#even though shes treated me like trash for the past few months

[tw0starz]

hi im gonna say it right fucking now

you are not an ally if you're ignoring and speaking over queer voices trying to correct and help you know the right information.

ive been quiet for a while but a former mutual i know irl has been honestly the worst to me. i am tired of normies that are "allies", attacking queer alt people.

this person also insanely belittled my issues on a continuous, every day basis. i am exhausted.

she has also talked down and negatively about people who have committed suicide after devastating natural disasters. not listening to me telling her how wrong she was and trying to explain to her.

stubbornness is not an excuse. shut the fuck up sometimes and just listen for once.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he��d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

[dc-marvel-life]

These Are My Ladies (Natasha Files) - The Moment

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Summary: The first time you realize that the Black Widow is your soulmate

Word Count: ~1.5K

A/N: Now I made These Are My Ladies awhile ago not thinking many people wanted more, but there was some interested. I am going to writing this series. If you have any ideas, let me know or if you have another

These Are My Ladies Natasha Files Wanda Files Carol Files Kate Files Yelena Files

Deadman’s P.O.V

After enduring a whirlwind of missions over the past month, finally, I found myself on a well-deserved break, returning to my New York apartment with hopes of relaxation. However, upon arrival, relaxation was the last thing I felt. Neglect had turned my once orderly space into chaos, with clothes strewn about and dishes piled high.

Though cleaning wasn't a chore I minded, I discovered I had exhausted my cleaning supplies. With a resigned sigh, I added a mental note to my list: a trip to the store was imminent. Before venturing out, a pang of hunger reminded me of my empty fridge.

"Great," I muttered, closing the fridge door empty-handed. Grabbing my keys, I headed out, deciding to make a day of it and treat myself to a visit to my favorite café. Nestled in a quiet corner, it was my sanctuary, known only to a few, offering not just excellent food but also solitude.

As I entered the café and placed my order, my mind drifted to the soothing distraction of a Sudoku puzzle. But my moment of peace was disrupted by a familiar figure outside—the Black Widow.

"Shit," I whispered to myself, snapping my book shut. Whether she had spotted me or not was unclear, but I wasn't about to stick around to find out. The Avengers had never caught me, and I had no intention of allowing today to be the first.

Grabbing my food, I hastily exited the café, disappointed that my plans for relaxation had been thwarted once again. Determined to salvage what remained of my day, I made my way to a nearby park, seeking solace amidst the tranquility of nature.

Finding an empty bench, I settled down, exhaling a sigh of relief. With my food in hand and Sudoku book reopened, I lost myself in the challenge of the puzzles. Time slipped away, and before I knew it, I had devoured my meal and completed several Sudoku grids.

Glancing around the park, I spotted Black Widow in the distance, a coffee cup in hand. "Damn," I muttered, slipping away unnoticed, scanning for any other Avengers lurking nearby. Surprisingly, the coast seemed clear, prompting a sense of unease.

Nevertheless, I pressed on, knowing I had one final task ahead—the grocery store. After gathering my necessities and disposing of my trash, I made my way to the nearest store, pushing a cart as I ticked off items on my mental checklist.

Midway through my shopping, a strange sensation washed over me. Glancing around, my eyes met Black Widow's. 

As we look eyes at each other, time seems to stand still, and the whole world around us fades away into a blur of insignificance. At this moment, it was as if the universe conspired this day to happen to bring us together, our souls are bound together to make an unbreakable bond. 

At a single glance, there was a flow of an electric current surge between us, igniting a fire that burns deep within my heart and I know that she feels it too. This sensation is unlike any other feeling I ever felt. Just a second ago, she was one of my biggest enemies and now there is an unwavering certainty that she is my other half. There is a sense of belonging and understanding with us and we haven’t even said a word to each other yet. 

Many people told me about how it felt to meet your soulmate, but this feeling is nothing how they describe it. It is even better. At this moment, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I just found my soulmate. 

After what felt like an eternity, the world comes back into focus and we are back in the grocery store. 

“Who put out a hit on me?” Black Widow says and drops her basket. Why would that be the first thing she says? Didn’t she feel the connection too?

“Don’t give me that look,” I guess I was making a funny face so I tried to go back to normal, “I have noticed you since this morning in the cafe. I have been trying to get away from you all day, but you are damn too good at your job” Natasha says and makes a face. 

I smirked at her complimenting me on how good I was at my job even though I wasn’t working. 

“I know that you know what is happening here” I say getting closer to her and she takes a few steps back, so I stop. 

"No, this can't be happening! You can't be my soulmate! I don't deserve a soulmate," she murmured, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.

Her words struck me like a blow to the chest, the weight of her rejection crushing my spirit. Yet, even as my soul ached with the pain of her denial, I couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy. After all, hadn't I too grappled with feelings of unworthiness?

Summoning what remained of my resolve, I sought to reassure her. "I promise you, there's no hit out on you. If there were, you'd already be dead. They call me Deadman for a reason," I quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You wish," she countered with a wry chuckle, the tension between us palpable as we stood in silence, each grappling with our own doubts and insecurities.

"Let me prove you wrong. Let me show you that I am the right soulmate for you, and that you do indeed deserve one," I implored, extending an invitation that hung precariously in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, she relented, her acceptance met with an internal cheer. "Perfect. I'll cook for you. What do you want for dinner?" I inquired eagerly, already envisioning the possibilities.

"I don't know; surprise me," she replied, and with the exchange of numbers, our tentative truce was sealed.

—

With only a few hours until Black Widow's arrival, I threw myself into a frenzy of preparation. Cleaning, cooking, and setting the table consumed my attention, each task executed with meticulous care.

Yet, amid the chaos, I sought to impart a touch of sentimentality, crafting a bouquet of paper roses as a token of my affection. It was a small gesture, perhaps, but one imbued with meaning—a symbol of my earnest desire to forge a connection with her.

As the appointed hour drew near, a knock at the door heralded her arrival. I took a moment to compose myself before opening the door, my breath catching at the sight of her.

"Come in, come in. I'm glad you came," I greeted her warmly, taking her jacket and ushering her into my humble abode.

"Wow, nice place. And it smells amazing in here. What did you make?" she remarked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I made homemade chicken pasta with red sauce, Caesar salad, and cheesy garlic bread," I replied, hoping to impress her with my culinary skills.

"That sounds delicious," she murmured, a hint of appreciation evident in her tone.

Seating her at the table, I poured us each a glass of wine, savoring the moment as we embarked on this unexpected journey together. With each bite, I watched her closely, silently gauging her reaction to my cooking.

As we sat in silence, the clinking of cutlery against plates the only sound in the room, I couldn't help but observe her every move. With bated breath, I awaited her reaction to the meal I had prepared with such care. And when I saw the subtle flicker of pleasure that crossed her features, I couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at my lips.

Halfway through the meal, our pace slowed, and our gazes locked in a moment of shared understanding. It was then that I felt compelled to break the silence, to address the elephant in the room—the improbable twist of fate that had brought us together as soulmates despite our tumultuous history as adversaries.

"Look, I know this is weird for both of us. After all, we've been enemies for so long," I began, my voice tentative yet determined. "But I want to make this work. I've always dreamed of finding my soulmate, and now that I've found you, I don't want to let this opportunity slip away."

I reached out to take her hand, a gesture of reassurance, only to have it swiftly withdrawn. The sting of rejection pierced my heart, a painful echo of the hurt I had felt earlier in the store.

Undeterred, I rose from my seat, retrieving the bouquet of paper roses I had crafted with such care. "I made these for you," I explained, offering her the delicate blooms. "I know they're not real, but they'll never wither or fade. They'll be a constant reminder of the connection we share, a symbol of the enduring love I have for you."

Taking a moment to steady my nerves, I continued, "I understand that this won't be easy, given our pasts. But I'm willing to put in the work, to prove that we're meant to be together."

As she accepted the flowers, a flicker of emotion crossed her features, and for the first time since our encounter began, I dared to hope that perhaps, against all odds, our love might blossom into something beautiful and enduring.

This is the moment where our relationship starts.

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Work Wife

A/N- I’m slowly starting to get back into loving Gareth again after my breakup, and though i’m still trying to get better and heal from it, i think if i try my best to work on fics for him it’ll make me feel better 🥰 (cause i know Gareth would treat me right 😍)

Summary- You have a pretty close relationship with your coworker Gareth, and you don’t realize you have a crush on him until another coworker finally gives you a label.

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None :)

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles

Words- 4.8k

“I’m sorry… you’d fuck the toxic avenger?”

“Are you kidding?!” You nearly shouted at Gareth from your place behind the register, “Of course i would, he’s the good guy, and he’s like the sweetest guy in the whole movie.”

“I don’t know, something about him just turns me off…” Gareth shrugged at his spot at the end of the checkout lane, his hands fidgeting with the paper bags in front of him to make it seem like he was working.

“Oh, but Seth ‘fingernails falling off, acid vomiting, insect-man’ Brundle turns you on?” You giggled.

“Come on! It’s Jeff Goldblum, i think you can cut me some slack for that.”

“Yeah, i guess you’re right.”

You and Gareth were bored at work once again during another one of your shared 8 hour shifts at Bradley’s, and just like usual your conversation turned from talking about cheesy horror flicks to another game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’.

Your friendship was definitely strange, at least it seemed strange when you tried to describe it to other people. You were best friends at work and though you had gone to the same school and even had a few classes in the past all of your conversations outside of your shifts had just been small talk with one another. But once the two of you were on the clock together you were inseparable

You’d talk like you’d known each other for years, pick on one another, and whenever you could you tried to make it seem like every task was a two person job.

Trash run? You needed Gareth to help you lift the heavy bags into the dumpster.

Restocking the freezers? If you were helping Gareth it would go by twice as fast if it was just himself doing it.

Stuck at the register? Well someone had to be at the end to help bag all the customers groceries.

Each and every time you two shared a shift you knew it was going to be fun. He just made the day go by so much faster when he was there with you.

You had been there for a few months prior to him getting hired, you were even the one who trained him, but for some reason you just took a liking to one another. It was nice to be able to work with someone you considered a friend. Even though you rarely spoke when the uniforms were off.

Your conversation at the register was soon interrupted by the sound of someone pulling their cart into your lane, and though the two of you often complained afterwards about having to actually work at your job, your managers knew that putting the two of you together meant that you would always get everything done quickly and correctly.

You gave the older woman a smile and quickly scanned her items, sliding them down to Gareth to bag them up for her.

“Alright, it’s going to be $43.26.”

She handed you a few bills and you quickly grabbed her change, giving her a smile and a wave and Gareth doing the same before turning back to you,

“We’re you even paying attention to what she was buying?” He said with a laugh.

“No?” You said giggling back, “Was i supposed to?”

“That lady was buying Vaseline, condoms, Kleenex, and one of those home life magazines with all the recipes in it.”

The two of you were giggling at the thought of you not even paying attention to notice the strange things she had bought, and at this time of night.

It had been dark out for a few hours and the stores hours changing to be open later during the summer were nice in theory, more hours always means more money, but it definitely brought in a few weirdos evert now and then after dark.

You glanced over at the clock on the wall to check the time.

6:34 pm.

Almost halfway finished with your shift.

You sighed and looked back over to Gareth,

“Still got another five and a half hours until 11.”

Gareth smiled and looked around to see if any of your other coworkers could see the two of you, watching as they continued on with their shifts before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter and what looked to be a pill bottle, though there was no pills inside to be seen. Only a few pre-rolls and some smaller bits of flower stuck near the bottom.

“I think we’ll be fine after our break.” He said with a smile, raising his eyebrows at you before slipping the lighter and bottle back into his pocket.

“Oh thank god,” You said with a smile, leaning over the counter and resting your body onto your elbows to whisper to Gareth without the threat of your managers hearing, “i cant be here another 5 hours sober.”

You smiled at one another and took another look around the store, trying to see if your manager was lurking around. More often than not, if there was a late shift that the two of you shared, during your breaks you’d chill together in one of your cars with some snacks you ‘borrowed’ while your manager wasn’t looking and smoke together. It was a nice little pick me up during all those boring shifts, and needless to say whenever Gareth supplied it always made the rest of the night a little more fun.

“Want to see if they’ll let us go early?” You asked, giving him puppy dog eyes to help convince him to take your side and ask the manager on shift if they’ll let the two of you take your break just a little earlier than normal.

He smiled and rolled his eyes, knowing that meant he would be the one to ask,

“Fine, but we’re doing it in your car this time.

“Works for me!” You smiled and as Gareth walked past you, you quickly grabbed his arm to get his attention, “Want anything? I was gonna grab some chips or something.”

“Yeah, grab me some cherry sours if they have them.”

“Got it.”

You smiled and glanced around the store. No customers. The perfect opportunity to sneak a few aisles over and grab your snacks, just hoping that if your coworkers caught you you’d be able to talk them out of snitching to your manager.

As you saw Gareth walk into the managers office you quickly ran over and saw that one of your other work friends was thankfully stocking the candy aisle. You approached them with a smile and and stood before them as they were kneeled on the floor, placing boxes of charleston chews and bags of jelly beans into their proper places on the shelves,

“Hey, i think a bag of cherry sours accidentally got lost today,” You leaned over and grabbed one of the small bags of the little red candies, hiding them under your shirt, “you know where they went?”

They smiled to you and went back to restocking the shelves,

“Nope. No idea.”

You smirked and took a glance down the end of the aisle, spotting a display with a few bags of chips on it,

“I think a bag of ruffles might’ve gotten lost too, right?”

“Sure.” They said with a laugh, “You sneaking some snacks for you and your little work husband during your break?”

You stood there for a moment and shot them a confused look, thinking over the little nickname they had given to Gareth,

“Work husband?” You said with a laugh, “What do you mean?”

“Are you kidding? I see the way you guys always are always together doing something here, it’s rare to find you two apart. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute to see how you act around each other but fuck, you guys need to stop making it so obvious.”

They were right, and you knew they were right too. You and Gareth were barely apart during your shifts and you were always around one another, goofing off or making every task a two person job, but having to hear someone on the outside tell you about what they noticed when witnessing your friendship was a little eye opening. Though you were still confused at what they were hinting at,

“Making what obvious? What are you talking about?”

“You mean to tell me you don’t know that you like each other?”

You pondered their statement for a moment as you stood in the middle of the aisle.

It had never crossed your mind that maybe you might’ve had a little crush on Gareth, and though he was sweet and funny and a little dorky, there was never a time you could remember when you had thought about having a crush on him. Maybe it was just how the two of you acted with each other, like your coworker had said, it was rare to see the two of you apart.

And then the little things started to creep back into your thoughts.

Always getting a little giddy seeing your names next to one another on the schedule when you were working the same shift. Paying attention to his laugh or his smile when you were having another one of your regular work conversations, playing ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with all the horror creatures you could think of or trying to see how long it would take for your managers to notice you had stocked all the cereal boxes backwards on the shelf, or even when you were picking on one another for working just a little too hard at your job. The way he would always sweet talk the managers to let you take your breaks early or get an extra 10 minutes just to spend more time with you, sharing a joint in his car while whatever cassette he was listening to played in the background while you enjoyed one another’s company. Now that you were thinking about it, he did get a little more touchy than normal when you were smoking together. It was nothing that would make you uncomfortable, but you noticed he would always move a little closer next to you on the bench seat, resting his head onto your shoulder as soon as he started to feel more relaxed which always ended up with your arm around his shoulder and your fingers playing with his soft curls.

Did he have a crush on you?

Or more importantly, did you have a crush on him, and just not notice it?

���It’s not like that, we’re just…” You tried to think of the right word for your relationship, and though you knew ‘work husband’ and ‘work wife’ described it perfectly, you knew the sound of it would make you blush, “friends.”

Your coworker laughed to themselves,

“I don’t know (y/n), you hesitated a bit on that.”

“We are!” You giggled, “We’re just friends, i swear.”

“Well, maybe you should have a talk with him about it on your break.” They shrugged and you turned your head as you heard footsteps approaching you down the aisle, thankful it was only Gareth coming back from talking with the manager, “i see how he looks at you, talk to him.”

You smiled to Gareth and tried to ignore your coworkers comments as he approached closer to you with a smile on his face,

“We’re good to go on our break,” He waved to your other coworker as they continued on with stocking and handed you your jacket, “here, it’s cold out, i figured i’d grab it while i was back there. And i managed to talk them into letting us take an extra 10 minutes if we get all the freezers restocked after.”

You took it with a smile and checked your pockets for your car keys, your coworker glancing up at you from their place on the floor with a smirk. You lightly kicked their foot and nodded Gareth to follow you through the aisle, making sure to grab a bag of ruffles from the stand before sneaking out the back door to your car. The chilly fall wind blew through Gareths hair and you giggled as he tried to brush it out of his eyes once you reached your car.

You unlocked your side and quickly got in, reaching over to pull the lock and let Gareth in next to you. The keys were put into the ignition and you switched the car on, fixing the heat as Gareth sifted through the collection of tapes you kept in your car, holding one up as he flicked the inside light on,

“Iron Maiden?”

He glanced over at you as you pulled your jacket off once you were well adjusted to the heat and untied your apron from around your waist, setting the chips down between you on the bench seat,

“Yeah sure, just as long as you don’t sing every word.” You said with a giggle.

“You know i can’t make any promises like that.”

Gareth smiled and put the tape into the radio, rewinding it just a bit and pressing play.

The music played softly, and though you tried to focus on the song, your mind was racing. All you could think about was what your coworker had said to you and the current situation you were in.

You and Gareth were alone, it was quiet, a good song playing in the background while he fished out the lighter and the bottle from his pocket. It wasn’t like this was something brand new to you two, in fact this was the third time this week where you had been in a situation like this, but after getting the thought into your head of not knowing if you had a crush on him or not it felt so much more different.

“You alright?” Gareth said to you as he passed you the already lit joint between his fingers.

“Yeah! Yeah, i’m fine…” You said with a smile as you took the joint and placed it between your lips, feeling slightly embarrassed as you took a drag and blew the smoke out of your cracked window, not knowing he had caught you zoning out to the thought of him.

“Alright, if you say so.” He said with a smile and settled into his seat, “You remembered my cherry sours right?”

You quickly nodded after your second hit and passed it back to him, lifting up your shirt slightly and tossing him the bag from underneath,

“You know i never forget our snacks, and i’m offended that you even thought i would.”

You shared a laugh with one another before he took a hit and opened the bag, holding it out towards you to offer you first grab. You reached in and took a few, popping them into your mouth and scrunching your nose up as soon the sour hit your tongue. You glanced over to Gareth and watched as he poured a few from the bag into his mouth, making you giggle,

“Christ, how do you eat them like that?”

He shot you a strange look as he was chewing, swallowing a few to get a sentence out,

“What do you mean? They’re delicious.”

“Oh i’m not arguing that they’re not delicious, but they’re so sour, and you just ate like 10 with no issues,” You snatched the joint from his fingers and took a quick hit, “you keep eating them like that and your tongue is gonna get all torn up.”

Gareth shrugged and poured a few more into his mouth as you took another hit,

“Well if my tongue is gonna get all torn up then so be it, cause i refuse to stop eating them.”

You giggled again and as he swallowed his second mouthful you handed the joint back to him, watching as he took the filter between his fingers and brought it to his lips, stained a light red from the cherry candies. You knew your staring would make you blush and you quickly looked out the window, staring up at the night sky to try and distract yourself from thinking of Gareth’s lips and how sweet they must taste.

Your eyes darted around the deep dark sky, looking over all the stars and trying to focus on finding the constellations before you felt a tap on your knee, snapping you out of your trance,

“(y/n)!” Gareth said, almost shouting at you, with a smile. The joint was held out to you and you took it between your fingers once again.

“Sorry, i just got a little distracted…” You placed it between your lips and took a long drag, noticing that Gareth had moved the bag of chips between you on the seat and inched closer to you. A telltale sign that he was definitely high, and he was definitely looking to feed how touch starved he was.

“You feeling alright?” He asked as you took another hit.

“Yeah, im fine.” You blew the smoke out of the cracked window and offered the joint back to him, which at this point had almost been burned to its end, “Why?”

“Because you’re not,” He said with a laugh, taking one last hit before flicking the roach out the window, “and i know you’re not. You’re being too quiet and usually you’re never able to shut up when we smoke.”

You smiled and playfully kicked at his leg,

“Shut up! That’s not true!”

“It is! You know how we act when we’re high, i get touchy and you ramble, that’s how it’s always been and now i can’t seem get you to want to talk to me. Everything was fine before we came out here, did something happen?”

You shook your head and pursed your lips,

“Nope. Nothing happened.”

Gareth leaned back into his seat, moving his hands into his lap like he was scared to be close to you,

“Did i do something?” You could hear the fear in his voice, and usually it was apparent when Gareth was scared, especially after a bad high and you’ve seen how he’s acted when he was like that. But this was different, and you could tell it was a different kind of fear, like he was nervous he had done something or said something to make the friendship you had beforehand shift.

“No!” You reached out and gently held your hand over his to reassure him that this wasn’t something he had caused, “You didn’t do anything at all, i promise.”

“Then what is it?”

You hesitated for a few moments, nervous to bring up what was really on your mind. This was something that you knew had to be brought up eventually, you just weren’t prepared for it to happen so quickly,

“It’s just…” You looked down at your hand still over his, and Gareth could tell that you were nervous. He moved his hands in his lap as he inched closer to you on the bench seat, gently taking your hand into his.

“It’s alright (y/n) you can tell me. I mean, it can’t be that bad can it?”

You knew he was just trying to make you better, and though you didn’t want to have to confront your possible feelings for Gareth tonight, you knew it had to happen wether you wanted it to or not.

“It’s not. It’s just that…” You took a deep breath trying to compose yourself before having a conversation as difficult as this. The fear wasn’t coming from having to talk to him about your feelings for one another, or lack thereof, but it was from saying something that could possibly ruin the friendship you two had. You didn’t want this to be the reason you lost your best friend.

“When i was inside getting our snacks, someone said something about us. It just got me thinking, you know?”

Gareth moved closer to you, and you looked back up to him as your thighs touched,

“What do you mean? Thinking bad, or thinking good?”

“I don’t know… I guess it could be both.” You said with a gentle laugh.

“What did they say?”

“They said…” You took another deep breath and started to play with Gareths fingers as his hand still stayed in yours to distract yourself a bit, “they said something about us. About how the way we acted with each other was cute and that i was like your ‘work wife’ and you were my ‘work husband’. I’ve just been thinking about it.”

Gareth smirked and looked at your hands intertwined with one another, watching your fingers still playing with his as a gentle blush spread across his cheeks. It may have been dark but you knew him better than that, and you could tell when he was a little flustered, though his silence was a bit worrying.

“Alright, now you’re being too quiet and it’s starting to scare me a little.”

He looked back up to you, a smile still on his lips,

“I mean, that is a cute way to put it.”

You shared a laugh and you smiled, feeling the weight lift off of your shoulders, thankful that Gareths reaction was a positive one,

“I’m just glad you don’t think it’s weird, i feel like i was overthinking the whole thing.”

“Overthinking? About what?”

You shrugged and looked back down at his hand in yours,

“Just us, i guess. Especially because of what they were saying.”

He inched himself closer into you, your sides pressed together, and though this was something normal for you it felt different now that you were talking about your friendship, or whatever it was that you could call your relationship.

“What else were they saying?”

“More stuff about us. Things they noticed.” You said with a little smile, recalling all the little moments you had shared with Gareth since you had started doing your shifts together, “They said that they saw how we act with each other, how were always together, and that they sometimes catch you looking at me a certain way.”

You looked back up to Gareths face and saw that he had his head slightly tilted down, the gentle blush that once covered his cheeks was darker and much more apparent, though it wasn’t out of embarrassment or nervousness. The bashful smile on his lips made it apparent that he knew his feelings were found out, and your eyes widened at your sudden realization.

All of the things your coworker had said were true.

The way Gareth acted around you, how he always went out of his way to make you laugh or smile during even the most frustrating parts of your shift, always being a gentleman around you even when he was high and bit more touchy than usual. It made perfect sense. It was clear to you that he had feelings for you, but somehow you still weren’t sure of your feelings for him.

You tilted your head down just a bit to get a better look at his face,

“Do you like me Gare?”

His eyes moved first to meet your gaze before he slowly looked back up to you, a shy smile still on his lips as he nodded.

You smiled back to him, your thumb moving over the back of his hand as you felt your cheeks warm up at the thought of finally confirming Gareths crush on you.

It was strange.

This was the first time that someone you knew you liked, a guy that was sweet and funny and honest, someone that was your friend that you could trust confirmed that they had feelings for you. It felt like you were back in grade school, starting to get those little crushes on your classmates that you saw every day and get shyer and shyer around them until you got too nervous to say anything. And yet, you still couldn’t be sure of your feelings for him.

You knew you liked him, you loved having him as your friend and as someone that you could trust and talk to about anything and everything, but in regards to romance you just couldn’t be certain until you figured it out for yourself.

“Do you like me too?” Gareth asked, the nervousness in his tone coming back as he looked to your face for any sign of a reaction.

You looked down at your hands, your thumb still slowly caressing the back of his hand,

“I don’t know… I mean, i know that i like you as a person. I love having you as my friend, and i love talking to you and seeing you and being able to spend time with you, and don’t get me wrong i think you’re very cute. I just don’t know if i have those kind of feelings for you, even though i feel like i should.”

Gareth understood exactly what you were saying.

You did really like each other as people, and as friends, and even he had a difficult time convincing himself that he had a crush on you when he first realized it. You both were scared of possibly ruining the friendship that had sparked between you, and it was scary to think about one wrong move or sentence ruining a friendship like that.

“It’s alright if you don’t (y/n). If you don’t like me like that then i’m ok with it, just as long as we can still be friends. I still like you as a person, that’s never going to change.”

You looked back up to him and smiled, and your thoughts were racing in your head. You were fine with just being friends but you needed some kind of closure to confirm wether or not you really had feelings for him.

He was someone you loved having as a friend, but maybe he would work better with you as a boyfriend instead of just a work friend.

“Can i…” You hesitated for a moment, a pit of fear forming in your stomach from the thought of your next few words ruining your friendship, “Can i kiss you? Just to make sure.”

His eyes went wide, the blush on his cheeks becoming darker than before,

“You’re sure that’s what you want? It’s not just the weed talking right? You’re sentient enough to think straight?”

“Yes, i promise it’s not the weed. I want to. I want to know if it’s right for me to feel that way about you. I’m done being confused.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Gareth turned his body towards yours, your hands separating as his went to carefully hold your waist and yours were draped over his shoulders.

You took a deep breath and inched closer to him,

“If i do this, and it doesn’t feel right, it’s not going to ruin us being friends right?”

“Not if you don’t want it to ruin it. If it feels wrong then i promise i won’t ever bring it up. We can just forget it ever happened and when we go back to work we go back to how we were beforehand.”

You pursed your lips and nodded gently,

“And if i don’t feel the same after, it won’t hurt your feelings?”

“Of course not. Well, it might hurt for a little bit, but as long as we can still be friends afterwards then i’ll be ok with it. I’d just be happy to still have you as a friend.”

A gentle smile spread over your lips as you nodded again, taking one last deep breath as your eyes wandered over Gareths face, and he was doing the same.

As your gaze finally fell to his lips, you slowly inched yourself closer into him, your lips gently grazing one another’s as Gareth waited for you to initiate it. Without a second thought, your lips pressed to his, gently taking his bottom lip between yours and the feeling was nothing short of breathtaking.

He held you so gently, his hair felt so soft between your fingers, and the taste of his lips felt so sweet as they were against yours.

This was right.

This was perfect.

This had finally confirmed the feelings you had been so afraid to admit to yourself.

You didn’t just like Gareth, you loved him.

You loved your best friend.

And he loved you back.

As your lips parted, you felt a rush of air enter your lungs, your hands still around Gareths neck as your fingers played with the ends of a few of the curls on the back of his neck. His hands had a firm grip on your waist, his thumbs slowly caressing your sides as you held one another close, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to recollect yourselves after the rush of emotions that had been made apparent after your kiss.

Gareth knew exactly what you were feeling, and knowing that this moment had been one he was waiting weeks and weeks for he was happy to know that what you felt for him was the same way he felt for you.

One of his hands moved up to hold your cheek as he brought you back into him, kissing you deeper than before, and you could feel him smile as his lips were against yours.

Thank god he had talked the manager into giving you those extra 10 minutes.

[sillyfriendssharingablog]

the iconic trio but if they were normal kids with normal lives, normal parents and in a normal town

this is a little peak of my modern/slice of life au that I love, it's literally one of the first things me and my bestie did when getting into mgs. it's very wholesome and cutesy, the exact opposite of its source material. I will talk about it fully later though, as I have other things planned for this month. This au is completely safe for other people to insert their OCs in. It is also set in Alaska, and most birthdates remain unchanged. But I'll give you some fun facts about this three little fucks and their normal lives as kids in my au.

Eli Sears (12 y/o)

Son of John and Eva Sears

half white American half Italian (in my head Eva is Italian stfu)

is the middle child (for a few seconds) and gets treated like it

lives in a very fucked up family (fucked up in the Family guy way)

vapes (thinking it's cool)

the vapes are stolen from uncle Venom

he despised his brother since the day they came out of their mother

acts all mean and angsty but still cries to his mama when he can't do his math homework

thinks he is the leader of the trio

cant tie his shoes

has braces

is a bit of a bully, or at least tries

is in their chuch's choir (in this AU the Sears are Catholics)

has a skateboard

Azedi Miller (14 y/o)

Adoptive daughter of Kaz Miller, that single-fathered her for most of her life

has a very deep and healthy bond with her dad, even if he is very overprotective

her race and ethnicity are the same, and she is still in touch of her culture even if she has been raised by an American man. But now she has a more southern accent, coping her dad.

at 14 she became a loving older sister of Catherine Miller was born

tomboy, and is a soccer champion

is the bodyguard of the trio (the one who protects and takes all the countabilty of their actions because she is the oldest)

tries to hold Eli from doing dumbshit most of the time, but at the end joins him

is a scout girl

has lived in the countryside in her first years.

gets herself into dangerous shit because her little ADHD brain tells her to do them

Azedi is neighboors with Quiet, that is Eli's cousin bcs in this AU she was adopted by Venom (don't ask why), and they are besties even if Az is 14 years younger than Quiet.

Tretij Rebenok (12 y/o)

lives in a foster-care home

autistic and has been nonverbal since 7th grade

knows that he is slavic, doesn't know much else of his past

trans boy, but only his friends know about it (even though, since he didn't talk, they only ever adressed him with "It")

he is the racoon of the trio (lives in a trash can and bites)

scares a lot of people just by the way he looks and is banned from most public spaces

instigates Eli into doing dumb shit

deadname is unknown. Before he asked them to call him Tretij they just called him "the other one" or "third friend"

literally eats bugs

in his foster home he is a neglected a bit, so he may often look messy and he may stink

he has a burnt scar on half of his face (I had to make up for the canon scars)

evilest fucking kid ever

just hangs in the background most of the time thankfully though

Some other fun facts about the trio in the au

Azedi and Eli have known each other since they were born, since their dads are buddies. they met Tretij when they entered primary school and became the neighborhood's terrors ever since

they raid Ocelot's house every once in a while

Eli and Azedi used to communicate with Tretij with mostly sign leanguege, that they learned with Quiet (since she is also autistic and nonverbal in this AU), when he was nonverbal, even though they also didn't really need to sign anything with Tretij bcs he understood them even without gestures (since they are that close with each other :3)

Eli and Azedi had started dating at the end of Eli's 7th grade, but the only thing that they do different from what they do with Tretij is giving each other little kisses and calling each other petnames

also Miller despises Eli, but this is in all universes

they all have matching bracelets made by Az

[9thbutterfly]

Tiny book reviews

Once again it has been a few months since I did this. And I've continued to read even as work got busy, which feels like a big accomplishment!

I feel like my brain has recovered a bit from the exhaustion of the last few (more than a few?) years, but let's see if I actually remember things about the books I read two months ago.

She Who Became the Sun, by Shelley Parker Chan

It was... okay? It's nice to get out of Fantasy-Europe, but it also didn't really pull me in. I guess it feels kind of lonely, if that makes sense? I like books where I can feel a web of characters liking and caring about each other, and this wasn't that.

Drachenglanz (Empire of Ivory), by Naomi Novik

One of those middle-of-the-series books that I pick up at the book bazaar to see if I like the style and the rest of the series is worth reading, and in this case, yes it is. Even though I had very little idea what was going on or who the characters were, it felt engaging enough that I want to read the rest.

Grass for his Pillow, by Lian Hearn

I remember little about this, except that it was a quick easy read and left me annoyed that I had not yet ordered the next book.

The Burning God, R.F. Kuang

I wanted to like this trilogy, and was interested enough in the plot to finish it, but it was too grim and bleak for me, and while the first part still had the saving grace of characters who cared about each other, that fell away as they ended up dying or betraying each other, so I was pretty much just trying to get through to the end as quickly as possible.

Temeraire, by Naomi Novik

Starting to read this in the proper order now. I have very vague memories of reading this before, when my best friend lent it to me years ago, but really nothing past "dragon egg gets found on enemy ship", so I got to read and enjoy the rest as if I had never read it before.

An Artificial Night, by Seanan McGuire

I guess I have been well and truly drawn into this series. Going back to the Bay Area, even in fictional form, is always hard, because there is always a gaping hole where my friend Cindy no longer lives (I started reading Seanan's books mostly because Cindy knew her personally). This one was harder to read than the previous two in the series for a different reason, though - abducted children are much harder to bear since becoming a parent. Anyway, itching to buy the next one, but I need to somewhat reduce my TBR pile first.

Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt

I have no idea how this ended up in my TBR pile (got it from a neighbour, maybe?) and I wasn't even going to read it, because it is so not my thing, either in subject matter or style, but somehow it still drew me in. Glad to be done with it, though, because alcoholic parents just. Piss. Me. Off. Look, I know it's an addiction and they can't help it, but also get your shit together and stop making your children suffer, for fuck's sake. #yeah thanks Papa

Die Herrin der Farben [The Mistress of the Colours], by Peter Dempf

Another one that I think I got from our neighbour. Historical novels can be nice, but this one annoyed me right out the gate with stereotypical "women were treated like trash and corsets mean they couldn't breathe" stuff. Sure some of the "treated like trash" might be true, but to have that be all you have to say about the lives of women is just not enough for me any more. And I couldn't care about the plot, either.

Into the Narrowdark, by Tad Williams

A reread, and I immediately wanted to start into another one.

Tad, oh Tad. What do I say to describe his books? Do I love his books because the characters always care about each other, or is characters caring about each other so important to me because his books helped shape who I am? But either way, this book, like all of the Osten Ard books, is full of characters I love so much, from my decades-old friends like Simon, Miriamele or Tiamak, to my new "babies" like Jesa and Nezeru, and also full of mysteries that I desperately want the answers to. What is going on in Tanakiru? Why is Yeja'aro behaving like he does? And what the HELL is the Red Thing?!

Anyway, if you don't know what I'm talking about, go get yourself The Dragonbone Chair, and then the rest of the series. This is an order.

Voll im Bilde (Moving Pictures), by Terry Pratchett

I bravely keep trying to read Terry Pratchett, whenever I find one of his books at the bazaar, because I know everyone loves him, and I want to know what people are talking about, what all the clever quotes on tumblr are from and such, but it always feels like trying yet another dish from a country whose cooking style you just don't enjoy. (Not that I have encountered such a situation. Maybe I should say, like taking a sip of yet another alcoholic drink, knowing I just do not enjoy the taste of alcohol.) I guess I got even less out of this one than others because I'm not a film person, either. And I still don't understand the point of some kind of dark force making people make movies? But I also don't want to try harder to understand.

After all, have decided I need to reread all the Osten Ard books yet again, and to wonder some more about the Red Thing.

[theriu]

PART 1

I sit at my usual spot in Penny Lane Cafe, sipping a raspberry white chocolate no-coffee latte and watching the Protagonists strategizing at another table.

I'm sure they don't call themselves the Protagonists, but I don't know all their real names. I've picked up a couple over the last few dozen loops, though. I think the short and stocky brunette is Jessica and the skinny Black guy is something like Nasa (Naccsa, maybe? Nasa would be an awesome nickname for a smart guy, though.) The four of them tend to talk really quiet and fast, working out their next plan to fix the Problem. I'm always sitting just a little too far away to catch most of it, but I like to see what I can catch while pretending to type.

I like sitting and watching them until they leave. It doesn't change much on my end, other than not finishing the article I was editing, which happily won't matter anyway. As they get up and do their usual pump-up huddle-break secret handshake, I pack up my laptop, drain my cup and put it in the trash, and amble out the back door while they go out the front.

The sun and breeze hit me with their perfectly familiar balmy late-spring vibes as I wander over to the back entrance of the Mexican grocery store a few doors down. I walk down the aisles and look for something I haven't tried yet. I'm up to the snack section this week; yesterday was these yummy candy bars called Gonsito. I snag a Pulparindo this time because the name sounds fun, then head to the register. Francisco is even more pleasantly surprised by my halting but intelligible Spanish than he was yesterloop, which is a real win for me! It's amazing how much easier it is to practice a foreign language when you don't have to bear the humiliation of a perfect stranger remembering your terrible White person pronunciation the next day. And getting to spend the same few dollars on a different treat each visit really cuts down on one's fear of trying new things. It would feel like stealing if the stuff I bought didn't also get put back on the shelf each loop.

When I walk out the front door of the grocery, I see the Protagonists across the street at the building that used to hold the Rite Aid before it closed an out-of-loop month ago. They seem really interested in getting in; they must have a new theory about the source of the Problem. I wave pleasantly to them. Jessica is nice enough to both notice and wave back; she's my favorite of the group, seems very level-headed and earnest while the dark-haired girl (who I think might be Francisco's cousin) groans a lot and Nasa hyperfocuses on his notes. The blonde White guy seems to be the leader, and his eagle eyes don't leave the former Rite Aid building. I turn left and walk back past Penny Lane's front entrance and further into town. Probably should remember to wave to Jessica around this time each loop until they move on to a new spot or fix the Problem.

It's a bit of a walk to the library, but I don't mind the exercise, and the weather is so gorgeous I wouldn't be surprised if someone looped this day just to enjoy it longer. I'm a little bummed my physical body seems to reset as well when the loop restarts, since all this walking must be good for me. But it does take the pressure off eating junk food every "day"! There's only a few street crossings, and I've long since memorized the exact timing of all the vehicles on the road, so I set my pace perfectly and don't have to stop at all.

Most of the remaining afternoon goes to hanging out at the library. I like to mix it up; I picked through the middle grade kids fiction the first dozen loops (infinitely better than angsty teen or too-spicy "adult" fiction, in my opinion) before deciding this would probably be the best ever situation to do the boring work of broadening my horizons. The last few days were spent finishing a fascinating biography about Corrie ten Boom. Today, I brought a crochet hook and yarn ball from home and spend a couple hours laboring over an instruction book on making little yarn flowers. The attempts might not survive, but the practice will! Man, I wish there was a pottery place within walking distance of my house.

The librarians are just going around warning that the library will close in fifteen minutes when I wrap up today-loop's Spanish study session. I ponder if it wouldn't be feasible to start learning sign language, too, as I walk briskly out the door and turn back up Main Street the way I came earlier.

This is the only part of the loop where I move briskly. Any other time of the day, I'm golden so long as my path doesn't cross the Protagonists enough for them to notice irregularities. But I have to be at the four-way stop by Speedway before 7:52.

I'm right on time again; there's the older gentleman (Kevin, I now know, though he naturally still doesn't know my name.) He's just about to step out onto the crosswalk, the little red hand flashing its countdown for walkers to finish crossing: 10...9...8...

It's at the 7 when I yank Kevin back onto the sidewalk. He stumbles into me, looking up from his phone with a startled expression just as a red pickup truck blasts through the crosswalk, honking its horn as if that idiot wasn't the stupid one for running a red light. I help steady Kevin as he stares, obviously shaken, after the truck.

"Thank you, young lady," he quavered (from nerves, he wasn't THAT old). "I think you may have just saved my life."

He chuckles, some of the shock fading, and I walk with him through the next red light to the Speedway and sit him down at an outdoor table while I get us some drinks. Mt. Dew Code Red for me today; I'm in the mood for an old favorite over something new this loop. Kevin is always surprised when I correctly "guess" his favorite, a gas station hot chocolate.

"Not a problem," I reply as I always do, feigning my own nerves. "Some people don't have the sense God gave a pickle."

We hang out there for about twenty minutes and shoot the breeze. It's one of my favorite parts of the loop. At first, it was challenging getting him to tell me new things every loop, but it's been great practice for me to learn how to guide a conversation. I'm also pretty good at deflecting him from asking about MY life; I can only repeat those mundane details so many times before I feel like a robot. Today, I learn Kevin has four grandkids, one named after him. He also tells me about how he likes to tinker in his garage (which he must be passionate about it, because it ALWAYS comes up).

His watch beeps right on time, and Kevin jumps up and says his line. "For Pete's sake, I'm late! Sorry, Miss Jackie, I have to run. You're sure I can't offer you a reward of some kind for what you did?"

I wave him off breezily. It's not like I would have the reward when things reset, and I've long since decided that chatting with this interesting older guy about his life is a very nice reward. He shakes my hand again and hurries up the street leading away from Main and among the houses. I sit a while longer and peer at the sky as the light grows dimmer.

Sometimes I try to get farther from the Speedway lights so I can catch a glimpse of the stars popping on for the night. Tonight I'm enjoying the cool evening breeze as I sip my Code Red. One star can always be relied upon to say hello: the North Star is visible even while the sky still has wisps of pink and orange. I salute the distant celestial body with a tip of my Mega Gulp.

"See you in a few," I say aloud, and then there's a popping, fizzling, blurring sensation, and I'm standing on my front porch. It's 9:00 in the morning, exactly twelve hours ago. My laptop's in my satchel, I feel the last dregs of sleepiness from getting out of bed, and my Tuesday, May 21, 2024 is ready to start once again.

----

(A/N: I'm REALLY enjoying this prompt, but it's super late and there's a lot more to go for what I have in mind, so I'll stop here for now! Let me know if anyone wants to see the next part! :D)

someone should write a story where there’s ppl stuck in a time loop, but the pov is from someone who rlly doesn’t care. there’s a whole ‘protagonist group’ or whatever trying to figure out how to escape the loop but this dude has just kept living their life so no one has noticed that they’re also stuck. they’re just sipping the exact same coffee order for the hundredth time watching the group strategize at an adjacent table and thinkin “man, wonder if they’re gonna figure out how to fix that today.”

[semiweirdshipper]

Albert Wesker x Reader Story

It was purely accidental. You didn't mean to grow any feelings because of it. But every time you experienced a trial facing him, Wesker was always praising your work ethic and survival skills. Constantly he was saying things like "what a striking performance" or "well done, (y/n)" or even "I know you can do better than that,". His tenacious laughter would echo mischievously in the wind behind you.

After being here for a few months, you knew that you were not high standard. No one really thought you were all that interesting, honestly, and due to the fact that you were demisexual, most people who tried getting to know you gave up pretty quickly. And your sexuality wasn't the only downside to you.

You were extremely sensitive and would break down instantly at the slightest mean comment or the raise of someone's voice. You always either tried to avoid people or stay as quiet as possible. Even you believed that it was stupid and annoying, but you couldn't help how your heart felt.

And in these past few weeks, your heart had been beating for Albert Wesker.

Besides the people who only wanted quick, one night stands- which you obviously refused- there hadn't been anybody who had shown you true interest. Besides Wesker that is... That man treated you differently, or at least you suspected he did. Unlike other survivors who got the rasher end of his behavior, you were praised, complimented, and some times even given second chances. That had to be a sign right? A sign that you were special to him?

"'Is Wesker seeing anyone'?" Kate repeated your question with heavy sarcasm, her arms crossed as she gave you a judgemental stare, "Ha, and why are 'you' asking, huh? You think you actually have a chance with him? Do you realize how pathetically stupid you are- I mean, this is Wesker we're talking about. What could ever make you think that a hot piece of meat like him would ever fall for a flavorless dud like you?"

You were shaking, your arms, face, hands and chest growing hot and sweaty beneath your clothes as tears filled your eyes. "You're right," You could feel the shame, embarrassment and stupidity slicing ribbons across your heart, "I'm sorry."

Quickly, before she could say anything else, you walked away, one shaky hand covering your mouth as you found an isolated area in the woods and fell to your knees. Like a bursting dam you began crying, snot pouring out your nose as you covered your face. Regret pounded through your veins; you shouldn't have said anything to them. You should have known that they would only be cruel.

Kate was right though. You were pathetically stupid. You were a flavorless dud. Not to top it off but you were also boring, ugly, weak, and an overly sensitive crybaby. As if Wesker would have feelings for a low piece of trash like you. You were so stupid for falling for the new guy. He was probably like everyone else- only interested in beneficial relationships, hot people, and easy wins during trials.

You were nothing.

...

"My back is fucking killing me," Kate hissed while tenderly rubbing her aching sides.

David looked at her with mock pity, "Maybe you should stop lettin' em bend ya over the gens, yeah?"

"It's not my fault that's all they'll do," She scuffed.

"Were you able to do it with the new guy yet?" Feng eagerly asked, excitement in her eyes.

Kate groaned and pouted, shaking her head, "Nope, he's not biting yet, but we're getting there. No one can resist this sexy ass, haha- oh! I forgot to tell you guys..."

Unbeknownst to the survivors leisurely lounging about inside the living room to the Haddonfield house, Wesker was standing right outside the window, quietly listening in. He had been searching for that fancy dressed buffoon with the electric abilities, needing to gain some information about trials. Evan told him that he could find him here. Unfortunately- or perhaps luckily- his casual search had bestowed him upon this interesting conversation.

"This morning (y/n) had the guts to ask if he was single- ugh, like their pathetic ass could ever get with a guy like him," Kate rolled her eyes and made a gagging gesture, "They're so fucking stupid."

"Ya really think they're into him?" David chuckled, "That's funny. It would suck to be them."

"Yeah, they'll never find a partner," Feng giggled and grinned, "Especially not my sexy Wesker, haha!"

"I told them off," Kate stated with a small glare, "Demi-dumb ass better stay the hell away from him... Pathetic bitch."

On the other side of the wall, Wesker desired doing one of two things. Either smash through the wall and brutally murder those two scumbags for ever thinking that he belonged to anybody, or run straight to you to find out if it was true. Did you really harbor feelings for him?

As more disturbing talk about him and other 'sexy' killers began to pollute the atmosphere, Wesker calmly took his leave without making a bloody scene and headed in the direction of his own realm. Gossip was inevitable. Constantly, no matter what the circumstances, there was always going to be people who talked behind others backs. He had learned long ago not to take what people thought of him into heart. Sure, some things were irritating and he hated being seen as nothing more than a sex attraction, but it is what it is. As long as people didn't act on their stupid feelings, he was fine.

Wesker had only been here a few weeks and countless times already survivors and even a few killers had tried to seduce him. Some of them would praise themselves while using lewd body language, some would straight up ask him if he wanted a 'real' partner, and some had gotten completely naked in an attempt to lure him in. It was safe to say that all those naughty attempts... Had failed.

You were among one of the only survivors who seemed to play right. You were quiet, concentrated and smart, and you never tried to seduce him. Chasing you more often than not served as a tremendous challenge and had him smirking with delight. That and he could tell that you were shy. The way his comments caused your face to light up with color and bashfulness, how you would become so distorted and clumsy and bump into things- he absolutely loved it. He wanted more.

And more he would have.

...

Going into upcoming weeks, Wesker admitted to becoming severely annoyed and impatient. Apparently you were as skilled at hiding in the external realm as you were inside of trials which made it virtually impossible to learn anything about you. He had tried venturing into the survivor woods, but other team mates of yours constantly tried to take up his time and attention when he seriously did not care what they had to say. Asking about you was futile and often got him frustrated reactions. Those imbeciles should know not to test him.

During trials he had gotten more cruel and assertive, abusing uroboros and nearly crushing the skulls of filthy, rotten survivors. He was getting quite fed up with this possessive/obsessive attitude everyone had towards him. And the one person he wanted to find seemed to no longer exist because these perverted idiots had to ruin everything for him. Ugh, it just made him so angry.

All he wanted was to learn more about you; the one appropriate, talented, sane person in this ridiculous hell.

But eventually the wait became worth it. When he finally got a lucky peek at you inside of a trial it was during a, to say the least, messed up moment. He had been on the way to check a generator and had caught the survivor known as Élodie kneeling in front of the hardly working device. Aside from her lacey underwear, she was completely naked.

Almost instantly the veins in Wesker's head throbbed to bursting point, and he was glaring in heavy dissatisfaction at the smirking woman who was moving her rear in obvious suggestion at him. Just as he was about to bring out uroboros, he saw movement from the corner of his eyes and carefully turned his head to see you. Yes, you.

You and your wide horrified eyes that were desperately trying to avert as you saw what was happening. The expression on your face was absolutely priceless. It was like you were a friendly neighbor who accidentally opened the door while their friends were having intimate time. The way you flinched, covered your face and began crouching away had Wesker throbbing with an idea.

"So... You really think that your body is good enough for me?" Wesker asked the question loud and clearly, his hand lifting outwards as he stared down at the half naked woman.

Élodie cocked her hips and puckered her lips in a smirk at the approaching man, "Baby, I 'know' it's good enough for you."

"How amusing that you speak so highly of yourself," Wesker grinned, shot out uroboros and shoved the woman's head back against the rough hill, "I'm not sorry to disappoint you, but the only body I'm interested in is the body that belongs to (y/n)."

Élodie screamed in pain, her body going nearly limp as soon as Wesker retracted uroboros. She tried to get away, but without any clothes or reliable recourse, she was sliced down within seconds. The darkly dressed killer wasted no time in perching the perverted woman on a hook before eagerly sprinting off in search of you.

Wesker refused to let this chance slip through his fingers. Once he realized that you were avoiding him, he began to slice up your other three team members until all that was left was you, Jake, and three broken generators. It took a few rounds of patrolling, but he finally caught you working on a generator in the distance.

Using uroboros, he flew up to you like a snake and, with a force that was far more gentle than what was used on the others, he shoved you against the brick wall. You cried out, expecting the sickness to immediately seep into your body whilst your heart pounded with fear and anticipation. Instead of getting sick, however, the uroboros keeping you pinned slowly inched away from your neck and chest leaving you to blink in confusion.

"If you have an ounce of intelligence, you will not run from me," Wesker breathed in what he wanted to believe was final relief, and he reached up to tear his glasses off because 'fuck' those glasses- they were preventing him from fully admiring his prize.

You stood there in your boring sweatpants, t-shirt and plain jacket, a look of confused horror on your flushed face and-and 'god', Wesker had never imagined that he could be this invested in someone who was so utterly average. Just the fact that almost ninety-five percent of your skin was a mystery to him made him vibrate with excitement. You were the untouched, demisexual survivor who never made deals with the killers and played by your own accord.

You were the survivor that he found himself completely unable to resist.

You, feeling horribly overwhelmed and uncertain of what to do, gazed around anxiously. You didn't know what to do, nor could you guess what exactly was going on. You had been trying to avoid Wesker ever since the other survivors kept bringing you down for asking about him. Having him this close all of the sudden after all that time... It almost made you start hyperventilating in distress. What would he do?

"You've been avoiding me," Wesker stated clearly, bearing down at you with vivid, orange eyes, "Why?"

You looked at him, his expression that of a hungry predator causing you to wince away in tremendous fear and paranoia. "I..." You thought back to everything the others told you and nearly started crying in humiliation, "I-I was just- I'm not avoiding you, I..."

"Did you hear what I said earlier?" Wesker asked, his entire body aching with need to put a cap on this ending so that you both may shed light on a new beginning.

You gaped at him, your eyes glistening with tears as you hesitated, "I-I... I did, but... I-I don't understand... Were you really telling the truth?"

Wesker breathed in, a large smile blooming across his face as he nodded, "Did I sound like I was telling the truth?"

"I..." You shook your head at him, gasping as you go to cover your head in the waves of denial and confusion and heartache, "B-but I'm just an ugly, stupid dud, I-I'm not good enough for you. The others-I... I..."

Ah, so this is why you were avoiding him. Doubt. That was understandable. At least you had just answered one of his many, silent questions; you were interested in him. "Call yourself what you would like, but that is not the way I see you," Wesker took a step forward, gently grabbed your wrists, and slowly pulled them away from your face, "You are talented, intelligent, and you dress in rather boring attire but I cannot deny being allured by it."

"Huh?" You blinked at him with wide, surprised eyes, your body twitching in shock.

It made Wesker grin as he reached up and gently brushed your cheek, "And you're irresistible when praised. Tell me (y/n)... Is that a weakness?"

You uttered a choked noise of embarrassment at him and tilted your heavily flustered face away in an attempt to hide. Absolutely precious, adorable, cute, beautiful... "So it is," Wesker chuckled and used a gloved hand to gently tilt your head back up, "How would you like to be praised by me on a more... 'intimate' level?"

"Y-you mean like a relationship... or just sex?" You asked, wincing whenever you looked up into his blistering reddish-orange eyes. Was this really happening?

Wesker bowed his head and hummed a chuckle, his chest nearly pressing against you as he leaned down and whispered beside your ear, his accent a low pur, "Why would I waste myself on a one night stand when I could be rewarded... With this."

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Blood, Sugar and Spice

Summary: Many men had found their way into your chamber, but none of them even came close to treating you and your body the way the good Duke Leto of House Atreides did.

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k (Whoops, my fingers slipped)

Content Warning: Nasty nasty Smut so 18+!, age gap (Reader is in her 20s), a bit of angst at the beginning, mentions of past abuse, drug use (Spice), very switchy power dynamics, explicit period sex, oral (f receiving), for real though... if you don't feel comfortable reading about (period) blood then this is not for you, absolutely feral Duke Leto, unprotected sex

A/N: I have absolutely no other excuse for this than saying that I want this man to break my back.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!

Please consider liking, commenting and reblogging! It means the world to me 🌸💞

Feel free to check out my Masterlist!

Tagging those who may be interested: @wayward-blonde @littlefreya

(gif by @fire-of-the-sun)

The scorching desert sun was about to set over the kingdom of the Shai-Hulud as you eased your weary head onto the thin linen-wrapped pillow of what you called your bed.

The small chamber, that was nothing more than a broom closet compared to the vast halls of Arrakeen, was your entire world... always had been since your wayward Fremen mother had given birth to you in the sheltering walls of the complex. She had taught you the ways of your people and how to survive under the cruel regime of the Harkonnen. She taught you how to make yourself valuable to the members of a House that awarded no worth to anything but Spice.

A familiar sting of pain shot through your chest as memories from the day your mother was brutally taken from you involuntarily resurfaced in your mind. To this day you never found out what exactly she had done for the Harkonnen to dispose her like she was nothing but trash and yet the assumption lingered that they simply got bored of her with you slowly but certainly growing into a young woman to use to their liking.

You felt your throat rendering dry at the thought and a single tear trickled down your cheek as you mused about how much better off the two of you would be now that Arrakeen had entered a new era. The era of House Atreides.

Without a doubt, the Atreides' family were kind, considerate and open people but as it was with so many people of wealth and power that had crossed your path by now they certainly had their deep and dark secrets too, tucked away neatly for barely anyone to ever see. As the odds have had it, you found yourself to be one of those very few.

The head of House Harkonnen had tossed you around like their little puppet whereas no one less of status than the Duke Leto Atreides himself had chosen a certainly more secretive route into your life.

At first it had started with a genuine interest in the stories you had to tell about what had happened in those halls and rooms he moved into with his family a handful of months ago but it needed only a brief few weeks for those innocent conversations to turn into something of a more lewd and guilty nature. The ever so sharp and collected Duke now sought out your company after sundown for what you called the Spice Experience. A little something something you were forced to come up with to survive in the former hostile climate, to keep yourself to be a person of interest and maybe even some sort of value.

With those thoughts in mind, a small sigh slipped over your lips. You assumed that he would pay you a visit tonight... the signs had been there: Small, impatient glances towards you while you served in the dining hall, a short brush along your elbow as you swiftly walked past him.

His Grace was in need for his next fix.

Although your body and mind felt terribly exhausted you had to get back up and clean yourself. Not only the Duke preferred you clean and washed but also you yourself liked to lather your skin with the illusion of having to feel less dirty about what you were doing.

After eventually convincing yourself to get up from your bed you walked towards a small wooden tub, that was hardly bigger than an oversized bucket. Water was rare on Arrakis but fortunately not so much on the Arrakeen premises. You were allowed to get a fresh tub of water every other day. That was made possible by your rather close connection to the Duke.

Slowly sinking your feet into the lukewarm water elicited a now relieved sigh from your lungs. It was a very welcome change from the dusty sandstone floors. Revelling in the comforting feeling you pulled your beige-coloured tunic over your head and tossed it to the ground. Before you bent down to grab the tiny sponge that was floating across the surface you found yourself in a brief moment of hesitation. Something else than just exhaustion was tugging within your body. A barely even there pain simmering in your lower abdomen, you recognised in displeasure, knowing that it would soon grow to be a burning agony, literally tearing you open from the inside.

In the faint hopes that it was a false alarm you let your gaze fall down to your thighs only for your well-wishing to be crushed immediately.

A delicate trail of deep red blood was already cascading down your bare skin.

"Fuck." You exhaled into the quiet room, the letters softly reverberating from lifeless walls.

Apparently you wouldn't be able to give his Grace the full experience tonight.

As the unwelcome realisation slowly sunk in, you eventually bent down to splash your legs and torso with water, using the sponge to scrub off the blood as good as possible. Of course it would keep coming but you could at least make the attempt to clean yourself.

Busy with dragging the sponge across every inch of your body, a firm knock on your door almost went unnoticed. For the blink of an eye you held your breath, questioning whether the sound was real or just something your mind made up to conter the silence in your chamber. The thud got repeated and you imminently stepped out of the tub, your skin still dripping with water.

"Yes?" You spoke towards the person behind the door.

"It's me." The familiar endearing voice of Duke Leto responded.

Of course it's you, you thought to yourself as you decided not to bother with padding yourself dry, let alone getting clothed again.

Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you made your way towards the door but only pulled it open a little to signal him that he was allowed to enter.

You took a step to the side as to not stand bare naked in the doorway while you watched the man's broad silhouette slip into the room. Before the door swung shut again the Duke exhaled a surprised gasp upon the sight in front of him. His tanned, smooth skin was illuminated by the warm light of a glowglobe in the corner of your chamber and you could've easily reciprocated this kind of gasp because there was now way you would ever grow tired of seeing him like that. But instead of doing so, you leaned your head to the side with play-pretend innocence.

"What can I do for you, your Grace?" You asked in a calm tone.

Of course you knew damn well for what he was here for, but you could allow yourself a little bit of careful fun that way. It granted you the faint delusion of control and maybe even a hint of dignity.

"I- I'm not exactly feeling well." He stated almost sheepishly.

Oh, is the good Duke Leto of House Atreides still feeling guilty about his habit?

You bit your bottom lip softly at the thought. Plenty of men, that had been so full of themselves due to their status and power, had found their way into your chamber and by now you had heard every meak justification. The stress, the pressure, the responsibilities. It was all the same rinse and repeat with those men, but not with him. He tried to be good and you knew that, at his very core he was, yet he was bearing his very own flaws and needs you were shamelessly profiting from.

"Sounds like we should do something about that, huh?" With your words cutting through the humid air you stepped backwards to the edge of your bed, slowly sinking down onto the thin mattress.

"I truly hope we can do that..." The Duke's lips curled up to a small smile as he took a few slow steps towards you, pulling a sealed glass vial from his pocket. It was filled to the brim with an umber coloured powder. The entire potency of it would probably knock him out for good, but with your guidance he'd get the trip he was aching for.

"I'm sure I can help you with that...", you cleared your throat "But we need to tone it down a bit."

"How come?" His warm, endearing voice murmured as he sank down to his knees right in front of you, holding out the Spice supply for you to grab.

Accepting not only the glass vial but also his physical display of submission, you rewarded him with a gentle stroke of your hand through his partially greying hair. The elegantly combed back curls parted as you ran your fingertips across his scalp.

"I'm bleeding." You answered briefly.

The man in front of you nodded while his eyes were transfixed on what he wanted so bad.

"But don't you worry...", you continued, pushing the cork off the vial with your free hand "You'll feel better soon.."

Pulling back the hand that would've liked to stay nestled in his thick hair, you placed the now free palm flat in front of your face, pouring a small bump of the powder onto it. A gentle, inviting hint of cinnamon scent spread between the two of you.

"Close your eyes.." You demanded and the Duke followed your instructions.

His eyelids fluttered shut and you inhaled deeply through your nose, held your breath for a moment and eventually exhaled through your mouth, hitting the small pile of Spice with your breath for the powder to blow right into his face.

Watching his features closely you recognised how he took in the drug with a deep gasp, welcomed it into his body.

In the short moment you had to dose yourself you sprinkled your palm once more and straight up devoured the bump with your tongue, lapping up every single crystal of melange.

Right as it hit your nervous system the man in front of you opened his eyes. His pupils blown almost to the full extent of his dark amber eyes. Your own certainly not looking any different right now.

"Is that better, your Grace?" The words felt as if they were slithering out of your mouth all by themselves.

"Much better..", the man in front of you huffed, appearing a little out of breath "But you know.. you don't need to address me like that anymore... not now."

With the Spice seeping into every fibre of your being, an almost self-righteous grin spread across your face. You knew you had him, knew that he was all yours when you met in the shadows.

"Come here... Leto." You leaned back onto your elbows, not breaking your gaze down to him kneeling in front of you. It was a sight for sore eyes if you were ever to call something that. Now even more so, having uttered his first name that seemed to fill the air with a flickering electric current.

Both of you basked in that precious moment a little longer before Leto followed your order and rose from his knees, placing his strong hands on the edge of the bed to pull his body towards yours. The fabric of his thin, white linen shirt caressed your bare skin as he leaned in to you, the tip of his nose stroking yours gently before his warm lips pressed a hungry kiss to yours. He tasted like cinnamon and pure, sweet bliss. There was no use denying it, you enjoyed him way more than any other man before him and on some days you were willing to go as far as saying that you desired him, needed him like he now needed what you had to offer. Mutual dependency based on different reasons, you argued with yourself, trying to bring yourself down from the high horse that part of your mind loved to take a comfortable seat on. However, it was way past that point as you felt Leto's eager tongue slip into your mouth, intoxicating you even more with noting but his presence. You wanted to whish for time to simply stop, but that's not how it worked. The next morning would serve as a painful reminder of that.

After being satisfied with you reciprocating his kisses with needy and yearning ones of your own, Leto pulled back ever so slightly to press his forehead to yours. Already slightly sweaty skin on skin.

"I missed you so much...", He whispered "Missed you so much."

His words were so honest and upright that your chest felt dangerously close to exploding. They cut right through to your heart that was thundering against a ribcage which was barely able to contain everything you felt right now.

"I missed you too." You admitted before clenching your jaw and cursing yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you.

Leto's breath hitched a little as the weight of your answer settled.

"And I want you... so badly." He pressed.

"But -" You started, but were cut off immediately.

"I'm not scared by a bit of blood." Leto stated with a soft chuckle before he drew back from you to place a gentle kiss on your collarbone.

From there on out his lips left a path of loving pecks and playful bites down your torso. Each and every scratch of his thick beard knocked the air out of your lungs as you stared at him, half in disbelief and half in burning excitement.

"Are you su-?"

He shushed you again and paused in his movements as he had reached your belly.

"Let me show you." His breath hit your slightly damp skin, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to wash over you.

Savouring the reaction he caused, Leto left a few more kisses on your belly, for good measure, and it felt almost too much for you to take. He drove you close to insanity with all his gentle and loving ministrations to your body. He actually made you feel valued for simply laying beneath him and that frightened the living hell out of you.

You were second to none at handling hurt, at navigating every kind of pain, whether it be the one attacking the body or the one torturing the mind, but his disarmingly honest affection towards you left you feeling helpless. You couldn't help yourself but let him slip past the walls you had carefully built up around your vulnerable soul. Leto was an intruder to your self-imposed emotional solitude and you let him.

This entire mess of feelings was alarmingly close to taking over as the man, that was back at kneeling between your legs, sent every thought into blissful nothingness. Without any hesitation he had wrapped his arms around your thighs and buried his beautiful face inbetween your legs. You were already more than wet with arousal by the time he had placed a warm array of kisses on your breasts and now you were sure you must be dripping beneath you.

Being ever so careful with your body, you felt Leto's tongue dart out to part your slick and very likely blood tainted folds. He did it with vigour and the full width of his tongue to leave absolutely no doubt for you that he was, indeed, not scared by a bit of blood.

"Leto.." You moaned his name into the humid air as your head lolled back at the feeling of his tongue caressing your almost aching clit.

His hot breath fanned against your pulsing core while he lapped at your body as if you were nothing short of an oasis in the middle of the hostile desert. Him circling and nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs with the tip of his tongue rendered you into a thoughtless, blissed out body that got hijacked by scorching lust and Spice. The single greatest combination in the known universe.

It didn't took too long for this potent concoction to get to work and so you felt the familiar sensation of muscles tightening and relaxing again in increasingly irregular intervals. Your leaking core clenched around nothing again and again while your breaths turned flat and erratic. And as Leto pushed you closer to the edge you wanted to tell him not to stop but nothing more than needy whimpering could be drawn from your lungs. You entire body felt like it was about to be ripped into a million little fragments by the rising tension within. Absentmindedly you started to wiggle your ass over the mattress to somehow get more friction, but Leto held you in place while his nimble tongue drew yet another circle.

You wanted to claw at his hair to push his face even closer to you but instead all they were able to do was to dig into the fabric underneath you until your knuckles turned white.

Everything within you was ready to let loose, to let the coil snap and for pure bliss to surge through your veins, alongside the Spice. It took all your remaining will to inhale deeply while forcing your nearly cramping body to relax. You closed your eyes and in the pitch black nothingness you saw the spark igniting before your body caught on to it.

In an indescribable rush of white hot pleasure the known world around you burst into shambles while your mind was free falling through multiple universes at a time. Everything was one while nothing at all was or would ever be again.

Somewhere in the distance you heard your own coarse voice cry out after Leto and after seconds that stretched into an eternity your senses pulled you back to reality. Gasping for air you opened your eyes back to the dim light of the glowglobe.

Your slightly blurred vision wandered down your body, taking notice of countless little sweat droplets and eventually falling on Leto. From his face downwards no trace of the normally content and collected Duke was to be found. Strains of red inked his wet beard and an almost demonic grin played around his lips. His eyes were Spice and lust blown as they stared down at your trembling body in satisfaction. Under all his military badges slumbered a feral animal that only you were able to bring out and you loved every second of it. This was a version of Leto you had all to yourself.

You had soon to discover that the animal wasn't done with you just yet. While you were lost in all your orgasmic bliss, Leto had unbuckled his belt and freed himself of his clothes. His skin shimmered almost golden as he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. Without a warning he aligned himself with you and pushed into you until you felt like he was about to split you in half. His cock was stretching you out almost painfully, yet you still arched your hips from the bed to meet his.

"Look at you..", It rumbled out of his chest "So good for me."

You moaned in approval at his praise, because you really were good to him. Not everybody would be willing to accept that, but only the two of you needed to know how good you were for each other.

With his grip around your waist so tight that it would most likely leave bruises on you, Leto started to thrust into you with a merciless pace, not giving your body any time to adjust to his size. Even though the Spice dulled your senses you felt pain throb through your lower abdomen and you revelled in it. To you it meant that you felt him, moving inside of you, to the absolut maximum. You took the pain as a gift, knowing that you would still be able to feel him after he'd long been gone.

Letting your head fall back onto the mattress you surrendered yourself to the animal that was fucking you like it was the last time it would get to hunt you down.

The sound of heavy panting and wet flesh crashing onto each other eradicated the silence. Leto's menacing growls came as music to your ears and once more you knew that you were able to give him what no one else could. A hideout. A shelter, where he didn't need to be who others pressured him to be. A secret place to get away from himself.

As the movement of his hips fell more and more out of its rhythm, you reached out to clasp your hand around his wrist. It had grown into standard practice for him to pull out, a weak safety measure but a safety measure nonetheless. This time you didn't want him to. You craved to feel him coming undone sheathed deep inside of you.

A raspy "Don't." spilled from your lips as you felt Leto withdrawing himself from you. He hesitated for a split second, but the temptation got the better of him too. With a low groan that came from deep down he slammed himself back into you and you rose your head to watch him unravel right there in front of you. Seeing the bliss wash over his face and feeling his seed spilling into your cunt was nearly enough to send you over the edge again right there and then, but you kept yourself together because you didn't dare to miss just one second of this sacred moment.

In the end, all of you were animals out here under the desert sun, but only few knew that some were also lurking in the night under the gentle sheen given by The Hand of God.

[sammygvfslut]

i like you a latte | s. kiszka

Summary: Words cannot espresso how much you mean to Sammy Kiszka.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Hey besties!!! this is my first ever sam fic, and i really hope you guys enjoy it! it’s super cheesy so beware of some tooth-rotting fluff ahead. any and all feedback is appreciated <3

Loud chattering and the sounds of espresso machines hissing and whistling filled the cafe. Every few seconds or so when a new customer walked in, a soft ringing above the door rang. Glancing at the clock, you sighed as it read 7am. Way too early for your liking. You wished to be back in bed under the covers with your cat Joey snuggling. Plus, the cold weather made it even harder for you to get out of bed every morning. Damn you, winter.

“Good morning.” A voice said suddenly, startling you as you slightly jumped. “Whoops, didn’t mean to scare you there for a sec.”

Turning around at the voice, your heart fluttered and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “G-Good morning, Sam! Nope, didn’t scare me at all. I was just uh...focusing very hard and you caught me off guard.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, his own lips curving and flashing that beautiful grin. God, he made you melt. You took a quick chance to admire his appearance for the day, luscious brown locks pulled back into a low bun with a few stray pieces framing his face, and he wore a slightly oversized brown grandpa looking sweater. He exuded true fall energy today and all you wanted to do was snuggle with him watching a movie while sipping on hot chocolate. “Right. Focusing on what exactly? Staring at the register?”  

“S-Sure. Yes, the register.” Totally not him instead. “Um, I realized it turned off right now and my mind blanked to turn it back on.”

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder as he laughed, his touch leaving a wave of goosebumps to rise out of your skin. “You’re so cute. I’ll leave you to that then, but if you need help trying to get the register to turn back on again, let me know.” And with that, he sent you a wink and turned on his heel away to start on the customers orders.

Alright, alright. So maybe early shifts weren’t as bad as you thought thanks to your insanely charming co-worker. Sam and you had been working together for the past year, and almost instantly you started falling for him. He welcomed you with open arms and he was a great help when it came to your training. Your co-workers were nice too, but Sam took that extra step in making sure you were comfortable with what you were doing. If you made a mistake and were freaking out about it, he somehow knew the way to calm you down. He was too precious and good for this cruel world. And most of all, out of your league too.

With his dashing looks and amazing personality, you just knew there was no way he’d ever feel the same about you. Except, any time you’d voice that thought to any of your friends at work, they’d tell you you’re crazy and that he likes you too. Apparently they caught on to the signs more than you did, which wasn’t a shocker considering that you’d have no clue if a guy was interested in you unless he blatantly confessed. So, trying to figure out hints was completely pointless for you.

“Uh oh, she’s deep in thought,” one of your friends/co-workers, Danny, teased. He also happened to be Sam’s best friend, and current band mate since the pair are in a band with Sam’s older twin brothers. “I bet I can guess what, or who you were thinking about.”

“Don’t even say it,” you warned with a finger, “He’s literally four feet away from us—”

“So?” Danny rolled her eyes with his arms folded. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel? Come on, it’s been almost a year now. What’s the worst that can happen if you confess?”

“He can hear me.” You stared blankly at him, shaking your head. “Absolutely not though, Danny. I will not embarrass myself from the humiliation I’d have to face from his rejection.”

Danny groaned frustratedly, placing his hands on both your shoulders and shaking them. “You’re so hopeless! Y/N, how many times do the guys and I have to tell you he likes you too!” He raised his voice a little louder than necessary which accidentally caught the attention of almost everyone in the cafe. Sam included unfortunately. Danny’s eyes widened, silently cursing under his breath. “Carry on, everyone.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Danny wasn’t lying when he mentioned about the guys agreeing that Sam likes you too. Every time you came over Josh’s apartment and Sam was there he’d find any little excuse to have his arm around you or teasing you constantly. You’d shake it off that he was just treating you like a friend would, but of course the guys would disagree with you.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Danny told you sternly, “But for now, and don’t make it obvious, but Sam’s looking at you.” A mischievous grin spread across his face as he winked and stepped to the next register before greeting a new customer and taking their order.

Heart pounding out of your chest, you slowly looked over your shoulder in Sam’s direction. You saw his head quickly turn and finish off the drink in front of him. Your cheeks burned at this and tried taking deep, slow breaths to calm yourself down. Didn’t work much, but as a new customer waved and told you their order, your breathing turned back to normal.

On the other end of the counter, Sam was currently freaking the hell out from what he heard a few minutes ago between you and Danny. He didn’t mean to, but he also wasn’t that far from either of you. Plus, Danny wasn’t the best at keeping his voice low. He had a strong feeling he knew you were talking about him, and for that reason alone he overflowed the cup he was pouring into and made a mess. He cursed under his breath and wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head.

You caught sight of this and rushed to his side, grabbing a cloth from under the sink and started wiping the sticky counter. Sam was certain his cheeks were tomato red from his embarrassment, making a complete fool of himself for not paying attention to what he was doing. More so focusing on your conversation and your damn smile from earlier. You weren’t the only one here with a crush.

“T-Thanks, Y/N.” Sam chuckled nervously, throwing the cup in the trash and tossing the drink pitcher he held in the sink. “I’m normally not this much of a dumbass.”

“I’m not too sure about that one, Kiszka.” You teased lightly with a grin. “It happens, don’t worry,” you assured. “I’m just glad it was cold tea you spilled and not steaming coffee. I’d hate for you to get a third degree burn. That happened to me once, don’t recommend it.”

“Didn’t I drive you to the hospital for that?” he asked. “I think that might’ve happened a few months ago.”

Your eyes widened at the memory. “Oh shit, you’re right. God, I’m still so sorry I had to drag you into that.”

Sam shook his head, lips curving and cheeks no longer flushed. “For the hundredth time, stop apologizing about that, Y/N. You know you can count on me for anything, so of course I didn’t mind driving you to the hospital. I remember even blasting some ABBA on the way over there so you’d have something else to focus on instead of the pain you endured.”

You smiled at the memory. “Didn’t we also go out for ice cream afterwards?”

He nodded, lightly rubbing his arm. “Yeah, it was a lot of fun. I mean, I always have fun when I’m with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his last few words, blinking slowly. “O-Oh.”

Oh? That’s all you have to say? Nice one, Y/N.

Sam’s heart dropped. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t talking about him after all. Maybe it was Danny or one of his brothers that you had a crush on and he was mistaken about it. He wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole right about now. Being anywhere but here sounded splendid to him.

“Y-Y/N, I—“

“Ihavefunwhenimwithyoutoo,” you muttered all too quickly, and poor Sam barely even understood what you said. He didn’t have the chance to ask you to repeat yourself because you quickly walked away to the back and he was left with a tug at his chest, frowning.

Within the next few days after Sam’s tea spill, literally, things between you and him became...awkward. Something went off in him to become even more clumsy than normal and forget everything he’s ever known when you’re near him. He’d get flustered, stuttering a lot, messing up orders, dropping dishes, and nearly tripping all the time. He hated it so much and wished he could just muster up the courage and apologize for being such an idiot and confess his feelings to you. Even during your hangouts with the guys, Sam and you wouldn’t interact as much and honestly you were well aware you were being super childish and immature about the situation. Sam did too, and he needed to snap the fuck out of it.

The next few days at work Sam would ignore Danny’s little side comments about his immaturity and continued working in silence. For the rest of his shift he didn’t talk much to anyone other than the customers. He wanted to talk to you when he had the chance, but then he’d quickly back out and walk the opposite direction.

He couldn’t figure out why it was so futile for him to just grow a sack and tell you he likes you. He’d never gone through this struggle before. Then again, as cheesy as it sounded, the other girls he’d asked out in the past couldn’t compare to you. Never in a million years, and maybe he was too afraid that he didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.

Nearing closing that same day, it was only you, Sam, and Danny. The flow of customers died down and not many people came in towards the end of the night which you were grateful for. It finally gave you the chance to relax a bit and start cleaning things up ahead of time so you wouldn’t have to stay after. Joey and a nice warm bath were waiting for you at home.

While Sam decided on working the register and you and Danny would clean, he grabbed your arm and led you into the back.

“What are you two still doing not dating each other or talking?! It’s been way too long now, Y/N. And since it’s only us three tonight, you have no other choice. Come on, I know you can’t take this any longer, and he can’t either. I can take over the register for a bit while you and him talk.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating his offering. As incredibly thankful as you were for his help, you were also scared shitless of the possible outcome. Perhaps it was finally time though that you say fuck it and say what you needed to. You couldn’t go on for any longer to keep your feelings bottled up inside. Maybe, just maybe he might feel the same way, and by God you hoped that would be the case.

Inhaling, you nodded slowly and made your way back to where you were. Your eyes searched for Sam and saw he was busy making a drink, except there was no one else here besides you, him and Danny. It could’ve been a drink for him, so you shrugged this off and went towards the sink to start washing the dishes.

A few moments later, Sam cleared his throat from behind you. “H-Hey Y/N, so um, I know the créme brûlée latte is your favorite, and I thought I’d make you one. You seemed really stressed and busy today and I wanted to try to cheer you up. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart swelled at his generosity and your cheeks burned as you felt his gaze burning into you, his palms soaking from nervousness. “Sam, you didn’t have to do that for me.”

He shrugged casually, a small smile on his lips and his cheeks tinted a light pink. “It’s okay, I wanted to. And I uh, tried my best on the art. Hope you like it.”

Raising a brow, your gaze dropped on your cup and your eyes widened as you saw what he was referring to. A small coffee cup with the words I like you a latte around it.

“It’s true,” Sam chewed on his bottom lip while running his fingers through his hair. “I really like you Y/N, and I’m so sorry for acting like such an idiot these last few days around you. I don’t know what came over me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you much either.”

Setting your cup on the counter, you took a step closer to him and cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb softly against his soft skin. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Sam. I’m sorry for not talking to you too, as well as for making a fool of myself. I tend to do that around someone I like.”

Finally, the realization dawned on Sam as a wide grin pulled at his lips. “Glad we’re on the same boat.”

“I-Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you.

You giggled. “You don’t even have to ask, loverboy.” You playfully rolled your eyes and cupped his other cheek before connecting his lips with yours.

A smirk pulled at Danny’s lips as he glanced at the two of you, shaking his head. Josh and Jake owed him $20 now. 

It was about damn time that Sam and you finally espresso’d your love for each other. 

tagging these lovely folks bc they helped inspired me and their work is amazing <3 @godlygreta​ / @flowervanfleet​ / @dharma-divine​

[mionemymind]

Chapter 3: The Harsh Treatment

Fake Memories

Series Summary: After Y/n is caught cheating on Wanda with Carol, Y/n would do just about anything to get Wanda back into her life. But was it even Y/n’s fault that she cheated? Or was it the new enemy set on revenge?

Chapter Summary: What will happen to Y/n as the team pushes her past her limits? 

A/n: I lied, I decided to be nice and post it now. Honestly, the amount of support that I’m receiving from this fanfic has literally made me smile so much. I really love all of you who read and/or comment. You mean the world to me. Let me know what you think. :) (Not my GIF)

Warnings: Starvation, harmful thoughts, curse words, self-doubt, mentions of blood, injuries, angst

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 |

Y/n abruptly woke up at the feeling of pressurized gas coursing through her body. She quickly sat up, unable to see anything in the white fog. The cold feeling only lasted a couple seconds before F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Fire has been contained.” Y/n hugged herself for warmth as she waited for the fog to disappear. This was the 13th time this month that she was woken up with pressurized gas. At first, it was foam but someone in maintenance had changed the system after the 5th time she woke up. 

Y/n looked at her surroundings and sighed at the damages to her sheets. There were burn marks along with small amounts of frostbite from the gas. “At this rate, I won’t have money for food.” With a grim face, Y/n got up from her bed and proceeded with taking everything off her bed, a routine she unfortunately started to learn. 

Y/n didn’t know when things got worse. If she had to guess, maybe it was after the whole fiasco with Wanda. The team had been on edge ever since then. “They probably thought I hurt her,” Y/n thought at the time, but it was far from the truth. She had wanted to explain herself to the team but dismissed those thoughts with, “What’s the point in trying? I’ll always be guilty to them.” 

As for Wanda, the still heartbroken girl didn’t dare to speak to the team about that night. Even she didn’t quite know what happened. Since that night, she only lied to herself stating that maybe Y/n had done something. It would probably remove the guilt she had when she thought of the blood running down Y/n’s face. But even the lie couldn’t repress the truth from her thoughts. 

After she collected her bedding, she threw it away in the trash can along with the other damaged beddings. Y/n grabbed her wallet off her night stand and opened it. She couldn’t feel it, but her heart dropped at the sight of the lack of money she had. Only a $20 dollar bill as well as a couple ones were left. She closed her eyes and tried her best to keep herself calm, to try and act like the world wasn’t closing in on her. It was a couple minutes later when she opened her eyes and looked at her wallet again. “This was supposed to last me for the rest of the month.” Y/n rubbed her forehead, feeling the overwhelming stress from her lack of funds. 

One might ask, “Aren’t you an Avenger? Shouldn’t you make a shit ton of money.” And at one point, Y/n would say yes, she did. But it all came back to that night. A week after, she had overheard a conversation that went…

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to her.” Y/n was about to go around the corner, but decided to wait at the sound of Steve’s voice. “It’s simple Rodgers - unless I have to remind you why we needed to redo the glass in the conference room.” Steve sighed at Tony’s simple minded actions. Y/n could practically feel him crossing his arms in a disapproving manner. 

“Well she did work fair and hard for her money Tony - this just feels wrong.” Y/n heard a couple clicks before Tony replied with, “This is for Wanda. Anything to get Y/n out of here by her own means is worth it. If you have a problem with this, you must not care as much for Wanda as I thought.” Steve sighed again seeing as he was morally put in an awkward position. It was either care for Y/n or care for Wanda. “That’s what I thought.” Tony left with a smug look on his face as he clicked more on the screen in front of him. 

It didn’t take long for Y/n to see the effects of Tony’s decision. Her pay day was the following day and the overwhelming sense of panic and anxiety rose up within her as she only had $400 to survive until the next pay day, which was a month later. Since then, her food portions have been small to say the least. Y/n learned that she only had enough money for the month to eat at least once a day and even that was cutting it. The dramatic changes to her diet had slowly affected her powers but it recently had an exponential increase. 

This was her fourth month of hardly eating when her powers started to flare at night. It has gotten to the point that Y/n couldn’t control them in her sleep leading to F.R.I.D.A.Y having to deal with her fireside. But her powers weren’t the only thing that has changed. If anyone were to actually look, they would see that Y/n had gotten skinnier. Her literal glow was getting duller and duller the more time passed.  

However, Y/n refused to feel sorry for herself. The sentence “I deserve this” was burned into her head. The brain tricks she puts herself through even allowed her to convince that Tony's decision was right. That Wanda didn’t need to tell the truth to the team. That Steve didn’t need to defend her. And that the team certainly was allowed to make her feel like nothing. Because to Y/n, if she didn’t deserve this, then why would you possibly treat a person like this? Just why? 

Of course, Wanda didn’t notice these changes at all. The girl was trying her best to avoid Y/n as much as possible. She always had exit strategies in place in case she were to be in the same vicinity as Y/n. However, Wanda also didn’t notice that lack of Y/n’s presence. Much to her dismay, Y/n’s efforts were the reason they didn’t see each other much. 

What Wanda did notice though was the slow and gradual decline of snacks in her cubby. It left her to question whether Natasha was done doing these small favors for her. But her reports were still getting done. 

The red head didn’t have much room to think though as she got slammed down on the mat from the other red head. “Take a ten - you’re distracted and we can’t keep going like this.” Wanda grumbled at another failed attempt to flip Natasha over. Hand to hand combat was one of the few subjects that Wanda hated the most. With the help of Natasha, Wanda got up and walked over to the waters on the other side of the room. She was gulping down the remaining when Natasha’s words caught her off guard. “What happened?” 

Wanda cocked an eyebrow while still drinking her bottle, needing more elaboration. Natasha faced Wanda while hundreds of thoughts racked her mind. Luckily for her, Wanda had trained her on how to make them quiet enough that Wanda wouldn’t be able to hear. When Natasha found the right words, she said, “I am not doubting you. I am doubting her…” Wanda closed the bottle and looked around the room to avoid Natasha’s eyes. This had been the first time that anyone from the team had remotely even asked her about that night. To be frank, she hadn’t expected Natasha to be the one to break the ice. Usually it was Steve that would act like the team’s counselor. Guess things change. 

Wanda sighed and recollected her memory for the night that continued to haunt her. “One minute, I left to get a drink from the bar. - she said that she needed to go to the bathroom. The next minute, I come back to see her all over blondie.” Wanda’s grip on the bottle tightened at the words she was going to say next. “I thought it was a mistake - that she could have been too drunk that night - b-but her thoughts were so - loud.” Wanda slammed her fist at the table in front of her, tears already falling down her cheeks. “A-a-and I saw everything-” 

The broken hearted girl didn’t have much energy left in her to continue. She dropped to her knees and sobbed into her hands. Natasha kneeled beside Wanda. She pulled the poor girl into her arms, trying her best to physically comfort her. But nothing could really make Wanda feel better. What could you say to a girl that saw every moment where her girlfriend has cheated on her? Nothing - you say nothing. 

“It’s quite pathetic actually,” Tony said as he spun the rod, causing his player to score in foosball. He was currently versing Steve as the two decided to quietly speak about Y/n’s actions for the past couple weeks. Going on the defense again, Steve shot back but Tony was quick to block. “She’s probably just trying to get her money back.” Steve huffed from the sudden slap shot as well as Tony’s rude words. 

For the past couple weeks, Y/n had gone from trying to win Wanda back to trying to win the whole team back. The first thing they noticed was all the completed mission reports and the continuation of it. Clint was the first to jokingly comment, “Bruce must really love mission reports.” But the genius bore a confused look before replying with, “It wasn’t me. Even I haven’t had anything to do in my stack for a couple days.” Bruce had a displeasured look on his face. Clint just assumed it was either he wanted to do his stack of reports or the comment was actually true...or maybe both. 

When it was time for the meeting, Clint had asked everyone in the room, minus Y/n, on who was completing the mission reports for everyone. “Well, I’m doing Wanda’s and mine,” Natasha claimed as she sat in her usual spot. No one was able to detect her lie, but then again, Natasha was always good at lying. 

Clint was quick to figure out that the only person remaining must have been the person responsible. With a straight forward voice, he explained to the team that Y/n had been completing everyones, besides Wanda’s and Natasha’s, reports. Still, Natasha sat there, copying the confused looks on everyone’s faces. She didn’t care to tell them the truth, it wasn’t worth it. However, the meeting proceeded with little comment on Y/n’s actions. She wasn’t worth the mention. 

“What if she actually is trying to say sorry to us?” Steve couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for Y/n, but Tony’s words made the guilt go all away. “Oh - so miss Hydra over here actually wants to apologize - hilarious Steve.” With that, Tony quickly spun the rod and scored the final point, making him win the game. What the two failed to realize was the fact that Y/n had overheard their conversation. She no longer felt hungry for the day and had retreated back to her room, feeling overwhelmingly numb from the confession she heard.

It was a new and different day for Wanda. She had managed to want to try and sit in the common room with her team seeing as sitting in her room no longer gave her the same satisfaction anymore. Scrolling through the tv, she was about to pull up Bewitched when the following words appeared on the screen:

Bewitched is longer provided on Netflix. Please see related tv shows. 

“What do you mean it’s no longer available?” Wanda frustratedly questioned. And here she was trying to have a good day. “Sorry kid, I guess Netflix took it off their streaming service,” Clint said as he leaned over the couch. “No why would they do that?!” Wanda said with an exasperated look. Clint simply shrugged, Netflix did have an awful reputation for getting favorites removed or canceled. “No clue, but you could try other shows.” Wanda crossed her arms and huffed at his suggestion. “I was really feeling Bewitched today.” Ruffling her hair, Clint left after saying, “Try to feel for something else.” 

However, Wanda had failed to feel anything but angry for the remaining of the day. It wasn’t until she sat in her room for the night, aimlessly finding shows in her room when she noticed Bewitched on her home screen. She quickly clicked on it noticing that all eight seasons are there for her own viewing. Her mood immensely increased for the night as she fell asleep in the middle of season two. 

Outside of her room, Y/n had been cleaning up the compound for the night. It was getting harder and harder to clean the kitchen when everything in her wanted to just take a couple of snacks for herself. Her hunger was constantly on her mind as well as the stupid flashes that have sporadically appeared more and more everyday. But she wanted more than anything to prove to the team that she is a good person. Stealing, no matter how minor, was probably the last thing she needed to be labeled as. 

When she completed for the night, she returned to her room but paused outside of her door when she heard the Bewitched theme song loudly play in Wanda’s room. A small smile appeared on her face as she walked back into her room and slept on the floor tonight.

“Did it ever occur to you that I love you - like a lot?” The couple were laying in Carol’s room decorated with punk rock posters and pictures of their team. Small plants were placed around the room while Malcolm in the Middle was used as background noise. 

“Nah. I haven’t heard you say it in approximately - 10 minutes?” Carol laughed as Y/n glanced at her watch. They laid on their sides as they faced each other, their faces being only inches away. “Well I do.” Carol cupped Y/n’s cheek as she soon grew mesmerized. 

There are words to always describe feelings with someone but they all felt overused or incomplete. Because everything felt like this daydream colored borders with warm tones and retro filters as she glanced at Y/n. She felt like she was watching a show that she would never get tired of. Even if the show was in color or black and white, new or old, slow or fast, she would watch just to see her. Just her. 

“You do what?” Carol flicked Y/n’s forehead at her response. “Kidding - kidding.” Y/n said as she rubbed her forehead. Carol rolled her eyes and kissed Y/n’s head as she cuddled into her arms, legs tangled within the sheets. “I do love you.” Y/n kissed her hair as she combed it with her hand. “I know,” she whispered, hoping Carol would pick up on the secret reference. Because to Y/n, yeah, she’s worth a whole galaxy. 

It was the middle of the night when Steve woke up from a nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Rather than staying in bed to force himself to sleep, he got up and headed to the kitchen for a late night snack. 

Heading into the pantry, Steve pursed his lips noticing that Y/n’s cubby had been empty for weeks it seems like. The guilt that was slowly forming inside him kept building and building. Although he knew he could try to do something about it, the loyalty he had to his family - to Wanda. That was something he didn’t want to break. 

The relationship with Wanda and Steve was something similar to a father and daughter relationship. Steve had always wanted a kid of his own and Wanda had lost her father. The irony of it all just happened to work for the two. Even though Wanda nor Steve would admit it out loud, they viewed each other as the roles that needed to be filled in their lives. They needed each other regardless of titles.

But then there was Y/n. The troubled girl that made Steve absolutely nervous with how quick her and Wanda seemed to like each other. It absolutely didn’t help Steve’s case when the whole team found out about Y/n’s past. His anxiety had practically skyrocketed. It eventually led to a one on one talk with Wanda about how sometimes we need to protect ourselves before letting people in. 

But Y/n was still there. Breaking down Wanda’s walls. So just like any Dad would, Steve watched over. Making sure his girl was always happy and safe. So while Natasha may have refilled Wanda’ cubby and did her reports, Steve had carried Wanda to bed during nights she couldn’t sleep. He made her tea for times that she didn’t want to talk, which was often. He tucked her in at night and cuddled with her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. He was just there. 

But so was she. She was there whenever Wanda cried at night. She was there when Wanda would sometimes forget to eat after busying herself all day. She was there to take care of Wanda. She was there when Steve wasn’t. And that meant everything to Steve. So why couldn’t Steve be there for Y/n? 

There were a lot of unanswered questions roaming around Steve’s head. Rather than pondering more about them, he walked around the tower, eating a pack of cookies for himself. Just as he was turning the corner, he glanced towards the conference room to see Wanda asleep in front of her reports. However, the more alarming part was the girl that happened to be right in front of Wanda. Steve quickly grew on high alert and observed Y/n’s actions. However, after a couple minutes of harmless actions, Steve forced his shoulders to relax. “She’s just doing reports - calm down,” Steve thought. 

But he couldn’t calm down. The guilt had maneuvered it’s way back up to his throat as he actually noticed the pale state of the once bright girl. For someone that had literal fire abilities, she lacked the glow of any raging fire. Feeling nothing but guilt all over, Steve felt compelled to say something - anything. But he froze. He didn’t know what to say. 

However, the opportunity soon was lost as Y/n finished everyone’s stack of reports. Steve hid around the corner as Y/n passed him. Hearing a door close was when Steve stepped out of hiding. He glanced towards the direction of Y/n’s room, feeling every need to go to her. But his footsteps led him to Wanda. He picked her up and carried her to her room. Wanda will always be first in Steve’s heart. And nothing could change that. 

“We have to stop this treatment Tony.” Steve waltzed into Tony’s lab the very next day. For once, he couldn’t sleep for the remainder of the night. Y/n was all over his mind. The guilt was practically eating him alive. 

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve’s dramatic fashion for entrances. “Oh - good morning Tony - how are you - I’m actually pretty good.” Steve rolled his eyes as he stood in front of Tony, a hologram in between the two. 

“Cut the crap Tony - I’m being serious.” Steve crossed his arms. This needed to end. “And you think I’m not Rodgers?” Tony was quick to respond, already growing irritated by the conversation. 

“This isn’t right - none of this right.” Steve wiped the hologram to finally get a clear view of Tony as he grew frustrated by the second. Tony simply swiped it back, not wanting to deal with the issue. “Well maybe if she just quit - we wouldn’t need to worry about anything. It’s not my fault Fury hired Ms. Hydra - and if he finds out I fired her, he would not allow it at all.” 

“But can’t you see that your stupid plan isn’t working? All we’re doing is abusing the girl.” Steve wiped the hologram again but Tony simply walked to a different station and continued his work. Angry with his response, Steve walked around the table and stood beside Tony. 

“This needs to end Tony,” Steve said through his gritted teeth. The man was clenching his jaw so hard, it almost looked as if he was going to break his teeth. However, Tony quickly glared at Steve at the mention of his threat. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. Can’t you actually see that I’m trying to protect Wanda.” Steve tilted his head at the awful reasoning for his actions. “How is this protecting Wanda? Why are you even trying to protect her?” 

Tony slammed his fist into the table, feeling his anger rising by the second. “We - no - I need to protect her Steve!”

“Why Tony? Why?” 

“Because I’m the goddamn reason her parents and her country is dead. I’m the reason that everything she ever loved is gone. I’m the reason for her sadness. She, of all people, deserves happiness. And I sure as hell won’t let anyone else hurt her anymore - no more Steve.” Tony didn’t give Steve a chance as he walked out the facility needing a day drink more than ever. 

It was lunch time and all Wanda could think about was the need to cook paprikash. She didn’t know when the last time she had actually cooked. And seeing as the majority of the team was on missions, she could actually cook without interruptions or lingering eyes. 

Walking into the kitchen, Wanda tied her hair up and started to take out the necessary ingredients for the meal. It was when she was talking the spices out when Vision had appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring the girl. “Vision!” 

Sensing a slight rise in her heart rate and anger, Vision had quickly apologized. “Sorry Wanda.” Wanda shook her head and quickly resumed prepping. “I will try to work on making my presence known. If I may ask, what is it that you’re doing?” 

“I’m making paprikash.” Vision’s mind grew curious at the word and quickly searched his database for it. “I see. A traditional Sokovian food.” Wanda didn’t realize it, but she had felt a little annoyed at the synthezoid’s presence. It wasn’t anything he did, but Wanda desperately wanted alone time for herself. 

Before she could ask, Vision had said, “Good morning Y/n.” Wanda’s quickly grew wide as she avoided glancing in Y/n’s direction. She hadn’t stayed in the tense position though as Vision announced, “Oh - it seems she had left before saying hi back.” 

Feeling ever more frustrated with people’s presence, Wanda was about to ask him to leave but noticed the confusion written all over his face and didn’t hesitate to ask, “What is it Vision?” Vision pursed his lips and contemplated his words. It was visibly obvious to see that he was trying to wrack up what to say. “I think...it’s just…” He sighed knowing that this was going to be a sensitive subject to the witch but knowing everything she's been through, lying was not the best option. “It’s just that Y/n-” Wanda quickly cut Vision off in desperation to know what Y/n had done to Vision. If the girl were to even lay a finger on him, she was sure to deal with it herself.  “What did she do? Did she hurt you? I swear-” Seeing her eyes turn red, Vision immediately explained himself. “-No no no. It’s not that, the complete opposite actually.” Wanda’s eyes slowly turned back to normal. When Vision saw that her heart rate was close to normal, he continued. “It’s just that...Y/n’s vitals have been decreasing in a fluctuating matter. Some days it would be a small decrease, but some days it would be a big decrease. Overall, her health has been poor.” Vision looked back at where Y/n once stood. If he hadn’t quickly analyzed her, he wouldn’t have noticed that today’s vitals was record worst. “Although she does have physical injuries, she seems to continue to radiate pain throughout her body even when those injuries have healed. It starts through her head and it spreads like a radio wave through her nervous system. I’ve done my calculations and the leading cause could be migraines...” Vision soon was in deep thought, trying to recalculate just to make sure what he was about to say was correct. “...but it doesn’t make sense.” 

Wanda tilted her head. Processing this information was hard seeing as at her darkest moments, she wanted nothing but Y/n to be hurt. She deserved it for all the pain she caused her to go through. But hearing it now? That was a different story. It was like an internal conflict was going through her. Should she even care about Y/n’s health? “What doesn’t make sense?” Vision looked hard into Wanda’s eyes as he said, “Migraines shouldn’t cause her heart to stop multiple times.” 

Wanda stared at Vision, processing the information that the love of her life is practically dying. “A-are you sure?” Vision slowly nodded. “However, after some calculations, I do believe she will be okay. She only needs a good source of food for her healing regeneration to fully heal this.” Wanda relaxed at Vision’s words. Although she has been through immense pain through these past couple months, having Y/n gone from her life like that would hurt more than anything. 

Before Vision could continue his explanation, F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Emergency alert. All available Avengers please head to the quinjet per the request of Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers.” Quickly, the two headed to the plane as the important part of Vision’s explanation was missed. Little did Wanda know, Y/n would not heal any time soon. 

The trio arrived on the quinjet and wasted no time trying to figure out the mission that was ahead of them. There was a serious feel in the atmosphere sensing that this had to be bad. There was no way that it couldn’t have been. Because if it wasn’t, they certainly wouldn’t have invited Y/n to this mission. 

Lately, the girl has been assigned to only solo missions. Y/n couldn’t quite remember the last time that she was on a mission with any team member nevermind the fact with the whole team. 

“Backup is needed immediately after touch down. Vision and Wanda, meet up with Steve and Sam at the Northeast corridor. Y/n, you are assigned to the entrance,” Tony stated through the intercom. 

The feeling in Y/n’s stomach worsened. Not only was she hungry and sleep deprived, she didn’t also have a partner with her. It also didn’t help the fact that the flashes have gotten worse. Y/n couldn’t help but pray for a miracle. After all, they were dealing with the very people Y/n hated - Hydra. 

Y/n couldn’t quite tell when things on the mission got to shit. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as they touched down and went to their assigned positions, Y/n received a massive swarm of Hydra agents. It didn’t help that her health regeneration was not at its peak or these agents actually were decently trained. Or was it during the third wave, that was currently happening, where Y/n tested the limits of her body. 

Seeing the onslaught of agents coming her way, Y/n decided it was time to test out her new ability. She rapidly swung her right arm, building momentum as the fire within her right side blazed. As soon as the enemies were close, she released a fire tornado in their path. It had managed to take out at least half of the wave, but more and more kept coming. 

Pressing her comms, Y/n said, “Can someone send back up my way?! There’s too many for me to handle.” Y/n kicked back the agent that was about to stab her in the back, but was too distracted to the point a different agent was able to cut her leg. “Fuck.” 

Y/n quickly released an ice wall that at first glance, appeared to be the same height as the Great Wall of China. She hoped the barrier would give her enough time for her backup to appear. Focusing all her energy on her fireside, Y/n aimed at any agent near her, using her arm as a flamethrower. 

However, worry immediately grew when no one had responded to her call within a couple minutes. Before she could request again, Nat had spoken bitterly in the comms, “On my way.” Sighing in relief, Y/n continued to fight off the agents the best she could. 

But no matter how hard she tried to buy herself time, it seemed that Natasha was taking forever to come. It had gotten to the point that multiple lashes already appeared. Her healing regeneration couldn’t keep up at all. Not only that, but her body was either giving up from exhaustion or blood loss. It was only during the last couple agents when Natasha had shown up and quickly killed the remainder. 

Y/n glanced at the assassin and noticed the lack of any injuries on her and it was as if she barely broke a sweat. “What happened? I almost got killed.” 

Natasha glared at Y/n as she responded with, “I helped Bucky and Rhodey on the way, they needed it.” Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat knowing the redhead in front of her had practically lied. If backup was needed, it was always voiced through comms. 

Even if Y/n had wanted to confront Natasha about it, she couldn’t. Natasha had already left to head to the quinjet. Y/n simply limped a couple feet from her. When Y/n arrived, it seemed that everyone else was already prepared for take off. Feeling ever more guilty, Y/n simply sat at the closet seat to the entrance that was away from the team. But something inside her broke even more noticing the lack of any questions or concerns from the team in regards to her injuries. 

Not even bothering to buckle up, Y/n sulked in her thoughts when she realized, “Why doesn’t anyone care about me?” 

Tag List: @halobaby​ @arelyitsherec8​ @blackxwidowsxwife​ @cristin-rjd​ @madamevirgo​ @trikruismybitch​ @paradiselost916​ @mmmmokdok​ @morbid-gaymer​ @dailyavengering​ @itsnottilly​ @helloalycia​ @randomshyperson​ @tomy5girls​ @daenerys713​ @ensorcellme​ @lezzzbehonesthere​ @imagine-reblog​ @sighsam​ 

[yslkook]

WRONG (3)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you find yourself at the tattoo parlor more often as of late. also, jungkook hates lemon jelly filled donuts and is easily bribed by mint chocolate and macarons. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship

Sora’s unbridled passion for why she believes Jungkook is wrong for you has never irritated you as much as it does in this moment. You’ll never understand why she’s so adamant about the topic, when it’s not her decision. When she knows that you’ve been harboring a small crush on the man for years now, and you’re fairly certain he returns your affections.

When the man told you that he had put an orange heart next to your name, you knew it was real.

You don’t understand why Sora is determined to make things so complicated, when they don’t have to be. You don’t believe her claims that he’s a fuckboy, that he treats people like trash. He’s shown you the opposite. He’s so gentle with everyone, not just you. He’s blunt but he has a big heart under all of the leather and layers of black.

If there’s a word to describe him, it’s dreamy.

Which is why you’re so hurt that Sora refuses to give him a chance. After all, if she was your best friend, shouldn’t she offer him a chance for your sake?

It confuses you.

“I’ve heard so many bad things about him,” Sora says knowingly, swirling her glass of wine in her hands. You don’t feel very much like drinking, not when your stomach swirls in unease. Being in her apartment is nothing new, but right now, you’d rather be anywhere else.

“But what things? And from who? Jungkook is such a genuine guy and he hasn’t done anything for people to start rumors about him,” You protest, but your words fall on deaf ears, “And I like him-”

“I mean come on, have you seen him? The man radiates bad vibes. My friends have all said-”

“Bad vibes? You’re dismissing him because of bad vibes when I’m telling you that-”

“I’m your best friend, don’t you think I know these things?” Sora says, heat and arrogance in her voice, “I’m only looking out for you. It’s shitty that you’re dismissing me for a guy-”

“I’m not dismissing you-” But your voice grows smaller and smaller, something that you think Jungkook might be disappointed in you for.

“It sure as hell sounds like you are,” Sora sneers with a cold sort of tilt to her lips, “Listen. I’m just looking out for you, even if you don’t seem to appreciate it. I thought we were best friends. Friends look out for each other, but if you don’t want to listen to me, that’s on you.”

Something dry settles in your throat and something heavy settles in your chest.

“He’s not good news,” Sora continues, as if she can’t see your heart beginning to ache, “I’ll find someone who will treat you much better, don’t worry.” She pats your knee in a way that is supposed to be reassuring but you wince.

You don’t want her favors, but it’s too late for you to protest. Besides if you did, she’d feel awful and you never want to be the cause of her being upset. She’s your best friend after all. And what kind of friend would you be, if you upset her to that degree?

But still... you don’t want anyone else. You want the sensitive man who gets misty-eyed by powerful renditions of Beyonce songs, the man who texts you until you fall asleep, the man who asks you what color to paint his nails when he feels like it.

You kind of want the sensitive man dressed in layers of black.

You let Sora talk your ear off about all of the guys she has in mind for you, but you stop listening. You don’t understand this vendetta she has against Jungkook, the vendetta that she’s always had. But she is correct about one thing- she is your best friend and has your best interests at heart...right?

The four walls of the tattoo parlor that you’ve begun frequenting more and more often begins to feel more and more like a welcome place in recent days. You’ve always been friendly with the guys, especially Yoongi and Hoseok.

Even if Yoongi doesn’t work at the parlor, he’s here frequently enough.

Though Yoongi and Hoseok are some of your oldest friends, you’ve only come to the parlor a handful of times in the past. Once that realization hit you, you’d made it a point to stop by more often.

Why hadn’t you before?

They’re your oldest friends, but these days, you feel closer to Mina and Mei as well. While you do have other girlfriends who you see as often as your collective schedules align, it’s still different.

But still. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly belonged with anyone. You feel as if you’ve been floating through life, with Sora by your side (at least half the time, when she’s not spewing criticism over the man you have feelings for).

Thinking about it gives you a headache and makes you feel nostalgic for something that you never had. But maybe it’s something you can have.

“Hey, you,” Mei calls from reception, where she’s sitting next to Hobi who waves at you, “What brings you here? Finally gonna let me pierce you?”

“I brought donuts,” You shrug, “And I’m not ready for that surgical instrument to touch me, thanks very much.”

“You can stop by without the pretense of bringing sweet treats over,” Hobi says knowingly, “I mean none of us will complain about donuts, but you know that right? You can come by anytime you want.”

“O-okay,” You nod, your throat feeling a little dry.

“Now, come here and let me see what you got. If there’s a lemon jelly filled donut, save that for Jungkook. He hates them.”

“You got plans this evening?” Mei asks, grabbing her bright red purse that’s nearly the size of your head. Her purse matches her bright red nails and for half a second, you’re mesmerized by the glossiness of her nails.

“No, other than getting ready for tomorrow’s day of work-”

“Great! Wanna come with me to the tattoo supply store? I have to pick up more needles, grips and gloves.”

“Sure,” You shrug, a little excited at the prospect of a quick adventure for Mei, “I’ll just say bye to Hobi.”

He’s already watching you with mirth in his eyes, as if he knows what you’re about to say. “Hey, will you tell Jungkook I said hi?” You murmur, feeling your ears burning at his smug grin.

“Sure, I will,” Hobi grins, “I’m sure he feels bad about not being able to say hi to you himself. He’s had a busy day.”

“Understandable,” You nod, “I mean, you guys say he’s the best in the city, right? I’m sure he’s got a waitlist of people who want to be tatted by him.”

“Maybe someday he’ll tattoo you, huh?” He says mischievously to which you roll your eyes and feel your face heat up.

“He would be so lucky,” You scoff, as if the notion of Jungkook tattooing your body doesn’t make something flutter in your belly.

“We have this competition at the parlor where the person who makes the most tips has to buy the supplies on a monthly basis,” Mei says smugly, “Usually, it’s Kook but for the last few months it’s been me.”

That doesn’t surprise you in the least- Hobi has told you that Mei and Mina are both skilled in realistic and watercolor tattoos, as well as piercings. You think if you were ever to receive a tattoo from either Mei or Mina, you would tip them for the mere fact of them being so close in your presence for so long.

They used to intimidate you, when Hobi had first introduced you to them. Mina with her sleek bob haircut, and Mei with her long, glossy waves. Both of them had nose piercings and their ears were dotted in different hoops and rods. You’d only caught a glimpse of their tattoos a handful of times- Mei has a full sleeve on her right arm where Mina’s tattoos seem to be more hidden.

They’re just so cool and funny and smart.

“How did you all get the idea for the tattoo parlor? Like, was it a business decision or were you all friends before?” You ask curiously.

“Well… Jin, Mina and I have been friends since we were kids, our parents are really close. Jin had this dream of opening his own tattoo and piercing parlor for the longest time. Jungkook and Hobi joined a few months after we officially opened. It took a while, but we’re where we are now,” Mei says fondly.

“That’s incredible! You guys started from the ground up,” You say, in awe, “That parlor is your baby.”

“Fuck, yeah it is,” Mei grins, “What about you? What cool tech stuff is going on in that pretty brain of yours?”

“Um…” Your face heats up at the compliment, “I’m currently helping in developing this app for one of our clients, it’s specific for tracking and trending information related to chronic health conditions. It’s still in its infancy, but it’s been fun! And it’s job security, I guess.”

Mei lets out a low whistle, “Wow, you’re doing something like that by yourself?”

“No, I have a pretty great team,” You shrug, “Something like that definitely can’t be done alone.”

Mei hums, “You’re gonna be great, Ms. CEO.”

“Yeah right, I’d never want that burden,” You scoff, “I’m good right where I am.”

With both of your arms full of bags of supplies for the tattoo parlor (and some extras), you both walk out of the shop and towards Mei’s sleek, black car. It’s late, and you don’t really feel much like taking public transportation. But you’re nervous to ask Mei for a ride home for some reason.

“Hey, did you drive to the parlor?” Mei asks.

“N-no, I don’t have a car yet,” You reply, “I only just bought my condo and didn’t want to make another big purchase just yet. I want to start looking though…”

“Oh! I’ll drive you home then,” Mei offers once she starts the engine.

“Are you sure? It’s kind of out of the way from here,” You reply, folding in on yourself a little in the passenger seat.

Mei only waves you off. “Oh, please. What kind of friend would I be if I just left you to get home alone?”

You bite your tongue, as vivid memories of Sora claiming that she didn’t have enough gas in the tank or her asking for gas money for the ten minute drive from her apartment building to your condo flash in your mind.

“Thank you, Mei,” You say gratefully, “Let me know how much to Venmo you, for gas money-”

“Gas money? For a seven minute drive? Is that a joke,” Mei gasps, “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I asked!”

“Asking me for gas money,” Mei mutters, “You said you want to start looking for a car?”

Her smile twists into something mischievous.

“Yeah, I have no idea where to start though…”

“Ask your boy, Jungkook. Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin work at a car dealership and they’re his roommates, I’m sure he’d be eager to help you.” Something in her voice is coy but you maintain a neutral face.

“Yeah… maybe I will,” You say thoughtfully, “Hey! He’s not my boy-”

“Alright, alright,” Mei relents gently, “But really, reach out to him. He’ll help you. So that those boys don’t scam you like the sleazy car salesmen that they are.”

When you see Jungkook next at the tattoo parlor which is conveniently on your way home from work (again with a box of pastries), you muster the courage to step into his office to ask him for help.

“Hi,” You say weakly, “Umm… I come bearing gifts. Got some of those mint chocolate brownie bars that you like, and those macarons-”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to bribe me, baby,” Jungkook says, smirking widely when your lips part in protest.

“If I was trying to bribe you, it wouldn’t be with mint chocolate. Disgusting,” You roll your eyes and squeal out loud when he lunges for you, giving you a teasing but tight back hug.

“Take it back,” Jungkook murmurs lowly in your ear. You hardly hear him, too wrapped up in the warmth of the big black hoodie he’s wearing. The soft, gentle scent of laundry and vanilla floats into your nose when you turn your head to press your cheek against his chest.

His heartbeat is faint against your ear. You wonder if he can hear yours speeding up.

“Mint chocolate sucks. It’s a fact,” You mumble.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” His voice comes as a low grumble from his chest and you swallow nervously. Before your nerves can get the best of you, he changes the topic. “Mei told me you’re in the market for a new car?”

“I don’t really know where to start, but I’ve already started doing some research,” You reply, pointing to your small backpack. You pull out a binder with meticulously colored tabs labeled in neat print that Jungkook raises an eyebrow at.

“What?”

“You just carry around a binder with your research on car purchases at all times? Is that what you do?”

“I have to be prepared!”

“Sometimes you just need a vibe check-”

“You want me to purchase an entire vehicle worth about a million and one paychecks based on just a vibe check? Is that what you did with your motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook gives you a crooked smile, “And a little research. I guess.”

“You guess,” You mutter under your breath.

Jungkook has been more touchy with you once you had given him the go ahead all those weeks ago. He doesn’t show his affections with you unless you’re both alone, and it’s never anything more than hugs and the occasional brush of hands.

He’s melting you from the outside in, and you bask in his radiant heat. The thought of Sora’s approval doesn’t bother you, not when he hugs you like this.

But as always. Her disapproving voice worms its way into your head and you reluctantly peel away from him to sit on the faded burgundy couch with the box of macarons on your lap.

“So,” Jungkook says, immediately feeling the loss of your warmth in his limbs, “How can I help?”

tags: @kookdbean

MoM tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe

[dongofthewolf]

Hiii! Can I request no.9 from the cliché prompts and fake dating au?

Making Amends

Abby Anderson x Reader

Prompts: 9. “There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling” 18. Fake dating au

Warnings: swearing, fluff, hint of angst, Owen and Mel slander (sry I had to)

No pronouns are mentioned for the reader

Link to the prompt list here

A/N: Both tropes are literally my favourite things ever and it was so fun to write so ty for requesting it. It ended up way longer than I intended so uhhh yeah hope you enjoy LOL (esp if you requested it)!!

“What the hell Abby?! Have you been telling people that we’re dating?” You had cornered Abby into a secluded hallway, trapping her against the wall with your finger on her chest accusingly.

There was a flicker of fear in Abby’s eyes as she chewed on her lip nervously. Abby was considerably stronger than you and you probably looked like a mouse trying to intimidate a lion, but you didn’t care.

Abby couldn’t meet your burning gaze, all she replied with was a prolonged “Uhhhhhh”.

“Abigail Anderson, answer me right now or I swear to God-” It was rare for you to whip out her full name. And maybe it was kind of a cheap move, but it was a cheap move that almost always worked.

“Fine!” Abby interrupted, letting out a short sigh and preparing herself for the worst. “I kind of told Owen we were dating and I'm pretty sure he’s been telling other people.”

She said the words as quickly as possible, closing her eyes like a bomb was about to go off. Your reaction wasn't far off to say the least.

“You what? Why the fuck would you tell him we’re dating?” There was venom in your words and Abby flinched just slightly.

You were angry, incredibly so. You and Abby have always been close friends, or more so you had been until she started dating Owen. At first it was small things; cancelling plans or leaving early because she was busy and you completely understood. It’s not like you didn’t want her to hang out with him, and obviously you wanted her to be happy, but eventually it got to a point where she hardly ever spoke to you. Aside from the occasional greetings in the busy stadium, it was like you guys had never even been friends.

Now, after completely ignoring you for the past months, she decided it was a good idea to tell people that you guys were dating? It only seemed right for you to be pissed off.

“I just... Everyone kept looking at me like some sad puppy dog because I broke up with Owen, which normally I can handle. But every single day I kept getting the same sad fucking looks and I couldn’t take it anymore, so I told them I was seeing someone. I never mentioned your name but they kept prying, and prying and you were the first person that popped into my mind. I’m really sorry Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything at first, instead you looked at Abby without a hint of emotion on your face, and even less in your tone when you did finally speak. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys broke up?”

Abby paused, she didn’t know what response she was expecting but it definitely wasn’t that. “I um, I figured you knew. Pretty much everyone in the stadium knows.”

“Yeah well… I didn’t.” You were quiet. A part of you was angry and annoyed, but another part of you pitied Abby. She had never been one to lie, especially about something as petty as this.

Before you could think of something to say, Abby broke the silence. “Listen, I know you probably hate me right now, but I need to ask you a small favour.”

“Seriously?” You nudged Abby’s chest, pushing her into the wall again. The pity quickly dissipated to nothing, leaving you once again with a seething rage.

“Look, I know things between us haven’t been ideal but-“

“Haven’t been ideal?!” You interrupted, the absolute ignorance in her words tipping you off the edge. “Abby, you threw me away like I was trash! We were friends and you left me to hang out with Owen. I didn’t even know you guys broke up because you don’t tell me shit anymore!”

“I’ll do anything Y/N, okay? I’ll do your laundry, clean your room, I’ll even take your shifts for patrols.” Abby’s hands were on your forearms as she spoke. “Please just do this one thing for me and I’ll spend the rest of my life paying you back.” There was sincerity in Abby’s face, a hint of desperation too.

You paused. What could Abby possibly want so badly that she’d be willing to do all this for you? Even though you were angry at her, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little bit intrigued.

“I’ll do anything Y/N, please. There must be something that you want.” Abby pleaded, absolute seriousness in her eyes.

“What I want is to never see you again.” Your finger was pointed at her chest again, poking her lightly.

Immediately you could see the hurt on Abby’s face. Okay, maybe that was a little bit harsh (and kind of petty) but you weren’t just gonna let Abby off that easily. Not after everything she’s done.

“Fine…” Abby paused to contemplate her next words, wiping the sadness from her face. “Fine, after tonight if you do this thing for me, we’ll never have to see each other again, I promise. I just need you to come to this party with me. We don’t have to talk or hold hands or anything and you can spend the whole night hating me, but I just need you there.”

“I-“ You couldn't do that. You couldn’t just pretend and lie to all of Abby’s friends for a whole night… Could you?

“Please Y/N. It’s embarrassing, okay? When we broke up, Mel immediately jumped in to fill my space. Everyone knew it and I had to pretend like I didn’t care so people would stop treating me like a wounded animal. If they find out I lied about you? I don’t think they’ll ever stop seeing me that way.”

You looked at Abby and felt a tinge of sympathy, she looked so sad and desperate, and for a second you even considered it. One night couldn’t hurt, right? Wait, no.

You mentally slapped yourself, trying to snap yourself out of it. You were not going to give in that easily. Nope. This was Abby, the same girl who threw away your friendship like it was nothing, and you were not going to let her use you like this. Not even while she’s looking at you with those sad, blue eyes. Nope, you’re mad, you’re angry, you’re-

“Fine.” Fuck.

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Abby’s eyes lit up as she wrapped her arms around you, lifting you into the air while she let out a breath of relief.

What did you just get yourself into?

—

“I can sleep on the floor, it's really no problem.” Abby offered, there was a slight nervousness in her tone as she stood in front of you shifting her weight on the balls of her feet.

“Abby, that’s stupid. It’s not like I’m infected or something.” You huffed, reaching for the box of matches to light the candle next to you.

Sometime after the party there had been a power outage and the entire WLF base went lights out. Meaning there was no heat and most annoyingly, no lights.

After a night of uncomfortable looks and even more uncomfortable conversations in which you spent most of the party trying to avoid Abby’s friends, she was walking you back to your room when everything suddenly went dark.

The both of you practically crawled to your room before you could locate a light source of some kind. It had been an hour since the power went out and you insisted that Abby sleep in your room, for… safety purposes.

You shook the match till it was out, suddenly you were thankful for impulse buying those candles last week.

“It’s fine, I’ll just crawl halfway across the stadium until I find my room. No biggie.” You couldn’t tell if she was joking, but something in you felt like she would actually do it if you didn’t insist she stay here.

You sighed. “Just sleep here Abs, it’s easier and I’m offering. Plus, I don’t need you army crawling across the entire WLF base. It’s hard on the arms, even for someone as strong as you.”

“You think I’m strong?” Abby smiled teasingly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, looking away as you tried to hide the small grin on your face. God, it was hard to stay mad at Abby.

“Shut up and take the bed.” You could tell Abby was reluctant but she still plopped herself onto your bed. She sat awkwardly on the edge, unsure of how this was going to work.

You tried to ignore Abby’s weird energy as you buried yourself beneath the covers. It took a minute for her to actually lay down in the bed but when she did, she was careful to keep her distance. It was pretty funny (and pretty cute) how unsure she was.

After a few minutes of silence you heard Abby whisper your name softly, almost like she wasn’t sure if you could hear her.

Nuzzling your nose into your pillow you whispered back a small “Yeah?”.

“Thank you.” You could hear the genuity in Abby’s voice, how grateful she was for such a simple act and suddenly it hit you, you didn’t want her to leave you alone. You missed this—missed Abby.

Instead of responding you nudged her foot lightly with yours. It was something you guys had done as kids, like a silent way of saying “I’m here.”. Under the dinner table with the Fireflies or during training when you first joined the WLF; it was an unspoken thing between the both of you. An action that spoke much louder than words possibly could.

The both of you laid on opposite ends of the bed, your backs turned to each other. You shifted under the sheets before finally finding a comfortable position, you fell asleep that night to the steady sound of Abby’s breathing.

—

You were first to wake up, confusion washing over you when you felt your head rising and falling. Why the hell was your pillow moving? Then it hit you; it wasn’t the bed moving, it was Abby. Your head lay resting on Abby’s chest, her arm over your back while your limbs were wrapped around her like a giant stuffed animal. The sound of her beating heart was soft in your ears and you could feel her breath coming out in steady increments, blowing lightly against your head.

You weren’t sure what to do about your compromising position. It was already too late for you to leap out of her arms and a large part of you didn’t want to move anyways. So you decided to pretend to sleep until she woke up. That way you wouldn’t have to decide what to do, she would.

Abby woke up shortly after you, you could tell she was awake by the way her breath hitched in her throat upon noticing how you guys were situated. However, instead of jumping out of the bed in a panic, Abby didn’t move either, and it took everything in you to not open your eyes.

After a few moments of stillness, you almost thought she had fallen back asleep. It wasn’t until you felt a light touch on your temple that you realized she was awake. The touch so light you nearly missed it when Abby brushed a small strand of hair away from your face.

Then slowly, Abby pried you off of her and you nearly let a small groan slip from your lips when you felt the absence of her warmth. She gently rolled you over, covering you with the blanket before walking into the bathroom.

That’s when it happened: the ache. A sharp, jarring ache in your heart that you only felt with her— that you haven’t felt since the two of you were best friends. It had left you when you and Abby stopped talking, but it returned just the same when you witnessed the tenderness of her actions. You never thought to put a name to this feeling (and maybe a part of you didn’t want to), but it was near impossible to ignore it.

You couldn’t possibly be harbouring secret feelings for Abby, right? You tried to distract yourself from these thoughts, it was way too early to be worrying about these things.

Feigning tiredness you rolled off the bed and headed towards the bathroom. You knocked on the door and when Abby opened it you noticed she was in the process of redoing her braid.

You leaned against the doorway as you watched her skilled fingers work. “Abs?”

“Hm?” She replied as she tied off the end of her braid.

“I didn’t really mean what I said to you last night… about never wanting to see you again. I’m sorry.” You picked at your thumb anxiously, eyes wandering around the room, looking anywhere but at Abby.

Abby turned to face you, letting the braid fall to her side. “You don’t have to apologize Y/N, I deserve it. I didn’t even hesitate to leave you when Owen and I started dating, and I was-“

“Stupid?” You finished for her, looking up from the floor to meet Abby’s gaze.

“Stupid. And for what it's worth, I’ve really missed hanging out with you Y/N, even if it is under these circumstances.”

“You know… I think I know a way you can make it up to me, if you’re still up for it?” Abby looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you noticed the corner of her mouth curling into a small smile.

“Oh yeah? What would that be?”

“You see, there’s this guy that’s been trying to ask me out for weeks even though I keep rejecting him.” You gave Abby a tiny grin as you continued. “Well, maybe if he found out I was dating a certain soldier who could pound his ass into the ground, then he’d leave me alone.”

Abby nodded her head nonchalantly as she took a small step towards you, crossing her arms across her chest. “You know what’s crazy? I think I have just the person for you.”

[usmsgutterson]

Are you Really Okay?- Kaz Brekker

I am in no way trying to romanticize depression or suicidal ideations. I’ve dealt with them my entire life and it’s been no easy feat, and I know several others who’ve dealt with them the same. I am merely basing this off my own experiences and how I’ve dealt with it when things have gotten tough in the past, this is in no way meant to put down others who’ve had different experiences to me. 

Trigger warning- talk of depression, suicidal thoughts and suicidal ideations. If you are sensitive to those topics, for your safety, I advise that this be a work of mine that you stay away from.

Fic type- angst t

Warnings- mentions of Kaz’s trauma

Kaz couldn’t understand what’d happened. A few weeks before, you’d seemed fine. You were smiling, laughing with Inej and joking with Jesper. You’d gone to every meal, ate every last bit of your food. In between bites, you indulged Jespers talk of his guns, talked to Wylan about his flute, spoke with Kaz about a plan for a heist. You were okay. 

But that’d been the weeks before. That hadn’t been the two months it took to plan the heist, or the heist itself. 

The first thing that ticked him off that day was your failure to meet everyone for breakfast. You never missed out on a good meal, especially not when good conversation came with it, and Kaz had sent Rotty up to your room to see what’d happened.

Rotty came up empty, with just a note in his hand. In the note, you’d apologized, but promised to be on time to the first rendezvous point. Kaz wouldn’t reprimand you for it. He knew you’d come and go as you pleased, whether or not you had his permission to do so, so there really was no point in reprimanding and starting a fight. 

The heist went well, as they normally did, but you didn’t go out for the victory dinner, either. He’d gone, but as the six of them walked, slowly, back to The Slat, Kaz made sure to ask Inej what the hell had been up with you, see if she knew anything.

Inej, to his delight, hadn’t come up empty. “They have depression,” she’d said. “I can’t explain it, though. I just have a baseline understanding.” 

“Tell me,” Kaz demanded. “I want to know what’s wrong. They’ve been off for weeks now.”

“Careful, Brekker,” Nina taunted. “Keep going the way that you are, it might start to sound like you actually care!” 

“He doesn’t,” Jesper quipped, and for once, Kaz found himself grateful for Jesper and his constant need to be involved in conversations. “They’re not more than an investment to him. Isn’t that right, Kaz?” He said nothing, just glanced at Inej expectantly.

“They’re sad,” Nina input before Inej got the chance. “Isn’t that what it is?”

“It’s technically defined as a severe feeling of despondency and dejection, actually,” that was Wylan. “It’s coupled with a constant feeling of sadness, emptiness and not wanting to do what might’ve once peaked their interest.”

“It goes along with suicidal thoughts, too,” Inej spoke. “And ideations. They go hand in hand. You can’t treat one without also treating the other.” Kaz felt tempted to run the rest of the way back to The Slat, all the way up to your room and demand why you’d not told him, but he resisted.

“They should’ve gotten their meds refilled a while ago, though,” Inej matched the pace when Kaz began to move just a bit quicker. “I don’t know why they haven’t, to be completely candid.”

The rest of the way back, Nina and Matthias conversed with Inej and Jesper and Wylan laughed so loud they almost woke the city up, but Kaz kept quiet, his brain overtaken with questions.

Why haven’t they told me? He thought. Why didn’t I know? I care about them, don’t I? And isn’t that a bit of a crucial detail?

It slowly began to make sense to him. The red rimmed eyes some mornings, coupled with puffy cheeks, it should’ve been clear to him that you’d cried at some point through the night while he slept. The bags under your eyes slowly becoming more pronounced as you began to stay awake later; your reluctance to tell him anything, despite how close you were. All the meals you’d missed. 

Your smile.

You’d stopped smiling so much.

Kaz missed it. The sound of your laugh circulating through the room, your smile that managed to brighten his entire day. 

He felt like an idiot for not seeing the signs when they were right there, seemingly right in front of his face. He could’ve helped you, could’ve made sure you stayed on track with the medication, he could’ve done so much, and yet, as he walked, he felt as though he’d done so little. It infuriated him.  

When the six of them had arrived back at The Slat, he turned to Inej. “I’m going to go up to their room,” he whispered. “See how they’re doing.” Inej tossed him a smile.

“You do care, don’t you?” She asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Only a little,” Kaz murmured, almost hating that he admitted it to someone other than himself. “I just want to make sure that they’re okay.”

“And if they aren’t?” Matthias’ voice almost sounded like a scold. “What will you do then, demjin? Comfort them from a doorway?” 

“Matthias!” Nina scolded. “Let Kaz do his thing, okay? You don’t know Y/N like he does. He’ll comfort them in whatever way he sees fit.” Kaz shot a grateful nod at Nina as he made his way over to the stairs and up to your room. 

After a quick break in front of your door to catch his breath, he knocked three times.

“Come in,” you called, but your voice had waivered. “Just a moment, though, okay? I have to clean some things up!” Kaz went in anyway, opening the door just enough to slide in and closing it using his back. 

“Brekker,” you whispered, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt. Kaz noticed scarring, but he decided not to say anything. “Hello.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, not at all caring that he was being so blunt. “Are you really okay, Y/N?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” you murmured as you went around the room, plucking laundry off the floor and putting trash into the small trash bin you kept beside your bed. “Why are you asking if I’m okay when I’ve done nothing to say otherwise?”

“You’ve missed meals. You’re slower than normal. You smile less,” part of him wants to reach out, take your hand in his and rub your knuckles with his thumb and be a man who can touch another human being without issue, but he knows it’s unrealistic. 

“Well, forgive me for thinking that The Bastard of The Barrel wouldn’t pick up on how many times I smiled throughout the run of a day,” you quipped. “The heist was done just fine. We all got our shares of the money, and we all returned unscathed. I fail to see why you’ve put so much effort into caring.”

“Because it’s you,” he whispered.

“I’m just another investment, Brekker. You’re welcome to stop caring now. I’m going to sleep, and I’d as soon do it without the knowledge that your back is pressed against my door.”

“You’re more than an investment,” he whispered. “I care about you. I want to know when somethings wrong. Depression isn’t the kind of thing you keep from me, Y/N.” 

“I’ve kept it from you just fine, Kaz,” you shot back, wiping at your eyes. “I’ve been able to live with it since I was a kid without issue, without you noticing, so why notice now? Is it because I’ve been slower? Because I’ve slept in and missed breakfast? Because I’ve not felt the motivation to get and up and do what we do everyday?” 

“It’s because I care, Y/N,” he took a step toward you as you set to making the small bed that you slept on. 

“How many times have you considered climbing to the roof and jumping off it?” You winced at the question, and Kaz felt his heart clench for a single moment in time. 

“Are you asking me if I’m suicidal, Brekker?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes, I think about it. I think about going down to Fifth Harbor, jumping into the lake and swimming until the bottom is so far down that I wouldn’t be able to reach it without drowning,” Kaz moved to sit on the bed next to you, keeping a little distance.

“When I take my meds, I’m not even happy,”

“So what are you?”

“Numb. I don’t feel anything. All of the pain goes away, but so does the happiness. The joy. The smiles.” Kaz winced. He’d gone through enough days without getting a smile from you or hearing your laugh that he was almost completely sure another of them might’ve been his breaking point. 

“And without your medication?”

“Highs and lows. Mostly lows, unfortunately. Depressive episodes, no motivation. Without my meds, my emotions are a tsunami and my conscious mind is the city that it runs through.”

“How can I help?”

“This is helping,” you admit. “It’s just--I’ve talked with Wylan and Jesper about it before, but neither of them ever have anything to say about any of it. They’re understanding, but sometimes, it just...”

“Wylan says things that’d come off a motivation quote poster and Jesper cracks a joke?” Kaz questions. 

You laughed then, and Kaz, completely and utterly unsure of himself, wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

For a couple of long lasting seconds, he was there again. In the barge, with Jordies slippery, slimy body beneath him as he kicked his way back to shore, but then he glanced at you. Saw the fear in your eyes as you registered what he’d done, trying to study him and figure out if you’d crossed a boundary, but all Kaz did was nod.

“I’m okay, L/N,” he whispered. “I’m fine.” 

You two stayed like that for a long, long time, until both of your eyes fluttered closed and sleep dragged you under. 

[worth-more-than-two-thousand]

Omega’s Observations

Request:  Congrats on starting the blog!! Pumped to have a new writer's work to read 🥰 If you need some requests, how about an echo/gn!medic reader who he develops a crush on, for a little of that sweet sweet mutual pining action✨ Dunno if you write pre-citadel or just BB echo, but I'm happy with either. Have a good weekend!! :) (@krussyfed)

Author’s Note: Whew! This took a while for me to get to a place where I felt good about posting it. Honestly, as most of my writing does, it got a bit away from me, but that’s because I love fleshing out a story, showing-not-telling, and building on events from the canon. But if I saw this through until the end, I probably wouldn’t end up posting this for months! So I hope what I have here is worth the wait, and if you want more, let me know! 

Story Notes: Unbeta’ed, no obvious warnings. 

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Ask her brothers to describe her, and ‘still and quiet’ would not be two of the words any of them would use. 

Hunter would call her curious to a fault, then ruffle her hair to let her know that he meant it in the nicest way possible. 

Wrecker would boom with laughter, proclaiming her one of them (“Always ready for action and adventurin’! Let’s go get those gundarks!”). 

Tech would probably consider for a moment, then use a four-syllable word. Like effervescent.

Echo would call her young and energetic, but his brow would furrow as though this might be a bad thing. Then he would inevitably follow up with a reminder to stay within sight and keep out of trouble. She didn’t mind. She knew he just worried about her. Omega would always reassure him that she would keep close to her brothers. Of course, whether it actually happened was usually another thing. 

Crosshair, if he was with them, would probably call her troublesome. 

But really, this was a tactical advantage. Her brothers never expected her to be still and quiet, so she could settle in and be observant when it was least expected of her. 

Omega was actually quite accustomed to being taciturn, at least when she needed to be. Her time with Nala Se, after all, was mostly like this. 

Watching over like a stone guardian as Nala Se pored over the capsules containing her modified brothers…

...being as unobtrusive as possible during another endless meeting with Lama Su…

...laying noiselessly and without complaint as Nala Se inserted a needle into her arm for yet another blood sample…

 These days, Omega could be as boisterous and vivacious (two more words Tech had taught her) as she wanted to be, so long as there was no chance of enemies being around. The only time she was obediently still by choice during these times was when she was being treated by Y/N, Clone Force 99’s on-board medic. 

Again, this was mostly out of habit from her time with Nala Se, but it wasn’t as bad. For one thing, Y/N fielded all of Omega’s questions with unending patience. And their hands were less clinical, more gentle than Omega was used to. Nala Se was efficient, not a movement wasted in her examinations. Y/N, however, always offered a comforting touch on the back after a scary encounter, and would gently but firmly place their hands on Omega’s face to look her in the eye to assess emotional well-being. 

The first time Y/N had done this was on the Ordo Moon, as Y/N was finishing wrapping up Omega’s small scratches on her hands and knees from her misadventures in the underground tunnels. 

At this point, not used to such close eye contact, Omega averted her eyes and looked over Y/N’s shoulder for something to distract her from the unusual awkwardness she felt. 

Her eyes met Echo’s. 

Her awkwardness vanished as he seemed to startle, a faint flush appearing on his neck, as he coughed, crossed his arms, and turned away, suddenly much more interested in examining the ship’s ceiling than anything else. 

What an interesting reaction. Her brain filed it away, curiosity piqued.  

Then, over the course of a few weeks, Omega confirmed her suspicions. 

Echo was always watching Y/N. Echo liked Y/N. 

Omega caught him absentmindedly gazing at Y/N’s hands as they tapped thoughtfully on a datapad while Wrecker carried new medical inventory aboard the Marauder during a supply run. 

After Wrecker’s successful inhibitor chip removal on Bracca, and Tech volunteered to go next, Omega watched Y/N’s hands fly across the medical controls, fierce determination sharpening their features. Glancing up, she saw that Echo’s attention was similarly arrested, a look on his face that was bordering very close to adoration. 

He seemed most captivated by Y/N’s hands, however, whenever they were treating him personally for any ailments or injuries. Echo always sat pin straight, almost comedically robotic (it would be funnier, but his history brought a sort of cruel irony to the thought) and allowing Y/N to turn his body and maneuver his prosthetic arm however was needed without any fidgeting or complaint. 

But his eyes were another story. Darting back and forth everywhere their fingers touched, such a stoniness to his face that Omega was certain he was committing every graze, every feather-light touch, to memory. Y/N, as always, was so focused on the medical work that they never seemed to notice. 

Omega saw things, though. Echo was like Y/N’s shadow, often slipping into the same room or area Y/N was in, like a ghost. She observed with fascination how he always angled himself to face her whenever there was a conversation in the cockpit. It didn’t matter if it was just the two of them, or if the entire squad was there and discussing a mission, it was as though he had attuned himself to wherever Y/N happened to be and was drawn to them.

Like a sunflower always facing the sun. 

She saw in the field how Echo, not Hunter, was usually the one to call the Marauder to check in or alert Y/N to any injuries that would need to be treated when they returned. How the space between his brows would crease whenever they would radio in but only receive the static of communications interference. 

Or worse, no answer at all. 

Echo wouldn’t say anything, but Omega felt that her brother’s steps would quicken, just a little. And she wasn’t sure she was just imagining a sudden sense of urgency in the air as they completed the mission, with just a bit more efficiency, a bit more ruthlessness than was usual. 

Omega saw how Echo always let out a tiny breath in relief, as though he had been holding it the whole time, whenever they returned to the Marauder with its medic unharmed. 

And she would never forget that one time they had returned to the Marauder, doors blasted open, interior trashed, with no medic in sight and droplets of blood leading away from the ship. 

Omega had never been in war, had only heard about it passively from the conversations between Nala Se and Lama Su, then a bit more directly from her brothers once she was allowed out of the private lab. 

She had once asked Tech about the war, but his response clearly paled in comparison to the dark look on Echo’s face, as they battled their way through enemy after enemy to rescue Y/N.

Omega felt as though she understood war a little bit more after this. At least its motivations. 

It took longer for Omega to figure out whether her brother’s feelings were reciprocated. Y/N’s affection wasn’t as obvious, but the trick was to watch more for their actions than in body language. 

Since Y/N and Tech slept the least, they would swap bunks and so were usually on opposite sleep schedules. This meant that Y/N would stay up late into the night well after the rest of the boys had retired to their bunks, face alight in the glow of a datapad. They would concentrate fiercely, chewing on their thumbnail and pausing often to tap notes into the margins. 

Omega eventually managed to snatch and break into Y/N’s data pad, and saw that they were working their way through a series of medical journals, detailing the latest treatment for prosthetics. There were also several articles on treating post-traumatic stress disorder for former prisoners of war. 

Omega had even checked Y/N’s search history, and discovered that they had been using an encrypted channel to search for chatter on the whereabouts of the former 501st legion and its various members. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Y/N had much luck so far, but if the number of searches were any indication, they weren’t giving up. 

Omega wondered incredulously how none of her other brothers had yet caught on to the two’s clearly mutual affection for each other. Until she realized that no, they already knew.

Once, when Omega had offered Echo some of her Mantell Mix, Echo had sniffed it, much to her amusement. Her giggles subsided immediately when Echo murmured apologetically that he sometimes had trouble digesting pretty much any food that wasn’t nutritional paste, due to half his digestive system being completely artificial. 

Of course, this meant that he must have been experiencing constant abdominal discomfort, as they hadn’t had any nutritional paste on the ship since their escape from Kamino. Hunter once mentioned to her that even the plainest of rations seemed to bother him, but he gamely never complained.

One day, Hunter was giving out rations in the cockpit, and had already given Tech and Wrecker their usual. Then he pulled out a green, unlabeled squeeze packet instead of the usual rations bar, and handed it to Echo, who took it with some confusion.

“What’s this?”

“New brand. It should be easier on your digestive systems than the usual stuff. Tastier, too.” 

Echo glanced at the packet skeptically, unscrewing the cap and sniffing at its contents. 

“It smells...fresh?” 

“Try it,” Hunter urged him, to which Echo obediently tried a small amount. 

His mouth rounded in a surprised ‘oh’. Omega wished she could have captured the look on his face with a holovid. He stared at the packet in his hands, with a look that was a bit like wonder and amazement. 

This didn’t escape Wrecker’s notice, who immediately stood up in protest. “What? Why does Echo get something new to eat?” He glanced forlornly at the slightly crumpled, stale rations bar in his hand. “I want some!” 

“They’re too expensive for your appetite, Wrecker,” Hunter replied, just a bit too quickly, though none of the others seemed to notice. “Besides, you probably wouldn’t like it.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Wrecker proclaimed, swiping the packet from Echo’s hands despite Hunter’s attempt to chastise him. Wrecker took a giant slurp. 

...and immediately spat it out, some of it splattering on poor Gronk. 

“Blech! That tastes weird.” 

“Probably because it’s made of fruits and vegetables,” Tech said dryly, “Your palette likely isn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate the subtle bitterness and natural sweetness that are characteristic of those food categories.” 

Echo eyed Hunter skeptically. “And we have the money to keep buying these?” 

Hunter hummed, closing the rations box and turning away from the cockpit. “Omega’s paying for it from her holochess winnings.” She startled at the sudden mention of her name. “We have extra to spare, for now.” Hunter subtly winked at her when the others weren’t looking. 

“Oh. Thank you, Omega,” said Echo, looking at her with true gratitude. Omega flushed a bit, but mostly because it actually didn’t have anything to do with her. She played along, however, and insisted it was no problem. It did seem to make him happy, so there was no harm in a small lie like that, right? 

She cornered Hunter later, though, and insisted on him telling her the truth. After wearing him down a bit, he finally relented.

“Okay, but you can’t tell the others, all right? Believe me, I’ve already tried to talk them out of it. But Y/N has been doing some medical work on the side, working at one of the clinics near Cid’s bar. They’ve been using the money to buy these.” 

Omega’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why can’t you just tell Echo that?”

Hunter sighed. “Because they don’t want Echo to know. Figures that Echo wouldn’t like them going out on their own to work in the slums for his sake. They’re probably right, of course.” He rubbed at his forehead, a sure sign of an impending headache. 

Omega frowned, then decided to go for it.

“You know they like each other, right?” 

Hunter blinked at her, looking surprised. At her determined stare, he gave a sigh and muttered something like, ‘I’m getting too old for this’. He proceeded to explain patiently to her that perhaps Echo and Y/N liked each other, but pointed out how awkward or difficult it could be to have a romantic relationship in such close quarters, especially when they as a team also had bigger things to worry about. 

It sounded like Hunter had given this exact speech at least twice before. 

So Tech and Wrecker knew, then, but were being polite about it (or, in Wrecker’s case, had probably gotten an earful from Hunter earlier about tact and ‘minding one’s own business’). 

Well. That wouldn’t do. 

By the time Echo got up the nerve to say anything, he’d probably be old! (Omega wouldn’t, but she tried not to think too hard about that particular fact.)

So, she began to scheme. Quietly. 

She had the tactical advantage, after all. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 27 - ao3 -

Matters settled, eventually, and just as eventually, it started getting better.

At first, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure if matters were actually better, or if he’d just grown numb and accustomed, but after the past year and more he thought that there was a serious possibility of it being the former rather than the latter.

Probably the biggest difference was the birth of little Lan Huan, who’d joined the world as a fat and squalling infant that Lan Qiren had loved at first sight and sleepless night – he was still too young to be separated from his mother, or at minimum his wetnurse, but Lan Qiren made a practice of visiting every few days to try to prepare himself for caring for him. The women were generally happy to shove the baby into his arms and let him play guqin or xiao for him until he fell asleep. Apparently Lan Huan was actually a very peaceable baby, an assertion which Lan Qiren had initially doubted on account of the circles under everyone’s eyes, but when he’d said so, the wetnurse had glared at him and pronounced that saying such things meant that the next child would be a true wild terror, and probably a biter to boot.

The frequency of Lan Qiren’s visits was actually less about Lan Huan, although he liked his nephew very much, and more about trying to establish a precedent for visitation. He hoped, eventually, to be able to bring Lan Huan to see his mother on such a frequent basis, once or even twice a week, knowing as he did that He Kexin lacked the temperament for seclusion. To his regret, she’d ended up spoiling that plan not long after she’d recovered from her pregnancy, misinterpreting his frequent visits as an interest in her, and he’d been forced to cut back for a while out of sheer disgust at the mere concept. He bitterly scolded her in his mind for being seemingly incapable of seeing any other reason that he would visit so often, especially during the times that Lan Huan was already asleep, although he suspected in his heart that the real reason was simply likely a longing for a connection with the only other person she regularly saw. 

He still had hope of negotiating regular visits with his sect elders, eventually, but now he knew he’d probably be lucky if he managed to make it once every fortnight, when originally he’d hoped for twice a week.

Disturbing female disciples is prohibited, after all. Lan Qiren had a very good reputation, being widely known to be frigid as a stick of ice, using his brother’s terms, but there was only so much he could do when there was known to be an expressed interest on the other side, especially an interest of adulterous nature. And couple that with what had happened between them before…

At least she’d restrained herself to only making a verbal offer, this time.

Lan Qiren did not know how to explain to He Kexin in a way that she would understand that although he visited her regularly as a matter of duty, and although he was the only person other than his brother with whom she regularly conversed, he did not enjoy his time with her – that he blamed her in part for the destruction of his dreams, the shattering of his heart in a way that would likely never heal, even though he did not blame her for his brother’s obsession with her. It was not her fault that his brother had fallen in love with her, or that he had taken such extreme measures for her, and yet…

“She’s still a bitch,” Cangse Sanren announced, and her new husband smothered a snicker in his sleeve. “What? She is.”

Lan Qiren sighed, and Wei Changze, smiling, made an excuse to depart and let them talk between themselves. He was a good man, with an irrepressible sense of humor that regularly made Cangse Sanren laugh without any shame at all, howling and hooting like a monkey. He had courted her assiduously even after she’d departed the Lotus Pier, headed off to complete her education regarding the mortal world in the various Great Sects, and yet had been oblivious to the fact that she treated their liaison as a serious one – perhaps he had only truly believed that she would give herself to him when they actually married, their interminably long courtship finally ending the way any blind man would have guessed it would from the very beginning.

“I asked you to come here so that you could meet A-Huan,” Lan Qiren said. “Not to relitigate the matter of He Kexin, who at any rate is already suffering the punishment for her unwise actions.”

“Unwise is an understatement. She killed a man! On no basis, and without even a formal challenge! If she’d just kept her sword in her sheath and not jumped ahead three steps –”

“I’m aware.”

Cangse Sanren made a rude noise, but settled back, grumbling. “The baby’s cute, though,” she added begrudgingly. “Looks like you.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you, he is my nephew. To the extent you can identify any traits whatsoever in a roly-poly puppy like A-Huan, they’re family features.”

“Of which you’re the finest representative!”

Lan Qiren gave her a look, and she grinned unrepentantly at him. “Heartbreaker,” she teased, but a moment later her smile faded. “Have you spoken with your brother?”

Lan Qiren’s gaze dropped to the table. “There’s no need,” he said. “He has always been torn between pride in his capability and the admiration of others on one hand, and a yearning to retreat from the world and its annoyances in order to focus fully on his cultivation on the other. Other than occasionally meeting with his wife, he is now able to wholly focus on the latter, and unlike He Kexin, his temperament is suited to the strictness of our seclusion practices.”

“There might not be a need,” Cangse Sanren agreed. “Did you speak with him anyway?”

“Once,” Lan Qiren said, voice short. After a few long moments, he added, a little painfully: “He said that our father had always seen seclusion as a means to reunite with his wife.”

Cangse Sanren hissed in a manner not unlike a very angry cat, or possibly an agitated snake, her eyes very nearly turning red from rage: naturally she knew about the whole awful background, the many years of age between Lan Qiren and his brother and the way his brother had always blamed Lan Qiren’s belated birth for the death of their mother, and by extension the shattering of their father’s heart when she left him behind, gone too early.

Lan Qiren’s brother had also said other things, mad things, things that Lan Qiren sought to forget as soon as he’d heard them but which he knew would likely haunt him in the dark of sleepless nights for the rest of his life. The worst of it was that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, who he’d idolized for so long: his brother who was the perfect gentleman when he wanted to be, capable of being kind and charming and generous, of excellent cultivation and who excelled in each talent, who was thoughtful and reserved and in his own way a very good sect leader – the Qingheng-jun that the rest of the world had seen, the one that Lao Nie had befriended, the one so much of his sect had pinned their hopes on.

Lan Qiren felt, as always, like an inferior substitute.

No one had made his brother fall in love, nor to take such terrible actions to protect his love from her own foolishness, and yet, if Lan Qiren could have found another way out that the sect would have accepted, he would have. It would have been better, in his view, to lash them both with the discipline whip until they lacked flesh if it meant that they would stay free. A human could live with pain, but he wasn’t so sure they could do without freedom or hope…

Aren’t you just the same as me, his brother had sneered at him through the door that would part them for the rest of their lives, lashing out like a rabid dog that sought to hurt others in order to ease its own hurt, or else would you snap yourself into a thousand pieces begging for a scrap of my approval, which you will never receive, or whoring your vaunted righteousness out for a smile from your ‘sworn brother’?

Lan Qiren hadn’t done that, and wouldn’t. Unbelievable as it seemed, his stubbornness had stood up against Wen Ruohan’s and won; it had been Wen Ruohan who had changed to match him, rather than the other way around. He had vowed that the Fire Palace remained useless, and Lan Qiren believed him, especially when even Lao Nie confirmed it to be true. They had taken to exchanging letters this past year, since Lan Qiren could not visit the Nightless City until he had stabilized the Cloud Recesses and – sworn brotherhood or no – a visit by Wen Ruohan to the Cloud Recesses would be taken as a formal exchange, sect leader visiting sect leader.

Perhaps now, after a year, when he had more fully settled into his role…

“Did the trash say anything else?”

For a moment Lan Qiren was unsure whether Cangse Sanren had somehow managed to follow his thoughts and was now referring to Wen Ruohan, against whom she still bore something of a grudge, but then he realized that she meant his brother.

“Anything of value, anyway,” she huffed, tossing her hair and baring her teeth in the way she used to do before she realized that human beings didn’t use threat displays in that manner.

“He picked a courtesy name for A-Huan,” Lan Qiren said. “As is his right, of course.”

That had been Lan Qiren’s true motive in going to see his brother, in fact. He had refused to go see his brother for months, even if etiquette suggested he should go to pay his respects; it was only after A-Huan was born that he had finally yielded. It was only upon seeing the round and innocent face of little A-Huan starting to smile that he felt compelled to bend his stubborn back and compromise himself to reach out – there was very little, he found, that he wouldn’t do for his little nephew, who had no one else in the world.

His brother had been largely disinterested, though, even when Lan Qiren had inappropriately brought the child over for him to see – it had been too early for propriety, before the first month ceremony which marked the moment when the child could be exhibited more broadly, but Lan Qiren’s heart had hurt at the idea of his brother not seeing his son before the rest of the world had had a chance. It was not a large distance between the seclusion house his brother had chosen for himself, the same one that their father had planned to use before his suicide, and the house set aside for He Kexin, which Lan Qiren had taken to privately calling the Gentian House on account of the flowers that crowded around it. 

Everyone had turned a blind eye to Lan Qiren’s little excursion – but his brother hadn’t cared.

It was He Kexin that he loved, that he was mad for, and in his selfishness he could not see extending that love to anyone beyond her. Lan Qiren was resolved to teach A-Huan to do better, to think of others first, to care for other people and think not only of them but of the people beyond them, just as he looked at He Kexin and thought to teach him to make his own judgments of people, to listen to their side of the story and analyze it carefully based on what he knew.

He could only hope that it would help.

When his brother had told him to leave, that he didn’t care to see the child, Lan Qiren had left, returning Lan Huan to his mother’s care, and returned himself to his brother’s door, boiling over with rage, to give him a piece of his mind. 

It had backfired on him, of course. He would have been better off not going back at all – the rules said Do not succumb to rage, and they were right. All he had managed to obtain was a sore throat from all the yelling and a fresh set of nightmares.

And a name.

At least he had gotten Lan Huan a name bestowed upon him by his father, as he deserved.

“He selected ‘Xichen’,” Lan Qiren said, drawing out the characters and passing it over for Cangse Sanren to see. “It’s a good name.”

“Lan Xichen,” Cangse Sanren said, sounding it out and thinking over the meaning of the characters. “Yes, that’s a good name. Full of ambition and well-wishes…I bet the rotten trash-heap sees A-Huan as another incarnation of himself.”

Lan Qiren didn’t exactly disagree. Still, it would be rude to say so; he coughed and shook his head. “What about you?” he asked instead. “Are you and Wei Changze planning on giving A-Huan a playmate?”

And himself a student, in a dozen years or so. He’d started accepting students from rogue cultivators and other sects, just the way he’d planned; it was still in the early stages. He was still writing to small sects with fewer resources and offering to take their problem children because he knew that that was all they’d be willing to send to him, an outsider – there had always been lectures offered by the Great Sects, but they were one-off things, often accompaniments to discussion conferences or else excuses for the sects’ adults to gather and socialize while the children learned a few days’ worth of material. Taking another sect’s child for a full season, the way he planned to, was a much bigger ask. Much less to teach them his Lan sect rules, which weren’t even seen as applicable by the rest of the world…

Still, Lan Qiren had hope that eventually he would be able to demonstrate his merit; if his teaching worked with this first set of children, he hoped that it would work in the future for more of them. He hoped he’d be able to help them learn something, but even if he didn’t, they would at least have the experience of traveling – of visiting another place all on their own – so that if something happened in their lives to rob them of their freedom, they would at least have that much to remember. And in return, he would have them, his students, the feathers to brighten and color his dull nest and let him experience a little of what the world was still available to him.

Cangse Sanren laughed. “Not for a few years yet,” she said, eyes dancing. “You’re still safe! We want to have some time for ourselves, first – we’re going to travel around as rogue cultivators. I’ll write to you from every city, and send you things!”

Lan Qiren smiled.

“But only,” she said primly, “only if you promise me you’re not actually going to go through with growing that awful beard of yours again –”

“I’m a teacher now. I’m entitled!”

“You’re too young! You have to wait until you’re at least thirty for a beard.”

“By what rule?”

“My rule! Also my aesthetics; you’re so pretty –”

“I explained to you my reasoning already,” Lan Qiren complained. “What do you have against it, other than an aesthetic preference which is completely irrelevant to me?”

“I’m a rogue cultivator from Baoshan Sanren’s immortal mountain,” she proclaimed. “I seek to improve the world wherever it may be, fight evil and promote good, and keeping you clean-shaven is such a clear and vast improvement to the beauty of the world that it must be fiercely fought for –”

“Cangse Sanren!”

She burst out laughing. “How about this?” she giggled. “You can grow it after you’re thirty, or else whenever I’m not here, so that you can have it when you’re teaching your classes.”

“Thank you for your generous permission,” he drawled.

“No, no, it’ll be good!” she beamed at him. “That means that when I’m gone for good, you’ll have something to remember me by.”

Lan Qiren’s smile disappeared. “Cangse Sanren –”

“I told you long ago that I was doomed,” she reminded him. “Anyway, I’ve kept a low profile, haven’t I? I’m not dead yet, and you never know what might happen. And anyway, like I always said, a short life in exchange for a good life is a bargain I’m willing to strike…anyway, enough about me. Tell me about your children! The students, I mean; are they really all terrible bear children, without a single good trait between them?”

“They’re fine,” Lan Qiren said, distracted by what was quickly proving to be a new favorite subject. “I don’t know what everyone complains about with them. So what if they’re mischievous at first? In the end they all learn, you just have to give them attention and figure out what it is that they like, what will work to give them a basis to use in the future…”

“Surely some of them have to be disasters.”

“Don’t worry, I’m certain that your future child will be a fiend in human flesh born for the sole purpose of wreaking havoc on the serenity of my classroom,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “To be matched only by the inevitable offspring of Lan Yueheng and Zhang Xin, should they ever choose to put aside their furnaces and chemicals long enough to have them.”

Cangse Sanren giggled. “Just you wait,” she warned. “They’ll have a whole host of children, just like the common folk do; none of this two-and-done that you noble scions of the Lan sect prefer. They’ll have an entire horde for the next generation, and just when you think that you’re finally done with them, they’ll have an ‘accident’ twenty years too late, a child of their old age, and you’ll have to teach them alongside children young enough to be A-Huan’s heirs…”

“Why must you curse me?” Lan Qiren complained. “What have I ever done to you?”

It had been a good visit.

Yes, Lan Qiren thought, he was starting to adjust, little by little. The life he had now was not what he wanted, not what he’d dreamed of, but he could live with it – he had to, of course, but he thought that he also could. He would play for his nephew instead of a nameless crowd in a distant city, he would teach students a generation too early, he would only leave the Cloud Recesses on short excursions – night-hunting, or discussion conferences, or visits to his friends, to play with little A-Jue over in the Unclean Realm or the slightly older A-Xu in the Nightless City, whose would-be sibling had not made it despite Wen Ruohan’s concubine’s best effort. Wen Ruohan had written in his letter that he had promised her another as compensation, but only in a few years, once her body had fully recovered and A-Xu was old enough that another child wouldn’t be seen as a threat, which seemed fair to Lan Qiren.

He would live.

He might even enjoy it.

He only wondered a little, about Wen Ruohan – his sworn brother had, he thought, expressed some mangled version of feelings towards him, feelings that well exceeded the ordinary course for sworn brothers and which he thought he had made clear were not unwelcome, but amidst the hubbub that had later ensued Wen Ruohan had not spoken of it again. Lan Qiren could understand that he had been distracted, first by Lao Nie’s marriage – now ended, according to Lao Nie, who seemed as unperturbed by his announcement that his wife had disappeared permanently and would likely never be returning as he had by anything else about this mysterious woman that Lan Qiren had never had the chance to meet and now never would – and then by Lan Qiren’s brother’s situation. 

And yet, he would have thought that there would be something…

Wen Ruohan has lived for generations, he reminded himself. He is an ancient monster of the old sort, unmatched by any other living being, excepting only perhaps those that long ago retreated into seclusion or the mountains. Waiting a year or even a few is for him little more than a brief pause. He may yet reach out again – and, of course, you could do the reaching out yourself, if you weren’t such a coward.

It wasn’t cowardice that stopped him, of course, no matter what names he called himself. It was uncertainty, and also, in his own way, a form of care – it was the Lan sect’s curse to love too strongly, to prioritize their hearts above all common sense. Lan Qiren did not want to burden Wen Ruohan with an offer that would not satisfy him, to hang around his neck an obligation of unwanted feelings the way his brother had done to He Kexin.

Lan Qiren could not see a way in which he could offer Wen Ruohan his heart and not his body, yet he knew himself well enough to know that he would be unhappy if he tried to offer both. He could exert himself if he really had to, force himself to go through the motions that seemed so dull and unpleasant, all squelching amidst bodily fluids and inelegant grunting and none of the attraction that other people had to compensate for it. But he couldn’t do so sincerely, and he wouldn’t be able to do it for very long without developing resentment at being forced to endure such a task routinely – and it did seem that regular people wanted it all the time.

Such a feeling, if ignored, would breed disorder between them, poisoning their hearts…no, Lan Qiren could not make the first move, to take the step that would breach the paper between them, change them from their current status as brothers and nothing more. 

He had made his position clear.

The only question was – what would Wen Ruohan do about it?