of day in reality but in your head, you’re fighting with the embarrassment and attention he’s solely giving you right now. Billy's charisma knows no bounds, his toothy grin and smug demeanor penetrate your defenses with effortless ease.

“I’m Billy but you may already know that. What’s your name, little mouse?” Billy rests his hands face down on your desk, leaning in so his face is parallel with yours.

“Such a quiet thing.” Ignoring his advances proves to be an exercise in futility as Billy's persistent pestering chips away at your resolve, culminating in a daring theft of your cherished book. Yet, you refuse to grant him the satisfaction of a response, maintaining a stoic facade despite the numerous emotions raging beneath the surface.

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.” His friend to the right chimes in.

“There’s some ways I can think of to change that.” You look up, narrow eyes meeting Billy’s. He sends you a wink with his usual smirk resting on his face.

“Not going to say anything?” You can feel your heart racing, hating the way he’s making you feel, more annoying that he’s causing any kind of reaction from you.

The sudden arrival of Mr. Thomson offers a reprieve from Billy's relentless pursuit.

“Y/N, you’re free to go.” He grants you an opportunity to escape the confines of Billy's gaze. As you hastily gather your belongings and make your exit, Billy's parting words linger in the air as he whispers close to your ear, “See you around little mouse.”

Feeling like you could breathe again, you're greeted by a note from Robin stuck to your locker.

I got called into work :( Call me later - Robin

You groan inwardly, the frustration of detention compounded by the looming task of finding a new ride home. Billy and his entourage have succeeded in tainting what was already shaping up to be a less-than-ideal day. You trudge outside, seeking solace in the cool breeze that sweeps through the schoolyard.

The pleasant Indiana weather offers a small comfort, prompting you to forgo the immediate need for a ride and opt instead for a beautiful stroll to clear your mind. As you walk, you reach into your bag and retrieve your trusty cassette player, the familiar weight of it grounding you in the midst of chaos running through your mind. You mentally curse Billy for crowding every corner of your mind.

With a deft motion, you slipbthe cassette into the player, the soft click of the mechanism soothing in its familiarity. The strains of your favorite mix fill the air, providing a welcome distraction from the events of the day.

Lost in the music, you barely notice the passing cars, each one a blur against the backdrop of your thoughts. That is, until a certain familiar shade of blue catches your eye, the sudden halt of the vehicle drawing your attention like a magnet.

You turn, locking eyes with Billy as he idles beside you, his presence an unwelcome intrusion on your solitary walk. His voice cuts through the quiet, laced with an air of amusement that irritates your nerves.

“Didn’t think we’d meet again this soon little mouse.” he remarks, his smirk evident even from the confines of his car.

You pause your tape, the rhythmic pulse of the music abruptly silenced as you face him, a mix of irritation and annoyance evident in your expression.

"What do you want, Billy?" you questione, the weariness of the day showing in your voice.

He chuckles, the sound grating on your nerves as he leanes casually against the driver's side door, his gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

"She speaks!" he exclaims, his laughter ringing out in the quiet of the street. "Need a ride somewhere?"

You bristle at the suggestion, your resolve hardening as you met his gaze with a steely glare.

"Not from you," you retort, tone firm and uncompromising.

“Oh come on, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” You rolle your eyes at his innuendo, a flush rising in your cheeks as you resist the urge to give in to his persistent advances.

"I don’t need your help, Billy.”

He relents, his expression shifting to one of mock innocence as he reaches over to open the passenger door, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you.

"Come on, little mouse," he urges, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Just this one time."

You hesitate, torn between pride and practicality, before ultimately capitulating to the inevitable. You step into the car, the door closing with a soft click behind you as you buckle yourself in.

"No speeding," you warn, your voice firm as Billy complies with a laugh, the car pulling away from the curb at a reasonable pace.

As you settle into the seat, a strange sense of calm washes over you, the tension of the day slowly dissipating in the confines of the car. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable comfort in Billy's presence, a realization that both puzzles and unnerves you in equal measure.

“So are you going to tell me where you live or am I bringing you back to my house?”

“I live near Curly. By that trailer park.”

“Thought you lived more in the pristine area of the Wheelers and Harringtons.”

“Well you thought wrong.”

As Billy maneuveres through the streets, you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort mixed with a strange intrigue. You steal glances at him, his confident demeanor and reckless charm contrasting sharply with your own cautious nature.

"Why'd you get detention anyway?" Billy's question broke the silence, his eyes briefly leaving the road to meet yours.

"Too many tardies to homeroom," you reply, keeping your answers short.

"That's it? Seems a bit harsh," he remarks, his tone genuinely curious.

You shrug, not wanting to delve into the details of your run-in with authority.

As the familiar landmarks of Hawkins pass by in a blur, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead, the uncertainty of the future looming large on the horizon. You couldn’t help but think if this would be the last time Billy would go out of his way to acknowledge you.

Navigating the familiar streets of Hawkins alongside Billy, you're acutely aware of the palpable tension that simmers between you, a potent cocktail of unease but also lingering with intrigue. Though you strive to maintain a facade of indifference, the magnetic pull of Billy's presence proves undeniable, stirring emotions you've long sought to suppress.

You’re thankful the remainder of the drive passes by in a relative quiet, punctuated only by the loud rock n roll blasting from the radio. When you finally reach your destination, you find yourself hesitating before getting out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Billy grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Anytime, little mouse."

With that, you step out onto the sidewalk, watching as Billy drives off into the distance. As you make your way towards your house, you couldn't shake the feeling that this chance encounter with Billy Hargrove was just the beginning of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Little did you know, the lines between your world and the world of Hawkins' resident bad boy were about to blur in ways you never imagined possible.

The following day, you find yourself once again navigating the familiar halls of Hawkins High, the events of the previous day still fresh in your mind. As you settle into your seat in English class, you can’t seem to shake the lingering sense of unease that accompanies your newfound proximity to Billy Hargrove.

It’s the most infuriating feeling and you hate yourself for allowing him to overtake your waking thoughts all throughout your night and morning.

The classroom buzzes with the usual chatter of students, the mundane rhythm of academic life marching on despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. As the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Ms. Paterson enters the room with her characteristic air of authority, a stack of papers in hand.

"Good morning, class," she greets as she makes her way to the front of the room. "Today, we'll be embarking on a new project that will count towards a significant portion of your grade for this year."

A collective groan echoes through the room at the mention of yet another assignment, but Ms. Paterson pays it no mind.

"As part of this project, you'll be working in pairs to research and present on a book report of your choosing," she announces, her gaze sweeping over the room as she distributed the assignment sheets. "I'll be assigning partners randomly, so I expect everyone to work together cooperatively."

Everyone exchanges a wary glance around the classroom, the prospect of being paired with someone like Billy Hargrove looming ominously in the air. As Ms, Paterson began calling out pairs, you held your breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with... Billy Hargrove.”

You felt a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach as Billy's name reverberated through the classroom, the weight of his presence suddenly suffocating in its proximity. You glance in his direction, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resignation.

Billy, for his part, seemingly unfazed by the news, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he turned to face you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, you found yourself hesitating by your desk, unsure of how to broach the subject of the upcoming project with your enigmatic partner.

Billy saunters over to your desk with his characteristic swagger, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Well, looks like we're partners, little mouse" he remarks, his tone laced with amusement as he leans against the edge of your desk.

You fight to suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his cavalier attitude, instead meeting his gaze with a steely determination of your own.

"Yeah, looks like it," you reply as you gather your belongings.

Billy's smirk widens at your response, his gaze lingers on you with a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, partner," he begins falling into step beside you as you both maneuver out of the classroom. "Where do you wanna meet up?"

You pause, considering your options carefully before responding. The thought of inviting Billy into your home sent a shiver of apprehension down your spine, but meeting up at his place didn't seem much better.

"How about we meet at the library?" you suggest, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. "It's neutral ground, and we'll have access to all the resources we need."

Billy raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, his smirk morphing into a grin of approval.

"Works for me," he nonchalantly responds. His tone surprises you at how agreeable it is and non combative about trying to get you into his bedroom.

"4 pm. Don’t be late. I will not be waiting on you." You demand.

“See you then, little mouse.” He winks, walking in the opposite direction. You groan internally at the use of that nickname he’s decided to give you. This is going to be a long year.

As you and Robin sat on the bleachers in the gym during lunchtime, the rhythmic thud of basketballs hitting the court filled the air, punctuated by the occasional cheer from the squad as they practice their routines. Your eyes involuntarily flicker towards the court, where Billy’s shirtless form glistens with sweat under the fluorescent lights of the gym, his green gym shorts leaving little to the imagination as he moves with fluid grace among his teammates.

Robin's incredulous tone breaks through your reverie, snapping you back to reality.

"Wait, you got paired up with Billy for a project?" Robin exclaims, her disbelief palpable as she tore her gaze away from the court to focus on you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, the absurdity of the situation not lost on either of you.

"Yeah, tell me about it," you respond, taking a bite of your sandwich as you try to mask the unease that churns in your stomach. "I have no idea how I'm going to survive working with him for the rest of the year."

Caught in a moment of distraction, your eyes lock with Billy's across the expanse of the gym. Time comes to a stand still leaving only the two of you in a silent battle of uncertainty. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by the intensity of his gaze, the depths of his eyes holding a tantalizing promise of something unknown. It was a gaze that spoke volumes, conveying a myriad of emotions that stirs something deep and unexpected within you.

As if sensing the weight of your scrutiny, Billy's lips quirk into a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he holds your gaze with unwavering confidence. Before you could fully process the significance of the moment, the spell breaks as Billy turns his attention back to the game, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the practice session as if the moment didn’t just happen.

You tear your gaze away, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you focus once more on your conversation with Robin. But despite your best efforts to dismiss the encounter, the feeling of Billy's piercing gaze lingers in the back of your mind, a silent reminder of the unexpected allure of the boy who has unwittingly become a sudden constant in your life now.

Robin offers words of encouragement, her unwavering support a welcome balm to your frazzled nerves.

"Don't worry, Y/N," her voice a beacon of optimism in the darkness. "You're strong enough to handle anything that comes your way. Besides, who knows? Maybe working with Billy will be...interesting."

You couldn't suppress a snort of disbelief at her suggestion, the image of Billy's smug smirk and cocky attitude flashing through your mind.

"Yeah, interesting is one word for it," you remark dryly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's just hope I survive long enough to at least be there for graduation."

The town library stands as a quiet sanctuary amidst the bustling small town streets of Hawkins, its walls lined with rows upon rows of books that hold the promise of knowledge and adventure. As you step through the entrance, the familiar scent of old paper and ink washes over you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you sought out a secluded corner to await Billy's arrival.

Minutes tick by, each second stretching into an annoying eternity as you scan the quiet aisles for any sign of your partner. Just as you begin to resign yourself to the possibility of being stood up, a figure appears in the doorway, his presence commanding attention as he makes his way towards you with purposeful strides.

"Sorry I'm late," Billy greets, his tone apologetic as he approaches, a faint crease of worry marrying his brow. "Had to drop off my step-sister at home."

You nod understandingly, "No worries," offering him a reassuring smile as you gesture towards the table. "Let's get started."

Billy's expression softens at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in his eyes as you don’t try to pry. For a moment, the weight of his troubles seem to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of camaraderie as you delve into the task at hand.

As you and Billy sift through the titles of various books, searching for the perfect one to base your project on, the atmosphere between you remains comfortably casual, the initial awkwardness of your partnership gradually melting away.

"So, any preferences on which book we should choose?" you ask, breaking the silence that has settled over the table.

"Not really," he replies with a casual shrug, his gaze flicking between the book covers with mild interest. "I'm good with whatever you want."

“Do you have a favorite book?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really finished one before.” Billy admits.

“That’s quite sad to hear. What do you even do for fun?”

“You think this is fun? Holding old pieces of paper about fake people and worlds. Seems like a waste of time to me.”

You raise an eyebrow at Billy's dismissive remark, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, not everyone finds joy in reading, I suppose," you remark lightly, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite the underlying tension between you. "But there's something magical about getting lost in a good book, don't you think?"

Billy shrugs, his expression guarded as he leans back in his chair, his gaze fixes on the bookshelves before him.

"I guess," he replies with a noncommittal shrug, his tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I've just never really seen the appeal, you know?"

You nod in understanding, sensing the reluctance in his voice as he skirts around the topic of his own interests.

"Well, what about movies or music?" you press, eager to draw him out of his shell and uncover the layers of complexity that lie beneath his tough exterior. "Surely there must be something you enjoy doing in your free time."

Billy hesitates for a moment, his features softening slightly as he considers your question.

"I don't know, I guess I like playing basketball," he admits, a faint glimmer of enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "And...uh, sometimes I'll mess around with drawing when I'm bored."

You smile at his admission, a flicker of curiosity igniting within you as you get to witness a glimpse of the person behind the tough facade.

"That's cool," you reply, genuine warmth coloring your voice as you lean in closer, the distance between you suddenly feeling much smaller. "I didn't know you drew. Maybe you could show me some another time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Billy replies, his tone gruff and defensive, a faint edge of defiance creeping back into his voice. "But don't get your hopes up. It’s not that great"

You sense the walls he's built around himself, the layers of protection he's carefully constructed to shield himself from vulnerability. But beneath the tough exterior, you know there’s something raw and real, a flicker of longing that hints at the depth of his hidden desires.

"That's okay," you reassure him with a smile, your voice gentle as you reach out to bridge the gap between you. "We all have to start somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, a rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

“So, what about you, little mouse? Any other hobbies besides reading old stories?” A spark of enthusiasm ignites within you, quite surprised at his continuing of the conversation.

"Yeah, actually," you begin, a smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, excitement bubbling within you. "I love photography. There's just something about capturing moments and memories with people and things I love that feels so special. I don’t know, I mostly do it for fun."

A mischievous glint sparks in Billy’s eyes as he leans in closer, his voice low and teasing. " I guess I'll have to watch out for those sneaky snapshots next time."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his playful banter, the Billy everyone around Hawkins knows showing back up.

"Please," you retort with a playful scoff, feigning indifference as you brush off his teasing with a wave of your hand. "Like you're worth wasting film on."

Billy chuckles at your response, a grin spreading across his face as he leans back in his chair, his gaze lingering on you with amusement.

"Ouch, that hurts, little mouse," he replies with mock indignation, his tone light and playful despite the underlying tension between you. "But hey, don't worry. I'll make sure to give you my best angle next time."

"Keep dreaming, Hargrove," you retort, a flicker of annoyance flashing in your eyes as you notice Billy building those tough walls back up, leaving you to the same mysteries as the rest of the town.

As the conversation fizzles out, you can't shake the feeling of disappointment lingering in the air. Despite the brief moment of connection, it seems that Billy's walls are too high to breach, leaving you with a sense of frustration at the missed opportunity for genuine connection. You can't help but wonder about the masks he wears so loudly, each one a cacophony of distractions meant to hide the vulnerability beneath. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the task at hand, burying your disappointment as you focus on finding the perfect book not without stealing another glance at Billy as he picks up one of the books and rifles through the pages.

If these past two days have shown you anything, it’s how little time it takes for a stranger to become a big part of your life. It's unsettling how quickly he's managed to weave himself into the fabric of your daily existence with a persistence that both frustrates and intrigues you. You've always valued your privacy, cherished the solitude of your inner sanctuary, but now, in the wake of Billy's arrival, you find yourself craving his attention in a way you never thought possible.

Perhaps the greatest risk is not in letting someone new in, but in closing yourself off to the possibility of genuine connection. And even with the knowledge of Billy having a tangled labyrinth for a heart, perhaps he’s worth the risk after all.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @periwinkle-quill @ghostcastaway

#billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove masterlist #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #billy hargrove x female reader #Spotify

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writingquestionsanswered · 7 months ago

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Hi, so I am a new novelist, and I recently finished my first novel. The problem is I didn't divide the story by chapters, meaning I have no chapters I just have the story written, my question is how to know when it should be a chapter? Is there a specific common word count? Or is it by storyline?

Thank you for your time🤍love your page xx

What Exactly is a Chapter?

Chapters in novels contain usually one to three related scenes that are grouped together. They often center around a single scene goal or reaction and have their own beginning, middle, and end. New chapters usually begin when there's a significant change of time, place, or a change in point-of-view.

So, let's say your first six scenes look like this:

Scene 1 - Maggie walks to school with her friend Brad Scene 2 - Maggie encounters strange new student in history class Scene 3 - Maggie tells Brad about new student at lunch Scene 4 - Brad calls during Saturday dinner having seen new student Scene 5 - Maggie meets Brad at the park to hear the story Scene 6 - Maggie encounters new student at the mall on Sunday

Scene 1 takes place on the way to school, and scenes 2 - 3 take place at school within the first half of the day, so if these scenes are told from Maggie's POV or a third-person omniscient POV, we know we can group these scenes together into one chapter. But scene 4 takes place at home on the weekend, scene 5 takes place at the neighborhood park a little while later, and scene 6 takes place the next day at the mall. Since the location has shifted from school to home and home adjacent (park, mall), and the time is the weekend rather than the school week, that's a significant enough change in place and time that we know scenes 4-6 can be a separate chapter from 1-3.

On the other hand, let's say scene 1 and 2 are Maggie's POV, but scenes 3 and 4 are from Brad's POV. In that case, we'll start a new chapter with scene 3 when we switch to Brad's POV. And, even though we have the big time and location shift from school during the week to home on Saturday, it could make sense for these two scenes to stay in one chapter, because both are related to Brad's experience with the new student... hearing about them from the first time at lunch when Maggie talks about them, then encoutering them himself and calling to tell Maggie about it.

Ultimately, just follow your gut, and remember that chapters aren't required to be any particular length. They can be as short as a few sentences or as long as twenty pages... all that matters is that the chapter works as a chapter. Also, remember that you also don't have to stick with the same convention throughout your story. For example, if your chapters tend to average about 1200 words, that doesn't mean you can't have a 600 word chapter or a 2400 word chapter. Again, the only criteria to length is that it's enough words to accomplish whatever the chapter needs to accomplish.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

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kithtaehyung · 1 year ago

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[ 3tan11 ] alrighty, my loves. i've been on writing lockdown and took a break to finally type this up. few things to note before drop:

this will either drop tomorrow night as scheduled, or sunday, december 3rd to give me a little more time. too many recent unexpected things happened for me to be completely sure about the 27th drop and it hurts to think about pushing it back, but if i need to, i will.

estimated wc will be 25-30k, so this chapter will be split into two parts - two separate posts - on the same night. i know it will be super easy to just move onto the next part, but please consider interacting with both parts equally even if you do it after reading! any likes, comments, and shares would be loved and appreciated :D

just gonna say this now, but if this gets reported by anyone and slapped with a community label, i'm deleting the posts and will completely reupload. if you are curious as to why, this ask by the wonderful kiki @chryblossomjjk herself sums up why labels are harmful to creators.

if you're a person that reblogs with comments, have those notes saved somewhere in case this happens! if you don't wanna see this on your blog, just filter *ryenfictalk, 3tan11, or three tangerines so that it doesn't show on your feed.

🍊the discord server has been amazing! if you are a reader of the series and wanna join this super fun community, go ahead and apply hehehe. it's been one hell of a time already🍊

that's it for now! love you all and i am gonna work super super hard on this bc i know how long the wait has been, and i truly do wanna put my best effort forward for y'all. if that means pushing it back, so be it! i’ll be sure to let you know once i know for sure❤️‍🩹

#until drop!!#pls give me strength😭#*ryenfictalk #3tan11 #3tanotes #kiki i didn’t know you sent an ask in to them!#hopefully this gets better for creators #especially fic writers

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cyren-myadd · 3 months ago

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And if it's possible for you, could you make a story of Avatar 2 by Neytiri and Spider Socorro together mother and son, please?

When I first saw the prompt, I was shocked, because I'd never thought of writing something like that before and it felt out of my comfort zone as I haven't written Neytiri much. I almost deleted it. But for some reason, it kept sitting in the back of my head and I finally decided just to give it a chance and write a little one shot. And that one shot turned into a two shot. Which turned into a three shot. So by the time I realized I had enough for three separate chapters I figured I might as well commit to making this a proper fic.

This was seriously the hardest thing I’ve ever written. When I first decided to attempt the prompt, my first thought was an AU where they adopt Spider right from the beginning, but then I thought it would be more interesting if I tried to keep things canonical but diverge from the main storyline instead. I tried so hard to write both Spider and Neytiri true to how they behave in canon while also trying to create a scenario where they would realistically bond like a mother and son. It’s really difficult since they have such a rocky relationship, I deadass think it would’ve been easier to write a Quaritch X Jake romance that sticks close to canon lmao. I'm not sure if the end result is exactly what anon had in mind, but this is what came of it, so I hope y'all enjoy!

and yes, I know I also said I would continue Special Treatment and Lucky Number Five. I am planning to continue them, my life's just gotten a lot busier, so I can't make any promises about updates unfortunately.

And as for Common Enemy... 😭😭😭 I think I intimidated myself out of finishing it, I might just go back and clean up the sketches and then post the comic as it is right now, you guys will still be able to enjoy the story, it'll just have sketchy art instead of the usual finished product, cause I bit off way more than I could chew with 15 pages.

#cyren myadd writes #avatar #atwow #neytiri #neytiri sully #spider socorro #avatar spider #avatar neytiri #spider socorro sully #sully family

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goldenseresinretriever · 5 months ago

Text

False Confidence: Chapter 2

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, mentions of sexual harassment, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Everyone’s waiting for your answer but your head is spinning. The silence stretches for just shy of too long before you finally clear your throat. “Can I have a minute?” You stand, shakily, pushing your chair back and making for the door. You curl your fingers around Josie’s wrist as you pass her, tugging her after you. No one tries to stop you and when you exit into the hallway, it’s empty. You glance in both directions, find them unfamiliar and then just pick one, dragging Josie behind you. Once you think you’re out of earshot of the office, you round on Josie who’s regarding you calmly. Your hands are still trembling but you can’t hide your anger anymore and you snap. “What were you thinking!” You snap and Josie’s eyes widen in surprise. Your voice trembles but the bite is still there. “First you tell me to sue him for sexual assault and now you want me to date him?!” Josie sighs, rolling her eyes.

“You really think that little of me, Roadie? Look, what he did was fucked up, and I knew you wouldn’t want to press charges because you’re well, you, but I want to support you if that’s something you really want. Either way he deserves to pay for what he did. If you don’t want to take this to court that’s fine, but why not benefit from this? You said it yourself, you’re worried about Dan’s rule, so play the system. Also, I didn’t say you should date him because I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy, I said to fake date him. It’s just a game, like playing pretend. It’s January, Dan makes his decisions on renewals by April at the latest and then maybe you stick with it until the end of the year and then you can say you broke up over summer break and it’s over. Plus it’s perfect, just have him show up to a few school events. It doesn’t have to be every one since he has a career that has him traveling most of the year, so you have a good reason when you don’t bring him to something. And since he’ll be gone most of the time anyway, you don’t have to put much effort into the ruse.”

“Plus,” she gives you a rueful smile. “As much as it pains me to say it, Javy’s not such a bad guy. I don’t approve of his choices but I know from seeing him with the guys and Zam especially, he’s got a good heart. When he says he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean to hurt you, I think he means it. The guy has three sisters for heaven’s sake. I wouldn’t even think of suggesting this if I didn’t trust him in some capacity. And like I said, it’s not like you’re actually dating him.” She shrugs again.

“I couldn’t do something like that. Using someone that way? It’s not right.” Your heart squeezes as you force the words out and you try your best to ignore the way your voice shakes. Josie gives you a pointed look.

“He’s using you too, remember? Zam needs him to fix his reputation. A steady girlfriend is exactly what he needs, or at least the illusion of one.”

“Does he need it, or does the team?” Your words have more bite than you intended and Josie regards you curiously.

“He is the team. It’s his job, the way your teaching position is yours.” She says coolly. “I’m not going to force you one way or another, but I’m just saying, an opportunity like this isn’t going to come around again.” Your stomach is a tangle of nerves as Josie goes back inside and you consider her words. It would be mutually beneficial for both of your jobs, and he clearly wasn’t attracted to you, so perhaps some kind of agreement wouldn’t hurt. You can’t believe you’re actually considering this but you think about your kids, your classroom, and your job that you really do love. If this was what you had to do to guarantee that you kept it, you could play the game. Your kids are everything and you take great pride in your work. As a kindergarten teacher, you’re the kids’ first impression of the school and you take that job very seriously. The idea of having to hand that over to someone else makes your heart twist painfully in your chest. You can do this for them.

“Hey,” a voice breaks through your train of thought and you jump in surprise. Javy holds his hands up in front of him, backing up a step to give you space. “Easy, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, brown eyes widening at your terrified expression. You feel your body curl into itself instinctively and see a flicker in his eyes that you can’t read. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He says slowly, eyes running over your figure but not in a scrutinizing way. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was checking you over. “So,” he says, posture relaxing as he leans a shoulder against the wall as he regards you. “How are you feeling about this agreement?”

You pick at the fabric of the skirt of the dress, averting your eyes so you don’t have to look at him. After it’s been a little too long without you answering you give a slight shrug before you force the words out, your voice quiet. “I really love my job. I don’t want to lose it.” It’s not an answer, not really but he nods slowly as you chance a peek at his face to see his reaction. He catches your gaze and gives you a small smile. It feels like the first peek of the sun through an overcast sky after a storm. It sends an unexpected droplet of warmth plummeting straight into your stomach. You find that you don’t want to escape his gaze nearly as much after seeing that soft quirk of his lips. Cautiously, you turn to face him fully and watch as the corners of his mouth slowly tick up in tandem. The clouds move apart and as you’re bathed in his warmth, you wonder what it would feel like to experience the full force of his smile. You think it might destroy you.

“What about you?” You don’t recognize your voice when you find it. You clear your throat and try again. “How are you feeling about the agreement?” He shrugs his broad shoulders.

“There are worse things.” You suppress the urge to flinch at his casual words that send a slice of cold down your spine. “Zam’s been on my ass for months about settling down, that’s true.”

He pauses so you ask, “And you wouldn’t rather have an actual girlfriend? A real one, I mean.” He gives you a curious look.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he points out and you feel your cheeks heat as you avert your gaze from the intensity of his.

“No,” you answer softly. “I wouldn’t.” You don’t offer any additional explanation so he just nods.

“Well, I wouldn’t either.” He says and you realize you’ve unintentionally placed the two of you at a stalemate. “So, that’s it then?” He asks, finally breaking the silence. “We’re doing this?” You swallow hard before nodding firmly.

“We’re doing this.” He nods back before extending a hand into the buffer of space he’d left between the two of you. You stare at it for a long moment before extending one of your own. He holds his hand still, leaving it to you to wrap your digits around his larger ones. He curls his around yours then and you’re reminded of how they felt on your hips, pressing into the flesh like a potter molding clay. When he shakes your hand you watch the muscles flex in his arm and wonder if you’ve unknowingly thrown yourself into the deep end, condemned to a death by drowning.

“Hi, I’m Javy, nice to meet you.” Even though he’s told you his name once before, this feels different. You introduce yourself as well. It feels odd. You’ve known him before ever being introduced. This feels different, almost like the air between the two you had shifted. He lets go of your hand as quickly as he grips it and holds out his hand back towards Zam’s office.

“Shall we?” He asks and you nod, turning to go ahead of him. You feel the ghost of fingertips against the small of your back and you stiffen instinctively at the unexpected contact. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologizes instantly, pulling his fingers away. “I’m a naturally touchy guy. It’s a bad habit, I’ll try to be more aware of it if it makes you uncomfortable.” He sounds genuinely apologetic and maybe a tiny bit embarrassed. He holds the door to the office open for you as you both enter and you square your shoulders, willing them not to shake as you approach Zam’s desk.

“I’ll do it.” Zam looks surprised but nods before turning to Javy.

“Javy?” You don’t turn to look at him but the pause before his answer tells you he’s nodding.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Zam says, not sounding very convincing before she tries again. “Good. I’ll draw up something official that the two of you can sign. In the meantime, the two of you should get to know each other. Javy, I’ll arrange a press conference at which you’re going to address the photos and ask the press as well as your fans to respect your girlfriend’s privacy. After that you’ll need to start appearing together in public: dates, Roadie you’ll need to start attending home games and maybe even an away game or two where your schedule permits.” Your brain starts getting hazy as the weight of what you’ve just signed up for settles onto your shoulders. Zam’s still speaking but your brain is louder as it gets heavier and then Zam’s dismissing everyone.

You feel Josie’s hand on your shoulder, steering you towards the door. You file out of the office with everyone else and follow behind Josie, your mind still so busy that you don’t hear the calling of your name until a hand curls around your wrist and you jump, letting out a squeak of surprise. The hand retreats instantly and Javy gives you a guilty look. “Sorry, but you weren’t answering.” He scratches the back of his neck. You give him a shy nod, twisting your hands in front of you. “I don’t have your phone number. I figured that’s probably important.” You fumble to extricate your phone from your purse, tapping at the screen with trembling fingers before handing it to him. He inputs the digits with ease before handing the phone back. “Cool, well I’ll be in touch.” He says before giving you one last smile before turning to jog down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Once he’s gone you look down at your phone, and your eyes widen as you see what he’s done. Your texts are open to a new conversation with a contact named “Big Sexy ;)” with a single bubble from your side of the chain reading “How’s dinner sound?” Your phone chimes and a message pops up from the opposite side of the screen.

“It would be my pleasure.” Followed by an unfamiliar address. Your breath catches in your throat. Not for the first time today you wonder if you’re in over your head.

***

Your kitchen looks like a hurricane’s gone through it. The result of the storm perches on the corner of the counter, prompt seated in a frilly baking dish. The lemon-blueberry loaf fills the space with a delicious aroma as you frown at your reflection. You’d finally invested in a full-length mirror at Josie’s behest and you’re still getting used to using it. You smooth your hands down the surface of your light-wash jeans, resisting the urge to tug at the sweater you’re wearing as you regard your reflection. Your eyes shift to the sliver of the kitchen that you can catch in the mirror and frown at the mess. You’re a stress baker and so far today you have the loaf you’re taking to Javy’s along with muffins for your class tomorrow and another tray for the teachers. You glance at the clock on the wall and grimace. If you don’t leave now you’ll be late and you don’t need that extra stress on top of everything else on your mind tonight. You begrudgingly grab your purse and the loaf pan, heading out as the sun starts to paint the sky with the warm pallet of sunset.

***

You googled the apartment complex before you left but that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck up at the impressive reflective surface of the luxury apartment building. It’s smack in the middle of downtown San Diego and you’d passed a packed highway of commuters heading in the opposite direction on your way here. As you step into the opulent lobby, you feel severely underdressed, especially as you approach the front desk. You’ve never seen an apartment with a front desk but then again you’ve never had reason to interact with the extremely wealthy aside from teaching their children. The woman at the front desk doesn’t look much younger than you but she could be older. It would make sense that a job like this would age you less than corralling elementary schoolers all day.

“Can I help you?” She asks with a nasal voice that has everything to do with her pinched expression of thinly veiled disgust as she gives you a once-over that’s definitely not in her job description. You give her a tight-lipped smile in response.

“I’m here to see Javy Machado.” You consider calling him Mr. Machado but if he’s supposed to be your boyfriend you need to sound comfortable around him. Especially since this probably won’t be the last time you have to interact with… Emma. You find her name tag as she finishes her silent assessment of you, a pitying smile on her lips.

“Oh honey, you’re not going to need that.” She nods at the loaf pan in your hands. “It’s not the kind of cake he invited you over for.” She smirks like she’s won some sort of game and you wonder exactly how many girls she’s seen come through here. You plaster your polite smile on even harder, imagining her as one of your students’ mothers. You’re not sure where your confidence comes from but maybe Roadie, fake girlfriend to superstar hockey player Javy Machado is braver than Ms. Roadie, kindergarten teacher, because you respond coolly.

“I’d appreciate it if you let my boyfriend know I’m here, please, Emma. We have dinner plans.” She looks like she’s about to snort but then her expression changes completely and you don’t understand until she addresses someone who must be behind you.

“Mr. Machado! Good evening!” She chirps cheerfully and she reminds you of a baby bird. Desperate. You steel yourself and turn to face Javy, keeping your brave face in place as best as you can.

“Perfect timing, sweetheart.” The words sound clunky and unfamiliar in your mouth and you see Javy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before understanding fills them.

“Hey beautiful, ready for dinner?” He leans in then, eyes watching you carefully as if trying to convey his intentions before his warm lips meet your cheek in a chaste kiss that sets your skin ablaze in its wake. You give him a simple nod, words failing you as you turn over the casual term of endearment in your mind.

Emma’s watching your exchange with barely contained shock. Javy doesn’t even pay her a moment of attention, nodding to the left in silent instruction and you follow him to an elevator bay. You register then that his hands are full of takeout bags and you immediately wrestle one from his grasp as he juggles them to free a hand for the keypad to the elevator. “Thanks," he says and you arrange the bag in your arms. “I hope you like Cajun.” The smell escaping the bags hits your nose then and your nostrils fill with the rich, spicy scent and you feel a little of the tension slip out of your shoulders even though the smell is entirely foreign to you.

“I’ve never had it.” You admit as the elevator arrives and the two of you board it.

“Never?!” He looks surprised before it melts into a grin that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Well, then this is the perfect place to try it for the first time. Well, other than New Orleans.” He amends and you nod along. The two of you fall into silence as the elevator climbs. You notice then what he’s wearing as you stand on opposite sides of the elevator. You’d felt underdressed in the lobby but he’s dressed in a faded ASU shirt and athletic shorts over socks and slide sandals. He notices you looking and gives you a rueful look. “I was banking on having time to change before you got here.” He explains and you shake your head, dismissing his half-apology.

“It’s fine. It’s your house after all.” He smiles again and the silence is back before the door slides open onto an entryway. You’ve arrived straight into his apartment and you let your eyes explore the beginning of his home. The entryway is sparse and undecorated. It looks stiff, devoid of personality. There’s a hallway that turns out of sight to your left and a closed door to the right.

“That’s the spare bedroom.” He explains as he slips off his shoes and you follow suit. “It’s a weird layout but it suits my needs.” You’re not entirely sure what he means until you follow him down the hallway. Once it opens onto the living room you think you understand Javy Machado just a little bit more.

The living room is a complete 180 from the entryway. The furniture looks expensive and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook a breathtaking view of the city but the end tables are littered with picture frames and the space has a distinct lived-in feel. You get the feeling that his overnight guests don’t make it this far into the apartment. He makes a beeline for the kitchen and you hurry to catch up with him. You manage to catch sight of at least one of the frames’ contents and a soft smile quirks at your lips. A younger Javy and Jake grin back at you. Their arms are slung over each other’s shoulders, faces sweaty, wearing red and gold hockey jerseys that you assume are from ASU given Javy’s shirt of the same color. You make your way into the kitchen where Javy’s opening the bags and accounting for all the food. He looks up when you come in, depositing the extra bag next to him and the loaf pan beside it. He snatches it up, groaning as he takes a deep sniff of the contents.

“Roadie, this smells delicious.” He remarks before excusing himself to his bedroom to change leaving you in the kitchen. Once you’re alone, you feel the nerves start to creep back in. You worry the hem of your sweater as you wait until a faint jingling reaches your ears and you turn just in time to see a wary black snout make its way around the corner into the kitchen. Of all the things you’ve seen so far in Javy’s apartment, this is the biggest surprise. The tiny dachshund regards you curiously and you do your best to manage your nerves, knowing the dog can definitely sense them and squat down.

“Hi there,” you whisper cautiously and the dog approaches carefully. You reach a hand out and she sniffs it suspiciously before licking at your fingers and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You catch sight of her collar as you scratch her head gently. “Roxie” it reads and you smile wider. “Hi there, Roxie, it's nice to meet you.” Roxie seems equally pleased and rolls over onto her belly to encourage further scratches and rubs. You’re so consumed with her that you don’t notice Javy return until Roxie squirms into your grasp to face her owner, giving a playful yip. He’s gaping at the two of you and you’re instantly nervous again. You stand quickly, dusting your hands off on your jeans.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to intrude I just- She came in here so I just- I’m sorry.” You sputter but he’s still staring at Roxie before he slowly moves his gaze to you. Something unreadable passes through his eyes and then he shakes his head.

“No, it's fine I just, she was supposed to be in the laundry room. And I…” he trails off before continuing. “She doesn’t usually like other people, especially strangers.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he says, looking back down at where Roxie’s sitting, regarding him with a cocked head on the floor. He looks back at you, expression unreadable. “Should we eat?” You nod and follow him to sit at the countertop. He pulls two bowls out of the cabinets and opens up some take-out soup containers. “How do you feel about seafood?” Your stomach drops as nerves twist your gut. He looks up and must see your expression because he just nods and grabs one of the containers, dishing the hearty-looking stew into a bowl before passing it to you. “That one’s just sausage. I didn’t know where you stood on seafood, so I got both.” Your heart aches slightly as you thank him and take the bowl. He fills his bowl from a different container before taking a seat next to you. “So, Roadie,” he says after taking a few bites in silence, “tell me about yourself.”

You squirm slightly in your seat. You’ve never been one to talk much about yourself so you decide to stick to the basics, and treat this like a job interview. It kind of is a job interview, except you’re interviewing for a position after taking it instead of before. “I’m almost thirty. I’m a kindergarten teacher at Acacia Academy. That’s how I know Josie and Reuben. Josie and I are colleagues and their daughter Skylar is in my class.” Javy nods, before asking.

“Do you like it? Teaching?” You nod vigorously and you think you see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“My kids mean everything to me. I can’t imagine doing something else.” You admit and he nods again.

“What do you do other than work?” You give him a confused look so he clarifies. “What are your hobbies?”

“I’m an artist,” you answer easily. “It’s not in any way professional by any means, but I like doing it.” You shrug.

“What kind of art?” He asks and you shrug again.

“I work with lots of mediums, I don’t like being limited to just one.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Painting,” you answer easily.

“Why?” He rests his chin on his hand and you feel pinned under his casual gaze. It feels odd, and unfamiliar, being the sole focus of his attention. It’s like walking to your car on a cloudless day and feeling every inch of your cool skin prickling under the unyielding warmth of the sun.

“It’s so versatile,” you explain, dropping your gaze to where your fingers pick at the napkin pinned under your bowl. There are so many styles and techniques and nothing is clear-cut. You’re not limited by the colors you have in front of you, everything can blend. Anything’s possible. The only limitation you have is your creativity.” An unreadable look passes through his eyes but then he’s back to normal. You don’t get long to dwell on it, though, before he’s back to asking you questions.

***

“So, you said your principal doesn’t care about making illegal rules because it’s a private school, so why not teach at a public school?” You fidget with your spoon, looking away from him before answering.

“Public schools aren’t really a good fit for me. I can’t get comfortable.” He doesn’t push and you’re thankful.

“Speaking of comfort, we should talk about how we’re going to do this.” At your confused expression, he elaborates. “Pretend to be in a relationship, I mean. For starters, if we’re really going to sell this, you can’t be jumping out of your skin every time I touch you. People are going to expect at least a little PDA.” He must see the wide-eyed dread on your face because he holds up a placating hand. “I’m not saying we have to make out every time there are cameras around, but holding hands, hugs, and the occasional kiss here and there are going to have to be something you’re comfortable with.” You nod, weakly. “That being said, if there’s anything specific you don’t want me doing, tell me. I don’t want you to be scared of me. We’re on the same team here. This doesn’t work if we’re not working together.” You nod, nervously. It wasn’t like this last time, this is all new territory for you. “If it’ll help you loosen up, we could just have sex. No strings attached, obviously, but if it’ll make you more comfortable-“

“NO.” Your voice comes out with more force than you intended it to, laced with terror as your heart hammers in your chest. What are you doing here? What were you thinking, agreeing to this? Of course, he’d expect you to have sex with him. He’s used to having a new girl every night. You’re losing the battle with your thoughts when Javy breaks right through them.

“Hey, HEY, easy Roadie, it was just a suggestion, we don’t have to.” He looks like he’s fighting the urge to grab your hands in his.

“Please,” you hate the way the word sounds. You want something to feel real. One first to be yours, truly yours. Clearly, he hates the way it sounds too because his face contorts into something unfamiliar before he nods.

“No sex, done.” He hesitates for a moment before he opens his mouth again, choosing his words carefully and you see a flash of rage in his eyes and you bristle in fear. “Roadie… I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk about this with, but I just,” he shakes his head, pushing forward. “Did, did someone hurt you?” You realize what the rage in his eyes is now. Not anger at you, for turning him down, but protectiveness. Because he’s taken your vehement refusal as something else. You faintly remember Josie mentioning that he has three sisters. Of course, that would be his first instinct. You shake your head quickly.

“No, no, it’s not that.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you and thinks you just don’t trust him as the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, all the girls on the team are really sweet and would be willing to-“

“It’s not that.” You insist and you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

“Not that you have to talk to someone but I’m sure it might help-“

“JAVY, I’m a virgin.” You squeeze your eyes shut before blurting out the words, hiding from the shame that coats your throat in their wake. The silence between the two of you stretches long enough that eventually you crack open an eye to see his reaction, but there isn’t one. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you. You wrench your other eye open, struggling to get comfortable in the silence. Your fingers twist together in your lap as you wait for him to say something.

“That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?” He says, finally and you can see the gears turning in his mind as he follows his new line of thinking but you shake your head.

“No, I, I’ve been kissed before. It’s just… it’s been a while. I’m a little out of practice.” He nods, contemplating something unspoken before he nods again and looks you straight in the eye.

“Roadie, can I kiss you?”

#san diego dogfighters au #San Diego dogfighters #San Diego dogfighters hockey au #false confidence // goldenseresinretriever #fc // goldenseresinretriever #javy coyote machado x you #javy machado x you #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado #coyote x you #coyote x reader #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #top gun #TGM #no use of y/n

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months ago

Text

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 6420

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con ... that morphs into rape play? bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror,

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

13. Hunger Pangs

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

youtube

Steve:

The new room is much nicer than the last one, there’s no denying it.

Bucky comes down and eats breakfast with Steve, and he’s obviously excited about something because he shovels his eggs in at an alarming pace. He gives Steve a kiss on the lips before he unchains him and announces that today’s the day: Steve is moving into his new room. “Come on,” Bucky beams, leading him out of the cell and down the hallway.

Erica is sitting in the far back corner of her cell when they pass. She locks eyes with Steve briefly through the slats of the door, but makes no move to do or say anything. The last cell in the spiral is where the construction work was going on, and that’s where Bucky stops outside of a door that is very much not slatted. It’s solid, and it unlocks with the press of Bucky’s key fob on the pad outside. Bucky slides it into the wall and urges Steve in first, then closes the door behind them and stands at the entryway while allowing Steve to look around first. “I hope you like it,” he says, sounding almost shy. “Tried to make it really nice for you.”

Steve can’t help it that his gut reaction is to be excited about the upgrade. The room isn’t creepily perfect and sterile like his last room. There are warm hardwood floors covered by soft rugs, velvet couch cushions, and a chevron patterned bedspread. The walls are painted a mellow green color that Steve instinctively likes. There’s a succulent plant in the corner—fake, Steve thinks, but can’t be sure without touching it. It looks nice, anyways. The room is cozy and stylish and almost feels like it could be a regular micro apartment. Hell, it’s almost three quarters the size of Steve’s place back in Brooklyn anyways (which is pathetic and really says more about the cost of New York rent than anything else.)

He steps further in, looking around. There’s a full-size mattress tucked into a wall nook to the right, drywall separating it from another room that’s got a pocket door halfway open. Steve peeks inside to see a small shower, sink, toilet and storage cabinet. It’s compact but functional. Steve doesn’t fail to note that the mirror above the bathroom sink is made from some sort of safety plastic, rather than glass. Oh well. How accurate of a reflection does he really need of himself when he's living as Bucky's basement wife? He quickly checks in the cabinet, finding towels and different toiletry items. He closes it and backs out of the little bathroom, grateful just to see that he'll be able to shower on his own now.

Bucky’s still watching cautiously from the doorway when Steve comes out of the bathroom. As promised, the room has a solid door this time. But there’s a plastic window in it. Steve is reminded that however nice this may be, it’s still a cell. Unless Steve hides in the bathroom, Bucky will always be able to peek inside and see what he’s doing. Even the bed niche in the wall isn’t completely hidden from sight of the door. And Steve sighs when he spots the metal mount on the wall just to the side of the pillows: There’s no cord attached to it right now, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be. It's all set up to tether him in place, if needed. The exact same way as before.

“Well? What do you think?” Bucky asks anxiously.

The left side of the room has just enough space to accommodate a small couch in front of a tv. The tv is inside of the wall and behind a layer of plexiglass. There’s a tiny little desk and a slim bookshelf next to the tv. Steve walks over and looks at all the different drawing utensils. He runs his fingers over a sheet of unblemished paper on top of a stack. “What’s this?” he says, and Bucky walks up behind him and pulls him back gently, encouraging him to lean against his body.

“I know you’re an artist,” he murmurs, bending to kiss Steve’s neck. “You must miss it.”

Steve swallows thickly, feeling inordinately emotional that Bucky remembered this about him. “Yeah,” he says, conflicted. “Yeah I do.” He eyeballs the cups of pens and pencils and thinks that Bucky isn’t totally on the ball—those could be used for self harm. Not that Steve has any plans of doing that. And he’d honestly prefer not to stab Bucky in the neck with a drawing utensil. That's just ... gruesome.

“I know it’s not a lot of space, but you can create here at least. And you can watch tv and have a real bathroom now.”

Steve nods, turning around in Bucky’s arms. He looks up at him and smiles. “It’s nice,” he says. “Thank you.”

Bucky beams. He seems genuinely proud to have provided Steve with his comfy new prison. “Here,” he says, tugging on Steve’s arm to get him following over to the bed. Bucky plops himself down on it, grinning. “It’s a memory foam mattress, and these cabinets up here,” he points to several overhead cabinets on the wall at the foot of the bed. “You can keep your clothes and your books in there.”

Steve nods, eyes flicking from Bucky reclining on the bed, to the empty mount on the wall over by the pillows. “... Are you going to keep me chained up in here?” he asks delicately.

Bucky stares at him for a long moment, looking sad. “C’mere,” he murmurs, beckoning Steve closer. Hesitantly, Steve crawls over to him on the bed. Bucky pulls him close, maneuvering him to lie on top of him. Steve sits up and straddles him to avoid being that close, and Bucky stares up at him with a tender look. “You know I don’t want to do that,” he says quietly, thumbs stroking under the hem of Steve’s tee shirt and brushing skin. “I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here.”

Steve averts his eyes. “That’s a tall order, Buck,” he says. “The door still locks. I’m still not upstairs with you.” He takes a moment to pointedly look around the room with an appreciative look. It is a nice room. He can tell that Bucky’s made an effort to furnish it in the same style Steve had, back at his old apartment. Something about that really gets to Steve—more than he should let it. “They’re nice digs, but it’s still not where I want to be.”

Bucky sighs and pulls Steve back down over top of him, close enough to kiss, though he doesn’t right away. “One day,” he promises, eyes flicking all over Steve’s face like he’s trying to suss out how he really feels. “I want you with me too, Sweetheart. It’ll happen. We'll get there."

Steve gulps and says nothing, feeling unsure. This is all supposed to be an act, to get close to Bucky and gain his trust so that he can escape, but the memories from before all get muddled in, and Bucky still looks and acts like the guy Steve knew as James, the guy he was so excited to have as his new boyfriend. As much as he tells himself he's only pretending ... Steve’s feelings never feel as fake as he wants them too. It’s fucked.

His mind flashes to the other night, to how Bucky had undressed him and made love to him. It’d felt so good, such a relief after so long without pleasure. For just a little while, Steve had forgotten to feel worried or scared. Now he feels guilty for genuinely enjoying it the way he had. They’d showered together after the sex, too, bodies close and intimate in a way that Steve really regrets having enjoyed. Bucky had brought him back down to the basement for bed, despite Steve’s pleas to be allowed to stay upstairs. He'd kissed him goodnight, and left.

And then, just after the sounds of the upstairs locks beeping:

“Steeve?! Jesus you’ve been gone all day! What did he do to you?! What did he take?! Are you okay?!”

Never before had Steve wanted Erica to disappear so badly. Again, he thinks that it’s nice to have a solid door and a soundproofed room. He won’t ever have to talk to Erica or any of Bucky’s other "product" ever again. He feels gross as soon as he has the thought. Christ, he laments. What is he becoming?

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky whispers, lips skimming over Steve’s chin on the way up to his mouth. He kisses him in a soft, slow press, hands slipping underneath his shirt and up his back. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” Steve murmurs, kissing back. "Nothing."

Bucky's arms wrap securely around his waist, and he flips them over. Steve gasps at the sudden movement and his legs part on instinct. Bucky growls into his mouth, pleased.

“Wait,” Steve breathes, but Bucky’s already getting handsy, rolling his hips down and kissing at his neck as he gropes along Steve's waist and rucks his shirt up. Steve groans as their hips align just so, sending a jolt of pleasure to his cock. “Buck, oh, w-wait.” He’s ignored. Bucky’s open-mouthed kisses on his skin are like a firebrand, searing hot and just as filthy as the drag of his hips. Steve whimpers and tosses his head as he starts to get hard. "Nnnh, nuh ..."

Bucky notices, of course. “Honey,” he coos, one hand sliding down between them and cupping him through the soft material of his sweatpants. Steve’s not wearing underwear, and Bucky’s fingers easily curl over the shape of his erection. “Oh, there it is. You want me to make you feel good?”

“Fuck,” Steve chokes out, because he doesn’t, but he does, his body going pathetically pliant under Bucky once again as soon as he starts talking to him in that low, private voice; starts touching him over his clothes and covering him with his body, murmuring those intimate things into his skin. “Bucky,” he sighs, losing his train of thought when Bucky licks along the shell of his ear. Fuck, he can’t. He can’t think when Bucky does that thing with his tongue … Precum blurts out of his dick and is making a wet patch against his sweats, and Bucky hums and rubs his thumb right over the spot. Steve groans, hips jerking up in sensitivity. “Oh god ..."

“Mmhm.” Bucky starts to push his shirt up. “Come on, Stevie. Let me see this gorgeous body.”

Steve blinks, stupid as his shirt is suddenly being drawn over his head and then discarded. The word "no" runs through his mind over and over again, but it never makes it past his vocal cords. He gasps when Bucky dips down to suck on his nipples—likely to distract him from how he’s edging a hand down his pants at the same time. “Wait,” he breathes, though it comes out sounding weak and useless even to his own ears. He puts his hands up, intending to push him away, but his fingers wind up curling harshly into Bucky's strong shoulder muscles instead, grasping onto him when he drags his teeth across a nipple and wraps a hand around his cock. "Ohfuck," Steve whimpers.

Bucky’s eyes flash upwards, dark and focused and locked on Steve’s face while he sucks his chest. The hand around Steve’s cock tightens, stroking up and down at an excruciatingly tight, slow pace, not quite enough as he purposefully avoids the head.

Steve's guts clench and his balls throb at Bucky’s heated stare. Later, when he looks back on it, he'll pinpoint this as the exact second when he completely abandons the idea of pushing Bucky away, of trying to stop this from happening. “Buck,” he pleads, rolling his hips into Bucky’s hand and trying to pull him back up his body. At least if he's kissing him, he can't look at him like that. “Come on, come on.”

Bucky’s lips are swollen and pinked when he pulls away from Steve's chest. He licks them with that trademark flick of his tongue that has Steve’s cock giving a mighty pulse at how debauched and beautiful he looks. “You want more?” he asks, grinning. He’s gripping Steve’s dick hard at the base, denying him while he waits for an answer. “Tell me,” he orders, mouth sliding sideways in a smile. “Tell me you want it.”

Steve digs his skull back into the pillow and bares his teeth in frustration. “Fuck! Just ..." He's about to beg, he really is, but he grunts and slams his eyes shut, upset at himself. No! he thinks desperately. No no no, he can’t do this! It’s wrong, it's wrong, it's so wrong! He shouldn’t want this, he shouldn't, he shouldn't ...

"Steve?" Bucky stills, and then softens. “Oh, Steve," he chides sadly, his breath hitting against Steve's lips where he's come back up to his face, close and coaxing. “Hey, open your eyes, Sweetheart, c’mon. Look at me. Please?”

Slowly, Steve does. Bucky’s lost that fierceness, and instead is regarding him tenderly. One of his hands comes up and combs into Steve’s hair, holding his head still so that he can’t move away from where Bucky’s kissing him softly. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “Please, Baby. I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.” On Steve's cock, he starts stroking gently again, and Steve releases a pathetic little moan despite his efforts not to. Bucky keeps murmuring sweet, reassuring things against his lips as he jerks him off. “Always want you to be happy, Stevie. Love you. Gonna take such good care of you, I promise. You don't ever have to be afraid again. Not ever. You're safe with me. So safe. So safe ...”

Steve’s not sure when the crying starts, but before he knows it, his eyes are wet and he can feel the hot slide of tears escaping. He whimpers in shame when Bucky notices and starts cooing even more at him, kissing the tears from his skin. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes, and god but Steve really, really wishes that it was.

“Bucky!” he eventually gasps, when he feels close to coming but really doesn’t want to face the music yet. “Sstop, please. H-hang on. I-I want—”

On his cock, Bucky’s hand stills. “Yeah?” he asks searchingly, brushing a thumb along Steve’s temple where the tears have slid back into his hairline. “What do you want, Honey? You can tell me.”

He's looking at him so tenderly, and it just hurts. Steve whines and hides his face in Bucky's neck as he grabs at the back of his tee shirt, giving the fabric ineffective little yanks and whining angrily when it doesn't accomplish anything. He wants to feel him, goddammit! He just wants to feel his skin, and his body, and never have to acknowledge it, not ever, because he's weak, God, he's so weak ...

Bucky pets him and chuckles at his little huffs and grunts of frustration, but he doesn't let Steve hide against his neck with his eyes closed for long. He tuts softly and tells him to look at him, a quiet but firm order, and Steve reluctantly does. He's met with the sight of Bucky's handsome, pinched face, smiling sadly down at him. “Tell me,” he insists. “Tell me what you want, and then you can have it.”

Steve whines and shakes his head, starts struggling to get away rather than be forced to ask for it. But Bucky is easily able to trap his wrists against the pillow, and his hips pin Steve’s down. “Shhh sh sh,” he hushes, holding him still. “Don’t do that Stevie, come on.”

Steve struggles and twists against him furiously, but then the fight leaches out of him and he’s just left panting, dick hard and face red as he glares tearfully up at Bucky. “What do you care?! he cries, mad that Bucky’s trying to make this be his choice. He's a prisoner here. It’s not his choice. “We're already here, so just fuck me already!” He sobs, smacking angrily at him. "Come on, come on!”

"Hey, hey, stop. Steve—stop it." Bucky catches his wrists again easily and gives a harsh shake to settle him. “Don’t be that way,” he scolds, releasing his wrists and pulling away from him. He get back on his knees and starts shedding his clothes quickly, never fully climbing off of him the whole time as he strips naked. He curls his fingers over Steve's waistband and pulls his sweatpants off in one swift motion, too.

"Hey!"

He chucks them aside, then completely surprises Steve by grabbing him under the knees and yanking his lower half up high, right up off the mattress. Steve yelps as he’s practically inverted, and Bucky wraps both arms around his hips to hold him in the ludicrous position. Steve stammers and blusters, "What—what are you doing?"

Bucky glares down the length of his contorted body at him, then promptly shoves his face between his asscheeks and seals his mouth right over his hole.

“Fuck!” Steve cries out—both at the aggressive position and the tongue that's suddenly fluttering over his asshole. “Oh, fuck, Bucky!”

Bucky grunts stubbornly against him, burrowing in further and jabbing his tongue in filthy, pointed thrusts, trying to force his way past the muscle. Steve wails and twists in place, but Bucky is strong enough to hold him up in the position, arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him close and refusing to stop.

All the blood is rushing to Steve’s head and he can only gasp when one of Bucky’s hands fumbles to start squeezing and stroking his cock again while he eats him out. Steve looses a humiliating squeal of pleasure at that. "Ahnngh!"

Bucky’s lips leave his hole with a lewd ‘smack’ and he drops Steve back down to the mattress. “You need fucked?” he growls darkly, covering him with his body again. “Hm? That’s what you can’t ask me for?" Steve whines and squirms and shakes his head no, but Bucky peers at him knowingly. "You want it so bad, don't you? But you wish you didn't. So you want ... what? Want me to take it?" He narrows his eyes at Steve's desperate whimper and denial, then grabs his hair and pulls slowly, watching his reactions. "Oh," he says. "I see."

"Bucky ..."

"That's it, isn't it?" He scoffs when Steve says his name again pleadingly. He dips down and drags his lips across Steve's cheek and down to his ear, where he murmurs, "I see you, Baby. It's okay. Is that what you need?"

"Nnngh ..."

"Need me to make you? Need it to not be your choice?"

Steve whimpers and cringes, hating that Bucky can read him so easily. He whines and shakes his head in denial, but Bucky has him all figured out, and it's awful how calm and smug and knowing he is, as he hushes him and purrs in his ear,

"That's okay, Stevie. I can do that for you."

"Lemme go," Steve says miserably, tossing his head against the pillow. But he isn't really fighting. He tries to believe that it's because he knows he can't win, but that's not it. Deep down he knows that the truth is much, much worse.

"Just need to get dicked down into the sheets," Bucky gloats, not waiting for him to respond before reaching into one of the overhead cabinets, from which he retrieves a bottle of lube.

He'd had it stored right there, ready to go, Steve realizes, and he gulps at the implications of that. "Wait," he croaks, pushing ineffectively at Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky snickers at the weak protest, wetting up his hand and his dick. “S'okay, Sweetheart. We can play that game if it makes you feel better. You know how bad I want to put it in you?” He reaches down between Steve's legs to trail slick fingers over his taint and between his cheeks. He presses in with one finger, slow, humming in approval when Steve tips his head back into the pillow and groans.

“Oh god. Unh ... fuck.”

“Thaat’s right,” Bucky rumbles, encouraging him, curling his finger and dragging it out, only to push back in with two. "You might as well relax, ain't that right? This is happening whether you like it or not." There's an element of teasing to his words, as he purposefully plays the role he's figured out that Steve wants him to. His coy tone would be enough to ruin the illusion, except for that he holds Steve down with his full strength whenever he struggles, letting him feel helpless beneath his larger body. "There you go, Sweetheart, yeah. Just relax. Just accept it."

He takes his time, opening Steve up slowly, letting his body adapt. He starts up an easy, gentle pace and makes sure to drag against his walls just so to have liquid hot pleasure spilling up his spine. “Just let me make you feel good, now Honey. It’s gonna feel so nice.”

They kiss—or rather, Bucky kisses him—steadily finger fucking him while he slips him his tongue. Steve clings to him and moans as his prostate is stroked over and over again. He curls his hips to try and get more friction on his cock, humping up against Bucky’s abs shamelessly.

Bucky groans in approval and pushes down into it, giving him pressure to rut against. He keeps fingering him, keeps adding more and more lube until he’s sloppy from it, rim gone soft and yielding to the third finger that he pushes inside, and then the fourth. Steve cries out indignantly at the stretch, but Bucky just hums and keeps doing it. “Should work my whole fucking hand up in there,” he says. Steve tries to turn his face away, but Bucky grips his hair and pulls him back, forcing Steve to look at him. “Should fist all that fight right out of you, shouldn't I? Make you cry and beg. Fucking edge you until you admit how bad you need my cock.”

Steve absolutely sobs, terrified of the threat, of being made to admit anything; heat pooling so heavy and molten in his belly at all of Bucky’s filthy promises that he starts to get close again. “Buck,” he chokes out, desperate. “Unh—"

Bucky growls and surges down to kiss him. It's aggressive and demanding, and Steve can’t do anything but whimper and let it happen. Bucky bites his lower lip when he pulls away, panting into his face. “It makes it hard for you, doesn't it? That what we had was so real. That it's still there."

Steve whines and shakes his head. He squeezes his eyes shut, but that only lasts until Bucky growls and slaps his cheek. Steve's eyes fly back open with a gasp that's half due to the slap, half due to the cruel hook of Bucky's fingers inside of him.

"Admit it: You can't stand that it's still there, that you still feel something for me."

"Nngh." He moans at the rough drag of Bucky's fingers inside, and Bucky's eyes gleam with satisfaction. "No," Steve grits. "I don't." But Bucky's expression tells him that he doesn't believe it, not for a second, and the next pass over his prostate is brutally efficient. "Fuck!"

"You do want this. You want me. Despite everything. You still feel it. Admit it.” His fingers still inside Steve and pulse maddeningly over that exact spot. "Say it!"

"Yes!" Steve cries out, the dam inside finally breaking and leaving him gasping out, "Yes! Okay? I still feel it!"

His ears ring from the weight of such a horrible admission, pushed out by shame and every last bit of breath in his lungs. His eyes well up with tears, the horrible words leaving him like a poison flushed from his system. He feels wrung out once they're said, and he gasps when Bucky’s hand slips free of his body, leaving him totally empty. "Bucky, wha—"

Bucky pushes his cock in, not stopping until he's fully buried and his hips are kissing Steve’s ass. He holds still once he's there, eyes shining down at Steve's face with love. Steve gulps and trembles at that look. Fuck. What has he done?

Bucky moves gently against him, rolling his hips in a languid thrust. “Feel okay?” he checks. “Not sore?”

It takes Steve a full five seconds to realize that Bucky's asking because they'd made love less than twenty-four hours ago. Or at least, Bucky had made love to him. The memory of it hits Steve hard, piling up on top of the wreckage of what he's just admitted out loud. His eyes water and his lip trembles. "Fuck," he says, warbly, throat tightening at the tender concern that he can see in Bucky’s eyes. God, he wishes Bucky would stop. It's not supposed to be this way!

"Sweetheart," Bucky gushes. "It's gonna be okay."

Steve whimpers. No, it's not. Nothing about this is okay. It's fucked. The entire thing: Bucky, Steve, all of it. It's fucked. Steve hiccups, distressed, and Bucky kisses him gently, kindly. Which feels like the worst fucking thing he could be, right now. Steve is still teetering on the edge of tears. He kisses Bucky back almost desperately, moaning and whining needily.

"Baby," Bucky rasps against his mouth. "Stevie, can I move?"

Steve snivels and nods. It's a relief at least, when Bucky sets into fucking him. It’s deep and relentless, Bucky holds him close and rocks into him, their skin slapping quietly, second only to their panting breaths and Steve's helpless moans from how fucking good it feels as Bucky fills him, over and over again.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” Bucky pants against his neck, rolling his hips softer and deeper, making it more like it'd been last night, more like making love. Steve starts to whimper and whine from how sweet it is, hurt little keening sounds leaving him without his permission.

Bucky groans and strokes a tender hand up his side, over his ribcage, kissing and sucking at his neck, at that spot just below his ear that always makes him fall apart. “No, no,” Steve gasps, feeling himself getting closer. He doesn’t want to come like this. Threading one hand up into Bucky’s hair, he yanks—hard enough to get Bucky gasping and pulling back to look at him. Steve grits his teeth and shoves at Bucky’s shoulder. “Fuck me,” he growls. “Hard.”

It works, in that Bucky's eyes darken with lust instead of love. He gets back on his knees and starts fucking him harder. Relief unspools in Steve’s chest and his eyes slip closed as he takes what Bucky gives him. In what feels like no time at all, he’s crying out, “Buck-ee!” the words jarred apart by harsh thrusts. “I’m c-lose!”

That drives Bucky on, his face contorting and his fingers digging in harder at Steve's waist as he fucks him more desperately, losing some of his rhythm—he's getting close too. “Come on, Honey," he grunts, knocking Steve’s hand away when he reaches down to touch himself. His mouth slides sideways at the outraged little sound Steve makes. “Nuh uh," he pants, grinning. "I want to see it. Wanna see you cum on nothin’ but my cock.”

Steve groans, tilting his hips more and working for that exact angle he needs, crying out sharply when he finds it and straining harder, arousal pooling tighter in his gut, more and more and more, until it’s threatening to spill over and destroy him. "Close!" he gasps, whining from how close he is, how badly he wants it. "Oh god, Bucky, oh god. Please please please ..."

Bucky growls, hooks his forearms under Steve's knees, and uses that to hoist him up into his thrusts at an even harsher angle. And there, right fucking there! Steve wails and starts to come, shooting hard up his stomach, his dick pulsing near painfully at the lack of stimulation where he’s throbbing and coming all over himself. And Fuck, the pleasure is so deep inside him, coming in fucking waves and seemingly never ending. It’s so sharp and good and overwhelming, makes him sob and break into hysterical tears as Bucky fucks him so good through it all.

Bucky blankets him with his hard, heavy body, “Hey ... s’okay, s'okay,” he says, trying to soothe Steve even as he's about to come, himself. "Shh-sh-sh, Stevie. God, oh baby." He threads his arms under Steve’s back and hugs him tightly to his body. He starts grinding deep and dirty, grunting and then moaning like he’s been sucker punched as he finally grinds out his own climax. Steve’s still sobbing when he feels the cum start to leak out, pushed out by Bucky’s slowing thrusts. “Shh sh sh,” Bucky hushes, still panting as he comes down from his orgasm. He kisses the side of Steve’s head and over his temple, his ear, nuzzling him and not pulling out. He keeps moving his hips against Steve’s ass, even as he softens inside. “Shh, Stevie, shh. You’re okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

The crying is embarrassing. It takes a minute, but eventually Bucky’s soft words and his gentle caresses help to calm Steve down. He stops gasping and blubbering, feeling sheepish for such a pitiful reaction. When he tries to bury his face in Bucky’s neck and hide there, this time Bucky lets him.

Bucky’s fingers pet through his sweaty hair. “You okay?”

Steve nods, scrubbing his cheek against Bucky’s shoulder. “I don’t know why I did that,” he mumbles, embarrassed. He’s never cried through an orgasm like a freaking girl before. “Sorry.”

Bucky tuts and hushes him, rolling them onto their sides. He slips out of Steve’s body with the motion, but he makes up for it by tangling their legs together. “Don’t apologize,” he says softly. His hands are petting over the skin of Steve’s back now, up and down, soothing him. “Sometimes you just have to let it out.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just lets Steve hide against his body and avoid the conversation about what the fuck it is they’re doing. Steve can’t think about that right now. He just has to give his poor fucking brain a rest. It deserves that much, goddammit. Sniffling, he nuzzles into Bucky’s chest and inhales the scent of sweat and testosterone, taking comfort in the strong man holding him in his arms. The man who loves him, and treats him so nice, and fucks him so good, who wants to keep him and who … also happens to be a cannibal serial killer.

Just for right now, Steve lets himself ignore that last bit.

Bucky:

Bucky wakes with a gasped “Becca!” his eyes shooting open. He’s panting from fear and his heart is racing in a way that feels awful, but he quickly realizes where he is. Steve is in his arms. They’re in Steve’s room.

Bucky exhales hugely and closes his eyes and calms himself down. It’s okay. It was just a dream. He’s here. He's safe.

Steve doesn’t stir when he finagles himself off the bed and gets dressed. Bucky considers waking him to say goodbye, but Steve looks so peaceful lying there, and Bucky isn’t sure he’ll improve his mood by waking him just to announce that he’s leaving him alone in the room. Bucky knows Steve still sees it as a jail cell.

So instead he covers Steve up to the shoulders with the blanket and leaves the room as quietly as he can. He’ll be back down in an hour or two with late lunches for Steve and for Erica. Bucky takes good care of his girls. Pain meds and comfortable rooms aside, he’s always liked cooking them nice food. He’s not a sadist, despite what Steve seems to think. But if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s definitely been putting more effort into Steve’s meals than he ever has for the girls before. Steve is better, and he deserves better.

Bucky has to pass by all the other rooms on his way out from the spiral and towards the stairs that lead upstairs.

“Hey!”

He stops and backtracks two steps, surprised. Erica is at the door to her cell, somehow hobbled over there and standing upright. She’s holding onto the wooden slats to keep her balance on her remaining leg. Bucky raises an eyebrow at her and steps closer, not missing how she flinches at the proximity. Normally she just trembles and stays completely silent whenever Bucky’s in the basement, so this is novel behavior. He peeks through the door at her. “Yes?”

She blinks at him, looking nervous but steadfast. “What’d you do to him?”

Bucky smirks. “Do?”

“You had him up there all day yesterday. I know you did something.”

Bucky almost laughs at her confrontational attitude. “Aw, did you and Steve make friends?”

She doesn’t say anything, just tightens her lips into a thin line. Bucky eyes up her body. She’s wearing one of the hospital gowns he gives all the girls once they’ve begun their surgeries. He wonders what cut will be next for her. Carlo’s already asked to meet her, but Bucky’s answer to that was and is a firm no. He’s not into psychologically torturing his girls any more than necessary, even though Carlo clearly is. The knowledge that you’re being slowly eaten and are going to die on an operating table is more than enough punishment, even for sins as bad as theirs.

“Lunch'll be ready in about an hour,” Bucky tells her sweetly, when she just scowls at him.

Upstairs, his phone is in the living room, screen lit up with a text message notification from Carlo. Speak of the devil, he thinks, swiping open the screen.

📱Carlo [Today 12:03 pm]: What do tits taste like?

Bucky makes a face at his phone and texts back.

📱Chef J. [Today 12:57 pm]: Lean cuts first, fatty cuts last, remember?

Erica’s definitely still too stressed to start hacking off the fatty parts. Two seconds later, Bucky’s phone buzzes with another text.

📱Carlo [Today 12:57 pm]: Well what’s lean?

Bucky sighs. Sometimes he forgets how damn ignorant people who didn’t go to medical school are. He sends a text with a short list of lean cuts he can provide while still keeping Erica alive. Carlo quickly responds that: fine, he’ll take the other leg.

📱Carlo [Today 12:59 pm]: And can I have a piece of her hair?

“Ugh.” Bucky’s least favorite part of his entire operation is how his customers want the freaky shit, too. Hair and lingerie are the most commonly requested items. Bucky thinks it’s gross, doesn’t like the reminder that he’s technically got something in common with these freaks. It’s about the food for Bucky, the intimacy of the experience, not the sick and twisted fantasies his fucked-up clients have.

📱Chef J. [Today 12:59 pm]: Sure

He flops down onto the couch with a sigh, feeling tired and bored. After spending the whole day with Steve yesterday, being alone in the house suddenly feels incredibly lonely. He turns on the television to try and distract himself, but it’s no use, he just winds up sitting there and ruminating on Steve and how to best win him over to seeing Bucky’s way of things.

He supposes he could talk to him more about it, just open up and be honest. Talk about his past, or dig around in his records and show Steve the variety of human scum that he actually sources for his business. Bucky doesn’t have confidence that any of those methods would improve the situation. They might just make Steve turn further away, and that’s the last thing Bucky wants. Grunting, he flicks the tv off and shoves up to go over and root through the kitchen to figure out what he’s making for lunch.

He needs to go shopping, he thinks. There’s hardly anything in the pantry to play around with. He grabs a box of bucatini noodles and puts them on the counter, then finds the cream and parmesan in the fridge. He idly wonders if the piddly local grocery store might have Chanterelle mushrooms. He’s got plenty of garlic and white cooking wine, is pretty sure there's a bag of peas in the freezer. If he were making it for himself, Bucky might go the carbonara route, but he’s got a strict policy of not serving any of the girls meat. It’s not worth the inevitable suspicion and stress. And Bucky knows that it’ll be hard for Steve to eat bacon with any sort of comfortability this soon, since he witnessed Bucky eating ‘other bacon’ just yesterday morning.

Bucky sighs and leans against the kitchen island, wondering if he’s hoping for too much to expect Steve to ever come around. Even if Steve never wants to try it himself, if he could just accept it as part of Bucky, that would be so wonderful. It’d be so freeing.

As for the ultimate intimacy of having Steve willingly offer some part of himself up for—

Bucky quickly shakes his head and pushes the thought away. That’s never going to happen. He definitely won’t win Steve over if he ever reveals that fantasy. Steve wouldn’t understand. Bucky would lose him. Sighing, he looks around the living room, feeling morose at his expensive house that he has nobody to share with, the gourmet kitchen he cooks in alone, all the architecture and art that nobody but him ever appreciates.

His eyes land on one of the pieces he’s got hanging in the foyer. It’s an unusual style that’s reminiscent of the medieval period. And unusual subject matter too, with a hand dangling a bit of parsley over the heads of two fish. Bucky has an affinity for oddball, slightly dark artwork. And it’s kind of hilarious to him that this one was painted by one of Natasha’s boys—who is now deceased and probably sitting on a shelf in some walk-in fridge right about n—

Bucky’s lips part as a novel idea occurs to him. Oh.

Maybe explaining all of his own opinions and reasons for doing what he does isn’t the way to convince Steve to stay. Maybe he needs to provide Steve with some outside perspective.

Maybe ... he should host a dinner party.

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skyfallscotland · 3 months ago

Text

Writing Advice: tips, tricks & helpful links, from your friendly neighbourhood fanfic author ✨ (part one—the advice)

see part two—the resources here

I've mentioned this before, but I truly believe no one's born a great writer. A great storyteller, yes. A great writer? That's learned. I've been reading and writing basically as long as I can remember. Learning to write is like...learning through both practice and symbiosis. In saying that, I get asked about this a lot, so here's what I do and some things that might help you.

Write what you're inspired to write, when you're inspired to write it.

So you have an idea—great! Are you a plotter or a pantser? Some people like to start with an outline, others just jot down a few notes and let the keyboard take them where it will. I'm in the latter camp, generally. For me, the best way to avoid writer's block is to write what I'm inspired to write, when I want to write it. Sometimes I'll write five chapters of a story at once, others I'll switch between a multi-chapter and a one-shot.

What's most important for me, personally, is that I don't try and force anything. If you suffer from demand avoidance, the worst thing you could possibly do (in my opinion), is set arbitrary goals. You don't need to write 500 words a day. If you want to, great! If that helps you, also great, but in my experience, that will generally just make my brain say well no, now we're not writing anything for a whole week, maybe a month, if you test me.

I also personally like to have a whole fic written before I start posting it online, or at least most of it written. I like being quite far ahead of what readers are seeing because I am a pantser. It takes the pressure off and honestly, there'd be so many plot holes if I didn't. Which brings me to...

First make it exist, then make it make sense, after that make it good.

What you see me post is not my first run-through. It's not even the second. I've written, read over, and changed things at least a handful of times before ever posting it, especially when it's a multi-chapter work. Sometimes I'll write a scene I love and then realise it just doesn't flow well, because three chapters back I had someone say a certain thing. In that instance, I'll put the scene aside.

Note that I said 'put aside' not 'delete'. I never delete them until I'm finished with a fic and I'm certain I won't need them, ever. Been there, made that mistake for you! Having a separate document with just various scenes you can insert at a later date also helps you to feel like it's ok to write what you want to write when you want to write it. I'll be honest, I jump around a lot. Sometimes I'll be inspired to write a scene I know isn't coming for another five chapters, but in my opinion it's best to just write it because when I get there five chapters down the line, I might not have the inspiration or I might have forgotten how I wanted things to go. Write what your brain wants to, fill in the blanks later!

Write from the heart.

My most popular work is the one I find the easiest to write and I almost never wrote it at all. Isn't that ridiculous? I almost never wrote it because I know it's cliché and excessive, and honestly...looked down upon. I almost didn't write it because of other people's opinions; then I said fuck it, I want to read it so surely there's someone else out there that does, too? Turns out there were thousands of you. Who knew?

But that work has really resonated with so many people and I think that's because I've poured so much of myself, my pain, my own experiences into it, into her. For that reason, I'd tell anyone starting out to try original character fic if that's what they want to do. Fuck the haters. All their favourite works were original characters once too.

Don't read similar fic while you're writing yours...unless you need to.

Let me explain. If I'm writing a certain type of alternate universe, or a certain storyline I know someone else has written, I won't read theirs until I'm done if I can help it, especially not if I'm actively writing my take on it. This isn't a hard and fast rule, it's obviously up to you what you feel comfortable with, but I would never want to have someone else's work influence my own too much, or get our ideas confused in my head, you know?

An exception to this rule, for me personally, is if I'm stuck with specific things in particular, like smut. When I wrote my first smut piece from a male POV, I was struck by the fact that I had no idea what an orgasm felt like for them, or how to describe it, because despite reading M/M fic for years, I apparently never absorbed that particular verbiage, so I went looking and read a whole bunch of smut from the male POV just to get an idea. Which leads into...

So you suck at kung-fu fighting.

Action scenes. I'm convinced we all hate them just as much as each other. I hate them so much I've changed whole plotlines from canon just so I don't have to include them. Unfortunately, my main fandom features a bunch of knife-throwing, sword-wielding, dragon riders at a war college who spar for clout, so I mean...it's unavoidable.

I still suck at writing it though, so what I now do for sparring and other hand-to-hand combat is search up youtube for sparring videos or self-defence lessons. It's much easier to describe what you're seeing than to imagine the mechanics and positioning of an artform you've never performed. The kung-fu thing was a joke, I like capoeira personally.

Stop being so damn hard on yourself.

Listen, everyone wants to be better than they are when they start out, literally everyone. I know I sure did. That's normal. Accept that it's normal before you start because the thing is, no one's a harsher critic on you, than you are and you'll always want to be better. There's a quote from Ira Glass that I'll paraphrase:

“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap[...]It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit."

It's very true. Hopefully you have the support of a really welcoming fandom to reassure you that actually, you're nowhere near as bad as you think you are.

READ. BOOKS.

@justallihere says you can’t be good at something you don’t know anything about and it's so true, I've phrased it before as learning by symbiosis, when you read more, you'll internalise more. You're subconsciously learning how story structure works—plot hooks, transitions, metaphors and similie, grammar, style and punctuation.

Show don't tell.

...yeah this one I haven't mastered, I could use some help with that myself if anyone's got any words of wisdom, thanks.

Take all of this with a grain of salt.

I couldn't tell you how many writer's advice threads and blogs and whatever-else I've read over the years—too many, for sure. What I can tell you is 80% of what I've read was crap. It doesn't apply to me at best and it's unhelpful at worst. Maybe it's the neurodivergence, maybe it's just the fact that everyone's different and all you can do is give things a try, but based on that I can say with certainty that not all of this will work for you and that's absolutely fine! But I hope at least a few things do 😌

For links to more specific resources including thesauruses, generators, and other writers' advice, click here.

#writing advice #writeblr

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unluckycryptid · 24 days ago

Text

So two new updates regarding the Rise of Red!Miraculous Ladybug AU fic

If you haven't seen it yet, I posted Ch 5 of The Wonderous Adventures of Ladybug and Chat Noire! Check it out below.

Summary:

“My Lady… please,” Chat Noire begged. The heroine in front of her stopped walking but stayed facing forward, her face obscured from Chat Noire’s line of sight. But from where she stood, she could see as Ladybug shook her head, her partner’s hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “Chat Noire, I- I can’t,” said Ladybug, her voice cracking ever so slightly that Chat Noire would have missed it if it weren’t for her hearing. Before Chat Noire could push any further, Ladybug grabbed her yoyo and swung off, her message clear: don’t follow me.

I also wrote a companion piece to the chapter and posted it separately as a two-shot! Check it:

Summary:

Companion piece to Ch 5 of The Miraculous Adventures of Ladybug and Chat Noire explaining what happened to Red in her encounter with Chat Blanc, and how it all came to be. Ch 1 - The Encounter (Version 2.0) Ch 2 - The Incident

Check out my Chapter Notes for all three chapters below!

Warning: Spoilers

Author's Note Before I put up the Deleted Scenes:

So, I originally posted everything on pretty late on Oct 31st in order to get it all in for Whumptober. I woke up the next morning and read it before I went to work and then decided that I hated it in a way that the original ending was cornering me and would have had me deviate from my overall plan for the main story. I decided, alright, I'm just going to delete the whole two-shot and spend some time fixing it to better align with to the main story's future and motivations.

For those of you wondering, what could I possibly have written to cause me to delete the first version? -> I had Red kill off Chat Blanc of the alternate timeline.

It was great for Whumptober, but would require dozen more chapters of main timeline!Red overcoming that trauma which... I only have 12-13 chapters planned for this story and we're already on Ch 5. Plus, I wanna do a reveal and post-reveal stuff within those 12-13 chapters so... yeah I'm already running out of time with that.

But overall, the whole writing process was pretty rough, ngl. In context, I wrote three chapters in the time it would take me to write one chapter, and each of the three chapters were fairly lengthy for me. And I had to make sure all 3 chapters had to intertwine together.

I always knew I was going to have the Aftermath chapter in the main story. As for the Encounter and Incident chapters, it was originally going to be all one chapter, but it got wayyyy too long for my taste so I ended up splitting it into two separate chapters and then posting it as a two-shot.

I also had to make sure that each of the chapters' motivations flowed into each other. It was kind of difficult since I wrote Aftermath first, so I had to backtrack and figure out what scenario would those memories come into play during the Encounter chapter. Incident also had a bunch of problems considering how the first draft of it that I wrote, while good, didn't follow the motivation for either Aftermath or Encounter, so I had to keep rewriting it until it all worked.

And like I said, I wrote the last scenes of Encounter the day I posted it and then I posted it... bruh never doing that again. I definitely should have sat on it a little longer but rewriting it with a bit more time makes me more confident in it as a chapter now.

I'll post the deleted scenes across the three chapters below. Most of them are going to come from The Chat Blanc Incident. I'll post the Version 1.0 on a separate post since this will get too long.

Read The Encounter Version 1.0 Here

Deleted Scene 1 - The Encounter - First Meeting

“Chat Noire, what happened here? What happened to you?” Red asked.

The girl in white ignored her question in favor of stepping into Red’s personal space, intrigue in her gaze. Before Red could step back and ask about the sudden proximity, the other girl reached out and cupped a hand around Red’s cheek. Red watched as the white clawed hand softly grazed her cheek, the other girl pulling her hand back as soon as it made contact, a look of wonder and disbelief dawning on the girl’s face.

“So you’re not just one of my ghosts haunting me,” the girl in white chuckled in what sounded like relief.

Red only looked at her behavior in bewilderment before the girl stopped and switched her tone to an interrogatory one, “You’re not supposed to be here. How are you here?”

Red hesitated. Despite the fact that her partner was someone she would trust with her life, just one look in the other girl’s eyes told Red that she shouldn’t say anything about Bunnyx and his portals in time.

“It doesn’t matter how I’m here. I just need to know what happened, Chat Noire, both to you and to Auradon,” said Red, “I want to help.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at the red and black superhero. “You’re not My Lady, are you,” she stated, “Or else you would remember what happened.” The bitterness in the girl’s tone sent chills down Red’s spine.

“Chat Noire…”

“Please, it’s Chat Blanc now,” the girl in white—Chat Blanc—corrected.

Deleted Scene 2 - The Incident - First Betrayal

“Red, how could you?” the heartbroken voice of Chloe asked, tears streaming down her cheeks as a pair of Card soldiers held her down on her knees.

“No, Chloe don’t listen to her. Please believe me, I didn’t know anything,” Red begged, dropping down to her own knees in front of the blue haired princess. She reached out to cradle her girlfriend’s face, but the girl flinched as far away as she could given her restrictions from Red’s touch.

“Oh, come now, daughter, you needn’t keep acting. Your plan worked as you said it would. Though it was a bit convoluted if you asked me,” said Queen Reina Hearts of Wonderland as she inspected her nails with disinterest from her throne on the stage.

All around them, the aftermath of chaos remained. Family Day had come around and Red’s mom had made an unexpected appearance. Although Red had been taken aback by her mother’s unannounced presence, she was even less prepared for the moment her mother had interrupted the Principal’s Family Day Speech by tossing a deck of magical cards in their air, infecting the unfortunate few that were touched by them, some being the Card soldiers they had previously faced, thus revealing her identity as the Card Queen.

Before Red or Chloe could even think about transforming into their alter egos, the Card soldiers had grabbed Chloe’s mother and held her hostage, forcing the two heroes to surrender. Once it was clear that neither Red nor Chloe would fight back, the Card soldiers surrounded the blue haired princess along with the rest of the civilians not infected by the cards of the Card Queen. However, they left Red un-surrounded as the Queen of Wonderland marched up to the stage, declaring loudly at how proud she was of her daughter.

“What plan?” Chloe demanded in a low growl, betrayal laced her in gaze.

Before Red could answer, Reina spoke for her, “The one to acquire your miraculous, of course.” She said as if it were an obvious fact.

“No! Chloe-”

“And imagine to my surprise when she suggested that we could also get vengeance on dear Cindy over here at the same time,” continued the Queen of Wonderland as though Red had never spoken.

“Reina, you let my daughter go right now. Your quarrel is with me,” Chloe’s mom—Queen Cindy—urged from her spot, also in the same position as Chloe though she had been taken off to the side of the stage.

Reina glared in her direction and waved a hand. At the motion, the General Jack of Diamonds, who had been holding Cindy down, struck her in the face. In response, Chloe screamed and thrashed uselessly under the grip of the Card soldiers holding her down. Red attempted to run to Chloe’s mom’s aid, but was stopped by the Jabberwocky landing in front of her.

The Queen of Wonderland rolled her eyes and continued addressing Chloe, “She revealed her identity to me as soon as she got her miraculous, telling me that she had a plan to make me proud. A plan that would allow Wonderland to take control over all of Auradon.”

“That’s not true!” Red yelled desperately. She was abruptly cut off by the feeling of something covering her mouth and pinning her arms down to her sides, but when she attempted to turn to see her assailant, her eyes met empty air. Nonetheless, the force persisted and she could feel breathing behind her. Red’s eyes widened. It was the Cheshire Cat. She realized in horror that to everyone else, it looked like she was just idly standing by, watching the whole thing.

“I will admit, it took me by surprise that she was admitting to being the pesky, newly debuted ladybug hero that had foiled my plan as the Card Queen, but after I revealed such the fact, she asked me to keep playing the role for her plan to work,” the Queen of Hearts gloated falsely, “I agreed, of course. I trust my daughter completely. She had finally told me it was time to make our move once she revealed that she finally had your complete trust, going as far as to pursuing a relationship with you to do so.”

Red tried her best to fight the grip of the Cheshire Cat on her but it was no use. Her mother decided at that moment to descend from the stage and stand directly in front of a helpless Chloe who had no other choice but to look at her.

The Queen sneered as she crouched in front of the blue haired princess, “Did you really believe that my daughter could ever love someone like you? The daughter of the commoner queen? The spare heir? The mere sidekick of your little duo?”

The Queen reached out and grabbed Chloe’s chin, satisfied at the tears streaming down the girl’s cheek.

“You and your filthy mother will get what you deserve, thinking you had a chance to stand with the rest of us,” she sneered before her expression changed to a one of consideration, “Though perhaps not all is lost with you. Perhaps you can be deserving of my daughter’s love after all.”

“What do you want from me?” Chloe spat.

Reina grinned wickedly, “Call upon your transformation and let me make you one of my Card soldiers,” before Chloe could voice a rejection, the Queen turned her head towards the direction of her mom’s captivity, “or else.”

She released her hold on Chloe’s face and stepped back, waiting for the girl’s next move. Naturally, Chloe’s eyes wandered to Red’s looking for any sort of guidance. Red tried her best to shake her head no but the Cheshire Cat puppeted her head to make it look like she nodded in approval instead.

Without any more options, Chloe gave in.

“Plagg, transform me.”

The transformation washed over the blue haired girl in front of the whole school to see. Chat Noire soon found that the hold of the Card soldiers had been released and that she was free to stand up. She did so slowly, keeping her gaze fixed on the Queen of Wonderland who only smirked as she took out a card from her deck.

Red could only watch in horror as her mother approached her girlfriend and placed the magical card on the silver bell that hung around the girl’s neck. The bell blackened and the black cat heroine was swallowed up by the card’s magic. A second later, the magic dissipated and Red’s stomach dropped.

Kneeling on the ground to her mother was her girlfriend dressed in all white.

“Rise, Chat Blanc,” her mother commanded and the girl stood up immediately. Red’s blood ran cold. There was no trace of her partner—her girlfriend—in there. Her mother continued, “I have given you the power of infinite destruction, and with it you will lay waste to this despicable world… starting with her.”

Reina pointed a finger in the direction of Chloe’s mom.

No. She couldn’t let her do this. She couldn’t let Chloe kill her own mom. Red struggled against the Cheshire Card Card with all she had, managing to free the hand covering her mouth, but that was enough.

“Tikki! Transform me.”

As soon as she felt the transformation wash over her, she used her superstrength to break free from the Card’s clutches and fight her way over to Chloe’s mom. She dodged, weaved, and kicked the Cards holding down Chloe’s mom to her best ability, but even with her super abilities, she was quickly overwhelmed by the number of Card soldiers her own mother had on hand.

Slowly, Chat Blanc made her way in front of her mother, regarding the woman as though she were a mere speck of dust. Chat Blanc raised her hand and wordlessly called upon a cataclysm, the power manifesting in a white color just like its holder.

“Please, Chloe don’t do this!” Red cried out from under the dozens of Card soldiers holding her down, “Please, you can fight this!”

“Hush now, daughter, she can’t fight this.”

Deleted Scene 3 - The Incident - Chat Blanc's fury

The girl’s cold gaze turned on her now, “You know, Red. You were right. My death would be worthless. But everyone else’s…”

“Don’t do this, Chloe,” Red begged as she started backing away in fear, “I-I’ll stop you.”

Chat Blanc walked toward her with her hand raised above her head. She summoned another cataclysm and to Red’s horror, it kept growing and growing. ‘Infinite destruction’, her mother had said. There was no fighting this, even as Ladybug.

Chat Blanc seemed to know this, too.

“I’d like to see you try, Princess.”

And then the world went white.

#glassheart #d:ror fanfic #descendants rise of red #charminghearts #rise of red #ml au

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sunshinegirl29 · 4 months ago

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Postcards - Chapter 1.

Hi! This fic has been pottering around in my brain for months, I've planned and unplanned and written and deleted, but here it is!

It's my first dabble into writing so constructive criticism and such really welcomed. I'm also open to requests if you like my writing. I write for Spencer Reid, Eddie Munson and Joel Miller.

It's Spencer x Reader, 18+ eventually, slow burn - eventual warnings for abuse, SA and general criminal minds related triggers. updates will be bi monthly.

Chapter 1 – Growing Pains.

You study the form while you wait, leg bouncing against the sticky underside of the table. No matter the outcome, this has to be over. The shaking letter is factual and to the point. A long sigh. You place the envelope back on the desk, before reaching over the files to roll the rich blue fountain pen between your fingers.

A door clicks, finally. The familiar heavy tread of Sherrif Miller; “Hello again” he huffs, clutches the ridged back of his office chair and sits down. You notice his metal foot drags more these days, after all this time he’s never told you how it happened and you don’t ask. You don’t look up from the broken skin on the corner of your fingers, though you know he’ll be wearing the same sullen frown, his exasperation unhidden. You wonder if he thinks you’re making it up.

“My statement. Is that all you need?” You sigh, looking him in the eye. He shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, blanching slightly. He doesn’t respect you, typical older generation male, feels out of control in his life and within his team so he dismisses you. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and Miller stands, leg creaking as he rises quicker than you thought he would at his age.

“Yes, that’s all. I’ll leave it with the rest—” You were going to protest, for the third time this month but it falls flat with the rest of Millers’ sentence.

“Hi there, I’m sad we have to meet again under these circumstances.” You step from foot to foot, wiping both hands on your jeans. Mason Cook is classically handsome, dark hair and light eyes; he’s the type of man who’s charming, but brooding at the same time. From the amount of time you’ve spent at this station, you’ve seen plenty of his female colleagues fall over themselves to impress him, frankly it’s quite embarrassing but you can see the appeal.

“It’s okay Mason, Miller here was just telling me how you’re all going to put your time and resources into finding this weirdo. Right Miller?”

You hear the scrawling of Miller’s pen stop, you definitely hit a nerve. Mason watches as usual, he knows you’re enjoying bating his useless boss and wipes a large hand over his beard to cover his own tilted grin.

“That’s enough.” He snaps, “Cook, don’t you have work to do? We have weirdo to find and you’re my resource.” You nod. A subtle glance at your watch; 7:15am, you were late.

“Second day on the job and you’re already late?”

SSA Derek Morgan croons when he talks. He can’t help it. It’s lead plenty of women straight to bed but right now it reminds you that a useless errand to the Sherrif’s office made you late for the most important job you’ve landed in years.

“Bite me Morgan” His laugh fades as you rush past, dipping into the roundtable room.

No one’s here. This must be what hazing feels like?

You understand men like Morgan, women usually fall into three categories; two separate categories that had their own rules. The first box was untouchable. These women were untouchable in every sense of the word. They usually either belonged to someone else, or meant something to him. Garcia fell into that category, you’d deduced – they’d shamelessly flirt and are the only reason BAU’s HR department were in business. She would always reside in the Untouchable box, regardless of how much Penelope wanted out of that particular category. Jennifer Jaureu also belonged in that box, but in a different way. She was Will’s – it started and ended there. He had eyes of course; she was attractive but he loved her like family. Then there was Elle. She had started out in the fuckable box, but getting shot and killing Lee had shifted her into the untouchable box pretty quickly after that. He’d dated enough women to know to stay away from that kind of trauma, besides he’d loved her like family too.

Then there’d been you. After months of training together, you were quite sure you now hovered between the fuckable and untouchable box. There was something powerfully arousing knowing that the person that had your life in their hands daily, could take it instantly. If he knew, you’d be banished to the untouchable box instantly.

Anyway, you let him have his win.

“You told me it was urgent. You lie!” It spurts out in a laugh, breaking the silence.

“Sorry babydoll! I’m just messin’ with you! Welcome to the team!” he pats you on the back and helps pick up the files and folders that your whirlwind entrance scattered around the small room.

You settle down in a chair opposite the door, a strategic position; able to see for potential threats and a planned exit route for any emergencies. Perfect. It’s not long before Agent Rossi takes a seat beside you. He gives a short good morning and a reassuring pat on the shoulder in support of your second real day on the job – it goes a long way in settling simmering nerves.

Morgan sits down, a ghost of a smirk still on his lips as he sips a third cup of steaming coffee. He tries to hide it but you’re trained to observe, not being able to miss the roving way his eyes study you across the table. It’s insane how an expert profiler doesn’t realise you see right through it, but maybe, you smirk back, he does and just doesn’t care?

Garcia totters in, bright and giddy, the breath of fresh air in the stifling room. She’s passing cups of coffee in ludicrous mugs to each person when JJ and Aaron file in together; their presence hushes the deep conversation you’re having with Rossi, leaving the intricate details of Bobby Fisher’s chess strategy dead in the water.

“Okay, Good Morning, let’s get started.” He looks determinedly everywhere but you. JJ interrupts your thoughts with a manilla folder.

“Three girls have gone missing and been later found murdered over the last 6 months in a semi-rural area of Georgia.” Your heart lurches, desperate to free itself from your chest. You take a few deep breaths, calming it into submission. “Alison Sinclar, Cassidy Williams and Joslyn Cooper were all in their late teens to early twenties when they each went missing.” JJ pauses, allowing Garcia to pull up pictures of each girl in a row.

“Allison Sinclar a Senior at Georgia High School had Spring Break with her family in Senoia Georgia. She disappeared after leaving a house party at a friend’s and never returned. She’d been strangled and posed. She was found on the edge of farmland a few days later.” JJ blanches at the crime scene photos, turning quickly to hand out some physical copies to an empty chair.

“Oh my! How are you all not in so much therapy?!” Garcia holds a cherry octopus’ mug in her field of vision, shielding from the unnecessarily gruesome death.

“Any evidence of sexual assault?” Emily asks.

“Yes, extensively.” JJ nods, her voice unwavering.

Allison was someone’s child, but to this killer she had been nothing but a means to an end, a way to get off and dispose in favour of the next prize.

The board flickered, to Garcia’s irritation and you take the time to observe the rest of the group;

Emily Prentiss was no longer the new kid on the team, she’d taken you under her wing in the weeks leading up to your first day and you’d taken to texting her a few times a week for late night advice and tips to assimilate. She’d been helpful but somewhat reserved in giving any personal details about herself; smart girl. Morgan was debating the Sexual Predator angle with Aaron, who still wasn’t looking at you. Then there was the case of the strange empty chair.

“There!” Penelope chimes “You can bow to the technical Goddess!”

“Cassidy Williams.” Hotch cuts her off with the smallest hint of joviality “Cassidy was seventeen, she had been in and out of foster homes, in Georgia. She was found in a wooded area on the edge of town, also strangled and posed like Allison”

This one was a carbon copy of the first. Her body wilted over at the waist, manipulated into a vulgar position. A strange sensation washed over you, leaving you shivering uncomfortably.

This was enough for Garcia. She stood abruptly, coffee splashing onto the files in the additional space at the table. “No. Nope. I’ll be in my bat-cave if you need me. God, I need my therapist on speed dial!!”

Aaron nods, giving her arm a small squeeze before she leaves. He’s never done that to you. It evokes an unpleasant sensation in your gut.

This time he looks at you it’s short lived, if you weren’t paying attention you’d have missed it. But he knows better.

“Joslyn Cooper, twenty-two and the most recent death. Hers prompted the Georgia Police Department to request our assistance on the case. She was” JJ takes a visible breath, “Also posed but her heart was removed.”

“Oh my god.” Whistled Rossi even a seasoned agent like him wasn’t immune to this particular horror.

A chorus of disgust rippled around the room, it starts a debate about the significance of the heart in mythology and religion but you could only focus on the posing, something about it seemed vaguely familiar.

“Hey Sugar? Are you okay?” Morgan’s wave came into focus and you shake your head involuntarily. It looked like he was enjoying your distraction, the toothy grin snuck onto his face and you replied in kind.

“Yeah.” You scoff, “It’s a rough one for the first case.” You placate him with the ghost of the truth and run your fingers jokingly over the sparse hair on his head on your way out the door.

A sudden motion stops you. A flicker of movement that turns into a touch of your arm, it guides you discreetly away from your colleagues who grab go bags with muscle memory. You’re very familiar with the huffing breath and deep frown of Aaron Hotchner.

“Aaron, don’t do this.” You say slowly and wish this wasn’t going to turn into a passive aggressive lecture.

“They don’t know.” Aaron said and you watch his chin tilt. He looks over you with a serious gaze that sits comfortably on his brow. The one that Hayley always talked about.

It was horrifying how little they knew. He was their boss and they knew nothing about him. It felt like a slap in the face, another reminder of how insignificant you were – or maybe it was a classic reflection of how you felt about yourself, deep down.

“You don’t have to tell me how much they don’t know Aaron.” From your position on a spare desk in a shadowed corner of the Bullpen you scowl up at him, “They didn’t even bat an eyelid, not even Garica who has all your files!?”

Aaron breathes heavily, tongue moistening his cracked lips. “There’s aspects of my life I want to keep private.” It’s flat and unemotional, as you expect. “The anonymity will help you here and it keeps you safe.” You muse for a second, chewing on his words – they’re sour and shame tinged but the faint sweetness of comfort lingers on your tongue.

“Safe.” It comes out harsher than it needed to be and you can see his regret fade back into the comfortable frown you’re so accustomed to.

Aaron sighs, grabs a briefcase from the desk and turns his back to you.

“Let’s get going. Wheels up in 30.”

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

12.06.02

Hi you!

I know we live three towns over and I could just pick up the phone, but this is a romantic notion I picked up from that raunchy book I found in Mama’s dresser! Hopefully Miss Cain will let you come here tomorrow; Daddy’s going to pick up my uncle Kellen from the airport but after you should come for dinner. I hope Mr Hartman will get this to you before then.

Love, Elizabeth.

A violent breeze calls you back, you’re not sure what happened on the drive to the airstrip but vaguely remember Jennifer’s mouth moving and something about meeting another member of the team on the plane.

“Why do I only get to travel with you guys once or twice a year?” Penelope gasps, hurriedly shuffling past you. She smiles eagerly at a man you don’t recognise; he passes her a coffee in a hot pink mug that she takes gratefully.

“Oh!” Garcia backpaddles, hands in the air. You know she doesn’t mean any harm, but instinctually step backwards. The cool silver of your watch clamps painfully against your wrist where she grabs it, leading you towards him. Penelope introduces you and moves off to sit by Derek; they smile at each other like scheming children.

He’s tall and gawky, obviously flustered by the change in staffing, his previously relaxed demeanour shifts into awkward, a tight smile.

“Dr Spencer Reid nice to meet you.” You reply in kind, glad he doesn’t extend a hand.

You study him while he excuses himself and strides over, settling in opposite Rossi. Dr Reid is the type of man that goes home alone to vintage first addition books, and the sound of a dripping tap he’s not there enough to be bothered to fix. His day specific shirts are neatly folded into certain drawers, where his real wool coats hang in seasonal order. Jennifer had mentioned his eidetic memory, which might be the least interesting thing about him. He’s older than you, by several years at least, but still baby faced enough that the cops on cases don’t take him as seriously as the others despite his title.

“Okay, let’s get started.” Aaron gestures and you sit down.

“All three girls have similar victimology, features and body types. He’s definitely got a type.” Your sentence trails off in a sigh without obvious reason and you’re suddenly aware of the faint hum of the jet, the only sound. “They could be a surrogate for someone in his life, past or present someone who’d wronged him in some perceived way?” You continue, ignoring the awkward feeling settling in your gut.

“Yeah, looks like it but what’s with the posing?” Emily hums, looking over the photos one by one. She doesn’t seem to flinch at the brutality of the crimes, but you can’t judge her.

“It’s interesting, the posing.” Reid states, flicking back and forth over each photo. “It’s as if he’s humiliating them—”

“It’s dehumanizing.” You accidently cut him off, blurting out your thoughts.

Reid is the smartest person in the room and everyone knows it, the way his eyebrows shoot into his brown curls says all you need to know on his feelings about being interrupted.

“Sorry, go ahead.” You wince.

“The manner of death is personal, intimate. They mean something to him, dehumanized after death, no remorse.” Each word packs a punch, the slight condescending lilt makes your blood boil.

A minute of oppressive silence follows, something tells you they all know Reid isn’t used to being spoken over. It’s amusing really, but ruffling feathers on your second day on the job wasn’t how you wanted this to go, so you sigh in resignation and nod, accepting his deduction.

“There’s no discernible MO but according to the M.E Report all girls were extensively sexually assaulted and all in the same manner. Which could help.” Aaron notes, frowning again.

“The unsub crosses socioeconomic backgrounds; Allison Sinclar lived in a rural but wealthy area of Georgia, her father is a retired Georgia Police Sherrif and her mother an English Tutor.” Derek gestures to the files in your lap.

“Cassidy’s parents are in the wind? She’d been bouncing in and out of foster homes for years before her death. If their backgrounds mean something to him, it means he’s had enough time and space to watch them.” It’s aggravating, the seemingly random way this unsub kills young girls, but that doesn’t explain why your hands shake and the pen slips from sweaty palms.

It’s like magic, the way he catches it with dextrous fingers. Spencer’s eyes flick to yours for a breath and he nods tightly once again, handing it back without a word.

“That’s true. Good work.” Aaron catches your eye and nods with a tenderness you’ve not seen from anyone since your mother died, the feeling that bubbles up forces your gaze back down.

“When we land, I want you and Reid to go to the medical examiner’s office.” If Aaron wanted you to start this job with confidence, he was definitely going the wrong way about it. You flash pleading eyes at Derek who surprisingly is already watching, or rather smirking at what must be a very distasteful expression.

Aaron continues, oblivious or unphased; “Emily and I will go to lease with the family, Rossi and Morgan, I’d like you to go to the most recent crime scene. Garcia with JJ set up at the Station, Sherrif Anderson will meet you there.”

“Brace yourself.”

Before you can question Rossi’s order the jet tips, scattering chess pieces all over along with the last dredges of your abandoned coffee.

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

26/09/05

Hi you!

I know in my last letter, I said I’d give up this romantic notion! But it’s just not me. It’s been different around here the last few months. Mama’s sick again and Daddy’s working more on the new barn and...

Anyway, I hope Miss Cain will let you come over again soon. I’ve been…

Love, Elizabeth.

The medical examiner’s office is tucked away in the back of an archaic local hospital. The instruments lay neatly, shining eerily in the clinical glow. This part of the job was always the hardest; seeing people’s loved ones, naked on a freezing table just to be dissected and stored away. It was irrational. You knew this was a very necessary part of the job to eventually catch the unsub and put the victims to rest, but how the two girls laid out like this was just undignified.

“I’m so sorry Agents, I just stepped out for some air.”

She’s not what you expect. British. Two grey strips of hair frame her face, the rest sleek and brown poured down her back in a glossy ponytail. She looks about four years your senior, a jagged scar dresses her milky white false left eye. She carries on around the room, passes a manila folder to Reid and expertly dons a protective gown.

“I’m Doctor Annabel Clayton. My parents and I knew the first girl Alison and her parents. They had trouble conceiving so they adopted.” Clayton sighs, looking you in the eye. A shiver runs down your spine again, making an unwelcomed home in your gut.

“Cause of Death?” Reid asks and you frown, unsure why he had to ask. Maybe it was just obvious to you?

“The main cause of death was strangulation.”

“Look at the bruising pattern.” The ever-well-mannered Dr Reid cuts in curiously, squinting at the bruising. “He did it by hand.”

“However.” Dr Clayton slaps down the sheet, covering the young girl’s modesty. She didn’t look like the type of woman who was used to being talked over in her own office. “She has some internal bleeding that would have caused her death if he’d not chosen, well, the other.” She looked sad in a wistful dreamy way, as if a ghost. A small-town purgatory.

“The other, Cassidy. She was also manually strangled and sexually assaulted in the same manner.” Finger shaped bruises bloomed angrily on her grey thighs. They give way to more, a trail of violence ending at her neck. The uncharacteristic prickle of tears threatens but are obediently blinked back.

“They could be sisters...” You sigh, in fact you could all be sisters.

Clayton moves on to the last girl, her brooding expression darkening.

“For obvious reasons, I’ll be keeping this poor sweetheart covered from here.” She strokes Joslyn’s hair. “She’s still a young girl after all, she’d want to look her best.”

“This is the worst I’ve seen in my career, especially in this area. Her cause of death wasn’t manual strangulation.” She quips and Reid strides to your side. The accidental intimacy of it makes your breath catch. He smells homely, the warming aroma of old books and black coffee, you can’t help but lean into it.

“Do you want me to carry on?” That’ll do it. Clayton’s British lilt is like ice water, it’s embarrassing. You’re leaning into a man you barely know and are frankly not sure you even like?

“Of course, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” You stammer, stepping toward the teen girls ghostly face and chest.

“She was found posed, like Cassidy. She was leant over a tree stump with the rope around her neck. It was hung from a tree.”

The picture she passes around is from a distance. The rope is tied to a gnarled tree, snaking down to bind her wrists, the other hooked over her head and knotted to a taller branch.

“The unsub must be at least six foot to attempt this alone. Unless they have a partner.” The possibility is frightening, one unsub is hard enough but two? Say goodbye to sleep for the next few weeks.

“Okay Agents. I need to get these girls back to their beds.”

You pause for a reply, but looking back catch Reid rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand, as if shielding them from the overly bright strip light.

“You okay there?”

His jaw is tight, your eyes linger on the way the action accentuates the sharp corner.

“Just a headache. Let’s go.”

The familiar stickiness of the Georgian heat prickles at your back dampening the linen of your shirt, it sticks to your forearms as you roll up the sleeves. Being back here felt much like the oppressive midday sun, inescapable and suffocating.

“How was the ME?” Emily asks, but Reid strides past you toward a waiting Rossi. She frowns as they disappear into the precinct together, talking animatedly about something you can’t quite hear.

“She’s interesting for sure.” You breathe, skilfully ignoring the vibration from your cell in the back pocket of your pants.

The precinct was mayhem bustling with cops that looked a little too old to be in the field but hated their wives and children too much to retire just yet. They scramble to sit in rickety office chairs as Aaron and Rossi start to present, you wonder if they’d take your suggestions on board.

As Aaron starts to give a preliminary profile you hear words like previous history of abuse, 18 to 25, local, abandonment issues and surrogate, but you can focus on nothing but the manic buzzing of your phone again. You’ve changed the number three times in the last 9 months and every time this son of a bitch still manages to find it. You’re seriously debating asking Garcia for help but then reconsider, it’s for the best, keeping them at an arms-length.

As the officers begin to buzz around you, taking calls from the tip line and preparing to interview locals you discreetly slip your cell out and glance at the seven new messages illuminating the screen.

12:24pm – Mason Cook.

Hey bug,

Miller said they’ve had no luck tracing the calls you’ve been having, sorry. I did try. Also, the girl from the coffee shop didn’t recognise the sketch. I know I keep saying, but I’m sorry. Hope you’re back soon, I’ll leave the key in the normal place.

12:45pm – Unknown

I told you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s about time you paid for taking it all away from me.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you

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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 year ago

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Lethal Woman- Chapter 6 (GN! AFAB! Reader x Astarion) 18+ MDNI

Author note- work has kicked my ass left right and center. I also deleted my draft of this chapter like three separate times until I finally wrote something I loved.

CW- mentions of still birth, mentions of miscarriage, smut, fluff (I think? Any emotional intimacy is fluff to me 💀), mentions of torture, mentions of rape/sexual assault, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, violence. (I think that may be all? Also this all looks not awesome, but I promise it’s a lot more awesome than you think and not Uber grotesque.)

It’s been mostly edited and I definitely have chapter 7 basically done so I’m anticipating being happy with my draft by Sunday. Happy reading! Thank you for everyone who likes my little self indulgent angst fic!!!!

Also- please remember I take creative liberties. A good chunk of the Nightmasks are dead canonically (RIP my guys) but for the purpose of this story, they are alive. Oh and the names are hard so forgive me for the lack of consistent spelling lmao

Chapter 7

“Ugly, wretched little thing.”

Dahlia’s term of endearment sticks to your brain like- well- an illithid parasite. You are sitting with Karlach and Shadowheart, each of you on your fourth glass of whatever alcohol you could find as the Tieflings jovially celebrate around you. You want to feel the same warmth and happiness everyone else does, but you are too busy trying to ignore the fact that Alfira and Astarion have been talking since the beginning of the party- Alfira immediately walking up to him with her stupid, beautiful face. And her stupid kind heart and pretty voice.

You liked her enough to be her friend, but now? You are struggling not to haul her off by her horns and kick her into the river in the stinking Owlbear den.

Get yourself together Rowan, it was never going to happen anyway.

“Soldier, you might want to stop burning a hole through the Bard with your eyes- Astarion can’t tolerate fire remember?,” Karlach jests and you give her a sour look.

You hadn’t really talked to Astarion since earlier in the day when he had come to your aid when Priestess Gut had a firm grip on your mind, then he fought by your side while you freed Halsin. You had split up after that, him going to help Shadowheart and Karlach and you off to support Wyll and Gale’s group. The fight against Dror Ragozlin and his crew of misfits was easy and Lae’zel evidently enjoyed getting to fight next to you for once. You wanted to enjoy the moment with your companions, your victory just in your grasp, but you had been somewhat distracted during the battle because Minthara’s thoughts had been so Gods damn loud.

You appeared to be the only one experiencing this problem- you assumed that she is specifically targeting you for a reason, but you couldn’t figure out why until she showed you a different image than the fight in front of her.

It was you, standing over a drow female in Menzoberranzan. The alley way is dark with her blood dripping into the cobblestone. You could feel Minthara’s rage- you had killed her lover.

You remember that contract now- It was one of the few you had received where it was required that the target be mutilated and you hated every second of it. Minthara was one of the few people who had ever managed to almost catch you, but you had evaded her successfully. The picture changed, she showed you a flash from Shadowheart’s perspective- it’s you and Astarion, talking in hushed voices and close to each other by the fire. The scene is far more intimate than you realized and certainly incriminating. Her voice boomed in your head.

You killed my lover. Now I’m going to kill yours.

A scream pierced the air as Karlach cried out for Shadowheart. You watched in horror as Shadowheart hit the stone wall hard and dropped flat on her face- unmoving. Karlach was at her side within seconds, trying to get her to wake up. Then Karlach pitched forward after a spell hit her. Karlach was screaming in terror at the top of her lungs and rolling around in pain. You stared at the scene for what felt like hours- rigid and mortified- until Minthara caught your attention again.

Minthara showed Astarion- fighting for his life against her as her blade nicked him and cut him superficially. Thankfully he is a lot faster than her, but your feet were moving before your brain had time to process your actions. Your rage is all consuming- every part of your body feels like it’s on fire.

Between the use of Ghost Step and Spider Crawl, you made quick work of sneaking into the battlefield. You waited for an opening- Minthara and Astarion were neck and neck, blow for blow before Minthara managed to break one of his daggers and slam the hilt of her longsword atop of his head.

Astarion stumbled backwards and fell over on his side. You tried to suppress your own nausea as you watched him struggle to get up as Minthara began menacingly moving towards him. The bloodlust in her thoughts- you could taste it on your tongue. Vengeance is in her reach, but you are not the same you when Tessa died. You will be damned if this bitch of a woman was going to torture two of your closest friends and kill the one person who has made your barely beating, locked away heart a little less heavy to carry.

You cast Evard’s Black Tentacles and manipulated them so that one vine grabbed Minthara’s right hand and ripped it away from the left- her long sword fell to the ground. You picked it up as she screamed profanities at you.

You manipulated another to wrap around her throat and it pulled her down on her knees- she faced the bridge with horror on her face as you stalked towards her with your vampiric stare. You watched as she confronted her own mortality with angry tears- her tadpole hurled profanities at you in Elvish, Drow elvish, and Common. You just smiled at her, sweetly, slowly, like you had perfected for years now.

Minthara’s tears were running down her face and she fought against the tentacles as they squeezed tighter around her throat and wrists.

The next words you had spoken in Elvish- “Say hi to your lover for me”- before you cut her head clean off her shoulders with her own weapon.

You hadn’t looked at Astarion after you had killed Minthara- you were actually too afraid to see the way he may look at you. Would he be repulsed by you? Afraid? You didn’t want to know.

So now, instead, you are stuck watching him flirt with the feminine, beautiful tiefling that you want to go and feed to the resurrected harpies (they aren’t resurrected- yet). You know it isn’t her fault- you just never stood a chance.

“Roo, really, he is barely focusing on her,” Shadowheart says with a roll of her eyes, “he keeps looking over here at you anyway.”

“Oh I’m sure he is after I brutally murdered someone in front of him,” you cross your arms, your tone laced in venom, “yeah that’s a real attractive quality to have- I am capable of brutal MURDER.”

Shadowheart goes to protest, but Karlach beats her to it.

“I don’t know Soldier, he looked pretty dazzled to me.”

You bust up laughing, choking on some of your wine.

“Dazzled, you say?”

“Razzle DAZZLED!” Karlach offers big explosive hands with her statement, “and I mean- he’s into blood so it’s not like you beheading something is all that damning. Maybe he’s really into it.”.

You choke on your wine again, this time it comes out of your nose. You are both dying laughing now, evidently the alcohol had gotten to your heads. It wasn’t because you were making fun of him- it was just the whole idea itself was so ridiculous and the fact that you can nonchalantly talk about beheading a person as an endearing prospect with these two individuals is so bizarre. Shadowheart was laughing despite herself.

Eventually the three of you make your way to the firepit and join Halsin and Gale while they smoke something out of Halsin’s pipe. You ask to try it and it burns your throat as you cough harshly. Halsin laughs hardily and says you’ve passed initiation. Shit, you don’t even remember walking over to the campfire anymore.

Another hour or so passes, Astarion is out of sight and the high has worn off. You feel pleased to see Alfira standing and talking to her friend dejectedly. Maybe he rejected her? You might be a terrible person, but you feel like you already knew that.

You feel overwhelmed all of a sudden by the proximity and warmth of everyone around the fire. You wait for the right moment to remove yourself from the situation- desperately needing a moment of peace and quiet.

If anyone notices you get up, they don’t say anything. You quickly steal another bottle of wine from beside Gale and Halsin and sneak off into the woods.

You crack open the bottle and slowly sip on it as you meander through the woods, finding the secret path to the beach that you have come to adore so much. You had been eyeballing one specific cliff edge ever since you and Astarion had found this place. It wasn’t a massive cliff, but the pool at the bottom of it is deep enough for you to jump into the water without injury. It was something your father used to do with you when you were a child. There was a river that ran outside of your little town and as you moved further into the woods, you could find a waterfall with a deep pool at the bottom. He would teach you flips and different jumps. He had deemed you the world’s finest diver right before he died- cheering you on from the ground below.

You feel warm and melancholy from the memory. Gods you miss your parents.

You drop the bottle of wine and strip down to your underwear and make your way towards the top of the waterfall.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had finally managed to get Alfira to leave him alone. She is an adorable little creature, but she is not the one on his radar right now. Adorable does not compare to the vision you are- nor the protection you provide.

Astarion had spent the last painstaking hour and a half watching you laugh with quite literally every person in camp who has a crush on you- Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, and even Halsin is fucking smitten now. Gods could you just stop being yourself for five minutes? Astarion needs (and silently wants) your attention to only be on him. It is absolutely crucial to his survival. Speaking of which, where the hells were you?

You were no longer by the fire where he had last seen you before he snuck into Gale’s tent to steal one of the nicer bottles of wine he hoards away from everyone. Astarion had planned on using your shared connection to ask you to meet him at your spot, but now you are nowhere to be found.

Astarion fights the urge to scream out of frustration as he treks through the woods towards the spot on the beach hoping by some miracle that you may already be there.

Astarion stops as your scent hits his nose. He walks around the corner of the rock that you both use as a landmark and freezes when he notices your clothes are sprawled across the ground and a bottle of wine is a third of the way empty. He tries to ignore the ache that is starting to consume his chest. Did you bring someone else here? Shadowheart maybe? You were sitting rather close to her earlier…

Did his three days of stubbornness really just allow you to fall into someone else’s arms?

Astarion’s sinking feeling gets worse when something flashes out of the corner of his eye.

He sneaks around the corner- reminding himself that he is merely just making sure Shadowheart isn’t being… Shadowheart?

Imagine his shock when Astarion doesn’t see Shadowheart at all. Instead, he witnesses you complete a perfect aerial twist before graciously diving into the waves below. He feels completely frozen until you break the water and laugh wildly. Astarion thinks his own heart might start beating from his chest being filled with the sound.

You jump out of the water and race back up to the top of the rock using Spider Crawl- something you had promised to teach him when you found out Cazador had never actually made him privy to the entirety of his capabilities as a spawn.

Astarion grins as he watches you once again go flying into the air, doing a backflip before straightening out, disappearing once again into the water below.

You break the surface and get back onto the shore. You pretend to bow and wave saying “thank you” and “I’ll be here all week.” It’s silly and he’s enjoying every minute of watching you just be yourself.

Astarion knows you aren’t a serious person, not really, but you pretending to bow for an imaginary crowd of adoring fans in a (not) private moment? It feels authentic to your silliness- not just when you and Karlach are joking together.

You are funny, kind, and entirely too cunning- despite what he said three days ago. Your prowess in combat is second to none and you speak a couple different languages- infernal being one of them when he noticed you and Karlach speaking it back and forth like it was also your native tongue.

Elvish is the other one and he only knew that from overhearing what you said to Minthara while he was too busy experiencing shell shock from how quickly you had gotten over to him. Oh and the hit to the head didn’t help either.

Astarion’s thoughts are interrupted when you make eye contact with him and freeze.

You look down at your semi-exposed figure and then up at him.

Astarion flashes you a flirtatious grin and sweeps his eyes up and down your body as you look at him. You are a work of art and the blush that creeps up your neck is an added bonus.

The scars on your body are numerous and varying in degrees of severity. It doesn’t make you any less attractive to him or revolts him by any means; It makes you more real if anything.

“Well hello there, beautiful,” Astarion says melodically as you walk over, “I was hoping I might run into you here.”

“Oh is that so?” you say and put your hands on your hips, teasing him “and to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Astarion smiles widely at you. He holds up the bottle of wine.

“I was hoping I may be able to drink with my most favorite companion at camp,” he looks at you with a sly grin, “but I didn’t think I’d be getting a show. You are delightfully talented in multiple faucets, Darling.”

You smile shyly at him while adorably scrunching your nose.

As you bend down to grab your shirt, you look at your bottle and scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

“I might need to apologize considering I already started without you.”

Not telling me to piss off so that’s an optimistic start.

“Hm,” Astarion hums, cracking open his bottle and taking a drink, “I’ll allow it this once. I suppose I do owe you for my… words the other day.”

“I’ll forgive you,” you say with a mischievous grin, “but for a price.”

“Oh?” Astarion purrs, “and what is your price, my dear.”

“I demand at least half of your spoils in loot.” you say with flourish and over exaggeration- you aren’t even remotely serious.

“No, no, no, “he emphasizes, his finger waving around in the air, “Never. Going. To. Happen.”

“Ugh fine, I guess I’ll just have to accept that you saved my life earlier.”

“I still think you are ahead on that front, but who’s counting really?”

“Definitely not me,” you say and cough a number under your breath.

Astarion playfully glares at you and you giggle in response.

You close the gap between the two of you and gently grab his hand, pulling him to sit down next to you at the edge of the water. Astarion pushes down the giddy feeling that arises- hoping you didn’t notice he flinched when you first went to grab his hand.

You look at Astarion and then your clasped hands- you definitely noticed.

You begin to pull away and he feels his body protest, grabbing your hand back and interlocking them again. Astarion drinks out of his wine, refusing to look at you- this is entirely too intimate. Entirely too much like the lovers he used to hate and envy in Baldur’s Gate, but he can’t bring himself to let go or stop the slight smile that creeps on his lips.

You drink out of your bottle of wine and put your feet in the water. Astarion glances at you and notes the growing grin. He feels a twinge of guilt when he thinks about his plan and how fragile your heart probably is. Astarion pushes it away. Astarion needs his plan to work and so far, it’s working.

The space between the two of you is silent- nothing but the ocean waves roaring in his ears. It’s not uncomfortable, but Astarion doesn’t necessarily know where to start. He wants to begin the process of seducing you, but he’s also unsure of how well that would play out- considering what he’s seen thus far in your memories.

“My dad taught me how to cliff dive,” you say in a melancholic voice, interrupting his thoughts “we would go all the time over the Summer when we lived outside of Daggerford.”

“I was wondering how you had managed to pull off such an impressive feat.”

You guffaw at him and then pout with a glint of humor in your eye. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Fine Darling,” he muses, “I suppose you are rather impressive in all facets.”

Your face is practically burning with his compliment. Astarion has decided he will leave out the bait and let you take it. If you give him any signal or specifically say “I want to have sex” then Astarion will pleasure you and you will see how useful he can be in return for all of your gifts- your blood, your protection.

Your company.

Whatever feelings Astarion felt over the last three days- he never wants to feel again. You have been the one and only person to be kind to him, protect him in 200 years. You treat him with respect and like a friend- not the monster he absolutely is and that you should hate him for being. It had been a very lonely three days without your company-besides, no one else is nearly as fun to converse with. Astarion hears the whisper of a previous conversation in the back of his mind.

“So what does boar taste like?”

“I don’t really have much of a reference, but better than rats and flies,” he scowled.

“Gods, how filthy was that palace?” you murmured under your breath.

Your comment had caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but bark out laughing. You had felt horrible for it- you thought he wouldn’t be able to hear you. In your defense, you had spoken very quietly. Astarion assured you that he found your observation quite peculiar and hilarious.

Astarion likes that you point out the small things and allow him to decide how much of the larger things he wants to tell you. You never push him and Astarion isn’t used to it, but he knows he never wants it to go away- to be treated any other way ever again.

“What else did your father teach you?” Astarion asks softly.

You smile, “My father followed Ilmater. He was a ranger. He dedicated his life to helping others.”

A daughter of Ilmater worshippers turned into a half-dead creature who is forced to kill by an evil vampire, Astarion thinks, I guess even the Gods have a sense of humor.

“What happened to him?”

The pause is pregnant and loud. Astarion notices the single tear that manages to escape your eyes. You clear your throat.

“He’s dead,” you whisper, “a group of Ravagers destroyed our village. They didn’t like that it was a mix of humans and Drows escaping from Lolth- and they especially hated us ‘filthy half breeds’. Made the women and the children watch as they beheaded their fathers and husbands.”

Astarion doesn’t know what to say to something that horrific. He just merely looks at you- waiting for you to continue speaking.

“He just kept telling my mom and I how much he loved us. How he’d always be protecting us,” you manage to choke out, “I can’t even tell you how many times I have prayed to Ilmater for help- only to be reminded how alone I am and that, despite being the God of Compassion, Ilmater doesn’t care.”

Astarion knows that feeling all too intimately, but he wants to hear more.

“How old were you? What happened to you and your mother?”

You are looking at him wearily now, so he gives your hand a squeeze.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Darling.”

“I want to, I’ve just never talked about it before.”

“Well then,” he states in a flattered tone, “I’m honored to potentially be the first and only keeper of your deep, dark secrets.”

You laugh breathily while you roll your eyes at him. The smile on your face is replaced by an unreadable expression. You take a deep breath before you turn your gaze back to the ocean.

“I was 5. They sold us to a mine outside of Westgate. It was run by a group of fanatics that I can’t even remember the name of anymore,” you shake your head in disgust, “all I knew was that they were terrible people. They threatened us children to get our mothers to do anything they wanted. One of them raped my mother and ‘blessed’ her with a child.”

Astarion squeezes your hand as he feels you tense. You look at him with your teary, angry eyes and the intensity of your emotions- your grief- are written into every crack and crevice of your face. Astarion notes that you look uncomfortable, but he gives you a soft smile, encouraging you to continue. You take a big swig of your wine- he shortly follows.

“I don’t know what happened, but the baby… didn’t make it and mom developed a blood illness. It was the week before she had planned on breaking us out. I didn’t know she was dying- she told me she was going to be okay. I should have known- She gave me everything for the escape and had explained the plan to me so many times in that week she was dying that I can still recite it to this day.”

You chuckle to yourself before pulling your knees up to your chest.

“I asked them if I could have a funeral for her. They took me outside and made me watch while the pigs ate her. They told me that’s the only funeral a Drow deserves.”

“What a bunch of racist assholes,” he states.

“Oh, they were only the biggest.”

“You escaped a prison by yourself then or?”

“I did. I was 9 years old and probably one of the only people who has ever escaped that mine. I haven’t seen anyone from my village since. I went back to Daggerford one time and it was still decimated- no one ever came back to rebuild it.”

You both sit in the heavy silence. Your thumb begins to absentmindedly rub circles along his thumb- the gesture is simple, but it’s probably the softest touch he’s felt in the last 200 years that was not filled with the anticipation of sex.

“I’ve only ever had one failed escape,” you sigh harshly, “I was going to run away with Tessa because I didn’t want to go through the ceremony to be a Deathbringer, but Dahlia didn’t care what I wanted. She was too busy trying to win Obarhk’s favor.”

“How did you end up with Dahlia then? If you didn’t want to be a Deathbringer?”

You scoff and he sees the resentment behind your eyes.

“I was 13 and had been living on the streets for a while by then. I had my little tent and I had managed to convince one of the local inns to let me clean the rooms,” you scrunched up your nose, “it was gross, but decent work and they fed me once a day; let me use the baths. Sometimes they even gave me extra food and if it was cold out, they’d let me stay in a room if there was one available. I didn’t have to steal food anymore which was nice. I was actually very happy. I was saving my money so I could travel to the Underdark and hire a sword to go with me- to my grandparents- like my mom had told me to do.

“Then one day, a few of the other local boys, also urchins, had watched as I was given a decent amount of gold and a burlap sack of food. They followed me to my tent. I had offered to share and to give them some gold to help, but they didn’t want just some of it- they wanted all of it and all of me too. I thought I was going to die- the fight was brutal and they were so much bigger than I was, but I wasn’t as easy to take down as they had thought.

“Right as they had slammed my head into the pavement, right when I thought it was over- an Ilmater Priestess had appeared out of no where. She had killed them all. She came up to me, was kind to me, promised she would protect me, give me a home, teach me how to be stronger than anything else in the dark while she helps me travel to the Underdark. I was thrilled. I thought Ilmater had finally heard all my prayers. Then she took me outside of the city- I thought we were maybe going to a temple. I was so naive and stupid.”

Your voice breaks and you struggle to compose yourself- taking a shaking breath.

“She changed- the kind Ilmater priestess I had just been following to safety ended up being the Queen of Venom and a Sharran priestess nonetheless,” you spit out with disgust, “Dahlia stripped me of my clothes- she beat me, cut into my skin, threw me around. Dahlia kept telling me how ugly, wretched, small, and weak I was for hours- how she would be the only person to ever love me from now on. Then she chained me down to the floor, unmoving for I don’t even know how long in the dark. I just know when she finally came back, I was on the brink of death. She starved me and refused to give me water until I stopped asking her to leave. I stopped, but then I learnt how much worse it could be. I also began to accept that I would probably never be free again.”

“Are you free now?”

“Barely. A bit over a year ago I was assigned to the Faceless himself.”

“What changed?”

“I won the Deathbringer Tournament and Lady Thistle Thalaver, the fucking consort of all people, said that she wanted me to be assigned as her personal Deathbringer. Thistle made the point that we are close in age and it would make her happy to have someone she can talk to and protect her. News flash- I was more horrified by that than Dahlia. How the fuck does someone who is a literal husk of a person become the prize comfort pet of the Consort that is the reason you were even kidnapped to begin with,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration, “Dahlia hated her. She was envious of her already and boy, when Thistle asked for me? I thought Dahlia might kill me and Thistle right there if Obarhk hadn’t stepped in.”

“She sounds like a sore loser.”

“ Oh she is, this grudge has lasted a little over a century or three supposedly. I can’t ever seem to get the exact date right, but Dahlia had allowed Obarhk to change her and became one of his Nightmasters because she had hoped to be his Queen and consort,” you shake your head, “it was childish- supposedly. Obarhk was going to go through with it initially, but then Thistle’s father had extensive debts to the guild and offered his only daughter as payment.”

“What a shitty father.”

“Oh the shittiest,” you agree pointedly.

“If she wanted you to help her gain his favor, why did she hide you away?”

“There are rules within the Guild for how recruits are to be treated. Obarhk plays with his cards very close to his chest and he has an absurd amount of political pull. He doesn’t want word getting out that the Nightmasks beat their assassin’s and thieves, but not their Deathbringers- it’s bad for recruitment. Guess they used to do that and damn near went extinct, not everyone is into becoming half-vampire” you shrug, “Dahlia had ‘presented’ me to gain Obarhk’s favor- not his consort’s. She lied and said I sought her out days ago, begging to get a chance to become a Deathbringer. When I was asked if it was true, I said yes, the alternative was whatever hell awaited me later. At least if I didn’t survive the ceremony, I would be laid to rest.

“Except Thistle won. Obarhk may not be particularly loving towards Thistle, but he won’t deny her what she wants if it’s reasonable. I was still under Dahlia, but now if I disappeared for days on end or came back beaten, it was noticed. A year ago, Lucia and Ghost found me bleeding out in a street with Dahlia over me- it was the first time she had done serious harm to me since the ceremony and the first time she was caught,” he watches you smile despite yourself, “Thistle wanted her to be tortured for what she had done- for creating the infamous ‘Hollow Deathbringer’ as I was called when I first started, but Obarhk doesn’t interfere with religious affairs and Dahlia claimed it was for her Sharran worship. So the solution was that I would report directly to him, Phultan, Lucia, and Lady Thalaver only. If Dahlia attempts to hurt me again, I am allowed to end her life and if I attempt to attack Dahlia, she is allowed to end my life. She isn’t allowed to send her assassin’s after me either or there will be consequences. That’s the same day I found out Dahlia had been lying to me- she is Obarhk’s spawn, not a Master Vampire. She never would have been able to get away with half of her threats if I had known, but I’m sure that’s partly why she isolated me from the Guild until I was old enough and skilled enough to compete.

“We’ve been in a very strange stalemate over the last year. Unable to find each other, but I don’t even know if I could kill her anyway. At least, not by myself.”

It was a lot to take in at one time. Your entire world is so heavily influenced by vampiric beings- no wonder you were so nonchalant about him being a spawn and him feeding from you.

Astarion will admit though, he isn’t necessarily thrilled to find out another sociopathic vampire might be hunting them- specifically you.

“Darling, if Dahlia ever darkens your door step ever again,” he leans toward you and speaks his next words with conviction, “I’ll rip her throat out myself.”

You smile at him and squeeze his hand.

“ Thank you Star, but you don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t listen to hypocrites- Miss ‘I’m going to put Cazador’s head on a pike and we can parade it around the city’”

You gasp, “how dare you! I felt like that would be a fun leisure activity.”

“Oh believe me, it will be very fun,” he says with a malicious grin,” but someone needs to keep you humble, my dear.”

“Oh okay,” you roll your eyes, “because I’m the one who needs humbling here. Thank you for your service kind sir, I will never be able to repay you.”

He can tell that you are done with the previous conversation- he’ll have to thank you for sharing later and ask follow up questions. Astarion has a plan to execute.

“Well of course,” he lifts your clasped hands and kisses the back of yours, “ I live to be a hero for the common folk.”

“You’re lucky you’re a beautiful bastard.”

“Why thank you, my Dear. I am rather beautiful, aren’t I?”

You turn, facing him now and you move closer- giving him a light shove. One of your eyebrows is lifted in amusement- a lopsided grin on your face. This is most definitely the moment he has been waiting for.

He leans in, your faces near inches apart and he savors how your heart begins to race.

“I must admit, I was lying to you before,” he muses, “I maybe would like to do a little more than just drink wine with you tonight.”

“Y-you do?”

Astarion smiles at the way your breath hitches.

“Well of course, I believe you may be one of the most bewitching individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he says while gently brushing your hair behind your ears, “but only if that would be okay with you.”

You look at him- there is lust in your eyes and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. One of your canines graze your lip and a bit of your blood begins to paint your lips- Astarion fights the urge to smash his lips to yours. You search his face for deception.

“I want to. Very badly,” you pause, “but I need to be open with you. I’ve only ever been with one man before and it wasn’t my choice. That was over 10 years ago. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go completely through with it or give you some wildly fun time… it would probably be vanilla at best even if I can get through it…”

You trail off and look at the ground, gently pushing his hand away from your face. Astarion frowns.

“If you want someone who you can actually have fun with, it might be better to go find Alfira again,” you whisper woefully, “I would absolutely understand. No harm, no foul.”

Astarion’s heart breaks for you. He gently guides your eyes back to his. You look sad and dejected -like you are ready for him to get up and walk away. You are expecting him to confirm what Dahlia has always told you- that you are an ugly, wretched, little thing. Unloveable at best and absolutely unforgivably intolerable at your worst. Astarion has slept with plenty of virgins before- he knows how to say all the right honeyed words to get them to bed, but this is entirely different. This is you and your first, consensual time with a man if you choose. If you don’t, then he won’t press the matter, but leave his door wide open. Astarion is not Cazador or Dahlia- he is not going to force you.

“I don’t care about any of that Darling,” Astarion assures you quietly, “I want you, not Alfira. We only have to go as far as you are comfortable with- if you want to.”

Your eyes are wide and searching for any hint of insincerity.

“We could even try multiple times if needed,” he says jokingly, but he knows that you can tell he’s serious.

You beam at him and your posture straightens up- a new found confidence in your eyes.

“Okay,” you finally say, “I trust you. I want to try.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You would be lying if you weren’t feeling slightly anxious. The last person you had been with was Tessa and she’d been in the ground a little over 8 years now. The two of you had made a lot of groundwork in your last year together before she died. You had attempted to be with others before, but it never felt right so you could never go through with it.

This feels right. You just aren’t sure what your reaction will be, but you want him and Astarion wants you. You trust that he won’t hurt you.

Astarion pulls you up off of the sandy floor and gives you a smile, “I promise you, you do not want to try this in sand. I happen to know a very nice spot, but we are going to have to make a brief stop first.”

You smile enthusiastically and allow him to take your hand in his as he leads you back to camp.

The walk is a blur, you barely notice that Astarion had grabbed a blanket, taken you quite far from camp, and without warning, Astarion pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss.

You have to fight the urge to collapse completely into him, your arms snaking around his neck as you kiss him back. The kiss is slow, melodic and soft. Astarion’s strong arms hold you close to his chest as he picks you up before laying you down on the blanket.

You help him discard your clothes and your wet under garments. Astarion quickly discards his shirt and pants before he returns to kissing you sweetly, softly. You let your hands glide up his torso to his shoulders and let your hands fan out as you try to memorize every inch of his body. He groans with approval at the touch and when you go to touch his back- you find if you go a little too far over where there is raised skin, he tenses up.

You stop and look up at him- he doesn’t seem like he is all there.

“Star, are you okay? Are you sure you want this?”

Whatever trance he is in, he seems to snap out of and he kisses you sweetly before placing his forehead against yours.

“I assure you that I want this, that area is just… it has some sensitive spots.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “I’ll be mindful of that and try to avoid them. Is it mostly in the middle of your back?”

Astarion stares down at you and for a moment, you think he might start crying. Astarion’s face looks so raw and appreciative in that moment- as if you are the first and only person to ever take the time to listen. Maybe you are. Maybe this is just as much of a fear of his as it is for you.

“It is,” he says huskily,” I- thank you.”

You beam up at him and gently cup the left side of his face with your hand. He leans into the touch and you stroke his cheek bone with his thumb.

“Of course Astarion, I want you to feel safe too.”

Astarion kisses you with a neediness that wasn’t there before. The kisses are still soft and innocent, but a bit more urgent as his hands begin to slowly roam your body. Everywhere he touches leaves you feeling like you are on fire and you find that you never want it to stop. You are intoxicated and so wrapped up in his cologne, his lips- everything. Him.

Astarion’s lips leave yours and you breathlessly look at him. He smiles down at you and slowly moves his hands up to your breasts.

“May I?”

You shyly nod in approval. Astarion slowly begins to pinch and tease your sensitive buds with his fingers- you arch your back and cover your mouth as you whimper needily at the touch. It’s embarrassing how touch starved you are. Astarion pulls your hand away from your mouth and he stares at you through hooded eyes.

“None of that, my Dear,” he commands, “I want to hear every little sound you make.”

You blush and then are quickly squirming underneath him again as he gently takes one of your nipples between his mouth, sucking, licking, and teasing it while he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger.

You are a complete mosning mess underneath him by the time Astarion’s fingers move from your breast to your throbbing clit- earning a loud, despairing whimper from you. You need so much more- you can feel your own slick coating the inside of your thighs, weeping in anticipation.

“My, you are a very needy lover,” he chastises you as he slides a finger in,” Gods you are so wet for me already. If I had known you wanted me this badly, I would have said something a long time ago.”

“Astarion-“ you gasp as he enters another digit inside you, causing you to arch your back keening as he teases your G-spot. His other finger continues to play with your now very swollen clit and with every moan you make, he praises you. The praise alone is enough to send you over the edge.

“You are being such a good girl for me,” as he enters another finger inside.

His mouth hovers over your clit, “I’m absolutely certain the Gods sent you to ruin me.”

“You taste like the heavens,” after his tongue has been flicking inside of you in tandem with his fingers.

You come undone underneath him- your hands have made purchase in his hair, and struggle to be as gentle as possible. He groans as you gently tug him up to your mouth, kissing him, tasting yourself on his swollen lips.

“Do you want to continue Darling?” Astarion whispers as he kisses up your neck, along your jaw, and slowly nips at your earlobe.

You need him inside you and you want him to be as close to you as possible. It’s like a Dam had broken open inside you and you never want it to stop flooding.

“Fuck- Astarion,” you pant, “please continue.”

Astarion kicks of his undergarments and dips his fingers between your folds and coats his cock with your orgasm. You are speechless as you watch him slowly stroke himself, looking at you.

Astarion puts himself in between your legs and you feel him tease your entrance.

“Before I start,” he says, “you need to tell me if it’s too much and if we need to stop. You will not offend me nor hurt my feelings. We can try again another time if you want.”

“The same goes to you.”

There was that look again. Astarion grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, the neediness has certainly grown since the last statement.

You feel him begin to guide himself inside you, slowly moving until he’s bottoming out- curse words and your name leaving his lips like a prayer. You feel the tears prick your eyes at the pinching and pressure as you adjust to his size. He slowly rocks himself in and out, barely making any movement, but enough to stimulate you more.

“Are you okay?” He says with alarm, wiping your tears.

“Yes- I promise,” you say between panting whimpers, you press your ankles into his lower back to keep him there. It’s beginning to feel better and you open up through the tadpole to show him you mean it. The thoughts were probably far hornier than you meant to show him and he smirks at you.

“Cheeky pup.”

Astarion begins to make his thrusts longer as your moans became louder and more euphoric sounding. You kiss him with fervor as he pumps in and out of you, keeping a slow pace.

“You can speed up now,” you whisper between kisses, “you feel really fucking good inside of me Star.”

Astarion moans against your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy as he teases your bottom lip between his, pulling slightly. You feel his hips begin to snap slightly harder against yours and you cry out as he begins to hit that perfect spot faster and slightly harder.

“You are so beautiful,” he says while grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, “and you feel so fucking good around my cock.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand any of our other companions looking at you sideways ever again.”

“Then give them a reason not to.”

That seemed to be enough for Astarion as he immediately goes to work leaving hickeys along your neck, your shoulders. You will have to ask him how he’s able to do it so gently.

Astarion’s thrusts inside you are getting sloppier and you have your hands dug in the earth as he slightly lifts you off the ground to get more leverage. You moan his name in between curse words and whimpers as another powerful orgasm rips through your body. You feel him stutter as you tighten around him and finish inside of you. Astarion’s pace moves to a slow rhythm before coming to a halt.

Vampire and half-vampire perks- the whole kid thing? Basically not even remotely possible.

Astarion lays gently on top of you, kissing your neck lazily.

“How was that, Darling?” Astarion asks as he looks into your eyes with concern and worry.

You gently grab his face with your hands and leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“It was absolutely perfect,” you say, your brain foggy and swimming in the throes of bliss and your deep fondness of the man above you, “you are absolutely perfect.”

************************************

You had fallen asleep quite some time ago in Astarion’s arms. The concept of what happens after sex (normally) was quite foreign to him. Usually he was dragging people to their death after sex, but now he gets to sit and enjoy you- have you all to himself. After it had all been said and done, you had curled into one another, practically nose to nose and just talked. You caught up with each other about what the other missed over the last three days, picked the next ideal type of book to read, and how disasterous the Crèche is likely going to be considering Shadowheart is insisting on going. Lae’zel is positively miffed about it. You laugh and he asks about Minthara. You tell him about the vision she showed you, but he could tell you were holding something back. You don’t push him- he won’t push you.

You tell him about your mother- a former Lolth sorceress who didn’t align with the Spider Queen’s ideals. She was shunned by her parents when she denounced Lolth and she moved to the surface- meeting your dad. Your mother was practical and pragmatic- calculating and protective. Your father, on the other hand, was like a warm breeze on a perfect sunny day.

Astarion tells you about what little he remembers of his life as a Magistrate and his parents. You both ponder what they could possibly be doing in the world right then- pretending there is a possibility that you could find them together when this was all over- even just so he can know.

Astarion’s head is swimming with confusion. It was all very different than when Astarion had gone out hunting for Cazador.

You and him had spent at least a two and a half weeks getting to know each other extensively, spent quality time together over mutual hobbies, and you’ve even seemed to meld together as a fighting duo. You are friends- Astarion expected it to be maybe slightly different, more enjoyable than usual.

Astarion was quickly proven wrong.

This was eons different. Despite the feelings of it being tainted to some degree due to his past, it had been jaw dropping, sweet, simple, and, dare he even say it, intimate. Astarion finds that he actually craves more of you this way, but he also still wants you the way you had each other before. The shame and self-loathing are choking him. There is no way you’ll see him as something other than sex now.

Right?

Astarion honestly isn’t sure and that terrifies him. You were so kind to him tonight while you were in his arms. You respected his boundaries; you avoided that part of his body even though he didn’t tell you not to; you wanted him to feel safe with you too. You took the time to talk to him and play with his hair while he spoke about his parents, becoming a bit emotional.

Vanilla is hardly the word to describe what just happened between the two of you- it was wonderful and frightening. Astarion questions if it’s selfish to want more, to abandon his plan all together.

Astarion stares down at your sleeping face as your limbs are tangled with his. He wants to stay, but he wants to run away from you too. Except Astarion needs your protection- that’s what this was all for, wasn’t it?

That’s what compels him to leave soft kisses on your forehead and to hold you a little tighter- it’s why tears fall from Astarion’s cheeks onto the blanket beneath you when he thinks about the day you’ll end up letting him go.

#astarion acunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #karlach #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn! reader

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wandabear · 2 years ago

Text

Finders Keepers (but keeps it forever) - Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf female reader

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE

ㅤ ㅤㅤ note: I'm going to leave these songs, you'll need them.

Jules is portrayed by Adelaide Kane in my mind ofc. First part - Touched - VAST. Second part - Dress - Taylor Swift

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Everything has changed since that first full moon. And it has been for the last months, and the worst part is it hasn't been just one full moon after another, but also an eclipse at the same time. Yeah, it wasn't the best time in my life. ㅤㅤ

Believe me, if there is something worse than a blood full moon it is: a fucking eclipse.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

My moods have been very different, more volatile than normal and also more sensitive. My appetite increases more and more, which is not strange since my metabolism changed a lot.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Everything was fine until this morning. I was feeling good, I felt whole again. It could be said that I could even smile. Took a long hot shower, the water running down my body. The raspberry scent of the soap seemed stronger than normal, but it was delicious. I could smell the coffee in the kitchen, surely Jules was cooking something because the smell was so damn good. I wouldn't leave her alone too long in the kitchen tho. You would think: what’s wrong with all that? It all sounds pretty nice, right?

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

My teeth started to hurt, the first time I thought maybe it was some dental infection or something. This wasn't a first time tho. A loud beep forced me to hold on to the bathroom wall, the noise of the drops hitting the floor resounded in my ears.

Falling harder, hitting the ground, it was too loud. Painful.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Seeing myself in the reflection I could notice a slight change in my eyes, remarkable. Began to slowly turn into an almost animal and primitive yellow. ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Something is brewing inside of me, something that recognizes me and I recognize as myself. It’s my eternal companion, cause once in a while, its allowed to get out, but don't mistake that for freedom.

I look at my reflection and can see that it smiles unlike me. The wolf knows that its winning and I need to know why. I need to know what's going on.

Am I the owner of my own body? Or am I just a guest? Is this my body still?

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ I can feel it. It's like the blood boiled inside me, the heat became unbearable. The pumping of the heart, pounding in my own ears. The sound of the bones breaking will only increase the horror show. From beneath you, it devours. It consumes you... Slowly. Beast talks to me, whispers to me, seducing me. Because I can't deny myself anymore, it's what I am. Jules was right about something, the wolf is inside me, all the time. And I can no longer divide the line that separates us, the wolf and me. I can't help it. I can’t control it. And I can't go back to you.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Wanda. I miss you."

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Y/N finished writing and sighed. She hesitated whether to send that e-mail or not, but as always, she just to deleted it. ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ She took her backpack and left the bedroom. Y/N looked out the window, the weather in Wyoming was turning cold and the trees were starting to turn white. But the cold was no longer a concern for her, she wasn't the same.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

They were back in Wyoming two months ago, Y/N and Jules traveled trying to find a cure or more information about who they were. Traveled all over the world, from Alexandria to the vast African savannah, from the cold forests of Wyoming to the hot South America.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Lobisón, Loup Garou, Werewolf, Úlfheðnar, Luchthonn, Rougarou. So many names that tried to identify them, to many places, too many cultures.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

But wherever they went, every book, every shaman, every person who knew about their true nature just told them that there were no cures for such a curse. Although some didn’t consider it a curse, some considered it a gift.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

A gift was a billion dollars, this was not a gift at all.ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Now living in the woods near a Native American reservation, the people recognized their nature and allowed them to stay, as long as the girls stayed away at certain times of the month.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

It was a good deal, enough to evade the hunters who were always on the lookout for supernatural creatures to kill. And even if the girls kept themselves locked up at every full moon, Hunters never ask, they'll just shoot.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“It’s coming… I can feel it.” Jules told her as she placed a huge bowl of spaghetti in front of her, Y/N took a seat at the table. Her friend spent the afternoon making a delicious dinner, enough to calm the hunger, and the hunger of the beast within.

Even if they knew it was impossible, at least they felt less guilty.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Thank you.” Y/N sighed. “Sometimes I feel like it's... overwhelming. Also feel revitalized, so positive, like I can do anything.”

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I know… But we will get through this together, those were difficult months.” Jules reached out to squeeze her best friend's hand. “But we'll keep doing it, until this is over.”

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Y/N took some bread before starting to eat. “I'm starting to think this isn't going to end. I don't think we'll find a cure.”

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Me neither…” Jules smiled sadly but leaned over to take some cheese. “But it will stop, even if it means our hearts no longer beat.”

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

They ate in a comfy silence for a while until Y/N hesitated.

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Jules?”

ㅤㅤ

“Yes?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I want to go back to New York.” Y/N just dropped it. That surprised Jules who just frowned somewhat worried.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N…” Jules looked at her food kinda sadly, already talked about it many times but neither seemed ready for that. “You know it's not safe for you to come back, nor for those who loves you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I know, but… Yelena sent me this.”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ

Y/n sighed deeply and reached her backpack, pulling out what appeared to be an invitation, the paper was light purple. “She's getting married, Jules. I can't leave her alone on such a day… She’s my best friend.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules took the card in her hands, looking that beautiful invitation. Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova invited them to be part of the union of their love, in a beautiful golden font. Damn, she was so damn weak for romance. “It's in three weeks... I don't know... You'll be very close to the next full moon, Y/N. Like a week.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I know, I plan to go back before then. Just attend the wedding and that's it, I'll be back.” Y/N looked like a little puppy, asking please to say yes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules just was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You’ll have to take care of yourself and take care of those around you. You know that a week before the full moon we get... hungry.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Then it’s a yes?” Y/N looked up, surprised. “Are you saying that...”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'm saying you should visit your friends.” The girl smiled and continued eating her spaghetti. “After all, people don't get married every day, right? You should get out of all this for a bit, just don’t bite.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Y/N got up, hugged and kissed her friend's head, making Jules laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You're welcome, pal, just call me if you need anything.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh no, you’re not staying here. You come with me.” Y/N sat back down to finish the food.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Me?” Jules frowned, now more confused and worried than ever. “No, Y/N. And what am I going to do there? I don’t know anyone.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You’re coming with me, that’s it. If I have to war a dress or a suit to go to a wedding, you'll come with me, I said.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Okay, but can I choose my own dress and-” Jules said so excited, a big smile on her face, when suddenly stopped, putting her hand towards her belly. Dishes smashed to the floor, she took a deep breath.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Both girls hissed in pain at the same time, feeling a deep stitch in their bodies.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“We have to… we have to go now.” Y/N managed to say getting up slowly after the pain passed, she looked out the window seeing that the sun would go down soon. According to google, sunset would arrive in an hour.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette watched as Jules opened one of the safes hidden behind a painting and took out a suitcase. They both left the house and walked in the forest for perhaps ten minutes until they found to an old abandoned cabin. ㅤㅤㅤ

The owner was dead, now that cabin was their property. The important thing was that under that cabin, below the cabin, an old basement served as a prison every full moon. After working on it for a few weeks, they managed to make sure it was strong enough to hold them.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Silver was their ally, the bars were made of iron and silver as were the chains and handcuffs that would keep them trapped all night.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N took the briefcase, inside were four syringes with a liquid derived from wolfsbane and powdered silver, that would weaken them enough. On top of that, there was a gun and many silver bullets. The necessary so that if either of them crossed the line, they would use it without hesitation.

ㅤㅤㅤ Of course none would, they weren't capable. ㅤㅤㅤ

“I choose tails, you have heads…” The Boston girl announced as she tossed a coin. “Head. This time you go first.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N nodded, walking towards the cell where she would be held for the night. The claws on the walls showed the chaos of every month. Jules helped her put on each of the shackles, closing them tight.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Seeing the pain the silver chains was causing on Y/N, Jules tried to be as gentle as possible, helping her to sit on the floor.

Y/N swallowed as she felt an invisible pressure around her neck, hands and legs. So agitated, sweat began to fall down her forehead. But while the silver around her made her feel tired, it wasn't enough.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I love you, okay?” Jules tried to calm her down, though she knew it was impossible. She took the syringe and even though her hand trembled for a moment, ended up injecting Y/N’s leg as fast as she could. “Don’t be afraid.” ㅤㅤㅤ

As soon as she finished saying that, Y/N squeezed Jules arm so harsh, that if she were human it would have broken easily. Pain was visible on Y/N's face, those eyes filled with tears.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It hurts…” Y/N whimpered under her breath, clenching her jaw hard. The pain she felt was so deep and blinding, how each of her muscles contracted. Her heart pounding harder than ever, that pain was too much but necessary.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I know, luv.” Jules just kissed her forehead, trying to comfort her. “But this will weaken the wolf, making the night less... difficult.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules moved away seeing how Y/N closed her eyes and hugged herself, trying to bear the pain. She locked the cell and threw the key a few feets away, far enough so that Y/N couldn't take it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N looked up to see how Jules locked herself too.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Everything will be okay.” This time, she tried to make Jules feel better.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“We will.” Sighing deeply, Jules injected the liquid into her leg really harsh. There was no time to be soft, soon the moon would rise and both would give way to the beast. Jules stifled a cry of pain and just closed her eyes feeling the wolfsbane reach the bloodstream.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The silver would weaken them enough, though not too much to kill them. They both hissed and writhed in pain for a long time until exhaustion began to wear them down, barely keeping their eyes open.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Good luck.” Jules slurred.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Please, be safe.” Those were Y/N's last words before closing her eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But the peace of mind didn’t last long.

Maybe ten minutes later they both woke up suddenly, their hearts beating so damn fast. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.

Y/N took a deep breath, the heat suffocate her little by little. While the sun hid between the mountains, the wolf woke up in that cabin.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Like every full moon, the calvary began.

ㅤㅤㅤ Feeling how each of her bones broke with a chilling synchrony, how each fiber of her skin ceased to be hers and regenerated. Break and regenerate itself.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Again. And again.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Those eyes were no longer the same, a body which no longer belonged to her. How her will was given to a more primal being.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Releasing her and demanding Y/N to release it, set it free. Feeling the depths of the true nature, her true nature, so primitive and ancient but so natural at the same time.

But as every dawn, devotion and fidelity remains in Y/N’s heart. As well as the wildness and the wiliness. Every night her bones are breaking, howling in pain.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette fell to her knees, placing hands against the floor, clinging to its coldness to calm the inner fire, but it was impossible. The human fangs grew longer and sharper, the color of Y/N’s eyes changed to a wild shade of yellow.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She watched as her fingers clawed hard, finally letting out a scream.

A scream that was followed by a long howl, welcoming her new figure. The female and human figure was left behind, the Wolf was here now. Much larger than normal, but still a big, scary, wild wolf.

The fur was dark, while Jules's was a little more gray. Both glared at each other, far from looking for a rival, they connected. Now they were a pack.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Both beasts struggled to free themselves from their bonds but it was impossible, the silver kept them locked up and the wolfsbane kept weakening them. At least all night. ㅤㅤㅤ

That was all they needed.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The birds singing made Y/n open her eyes slowly, lying on the cold floor of the cell. She sighed deeply, feeling how her whole naked body ached in a terrifying way.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Fuck.” She growled.

ㅤㅤㅤ

It was like the worst hangover in the world, she thought. Those were the exact words Jules told her, and she confirmed it since she was bitten.

Carefully, the brunette got up trying to take the backpack with clothes that they left the day before.

As she put on her oversized T-shirt, she heard Jules groan sleepily waking from that awful dream.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Welcome back, princess.” Y/N waved as she opened the cell and handed some clothes to Jules, who was just covering part of her naked body with her hands. Although to be fair, she didn't care about Y/N seeing her naked or anything anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ

After half an hour, they returned to the house dragging their feet from pain and exhaustion. The hunger they felt was enormous; the beast always wanted to satisfy the ancestral hunger but it had not been fed for a long time.

And it never would be. It just left a horrible feeling, like they hadn't eaten well for a week.

ㅤㅤㅤ The brunette noticed how Jules was stroking her forehead when she was making some grilled cheese sandwiches, so she took some pills and a glass of water and handed them to her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you. Silver is a bitch.” Jules growled, taking a few pills at once. “But at least that way we know we're not hurting anyone.” ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hurts too much but we have to pay the price for a clear conscience.” Y/N said and they began to devour their sandwiches. You could see the pleasure on their faces, like they hadn't eaten for weeks and finally got their favorite food. ㅤㅤㅤ

“So…” Jules licked her lips after drinking some of the juice. “We're going to the Big Apple.” ㅤㅤㅤ

“Two werewolves in New York.” Y/n nodded, licking the remains of ketchup from her fingers. “This is going to be fun…” ㅤㅤㅤ

“Where to, ladies?” Asked the taxi driver with his voice raspy due to smoking.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N and Jules left JFK airport after a nearly six hour flight, but the cold air against her face made Y/N smile.

Oh, she loved New York in April.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“71 Manhattan Ave, please.” Jules said as she put the backpack to her side.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Expensive a bit.” Y/N raised an eyebrow.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“New York is expensive. What? We never go anywhere.” Jules shrugged and looked out the window at the busy New York traffic. “I thought we could treat ourselves this time.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah...we don't go to a wedding every day.” Y/N sighed and adjusted her sunglasses to enjoy the view. The trip was nice, despite the fact that it was 7 am.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yelena knows I'm going with you?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yep, as my plus one.” The brunette whispered and remained thoughtful.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She tried not to think about the consequences of the visit. What if Wanda saw her? What if she saw Wanda with someone else? Couldn't get over it, but she had to, for Yelena. She owed her after everything she'd helped Y/N. Couldn't leave them alone on their wedding day.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You're worried that you're going to see Wanda, aren't you?” Oh, Jules knew her very well.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N swallowed and looked down. “It worries me to know that… I don't know if I can let her go once more if I see her again.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules just sighed and took her hand, squeezing it gently to show her support. “Everything will be okay, you’ll see.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

The green-eyed girl looked at herself for a moment in the mirror, enjoying that brown color. After a whole year, her hair was much longer, a few shades darker.

ㅤㅤㅤ Wanda smiled as she saw her friend in the reflection.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You look great.” the sokovian whispered as she finished helping Yelena put on her dress. The blonde's eyes shone when she saw how the hair was ready, tied in a beautiful way. Sure Yelena wasn't wearing white, but a nice light color was enough.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Do you think so?” Yelena gasped and looked at herself in the mirror again. “Wow... I never thought I could get married. But bitch, I look amazing.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I always thought that you looked more a dog person than a married person.” Natasha joked watching her from the door.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh make no mistake, sestra. I am both.” They all giggled happily, especially when they saw the happiness on Yelena's face.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“And here you are… Looking more beautiful than ever.” Nat added as she reached over to hug her sister. Wanda joined in, making it the most powerful trident ever seen.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Okay, lots of love for now, I'll go see if Clint and dad are ready.” Yelena broke away and was about to leave the room when Wanda spoke:

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yelena… I know I said I didn't want to know...” Wanda hesitated before what she was going to ask. “Is Y/N coming?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Yelena sighed. “I think so, I hope so… I sent her the invitation so many times but didn't have an answer. Kate sended it too.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She just nodded and watched as Yelena closed the door behind her. Natasha and Wanda decided to adjust their own dresses and comb their hair for the beautiful moment, since they were the bridesmaids, of course.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You still miss her, don't you?” Natasha asked with a tiny side smile, although inside she felt really guilty about that. Seeing how her best friend suffered from Y/N's absence, knowing why she left and not being able to tell Wanda about it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Me? Pff!” Wanda said pretending to be uninterested. “No, no... of course not. I like Vision, he’s lovely. Remember?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yep… Still, you guys are nothing… like officially together or something. Just friends, right?” Natasha teased, knowing Wanda so damn well. She knew that if Wanda liked Vision so much -or as she was in love with Y/N before- it wouldn't have taken her so long to be his girlfriend.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Can we talk about Yelena? This is her day, not mine.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sure.” Natasha nodded but when she walked past Wanda she just poked her belly with a finger. “Liar.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

After getting out of the taxi and walking through that beautiful entrance full of flowers, Jules turned to see Y/N. She was wearing a nice femenine black suit while the Boston girl was wearing a flowery dress.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“How do you feel?” Jules asked a little concerned, noticing Y/n's silence since they left the house.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“A bit excited.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Don’t worry, ‘kay? She's going to be so happy to see you.” They walked until they reached the entrance, luckily Wanda wasn't around. Only some people she knew, like Daisy, Steve, Bucky, Carol and the gang.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You look more nervous than me.” Y/N smiled as she watched Jules move her hands, a pretty clear sign of the anxiety she felt.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, Y/N! So good to see you!” Daisy came over to hug her and then walking away to keep talking to Bobbi.

ㅤㅤㅤ “Y/N, I haven't seen you for so long!" Carol moved closer to hug her for a moment. She was wearing a black suit that looked spectacular on her, especially with her blonde hair. Carol turned to Jules, shaking her hand. "And who's this beauty? I'm Carol Danvers, I love your dress." ㅤㅤㅤ

"Thank you." Jules stammered. ㅤㅤㅤ

"Oh, don't you dare." Y/N warned the blonde and then took Jules arm to keep walking. "Stop sighing, she's a heartbreaker. Let's go."

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Don't judge me, I'm about to walk into a wedding where no one knows me, I have social anxiety and I'm a werewolf close to full moon.” Jules licked her lips, glancing at some of the guests. “I have all the bingo numbers.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on… We will eat some delicious snacks, we will dance some 90s and 2000’s bangs, you will see me depressed and gloomy when I see the love of my life. It will be fun.” Y/N nudged her and held out her arm for Jules to grab.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, Jules took her arm and they both took courage before entering the church.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The moment Yelena saw Y/N enter the ‘bride #2’ room where she and her bridesmaids were, went over to hug Y/N so tightly. Closing her eyes, so was glad her friend was there.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N! I was afraid you wouldn't come.” The blonde moved and watched her with immense joy. “I missed you so much.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I missed you too.” Y/N smiled happy, kissing her forehead. “You look beautiful, blondie. I’m so happy for you…”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She turned to see the beautiful bridesmaids, Wanda and Natasha. Both wore beautiful wine-colored dresses, loose hair and a look that could kill.

That room was decorated with beautiful flowers, some drinks to make the bride feel more relaxed and everything she needed to prepare herself.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, Nat.” Y/N smiled and gave Natasha a big bear hug before pulling away. ㅤㅤㅤ "I'm glad you came." Nat smiled happy to see her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

"Yeah..." Y/N gasped looking at Wanda now. There she was, as beautiful as ever.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda…” Y/N whispered. Her heart told her that she was still alive, and that it still belonged to Wanda. An entire year without seeing her, now she was there.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hi, Y/N.” Although those green eyes looked excited to see her, Wanda tried to pretend and hide her emotion to show a cold face. “You looking good.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thanks… you still look beautiful! That dress looks so good on you...” Those words came out of Y/N’s mouth even though she didn't even think about it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Nat and Yelena looked at each other and walked away, knowing it was time to leave them alone before the ceremony. What Y/N didn’t know is that minutes before, Wanda noticed the presence of Jules, who was taking a seat next to Daisy Johnson.

Suddenly all the happiness to see Y/N vanished, feeling enormous jealousy. And right now she had Y/N in front of her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“So…” Wanda raised an eyebrow. “You’re here.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah.” Y/N swallowed, adjusting her blazer.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“With HER.” The Sokovian emphasized that last word, clenching her jaw. Wanda shook her head, felt so upset even if this was not the time to talk about it. “Don't you feel guilty bringing her here with you? Not even a little? Isn't that embarrassing, Y/N?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N frowned now, didn't understand what the hell Wanda meant, she was just dazed to see her again. “Wanda, what are you talking about?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, come on!” Wanda just let out an ironic laugh, now that they were alone she could finally explode. “You were an idiot, but now I realize that I was the idiot all that time. I can't believe you're doing this!"

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda…”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, you don't have the right to do this! This is my friend's wedding too, and I can't believe you brought that woman here knowing that I was in love with you!” Wanda pointed at her, annoyed. “That you ghosted me! And cheated on me!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I didn’t ghosted you.” Y/N gasped and shook her head. “Well, not like that, I mean…yeah, but no!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh fuck you, Y/N!” Wanda shook her head and decided to get out of there, but Y/N dared to block her way. ㅤㅤㅤ

“I mean it, Wanda, Jules is not my girlfriend. I've never cheated on you!” She took her arm gently, not wanting to hurt Wanda but enough to hold her. “She is like my sister.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Umh, it's… more difficult to explain than you think but…” Y/N stammered scratching the back of her neck, she never thought she should explain who Jules was. Lie now and fast. “She’s like my sister, we share a bond… family. Not of blood, she is… beyond that.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You and that girl aren't together? Never were?” Wanda's eyes widened in surprise, for a moment all the anger she felt against them seemed to diminish.

ㅤㅤㅤ

At that moment Cassie Lang came into the room to tell them the brides would be arriving soon and that the bridesmaids and bestman should go to the aisle.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Of course not.” Y/N laughed at how ridiculous that sounded, she opened the door for Wanda to go out first. “She's not the reason I left.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh…” Wanda sighed and smiled shyly. “That's good because Natasha is flirting with her right now, over there.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

The Sokovian pointed towards the area where the guests were and could see how Natasha talked to Jules, clearly trying to win her over.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Damn, that was fast.” Y/N raised an eyebrow and they both laughed. "She beat Carol."

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry… I misunderstood all that. I saw you with her, leaving a coffee shop a year ago, before you left me alone. I thought you just… you left me for her.” Wanda pressed her lips together, finally confessing what she had hidden for so long.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It's okay. I saw you with Vision too…” Y/N wrinkled her nose.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, no. Ew. He’s just a friend.” She babbled nervously.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Good… but, umh… I was with her yes, taking care of Jules…she… had some trouble.” Y/N sighed wistfully. “I can't talk about it here, but… walking away was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. To get away from you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Then you never forgot me.” Wanda's beautiful green eyes sparkled.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I could never forget you, Wanda Maximoff.” Y/N smiled. Their gazes, impossible to detach from each other, they were face to face. “I was so in love with you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“… Was?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N was going to keep going when Natasha's voice brought them back to life. “They’re ready.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Both nodded and settled on each side, Wanda walked away but not before saying:

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'm glad she's not your girlfriend or something... but I don't forget that you ghosted me and you broke my heart.” Wanda definitely wasn't going to leave it like that. “We'll talk about this later.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N nodded and settled to the side next to Natasha and Wanda. On Kate's side were America Chavez, Cassie Lang, and Peter Parker.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The wedding march was heard, but then it was interrupted to play Yelena and Kate’s favorite song, making the moment one of the most beautiful Y/N has ever experienced.

The party had everyone quite happy, Yelena and Kate couldn't stop laughing as the guests danced to a catchy 2000’s song.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Feeling a bit thirsty, she went to the bar to order sometrhing and noticed that Wanda was expecting the same thing. The Sokovian drummed her fingers on the wooden table, lost in her own thoughts.

Damn, she really did look beautiful in that dress.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey.” Y/N stayed next to her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey.” Wanda smiled. The bartender finally handed her the cocktail and took Y/N's order. “You alone?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“My ‘plus one’ is with your best friend over there.” She nodded at Jules dancing with Natasha and Yelena. “She was pretty scared that no one would listen to her. Look at her now!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“The power of a few beers.” Wanda joked. After taking their cocktails, both walked away from the dancefloor to go to the terrace. “Where did you both meet? I mean, I know you, or at least I did and… your friends were Yelena, Kate, and Natasha.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/n swallowed, should she tell the truth? Why didn't she study what she should say and what not? The truth is, that Y/N didn’t expect to spend time with Wanda. She expected the Sokovian to reject and ignore her all night.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“We knew each other for a while before… I left.” Y/N looked down to see her cocktail, rather embarrassed to talk about it like it was a normal thing.

ㅤㅤㅤ

And it was noted how that affected Wanda, who seemed to be really hurt at the mention of that. "Why did not you call me? Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I couldn't tell you.” Y/N begged Wanda not to continue.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda snorted, shaking her head. "Sure."

ㅤㅤㅤ

"I mean it."

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why?” Wanda persisted, she didn't want to let it go.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Cause…” Y/N was about to spill everything but just stopped, swallowing her own words. She looked around, everyone was enjoying the party or the food. “I can't tell you here, okay?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda licked her lips, tasting the delicious cherry flavor from the drink and then leaned in to whisper: “Is it a legal problem?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N frowned. “What?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“The problem you left is… a legal one?” Wanda cleared her throat. “Were you running from someone?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette thought about those words for a moment, was she really running from someone or from herself? It was a tricky question.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah. Jules and I… we were running from someone.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I understand.” Wanda said a bit worried, now she understood the situation better although it didn't make it less painful. “Violent situation?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, very violent. I didn't want to put you in danger.” Well, after all, that was true. Right?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'm sorry about that.” The Sokovian sighed and took Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. “I hope you can tell me well about it later. If… we can still… hangout sometime.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N stared at Wanda for a moment. Boy, did she look as beautiful as ever. Laughter caught both of their attention, everyone was definitely having a great time. Even the grumpy Bucky who was smiling, drinking and dancing. This wasn’t time to be the brooding werewolf girl trying to stay away, was it?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey... would you like to dance with me?” She finally held out her hand for Wanda to take, and smiled when the Sokovian did.

ㅤㅤㅤ “I was dying for you to ask it.”

The door opened quickly, letting in two women devouring each other between kisses, completely desperate.

Y/N's lips searched for Wanda's in a needy way, barely separating to breathe. Her hands were quick enough to release her body and close the door behind them.

Our secret moments in your crowded room. They got no idea about me and you.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh my god!” Wanda gasped, they both laughed at how ridiculously needy they were of each other.

ㅤㅤㅤ

After spending the whole night provoking each other between glances and smiles, thanks to alcohol too, both ended up kissing each other in a lonely area in the Chateau gardens.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I wanted this so bad, detka. Every night thinking of you.” Wanda whispered, closing her eyes to surrender to the pleasure. "Only bought this dress so you could take it off."

ㅤㅤㅤ

They both dropped into the hotel bed, stripping off their clothes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Say my name and everything just stops, I don't want you like a best friend. ㅤㅤㅤ

This was their first time together but it seemed like they had known each other forever. Caressing the exact areas to make the other melt completely.

Even if she wanted to stop, Y/N couldn't even control herself. As if she were possessed by the power of the next full moon, she devoured Wanda's lips with pleasure, desperately ran around her neck, owning her sighs.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Carve your name into my bedpost ,'cause I don't want you like a best friend.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Of course it wasn't just a product of pleasure and passion; the silent, hungry beast inside urged her to want more. To adore that woman, to love her and to go completely mad for her. Wanda was hers. ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N sniffed Wanda's scent, closing her eyes, sighing deeply as if she were impregnated with it. As if she swore an eternal devotion to her, and what lived inside would gladly accept it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Don't bite her.

Don't bite her. If you love her, don’t bite her!

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Those words flashed through her mind over and over again. She shouldn't bite her, though that wouldn't mean spreading the werewolf venom, would it? She could only do it on a full moon. Or maybe... no. Even if the wolf wanted to bite her so bad, she would never do it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N just growled with desire, ignoring all those thoughts and letting herself lose in desire.

Every kiss, every lick, every moan was printed in Y/N’s mind, on her skin and in her heart. The way Wanda dug nails into her back as they reached their first orgasm, or their second one, or their third one or the rest of them. All of this silence and patience, hands shaking from holding back.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Say my name and everything just stops. You made your mark on me, like a golden tattoo.

ㅤㅤㅤ

That was one of the most exciting, hungry and exhausting nights that both had lived.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The agitated breathing of both, resting in bed after hours of need.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“That was amazing.” Wanda giggled happily, turning to see Y/n who didn't stop smiling either. “That was a good way to meet again...”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It was. Damn, babe. You’re gorgeous.” Y/N gasped, finally leaned in to give her a cute peck on the lips.

ㅤㅤㅤ Y/N knew that she was screwing up everything, it wasn't okay, she knew perfectly well that she was unleashing much worse chaos for later, only to live in the present. Still, she didn't want to get out of that beautiful moment.

They were back together, it was all that mattered.

ㅤㅤㅤ

And although for Y/N many awakenings were terrifying, this had been the most beautiful of all in her entire damn life. Seeing Wanda snuggled against her body, smiling sleepily in the cutest way in the world. Oh, that was heaven for sure.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Now I wake up by your side. My one and only, my lifeline. I woke up just in time.

ㅤㅤㅤ

And without hesitation, Y/N would sell her soul twenty times over to awaken her entire life like this, leaving behind a chaos she had never asked for. How was she able to endure all this time without Wanda?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you okay, detka?” Wanda asked curiously while she touched the brunette's belly. The morning sun tried to intrude between the curtains. “I see you're a bit thoughtful. Are you regretting this?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What? No! NO! Not at all!” She exclaimed desperately, but calmer when she saw how Wanda laughed.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m just kidding.” She laughed and kissed Y/N’s lips. “I'm going to the bathroom, don't you dare leave.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I wouldn't even think about it.” Y/N smiled at her, watching as the brunette bit her bottom lip, walking fully naked to the bathroom.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, god.” Y/N sighed and dropped her head on the pillow. She glanced the phone on the nightstand. Should she...?

ㅤㅤㅤ

Didn't want to come back to life outside of this room, but she had to be responsible for her actions.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N reached for her phone and looked at the notifications.

A very cute text from Yelena and Kate, two texts from Natasha asking where the fuck she was, and two from Jules.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I saw that you left me completely alone at the wedding (I’m so glad you did!) but thanks to the Russian redhead I was able to get home safely. (She’s taking me rn! I mean taking me home, not taking me- well, maybe later) Have some safe sex! Please, don’t bite your ex! I MEAN IT.” – from Jules, eight hours ago.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N just rolled her eyes and giggled. Feeling in the clouds. Everything was back to normal for a few minutes and her chest filled with joy. Or perhaps it was the ego of wolf, knowing that soon it would be free.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda came out of the bathroom and upon hearing Y/N’s giggle, she approached smiling. “What is it, detka?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What is it? I have you here with me, looking so fucking hot.” Y/N smirked. “Everything is perfect.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh shut up, flirty.” The Sokovian blushed, lying down next to her again.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You look like a goddess, Wanda Maximoff.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Those words reached Wanda's heart, those eyes shone with pure illusion. But to break the beautiful moment, Y/N’s stomach began to growl.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Someone’s hungry…” Wanda joked and they both laughed. “Would you like to have breakfast together? Let me buy you something, because I don't have anything to cook here.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N narrowed her eyes, playing with her. “Of course not, it's a hotel, dummy.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, shut up.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Although room service was tempting, the high prices made them both look at each other and quickly get up to take a shower together, going to the nearest restaurant. Holding hands, like two teenagers in love.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you going to eat all that?” Wanda asked when she saw the amount of chicken club sandwiches Y/N ordered for herself.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, why?” The brunette took a bite of one of these, sometimes she forgot how much she had to eat and how surprised people were when they saw it. “I'm starving.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I see…” Wanda smiled tenderly, sipping some coffee. “Okay, after an interesting night where we couldn't talk... tell me what happened to you all these months. There are some changes in you, I can tell. Besides the scars on your body.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

That took Y/N by surprise, fought not to choke on her food. “Well… like I told you, it's quite long story.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“We have time.” Wanda raised an eyebrow. “I don't want to be annoying here but you owe me an explanation.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, Y/N took a moment before beginning.

ㅤㅤㅤ

"The situation with Jules... well, umh… you know-”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Cut the crap, Y/N. I’m glad to see you and the sex was amazing but you better start talking right now.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Okay, no need to be all bossy!” Sighs. “The night we saw each other and had our date, I had an accident.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

This took Wanda by surprise, leaning in. “Y/N, what? Are you okay?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She nodded. “I had an accident which… I was slow to recover and Jules took care of me. That's when I met her.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda just remained silent. Maybe trying to make sure Y/N was telling the truth.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“That's why I couldn't call you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why didn't you do it later?” the sokovian asked skeptically.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I wanted to! Of course I tried. I just couldn't… the guy with who I had the accident that night was a very violent person. He attacked Jules… He was after her, threatening her so we had to run...”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Not even her realized how she tried to get out of that web of lies and mixed truths.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sounds scary.” Wanda seemed terrified with everything she heard, but above all, she felt somewhat guilty and worried.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You can’t imagine how much.” Y/N looked down. She had never talked about this with anyone but Jules.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“When I came to see you again, a year ago, I just… couldn't. I saw you with Vision and I saw that you were fine, I didn't want to get you in this huge trouble.” She shrugged, remembering the jealousy when she saw that stupid british guy.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N… you would never get me into anything dangerous.” Wanda took her hand and caressed it. “I know.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N swallowed, was that really true? She was the one who was really dangerous now.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“So…” Y/N decided to keep going and not sink into the guilt. “We left the city, we were traveling for a while to get rid of the… guy.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wow, that sounds so sad and lonely.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It was…”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda sighed and kissed the back of Y/N's hand, thinking about everything Y/N went through alone. “I really missed you, a lot.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I missed you everyday.” Y/N confessed with immense pain, leaning over to kiss her lips one more time.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“So... knowing that you're not seeing anyone and that you still like me...” Wanda bit her lower lip. “Can we…?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N smiled tenderly. “I don’t like you, Wands, I’m still in love with you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda finally smiled happily. “Can we still see each other?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

And though it took her a moment to think about it, Y/N just answered with the heart and not her mind, not knowing the chaos it could bring.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Of course.” She leaned down to kiss Wanda’s lips. “Now that I see you, I can't let you go.”

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Jules yelled, shaking her head and closing her suitcase. “I’m this close to kick your STUPID, IRRESPONSIBLE ASS!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Jules… please!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, Y/N. This is… This is beyond irresponsible!” She stormed into the living room angrily.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Exactly as Y/N thought, Jules hadn't taken well to the fact that she and Wanda were seeing each other again. Especially the story she made up to keep from telling her the dangerous and scary truth.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Perhaps the fact that the moon was full tonight made them both have a more explosive temper than normal.

"How long have you both been seeing each other?!"

"A week? Since we came here..."

"Y/N, you can't do this. I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THIS!"

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Jules, come on! I can’t lie to her.” Y/N tried to follow her friend.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“YOU’RE LYING ANYWAY! SWEET SUFFERING JESUS, Y/N! I told you that this was not safe for you or for them!” She put her hands on the hips, trying to calm herself. Jules inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Are you dating again?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why is it a problem that I’m dating Wanda?” Y/N just flopped down on the sofa, utterly defeated. She felt like a scolded puppy.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“For the same reason we left. Because you're going to hurt her again! She doesn't deserve that! That girl is amazing…” Jules felt so upset with Y/N and with fate for making them suffer so much.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“But I'm not going to hurt her, I want to be with her. I'm not going to leave her again.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“That's much worse, Y/N!" Jules watched her like a bird of prey.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I can do this… and be with her too, right? I can hide every full moon, we go to the woods like we will tonight. I'll rent the cabin every month...”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N…” Jules tried to talk but Y/N stopped her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Jules, I miss her so much. You have no idea how much it hurts." Y/N's voice broke, she brought her hand to her chest trying to calm the deep pain was feeling. The wolf didn't want to let her go either. “I can't be away, I tried to get away... but I can't do it anymore. I'd rather rip my heart out than lose her again. I love her. Jules, please, I love her.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules sighed and all the anger inside vanished when she saw the tears in Y/N's eyes, she walked over to sit next to her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do you feel okay knowing that you lie to her every time you see each other?” This time, her voice was sweet and calm.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No… I feel like shit.” Y/N looked at her hands.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Does she know all the pain you go through every month? Is she capable of choosing you knowing the danger she's into? Look… I know it's hard, I know letting her go was horrible… but you have to be honest with her. Or walk away."

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't say anything, just kept looking down.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You're not just exposing her to the wolf, Y/N.” Jules looked at her with sadness. “You’re exposing her to people who's going to hunt us down if they find out. Hunters are something you don't want to mess with... they'll use her to their advantage.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette just nodded. “I'll talk to her after tonight’s full moon.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“As you need. Now we’ve to go.” Jules squeezed her shoulder and then got up from the sofa, they both took their keys and left that apartment a bit in a hurry. “I’ve paid for two more weeks... you can stay that long here while you figure it out.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N nodded and they both went downstairs, but the brunette stopped when her phone rang indicating that she had a new text.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Detka, are you home? or free tonight? I would like to take you to a nice place.” - From Wanda, few seconds ago.

ㅤㅤㅤ

"Fuck."

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What?” Jules asked seeing Y/N's disappointed face.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s Wanda.” Y/N sighed, she was feeling so frustrated. Of course, what she wanted most was to go with Wanda on a one-of-a-kind date on a beautiful full moon, and not spend it locked up watching her best friend suffer. Turning into a dangerous monster.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules didn't say anything, she knew that for Y/N it was already painful enough. An 'I told you so' wouldn't help at all.

Y/N proceeded to write fast as they went downstairs.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, babe. Sorry, can’t do it tonight. I'm not home either, I'm working and I'll have to stay overnight. I'm sorry!” – Sent a few seconds ago.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed deeply before leaving that building, walking with her best friend to the car they rented. But what she didn't know, nor had she noticed, was that Wanda was parked in front of the house, with Y/N's favorite coffee and buns, ready to surprise her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The sokovian saw how Y/N got into the car and took off with Jules. She looked at her phone and saw that the last text was: 'you don't know how hard it is to work here right now! I'm exhausted!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Of course Y/N was lying to her again, but why?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Without hesitation, Wanda sped up to follow them and find out what the hell they were up to. Once and for all.

Oh my. I hope you enjoyed it cause the next one is... WELL, MESSY. 🌙 I'm gonna leave the songs again here: First part - Touched - VAST. Second part - Dress - Taylor Swift

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the cutest and lovely people tags ✨ : @lijo-8 , @duck-5 , @username23345 , @i-need-somebody-else , @lattayhottay16 , @germz19 , @chaeismybae , @mrns21 , @whhyyynottt , @tita001 , @dont-worry-aboutme-darling , @is-mise-rachel , @devilsanus616 @imnotasuperhero @wandanatfan @katiemay-025

Thank you for reading me, my honeybees. I'll leave you a song.

Thanks you so damn much to the people who leave a ❤️ , 🔁 and leave comments -even as an anon on my box of requests-, you make me keep writing. And you're making my life easier! 🐻ㅤ

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#wanda maximoff x reader

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