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herrscherofinsanity · 11 months ago

Text

Web of Hearts

Spider!Jimin being as subtle as a neon sign.

Fluff

Yu Jimin (Karina x fem!reader)

Word count: 5.6k

____________________

In the bustling city of Seoul, where towering skyscrapers touched the sky and the pulse of urban life echoed through every street, a new kind of hero emerged. Clad in a sleek red and black suit, Spiderwoman swung from building to building, keeping a watchful eye on the city she vowed to protect.

Yu Jimin, a seemingly ordinary woman by day, carried the weight of a secret identity. By night, she embraced her extraordinary abilities and became the guardian of Seoul. As Spiderwoman, she effortlessly swung through the cityscape, her agility and strength unmatched.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Jimin perched atop a high-rise building, scanning the city for any signs of trouble. Her enhanced senses picked up on a distant commotion, and with a graceful leap, she swung into action.

Down on the streets, chaos ensued as a group of villains wreaked havoc, terrorizing innocent civilians. Without hesitation, Spiderwoman descended upon the scene, her presence casting a shadow over the criminals.

"Looks like the party's over, gentlemen," she quipped, her voice laced with a confident edge.

The villains, startled by the sudden appearance of the city's masked guardian, prepared to face off against the formidable Spiderwoman. The confrontation unfolded in a series of acrobatic moves and swift strikes, showcasing Jimin's mastery of her newfound abilities.

As the last villain was apprehended, Spiderwoman turned to the gathered crowd, her mask concealing the determined glint in her eyes. "Fear not, citizens of Seoul. Spiderwoman is here to ensure your safety."

Word of the mysterious heroine spread across the city, capturing the imagination of its inhabitants. While Jimin navigated her daily life as an unassuming individual, she couldn't deny the thrill that came with her nightly escapades as Spiderwoman.

In a city where shadows concealed both villains and heroes, Jimin grappled with the responsibility that came with her extraordinary abilities. The balance between protecting the city and preserving her personal life became a delicate dance, and as the night sky witnessed her silent struggles, Seoul remained oblivious to the identity of its mysterious guardian, Spiderwoman.

____________________

It was move-in day at the college dorms, and the hallways buzzed with excitement and nervous energy. yn, lugging a heavy suitcase behind her, scanned the room numbers until she found hers: Room 302. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was small but cozy, furnished with two twin beds, desks cluttered with textbooks, and a large window overlooking the campus grounds. yn's eyes landed on her new roommate, who was unpacking a box of books with an infectious smile on her face.

Jimin looked up and flashed a warm grin at yn. "Hey there! You must be my new roommate. I'm Yu Jimin. It's nice to meet you!"

yn returned the smile, instantly feeling at ease in Jimin's presence. "Hi, Jimin. I'm yn. Nice to meet you too."

And with that simple introduction, the bond between Jimin and yn began to form, setting the stage for the adventures that lay ahead. What yn didn’t know was that her quirky and endearing roommate held a secret that would change both of their lives forever.

____________________

After their initial meeting, Jimin and yn quickly settled into their roles as roommates. Jimin's bubbly personality and penchant for nerdy jokes brought a lightness to their shared space, while yn's calm and grounded demeanor provided a sense of stability.

As days turned into weeks, yn couldn't help but notice a peculiar pattern. Jimin seemed to have an uncanny knack for getting injured. Whether it was tripping over her own feet or accidentally bumping into furniture, Jimin always seemed to have a new bruise or scrape to show for it.

At first, yn brushed it off as Jimin just being incredibly clumsy. She would tease Jimin gently, offering band-aids and ice packs whenever Jimin came back from another misadventure.

But as time went on, yn couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to Jimin's frequent injuries. She noticed the way Jimin would tense up whenever yn asked about how she got hurt, quickly deflecting the conversation with a laugh or a joke.

yn's curiosity grew, and she began to pay closer attention to Jimin's behavior. She noticed how Jimin would sometimes slip out of their dorm room in the middle of the night, only to return hours later looking exhausted and worn out.

Despite her suspicions, yn didn't confront Jimin about her weird midnight escapades. Instead, she quietly observed, but the more she observed Jimin, the more confused she felt.

What on earth could her dorky roommate be up to?

____________________

Amidst the bustling city streets, chaos reigned as a gang of masked criminals wreaked havoc, their nefarious intentions casting a shadow of fear over the unsuspecting civilians. Amidst the chaos, a lone figure swung gracefully through the air, her lithe form a blur of crimson and black against the night sky.

Spiderwoman, as she was known to the citizens of the city, moved with fluid precision, her keen senses alert to the danger that lurked around every corner. With effortless grace, she leaped from building to building, her web-slinging abilities propelling her forward with astonishing speed.

As she closed in on the scene of the crime, Spiderwoman's senses tingled with anticipation, her heart pounding with adrenaline-fueled excitement. With a deft flick of her wrist, she shot a web line towards a nearby lamppost, swinging around it with practiced ease before landing gracefully on the ground below.

With a swift and decisive movement, Spiderwoman sprang into action, her movements a blur of acrobatic prowess as she dispatched her foes with precision and finesse. Her spider-like agility and lightning-fast reflexes left the criminals reeling, their futile attempts to strike back thwarted at every turn.

As the last of the criminals lay defeated at her feet, Spiderwoman allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction before turning her attention back to her true objective. With a confident smirk, she shot a web line towards the nearest rooftop, launching herself into the air with a graceful leap.

Minutes later, Spiderwoman landed silently on the rooftop of the college dormitory she shared with yn, her heart racing with exhilaration from the night's events. With practiced stealth, she slipped through the window and into the darkness of her room, her secret identity safe for another day.

____________________

One evening, as yn was studying in the shared dorm room, she heard a loud crash coming from the living area. Startled, she rushed out to find Jimin sprawled on the floor, clutching her ankle in pain.

"Jimin, are you okay?"

Jimin winced as she attempted to sit up, her face contorted in pain. "I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts like crazy."

yn hurried to Jimin's side, helping her to sit up and inspecting the injury. Sure enough, Jimin's ankle was swollen and bruised, a clear sign of a sprain.

yn tried to be as gentle as possible with her injured roommate, "let's get some ice on that ankle. I'll grab a cold pack from the freezer."

As yn tended to Jimin's injury, she couldn't help but notice how frequently her roommate seemed to get hurt. It was as if Jimin was a magnet for accidents, always finding herself in precarious situations that resulted in bumps, bruises, and sprains.

Despite her curiosity, yn didn't press Jimin for details about how she got hurt. Instead, she focused on providing comfort and support, knowing that her roommate needed her in moments like these.

As Jimin winced in pain, yn couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Jimin's injuries than met the eye. But for now, she pushed aside her suspicions and focused on helping her friend heal.

____________________

One afternoon, as yn returned to their dorm room after class, she absentmindedly pushed open the door without bothering to knock. To her surprise, she found Jimin standing shirtless in the middle of the room, a towel draped over her shoulders.

yn's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of Jimin's bare torso, but her attention was quickly drawn to the large cut spanning across Jimin's back.

"Jimin, what the hell happened!? You're bleeding!" the younger girl shrieked.

Jimin jumped in surprise, hastily grabbing the towel to cover herself as she turned to face yn.

Jimin stammered, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. "Oh, uh, it's nothing. Just a little mishap while I was... uh, working out." Nailed it.

yn could see the discomfort in Jimin's expression as she hesitated to explain the true cause of her injury. Without another word, yn grabbed the first aid kit from their shared bathroom and motioned for Jimin to sit down on the bed.

"Let me take care of that for you. It looks pretty deep." Jimin felt herself freezing up at the soft look yn sent her way, she obediently walked towards her roommate.

As yn carefully cleaned and bandaged Jimin's wound, she couldn't help but notice the nervous energy radiating from her roommate. It was clear to yn that Jimin was hiding something, but she didn't press for answers, respecting Jimin's privacy.

As they sat in silence, the air thick with unspoken words, yn couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Jimin than met the eye. For now, she focused on helping her friend heal, unaware of the deeper feelings brewing beneath the surface.

As she finished wrapping up Jimin’s wound, yn couldn’t help but break the silence that enveloped them.

“You know…” yn began “you don’t have to tell me what actually happened, but I hate it when you get hurt. Please try to be more careful from now on, I can’t bare to see you in pain”. With those words yn got up to put away the first aid kit.

Jimin didn’t say anything, but she couldn’t deny that yn’s words had affected her in a way she couldn’t really describe. She couldn’t keep ignoring the butterflies she felt every time she locked eyes with yn.

____________________

Despite her best efforts to be subtle, Jimin's attempts at dropping hints about her developing feelings for yn were about as inconspicuous as a flashing neon sign. Whether it was lingering glances, awkward attempts at flirting, or fumbling over her words whenever yn was around, Jimin's attempts to express her affection were anything but discreet.

yn, however, wasn't oblivious to Jimin's antics. In fact, she found them rather endearing. She couldn't help but smile to herself whenever Jimin stumbled over her words or blushed furiously whenever their eyes met. yn appreciated Jimin's efforts, even if they weren't exactly subtle.

Despite her awareness of Jimin's feelings, yn decided to play along, enjoying the playful banter and the budding friendship between them. She didn't comment on Jimin's less-than-subtle approach, opting instead to let her roommate express herself in her own quirky way.

As they navigated the delicate dance of friendship and budding romance, yn couldn't help but feel a warmth blossom in her chest whenever she thought of Jimin. Maybe, just maybe, there was something more than friendship brewing between them, and yn was eager to see where their journey would take them.

____________________

("What do you think of superheroes?"

"Um, they're pretty cool, I guess. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Just curious."

"Okay... Anyway, what's on your mind?"

"Oh, nothing important. Just, you know, hanging out with my favorite person."

"Smooth, Jimin."

"I try my best."

"Uh huh. Well, keep practicing."

"Ouch, right in the ego."

"Hey, you're the one who asked for honesty."

"True. Thanks for keeping me grounded, yn."

"Anytime, Jimin. Anytime.")

____________________

On a random afternoon as the two girls lounged on the couch, idly flipping through channels, they stumbled upon a news report about Spiderwoman. Jimin's heart skipped a beat as she watched, her secret identity suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

"Wow, Spiderwoman is so cool," yn commented, her eyes fixed on the screen. "She's pretty hot too..." she muttered more-so to herself, Jimin still heard her comment though.

Jimin tried to suppress the surge of excitement that bubbled up inside her at yn's words. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, her heart racing as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Yeah, she's... uh, pretty cool," Jimin managed to mumble, her voice betraying her nerves.

As the report continued, Jimin couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen, her mind racing with a million thoughts. She stole a glance at yn out of the corner of her eye, her heart swelling with affection for the oblivious girl sitting beside her.

In that moment, Jimin realized just how much she cared about yn, and how badly she wished she could share her true identity with her. But the fear of rejection still held her back, casting a shadow over her burgeoning feelings.

As the news segment came to an end and the TV screen flickered to black, Jimin was left grappling with the turmoil of her emotions, uncertain of what the future held for her and yn.

____________________

("Are you made of copper and tellurium?"

"Uh, no? Why?"

"Because you're Cu-Te!"

"Oh, Jimin, that's... something."

"Yeah, I thought it was kind of nerdy but cute. Like me."

"Definitely cute. And modest too."

"Thanks. I'll take that as a win.")

____________________

“Hey Jimin? Do you think you can help me out with this subject?”

The question was innocent enough, nothing was supposed to happen between Jimin and yn, right?

Jimin and yn sat together in their cozy dorm room, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm shadows across the room. They had been studying for hours, their textbooks forgotten as their conversation drifted to more personal topics.

As the evening wore on, their proximity seemed to amplify the crackling tension between them. Jimin's heart raced as she stole glances at yn, her features illuminated by the gentle light. yn's laughter rang out, filling the room with its melodic cadence, and Jimin found herself captivated by the way yn's eyes sparkled with amusement.

With each passing moment, the air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken desire. Jimin's gaze lingered on yn's lips, the urge to lean in almost overwhelming. She could feel the heat of yn's breath against her skin, a tangible reminder of their closeness.

yn's fingers brushed against Jimin's hand, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. Their eyes met, a silent exchange of longing and yearning passing between them. In that fleeting moment, it felt as if the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them suspended in time.

As Jimin and yn found themselves drawn closer together, the tension between them palpable, it seemed as if the world around them faded into the background. Their gazes locked, inches apart, their lips mere moments away from touching in a long-awaited kiss.

But just as they leaned in, on the precipice of that anticipated connection, Jimin's heightened senses kicked in. A familiar tingle crept up her spine, a warning sign that duty called. A new crime awaited Spiderwoman's intervention, pulling her away from the brink of intimacy with yn.

With a heavy heart, Jimin reluctantly pulled back, the disappointment evident in both their eyes. Yn's expression mirrored Jimin's own sense of longing, the momentary promise of closeness snatched away by the demands of Jimin's secret life as Spiderwoman.

Their interrupted moment hung in the air, charged with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. Though duty called Jimin away, the memory of their almost-kiss lingered, a tantalizing glimpse of what could have been, leaving both girls yearning for the day they could pick up where they left off.

Somehow the almost kiss made Jimin even more awkward than she already was. Jimin didn’t know how to behave around yn. Should she keep her distance? Should she seize the day and kiss the girl? One thing was for sure, she wanted her roommate badly.

Jimin's heart skipped a beat as yn emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a towel. She tried to focus on her textbook, but her eyes kept drifting back to her roommate's figure. yn seemed oblivious to Jimin's internal struggle as she nonchalantly rummaged through her wardrobe for something to wear.

Jimin cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "Uh, yn, do you need help finding something?"

yn turned to her, a playful grin on her lips. "No, I'm good, thanks. Just trying to decide what to wear for tonight." yn knew perfectly what kind of effect she had on Jimin and she planned to use it to her advantage.

Jimin nodded, unable to tear her gaze away. "Right, yeah, you look... um, nice."

yn giggled, seemingly unfazed by Jimin's flustered state. " In nothing but a towel? Wow. Thanks, Jimin. You're sweet."

As yn finally settled on an outfit and disappeared into her room, Jimin let out a shaky breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. Being roommates with yn was both a blessing and a curse, especially when moments like this left her feeling more than a little flustered.

____________________

("Are you a magician, yn?"

"No, why?"

"Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears."

"Smooth, Jimin."

"I try my best. So, do I get a round of applause for that one?"

"You definitely get points for creativity."

"Well, I'm glad you appreciate my efforts."

"I appreciate the entertainment, that's for sure."

"I'll take what I can get. Maybe next time I'll pull a rabbit out of a hat or something."

"Looking forward to it.")

____________________

As the night enveloped the city in its dark embrace, yn found herself walking alone, lost in her own thoughts. Unbeknownst to her, danger lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike. Suddenly, a group of masked assailants emerged from the darkness, their intentions menacing and clear.

yn's heart pounded in her chest as fear gripped her, her instincts urging her to flee, but before she could react, a figure swooped down from above, a blur of red and black, swiftly dispatching yn's would-be attackers with a flurry of punches and kicks.

In the chaos of the moment, yn barely registered what was happening, her mind consumed by a whirlwind of confusion and fear. But as the dust settled and her assailants lay defeated, she found herself face to face with her savior, the enigmatic figure who had appeared out of nowhere to rescue her.

Spiderwoman stood before her, her mask concealing her identity but her presence radiating strength and reassurance. yn's eyes widened in astonishment, a mix of awe and gratitude washing over her as she realized the magnitude of what had just occurred.

"Spiderwoman...” yn began, her voice barely above a whisper “You saved me."

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Spiderwoman replied in an incredibly gentle tone. yn couldn’t shake off the fact that her gentleness felt familiar. Maybe it was a superhero thing.

yn shook her head, still reeling from the adrenaline rush of the encounter. Spiderwoman's concern was palpable, her eyes searching yn's face for any signs of injury or distress.

"I-I'm okay, thanks to you. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up." The girl was clearly shaken, but she still tried to voice how grateful she was.

"Just doing my job. Stay safe out here, alright? And remember, if you ever need help, I'll be watching over you."

With that, Spiderwoman vanished into the night, leaving yn standing alone in the aftermath of the encounter. Though shaken by the ordeal, a newfound sense of reassurance settled over her, knowing that she had a guardian angel watching over her, even in the darkest of times.

As yn stepped back into the familiar surroundings of their dorm room, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the encounter, she found Jimin sitting on her bed, a book in hand. Jimin looked up as yn entered, her eyes immediately drawn to the dreamy expression on her roommate's face.

"Hey, everything okay?" Perfect execution, Jimin!

yn, still caught in a daydream, replied to the best of her ability, "Oh, Jimin, you won't believe what just happened. I met Spiderwoman!"

Jimin's eyes widened in excitement, a grin spreading across her face at yn's words. She set her book aside, leaning forward eagerly as yn recounted the thrilling encounter with the mysterious superhero.

"No way! What was it like? Did she say anything to you?" You really are the perfect actress, Yu Jimin!

yn launched into a vivid retelling of the encounter, her words animated with the lingering rush of adrenaline and awe. She described Spiderwoman's swift intervention, her unwavering bravery in the face of danger, and the sense of reassurance she had instilled in yn with her presence.

"It was incredible, Jimin. I've never felt so safe and protected in my life." yn let out a dreamy sigh.

Jimin listened intently, her eyes shining with excitement as she hung on yn's every word. She couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at yn's reaction to meeting her alter ego, knowing that she had played a part in protecting and wooing her roommate.

"That's amazing, yn. I'm so glad you're okay. And hey, if you ever want to meet her again, just let me know. I might be able to arrange something." Smooth, Jimin! She’s finally yours!

yn smiled at Jimin's offer, grateful for her roommate's unwavering support and excitement. In that moment, as they shared the thrill of yn's encounter with Spiderwoman, their bond grew stronger than ever, united by a shared sense of wonder and admiration for the extraordinary hero in their midst.

However, yn didn’t know that this was only the first of many encounters she would share with Spiderwoman.

____________________

As yn made her way home through the quiet streets, the late hour casting elongated shadows across the pavement, she felt a sense of calm settle over her. She was lost in her thoughts, unaware of the vigilant figure watching over her from the rooftops above.

Suddenly, a familiar figure descended gracefully from the darkness, landing before yn with a quiet rustle of fabric. yn looked up in surprise, her eyes widening as she recognized the unmistakable silhouette of Spiderwoman.

"Spiderwoman! What a pleasant surprise." yn let out, she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been dreaming about this very moment.

"Hey there, yn. Just out for a stroll?" Spiderwoman said as casually as she could.

Wait… yn?

yn froze, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of her own name slipping past Spiderwoman's lips. She turned to her companion, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

yn nodded, feeling bewildered, returning Spiderwoman's smile as she fell into step beside her mysterious companion. They walked together in companionable silence for a while, the only sound the soft shuffle of their footsteps against the pavement. However, yn couldn’t brush off her surprise.

Why does she know my name?

Eventually, yn couldn't resist the urge to strike up a conversation, her curiosity piqued by the enigmatic figure at her side.

"So, Spiderwoman” yn said in an overly casual tone, “anything exciting happen tonight?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Just keeping an eye on the city." Spiderwoman said, trying her best to sound cool.

yn nodded, content to enjoy the peaceful camaraderie of their impromptu encounter. Still, she made sure to keep a close eye on her companion. Maybe she’ll let her guard down.

"So, yn..." Spiderwoman made a mistake. Again.

I got you now.

“Can I ask you a question, Spidey?”

Jimin is embarrassed by how fast her heart started beating after hearing yn refer to her by a nickname. “Sure, what’s up?”

“How did you know my name was yn? I never told you”.

Spiderwoman's mask hid the flicker of panic that flashed across her features at yn's question. She scrambled for a plausible explanation, her mind racing to come up with a convincing response.

"Um, well, you know, I, uh... I just happened to overhear it somewhere. Must have slipped out accidentally."

yn studied Spiderwoman's masked visage intently, a lingering sense of suspicion nagging at the back of her mind. However, she chose to let the matter drop for now, unwilling to push her mysterious companion any further. She is sure she’ll get her chance sooner rather than later.

"Ah, got it. Well, thanks for the company, Spiderwoman. It's always nice to have someone to walk with." She smiled in a way that gave Jimin a heart attack for a million different reasons.

"Anytime, yn. Take care on your way home." Nailed it.

With a final wave, Spiderwoman melted back into the shadows, leaving yn to ponder the intriguing encounter as she continued on her journey homeward. Despite the unanswered questions lingering in her mind, she couldn't deny the sense of comfort and reassurance that Spiderwoman's presence had brought her on this dark and lonely night.

yn stepped through the door of the dormitory, her mind still reeling from her encounter with Spiderwoman. As she entered the familiar surroundings of their shared living space, she was greeted by the sight of Jimin sitting on the couch, a playful glint in her eye.

"Hey there, yn! How was your walk?" Jimin said cheerfully.

yn's lips quirked into a knowing smile as she regarded her roommate, her suspicions about Spiderwoman's true identity suddenly crystallizing into certainty. She decided to play along for now, relishing the opportunity to keep Jimin's secret while she plotted her next move.

"Oh, you know, nothing out of the ordinary. Although I did run into someone interesting on the way back." A slight smirk playing at her lips.

Jimin's eyes widened slightly at yn's cryptic remark, a hint of apprehension flickering across her features before she quickly masked it with an easy grin.

"Oh yeah? Who'd you meet?"

yn leaned against the doorframe, her expression enigmatic as she met Jimin's gaze head-on. Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Spidey.

"Let's just say she's someone who knows how to keep the city safe, even late at night."

Jimin's breath caught in her throat, a surge of panic coursing through her veins at yn's words. She struggled to maintain her composure, her mind racing to concoct a plausible explanation for her alter ego's unexpected appearance in their conversation.

"Ha, lucky you, running into interesting people all the time!” Jimin let out an awkward laugh. “You'll have to introduce me sometime."

yn's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she watched Jimin squirm under the weight of her unspoken revelation. She made a mental note to bide her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to confront Jimin head on.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure you'll meet her soon enough." With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air, yn sauntered off to her room, leaving Jimin to grapple with the unsettling realization that her carefully guarded secret might not be safe for much longer.

Maybe you’re not the perfect actress, Yu Jimin.

____________________

Okay, time to do something stupid!

yn stood defiantly in the dimly lit alley, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the inevitable. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with her roommate-turned-superhero. But she couldn't resist the thrill of the chase, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline that coursed through her veins as she knowingly put herself in harm's way.

As she glanced nervously around the shadowy confines of the alley, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Seconds later, Spiderwoman materialized out of the darkness, her lithe figure cutting a striking silhouette against the night sky.

"yn, what are you doing here? It's not safe!" Spiderwoman exclaimed, her voice dripping with concern.

yn met Spiderwoman's concerned gaze with a defiant glint in her eye, her resolve unyielding as she faced the repercussions of her reckless actions head-on.

"I knew you'd come. I needed to prove a point."

Spiderwoman's brow furrowed in frustration, her voice tinged with exasperation as she chided yn for her foolhardy behavior.

"You can't go around doing stuff like this, yn! You're putting yourself in unnecessary danger. What if something had happened to you?" Spiderwoman said, her frustration skyrocketing. “What if I wasn’t her to protect you, huh? You’re acting like a toddler”.

yn bristled at Spiderwoman's stern tone, her own temper flaring as she pushed back against the other girl's unwavering concern.

"Yu Jimin, enough! Stop treating me like a child. I know exactly what I’m doing."

What?

The words hung heavy in the air between them, a palpable tension crackling with the weight of unspoken truths. In that fleeting moment, Spiderwoman's mask of stoicism slipped, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath the facade.

Spiderwoman's eyes widened in shock at the sound of her real name on yn's lips, her heart skipping a beat as she grappled with the sudden shift in dynamics between them. In that brief, poignant moment, the boundaries that had once defined their relationship blurred, leaving behind a lingering sense of uncertainty and unspoken desires.

Jimin's heart pounded erratically in her chest as she watched yn's expression soften, her eyes brimming with unspoken affection. She couldn't believe she had let slip her secret identity, couldn't fathom the repercussions of her reckless actions. But as yn's gaze met hers with unwavering warmth, Jimin felt a flicker of hope ignite within her, a glimmer of possibility in the midst of uncertainty.

"How... How did you find out?" Jimin’s voice barely above a whisper.

yn's smile was gentle, her voice infused with a quiet reassurance as she met Jimin's gaze with unwavering sincerity. "I noticed the little things, the way you always seem to disappear whenever trouble arises, the injuries that miraculously heal overnight. And then there was that slip-up with my name."

Jimin's shoulders sagged with relief at yn's honest confession, her heart swelling with gratitude for the other girl's unwavering acceptance.

"I'm sorry, yn. I never meant to keep this from you. I just... I didn't know how to tell you." Jimin felt like she could cry, she was feeling too much at the moment. Oh brother, I need to lie down.

yn reached out to gently cup Jimin's cheek, her touch tender and reassuring as she offered the other girl a small, understanding smile.

"It's okay, Jimin. I understand. But from now on, let's promise to be honest with each other, no matter what." yn’s smile gave Jimin hope. For the first time, Jimin felt like everything was going to be okay.

Jimin nodded fervently, her heart overflowing with gratitude for yn's unwavering support. As the weight of secrecy lifted from her shoulders, Jimin felt a renewed sense of longing blossom within her, a newfound courage to embrace the vulnerabilities that lay bare between them.

"Thank you, yn. How can I make it up to you?"

yn's smile widened into a mischievous grin as she reached out to delicately trace the contours of Jimin's mask, her touch sending shivers down the other girl's spine.

"I think I have an idea." yn lowered her voice, a smirk on her lips.

With a deft motion, yn carefully pulled away Jimin's mask, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath the facade. In that moment of unspoken intimacy, Jimin felt the walls that had once separated them crumble away, leaving behind an undeniable connection that transcended the boundaries of secrecy and fear.

As their lips finally met in a long-awaited kiss, the world around them faded into obscurity, leaving only the raw, unfiltered emotion that pulsed between them. In that fleeting moment of shared vulnerability, Jimin and yn found solace in each other's arms, daring to believe that love might just conquer all.

____________________

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Jimin and yn had decided to spend the day together at their shared dorm room. As they lounged on the couch, Jimin scrolled through her phone while yn leaned against her, idly playing with Jimin's hair.

Suddenly, a breaking news alert flashed across the screen, announcing Spiderwoman's latest heroic feat. yn glanced up, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, as she nudged Jimin playfully. "Looks like your alter ego is making headlines again."

Jimin chuckled, leaning into yn's touch as she replied, "Yeah, she's always stealing the spotlight."

yn grinned, her fingers tracing lazy circles on Jimin's scalp as she teased, "I bet she's just trying to impress her girlfriend."

Jimin's cheeks flushed pink at the playful jab, but she couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. Wrapping an arm around yn, she pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Well, she's lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend." Jimin whispered against her girlfriend’s temple. Tease me all you want, at the end of the day you still agreed to be mine.

yn grinned, leaning into Jimin's embrace as she retorted, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Spidey."

The two of them dissolved into laughter, the playful banter a comforting reminder of the easy chemistry they shared. As they snuggled together on the couch, Jimin and yn savored the simple joy of being together, grateful for the love and laughter that filled their lives.

With Jimin's arm wrapped around her and the warmth of their shared affection enveloping them, yn couldn't help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. And as they basked in each other's company, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they had each other, they could weather any storm.

____________________

("Are you a time traveler, yn?"

"No, why?"

"Because every time I look at you, I feel like I'm going back in time. To the moment I fell in love with you."

"Jimin..."

"Gotcha."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"But you love me anyway, right?"

"Always.")

____________________

A/N: Here we go, spider Jimin! I had this sitting on my drafts for the longest time, but here it is. Thank you so much for reading!

I'm working on some requests and I might add a Valentine's Day special as well. It all depends on my schedule, I'm getting a new one tomorrow so we shall see how it goes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, if you want to request something, feel free to let me know.

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loveandmurders · 1 year ago

Text

You belong to Ambrose II (poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)

Hello everyone! First, I really want to thank you all for the love you gave to the first part of this story (that you can find here). 😍🥰

It made me so happy but also very anxious about this next part haha! I planned 3 parts in total (a fourth maybe, if you ask for it), and I do hope you'll enjoy this series as much as you did at first <3 <3

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of stalking, kidnapping and murders, morally grey reader, reader getting angry, sad and feeling guilty, some strong words, dark!brothers, very brief mentions of sexual desire and activities

Lester was good at following people without them to notice him, even if there was no one else on the road. He knew the roads by heart and his hearing was sharp, so he could guess where a car was without being right behind it. He actually parked near the forest and simply closed his eyes to guess which roads you were taking. He guessed you were at the campsite; a lot of tourists stayed there too. You were making things very easy for him and he thanked his luck. When everything seemed quiet again, he walked through the woods, just to make sure he was right and indeed, he found you sat with your people. You were five in total, but you all looked too gentle and soft to really be a problem for him and his brothers. He watched you, hidden behind a tree. His heart was clenching at the sight of you laughing. Even if it wasn’t with him, just hearing this beautiful sound once again was making him thrilled. He couldn’t wait for his hands to roam your body like they used to either.

He let you eat with your friends and he let you fall asleep under the bright sky full of stars. He saw you chatting a little while with one of the boys of the group and he had to admit he really didn’t like it. He didn’t know if he was your boyfriend or not, but he was definitively jealous. And he would need to talk about it to the twins so they could get rid of the man. Actually, he wanted everyone dead as quickly as possible, because you didn't belong to any of them.

He texted the location to his brothers.

Soon enough, the three men were towering over your group, their whole being finally calming down: you were back in their life and they weren’t going to let you go anymore. They couldn’t believe you were finally there and they didn’t attack your group right away. They wanted to enjoy the calmness written all over your face first. They always thought you were looking like an angel when you were sleeping. Vincent tried to memorise the scene so he could draw your sleeping form under the moon. Bo almost smiled, so relieved you hadn’t disappeared forever. Lester was the only one growing impatient. The twins knew things weren’t going to be too pretty after they kidnapped your group and they didn’t want that. They wanted to go straight to the moment where you would allow them to show you tenderness and to pleasure you. It was going to be so much work, so they wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment.

If only you had never left them; things would have been so much better.

If only you hadn’t decided to camp so close to Ambrose, you would have been safe.

Deep down, you knew you should have asked your friends to drive away as far away as possible, but you didn’t.

Because you didn’t want your friends to worry about anything and to ruin the nice mood.

Because you knew it was useless; the Sinclairs were hunters and they never let go of their prey until they had it.

Because you wanted the brothers to force you back into their lives, even though you would rather die than admit it.

You knew it was over when you woke up, in the middle of the night, feeling watched. You also heard quiet footsteps all over your group. You could have grabbed the little knife you had in your bag, or you could have screamed to wake up everyone, but you didn’t. You simply waited. You didn’t want the Sinclairs to have to hurt your friends or yourself. Maybe especially yourself.

You still jumped when you felt a hand over your mouth and you looked up. You recognised Bo’s touch on you and tried your best to not start crying out of fear. The man shushed you into your ear, before he took into your delicious scent.

“Shh, sweetheart, won’t hurt ya, 'kay? No need to make things difficult” he whispered to you and you nodded which made him smile “Atta girl” he praised you.

It was then you noticed two shadows moving over your friends. You weren’t too sure what they were going to do to them. You started to panic and tried to get away from Bo’s touch. “We won’t kill them. Yet. We’re just druggin’ them so we can brin’ them to Ambrose with us” Bo explained to you. You calmed down but you still shook your head at that. “I know ya want them all safe and sound, but we can’t let them go to the police, so they come” Bo replied and you heard the venom in his voice. He couldn’t hide the jealousy and the rage of his girl loving other people than him and his brothers “Time to go back to sleep, princess” he mused and you tried to fight as he pressed a tissue over your face.

You didn’t struggle for long before everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes again, you felt like you were back years ago. You were laying down in the guest room in the Sinclairs' house; a guest room that was actually yours because Trudy insisted for you to leave your belongings there, as it was your second house. It wasn’t like the Sinclairs were inviting anyone else at home anyways (or that anyone wanted to sleep in their house either). Your parents weren’t too happy about it, but you often slept there. The room was still the same with its pinkish walls and the cream furniture. Drawings were on the walls. You almost wondered if you were going to be late for school before you realised what truly happened.

The Sinclairs kidnapped you and your friends.

You tried to sit up but you realised one of your hands was cuffed to the bed frame. You cursed and tried to get your hand free until you heard footsteps in the corridor. You stopped breathing, waiting for someone to enter the room. Your heart was hammering inside your chest. You wanted to believe it was all a nightmare, and that you were going to wake up soon.

Bo cracked the door open and smiled when he noticed you were awake.

“Hello, doll,” he hummed as he entered the room.

You finally could have a good look at him and you had to admit he became as handsome as you thought he would be. You looked away, afraid of what was going to happen to you, afraid of him. Your whole body was tense and you cursed yourself for having tempted the devil like your mother asked you not to. You had been so so stupid.

Bo walked to you before cupping your face to force you to look at him. He had lost his smile. His thumb gently stroked your cheek. You tried very hard to not start crying. Or to not lean into his touch. His skin felt so warm against yours.

“Please, Bo. Let us go” you whispered. You noticed that the man’s jaw tightened. It was clearly not the first words he wanted to hear from you after all this time.

“Trust me, no one’s leavin’ no more” he harshly replied and tears fell down your cheeks. It calmed him down “Ah baby” he shushed as he knelt beside you to kiss your tears away. You hated how much you loved to feel his lips on your skin once again. “Ya’re meant to be a Sinclair, ‘s fate bringin’ ya where ya belong. And we’re all gonna take an extra good care of ya for all the years we had to go through without ya” he continued as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“You want me, keep me and let everyone else go, please. They have nothing to do with this.” you begged again. Bo sighted.

“Ya shouldn’t’ve left Ambrose, doll. Now ya have to pay the price for it” he simply shrugged and got up. “Gonna bring ya some breakfast, baby, I’ll be back” he added and left the room.

You cried even more, knowing you wouldn’t be able to reason with the Sinclairs. You hoped your people were still alive so you could help them to escape, even if it meant you would stay at Ambrose forever.

You were tugging on the handcuff again when you heard the door being opened a second time. You looked up to see Vincent watching you from the entrance. He looked like the shy boy you met the first time. You swallowed hard. You wanted to ask him what he did with your friends but you realised you were too afraid of the answer, so you stayed silent. Vincent finally moved closer to you and knelt in front of the bed. His fingers gently traced your face, as to memorise the change in your features since last time he saw you. You let him do it and closed your eyes. He removed the tears with a sad pout concealed behind his mask. You could pretend you were still a teenager, and Vincent was quietly flirting with you through tender touches.

You opened your eyes again when you felt the masked twin grab your free hand. He removed enough of his mask to press your palm against his scarred skin. You could have stayed immobile, but you didn’t. You gently stroked his cheek and he hummed in approval, his eye closed in well being. It felt so good to finally get your touch back.

“Hi, Vinny” you whispered and he looked up at you with the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He kissed your hand. “Not gonna hurt me, right?” you asked, just to make sure. The man instantly shook his head. “Not gonna turn me into a wax statue either?” you added with a bite of your lips. Same answer. Relief flooded through you.

Forever love you. Missed you so badly. He slowly signed to you, as he wasn’t certain you still remembered ASL, but you did.

You didn’t have time to answer before Bo entered the room with a trail of food. It smelt good; you could already recognise his signature pancakes. Vincent stood up as Bo put the trail on the nightstand.

“Gonna untie ya, but nothin’ stupid, girl” he warned you and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You weren’t too sure how you could be any more stupid than you already had been. What were you thinking when you decided to bring your friends so close to Ambrose? You wondered if deep down you hadn’t wanted this. “Y/N” Bo groaned and you simply tug on the handcuff. “Hey, don’t hurt yourself now!” Bo exclaimed as his hand flew on your wrist and you stopped tugging.

“Untie me then” you replied and Bo let escape a little smirk

“Ah yes, ya’re so hot when ya’re all bossy, ain’t ya?” he teased as he removed the handcuff from your wrist. You didn’t reply because you refused to acknowledge him flirting with you, like he used to. You massaged your wrist as you sat up.

Knowing they weren’t going to hurt or kill you, appeased you a little and you thanked Bo for the food. You actually ate it with appetite, even though the twins’ stares were making you feel uncomfortable. They both sat, on a chair or on a desk, staying silent. They shared looks from time to time, but you tried your best to not mind them.

“Are they dead already?” you suddenly asked, because you needed to know

“Who?” Bo asked back, feigning innocence

“My friends” you groaned, your stomach twisted in worry. Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten before asking this question, you thought.

“No idea who ya’re talkin’ ‘bout” Bo shrugged.

You had a very bad feeling. You turned your attention toward Vincent, who tried to look away from you.

"Vincent." you simply said "Are they dead?"

Vincent hesitated about what to say. In the end, he slowly nodded at you.

You got up and threw the plate on the wall in one swift and yet brutal movement. The porcelain broke as you started to angrily scream at them.

“Fuck! Fuck you all!” you cried out as both the twins got up. Bo tried to sit you back on the bed but you shoved him to the side. You grabbed Vincent by the shoulders “I swear to God, Vincent, if you fucking turned them into wax statues, I’m gonna burn down your cherished House of Wax to the fucking ground!!” you yelled even more.

Vincent’s eye widened and he thought about the four bodies he had already prepared to turn into statues. He quickly nodded though. He had no desire in upsetting you even more. And god forbid the twins to think how hot and attractive you were when you were so angry… If only you weren’t mad at them.

“How ‘bout ya calm down?” Bo grumbled but it only angered you more

“That I calm down? That I fucking calm down? You killed my people!! And then you wonder why I left Ambrose and never came to you all?” you screamed. Your words hurt Bo a lot more than he could admit so his own anger rose inside his chest

“Oh yeah? Well it’s funny ‘cause I ain’t rememberin’ ya carin’ that much about the killin’ before! Ya knew what mother and father were doin’ and it didn’t stop ya from livin’ with us most of your time!” Bo argued back

“It was different, it was your parents! I thought we could all live away from this mess, but no, you both decided the mess was worth it!” you continued

“It was the only life for us, and ya know it!” Bo replied as he gestured at Vincent who looked down

“You scared me off Ambrose” you cried out

“But now ya’re back and ya’re never fuckin’ leavin’ ever again! Ya’re ours, don’t ya know it, Y/N? Ya gave us everythin’ and we gave ya our souls in exchange! Didn’t ya enjoy flirtin’, kissin’ and havin’ sex with us? Or maybe ya were just a whore” Bo replied and you slapped him.

You didn’t even realise what you did, you just did it. Bo pushed you on the bed and Vincent quickly stopped his twin from coming closer to you. But you weren’t afraid. You couldn’t be afraid of the people you truly had loved the most in your existence, and who had always been eager to do anything for you.

It was why the brothers loved you with such fierce passion; you had the strength to call them out on their bullshit and to make them obey. They were wrapped around your little finger, but it came with a cost: they would burn the whole world down if it meant keeping you theirs.

“Is that what you think of me? Great, Beauregard! But it can’t hurt me more than what you just did to my friends! And then you dare tell me you love me?” you said as you sent a glance at Vincent who felt like you pierced his heart with a dagger “It ain’t love, that might be why I ran away from you all! I shouldn’t’ve come back to the South of the country. Stupid fucking bad luck!”

Bo was about to reply to this, even though Vincent was trying to calm him down, but the door opened again. You saw Lester entering the room with a worried expression written all over his face. Things were really not going the way it was supposed to, he thought. He had heard you arguing with Bo from downstairs and he hoped he could put everyone back in a good mood.

But you couldn’t even stand looking at him after what happened. You got up once again and pushed the twins away from you.

“You know what, get all the fuck out of my room!” you yelled and you continued to push them toward the door. Once they were all out, you slammed the door shut and fell on your knees as you silently started to cry.

Taglist : @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21 ; @thatbitchanna27 ; @robin-the-enby ; @i-like-horror-andshitt ; @cecilwritesstuff ; @delusion-is-convenient ; @artificialintestines ; @sugarrush-blush ; @crypticlxrsh ; @g0thl3zz ; @katerinaval ; @oneofvincentscandles ; @limehaspassed ; @sillylittlereader ; @mommymilkerfanclub ; @oranedgp ; @mottysith ; @partlyvee ; @gorewhore123 ; @mrstargayen09 ; @aesthetic-bitches-tum ; @mfnqueen1 ; @etheralrue ; @nanami-kento-simp ; @bluekuu ; @excusemyrandomramblings ; @fluffy-little-demon ; @oneofvincentscandles ; @domoron ; @narcolepticduck

(I really hope I didn't forget anyone! <3)

PART III

#house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x s/o #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x s/o #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x s/o #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair x reader #poly!sinclair x you #poly!sinclairs x s/o #poly!sinclairs x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x reader #poly!slashers x you #poly!slashers x reader #poly!slashers x s/o

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apollosrambling · 1 year ago

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Dumb Love

Weasley Twins x Male/Masc reader 1183 words

The dorm room is quiet aside from the harsh patter of rain on the windows. You’re propped up in your own bed, reading from a DADA textbook to prepare for an upcoming paper. Across the room from you, the Weasley twins are sitting on Fred’s bed, heads together as they study their newest creation. The rest of the dorm is empty, the two others in the library working on a project. It’s a cold, rainy October evening, filling the school with a melancholy whisper.

You look out the window as a large crack of thunder fills the room. The Durmstrang boat is rocking wildly in the lake, leaving you to wonder if the students are taking refuge in the great hall, or if perhaps the ship is enchanted to avoid the feeling on the inside. You quickly realize you’ve been staring out of the window for at least five minutes, and snap back to your book. A movement catches your eye, and you look up to see the twins staring at you.

“What?” You ask, closing your book and stretching. You’d been sitting for what felt like hours.

“Nothing.” They say in tandemonium, which skyrockets your suspicions.

“What?” This time when you say it, you sound significantly less curious and impossibly more weary.

They both shrug, going back to working on their dangerous candies.

Being their best friend of 5 years, you knew better than to drop your suspicion, but you were also tired of staring at your book while pretending to understand the words. Deciding instead to watch the boys, you shove the textbook into your bag. While you have been their best friend, it was easy to tell when your feelings begin to grow.

It started with little signs. A twisting in your stomach when one laughed, a flutter across your skin when another would take your bag to taunt you. The teasing turned from infuriating to blush-inducing.

It hit you like a truck, though, one holiday evening at the Burrow when you’d decided to stay with them rather than travel further to stay at home. It was late, a fire crackling in the hearth while you say curled between them. They had thought you asleep, dozing like a cat in the coziness of the cottage.

“Try not to jostle him,” George had whispered, a hand stroking your hair while the other attempted to move to put long-drained cocoa mugs away.

The way his fingertips felt on your forehead had solidified your feelings, sending you tumbling down a cliff of dumb puppy love.

“Y/n.” Fred is standing now, moving towards your bed with a mischievous look. “Yeah?” You quirk an eyebrow and lean against one of the posts of your bed, swinging your legs over the edge.

“Fancy an outing?”

Truthfully, you don’t. It’s cozy in your dorm. The warm heat of the fire as your pet naps in front of it, the familiar smell of sweets and spices. When it comes to the twins, though, you’re weak.

“Sure.” Without much hesitation you pull on your cloak, not wanting your signature Molly Weasley sweater to be ruined if this outing includes the raging storm outside.

The twins lead you out of the dorm and towards the towers of the castle. Watching the rain through the windows as you pass, tugging your cloak a little tighter as a shiver runs down your back.

“Cold?” George sidles up, towering over you at an outrageous height. You huff, moving away to hide your blush.

“No,” You mumble, but the subtle shaking in your hands gives you away. George takes them in his, intertwining your fingers as you walk.

It’s hard to not let it go to your head. Sometimes you think their whispers and soft glances are for you. That it could work out. But that’d be outrageous, and they’ve always been tactile. It’s far more likely they just enjoy physical touch with all of their friends.

After what feels like forever, you’re standing atop the astronomy tower with a charm keeping the pelting rain from your heads. Fred is laying out a blanket -where he conjured it from, you don’t know- when George finally lets go of your hand to set you down on it. The three of you huddle together, watching the gray sky get darker as first years sprint across the lawn in an attempt to stay dry. Mostly unsuccessful.

“Why are we here?” You lean back, resting on your palms and looking up at the two redheads.

“The ball is coming up.” Ah, yeah. Perhaps they’re about to ask who you’re going to ask. Tell you about the girls they’ve been admiring.

“Mh, yeah. It is. Who are you eyeing?” You really don’t want to know, but their happiness is important.

“Well, I reckon I’ll pick up the courage to ask here soon.” Fred is smiling, as if he’s in on a secret you aren’t. He probably is.

You watch George roll his eyes. “No, you won’t. You’ll just mope around Gryffindor tower and lament about dying alone.” You cover your mouth to hide the laughter as Fred pulls an offended face.

“Bugger off, I’ll do it.” He turns to you, shoving at his twin across you. “Who are you asking?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” You shrug, too embarrassed to admit you’d pictured yourself between them, dress robes tangled as you dance and exchange kisses.

“Not interested in anyone, then?” They loom over as if your answer is the most important thing on earth.

“No.” The burning red that seeps from your cheeks to your ears and back of your neck gives you away.

“No one would be interested in going with me,” You admit. It hurts but you know you’re right.

“Bullshit!” George grabs your shoulder, leaning impossibly close.

“I bet loads of people are hoping you’ll ask them.”

“Oh yeah, I can think of at least two,” Fred chimes in, looking just as offended.

“Two? Who?” Your heart pounds as George stares down at you.

Do they know two other guys interested in men? Where? You can only think of one, and he’s definitely not interested.

George is looking annoyed, grabbing your chin with more force than is maybe necessary. It makes you swallow.

“You,” he growls out, tight grip showing no sign of loosening, “are the most infuriating, dense boy I have ever met.”

“Thanks?”

Before the word even fully leaves your lips he’s crashing down on you. Weight heavy, free hand slipping through your hair in that obsessive way he likes to touch it. His lips are relentless, violent against yours and brimming with emotion.

He pulls away, and before you can breathe Fred is taking his place. With a spinning mind and tingling lips you get lost in the sensation of kissing the two boys you’ve been in love with for years, heart pounding.

When you’re finally given a chance to breathe your cheeks hurt from grinning.

“So, you two want to go to the dance with me?”

You’re tackled with more kisses, the rain a comforting soundtrack to your new love story.

#harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #fred weasley x male reader #hp x male reader #fred weasley imagines #weasley twins #george weasley x male reader #weasley twins x reader #harry potter imagines

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targaryenmarvel · 9 days ago

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A Stark Legacy (3)

Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Summary: The life of a Stark is tumultuous, especially when you are the only daughter of the technology magnates. You find yourself at a crossroads, struggling to meet your father's towering expectations while also pursuing your desires. This turning point is marked by the arrival of a certain green-eyed girl, a meeting that not only disrupts your world but also sets your heart on fire. Will you finally follow your heart or conform to your father's expectations?

Warnings: Language, Homophobia, Sexism

Word count: 7,257

A/N: Happy New Year's everyone! Here's a longer chapter since I haven't posted in a long while. Enjoy!

Wanda huffed, exasperated by the long trek up the apartment complex stairs. Indications of her physical exertion appeared in the form of a cold sweat, unsteady breathing, and a burning in her thighs. Although Wanda recognized neglecting the gym was a part of her current state, she preferred to put all the blame on the apartment building for its shitty maintenance. Oh, she hated the got damn place.

Only hours before, the elevator had been fully functional. Even though it made a concerning amount of noise, it got the job done. Now, the steel doors were tapped with a notice warning of its unavailability. Just weeks ago, it had been the heating in her apartment. Wanda briefly wondered why she had yet to move out but quickly discarded the fleeting thought. New York was expensive, and despite having a decent salary as a secretary, it wasn't enough to afford a better place while also paying off her student debt. Especially now that she had been let go from her job.

Wanda clutched the takeout foam container as she fumbled with her keys, promptly jiggling the key into the lock and pushing the door open. The lavender smell she loved struck her nose as she strode inside, throwing the keys to the coffee table before heading to the kitchen. After the long commute, Wanda only wished to relieve her desert-dry tongue with a cold sip of water. She went to the refrigerator and retrieved a water bottle, twisting the cap off before taking a swig of the chilling liquid.

Wanda plopped on the couch, her mind wandering to her interview at Stark Industries. Despite her doubts, the interview had gone exceptionally well, and Agatha's extroverted personality dissipated Wanda's nervousness. Now, all she could do was wait for the call.

Wanda yawned, her body heavy with exhaustion, and she lifted her arm to cover her eyes. Her legs ached in a way they hadn't since Pietro had dragged her to the gym as a teenager. She kicked off her heels, sighing in relief at the liberating feeling as her body melted into the furniture. Slowly but surely, her breathing began to slow down as her mind flickered into unconsciousness, returning to a distant childhood memory.

A young Wanda Maximoff ran through the streets of Novi Grad in pursuit of her twin brother Pietro. After an exhausting school day, the twins only wished to head home. Struggling to keep up with her energetic twin brother, Wanda felt the warm breeze on her face as he playfully pulled at her hand, his laughter echoing as they dashed through the familiar neighborhood, making their way home. Others watched some nostalgia for their childhood and others with sorrow; despite the range of emotions, all could amount to one thing: the country's current state. Something most children, including the Maximoff twins, were ignorant of.

After an exhausting run that seemed to last forever, the twins finally arrived at a dilapidated building. Breathless laughter filled the air as they dashed up the worn stairs and burst into the top apartment, catching their parents off guard with their sudden entrance.

As she entered the room, she noticed her father sitting on the couch, slumped over with his elbows resting on his knees and his hand cradling his head. Her mother was beside him with furrowed brows and a downcast look in her eyes, gently rubbing his back in a comforting gesture. As the twins made their approach, the pair subtly adjusted their posture, their eyes revealing a hint of apprehension even as they forced a smile onto their faces—something Wanda had seen her teachers do as well. Wanda and her brother did not really know what it meant.

Instead, they ran up to the pair, hugging them tightly and ranting on about their day at school. Wanda fumbled with her pant pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper with four figures. Although wanky, it was clear to discern that the four figures represented their family. The tall bearded one, her father; the one with long flowing hair, her mother; Pietro with a lightning bolt on his shirt; and her with a doll in hand. The work of a child, yet the only thing that could get a genuine smile from her parents as the two proudly displayed it on the wall.

Later at night, the family sat on the couch, their attention on the old television as the VR of "I Love Lucy" played. Laughter filled the small apartment as Lucy and an Italian woman tousled in a large grape barrel. It was Wanda's last happy moment with her family, and she was reminded of it when the atmosphere suddenly changed. The apartment light began to flicker intermittently, casting eerie shadows on the walls. As the illumination wavered, the television image became increasingly distorted, with the colors bleeding into each other and the audio crackling in and out. In the distance, a loud noise grew ever-present, sending a chill down Wanda's body.

The sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the air, causing young Wanda to freeze in fear. She looked at her family, bewildered by their lack of reaction, as they remained engrossed in laughter while watching the comedy show. Wanda wanted to scream at them and tell them they had to run, but it was as if an invisible force prevented her from opening her mouth. Her chest heaved as panic overtook her body when she realized she couldn't save her family. She could hear the loud explosion hit, leaving her ears ringing afterward. The sound only grew louder until she clutched at her ears in pain.

Wanda awoke with a start, heart hammering in her chest and eyes wildly darting around the room before settling on the ringing phone on the table. She rolled to her side, reaching for the cell phone with her left hand. The screen lit up with an unknown number, and Wanda strained to see it through her teary eyes, heart pounding with apprehension. She briefly considered rejecting the call, emotionally drained by her dream.

It could be important. Wanda countered her desires by pressing the green button.

"H-Hello," she said, willing the grogginess and fear in her voice to disappear.

"Did I wake you, dear?" asked a familiar voice. Still somewhat sluggish, it took her a moment to recognize the voice. Her eyes widened, her body shot up into a sitting position, and she carelessly wiped at her eyes.

"Oh, not at all, Agatha," Wanda responded, running her fingers through her messy locks as if the woman on the phone could see her state. "Did you need something else from me?" She questioned, deducing they forgot to cover something during the interview. They had spent a great deal of time talking about personal matters.

"I do. I need to know when you can start."

"When can I start?" She repeated, mind slow to comprehend the words.

Agatha chuckled across the line. "Yes, dear. Miss Stark has approved your hiring. All we need is to sign the contract, and we are ready to go. So how about it, dear?"

"Immediately." Wanda stood and paced the room, containing the urge to scream in excitement. "I can start immediately," she clarified.

"Wonderful. Why don't you drop by tomorrow? We can look over the NDA and your contract. Who knows, maybe you'll meet Miss Stark."

Wanda's mind flashed to the glimpse she had gotten of her now boss. The wildness of her thoughts as her eyes danced across your figure. She could feel her face reddening as they returned with force. Working couldn't be so bad with such eye candy, she thought before shaking her head in reprimand.

"I'll be there."

When the call ended, Wanda plopped back on the couch, this time with a shit-eating grin. Any remnants of her nightmare were forgotten as she reveled in the news. Finally, something good, Wanda thought. The past few months had been emotionally draining for Wanda, and her dissatisfaction with her life increased the longer she worked a job she did not enjoy. When she was let go from her last job, she wasn't sure if you should thank the heavens or rot in bed with shame. Wanda did a bit of both, a part of her thinking maybe it was finally her moment to shine. The rational, nagging side reminded her of her adult responsibilities and that any job was good as long as they paid the bills. She probably would have returned to a similar job if not for Natasha.

Wanda shuffled in her spot, eyeing her most recent calls and selecting one. The phone rang a couple of times before a raspy voice responded from the other side.

"Wanda?" called her friend out of breath. She could hear children screaming in the background, drowning out her voice. "Can you hold for a moment?"

Wanda huffed a laugh, amused as her friend's voice cut off the loud screaming. "Time out, guys," she said and returned to Wanda. "Hey, sorry about that."

"I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?" Wanda asked in a playful tone, amused by her friend.

"Not at all. In fact, you're my savior, Maximoff," she laughed. "Barton's devil spawns have been chasing me for the better part of an hour. They are killing me!"

Wanda giggled, imagining her friend hunched over her hand on her knees, trying to catch her breath as a bunch of children swarmed her. "I thought detectives were supposed to be in shape?"

"Hey, I am in shape. It's just hard keeping up with nonstop bundles of energy, okay?"

"Oh, so it's just the age?" Wanda teased, twisting one of her locks with her index finger. Oh, how she loved antagonizing her friend.

"Oh, babe, don't play that game with me. We both know that you're worse off out of you and me. You were huffing and puffing the last time we went hiking. And you know what? I still have the video evidence!"

Wanda's face dropped in horror. The expedition lived fresh in the forefront of her memories. How she had nearly collapsed twenty minutes up the hiking path, a sharp pang under her ribs as her lungs called out for oxygen. Clint had been filming a video for Laura, where you could see Wanda struggling in the background, and of course, Natasha had gotten a hold of the video.

"You wouldn't," Wanda deadpanned, trying to sound intimidating.

"Try me, Maximoff," responded her friend in a low voice.

Wanda scoffed with feigned offense and said, "You are ruthless, Romanoff."

"What can I say? It comes with the job," Natasha retorted, and Wanda could tell the woman was holding back a laugh. "So what can I do for you, Wands?"

Wanda's lips curled upwards at her friend's question, recalling the reason for the call to Natasha. She took a deep breath, preparing to tell her friend the news.

"Nat," she began pausing in anticipation before exclaiming into the phone, "I got the job." Wanda did not expect the silence that followed. For a moment, she thought her friend had not heard. That phone service perhaps gave out, given Clint lived in a remote location. She was about to repeat herself, but the voice across the line beat her to it.

"Oh, my god, Wanda! That's amazing! They must have been impressed with you if they hired you within hours. Maria told me it's an extensive process that could take weeks. Tell me everything. Did you meet Y/N?"

"Does seeing her from afar count as meeting her?" Wanda asked, recalling the moment her eyes landed on your figure. "Her assistant Agatha was the one who interviewed me, not her."

"Really? That's unlike her," Natasha said, remembering all the tales she had heard of the Stark heiress—something about you being involved with every aspect of your job, including hiring.

"Speaking of Y/N, you never told me I would be working for her. I thought you meant Tony," Wanda scolded, shaking her head even though her friend could not see the action.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't do that to you, Maximoff. I hear he's a real playboy."

"Then I won the lottery. Agatha says Y/N is a sweetheart, so I won't have a problem with an asshole boss. It doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes either," Wanda mused, biting her lips with a dreamy look.

From the other line, Wanda heard Natasha chuckle, amused. "Oh, Maximoff, are you crushing on your boss?"

Wanda thanked the heavens that her friend could not see her state as she turned red from her comment. It's not her fault you were so attractive, she thought.

"No. I'm just making an observation. She's attractive," Wanda replied matter-of-factly, downplaying the situation. She could not let Natasha know her true feelings. She would rather twist the facts than admit the truth, but it was not so easy to deceive her friend.

"Sounds like a crush to me."

Wanda groaned into the phone, rolling her eyes. Nothing she said would change her friend's mind. Her opinion is unchanging, like the mountain in a raging storm. She would not submit herself to her relentless teasing. "Oh my god, Natasha, I'm hanging up."

"Wait!" Natasha called out as Wanda went to hang up, and Wanda waited, curious. "Let's meet up for drinks tonight. Get the whole gang and celebrate your new job. What do you think?"

Despite the power nap, Wanda could still feel the heaviness in her limbs, begging her to remain in the comfort of her bed. However, she found her desire to celebrate surpassed her tiredness.

"I'm in," she agreed, with anticipation growing in her chest at the promise of a good celebration.

"Perfect, you just get your pretty ass to Shaw's. I'll take care of the rest."

"It's a plan, see you there."

"See you there, babe."

Wanda hung up the phone, feeling grateful for Natasha's friendship. Not just thankful for the job opportunity she had given her but also for her companionship. Since childhood, Wanda had found making friends a difficult task. On the contrary, her naturally extroverted twin made friends left and right. Even then, it never interfered with his relationship with Wanda; they were each other's most important person.

Wanda felt gutted when her brother decided to accept a scholarship at UCLA across the country. Of course, she left home in New Jersey, too, but not leagues away from their hometown. Something in their relationship shifted for the worse. Wanda had never been without her brother, so the adjustment had been difficult, and a part of Wanda felt resentful towards her brother for leaving. Wasn't she a good enough reason to stay? Why didn't he keep his promise? Wanda had questioned as she watched his plane fly away, the vague memory of a small boy holding on to her shaking body promising to protect her forever running through her mind. Over time, Wanda's resentment vanished, transforming into something else.

After graduation, Pietro stayed in LA and opened his own business. Compared to her brother, Wanda felt a failure. Professionally and as a sister. What kind of sister is jealous of her twin brothers' success? Although she knew Pietro held zero blame for the way she felt, Wanda could not help distancing herself from her brother.

Wanda felt her chest constrict at the thought of her brother. She missed him, his wide smile and mischievous jokes, or the way he'd tease her for being older than her. The way his arms would feel around her body and the security in knowing he would protect her. She did miss him, but Wanda didn't know how to bridge the chasm she had created. How can she explain her feelings to her brother without making him hate her more than he probably did after their last call?

The last time they spoke, she lashed out at him after he offered to house her in LA. It was a noble gesture meant to ease Wanda's stress, yet all she could feel was the sense of failure that often overran her mind.

Wanda fiddled with her phone, indecision lingering as she looked at her brother's contact. It wasn't the first time she found herself with her thumb hovering over the call button. She had wanted to apologize immediately after hanging up, but the shame that had filled her body prevented her from doing so. Wanda sighed. She couldn't magically fix the relationship, but she had to start somewhere, so she pressed the button. The phone rang and rang, but unlike Natasha, no one answered. Wanda felt the anxiety building in her chest, uncertainty taking over. What if Pietro didn't want to hear from her anymore? What if she had lost him? Her fear only intensified as the call went to voice mail.

"Hey Piet, it's been a while since we talked," she sighed, picking on her nails nervously. "I know I said some horrible things last time, and I am very sorry. I didn't mean any of it. All that about not needing you, it's total bullshit." Wanda paused, feeling a knot in her throat. "The truth is I am terrified of a life without you, Piet. There's so much I need to tell you, but I don't want to leave a voice message crying, so call me. Please call me. I love you, Pietro."

Wanda felt a single tear running down her cheek as she sniffled. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her mood slightly dampened. After a long moment, Wanda stood and made a beeline to the bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, thankful for the lack of puffy eyes. It's the last thing she needs. Wanda wandered into her bedroom and began rummaging through her closet. She would try to have a good time tonight; she deserved it.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Your work was long from over after leaving Stark Industries in the late evening. Instead, you settled in the comfort of your home office, reviewing reports and sending emails. Your fingers dance graciously across the keyboard as you detail an email to the Stark Industries lead engineer and product development manager. However, your concentration was soon thwarted when strong hands landed on your shoulders, and a face leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Hey, sweetheart," said Bucky, sitting on the ledge of your desk.

"Honey," you replied, playing along even though there was no one to act for. "What are you doing here?"

You rested your chin on your knuckles as you stared at the man. Bucky didn't need a reason to be in your apartment, considering you basically lived together. He had his apartment not far from yours, yet he disliked being alone, so like the gracious friends you were, you hosted him in your home.

"Oh, I have come with a proposal," Bucky declared, taking hold of one of the picture frames on the desk—a picture of you and Tony at his M.I.T. graduation ceremony.

You hummed cocking your head in your hands. "Another one? We're already engaged, you know?"

"Not that kind of proposal." Bucky set the frame down, shooting you a mischievous smile. "I booked a VIP at Paradise. Ah ah ah, I know what you'll say, 'I have work.' I don't care, Y/N. You were frantic during our lunch today. It's obvious that you need to destress."

You pout at the man, considering his words. It's true; you needed to decompress and unload the massive wedding stress on your shoulders.

You sat staring at the man, weighing your options. You knew Bucky would not force you to go if you did not want to accompany him. Still, you could see the glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. Bucky quirked an eyebrow expectantly, and you rolled your eyes, knowing he had won.

"Alright," you conceded, and Bucky made a noise of victory.

"Get dressed, beautiful. Maybe we'll get lucky and find you a special someone for the night." He winked, a smirk gracing his lips.

You scoffed, slapping at his arm.

"First off, that's an odd sentence to say as my fiancé. Secondly, I don't need luck, buddy," you retorted matter-of-factly. "I could have anyone I want."

Maybe not anyone, but that didn't detract from the point. Yes, most people in your circle wanted you for your name, but that didn't mean you weren't attractive. You could see how both men and women observed you and the underlying desire behind their gaze. So no, you didn't need any luck.

Bucky chuckled, amused, and crossed his muscular arms. "Which is why you're marrying your gay best friend, huh?"

"Haha, very funny," you said in a monotone voice. "So funny that I am starting to rethink going out tonight."

"Nooo! Please forgive me!" He clasped his hands together, raising them in front of his body. "I beg, don't abandon me."

"You're an asshole." You pushed his shoulder, holding in a laugh. "I'm gonna go get ready."

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The bar was dimly lit, its air thick with the hum of overlapping conversations and faint notes of classic rock filtering through old speakers. Neon signs flickered against exposed brick walls, casting soft glows on rows of liquor bottles lining the back shelves. Wooden stools creaked as patrons shifted, laughter occasionally cutting through the noise. The faint aroma of spilled beer and fried food lingered.

Despite being there to celebrate her new job, Wanda was the last to arrive. Wanda navigated through the tables and crowd, following the faint instructions of her friend on the phone. Wanda glanced around, trying to catch sight of her friends, when suddenly, two arms circled her waist. Wanda squealed, feeling her back press into a strong body and warm breath close to her ear. Wanda fumed, preparing to turn around and slap the audacious individual. How dare they touch her without her consent?

"Hey there, sexy," they rasped, squeezing her waist. In that instant, Wanda recognized the voice and the mix of citrus and leather emanating from the person.

"I was about to punch you, Natasha," Wanda informed, stepping out of the embrace. She crossed her arms, staring the woman down with a frown. Natasha's eyes might sparkled with a quiet humor, and the corners of her mouth curved into a restrained smile.

"As if you could, Maximoff," Natasha quipped with a chuckle, and Wanda rolled her eyes. She knew Natasha was right, yet she couldn't admit it. Thankfully, Natasha wasn't expecting it either. "Let's go there waiting for us," she said as she pulled Wanda towards their friends.

"Wanda!" Monica greeted, opening her arms to hold the brunette. Wanda had known Monica since her college days and remained friends throughout the years. The only close relationship she kept from those days.

"Hey, Mon!" Wanda embraced the woman, glad she could be there despite her demanding job. Wanda moved to the other people at the table: Maria and Clint. She met Maria the same night as Natasha, considering they were already dating. As for Clint, they had met after Natasha invited Wanda to Clint's for game night. Over time, she introduced Monica to her new friends.

"So, Nat said there was something important you wanted to tell us," Clint inquired, sipping from a tall glass. "You pregnant or something?"

"What?" Wanda stared at the man in horror. She could hear the others chuckle at Clint's absurd assumption. Wanda knew Clint was most likely joking around; I mean, who would announce a pregnancy with drinks? Wanda shivered at the idea of being pregnant. Of course, she wanted kids eventually, but not when she was finally getting her life together. "What did Laura ever see in you?"

"My good looks," Cint responded with a wink. Wanda raised an eyebrow, ready to retort, unwilling to lose the battle. Of the two in the group, Natasha and Clint always seemed to be teasing her, but she had grown up with a twin brother and learned never to back down.

"Settle down, kids," Natasha cut in, sliding a drink toward Wanda. "Why don't you tell our friends the good news."

Wanda took a swig off the drink, feeling the cool liquid lightly burn her throat. "Well, as you all know, Maria got me that interview at Stark Industries and..." she paused, eyes dancing between her friends. "I-I got the job!" She exclaimed, still feeling in disbelief.

The table erupted in congratulations at the news. They had all known Wanda's frustration and lack of passion for her job. They were all thrilled about this new opportunity.

"I'm so happy for you, Wands," Monica whispered into her ear as she went in for another hug. Wanda squeezed her frame appreciatively, feeling her chest swell from the simple words.

The group ordered a round of drinks to celebrate, the noise of clinking glasses ringing over the music. The infectious energy continued through the night as the group caught up, leaving half-empty glasses scattered across the table, and a light buzz had begun to set. Wanda could feel the warmth spread through her chest like a slow-growing ember, her thoughts softening at the edges. She felt light, not enough to tip her balance, but just enough to make her thoughts fuzzy. Wanda hummed, momentarily distracted by a song that began to play; she almost didn't hear when Monica suggested they head to a place her co-workers had ragged about.

"So what do you guys think? Should we head to Paradise?" Monica asked, eyes dancing between her friends but settling on Wanda.

Wanda considered the suggestion, leaning back in her chair and taking in the familiar charm of the bar. The dim lighting, the mismatched picture frames on the walls, the jukebox in the corner full of classic hits, and even the shelf behind the bar full of odd trinkets all wrapped her in a comforting embrace. She loved this place—how it felt like home, but tonight wasn't about comfort. No, it was about celebration. The thought of a club—the pulsing lights, thumping bass, and the wild energy of a packed dance floor—tugged at her.

Wanda agreed, so they all left the bar, with the exception of Clint, to continue their night. Despite the long waiting line, the quartet could avoid the wait due to Monica's connections. Inside the club, they found what they needed. The atmosphere was alive with energetic music that pulsed through the air. Colorful, flashing lights danced across the space, casting vivid patterns on the walls and ceiling. In the center, a crowd of energetic dancers moved rhythmically, their bodies swaying and spinning in harmony with the infectious beat, lost in the moment.

Wanda and the other women wove their way through the pulsating crowd, the bass from the speaker thudding in their chests with each step. They continued until they made their way to the glowing countertop stretching along the club's side. Bartenders moved with practiced speed, shaking cocktails and sliding drinks down the bar with effortless precision. The air was tinged with the sharp scent of citrus and the fizz of spilled soda.

Wanda leaned on the counter, calling the attention of the bartender. "Hi, can I get four tequila shots?" she asked the bartender, who nodded in acknowledgment. She turned to Natasha as the other woman wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"On me," she said as she handed her card to the bartender. "Keep the tab open. It's going to be a long night."

After downing their drinks, except for Maria, who was content with one drink from the other bar, the four joined the dance floor. The four moved together in a loose circle on the crowded dance floor, their laughter mingling with the pounding bass of the music. Each of them had their own rhythm—Natasha swaying her hips with effortless grace, Monica spinning in playful circles, her hands raised high in the air. They leaned into each other as the song hit its peak, their smiles wide and unrestrained. They didn't care about the people around them or how they looked.

The VIP section stood at another section tucked away behind a sleek black rope guarded by a stone-faced bouncer. Inside, the atmosphere shifted from the chaotic energy of the dance floor to something more refined and exclusive. Sitting on one of the leather couches, a small group of people animatedly conversed, starkly contrasting the deafening bass outside. A server made his way to the group, balancing a tray of cocktails and a champagne bottle with practice eased. From this elevated perch, the view of the packed dance floor was perfect—a kaleidoscope of lights and motion, just distant enough to feel detached from the frenzy.

Despite the club's outstanding reputation, no one in your social circle roamed these streets. It was a great relief, considering Bucky was setting you up with a woman you had encountered upon arriving. You could immediately see the interest in her eyes as they roamed down the silky blouse and high-waisted black trousers. They stayed a little longer on the multiple rings adorning your fingers. Not your engagement ring, of course, that had stayed tucked away at home.

She was attractive, too, you admitted. Long golden hair cascaded in a soft wave down her back, and a sleek black mini dress with fitted long sleeves hugged her figure perfectly, revealing her long-toned legs. Her eyes were a striking shade of amber framed by long dark lashes and a smokey eyeshadow, her lips full and tainted in red. As she moved, she exuded confidence, her graceful posture commanding attention without effort, and in that moment, she had wanted yours.

You had been reluctant to accept her flirtations, but Bucky had basically shoved you towards her. Going as far as to invite her and her friend to the VIP section. It was not the best idea, as you could see her friend interpret his friendliness as flirty.

Natalie—she had told you her name —raised her hand and rested it on your arm while smiling seductively. She leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as a way to draw attention to her chest. Then, her soft and melodic voice dropped an octave. "I can't tell if it's the music or the company, but something about tonight feels... electric. What do you think?"

You refrained from cringing at the cheesy pickup line and froze at the words instead. She was overdoing it, but still, the words hit you like a jolt, freezing you in place. Your eyes flickered to Bucky for any indication that the man had heard her words, but he remained engaged in his conversation. Your eyes returned to Natalie, taking notice of the teasing glint in her amber eyes. Despite her undeniable beauty, you were hesitant to accept her advances fully—the habitual need to measure the words and intentions of those around you taking over. Taking a leap and taking your friend's advice to unwind, you took a swig of your cocktail before responding.

"Definitely the company," you replied with an unwavering gaze, and you watched her smile grow. You hoped you weren't making a mistake.

On the dancefloor, Wanda's friends continued dancing while she made her way to the bar. Threading her way through the crowd, she kept her eyes on the bar ahead, her mind already rehearsing her drink order. But just as she turned the corner, she collided with something—or rather, someone. A broad, unyielding chest halted her movement, and she staggered lightly, but strong arms steadied her. Wanda's gaze lifted, meeting a man with a strong, square jaw, piercing blue eyes, and perfectly styled blond hair. Broad shoulders filled out his fitted black shirt, and his confident stance radiated an effortless charm. His lips quirked into a half-smile, both apologetic and amused, as his hand gripped her elbow.

"Oh, sorry!" she blurted, her voice barely audible over the music, heat creeping up her cheeks as she stepped out of his hold.

"That's on me. I wasn't paying attention," the blonde man excused, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "Were you heading for the bar?" He asked, signaling backward with his thumb.

Wanda shifted in her place, uncomfortable with her stoic position amongst the energetic crowd. She eyed the man cautiously before responding, "Yeah, I am."

"I'm heading that way, too. Do you wanna...?" He tilted his head toward the bar, inviting Wanda to join him. Wanda hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. The man before her was absolutely gorgeous as if sculpted by the gods, but he was still a stranger. He seemed to sense her unease and chuckled, embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm Steve, by the way, and very much gay."

Wanda's breath caught for a moment, stunned by his casual revelation. She blinked, processing his words. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, any apprehension at his invitation fading away.

"Well, that explains the perfect hair," she teased, her voice light. He grinned, leaning slightly closer as though to share a secret.

"Guilty," he said with a wink. Wanda snickered, her tension forgotten. "So..." Steve said, waiting for her answer.

"Why the hell not," she said, stepping toward the bar with him.

"You didn't tell me your name," he said as the two waited for the bartender. Wanda's face reddened, ashamed of her lack of manners, and she was glad the lighting hid the hue.

"I'm Wanda," she answered, fiddling with her fingers.

"Nice to meet you, Wanda," Steve said with a grin before proceeding, "Why don't you let me buy you a drink as an apology?"

"Oh, that's not necessary," Wanda refuted, shaking her head. "My friend is taking care of the bill for tonight." Besides, she was sure she had bumped into him.

"Is it a special occasion? Your birthday?"

Her birthday? No, she disliked celebrating the date ever since Pietro left her. Even with the persuasion of her friends, the date seemed dull without her brother. The curse of being twins living worlds apart.

"No, uh, not my birthday," Wanda responded, watching the bartender mix a drink. "New job." She tried to sound uninterested, not wanting to gush.

"Really? Congratulations."

"Thanks." She brushed her hair behind her ear, embarrassed by the attention, something that had followed her from her childhood.

"Can I ask where?"

Wanda did not want to seem like she was bragging, but she could not contain the wide smile as she responded, "Stark Industries."

She watched Steve's eyebrow rise to his forehead and whistle. "Now that is impressive. I've heard getting a job there is harder than getting into the FBI." Wanda nodded; she knew without Maria's help, she would have never gotten the opportunity due to the company's selectiveness.

"Might as well be. I was lucky my friend put in a good word for me," Wanda downplayed, motioning for the bartender as he approached.

"I'm still inviting, by the way," Steve interjected. Wanda wanted to protest, but she could see Steve would not back down, so she nodded. "I'll take an old fashioned and the for the lady a..." He looked at her expectantly.

"Virgin Mojito," Wanda shouted over the music. "I need to slow down with the alcohol," she explained to Steve, shuffling on her feet as self-awareness crept in. Considering the milestone, she should be drinking the night away, yet here she was, doing the opposite. Steve simply smiled at her, and she instantly felt her anxiety ease away. The two were left in conversation as the bartender tended to their order.

"And you, what do you do?" She asked Steve, not wanting to make all the conversation about herself. She leaned her back on the countertop, waiting for his answer.

"I manage a nonprofit that helps homeless youth," he explained. "Specifically teens and young adults who've been through tough situations—runaways, kids who aged out of foster care, or those kicked out."

She tilted her head, intrigued. "Wow, that's incredible. What made you start something like that?"

He shrugged modestly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's personal, I guess. I've seen how hard it can be for some kids to find their footing. I figured if I had the ability to help, why not? It's not flashy, but it's worth it when you see someone get a second chance at life."

Wanda's struggles as a child came to mind, and she felt her chest tighten. She smiled, her admiration for him growing. "You're giving them a future."

"That's the hope," Steve said, his blue eyes reflecting a quiet determination. Steve took the glass placed in front of him, bringing it to his lips; the smoky aroma of the whiskey mingled with the subtle sweetness of the sugar washing over his senses.

Wanda accepted her mocktail gratefully, appreciating the crisp, cool taste with its perfect hint of sweetness. The minty aroma and tangy lime made her feel re-energized. They sipped on their drinks, easily falling into a conversation to the point of exchanging numbers. They remained that way until Monica fell upon the pair on her search for her friend.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she informed, taking notice of Steve, her eyes surveying the man with intrigue, clearly getting the wrong impression. "I see you're in good company," Monica teased with a grin, and Wanda fought the urge to roll her eyes. Internally, that is all she would do.

"Steve, this is my friend Monica, and Monica, this is Steve. I bumped into him on my to get a drink."

"Pleasure to meet you," Steve greeted, extending a hand, and Monica gave Wanda a pleased look. Steve's boyish charms had also fooled Wanda as she assumed the man's intentions towards her. Now Monica did the same.

"Pleasures all mine," Monica responded before returning her attention to Wanda. "I'm gonna hit the dance floor again. You two coming?" she asked, trying to be a wingwoman.

Although Wanda was enjoying the conversation, she could feel her body pulse with renewed energy. Wanda nodded and turned to Steve, who was looking through the crowd. She couldn't see what he was looking at as his gaze landed on a group of people removed from the crowd. They were on a platformed space reserved for the VIPs. Steve observed as the woman holding hands walked away from the man before he moved to join the general crowd. The man wore a tailored charcoal coat, fitting his body-like skin, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim frame. Beneath it, jet-black silk glimmered faintly under the warm club lights as he moved through the crowd.

"Are you joining?" Wanda asked, uncertain of his answer.

"Ah-" Steve glanced at her before returning to look at the much closer man, and as if he could sense Steve's gaze, his own landed on him. "I'm getting another drink," he said, distracted.

"Oh, okay. Good luck," Wanda responded, noticing the exchange. Beside her, Monica's face shifted to confusion as her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth opening to voice out her thoughts. Before she could, Wanda pulled on her hand. "Let's go."

"What? What are you doing? What about Steve?" Monica's head turned to look at the man still at the bar.

"He's gay," Wanda revealed nonchalantly, and Monica stopped dead in her tracks. She stood there dumbfounded, and Wanda could see the wheels turning in her head.

"I see it now," she said, and Wanda bit her lip, containing a laugh.

"Come on, let's go."

The two navigated through the crowd, scanning the packed dancefloor as the music pounded around them. Neon lights flashed across moving bodies, making it hard to recognize anyone.

"There they are!" Monica shouted, pointing, and the two joined their friends.

"I thought you were only getting a drink. Where did you go?" Natasha asked Wanda when she noticed them. She turned to Monica. "And you, did it take you that long to find her?"

"Sure did, considering she was chatting up Adonis himself," Monica responded. Natasha raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk already forming. "Not so fast. I thought the same thing, but it turns out he has other interests."

Natasha tsked. "You need to get laid, not make friends. Must we also find you a lover?"

"Please stop," Wanda begged, to look around, hoping no one was paying attention. She was relieved most seemed lost in their own world. "Remember, you're supposed to be celebrating me, not torturing me," she reminded her friend.

"Come on, Nat, don't tease her. You were no better when we met, remember?" Maria defended with a wink. Natasha's eyes narrowed in a dramatic manner as she placed a hand over her chest in mock offense. Her lips parted in an exaggerated gasp. Mara pulled her on her hand, bringing her forward and kissing her lips. "Sorry, babe."

"We are so single," Monica whispered into Wanda's ear, and she couldn't help but agree. She couldn't remember when her last relationship had ended. A year ago, perhaps? She was not sure. "Maybe we can dance the loneliness away." Wanda huffed a laugh but consented, and the group resumed their activities, each paired off.

Wanda and Monica moved together in perfect rhythm, their laughter spilling over the thumping bass of the music. Monica spun the Wanda dramatically, her hands brushing as they twirled, drawing amusement from Natasha and Maria. Their movements were carefree and full of energy—shoulders bouncing, hips swaying, and feet tapping to the beat as the flashing lights danced across their skin. When they became exhausted, they moved to sit at a small table and soon after decided to head out.

The four friends stepped out into the cool night air, the bass of the club's music still faintly vibrating through the walls behind them. Laughter bubbled between the women as Monica recounted a story from one of her and Wanda's college parties.

"Okay, okay enough," Wanda said in between giggles. "It wasn't my fault. I had no clue he was lactose intolerant when I gave him the drink."

"Poor guy, he had to leave early," Monica recounted, linking her arms with Wanda. She pulled out her phone and squinting at the screen that displayed 1 AM. Not as late as they had planned to stay, but the dancing had finally begun to take a toll. Luckily, Maria had measured her drinks, only sipping a low-alcohol cocktail so that she would be driving them home—no need to Uber anywhere. The women slowly made their way to Maria's car, talking animatedly.

Wanting to take one last glance at a club, Wanda momentarily turned her head backward. She found a surprising sight as her eyes landed on a familiar figure she soon identified as Steve and, with him, a man she did not recognize. She couldn't see his face as he had his back to her, but she took notice of his silk jet black sleeveless tank, fitted trousers, sleek loafers, and, resting on his arm, a charcoal coat. She was close enough to see a wolf silhouette tattoo on his back.

"Good job, Steve!" Wanda said, and her friends turned around right as the two men kissed passionately.

"Oh, that's Steve? Good for him," Natasha mused as they continued walking.

Wanda hugged her jacket tighter around herself, her heart light with the joy of the night. The perfect mixture of dancing, drinks, and the kind of carefree energy she rarely let herself indulge in. Even with the familiar ache in her feet from hours of dancing, she didn't mind. Tonight had been just what she needed.

Taglist: @sgm616 @xxsekhmet @xenaizogie

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x stark!reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #targaryenmarvel fics

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knoepfl · 23 days ago

Text

Maybe Less Than God

Characters:

1. Homelander

Antagonist/love interest. Volatile, powerful, deeply insecure.

2. The Reader (You)

Protagonist. Confident, nurturing, refuses to be intimidated or controlled.

Trigger Warnings

1. Emotional/psychological abuse

2. Threats of violence (laser vision, near-death moments)

3. Trauma and isolation

4. Power imbalance

5. Emotional manipulation

6. Mentions of death/harm

Masterlist

Words: 1580

---

The night air in Vought Tower felt heavy, oppressive, as though the weight of Homelander’s fury seeped into every corner of the penthouse. You stood at the entrance, unflinching, watching as he paced the room like a predator stalking prey. His cape billowed with each sharp turn, and his fists were clenched so tightly you swore you could hear the leather of his gloves straining.

“They think they can humiliate me,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “Me. On live TV. That bitch had the nerve to talk back.” He stopped mid-step, his piercing blue eyes locking onto you like a laser. “And you—”

You raised an eyebrow, standing your ground. “What about me?”

His lips curled into a sneer, and he began to advance. “You just sit there, watching. You think you’re any different? You think I don’t see the doubt in your eyes when I talk about what I’m owed? You’re just like the rest of them.”

“Careful,” you said evenly, your tone sharp but calm. “You’re not angry at me, Homelander. Don’t make me the target for your tantrum.”

The room seemed to grow colder as his expression darkened. “Tantrum?” he repeated, his voice dripping with venom. “I could kill you in an instant, you know. Wipe that smug look off your face forever.”

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you. “Then why don’t you? What’s stopping you, Homelander? Go ahead—prove you’re the god you think you are.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a split second, you thought you might have gone too far. He raised his head slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes began to glow with that familiar, ominous red light.

The heat hit your skin immediately, prickling and almost unbearable as the twin beams crackled just inches from your face. You didn’t flinch, didn’t move, even as the heat singed the edge of your hair.

“Do it,” you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “Burn me alive. Destroy the one person in your life who doesn’t lie to you.”

His jaw twitched, the light in his eyes flickering as his rage collided with something else—confusion, maybe, or doubt.

“I’m not scared of you,” you continued, your tone soft but unyielding. “You want to lash out at the world because it’s easier than admitting you’re scared. But deep down, you know you don’t want to hurt me. You just don’t know how to handle someone who won’t cower before you.”

“Shut up,” he growled, the beams dimming slightly.

“You can’t control me, Homelander,” you pressed, taking another step closer. “But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Because you don’t want another puppet. You want someone who sees you. The real you.”

His breathing was ragged now, the glow in his eyes fading completely as he stared at you, his expression a mix of anger, confusion, and something almost like desperation.

“I don’t need anyone,” he said, but his voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Maybe not,” you replied, reaching up to gently touch his face. He flinched but didn’t pull away. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want someone. Someone who cares about you, even when you’re like this.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. His body was tense, his hands trembling at his sides as though still fighting the urge to lash out. But as your fingers brushed against his cheek, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “To be...me.”

“You’re right,” you said softly. “I don’t. But I know what it’s like to feel alone. To think no one understands you. And I know it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. When he opened them again, the anger was still there, but it was tempered by something gentler.

“I almost killed you,” he said, his tone flat but laced with an undercurrent of shame.

“But you didn’t,” you said simply. “Because I know you, Homelander. I know you’re more than your anger. You just don’t believe it yet.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time, he looked...small. Vulnerable.

“Why do you stay?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

You smiled faintly, stepping back just enough to give him space. “Because someone has to remind you that you’re human, even when you don’t want to be.”

Homelander stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned away, heading to the couch and sinking onto it heavily.

You followed, sitting beside him but keeping a respectful distance. He didn’t speak again, but when you reached out and placed your hand on his, he didn’t pull away.

The silence stretched on, heavy but no longer hostile. You knew this wasn’t over—that his anger, his darkness, would rear its head again. But for now, you had defused the storm.

---

The silence in the penthouse stretched between you both, heavy but no longer suffocating. Homelander sat on the couch, his posture still stiff, his eyes unfocused as though he was replaying every moment of the confrontation in his mind. You stayed beside him, quiet but unwavering, your hand still resting lightly on his.

After a long pause, he exhaled sharply and leaned back, running a hand through his blonde hair. His movements were jerky, as though the tension in his body refused to fully release. Then, almost reluctantly, his eyes flicked to you.

“You should hate me,” he said, his voice quiet but bitter. “After what I just did.”

You met his gaze steadily. “I don’t hate you, Homelander.”

“Why not?” he demanded, the frustration creeping back into his tone. “Why don’t you? Everyone else does—behind their fake smiles and hollow praise, they all hate me. Fear me.”

“I’m not everyone else,” you replied simply.

His jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours for something—what, you weren’t sure. After a moment, he let out another breath and slumped further into the couch, his facade of strength crumbling little by little.

Without a word, he shifted, laying his head in your lap. The suddenness of it caught you off guard, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you adjusted slightly, settling into the new position as his weight pressed down on you.

He closed his eyes, his expression tight and strained, like he was bracing himself for rejection or ridicule. When neither came, the tension in his face softened, and he let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh of relief.

Your hand moved instinctively, brushing through his hair with slow, gentle strokes. The action was calming—for both of you—and you felt some of the residual fear and adrenaline from earlier start to dissipate.

“You’re so confusing,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “One minute, I want to... God, I wanted to... hurt you.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission raw and unguarded. “And the next, I can’t stand the thought of you leaving.”

“I know,” you said softly, continuing the soothing motions with your hand. “You don’t know what to do with me, do you?”

A faint, bitter laugh escaped him. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t. I’m used to control. To getting what I want, when I want it. But with you...” He opened his eyes, glancing up at you, his expression almost pleading. “You don’t play by my rules.”

“That’s because I’m not afraid of you,” you said gently. “Not the real you, anyway. The part of you that’s hurt. Lost.”

He tensed for a moment, his pride prickling at the words, but then he relaxed again, his head pressing a little deeper into your lap.

“You’re either brave or stupid,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to the words.

“Maybe both,” you said lightly, your lips curving into a faint smile.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the faint hum of the city outside and the rhythmic stroking of your fingers through his hair. Slowly, you felt his breathing even out, the rise and fall of his chest becoming less erratic.

“You remind me of something,” he said suddenly, his voice low and thoughtful.

“What’s that?”

“Home,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not that I’ve ever had one.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw vulnerability in them. “You can have one now,” you said softly. “It’s not too late, Homelander.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the room. Then, slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing against yours where they rested in his hair. The gesture was hesitant, almost uncertain, but it spoke volumes.

“Stay,” he said quietly, the word more of a plea than a command.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, your voice steady.

He closed his eyes again, his expression softening as he allowed himself to let go—if only for a little while. For all his power, all his rage and arrogance, in this moment, he was just a man seeking comfort. And for now, you were willing to give it.

As the minutes passed, you felt the weight of his body grow heavier, his breaths deepening as exhaustion finally claimed him. You continued stroking his hair, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns, grounding him even in his sleep.

Whatever tomorrow brought—his anger, his pride, his destructive tendencies—you would face it together. For now, the storm had passed, leaving only the quiet and the fragile connection you shared.

---

#fanfiction #fanfic #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys #the boys fanfic #homelander #the boys series #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #near death experience #Strong woman #confident woman

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slayingqueenchal · 2 years ago

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Got a thing for my sister, moony? | remus lupin x f!black!reader

Summary : sirius notices that when it's close to the full moon remus is an asshole but when it comes to y/n he's an absolute sweet heart

Warning : one year age gap (youre regulus's twin sis), Gryffindor reader (i hope that still makes u interested), pet names like 'love, sweet heart, darling', fluff

It was... Sirius figured it out. When remus told him about his so called lopsided hair

"Padfoot, your hair looks lopsided today" Remus said, his left hand on his chin and his right hand pointing on sirius's hair.

When you heard that, you chocked on your drink. I mean it's true, you agreed with remus, his hair does look lopsided. "Mhm, top tier comedy isn't it sis? " Said sirius sarcastically.

The other boys laughed but, remus looked concerned. You were ready for his insults to you, cause full moons in a few day.

"You alright, darling? " Said remus. Suddenly it was sirius's time to chocke on his water. "What the hell did you call my sister".

"Darling, you have a problem with that, padfoot" Said remus confidently. "Geez, almost got me a concussion" Sirius said, taking another sip of water.

Or when sirius, James and Peter found you and remus together in the library.

"What does this all mean im gonna go insane" you said. Defense against the dark arts is your least favorite subjects.

"Hey, hey, it's alright sweetheart, we can take a break, you know, I brought snacks" Remus smiled brightly.

"Really, what snacks? " You asked. "You know, the toast that you call moony toast, that one" He put it on the table. "And you made two! " You smiled.

"Yes, one for me, and one for you, of course i can't forget to make you one" Remus grinned, taking one piece of his toast and ate it.

And when you five sneaked to the astronomy towers to plan some pranks

"What should we do, to snivellus house Slytherin" James walked around the astronomy tower. "Maybe we could put nifflers in the Slytherins common room? " You said.

The boys said it was a good idea but, Remus called you "love, y/n, come". " Yeah, what is it, rem? " You sat next to him, his hands on your back.

"Look at that, that's a shooting star, what are you gonna wish for? " He said, pointing at the moving star.

"Hm, I want us to be friends forever, you and me, always, forever" You looked at the stars, and Remus, then the stars.

"Well, love, I want more than that" Remus said.

That's when Sirius snapped out of it. He realized what remus ment was not oh 'I want more than that like money,or something else's but it was 'I want to be more than friend's.

That evening, Sirius walked to the hospital wing, to see Remus.

"Where's y/n? " Sirius asked. "Oh, she just left, I told her to, she looks tired" Remus said, the pain in his eyes were still visible even though it was hours after the full moon.

"I need to talk to you" Sirius grabbed a stool, sitting closely to remus. "I know you fancy my sister, it's obvious! The way you look at her, the way you're a complete gentleman towards her, bloody hell you like my sister"

Remus's face looks like the moon had come early, "n-no", " Oh dont deny it, moons, I'm fine with it! " Sirius smiled.

"Okay, Sirius, i- I don't just like your sister, I fell for her--the way she acts, her beautiful hair, her pretty face, her soothing voice, and she's everything to me! But you'll hate me for falling in love with her"

"Seriously Remus? Gosh it's obvious that you love her, I mean go for it, ask her out, or something" Sirius smiled.

"Really? " Remus smiled, and Sirius nodded.

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misteria247 · 2 months ago

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They say that the broadcast is one of Gravity Falls's greatest mysteries. That it's been around since the 80s, yet the hosts never seem to change or age. Their voices forever stuck in their radio waves.

It's this kind of mystery that called to Dipper Pines like a sailor to the sea.

He'd heard stories about it, ever since he and Mabel were old enough to hear them from their grandpa Shermie. The older man never really talked about Gravity Falls, Oregon. And whenever he did, he'd always get this far away look in his eyes. As if he was trying not to remember too much. Like the thought of Gravity Falls was too much for him to bare. And so Dipper accepted the stories he'd hear, those about the strange broadcasting system being his favorite. And he would have been content with them.

If he and Mabel didn't discover that photo album.

It'd been an accident. Finding that photo that was old with age. But once it was discovered, those old broadcasting stories became a lot more unsettling. As he and Mabel stared at the photograph, they saw the face of a younger grandpa, Shermie. Next to him were three other men, one who was tall and lanky with a nervous smile to him. And beside him were two men, one with a larger build and mullet, while the other had glasses and a trench coat. Both with identical faces. Standing in front of what looked like an old shack with a small broadcasting tower behind it.

Twins the younger Pines children realized.

And underneath the photo, in their grandpa's handwriting was written.

'1981 Gravity Falls, Oregon. My younger brothers Stanford and Stanley Pines with their friend Fiddleford Mcgucket.'

"Younger brothers?"

Mabel's voice was the one to break through their stunned stupor. Dipper could only look at his sister, awed by the revelation of apparently having two uncles they'd never heard about. As to why, neither knew. But one thing they knew was they had a mystery to solve. As they placed the album back, they couldn't help but wonder.

What happened to Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford?

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 8 months ago

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The Song of Ice and Fire (DARK BOOKMOND X STARKREADER/OC)

Aemond (book) x Reader

🔷Summary: After getting kidnapped on your way to King's Landing, you end up in another time where you meet a dangerous prince.

🔷Author's note: Either hit or miss with this one

🔷Wordcount :6756

🔷Warnings: This is Bookmond because im a little too sad to write showaemond atm. Bookaemond is my deranged honeybee he can do nothing wrong. Ok almost nothing.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, drugging, forced marriage and war crimes and aemond being a sexist little bitch. Also spankings.

Maybe it was for the best. You always dreamt of leaving the cold and quiet town of Winterfell behind. You dreamt of a bigger, exciting life. A life of tourneys, of exciting feasts, of noble men fighting for your hand. It should have been as simple as that.

Except it wasn’t.

Sansa, your sister is going to be the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Your father would be the hand of the king, one of the highest positions at court. You, Arya, and her will soon travel with him to King’s Landing.

Until something happened.

Something unexplainable.

And something terrible.

Lately, your dreams have been getting worse. From nightmares that you didn’t pay any mind to darker things, things you barely could keep to yourself. Nightmares and dreams filled with unexplainable things, unknown faces and the death rising and marching.

_____________

It is clear to you that your mind is simply toying with you. You are likely nervous for the future that awaits you. You are nervous for the suitors you’ll meet and that your life finally will begin. It will just be like all the romantic novels you read. It will be ball after ball and feast after feast.

Your dreams always start the same way. You are alone, surrounded by trees as big as towers, in the snowy woods. You hear the sound of the crispy snow as you set feet on it, moving in any direction, to find something. Home, you assume. The stars above your head are the only light to guide you, and it is unforgivably dark in the cold forest.

The cold winter winds pick up and toy with your hair, sending it in all directions. You never know why, but you always turn your head slightly sideways. You can’t control it. You don’t have a say. As a chestpiece moving over the board, you do as you are told by someone controlling you.

It is always a surprise to see the wall close by, no matter how many times you have dreamt this dream. The majestic tall, ancient structure that has been here long before you were born and will be there long after you have gone. Something about it tells you are not supposed to be here. You feel chills.

You had heard reasons why the wall was built. Wildlings, mostly. The Nightwatch was installed to guard the wall, to make sure no threat could climb over it. You know your brother, Jon, dreams of becoming a brave member of the Nightwatch. It is all the honor he will gain as a bastard anyway. You are the same as his twin sister. But your father kept your bastardy a secret.

But the most important reason why the wall was built was the threat of white walkers. Cold, icy and deadly soldiers of an army without needs and without a will, forced to march forever beyond the wall. And when you are all the way North, you can only go one way: South.

You knew it wasn’t true. You knew when your father told you about them, they weren’t real. But any Northern child grows up with the same tales. Creatures with eyes as blue as ice, that could freeze you in pure terror so they could easily squeeze your eyeballs out of your head, killing you. A fun tale in a tavern. But not in the castle.

You aren’t a foolish girl, no matter what the world tells you. You don’t believe those lies. You never did. You are not as brave as Arya perhaps or as pretty and polite as Sansa but you never believe in those ghost stories.

But here, in your dreams, beyond the wall and far away from your safe warm room at Winterfell, even someone as skeptical as you could understand why people believed those stories.

What would come next in your dreams was also always the same. You turn your head away from the wall. In the far distance, you can make out someone standing there, holding a lantern. The person is hooded, unrecognizable. But the person would always lift the lantern, and wave with it. Your eyes follow the movements, as the light of the lantern becomes brighter and brighter, shedding light over the forest, making the snow almost look like liquid gold.

It always seems so magical, as a scam shopkeepers tell their far too trusting clients before selling them magical rocks or potions. You know the hooded person never reveals themselves. You tried running at them, screaming, but you couldn’t move nor speak.

Then, you notice you are standing on something. A great lake, made of ice. Gone are the trees of the forest. Through the ice, you make out the skeleton of a human being. Someone from a long time ago. You watch the skeleton, wondering how long ago this person met their end, and how. And beneath the ice, poking halfway out of it, is a steel forged sword with a black handle. The tip of it is still in the ice, covered in a dark rusty coat of old blood. You notice your hands reach for the sword, picking it out of the ice.

The sword feels different than most swords. Lighter, better to wield. Safer. It feels like wielding one of your own arms. It feels safe, comfortable. Yours. Impossible. Ladies do not wield weapons. Not such obvious ones, at least. Ladies wield lies, poison, tricks, schemes.

You turn to the hooded figure, sword in hand, still standing on the ice, with the skeleton safely beneath your feet. The hooded figure is gone. As is the light. The world is once again covered in darkness. It is suffocating you, in a way.

Fear and anxiety fight inside of you, as you try to get off the ice. But you can’t move. Not anymore. It is not your body, anymore. You don’t have a say, anymore.

The sword is starting to hurt your inexperienced arms, and you try at all cost to drop the weapon. Your head snaps as you hear the sound of something you never heard before, but somehow you know exactly what it is. A dragon’s roar.

You never felt fear like that, as you look around the lake for any sign of a dragon. But instead you are met with a thin skeleton made of ice and rotting flesh that reaches out with their hands, trying to grab you. A white walker.

You scream.

But before he could grab you, drag you into the lake with him…

You wake up.

You sit straight up in your bed, clutching the sheets of your bed. Your heart is still beating and your fear hasn’t left your mind yet. You are glad to see you are in your rooms, at Winterfell. Several familiar stuffed animal toys glance back at you from their spots on high shelves, calming your troubled mind instantly. You are coming of age so put some of them away, but unlike Sansa, you could never throw them out.

You climb out of bed and prepare yourself for the exciting day ahead. The day your life will change forever. You just had no idea how much. And how terribly.

As always, Winterfell is busy. Servants go about their day, greeting you with nods or smiles as they carry in potatoes or walk around with freshly washed linen.

Your father and ‘’mother’’, brothers and sisters are already at the table, gathered for breakfast. They seem to have been waiting just for you. You greet them with a relieved smile. The food smells delicious and makes your stomach rumble in unladylike ways. You sit down on your chair and begin eating.

You can almost hear Lady Catalyn’s thoughts. Everyone seems to know it. This might be the final time you might all be together. This is goodbye, in a way. Jon will go to the wall, and you and your sisters to King’s Landing.

You grab an apple and begin biting down on it, while also making yourself a cup of nice honey tea. You can not wait to leave the boring North and the nightmares finally behind. The north is a boring and cold place. Nothing exciting ever happened. Your sister, Sansa, also looks more happy than usual. Normally, she is grumpy at this hour.

‘’Do we need to leave soon?’’ Arya mutters next to her, playing with a fork and a potato. Your parents share a look, and your father speaks to the youngest Lady of house Stark.

Even with their differences, their arguments and their fighting, you can see that Arya dreads the day that her and her would leave for the capital. She likely wants to remain here, in the cold North forever. Eddard speaks, smiling with pride and joy and you feel jealous of how easy Sansa will become the Queen. ‘’Sansa will be the Queen. I will become the hand of the King if all goes well. Perhaps you’ll like King’s Landing.’’ Arya’s brown eyes fill with worry at imaginary scenarios. She looks at her sister, who always was said to be prettiest and who always has focussed on how to be a lady. She imagined King’s Landing would be filled with Sansas.

‘’No, thank you.’’ she mutters. Yet she does not have a choice.

You begin eating the apple first. At that moment, Maester Luwin comes from the courtyard, bringing likely fresh news, plucked from a raven. He brings the news first to your parents, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. ‘’Lady Lynantha is expected to be escorted to King’s Landing today. Her carriage is already here.’’ You drop your apple, distraught as all eyes are on you. ‘’Why aren't we traveling together?’’ You ask your father. He does not meet your eyes.

‘’I received a letter. A nobleman from King’s Landing, one of King Robert’s nephews, wishes to get to know you. It is of importance that you leave right away.’’ You know why. There are rumors you aren’t a true born Stark. That you are a bastard. Rumors that are likely true.

You understand. You are eager to leave, in a way. Lady Stark stands up from her seat. ‘’I wish you well, Lyantha.’’ You never liked her. She never liked you. But you do respect her. You nod, respectful as you make a final curtsy.

Luwin coughs, reminding you all that time is not on your side. You finally stand as well, excusing yourself as you mutter. ‘’I must pack for the journey-’’ You will need clothing, books, maybe jewelry.

‘’O, there is no need, truly.’’ An almost magical light voice rings out. A woman with raven dark hairs, a green gown with beautiful gold patterns stitched onto her skirt greets you with a curtsy. ‘’The Capital has everything you could need.’’ She assures you, a sweet but horrible hollow smile on her lips. The Lady makes a bow for her as well. ‘’I am Lady Alys Rivers. I have come to escort you to your Prince.’’ You know that Rivers is a last name used for bastards and commoners, and wonder silently how someone as Alys could have acquired such a position at the royal court. But you would never dare to voice that concern. Of course not. A prince, a title, it is almost too good to be true. ‘’A prince?’’ You ask, beaming with excitement. Sansa huffs, and you see Alys nod, almost a little too pleased with your excitement.

The woman smiles as if you two are long lost friends. ‘’A true born royal, a fierce skilled warrior and an intelligent man. Few are blessed in so many ways.’’ You are certain your smile only grows.

He sounds so charming.

So perfect.

So kind and gentle and gallant and strong.

‘’Very well.’’ You say. Your father is the first to hug you, whispering in your ear that you’ll always be a Stark, and his little girl. If you have trouble, you could write to him and he’d be there before you could blink with your eyes.

The Starks remain loyal and firmly rooted outside in the yard as the carriage slowly departs to the roads, leaving Winterfell behind. Such sorrow the Starks all share And such more sorrow they would share if they had known what would become of Lynantha.

–

The carriage is comfortable and to your liking. It is warm as a mother’s embrace and has soft pillows that make the long journey comfortable. You imagined you would stay at multiple ins down the King’s road. Lady Alys has been nothing but kind to you, offering you sweets and cake when the landscape and scenery outside of the window changed.

The lemon cakes you eat are heavy on your stomach, and soon you feel tired. Exhausted for some reason. It must be the weird nightmares that kept you up.

As a true future Princess, you try to stay awake in the carriage but the more she fight against the instinct to sleep, the more tired you become. Eventually, you fall asleep in the carriage.

This time you too dream of the strange sword, the strange lady with the Lantern and the wall. But you can hear a voice this time as well. ‘’Do not go to the wall! Return! You don’t know what you are unleashing!’’ You can not place the voice, and you assume it belongs to the lantern lady. But when you look at the normally covered lady, you see Alys instead, wearing the common cloak and dress, holding the same lantern. Her eyes are red and sinister, burning like hellfire and her smile spreads wider than it should.

Once again, you wake up panting and breathing heavily. Alys is still near you, calmly knitting. You had hoped if you left the North, the nightmares would end. ‘’Welcome back, my Princess.’’ Alys says as she finishes her knitwork. ‘’We are almost there. Just a bit longer.’’ And at that moment, you notice a familiar basket that is half covered with a blanket on the floor. You would recognize that basket everywhere. And to be in King’s Landing so fast….Something is wrong.

‘’You don’t work for the King do you?’’ You ask, your voice soft and trembling. ‘’You’re not taking me to King’s Landing.’’

Alys only smiles, putting her needles and knitting work away. ‘’Just sit tight. I need to bring you to him alive, he didn’t say in what state.’’ He? Who is he?

You have many more questions, but you are not stupid. That was a clear threat and an order to shut up and so you will.

The carriage finally approaches its final destination. And halts.

When you look outside, all you can see is darkness. And the ominous yet sparkling stars above the carriage. Just as in my dreams.

It feels much colder here. And that smell. The smell of iron and snow. Alys takes her time with putting her hood on, and as you had expected by now the hood had the same pattern as that of the Lantern lady. She smiles as she opens the door. You don’t know what she wants. But it can’t be good. And you are not coming with her.

You clings to the carriage instead, refusing to follow Alys. ‘’No! I’m not coming with you! Bring me back!’’ You demand.

Alys only chuckles and pulls harder, pulling you easily from the carriage as a flower being plucked. She puts you outside the carriage.

In the cold snow you take a good look at your surroundings, looking for any help or signs. And there it is. You turn around, as if you can already feel its presence. The looming tall wall of the North.

And you are clearly beyond it.

’Are you mad?!’’ you lash out at Alys. ‘’You have endangered us both! Who knows what’s out there.’’ Alys ignores you, shining her lantern around the ground, searching for something.

You rub your cold arms, regretting you didn’t bring a coat with you. The snow storm only grows worse and worse, as a storm unleashing upon a town.

You look back at the wall, before stumbling on something beneath your feet, buried in the cold snow. Just like in your dream. And just like in your dream it is the sword. For a moment, you think about picking it up and threatening Alys with it. You reach out to grab it. ‘’What did you find there?’’Alys’s voice rings out, closer to you than she was before. You try to pick the sword up, but Alys is faster. She has a strange smirk on her lips when you backed away from the now armed woman. ‘’Such a good girl, finding the sword. I’ll tell him that you found it.’’ There’s that ‘’him’’ again.

You become even more uncomfortable at her clearly condescending compliment, and for some reason she is more angry with you than before. Is it because you found the sword? And not her? ‘’Now come. He’s not known for his patience.’’ You look back at the Wall. Alys sighs, clearly annoyed. ‘’Or you can stay out here in the cold and freeze to death.’’ She adds, with a careless shrug. ‘’I don’t mind.’’ She is right. You know she is. And you hate her for it. You won’t survive out here on your own.

The two of you approach a lake that is somehow not frozen despite the cold. It is not the lake with the skeleton. You can tell. Red and green and black and yellow flowers grow around it too, and everything about it seems to confirm that this is nothing but just a dream. But you can’t wake up.

Alys grabs your arm, walking to the lake. You resist bravely but end up in the water regardless, yelping expecting cold, freezing water. But it does not feel cold. It does not feel warm. It does not feel anything, truly. It feels…soulless. Dead, in a way.

Alys and you approach the deeper part, where you can no longer stand. Before you can ask what is happening, she pushes you underwater. You gulp, as water fills your lungs, convinced you will die. You close your eyes and at the moment you have given up all hope, something beneath you seems to open, and you fall down.

—

Your body is drifting between both space and time for a while, until someone pulls you up by your hair, and out of the waters, back into the world of the living. You gasp for air, spitting out the water and cling to the ground, looking around you as you thank the gods you are alive.

You are still near a lake. Just not the one you nearly drowned in. You look at the skies, and it is day as well. How long have I been gone?

This lake has flowers in just green colors, and has ruined walls around it, likely belonging to a palace from a time long ago. You look around and notice your captor calmingly sitting next to you, making a crown out of flowers. She drops her crown the moment she sees you have awakened. You can only glare at her, too stunned for anything else.

You hiss at her, close to strangling her. She cackles. ‘’You’re finally awake. I was worried you didn’t survive our little magic trip.’’ You sit up, taking in more and more of your surroundings, the sun warming your wet clothing, as you look at the ruins of a castle and people passing you both.

You jump to your feet, ignoring your soaked clothing as you rush to a soldier. ‘’Hey, Hey! I need help! She abducted me!’’ You yell. The soldier takes one good look at you, before he sees Alys. Alys cracks her head sideways, causing bones to crack. That is all it takes for him to take off running.

You huff, in disbelief and anger. ‘’Craven!’’ You shout, as he rushes off. Next to you, Alys doubles over cackling once more. She finds this extremely funny, for some reason. She lays a hand on your arm, smiling at you.

You instantly shrug it off, disgusted. She doesn’t seem to even care, still smiling.

‘’Come. We are almost here.’’ She says. You can do two things. You can dive back into the lake, and likely drown, or you can come with this woman. Both aren’t smart things to do. Alys offers her hand again.

At that moment, you spot a nice, big rock, just a few steps away from you. Most people here don’t care for abuctuees. They won’t care for murder either, you think. No one would know. No one would judge. And no one would tell.

This woman is a threat to your safety. And so you grabbed the rock, and tried to get Alys on her back. The woman cackled again, much to your annoyance. You did manage to get her on her back, and raise the rock skyhigh, ready to deliver the deadly blow. Alys laughs, before spitting in your face. Disgusted and caught off guard, you drop the rock. ‘’It seems we need to watch ourselves around you.’’

‘’Come, we must not let him wait any longer.’’ There it is again.

You know you are going to regret going with Alys but you don’t have a say. Not anymore. ‘’Who is this him you speak of?’’ Perhaps the mysterious prince, her lover, or an enemy of Joffrey. It has to be.

Or, a Targaryen. You snort, in your head. The Targaryens had been defeated, like their dragons and their ancestors alike. They would not bother you or anyone else on the Westeros continent again.

‘’Your prince, of course.’’ There is something strange in her voice. Almost a scoff or an inside joke that you had yet to understand. However you perked up at hearing those words.

‘’The match my father arranged?’’ you ask. ‘’Is he here?’’ It couldn’t be. Could it? It would not explain the lake, the change of time, the wall, anything of it. But the thought that you soon would see your handsome prince again, gives you some hope.

Alys ignored you and did not confirm nor deny anything as the two of you walked to the castle gates. As you approach, you notice countless freshly dug graves. You gulp. You try to remember what castle this could possibly be.

And that’s when you see it. The ruins remind you of a more polished version of the castle of Harrenhall. The cursed castle and the castle where dragon fire still burns to this day. The walls look younger, time has not been as cruel as it has been now. The fire burns, as always.

The thing that scares you most, were the gates. Someone had put heads on the spikes, heads of people who all had their eyes wide open and full of terror of whatever killed them. A killer. A monster.

The smell makes you sick. And judging by their smell, they had been here quite a while. Alys doesn’t even bat a eye at the dead. But she did grab your right hand, dragging you inside of the castle.

The doors open the moment Alys approaches them, her head high as a true queen. You walk next to her, your thoughts spiraling.

You have just a moment to glance up at the banners decorating the outer walls. And you wish you hadn’t. An unfamiliar yet known sigil hangs there, proudly paraded by the wind and kept in place with pins. You would recognize the three headed dragon everywhere. The Targaryens. But how?

Yet this one looks different. Alys drags you in, the moment you finally draw the conclusion that this is the sigil of no other than King Aegon II. The gold and the green made that clear. But what are his banners doing here, nearly hundred years after his passing? Unless….

You already felt sick because of the dead outside the gate, and now you feel even worse as an irrational and terrible fear begins to form in your head. A fear so insane that it can’t be true, but how can you deny what is right in front of you? Have I truly….?

Alys drags you with her, into the castle halls and into the throne room. The door has no guards. You can hear someone playing with a blade, sharpening it. You feel shivers and cold, in your wet clothes.

Alys gives you a push in your back, sending you into the room on your own.

‘’I’ve brought you something.’’ She says, her smile barely containing her pride.

Whoever is there, they didn’t bother to open the curtains or to light candles. A truly terrifying conclusion.

You trip over your dress, and fall. You regained just enough balance to land on your knees, instead of flat on your face. You know whoever is waiting here, orchestrated this whole thing. And if your gut is right, you know who it is.

You laugh, quietly. You must be crazy, expecting an actual Targaryen prince to await you here. Stir crazy. But what other explanation is there? Why else bother with old banners, why else does the castle look better than it ever did in your time?

You glance up at the man sitting the throne, his legs calmly placed on the arms of the lavious throne he sits upon. He is indeed sharpening a catspaw dagger, and his lips have the faint impression of a smirk and a smile blended into one as he takes in your soaked clothing and angry glare. Alys opens some curtains.

And the moment you do see his face, it feels as a relief and a shock at once. Relief because you were right. But also a shock because how, how can you possibly be right?

You were treated as a silly little girl. You can only think of one reason why the banners were here, why the castle looked so good and why the dead were rotting above the gates. And this man’s face confirms it all.

In front of you, is no one else but Aemond Targaryen ‘’one eye’’ the Kinslayer of House Targaryen. You know him from the history books you have read. But those books barely mention him. Aside from his death and his atrocities at Harrenhal.

And yet, here he stands. In front of you, alive and well. He is a true Targaryen with sharp classic Valyrian features like piercing eyes, and very light, almost silver coloured hair.

He finally stopped sharpening his dagger, curiosity written all over his face as he takes you in, sitting on the floor, at his feet and glaring at him. He can’t help but smirk.

You glare. Whatever it was that is going on, it is all his doing. You can tell. And that prince Alys promised you would meet, that is him. A cruel joke on her behalf. You glare at her too. She simply makes another curtsy cackling once again.

Slowly, a smile creeps on his lips, amused by the audacity. ‘’I take it she was a smart lass and obeyed?’’ The question is aimed at Alys and you physically feel your stomach turn even worse by his words.

You had not been a ‘’smart lass’’. If anything, you had acted insanely dumb. You resisted, you tried to kill Alys. You tried to run. You tried to resist in every way possible and more.

You cross your arms, tired. Alys beams as she tells Aemond what has happened between the two of you, happy to see you punished by her Prince. ‘’She tried to kill me with a rock.’’

His face tilts, and although he tries to appear uninterested and cold, even a simple man could read the anger and murderous emotions in his eye. ‘’I will see to that she’s punished for that.’’ He promises his loyal servant. To that, Alys smiles.

Aemond smiles at you, in a condescending way. You glance between him and Alys, aware you are in trouble now. ‘’I am not yours to punish.’’ He is not your husband, nor your king or father. No one should decide what happens to you but you. Your voice doesn’t sound scared or angry. Just annoyed.

Aemond shifts his legs, angry at your carelessness and casual behaviour. He slams his hands on the arms of the throne, causing you to flince briefly. He stands up, and you finally see just how tall he truly is. And how fast he stands in front of you. He sinks to his knees, the green leather cracking. He clearly enjoys the way you flinch as he reaches out to touch your chin and your cheeks, feeling your soft delicate skin beneath his fingers. He finally bothers to address you. ‘’Of course you are, Little Wolfling. If you touch and damage something that is mine, you will be punished.’’ He reveals.

You understand finally that Alys is more than just his servant. They have a relationship. He loves her. And you tried to kill her. You must try to talk your way out of this. ‘’Your lady did not explain why I was taken from my home and lied to.’’ You hope he becomes more understanding of how terrifying all of this is for you.

Alys snorts and Aemond laughs. You curse quietly in your head. That was a failed attempt. ‘’As I ordered her. Alys obeys well and listens. You can learn a thing or two from her.’’ He tells you, finally getting up from the ground.

Somehow, that makes you angry. The idea that he now thinks you will help him as some spineless pet and roll over for him when he wishes so, it makes you so furious that you are close to pulling him back by his eyepatch to slam his head against the stone floor. You do not have the sword anymore.

You only have your clothes.

And …

Oh.

You patiently wait until his back is turned to your front, before sliding your shoe off and aiming at his head. You throw the shoe as hard as possible and it ends up hitting him perfectly on his head.

Confused, he turns around, looking for who dared to have hit him. When he notices you, smirking very proudly and missing one shoe, something changes. And you regret even blinking in his direction.

Prince Aemond storms back to you, as you can barely back away to escape him. He is faster and steps on your dress, trapping you easily. You feel the walls closing in and are truly in danger now. The Prince grabs you by your waist, lifting you to your feet and drags you to the throne. You try to break free of his grip, protesting. ‘’Let go of me!” You turn your head to look at Alys. Surely she has a say in this. But she only smiles.

Aemond let out a low chuckle as he sits down the throne, your body still in his grasp. He places you on his lap, as some disobedient little girl. He whispers in your ear, and your cheeks burn with shame. ‘’You laughed. Now it is my turn to laugh, Little Wolfling.’’ You let out an offended cry, struggling to get away from him as fast as possible.

He chuckles. ‘’I am not sure what they teach you in the North, but here, we are respectful to our princes.’’ He says, lecturing you. His cold hands feel the back of your dress, feeling the warm skin that it covered.

Until that moment, you had never been touched before. Instead of doing what you feared he would do, he picked out a different punishment. He does lift your skirts, but barely enough to touch you. Just to reach your small clothes but mostly your behind. And at that moment you know what he is planning. And you don’t want that. You try to escape again, kicking and slapping him.

Aemond grabs your hands, grinning. ‘’Calm down, Little Wolfling. It’s just a spanking. I’m sure you had plenty before.’�� Never.

Your parents did not believe that that was a healthy idea. ‘’No! Never!”’ You declare, angry. ‘’And you are not my father or my husband. You aren’t allowed to punish me.’’ You say, bravely.

He only scoffs, and his hand lands the first hard blow on your behind, causing you to cry out in pain. You squirm over his legs, fighting stronger and harder. He increases his grip, tightening it. ‘’Tis for the best you learn now, Little Wolfling. I don’t have time and the patience to do this every day.’’

The blows only increase, hurting your delicate skin. You did try to keep from crying and from complaining. You wouldn’t grand him that satisfaction. Not anymore.

It is true that you were disciplined in this way, yet your body betrayes you in the worst way imaginable.

You do not notice your arousal until it is too late. Your nipples are hardened and there is a wetness between your legs, growing.

You stop fighting. Perhaps in shock of your own betrayal, perhaps only to show the prince that he could stop what he was doing to you. Finally, he stops. But not before your behind is burning and a painful mess.

He helps correct your dress and covers you apprioartly as if nothing has happened. You are still in shock, and don’t move away from him at first. ‘’I hope I made myself clear to you both. You both will play nice to one another.’’ He tells both you and his lover.

Alys bristles. ‘’I am not the one picking up rocks and killing people.’’ But this time, Aemond has enough of her complaints.

He did all he could. ‘’The Wolf has been disciplined. I am sure my Little Wolfling will behave much better in the future.’’ You are forced to sit on his lap, as a prize he had won.

‘’Won’t you, Little Wolfling?’’ He whispers. He does not kiss you, but his lips come closer to your cheeks, and unwillingly you feel your cheeks burn bright as stars. He chuckles, amused. ‘’You can go now, Little Wolfling.’’ You almost look offended when he sends you away.

This madness needs to stop. ‘’I,’’ You catched your breath. ‘’I don’t understand a few things.’’ You say. You want the truth. Now. Before you offend him again somehow.

Aemond rolls his good eye, smirking. ‘’You are a woman. I imagine that happens to you a lot.’’ Even Alys glares at that comment but his royal highness does not see it.

You only blink, ignoring him. ‘’You are alive.’’ You say, cutting straight to the case. ‘’You were killed in a battle.’’ You don’t remember who killed him or with what or where but you are certain Aemond Targaryen died.

Aemond’s head perks up, listening eagerly to what you tell him. You can tell he is not listening, but he is eager. ‘’What am I doing here? Am I here to save the dragons?’’ You ask. ‘’Or to stop the civil war?’’ Not that you would even know how in the seven hells to do that, but that's another thing entirely.

That causes the head of the prince to snap to Alys, worry written across his face for the first time that you met him. Alys only makes a gesture with her head, and Aemond seems to calm down. He smirks, carelessly. ‘’Oh, don’t worry about the Dragons.’’ You never heard any Targaryen say that.

The dragons are their wolves. Their dragons are their war winners. You laugh, offended and still hurt. ‘’But, without dragons, I am sorry to tell you, your entire family will become ash and dust.’’ You even chuckle.

Aemond stands back up from the throne, raising his sword and pointing it at you, lashing out. ‘’You are a bold little girl, are you not? Perhaps my hand was too gentle.’’

You don’t even back down anymore. ‘’It’s the truth. Where I’m from, house Targaryen is dust. All thanks to you, your sister and your brother. Together, you caused the civil war and killed the dragons-’’ That is pushing it too far.

Aemond grabs you by your throat, choking you lightly to warm you of not accusing him of another thing. ‘’Silence.’’ He barks.

You obey, glaring. ‘’Good girl.’’ he smirks, mockingly. ‘’Now, I understand, you must be so excited to see a dragon, hmm? You can’t shut up about them.’’ He stops choking you, feeling your neck.‘’I suppose, there is truth in what you tell me. The dragons are long gone where you are from. But you are now here, with me.’’

‘’The story is written.’’ You say.

Aemond snorts, and there is something dangerous about his body language. ‘’The story is just beginning.’’

You have a terrible feeling. ‘’You see,’’ Aemond grabs hold of your left hand. ‘’I have some inside knowledge. You know how this will end. You will tell me how the dragons died out, and I will simply be always one step ahead of my enemy. I will be their worst nightmare, their downfall and the dagger that slashes their throat.’’ He grins, as you become truly terrified and even tremble.

‘’How will you stop your sister?’’ You whisper. But you fear you already saw it in your dream. ‘’How will you stop Queen Rhaenyra’s marching troops?’’ Your voice is a soft weak whisper.

Aemond leans in, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. ‘’I heard a prophecy. The song of ice and fire. That is where you come in. You can help me find something, something very precious.’’ He chuckles.

The sword.

He wants to find the sword.

But why.

Unless…

‘’No.’’ You instantly say. ‘’You can’t.’’ You turn your head to Alys, watching her blank expression. She is fine with this. You watch as Aemond smirks in silence, confirming to you that he is planning to do the impossible. ‘’Aemond, you can’t.’’ You repeat.

Aemond’s grip only tightens. ‘’Think about it, little Wolfling. An army that never rests, never eats, never betrays me. An army that will help me conquer Westeros; An army of White Walkers. It is perfect.’’ He is insane.

‘’I won’t help you.’’ You remind him. ‘’You might as well send me back.’’

He ignores your protests. You can see his smirk and grin only grow, and you are reminded of Targaryens and their insanity. Their fire. Their blood. ‘’You will help me, little Wolfling. You will. Because if you do not, you will never see your family again. I have the means to send you back. And I will. After you have helped me.’’

You scoff, so you must help him do gods knows what so he can send you back to your own time? ‘’It doesn’t sound like I have a choice, do I?’’ Alys shakes her head. ‘’What will I need to do?’’ You ask Aemond, your head hanging in shame. How many will die because of you?

He lifts your chin, grinning. ‘’Now, now, don’t be so sad. To begin things, we must find the sword. And I want more information on how to better keep the dragons too.’’

You cannot do that. ‘’Dragons died centuries before I was born!’’ You don’t know anything about dragons. ‘’I don’t even know what they eat.’’ You almost whine.

‘’Meat. They eat meat.’’ Aemond says. ‘’Vhagar is right here with me. I will teach you about dragons, you will teach me what you know of the Dance and how it ended.’’ This all sounds like a horrible idea to you. ‘’And when the time comes, we must complete the prophecy of Ice and Fire.’’ That sounds vague.

But you want to see your family again. More than anything. So you hold out your hand, and wait for Aemond to shake it. He smiles, kissing it instead. He leans a little closer. ‘’I can’t wait until we are married. I always wanted a Valyrian wife, but you’ll do.’’ You laugh, thinking he is jesting. Until you see how Aemond is looking at you. Like you are some delicious cake he can’t wait to taste. He mirrors your smile, allowing you to be in denial as he makes his way to his lover, kissing her openly on her lips. You watch speechlessly as the two of them walk away, their chuckles and giggles mixing as they likely picture their new world together, with them for once atop of it, instead below.

You throw your head into your neck and try to process it all. What in the seven hells did you even become part of?

a/n

Ooh, i wasnt sure i even wanted to share this one.

But here he is xDDDD

Ok bye

let me know what you think

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #Aemondsmut

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writingsofwesteros · 4 months ago

Note

Jace’s Twin Viserion!

Imagine at Driftmark, whilst all the other children are out fighting and claiming dragons, Alicent’s youngest daughter is woken up by Viserion knocking at her door. He wants to go for a walk, he says, he can’t sleep. So the kind princess joins him, shrugging on her robe and sneaking out of the castle with him. The pair make it to the beach and begin walking slowly, taking in the night. The prince can’t help himself though and soon he starts asking her about betrothals, saying how much he wishes to marry her when they are of age. He’d told Larys once of his crush and the Lord had encouraged him to pursue the princess harder, telling him that Alicent would not approve unless her daughter pleaded. The sweet princess is taken aback but Viserion’s forwardness but she has begun to harbour affection for him too, and decides to hold his hand to stop his speech. The pair share their first kisses together that night, a sweet lingering peck. Both are blushing messes as they look at each other, only to be interrupted by the roar of Vhagar above them, a screaming boy riding the beast.

The guards on Driftmark are shocked to see the Prince and Princess running up to the gates hand-in-hand, not even realising they had disappeared. When they appear in the throne room still linked, Alicent can’t help but stare wide-eyed. She’s rushing to steal her daughter away from the Prince, bringing her to Aemond’s side. The other figures in the room also witness the entrance, though say nothing. The Princess is crying at the commotion and her heart hurts from all the anger in the room, clinging to Helaena as the adults fight. She can’t help lock eyes with Viserion, who never seems to take his eyes off of her. When she learns of the Black’s return to Dragonstone for good, she’s so devastated :(

(Alicent is beside herself at the idea of her daughter spending time the bastard and wishes to lock her away forever)

The idea of Viserion never taking his eyes off her is precious; his dragon screeches when the greens leave whilst he only watches on; his mask in place.

Alicent will lock her daughter up in a tower ;)

#hot thots

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madi-sue005 · 1 month ago

Text

Welcome to the ramblings of a madwoman about the differences between Pointed Hat Coco and Brimmed Hat Coco. There are just a few things I’d like to cover before getting into the actual post.

1. What you’re about to read is my opinion. Feel free to disagree.

2. I’m not caught up with the digital releases. Reason being because ebooks don’t do it for me, so I have to stick to the print releases, putting me at Chapter 68. I’m counting down the days until volume 13’s release. (January 14. Yes, I do know that by heart.)

3. There will be a cut after this to prevent spoilers. You have been warned.

This is the title page of Chapter 28. Notice how Pointed Hat Coco has a spark in her eyes that Brimmed Coco does not.

The wonder, the hope, is gone from Brimmed Coco’s eyes. Brimmed Coco looks dead inside.

(Side note: this has nothing to do with my theories, but this is the picture that I noticed that Brimmed Coco has little Brimmed hats in her collar like the one on the cover of the picture book.)

Next up we have a screenshot from when Utowin and Olruggio are talking after he finishes giving his report to the Knights in volume 6. Again, Coco looks dead inside, but here she also looks much more menacing. Sinister, evil, even. Definitely not the sweet little Coco we have now.

This one is from when Qifrey saves Coco from the monsters that guard The Tower of Tomes while she’s hiding in the cliffs.

What I’d like to draw your attention to is the last panel. “I worry that when my hands fail to find hope—when they end up grasping at thin air that I just might begin reaching for things I shouldn’t.”

“When my hands fail to find hope…” she says. What I think she means is “if I can’t find a way to save my mother.” Remember, there’s no guarantee that any witch—Pointed Hat or Brimmed—can reverse the spell on Coco’s mother. Largely because much of the knowledge surrounding forbidden spells—even the helpful ones like curse reversals and healingcraft and the twinned bottle—was lost after the Pact was enacted.

For better and for worse, the forbidden spells are being lost to time. In some cases, such as transformation spells and war spells, that’s good. Why would you need to be able to transform someone? Just for shits and grins? Tell that to Euini.

However, in this case, the case of Coco’s mother, it means she could remain as stone for forever. Because no one would know how to undo the spell permanently. Counterclock can’t be used, because, uh… well… Dagda. Just Dagda. Being stuck in an endless loop of life and death, never able to advance. The trauma both Coco and her mother would go through on a daily basis if she chose to go that route… she would never go down that route. Not after she saw what happens to Dagda when his time is reversed.

It seems to me, that Coco equates reaching for the forbidden spells as giving into despair.

Yes, that is my finger in the far left of the image. I couldn’t crop it out without the image ending up looking weird, okay?

Anyway, I would like to point out a few things about this two-page spread. Look at the difference between the body language of Pointed Hat Coco and Brimmed Coco.

One’s much more joyful, hopeful, happily bounding along to the future. Thanks to her lack of a brim, we can see that Pointed Hat Coco is smiling. The other is much more subdued, resigned to her fate, almost, as she walks along. Brimmed Coco seems to be much more downcast than her other self.

Hope and despair. One of the tags of this post, and for good reason. This two-page spread is the essence of that.

“I felt that way because he told me there’s hope. ‘Cause if he’d said there are things magic can’t do that there isn’t any hope I would have no other choice but to wander on, led only by despair.”

Also notice how Coco leaves her pointy hat behind in the last panel, the one where she says she’d be led only by despair.

She views the path of the brims as one of despair, not hope. Of desperation for something she knows is impossible.

Brimmed Coco is Pointed Hat Coco’s antithesis in every way, it seems.

This is an official illustration that I yoinked from online, but you can see the differences in their body language here, too. Pointed Hat Coco is looked up at the viewer, curious. Brimmed Coco has her eyes closed, downtrodden.

Shifting gears a bit, what do you think Iguin means here when he says he wishes Coco could be a “true witch”? Keep in mind, that throughout history, folklore, and pop culture, witches tend to be evil.

Out of all the words she could have chosen for her magic users, why witch? Shirahama could have named her magic users anything, so why are they called witches?

Mage, magician, sorcerer, wizard, warlock, magus, magi, alchemist, sage. All such words describe someone who can use magic in one form or another. Out of all of them, why choose witch?

Even in Japanese, Shirahama’s native language and the language the story is originally written in, “witch” is not a word free from this negative connotation. It’s spelled like this: 「魔女」 and pronounced “majou”. The first character comes from the last syllable in the word for devil (akuma) 「悪魔」, while the second one is the character for woman 「女」.

Put another way: devil woman.

As I haven’t read the Japanese version, I don’t know if this is the word she uses, but it still seems like an odd word choice to me, y’know? Why witch?

Could the “true witch” Iguin is talking about be more in line with the evil witches seen in pop culture and folklore? All across the world, witches are seen as evil in many tales. Ones that immediately come to mind for me are Lechuza and Skinwalkers of Mexican and Native American folklore, respectively.

Notice how, when Coco’s saying “true witch” in the last panel, we can’t see her face clearly.

#witch hat atelier #wha #wha coco #pointed hat coco #brimmed hat coco #iguin #forbidden magic #hope and despair

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 1 year ago

Text

The Great War | Regulus Black

▹ Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Fluff

▹ Words: ~ 5K

▹ Summary: You'd swore not to cry anymore if you and Regulus managed to survive the great war.

▹ Notes: I'd like to personally thank the Anon that reminded me nearly a year ago about Sirius Black dying without knowing his brother wasn't like their parents. To alleviate the sadness of that fact, I wrote this fic :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your memories were plagued by cold winter nights and eyes as bright and bitter as a snow storm.

Regulus' hands in yours, interlocked with a grip so tight it kept you from floating away. Stolen stares and clandestine meetings in the middle of the night at the top of the Astronomy tower became sacred, only for him to never look your way in the light of day.

You knew every constellation, both in the sky and in his eyes. When snow fell, Regulus would carefully brush away the melted snow droplets on your cheeks. The air was biting and the wind unrelenting, a concoction that made for the perfect excuse to nuzzle into Regulus' side. You'd pretend it was for warmth when really you craved his touch. His lips would tilt into a half-smirk as you spoke, seeing through your flimsy excuse. Yet his arm would wrap around you all the same, pulling you impossibly close.

The moments had been brief, gone within the blink of an eye. Reality would creep in, dampening the dreamy optimism you clung to in moments of doubt. No one could know; Regulus Black was consorting with a muggleborn, how scandalous. His family would eat him alive, a notion that made him keep you in the shadows, a place you happily stayed. You'd draw stars in the air with your fingertips, placating your fears with delusions that it wouldn't be forever. Each whispered word was an oath that you would carry to your grave.

You'd never doubted that Regulus Black loved you; you could hear it in the easy silence and see it in the soft expression reserved just for you. Understanding and calm, he clung to the tranquility you brought to his turbulent life. So certain that everything would turn out fine, you never dared to ask for more.

Then, it all turned into something bitter.

He slipped from your grasp like water, his feather light touches and sardonic smile only felt and seen in your dreams. The haze brought by the security of Hogwarts was muddied, reality much too bright to look at head-on. War gripped the wizarding world; Voldemort and his Death Eaters were the cause of the strife. Thrown into the trenches, you struggled to stay above water. With each mission and spell cast, any trace of innocence and youth that remained was ripped from you. All the bloodshed, death, and terror stained you dark red. Even if you survived, you'd never be the same.

You hadn't seen Regulus since the war started; even in your dreams, his face was a vague blur of what he used to be. You couldn't recall when the severing had happened; the letters came less frequently until they stopped coming at all. He used to drop by your apartment unannounced, a shy grin and flowers in hand. Regulus must've lost his way because he never made his way back. The love shared between the two of you turned bitter, and in the haze of it all, the betrayal stung harsher than any spell could.

You damned him each time the phantom scent of his cologne lingered in your apartment. And you cried each time flashes of your best moments came back in the depth of night. Sucker punching walls and screaming into the sky never alleviated the pain; you cursed him while sleep talking. It was cognitive dissonance; you claimed to hate him all while wishing he would just come back and explain why.

"You good for this?" Sirius Black's voice echoed in the depths of your mind, breaking you from the reverie. Twin gray eyes, reflecting similar to his brother's. It was nearly enough to send you into a spiral. A simple nod was the only reply you gave him, but it was all he needed.

Another mission, another attempt at stopping what was starting to feel inevitable. You didn't want to be so hopeless and desolate, but it couldn't be helped. The walls were closing in; you were losing the war.

"We all remember the plan, right?" A member of the order said. You couldn't remember their name, but you didn't care to. They may be dead in a week. There's no sense in getting to know them now.

"Was there even much of a plan? We go in and minimize as much damage as we can, that's it," James Potter's voice stood out amongst the chatter. The rest of the members assigned to the mission solemnly nod, calling out various agreements.

Numbness flooded your body, completely apathetic to the chaos you were charging headfirst into. This part used to be daunting, stabbing tiny needles in your body, but you'd desensitized yourself to it. Dissociated so far away that you weren't even sure anything was real. Healthy? No, but it was necessary; you couldn't afford to freeze up.

The people around you began to apparate and you followed suit. It felt as if you were being pulled apart and put back together. A thought flickered in your mind; perhaps if you were spliced, you wouldn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil that's been weighing you down. But all too soon, the feeling stopped; a wave of nausea hit and then vanished.

You were there.

It all became a blur; the exact moment the fight broke out was hard to pinpoint. All you could remember were the screams and the people pushing and pulling you like the tide. In the confusion of it all, masked figures around every corner, it was easy to forget you were fighting real people. They were skeletal visages you created, not living, breathing people. Bodies began to drop on both sides, curses and spells falling from the lips of everyone around.

“Petrificus Totalus.” You flicked your wand, petrifying the Death Eater closest to you. With a thump, their body fell to the ground, and you were on to the next, adrenaline keeping your body upright. You turn the incantation to another spell on the tip of your lips. But your words fell short, your body locking up as you stared at the person in front of you. It was as if you'd been cursed, except you hadn't.

They wore a mask like all the other Death Eaters, but the icy gray eyes peering at you were hard to forget.

Regulus.

You froze, unable to move even as your mind screamed at you to act. The noise of the room was muffled, a sharp ringing nearly making your ears bleed. Regulus was a--

You'd suspected as much, what with his family's allegiance to the Dark Lord and all he stood for. Yet until now, there has been no confirmation that your worst nightmares have come to fruition. But as Regulus stood there in the garb of your enemy, it would seem war found you on different ends of the same battlefield.

A bitter, smokey taste filled your mouth as everything the two of you shared turned to ash. He was here; there was no more denying what he'd done. Regulus was a Death Eater. Your stomach turned to knots as it threatened to empty its contents right then and there. Fighting for the blood purists, you guess he never really loved you then.

Regulus tore off his mask, allowing it to drop to the ground with a thud that wasn't heard over the noise. His dark hair was messy and tangled, the ends of it curling from the sweat on the nape of his neck. Heavy dark circles lined his eyes, worse than they'd ever been, skin pallid and sickly. Eyes that previously shone like a bright star were dim and threatening to burn out. Dry skin clung to his lips, and you could see the damage his teeth had caused to his bottom lip.

He looked terrible.

Regulus had talked in length about the stifling expectations his family had placed upon him. He both hated and feared his family, witnessing the abuse Sirius suffered before he ran away. It was never something spoken, but you knew the resentment he harbored for Sirius, both for leaving Regulus behind and having the courage to go against the grain. You did your best, encouraging him to leave as well, to make the hard choice of not getting swept into the current. Even when Regulus disappeared from your life, you hoped he would take the hard road. Yet he took the easy way out.

Pity turned your numb body cold, and the fury it caused turned you hot. How dare he? After everything he'd done, to have such a tight grip on you still. To make you feel sorry for him as if he'd been forced down this path. He'd made his decision; he decided to follow the road that led to this exact moment. Why should you weep for him?

Even then, with all your turmoil and rage, you still couldn't lift your wand at him. Time seemed slow, the chaos melting away the longer you looked into his eyes. Five seconds extended to five years.

But Regulus didn't share your hesitation or paralysis. He lifted his wand, a spell falling from his lips as his wrist flicked. You didn't have time to react, magical energy pooling at the tip of his wand before it shot towards you. Your eyes widened, and your heart stopped, unable to do anything other than watch your own death.

But the impact never came. Instead, the green light flew past your shoulder, grazing your hair. Square in the chest, it hit a Death Eater that had crept up behind you. A gasp left your mouth, the only sound you'd made since the battle started.

Their body hit the ground, unmoving. Only then did you turn to face Regulus. His expression remained unchanged, yet yours portrayed all the confusion and surprise in your head. At the speed of light, your heartbeat rattling against your chest, the barest hints of hope tinged your pessimistic thoughts. Was there a chance? His gaze softened, and his wand hand hanging slack at his side. You didn't want to fight anymore. All your steeled nerves and empty declarations of no longer caring about him were voided in an instant. You took a step towards him, hand reaching for him, but he took a stiff step back.

"Regulus--"

He was gone, apparating from the battle.

Sharply, you inhaled, holding it for a few heartbeats, then let it out. Regulus was no longer in sight. You returned to the battle. You rushed forward, trampling over the Death Eater mask he'd left behind. The porcelain it'd been made from cracked under the weight of you as the dirt on your shoes muddied its intricate designs.

You hardly thought twice about it, flinging another spell at a Death Eater.

Another mission completed; more casualties piling up.

---

"I saw you, you know," Sirius Black said. You'd all returned from the mission about two hours ago and just finished debriefing what happened. You stayed silent, your mind too preoccupied to come up with a singular thought.

"Saw me what? Fighting Death Eaters? Yeah, I saw you too." You were deflecting; he knew that, and you knew that he knew. The glint in his eye was not at all as careless as it had once been. Yet you feigned ignorance all the same.

"Yeah. I also saw you and Regulus."

Your movements stilled as your body turned rigid. You didn't meet his eyes, didn't even blink. What could you say? Nothing would stop him from going to Moody or Dumbledore; at best, you'd be kicked from the Order; at worst, thrown in Azkaban and branded a traitor.

"I don't know what you mean." It was a weak defense, but it was all you had.

"Oh, shove off. I'm not stupid. I saw the way you reacted when you saw him, but I also saw him kill that Death Eater."

You turned to meet his eyes. There was a question hidden in his statement. His gray eyes, so similar to Regulus's, were pleading, a part of him begging that maybe his brother wasn't completely lost. That he wasn't exactly what their parents were.

"I don't know why he did that." Confirmation that Regulus was a Death Eater should've cemented so many things. The world should be black and white; he was a Death Eater; therefore, he didn't love you anymore, if he ever even did. How could he claim to love a muggleborn while doing his best to ensure you were eradicated? But now you weren't so sure. He was a Death Eater, yes, but he'd also saved your life.

The migraine you'd had since you met him on the battlefield threatened to explode.

"Do you--" he hesitated, his words quiet and soft. So unlike the barking confidence he usually possessed. The armor he'd shielded himself with was cracking. "Do you think there's a chance for him?"

You pursed your lips.

"I don't know."

Without another word, you stood from the chair and muttered a quick "goodbye" before returning home. Your apartment had been just as you'd left it as you stood in front of the door, illuminated by the dim light on the steps. Except when you went to unlock the door, you found it already slightly ajar.

The hair on your body stood up, cold fear briefly washing over you. The Death Eaters were getting bolder with their attacks. Would you be the next victim? Would it be your name and picture covering the cover page of every newspaper? For a moment, you considered leaving or at least getting help, yet you did neither. Instead, you pushed open your door, the wand held tightly in your hand.

The room was dark, the sun having long since set. The pale blue light of your wand cast shadows in every corner of the room. It only made your nerves worse, jumping at every corner and shadow. The entryway was empty, as was the living room, but as you turned into the dining area and kitchen, you noticed a figure sitting at your table. They were still as a statue as they sat at your table, jacket neatly folded and placed in front of them.

Regulus.

His eyes were on you, arms slack at his sides, and he was wearing a grim expression. The dark circles you'd seen earlier that day seemed worse, so blackened they looked like bruises. You took a step back, the grip on your wand tightening as you held it up in a threatening manner.

"So this is it. You came here to kill me?" Your voice was like stone, cold and hard. There was a lump in your throat flecks of fear in your shining eyes, but you hardened your face. You wouldn't show any sign of weakness. If he would let the love you shared sink beneath the waves, then you'd drown the entire fucking world the two of you created.

He took a step forward, dark, stormy eyes pleading. “No, Y/N, that’s not--”

Regulus fell silent as you moved your wand from his chest towards his face, eyes narrowed. There was a tremble to your body; lips pressed so tight as to stifle the sobs that came up your throat.

"Stay back."

Regulus complied, raising his hands as a show of good faith. He wore that same disarming puppy dog face, like an abandoned dog alone in a shelter. Previously, you would've melted, running back to his embrace. But so many things were different, and it showed in the vacancy that made your eyes hollow.

"I would never hurt you." He asserted, hoping the sincerity of his words could penetrate the steel-enforced walls you'd encased yourself with. His placations had the opposite effect, the pain twisting into cold rage.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it? You're a Death Eater, Regulus. That means you and all your other purist friends want people like me dead." The death grip you held your wand with seemed to tighten. All circulation in your hand has been cut off, but it was all you could do to stop the tears from falling from your eyes.

"That is not true. I don't want you dead."

A choked laughter fell from your lips.

"Then I think you joined up with the wrong organization." Your words were sarcastic but not at all joking or light.

"It wasn't my choice." There was no change in his expression, eyes holding your gaze captive.

"No, you had a choice," you snapped back, silencing whatever pathetic excuse he used to convince himself he was justified in his actions. "And you made the wrong one."

Regulus fell silent, chewing on his bottom lip and shifting nervously. Your breath came out in angry puffs, reminiscent of a dragon. The tears made everything unclear and watery, but you refused to move a single muscle, even if it was just to wipe away the tears.

"I did what I had to do."

You felt your hand loosen, grip slackening enough that your wand almost fell from your fingertips. Thickly, you swallowed, cheeks damp from the tears that steadily fell from your eyes. This was it; your chance to finally tell Regulus everything you'd been screaming into your walls since he walked out of your life.

"You didn't have to do anything." Your voice was raw as you said the words you'd rehearsed time and time again. "Least of all, join the wrong side of the war. We had graduated; you could run away from all of that, and there was nothing your parents could've done."

"It's not that simple--"

"But it is, or at least it was," you exclaimed, cutting him off, voice cracking with the desperation you've locked away all this time. "You could've run and never looked back after our last day--"

"It was too late then."

You narrowed your eyes, a silent cue for him to explain when it had been too late.

"The summer between 5th and 6th year. After everything that happened with Sirius, they wanted to ensure I would be the perfect son they wanted."

"You never said anything."

"I didn't want you to look at me differently. My fate had already been sealed, and it was selfish of me to keep it from you, but I--"

He fell silent, eyes meeting the floor as his tongue became tied.

"You what?"

In a crazy, fucked up way, you were hoping he'd say everything you dreamed of. That he would reassure you he loved you and he never meant to hurt you. You wanted him to scorn his family and all their expectations of him. For once, you wanted him to make the right choice and not take the easy way out. You'd never fight with him anymore if he'd just asked to stay.

People always said love wasn't always enough, but you'd be willing to let Regulus ruin you time and time again.

"It doesn't matter now."

Disappointment was a feeling you were accustomed to by now, but that didn't make the bitter rejection sting any less. The tears on your cheeks were like acid, and you roughly wiped them away.

"I suppose it doesn't; you made your choice, and so have I."

Maybe now it would sink in. Your whirlwind romance with Regulus ended the moment you left Hogwarts for good. It wouldn't be some grand love like the books you'd read. He wouldn't push through any obstacle that stood between you and him.

Regulus wasn't a passionate man; he was pragmatic and calculated. Any risk he'd taken was never a risk after analyzing every angle and way it may go wrong. It was how he'd ended up trapped in the cycle of his family, and Sirius was able to break free. They were two sides of the same coin, yet they couldn't have turned out any more differently.

It was a hard pill to swallow; the man you loved was nothing like you imagined him to be.

"Why are you even here?" Your tone was sharp and pointed.

One last opportunity for him to mend what he had ripped to shreds. Why did you keep giving him so many chances?

"I'm not sure."

You slowly nodded, hands lowering to rest at your side. He'd never say the words you needed to hear; Regulus Black could never be the man you wanted him to be.

"I've missed you."

Maybe without realizing it, Regulus continued to twist the dagger he embedded in you.

You should tell him to leave, but the words won't form.

"I missed you too."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, fighting a battle within his own mind. You stayed silent, watching with wide eyes as he stepped towards you.

Your eyes stayed on him, afraid that if you even breathed, he'd change his mind. His hands were cold as he gently grabbed ahold of your face. The grip he held you with was careful and delicate, afraid to break you.

As if no time had passed, you leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut and relishing in his presence. He still smelled of bergamot and smoke.

You opened your eyes, meeting his unwavering gaze. A thousand words were said in the silence, both of you trying to convey what you were too cowardly to verbalize.

A sharp breath, the flutter of your lashes as your eyes closed. The Regulus' lips were on yours. His kiss was nearly too light to feel, and it made all reason disappear.

Your lips parted as you combed your hands through his hair, working through the tangles at the nape of his neck. His grip tightened as he kissed you like a man starved.

Regulus pulled back first, his expression blank and unsure. Did he regret what he'd started? Hurt began to blossom, weighing down the high he gave you. It took so little effort to fade back into him. The reminder was like a sharp jab to the gut.

His eyes wouldn't meet yours, yet his feet stayed planted in the ground. So close together, you could feel the heave of each intake of breathe and hurt radiating from his body.

This was dangerous territory to be in. Regulus was a Death Eater; you couldn't do this all over again.

Whatever love there was between the two of you had to die. You had to light the match and turn it to ash, even if that meant you went out in flames too.

"I think it's best if you go."

Regulus slowly nodded his head, his eyes moving from the floor to meet yours. Years of abuse and "discipline" led to him mastering the art of dissociation, to not let an ounce of emotion show on his face.

Despite the self soothing thoughts that reassured you it was the right choice, your bruised ego was desperate for a sign that your love affair had maimed him even an ounce as much as it did you.

Maybe in an alternate universe, the two of you were happy, but war was war, and its very nature was to take, take, take until there was nothing left in the aftermath.

Regulus didn't argue or fight, he simply dipped his head in a single, firm nod, mouth set in a thin line, nothing more spoken than a quiet "I see." In the blink of an eye, he disappeared, leaving you alone in your dark, depressing apartment.

A shuddered breath left your body shaking. That night, you didn't make it to your bed; that felt entirely too big and too lonely. You collapsed on the couch, allowing the weight of the world to fall off as you slipped into unconsciousness. And in your dreams, you saw nothing but the endless nothing that threatened to swallow you whole.

---

“I now go to my death with the hopes you’ll forgive me for all the pain I’ve inflicted upon you. I never intended to hurt you, but now I realize it was all I’ve ever done. I don’t expect forgiveness, I understand I’m no longer worthy of it, if I ever was. I love you, don’t forget that.”

- Yours truly,

Regulus

Your eyes were trained on the letter held by shaky hands, stained with tears that fell from your cheeks. It had arrived two days ago, the letter accompanied with a small bag holding a locket. The writing on the letter was illegible, but you’d memorized every crease and fold on the paper. Why was it when you’d finally begin to forget about him, something would always bring him back. Part of it was your fault, you’d always welcomed him with open arms, but you’d hoped this time you’d end a cycle that never seemed to end.

Stood on the cliff sides, the winter air biting at your skin. What could he have done to be so certain of his death? Regulus was too insignificant for the Order to focus entirely on, so maybe he’d done something to spurn his Dark Lord. You hoped that was the case.

Inhaling the frosty air, you tucked the note into your pocket and turned to return to your house. Hands shoved in your pocket, the snow crunched under the weight of your feet. Lost in thought, you hardly noticed the sun had begun to set. Before long, the old brick building you’d made your home came into view. Crunching snow was replaced with footsteps on wood stairs and you pushed open your front door. You shook the snow off your jacket, setting it on the coat hanger by the door. The fireplace was already crackling, casting a warm glow in the room.

You moved towards the kitchen to put a kettle on before moving back towards your room to get ready for bed. The heavy winter clothes were replaced by fleece pajamas that were soft like a rabbit. You sat at your vanity table and began combing through your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the small box on your side table. Within the iron enforced lead box was the locket Regulus had mailed with his letter. It seemed insignificant at first glance, but the longer you looked at it, the darker its aura felt. Regulus had written explicit instructions for you to hide the locket, both from yourself and the world. There hadn’t been time to think of a secure location, so before then, it would remain in the box, its magic suppressed for a time.

You’d question Regulus on it at some point, but for now you would go against every instinct telling you to ignore his letter and send back the locket. For as many times Regulus disappointed yourself, you’d let yourself down tenfold for continuing to give him the chance to do so.

The whistle of the kettle had you stand from your vanity and pad back into the kitchen. But as you moved into the kitchen, the wall opened so that you could see into the living room, you were no longer alone. Standing in the middle of the room was Regulus. He looked worse off than his last visit, his clothes wrinkled and hair greasy.

He didn’t speak and neither did you;’ your eyes focused on one another. The air was awkward, all the questions you’d had for him melting away from the softness in the gray eyes. You were the first to break the impromptu staring contest, grabbing two mugs instead of one. Wordlessly you began to prepare cups of tea, making it in just the way you knew Regulus liked it.

The wood floors creaked as Regulus moved to the couch in front of the fireplace, his jacket hanging beside yours. After a moment, you joined him, passing the warm mug to his open hand. Not a single word shared between the two of you. The only sound in the house was the crackle of the fire and the slurping of the two of you drinking from your mugs.

“Is it over now?” You finally spoke, unable to look towards Regulus.

A moment passed; you blew on your tea, steam flooding your face as you lowered your head.

“Yes.”

You leaned forward to set your mug on the table, the glass clinking as you did. You turned, finally looking at Regulus since taking a seat. His eyes were focused on you; broken and blue with the face of a man haunted by war. Yet beyond that was warm relief. War was finally over.

The Dark Lord and his followers were still afoot, and they’d need to be dealt with. But the Great War that plagued you and Regulus was finally over. The worst had ended.

Tomorrow you'd have questions about the locket and it's evil aura, you'd want to know what exactly he did that made him believe his death was certain. There was also the matter of how they'd proceed in the war. Regulus could be a turn coat, to give insight on the Death Eaters. So many things to consider, it made you feel dizzy. But those were semantics better dealt with at a later time.

For now, you just wanted to be a girl, sitting with a boy who you've loved since you were fourteen.

Droplets of tears stained your couch dark, your cheeks dampened. It was like a weight had been lifted and for a moment you thought you might disappear.

One of your hands dropped from the mug, laying on the couch near Regulus' limp hand. The grim line his lips had been pressed into warped into a soft smile. He placed his hand over yours, intertwining his fingers with you.

Not much was spoken the rest of the night. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, occasionally making chatter here and there. Your drinks were drained and when your eyes were too heavy to keep open, you’d led Regulus back into your room and onto your bed. His arms tangled around your body and your head on his chest you fell into a peaceful slumber you’d been robbed of since leaving Hogwarts behind.

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