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somegirlontheinternet135 · 1 year ago

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I didn't expect a post about a dating sim x click & point adventure game with The Beasts to be this popular but. . .

*random gestures*

So here you go, some thoughts & features that could be added to this weird fangame I conjured up!

(tw: long)

~General~

The world that the player teleported into heavily mirrors the land of beast yeast, complete with each of the landmarks which the beasts resign in. One exception however is at the center of this mysterious land is a forest of silver trees, which surround a strange alter of six stone standing pads, five little stones around a much larger stone in the middle (wonder what that's about?)

Somewhere amidst the silver woods is a mysterious grove, a grove filled with lilies. If adventurous enough, the player can explore the grove, but be warned, for not only do the scent of lilies cause drowsiness and the possibility of passing out, but lilies aren't the only thing that the land houses. The grove is peerless maze, so the player must enter with caution

The story length will be similar to how Obey Me is set up (divided into different chapters) with the first three to four chapters introducing the Beasts

There's no "canonical" choice of who'll you'll end up with, that's entirely up to the player. Another choice the player will have is whether the relationships can be platonic or romantic

Although many MCs are mostly left blank slates, I want the player in the sort of grey area between having an actual personality but leaving details vague enough to leave people guessing. Think the MC from "Obey Me" crossed with Yuu from "Twisted Wonderland" And you know many MCs are often nice and kind-hearted, well sorta throw that out the window bc we're doing something special(snarky, sarcastic, brutality honest, and filled with trust issues)

There's only snippets of what the player physically looks like(trust me, this'll be important later)

It's also important that the player has zero memory of entering the world they were basically isekaed into, something which the beasts learn one way or another. . .

The player will receive several petnames from the beasts, ranging from simple ones like "dear" or "sweetheart," to petnames relating to mice and other rodents(ie: "Little Mouse," "Pika," even "Pipsqueak")

In the game, the day-night cycle plays a big role in the gameplay. You'll be allowed to roam and explore as much as you want, but at night, you're given the choice of whether you should go to bed or keep exploring. If the player chooses to continue exploring, they'll be met with an energy meter, which increases when you sleep and decreases when you don't. With a full bar, the player can explore a total of five times, and once that meter runs out, they get too exhausted and fall asleep

Now would be a good time to mention the player's different bedrooms. They rotate based on the location, but they're meant to be a sort of safe space for the player, it's also the area where they pick up an important item: A journal

The journal functions very similarly to a scribble board and an actual notebook but serves one purpose, to allow the player to take notes on certain puzzles. Different puzzles are scattered across the landmarks, some are extremely difficult and require one to jot notes

I also like to think the player would receive a variety of tools during their journey and will each be essential. Which would lead the player to carry a bag to hold said items

For the purpose of the story, the player is able to respawn if they die. Remember the alter in the silver tree forest, they wake up there like nothing happened, although they do still retain the memories of said death

The player will engage in several minigames, the most common of them being a cooking style game where you prepare meals and ones where your using certain tools. Whilst the click & point portion consists of the player exploring the different areas & interacting with their surroundings

As a bonus, the player is gifted different outfits from the beasts, each one corresponding to the beast, their interests, and their theme

~Shadow Milk~

In the many eyes of Shadow Milk, the player is the only cookie he's seen in a while, so it's obvious he'd want them to be his audience, if you ever so chose to be. They get the option of asking more & trying to convince him on letting them have a turn in performing, which he'll have different reactions to

*You're reading the scripts of one of Shadow Milk's plays, in awe at the material. You compliment his work, making him all the more flattered*

"Oh I love acting! Your script is amazing, could I try acting some things out?"

*Hearing the question, Shadow Milk snatches the script from your hands. He almost snaps at you*

"What? No, of course not!"

"I'm sorry my dear, I adore your praise but. . . we've already established who the audience is! It's the key tool of any actor's career, and without that, we'd just be two actors with no one to entertain. . ."

"Besides, I think you'd have trouble trying to impress such a seasoned performer like myself~"

Despite his condescending comments, he slowly begins to let you act out small skits as their relationship with him becomes stronger, and he begins to cave

Shadow Milk has several references to acting, the stage, and plays, it would be a sin to not give this man a rhythm game. Similar to already existing rhythm games like "Rhythm Heaven" or the rhythm game portion in "Obey Me"

Every task, no matter how minimal or simple, becomes way more difficult with Shadow Milk. If you're just as much as a theater kid as he is, his need for literally everything to be a grand, exaggerated, obnoxious spectacle, especially around the player, is strong. Half the time, things don't go his way & he winds up making a mess, messes which the player is forced to clean up

Also, most everything he does requires a quick "costume change" thems the rules. He's cooking you breakfast? He's wearing a bright pink apron with frills and a heart-shaped pocket. You get hurt and scrape your knee? Here comes Dr. Shadow Milk in his doctor's uniform and stethoscope. The two of you are getting ready for bed? You'll be seeing him in striped pajamas, an extremely long nightrobe, fuzzy slippers and a sleep mask, including hair curlers

There will absolutely be no sneaking out on his domain, not on his watch! Shadow Milk, with his abilities, is a living security system, and reacts heavily to sound. So one snap of a twig or step on some creaking floorboards and it's over!

"*Ahem!*"

*A freakishly familiar voice is heard from behind you. Breaking into a sweat, you slowly turn around, the smallest part of you wished it wasn't who you thought it was. . . But as luck would have it, you didn't know any other crazy entertainers. . . Sure enough, it was exactly who'd you expected to see, Shadow Milk stood in front of you, arms crossed and everything*

"Just where do you think you're going?"

*You try playing it cool, although sweating a bit*

"Oh hey Shadow. . . I was just about to head out and-"

"Head out? At this time?!"

"I-I'm not gonna be gone for too long! I'll come right back after promise- *ah!*"

*Shadow Milk had already scooped you up, carrying you bridal style*

"That's quite enough! I can't have my only audience member getting drowsy during one of my shows, now can I?~"

*You were embarrassed beyond belief, even more once he started walking you to your room, and abruptly boops you on the nose*

"It's off to bed with you little mousey!~"

". . . ok(;w;). . ."

He takes much pride & joy in inconveniencing the player, purely for his own entertainment. What makes it worse is that he'll always find some sort of excuse, saying how it's "to punish them" and "to teach them how to do it right," just some of the lies they have to deal with

And that's not all, you think he started there? nope! He started lying to the player the second the two of them met. Seeing the player scared and alone in his domain, he didn't miss an opportunity to mess with the player's head. Fortunately, this does change as you begin to get closer with him, he starts being more open with the player

The outfit Shadow Milk gives the player is, although the tackiest thing on earthbread(if the player decides that it is), the most practical of the outfits they'll receive. It has a sort of German fairytale vibe to it, covered head to toe in ruffles, lace, bells, overly detailed designs, and of course, colored blue. It looks like, feels like, and is a costume, but despite its cheesy appearance, it's easy to run & move in

Out of all the beasts, Shadow Milk is the one who cares the most for the player's physical well-being. He's always making sure the player's eating enough, getting sleep, and most importantly, is happily entertained. It's been far too long since he was able to put on his plays, and he's gonna make sure they have the ability to sit through them

All and all, Shadow Milk is a well-meaning, all be it annoying, roommate

~Eternal Sugar~

She was always keen on learning most of the trickster's secrets, so finding out about the player, she became both upset yet understanding. Shadow Milk was the Cookie of Deceit after all

Regardless, Eternal Sugar found it quite unfair of him to keep them all to himself, and took it upon herself to steal the player away, via using one of her clouds

*While wandering by yourself within Shadow Milk's domain, you peer up at the unearthly, but normally blue sky, to see what seemed to be clouds suspiciously hovering over you*

Bewildered and curious, the player has the decision of either ignoring it or checking it out, but each will end in the clouds scooping up the player and taking them, all the way to Eternal Sugar Cookie

First meeting the player, she's admittingly unimpressed with what she sees, to think something so important to them would be reduced to such a simple creature. . ? But that mindset quickly changes as she discovers how adorable the player is, and just how naive they are. . .

She views the player as some sort of pet, spoiling them with all the goodies they can ever want, to a point where its almost overwhelming

*On a table, a large platter of sweets is set in front of you; you're almost tooken back by the sheer size of the dish, it was almost half the size of the table! Just sitting next to you was Eternal Sugar, smiling almost amusingly at your reaction*

"U-Uh. . . Is this all for me. . ?"

*She giggled*

"Of course it is dear! What sort of guest would you be if you didn't receive such delicacies?"

*Eternal Sugar picks up a sweet from the platter and holds it close to your mouth*

"Now, open wide~"

Unlike the other beasts, Eternal Sugar has the habit of babying the player, so like Shadow Milk, every simple task becomes way more difficult with her around. She'll make sure they won't be able to lift a finger!

Her associative minigame fits her sort of style, a memory game using cards, similar to the many games you can find on those "Kid-friendly Newgrounds" websites

Another thing worth noting is her clingy nature. Everywhere the player goes, Eternal Sugar has to follow, which does make things more difficult and affects progress. The prime definition of a space invader

It gets even worse during the night cycle, where she often insists on sleeping in the same bed as the player. Despite this, night is the only time the player will be able to get anything done. Just know that when they got back to bed and woke up the next morning, they'll have a sweet surprise waiting for them

*Morning light shines onto your face as it creeps into the rest of the room. You groan, awoken by your natural alarm clock, and begin to yawn & stretch, a part of you wished you slept in a bit longer. But as you try to get out of bed, you feel a weight on your right hand, better yet, you feel an entire section of the bed being weighed down by some unknown force. Turning around, you quickly discover why*

"E-Eternal Sugar Cookie! What are you-?!"

*There, covering a good half of the bed, Eternal Sugar Cookie was peacefully snoozing, clutching your hand. In your failed attempts at yelling at her & pulling your hand away were left to no avail, she had no intent on moving, nor letting go, making you all the more flustered*

"Ms. Eternal Sugar Cookie, please!- Let me go! I need-"

*She merely lifted one eye, only half awake and ready to sleep the rest of the day away*

"Awh~ but little mouse, it's so early!~ Can't you stay just a bit longer?~"

*She smiles at your flustered expression*

"But I have stuff to do! Please, you have to let me- *ah!-* h-hey!"

*Too busy trying to escape, you failed to notice her grip getting tighter, pulling you back down your now shared bed*

"Sleep a little more with me, won't you? There's no rush~"

"O-ok, fine then, but only for a couple more minutes, but that's it!"

*She giggled*

"Deal~"

Throughout their stay, the player only gets small snippets of Eternal Sugar's true personality. If the player chose to question her sickly sweet demeanor, she'd get defensive real fast, asking them why they would even question something like that. If angered, she becomes pushy, demanding, especially when the player doesn't do what she says

It becomes increasingly clear when Eternal Sugar gives you a new outfit, since the one you're wearing (aka the outfit Shadow Milk gave you) didn't fit her style, believing that you should wear something more flowy. She actually offers several different outfits for the player, and although nice, they're. . . let's just say not so family friendly; try as they might to reject her offers, she'll get upset and more persistent, nonetheless; this however does change as the story goes on, she becomes more understanding. Luckily, the two manage to make a compromise, Eternal Sugar offers the player a much simpler pink dress, with bows, lace, and ribbons. Despite being much to the player's liking(if that's what the player chooses), she begins to whine about it, saying how it could've been so much more; not to mention, both the ribbons and lace constantly get stuck on things if they aren't careful

The only time the player's able to really see Eternal Sugar's true colors is when Shadow Milk shows up, who's not all too happy about her basically kidnapping the player. Whilst they ventured alone, he made the mistake of taking his eyes off them for a second, last thing he knew they were snatched by some clouds and whisked away into the sky, which he immediately starts chasing after them. He knew exactly who was responsible. Unlike Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar does a much better job of keeping her composure, playing dumb and refraining from acting out of character around the player. But once Shadow Milk insults her fake personality, all hell breaks loose

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my dear friend. . .?~ Eternal Sugar Cookie. . !"

*Shadow Milk had snuck in through an open window. Before you could even do anything, Eternal Sugar had already pulled you to her side, forcing you to sit in the lavish and comfortable sofa she was lounging on. He made his way towards her, with his usual wide smile; from the corner of your eye, you could barely see an eye twitch and, was he gritting his teeth? It didn't look like it, but he was seething with rage*

"Oh, Shadow Milk Cookie!~ for what do I owe the pleasure?~"

"How lovely of you to ask!~ You see, you just so happen to have something that belongs to me!"

*Shadow Milk then stares back at you, startling you a bit with his crazed expression. Although Eternal Sugar seemed unfazed, her grip on you only became tighter as the trickster started speaking to you*

"Little mousey, there you are!~ Oh I was so worried, thank goodness you're safe!~"

"I am so, so, sorry to have kept you waiting~ believe me, it's a long story!~"

"*Ah!* And what happened to the little dress I gave you?! I mean you still look cute, but you'd look so much better before and- oh! almost got off track for a second!~ *haha!*"

"Alrighty, I think it's time for me and my little mousey to get go-"

"You're leaving with them? Now what would be the purpose in that?~"

*She quickly shifted from her lounging position to a sitting position, pulling you closer toward her, and flustering you more. You see the trickster's eye twitch more, noticing just a crack in his character*

"*hehe-* what did you say. . ?!"

"I've tooken quite the liking to 'your' little mouse!~ Besides, you keeping them all to your self. . ? Extremely unfair of you!~"

*She then draped her arms around you, your face was getting redder by the second*

"Surely they'll be much happier here, isn't that right little mouse?~"

"Well, *uhh-* actually. . ."

"Then it's settled!~ The little mouse will be staying with me!~"

*They proceeded to argue back and forth, Shadow Milk's played up character was falling apart at the seams, losing a drop of his patience with every word the "angel" said. Eternal Sugar found herself quite entertained with the trickster getting angrier and angrier. All the while, you didn't know what to do, clearly neither of them were going to let you leave, or you know, let you get a single word in. So you were placed in a very awkward situation, stuck between an angel cookie who wasn't keen on you leaving, and a jester who was trying to get you back through gritted teeth*

"Listen, I'm the one who saw them first, they were found in my domain, therefore, they're mine! So if you would be so kind as to return them to me. . !"

*She proceeded to hold you closer, practically cuddling you, was she trying to make him even angrier?!*

"Oh but we're having so much fun!~ They'd much prefer it here than that over-the-top spiral you call a tower. . !"

*Insulting his domain was the nail in the coffin. It looked like he'd finally snapped, any ounce of patience he had before was completely out the window. Using his magic, he wrapped up your hands in some mysterious string, pulling you forward and out of Eternal Sugar's reach, greatly shocking and scaring the heck out of you. Once you were back in his arms, Shadow Milk pushed you behind him, and looking back at Eternal Sugar, she'd gotten up from the sofa, it seemed like she was starting to crack as well*

"Oh!~ So that's how we're gonna play *huh?!* Then I'll lend you this: do you really think they'd want to stay with a tooth-rotting prick like yourself?!"

*She began to clutch her fists, her eyes widen in a mix of shock and anger*

". . ?! What did you just call me. . ?!"

"Oh don't you give me that! little miss 'sweet & innocent angel!' unlike myself, people can see your fake persona from a mile away!~"

"And with how long they had to stay with you. . . I'm surprised my poor little mousey hasn't gotten sick and vomited from the spoiling and smothering they had to withstand!"

*That was all it took for her, she broke faster than he did, the wings on her back got bigger, Eternal Sugar's eyes glowed with rage*

". . . how dare you. . !"

"HOW DARE YOU!!"

The player obviously gets the choice of trying to stop the fight or slipping away, the following events escalating faster or slower depending on which they choose. Things escalate to a point where Eternal Sugar just snatched them and attempted to fly away with the player, which led to Shadow Milk using his magical strings to pull them back, entering the two of them in an intense game of tug of war with the player. And the force of both sides was so strong. . . It ended up ripping the player in half

So, Eternal Sugar Cookie, kinda pushy at times and very clingy all the time, but a sweetheart nonetheless

~Mystic Flour~

Getting ripped in half by two powerful beings. . . not something you would easily forget. . . You'd expect this to be game over, right? well, wrong, cause upon miraculously waking up, not only do you find yourself on top a strange alter, but face to face with Mystic Flour Cookie

Seeing the clouds of Eternal Sugar Cookie's cloud soaring past her land, she immediately could tell that something was a mist, and strolling through the silver forest and finding the player laying on the strange alter, her suspicions were correct

At first, she couldn't believe it, a cookie, in their world?! But after a proper meeting with the player and asking how they ended up on the alter, she became a bit more pitiful, going on to invite them to her domain, such a clueless cookie shouldn't be left alone!

But talking about what was basically their death is pretty traumatizing, so the player is given the choice of whether to straight up lie, or give some part of the truth

"So, you have no memory of how you ended up on this alter. . ? Nothing at all?"

*Your voice was strained, you didn't want to tell her the full truth*

"N-no, not a lot. . ."

*Mystic Flour then proceeds to grasp both your cheeks, pulling you close to her face, much to your slight embarrassment*

"Oh, you poor thing! You must be so lost, so confused. . ."

*It was that moment when an idea sprung into her, an idea that may help the both of you. . .*

"How about you come with me?~ Surely you'll be much safer!~"

*Try as you might to decline her offer, she just becomes more insistent. She was giving decent points however, you were lost and confused, not to mention trapped in this witch-forsaken place, and the only two "cookies" you knew killed you, accidently or not, you couldn't decide. . . Eventually, after lots of convincing and growing tired, you finally cave, accepting her offer*

"Ok, fine, I'll go with you"

"Oh good! Well, come along then!~"

*Gently, Mystic Flour took your hand, pulling you off the alter, and guiding you through the silver woods*

Mystic Flour had already made herself sound quite trustworthy, but of course, this can't be without some sort of catch. . . Though she looks caring on the outside, she sees the player as a mere tool, a stepping stool for something much greater. Her methods of getting information is much more subtle

Both minigames mentioned before required some sort of skill, Mystic Flour's is no exception. Similar to classic video game "Snake," the player's goal is to fill the respected area using dragons instead of snakes (wonder why?)

Pretty much the minute the two of them enter her domain, she basically gives them free range to do whatever. She doesn't really care if the player wanders too far or gets into spaces they shouldn't. But she will let you know when it's time to head back

*As the sun starts to set, you continue to search about the area like a curious child, you hardly noticed Mystic Flour standing just behind you*

"Little pika, dear it's time to head back!~"

*Hearing her voice yelling out to you so suddenly just barely startled you, but you gained back your composure once you see her warm smile*

"Oh! Hi Mystic Flour Cookie! Just give me a second, I have to check a few more things!"

*It wasn't like you weren't going to listen to her orders, you just had a bit more to do. But watching you get farther & farther away from her; Mystic Flour saw it differently. Already making her way toward you, she proceeded to scoop you into her arms, startling you and plastering blush onto your face, as she started walking you back herself*

"*ah!*W-Wait! Mystic Flour Cookie, I wasn't done ye-!"

"I know, I know, dear, you have your little tasks!~ But you'll have so much time to do them tomorrow, so please, might we head back? I'm sure the food is getting cold!"

*With you being in her grasp and your legs being very much off the ground, there wasn't really a choice to keep going. You could've kicked and screamed, but there were doubts that'd even work. . . And so, with no other options, you let her take you away, which sucked, but hey, at least you have yummy food waiting for you!*

Mystic Flour has the sheer amount of enthusiasm as an overly supportive mother, she has not a clue of what the player is doing but they're doing great! But like some mothers, she tries a more "hands off" approach as a way to set rules, intentionally not telling the player helpful information just for the sake of them learning it themselves

She does, however, provide them with all the materials to do so: a bedtime routine, plenty of food, and a warm winter outfit. Speaking of which, due to the wintery background, Mystic Flour gives them an outfit most suitable to withstand the cold, something heavy, but also angelic, a nun like dress colored a soft yellow, complete with black counterparts. The only downside is that defending the player from the cold is its only purpose, for it is much too heavy anywhere else and unbearable in hotter areas

Unlike the other beasts mentioned, Mystic Flour has no interest in forming a genuine relationship with the player. To her, you only serve one purpose, finding her escape (whatever that means) and is more direct into reaching her goal. She creates a false sense of security between the two of them, then when the time is right, uses that bond to her advantage. Fortunately, this behavior does change as the story continues, and Mystic Flour becomes more interested, and attached, to the player, but for now, her methods remain neutral

This becomes more apparent as Mystic Flour tries getting information out of the player in a sort of therapeutic way, sitting them down and letting them speak about their troubles, starting with the obvious. . .

"And. . . that's pretty much what happen. . ."

*You laid atop the much larger cookie, your head resting on her lap as she lightly massaged your hair. You rub your hands uncomfortably, as if waiting for bad news, your throat felt strained. Sandwiched between two angry beings, getting pulled into the sky then ripped in two, these were memories you weren't ready to revisit, especially with someone you've met only a few moments ago. . . At the same time, was holding this deep inside healthy? You saw life flash before your eyes, seconds before being split in half. . . Besides, you were already holding onto so much. . . would it hurt to let go of some. . . You felt Mystic Flour let go of your hair as she began running her hand on your face*

"Oh you, poor, poor, dear. . ."

"I am so sorry you had to be apart of. . . that. . ."

*Although you couldn't see her face, she sounded genuinely sorry for you, which was quite refreshing considering everything you've been through so far*

"They can be rather selfish at times, only thinking about themselves. . . You're lucky you've ended up with me!~"

*You laughed at her remark, trying to brighten up the mood, despite still feeling, well, you didn't know what to feel at that point. . .*

"*Heh* Yeah. . . I guess you're right. . ."

*Unannounced to you, Mystic Flour smiled to herself, her plan was working swimmingly. . . Having brought you to a docile state, it was more than a better time to gather the information she'd been longing for. . .*

"If you would allow me to. . . may I ask you something else?"

*You think for a minute, it was only one question, what harm could it do. . .*

"*Uh* sure. . . what is it?"

"Well little pika, you see-"

*Before the words could fall out of her mouth, there was a sudden loud BANG noise from outside. Respectfully, this startles you, making you flinch, but Mystic Flour didn't seem to move. . . Looking back up, you were finally able to see her face, she seemed irritated, annoyed. Gently, she lifted your head off her lap, resting you onto your knees, confused, you turn to her and saw that she was already standing, looking down upon you. She mumbled something under her breath*

"*Ugh* At a time like this. . ?!"

"Just a moment pika. . . I have to handle something. . ."

Mystic Flour considers herself to be the mother figure of the beasts, and although uncompassionate at times, she plays her role well

~Burning Spice~

(Literally the most perfect segway!~)

All it took was Shadow Milk and Eternal Sugar fighting for Burning Spice Cookie to want a part of the action. Last where we left off with them, the two managed to split the player in half, insides and everything, and were now freaking out over their (very much dead) body, whilst arguing over whose fault it was. By sheer coincidence, did Burning Spice decide to check up on Eternal Sugar, and catches site of the two yelling at each other

Burning Spice hasn't met the player, doesn't know who they are nor what they look like, but he took immediate interest in them after seeing how they affected the two other beasts. If just their mutilated body was enough to cause them to start screaming and crying like little kids, who knows what else they could do. . .

Already, he was making assumptions of what kind of person they'd be, perhaps the player was someone strong and intimidating, someone perfect to be his sparring partner, and continues to deny any sort of actual description of them

Him, Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar had mostly worked together in their search for the player, but the millisecond they found out they were with Mystic Flour, the race was on. . . Which takes us to now, where Burning Spice appears first, causing a massive scene with his abilities in an attempt to lure her out

*Alerted by the sudden destruction just outside, Mystic Flour rushed to her outer balcony, irritated like this had happened before. . . She knew exactly who the culprit was, and sure enough, there he was, sitting casually atop the balcony's railing, Burning Spice greeted her with a sinister look on his face. She had already prepared herself, immediately knowing that something was about to go down*

"There she is, Misty! Long time no see!"

"Burning Spice Cookie. . . what brings you here. . ?"

"*Oh!* I think you know exactly why I'm here!"

*Getting off the railing, he walked toward his comrade, having no use in making a big deal out of it. Mystic Flour, although slightly surprised, saw it as a sort of threat, only further did she stand her ground*

"Ya see, a little birdie told me that you've been hiding a shiny new treasure from us. And I, of course, thought it'd be too good to be true. . . So I decided to drop by to take a look for myself. . !"

*He tried walking around her to reach the balcony's entrance, but before he could take another step, Mystic Flour stopped him, she wouldn't back down that easily. . .*

"There is no such thing. . . whatever is in my possession is none of your business. . !"

*In her defensive state, Burning Spice's persistence only grew, now patting her shoulder almost reassuringly*

"Hey, c'mon Misty!~ we're buddies, pals! Letting me get a tiny sneak peek shouldn't be a problem!"

"Say, how about this? You let me see what you're hiding, and I promise, I won't tell the others, I'll even let ya keep it! So what do ya say?~"

*Not even seconds after he said that, he immediately tried pushing past Mystic Flour as if she'd already answered his question. Of course, she shut that down almost instantly, even pushing him back, something which he doesn't really take well. His eyes widened, she set him off by just that push alone. She could bluntly tell he was lying, only using their relationship as an excuse, so she didn't let him any closer*

"Burning Spice Cookie, we've known each other for eons, do you really think I wouldn't be able to recognize one of your petty excuses. . . ?! "

"If you knew better, you'd be wise enough to leave, for this so-called treasure you're after, I know nothing about!"

*Pushing and telling him to leave. . . yep, that'll do it. . . Burning Spice broke into laughter as his hair began to glow warms shades of red, orange, and yellow, moving like a sea of flames*

"*HA HA HA HAHAHA!* *Oh!* Misty, ya might just make me angry!"

*His tone quickly shifts from trigger-happy to overall threatening once he'd opened his eyes, now just as bright as his hair, he marches towards Mystic Flour, who was all the more irritated and unfazed*

"And you. . . don't wanna make me angry. . !"

"Make you angry?! *Heh!* Didn't know it was so easy to mess with that small brain of yours!"

*It isn't long before the two engage in full on battle, both sides being equally matched in some way. While this was all happening, you were completely unaware; being inside exploring, you're none the wiser of the destruction going on outside*

Eventually, Burning Spice does manage to bust his way inside, and upon actually seeing the player in their simple state, he couldn't be more disappointed, to think Shadow Milk and Eternal Sugar's bickering would be caused by such a boring little cookie(but those two do fight over a lot of things, so-)

He'd almost considered leaving them, but Burning Spice would rather leave with something than nothing, so taking his losses he hoists up the player over his shoulder and makes, a not so quiet, escape. Much to Mystic Flour's dismay and the player's protests (or cries for help depending on what they choose)

Burning Spice sees the player like how a general sees a soldier. He thinks they're weak, bland, and more notably boring, and wants to, in his words, "spice them up." Because of this, he is unnecessarily harsh, working the player to the bone and expecting them to "get up" when they get too tired

*How long has it been. . ? An hour? Two hours? At that point you didn't know, but all you did know is that it felt like an eternity since Burning Spice started your so called "training." Back and forth, you were forced to run with heavy rocks on your back whilst following him, who was doing the same. All the while he'd yell at you to pick up the pace as encouragement. . .You huffed and panted*

"*Hah**hah. . .* Burning Spice Cookie, please, can't we stop for. . . just a minute. . ?"

*It was the only time he'd turn back at you, what a ridiculous ask!*

"What?! Definitely not! ya still got a lot to go, pipsqueak!"

*You couldn't go on any longer. A mess of sweat and sore bones, you plummet to the ground, numb to the rocks currently on your back, you wanted rest, at least for a minute. . . Burning Spice only reached a good distance away before noticing you were far, far behind. He ran back to you, but not because he was worried*

"Ay! Pipsqueak, what's the holdup?!"

*He crouched down, better viewing your shriveled up body, far too weak to keep going. Despite the obvious, Burning Spice still tried getting you to stand, poking, even attempting to pull you off the ground, but you won't budge. . .*

"C'mon! Quit acting like Eternal Sugar Cookie and get moving!"

"Please. . . let me rest. . ."

*Your sweat could've well stained the ground if it were cool enough. . . You were stubborn & refused to get up, becoming a puddle of flesh. Realizing that you weren't moving, he, grudgingly, decides to do what was best, but first he had to move you somewhere more suitable to your needs*

"*Ugh* Alright! Fine! I'll let you outta this, only once!"

*Swiftly brushing the rocks off your back, he scoops you up and onto his shoulder, no way would he let you die right then and there. You suddenly feel the biggest weight being literally lifted off your shoulders, thanking whatever was out there for this moment*

"I'll let you rest, but not here!"

"*Heh* Thank you. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!"

Everything Burning Spice does, he expects the player to do the same, no matter how difficult. But will give them the benefit of the doubt when the player gets too tired to keep going, much to his annoyance

He's active and moving 24/7, that's why Burning Spice's minigame is directly based on "Super Mario Bros" where the player runs about collecting items, attacking enemies, etc.

If the player is talking to him, he'll most entirely talk about himself, boosting his ego, even throwing insults at the other beasts, which is both annoying and ironic because he does the exact same things that they do. That being said, it's important to never get mad at him or give him attitude because it will work him up, for better or worse. . .

The player can easily get information from him due to his blunt honesty. When talking about the other beasts, he'll always give bits of helpful information about them, some that can be extremely helpful in the future

Similar to Mystic Flour, Burning Spice gives the player free range to do whatever, the only difference is that Burning Spice sets up these "training sessions" on random occasions without notifying the player firsthand, and expects them to drop everything to train with him. This exhausts the player, causing them to only be able to do things during the day, when they've required enough rest

*Stumbling into the room Burning Spice gave you, you flop onto the bed, nestling your head against your pillow, relived. You were finally able to rest your jelly legs, sore running around and doing tasks. But you turn to your side, something catches your eye. . . On the single window of your room, you noticed what looked to be a slip of paper. Despite being entirely drained, your curiosity got the better of you, and slipping from the bed, you make your way toward the windowsill, now realizing how out of place from the rest of the room, appearing more of a light lilac than any of the reds and oranges. You questioned if even came from the place, and upon proper examination, your suspicions seemed correct. . . This was no mere paper, but a letter! Curiosities only felt more rapid as you opened, revealing not only short message crafted in cursive, but a beautiful illustration of a rose*

"Small Rodent, have you been faring well within our world? Have you been eating, sleeping well? I hope the others hadn't been too cruel towards you. . . Word of mouth does not travel fast here, so I apologize if I arrive to you late. . . I wish to reach you soon. . ."

"From- Silent Salt Cookie"

"Small Rodent. . ?"

*Reading through the passage, you took a few seconds to process, hoping that whoever sent it wasn't suggesting what you thought they were suggesting, cause if you got kidnapped one more time. . .-*

"Aye! Pipsqueak!!"

*Burning Spice had, without warning, busted into the room, no time for internal dialogue now! With milliseconds to think, you swiftly hide the letter behind your back, not before confronting the brute for his sudden excursion of your privacy*

"B-Burning Spice Cookie?! What are you doing here?!-"

"What?~ I can't check on my little pipsqueak, can't I?~"

*Again with the nickname. .?! Blushing rapidly, you couldn't tell whether you were annoyed, angry, or just plain embarrassed. . . Burning Spice laughed boastingly, always amused by your expressions*

"*HAHAHAH!~* Ya never fail to entertain me, pipsqueak!~"

*Then he noticed the arms behind your back. . .*

"Say, whatcha got there? Ya hiding something from me?"

*Shoot! the letter was still in your hands! Only seeing this as more of a reason to keep it hidden, you play it cool for as much as possible*

"I-It's nothing! W-What are you talking about?!*hehe*"

*Burning Spice just saw your actions as even more suspicious, he might be a barbarian, but he isn't stupid. He attempted turning you around to see what exactly you were keeping from him, all the while you were trying to dodge him, cold sweat beginning to run down your forehead*

"Are ya sure? Cause *uh* ya starting to look pretty sweaty there. . ."

"Oh!- this?! *Uhh. . .* I'm just, tired! from all the training today *haha!*"

*You two do this dance a bit, with you becoming doubly irritated the more Burning Spice tried seeing what you're hiding, getting additionally irritated while Burning Spice looked completely willing to tear your front open, asking and reinsuring you, again and again to get a little looksee. And you thought Shadow Milk was nosy?! Annoying and driven to your breaking point, you practically yell at him-*

"IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, OK?!"

*Hearing those words fall out of your mouth, Burning Spice is beyond tooken aback, clearly, he didn't like being told what to do. You quickly gasp to yourself, slamming your mouth closed with a free hand upon realizing what you've just said, how could you be so stupid?! With the letter still in your other hand, you decide the best course of action was to crumble up the paper, that letter was the least of your worries now anyway. . .*

"Did. . .Did you just yell at me. . ?!"

*You gulped, your sweat becoming increasingly apparent as the brute looked seconds away from having steam shoot out his ears. He proceeds to get unnervingly close, practically towering over you. . .Didn't think it would end this way. . .*

"That. . . Is. . ."

"Great!!!"

"Ya getting spicier by the minute!"

*Burning Spice grabbed both your shoulders, and shook them with excitement, much to your bewilderment. The way his tone can just shift was both jarring and impressive. After a bit of violent shaking and surviving what would've been another death experience, he eventually lets go, not before giving you a hardy slap to the back whilst laughing, dang near knocking you off your feet and the letter out of your hand*

"*HA! HA!* Ya know what!? Take the rest of the day off! I wanna see my hard work!"

*He happily marches out of the room, leaving you in a rather messed up state*

"Be sure to get all the rest ya need! Ya gonna need it for tomorrow!"

*Burning Spice leaves the room, shutting the door, the second he was out of sight, you took the biggest sigh of relief. That was close, way too close! Like you practically dodged a bullet! You pull back out the crumbled-up letter and tried to fix it, somewhat regretting your decision of almost destroying it before. You had to be more careful next time*

During this entire scene, the player must be extra careful around Burning Spice, because despite how it's played, there's a route where he discovered the letter while they're asleep, and he's not too pleased with having Silent Salt trying to contact them, promptly getting so angry he burns the letter to ashes

That being said, Burning Spice, though seeming like a rage-filled brute who fights first and asks questions later, he's never threatening nor outright violent to the player, unless its a final resort. The player is a much-needed piece in a, all be it complex, puzzle, even if they don't even know it, and in order for them to work is through gaining their trust. But don't think that this is a good thing, there are many times where he could've hurt them yet actively chose not to

He immediately got to work constructing another outfit for the player cause in his own words, "there's no way ya staying here looking like that!" And the outfit he gives them perfectly reflects his ego, slick black clothing, paired with red barbaric accents, and brightly colored armor, making the player look like a mini version of himself. It's good enough for the endless training they have to do, but it's clear that some parts of the outfit were put together at the last second and were made from the minimal sewing Burning Spice learned. And if wanting to be honest, it's kinda ugly. . . Overall, it's the player's least favorite of the outfits given (if they decide it is)

Every hour, it feels like Burning Spice is always learning something new about the player, to him at least. Because of this, he celebrates every accomplishment they make with lavished (and very spicy) feasts, no matter how small they might be. Not exactly the best prize for basically being slaved away constantly to a point of exhaustion, but he doesn't need to know that. The only downside to this is that he's loud, like really loud, so loud in fact, he can't hear any other voices but his own, making him clearly oblivious to a certain someone stealing away the player(-again)

So Burning Spice, a not-so great roommate, but a pretty good personal trainer

~Silent Salt~

Ever since leaving Shadow Milk's site, someone else had been watching the player for some time, someone who wasn't too distant from the player, none other than the silent knight themself, Silent Salt Cookie

Once they found out about the player, there wasn't an ounce of disbelief nor hesitation that got into their head, they only had one goal in mind, and that was getting the player out of the other beasts' hands. But like a hungry wolf with its meal, they knew it wouldn't be easy. The other beasts always kept the player at arm's length, even with the leisure they receive, those four always made sure they were watched. And so they waited, and waited, and waited. . . In till they had the right moment to strike

Normally the beasts would be more direct when approaching the player, probably showing some pity towards them, not before whisking them away, Silent Salt on the other hand had a more different approach. They'd leave small letters for the player, all written in cursive and paired with a beautifully drawn illustration which they constructed themselves. Silent Salt essentially gives the player a bread crumb trail, preparing them for what was to come as to not spook them later

"Last one to get back to the base goes stale!"

"Burning Spice Cookie! Wait up!"

*You two were only trying to get back. . . nothing too special, yet of course, Burning Spice just had to turn it into a game of tag, didn't he?! Already tired from the day's activities, you struggled to move forward, and the barbarian is way ahead. Despite how unfair, annoying, and exhausting it was, you sighed, it wasn't the first time he did this. . . As you forced your body further, all you cared about was getting rest. You never understood why Burning Spice pushed your body to such lengths, but if there was one other reason to keep going it was to spite him. But as you were about halfway there, an unknown force suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side, you yelped, why does everyone here like grabbing you!?*

"*AH!* W-What the!?-"

*Pulled into an unnoticed corner, you practically swing yourself around, already having a good idea of just who decided to yank you out of the way, and you got what you wished for. . . Hovering over your tiny body, was the silent knight themself, quiet and unmoving, looking down at you. . . You jump back a bit startled, those training sessions are sounding a lot better right now. . . Although frozen with fear, it didn't take long to realize that something wasn't right. Sure, they appeared in front of you but that was merely it, just standing there, menacingly, almost like a statue. Your fear quickly dissolves into pure confusion as you stare back at them, the moment shifting into awkward silence. You already had a decent idea of who this fellow might be, and decided to use it as a way to break the barrier between you two*

"*Um. . .* Hi. . ."

"Y-You're Silent Salt Cookie, right. . ?"

*It took them a second to respond, and by "respond" they actually crouched down and got extremely close to your face, adding to your bewilderment, and barely managing to keep your composure*

"*ah!-* I'm gonna take that as a yes. . !"

*As a result of being thrown around so much, you practically knew what was next, but seeing the knight so still felt alien to you, and almost refreshing. . ? Like you were happy to just not be snatched for once, as morbid as that sounds. Oh but no, that's not right, who's to say that this fellow was to be trusted. You make the bold choice to ask them more questions, but before another word could fall out of your mouth. . .*

"Aye Pipsqueak! What's the hold up!?"

It's a no-brainer that Burning Spice finally noticed the player's absence, they have the rightful decision of running to him or yelling out, which Silent Salt covers their mouth and attempts to take them away(what a surprise!) The second route, however, the player's (4th) kidnapping is put on display for Burning Spice, who did not handle the situation well. He immediately rushes in to save them, but Silent Salt was much too swift for him. All the while, the player attempts to save themselves; trying to kick, scream, and squirm their way to freedom, but nothing works, they were a knight after all. Enraged, Burning Spice yells at Silent Salt that he'll get revenge, and he won't be alone. . !

(And before we go on any further, I personally like to hc that Silent Salt is both mute and deaf because 1. it matches with the new ancient heroes since Pure Vanilla is heavily implied to be blind; and 2. it'd make sense that the witches would want to make a disabled cookie. During their pre-corruption days, the five virtues also had to be role models for the cookies, thus they had to, at some extent, be relatable. So giving one of the virtues something that other cookies can relate to makes sense. Oh and as a bonus, Silent Salt is completely fluent in ASL and is fairly good at lip reading; Shadow Milk and Mystic Flour are also fluent in ASL and often act as their mouth pieces. Ok moving on!)

You'd think that the player wouldn't trust Silent Salt from the jump, given the circumstances & that this happened to them so many other times, and yet. . . Silent Salt was the only one to be considerate of the player's feelings before performing the act, they knew the player would be scared, if not terrified, of them, especially when you consider their appearance and quiet nature; thus they planted the letter to let them know. So although this doesn't mean the player fully trusts them, it is a step into the right path

How they view the player is a complete mystery, unlike the other beasts, it isn't just spelled out in ink. Instead, the player has to focus on their interactions and certain body language, since they can't speak

Similarly to Eternal Sugar, Silent Salt will often give the player gifts in an attempt to gain their trust. The main difference on the other hand was that those gifts were much smaller scale than what Eternal Sugar gave them, but still feel more thought out and genuine

*Lilac-colored curtain draped over large windows, comfortable sitting, and a bed that resembled a soft marshmallow, you had to admit, for living in a wasteland, they sure knew a thing or two about decor. But as you admired your new bedroom, you get a sudden knock on the door, and opening it a crack, you see Silent Salt, they appeared to be holding a few things*

"Oh! Silent Salt Cookie! What brings you-"

*Fully opening the door revealed what they were holding, a bouquet of beautifully made paper flowers in one hand, and a sliver tin, filled with salted chocolates in the other. Seeing the gifts, you were pleasantly surprised, not just by the tin of sweets but the paper flowers, so true to life and clearly made by them, you were amazed by the fact they were able to pull something like that off*

"Wow! are these for me?"

*The knight nodded their head, handing both gifts to you. Despite how small the gesture was, you still felt a tiny bit overwhelmed, the smallest hint of blush creeped onto your face*

"T-Thank you! They're lovely!"

Silent Salt was & still somewhat is known for their skills with a sword, thus the reason why their minigame is based on "Fruit Ninja." The player, instead of slicing fruit, is made to cut different pieces of paper according to a dotted line, in an attempt to mimic Silent Salt's paper flowers

While out exploring and doing tasks, Silent Salt will actually partner up with the player & help them, which is already a massive change from the player's other beast encounters. Either they'd find ways to stretch the task out even longer, or just not help at all, so having them there is a huge change of pace. They're always by the player's side, because of this, they can come off as clingy at times

They, like most of the beasts, give the player free range to do whatever, but is quick to set boundaries. The player isn't allowed to go into certain areas without their supervision, especially at night

*Lightly tracking your steps across cold floors, you carefully tiptoe through the Silent domain, moonlight streaking onto every nook and cranny acted as your only light source, which you tried to use to your advantage, the last thing you wanted was to be caught. But when you turned the corner, guess who you unceremoniously bumped into. . ? Pressed into their chest, you abruptly backed away startled & flustered realizing who it was, Silent Salt just looked at you, just like before*

"*Ah!-* Silent Salt Cookie. . ! It's not what you think. . !"

"I-I just have a few other things to do, that's all!-"

*The silent knight only stood there, arms crossed, making their stance all the more stern. You already had a good idea of what was going on in their head, no amount of convincing would change your fate. So with a sigh, you started heading back to your room, not before Silent Salt gently scoops you up, refusing to let you touch the floor, and carried you there themself. Blushing rapidly, you beg and plead for them to put you down, but failed miserably; why does everyone like carrying you so much. . ?*

Silent Salt treats the player like they're the most fragile thing on Earthbread, handling them with care and, with their position as a knight, more than happy to cater to their every need and desire

Due to their disability and limitations in lip reading, talking to them is difficult, creating this communication barrier between them and the player. This, however, doesn't stop the two of them from trying to fix the issue

That being said, Silent Salt most definitely wants to teach the player ASL so they can communicate easier. They made sure they'd take their time, teaching them all they need to know, starting with letters, to phrases, to full sentences. Even if the player struggles to learn at first, they're extremely patient with them, teaching things one step at a time

If it wasn't already obvious, Silent Salt is very delicate with their hands, due to their precise skills with a sword. Because of this, they picked up quite a few hobbies, like painting and drawing, clearly showed by the letter they made the player before, and surprisingly, braiding hair

*Slowly, the silent knight carefully overlapped strand after strand of hair from your head into beautiful braids. They put special care into each braid, constantly checking with you to make sure they were comfortable, even going the extra mile of creating more paper flowers to infuse into the braids. Sitting in front of the bedroom's vanity mirror, you were in awe at how perfect the braids were, your hair practically became an art project! Looking back at them, you couldn't see their face, but you could tell Silent Salt was genuinely enjoying themself, how they added flower after flower, even sometimes placing one directly onto your head; because well, why not? It was moments like this that made you think back to when you first met, back to when their silence felt alien to you, and how you were so unwilling to cooperate. . . Yes, you still didn't fully trust the knight, all of this just felt too perfect, almost too good to be true even, but it does. After placing the last flower, they were finally done, the braids were wrapped around your head and tied in the back with a purple ribbon*

If the hairstyle doesn't make them feel like royalty, then don't worry, Silent Salt had them covered. Cause not soon after doing their hair, they presented their outfit, which looked more like a gorgeous gown than any regular dress. Everything about it was perfect, the long white silk trin that partly touched the floor, the bow around the waste that matched your hair, the simple purple accents, its ruffled layers, everything. But possibly the most radiant part of the gown was these beautiful sewn in embroideries, each more beautiful than the last, all throughout. This was the straw that broke that camel's back, such actions of kindness couldn't go unrewarded; so through ASL, the player is able to sign phrases "thank you" and "sorry," to which Silent Salt immediately accepts. Quite a shame the player couldn't do more. . . The only two downside one could think of is that it strongly resembled a wedding dress, which can give the wrong ideas fast; also the gown length gives the possibility of tripping, but that's a simple price to pay

The relationship between the player and Silent Salt is mostly through action, and to some extent, physical touch. The player is always finding new and creative ways to repay them for everything they've done, often finding themselves cooking or cleaning for them, even gifting them drawings and paper creations they made themselves. Silent Salt does find this sweet and charming, but as a knight, they really have no desires. They crave the simpler things, like holding hands, learning ASL, or just being together in general. No amount of wasted paper would change that

Unfortunately, as stated before, not everything can be too blissful. . . Silent Salt is regularly shown to be extremely overprotective of the player, which does make sense considering their role; Silent Salt is a knight, keeping the innocent safe is their job, and the fact that the other beasts were also after them only made them double down on protecting them. Now, Silent Salt, before meeting the player, had no plans of escape, at least even they think of, in fact, became increasingly fond of their surroundings. . . Only when they learned the player did they start to reconsider. . . with a new opportunity, they couldn't simply pass it up. . .

Because of this, they've developed a 6th sense(or 5th or 4th) whenever they felt the player was in danger. Silent Salt can pick up signals of danger from miles away, and acts quickly ensure their safety, so imagine the player's surprise and confusion when being rushed somewhere else

*Everything was a blur. . . One second ago you and Silent Salt were spending time together per usual, before you knew it you were being pulled into your room, and Silent Salt was doing repeated checks on the door and windows, making sure they were locked. Confused, you try to stop them in their tracks, to get some sort of answer, but all they did was clutch both your hands tightly, looking you directly in the eyes; before abruptly letting go, telling you to never, for any reason, open the door or windows till they came back, then disappears, leaving you in a state of flustered shock. Even if completely unexpected on your end, it became increasingly clear why Silent Salt acted the way they did. . . with a battle axe, guess who was waiting just outside. . ?*

"Salty! right on time!~ It's been awhile, hasn't it?~"

*The knight merely stood there, sword in hand with a tight grip. They already knew what the brute was saying, him placing the axe's handle on the back of his neck as he began to walk towards them*

"Honestly, I'm pretty surprised Salty!~ Out of everybody here, it's you who'd be dumb enough to steal from me, me!"

"Cause when I think of stealing, I usually think of Shadow Milk Cookie, maybe Eternal Sugar Cookie if what we're after is really worth fighting for, but you?! *HA!* Didn't think of ya as the taking type!~"

"*Hmm. . .* I like it! You know I always love a good surprise?~"

*With every step he took, Silent Salt only further stood their ground, having already pulled their sword out from the dirt and getting into a battle stance. Upon reading their body language, his grin only got bigger, he knew exactly what was doing and actively stirred the pot. He put his hands up as he backed away in a condescending yet reassuring tone*

"*Woah!-* *Woah!-* Easy there buddy!~ Now I know what it looks like, but I promise, I didn't come here to cause trouble. . ."

"Instead, I'm looking for a little. . . exchange. . ."

*Burning Spice proceeded to hold his axe behind his back to make himself appear more innocent. All the while Silent Salt didn't once get out of their battle-ready mindset*

"Now I know I can be a little. . . hectic at times, but for this I'm willing to make one exception. . ."

"Say, I won't leave a scratch on your place, if you return what you've stole from me. . !"

"A simple deal, really!- You get out of this with no causalities, and I leave with that little cookie in tow!~ So what do ya say. . ?"

*Silent Salt was only getting parts of the Burning Spice's so called "deal," and already, they were not having it. . ! With just a blink of an eye, Silent Salt went from guarding their domain to holding the tip of their blade at Burning Spice's throat, as if they teleported, they were that fast. . ! Along with Shadow Milk's lies, none of the beasts were dumb enough to fall for one of his exchanges! The knight was clearly provoked; exactly what the brute wanted, so he kicked back far enough to pull his axe out from his back. Though the kick was strong, Silent Salt was still able to hold their ground, using their sword to keep their footing. There was a battle-hungry look in his eyes*

"*HA HA!* You just love surprising me, don't ya Salty?!"

*He then stretched his neck and shoulders, tense bones popped at the motion. Then proceeded to do his battle stance*

"Whatever! Wouldn't have worked anyway! Besides, no one gets dumber around here, right?! *HA!*"

"But one thing's for sure. . . Doesn't matter how tough you act. . . I'm not leaving without my pipsqueak. . !"

*His tone shifted to slight anger as his hair turned into bright flames. Having weapons drawn, it's clear as day as neither was willing to do what the other wanted, nor give in. Both had goals set in stone and willing to follow through with them; but just before they could actually strike at one and other. . .*

"*Yoo-hoo~* Up here!~"

"Apologizes for being so late you two, we've bumped into some. . . causalities. . ."

*In from above, flew in Eternal Sugar atop one of her clouds as Mystic Flour floated beside her, landing onto opposites of the brute and knight, creating this strange box. Burning Spice became all the happier, being the violence-obsessed cookie he was, this just maybe the fight more interesting for him. While Silent Salt was as stern as ever, despite being outnumbered*

"Misty! Sugar! Welcome to the party!! Just when things were starting to get interesting!~"

"*Ugh* Don't overexcite yourself Burning Spice Cookie, some of us only want this to be over with. . !"

*She has a quick glance at the beasts around her, just as annoyed of as before*

"So . . . I assume we all know about our new. . . 'inhabitant,' yes?"

*The silent knight nodded*

"*Pfft* *Uh Duh!-* What's was ya first clue?!"

"That's right! It's been far too long since I've seen another cookie, and when I finally find one, they're snatched from my hands!"

"Oh my poor little mouse!~ They must've been so lonely since they were taken away from me!"

"Being pushed and pulled by some brute and locked away by some scary knight?!~ What can be worse?!"

*Eternal Sugar whined and whined, nitpicking everything that she deemed "cruel treatment," and although most of the things said were true, Burning Spice couldn't help but take offense*

"Aye! What do ya mean by 'pushing and pulling around?!' I have you know I treat them with utmost respect and care!"

"*HA!* You call your so called 'training' of yours respect and care?! Don't make me laugh!"

"Unlike you, I provide my little mouse with everything they could ever need, everything they desire. . ! I make them happy! All your training does is ruin their perfect mind and body!"

*She looked over to her two other comrades*

"At least I can be assured that those two actually kept them safe, otherwise, I wouldn't know what I'd do. . ."

"Even Shadow Milk Cookie takes better care of my little mouse. . ."

*That's when most of the group realized a crucial detail, where the heck was Shadow Milk?! Unannounced to them, Mystic Flour already had a good idea of where he was, but waited to answer. . .*

"Oh yeah! Shadow Milk Cookie isn't here! Where is the guy anyway?!"

"When we found out the pika was being kept here, we came as soon as possible. But it wasn't long before Shadow Milk separated from us; we tried to pursue him but by then, he was already gone. . ."

"Perhaps we should wait for him. . .Knowing him, he likely has something planned. . !"

*With Shadow Milk being the smartest of their group, waiting for him seemed like the safest option, after all he was known for his tricks, who knows what he could be planning. Yet the brute and angel, who always had something to say, didn't have the patience for such. . .*

"And let him get another chance on stealing my little mouse away again?! Absolutely not!!"

"Yeah Misty, not having Shadow Milk Cookie around means less of us to get through, even if it is kinda boring! *HA HA!*"

"Wouldn't want his filth to rub off on my pipsqueak. . !"

*Eternal Sugar gasped in surprise and utter disgust*

"'Your' Pipsqueak?! are you delusional?! Clearly they're mine!!"

*Burning Spice cracked his knuckles, as he puffed his chest*

"Oh yeah?! Then why don't ya prove it?!"

*Mystic Flour groaned in irritation, if her eyes were open she would have definitely rolled them, this charade was going too far*

"*Ugh* You two are bickering like children! Could you at least not treat them like some object?! It's likely that the pika will return to me or Silent Salt Cookie, at least we don't see them as a mere pet. . !"

*Silent Salt nodded in agreement*

"And yet, I think we all know what we're really after. . . "

*With that sentence alone, it made Burning Spice and Eternal Sugar as quiet as Silent Salt was. . . The whole area was hushed, quiet enough to hear a pin drop. . .The four beasts side eyed each other, as if ready to duel; evidence was undeniably clear, they wanted to use you. . .for something? After keeping their running mouths shut for what felt like decades, Burning Spice finally breaks the silence, drawing his weapon, his patience was already dissolved. . .*

"Alright, that's it! We all want the cookie, and just sitting around isn't gonna help!"

"So, let's settle this. . . once and for all. . !"

"Agreed!"

"*Ugh* Suppose we should get this over with. . !"

*As Silent Salt drew their sword, the battle had began. The four played sides, the three of them trying to barge their way in, and Silent Salt trying to keep them out; and despite how unfair the fight seemed, not only were they evenly matched, but they all were fighting for themselves, for their own selfish goals, all of which surrounded getting to you. . . Speaking of that, you were once more left in the dark, spared from the situation. Not to say you aren't curious about what was going on either, in fact you were completely willing to open the windows to look outside if Silent Salt didn't tell you to keep them closed. Laying on top of the marshmallow bed, you stare up at the ceiling in boredom and something else. You received another to be alone with your thoughts, really rekindle and wonder. . . What the hell was going on?! First you were teleported to this strange place, then you were kidnapped five times, then you basically died and came back to life? Nothing about your situation was normal! Not to mention the cookies you're trapped with, if you can even call them "cookies" what even were they? You didn't know anything about them, what to feel about them, let alone if you could trust them or not. . . Questions were swimming in your head like fish upstream, feelings fighting for control in till. . .*

"*AH HAHAHAHA!~* no matter what, the story always stays the same!~"

*You hear a voice, a squeaky, arrogant, yet oh so voice. . . You look around in surprise, was that who you thought it was?!*

"That's right!~ The hero has arrived!~"

". . .To save his damsel in distress!~"

*CRASH!*

*Destroying one of the windows, bursts in the self-proclaimed trickster himself, Shadow Milk Cookie, the suddenness of the action making you fall off your bed startled and almost near giving you a heart attack. When hitting the ground, he did a quick barrel roll before landing on one knee in a sort of "ta-da!" position, acting like he didn't ruin a perfectly good glass plane, and much to your bewilderment. You quickly get up and stand towards him*

"S-Shadow Milk?! Are you ok?!"

"Awh~ Look at you!~ worrying for lil'ol me!~"

"I'm perfectly fine my little mousey!~ Absolutely splendid!~"

*You knew you should've expected a reaction like that from him of all cookies, but it didn't stop you from going dumbfounded*

"You just jumped in through a closed window!!"

*He then went on this long, overexaggerated, winded speech about how much he missed you, how you two had been separated for far too long, what lengths he had to go through just to get to you, but you were wise enough to know that he was partly spewing out lies. . . Mystic Flour knew he had a plan, and had a plan he did! whilst everyone else was occupied, he'd snuck in through a back window, unbelievable how such a cheap tactic was able to work. . . It wasn't long for Shadow Milk to notice the beautiful dress you were wearing, and lights up with glee, zipping toward you, and scaring you once more*

"And might I add, that is quite a marvelous gown you have on!~ *AH!* It makes you look so much more like a proper damsel!~ who made it?!"

"Well-. . ."

*He cuts you off before another word could come out of your mouth*

"-Oh, no, no, no, wait!- don't tell me, Silent Salt Cookie made this, didn't they?~"

"*AH!* It's such a no brainer!~ They make such amazing things, of course they'd make something this cute!~ I'm a little jealous!~ *hehehe!~*"

"*Whew!~* Okay, I think we had enough excitement for one day, hadn't we?~"

*He abruptly grabs your arm and pulls you close, startling you as blush begins to creep up your cheeks*

"Time to go home!~"

*It was the mention of "home" that threw you into a loop, what did he mean by "go home?!" Shocked, you pulled yourself away from the trickster, causing surprise and slight annoyance on his end*

"H-Home?! What are you talking about?!"

"Oh, you ask such silly questions, I'm taking you with me! Back to my humble abode!~"

Obviously, going back to the guy that had the player turned into two halves, is something that they aren't fully ready to do, thus are given the choice to go with him or not; to which both have different, yet very grim results. . . If they say yes, Shadow Milk Cookie will carry them out of Silent Salt's domain, not before being founded out by the other beasts, causing the player to be caught up within the drama, eventually getting stabbed through the chest from all the excitement. . ! On the other hand, if they say no, Shadow Milk with become more persuasive toward the player, reminding them of their time spent apart. If they deny him enough times, his patience begins to wane as his persona falls apart. Becoming more demanding till he snaps, forcing the player to leave with him; but it was already too late, as the other beasts had shown up, who aren't too happy about his late arrival, and chaos ensues, leading to the player getting decapitated. . !(Woooo-)

~Final~

The player ends up back at the top of the altar in the Silver Forest, completely passed out from the shock. All the beasts, after freaking out over their dead body, head there in a heartbeat, arguing over who'd be the one to take the player home, till Mystic Flour decides enough is enough, ending the argument and declaring the Shadow Milk should be the one to take in the player since he found them first, further saying that arguing wouldn't get them anywhere and wants to start a meeting before anyone else could argue back. . . Fast forward to Shadow Milk's base, the player is getting some well needed rest as the beasts are discussing what to do next, although it isn't entirely apparent that they remember how they got there, having them around could be beneficial to their much bigger goals. After a bit of talking, Shadow Milk conjures up a wonderfully, awful, idea. . . keeping the player as their hostage. . . Think about it! From the outside world, they already have reputations for being cold and cruel monsters, if they found out they had a cookie with them, they'd go nuts! Plus, who'd be more inclined to get involved? None other than the new Guardian Of The Seal, and Ancient Hero herself, White Lily Cookie. . . Long story short, they all agree with the plan, as it will guarantee their escape, and check on the player not long after, who was still passed out

*In your dormant state, you lay unconscious as all five beasts watched you, each of them claimed a corner of the bed. As they watched, Silent Salt noticed a slight twitching in your hand, and instinctively embraced theirs into yours, rubbing their thumb on your wrist. Not everybody took it well, cause Eternal Sugar shooed their hand away just a few seconds later*

"*Ugh* Get your hands away from them, you're ruining their slumber. . !"

*She turns back to you as her mood shifts from annoyance to gentle delight*

"Awh~ They look so precious!~"

*Burning Spice leaned forward on the bed to get a better look at you, he seemed upset*

"How long are they gonna be like this. . ? It's been awhile now. . ."

"Roughly a few hours, but I believe they will be awake by tomorrow. . . Poor thing, must have scared them quite a lot "

". . . I think it'd be wise to not tell the pika about our plan, after all, we did get this far with them"

"Right you are, my dear comrade!~"

"If it were to get out that we were keeping them for our own sake, it'd surely shatter any trust we might have, and we don't want them defying us, now do we?~"

*The other beasts agreed*

"*hehehehe!* So it's settled!~"

*Running a hand up your arm, the trickster looked back at you with his signature smile*

"*Hehehehe!*Oh be sure to get all the rest you need, my little mousey!~"

"Cause you'll be in for quite the performance!~"

And that's pretty much how the story begins, the player is their little doll for the time being, none the wiser about the beasts' plans for hostage type deal with The Guardian Of The Seal

(holy crap we're almost done, guess it's time to talk about some background and bonus info)

~Background~

You are playing as the new resident of the Faerie Kingdom, a half-faerie who grew up in Crispia. There, they are known for two things, having cookie genetics and being kinda an a*s, everything makes them unique compared to other faeries, especially the lack of wings on their back, and their personality isn't exactly a pocket of sunshine either. So throw that in a blender, and you got yourself unnecessary fame that many don't want. The player receives the full "little sibling treatment" with faeries being overbearing and constantly getting doted on. Which, of course, sucks, day by day, no matter where they go, they can't escape it! The only escape they have from it all is their day job, working as the librarian's assistant is when they could finally have some peace and quiet, alongside the librarian, who became the player's good friend

Ok! Bonus Stuff!

With the player's kidnapping and life within the Silver Kingdom, a few bonus relationships the player can have are with Silverbell, Mercury Knight, Pure Vanilla, and of course White Lily. SB and Mercury are like childhood friends/crushes, having met the player before the events of the main game, making the player more acquainted toward them. White Lily and Pure Vanilla on the other hand, take a parental role, acting as the player's protectors much later in the game. Both are relatively more alien to the player, especially White Lily, but the two quickly insert themselves, insisting that they only want to keep the player safe(which makes sense considering their mission is to protect Cookiekind, and the player certainly counts) Out of the two, it's White Lily we end up getting the closest with(a mother + child bond if you will), as Guardian Of The Seal, she was horrified to find out the player was being held hostage by the beasts, and wanted to do anything in her power to save them. She also took a liking to their personality (which's fine I guess???)

It may not look like it, but this game is all about choice. It's about the ideas and importance of choice, how decisions affect your life, how even bigger decisions are often made by selfish people, and (I'm probably gonna get publicly executed for this!-) how a democracy should be handled, because let's be honest, we need a better one. . . We'll see plenty examples of a bad democracy among the beasts, as Shadow Milk, the proclaimed "leader" constantly makes choices for others, in reality only thinking about himself; it's through the player he learns to give the others a say in the matter. Speaking of which, it's the player's choices that will have the most impact as the story continues, like how most games do, the only difference is that the game provides a much wider buffet of choices, making the opportunities endless!

If you're reading this then, Congratulations!

You Made It To The End!

Here's A Trophy!🏆(for both me and you cause omfg this took FOREVER! I'm happy with the final result but like- I never thought this would take like 5 weeks to make ;w;)

If I could go back in time, I would've definitely made this shorter. . !

If you any other ideas for this strange fangame, then feel free to let me know!~

Ok, bye!~^^

*decomposes into the soil*

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x reader #something to chew on while I work on my drafts. . .#i have..........so many;w;#eternal sugar cookie #eternal sugar cookie x reader #privated this post bc I wasn't even done with it and was saving it for AFTER the global strike and I posted it on accident-#mystic flour #mystic flour cookie x reader #burning spice cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #slient salt cookie #silent salt cookie x reader #y/n cookie #i put way too much effort into this. . .#i plan on finally finishing the next chapter of anything and everything all of time next that's also biting in the ass lately ;w;#pray for me guys🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽#other than that be on the lookout for my other projects #and as always stay tuned^^#crk x reader

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air--so--sweet · 10 months ago

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I found out from the production designer's website and an interview he did that the basement kitchen is actually the 'kid's lounge', a space the siblings created for themselves.

And I've been obsessed with it ever since because I feel it gives us more of an idea about what the umbrellas childhoods were like.

Because, okay there's the slightly extravagant things like the pool table and foozball table, but most of it is very simple. A hifi system and a collection of cassettes and CDs (I bet Luther was only allowed have a record collection as part of his special treatment as Number One), what looks like board games and some toys in what used to be the butcher shops fridges and there's another toy next to the hifi system that looks similar to some of the ones we see in Five's room.

And in the scene where Allison and Diego fight Cha Cha we see art supplies as well.

These are just basic things most kids would grow up with but the umbrellas had to create a secret place, away from their father, to have them. It's just desperately sad.

But I also find it kind of beautiful that they worked together to make a place for themselves and I like to imagine the process of it coming together. Them scavenging furniture from the unused academy rooms. One of them finds the table in storage room, or the attic maybe, and then over the next few weeks they manage to take chairs from different rooms until they can all sit at the table together. Coming home from Griddy's one night (sneaking out became a lot easier once they had a separate entrance that their dad didn't know about) they spot an armchair and a sofa left out on the sidewalk and they don't look in too bad a condition so Five jumps back with the armchair while the others carry the sofa home (Five was still getting the hang of jumping with objects, the sofa was still a bit too big for him to manage). Grace catches them stealing food to take downstairs one day and she mentions it to Pogo (who knows about the room since it's right next to his own room, but he chooses to turn a blind eye) and suddenly there's a fridge in the room and Grace makes sure it and the cupboards are always fully stocked, even after the kids are gone (we see Five make a sandwich here when he comes back from the apocalypse). Hargreeves never interacts with Grace much and doesn't pay much attention to the food orders she makes as long as she stays in budget so some extra loaves of bread or jars of peanut butter won't catch his attention.

And Hargreeves never found out about the room because There's no reason for him to go to the basement, the only things in the basement are Pogo's room (so telling that there are 42 bedrooms in the academy but Pogo is relegated to the basement) and a utilitiy room. Viktor's cell is also in the basement but it's accessed by a separate elevator so Hargreeves wouldn't pass the kid's lounge to get to it.

You can tell how important the space was to the siblings as well because of how they use it in adulthood.

It's where they all go when Five returns and where they hangout when in the academy (we see them in the living room too but mostly for family meetings).

When Viktor comes to invite the others to his concert he comes through the butcher shop entrance.

It's where Klaus gathers his brothers when he tells them that he spoke to Reginald the night before.

And, even when he was the only one left living in the academy, Luther ate breakfast there.

It's the only part of the academy they feel is truly theirs and theirs alone. It's their safe place.

#the umbrella academy #tua #analysis #set design #the siblings #this was partially writtem in my drafts for ages after tumblr only saved a partial draft so I lost a large chunk of it #finally got over it today and finished writing it #the visual syory telling in the TUA sets is one of my favourite things

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kmuradesu · 11 months ago

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.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying, posting my work on a different platform, or modifying my work. all rights reserved - kmuradesu

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aubvrns · 9 days ago

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lose the attitude, darling

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

Synopsis - When Wanda comes home distant and cold, your quiet evening turns into a silent battle for her attention.

Tags - Hurt/Comfort (Because, yes), Light Angst (Just light, don’t worry) Eventual Fluff (Happy endings for sad people), Mentioning something that tastes better than your cooking (Because I am, in fact, a freak)

Note - Notice a certain pattern for the titles of my works for Wanda? Hehe.

It started with the thud at the door.

You thought Wanda had accidentally banged her head on it because she was too tired to notice that there was, in fact, a door. But instead, you weren’t even greeted as the witch walked right past you.

No greeting, no surprise kiss to your cheek, nothing.

You knit your eyebrows, contemplating if you should run after her and beg for her to tell you what's wrong. Unfortunately, you were glued to finish cooking her favorite food. The faint scent of her favored pasta and the silent hum of the stove filled the air, basking in the silence.

After you set the table, you walk towards the living room, seeing a certain brunette with a frown on the couch, scrolling on her phone.

“Hey, dinner’s ready.” You spoke softly, leaning against the doorway. Your brows raise in anticipation, waiting for her response.

But instead, she doesn’t even look at you. It was as if she didn‘t hear you at all. Your fingers drum against the door, waiting patiently.

“Wanda?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Wanda gave you a short glance, before resuming the typing on her phone again. You tilted your head, knowing she just came home from a mission and is probably hungry, offering the smallest of smiles. “Are you okay?”

She let out an irritated sigh, “I’m fine, just need to finish something for work.”

You feel skeptical, biting your lip, trying to figure out what could be wrong. “Wanna talk about it or should I start drafting a resignation letter?”

Rolling her eyes, “Not in the mood.”

That was her warning, but you ignored it. Stepping behind her, your hands find their way to her tense shoulders. You kneaded gently, easing her annoyance.

“I can save you a plate, or you could join me— if you’re done with the attitude.” You say softly this time, smiling even though she couldn’t see it.

She scoffs, “Don’t baby me. I’m not a child.”

You’re acting like one right now.

Your arms are still on her shoulders. The tone wasn’t new, but it was still oddly unfamiliar. Being incredibly distant was her brand, until it convinces you that she's okay and she doesn’t need you hovering.

You weren’t going to give in to her attitude, instead, you give her one last rub on her shoulder before walking away. “Whatever suits you, then.”

The kitchen welcomed you quietly as you put Wanda's plate away. You stared at it on the counter as you eat your pasta, taking small bites. You lost your appetite, but you can’t let the food go to waste.

Minutes of quiet had passed, the wicked witch of the couch finally decided to join you. She opened the refrigerator, getting herself a bottle of water before sitting to the chair across you.

“Hey, you.”

You said softly. In the sweetest tone you can, but still, no response.

What could possibly have her attention when she has her insanely hot, sweet, and desirable girlfriend right in front of her?

You huff in annoyance, before standing up to get her plate. Luckily, it was still warm enough to eat. You slide it gently from her with a fork, hoping it at least make her look at you.

Still, niente.

“Wanda.”

“Mhm?”

“Please eat.”

“The food’s not going anywhere, isn’t it?”

Your eye twitched. She was like dealing with a child, moreover, an child who’s glued to their phone. “But it would be nice if you could eat it while it's still warm. I worked really hard on it all evening.”

She didn’t even flinch.

You let out a breath, “Are you really being like this?” Amidst your frustration, your tone was still soft and patient.

“Being like what? You’re the one acting like you can’t live without my attention when I’m clearly busy.” Wanda said sharply, her words like a dagger to your throat.

“Fine.” You grab her untouched plate and put it on the counter. “I’ll put it away until your royal mood swings pass.”

You put your plate inside the dishwasher, letting out a quiet sigh. Her attention was still on her phone, typing away.

You decided you’ve had enough. If she wants to ice you out, fine. You wouldn't beg for scraps of attention.

—

You gave her space. Hours of it.

And it worked. As the night dragged on, her scrolling slowed. As you sat on the couch reading your book, her glances grew longer as she sat on the opposite end of the couch. Her stubborn attitude slowly caving under. The silence felt thick, it was hard to tell if she even cared anymore.

Finally, for what felt like an eternity of silence, you hear a shift on the couch.

“Hey.”

One word testing the waters, her voice was unbearably soft. Although, you remind yourself about how she discarded your delicacy that you spent hours on.

Thinking about it, she could’ve cooked faster. But still, it’s the taste that counts.

“Hm?” You hummed, not even turning your head to look at the woman.

“I was kind of ignoring you.“ Her voice soft, but her distant eyes ignoring you.

“Kind of?”

She nudged your arm with her foot, her body now laying down with her feet on your lap. “Okay, I was ignoring you a lot.”

You stayed still, not paying her any attention. After a moment, she nudges herself right into your personal space until her chin was resting on your shoulder.

“I was mean,” she whispered, breath warm against your skin.

“Uh-huh.”

Her lips brush against your cheek, feather-light, her hands slowly draping over your waist. “And cold.”

Another soft kiss, right on the edge of your jaw, kissing up to the corners of your mouth. “Unfair and downright cruel.”

You glance at her, unimpressed. “Is this your way of apologizing? Because it’s not working.”

“Is it?” Her lips curved into a teasing smile, brushing her lips against yours, a kiss that leaves no room for denial.

You rolled your eyes, but your hand was curling into her hair, pulling her closer.

“I would appreciate an actual apology, y’know.” You mumble against her lips as her arms guide you to lay down on the couch.

She pulls away, now on top of you, and smiles charmingly enough for you to forgive her, “I’m sorry, darling,”. Frowning slightly, “I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

I smile softly at her genuine, yet playful apology. “It’s okay. Everyone has those days.”

Instead of teasing you again, Wanda lays beside you, hugging you comfortably. You lean against her and whisper, “Why were you even having an attitude?”

“Felt like it.”

You stare at her dumbfoundedly before she kisses you again. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Wanda grinned, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the tip of your nose. “I ate the food you cooked. It tastes amazing.”

You smile, putting your arms over her head and pulling her lips back to yours once more. After a minute of being all over eachother, she pulls away and says:

“But you know what tastes better?”

Let’s just say, she definitely made it up to you.

—

#valwrites .ᐟ #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #light angst #fluff #eventual fluff #they should get married #and vow to never ignore one another

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catt-nuevenor · 3 months ago

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A Brief Guide on Uploading ChoiceScript Demos to Itch.io

Since Dashingdon is shutting down, and there will be a lot of folks wanting to host their ChoiceScript demos elsewhere, I thought it'd be a good idea to provide a brief guide on how to do so for itch.io.

This is for Windows in the folder actions, but it shouldn't be too difficult for folks to translate for Mac. This also assumes you haven't changed any of the files within your game folder other than those found under 'scenes'.

Within your game folder, locate the 'web' subfolder, right click it and select 'Send to' then 'Compressed (zipped) folder. Name your newly compressed file something sensible, and I recommend moving it to a new folder outside of your game files, just to keep everything neat and tidy.

2. Assuming you already have an itch.io account, navigate to your dashboard, and click the 'Create New Project' button.

3. Name your project as you like, and under 'Kind of project', select the 'HTML' option.

4. Set the 'Pricing' to 'No Payments', you cannot use ChoiceScript for profit unless it is with the Choice of Games or Hosted Games publishing labels. No one wants to get in trouble unnecessarily here.

5. In the Uploads section, upload your newly zipped file we made in step one. After it's finished uploading, you'll be given one drop down and two tick boxes. You need to tick the 'This file will be played in the browser' option.

6. I've found so far that 'Viewport dimensions' work quite well for desktop at 1080 x 640. Either use these numbers or experiment and find what works best for you.

7. You must tick the 'Enable scrollbars' option for your game to display properly, otherwise options, text and buttons can be clipped off the bottom of the viewport.

8. Continue filling out the rest of the form, or skip it for now and scroll all the way to the bottom to the 'Visibility & access' section. Here make sure you have 'Draft' selected. This prevents others from finding your game until you're ready, and I always recommend play testing things before you make your work public.

9. Finally, hit the 'Save' button, then go and have a look at your creation by hitting the 'View page' link. And there you go! When you're ready for public release, just change the option in section 8 to 'Public'.

---

A few things to bear in mind about hosting on itch.io:

There isn't currently any way for your readers to save their game. I'm sure someone could write in a plugin similar to Dashingdon's at some point, but as for right now, this isn't available. See addition/edit below.

Make sure you properly tag your game with the 'choicescript' and 'interactive-fiction' tags. There are an awful lot of games on itch.io and it's easy to get lost in the crowd. Make sure folks can find you by having the right tags.

I hope this brief guide was useful to folks.

Best of luck to you with your writing!

---

Addition/Edit:

Thanks to @hpowellsmith for bringing this to my attention. You can add save functionality to your game by using this addon:

The ChoiceScript Save Plugin

Just tried it out on my own game and it works perfectly.

Rather than run through the addon author's own tutorial here, I'll just forward you to the Readme on their Github page.

One small note I would add is when it asks you to make the two small additions to your index file, make sure you right click the file and open it with your coding program, don't double-click it as this will just open it in an internet browser, and it won't give you the access to what you need to change.

#itch.io choicescript #choicescript #itch.io #choicescript demos #dashingdon #dashingdon shut down

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zombiigrll · 6 months ago

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IMMUNE? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x immune!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 2.1K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort?, use of y/n, blood, zombie apocalypse stuff ofc, post-terminus era, references/slight spoilers to twd 5x2 ?? petname (angel - which also did we all collectively agree that carl would call his s/o angel? i see everyone use it i have before too its so cute .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you get bit, but nothing happens. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hey guys... its been a minute... (45 days COUGH COUGH) i am so sorry i have been SO BUSY and i didnt even realize i had this fic almost completely finished in my drafts so i decided why not finally finish it!! (which is also why the ending might be a bit weak because i also have no written anything for 45 days LMAO) my favorite thing about the whole science behind zombisim is all the theories of if you could or couldn't become immune so i wanted to write a little fic because i love... zombie science.. nerd alert!!! ☝️🤓 <- me but also whats a carl grimes/zombie fanfic writer without writing at least one immunity fic!! hope u guys enjoy!!

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everyone knew you were clumsy. you'd always have to be with someone, no matter what. that's how much people worried about you.

there had been plenty of times where you had been close to getting bit, and if you were alone, you would've been bit.

but now, you and your group were back on the road after the prison had fell. you all met up at a terrible place called terminus, and almost died if carol wouldn't have shown up. it was dangerous, and terrifying. but you had carl on your side, as always. he was the person who had saved you so many times. he was like your personal bodyguard.

you guys had eventually ended up at a church with a priest named gabriel. you felt uneasy being there. gabriel seemed, well, unstable. rick saw it too, telling carl to keep his guard up.

but after a while, everyone was inside the church, laughing and having fun.

you spot bob walking outside, which catches your attention instantly. no one else really seemed to notice, so you turned over to carl.

"i'm gonna go outside."

"do you want me to go with?" he asks, immediately sitting up.

"no, it's fine. i think i saw bob go out there. i wanna go check on him." you smile at him, standing up and walking over to where you saw bob go.

but when you stepped out, he was nowhere to be found.

"bob?" you called out, walking forward a bit more as you looked around for him. "where'd you go?"

you walked a bit further, leaning your arm on a tree as you looked past further into the distance, searching for any sight of bob.

but, to your luck, you were snuck up on. you heard a growl to your side, where your arm was leaning, and then a pain shot through your forearm.

you let out a loud shriek as you fumbled for your knife, stabbing the walker who was still attached to your arm in the head. you kicked him off, breathing heavily.

you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest.

you glanced down at the walker who was now laying dead on the ground, gripping tightly on your knife as you processed what had just happened. you lifted up your pained, bleeding arm.

"no... no, oh, my god." you dropped your knife and began wiping away the blood that was profusely leaking out of your fresh bite wound. "shit..."

you stared at your arm for a moment, attempting to catch your breath while watching your own blood drip onto the floor beneath you.

the doors to the church busted open, snapping you out of your daze. carl, rick, and michonne stood at the door, staring at you.

carl stepped a bit closer. "what happened? are you okay-" he stopped as he spotted your arm. his face fell flat and his eyes widened.

"it snuck up on me.." you quietly and breathlessly responded, tears falling from your agonized face. "i was looking for bob."

rick runs up to you as he realizes you had been bit. he grabs your arm, his face a bit panicked as he starts speaking. "we have to cut it off."

"no!" you tugged your arm away from his grip, holding your arm from him. "we don't have the stuff for that!"

"stop yelling." rick sternly ordered, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. "let's go inside. i'm sure gabriel has the stuff for it."

you anxiously nodded, stepping toward the church with carl by your side.

"i'll get gabriel." michonne said, walking towards his office. "find somewhere for her to sit."

you take a seat in one of the rows, still holding your arm tightly.

"what the hell happened?" glenn asks, quickly walking over to the three of you with maggie by his side.

"she got bit." rick runs a hand through his hair. you look to your side and spot carl, just staring blankly, his expression the same as when he first saw your bite just moments before. he was speechless, and afraid.

you held your arm tighter as the pain increased, blood seeping through in between your fingers as you clenched your jaw. your breathing was progressively getting more and more ragged and uneven the more you panicked.

"i don't want you to cut my arm off.." you protested, your voice high pitched and wobbly. you closed your eyes tightly, a few tears falling from your eyes.

"we have to." rick shook his head. "otherwise you'll become one of them."

"i don't care." you sobbed, gripping tighter and tighter onto your arm. "i can't do it. i probably wouldn't survive either way, we don't have proper stuff for it." you could tell it was difficult for them to understand what you were saying through your sobs. "i just want to wait it out."

rick eyes widen, along with everyone else who were crowded around you.

carl finally steps closer, grabbing your other hand tightly. you could spot tears falling from his eyes. "please, y/n. i'll be with you, it'll be okay. please i.. i can't lose you."

you looked up at him through your lashes, pressing your lips together. "i can't, carl. i can't."

...

they had moved you to one of the rooms in the church that had something you could lay on. they tied your wrist to a pole and stood in the room with you.

you could barely keep track of what was happening. you genuinely felt fine, besides the side effects from losing blood.

"can you wrap my arm up..?" you requested. the tickling feeling of your blood dripping down your arm becoming too much, and you also wanted to test if that was what was making you feel sick.

being immune wasn't even a thought in your head yet. but you were just creeped out about not having any of the same side effects that anybody else had when they'd gotten bit. you were sweating, but you weren't feverish, that's just how the weather always was.

"yes, of course." glenn grabbed a thing of gauze out of his bag, going up to you and carefully but tightly wrapping it around the bite. he also grabbed a nearby rag to wipe the access blood that had been dripping off of your arm.

"...thanks." you sighed, looking away from everyone.

they were all just staring, waiting for something to happen. but nothing was. the awkward silence and suspense was killing you. you saw the sun starting to come up through the window, which means it had been quite a few hours since you had gotten bit.

you've seen people last a day, maybe the tiniest bit over a day, but you noticed that they always had obvious symptoms by now. and you still didn't.

you blew a raspberry, looking around the room. ".. i don't feel anything."

"what?" carl squinted in confusion, his voice still a bit brittle from crying. "like, you're numb?"

"no, like.. i don't feel any symptoms of turning." you laughed at how idiotic your sentence probably sounded to everyone.

"so, you're saying you're immune?" carls voice changed from being upset to just pure confusion.

"i don't know." you shrugged, tapping your foot on the hardwood floors. "i seriously don't know what's going on. the only time i felt sick was when it first happened and i saw my blood dripping. i feel fine right now, a little lightheaded, but i think thats from the bloodloss."

"look, theres no such thing as being 'immune.'" rick shook his head at your statement. "it might just be.. taking a while to settle in."

"dad, can you have a little faith?" carl turned to rick, glaring slightly at him before turning back at you. "i believe you."

everyone else seemed really skeptical about what was happening, exchanging confused looks with one another.

"we'll keep her in here for a little while, alright? if she still doesn't feel anything by tonight, then we'll untie her." rick sighed, looking down at you. you had been with everyone since the start, being there when carl reunited with rick and everything, so you could sense everyones panic when they first saw you get bit. and now, you could sense their pure confusion. people in our group have gotten bit before, but they'd show signs almost immediately.

"i can stay with her if you guys want to leave." carl said, sitting down right next to you. "i'll let you know if anything happens."

everyone agreed and left the room.

you laughed to yourself, looking over at the door.

"are you okay?" carl asks, looking at you anxiously.

"i'm fine." you turned your head over to look at him. "this is just so fucking weird. and we don't even know where bob went. i'm so confused right now. nothing is making sense." you let out another light laugh, shaking your head in honestly disbelief.

"maybe you're the chosen one." carl laughs, smiling at you. "i really hope you're being honest. i.. i don't think i can handle losing you."

you look at him with a lopsided smile, happy to hear how much he cared. "i wouldn't lie to you about this. i genuinely don't feel sick at all. i mean, i feel gross, but not in a 'i'm dying' way. more in a 'i just got my arm bitten into' way." you tried to make light of the situation, despite being terrified. carls expression stayed a bit worried. "..sorry, not funny. i don't want to lose you either carl. you're the best thing to ever happen to me, you know?"

his concern turned into a smile at your words. he leaned forward and hugged you tightly. all you could do was put your hand on his back, due to your other hand being tied up still.

"i love you." he mumbles into your shoulder.

you laugh, leaning your head on top of his. "i love you too."

...

a while passed, yet you still felt perfectly fine. your arm felt odd though, of course. you had been bitten into after all.

carl stayed by your side, telling you stories and just conversing with you to keep your mind and his off of the whole situation while everyone was out searching for bob.

you moved your arm up to your tied up one, itching at your tight bandages. “i want these off…” you dramatically complained.

“we should probably check on your arm anyways. even if you feel fine, there could still be something messed up with your arm.” carl says as he rotates his body towards your arm, carefully untying your arm looking at you for permission.

you nod, and he proceeds to take the bandage off. the teeth marks had dark bruises and dried blood around them, and your veins were darker and more apparent around the bite. it looked unreal.

you quickly looked away from the wound, shuddering. “holy shit.” you closed your eyes tightly.

you could hear carl stumble over his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “i… it… is it supposed to- um.. look like that?” he let out a nervous laugh, moving his hand to comfort yours.

you returned the nervous laugh, looking back at the bite momentarily. "i don't- i don't think so?"

your body was violently shaking, unsure what to do or what was going on. would you still need to cut your arm off? or would it still be fine, despite looking like that? you knew that you'd have to hide your arm for.. well, ever, if you decided not to cut your arm off. it could cause so many different issues if people outside of your group found out.

carl proceeded to grab anything he could find to clean your wound, as well as new bandages. you two sat in silence as he carefully cleaned your arm, the only sound being your light winces of pain as he applied the antibacterial ointment he luckily found.

he wrapped your arm back up and planted a quick, soft kiss onto your bandaged wound, looking back up at your flustered face with a smile afterward.

your face was hot, and you quickly averted your eyes away from his out of embarrassment.

he put his hand on your cheek and kissed your forehead, then pulled you into a hug right after. "i'm so glad you're okay."

you were shocked, but let out a flustered giggle before returning the hug. "thank you.." your smile kept growing and growing. then, the words "i love you." finally left your mouth.

he broke the hug and looked at you shocked, but then his big smile came back. "i love you, too, angel."

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#🌙 — maxines fics #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x reader #twd #twd x reader #carl grimes angst #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes imagine

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unholyhelbig · 2 months ago

Note

Can we please please PLEASE have part two of Brackish?

Title: Brackish [Part Two] | Read Part One Here

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 3454

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, mentions of ice baths, cannon typical violence, nightmares, physical testing, murder, KGB conditioning, Horrible grammar I don't proofread!

Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.

[A/n: Totally wasn't expecting the response the first part got, thank you so much! Truthfully this ask and the draft was sitting in my inbox for months. This is just a bunch of fluff. I don't know where to take it from here. Hopefully you enjoy!]

You’d woken up screaming, something that never bothered Daniel Whitehall. There were stretching corridors that were damp from broken pipes and water buildup. It smelled thickly of metal and never offered any kind of warmth. It carried your agony like a music box, or a greeting card. It had amused him- his men. So, you did your best to swallow your distress. But sometimes it was impossible to tamp things down in the bridge between sleep and alertness.

It had been three days and you still expected to be jerked back into the reality. A frigid tub of ice and metal under Whitehall’s hand. You must have lost your grip on reality and the Avengers Tower, Agent Romanoff and her rigid kindness, was all a mental tactic, to account for the trauma. You’d finally been broken.

But no: Right now, as you woke up screaming as the hours rolled into the fourth day, she was there. The bed was too soft. You’d learned, and sleep did not come easy. But you drifted off in spurts and woke with air caught in your throat. Never yelling. Never in such a panic.

You didn’t remember what had startled you, but there was a cool hand against your cheek and another one splayed against your chest and worried green eyes peering into yours. You moved to fight back, wanted to push the limbs away until you realized who they belonged to. Until you breathed in that polished scent.

“Sorry, I’m sorry” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over her wrists.

She was a busy woman. You’d realized that over the past 72 hours. Agent Romanoff was in high demand, her signature was required on countless documents and many with downturned eyes stalked up to her with a nervousness that you didn’t quite understand but, you were beginning to.

After some persistent pushing from Natasha on the second day, you’d agreed to blood tests, to EKG’s and other medical trials to make sure you were relatively healthy after years of captivity. She’d promised to stay, and she did. While a certain heat and embarrassment colored your cheeks at the unspoken request, she saved your dignity that morning by not brining it up.

Natasha frowned, didn’t say anything but applied a short pressure to your jaw with her thumb before guiding a glass of water to your hand as she lowered herself to the bed. “Sip this, all of it until it’s gone. Don’t gulp, it’ll hurt your stomach.”

You nodded, doing as you were told. She watched you carefully until you finished the glass. You wanted to cower under her scrutiny, but your heartrate had slowed by the time you’d drained the water and she’d taken it the moment it was empty, her hand on your knee as a grounding source. She was like that, you’d learned, attentive and able to read what you needed though you’d not found your voice to ask.

There wasn’t a clock in the guest room. You didn’t know what time it was, but no morning light seeped through the crack in the door and sleep still clung to you like a heavy blanket. You let out a deep breath and pressed your head against the wall behind you, tempted to let your eyes droop shut, but stopped from the fear of another scream ripping through you.

“The nightmares won’t go away. They’ll come less and less, but they’ll always be there.” She swallowed audibly, ran her fingers over a raised pink scar from a blade, or a bullet, or some type of metal that could easily tear skin against her exposed muscle. “What you went through isn’t easily forgotten. You can manage the symptoms, push it to the back of your mind during your waking hours but it’s hard to fight that kind of thing when you’re asleep. You’re guard can’t always be up.”

You nodded, working your hand through your damp hair. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t” Natasha assured “Would you like me to stay?”

More than anything. It felt like crossing a line. There wasn’t a chair in the guest room. It was fairly sparce. A bed and a nightstand and lamp that had bathed you both in a soft golden glow. It would be easier to tell her no, to ask her to leave. But your chest wouldn’t forgive you for that.

So, you scooted over, looked at her expectantly, going as far to peel back the duvet. Natasha huffed out something akin to a laugh and laid in the spot that you had just vacated. You could feel the heat of her skin, the closeness of her as you lowered yourself down next to her. She paid you a mercy by turning the lamp off.

The two of you lay, shoulder to shoulder, breath synchronized. You couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t. Your entire body was wound up. While Agent Romanoff’s presence was a balm, it also wound you up like a spring. You were conscious of every movement. Every twitch of your finger and tense of a muscle.

“It scares me that I can’t remember things.”

You could hear Natasha turn her head in the dark, the shift against the pillow. Her breath was warm against the side of your face. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your shirt, a stone on the center of your chest. You couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable- this at ease- in a long time.

“Do things come back when you sleep?”

It was her job, you knew, to pull things from you. In exchange for a bed and warm meal, you’d give her anything. She had quiet eyes and a quietness to her that gave away the fact that she was examining you methodically. But there was something else there that you couldn’t pinpoint. Something caring.

You turned onto your side, facing her, curling up more for your own comfort. “More of a feeling than a memory. Being there, I recall everything. Whitehall, his brainwashing, his tests and his tortures. His why’s and his motives are foggy. It was like he just wanted to inflict pain. But at his core. At Hydra’s core, I know that’s not true.”

Natasha adjusted on the bed, turned to face you. Inches apart. Her nose was close enough in the dark to bump against your own. Neither of you spoke for a moment, hands brushing closely like a bridge uncrossed.

“I worry that they changed me in way’s that can’t be unchanged, but can’t recall who I was before they’ve changed me. That they kept me alive because they were… succeeding in something that they hadn’t before.” You let out a heavy breath, it splayed hotly against Natasha’s chest, warmed her. “That deep down inside, something uncontrollable is there.”

Natasha made a small noise in the back of her throat that could only be described as a whimper. Tentatively, she’d shifted in the quiet, had found the edge of your jaw in the darkness and traced the sharpness of it with her touch. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaned into it.

Soon, her palm was against your cheek, warm from the prospect of sleep. Her hold soft as she pulled you forward, the initial shock of the swift movement replaced by that detergent scent and the instant comfort. An undignified grunt escaped you when you slotted so perfectly against Natasha’s front.

You’d learned rather quickly that she liked to show her protection.

When your blood had been drawn, the tech on the medical floor insisted of her credentials but quickly blanched with a glare from the Black Widow herself and the assured hand at the base of your spine. You’d shown your strength during the physical trials as they monitored your heartrate during a mile run, and Natasha had watched with a warning stare as another tech adjusted the censors.

And now, she wrapped her arms around your center and hooked her leg over your own. She was tense until she felt the coolness of your nose against her pulse point, the way you nuzzled against her, sighed into her comfort instead of tensed, as if she feared of rejection.

“We’ll figure it out.” Her voice was a rumble, your ear this close to her chest. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”

There was a sensor under your collarbone, one on either side of your chest, and another directly under your ribs. Two more that had been stuck to your abdomen. The adhesive was unbearably itchy, and you had half the mind to tear them away. A huff pulled uncomfortably at you. Another huff earned you a sharp glare from the woman wrapping your hands.

Natasha was on her knees for you. Not for you, but certainly in front of you. Either way it made you blush profusely. She worked with intention, making sure that the next trial they were putting you through was safe enough for you to participate in. A tech had offered to do this for her. For you. But she’d refused.

“Stop pouting, sweetheart. This is the last one and then they’ll leave you alone for at least the weekend.”

“Promise?”

Natasha sighed and her exhale was hot against the skin on your chest, forming a valley of goosebumps. You swallowed back a shiver. “No. Now sit back.”

You did as you were told, all the while, another SHIELD tech kept a keen eye on the both of you. Nameless, faceless, dressed in black. You almost preferred them this way. Whitehall was a constant for you, a villain that always signified a form of hurt and anguish. The constant revolving door of men and women made it impossible to link a test with a face.

Natasha was almost the opposite. You were starting to associate that piney, vanilla bergamot scent of hers with safety. It scared you. Her hands were assured and so were her movements. You were very aware that she had been with you nearly all hours of the day since you’d been pulled from the wreckage of all you’d known for possible years. Stockholm syndrome, some would call it.

You approached it with reckless abandon. You didn’t care. She was warmth. She was opposite of ice baths and frigid water that you choked on until you blacked out. She was lean muscle and healed scars and tender green eyes. She made it easier to think. She gave orders that were easy to follow: To sit back. To Stop Pouting. To Get some Sleep. You could do those things. Those things were easy.

“We’ll start at a weight of fifty and steadily increase until you cannot support the bar any further.” The nameless, dark-eyed man said, not looking up from his tablet. “If at any point, you feel uncomfortable during the test, please alert me or Agent Romanoff. Do you have any questions?”

You shook your head, laid back on the cool bench and adjusted yourself until you stared up at the metal ceiling. It looked taller from this angle, impossible to reach. Black weights were saddled on either side. Agent Romanoff’s presence was at your six the entire time. Lingering, watching with careful and apt attention.

“Alright. You may begin. Make sure not to lock your arms.”

The bar was nothing in your hands, a slight nuisance, if anything. Ever-so-slowly the weight was increased: Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. All the way to 700 before another huff left your lungs, chin tipping towards Natasha as you stared up at her. Pouting. You were absolutely pouting.

They were being methodical about this, and that also meant it was taking ages. One of Natasha’s brows was quirked and she worried the nail of her thumb between her teeth as they upped the weight to a solid 1,000. You adjusted your hold on the bar. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no strain, no sweat. No spike in heartrate.

“Okay. I think we know enough.” Natasha finally barked. “Right?”

“But I-“

“Right?”

Sure, it had only been a few days, but you knew that tone and it was enough for the SHIELD agent to snap his jaw shut and for you to replace the bar before sitting back up. The test, you were sure, was far from over. But there was such a finality in the demand.

You knew you had some strength to you, sure. Daniel Whitehall wouldn’t keep you locked up the way he did, in a steel-enforced cell, if that weren’t the case. The binds you’d sometimes recall were much too thick for anyone that had the normal stamina, someone who could survive his trials. You don’t remember being tested like this before, your limits pushed.

The SHIELD agent tapped at his screen, letting out a non-committal noise “Well, your strength is remarkable. You say you don’t remember a thing? I think you could benefit from some memory recovery sensory therapy.”

Natasha rumbled in the back of her throat, snatching the tablet from the man before shoving him roughly from the room. You watched the display with raised brows, the protective edge to her that you knew was there, but hadn’t been privy to at this degree. He protested, but didn’t’ overtly stop her. Not even when she slammed and locked the door with the waggle of her fingers and the lowering of the blinds.

“The know at all’s from logistics get on my nerves.”

She wouldn’t look at you, instead clicking off the screen and throwing the tablet onto the counter. There was a light blush to her cheeks. You peeled off your shirt, almost in habit now, leaving you in nothing but one of the agencies issued sports bras. The adhesive was getting too irritating.

Your eyes lingered on her. “Uh-huh, is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all.”

But when those deep green eyes snapped up to yours, the way her breath hitched betrayed her. You’d effectively flustered the Black Widow herself and it brought a sort of heady confidence to you that you quite enjoyed. You ripped the sensor from below your ribcage away, the stickiness making an odd noise as it pulled away.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about, what he was suggesting is out of the question. They’ve run enough tests on you to determine that Hydra didn’t place any type of chip in your brain. They didn’t change your bone density or alter your blood chemistry. With your added strength, your speed.” She closed the distance between you, ripping another sensor off with little abandon, her hands cold against your skin. “We’re looking at an infinity stone.”

You grunted under her touch, fingers soothing over the spot she’d just torn, a silent apology. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Wanda Maximoff, do you know her?”

You shook your head, remaining still as she moved to the next sensor. Agent Romanoff pulled with the same quickness as before, but was softer with her hands, instantly using the coolness of her palm to quiet the sting that soon followed. You’d given up peeling them away yourself. Instead, you peered up with her with watery eyes, blinking and doe-like. They’d melt her if you weren’t careful, and it seemed like you never were.

“Hydra conducted experiments on Wanda and her twin brother Pietro using something called the Mind Stone. A very powerful mineral that ultimately should have killed them, but it didn’t. It changed their DNA and gave them abilities. Pietro super-speed and Wanda the ability to manipulate the world around her.” Natasha’s voice was smooth as she spoke, the final sensor ripped away, you watched her do it, frowning at the red mark it left behind.

After a few moments of labored silence, she dragged her touch feather-light against your jaw and guided your attention back to her own. “They think Whitehall got ahold of the power stone, and they think it was used to torture you for years to replicate the success achieved with the Maximoff’s.”

“I don’t think he was very successful,”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your chin, not enough to wound, never enough, but a soft warning. “Nonsense. You’re more capable than you think.” Her thumb ran over the blush that was suddenly running across the bridge of your nose and your cheek. “Let’s take a break from all these boring trials. I want to show you something.”

There was a basement that resided below the cacophony of spruced up cells in the Avengers tower. You’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Agent Romanoff and watched as the numbers descended. Her scent had soothed you, even as the cold infiltrated the elevator and reminded you too much of a metal tub, safe for the water.

It jolted to a stop before the anxiety swirling in your lower belly could solidify. Natasha led you into another corridor that looked like all the other corridor’s in the tower. She walked with no urgency and you followed with the same pace. Finally, you reached another non-descript door, only accessed by the card on Agent Romanoff’s belt.

You were hit by the sharp scent of decaying paper, quiet leather and dust. There was a coolness here. A dull light that Natasha flicked on. A heaviness that reminded you of a library. There was a history here that told you it hadn’t been accessed in a long time.

Copy boxes lined bookshelves bracketed to the walls, a single table with a few chairs sat pushed in the corner. Natasha seemed to know exactly where she was going, exactly the files she was looking for. “We’re a multi-trillion-dollar organization, yet, all of the incriminating evidence about the Avengers exists in this singular room.”

You flinched, eyes meeting Natasha after she hauled the off-white box to the center of the table. You watched her carefully, not moving from your rooted spot at the edge of the doorway. You blinked at her, mouth slightly agape. She was trusting you with this. She was trusting you with this?

“Natasha you can’t… you don’t have to…”

“I want to. Come, sit.”

The chair was frigid against your skin, the whole room kept tepid to preserve the documents. Natasha sat adjacent to you, your knees brushing in a surge of warmth. Neither of you moved to pull away. She pushed the box to the far end and pulled out the first file, edging her fingers against the manila.

Before she could pry the cover back, you gripped her hand, squeezed it with fervor. “Wait, you can’t do this. Agent Romanoff, if you… if you tell me this, and I’m- if Whitehall did something that fundamentally changed me and I turn around and betray you, then I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“Mm” She hummed, frowning down at the file. “There’s more to you than that.”

“And if there’s not? I don’t even have a name, and you’re about to trust me with everything from your past, everything you’ve worked so hard to scrub. I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me do anything, darling. I didn’t scrub anything, I embraced it.”

Her other hand engulfed the one that had covered the one that had grasped her own. You hadn’t realized that you were squeezing so hard for purchase. Goosebumps covered your entire body, and you were trying not to tremble. It felt as if your bones were trying to claw their way from your skin. You ground your teeth together to keep them from clacking.

Natasha’s hand left yours for only a moment, peeling the cover of the file back, moving it in between the both of you. “I was born in Stalingrad Russia, indoctrinated into the Red Room by a man named General Dreykov. The Red Room was a program designed to create sleeper agents utilized by the KGB. Young girls were taken against their wills and molded into perfect killing machines.”

Your thumb moved over her knuckles, scarred from years of strain. She grasped back, grounding herself.

“For years, I was just that. Ruthless. Cruel. I spilled an impossible amount of blood because that’s what I was trained to do. It was a cycle. Wake up, kill, sleep. Wake up, kill, sleep. Sometimes they’d throw a little torture in there just to spice things up.”

You knit your eyebrows together, a small whimper escaping you.

“Tough room.” Natasha gave you a sad smile “milaya devochka, eventually, someone saw through the dripping ledger and what Dreykov had done. They saw me. That made a world of difference when the programming I had was all I’d ever known.”

You swallowed thickly, fingers tracing a raised pink scar at the edge of her palm. You let out a shaky breath. “And you… can be that person for me?”

“I’d like to be.”

[Dt: @ima-gi--na-tion, @l0nelyish, @taliiiaasteria, @ahintofchaos, @redhoodte]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Steve Rodgers #Tony Stark #Hydra reader #Natasha Romanoff x hydra reader #Marvel Fanfiction #Marvel #Reader insert #Natasha Romanoff x female Reader

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bu3ck3r · 4 days ago

Text

tied together – part 2

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 7k

a/n: okay part 2 is finally here! thank you for all the kind words about part 1 i love yall fr. after you read spam my inbox and tell me how was it and what you want to see next in this series because that would help me finish writing it faster🩵

tied together – masterlist

paige’s pov:

there were three different air vents in the ceiling above paige’s bed, and she’d been staring at them long enough to map out their pattern in her head. she could hear the soft hum of the central air unit kicking on and off, a quiet rhythm that should’ve been comforting. should’ve put her to sleep. but it didn’t.

nika was snoring lightly in the other bed. arm slung over her stomach. unaware that her friend was drowning in a mess of memories, nerves, and someone she couldn’t stop thinking about.

paige rolled over again. the clock on the nightstand glared at her in burning red: 3:05 am.

she wanted to scream.

instead, she pressed her face into the pillow, muffling a frustrated groan. her legs tangled in the hotel sheets, which had somehow gotten too hot despite the air conditioning. she threw them off and sat up, scrubbing her hands over her face. her chest was tight again.

not the post-game adrenaline. not soreness.

azzi.

always azzi.

her name had been playing on a loop in paige’s mind since the final buzzer. since that short conversation they shared just off the court—tense and quiet and loaded with everything paige had been trying to suppress since their last goodbye. since the last time she kissed her in the backseat of her car with trembling hands and didn’t say anything afterward. since she found out azzi committed to south carolina in a headline instead of a phone call.

what azzi had said to her after the game kept echoing in her head:

“i don’t know if it’s too late.”

it felt like it might be. felt like they’d crossed whatever line you don’t come back from. not because of the game. not even because of the school decisions. it was everything in between. the silence. the missed chances. the way they’d let pride fill the space where honesty should’ve lived.

she ran her hands down her face, frustrated. it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

they were supposed to rise together. be legendary together. win together. lose together.

instead? they had become a story people whispered about. “paige and azzi would’ve been inseparable if they played together.”

now they were rivals.

she should’ve said more. in the tunnel. when azzi stood there looking torn between biting her head off and reaching out. paige had seen it—the war behind her eyes. she could read azzi like a damn book. could always tell when she was bluffing. when she was hurt.

tonight, azzi had been both.

and paige had let her walk away.

again.

and now here she was—three in the morning, sitting in a hotel bed , not an ounce of sleep in her body, and one very real urge building like wildfire in her chest.

she reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone, squinting against the light as she unlocked it.

her thumb hovered over azzi’s name.

they hadn’t texted in months. not since before azzi announced she was going to sc. not since paige stopped replying altogether. there were so many almost-messages saved in the drafts: little check-ins, late-night thoughts, deleted love letters.

she hovered her fingers over the keyboard. started typing. deleted. tried again.

are you still awake?

she stared at it.

didn’t send it.

she started typing again, like she had a thousand times.

i miss you.

just those three words.

she stared at them. read them over. read them again. her heart thumped like it was trying to break out of her chest.

then, like always, she deleted it.

she couldn’t do this through a screen.

not anymore.

she was out of bed five minutes later.

slipping her phone into the hoodie pocket. moving slow to not wake nika. she slid on her uconn slides and crept into the hallway with her hoodie pulled tight around her, the strings bouncing against her chest.

the hallway was dim and silent, except for the low sound of vending machines and the soft, faraway sound of an elevator ding.

paige walked past room after room, carpet muffling her footsteps.

room 350.

she remembered the number because she’d seen it on a clipboard earlier that day when the teams checked in. she was signing some form in the hotel lobby and caught the room assignments. her eyes had skimmed the page, heart skipping when she saw bueckers – 250 right above fudd – 350.

she told herself it was coincidence she saw it. she told herself she wasn’t trying to remember.

but here she was.

standing in front of it.

she hesitated, staring at the door like they held the answer to smthing she didn’t know how to ask.

paige closed her eyes for a second. her hand trembled as she raised it. she knocked.

the door opened fast—like azzi had been standing right behind it.

maybe she had.

and there she was.

azzi.

hair messy. hoodie oversized. barefoot.

she froze when she saw paige.

neither of them said anything for a second.

then azzi leaned against the doorframe, blinking like she wasn’t sure if this was real or just something her brain had conjured up from exhaustion.

azzi’s pov:

the room was too cold, but azzi refused to get under the covers. she’d been sitting alone upright in bed for nearly an hour, hoodie on, legs crossed, just… thinking.

not about the game.

about her.

about the way paige had looked when their eyes met across the court again. like she hadn’t aged a day and yet somehow carried years in her expression. about the way her voice cracked when she said, “i don’t know if it’s too late.”

that moment replayed in her mind over and over, like a skipped record.

azzi had pretended to be fine all day. laughed with her teammates, took pictures with fans, smiled for the cameras. but she hadn’t been fine in months.

not since that night paige stopped answering.

not since she chose herself and sc and left paige behind—and paige didn’t fight for her.

azzi had her phone in her lap, paige’s contact open on the screen, but her fingers refused to move. her pride refused to reach out first. again.

she was just about to shut it off when the knock came.

it wasn’t loud. but she knew. somehow, before she even looked through the peephole. she knew.

she pulled open the door fast, heart already thudding in her chest.

and there she was.

paige.

hair messy. eyes tired. mouth parted like she didn’t know what to say.

azzi stepped aside without a word.

paige stood just inside the doorway, her hand still curled around the strap of her hoodie like she wasn’t sure she was staying. her eyes swept the room—messy bed,few azzi’s tshirts hanging halfway off the chair—but she didn’t comment. she just looked… tired. unsteady. like showing up at 3am hadn’t been impulsive at all, but something she’d been fighting herself over all night.

paige swallowed. “hey.”

azzi’s voice was a whisper. “paige it’s 3 a.m.”

“i know.”

another pause.

azzi tilted her head slightly. “you came all the way up here just to stare at me?”

“i wasn’t done,” paige said, her voice low. “back there. in the tunnel.”

azzi looked away. “you were right not to be.”

there was a beat. a breath.

then paige stepped forward.

“look, i don’t know what the hell we’re doing anymore. but i’m tired of pretending like this doesn’t still mess me up.”

azzi didn’t say anything, but her eyes softened. just a little.

paige kept going.

“i messed up. i didn’t call when i should’ve. i didn’t fight for us when i should’ve. and maybe that’s on me. but i need you to know…” she trailed off, swallowing hard. “it wasn’t because i stopped caring.”

azzi blinked slowly, her arms folding tighter across her chest. “it felt like it.”

“i know.”

more silence.

the hallway was still. the only sound was paige’s heartbeat thudding against her ribs.

then azzi stepped aside, just enough for paige to walk past her.

just enough to let her in.

and paige did.

she doesn’t say anything when paige steps inside. the door closes with a soft click, like the quiet has finally wrapped around them and won’t let go.

azzi leans back against it, watching as paige walks a few steps into the room—like she’s unsure whether she’s allowed to belong here.

the space between them is maybe five feet, but it feels like ten miles.

“nice room,” paige says, her voice low, teasing by instinct but without bite.

azzi doesn’t laugh. just gives her a slow once-over. hair tousled. hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands. eyes tired but too alive for this hour.

“you’re bold,” azzi finally says. “for showing up here.”

paige shrugs. “you didn’t slam the door.”

“didn’t mean i was ready to talk.”

“you didn’t look ready to not talk either.”

silence again.

the adrenaline from the game, the tunnel, paige’s sudden appearance—it’s all still buzzing under azzi’s skin.

“you want to sit?” azzi asked quietly, voice low so it didn’t carry down the hallway. “or…?”

“yeah.” paige exhaled. “yeah, i just—couldn’t sleep.”

azzi moved toward the bed and sat cross-legged near the top, motioning for her to sit. paige took the far edge, careful like she was afraid to sink too far into the mattress. the air between them stretched, tight and quiet.

she doesn’t know what she wants more: to scream at her, or to lie next to her and pretend nothing ever changed.

“you really think showing up like this fixes it?” azzi asks quietly.

paige doesn’t answer right away.

“no,” she says. “but i think it’s a start.”

“i kept thinking about what you said,” paige said after a beat. “or what you didn’t say.”

azzi swallowed. “in the tunnel?”

paige nodded.

“it’s not that simple,” azzi said. “it never was.”

“i didn’t ask for simple.” paige’s voice was soft, but not weak. “i just want to know if it’s too late.”

azzi looked at her. really looked. the same loose blonde hair, the same tired eyes, the same little freckle under her lip she used to stare at when paige would lean in close and pretend they were “just friends.”

“it felt like you gave up,” azzi whispered.

paige flinched. “you left.”

“you ghosted me.”

“you didn’t call.”

azzi laughed, bitter. “you think committing to south carolina was about you?”

paige blinked. “wasn’t it?”

azzi’s breath caught. she turned away, stared at the lamp on the desk. “i couldn’t be in your shadow, paige. not forever. not when i was trying to figure out who i even was.”

“i never wanted you in my shadow.”

“you didn’t have to want it. it just happened.”

silence again.

paige shifted on the bed. “so we just… stop talking? after everything?”

azzi didn’t answer.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi hasn’t moved since she sat down. paige doesn’t know what to do with her hands. her mouth. her entire body.

“you looked good out there,” she says, trying to break the silence again. “you always do, but… tonight especially.”

azzi looks up at her with a dry, unimpressed expression. “compliments now?”

“too soon?”

“try ‘not helpful.’”

paige nods, tries to laugh it off, but it dies quickly.

“i miss you,” she blurts, before she can stop herself.

azzi freezes.

the air shifts.

“you don’t get to say that like it’s easy,” azzi says slowly.

“i’m not trying to make it easy. i’m trying to be honest.”

“where was that honesty few months ago?” her voice is sharp, but not loud. controlled. the way azzi always was—even when she was breaking.

paige doesn’t flinch. “i was scared.”

“of what? me?”

“of choosing you and losing the rest.”

azzi stands up suddenly. “so you didn’t choose me, and you lost me anyway.”

the words hang in the air like smoke from a slow fire. dangerous. choking.

paige walks closer. not enough to touch. just enough to be in range.

“i didn’t know what i was doing. i thought we’d have more time.”

azzi shakes her head. “we had the time. you just… didn’t show up.”

paige leaned back on her hands, voice lighter, more teasing now: “we were definitely more than friends. i still remember the backseat of my car in december.”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “we were cold.”

“oh, right. that’s why your hands were under my shirt.”

“you weren’t complaining.”

paige smirked. “i’m not now.”

and just like that, the air changed again. warmer. more dangerous.

azzi looked at her, studying the soft curve of her mouth, the way her eyes held hers like a dare. like she was testing how far she could push before something cracked.

“you always did this,” azzi said. “made it a joke before it got too real.”

paige’s expression faltered. “it was real.”

“then why didn’t you fight for me?”

azzi didn’t mean to say it like that. but it was too late to take it back.

“i wanted you to fight,” she added, quieter now. “to come after me. even just once.”

paige stared at her. “you think i didn’t want to?”

“you didn’t.”

“i was hurt.”

“so was i.”

paige looked down at her lap, fingers twisting together. “we were scared.”

azzi nodded. “we still are.”

neither of them moved for a long time.

then paige looked up, slow, like the weight of every memory was pulling her gaze. “i missed you,” she whispered.

azzi swallowed hard. “i missed you too.”

there was a pull. invisible, magnetic. paige inched closer, her knees brushing azzi’s now. her eyes were soft, unreadable. but azzi knew that look. that was the look that used to undo her in long car rides and quiet corners at tournaments where no one was looking.

she should’ve looked away.

but she didn’t.

and paige leaned in.

just close enough that azzi could feel her breath.

“i shouldn’t,” azzi said.

“you don’t want to?”

paige’s voice was quiet, but it wasn’t a question. not really.

azzi’s heart beat too loud in her chest. “that’s not the same thing.”

usa basketball u16 women’s national team

it was after curfew one night during fiba women’s americas championship in argentina. they were buzzing on adrenaline and the quiet hush of a hotel where everyone else was asleep.

paige had crept into azzi’s room, just like this. hoodie half-zipped, socks mismatched. she had laid down beside her on the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

they talked for hours. about fear, pressure and carrying the weight of a country on their shoulders. paige had this soft way of looking at her—like she saw the good parts azzi tried to hide under perfection.

then paige reached out and touched her hand, so gentle. their fingers curled together. and azzi had leaned in first that night.

their first kiss was quiet. unpracticed. but it burned in azzi’s memory like scripture.

the next morning, they never talked about it. but everything changed.

paige nodded slowly. “it was real, though. right? we weren’t just friends.”

azzi huffed a soft laugh. “friends don’t make out in hotel elevators.”

“or in the back of your mom’s car.”

“or sneak into each other’s rooms during usa basketball.”

they looked at each other.

and smiled. the kind of smile that held too much weight behind it.

october 2021

they were on the rooftop of some building, sneakers kicked off, music low. the stars were hiding behind a thick gray haze, but they didn’t care.

azzi was leaning against her shoulder, paige’s hoodie pulled over both of them like a tent.

“you ever think we’ll get sick of each other?” azzi asked.

paige laughed. “you’d miss me in, like, two days.”

“two hours,” azzi corrected with a smile.

there had been no doubt back then. just this quiet, loud certainty. the way you just knew when you were with the right person—even if the world didn’t make space for it.

azzi traced circles on paige’s hand. “don’t leave.”

“i won’t.”

both of them did.

paige leaned back against the headboard. “you remember the night when we went out on the roof?” she asked, voice low.

“oh my god,” azzi laughed. “you had me wrapped in your hoodie like that was gonna make us invisible.”

“you were cold,” paige said with a shrug. “and also… you looked cute in it.”

azzi turned to her, eyes playful. “so you admit it. you were down bad.”

“yeah whatever, but you know what else i remember,” paige said, voice soft. “usa basketball u16. you kissed me and then you wouldn’t look at me the next day.”

azzi laughed under her breath. “i was freaking out.”

“you still do that, kiss me and then disappear.”

azzi bit her lip. “and you still let me.”

paige turned her body slightly, resting her weight on one elbow.

they were quiet again. but not the heavy kind. this was lighter. fragile.

“i kissed you first that night,” azzi said. “and i kept waiting for you to say something after. like, ‘tell me what it meant’. but you didn’t.”

paige looked away, shame crawling up her spine. “i didn’t know how. i was scared.”

“of what?”

“that if i said i loved you, you wouldn’t say it back.”

azzi was quiet.

and then she said, “i would’ve.”

the words hung in the room like a heartbeat.

azzi’s hands are clenched at her sides, and she can feel the war happening in her chest—part of her wants to yell, part of her wants to cry, and part of her just wants to fall into paige’s hoodie and pretend nothing changed.

“you broke my heart,” azzi says. quiet. not accusing. not soft. just true.

“i know.”

“and you waited until you lost to come here and say it?”

“i didn’t come because we lost.” paige looks right at her. “i came because i couldn’t leave town knowing i hadn’t looked you in the eye and told you everything i never said.”

azzi’s eyes start to sting. she blinks hard.

“i was angry,” she says. “for a long time.”

“you should’ve been.”

“and i hated you for a little while.”

paige doesn’t flinch.

“but mostly,” azzi says, her voice almost breaking, “i just missed you.”

they’re lying on the bed now, not touching, but close enough that their pinkies brush every time one of them breathes too deep.

it’s quiet.

their voices are tired. their eyes are heavier.

“i used to rehearse it,” paige says softly. “what i’d say to you if i got the chance.”

“yeah?”

“it never went like this.”

azzi smiles, faintly. “same.”

azzi looked over at paige, really looked at her. blonde hair messy, eyes bloodshot but glowing in the low light, hoodie drowning her frame.

she looked tired, but beautiful.

azzi shifted. “what do we do now?”

paige looked up. “what do you want to do?”

azzi hesitated.

paige’s eyes softened, and then she said it—just barely louder than a whisper.

“come here.”

the kiss came slow.

no rush. no adrenaline.

azzi leaned forward first, hands trembling just a little, and paige met her halfway. their mouths pressed together in something warm, something real. it was a kiss built on months of silence, years of closeness, and all the things they never said.

when they pulled apart, neither of them moved. they stayed forehead-to-forehead, breathing the same breath.

“i can’t do this if we’re gonna pretend it’s nothing again,” paige whispered.

azzi nodded. “me neither.”

“then let’s figure out how to be something. just… not tonight.”

“tonight,” azzi murmured, “i just want you to stay right here.”

another long silence. but this one isn’t heavy. not quite. it’s almost… suspended. like the night hasn’t decided whether it’s heartbreak or healing.

paige finally turns toward her. “do you think we could start over?”

azzi doesn’t answer right away.

instead, she reaches up and gently tucks a loose curl behind paige’s ear. her fingers linger, and for a second—just one—paige leans into the touch.

“i don’t want to start over,” azzi says. “i want us to keep going.”

“but we’re not the same.”

“no,” azzi agrees. “but maybe that’s not the worst thing.”

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

they’d moved under the covers at some point. not touching. not kissing. just talking.

about everything.

about how paige felt like the injury had turned her into a ghost and how she didn’t want azzi to see her fading.

about how azzi cried on the plane to south carolina, because she realized she didn’t know how to build a life without paige in it.

4:45 a.m.

they’re still awake when the first light slips through the blinds.

azzi’s head is on paige’s shoulder now. paige’s fingers trace lazy patterns on her wrist.

they haven’t said the word love all night.

but it’s everywhere.

in the silences. in the unfinished sentences. in the way neither of them asked the other to leave.

they don’t know what tomorrow looks like. whether anything really got solved. whether this is just nostalgia wearing a disguise.

but for now—for this hour—it’s enough.

just them.

just paige and azzi.

and the space between them finally closing.

6.00 a.m.

paige doesn’t remember falling asleep. she only remembers the feeling of azzi’s breath warm against her neck, her name spoken softly in the dark, like an invitation and a promise all at once.

now, it’s morning.

the harsh kind. not soft and easy like in movies, where the light’s always golden and perfect. it’s gray, a little cold, and the sheets are tangled at their feet. her mouth is dry, her heart full of things she can’t quite articulate. she’s lying there in azzi’s bed, still wearing her hoodie from the night. everything about the situation feels like a careful balance, and paige isn’t sure how to breathe without making the whole thing fall apart.

azzi’s still asleep next to her, tucked against her side like a piece of her is trying to anchor itself in the moment. her hand is draped over paige’s ribcage, fingers just barely brushing the fabric of the hoodie, but the touch feels intimate, grounding.

it’s too early. too much. too real. paige doesn’t know how to walk this line between regret and longing.

she turns her head slightly, watching azzi’s face. the peacefulness there is so different from what’s been between them for years. paige doesn’t know what to do with the softness.

“i could stay here forever”, she thinks, but the world won’t let her.

azzi stirs beside her, shifts in the bed. the blanket moves slightly, and for a second, paige thinks she might slip into sleep again. but then azzi opens her eyes, blinking slowly as if she doesn’t quite understand where she is.

when their gazes meet, there’s something fragile there, something unspoken. but neither of them says a word.

the tension between them isn’t angry or distant—it’s something else. something too fragile to touch, but impossible to ignore.

azzi finally clears her throat. “you steal the covers even in your sleep.”

paige chuckles softly, though it’s awkward. “you drool on your pillow.”

azzi’s lips twitch, but it’s a strained smile. “good to know you’re paying attention.”

paige’s heart beats a little faster, but she can’t tell if it’s from the teasing or the something heavy still hanging in the air. she shifts slightly, her arm brushing against azzi’s. neither of them pulls away.

they’re caught in this moment—too close to run, too far to hide. but neither of them wants to break it just yet.

the silence between them stretches on, and this time, it doesn’t feel as comfortable. the clock is ticking. the day is waiting, and paige doesn’t know how to start the conversation. how to untangle everything they’ve left unsaid.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi pokes at her fruit, trying to ignore the strange sense of familiarity she’s feeling in this moment. she doesn’t want to feel comfortable. not yet. she doesn’t want to admit that the night before—whatever it was—mattered.

paige is sitting across from her, picking at a muffin like she’s doing her best to pretend this isn’t an awkward situation. but the air between them feels too soft for the usual easy banter they’re used to.

azzi stirs her coffee with more force than necessary, watching paige out of the corner of her eye. it’s too early for this, too raw. she doesn’t want to say anything that could make this harder than it already is.

but paige’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “i think that dude’s trying to figure out if i’m kidnapping you or something.”

azzi raises an eyebrow, glancing toward the table where one of the south carolina coaching staff is watching them. “you’re not that charming.”

“you let me walk you down here,” paige says, her voice quieter now.

azzi takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. “that was pity.”

“that was longing, and you know it.”

azzi doesn’t laugh. just stares at paige, feeling that familiar tension—pulling her closer and pushing her away at the same time.

“can we just… not?” azzi says, her voice quieter, more serious than she intended. “we both know what’s happened. we can’t pretend it’ll be easy.”

“i’m not pretending,” paige says softly, her eyes not meeting azzi’s. “but it’s still real.”

azzi’s heart skips a beat. real. what does that even mean now?

she looks away, trying to steady herself. “we both have things we have to deal with,” azzi mutters.

there’s no more laughter between them, just the sound of soft clinking as they finish their meals, neither one willing to speak more than they already have.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi has no reason to be back at the hotel.

she has practice soon. she’s supposed to be with her team. but something about the morning makes her feel restless—an itch she can’t scratch, a question she can’t answer.

she ends up in front of paige’s hotel room door, her hand poised to knock.

but before she can do anything, the door opens, and there’s paige—hair still damp from her shower.

azzi’s heart skips a beat. she doesn’t know why she’s here. she doesn’t even have a good reason for it. it’s just that this feels like the place she’s supposed to be.

“oh,” paige says, her voice startled. “i didn’t think i’d see you.”

azzi shrugs, playing it off. “just thought i’d stop by. no big deal.”

“right.” paige looks at her for a long moment, her gaze soft but unreadable. “are you sure you’re not just trying to make me lose my focus?”

azzi shrugs again, like it’s nothing. but something shifts between them, something unspoken and heavy. neither of them knows how to move past this, but neither of them wants to walk away either.

“i don’t know what you want from me, azzi,” paige finally says, her voice quieter now, like she’s afraid to speak louder and break whatever fragile hold they still have. “i never meant for any of this to get… so complicated.”

azzi’s eyes flicker, caught off guard by the raw honesty in paige’s voice. she’s not sure how to respond. what do you say when everything you’ve been holding in for so long suddenly threatens to pour out?

“i just thought…” azzi starts, her voice trailing off as she looks at paige, trying to find the right words. “i just thought we could pretend it didn’t happen.”

paige laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it. “i wish. i really do. but you can’t unfeel something like this.”

azzi steps into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. the air between them feels thick now, charged in a way that’s both terrifying and thrilling. she doesn’t know what she’s doing here, doesn’t know why she came, but she knows she doesn’t want to leave yet. not without saying something, anything, to ease the ache that’s settled in her chest.

“i didn’t come here to mess things up,” azzi says, a little too quickly. “i just… i just wanted to talk to you. to make sure you’re okay.”

paige stares at her for a long moment, like she’s trying to figure out if azzi’s telling the truth or just hiding behind words. finally, paige sighs, her shoulders sagging with a weariness azzi can feel in her own bones.

“i’m not okay,” paige admits quietly. “but i will be. i’ll figure it out.”

azzi watches her, heart aching. she takes a step forward, not sure what to say next, but she’s so close now that she can hear the unsteady rhythm of paige’s breath. she could kiss her again. she could lean in and make it all feel better, if only for a few seconds. but something tells her that would just make it worse.

“you can’t do this alone, you know,” azzi says, her voice soft but firm.

paige meets her gaze, and for a second, there’s a flicker of something—hope, maybe?—but it’s gone before azzi can name it.

“i know,” paige whispers. “but i have to figure it out on my own. i can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

azzi steps back, letting the silence fall between them again. she didn’t expect things to be easy, didn’t expect her to just open up and make it all okay. but she hadn’t expected this, either—the feeling of knowing the space between them is widening, and that there’s no easy way to bridge it.

for a moment, neither of them says anything.

“i should go,” azzi says finally, though her voice cracks a little.

paige doesn’t stop her, doesn’t say anything. she just watches her walk toward the door, her face unreadable.

when azzi reaches the door, she pauses, hand on the knob. “paige, whatever happens, don’t forget… i’m still here. even if you don’t want me to be.”

paige doesn’t respond. she just looks at her, and azzi can feel her heart breaking in the silence that stretches between them.

pov: paige

paige steps onto the uconn bus with a heavy heart, taking a seat by the window and staring out at the world as it blurs by. the morning still feels like a haze—azzi’s voice lingering in her mind, her smile, her words.

they’re gone now. she’s gone.

but the ache is still there.

as the bus rolls down the road, the last few hours replay in paige’s head: the kiss, the awkward breakfast, azzi standing in front of her hotel room, her soft admission that she wasn’t okay.

paige closes her eyes, trying to focus on something, anything, that isn’t the hole inside her chest where azzi used to be.

“i can’t keep doing this”, she thinks, but even as she tells herself that, she knows it’s not true. she’s already too far gone. and no matter how many times she tells herself to move on, to let it go, the feelings won’t fade. they never do.

she lets her phone buzz in her hand—another notification, another distraction. but when she looks at it, it’s just a text from ice:

you good?

paige doesn’t respond right away. she lets the silence fill her for a moment before tapping out a reply:

yeah, just thinking.

and she is. thinking about the kiss, about the unspoken words, about what it means to have something real slip through her fingers when she wasn’t ready to let it go.

paige stares out the window and lets the silence settle around her like armor.

there’s a text draft open on her phone.

i think i’ve always known it was you.

she doesn’t hit send.

but she doesn’t delete it either.

the bus ride back to the airport had been long, quiet, and almost suffocating. paige couldn’t stop replaying everything that had happened the night before, azzi’s words, the soft pressure of her lips—everything was too vivid, too sharp. it’s as if the whole world paused for a moment when they were together.

but then, in the quiet of the morning they said their goodbyes and azzi had left.

paige knows she has to focus. the team needs her. the game is over, but there’s still practice, still the road ahead, still the tournament. but right now, she doesn’t want to focus on any of it.

her phone buzzes, again,text from ice:

yo, did something happened? you seem a lil off.

paige sighs, her fingers hesitating over the keys before she replies:

just tired. we’ll talk later.

she’s not sure what to say. she can’t explain this thing with azzi, this thing that keeps eating at her, and she definitely can’t tell ice that she’s been up thinking about azzi. not without sounding like a mess.

she shoves the phone back into her bag and leans back against the window, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling crawling up her spine.

pov: azzi

azzi is late. she knows it. the rest of her team is already stretching, warming up, the air filled with the low hum of sneakers on hardwood and the sharp calls of coaches.

but azzi’s mind is elsewhere. she’s still tangled up in the early morning hours, the faint echo of paige’s voice ringing in her ears. she told herself she was fine, that she was going to move on, that this wasn’t going to disrupt her focus. but every step she takes toward the court, every drill she starts, the pull of her thoughts drags her back to that hotel room.

she hasn’t been able to shake the look in paige’s eyes when they said goodbye. she can’t pretend it wasn’t something more, something that meant more than it should.

that goodbye wasn’t enough for her, and azzi’s pretty sure it wasn’t enough for paige either.

the whistle blows, and azzi quickly snaps her focus back to the court. the next drill begins, but her body feels like it’s moving without her.

she catches a glimpse of bree, watching her from the corner of the court, and azzi wonders if she has noticed the shift in her energy. she’s been distant lately, quieter than usual. it’s hard to pretend everything is fine when it’s not.

aliyah boston calls out to her during a break. “hey, you good?”

azzi forces a smile, trying to brush it off. “yeah, just focused. lots on my mind.”

aliyah’s gaze is sharp, like she sees through the mask azzi is trying to wear. “whatever it is, we’ll get through it. you’re not in this alone.”

azzi nods, though the words don’t feel as reassuring as they should. she appreciates aliyah’s support, but there’s only so much that can be said. what she really wants to do is leave the gym, hop on a plane, and head to connecticut. to paige. her paige.

but she doesn’t. she stays, practices hard, and forces herself to focus.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

paige is finally in her dorm and flops down on her bed, the midday light creeping through the curtains in soft beams. her mind is still spinning, filled with a mix of exhaustion and something else—something a little more dangerous. she hasn’t stopped thinking about azzi, and it’s not just because of what happened the night before. it’s everything. the way they’re connected without meaning to be, the way azzi makes her feel things she’s not supposed to feel.

the door to her room creaks open, and her teammate, nika, steps inside, wearing an expression of concern that paige knows too well.

“you okay?” nika asks, her voice low, almost like she’s already figured out what’s going on.

paige doesn’t know how to explain herself, doesn’t know how to tell her friend that she can’t stop thinking about someone she should never even care about. she just shrugs. “yeah, just a little tired. a lot of stuff on my mind.”

nika looks at her for a beat, her eyes narrowing slightly. “i saw the way you were acting at breakfast this morning. you’ve been off for a while now. what’s going on with you and fudd?”

paige tenses. she didn’t think anyone had noticed—but of course nika would.

“it’s nothing. seriously. just… stuff with the game,” paige lies, her words not coming out as smoothly as she hoped.

nika doesn’t buy it. “uh-huh. i don’t know what happened, but you two have been different. don’t let this mess with your focus. we need you, paige. you know that, right?”

paige nods, but even as she says, “i know,” the words feel hollow.

what if this thing with azzi does mess with her focus? what if it messes with everything? she’s supposed to be a leader, supposed to lead her team to victory, but how can she do that when she’s losing herself in thoughts of azzi?

“thanks, nika,” paige says quietly, before turning away from her teammate. nika doesn’t say anything else. she just nods and walks out, leaving paige alone with the thoughts she doesn’t know how to sort through.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi can’t concentrate.

she’s in her dorm, getting ready for the team meeting before they head out for the next game. but all she can think about is the way they left things. how this—all of it—is too much.

“you’re letting this get in your head”, she tells herself, pacing back and forth. focus.

but focus doesn’t come. it never does when she’s thinking about paige.

the room feels too small, the walls too close. she feels like she can’t breathe, like the weight of this whole situation is bearing down on her chest.

there’s a knock at the door, and azzi pauses. “come in,” she calls.

the door opens, and aliyah steps inside, a knowing look on her face. “you’re still thinking about her, huh?”

azzi sighs, sitting down on the bed. “i don’t know how to stop.”

“you don’t have to stop. but you need to stop letting it take over your game,” aliyah says, her voice firm but not unkind.

“i know,” azzi mutters, running a hand through her hair. “but what happens when the feelings don’t go away?”

aliyah sits beside her, crossing her arms. “i can’t answer that for you. but i know this: you’re stronger than this. don’t let paige bueckers, or whatever’s going on between you two, take away your power.”

azzi glances at her friend. aliyah’s right, of course. but it doesn’t make it easier.

pov: paige

paige finally admits it to herself. the feelings are too strong to ignore. no matter how much she tries to bury them, no matter how much she wants to tell herself this was a one-time thing, something’s shifted.

she opens her phone, staring at azzi’s name on the screen. should i text her?

the words come too easily.

hey, i’ve been thinking a lot. maybe we could talk?

she hesitates before pressing send. it’s reckless. but the moment it leaves her hands, paige knows she can’t take it back. she’s already in too deep.

what do you want to see in part 3?

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn huskies #south carolina #paige x azzi #fiction

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dreamlandcreations · 6 months ago

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OPLA men - I licked it so it's mine

Shanks / Mihawk / Zoro / Sanji x Reader

this is @justnerdystuffs' fault idea with a little twist here and there and it has been sitting in my drafts for ages 🫣

Warnings: implied mutual pining, idiots (all of them), fluff, kissing, implied relationship afterwards and other stuff , height difference, not proofread (I just wanted to finish something finally 😭🤧)

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It's been weeks since you have had a decent meal.

After such a long time, you finally landed on an island with a nice-looking bar where the rest of the crew could celebrate whatever excuse they could come up with for drinking and partying. You couldn't care less at the moment.

You had half the menu ordered, knowing full well some of the guys would join in on the feast whether you invited them or not. And that was fine, really, until they tried to take a bite of your steak. Roux was indeed lucky not to lose a hand.

However, your dearest captain had no such self-preservation instincts. You were on very good terms with the man, Shanks was easy to get along with, but he could be such a child sometimes.

He was sitting right next to you and he moved in the moment you turned your head in the other direction to look at some stunt Yasopp was trying to pull. You turned back just in time at the sound of the fork being stabbed into meat.

You moved fast, but not fast enough. The red-haired manchild took the last piece of your steak and quickly licked it from bottom to top, grinning at you with sauce staining his cheek right from under his scars all the way to his chin.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I licked it so it's mine."

From the other side of the table Ben was watching the scene in morbid fascination, ready to save his captain from certain death once again and he didn't like the sinister grin slowly pulling at your lips.

"Hmm," you leaned closer as Shanks put down the food on his plate, reaching for a napkin to wipe his face before you grabbed his hand, yanked him closer, gripping his chin in your other hand, you slowly licked the sauce off the side of his face before you pulled away and smirked at him as you claimed, "I guess that means you are mine now."

The room turned silent, all eyes on you two, as Shanks regarded you with a strange expression, and Ben stood still right where he jumped up when you launched for the captain, while you just stared at the man before you with slowly widening eyes as you just realised what you have done.

Before you could pull further away, Shanks quickly lifted you from your chair, making it tumble back as he pulled you into his lap with his smile quickly returning but with a new warmth to it, and you already knew you were in trouble before you heard what he had to say.

"Yours, huh?" he asked, cupping your cheek gently as he leaned in impossibly close, playfully nudging your nose with his and whispered, "I think I like the sound of that."

Steak forgotten, the crew's cheering ignored, you kissed the grinning idiot and you could't help but smile into the kiss too.

Ben in the background collapsed back into his chair, grabbed a large bottle of rum, and took a big gulp, already dreading what these two will put him through together.

You didn't know how Shanks convinced the swordsman to stay for the celebration but you were having fun watching your captain get on his nerves and when you saw the opportunity to join in that fun, you just had to do it.

There was no shortage of alcohol but Dracule Mihawk has a certain taste and you knew he would go for the good stuff, so you acted as soon as he got up from his seat from next to Shanks.

You took your time to pour out the remaining wine from the last, almost empty bottle and waited until the warlord got close enough that you could tease him without too many witnesses.

He towered over you somewhat menacingly, slightly raising his eyebrows expectantly as his gaze travelled down to the glass in your hand and back to your face in a meaningful motion. You were not intimidated in the slightest though.

On the contrary, you faked innocence as you mimicked his gesture before locking your gaze with his and letting your lips pull up into a little smirk then you lifted the glass and slowly dragged your tongue around the edge of it.

"I licked it so it's mine." you stated cheerfully and shrugged at his almost unperceivable widened eyes that betrayed his surprise or anger. Definitely disbelief, you decided.

Following a tense silence, a rare smile graced his lips, and you stopped breathing for a moment as he leaned in closer.

"Is that right?" he murmured. His usually bored tone a mix between amusement, mocking and challenge.

Mihawk didn’t wait for your response but took a hold of your chin and smashed his lips against yours just as you gasped, and he took the opportunity to immediately deepen the kiss and lick into your mouth, letting you taste the wine he has been drinking throughout the night and you had no opportunity to sample because you dropped the glass as soon as his lips touched yours.

He didn't seem bothered by the pricey drink going to waste or you knocking down his hat as you desperately reached out and hang onto him by his nape while you tried to keep up with his maddening, passionate, slow, seductive kiss that made you feel like the room was spinning around you.

He pulled away just as abruptly as he started the kiss but he didn't let you go while he regarded you with a smug expression.

"I believe that makes you mine." When you failed to reply, he faked thinking about it for a second, then his smirk returned and he added, “Hmm. Perhaps I’ll have to be more thorough with my claiming.” before capturing your lips again and lifting you up into his arms to take you away somewhere private to make good on his promise.

Luffy claimed most of the food as you sat down, and he did it in the most disgusting but interesting way possible. He stretched his tongue out and licked over all the plates at his half of the table, grinning as he yelled excitedly, "I licked it! So it's mine!"

A moment of horror passed then everyone dug into (the safe part of) the feast. Everyone, except the green haired menace next to you.

Zoro collected both bottles of wine to himself opening them and storing them on his other side, even though he knew that was the only drink you'd find acceptable and it was pretty much all the same to him as long as it had alcohol in it.

He didn't react to you theatrically clearing your throat as you turned to him so you kicked his leg with a force that made him jump up a little.

He looked at you with surprise that quickly turned into annoyance then a wordless challenge. When the silent staredown didn't end with his win he sighed and reached for both bottles, and he extended one of them towards you but pulled back before you could grab it and went to lick over that bottle opening and then the other. Smiling at you in triumph as he said,

"Heard the captain. Rules are rules!"

Huffing at the audacity, you waited until he raised a bottle to his lips and hit the bottom, tipping it so he would spill the wine on himself.

He stood abruptly, making the chair almost fall over as you laughed.

The others' only reaction was a look in your way, they were used to your antics by now, they expected a fight as soon as you sat down beside the ex pirate hunter.

What no one, including you saw coming was your next move. Your eyes followed the droplets of wine dripping down Zoro's neck as he tried to dry his shirt with a napkin. It was all in vain, the fabric was soaked through.

You blinked a few times, trying to gather some sense into you, and obviously failing as you batted away his hands, produced a knife and slit his shirt open in a flash. Then, as you stood up you licked over his toned abdomen and chest, all the way up to his jaw before biting him teasingly there.

He blinked rapidly, taking in a staggering breath as he looked down at you, fixing his gaze on your now wine red lips. You licked them to savour the taste then you took the other bottle, sauntered over to the door and paused, looking back at Zoro with a challenging eyebrow raise before you left.

"Huh," was all he said before he followed you to your room.

You narrowed your eyes at Sanji, eyeing him with growing annoyance as he ate the rare bite-sized food that was gifted to you as the last creation of the chef who the cook obsessed over for the entire week. He moaned and swooned over the taste as you clenched your teeth together, trying to come up with an appropriate revenge.

Sanji looked at you with innocent eyes, smiling sweetly as he ased, "What?"

You looked down at the empty plate pointedly and then back at the thief just in time to see him shrug. "You know the rule, I licked it so it's mine."

Your body moved before you could think it through, grasping his chin with one hand, brushing away his hair from his face and grabbing him by the back of his head with your other hand as you quickly licked the side of his face and pushed him back a little as you stepped back. There, the gesture says.

Waiting for his disgusted reaction, you started to grin, satisfied with your little revenge for now, at least for a moment or so because he didn't react how you thought at all.

He seemed to be frozen in place except for his slowly widening eyes, then he gasped, giggled, and turned to you with a grin, exclaiming loudly that, "I'm yours now, no takebacks!"

You huffed at the ridiculous train of thought and turned to leave but he hugged you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, arms circling around your waist and you couldn't help but smile as you sighed dramatically but placed your hands on his, letting him pull you into an even tighter embrace that you would be trapped in for a while.

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cheynovak · 20 days ago

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Cramped and Cranky

Pairing: Y/N (Butcher’s niece) x Soldier Boy (Ben)

Summary: Request: Y/N has more pain during her period after taking tempV. Nothing seems to help. So Ben offers a somewhat alternative solution.

⚠️ warnings⚠️ This story is NOT for everyone. 18+! MDNI! Sex during period, mentioning of blood.

This request is so old I forgot who asked me and I can't seem to find the conversation anymore. It's has been sitting in my drafts for soooo long, I'm glad I finally finished it. I have to be honest, I had no idea how to start this. Please if it's not your cup of tea do NOT read it. I hope the person who requested it finds it 🙈

English isn't my first language.

Please do not copy my work. Sharing, liking and comments are appreciated.

Read warnings before reading this story, this might gross some people out and it's totally ok.

You didn’t sign up for this.

Well, technically, you did. You agreed to help your uncle. Uncle Billy doesn’t ask for much unless it’s everything. And apparently, “everything” now included babysitting rhe most psychotic, narcissistic, 1940s man-child Supe in the country.

Soldier Boy was parked in front of the motel’s TV, flipping through channels like he owned the damn place. You were hunched in the kitchenette, gripping the counter like it might save you from the hellscape that was your uterus.

Temp V hadn’t just messed with your nerves and muscles — it had dialed your cycle up to demonic. You felt like your insides were staging a mutiny with knives.

“You okay?” Annie peeked in, concern knitted between her brows. “You look... pale. Have you tried working out? That sometimes helps.”

You whipped around, eyes flashing. “Working out? I can barely crawl to the bed, Annie. How the hell do you expect me to drag myself to a gym?!”

From the other side of the room, Soldier Boy chuckled low. “Well, there is another kind of workout, sweetcheeks. One where you don’t need to leave he bed."

Your face twisted in confusion — then realization.

You blinked. “Ew. That’s gross.”

Ben just shrugged, eyes still on the TV. “It gives the same endorphins as sports. Besides a little blood never hurt nobody.”

“Again, ew! No!”

“Moisture is moisture,” he replied with a smirk, finally glancing over his shoulder at you. “If you need someone to lend a hand... or anything else, just yell.”

You gave him a withering glare before locking yourself in the bathroom with the loudest door slam you could muster.

The next few days were hell. Pain. Cramps. Nausea. Temp V withdrawal. More cramps. Soldier Boy’s suggestive comments. You’d screamed into a pillow more times than you cared to admit.

But on day four, you cracked.

You stumbled out of the barhroom, sweat-slick and dead-eyed, collapsing next to him on the couch. Your body felt like it had been through war, and even the shitty motel couch felt like heaven.

Ben raised a brow. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Feel like it too.”

He shifted slightly to make room. “You here to take me up on that offer?”

You snorted weakly, resting your head back. “Only if you promise I'm not gonna to die halfway through.

“Sweetheart, I invented halfway through.”You cracked a tired smile. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to.”

You shook your head, but you didn’t move. Not yet. You were too tired. Too sore. Too everything.

But for once, he didn’t push. He just turned the volume up and let you rest, the heat of him radiating against your arm.

Maybe, just maybe, this whole “babysitting” thing wasn’t entirely hell. Well not if he kept his mouth shut.

You sat there in silence for a long moment, eyes fixed on the screen but not really watching. Your body was a war zone, every nerve ending firing off like a bad fireworks display. Still, maybe it was the fever haze of pain or the desperation for anything to distract you that made you speak again.

“So... let’s just say someone wanted to... have sex while...” You gestured vaguely at your abdomen, grimacing. “You know. Theoretically, obviously.”

Ben slowly side-eyed you, his brow lifting. He reached forward and turned the volume on the TV down, a small smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.

“Theoretically?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you said stiffly, arms crossed over your stomach. “Theoretically.”

“Well,” he started, casual like this was an after-dinner conversation and not completely unhinged. “Theoretically, it all stays the same. Boy meets girl..."

"Yeah I know the bees and birds crap Ben. I mean what about, you know the mess one might make." Ben shrugged. "Could put a towel in bed. Lay on top of that.”

Your expression twisted like he’d just suggested using a white couch. He noticed, of course. “Or,” he added smoothly, “the shower. Clean. No mess. No stains. Everything washes right off.”

You blinked at him. “The shower?”

He leaned back, one arm slung lazily over the couch, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Yeah. Hot water, slick bodies, less of the whole murder cleanup situation.”

You stared at him like he’d just done calculus in front of you. Then, suddenly doubling over with another sharp cramp, you grabbed your stomach and hissed through your teeth.

Ben didn’t move to help, just watched with a tinge of concern—and maybe, annoyingly, amusement. "You know way too much about this,” you groaned.

He shrugged one shoulder, all nonchalance. “A man learns things in seventy years. Some things stick.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He grinned. “And you’re the one asking me how to bang on your period, theoretically.”

You let your head fall back against the cushion, hand still clutching your stomach. “God, I hate that this is somehow the most helpful conversation I’ve had all week.”

Ben reached for the remote again. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents. And for you I'm free of charge."

You snorted. “Yeah, okay. Let me survive this uterus apocalypse first.”

“Take your time, sweetcheeks. I ain’t going anywhere."

---

Later that night, the TV was playing some rerun he wasn’t watching, and the dim lamp by the bedside barely cut through the motel’s perpetual gloom. Ben’s attention flicked from the screen when he noticed you get up slowly, one hand on your lower back, the other cradling your stomach, and shuffle toward the bathroom.

“Need a hand?” he asked, voice light, teasing.

You grunted something that sounded suspiciously like *go to hell* and closed the bathroom door behind you.

Ben didn’t move. Not right away. But he listened.

You stood there for a moment, just breathing, one hand on the sink’s edge, staring at yourself in the mirror.

The cramps hit hard again, a sharp, twisting pain that pulled a whimper straight from your throat before you could stop it. You hated being weak. Hated needing help. But the pain was relentless — and, annoyingly, the stupid Supe lounging out there might be the only one who could distract you from it.

“Ben,” you called out, voice tight and shaky.

There was silence. Then the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.

The door creaked open a few inches. “Yes?” he asked, feigning innocence like he didn’t already know damn well what this was about.

You swallowed, trying to focus on anything other than how flushed your skin felt. “If we do this,” you started carefully, “if we try it, and I don’t like it—”

“We stop,” he finished easily, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Simple.”

You looked at him. Really looked. There was no smirk. No joke. Just heat behind his eyes and something unexpectedly patient.

You nodded once, lips pressed into a line. That was all he needed.

Without a word, he stepped inside and pulled the curtain back."After you."

You should’ve felt awkward dropping your towel. Shy. Something. But as the warm water ran down your skin and Ben stepped in behind you, tall and solid and radiating heat, all you felt was the faintest flutter of something else entirely—something that, for once, wasn’t pain.

“You sure?” he murmured, his voice close against your ear now, steam curling between you.

You took a breath, still clutching the edge of the shower wall for balance.

“No,” you admitted. “But I’m tired of hurting.”

The water poured steadily between you, steam curling around your bodies. Ben’s hands found your hips first — warm, steady, not rushing. You expected something crude, immediate. But instead, his touch was patient. Slow.

His fingers moved deliberately, rubbing small circles along your lower back, then upward between your shoulder blades. The tension in your body was impossible to miss — you were practically locked up, muscles clenched like you were bracing for pain.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your ear. “You’re tighter than a damn vice, sweetheart.”

You huffed, half a laugh, half frustration. “Yeah, well... maybe if you hurried up I wouldn't think about it too much. ”

Ben chuckled, the sound low and rough against your neck. “That’s not how this works,” he said, planting soft kisses against your damp skin, trailing down the curve of your shoulder. “If you don’t ease up, it won’t help. Your body would just be fighting me the whole time.”

You exhaled, long and slow, eyes fluttering shut. His mouth, his hands — they were still gentle, still coaxing instead of taking. It was disarming in a way you hadn’t expected from him.

You didn’t even notice you were leaning into him until you felt his chest against your back, solid and warm, anchoring you.

Then his hand moved lower. Fingertips brushing between your thighs, slow, testing, teasing. You stiffened instinctively and your hand shot down, grabbing his wrist.

“Relax,” he said again, softer this time, voice more coaxing than before. “I got you.” You held your breath for a beat. Then you let go. And just like that, the pain didn’t feel so loud anymore and you focussed on his touch.

When Ben felt you were ready — really ready — his hand gently guided your hip, turning you toward the tiled wall. His voice dropped, commanding but low, not cruel, just... certain.

“Bend over,” he murmured. “Hands on the wall.”

Your body hesitated. Just for a second. Because this — this — was Soldier Boy. And this moment wasn’t supposed to be this vulnerable. Not with him. But his touch was steady, patient. His warmth surrounded you.

You did as he asked.

The first moment he pressed against you, it was strange — not painful, not intense, just... surreal. The kind of moment you never imagined you’d live through. You braced yourself, heart hammering — and then he started to move.

Slow. Careful. Gentle in a way you didn’t think Ben even had in him. And for some reason you need to feel more of him. Gradually you moved to stand up straighter, wanting to feel his chest against your back while he dipped in and out slowly.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your neck, one hand steady on your waist, the other tracing light, grounding circles along your breast. “You’re doin’ so good. Just breathe. Relax.”

The words. His voice. They did something.

You started to move without thinking, syncing with the rhythm he set — gentle, measured, built more around soothing than pleasure, though somehow, it gave you both. Every time his hips met yours, another layer of pain peeled away, like your body was finally letting go.

“Ben,” you breathed, barely a whisper. He kissed the side of your neck, still cooing in that low, reverent voice. “I got you, sweet girl. I’m right here.”

And for the first time in days, you believed it.

You weren’t just easing the ache in your body — you were finally letting yourself feel something other than pain. You moved for him. Grinding against him. Guided by the sound of his voice and the heat he left on your skin.

And for once, in the middle of a shitty motel bathroom with a literal war relic whispering soft praise into your ear, you forgot the pain.

And then — he shifted just slightly, angle changing, and hit that spot that made you see stars. You cried out, a broken, breathless sound that echoed off the tiled walls, sharp but laced with something sweeter. Relief. Release.

Ben stilled for half a second, then his voice came low, rough, but tinged with a little smugness. “That it?” he asked against your ear, lips brushing skin.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Yes, yes… oh god, yes.” It came out like a prayer, desperate and grateful all at once.

He adjusted his grip on your hips, grounding you with strong hands as he started to move faster — not rough, but with intent. Purpose. Each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, until your thoughts scattered like ash.

Your hands slipped a little against the wall, knees weakening with every stroke. And then you were gone — falling over the edge with a shuddering gasp, hips stuttering as pleasure rolled through you like a wave.

Ben followed right after, a sharp grunt of breath at your shoulder. He pulled out fast, just in time, one hand guiding himself down as he spilled into the tub with a low groan, keeping his other hand steady next to yours on the wall.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Just the sound of the water and your shaky breaths filled the space. You turned your head slightly, blinking back at him with your lips parted, legs still trembling beneath you.

He caught the look and softened — just barely — leaning in to press a kiss to your damp, overheated forehead.

“Take your time,” he murmured, voice gentle now. You nodded, still catching your breath, your fingers gripping the wall for one last moment of stability.

And for the first time in days, your body didn’t feel like a battleground.

The moment you walked out the bathroom you noticed the bed was semi made and a glass of wine on the nightstand. Ben was watching the tv but got up to guid you to the bed.

Instead of telling him to leave you alone, like you would have any other time, you held his arm will sliding into the bed. "I... I eh.." He smiled, a genuine soft smile and nodded, climbing in begin me.

You lay there in the quiet, wrapped in Ben’s warmth, his hand still gently moving over your belly. The pain had dulled to a low hum now, manageable, distant — and your mind had space to think again.

Maybe too much space.

“…Why’d you do that?” you asked, voice soft against the hush of the room. He didn’t answer right away. His thumb kept drawing slow, absent-minded circles.

“My ex,” you added after a moment, “he would’ve never. Not when I was… like this.” Ben scoffed under his breath — not at you, but at the idea of the guy.

You turned slightly, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder

“Why would you?” you asked. “Why not be grossed out or weird about it like every other guy?”

Ben’s hand stilled for a second before he pulled back just enough so you could fully turn and face him. He was propped slightly on one elbow now, looking down at you, serious — maybe more serious than you’d ever seen him.

“Real men don’t give a damn if you’re shaved, if it’s that time of the month, or any of that bullshit,” he said, voice low, firm. “Your bodies? They’re incredible. You carry life. You bleed, you break, you keep going anyway.”

He touched your face, knuckles brushing your cheek.

“If a man can’t handle that — can’t respect it? Then he’s not a man. He’s a coward. And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you, sweetcheeks.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how much weight his words carried — like he wasn’t just saying them to soothe you, but because he believed them.

Your fingers found the side of his chest, holding him there. You stared up into his eyes, the space between you almost buzzing with something new — something real.

Ben held your gaze, then leaned in, kissing you softer this time. Slower. And before you could even process it, he shifted, gently moving you onto your back, his body pressing against yours with care.

You felt him, hard and ready, But he didn't act on it — no rush, no teasing. Just heat and connection. Eye to eye. It was different now. He was different.

Or maybe it was you who saw felt something else for him. Something... deeper. More intimate. There was no pain this time. No tension. Just the soft sound of your breathing the quiet rhythm you fell into together.

Your fingers curled into his shoulder. He kissed you again. His forehead rested against yours, both of you quiet in the soft glow of the motel lamp, tangled together in the after heat.

You didn't move. You didn’t want to. You loved the weight the feeling of him close.

His hand brushed your side again, thumb stroking light, lazy patterns over your skin. There was something almost... reverent in the way he touched you now. Like he knew exactly how fragile this moment was, and didn’t want to be the one to break it.

You exhaled slowly.

“You’re not what I expected,” you said into the silence. He huffed, a soft laugh vibrating against your ribs. “You never took your time to get to know me.”

You glanced up at him, and he was already looking at you. That stupid cocky glint wasn’t there this time — just quiet intensity. “Still think I’m disgusting?” he asked with a half-smirk.

You smiled, lips quirking. “Maybe. But you’re disgustingly sweet, which might be worse.” He chuckled again and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Don’t go spreading that around.”

You were about to reply when — *bang*. The motel door slammed open. Ben didn't flinched, groaning like a man who already knew what was coming.

You scrambled to yank the sheet up as a very furious, very loud voice filled the room.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?!” Butcher stood in the doorway, eyes wide, face a redder shade of fury you didn’t know humans could turn.

“Uncle,” you said flatly, heart pounding. Ben didn��t move an inch from where he lay with you, one arm still slung across your waist. The other holding his weight above your head.

“Billy.” He said in his grumpy soldier boy voice.

Butcher’s gaze flicked between the both of you — you, flushed and half-buried in sheets; Ben, looking smug and completely unapologetic.

His eye twitched. “You were supposed to babysit him,” he snapped at you. "You told me to watch him." You shrugged. “Technically, I still am.”

Ben smirked. “She did a thorough job.”

“Jesus Christ,” Butcher muttered, already turning to walk out, probably to punch a wall or throw something. “I’m gonna be sick.” The door slammed again, leaving the two of you in stunned, awkward silence.

Then you burst out laughing. Ben looked amused seeing you feel so good but most importantly without pain. "So," he said. "How about a movie and wine?"

You kissed his lips and whispered "Sounds perfect." Ben draped himself behind you facing the tv. He kissed your ear and whispered. "Just yell whenever it starts to hurt again. I place a few towels in bed."

You elbowed him and joked. "you’re disgusting".

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf @spnaquakindgdom @writtenbyhollywood @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @healojane @star-yawnznn @cevansbaby-dove

#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #soldier boy #the boys #smut #soldierboy #the boys fanfic

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kingnlionhearts · 9 months ago

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✧ exile (what a ghostly scene)

. *. ⋆ Anakin / Vader x Reader

summary: you were bail organa’s ward, raised on alderaan with your younger sister. in the twilight of the clone war, you and anakin fell in love. when the war died, it dragged you and anakin to early graves with it — leaving only darth vader behind. even after years without you, he still wants you back. and there is nothing he would not do to bring you back to him. . .

tags: angst, tragic romance, suitless vader, no y/n, gn reader, inspired by the 2020 vader comics & vader immortal, past major character death, mourning, vader needs a hug, resurrection

note: my first reader/second person fic — i’m sorry if the tense is bad ajsjwjwjqjq. i’ve had this in my drafts for soooo long and i finally decided to finish it 🫶

word count: 1k

part 1 of 4

The stars have died, fizzling out into oblivion. All that remains is a charcoal heart that once belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

The boy from Tatooine is unreachable now, trapped inside the twisted soul of Darth Vader. The galaxy’s beloved Hero With No Fear is gone. With the rise of the Empire, the Jedi and their sympathisers will be erased from memory. A clean slate to start a new era.

Three years after the creation of the Empire, Darth Vader stands alone. His tower on Mustafar is isolating; its strategic position is a constant reminder of that day. His injuries still hurt sometimes: phantom itches on his now metal legs; scars from his burns that did not fully heal. The medical droids say he is lucky — the fire could have done more serious damage, and he could have been forced to rely on a suit keeping him alive for the rest of his days. Instead, the ebony coloured mask and suit he wears are to conceal his identity. A precaution so that Anakin Skywalker can fade from people’s tongues and memory, leaving the tyranny of Darth Vader in its place.

The weight of his failures is not the heaviest burden. Darth Vader drowns in his anger and grief. He was not strong enough to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was not strong enough to save you.

(All things die. Even stars burn out.)

You were the stars in his sky, his light in the dark, the silvery moon to his blazing sun. So tender and kind. Perhaps your heart was too good for this world. Perhaps, it was your weakness all along. (How could peace ever love a dragon?)

Since you met, you had been Anakin’s sun. You anchored him; guided him home. You were his destiny. And, without you, the galaxy had turned cold. The fiery world outside, all hot air and lava fields, only stood as a reminder of his failure. He’d lost you. After everything Anakin had tried — surrendering himself to the dark side, betraying the light — he could not save you. Time had not quelled the pain.

Vader wonders if you would still recognise him. His copper hair has grown longer (he remembers how you used to cut it for him after he returned from another mission, and you’d giggle as you braided thin locks together), but his face hides behind an obsidian mask. You always loved the blue of Anakin’s eyes, but now they are blazing amber.

Mornings are the only time Vader allows himself to dwell on the past. It is when he finds himself alone and does not have to hide.

Vader recalls how you arrived on Mustafar like it was yesterday. (You haunt him every waking moment.) He could sense your conflicted emotions as soon as you disembarked your ship. Vader wasted no time approaching you, drawing you into his arms (where you belonged; where you were safe). His lips reconnected with yours, fitting together like puzzle pieces as he kissed you hungrily, his hands settled on your hips to keep you close.

You and Anakin had met after turning nineteen. He and Obi-Wan were called to Alderaan to protect the Queen and Viceroy from an assassination attempt. Being their ward, you had been there the whole time and quickly formed a connection with the young padawan — your relationship had blossomed during the Clone Wars.

He rested his forehead against yours as you spoke. “I heard terrible things. Tell me none of it is true.”

Vader hadn’t replied immediately and instead drew his head back to look at you. He would tell you any sweet lie if he needed to as he fought to quell the anger flaring in his eyes. “What have you been told?”

“Obi-Wan told me—”

Vader’s grasp around you tightened protectively. “Obi-Wan is alive?”

“He said you’d killed Jedi. Killed younglings.”

“You must not believe him, my love. He’s a traitor.”

It wasn’t the answer you sought, and you took a step backwards out of your husband’s grasp. “What have you done?”

“I did this for you. To save you.” He cupped your chin in his flesh hand and whispered your name. “I love you.”

Your eyes trained into his. There was no denial, no remorse in his stature; his only regret was letting Obi-Wan tell you anything.

He repeated his words. “I did this for you.”

From the shadows of your cloak, you drew a blaster. Only a small, weak thing. Vader watched your hands tremble. He did admire your courage. “Fix this,” you demanded. “Please,” you begged.

Anger flickered in Vader’s eyes. He had never seen you unimpressed with him. With an easy glide of his hand, Vader used the Force to knock the blaster out of your grip and pin your arms by your sides

“I am stronger than the Chancellor now,” he explained desperately, drawing you to his side. “I can overthrow him. Then you and I can be together; we can run away — just like you always wanted to.”

(But you didn’t. He lost you. Some might call you a traitor — Vader maintains that you were misguided.)

Three years later, regret still festers inside Vader’s hollow soul. There must have been a way to save you.

He misses you endlessly: craving your touch and the sound of your voice. (There is nothing Vader desires more than to have you back in his arms.)

Part of him wants to forget. To cast his memories of you into an abyss; to put the past behind him. But it is an impossible task. You are too well tangled into his soul. You haunt him. (And you’ll haunt him until his death.)

Today, there is no time to focus on you. A new morning brings meetings and training. You were Anakin’s Achilles Heel — but Darth Vader shows no such weakness. As Vader sits on his throne, reading over mission logs and other updates from the spread of the Empire across the galaxy, he receives a message: he must make his return to Coruscant immediately. (Your memory pulls him under the ocean again until he can no longer breathe.)

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin angst #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x you #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader angst #darth vader fanfiction

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angelacostumery · 6 months ago

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let's make some sleeves!

don't worry i'll put it below the cut, no one should be confronted with the horrors of drafting them on their dashboard without giving prior consent.

those first few photos are of the final mockup and the final sleeves. the first mockup was more to gauge length and the final width I wanted the cuff to have, so it looked like this.

I wanted this to have a specific lantern shape with limited gathers because this fabric is thicc so I sewed a 1/2" dart at each of the marked points, taking the bottom edge in by 11" in the process.

I ended up shortening it a lot just above where the darts ended, which left me with this.

I knew it would be easier to have a single seam going horizontally than sewing a dozen darts into each one, so I was prepared for this development. I probably could have drafted something much closer to this from the start but I wouldn't want to seem too competant.

I took out a lot of volume on my next mockup and settled on something very similar to what you see above.

then they were cut out from faille, the seam was covered with 1/2" horsehair braid to give them a bit more body.

now, for the velvet layer, I didn't want a visible seam. It sort of ruins the flow of the fabric's pattern AND the fabric's pattern runs in vertical stripes which don't lend themselves well to the curves of the sleeves.

so instead I fussy cut out pieces and overlapped them until they formed the correct shape without any obvious breaks.

It was only after I got these pinned and partially sewn that I realized I forgot to add the gold overlay beneath them and had to re-do it all.

I kept trying to machine-baste together the edges and the sleeves were like "no."

the faille folded over the seam point after I finished since the overlay was like 1/4" too short in some spots, because I didn't baste all the layers together before cutting them out and sewing them together (like I usually do).

I ended up doing it by hand, all but two of the "short spots" will be hidden in seams and the others were patched with additional appliques.

I sewed the appliques to the fabric below the horizontal seam, but this created issues with the drape when I attempted to carry it further up, so the layers are independent above that seam point, save for the top edge where they are basted/eventually seamed onto the bodice..

these will be finished with matching cuffs and cotton lining.

the bottom edges were gathered from 22" down to 19" prior to the underarm seam being done up, so most of the shaping comes from the piecing, not the gathers.

(the top edge is gathered a similar amount at the armscye.)

When going to baste together the top edges I decided to shorten the lining by about an inch at the center and tapering down to nothing at the underarm. This forces the fashion layer to puff out a little bit more.

Then they were sewn on and probably some other stuff happened that I forgot. Anyway, voila!

#what is the opposite of a tutorial #drafting #draping #sewing #sleeves #lantern sleeves

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solsticehymns · 2 months ago

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if you want me to, i will: drabble

james potter x f!reader / fluff / muggle au

summary: james is the first person you call when anything goes wrong. why should you know how to change a flat tire when he's right there, waiting to save the day (and criticize your driving)? if you want him to, he will.

a/n: drafted this after a rly bad day when my car broke down and i rly desperately needed a prince charming to swoop in and save my day (sadly bf was in class and could not leave) so this is what happened in my imagination. ALSO SORRY I KNOW WOMAN = BAD DRIVER STEREOTYPE IS BAD BUT.... sometimes it's true. hope this brings you some joy if you can relate hehehe xoxo - sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 573

the moment you hear that awful clunking sound, you know it's bad. pulling off to the shoulder as quickly as you could, the car lurching and rolling strangely, you're already speed dialing james.

"yeah, love?" ready to spring into action. like he waits around all day by the phone, just waiting for you to call, saying jamie, i need you. and that's exactly what you say, along with some other blubbering that he can't quite make out. he gets car and broke and stopped and assumes the rest.

"be right there— don't move." batman rises from the night.

no matter how far you are, he somehow halves the expected time maps gives. and no matter what he was doing when you called, he shows up with a smile on his face, ready to be your savior.

you tell him exactly that as he's changing the tire for you, sleeves rolled up, hair hanging in his eyes, chest just a little puffed. you're my savior, jamie. what would i do without you?

"eh, your car would probably be in a bit worse condition, without me driving you around everywhere..."

"james potter!"

"what?! i'm helping you, here!"

"you do not get to insinuate that i'm a bad driver while you're helping me."

"..."

"what's that look for?!"

"you just take corners a little fast, that's all! hardly even noticeable."

"you think i hit that pothole on purpose?"

"maybe you would've seen it if you were going slower, that's all i'm saying... do you still want me to fix this, or not? 'cause i can go back home and watch my show and not think about this anymore."

he's only teasing. he would change a hundred tires a day for you if you asked.

he always wants you to call him, even if it's just a little inconvenience. your coffee order tasted funny today? well he is about to call and leave the poor baristas a strongly worded anonymous voicemail scolding them for displeasing his girlfriend.

the cute new clothes you ordered online didn't fit like you wanted when they arrived? how dare they not use you, the very standard of beauty, as their model for the fittings. he'll obliterate them.

he finishes changing the tire, with love, and tells you to follow him back on the way home (but not too closely). you grumble but tell him thank you anyways, reaching up on your tiptoes to press a tiny kiss to his cheek.

"you always show up for me when i need you."

"and i always will," he replies, love so evident it's blinding, leaning in with puckered lips for another kiss.

you roll your eyes but indulge him, pressing your lips to his in a quick peck. but when you try to step back, his arms loop around you, keeping you exactly where you are.

"not so fast, sweetheart." he murmurs. "that was a ‘thanks for grabbing me a snack’ kiss. i just changed a whole tire. i think i deserve something with a little more emotion."

you raise a brow. "so needy."

"damn right. now get back here and make it count."

you laugh, but you kiss him again anyway, lingering just a little longer. when you pull away, his lips chase yours. "hmm. still might need a third one, just to be sure."

you roll your eyes. "get in the car, potter."

he smirks, finally letting you go. "whatever you say, dear."

-☀️🌻

#james potter fanfiction #james potter #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter x oc #marauders #the marauders #marauders headcanon #james potter headcanon #james potter au #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #marauders x reader #Spotify

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devilishcupid · 3 months ago

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BROUGHT TO JUSTICE | Bruce Wayne

☆ premise: you knew you had to do something after the joker killed jason, even if bruce wouldn't be able to save you.

☆ pairing: bruce wayne x fem!wife!reader

☆ warnings: gore descriptions, hurt no comfort, angst, death depiction and mention

☆ a/n: been a while since i uploaded a fic on this account. so many drafts and i couldn't focus on finishing bc i kept going back and forth lol. anyways, forced myself to finish this bruce fic i've had since last year. didn't have a specific bruce in mind writing this, hope you enjoy!

'He was never going to stop. You did the right thing,' you told yourself. You spared Gotham of further terror at the hands of the psychopathic clown. He didn't deserve to live—not after he murdered the one you held most dear.

"What did you do?"

You snapped out of your trance-like state, looking up to find Bruce standing in front of you in his costume. Only now, you became aware of the cold metal of the crowbar in your hands. Only now, you became aware of the crimson blood that covered you from head to toe. Only now, you became aware of the lifeless body of the Joker lying at your feet.

"I only did what you couldn't do." You said as you dropped the crowbar, the sound of metal hitting concrete echoing in the abandoned warehouse you had lured the Joker into.

"Why... why did you do this?!" Bruce yelled, grabbing you by your shoulders, trying to process how you were able to commit something even he couldn't bring himself to do.

"Because you didn't save my Jason!" You spat at him, your salty tears mixing with the blood splattered on your face before dripping down your chin and onto the ground. "You didn't save our boy—"

"Do you really believe that's an excuse to take a life?!"

Your jaw clenched at his words—you couldn't believe Bruce was using his stupid code of honor to defend letting that good-for-nothing maniac live after what he did.

"He tortured your son to death, and you let him get away with it." You hissed, venom dripping from every word you said. "And it's not just Jason. He terrorized the citizens of Gotham for too long, and the only thing you ever did about it was put him in a damn asylum he'd eventually escape from."

Bruce's lips formed a thin line across his face, unable to give you a response. From the looks of it, you could tell he knew you were right—at least about the never-ending cycle of Joker escaping Arkham and the Batman putting him back in.

"You know why I couldn't kill him." He finally settled on.

You let out a throaty chuckle laced with disdain for the man in front of you, shaking your head at your husband's simplistic reply. "Well, it's a good thing you don't have to—not anymore, at least. I did all of this for you."

Before either of you could say anything else, blue and red lights pierced through the broken glass windows of the warehouse, and the sound of sirens got louder. You could hear the screeching of car breaks, followed by Commissioner Gordon's voice booming, "This is the GCPD, and we have you surrounded! Come out now!"

"You should go," you said, having already accepted your eventual arrest by the Gotham City Police Department the moment you had put your plan into action.

"I won't leave—"

"It will look bad if they see you here," you interrupted him. "Right now, you're not my husband. You're the Batman. Unless you want to be the one to turn me in, I suggest you go now."

Bruce stayed quiet, knowing he couldn't save you from your predicament. Everything that led up to the Joker's death all pointed to you. It was almost as if you wanted to get caught with how the clown's death mirrored Jason's; you didn't bother to cover up your tracks, either. They may not be as useful as they should be in this crime-ridden city, but the GCPD isn't incompetent enough to not connect the dots.

"Just go, Bruce. Please. I don't want you to see what happens next." You planted a lingering kiss on your husband's cheek—careful not to get any hint of evidence on his suit—before heading towards the warehouse entrance to face Commissioner Gordon and his men.

The squelching of entrails and blood beneath the soles of your shoes followed your every step as you inched towards the door. You gripped the rusty handle with a bloody hand, taking a deep breath. You heard the sound of rustling behind you and look back to find the Batman already gone.

If it wasn't for the wailing of the police sirens, you swore you would've been able to hear a pin drop from the shock Gordon and his people had when you stepped foot outside the warehouse.

You raised your hands in the air, showing the entire unit of police officers undeniable proof of what you'd done. Confusion contorted on some of the officers' faces while others lowered their weapons, all of them unable to wrap their head around how one of Gotham's most esteemed socialites ended up covered in blood from head to toe.

"Sir, what do we do?" You could hear Officer Montoya ask hesitantly to the GCPD's renowned commissioner.

"Arrest her."

Next thing you know, your face is pressed against the pebbly ground and cold, thin metal is wrapped around your wrists behind your back. From the corner of your eye, you could see the feet of officers walking past you and into the warehouse.

You're brought back on your feet and walked to the nearest police car. Before you're put inside, you hear one of the officers shout—

"Fucking hell, she killed the Joker!"

Once you're seated in the backseat, the car starts moving. The sounds of the engine and the sirens filling your ears, almost deafening. You look out of the window, and you spot the silhouette of the Batman atop of a building against the moon's bright light.

You couldn't help but smile a little to yourself. As much as you did it for yourself, you did it for him. Now, the Batman didn't have to worry about a psychotic clown terrorizing Gotham City.

#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ doll's fics #dc #batman #bruce wayne #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman imagine #batman x you #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x you #batfleck x reader #arkhamverse #battinson x reader #dark knight x reader

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reidsbookclub · 7 months ago

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Vows of Rivalry

Authors Note: MY FIRST AARON FIC AHH!! Idk what is scarier the fact that this is FINALLY going out to the world or the fact that my first Aaron fic does not follow cannon events. Either way I would really appreciate any feedback you guys can give me. gif credit to original creator. I had it saved on my laptop so I really do not remember

special thanks to @boldlyvoid for beta reading the first draft of this fic. pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Without further ado here is Vows of Rivalry.

Mock trial season. Every law student’s worst nightmare. Except for one.

Most students dreaded the possibility of being pitted against Aaron Hotchner—reigning champion since his first year. Hotch was renowned for his ruthless precision, impeccable argumentation, and the intimidating scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. But for Y/N Y/L/N, the prospect of facing Aaron was anything but dreadful. In fact, she relished it.

She could see it now: his jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing whenever she’d poke holes in his carefully laid arguments. For her, it wasn’t just about winning. It was about watching Aaron Hotchner, the unflappable law prodigy, completely lose his composure.

That day was no different. The mock trial courtroom buzzed with the tension of impending arguments, the air crackling with unspoken competition. Y/N adjusted her blazer, her eyes scanning the room for her favorite opponent. There he was, already seated with his ever-present briefcase of legal weapons, jaw set and brows furrowed as he reviewed his notes. She couldn’t help the smirk tugging at her lips as she walked to her seat across from him.

The mock trial had barely begun, but the room felt like a pressure cooker. Y/N had just finished outlining her opening argument when Aaron stood to cross-examine her witness. As always, he delivered each question with surgical precision, his voice sharp, his gaze colder than a winter morning.

But she wasn’t backing down.

“Your Honor,” she interrupted smoothly, “he simply doesn’t have the evidence necessary for—”

“Evidence?” Aaron interrupted, his calm demeanor finally cracking. He looked like he was about to explode, his face flushed with frustration. “Evi—Jesus, woman, you make me so annoyed sometimes. I just want to very publicly divorce you!”

The courtroom fell silent, and Y/N stared at him, stunned by his outburst. Then, instead of being thrown off, she smiled. “You’d have to marry me first, Hotchner.”

Aaron stormed off, leaving the room in a buzz of shock. The judge cleared his throat awkwardly and called for a recess, but all Y/N could think about was how much she had enjoyed watching him unravel.

Neither of them realizing that the judge for this mock trial, their peer Marcus, had a murderous look trained to where Aaron had left.

Flash forward — Present day

The BAU office was quieter than usual, the team scattered as they worked on different aspects of their current case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, tapping his pen absently against a case file, the rhythm of his movements betraying his usual calm. His mind wasn’t on the case—not entirely. Instead, it kept wandering back to Y/N. Their history, their rivalry in law school, the way she always managed to get under his skin.

His mind began to drift to that impulsive night in Vegas that had been the culmination of all that tension

The neon lights of Las Vegas blared like a siren song, luring Y/N and Aaron into a world of wildness and excess. After an exhausting week of mock trials, they and their law school classmates had decided to blow off some steam and take a trip to Vegas of all places.

“Okay, Hotchner, let’s see if you can handle another round!” Y/N challenged, her voice slightly slurred as she leaned against the bar, her hair a tousled mess.

Aaron rolled his eyes, his own drink barely clutched in his hand. “I think you’ve already had enough, Y/N. You know, you might actually lose your pants at the blackjack table this time.”

“Ha! Please, I’m a betting goddess! You’re just jealous because I outsmarted you in court last week!” she shot back, leaning in closer, her breath a mixture of fruity cocktails and determination.

“Outsmarted me? You mean you got lucky!” Aaron replied, smirking.

“You know what? Let’s get married!” she taunted, downing the last of her drink.

“What?” Aaron burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope!” Y/N declared, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s do it. Vegas style! You and me! A wedding! Right now!”

He glanced at her, both amused and wary. “You realize that you’re completely drunk out of your mind, right? You know what they say about Vegas weddings. And I don’t want to be part of a ‘you’re-who-I-got-drunk-with’ story.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, Hotch! It’ll be epic! Plus, we’ll have a great story to tell during our class reunion 10 years from now about how we got wasted and tied the knot on a whim!”

“Yeah, and how you lost all your money at blackjack the same night!” he shot back, unable to hold back his laughter.

“Shut up!” she laughed, but then her expression shifted to one of playful defiance. “I dare you to come with me! We’ll show everyone that even stoic Aaron Hotcher can do something crazy with the right company! Or are you too scared”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “You think I’m scared? You really want to drag me into this madness?”

“Absolutely!” she insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the chapel like a determined toddler. “C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll wake up tomorrow, laugh about it!”

“Or we might actually end up married,” he replied, a mixture of thrill and dread filling him as they reached the chapel’s entrance. “What’s your plan if we do?”

“Um… we’ll just call it a really fun mistake!” she quipped, giggling as they stumbled into the small, tacky chapel. Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” played in the background, setting the perfect absurd tone.

Inside, they approached the altar, barely able to contain their laughter. The Elvis impersonator greeted them, his eyes twinkling as he took in their disheveled appearance.

“Welcome to the chapel, lovebirds!” he boomed, clearly accustomed to drunken couples making rash decisions.

“Lovebirds?” Aaron muttered under his breath, shooting Y/N a glance.

“Shhh! Just go with it,” she hissed, nudging him with her elbow. “It’ll be fun!”

The officiant cleared his throat. “Do you, Y/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Sure, why not?” Y/N said with a grin, her tone decidedly nonchalant. “I mean, he does make a decent man most of the time.”

“Y/N!” Aaron exclaimed, mortified and amused at her flippancy.

“And do you, Aaron, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant continued, a bemused smile on his face.

Aaron shrugged dramatically, looking at Y/N with exaggerated seriousness. “I guess so. As long as she promises not to annoy me with her terrible jokes and awful puns.”

“Hey!” Y/N shot back, mock-hurt. “I’ll have you know my jokes are legendary!”

“Legendary at making people cringe,” he replied, chuckling as the officiant tried to stifle a laugh.

After a few more playful jabs and exaggerated vows—filled with drunken laughter and outrageous promises—they exchanged rings made of plastic and signed their names on the chapel’s official log, feeling giddy and foolish.

As they stumbled back out into the glittering chaos of the Vegas Strip, their marriage license in hand, they couldn't help but laugh that they even printed out one.

“Is this even legal?” she asked not expecting a reply, glancing at their license as if it might disappear into thin air. “You would think that for a pair of law students we would know the answer”

Aaron only shrugged, too drunk to think, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s hit the casino again. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

As they walked, their banter flowed freely, filled with giggles and playful nudges. They knew they would laugh about this ridiculous night for years to come, even if they had to figure out how to disentangle themselves from the drunken mess they had just created.

The next morning had been awkward, to say the least. They had agreed to get the marriage annulled immediately, laughing about how ridiculous it all was. Except, somehow, neither had followed through on the paperwork. It had slipped through the cracks of their busy lives.

Now, his mind kept wandering back to Y/N wondering where she was now. He couldn’t help but notice how the victims all had a striking resemblance to her.

The team had been called in to investigate a series of kidnappings, and the more they dug, the clearer it became for him how they all looked like Y/N. Where was she now? He couldn’t help but think. Was she safe?

He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He had to find her, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Did you find something, Garcia?” Hotch asked, breaking the silence of his office when Penelope Garcia appeared at the door, her fingers flying across her tablet.

She hesitated momentarily, her usual cheerful energy replaced with a seriousness that made Hotch’s pulse quicken.

“I… I think so, sir,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced at her screen. “Does the name Y/N Y/L/N ring any bells?”

Hotch’s heart stopped for a moment. His eyes locked with Garcia’s, his mind racing. “Yes,” he replied, his voice strained. “She’s… my wife.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Hotch took a breath, the memories rushing back. “We got married… years ago. It was a mistake. We were supposed to get divorced, but… it never happened.”

Garcia blinked rapidly, trying to process what he had just revealed. “So, you’re telling me… you’re still married?”

“Yes.” Hotch’s voice was tight with emotion.

He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “What did you find?”

Garcia quickly shifted gears, “well, her co-workers reported Y/N missing yesterday after not showing up to work,” pulling up a map of the latest victim location. “Y/N’s phone pinged from an industrial area near the docks about an hour ago. The unsub is still playing games, but I believe she is the latest victim, sir. It appears he stalked her online for a couple of weeks’”

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he listened, his professional side taking over. “Send me the coordinates. I want the team assembled now.”

~~~~~

The BAU team had nearly arrived to the warehouse, moving swiftly and silently. Hotch led the charge, his mind a blur of tactical planning and personal fear. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not after all these years. Not when he was just realizing how much she still meant to him.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and decay. The unsub had clearly been holding Y/N here, but as they searched the space, there was no sign of her or the unsub.

Hotch’s phone buzzed. A new message.

It was from Y/N’s phone, but the words were clearly from the unsub:

“Do you remember? Do you remember how much you tried to hate her? Tried to hide much did you love her? You won’t find her in time, Hotchner.”

So this was someone from their past, but who? While trying to think of anyone that would’ve been trying to get close to her and hating him he couldn’t help but recall one fateful winter day that cemented them as academic rivals while also cementing his love for her.

The cold bite of winter air seeped into the library, where a few stubborn law students huddled around textbooks and laptops. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily, painting the world in white, but inside, a different kind of storm was brewing.

Aaron Hotchner glanced up from his notes, his sharp gaze falling on Y/N, who sat across from him in their study group. The usual fire was in her eyes, and the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she readied herself for another round of their never-ending banter.

“You’re completely wrong, Hotchner,” she said, her voice sharp and teasing. “Your interpretation of the case law is so off-base, I’m surprised you’re even here right now.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Is that so? Enlighten me, then. If you can, that is.”

Y/N’s face flushed, her hazel eyes narrowing in mock-annoyance. The faint crinkle of her nose appeared—the one that always seemed to surface when she was riled up. It was something he had started to look forward to, something that drove him to keep pushing her buttons just to see that reaction.

“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a huff, leaning forward to point at his notes. “Right here, you missed the entire point of the ruling. You can’t just cherry-pick the facts that support your argument. You’re better than that… or at least, I thought you were.”

Her words were laced with sarcasm, but Aaron found himself barely hearing them. Instead, his mind focused on the way her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, how her cheeks were tinged pink from the warmth of the heated room, and how that fire in her eyes sparked every time they clashed.

She was beautiful in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to fully acknowledge until now. He’d always admired her intellect, her tenacity, the way she stood her ground no matter how hard he pushed. But today—today something shifted. It wasn’t just respect or admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something that hit him square in the chest as if knocking the air out of him.

God, he loved seeing her like this—passionate, focused, and utterly unrelenting. His heart raced as he watched her argue her point, lips moving with a confidence that captivated him. He’d always riled her up for the sake of competition, but now he realized it was more than that. He loved it. Loved the way her nose crinkled, the way her skin flushed pink when she got under his skin and knew it.

She was like a force of nature, and Aaron—against all logic—was caught in her storm.

“Are you even listening to me?” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, her eyes narrowing further as she leaned back, arms crossed.

Aaron blinked, shaking off the haze of his realization, and quickly returned to their debate. “Of course I am. I’m just trying to figure out if you actually believe that nonsense you’re spewing.”

Her mouth fell open, and that familiar spark lit in her eyes again. “You’re impossible!” she snapped, throwing her pen down dramatically.

Aaron bit back a grin. “And you’re predictable.”

That earned him a glare, but he could see the amusement behind it. She thrived on this, just like he did. The banter, the push and pull—it was their language, and he’d never felt more alive than when they were like this. But now it came with a deeper ache, a longing he hadn’t anticipated.

Later that day, after they’d packed up and left the library, Aaron lingered near the hallway, stuffing his textbooks into his bag. Y/N’s voice drifted from around the corner, chatting with her friends.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” one of the girls asked. “Marcus has been wanting to ask you out and you always shoot him down.”

Y/N laughed softly. “No, I’m good. I promised myself I’d focus on law school. No distractions. I’m staying single and just keeping my head down until graduation.”

Aaron froze, his breath catching in his throat. The words stung more than they should have. He had just admitted to himself that he might be falling for her, and now—now she was putting up a wall, and he wasn’t even on the other side of it.

Single. Focused on her studies. No distractions.

It was clear where she stood, and Aaron felt a knot of frustration tighten in his chest. He could never compete with her ambitions, nor would he try. He respected that about her. But still, it hit him hard, this quiet admission of hers that he had no place in her plans.

He stood there, hidden just out of view, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. He had never been one to chase something he couldn’t have, and Y/N had just made it clear she was determined to stay unattached.

But if he couldn’t have her the way he wanted—if she would never see him the way he saw her—then he’d find another way to stay close to her.

That night, as snow continued to fall softly outside the window, Aaron made a silent vow to himself. If being her rival was the only way to be near her, then so be it. He would challenge her, argue with her, push her to her limits—because that’s when she was at her best, and it was the only way he could keep her in his life.

If being her academic rival was all he could be, then he would make sure to be the best damn rival she ever had.

The blood drained from his face as he reread the words. This was personal. The unsub had been watching them—watching their past, their history. And now, Hotch knew he was the key to finding Y/N. Could it have been Marucs? Marcus was the other relentless suitor that y/n had. Could it be him?

He called Garcia, “we are almost at the location Y/Ns phone pinged last. Look into Marcus for me, he went to school with us” he ordered

“Looks like Marcus has had many girlfriends that resemble Y/N physical appearance since graduating, up until last year in which his girlfriend broke up with him to marry someone else. The wedding date coincides with the first killing sir”

“Thanks Garcia” he said as they arrived at the location.

The SWAT team had cleared the perimeter, and Aaron Hotchner stood just outside the door of the dilapidated warehouse. The once-industrial building had long since been abandoned, its cracked windows and rusting metal exterior fitting the profile of a man like Marcus Chambers—someone who had faded into the shadows, but had never truly disappeared.

Aaron’s heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears, the only sound louder than the quiet murmur of the team communicating over comms. They’d been tracking Marcus for days, and this was their best lead yet. But there was one glaring problem—it seemed Y/N wasn’t here.

And time was running out.

The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Aaron nodded to Morgan and Prentiss, signaling them to enter first. Inside, the air was stale and filled with the faint scent of metal and dust. There were scattered pieces of old machinery and boxes, but it was otherwise empty—save for a table and the man seated at the far end of the room.

Marcus.

His dark eyes were fixed on the team as they approached, his mouth curled into a bitter smirk. He didn’t make any effort to move or run, didn’t flinch as SWAT flooded in behind them, guns raised and voices sharp with commands. He sat there, unbothered, like he’d been expecting them all along.

Aaron’s jaw clenched as he approached, unable to shake the burning anger and desperation clawing at him. Y/N’s life depended on this, and every second felt like an eternity.

“Where is she?” Aaron’s voice was low, controlled, but the fury beneath it was unmistakable.

Marcus’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms lazily. “You think it’s that easy, don’t you, Hotchner? You swoop in, play the hero, and save the day.” He sneered. “But not this time.”

Aaron’s fists clenched at his sides. The rage boiling inside him was barely contained, but he couldn’t afford to lose control now. He couldn’t let Marcus see just how much he was getting to him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m not playing games with you, Marcus,” Aaron growled, stepping closer, his voice like steel. “Tell me where she is, or I swear you won’t like how this ends.”

Morgan stepped forward ready to jump and protect his boss and close friend, hand resting on his gun, ready for any sign of danger. “You’re surrounded, man, you’re not walking out of here, so you might as well make it easier on yourself.”

Marcus chuckled darkly, shaking his head as if amused by the entire situation. “Easier? For me? This was never about making it easy, agent.” His eyes drifted back to Aaron, and there was something unsettling in his gaze—something cold, unhinged. “This was about making you pay.”

Aaron felt the weight of those words, and it took everything in him to keep his expression neutral. He had known Marcus back in law school—had always seen him as a man with an inferiority complex, always jealous of anyone who succeeded around him. But that was nothing compared to the bitterness Aaron saw now.

“This is about Y/N, isn’t it?” Aaron said, voice steady but cutting. “You’ve hated me since the mock trial when I said I would marry her, but Marcus you should know we were just rattling each other”

“Bullshit” Marcus yelled irritated

Marcus’s smirk widened. “You have no idea, do you? No idea what it felt like watching you—golden boy Aaron Hotchner—get everything handed to you. The grades, the reputation, and then… her.”

Could he really know about Vegas, about them actually marrying? Aaron thought. It wasn’t as if they actually lived like husband and wife, they had just forgotten to annul the marriage, granted, as far as he knew neither of them had dated after that day. Could he really be this infuriated by a piece of paper? Aaron decided not to focus on the pang of guilt he felt by thinking of the marriage to the love of his life as just a “piece of paper” he had to figure out where she was before it was too late.

“I watched you two,” Marcus continued, his voice laced with bitterness. “Watched you marry her like it was some joke. Like she was some prize you could just win and forget about.”

Aaron’s stomach twisted. It all went back to Vegas. The night they’d gotten drunk, the night he and Y/N had woken up with rings on their fingers and hazy memories of how they got there. A wedding that should have been forgotten, annulled, but had somehow turned into something much more permanent, a silent promise that they would always be there for each other. A promise he couldn't break, not after all this time.

And Marcus had been there. He’d seen it all. And he was dead set on breaking the fragile bond that was made that night between Aaron and Y/N.

Suddenly, a faint sound caught his attention—a soft, muffled cry coming from the back of the warehouse. Hotch motioned for the team to follow as they approached a locked room. Kicking the door open, his breath caught in his throat.

There she was. Y/N. Bound and gagged but alive.

You were there that night?” Aaron asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Marcus nodded, his eyes flickering with something darker—something dangerous. “I saw it all. You don’t even remember, do you? How you laughed about it. How you said it didn’t matter, how it would all be a funny memory years down the road. But it mattered to me.”

Aaron’s chest tightened. Yes, there was laughter that night. But, he hadn’t brushed it off like it meant nothing. It had scared him the days after how much that marriage had meant to him. But Marcus had twisted that memory, had held onto it all these years, letting it fester into something deadly.

“This isn’t about Vegas, Marcus,” Aaron said coldly. “This is about your obsession. You’re angry because you never stood a chance.”

Marcus’s smirk faltered for a brief second, but the madness in his eyes only intensified. “I didn’t stand a chance because you took her from me before I even had one.”

Aaron’s fists clenched tighter, his patience fraying. “I'm done with this, I’m done with you. Tell me where she is. Now.”

Marcus chuckled, leaning forward in his chair, his voice dripping with malice. “You really think I’d make it that easy for you? No, Hotchner. This is your punishment. You don’t get to save her this time.”

Aaron’s blood ran cold, a chill settling deep into his bones. He stepped closer, towering over Marcus, his voice deadly calm. “You tell me where she is, or I swear–” Aaron couldn’t finish his threat, noticing Marcus’ eyes flickered to the timer he set on a nearby table.

Marcus met Aaron’s eyes, his smile fading into something more sinister. “You’re too late. She will be dead in 20 minutes.”

Aaron’s heart stopped. Too late. No, that couldn’t be possible. Not Y/N. Not when they were so close.

“Where is she?” Morgan demanded, his voice rising.

Marcus didn’t answer. His gaze drifted lazily around the room, savoring the tension, the desperation on Aaron’s face. “You’ll never find her. She’s too far gone.”

Aaron lunged forward, grabbing Marcus by the collar and hauling him to his feet, rage boiling over. “Where is she?!”

Morgan and Prentiss moved to pull Aaron back, but he was already too far gone. Marcus laughed in his face, taunting him with the one thing Aaron couldn’t afford to lose: time.

And then, in a quiet, venomous whisper, Marcus finally spoke.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.”

The words sank in, chilling Aaron to his core. Marcus had known all along that they’d come here, had expected this, planned for it. And while they wasted time finding him—Y/N was somewhere else.

Somewhere Aaron might never reach her in time.

He released Marcus, stepping back, chest heaving with frustration and panic. They had him in custody, but it wasn’t enough. Not without Y/N.

They were running out of time, and Aaron knew he couldn’t afford a single second more

Back at the BAU Penelope Garcia’s fingers flew across the keyboard, eyes glued to the flurry of data populating the screen. She’d been digging into Marcus's background, searching for anything that could lead them to where he was keeping Y/N. “Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, frustration building—until suddenly, a detail popped up, too familiar to ignore. “Wait a minute,” she whispered, freezing. She leaned closer, eyes widening as the puzzle pieces clicked. “The old library!”

Spencer Reid, sitting across from her, looked up from the stack of files he was pouring over. “What about it?”

Garcia spun her chair toward him, her face pale with realization. “That abandoned library—the one Hotch and Marcus used to study at with the group. It was scheduled for demolition last year, but the plans were scrapped. No one’s been there in years.”

Reid’s eyes lit up with recognition, and his voice dropped. “It’s isolated. Quiet. The perfect place to hide someone.”

Garcia immediately tapped into her comms, panic lacing her voice as she patched through to Hotch. "Hotch, I think we’ve found her. She’s at the old library. Marcus has her at the place you all used to study.”

There was a beat of silence before Hotch's voice came through, tight with urgency. "We are on our way."

Aaron Hotchner’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crumbling doors of the abandoned library, his flashlight slicing through the dust-choked darkness. Morgan was right behind him, followed closely by Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi, their footsteps eerily silent against the cracked tile floors. The air was heavy with mustiness, and the faint echoes of their past—years spent studying in this very place—seemed to haunt the hallways. But there was no time for memories. They had to find her.

A distant sound, soft but unmistakable—a faint whimper—cut through the silence. Hotch froze, his breath hitching. His pulse quickened as his eyes darted toward a door partially ajar at the far end of the room. He motioned for the team to fan out as he crept forward, fear and determination twisting in his gut.

He pushed the door open, revealing Y/N—bound, bruised, but alive—lying in the corner of the room. Relief surged through him like a wave, but there was no time to celebrate, she was breathing but not conscious. Morgan moved quickly to her side, cutting her restraints while JJ and Prentiss scanned the area, and Rossi stood guard. Hotch knelt beside her, his voice low but filled with an emotion he rarely let surface. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes, though tired and scared, widened when she saw him. Relief washed over her face “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking for the first time in years.

She coughed softly as she tried to smile. “You… you found me.”

“Always,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll always find my wife.”

tagging some of my friends that I know would not mind reading an Aaron fic

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @boldlyvoid @reidsaurora @milla984 @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @reid-ingandweeping @ssahotchnerr

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #Aaron hotchner x fem! reader

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