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unseededtoast · 10 months

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Glimpse Of Us | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After a painful breakup, you and Spencer try and move on, but find yourselves seeking out each other in different people. Inspired by "Glimpse Of Us" by Joji.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 7.1k

content warnings: soul-crushing angst, emotional turmoil

His fingers find the velvet box in his pocket and he opens it. The ring inside is divine, he had it created just for you. The gemstone in the center reflects the warm light of his apartment beautifully as he admires it. He can't help but to imagine what it would look like on your finger, where it belongs.

As she exits the bedroom, he's quick to hide the box from her view. For the rest of the night he feels as if he's putting on a performance, one in which he half heartedly kisses her while he thinks of your lips, and he holds her with your body in mind.

Closing the door behind him, Spencer is welcomed home after a long day with soft lighting and the smell of dinner. He shrugs his coat off and places it on the rack beside the door, thankful for the warm air after being in the cold most of the day.

As he takes his shoes off, he feels her arms wrap around him, her forehead resting on his back as she embraces him from behind. Spencer's eyes close in comfort, thankful for her loving ways. He turns around and hugs her back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I ran you a warm bath and I'll have dinner waiting for you when you get out." Her voice is soft and warm, full of nothing but the most tender love. Spencer pushes a strand of hair behind her ear with a small smile on his face,

"Thank you." He presses a second kiss to her forehead before retreating to the bedroom so he can indulge in a warm bath.

The water relaxes his tense muscles and offers a much needed reprieve. The case the team had closed today was nothing short of miserable. The air was unforgivably cold, the wind was harsh, and of course they were searching for a body for most of the day. He had wanted nothing more than to come home since the first moment he stepped foot outside this morning.

After putting on the sweats she had laid out for him on the counter, he joins her at the dinner table where a plate and a glass of wine waits for him. They eat in silence, comfortable with just the presence of each other. There's never any pressure to make conversation, they both have a mutual understanding that sometimes silence is more appreciated, especially after particularly difficult days. But what she doesn't know is that when silence settles, his mind drifts to you.

Spencer is beyond thankful for her devotion despite the chaotic life he leads. If there's one thing he can count on, it's for her to brighten his days and take the weight of the world off his shoulders when it becomes too much for him to bear. She is nothing short of perfection, a genuine blessing that Spencer is glad to have.

And because she's so perfect, it makes Spencer feel all the more guilty when he finds himself wishing it was you waiting at home for him instead of her.

The guilt has been eating at Spencer for a while now. He knows it's unfair to her, to constantly be comparing her to you but he can't quite bring himself to break up with her. It wouldn't be such a big deal if he didn't see bits and pieces of you within her. With her, he's reminded of how you laughed, the way you hugged him, and so many more small details that he just can't let her go; for if he lets her go then he would lose all of those small reminders and memories. It's selfish, he knows, but the appeal of seeing flashes of you through her is more compelling than doing what is fair for her sake.

Once dinner has been finished and cleaned up, the two of them find themselves on the couch, cuddled under green and umber colored faux fur blankets while a movie plays. But Spencer isn't really paying attention to the movie, no, his focus is on how she holds him and how it isn't quite right. Her grasp is always too loose and her hands never find the right spots. While her embrace is comforting, it's nothing compared to how you used to hold him so tight, and it all felt so right.

During a particularly quiet scene, she looks up to Spencer with doe eyes, and he can tell she's studying him, like she has him figured out down to a science.

"What's wrong honey?" She asks him, running a comforting hand up his arm. Shaking the thoughts of you from his mind, he smiles down to her with guilt creeping up within him.

"Just had a bad day." Is all he tells her. For he can never tell her the truth, that he'll never love her the way he loved you. It wouldn't be right, and none of it is her fault. He doesn't see the need to tell her he's only passing time in her arms, the ones that will never hold him the way he needs.

With big, beautiful eyes she continues to look at him, appreciating the tiny details that makes Spencer so beautiful. And while he should be appreciating her with the same loving gaze, all he can bring himself to do is think about how you used to look at him the same way.

As he looks into her eyes that look eerily similar to yours, he's catapulted into a memory, a time where things were perfect.

- - - - -

"Well why not both?" You ask Spencer, who's holding up two blankets to choose from. It's the first winter that you two are sharing together in Spencer's apartment and you both found out the hard way that even Virginia can get quite cold.

"You want them both?" He asks you, eyes glancing between the dark green and the rich brown colored blankets in his hands, both made of warm, plush material. You nod your head and motion for him to put them both in the cart.

"Yes, both of them. The colors compliment each other and they'll look right at home on the couch." A smile finds its way to your face as he places both of the blankets into the cart.

Spencer didn't need much convincing and you both knew it. All you had to do was give him the puppy eyes and he would bend to your every will. He would do anything to keep a smile on your face, and if that meant getting two blankets instead of one, then it was a small compromise he was happy to make.

Later that night the two of you sit entangled on the couch, under one of the new blankets. Spencer sat with his back against the arm rest and he had pulled you between his legs, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your head rested back on his chest and your eyes closed as soft music played from the vintage record player Spencer had recently bought.

Spencer savors the way you warm him, the way your body feels soft under his touch, and he appreciates the smell of vanilla that you always seem to have. He watches with adoring eyes as your chest rises and falls evenly, letting him know that you've fallen asleep. The apartment is dimly lit from a lamp, and its warm glow illuminates your features perfectly. Spencer can never get enough of just looking at you, each time he finds something new to love.

His eyes trail from the slope of your nose to the curve of your lips before noticing the way your eyelashes softly lay against the top of your cheekbones, gentle like a feather floating through the breeze. He had never seen such effortless beauty, both inside and out, and his heart feels like it could explode from trying to fit all the love he has for you within.

Kissing the crown of your head, he gently wakes you up and leads you to bed, and he can't help but smile as you hold his hand the entire way there. Your small hand fit into his like they were made for each other.

Once the two of you had settled in bed, you reach your arms around Spencer and hold him close to you. While you enjoy being held by him, you like to return the favor. You want him to come to you for comfort and security, you want to provide a loving warmth to him, to show him how much you love him when your words fall short of expressing the truth depths of your adoration.

His skin is warm under your touch and you press a soft kiss in between his shoulder blades. You're not sure if he'll be here in the morning due to work, so you hold him tight and soak in every second you get with him.

As the two of you drift off, Spencer rests his hand atop yours that rests just below his chest, not able to get enough of you tonight. There was something in the air this evening that made Spencer realize that you are the love of his life, and he wants to spend every night with your arms around him.

- - - - -

Snapping out of his daydream, Spencer realizes that the movie had come to an end. His hand lingers on the blanket for just a moment longer than necessary before he heads to bed, where she is sure to join him soon. He gets underneath the covers, his hand resting on the empty space beside him. His chest aches and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from getting emotional as she walks in, a sleepy smile on her face.

Spencer goes through the motions of bidding her a goodnight before he turns away from her. He doesn't know if he's disgusted with himself for thinking of you while she lays next to him, or if he's sad he let another woman take your spot. As her hand makes its way around his waist, he's unable to stop the single tear that drips down his cheek.

He waits for her to fall asleep before he slinks out of bed. He puts his shoes on and shrugs on his coat before leaving. The walls of his apartment seem to be closing in on him tonight, and perhaps he needs some fresh air. Snow flurries fall as he walks the empty streets, illuminated by street lamps and starlight.

Spencer wipes his eyes of the tears that form in his lash line and sniffles every few seconds. He has no destination in mind, but he know where his body will take him. It's the same place he goes every time, the spot where he met you.

The bench is covered in a light layer of snow along with everything else in the park. He's unable to tear his eyes away from the spot he first saw you at, as if you would suddenly appear out of thin air. Spencer remembers very vividly the day he met you. He was at the park playing chess, trying to get better so he could finally beat Gideon, when he saw you.

You had your nose buried in a mystery novel, your hair was partially pinned back so it wouldn't get in your way, and you had the prettiest sundress on that complimented your skin tone wonderfully. Spencer had never been one to believe in love at first sight until he saw you. He swears that day the sunlight was focused on you alone, as everything else became utterly dull.

And Spencer had never been one to go out of his way to talk to a woman, but something within him told him that if he didn't seize this opportunity then he would regret it. So he pushed himself out of his comfort zone and talked to you. You were the sweetest woman ever, and he's still surprised to this day that you had given him your number after he babbled and rambled trying to get to the point.

What he wouldn't give to be able to go back and do it all over again.

- - - - -

Three months after you had left Spencer he found himself once again being interrogated about his love life by his coworkers. They mean well, and he knows it, but he wishes they would stop bringing the topic up, because every time they do it's like reopening the wound. But he doesn't want to concern anyone with how poorly he's actually handling the separation, they all have their own issues just as he does.

"You sure you're ready for that date?" Derek asked him one Friday afternoon, asking about the blind date he had set up for Spencer.

"Of course I am, I think I'm finally moving on, and I'm sure she's lovely." Spencer smiles to Derek, but there's a bitter taste on his tongue.

There's no chance that this mystery woman could ever compare to you. But he tells everyone he's moved on from you so that they might stop bringing you up in conversation. Though he knows that you had made friends with his coworkers as well and he knows they probably miss you too. But for his own sanity, Spencer had to find a way to keep them from speaking about you; and what better way to do that than date someone new?

But while Spencer was busy acting like he had moved on, it seems that you actually had.

A year after you had left, against his better judgment, Spencer looked you up to see how you were doing. He had refrained from doing so up to this point, but he couldn't help himself. He had to know, he had to see you.

What he found devastated him. On your Instagram was a photo of you and a man, cheeks pressed against each other's with wide smiles. The first thing Spencer noticed was how your smile finally reached your eyes again, how you looked genuinely happy. A look he hadn't seen in a long time.

But he couldn't stop there, he had to know more. He had to make sure that this man wasn't some psychopath. And it turns out he seems to be the embodiment of the American dream. Spencer found that your new man works in wealth management, owns his own property with a fenced in yard, and appears to be head over heels in love with you.

The man's social media is cluttered with photos of you. You smile in each one as if you were seeing color for the first time. Spencer goes through his photos, looking at vacations you took to Europe, evenings spent on a boat, and every small detail in between that the man had posted about. Spencer had to put his phone away after he saw a picture of you in the man's lap, his hands on your waist as he kissed your cheek while you smiled at the camera.

Spencer thinks often about how the man treats you. He wonders if the new man appreciates your tender touch, your kind heart, if he cherishes you like he used to. Spencer can't help but to ponder if your new man gives you everything he couldn't; if he comes back home to you every night and if the two of you plan to have a family one day.

And when those thoughts get to be too painful, Spencer wonders if you ever think of him. He hopes that you search for pieces of him in your new man, even in just the most minuscule details. Sometimes with this hope comes along the thought of if you will ever come back to Spencer.

But that hope is usually crushed with the realization that you're living in a new chapter, one in which he will never have the privilege to read.

- - - - -

The sweet smell of blueberry pancakes wafts through the house and wakes you. You take a deep breath of the fruity scent and stretch, enjoying the way that today has started. There are definitely worse ways to wake up. Instead of getting up right away, you opt to stay snuggled under the warm covers, your eyes closed as you breathe in the sugary sweetness.

"Good morning honey." You hear your boyfriend open the door, his voice deep and raspy from the night. At the sound of his voice, you can't help but to open your eyes and smile at him.

"What's the occasion?" You stretch once more as he walks over to you, looking down at you with doting eyes.

"Oh I don't know, I think it might be someone's birthday. Yeah, I think I remember someone telling me that the most beautiful girl in the world has a birthday today." He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, the taste of blueberries lingering between you.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast." You sit up, pushing the covers away so you can go enjoy the pancakes that were so lovingly made. Your boyfriend only smiles wider,

"Don't worry this is just the beginning. I've got a whole day planned for you, baby." You try to fight the smile, not wanting him to know just how excited you are.

The two of you eat pancakes together at the table, your heart swelling with love from his gesture. Both of you know he's not the best cook in the world, but to you these are the best pancakes you've ever had. In fact, they could be burnt to a crisp and you would love every bite because he took the time to try and do something nice for you, and it's the effort you appreciate above all.

Licking syrup off your lip, your eyes find themselves fixated on your boyfriend's face and you can't help but be mesmerized. His eyes are kind and gentle, his smile is wide and welcoming, and you just don't know if you will ever get enough of him.

Though a tiny voice makes itself known in the back of your mind and it reminds you of just why you find your boyfriend to be so beautiful.

But you try your best to ignore the voice that whispers to you from within your own mind. You don't want to hear how your boyfriend's hair is the same shade of brown or how his eyes hold the same hue of green that Spencer's did. The voice works diligently to remind you that your boyfriend's hands don't feel the same and that his lips aren't as soft, and you wish that it would just stop. Everything would be so much easier if you could just forget Spencer Reid even exists, but no matter how hard you try you can never silence the whispers.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't still think of Spencer sometimes. Especially during the early days of your new relationship. When you first got together with your new boyfriend you were constantly reminded of Spencer. Your new boyfriend shared many features with Spencer such as his height, build, and hair color and you know it's no coincidence. You know full well that you gravitated to your new boyfriend because of these similarities, you were desperate to hold onto any part of Spencer that you could.

But your new boyfriend is different from Spencer in a lot of ways as well. He's more headstrong, he doesn't think things through as well, and he can't read you quite like Spencer could. But despite these differences you found yourself loving him for who he is.

Your new boyfriend practically worships the ground you walk on. He's entirely devoted to you and he reminds you every day of how much he loves you. He comes home at the same time every night, he's here when you need him to be, and just recently has opened up to you about one day possibly starting a family. He's everything you've ever wanted.

It had taken some time to adjust to something new and unfamiliar but it was worth it. You had been hesitant to get into another relationship, worried that you wouldn't be able to love anyone as much as you loved Spencer. It would be entirely unfair to the other person, and so you had asked your current boyfriend for patience; and this man had no problems waiting. In fact, you were convinced he would wait until the end of times if you had asked him to.

He was never overbearing, never pressured you for an answer or to go on a date before you were ready. Instead, the two of you built a friendship first. You would go for coffee on Saturday mornings, walks in the park after work, and even played a few rounds of mini golf. It was in those small moments that you found yourself falling head over heels for the man and eventually you felt that you were ready.

After a few months of being together, he had insisted you join him on a business trip to Europe. At first you didn't really know, you were nervous about being somewhere unfamiliar, but you trusted him to take care of you. And you're glad you went, it was the best trip you had ever been on. Your boyfriend treated you to candlelit dinners, a gondola ride, and the most tender, pure love possible. For the first time in a long time, you felt happy and it was all because of him.

Your mind drifts from memories of Europe to the conversation about starting a family. You remember the conversation almost word for word and you find yourself reflecting on it more than what is probably normal. But you can't help yourself, that conversation had opened your eyes about your true desires and left you feeling conflicted about a lot of things you still don't have the answers to.

- - - - -

It was a bright Sunday afternoon and you strolled down the street with your boyfriend hand in hand, enjoying the warm weather and freshness of spring. The grass was finally coming back to life, the trees were blooming, and flowers were beginning to pop up again.

"I want to ask you something, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to." Your boyfriend uncharacteristically stumbles over his words as the two of you veer off to a less busy path.

"You can ask me anything." You truthfully tell him, wanting him to know that he can come to you about anything. After all, there's nothing he can throw at you that would catch you off guard after your years with Spencer and the stories he would come home with.

"Have you ever thought about having kids someday?" Your pace slows down as his words sink in. You weren't quite sure what you were expecting him to ask, but it certainly wasn't that.

Instead of answering right away, you stop walking completely and look at your boyfriend, seeing nothing but complete seriousness and curiosity written all over his face. Your eye catches his, and your heart sinks when you see a flash of Spencer's eyes in your mind. Blinking away the fleeting image, you sigh and think about how to answer his question.

"I think some day, with the right person, I would most definitely want kids." Your answer is the complete truth, and yet you find yourself feeling guilty for not immediately imagining yourself having kids with your boyfriend, but instead with Spencer.

"Some day." A smile finds its way onto your boyfriend's face and he squeezes your hand lovingly.

Pushing the guilt and all thoughts of Spencer aside, you focus on what you have right in front of you. You have a boyfriend who loves you unconditionally, who wants nothing but the best for you, who you can see yourself spending forever with.

Yet despite loving him back and wanting a future with him, there's still a piece of your soul that yearns for Spencer.

- - - - -

After a long day of birthday celebration, you find yourself laying in bed waiting for your boyfriend to join you. The day had been filled with family and friends and it was probably one of the best birthdays you've had in a long time. But ever since this morning, the voice in the back of your mind hasn't let up.

While you were opening gifts you couldn't help but wonder what Spencer would've picked out. When your boyfriend asked you what top he should wear to best match the rest of the outfit you found yourself wondering what Spencer would've picked. During the drive to your friend's house you considered which songs Spencer would've played on the trip over. You hadn't really thought of Spencer much over the past year, seeing as how happy you were with your boyfriend, but lately you find Spencer infiltrating your thoughts more and more.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give into temptation and grab your phone. Quickly, you look Spencer up on what limited social media presence he has. Your heart races as his profile loads, unsure of what you're going to see and what you want to see. The photos load and you realize he still hasn't posted anything since the photo you posted for him years ago.

You tap on the tagged photos tab and can't help the heaviness in your chest as you see a photo he was tagged in three months ago. He's got his arms wrapped around a gorgeous woman, her lips pressed to the side of his cheek. Within an instant, your mind replaces the woman's face with your own and you feel your throat begin to close up with emotion. The caption is something cliche about love, and with the same quickness as you had clicked on the photo, you exit out of the app.

It seems Spencer has moved on from you, and you're happy for him. You hope she can handle his lifestyle better than you could, but you can't help but feel sad that he was able to replace you. A tinge of regret takes residence in you for giving him the opportunity to replace you.

- - - - -

Spencer looks in the mirror as he straightens his tie and runs his hand through his hair once more. The velvet box in his pocket makes his heart hammer but the sound of her voice knocks him out of an anxiety-ridden spiral.

"We're going to be late, come on." She says with a smile on her face. Spencer knows he should be just as excited but the nerves take precedence.

The two of them enter the dimly lit restaurant and take their seat. The tablecloth is white, there's a candle in the middle of the table. Spencer knows it's the perfect time to propose. After all, today is their second anniversary.

She talks openly about what she's going to order and how she knows the food is going to be delightful. Spencer does his best to smile and nod, trying to calm his trembling fingers. He had considered proposing for a few months now and decided tonight would be perfect.

After the waiter comes and takes their orders, Spencer reaches across the table and takes her hands within his. Her skin is soft and smooth, but as he rubs his thumb across the back of her hand he remembers how delicate your skin used to feel under his touch.

Guilt intermingles with the nerves, and he feels disgusted with himself that even as he's about to propose he thinks of you. And the guilt is reinforced when he remember who he bought the ring for in the first place, it most certainly wasn't her.

Delaying the question, Spencer keeps making small talk until the food arrives. He takes glances over to her, and she always smiles back. And Spencer tries his best to act normal, but he knows he's failing.

For every time he looks at her all he can see is you. Every time he looks into her eyes he sees yours, he remembers how you used to gaze at him for what seemed like hours. Each time she pushes her hair behind her shoulder he remembers how yours used to always look effortlessly perfect. Even the shade of her lipstick brings him back to a memory when you wore a similar shade.

She laughs at a poor joke he made, and the sound of her laughter is replaced with yours in Spencer's mind. He realizes then that he can't possibly ask her to marry him.

When the two of them arrive back at the apartment, she rushes off to change into something more comfortable and Spencer hangs back in the kitchen, taking a seat at the dining table.

- - - - -

"Where are you going?" Spencer steps in front of her, blocking her path. He had returned home only an hour earlier to find that she had packed all of her things and called her friend to pick her up. She looks back up at him, and he clearly sees the disdain in her eyes.

"I can't do this anymore Spencer. I don't know what happened or what I did wrong, but I can tell you don't love me, and you haven't for a while." Her words shock him, but he can't find it within himself to contradict what she's saying; she's right after all.

"You didn't do anything, I'm sorry." Is all he's able to offer her as he steps aside and lets her go. She shakes her head, tears gleaming in her eyes as she grabs the handle of her last bag and leaves without looking back.

Spencer is left alone in his apartment and he bites his cheek as he looks around. She had taken everything she owned, not a trace remains. While he should feel devastated that she left him, he only feels relieved. The guilt that's been eating him alive for years is finally gone and he knows that this was the best possible outcome for her; he hopes she can find someone who cherishes her the way she deserves.

His eyes fall on the blanket draped over the back of the couch and suddenly this situation feels all too familiar. Spencer is unable to tear his eyes away from the blanket as his mind reminds him in perfect detail the most painful day of his life.

- - - - -

"Spencer, move. Let me go." Your voice is firm but it wavers as you finish the sentence. You had your last bag in your hand and you had hoped to be out of here before Spencer got back home.

"No, please don't do this. Please don't go." Spencer begs you as tears fall down his cheeks. Pained by his sadness, a tear falls down your own. You so desperately wish you could stay, that things could work between the two of you.

"Maybe if things were different I could stay." You say, using your free hand to wipe you eyes.

Before you can be convinced to stay, you step around Spencer and head out the door, leaving behind the best and worst days. When you hear the door shut behind you, you're unable to stop the onslaught of tears that flow down your face as you go to your car parked alongside the curb. The last bag gets carelessly tossed in your car before you drive off.

Spencer watches from his window as you leave, your car disappearing into the night. He collapses against the wall and sobs. It doesn't feel real, he can't wrap his mind around the fact that you had actually left.

Hours later he finds the will the stand up and he sniffles the entire way to the bedroom where there's a crisp white paper laid on his pillow. Spencer turns on a light before he grabs the paper and before he reads a single word he notices how some of the ink is smudged, like tear drops had fallen before it had time to dry.

Soon enough, his tear drops fall onto the paper as well. Each word is like a dagger to his heart and yet he reads it over and over and over again.

Spencer,

By the time you read this, I won't be here. Please don't come looking for me. We both knew things weren't going well for a long time, and I didn't see any way we could compromise. It's not fair to you and it wasn't fair to me to stay, we would drive each other to endless misery at some point if something didn't give.

I wish things could have been different for us, but I just couldn't handle it anymore. We both want different things and that's okay. You love your job and it was unfair of me to try and persuade you to pursue something else for my sake, and for that I am sorry. It would've been nice to have you home every night, to know that you could be here for the big and small moments of life. But I understand that that way of life isn't something you're made for, and that's okay too. I'm sorry I'm not built for the life you lead, I tried my best for as long as I could.

You will always have a piece of my heart for as long as I shall live. I wish you nothing but the best. You've got a lot to offer the world, my beautiful Spencer Reid.

I love you, always.

His heart may as well have been ripped from his chest and shattered into a million irreparable pieces. As he reads and rereads your words he can't believe that you blamed yourself, that you felt the need to apologize for wanting a normal life.

He recalls the first time you had asked him about a career change. To him it came out of nowhere, but when he really starts to think about it, he should've seen it coming. There were times he would come home and your eyes would be just a little bloodshot and your cheeks would be unusually red. Of course you told him it was just allergies, but the pictures of you two scattered over the coffee table should've told him it was something else entirely.

The texts asking him if he would be home for your birthday were answered with a negative, along with the questions about Christmas, Valentines Day, and just about every other occasion. He wanted to be there with you, there's no place he would have rather been, but the job required him to be across the country more times than not. He should've realized that you had stopped asking those questions a year ago.

His memory allows him to see into the past, and as it's said, hindsight is 20/20. The last year of the relationship he often found himself coming home to you already in bed, when you used to stay up and wait for him. Perhaps you had been so accustomed to disappointment that you had assumed something would come up and that he wouldn't be home when he told you he would.

Within those memories he also notices how sad you seemed. Though he didn't see it at the time, he sees now how your smile stopped reaching your eyes and you stopped trying to plan things for the two of you to do on his days off. Instead of going out, you told him that you just wanted to spend time with him.

There's a particular memory that comes to the forefront of his mind, about a month before you left he remembers the two of you on the couch. You had snuggled into his side, head resting on his shoulder as the two of you watched a movie. He really hadn't been paying attention, he was focused on how warm you were, how he was happy he could finally be here with you. But if he had been following the movie, he would've seen that you turned it off just before the happy ending where the two characters lived out the rest of their days together. He should've noticed then how the tip of your nose turned red and how you wiped your eyes, claiming it was just from being tired.

His chest aches deeply as he understands the pain he's put you through. All you wanted was him, and he had let you slip right through his fingers without even realizing.

For days, weeks, and months after you left Spencer finds himself sleeping with the blanket you had picked out, for it's the last piece of yourself that you left him with. And after a while, your scent faded, but the memories remain.

And ever since, he found himself chasing anything that could give him even just the smallest reminder of you. He only hopes that one day your paths will cross again and that you will find your way back where you belong; back to him.

- - - - -

The room feels colder and darker than usual. There's no sweet smell of pancakes floating in the air, there's nobody next to you to keep you warm. No, all of those comforts had left a week ago. The moment in which everything crumbled replays constantly in your mind.

In front of you, your boyfriend dropped to one knee and held out a glistening ring. With tears in his eyes, he poured his heart out to you, speaking about how he's beyond in love with you and that he wants to grow old with you. That there's nobody else on this Earth he can imagine coming home to, holding close, and cherishing dearly.

You could almost hear his heart break as you told him that you couldn't marry him. And not two days later, he had moved out without speaking a single word to you. Everything you spent years building, gone in an instant. But what haunts you the most is the look in his eye, it's the same despair you saw in Spencer's when you had left him.

But you knew you had made the right decision not to marry your boyfriend. You loved him deeply, but after the conversation about starting a family you realized that you didn't want that future with anyone but Spencer. But that future isn't a possibility, you're keenly aware of that. So it seems you're destined to live out your days reminiscing about Spencer Reid.

With time you know you had forgotten some of the memories and it's when you try to remember them that you find yourself wishing you had Spencer's memory. By now you figure he's done his best to bury the memory of you while you try to dig yours back up.

There's one memory you cling to the most, and when sorrow begins swallowing you whole, you relive that memory, wanting to go back in time and live in that moment forever.

It was a chilly fall day, the leaves had just started to turn colors. Spencer and you had been together just shy of a week but it seemed like neither of you could get enough of one another. In every second of free time you two had, you were together. He explained that his job required him to travel a lot, but you didn't really mind, he was worth waiting for.

The two of you walked with intertwined hands through the park where you met, and take a seat on the bench. Spencer wanted to come by after the date he planned, a cozy coffee cafe with your favorite pastries. You had never experienced someone taking an interest in you, and your heart felt full knowing he went out of his way to learn what you liked.

With lovestruck eyes, you look over at him and brush his cheekbone with your free hand, wanting to memorize every detail of him. His skin is smooth, eyes the most brilliant shades of earthy tones, and of course his chocolate curls had you swooning.

You see his eyes dance between yours and your lips, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he pulled you close and kissed you. Your hands had found their way to his face, cradling his jaw as he held your waist.

And as you pulled away you couldn't help the smile that found its way to your face. You had never been one to believe in falling in love so soon after meeting someone, but something about Spencer felt different. It was like your souls were meant for each other, there was an undeniable chemistry from the start. And though you wouldn't say it for another few months, you knew in this moment that you were helplessly in love with Spencer Reid.

But instead of leading a fulfilling life with him by your side, you find yourself utterly alone.

Eventually you make your way into the living room, which now has half of the furniture it did a few days ago. But you don't care, you convinced yourself that it was for the best, and that your now-ex deserves someone better than yourself, someone who wasn't still in love with the person who came before.

You decide to get out of the house and take a walk with no particular destination. The fresh air will hopefully make you feel better. Your mind is anywhere but the present and you hadn't realized that you had made your way to the park. The same one that holds too many bittersweet memories.

But instead of walking somewhere else, you continue on. You hadn't come back here since you left Spencer but it feels right. Lately you've found yourself considering trying to find him again, but ultimately you decide against it, recalling the words you left for him and the fact that it looks like he's found someone new. You love him too much to disrupt what love and peace he may have found.

Taking the familiar path you find yourself walking to the bench where Spencer first introduced himself to you, the bench that had started everything.

As you round the bend you see an older couple sitting there in the very spot you had all those years ago. The woman has her arm linked with the man's and the two of them laugh about something. The sunlight glints off of their wedding bands and you look away as they lean in to kiss each other. Walking by them, you offer a polite smile despite the turmoil you feel inside. They meet your eye as you pass and return your smile with warmth and happiness.

This trip down memory lane leaves you feeling like you had just seen a bit of what your future with Spencer could have looked like, the two of you grey-haired but still head over heels for each other.

But you know that can never be a reality, and so you'll have to find a way to settle for the fleeting glimpse you caught.

-----

Part Two

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smok3r7 · 10 months

Text

Latching On To You

Joel Miller x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Chapter one: History Lesson

Series Masterlist & My Main Masterlist - My Ao3

Series summary: What happens when, after thirteen loving years of being with Joel, you start to feel like he’s slipping away from your grasp? How much of yourself will you lose because of the trauma your father put you through, at such a young age? You could be wrong about Joel, but something is telling you otherwise - or are you just not healed enough to see past your own insecurities?

Chapter summary: The beginning of you and Joel is a story that most can’t relate to, truly one of a kind. The history between your father and you, explains how the trauma shaped your mind and future. You and Joel have a bond like siblings for the longest time, but as you grow older and independent, a stronger connection is formed - which leads to your blissful beginning of your life together.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: age difference in the beginning (15/20) NOTHING SEXUAL UNTIL READER IS OVER 22 & JOEL IS 27!! No use of y/n, no outbreak AU, no Sarah AU, smoking weed and drinking, abandonment issues, trauma from father w/ alcoholism, attachment issues, HEAVY ANGST, daddy kink (minimal), unprotected P in V, fingering, mutual pinning

~So here we go ladies and gents! My first story back, I cannot wait for you all to read this, I’m not sure how long of a series this will be but this is a start! Thank you so much to @chloeangelic for helping to revise this and giving me tips, I really appreciate your help babes🫶🏼

“Aren't you somethin' to admire?

'Cause your shine is somethin' like a mirror

And I can't help but notice

You reflect in this heart of mine

If you ever feel alone and

The glare makes me hard to find

Just know that I'm always

Parallel on the other side

'Cause with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul

I can tell you there's no place we couldn't go

Just put your hand on the glass

I'll be there to pull you through

You just gotta be strong” ~ Mirrors by Justin Timberlake

——————————

You and Joel pretty much grew up together in your teen years. His mom actually worked with yours at the hospital as nurses in Austin and that’s how they became close, like sisters. Hence how the Millers became a pretty huge part of your family, resulting in Joel and you meeting. You guys happened to also live across the street from each other - complete coincidence. You had just turned fifteen, and Joel had turned twenty, only a month after your birthday when you guys started hanging out. Joel wasn’t going to college because he was working full time, saving up the money he made so he could buy his dream house he talked about and maybe even venture out a little bit. But since he was living at home, Joel would watch over you a lot while your mom was either working, out with friends, or with his parents.

Your home, that had always been a two parent household, had now gone down to a one parent household in a matter of seconds, or so it felt like. Your dad was always heavily involved in your life with everything you ever did and he loved you unconditionally, but it was as if something switched in his brain, and he suddenly started to drink all the time, then distancing himself from everything the last four years. After the second year of him acting like a mess, you brushed it off that it’s because you were becoming a teen and that’s just what happens, that you weren’t “Daddy’s Little Girl” anymore.

But as months passed, you started to notice how bad it really was. He was drinking so much that he would pick nasty fights with you and your mom. He needed it to live at that point, where he would wake up at night from withdrawals. But the part that will forever leave you scarred, the part that causes your heart to break the most, is how he left.

It was the morning of your fifteenth birthday that your mom told you that he left, the bastard packed up his bags and left in the middle of the night. No goodbyes, no big hugs, and no apologies while he bawled “I love you baby.” Absolutely nothing.

Since then, now in your mid twenties, there’s been radio silence from him. You haven’t heard anything, which you honestly prefer after how he left things. But after all this time you still don’t understand where your relationship went wrong or what you did wrong for your father to drastically change like that.

But like a blessing in disguise, here came Joel and his family to help you and your mom. Joel’s parents have been good friends with your own since you were little, so they were caught just as off guard as your mom was when your dad just packed up and was gone. Since your father left, Joel’s parents have been a godsend for your mom. She was the one who went into a spiral because her and your dad had been together since they started high school. Least to say, she never saw this coming, not then and not in a million years. It truly broke her, and you were scared that you would lose her too.

—

Throughout high school, you and Joel hung out but still slowly drifted apart as he was working all the time and you were focused on school. You were okay with that - you needed a bit of a distraction from Joel, mainly due to having the world’s biggest crush on him and the fact that you were getting a little bit attached to him. Ever since your father left, you tried your best to avoid serious relationships of any kind in fear of them suddenly leaving you. But it was different with Joel, you always thought he was the most genuine person there was and you knew he wouldn’t leave you.

He would play the silly games you wanted to play, listen to whatever drama was happening with your friends, and he would help if you were having any trouble with the feelings that you had regarding your father; if you could even call him that. However, you’ve never told Joel about your feelings for him because, well, at that point you weren’t eighteen, so that would be wrong on his end. But you also didn’t want to ruin the relationship you guys had. You two were literally best friends and you were scared that, if you went any further, that he would slink away from you, just like how your father did, and you didn’t think you could take another emotional loss like that.

—

As soon as you graduated high school and had celebrated your nineteenth birthday and Joel’s twenty-fourth, you and Joel would hang out all the time. You pretty much lived between your moms and Joel's two bedroom house he ended up buying a year prior. You got a part time job at the local bar in town and only worked early afternoons. So, you had the evenings to do what you wanted, which usually included something to do with Joel - worked out great since he got out of work just an hour before you. You two would go hiking, fishing, you’d kick his ass in card games or a lot of the time, you would smoke some weed and have some drinks together and talk about whatever was on your mind.

After your twenty-first birthday, you had gotten a job as a receptionist at the largest law firm in Austin. You were doing really well for yourself, considering your work history - which altogether was not that impressive. So you were really proud of yourself for not giving up and continuing to strive to better yourself. After getting this job you finally felt like you had a purpose, you didn’t feel like you were floating around lost and barely getting by. Your mom was so happy for you, so happy in fact that she threw a party to celebrate you and your success.

You’ve never liked parties that had you as the center of attention, but you knew that your mom needed this more than you did. Ever since that night, your mom did the best she could to hide her feelings around you, but you knew she was breaking internally. So you’ve let her make a big deal out of anything - even if it’s small, for example; About five months ago you had made a beautiful painting of a cabin that you and your mom love to run away too sometimes. She had loved it so much that she showed it to everyone and somehow she ended up getting it put into a little gallery downtown. So needless to say, you adore your mom and will let her be happy by letting her throw you celebrations for even the smallest victories.

After getting settled into the job, there were a couple months where you and Joel didn’t see each other. Nothing was wrong, it just kind of happened, your mom needed you at the house and the new job was taking all your time and attention - Joel understood completely and was so happy for you. However, deep in you, there was a part of you saying that he was distancing himself and he was going to leave you. You almost felt like he sensed that because you two would just chitchat on the phone for a couple hours when you both had time instead, and this helped ease your mind and confirm that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Around a year and a half goes by, as does another round of birthdays, and one promotion that you couldn’t believe you got. You are proud to say that you have finally found a healthy mix of home life and work life. You pretty much have been living at Joel’s for the last three months, which naturally started happening because the commute to work was shorter by twenty minutes from Joel’s house. You still pop over to your moms to grab a few things, hang with her for a day or two, make sure she’s good, and then you’re back off to Joel’s. You’ve honestly been really happy with how your life has been going, you couldn’t be happier.

—

It’s a calm summer evening, warm enough for the bugs to be out but the breeze helps to keep them away. You and Joel are sitting out on his gorgeous back patio that has string lights from tree to tree like a roof, a good size fire pit in the middle of the circle of comfortable lawn chairs - this is your favorite place to be.

You two are talking about how each other's Friday went, which led to Joel bringing up that since you’re here all the time, you should just move in with him. You used to joke around about living together anyway, so when he brings it up as he puts more logs on the fire you started, you just brush it off thinking he’s joking around like he always does.

You laugh as you say, “I remember we used to say that all the time,” looking up at Joel after lighting the blunt you rolled, quickly realizing he’s not joking this time. You oppose at first, not wanting to step on his safe space more than you feel like you already have. But Joel stops your rambling by saying your name as he sits back down next to you and grabs your hand on your thigh.

You instinctively stop rambling and start listening to him talk, “I’m being serious. You’re not a burden. I love that you come over, I honestly don’t know what I would do with myself if you weren’t here. If I didn’t want you here, I simply wouldn’t have asked you.” You’re left speechless, a tear starting to roll down your cheek as you take a hit off the blunt. You hand it to him and, before you can say anything back, you start coughing like you’ve never smoked before. Joel just starts laughing at you, his laugh so genuine he leans back into his chair, putting one hand on his belly and the other arm folding over his head.

“Shut up, Joel! You act like this never happens to you!” You spit between coughs and sips of water. Joel calms down with his laughter as he wipes a tear from his eye and takes a hit.

“No darlin’, you always know how to ruin tender moments.” He goes to put it out so you can recover but, before he can, you grab it from him.

“Um, Miller, I’m not done with that. Also, just for the record, I don’t always ruin the moment. I just make them an even better memory for us,” you wink as you blow smoke out into the starry night sky, watching the soft wind make the smoke disappear. He looks at you and just shakes his head as he smiles to himself and says, “That you sure do, sweetheart…that you do.”

You two sit back into a comfortable silence as you watch the flames dance around and listen to the bugs chirp making their own melody. After a couple rounds of passing the blunt back and forth, Joel puts it out in the ashtray next to the two of you. “The offer is on the table, always will be,” Joel says, looking into the fire as he sits back and puts his arms over his head and leans back in his chair. You smile to yourself, knowing he was not going to give it up and, honestly, you wouldn’t either if it was the other way around.

You lean back and turn your head to your right and look straight into his beautiful brown eyes, your high starting to catch up to you and you can feel yourself beginning to look at Joel in a hazy way. Your eyes start to wander along his beautiful features, you notice his hair is getting a little bit longer and the curls are developing a lazy pattern. You start to fantasize about how it would feel to run your fingers through them and pull on his locks to make him look at you while he kisses you.

His lips are the next thing your eyes travel to, and you wonder how they would feel on your body. Starting from your tits, all the way to your pussy, the thought makes you squirm in your chair a little. You’re hoping you can play it off, that you’re just got a chill, but you know Joel is smarter than that. You go back to looking at his eyes, almost forgetting that he said something to you, and you see he’s already staring back. There’s a sudden shift in his eyes as you say, “I might just take you up on it then.”

The next thing you feel is his warm hands on your cheeks and his soft warm lips on yours. You instantly start to kiss back with desire and affection, instantly melting into his touch, but as soon as you bring your hands to his, he stops.

“Darlin’, I’m- oh, shit,” he mumbles, starting to back away from you, feeling like he has overstepped, but before he’s completely out of your grasp, you pull him back in by the collar of his denim jacket and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t back away from you. Instead, he stands up from his chair and picks you up from yours, latching your legs around his waist as he brings you inside. As he opens the slider door to go in, you open your eyes and the flames from the fire catch your eye.

“Joel!” You exclaim, and he stops walking, looking at you with a confused look on his face,“The fire.” You try your hardest not to laugh and he turns his head to see the flames are still pretty big. He sighs as he shakes his head, “Another perfect example on how you ruin the moment darlin’.” You slap his chest playfully and you both start to laugh. He kisses you as he taps your thigh, signaling for you to hop down.

“Sorry for not wanting your place to burn down,” you scoff, putting your hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, yeah, pretty girl. Go upstairs and wait for me, I’ll be right there,” he winks at you, slapping your ass as you turn on your heels, and you yelp as you run towards his stairs.

—

Your mind is racing as you reach his bedroom door. You slowly turn the knob and walk into his light gray colored walls, instantly feeling safe. You’ve been here countless times, under different circumstances, yet you don’t feel out of place - You feel like you’re supposed to be here. Like everything that you’ve been through has led to this moment.

As you move across the carpet, you stand in front of his dresser and you see two framed pictures of you and him - first one being a selfie in front of his house the night he bought it, the second one being an off guard photo of you and Joel talking the night of your party for your job. You never noticed that he had these framed, and as you bring your hand to it, a smile creeps on your face as you slightly shake your head in disbelief.

All of a sudden, you feel a pair of big soft arms hug across your waist, and his chin resting in the crook of your neck. “My favorite pictures of us…especially you. Your smile was the biggest I’d seen it in a long time in both of these,” Joel says, starting to kiss your neck softly in between his words. You fold into his touch instantly and you moan as he starts to suck a soft spot on your neck. His hands start to travel down to unbutton your jeans.

“I was so proud of you… I was so happy that you got the dream house you wanted. You deserve it,” you say between heavy breathing.

“Don’t downplay yourself, sweetheart. You worked your ass off to be where you are now and I just admire that,” You try to say something, but your mind and mouth won’t cooperate. “My dream wasn’t complete then but now that you’re here to stay. My dream is finally starting to come true,” he tells you, and you both look into his dresser mirror, making eye contact. You turn around swiftly in his grasp as you put your hands on his chest and push him towards his bed. The back of his knees hit the mattress and, as he sits down, his legs open and you stand between his thick thighs. He looks up into your eyes and smirks.

You smile back as you dip your head to slowly take your jeans off, when you bring your head back up to look at him, you grab his chin and pull him into a hot and heavy kiss - one of those kisses where yours and his tongue are exploring each other like it’s an addiction, while he grabs your ass and massages it.

That’s when he pulls you into his lap so you can straddle him. You start to rock your clothed clit back and forth on his growing hard on, while Joel’s calloused hands somehow feel soft as he grabs your ass and guides your movements. You can start to feel the wetness leak through your panties onto the bulge of his jeans, but that’s the least of your worries right now. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this pretty girl,” Joel says between kisses as one hand goes into your panties. He gathers your wetness and brings it back to your clit, rubbing circles causing you to shake.

“Me either,” is all you can say without becoming a moaning mess. You’re still rocking back and forth but with a new pace, one that Joel is setting. Initially, you wanted to be the one in control but you quickly changed your mind about that, it seems. You want Joel to be in complete control of you right now, you don’t even want to think about anything other than Joel. Always Joel. Only Joel.

Your train of thought is stopped quickly by Joel inserting two fingers into your dripping pussy. Your movements pause as you adjust to his fingers, your jaw dropping as a long moan comes out. “That’s my good girl,” Joel’s starts as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you. You continue to grind on his fingers as he murmurs, “Gotta warm you up first, darlin’… I don’t wanna hurt you.” All you can do is nod and whine to him that you can take him, but he chuckles to himself. “Oh my pretty girl thinks she can take it, huh? Well, let’s see.”

Before he finishes his sentence, he’s pulling his fingers out of your pussy and flipping you over so you’re now on your back, with him towering over you. You giggle from how smoothly he did it, he then brings his fingers to your mouth so you can taste yourself. Without any hesitation, you open your mouth and let his fingers in as you suck on them. He moans when you make a mess with a mix of your own saliva and juices. Joel pulls his fingers away from your mouth with a pop and bends down to kiss you again, but this kiss is different. This somehow feels like a “I love you and I care for you” kind of kiss, one you reciprocate, wanting him to know you feel the same.

He slightly breaks the kiss so he can pull his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing onto his belly, dripping with precum. Your mouth drops when you notice all the veins he has, just hypnotized by the way it was throbbing for you. “You still sure you can take it baby?” Joel taunts as he sees you staring. Without even thinking, you grab his cock and start to slowly stroke him, and his head falls behind his shoulders, his body jerking as he moans.

“Yes, daddy, I can,” you taunt back with a smirk on your face. Once you say that, it’s like something primal snaps inside of Joel. He stops you from touching him, his hands rips off your panties, and throws them somewhere into the darkest corner of his room. Next thing you know, he’s lining his cock up to your throbbing, glistening pussy but he doesn’t put it in. Your arms are clawing at his back for him to make the move.

“You’re so impatient, baby. You gotta relax,” Joel drawls. Before you can come back with some smart ass remark, you feel him sliding his cock up and down your slit, creating a lewd mix of your juices and his precum. Your hips start to move with the rhythm of Joel’s, and it has the tip of his throbbing cock hitting your clit perfectly. You can already feel that tightening in your belly starting to form, turning you into a moaning mess.

His forearms are on either side of your head as he starts to suck and lick your neck again, having found the sweet spot that makes you cave for him every time. “Joel, don't stop. Fuck, baby,” you moan out, as you lift your hips just trying to get him to quit his teasing, he slowly starts to slide his cock into your needy pussy. He gets about halfway in, but has to stop, “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me baby girl,”.

“C’mon baby, move,” you whine as you claw at his back again, wrapping your legs around him and digging your heels into his hips. Your pussy is throbbing for more, so pent up that you’re getting impatient. “Fuck me, daddy,” you moan as you throw your head back into his soft pillows. Suddenly, you feel the other half of his throbbing cock split into you, and your legs let go of his hips as you yelp. He starts to pound your pussy, like you pleaded him to, the mixes of each other juices creating a loud slapping sound that echoes in the bedroom - you are losing your mind from that alone.

“This what you want needy baby? Just need daddy to give it to you rough.” Joel grunts as he grabs your right ankle and brings it to his shoulder, he holds your ankle in place with a hand as he starts to bite and kiss it while his other hand goes to your throat. You give him a smirk, telling him yes. He starts to squeeze the sides of your throat and you feel yourself start to get in a daze, before he lets go, then does it again.

You jolt a little bit when you feel his fingers from his other hand moving down to your clit. The mix of his fingers working on your clit, his cock hitting every spot you need it to, his words praising and degrading you, and him squeezing your throat has you seeing stars.

“Joel, fuck. I’m close, don’t stop, please,” is all you can say as you feel the tightness in your belly about to snap.

“Let it go sweet girl. Look at you, showing me you can take my cock and all,” he coos, and that’s all that it takes to send you over the edge.Your back arches as you moan Joel’s name over and over like a mantra, not ever wanting to forget him. Your body goes limp and your head is dizzy, when you feel him pull out and you both moan at the loss of each other's warmth, before he cums on your belly - moaning your name over and over like you did his.

—

Fucked out of your minds, Joel rolls off of you and both of you lay on your backs next to each other, just listening to one another’s breathing. You feel him get up from the bed as he walks to his bathroom, coming right back with a warm hand towel to clean you up. He gently rubs the towel and cleans you, then he throws the hand towel in the direction you know his hamper to be.

Joel grunts as he lays back down on his side to look at you, while you mimic his movements. This is the first time you’ve seen Joel with this post-fuck face he has, looking like he went to heaven and back. You hope you get to see more of him like this, just crumbling for you - He moves a piece of your hair behind your left ear and looks into your eyes.

“How’s that for ruining the moment?” you say without even thinking. You and Joel just start giggling again. ”Well, you’re two for zero right now..but you were right. You do make the memories better,” Joel is barely able to get out. After a little bit, a comforting hum from his rotating fan and both of your breathing, is all that can be heard as you stare at each other sincerely, you slowly move your body closer to Joel’s, wanting to feel him again. Joel wraps his arms around you like a delicate cocoon as you begin to slowly glide your fingers up and down his strong, yet gentle, arms. You slot your right leg between both his warm thighs, then you wrap your left leg around his hip.

The two of you are wrapped together like some kind of beautiful present you get on Christmas morning. As both of your breathing patterns and heart beats sync up, Joel kisses the top of your head and sleepily whispers, “I’m so glad you decided to stay, my love.”

You smile into his chest and hum, “Mhmm. Me too, Joel…me too.” You drift off into sleep feeling safe and loved while in Joel’s arms, Joel’s home, and Joel’s heart. Just you and Joel.

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller series #Latching On To You #first story in awhile #best friends to lovers #I’m a little rusty

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 3 months

Text

Intro post! + links to everything :)

Hi, I'm DK and this blog is mostly full of me talking about the Six of Crows and the rest of the Grishaverse! (and I'm also on AO3 as she_posts_nerdy_stuff)

It's occurred to me recently that I never did an intro post and also I'm just generally feeling that things over here are super disorganised so I've gone through all of my posts since 2022 (this was not a quick task you guys omg) and done my best to organise everything into tags so that you can access them all from here! All the links to the tags, or sometimes individual posts, are below the cut, and the categories are AO3, Grishaverse analysis, Grishaverse edits, Grishasverse knitting projects, and Grishaverse incorrect quotes.

Please note: this is a lot of stuff to wade through and I am sure to have missed the odd thing, but hopefully this is pretty mch everything! If you're looking for something that I've said should be here and can't find it, let me know and I'll do my best to track it down :)

Thank you all so much, love to you all <3

AO3 LINKS (I'm starting with the easier links, I don't have to make tags for these ones)

Original works

As I'm writing this I have four fics up on AO3, two of which are works in progress, and I'll update this post whenever that changes (ie when I finish them or when I start a new one)

UPDATE: Five fics now! Links are below <3

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

225k words, 146 chapters, Kanej focused with Wesper featured and Helnik kinda mentioned, post-canon, no archive warnings, completed

Summary:

Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Don't Go Blindly Into The Dark

100k + words, 60+ chapters, Wesper focused with Kanej featured and Helnik mentioned, pre-canon, canon divergence, no archive warnings, work in progress

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Meanwhile there is a darkness growing in Ketterdam, and it seems a killer may be stalking the streets of West Stave. An unknown evil is closing its jaws over the city, and it’s starting to feel like nowhere is safe.

Our Gods Have Abandoned Us

19k + words, 11 chapters, Helnik and Kanej with Wesper kinda featured, so much angst, post-canon, canon-divergence (Van Eck wins AU), major character death, work in progress

This one properly started with this post

Summary:

"Of course they do, Jes," Kaz flexed his fingers in his gloves, "That's what losing a war means. And when that war comes, Kerch can't afford for Shu Han to win it. They'll back Fjerda against Ravka now so that when Shu Han turn against them Fjerda will back them in return. Ravka's navy will fall to Kerch's, most of Ravka's territory will go to Fjerda and if it has any money left then I expect plenty of it will be given to Kerch as part of the deal. The Shu will move against Fjerda to take back the territories they were trying to win from Ravka, and Fjerda will pay them little mind until they declare war on Kerch. Novyi Zem will back Shu Han, because they still think their trade ambassador was killed by the Kerch in what was actually Shu Han's last attempt to start a war over here, Fjerda will back Kerch, refugees will flee to the Wandering Isle and their economy won't be able to withstand it, and meanwhile I will remain exactly where I am and get drunk toasting to the end of the world. You're all welcome to join me,"

OR -

A Van Eck wins AU, mostly exploring how the Crows would respond to the situation but I have some semblance of a larger plot forming I just need to piece it together

If I'm Good Will You Come Back?

2k words, 1 chapter, sad and angst, gen but Helnik mentioned, canon compliant, major character death, completed

Summary:

Five times Matthias Helvar spoke to his baby sister through Djel, and one time that she answered

I’ve put major character death as a tag but it’s nothing beyond canon, it’s just depicted in this fic from a slightly different perspective 👍

Portrait of a Dead Girl

7 chapters so far, gen but also F/M, Alina and the Darkling are in a relationship in this but it isn't shipping them and the Darkling is the villain, canon divergence, alternate universe, rape/non-con, underage, major character death, work in progress

Summary:

Alina Starkov was given to Duke Aleksander Morozova of Os Alta in marriage when she was fifteen years old. Within a year, she was dead. The official cause of Alina's death was marked as putrid fever, but many at the time believed, and many in the future will go on to believe, that she was poisoned by her husband.

This fic is completely inspired by The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrel, which is a work of historical fiction based on the real lives of Duchess Lucrezia d'Este (née de' Medici) and Duke Alfonso ii d'Este of Ferrara. You don't need any prior knowledge of The Marriage Portrait or history to read and enjoy this fic, but know that my writing is very much going to mimic that of O'Farrel in format and although I'm hoping to write the story in my personal usual writing style I will definitely be borrowing a lot of my descriptors, symbols, and so on and so forth from O'Farrel - there will be some of mine too though :)

Recommendations

Posts where I'm recommending fics can be found here

GRISHAVERSE ANALYSIS LINKS

Okay this is gonna be where this starts getting complicated to organise but here we go, and hopefully now that I have this as a place to keep it organised I'll be able to routinely come back here and update it so we can keep it all together :)

Assorted analysis - Grishaverse

Grishaverse asks

-> subcategory of asks: 'DK finally gets it together and answers her asks because it's about damn time (working title)'

Chapter-by-chapter SOC analysis

(NOTE: I've really been meaning to bring this series back I just haven't had time, are people still interested??)

Specific posts (I've put these ones here because they're generally the ones people ask to be tagged in or that I reference in other posts)

Kanej bathroom scene analysis

Kaz and Wylan's potential to become each other

Rare Spices Billboard

Inej vs the Wraith

Kaz's views on hierarchy

Religion in the Grishaverse (this one is mostly Djel and a little bit of the Saints; I did also write a lot in a reblog of a really good post on Ghezenism by @skepticalcatfrog as well so if you're interested in either part of that you can find it here, I would highly recommend reading their post it's really interesting)

Shadow and Bone TV show analysis

GRISHAVERSE EDIT LINKS

I'm not really sure how to organise this one but all of them are tagged here

If people would like me to I could come back and try to arrange them by character or ship or something?

GRISHAVERSE KNITTING LINKS

Most of the time when I post about this stuff I give updates on all of them, but if you happen to want to filter them (or if I need to come back looking for something specific) then here are the projects:

Kefta cardigan

Six of Crows blanket

Toy crows of the Crows

GRISHAVERSE INCORRECT QUOTES

I organised these by their sources because there were too many for me to choose another way to sort them tbh

Text posts I made based on things my friends and I have actually said. In real life. - the series

Source: friends

Source: the completely made up adventures of Dick Turpin

Source: community

Source: Parks and Rec

Source: the good place

Source: modern family

Source: our flag means death

Source: ghostbusters

Source: renegade nell

Source: the office

Source: young sheldon

Source: the cornetto trilogy

Source: big bang theory

Source: what we do in the shadows

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littlelesbinonny · 9 months

Text

The Devil's Den

Chapter 39: In Which The Daylight Is Fading Pt. 2

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

Jesus fucking Christ.

Alcina was about to become suddenly un-internally screaming.

You. You! What was she going to do with you? Yes, you had figured it out. Yes, you were changing. Yes, you were not just a human. Yes, were rightfully demanding answers and Alcina was on the verge of losing it. How in the goddamn hell was she supposed to juggle all of this?! It was her own fucking fault. Still, through it all her greatest fear and determination was to keep you safe. But you had to listen, you had to understand, you had to blindly trust, and fuck, she knew how hard that was. She was nearly ready to cross the threshold and tell you everything just to get the weight off her shoulders. But it would only burden you more, wouldn't it? One loss to another gain?

And Malka. Who was this Malka. An old Jewish Mystic? Really? Were they still around? She scoffed.

You were right. Yet again. It should be her guiding you through this, not some old woman she didn't even know or trust with you! In her absence and lack of ability or will to address what was happening to you she had inadvertently sent you off to another for answers.

God - fucking damn it all!

She flitted her way back to the church as fast a she could. Her mind could duke it out with her heart later.

Donna was there now with a slew of vampires. Father Archer had disappeared and Alcina was eternally grateful. Father Sullivan was still present as was the shaking, pale as a ghost deacon from before. Poor child. He should be put out of his misery for the pure act of mercy. Seeing his comrade in such a state would scar him for life.

All eyes turned to her as she came in through the same side door and shut it behind her.

Alcina chiseled her features to a stern, stoic facade and joined the group.

"Excuse us, please," Donna enunciated as Alcina approached, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her through to a neighboring room, out of sight and hearing range, "where have you been?"

Her inquiry wasn't sharp nor rude, but dripping with disbelief and genuine curiosity as to why she'd leave this scene.

"She saw it. I had to go after her."

Donna's eyes went wide at Alcina's admission.

"W-what? Who? Your human?"

"She has a name!" Alcina spat, quickly reclaimed her control and took a deep breath, "Just - I'm sorry... I don't know how or why she was here but she walked into it, and I had to follow her and make sure she was alright."

Donna blinked, "Is she?"

"Of course not. But she is fine for the time being. I'm here now. What have I missed?" she asked placing a hand mindfully on her hip.

There was a confused pause but Donna threw it out the window, "I radioed Karl to order mobilization of our troops outside of the underground. If a mutant is here we have to locate it before it gets any farther in the human world and creates who knows what kind of havoc. We can only contain and minimize so much before it becomes a conspiracy theory on TickedTocked, or whatever the fuck humans use for news now."

Alcina sighed, "what about the boys family?"

"That's something you'll need to discuss with Father Sullivan. He's been pretty quiet since we arrived. You'll need to do some serious damage control here."

"I want updates as soon as anything comes in," she mused, taking off your gloves.

"I figured you would."

Donna held out a small radio comm for Alcina.

She took it with a short smile and nodded, "always on top of it. Go, get back underground. I'll take care of what needs done up here."

Malka sat perched on her sofa. Eyes wide, but facial expressions otherwise void of much else.

"I..." you mumbled, "I don't know what to do."

Clearing her throat, Malka nodded very slowly, her vision cast down to the floor now as her lips pursed while she chewed on all of this information.

"I don't know much else, but the feeling in my old gut says Alcina is right; you should be mindful of your safety. You are a novice, though a quick learning and talented one, it seems as though whatever devil has escaped in this world is not to be trifled with, no? Even I, as old and wise as I might be, wouldn't even know where to begin concerning this."

"It's not like I'm going to go out looking for a fight, I just, I just want to be able to help myself, and god forbid Alcina if something goes really wrong."

Malka narrowed her eyes at you, "staying out of sight and out of harms way is the likeliest option right now, ketzeleh. What you described to me, what the foe did to your very powerful Alcina, if that's any indication as to this things power... invisibility would be your best bet for safety. We still don't know the extent of your powers. Perhaps we can try illusion magic, it would be a good additive to aid your mind EMP trick."

"Mind EMP magick?"

She smirked, "yes, that's what I've deemed it. What you did to those boys was clearly a nervous system attack, much like an EMP pulse would do to electronics; it seemed to cause them great pain and shut down their function until they scrambled away from you. So, mind EMP - voila!"

You couldn't help but chuckle a little. You liked that.

Getting back to present matters, you leaned on your knees and sighed, "ok, so... tell me about this illusions magick. Is it really invisibility?"

Malka grinned, "almost. It's the manipulation of perception; you alter your energy field to match your surroundings in a way that hides you in plain sight. Someone, or something, can be looking directly at you and see you but not comprehend you're standing there. You cease to exist as a singular entity and become one with what is around you. You're there, but cannot be perceived."

"Can you show me?" you asked excitedly.

"Oh heavens, I am not as strong as I used to be and I don't practice my abilities the way I used to so I highly doubt it, but I can try to walk you through it. Go stand in front of the book case."

Doing as instructed, you did so and watched as the little old woman came towards you with her eyes glittering with that mischievous light she held.

She grasped your left arm and made you hold it out in front of you, flattening your palm outwards and stood in front of you.

"Now... close your eyes, find your energy source, and focus on wanting to not be seen. Repeat this silently to yourself: I am my surroundings, I am part of the picture."

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and let yourself feel your body and the energy pulsing through you. After a few moments you instinctively pushed your intention through your arm to your palm and slowly chanted in your mind; I am my surroundings. I am part of the picture. I am my surroundings. I am part of the picture. I... am my surroundings... I am part of the picture.

Like a flickering television screen trying to load the picture from a spotty antenna connection, Malka watched as your body began to blend into the bookcase and a large smile took her lips.

"Yes, good ketzeleh! Keep going!"

You tried to focus harder but it seemed the harder you tried the more your memory kept throwing images of Alcina and the scene from the church to your forefront, the argument, the way she looked at you, the fear you could feel from her, and everything else that transpired just a few hours prior. Before long you dropped your shield and huffed, angry you couldn't keep control.

Malka, and the ever nurturing woman she was, came to grasp your arm and brought you back to the couch.

"Come. It has been a traumatic night for you. Don't be discouraged, you managed to flicker a little which is quite a feat! You're very powerful, but you must learn to hone your control better, that's all."

Leo came and jumped in your lap as you slumped back, feeling quite defeated, and not just by failing at your attempt to vanish.

Your mind and heart was heavy. You knew things were not right. Anywhere.

"Do you really think it wise to disappear at a time like this?" Donna asked sharply.

Alcina did her best not to react, turning her eyes over her shoulder as she was putting a few things away in the shelf behind her desk, "I promised her yesterday I would see her tonight. It will be a short visit."

"It's not safe!"

"I'm aware!" she snapped, "But I intend to keep my promise and we have this place on lock down. Like it or don't, I'm going."

Donna was about to have a fit but knew it would get her nowhere. She bit her bottom lip and felt the tension in her jaw grow tighter, finally accepting the Matriarch's decision and turning to leave. She had too much shit to do.

"Be careful." Was all she offered before she took her leave.

She loved Alcina with all of her heart, but Christ that woman drove her absolutely mad at times!

Donna damn near slammed her door shut when she entered the house.

She headed straight to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of blood-wine and leaned her hip on the counter, tapping her free hand on the granite top as she had a stare-down with the floor. "You know, maybe I'll take up smoking," she muttered to herself, "take this edge off otherwise I may just snap one of these days. Just maybe."

Taking another large gulp she shook her head and made her way with purpose to her own study to make a call to Karl, but she didn't get far until a very strange chiming came ringing from the bookshelf in the living room.

Donna stepped slowly into the room and listened, her keen sense of hearing drawing her eyes to an ornately carved jade box she'd been given by an admirer long, long ago.

The shrillness of the sound was relieved when she removed the lid to find an old small black cell phone ringing off the hook.

She was hesitant to answer it. How did this even get in here? She'd never had a cell phone and knew no one who did.

But her instincts shoved their way passed her apprehension and she pressed the worn out green phone icon on the front.

"... Hello?"

"UH-BOUT FUCKING TIME!"

"Angie!" Donna shot, "oh my god where have you been, where are you, are you ok?!"

Her little cretin sister had been missing in action for nearly over a month, and while she knew she was up to something and likely on a hot trail, she hated not knowing where she was or what she was doing. Angie drove her just about as nuts as Alcina did these days.

"I'm fine, I've been in a wall."

"What?"

"I'm in a wall, ok? For like, fuckin' weeks - but that's really really really not what's important right now and I need you to -"

"Jesus, Angie, slow down!"

"No! I ain't got time to slow down - you gotta speed up! Shit is going down and it's going down fast and there's not a lotta time to explain because my battery is hella fuckin' low but they're coming - "

"W-what, who?"

"Shut up and let me finish! FIND ALCINA NOW! Get the military! They're coming! They're coming THROUGH the underground! I'm on my way but -"

Silence.

"A-Angie?" Donna sputtered, "Angie?!"

She pulled the phone away from her ear to see the small screen had disconnected the call. Trying desperately to remember how to operate these fucking things, Donna hit a few buttons and found the call list, highlighting the only one on the screen and redialing.

Barely a ring sounded in the earpiece before an annoying woman's voice told her the voicemail box had not been set up. She hung up quickly and sped through the house to find her comm.

Alcina's mind was unnervingly quiet as she made her way up to the church and through it. It was as eerily silent and she heard every single one of her footsteps as if she'd never heard them before. Father Sullivan was at the alter up front, staring up to the stained glass with his rosary wrapped around his hands that were in a praying formation.

"The boys mother has demanded to speak with you, Lady Dimitrescu."

His voice halted her in her tracks.

Great.

"Was it wise to tell and outsider of our existence, Father?" she countered, eying him thoroughly as he turned and slowly began to walk up the aisle.

"You left me with a very unfortunate circumstance. There's very few lies I could tell to comfort this woman. The truth was my only option."

Alcina's perfectly arched brow matched the frown in her crimson red lips, "sometimes lies are necessary."

Father Sullivan stopped in front of her, gazing up at her intimidating stature as he secured his hands behind his back, "to you, perhaps. When can I tell her you're free?"

She wanted to scoff but did not, instead her other eyebrow joined in similar fashion, "I am quite busy, finding the one responsible for her sons death and all, you know -"

"Please make time for this. You must make this right!"

"And what am I suppose to tell her, Father?! Yes, dear lady, there's an underground legion of vampires that live beneath your feet - so sorry your poor boy got caught up in a problem that escaped from there, please, tell me what I can do to make this better for your pitiful human existence?! You should have lied to her and saved us more mess! Humans outside of the church should know nothing about us!"

"She has sworn an oath to secrecy."

"Ugh, please. Her word means nothing to me, you have nothing to stand on she will keep it."

"As if you all are so much better?"

Alcina's spine tensed and she inched closer to the man below her, her face riddled with her distaste.

"Your insinuation displeases me greatly, Father Sullivan. Awfully bold for you to throw that at me when you and yours have no defense against whatever is running loose aside from the ones your insulting."

He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, "you're here to stop things like this from happening at all, aren't you?"

"The best laid plans of mice and men, Father. We cannot see all ends. I've lost more of my men to this problem than you have any idea about," her voice took a dark turn as she stepped in even closer, "if you think I'm not doing everything I can, you are sorely mistaken. You've had one casualty, to which I'm exercising all in my power to make sure doesn't happen again... I have lost over fifty... mind your accusations."

Father Sullivan nodded curtly and backed away from the towering vampire, swallowing once more and straightening his posture, "forgive me, Lady Dimitrescu. As you must understand this has been heavily shocking for us. I'm struggling with... well, many things. As one leader to another, you know the pressure I'm under."

Considering his words with a softening of her face, Alcina relaxed slightly and took a deep breath, "that I do. And as one leader to another, and while you've never faced the terrors I have, know this; when the true struggles set in with vengeance, making enemies of your true allies is the worst move you can make. And we are your allies, Father. Though you cannot see the work taking place behind the scenes, you must trust us the way you always have."

He nodded slowly, "you're right. I will. We will. Forgive my words."

"I'll let you in on a little secret; if I took true displeasure or offense in what you said, you'd not be here looking me in the face. I do kind of like you, Father, but please stay on my good side," she winked.

The smallest of smiles appeared and he nodded once more, "noted."

Without another word she was gone.

Your lit up apartment was a sight for her weary eyes and Alcina scaled your building with ease, allowed herself in your balcony door after sensing her surroundings thoroughly.

The pending conversation was giving her pause but more than anything she just wanted to see you, hold you in her arms, and keep you close and know you were safe as long as you were there.

But where were you?

Alcina scoured the living room until a flickering caught her eye and within a split second there you appeared, eyes wide and your palm held out in front of you. You looked almost as bewildered as her.

"Draga..." she uttered, feeling her heart lurch in her chest at the sight of you, her worries almost melting away as she stepped towards you.

She had almost expected you to be hesitant at her very presence, but you were no where near that as you nearly bolted for her.

Alcina met you halfway through the living room and you were within each others arms not quickly enough. You buried your face in her chest and she in your hair, staying in silence and comfort that the two of you were safe and unharmed and together amidst the chaos outside.

Before you knew what was happening Alcina had relocated her arms and scooped you up and brought you to the couch, wrapping you up in her strong encompassing embrace like you'd slip away like liquid.

"I've missed you. I've been really worried about you," you uttered in her neck, keeping your arms secure around her.

"Oh draga," she replied softly, "I'm fine. Are you?"

You simply nodded mutely against her and closed your eyes.

"I don't have long," Alcina admitted solemnly, "but I promised to see you and listen to what you needed to tell me."

Damn her, you couldn't stop your smile.

Finally pulling away you looked at those stunning slate colored eyes and leaned in to kiss those plush red lips, "you're a woman of your word, and I love you for that."

Alcina hummed through a soft smile and kissed you back, "for my girl, I am anything you wish of me."

Oh. Oh wow.

"If you're trying to get back into my good graces you don't have to pull out all the stops, you know," you jested trying to shove your tears back in your eyelids.

She cupped your face with her leather glove clad hand and made you look at her, "I mean it, draga mea. I love you. Now... tell me everything."

Alcina was still chewing and swallowing on everything you had told her, but still the hardest to force down was this Malka woman. Was it just her jealousy, which she would never admit out loud, or was it something worth buying into? You'd never spoke of having many friends, and this was the first she'd heard of this woman, and while she was clearly no threat to you and your affections for her, Alcina didn't like the idea of someone else being so close to you. Silly, perhaps. Petty, perhaps. You were her hearts treasure and she was not taking you for granted. Not again.

"And that is why you materialized out of thin air when I arrived?" she asked stroking her hand mindlessly up and down your thigh.

You were leaned back on the arm of the couch with your legs draped over her lap while you had spilled all of your beans to her, making it easy to stay close and intimate but still able to see all of each other.

"I've been working at it tirelessly, I'm really pretty drained right now, but... yeah. It's nice to know I finally got it."

To say she was doing her best to hide her overwhelm was being nice about it. You really were coming into your own and there was no stopping it. Alcina only wished this wasn't happening at the same time everything else was. More than anything she wanted to be here for you on this journey, be part of it, help you discover and uncover and train and work your magick the way she should be. But this was also so very dangerous. Not just for you, but for her. If Mother Miranda were to ever -

A ruckus from your bedroom startled you both and before either of you could move from the couch, a tiny brunette appeared from the hallway.

"Donna!" Alcina gasped, unceremoniously dropping your legs from her lap and standing with a jolt.

She was a little out of breath as she straightened her black button down, high-collared shirt while approaching the two of you.

Oh, ok, so this was Donna. What the hell was she doing in your apartment?

You stood next to Alcina quite confused and unsure of your own footing.

"I really don't have time for pleasantries," Donna stated, addressing you with a short nod, "though it is nice to finally put a face with a name," her attention immediately went back to Alcina with haste, "we need to go now, this is not up for debate."

Alcina was almost taken aback. Firstly, for Donna to find her, let alone be here, was concerning all on it's own. Secondly, for her to be in such a state, which was hidden immaculately for the situation, made Alcina's stomach twist. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Goddammit.

You barely had time to register anything before Alcina took your face in her palms once more and looked at you like you would fade away within the second.

"Do not leave this apartment until the sun is up. And do not be outside of this apartment when the sun begins to set, do you understand me?"

Her tone made your face contort into worry, but you nodded, "yes."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Lock your doors and your windows. Do not open the door to anyone outside of daylight hours."

Alcina watched your nod of agreement and pulled you to her once more, holding onto you for as long as she could, "I love you, I love you, and I will return to you as soon as I can."

"I - I love you too - "

You were cut off as she kissed you with haste and with one more blink she and Donna were gone.

You stood there in your silent apartment trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

Things were taking a turn. You could feel it.

It felt awful.

Now all you could think about was Alcina.

"I can see why you're so smitten with the woman, she's beautiful."

Alcina could have run into a wall, that comment struck her so out of left field.

"What the entire fuck, Donna," she spat as they hurried through the city streets, "that's the first thing you say to me after showing up like that? What the fuck is going on?!"

"I know, I'm sorry! I'm panicked!"

"Clearly!"

"Angie called me - "

"Wh - from where?"

"I'll get there, I'll get there - just let me explain, we have very little time! She hid a cell phone in our house - it rang - it was her - she told me she's been hiding in a wall for weeks and that they, whoever they are, were moving and moving fast and we didn't have time, that I need to find you and get our military moving, that they were moving through the underground - I radioed Karl and basically everyone is running around like headless chickens trying to make heads or tails of what she told me - I had no choice but to alert everyone in the city and all the council - she must mean the mutants because I cannot fathom what else she could possibly mean!"

Alcina's head was fitfully spinning as they rushed through the church like a blur and to the tunnels to the underground.

And then they heard it.

Rumbling.

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu/female reader #alcina dimitrescu/original female character #alcina dimitrescu/reader #lesbian #f/f #fanfic #wlw #fic #donna beneviento #angie beneviento

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wildflowerteas · 5 months

Note

hella got through chapter 6 everyone cheer!

i don't know how to respond to this coherently so i'm just going to scroll down and let the word vomit happen:

the choice of emoji reacts to some of these . . . i'm surprised hella hasn't killed you guys. keeping gin away from this mess is the last thing on my mind, unfortunately *stares at the BEAST tag*

ARRGHHHFGHHH IM SO GLAD YOU GUYS LIKE SSKK. they're such a breath of fresh air, and writing them comes so easily to me. while i like writing skk ( fucked up as they are--even at this point in the story ) and the fast-paced nature of their relationship, this is romance writing work coming from the guy whose only other fic had a first kiss at uhhh...160k words.

yesenina did serve too hard. i imagine her as similair to the others, but with a Rita Hayworth-like air of ambition about her, and that's a serve. and it's what gets her killed.

Chuuya Yuan history coming in SOON. actually. Next chapter. seeing hella lose it over Chuuya's internal monologue here has been absolutely hilarious and kind of rewarding. I Knew All That because I'm the author ( duh ) so i never really grasped how strange the shift to Chuuya's thoughts about the relationship would be. I mean there's snippets of it, like the diner scene, but you're right, it's fanfic and so that is a lot easier to sweep under the rug.

ACAB. I considered putting a line from Doc Riedenschneider in The Asphalt Jungle ( 1950 ) "Experience has taught me to never trust a policeman. Just when you think one's alright, he turns legit." in a divider chapter between part I and part II, but I thought was too on the nose following 7 ( and a bit pretentious considering this is just ao3 fanfic and not a published work or anything ) so i grabbed myself by the metaphorical monkey backpack and didn't. Mafia Nepo Baby 😭 I love Hella HUGE WIN FOR ME. I was so nervous because i needed to balance Chuuya being observant but also quite literally *out of the loop.* He's not from the same world as Dazai--he's not involved with the murders or the politics or the mess going on yet. He comes across as oblivious at times because Dazai's POV is purposefully designed to make you see him that way. Dazai's so sure he's in control of what Chuuya knows that he doesn't realize he might have met his match.

ZSKK are uhm. yeah. all im gonna say there.

the "PARDON." IM CACKLING

argh. the switch up with this chapter...why the hell am i getting nostalgic for something i wrote less than two months ago ( ican't believe i've been grinding through this fic so fast jesus ).

i love unhealthy dynamics, truly. this fic was really a test to see if i could write soukoku making each other worse. which is a pretty stark contrast to my other stuff.

HELLA. OH MY GOD. that bit about their careers . . . i can't believe she noticed that. Chuuya started the fic genuinely ambitious, wanting the spotlight, wanting to defy expectations set upon him by his looks, his race, and his past. Dazai's a cop, sworn to uphold the law, but he doesn't feel like a good person. He can't ( interlude chapter . . . stares out the window ), but he can use everything about who he is to give Chuuya the life he wants. like a guardian ange--*gets taken out by a sniper chapter 8 style* Their original goals aren't gone, per se, they've simply been reoriented.

can't wait for chapter 7

i know it'll make Hella want to hunt me down for sport, so i'll sleep with both eyes open for the forseeable future.

#ask

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deepperplexity · 9 months

Text

Prompt 19: Hope [B6]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Unknown place during a blizzard

Continuation of: Prompt 2. Restless Waiting, 3. Snowballing, 7. Stormy Reunion, 8. Rosemary For Holly & 16. Keep Warm

A/N: So, I'm here again, just a little later in the evening and I'm so glad I decided to write a shorter one for this prompt. I'm honestly stressing to the max and I haven't even started on tomorrows fic so I'm feeling the pressure... Still have another two Christmas celebrations to host as well but only one more before Rickmas2023 is over 😂👍 I'm still so so so in love with this event and I really do love seeing the community come together. I'm very very sorry I'm not fully able to reply to everything atm but as soon as I just have enough time I'll do it - you're words deserve all my attention and a thought-out reply too ❤ ON TO THE STORY OF TODAY!

Tags/TW’s: Love, Longing, Broken Hearted, Wishing For A Future, Abandoning/Losing Hope, Being Cold, Sacrifices For The Greater Good, Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Being Cold, Feeling Abandoned/Lost, Mentions Future Death/Pain, Regret

Word Count: 1.4k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

My muscles strained against the sluggishness, the blizzard seemed to kick up a notch as I managed to sit up. I was cold all the way through. “Where are you?” Severus called, his voice a barely there thunder of worry. “Sev!” I shouted, mustering all my strength. “Belinna!” “I’m here!”

The sound of crunching snow reached me as I got myself up, trying hard not to topple over from the rough winds my weak body could barely withstand. His arms were around me the next second, his body shielding me from the onslaught while keeping me upright with his tight grip. “I knew you’d come,” he said by my ear, the relief in his voice palpable while my fingers grasped at his thick cloak. “I’ll always wish for you,” I said, my face nearly pushed into his neck. “Hold tight,” he said and my fingers tensed before we flew. Black shadows enveloped us and the twisting in my gut had my stomach in an upheaval.

It was over just a minute later. We were in the cover of trees, towering pines reaching as high as I could see. “Are you hurt?” he asked while grabbing my face with his cold hands. “No.” His eyes searched mine for any lie but I spoke the truth. I wasn’t hurt, confused and drained, but not hurt. “We go on foot,” he declared. “On foot?” “No trace.” I simply nodded at his words, happy I’d put on shoes before lying in bed.

Severus grabbed my hand and began walking, tugging me along through the heavy snow while I held on tight and tried to keep my coat cinched around my throat. The cold was starting to bite through all the layers I wore. It wasn’t the same as the English winter, or any other type of cold I’d ever experienced before. It felt feral, menacing nearly.

“Where are we?” I asked over the wind while it slithered in a rush between the tree trunks. “Can't tell you,” he said over his shoulder. “You should not know.” I merely nodded, I knew whatever reason he had for keeping so many secrets it was a good one. Truth be told, I was merely happy feeling his hand around mine, seeing him safe and whole — even if it was in the middle of a blizzard in some forgotten part of the world. He was there, alive and grasping my hand as if he were afraid to lose his grip on me.

We trudged on, Severus picked up the speed the deeper into the forest we went. “Wand out,” he said when he finally slowed down and I gasped for breath while my stiff muscles ached in the cold. “Now,” he demanded further and I reached inside my clothes to get my wand. “Sev?” I asked but he shook his head and squeezed my hand. Good thing I’m left-handed, I thought when I returned the squeeze and tried to keep my fear at bay. He was so stiff, so tense. It had my heart in my throat feeling the tension radiating from him as we inched closer to whatever destination he had in mind.

We entered a clearing and the wind just died off, as if someone closed a door. “We’re here,” he whispered and my eyes scanned the space. There was nothing there. Just a small open space among the tall trees where the weather seemingly couldn’t reach us at all. “Where is here?” I asked, stepping closer to him as something cold slithered up my spine. “The home of… The home I thought could have been my sanctuary after everything was over. But now, it is over, before it has even begun.” “Severus, what do you mean?” “If things had been, different … I would have taken you here, after everything was done…” “You’re scaring me, Sev…”

For, he did. He spoke in a manner I had never heard before that seemed drowned in anguish. He turned toward me, his face softened and turned gentle in the strange light of the clearing while I tried to remain upright. “When the moment comes,” he began as his finger stroked my chin, “you will have this part of me.” “When-, what?” I asked, my voice near frantic as he seemed destitute. “Love,” he whispered. “I am so sorry.” “S-Severus? What are you talking about?” “The plan is already in motion. When the time comes, I must kill Albus, I must become the evil in everyone's view to keep as many as possible safe, alive . There will be no place for me after, dead or alive. With all things in motion, all aspects of the plan, there are too many things that can go wrong and I am certain death will come for me before this war ends. One way or another, I will not be here with you after all is done.”

His words, they hurt so fiercely I could barely breathe while he looked at me with a sorrow and hurt so deep I couldn’t see an end to it. There was no end to his pain. A pain he’d carried all alone, for however long. I wished to take it away, wrap him up in a blanket and shower him with all my love, all my warmth, every ounce of joy I still held on to despite the dark times.

“Are you saying…” “Yes, love. That's what I'm saying.” “But, you can’t-, I mean-, we-, there must be a way!” My voice carried all over the clearing in the absence of other sounds. His soft smile, so gentle looking and sweet, was directed at me at that moment as he pulled me. His arms wrapped me up, I gripped at him while trying to find some sort of strength to hold on to the hope of a future with him I had barely ever even dared to imagine. “Here, you will survive,” he whispered into my hair. “You will live, and life will be yours to cherish.” “I don’t want that without you.” “You never had me, Belinna. I stayed away for as long as I could and then the choice was made for me when he saw you in my mind. I would never have even—” “Don’t. Please, don’t take what little love you’ve offered me.” “As you wish.”

We stood in silence until my snivelling broke the quiet. He was right, I’d never had him, and now I never would. I’d never know him deeply, intimately, lovingly. I’d never have a chance at finding a normal life with him, or even a crazy one. I’d never have what I’d hoped for in secret within the deepest parts of my heart. The hope I’d felt just a few moments ago had gone — vanished, for all eternity.

“When things seem most dark,” Severus said as I tried to soak up every tone of his voice. “Follow your heart. Your heart will lead you right.” “It led me to you, it always will…” “And mine takes me away,” he said while my body tensed up. “To keep you safe.” “Severus,” I began but my body turned heavy. “What-, what’s happening?” I asked, looking up into the most beautiful eyes I would ever see in all my life. “This was all I could grant,” he whispered. “All— What?” “Belinna, know that I love you. I will always love you, from the moment you spilt pumpkin soup over my best frock, it has been you .” “Severus, I-, I love you too. Only you.” I held on as tightly as I could while my knees yielded and the shadow of a little house seemed to flicker behind Severus as my head slumped to the side. The light of a single candle in the window was the last thing I saw before Severus sunk to the ground with me cradled in his arms as my body gave way to the heavy sleep taking over. Hurt, pain, and panic filled my heart and rushed through my body with my blood but I could do nothing.

He kissed me, a soft touch upon my lips that I couldn’t return. “Know that had I known you were an option in the future, I never would have offered my life for another. But you were too late, and I was too hurt…” I wished to scream at him, shout my love for all the world to hear. But I could not. Everything disappeared and I fumbled through the darkness without moving a single muscle only to jolt awake back in the cottage, no sign I had ever gone anywhere at all…

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: REMINDER THAT EVERY RICKMAS2023 FIC HAS A HEA! 😂 Don't come for me after this part of the Snape Serial this Rickmas 🙈

Q: Are you rather too cold or too warm? A: Too cold, easiest Q so far I think. I used to never be too warm, but now, gosh, I hate being too warm 😂

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243

@morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @lokisbjchnl @lght-n-drk @ladykardasi @lyrixsnape @sunset90 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #alan rickman #rickmaniac #severus snape #pro snape #snape #snape fic #snape x oc #christmas fic

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hergrandplan · 3 months

Note

Hey Nina 💜,

1,4,5, 14 and 17 for the writers ask thingie

Gladly!!

The last sentence you wrote

Simon wishes he could do more for W., help him somehow. Refer him to another publisher, one who would see what he sees. But Simon doesn’t have those kind of connections.

Okay technically these are three sentences but otherwise it wouldn't make sense i hope you don't mind lol

4. A story idea you haven't written yet

Oh, I have many (too many, some would say) but I once had an idea where Party Prince Wille gets into big big trouble one night. He gets way too drunk at a club, and even gets photographed leaving with someone. The next morning, his mother shows him images of him leaving with none other than Simon Eriksson, Sweden's Sweetheart, hand fully on his ass in a definitely-not-friendly way. His mother is done with him ruining the image of the monarchy with all his fooling around. In order to straighten out his image, Wille and Simon have to pretend they're actually dating...

I'm not explaining this well but it's fun and messy I promise

5. First sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

"Plus, what right did they have to be there?"

14. Where do you get your inspiration?

I want to give the poetic answer and say shit like. All around me, the world, people on the train, but that's bullshit.

I get my inspiration from songs, a good 99% of the time (I stan very lyrical artists and that makes it so so easy)

17. Talk about your writing and editing process

Ooooh okay. Love this question!

Once I have an idea, like when that first flash hits me, I start writing immediately. Doesn't matter where I am; at home or at work or, once, literally walking the streets of New York. Cause once I have that idea, I usually at least have one or two fully fleshed out scenes in my head that I have to get out before I lose them.

After that, I usually let the stories marinate and sit and focus on other projects that are in a further stage of development. It's rare that I immediately write a whole story; editorial au really is the exception to anything really.

After that, I just pick up the story whenever I feel like it, but the beginning of writing is very much snippets in my notes, little random thoughts that hit me throughout the day.

When I sit down to write, depending on how fueled I am, I either write like 5k words in one go or 5. I try not to be too hard to myself during the writing stage; it doens't need to be good then (it really doesn't need to be good ever, but hey) it just needs to be Something. Words on a page. Any thoughts I have about the scene. Any time I get stuck, I write in a bracket what I want to do and move on. If I think about what I'm stuck on for too long I get stuck in writing and lose all motivation. It happens once or twice that I also don't have any ideas on what's supposed to happen after the scene I'm stuck on, but yeah, usually brackets.

I also talk to myself in the comments. If I'm hit with an idea about something I wrote earlier, the most I'll do is put a comment there about that idea, and go back to where I left off.

Sometimes I'll ask friends on opinions; discuss scenes or whether something a character does is actually in character. Talking really helps in working through hurdles, more so than I initially thought it would.

Often times when writing I think of my writing as too flat, but that's okay, because: editing is where I shine.

Now, given my profession this shouldn't have surprised me but I mean it that my best work is done in editing. That's where I get the sentences to flow, the pacing to work. I'll rewrite whole sections, and maybe it can seem like a waste of time, but those rewritings wouldn't be as good if there wasn't something that came before them. I take my time editing, making sure everything works, and then I send it off to my beta reader who reads it, works out those final kinks with me and then it's off to ao3!

(this all means it does take me ages to publish a story so thank you to everyone who's so patient with me lol)

Send me fic writer asks!

#thank you for asking!#also let this be proof i am not ignoring my inbox at all #re those drabbles #im just . thinking about them #nina answers #tag game #sillylittleflower

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star-my · 9 months

Text

berserk tiger - i. inception

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Kim Seo-ah (OC)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 1.7k

CW: mentions of stalking, threatening

A/N: I have very little plotted out for this series. It's gonna be random and sometimes I'll post non-chronological pieces. No beta so feel free to point out typos or give concrit. Compliments are always nice. Moodboard photos are taken from Pinterest, edit is mine.

| Series Masterlist & Description | Masterlist | Ao3 |

Taglist (open): @bangtan-famiglia-net @bangtanwritershq

Tap.

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Tap tap tap tap tap.

The quick tempo of his footsteps sped up even more as she glanced behind her. He was gaining on her quickly. Practically running, she ducked around the corner, coming face-to-face with a man in black.

Gasping out a quick apology, she made the executive decision to ignore the stranger danger signs blaring in her mind. She was in enough danger from non-strangers as it was–besides, most crimes, especially violent ones against women, were committed by people the victim knew and were close to. Statistically, she was safer with this random guy she’d found all in black in a dark alley where no one else was around…wow, she wasn’t safe anywhere, was she?

Ignoring everything but the fact that so far Random Guy hadn’t pulled a knife on her, she cleared her throat and widened her eyes pleadingly, begging him to play along.

“Babe, I was waiting ages for you! What took you so long to come get me?” she exclaimed, taking his hand in hers, unwilling though he was.

He stepped out of the alley into the street and saw who she was running from. His gaze flicked down to her, then back at him.

His grip tightened on her hand.

A black car came gliding to a stop at the curb in front of them, and a man in a black suit climbed out of the driver’s seat to open the rear passenger door.

Random Guy handed her in with the grace of one born into a chaebol family, then closed the door and turned to face her pursuer.

She glanced through the smoked glass to see what was going on, surprised that she could barely hear any noise through the car.

The driver flashed a bright smile at her through the glass, blocking her view. Wow, he was really pretty.

The smile disappeared and he opened the door, letting Random Guy get in. She scooched over, tugging the hem of her dress down, aware she didn’t look her best at the moment. The interior light showed his gelled hair, soft features, onyx-sharp eyes, and a faded scar running down the right side of his face.

He studied her silently in return, making her uncomfortably aware of her wind-blown hair falling out of her braid, the perspiration beading on her body, and her rumpled clothes.

Putting a bright smile on her lips regardless, she extended her hand to him. “I appreciate your helping me get away from him. I sincerely thank you.”

He shook her hand, his large one dwarfing hers, his long fingers cool and clean. “You’re welcome. What is your name?”

“Oh, right. Kim Seo-ah.”

“Min Yoongi,” said the man just as his driver got in at the wheel. He threw him a startled look, glancing between her and her rescuer with an unreadable expression on his face.

The car started with a barely-there hum, and Min Yoongi turned to her again.

“Could you tell me what was happening back there?”

She glanced down, smoothing her hem more carefully than it called for. “He’s my little sister’s ex-boyfriend, Lee Geum. He created debts in her name and decided that we needed to placate him; he thinks he’s some hotshot yakuza or something, like he’s playing at being Agust D or something,” she laughed shortly. “He’s been following me home from the pawnshop where I work for the past few weeks, trying to intimidate me into giving him our money and following me to see our new living arrangements. I’ve managed to lose him so far, but today he started getting closer and closer and I saw him with a knife in his pocket. It was a blessing that you were there.”

He hummed, uninterested. “How many men does he have working for him that he thinks he’s the next Agust D?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe twenty or thirty? He’s not a good leader.”

Min Yoongi coughed.

“Have you gone to the police and asked for their help to deal with the issue?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, Mr Min, but this part of town isn’t exactly the most protected place. We’re all too poor to require any real guarding. What valuables could we possibly have? And I did try the police, when he threatened my sister, but they didn’t care.”

The driver clicked his tongue disappointedly.

“What if someone was able to do something about it?”

“Like what?” Seo-ah glanced at him curiously.

“Sent evidence of his crimes to the police or something. Do you think that maybe they’d take you seriously and do something about it then?”

“Maybe,” she admitted dubiously.

“Are you any good at acting?”

She glanced at him suspiciously. “I’d say I’m decent. Why?”

He simply flattened his mouth into what she suspected was a half-smile but could have been a grimace. She took the hint and dropped her line of questioning.

With a gasp she realized that the car had stopped outside of a luxurious villa in Seongbuk-dong.

The driver opened her door, extending his hand to her. She gingerly took it, stepping out onto the pebbled drive as she took in her gated surroundings.

Min Yoongi’s warmth alerted her to his presence behind her.

“Er…”

“Come with me.” He took her elbow gently, leading her into the house, past a man in a suit like the driver’s, but looking considerably more dangerous.

Min Yoongi led her to the kitchen, putting a kettle on to boil for tea and pulling out two cups.

He paused, hand on a cupboard door as he glanced back at her. “Would you prefer something a little bit stronger?”

“I’m alright with tea. Thank you. May I ask why I’m here?”

“Because I’d like to talk to you.”

“Without asking for my permission?” she raised an eyebrow, dropping the formal tone.

He raised one back at her impropriety.

“You essentially kidnap me, I don’t have to add honorifics,” she shrugged, hoping to cover up the unsettling thought she’d been struck by, that she’d traded the devil she knew for the one she didn’t.

“I apologize. Would you like to join me for tea at my home?”

“I’d prefer to have you to mine as a thank you, but given your look–” she waved a hand at his suit–”and my home, this is the better option. I’d be delighted to join you, thank you for asking.”

He gave her another inscrutable, curious look as he poured the tea. “You’re welcome.”

She perched, feeling only slightly awkward and out of place, on the white leather seats at his marble island, gratefully taking the cup he handed her.

He stood across from her, his own cup in hand.

“So, from what I’ve gathered from you, is that you’re the head of a low-income household, you’re in financial difficulty, your dongsaeng’s ex is threatening trouble, and there’s not much happening to address these issues.”

She swallowed a sip of the hot tea, feeling like the words had burned hotter than her tongue now was. That was her situation, but somehow the cold way he had laid out those facts threatened to tear down the defensive walls she’d built.

“Yes, that is the state of things,” she said quietly, already feeling the fuzz on her tongue from the tea burn.

“How much debt did the ex leave you?”

She swallowed another sip. “About thirteen million won.”

As expected of a man who lived in this area, he didn’t bat an eye.

“I have a proposal for you, then.”

She nodded.

“I will help you pay off your debts and take care of this ex, and in return you will enter a contractual marriage with me for five years.”

Seo-ah coughed, expelling the tea from her windpipe that she’d inhaled in shock. “You want me to do what?”

“Marry me. For five years. What do you say?”

“Why do you need a wife? You look fairly young, you’re rich and hot and appear to be influential.”

He smirked at her list of his traits. “Business reasons. There are some things I cannot tell you until you have signed the contract, if you so agree. I’ve been looking for the right wife for a while now, and I think you’ll be splendid.”

“Could I have a copy of this contract so I know what’s expected?”

Min Yoongi pulled his cell phone out and pressed a button. “I need the papers in the kitchen.”

A minute later footsteps sounded in the hallway, then a man in a suit jogged into the kitchen, carrying a small briefcase in hand. He paused as he took in the scene, then handed the briefcase off to Min Yoongi.

He opened the briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers, rifling through them to collect a handful that he handed off to her.

She flipped through them, reading the surprisingly simple legal jargon. It looked aboveboard.

She was getting desperate: some creditors were already hounding her enough without Geum’s pressure, Jinah would be needing to pay for her schooling, plus the usual living expenses…Well, she could use this stroke of luck that had fallen into her lap. She was well aware that this contract, though it sounded fair, would likely end in Min Yoongi’s favour, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. He was the best option at the present time and she would not borrow trouble from her future self.

“I’ll do it,” she declared.

The man who’d brought the briefcase handed her a pen, the clicking of the end sounding loud in the suddenly supernaturally still kitchen.

She signed her name with a flourish, watching the black ink seep into the paper. Min Yoongi took the pen from her and slid the papers from under her arm, scrawling his signature quickly and handing them to the man.

“The registration will come through in a couple days. Would you like to stay here until then?” he asked courteously.

She shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, and this opportunity, but I need to get back to my sister. I don’t like leaving her alone in our area, especially with her ex around.”

“Alright, I’ll get Hoseok to take you back. Thank you for signing this.”

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry despite the two cups of tea she’d drunk.

#bangtanwhq #bangtanfamiglianet #group: bts #member: myg #type: fic #era: haegeum #length: 1-2k #rating: pg-13 #star scribbles #title: inception #series: berserk tiger #au: mafia #au: haegeum #au: contract marriage

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carladuquette · 11 months

Text

I was tagged by @dragonsoftheeast to write about my writing - thank you!!! If you know me, you know I love to go on about this, so be prepared, this is a long one.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

312,657

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Elite Elite Elite, baby. I have one Money Heist fic (Nairobi, la puta madre para siempre 🔥) and one Class fic, but that's an Elite remake, sooo… I'm pretty much a one-trick pony haha.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Close your eyes, count to ten (duh); The ties were black, the lies were white (next chapter coming soon!); Midnights in October; Summer state of mind; It's the most wonderful time of the year

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I'm so grateful for comments and love chatting with people about their thoughts, the characters, my interpretation of them, etc.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm, I don't know that I really do angsty endings. Lots of angsty stories and chapter endings, for sure. But the ending-ending is usually at least hopeful, or perhaps melancholy. Maybe Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Fics like Midnights in October or Best Friends Forever are sad, but I wouldn't say the ending is angsty.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Close your eyes, count to ten! No way was I going to give Lu anything but the happiest ending after everything I put her through ❤️

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No! Honestly surprising considering I write so much VaLu and they're a little controversial, but I guess I got into Elite fic when the fandom was already pretty small, so not that many people were around to care anymore, haha.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Only very brief scenes.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Midnights in October is a ghost story (that's really a story about friendship) inspired by The Haunting of Bly Manor. And, uh, 12 points go to… is kind of a crossover with the Eurovision Song Contest? But my only real crossover is I put a spell on you, Hocus Pocus with the Elite characters.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not yet.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Lu and Valerio will always have my heart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have a laaarge number of story ideas that only exist in my head, but I don't have any unfinished WIPs right now. I'd like to think I'll end whatever it is I started, even if it may take me forever 🙃

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm good with plotting- I have good ideas that I can turn into fairly good stories, I'd like to think. I give different characters room to grow, or at least give them little moments to shine, too, not just my favorites/ main characters. With characters I know well, I can make them "make sense"- dig into their motivations, their character traits, how they've been treated and have it be clear (maybe not for the characters around them, but for the reader) why they act the way they do and why they make certain decisions, even when they're bad decisions.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

There are some physical reactions people have that I repeat too often. I love angsty drama and in longer stories, I put in so much sometimes that it loses its effect a little, I think. I'd like to be able to write more lyrically, but I can't, so most of my stuff is pretty straight-forward. And I can't write good smut to save my life.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I personally don't believe in it. The occasional pet name or whatever thrown in is fine, but apart from that it a) doesn't make much sense to me; whatever language you write it, to me it's implied that this is the characters' mother tongue- like, I write in English, but the Elite characters live in Madrid, so the assumption is that they all speak Spanish, which would make switching to actual Spanish weird. And b) it's more work for readers then having to use online translators to figure out what people are saying.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I started to put down a Grey's Anatomy fic about Izzie and Denny yeeears ago that didn't go anywhere.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Obviously Close your eyes, count to ten will always be my baby. I spent close to three years with the characters and I'm proud of the story. But depending on the day and my mood I have other favorite fics, too.

I tag @dhyanshiva and @cangse-sanren, two incredibly talented Class fic writers. I can't think of any other mutuals who write, but if you do and that has escaped me (apologies), PLEASE DO THIS TOO! I'm serious- all fic writers, feel tagged!

#writing #fanfiction #close your eyes #elite #lu x valerio #money heist #la casa de papel #nairobi #class #class netflix #yashika x koel #team yashko #hocus pocus

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fixfoxnox · 1 year

Text

Something In The Orange - Part 24

Descriptions: Taskforce 141 finally start communicating with one another and Roach takes a big step on the road to recovery

Warnings: Discussion of SA

Note: I am also posting this to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there!

Word Count: 9.5k

"But I will hold on hope

And I won't let you choke

On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain

And I will change my ways

I'll know my name as it's called again"

"The Cave" - Mumford and Sons

Roach didn’t let himself lay long. He couldn’t, not when he knew that Soap and Ghost knew. Not when he was still in Ghost’s room, where the two men would likely come after they finished in the post-mission meeting. He had a limited amount of time and he needed to get away. He needed to figure out what he was going to do.

He pushed himself up from the bed, nearly tripping over the covers in his rush to leave. He didn’t grab any of his things, didn’t even bother putting his shoes on, he just had to get out of the room. The longer he stayed inside, the greater the possibility that he would be forced to face Soap and Ghost.

He stumbled out into the hallway, pushing himself to walk as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure where he was going as he dodged around people while moving, all that he knew was that he had to do something. Soap and Ghost knew. His mind was laughing at him. He was sure that they hated him, but he had to do something.

He’d spent so long fighting to get back to Ghost. He’d wasted so much time of his new life weighed down by the old. He finally felt like he’d been able to move past that. He’d finally found his own happiness, fully free from the weight of what he’d lost. And yet, now, it seemed that he would lose that happiness before he’d actually had a chance to appreciate it. The thought stopped him in his tracks, forcing him to lean against one of the walls of the hallway for support.

Was he really going to lose Soap and Ghost? After everything that had happened to him. After Makarov, after dying, after living through what he had, was that really it? He felt sickness creep up his throat again. The anxiety of telling his team about what happened to him had been weighing on his chest for days, but it was nothing compared to the anxiety he felt now. This sickness was all-consuming, washing over him in waves that threatened to pull him under. He felt it invading every part of who he was, soaking into his bones until he was left with a damp sheen of sweat over his skin, shivers wracking his spine. He couldn’t do it. How could he just let that be it?

He loved Soap and Ghost, that was what he knew. There was nothing else. They were his happiness, they were what had kept him going while he was with Makarov, he’d woken up for them. He wasn’t going to just give up on that. He wasn’t just going to give up because they knew. He would hate himself if he did. If he did, what was the point? He’d come so far. He wasn’t going to throw it away.

For the first time in weeks, he let himself think about Simon, the Simon of his first life. He’d been avoiding thinking about him for several reasons. The first was that it made him feel like his realization in the hospital hadn’t been good enough. He knew now, knew that he didn’t fit into his first life anymore. He knew that his first life wasn’t as perfect as he remembered it being. Those thoughts made guilt claw at his chest, shredding his heart into ribbons. He didn’t want to think like that, it felt wrong to think that. Like somehow, the truth of his first life was sacrilegious, that even thinking of something that had made him unhappy there was tossing the memories he kept locked away in his mind and breaking them to pieces. It was stupid. It wasn’t true. But Roach couldn’t bring himself to think about Simon. He didn’t want to pull those memories out. He didn’t want to let anyone but himself see them.

But there was another reason. There was something else that had forced him to push away those memories, locking them behind closed doors never to be seen again. He knew what it was. Simon had always been hesitant about discussing his past. He’d told Roach just a few basics early into their relationship, enough for Roach to understand some of his nightmares and concerns. Over the course of their relationship, more had come out. In dreams. Flashbacks. Panic attacks.

Roach had been there for the other man through it all. He’d never pushed, he’d never prodded, he just comforted the man as best he could. If Simon wanted to tell him, he would. That was that. And, over time, Simon did tell him. He told him everything. Every terrible thing.

And that was what had kept Roach from thinking too hard about Simon. Because if he did, if he thought about the man, he would remember what he’d gone through. He would remember the way he’d held him in his arms after nightmares. He would remember the soft words he would speak. He would remember the way that he’d told Simon it wasn’t his fault, what happened to him. Because it wasn’t.

And he was a hypocrite. Because it wasn’t Simon’s fault, what had happened to him, yet somehow his brain felt comfortable blaming itself for what he’d been forced to do. It wasn’t Simon’s fault what happened to him. The thought of telling the man that it had been his fault made Rage bubble up in his chest. So why? Why was he so comfortable blaming himself for something similar?

That was part of the problem. Roach didn’t know what the Ghost of this life had been through. He didn’t know if it was the same thing that the Simon he once knew had. He couldn’t face the man. He couldn’t face the man and tell him about what had been eating at the edges of his mind. He couldn’t tell him about the guilt. He couldn’t tell him that he felt like he’d cheated. He couldn’t say that it wasn’t Simon’s fault, then turn around and blame himself for what he’d been forced to do.

You weren’t forced. You did it. They hate you. It isn’t the same.

But that wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t true. No matter what that voice in his head screamed at him. He knew it wasn’t the truth. Soap and Ghost knew. He’d planned to tell them already. They knew. He wanted them to know. He would have wanted Simon to know if it was his first life. So why was he so scared of telling them?

He took in several deep breaths, leaning fully against the wall for several moments. He had to try to right his mind, he had to try to figure out what to do. Ghost and Soap knew. He needed to explain himself. He was going to explain himself.

You can’t. They already hate you.

He took in another deep, calming breath. Trying to fight against that voice again. It was hard, why was it so hard? Maybe because he knew that it was himself that he was fighting against. Maybe because he wanted to believe it. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to give in to the taunting tone that it took.

He needed to explain himself to the two men. That had been his plan before he knew that they knew. He’d been anxious, he’d been stressed, but he’d been planning to tell them. He wanted them to know, so couldn’t he still tell them? Why did the fact that they knew have to change anything? He could continue with the plan that he and his therapist had discussed, and he could explain it to them. If, in the end, they still wanted to leave him, then at least he could take some comfort in the fact that he’d tried. Tried to explain himself. Tried to keep them around.

No! They hate you, there isn’t any point in trying. There is no point in explaining. That part of his mind kept screaming at him as he began stumbling back through the hall, returning to Ghost’s room to prepare himself. They’re disgusted with you. You are disgusting! You know what you did.

Roach grit his teeth as he pushed the door to Ghost’s room open. That voice was still screaming, becoming more and more desperate as he moved. He took in a breath, pushing past it. It continued to rant, its voice became clearer, it wasn’t as fuzzy around the edges. Roach realized slowly that he’d been more haunted by memories of his time with Makarov than he wanted to admit.

It wasn’t his own voice yelling at him. It wasn’t his own voice reminding him of what he’d done. It wasn’t his own voice trying to separate him from Soap and Ghost. It was Makarov’s. It was much easier to ignore when it sounded like Makarov. He felt more motivated to fight against it when it sounded like Makarov. He’d killed the man once, he’d do it again if he had to.

He was still shaky on his feet, but he put all of his focus on the task at hand. It helped to calm his nerves just a bit. His shoes came first, shoved onto his feet, and tied up as quickly as he could manage around his shaking hands. From there, he moved to grab his notebook, quickly flipping through to the page where he’d written out everything that he wanted to say to the team.

It was all there on that page, everything that had happened to him over the past few months, how he’d felt about it all, any little thing that he’d thought of he wrote out. He didn’t know if some of it would actually be said, but he’d written it anyway, for himself. He could feel himself hesitating as he looked at everything he’d written out. It was so much.

The voice jumped on the hesitation, warning him again that the team would hate him. He tried to ignore it, but he could feel his resolve shaking. Crumbling under the weight of its words. His eyes scanned down the page, anxiety filling him at each and every point. He reached the bottom. His eyes caught on to one name, written out in a shaky scrawl. His heart stuttered over in his chest. He tensed. The voice in his head went quiet. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself the image of blonde curly hair and loving eyes. He took in a deep breath. He let it out. He opened his eyes. The voice was still quiet. He could feel phantom hands on his shoulders, a reassuring squeeze was given to one.

He closed the notebook and tucked it under his arm, taking in one last deep breath as he looked around. He was going to tell them. He was going to tell them, for himself, for them, for the man who deserved to finally rest.

He left the room again, closing the door much more calmly behind him. He was much calmer as he began down the hallway this time. His anxiety was still there, sitting high in his throat and threatening to spill over. He took several deep breaths as he walked, popping his knuckles and picking at his hands as he moved.

As he walked, he focused on the things around him. The people moving about. The murmur of conversation. The slight buzz of the lights above his head. The smell of cleaning product in the air. It helped to take his focus away from the fact that he was growing closer and closer to the conference room, closer and closer to explaining things and facing judgment from the people that he really cared about.

He found himself in front of the conference room several minutes later. The blinds to the room were closed, so he couldn’t see what was happening inside, but he could assume that the team was still inside, closing in on the end of their meeting. All Roach had to do now was wait. It was the worst part of the process, but he forced himself to lean against the wall across from the door to the conference room, settling in with shaky breath and shaky hands.

People passed him by as he waited, barely sparing him a glance as they moved through. He was glad to see it, not only did he not have to speak with anyone, but it also told him that he, at the very least, didn’t look like he was panicking too badly. That was all that he could really hope for himself.

He couldn’t be sure how long he waited, his anxiety prevented him from even thinking of looking at the time. If he knew how long he’d been waiting, if he could watch the time tick by, there would be a greater chance that he would chicken out of what he’d come to do. What he did know, was that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to the conference room finally opened. Roze and Declan were the first to leave the room. They seemed a bit surprised to see him but only gave a small wave or grin before heading down the hallway.

Gaz was the next to come out of the room, his eyes glued to his phone as his fingers rapidly clicked over the keyboard. Roach knew he was likely texting Jackson. He caught his attention with a hand around his arm, tugging him over to the wall with him.

“Roach,” Gaz looked up from his phone, a small smile on his face. It faded after a moment, his eyes scanning the serious look that Roach wore. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Roach responded quickly, “I just…need to talk to the team.” He bit his lip and looked away from his friend, catching the gaze of Captain Price, the next out of the room. The Captain stopped in the doorway to the conference room, observing him with an unreadable pinched expression before carefully stepping forward to wordlessly join him against the wall. Roach was grateful for his presence.

Horangi and Konig were the next out of the room, hovering close to one another as they left. Horangi only shot the group a quick glance before continuing on, but Konig stopped, looking over the group for several moments. His eyes seemed to linger over Roach, waiting for only a few moments before giving him a small nod and continuing on his way. Roach watched him walk away, a small smile pulling at his lips as he noticed how his friend was racing to catch up to Horangi as he walked. He couldn’t help but wonder if the two were better friends than Konig had let on.

Roach didn’t wait for Ghost and Soap to come out of the conference room. He pulled Gaz to follow him inside, hearing Captain Price follow behind them and close the door securely once they were all in the room. He motioned for Gaz to take a seat, walking toward the head of the table and catching the attention of Soap and Ghost as he did. The two men had been huddled together, still at the table. Their faces were serious and he knew from the way that their eyes had widened that they’d likely been talking about him.

“Bug,” Soap’s brow furrowed slightly, “We were about to come to find you. We just finished the briefing, were you waiting on us?” Roach refused to meet his eye, instead, he pulled the notebook out from under his arm and flipped open to his little page, looking down at his scrawled-out script anxiously.

The room was quiet for several moments. The men were, no doubt, waiting for him to speak, to explain why he’d pulled them back into the conference room to be kept back. He knew that if he looked at any of them, Soap and Ghost and their knowing eyes in particular, he would likely lose his nerve. He needed to get started, he needed to speak. It was the best thing that he could do for himself.

He cleared his throat after a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking, “I, um, as you guys know, I’ve been seeing the therapist on base. It’s part of the process to be allowed back into the field, I have to be approved before I can start doing mission again.” He knew that his voice was shaky, but he forced himself to keep speaking. “I know I haven’t spoken to any of you guys about what happened during my time with Makarov,” he could hear someone on the team take in a sharp breath, “But, my therapist thinks it would be good for me to share with you guys, and I agree.” He slowly looked up at the team, taking in a shaky breath as he observed their faces. They were all watching him closely with clear concern, “I’d also like to take the time to explain my recent behavior, however, I don’t want to force any of you to stay if you don’t want to.”

He waited, watching the members of his team closely for any sight that they wouldn’t want to stay in the room. None of them budged, all of their attention solely on him. It was far more nerve-wracking than he’d been able to prepare himself for. After a moment, Price nodded to him, “I think we’re all here to stay Roach. Only if you want us to be.”

Roach was grateful for his words, it allowed him the justification that he needed to look down at the notebook in his hands again. “Okay,” he took in another deep breath, “feel free to ask questions as I go. I’ll try to explain everything as well as I can but,” he hesitated, biting his lip, “some things are a bit hard to talk about.”

He looked at his paper, reading the first point that he’d written down slightly larger than the rest. He’d split up his story into different places and the first was, of course, Brazil. He closed his eyes for a moment, hearing the phantom cracking of bones ring in his ears. Screams of pain. A man forced to apologize to him. He took in a deep breath.

“When I ran away, after pretending to kill Price, I went toward the more abandoned half of town. Makarov had three men following me, I’d clocked them almost immediately after I left Rojas’ estate, but I couldn’t let that be known. I couldn’t just go straight to Makarov, he would have known something was off if I had, so I lured them somewhere private where they could grab me and bring me to him.” He took in another deep breath, it was odd to speak about what had happened. His voice was still shaking, but he found that speaking was much easier than he’d expected. “The three men tried to grab me, I fought them. I broke one of the men’s legs, then the other two’s noses-”

“That’s a good lad,” Price gave him a small, supportive smile, “Giving ‘em hell.”

Roach felt a small smile tug at his lips at the words, it made it much easier to continue, “There was a big one, he managed to get ahold of me. When he did, the one whose leg I’d broken pulled a knife,” he motioned to the spot on his side where his stab wound was still scarring over, “He stabbed me here before being restrained by the others.” There was quiet around the room, and he let it settle for a moment before continuing, “They brought me to the catholic church near the center of town, I guess Makarov had taken it over. Makarov spoke to me, told me that he was happy that I’d killed Price for him, I tried to play it off like I hadn’t known. He didn’t see that I was stabbed until a few minutes into our conversation he,” Roach paused, his voice catching in his throat, “he shoved his fingers into the wound. He demanded to know who had stabbed me. He made me tell him.”

Roach stopped, leaning against the table as the memories of the incident flashed across his mind again. “Take your time, Bug,” the voice belonged to Simon, his low rumble bringing a flash of comfort to his system. He still didn’t look at him. He didn’t think he could.

“He tortured him,” he spoke quietly, “right there in the church. He made me watch while he broke his leg, then his fingers. He made him apologize to me. Then he killed him. I passed out after that.” He kept his description vague, not able to stomach explaining the sound of cracking bones or the sight of limbs bent in ways they clearly weren’t supposed to be. He paused for a moment, taking in another deep breath to try to steady his nerves.

His experience in Brazil had been short, but it had left its impact on him. The sounds and sights of the incident were seared into his brain. He didn’t think he’d be able to forget it anytime soon. Despite that, speaking about it, telling the members of his team, it made his chest feel much lighter. It was like a breath of fresh air flooding his lungs.

“It’s hard,” he paused for another moment, “I feel guilty about what happened, but at the same time, I’m not so much affected by the fact that a man was killed in my name, but rather the memories of what Makarov did to him.”

“That’s alright,” it was Price who spoke again, “You don’t have to feel guilty. No one can control how you feel and there is no right way to feel about the situation. It will take time, but those memories will fade.”

The words filled Roach’s chest with warmth and he could feel his eyes stinging with tears already. He really hadn’t planned to cry so early into this conversation, but Price’s words seemed to hit that part of his over-worried brain just right. It was nice to hear someone else tell him that things weren’t his fault. “Thank you,” he managed to choke out. He took a moment to look over his notes again. His first week in Russia was next.

This part was much easier to explain. Despite the fact that he’d killed nearly five people for Makarov during this week, he didn’t feel guilty about any of their deaths. They were all horrible people, Makarov had told him as much. The fact that they were all Ultranationalists had told him the rest. He didn’t feel bad for their deaths, he just couldn’t make himself.

His team seemed to understand, no looks of judgment crossing either Gaz or Price’s faces as he spoke, he knew they thought the same as him. He still hadn’t been able to force himself to look at Soap and Ghost, but, he could assume from the lack of speech from either of the two, that they were on the same boat. He’d be more surprised with them if they weren’t.

He looked back down at his papers, taking in a deep breath. Finland was next. His team already knew part of the story, they’d seen him kill the man. They didn’t know what had happened after. They didn’t know about the plane. He had to tell them, but it was hard to get the words out. He knew what happened after the plane. What he would have to admit to.

“When Makarov and I got on the plane to return to Russia, I was just numb. I never wanted any of you to see me like that. I should have known that he had something up his sleeve, everything was so suspicious, but I just didn’t realize. He admitted that he’d planned it on the plane.” His hands clenched at his side. He could feel that burning anger build back up in his chest. “I was so mad. So, so mad. I forgot everything about the mission. I lost control of myself and I attacked him.”

“Your injuries…?” The words were from Gaz, his voice hesitant.

“He won,” Roach nodded quickly. “He tore open my stitches, shoved his hand back into my wound and then choked me. He was muttering the entire time about how he was the only one who understood me, about how I should be grateful.” He felt sick repeating the words again. Even in this context, he knew now what they’d meant. What Makarov had really been telling him. “He toyed with me the entire ride back to Russia. Essentially tortured me. At one point he just hovered over me, watching me for so long without making a move.” He looked away from the table, “When we got back to Russia he passed me back off to the doctor.”

He took another small break, turning away from the group briefly so that he could run a hand over his face. He still couldn’t look at Soap and Ghost, but he would make himself. After this next part, he would make himself. He needed to see their faces. He needed to know whether they hated him or not. The thought, and how real everything suddenly was, brought tears to his eyes. These ones wouldn’t go away.

He turned back to the group, his voice thick as he continued, “I spoke with the doctor. Learned a lot about Makarov and his past. About how long he’d been watching the team. I found out,” he hesitated, “Makarov had a no-kill order on me for months. Even during that period when you guys thought I’d died in Russia.” He glanced up at Price’s face, seeing the serious and dangerous look that settled there. Roach knew that Price knew. He’d likely known before he’d even realized. “I realized then what Makarov really wanted with me. I made a choice, a terrible choice, but I made it. I decided to play into what he wanted. He came into my room later that night, we spoke, and I made my proposition.” He could see Gaz’s hand clench out of the corner of his eye, he kept his gaze firmly on the table, “I quoted his words to him from the plane. Told him that he was the only one who understood me. Told him that I was grateful to him. He kissed me. He touched me. I let him.”

There was a thick pause that laid over the room. Roach didn’t look at anyone, but he could feel tears begin sliding down his cheeks. That was it. It was in the air. Everyone knew. The voice in his head didn’t say a word. He was grateful.

The silence seemed to stretch on for minutes, Roach knew he needed to look up at Soap and Ghost, he needed to see their reactions. He couldn’t make himself. After a moment, Soap’s voice, rough with something that Roach couldn’t identify, asked, “Did he make you do anything else?”

Roach shook his head quickly, anxiety shooting up in his chest at the thought, “No. The furthest things went was the kissing. Outside of that he just wanted to,” he paused, trying to find the words, “lay with me. I suppose.”

Silence continued for several more moments. Roach could hear shifting from where Soap and Ghost were sitting, he still couldn’t look up at them. He couldn’t face them. They knew. They knew that he’d betrayed them. How was he supposed to face them when they knew?

“Bug,” Ghost’s voice sounded almost hoarse, but there was something else, it sounded clearer, “Please look at us?”

Roach shook his head, tears burned in his eyes. How could he look at them? How could they want to look at them? They knew now. That should be it, shouldn’t it? “Please, Bug.” That was Soap, he sounded like he was crying. Roach had made him cry. Guilt gnawed at his chest.

He forced himself to look up. He told himself he would look, he had to stick by it. Ever so slowly he raised his head, letting his eyes follow after. Finally, he met their eyes. Shock filled his chest for a moment. Ghost wasn’t wearing his mask. He and Soap were looking at him. There was no hatred.

There was no hatred. There was no judgment. There was only concern. There was only love. There was only reassurance. He had to look away again, turning fully away from them as a sob forced its way from his throat, the pressure in his chest increasing so much that he was sure his ribs were going to collapse under its weight. They weren’t mad at him. They didn’t hate him. He didn’t understand why.

There was a rustling sound, footsteps walking across the floor. His arm was grabbed and he was quickly pulled into a chest, warm arms wrapped around him securely. It was obviously Ghost who’d moved to pull him close. A moment later and another pair of arms joined, wrapping him up from behind. He knew it was Soap.

Roach understood the weight of what they were doing. The vulnerability of what they were doing. Ghost had taken off his mask in front of Price and Gaz. He’d done it to make sure that Roach could see his face. To make sure that he could see that he wasn’t angry. The thought only made him cry harder. Soap was a playful man, but he wasn’t much of a fan of moments like this in front of others. He would hold his hand. He would let him peck a kiss on his cheek. But anything more, anything like this, was for private. He was pushing aside his own comfort to make sure that Roach knew that he was still loved. He couldn’t breathe through the force of his own emotions.

“Not your fault, Bug,” Soap muttered in his ear, “We aren’t mad. You didn’t do anything wrong. We love you.”

“You didn’t betray us,” Ghost added, “You did what you had to.”

Roach couldn’t be sure how long he stayed like that, wrapped up in the two men’s arms as they spoke softly to him, reassurances. They were burning away that voice, the one that insisted that he was hated. They were helping him lock away that little bit of Makarov that seemed to haunt him. He knew that the voice likely wouldn’t fully disappear, but he also knew that it would be weaker now. He knew that it would be powerless when he had this moment to look back to.

Price and Gaz didn’t interrupt the moment between the three. They sat quietly, they could offer their support to Roach later. For now, they knew. Knew that he needed this moment, that all three of them needed it. Price knew that they were likely all angry, not at Roach, but at Makarov. He found himself regretting that he hadn’t been able to make the man’s death more painful.

“I should probably keep going,” Roach managed to get out after a moment, his words muffled by Ghost’s chest, “There’s still a lot I have to tell you guys. A lot I want to tell you guys.”

“It can wait,” Ghost muttered, “A few more minutes. Until you’re actually ready.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Gaz called out, “Take your time Roach. We’ll all be here when you’re ready.” That only made Roach cry harder.

It was several more minutes before he was finally able to peel himself away from Soap and Ghost’s warm embrace. He was sure that his face looked a mess, no doubt red and puffy, he could feel that his nose was running. He’d never been a pretty crier. Soap and Ghost didn’t seem to mind, watching him closely for several moments as he took an offered box of tissues from Price and began to wipe his face down. Now that he could see the two men who’d been holding him, he could tell that they’d been crying as well, though their faces certainly didn’t look anywhere near as bad as he was sure his looked. They were pretty criers it seemed.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. He took in a deep breath, “I’m ready.” Ghost and Soap hesitantly moved back to their seats, settling down once again. Roach watched them for a moment, he was surprised to see Ghost leave his mask off. He never wanted the man to feel uncomfortable, but something about the reminder that he wanted him to see his face made his chest feel warm.

He walked them through the raid next. He told them about killing Petrov, the garage, the race to the airfield, and finally how he’d sustained all of his injuries at the hands of Makarov. He watched all of their faces, seeing the anger toward a dead man burn through their eyes. Soap had actually bitten his hand when he told them nervously about how he’d begged Makarov to kill him, all so that he wouldn’t be forced to go with him again.

He gave them all a few moments afterward, letting them process what he’d told them. He knew that they’d need at least a few moments to work through their anger. He could almost feel the heat of it burning him. It made him feel warm, to know that all of that anger was on his behalf. It probably wasn’t healthy, but he could analyze it later in therapy.

“Is there more?” Price asked after a moment, “That was when you passed out, was there more you wanted to tell us?”

Roach shifted nervously where he stood, anxiety burning through him. “There are some things,” he started slowly, “it's connected to everything with Makarov but it's more…issues that I have.”

“Issues?” Gaz asked slowly, furrowing his brows at him.

“I’ve been,” Roach took a deep breath, trying to find the proper words, “angry. There are so many things that I’ve been pushing down, issues with myself, with what happened,” he paused, closing his eyes briefly, “with you guys.” He could see the flash of surprise across all of their faces, it made anxiety ricochet through his body. He turned away from them briefly, shaking out his hands to try to rid himself of some of the nerves that he felt. He’d been so worried about how they’d react to the previous information, he hadn’t had time to stress over this. It all rushed to him in that moment, making his heart rate pick up in speed and his breathing grow labored. “I just…my therapist thinks that I should tell you guys. I think it's all stupid. I think I’m being stupid,” his voice grew quick, “but she thinks it will be good for all of us. If you guys don’t want to then I won’t. This was stupid anyways I should have known-”

“Bug,” Soap’s voice stopped him. He turned to face the man, biting violently at his lip as he looked up at him. “We can take it. Talk to us, we probably need to hear what you have to say.” He gave him a soft sort of smile. It made Roach feel guilty again.

“Are you sure?” He spoke quietly, looking around at the group to try and gauge everyone's reactions. Where he expected to see hesitation, he was only met with support. “Okay, um.” He looked down at his paper again, seeing his little list of “grievances” as his therapist had called it. “When Price and I started our plan, I know that I wanted you guys to think I was a traitor.” He looked up at Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. He could feel a lump form in his throat, but he pushed forward, “But I was really hurt by how easily you all seemed to believe it. We’ve known each other for over a year, I've proved myself over and over but all it took was that one little push, and you all were suspicious.” He could see the guilt flash across their faces, it only made him feel more guilty as well. “I just,” he took a deep breath, “I thought you guys trusted me more than that and it’s really just been sticking around in my mind because if you guys don’t trust me then why am I even on this team?”

“We do trust you,” Gaz spoke softly, “We do.” He leaned forward in his seat, “I listened to Price. I believed Price. I think…I think I was still thinking about Shepherd and Shadow Company. We trusted them and we were burned for it. I know that doesn’t justify anything, and I am so sorry, Roach. But, I wanted you to know that it wasn’t because of you.” He met his eyes carefully, “And I do trust you. I trust you to watch my back. I trust you to get the job done. I trust you as a friend.”

“Agreed,” Soap chimed in. “Roach, you know how much I care about you. I think I speak for both Ghost and myself when I say that we were just so afraid of having our hearts broken. Of being betrayed again. We didn’t want to believe it, but we felt like we had to. We thought if we didn’t, we’d be the suckers again who’d trusted and been duped by a friend.” He reached forward, taking one of Roach’s hands in his own, “I am so sorry.” He pressed a kiss to the skin there.

The words made Roach feel a bit lighter. It made sense to him why they’d been so quick to believe his betrayal. He’d suspected that it had something to do with Shadow Company, but he’d been too in his own head to truly believe it. His mind had told him it was because of him and him alone. Having confirmation that it wasn’t the truth made it easier for him to fight against those thoughts that told him that his team didn’t trust him.

“What’s next?” Ghost asked softly, tilting his head at him with a small, reassuring smile. Roach looked at his list. He felt his heart stutter to a stop. Soap’s journal.

He gave a quick glance to Soap before looking back down at the paper. “This um, this is more of something that I have to apologize for.” He took a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak before shutting it. He tried again. He failed again. He took in another deep breath, trying to calm the frustration in his chest. He just needed to say it. He just needed to come out with it. “Soap, I read part of your journal.” There was a pause. He turned to look at the man, he could see the pinched expression on his face as well as a look of cold horror and realization that was slowly dawning on him. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, feeling his face go red, “I just came back from therapy and it was on the table and I thought I’d just look at some of your drawings but then I got to the ones from while I was with Makarov and I just couldn’t stop,” he ranted quickly, his eyes filling up with tears again. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I really didn’t mean to invade your privacy or read what you were thinking. It wasn’t my place and everything that you wrote was justified and-”

“Roach,” Soap grabbed his hand again, gaining his attention, “I am so sorry.”

“No,” Roach shook his head rapidly, “You shouldn’t apologize! You just wrote down your thoughts. You thought I was a traitor, it’s fine!”

“I should have torn those pages out,” Soap shook his head, “As soon as I knew I should have destroyed the fucking thing. You shouldn’t have had to read that. I’m so sorry.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he quietly asked, “Is that why…in the gym, is that why you asked Ghost if he was going to muzzle you?”

Roach felt his heart stutter in his chest. Soap had picked up on that? “It wasn’t just that,” he spoke quietly, “Makarov. The ultranationalists. They’d described me similarly while I was with them. Makarov called me a dog. He called the brace his leash for me.” Roach could see Soap’s face pale, he felt a sickness claw at his chest.

“I am so sorry,” Soap repeated again, pressing closer, “Roach, you have to know, I don’t think of you like that. I was just so angry-”

“I know,” Roach assured him quietly, “I know. I’m not mad. There were just a lot of things. A lot of things piling together.” He pressed closer to the man, pulling him into a hug. The rest of the 141 watched them quietly. This wasn’t a moment for them, it was a moment just between the two of them. They intended to let them have it.

After a moment, Roach pulled away from Soap, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. They’d said what they needed to for the time being. He knew that they would talk more about it later, but there were other things that needed to be said. Other things that Roach needed to explain. He looked back down at his list.

“I was pissed at you guys about KorTac,” he spoke the words quickly. He still felt quite silly about this one, but his therapist had assured him that it wasn’t silly. That he should talk about it. He looked up at the group, “I know I wanted you to get along with them, I really did, but after all the fuss you guys put up,” he shifted nervously, “when I found out you’d gone to dinner with them, then a bar afterward, all without me, I just felt,” he stopped himself, trying to find the right word. He knew what it was, he felt so stupid saying it though. “I felt like you guys didn’t need me. I felt like you guys could replace me. Then in the gym, when you guys didn’t even notice I was there, it was like I didn’t matter to you.” He clenched his jaw at the words, “I know it’s stupid.”

“It isn’t stupid,” Price assured him. “We shouldn’t have left you out. You told us that but we,” he shifted forward in his seat, looking around at the group before looking back up at him guiltily, “To be honest with you Roach, we actually talked about telling you.” Roach felt taken aback by the words, knocked off balance.

“Why didn’t you?” He tried not to let hurt invade his voice, but based on the wince from the different members of the team, he could assume that he’d failed.

“We were being stupid,” Price said, “Remember the meeting about KorTac, about how I didn’t tell you about it because I thought you might need the rest? Same thing here. We thought you would want to rest after your session. We didn’t think we’d get on with KorTac as well as we did, we didn’t want to make you play mediator.”

Roach gave a sigh, looking around the group sadly. It made sense. He understood their worry. It didn’t stop it from making his chest ache. “I can take care of myself.”

“We know, Bug,” Ghost told him kindly, “We know. We were being stupid. We were trying to do it for you.” He met his eyes carefully, “It won’t happen again.”

Somehow, Ghost knew what he wanted to hear. He didn’t need an apology from the men. He wasn’t really mad at them, it warmed his chest to know that they had thought about him. That they worried about him. Ghost knew he didn’t want an apology. He knew that he wanted assurance, a promise that they wouldn’t do it to him again. That they’d let him decide what was going to be best for him. He gave them all a slight smile, “Thank you.” It brought relief to his chest, knowing that he hadn’t been forgotten. He looked back down at his list. “One last thing.” He turned his paper over on the table. He didn’t need it for this, he hadn’t even written anything down about it. He stood up taller, his eyes were glassy and his hands were shaking, but he looked stronger than he had the entire meeting with the team. “I know you all know about my fiance.”

Silence. Guilt washed over the men’s faces, only Price didn’t react. Roach watched them all carefully, none of them would meet his eyes. Finally, Ghost sat forward, “Bug, I’m so sorry.”

Roach held a hand up to him, silencing anything else he might say. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and giving himself one last bit of reassurance. He needed to do this. He’d accepted that he could never go back to his first life. He’d accepted that he didn’t fit there. He’d accepted that things weren’t as perfect as he remembered. Now? Now it was time that he finally allowed himself this. It was time that he talked about Simon. It was time that he allowed that memory that lived so brightly in his mind to finally begin fading.

The thought made his throat feel tight, anxiety clogging it. He’d lived with the company of those memories for his entire life. The thought of finally letting them fade, of no longer being able to see the image of Simon so clearly made his chest ache. Those memories had been sacred to him. At times, they were the only thing that had kept him going. Those memories were what had led him to this moment. To this Soap and Ghost. In a way, Simon had guided him here. It was time that Roach let him rest. For both of their sakes.

“I’m not mad,” he spoke calmly, “I want to tell you guys about him. If you’d like to listen?”

“You don’t have to,” Soap assured him quietly, “You don’t have to tell us.”

“I know,” Roach pulled a chair from the table. His legs felt weak, he nearly collapsed into the seat as soon as he got the chance. “I want to. I need to.” He looked between them, “I’ve kept him to myself for too long. He deserves to be talked about. He deserves to have people know him.”

“Alright,” Ghost gave him a slow nod, but Roach could see that his face was still twisted up in concern. “Only what you feel comfortable sharing.”

Roach gave him a quick nod. His eyes moved down to his hands, grazing over his bitten and torn-apart fingers. He tried to consider where the best place to start would be. He still had to be careful with what he said, but there was so much that he wanted to share. So much that he needed to share

“We um, we met while I was still on the squad with Griggs,” it was a lie, of course, he couldn’t tell them the truth, but it still felt odd to say. “I thought he was fine at first, didn’t really know him well. He was a very private person, not very trusting, so it was months before I actually got a chance to start getting to know him.” He folded his fingers together in front of him, taking another breath. “He was from another group, we were working on a joint operation together. He was a Lieutenant, always wore a mask,” he glanced up briefly at Ghost, “For his privacy. We ended up getting to know each other because he was assigned to train me in hand-to-hand. I’d only worked with weapons at that point.”

He could remember that first training session with Simon so clearly. Roach still hadn’t seen the man without his mask on at that point and, needless to say, he was scared shitless of his Lieutenant. The man was good at what he did, and he took care of his men, but he made a frightening figure. Then they’d started training together and Roach quickly learned that he wasn’t as harsh as he seemed.

Simon was so kind with his corrections, always carefully and calmly explaining what Roach had done wrong. He’d answered any of his questions and never complained when he had to repeat things for him or move him into a particular stance because he couldn’t understand the verbal directions. Roach had realized how gentle the other man could be and his attention had, rather quickly, shifted. His small crush on Captain MacTavish was replaced with a growing feeling of warmth any time he saw or thought about Ghost.

“He had this really gruff exterior, but really he was so nice. I learned that really quickly while we were training together and I just sort of fell for him. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen for him until I was already too far in.” He started tapping his foot a bit, it was harder than he’d expected to talk about this. He wanted to tell them so much, he wanted to explain every little detail that he could about the Simon he’d first fallen for. He couldn’t though.

“He fell for you as well?” Gaz asked quietly. Roach looked up to meet his soft smile, a small blush rose to the high points of his cheeks as he remembered the looks that he started to notice from Ghost a few months into their training sessions.

“He did,” Roach nodded, a small smile forming on his lips, “He made the first move. I think it was a big surprise for both of us, underneath all that harsh exterior he could be really anxious about things. He just kinda came out and said that he wanted a chance with me.”

It was the truth, though he didn’t mention that he and Ghost had been on a mission at the time. They’d been compromised in the middle of their mission and were forced to lock themselves in a small hut as enemies closed in around their location. Soap had told them that he wasn’t sure if their air support would make it in time to bail them out. Gunshots had started, bullets flying through the wood of the rickety old structure. They’d been sure that they were going to die.

Ghost had shoved him to the ground, pressing his body flat on top of his own to act as a shield of sorts, Roach hadn’t been able to do anything. Even through the gunfire, he’d been able to hear the other man mumble that he’d hoped that he would have lived a bit longer, at least long enough to actually take him out at one point.

Their air support had arrived at the last second. They’d survived, for the time being, and it wasn’t until they were finally in the air at their exfil an hour later that Roach had plopped himself next to Ghost, leaned his head against his shoulder, and shyly told the man that he would love it if they could try a date. It was history from there.

“He was so sweet,” he told them quietly, “He could be jealous at times and a little possessive,” he gave a small chuckle, “But he was so sweet. He was always watching out for me, he could tell when I was upset or anxious and he was always there to comfort me.” He shook his head slowly, “He used to have nightmares. I would hold him. He wasn’t used to showing his emotions so we had to work up to it. He trusted me though, trusted me to see him at his most vulnerable.” A smile tugged at his lips again, another memory coming forward, “He had piercings under the mask. Tattoos too. My favorite was his tongue piercing.”

“Tongue piercing?” Soap gave a chuckle at that before nudging Ghost with his shoulder, “You should get one LT, could have some fun with it.”

Roach choked out a laugh at the thought, he could not see this Simon with a tongue piercing, and based on the unimpressed look that the man shot Soap, he could assume that he agreed. It was a fun thought though.

“I proposed to him,” Roach continued after a few moments, “Just one morning we woke up together and I just asked. It just felt right, you know?” He could practically still feel the warmth of the bed, of Simon’s arms around him. He could still hear the way that he’d mumbled it out into the air and Simon had answered him with a rumbling laugh of confirmation. That was that. “I don’t know why he said yes,” he confessed, “he was too good for me.”

“I don’t believe that, Bug,” Simon spoke quietly, “No one is too good for you.” The words had his heart fluttering in his chest. He gave the man a small smile. It seemed that the man would always know how to make him feel better.

There was a pause as Roach twiddled his fingers, trying to think of how best to talk about this next part. “He died,” he spoke the words carefully, “KIA. They didn’t say it, but everyone knew that it wasn’t an enemy that killed him. He was betrayed by his supervisor.” His hands clenched at his side, he could still feel the sting of a gunshot. He could still see Simon falling next to him, likely dead before his body had even hit the ground. “Gunshot wound to the neck. His body was burned to try and make him hard to identify. To cover up what had happened.”

Silence hung over the group for several moments. Roach didn’t look up at them, he kept his focus on his hands. He was trying not to think about his own death, but he could practically smell the smoke in his lungs again and the memory made him feel nauseous. He didn’t think he would ever be rid of that.

“Did they ever get the guy who killed him,” Ghost asked the words slowly, and, with a quick glance up, Roach could see how serious he looked. It was clear that he was upset on Roach’s behalf.

Roach nodded hesitantly, “His captain tracked him down and killed him. That’s my understanding at least, the entire thing was kept rather quiet and, because we weren’t very open with our relationship, I wasn’t able to get too much information.” He hated that his only source for Shepherd’s death in his first life had been Makarov. Technically there was no reason for the man to have lied to him, but he was much too unstable for Roach to fully trust his words.

“Good,” was the only response from Ghost. Roach gave him a nod, he agreed. If Captain MacTavish had killed Shepherd, he was more than happy with that ending for the man.

A hand landed on his own on the table, he looked up to meet Soap’s gaze. “I’m sorry Roach. He sounds like he was incredible.”

“He was,” Roach confirmed, biting his lip slightly. “He was. It’s why I wanted to tell you guys about him. You’re my friends. You have a right to know and,” he took in a breath, “I think it’s time that I let myself talk about it too.” He looked around the group, “That’s everything that I wanted to talk to you guys about.”

“Thank you for telling us,” It was Price who spoke, giving him a small supportive smile, “I think this will be good for all of us. And hey,” he met his eyes carefully, “You can talk to us. If anything else comes up, if we start acting like asses again, just let us know.” He gave him an almost playful smile, it pulled a laugh from Roach’s mouth.

“I will,” he stood up from his seat at the conference table, “I guess I should let you guys go get cleaned up now,” he wrinkled his nose at them playfully, “No offense, but you guys smell like shit.”

“Oh really,” Soap met him with a mischievous grin, “let me just spread some of that incredible smell to you.” He stood from the table, his eyes glinting.

“No, no, no,” Roach held a hand out to him, backing away slowly, “Absolutely not Soap I already stink from the hug earlier!” There was a pause, Soap met his eyes. They both took off at the same time, an almost evil laugh pulling from Soap’s lips as he chased Roach out of the conference room. The rest of the team could hear them yelling at one another from down the hallway.

The three remaining members of the team met each other’s gazes with amusement. After a moment, Ghost stood up, sliding his mask back into place on his face. He was grateful that neither of the other men had mentioned him taking it off. “I’d better go after them. Captain, Gaz.” He was quick to leave the room after that, quickly marching out to follow after the shouting he could still hear from his two boyfriends, a small smile curling at his lips under the mask.

Prev: Part 23

Next: Part 25 - Coming Soon

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darsynia · 11 months

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The heart wants what it wants...

Gosh, so I've been writing for a nearly 30 year old fandom, the book/tv show Christy. I was a huge Kellie Martin fan from Life Goes On, and I'd liked the book (evangelical childhood go brrr)-- lemme tell you, Scottish-voiced older smart gruff man & idealistic kind resourceful opinionated young woman will ALWAYS get me. Add LeVar Burton and Tyne Daly and I'm HOOKED. OH I forgot to mention it's set in the Great Smokies and the vistas are magnificent (TWW reference says hi).

Well, the show itself has a religious scaffolding, and it's pretty wholesome, so though the series manages some truly intense unresolved sexual tension, I should refrain from getting too racy in this 'it was a crime to never show these two kissing' 'shipping Neil/Christy for 30 years does something to a person' story, right? RIGHT?

Me: I'll write a brief satisfying M encounter

Me now: he's soaked after checking for a fire in a thunderstorm and she's slowly unbuttoning him while he loses his mind OOPS

Anyway, I'm putting the finishing touches on Shipping chapter 3, but if you ever watched this show or might be interested in a period piece where two people with hidden feelings find themselves married and figuring out what fun that can be, feel free to check out that story! It's got a tiny online presence (under 200 fics on FFN, my fic was #7 on AO3) so I probably won't post again about it, but I'm very pleased by what I've written.

Breathing Fire

Summary: After an unexpected standoff puts Christy in a compromised position, she discovers what a marriage based on love and friendship is really like. With that firm basis, she seeks to heal the wounds that were caused before she even arrived in Cutter Gap.

For fun, here's an excerpt under the jump:

Note: Set the day after the wedding, but their 'wedding night' was interrupted; Neil is a doctor and he was called away for a medical emergency. He hasn't gotten much sleep as a result.

When she woke next it was thanks to the bright indirect sunlight from the window. She’d slept in.

Christy threw herself out of bed, spluttering her hair out of her face as she rushed over to the dresser to grab something to wear.

“Christy,” Neil rumbled from the bed. He had his arm draped over his eyes.

“I’m late for school!”

“You’re not.”

“No, I am! Miss Alice was supposed to take my place, but she was with you.” She supposed she could dress on the other side of the closet door, or at the top of the stairs with the bedroom door closed. When she turned around with a handful of underthings, meaning to race over to the closet and do just that, she ran right into Neil.

“Grantland got back yesterday evening, he’s teaching your students today,” he said, tugging the clothes from her hands to set them on top of the dresser. “Back to bed,” he said, guiding her back with an arm around her shoulders.

Sleepy Neil was a charming mix of impatience and determination.

“But David has no idea where the lesson plans are!”

“He’ll probably spend the whole day sermonizing at them,” he said once they got over to the bed. Neil then yawned so hard he stumbled sideways before shuffling around to the other side.

Christy sat, her sense of purpose deflated. “Is there anything you were supposed to do this morning that I can do instead? Dropping by a patient’s house, or picking up supplies?”

“No one will expect us for days,” he told her, rubbing at his eye with a knuckle. “We’re meant to spend them enjoying each other, which right now should mean you, sleeping next to me, in silence.” There was a daring sort of tease to his voice that sent a thrill through her. How was she meant to sleep after he said something like that?

“I’m wide awake. How about I go downstairs and--”

“Don’t,” Neil blurted. He took in a breath to say something, then chuckled. “Not sure how well I’d sleep knowing you were down there rearranging everything.”

“Meaning you’d sleep better if I stayed up here?” Christy guessed.

His expression sobered, and he rolled onto his back. “I keep expecting to wake up and find all of this was a dream.”

If she were braver, she would have told him about her dreams of him, but instead, she said, “How about I go get a book to read, so I can sit up beside you, while you sleep? I can pull the curtains shut.”

His nod was relieved, and Christy got up, thinking hard to remember where she’d packed her book. It wasn’t with the others, since she’d been reading it a little each night. A glance over at her husband told her he was still ruminating.

“Ask me what I’m reading,” Christy said, crouching down to rummage through the front pocket of one suitcase.

“What?”

“It’s part of distracting you while I look for my book,” she told him. Standing, she put her hands on her hips. Was it downstairs?

“Fine,” Neil said, his voice still sleepy, but more like his confident self. “What are you reading?”

“Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. It’s a story about four sisters, all very different, and how each of them handle the process of growing up. I loved it when I was younger, and now I’m rereading it to pick out parts to share with the children.” As she spoke, she found the book, drew the curtain, then came back to briskly set things up to sit comfortably beside him.

“You’re an excellent teacher, Christy.”

Praise from him really was worth a hundred kind words from anyone else.

#yes there is forced proximity in this story #christy huddleston #neil macneill #christy huddleston x neil macneill #my true loves are apparently all in 90s tv lol #darsy twirls all her favorite things in romance #thanks to the RP accounts from whom I have borrowed the gifs!#dixie carter is in it too! and a bunch of other amazing actors like WHAT #and the scenery is truly gorgeous!

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lavenoon · 2 years

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Me, everytime I read a new chapter from you: maybe this time AO3 will let me leave more kudos

AO3: No

Me: >:(

Seriously though! I just read it and aaaahhhh, I love it! I love that Robin noticed how tense Sun was! And how even though now he is letting his suave side show, we maybe even get MORE of his soft side than we already had in canon, since he is trying to hide what's troubling him behind that wall of confidence and smooth talking. Good on Robin for not letting him get away with that!

He deserves to be reassured too. Moon did get the worse self doubt from the reveal because of Robin's initial hostility when they met and their comments of their coworker afterwards, but I can imagine that the rejection when Robin found out must have hit Sun very hard because up until now, his relationship with them had been nothing but friendliness even if there was some awkwardness.

Of course, this is not about him feeling like y/n still resents him, but he obviously resents himself about it all. His pride must have taken a hit, who knows how he's felt talking to any superiors that knew beforehand. And we do know that he is very proper about doing things the correct way, his personality makes it muvh easier to grab onto mistakes and not let them go for a long time.

I wonder what else there is to it too! I have my theories, but those are mostly vague speculation than anything so I'll just wait and see!

Ok, that's that about the character analysis.

Now, ahem, ahem.

ALL THAT FLIRTING THOUGH LFDKGHSLKG

Sun all hesitant at Robin's advances, but then goes ha! Uno reverse! and puts them in his lap fldskfklñjhgfs

And then that ending??? Hello??? SIR

Robin about to get ankle grabbed fr fr lgdkjglsk

*clears throat*

Anyways I'm very normal, yes

HEHEHE I've seen a post claiming I'll still get the mail for it? Let's see if that's true <3 But your extra kudos made it to me already from intent alone!

Sun mirrors certain insecurities that Y/N also suffers from, insecurities Moon simply cannot calm because he went through entirely different ones. The confidence in the job you do, the confidence in a friendship you are terrified to lose.

Because let's look back - Sun hears his neighbor is also the work rival he heard about. His performance already starts dropping and he gets reprimanded before Y/N finds out and hides from him. It only gets worse after that, and within two weeks, he has to wonder if he's actually good at his job and if he'll lose the one friendship he actually indulged in due to incompetence, and if not that will he lose it because of what he's hidden from them?

He gets reassured that they still care and want to get to know Dawn, too, but the hit to his confidence does not so easily recover. This also being around the time when the boys pick up contact with Eclipse more (and start feeling really conflicted about how they handled that before), and his mind is simply a mess. He's feeling like all the mistakes he racked up are now coming back to haunt him, and he has to fix them all now while also handling everything he handled before and more

And that, like you say, meets his need to follow the rules, of what's proper and done, and he's slacking and faced the consequences and that just proves that he has to follow these rules! He can't afford any more mistakes!

Moon notices, and can't get him out of that spiral, because he got reassured before already (though the hiding/ rejection stings, of course) and the most glaringly obvious mistake... Was the explosion, which he escaped a reprimand for on account of lost an arm.

Y/N also notices, but is very new to prying - they didn't communicate before not just because they're idiots, but because in all constellations prying is just not something they could afford. It's different now, but it still feels invasive, so they need the little push from Moon to decide that yes, actually, Sun will get to relax one way or another.

And so the day off is planned! And when just relaxing doesn't actually work, well, then Y/N will pry, and make sure he's not going anywhere for it <3

But when they do, and he starts internally panicking because oh no, they can't know about that. He already worries about how they see him, he can't admit to even more faults! So he tries to deflect with flirting, but Y/N is 1) stubborn and 2) oblivious to his intent, and it works! Because as soon as he sees that his approach isn't working, and actually making Y/N insecure and wanting to withdraw, he panics even more and just holds them there! <3

And then the flirting.... >:3c

Sun blanking at the head in his lap before hesitantly indulging and holding them there, and then much less hesitantly holding on to them when they try to leave. Growing bolder then, both with the hope to maybe deflect but also to keep them closer <3

(And also because I wanted some touch and it just fit so so well in this. I went a little wild)

(Same with the ending. I. hehe <3)

Five seconds don't do too much because they won't leave the house and Y/N will be far too giggly to actually try and get away once he's cornered them. They enjoy the chase too, and for them the only thing getting caught promises is more cuddles and fun with a friend, so there is no fear at all (rip reverse AU Dawn) <3

And, well, a couple months down the line a chase like that will not end as sweet, and those teeth and claws might just get put to actual use <3

#answer let luce #chaotikanvas #accidentally undercover #LOOK LOOK I REMEMBERED THE READ MORE FHDJS #it's not even that long of an answer im just. making it a habit #you guys get “do you like the color of AU” so fucking often already #answering this so it can then go into the masterlist update Imma get to now fghdjs #but yes yes yes eats your thoughts all mine now hehe #Glad you enjoyed it!!

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liarian · 1 year

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@random-elsen as you wish :D

summertime writers' asks!

🦋 tell us about your current wip

My current WIP? Living in Reverse! MP100 Mobrei.

I think it's my most personal work until now and the first time I try to make my MC get over someone who meant everything to them.

There's also In Between (the second part of my Bokuaka Stay with me). I'd like to get back to it some day but not in the mood right now.

My Serirei Age Swap AU counts as a WIP? xD

🌿 who is your favourite character you've ever written?

That's a difficult question. I think I'll go with Bokuto, but Reigen gets a really close second position.

🌞 favourite character from current wip

Reigen. No doubt.

🍦 what is your current word count?

On Ao3 312,123 words. I'm a really slow writer and too inconsistent. Just hope I never get into another 10 year rough patch without writing :O

🌻 least favourite character / hardest to write

Not really sure about my Serizawa characterization. Mob doesn't like to talk with me too much. I worked too little with him :S

🍉 favourite wip

MP100 Age Swap AU is the thing that most resembles to having fun writing for me, so I'll go with it

☁️ wip you want to write but haven't started yet

I want to write something with Kitsune Reigen and there's a little comic going through tumblr about Reigen and Mob meeting another version of themselves that has a lot of potential as a fanfic

And the selfcest Manga Reigen/Anime Reigen can be fun if I find an interesting plot to develop with that concept :D

🌸 wip you've been working on the longest

There's a Stucky Omegaverse that I tried to work into an Eruri Omegaverse that has a lot of potential to become an original story (and that just loses more and more A/B/O elements every time I look at it)

The inception of the idea comes from 2014

✨ newest wip

Living in Reverse

🦩 wip you hate working on but are too far gone to turn back

Thank god, the one that made me feel like that isn't a WIP anymore. I can't say I hated working on Chains of the Past (Eruri), I really love that story, but it got my mind in some dark places I'd rather not go again.

🍸 character who inspired your mc

It's been too long since I tried to write some original work so I'm not sure I can answer this one. Reigen is inspired by Reigen xDDDD

🌱 book that inspired your wip

It's been too long since I read it but I know "La Plaça del Diamant" of Mercè Rodoreda but there's something about how she wrote that book that stayed with me.

🍃 what is your genre?

Slice of life? Character studies? I joke sometimes about "I'll stay with you". I made the most boring Magical Realism I could. Even with magic everything feels too grounded on reality :O

🌼 least favourite writing genre

I'm very bad with action. I don't like to write horror.

🥥 least favourite reading genre

Horror

🐠 author who inspires you

As a writer, Eduardo Mendoza, Sam Savage, Ursula Le Guin or Neil Gaiman but I don't care much for writers so I'm not sure how much of an inspiration I can consider them.

🍯 author you know

This one.. not sure about it :O

🌷 writing achievement you want to brag about

I finish things xDDDDDD Not always, but it happened more than twice. Just some years ago it felt like it would never happen.

🍄 name a song that represents your mc

LiR soundtrack is this one :D

Lacuna Coil - Upsidedown

youtube

🍬 a song for your favourite character

This one makes me think in Bokuto

youtube

🌤 name the hardest thing you've had to do for writing

Put in risk my own mental health. Sometimes I get too much into it.

🍰 where you like to write

Depends on the day, but must of the time I need to be on my studio, with my workshop station and my big screen to see my doc, notes and images all at the same time.

🍧 weirdest place you've written

I don't consider it really strange, but in my phone while going back home in the train

🕊 mc's MBTI

I'm sure my characterisation isn't ENTP but who cares xDDD

🍀 character you would kill off if they were not vital to the plot

There's no one vital to the plot I'd like to kill but Age Swap AU Reigen's dad could die and I won't cry for him. That man is an asshole.

🍓 worst thing you've done to your characters

Akaashi got raped on First Love. Levi lived in an spiral of remembering his own suicide again and again once he got reincarnated.

Age Swap Reigen got tortured for what felt months in his own mind.

Lots of bullying in school for too many characters too.

👒 nicest thing you've done to your characters

Give them someone in their lives who understand them and want to make them happy

🌾 book you would / have writ(t)e(n) fanfic for

Strangely, I love Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter but never felt the need to write fanfic for them.

Comics, you can choose xD Haikyuu, AoT, JJK, Rictor/Shatterstar, Captian America, Banana Fish

🌨️ book you hate

Oh! The 7th Book of Harry Potter. That one. I can't. I'd like to burn it.

🐥 here's some writing motivation!

It was fun to answer :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D

rb for an ask!

#lia’s ramblings #lia's writing #Youtube

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 19 - The Seventh Yearh (Part Four)

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: PTSD, mentions of violence, dark magic, mind games, emotional manipulation, brief sexual teasing/thematic with minors, angst, minors kissing.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 19 - Part XIX - The Seventh Yearh (Part Four)

The tent is already set up, and you are sitting in the living room, adjusting the radio on the kitchen table.

"Are you sure it was working before?" You mutter discontentedly, beginning to feel frustrated with the device that refuses to recognize the signal.

Wanda, who is standing next to you with a magic book in her lap, doesn't take her eyes off the reading when she answers yes.

Agatha comes out from inside the room with several objects in hand, and dumps them on the table in front of you.

"Well girls, what I have to do in this country can only be done during the day, so let's study in the meantime." She announces as she arranges the jars she has brought. You raise your eyebrow, pushing the small radio away.

"Actually I wanted to ask a few questions and finish going through the memories, Agatha." You say but she laughs, denying with her head.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." She says. "Are you trying to lose your mind completely? You can't use zinnia for too long. It destroys that fragile mind of yours. I'm sure that's part of the curriculum, so what are you doing at Hogwarts if not studying?" She sneers and then looks at Wanda. "Oh wait, I know what kept you busy."

You turn red, but before you can complain about the woman's lack of description, Wanda is speaking.

"In case you have forgotten, we learned about zinnia in fifth grade." She says. "And Hogwarts was not an example of any teaching in that period or the year after for Y/N."

Agatha rolls her eyes, shrugging to end the teasing. You feel too embarrassed to look at Wanda again.

"Well, I'll go and fix Kaecillius' damage to my school administration then." Says the teacher. "If Miss Stark intends to become a decent witch, she needs to learn magic. The same goes for you, Miss Maximoff."

"I know magic, Agatha." Wanda begrudgingly retorts, her gaze returning to the book.

"If I remember correctly, my tutoring was discontinued, so there is much you need to learn."

"You remember it well, yes. We had to break off relations because you attacked my girlfriend." Wanda returns the teasing, but Agatha only laughs lightly as she begins to do some mixing.

“Water under the bridge, now.” She mutters, and soon, she’s putting a cup in front of you, and pouring a clear liquid inside.

"No, thank you." You say, leaning your arms on the table. Wanda gives a short laugh from your side without taking her eyes off the book.

"It's not poison." Agatha says.

"I know, I've seen you do it." You say. "I just won't drink it because it would be the second intoxication in less than 24 hours."

Agatha laughs, pulling the glass back to herself. A proud smile on her lips because you were able to recognize that whatever she was doing, it wasn't ready yet.

She charms the mixture, purple magic touching the liquid, until the color changes to a brilliant gold.

She pushes the glass back, and you raise an eyebrow.

"Drink."

"No."

"Wanda, darling, drink this." She says pushing the glass toward the girl. The witch sighs, her eyes on the book.

"Don't drag me into it, Agatha. " She says. "It was you who told her not to accept drinks from strangers."

"You two are so annoying." The witch declares. You giggle, but accept the drink.

For the next hours, Agatha teaches you to recognize the smell, and then the taste, of different plants, so that if you do get poisoned, at least have time to try something.

It's dinnertime when she decides to wrap up with one last potion, and you're resting your head on the table, waiting for her to finish brewing the potion, the book she's enchanted floating in the air beside her.

"Here." She says pushing the bottle in front of you.

It is only when the potion touches your lips that you recognize the taste. The same elixir Agatha gave you in the dungeon.

Your body tenses, and you cough awkwardly, pushing the cup back to her while she watches you attentively.

“W-why would you…” You started feeling your chest hurt, your heart racing. Swallowing the emotion away, you look at her, but Agatha is already organizing everything.

"What did you do?" Wanda asks worriedly, noticing the way you have gotten jumpy. Agatha sighs.

"Trauma can be a powerful thing, Miss Stark." Murmurs the older witch. "An immense vulnerability to an opponent to take advantage of. You'll need to overcome that if you want to protect her."

You stand up, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed, evading Wanda's touch on your shoulders. "I'm going to bed."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Stark." Agatha says, but you are already leaving.

You hear Wanda slam the book down hard on the table before following you back into the bedroom.

As you sit on the bunk, trying to normalize your breathing, she kneels in front of you, her hands on your neck.

"What happened?" she asks worriedly, her fingers caressing your skin.

"It 's stupid."

"Tell me."

You sigh, looking down at your own lap. "It's the same potion she used on me, in the dungeons. To keep me awake."

"I'm going to kill her." Wanda says simply, but when she makes mention of getting up, you hold her in place.

"Hey, it's okay." You say quickly. "She's messing with us, again. But I don't think she really meant any harm. Besides, we have an agreement don't we?"

But Wanda had an anger in her gaze that you have never seen before, her jaw locked. You touched her cheek with your hand.

"Wanda?"

"I hate this, Y/N." She confesses between teeth, her eyes filling with angry tears. "I hate what she did to you. I hate that I can't change, take your pain away. Not being strong enough to protect you. Or smart enough to see that she was using me an-

"Wanda, stop it." You interrupt seriously, and as your hand moves down her neck, you feel the metal of the necklace. Sighing softly, you keep your attention on the green orbs in front of you. "I really want to take away all the guilt you feel before it eats you alive, but I don't know how. Tell me how to help you."

Wanda seems surprised at your words, and just looks at you. And then to your lips, and you feel her breath hitch, before she puts a little distance between your faces.

"I'll be fine." She assures you with a sad smile. "My priority is whether if you will be as well."

You smile at her. "I'm only okay when you're okay, Wanda."

It sounded romantic in your head, but maybe those weren't the words you should have chosen, because Wanda looked away immediately, almost embarrassed, and not for the right reasons. Swallowing dryly, she got up from the floor.

"I-I'm going to talk to Agatha." She declares. "About boundaries. This won't work if we don't have any." She walks away to the bedroom door, but before she leaves, she turns to you again. "I'm also going to heat up dinner. Join us if you want."

But you wouldn't. You weren't hungry, and you were feeling stupid for saying that just hours after you heard Wanda confess that she hated that your life depended on hers.

So you threw yourself on the bed, and tried to get some rest.

You ended up oversleeping. And you only woke up because Wanda was having a nightmare in the top bed.

Moving quickly out of the bunk, you stood, turning to check on her.

A frown even with closed eyes, wriggling slightly in bed. You sighed with concern, tracing the skin of her face to wake her without startling her.

When she had a small jolt, her eyes were red, but they returned to their normal color when she realized she was only dreaming, and threw her face back into the pillow.

"I'm sorry." She murmured in a hoarse voice, but you just supported your arms on the mattress, and your face in them.

"For what?"

"For waking you up." She retorts, turning to lie on her side, and face you.

"No problem." You say. "I guess in a way I'm returning favors."

Wanda smiles, but it is so short that you feel awkward. And then you extend your fingers to her neck.

"Why are you still wearing this?" You ask about the necklace, and she frowns slightly, turning back to stare at the ceiling.

"Agatha hurts you when she wears it." She says simply. " So I will wear it to avoid that."

You shake your head. "No way, take it off now."

Wanda moves further away, on the edge of the bunk. You sigh impatiently, and climb onto the mattress.

The metal makes a noise with the new weight, but you are busy trying to get the necklace off Wanda, who grumbles and tries to struggle against your hands as she tries to keep you from falling off the bed.

You end up on top of her, the necklace in your right hand, but your other hand dangerously close to her breasts.

"Don't wear it for long." You tell her half out of breath from the struggle and the closeness, Wanda is looking at you wide-eyed. "Let's switch whenever it starts to get too much, okay?"

"Y-yes."

"Wanda, you're blushing." You tease with a smile, watching her cheeks. She looks at your mouth, frowning.

"No I'm not."

"Is it because I'm on top of you, baby?" You continue, and she turns even redder. You were going to tease her further, but while you were talking, you had moved to put the necklace on.

And when the object hung around her neck, all the tension changed.

You looked into Wanda's longing gaze and could only remember that she chose to leave you. Without asking your opinion. Without caring about your feelings.

So you pulled away, with a neutral expression, laying down on the bed beside her.

There is a silence between you, Wanda is trying to control her heartbeat and you are trying to push so many doubts that pop into your head at once.

"I think if you're not going to be with me, we shouldn't do this kind of thing anymore." You state simply, and can hardly be bothered by the way Wanda stands tense beside you.

And there is a long pause, until she speaks. "Okay."

You want to scream at her lack of reaction. All you do is stand up, and leave the room.

From that distance, you cannot hear Wanda crying against the pillow.

//-//-//-//-//

It doesn't take long for you to realize that wearing the necklace is addictive.

The deal is not more than four hours for each, but every time the object is hanging around your neck, you are gripped by the urge to keep it with you.

There is a whisper in the back of your mind saying that Wanda could lose it, or break it, and it's hard to push those lines away when you need to give it back, but you manage. And you wonder if Wanda thinks the same things.

When you are wearing the necklace, you feel apathetic and angry. It's as if all the bad things that have happened to you reach the surface at once. You give short answers, and isolate yourself. Your mind sighs things that you think you should remember are lies.

Agatha is trying to make you a better witch. The same for Wanda.

She teaches you things you don't know, from books you've never seen.

But with weeks of running and camping, and the horcrux around your neck, you begin to grow impatient with the lack of answers.

So you are breaking a plate without realizing it.

"Fuck." You grumble in irritation as you feel the pain of the small cut on your hand. The noise has attracted the other two women, and it is Wanda who reaches for you first, but when she touches your forearm to pull your hand and see the cut, you move away as if you have been slapped. "Don't."

And you throw the dishcloth on the table, leaving the tent.

You are somewhere in northern Ireland, Agatha said it was at least.

And there are many trees obscuring your surroundings, but you walk among them without caring about getting lost. The necklace whispers that you should be alone, and you believe it.

The cut on your hand aches a bit, but you stop only when you reach the edge of a lake.

Maybe the icy water will calm your anger. Or maybe you will die of hypothermia and Wanda will live happily without you. The last thought made your stomach turn, but you kept taking off your clothes.

The necklace was cold against your skin, but no colder than water.

You dove in, and stayed under the water until you needed to breathe again.

The tears on your face were tears of frustration, but the lake wiped them away.

You wondered if they would leave without you.

If Wanda would run away and abandon you in Ireland.

She didn't want you to stay with her after all.

She didn't want you.

You sobbed.

And you went back under the water until you stopped crying.

But then someone jumped into the lake, the noise startled you.

You opened your eyes to find Wanda's terrified look under the water before you ascended together.

"Merlin, what is your problem?" She squinted in desperation, and you realized that she began to cry. "I thought you were-"

But she sobbed without being able to complete, and you shrank back against the cold water, hugging your body. "I just went for a swim."

"Don't ever do that again." She pleads between tears, throwing herself against you in a tight embrace, which you don't reciprocate.

The horcrux screams in the back of your head, like a loud whistle, and you are pushing Wanda by the waist. "I'm fine, we can go."

You walk out of the lake in a mechanical manner, ignoring the upset look Wanda has as you do so. And you put on your clothes in silence, until you are standing clumsily at the edge.

Before you return however, Wanda calls out to you.

"Take it off."

"I still have time." You mumble without looking at her, but Wanda is approaching and you clench your jaw.

"I wasn't asking." She says and you lock eyes with her in defiance, not moving. When she is close enough to pull out, you move forward and kiss her on the mouth.

She sighs affected, almost losing her balance. And when she motions to kiss you back, you pull away.

"Don't touch what isn't yours." You don't know if you're talking about the necklace, or your body, but either way Wanda's eyes fall to your lips, and she holds her breath.

"I wasn't." She whispers, and without losing her composure, her hands go up your arms until they reach your neck, and she is so close that you ignore the urge to keep the necklace, and let her do whatever she wants. Her fingers find the item. "The necklace belongs to any worthy slytherin. And you, darling, you have always been mine."

You sigh as the necklace comes off, and Wanda throws it on the floor the next moment.

This time, it is she who breaks the distance, bringing your mouths together in a passionate kiss.

Your head spins, and you surrender. Her hands go to where the necklace was, and her tongue invades your mouth without waiting for permission, taking you for herself, making you gasp.

Thrusting your body forward, with your hands on Wanda's waist, you press her against the tree behind her, never breaking the kiss and making her sigh at having your body so close.

You are kissing each other firmly, with longing. You breathe breathlessly against each other's lips, afraid that if any of you pull away you will be done for good.

Your hands start to move down before you can think about it, and when they reach Wanda's ass, you squeeze the flesh against your hands, and she moans against your lips, thrusting her hips forward, begging for more.

There's not the slightest possibility that your first time with Wanda would be in a forest, in the middle of the snow, but when she bites your lips and kisses you like this, it doesn't seem so impossible. It gets hard not to think about getting down on your knees, tasting her where you imagine she would like it.

"We shouldn't." She manages to whisper between kisses, in the mess you two have become, and all you do is move your lips down her jaw, and then her neck. And Wanda whimpers, digging her fingernail into your shoulder. "Please."

You don't know if she is asking for more, or to stop. The second option breaks your heart, but you follow it, breathing out of rhythm as you pull your lips from her skin, pulling away.

Wanda's lips are swollen from kissing hard, her pupils dilated, her chest heaving. And you want to kiss her again, but you just swallow dry and put more distance between you.

"W-we should go back." You mumble in a hoarse voice, looking down at the ground.

"There you are!" Agatha's voice makes you jump in fright, and so does Wanda. The tension turned to shame of you being found, with clearly visible appearances of what you two were doing. But the older witch doesn't mind, a teasing smile. "Busy?"

"I just came to check if she was okay." Wanda answers quickly, clumsily as she bends down to pick up the necklace she threw on the floor.

"I imagine so." Agatha mutters. "We need to go, we didn't come here for nothing."

The way back is silent,you don't have the courage to face Wanda, but she has put the necklace back on, and isn't looking because she must be hating herself, again.

And you bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to do.

Agatha is whistling, and you realize that you are not going back to the tent.

"Where are we going, Agatha?" You ask curiously, and she replies still looking forward.

"Your father really did have friends in all places, Miss Stark."

You frown, but it is Wanda who speaks. "Vague answers don't make you sound mysterious, Agatha. They just annoy me."

The older witch laughs at the comment, but you think you must be too affected by the make-out session, because Wanda's locked jaw makes you wish she would just kiss you again, non-stop this time.

Clearing your throat, you look away, and decide to follow the two other witches in silence.

“We are here to see a quite despicable sorcerer, who is going to make mean and unkind remarks, and you are going to be silent so that I can go on."

You exchange a look with Wanda, who has an expression of indignation on her face.

"I can' t promise that, Agatha. " She says. "Wouldn't it be better to leave us in the tent?"

"So you can be grabbing each other like two animals in heat?" She retorts and you choke in surprise, looking away to the ground immediately. "I don't really care, but I need Stark, because Tivan owed Howard a favor and only agreed to deal with her present. And well, I expected you wouldn't let her come alone with me."

Wanda completely ignores Agatha's teasing to reply "You're right, I don't trust you."

"Thanks, sugar." The witch retorts, causing the younger girl to roll her eyes impatiently. "Do me a favor and keep that necklace well hidden. Or give it back to me."

"No." She answers quickly. "I'll keep it."

"As you wish." Agatha says and you stand in silence as you walk through the small village.

It is really very quiet, and the few people on the street don't bother to look at you guys at all.

And then you are at the gate of a huge mansion, and Agatha is telling the gatekeeper that you have an appointment with the "collector."

"Why do you call him that?" You ask, and she gives a little laugh.

"You'll understand in a minute."

You walk down the front steps to the door.

And when you enter, you hold your breath.

It is no ordinary house, it is a long dark corridor, magically enchanted and giving you the feeling that it is endless, with the same doors for miles and miles forward.

A girl about your age is waiting, and she smiles politely at the three of you.

"Miss Harkness, you have finally managed to join us." She says. "My master is waiting for you and Miss Stark."

"Miss Maximoff will be joining us tonight as well dear. I hope Tivan doesn't mind." Says the witch following the other down the hall.

"Every friend of Howard Stark is welcome, my master said." The girl says simply, and you see Agatha sigh. She seems annoyed by the other's submission, but says nothing.

You stop in front of a double door, white in prominence with the darkness of the hallway.

The girl opens it, and you enter a huge room, with the ceiling so high that even if you squint your eyes, you can't see the end. And it reflects the stars.

A tall, strong man wearing a leather dragon coat is waiting inside, and he flashes a smile that does not reach his eyes. His hair is as white as the door.

"Agatha! It's so good to see you again, old friend." He says with open arms, but reaches up with outstretched hands, catching Agatha's quickly. "Did you have a peaceful trip?"

"Hardly, Tivan, I'm a fugitive now." She jokes causing you and Wanda to exchange worried glances, but the wizard doesn't seem to mind, laughing at the phrase. "And don't call me old, we're only a few decades apart!"

Tivan laughs again, letting go of the witch's hands. He turns his face to you, and looks at you with glowing eyes.

"By Merlin, you are Stark's daughter." He says. "You have the same eyes as Melissa, no?"

You look embarrassed under his gaze. It's evaluative, and Wanda seems to notice it too, because she covers you gently, and draws the man's attention to herself.

"Oh, and who are you, sweetheart?"

"This is Wanda Maximoff, Tivan." Agatha replies earnestly, and you are surprised at the scolding. "And no, they're not for sale."

You widen your eyes, understanding the reason behind his name. Wanda's hand slides into yours immediately, covered by the cape.

Tivan gives a short laugh, "That's a shame, Harkness. You know very well the value of a scarlet sorceress. Even more a pretty thing like that."

You take an aggressive step forward, but Agatha quickly stands in your way.

"Let's finalize everything soon, Tivan." She urges. "I can't stay in places for too long. I'm sure you can understand the feeling."

The man gives you and Wanda one last look before nodding to Agatha, turning to walk toward the bookshelves on the right side in the room.

There are several shelves, with many items, and just like the hallways, extend into what seems like infinity.

Tivan just goes to the first one, and pulls out a small chest from there, enchanting it to follow him in the air to you.

"Here it is, Agatha." He says. "Howard Stark's last translator."

You widen your eyes as the chest opens. Inside, there is a small metal device. Very different from any of your father's other machines, it looks much more rudimentary.

Agatha sighs softly, lifting her fingers to trace the object.

"And you assure me it works?" She asks, and the man chuckles softly.

"I have plenty of monsters in there if you want to test it."

You swallow dryly, but Agatha just smiles. "No need, you are many things, but a liar is none of them."

"I appreciate the confidence, Agatha." He says as he moves his fingers and magically closes the trunk. "But pay before you play."

The witch doesn't look offended, she just hurries to fiddle with her robes, and you widen your eyes when she takes out a necklace.

Kaecillius' gift, the eye of Agamotto.

"That's not yours to sell!" You blurt out angrily, but Agatha keeps the item out of your reach, while Tivan seems impressed by the whole scene.

"And neither is yours, Miss Stark." She retorts impatiently. "Be quiet while the adults talk."

"Are you serious? How did you even get it, it was in the house-"

"Quiet!" Agatha cuts in turning to you, her tone is angry, but her eyes are almost pleading. "That's enough of this. Don't disgrace the good manners your father taught you."

You are indignant, but Wanda's grip around your hands makes you believe it is better not to insist.

"Play along." Her voice sounds in your head the same second Agatha turns to Tivan again, and you swallow dryly, trusting her.

"Interesting." The man murmurs, impressed, but doesn't keep his gaze on you. His attention shifts immediately to the necklace Agatha hands him.

"As you can see, it's real." She says. "A fair price for another relic, or even more valuable, since you will find no use for the translator."

Tivan grimaces. "Don't push it too far, Agatha. The translator became quite valuable with Stark's death. No one was able to reproduce another one." He says as he looks back to the witch. "Actually, I think I should raise my price." He says curling his fingers in the necklace, thoughtful as you watch Agatha tense up before relaxing.

"Now I'm the one who's going to ask you not to push it so far, Tivan." She says. "Agamotto is also dead, and that's the only treasure of his you'll get. Don't try to change the value just because you don't know how it works."

Tivan looks offended, but only for a second, because his gaze softens and he laughs. "Right, right. Any chance you know what's inside?"

"I have no idea." She says, but a part of you thinks she is lying.

The man nods, and the trunk moves gracefully through the air into Agatha's hands. She takes the small device from inside, and stows it inside her cloak.

Tivan takes his eyes off the necklace in his hands to look directly at you.

"I have a question for you, Miss Stark, before you go." He says, and Wanda squeezes your hand from behind the cloak, but you just stand there, waiting for the man to speak. "Did your father ever mention New York to you or your brother?"

"Tivan..."

"I asked the girl, Agatha." He interrupts the witch seriously. You think she doesn't insist because you are in his house, and a wizard like that, should bring trouble if contradicted. "Well?"

"No, sir." You say uncomfortably. "I don't know any New York stories."

The man gives a disappointed smile. "I suspected, but I wanted to hear you say it." He declares straightening his posture, and the necklace flies through the air until it vanishes among the bookshelves as Tivan walks back to the center of the room. "I would invite you for tea, but I understand the rush. You should know that I am always up for new negotiations with you, Agatha. And the same goes for the Scarlet Witch and her protector."

Agatha bids a quick farewell, pushing you gently out of the room.

"Don't look back, or the hall will get longer. Just keep walking." She guides in a whisper, and you think it best to obey.

The exit does seem to take longer, but you manage to reach the door. The girl from before was already waiting for you all, her arms behind her back.

"Thank you for your visit, Miss Harkness." She says politely. "My master is pleased with the acquisition this evening."

"I'm sure he is, dear." Agatha says, and touches the girl's arm gently. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

The girl just smiles, nodding almost mechanically. Agatha hesitates, but walks away.

As soon as you are outside the property, Wanda is yelling.

"I can't believe you stole from me, Agatha!" She squawks angrily as you all walk back into the forest, and the older witch just grumbles displeased at the volume, speeding off. "I told you this wouldn't work if you kept lying!"

"Would you have given me the necklace in good grace?" She retorts impatiently, but doesn't even wait for Wanda to answer. "Of course you wouldn't. Because you don't know what it is, but you're smart enough to know that it's not something ordinary. And too stubborn to willingly hand it over, not to mention you don't trust me, Wanda. I did what was necessary for us to make some progress."

"No more lies, Agatha!" Wanda insists in a mixture of frustration and irritation. "Stop hiding things. You could have asked, explained what you were going to do!

"Witches don't do that, Wanda." She retorts impatiently. "I've been alive for how many centuries, child. Do you think you can survive by telling everyone what you were going to do? No. You go ahead and do whatcha you gotta do, that’s the truth. Secrets save lives.”

"That's such bullshit." The brunette retorts, but you are almost back in the tent area, and Agatha is stopping walking.

"Give me the locket." She says, and Wanda frowns. "Let's get this over with quickly."

"What are you talking about?"

"That's why I needed the translator." She clarifies. "I went to Stark Manor last year, looking for this in the wreckage, but the walkers found it first. And it circled the dark market for months until Tivan acquired it in his collection. It's just what I need to open the horcrux and destroy it."

You look surprised and impressed, but Wanda crosses her arms.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"Six years ago, Pietro Maximoff took Godric Gryffindor's sword out of the selector hat at my request." She counters drawing surprised exclamations from you and Wanda. "I didn't let him remember that, and I spent the last few years fortifying the metal with every kind of magic I could find. The poison from the monsters you didn't face in the labyrinth in the fourth year because I was hunting them out, or the blood from the dragon you killed in the first task. Everything. The goblins wrote to me that the sword only absorbed what could make it stronger, and even without knowing the location of the horcruxes, I needed to be ready to destroy them."

"How did you lose the sword?" You ask then, trying to fit the whole story together. Agatha sighs.

"Pietro deserted Hogwarts." She says. "The sword immediately disappeared, it went back into the hat. And I had to go back for it."

"If you had the sword and the locket, why didn't you destroy it?" Wanda questions, and seems very annoyed at the information that Agatha also used Pietro.

"Because I don't know parseltongue." She replies. "But with this, I don’t need to and I can open it."

You exchange a look with Wanda.

"This conversation is not over, Agatha." She says as she moves her hands to remove the necklace.

Agatha turns toward the tent, raises her hand from where her magic is visible between her fingers, and it takes a moment for the sword to fly toward her, gracefully fitting between her fingers.

But she hands it to you.

"I have a feeling it needs to be held by a Gryffindor." She says and you frown.

"Do you have any argument to support that?" You ask as you pick up the sword.

"It's just a guess." She says as she takes the translator out of her pocket.

She gestures for Wanda to leave the locket on the ground, and she does so a few inches away from you so that you have room to wield the sword and destroy it.

"Well, let's get this over with." Agatha says with her attention on the object in her hands. "Help me understand the language of the snakes."

The small object trembles with Agatha's whisper, and when it ascends a golden light between the openings, she continues.

"Open it."

The sound coming out of the metal is unlike anything you have heard. But as soon as it becomes silent, the locket flips open.

And something leaps out, a dark shadow that knocks you to the ground, along with Wanda and Agatha, who are thrown at least two meters away.

Your whole body trembles with fear and alertness. You lean on your elbows to look.

It is the part of Mephisto's soul that is fighting, it is the darkness of magic that protects it.

Agatha didn't fall, she is fighting the part of the shadowy cloud that tries to cover her, the purple magic around her.

Wanda has fallen, but has the same position as you, staring frightened ahead. And your immediate urge is to reach for her, stumbling to get up.

"Destroy it now, Stark!" Agatha shouts, but you keep walking.

Except that the shadow shrouds your field of vision, and you stop confused.

Wanda is standing in front of you.

"What are you still doing here?" Her tone is icy, it chills your whole body the wrong way, and you frown in confusion.

"W-what? We're destroying the horcrux, Wanda, what-"

"I told you to leave." She interrupts as she approaches, her gaze cruel. She has never looked at you like that. "Didn't you hear what Agatha said? You are weak. You are not, and you were never good enough for me."

You stumble away, shocked by the words. But she doesn't stop, smiling arrogantly.

"How was it that the least smart Stark was chosen to protect me?" She teases. "Our classmates are right. I match with the champion of the Triwizard Tournament, that woman will indeed be able to protect someone like me. And if you're lucky, you might get someone who will accept your mediocrity."

You want to throw up. But this is wrong. Something in your brain is screaming, because Wanda would never say such things.

She reaches out to you, and her touch has no pressure. It's just a ghost. An illusion, playing with your senses.

"Pathetic." She whispers, the black orbs glowing. That's enough for you.

Your mind wanders immeditarily to last summer.

"You know how much I love you, don't you?" Wanda whispers in the dark, under the covers with you. The light of the lantern while you are reading Romeo and Juliet in her room is enough for you to see her face blurry.

You smile, closing the book, and pushing it away as you lie on your side to face her.

"I have a vague idea." You joke. "I think quite a bit since I've been sleeping here all week."

But Wanda looks worried; she copies your position, but keeps a serious face. You lift your fingers to trace the wrinkle in her forehead, squeezing lightly until she stops frowning and smiles.

"I just..." She starts almost embarrassed. "Promise you'll never forget?"

You smile, because the idea is absurd, but decide to follow the line. "I promise."

And when Wanda's eyes fill with tears, you worry too, but she quickly shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just being silly."

You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears that have run down. " You know how much I love you?"

You repeat the question in a whisper, and Wanda's cheeks flush, but she smiles, straightening herself up better. "I have a vague idea, because you've been sleeping here all week."

You laugh softly, and she follows you. "It's more than that." You whisper as you stop, staring at her. "I love you more than anything."

Wanda nods softly, her eyes filling with tears again, but this time it's for a good reason. She feels the same way.

"More than the characters in the book loved each other?" She asks in a gasp, her hand squeezing your shirt softly. You smile.

"What I feel for you makes the love of Romeo and Juliet seem like a crush." You retort, making her laugh embarrassedly.

But her smile slowly dies, and she swallows dryly before speaking again. "I don't want us to end up like in the book, babe. Never."

You know she's talking about dying. But specifically about you dying for her. You know that Wanda would do that for you no matter what, but the idea of living without her is unreasonable.

"I wouldn't like that either." You confess, moving closer so that your noses are touching. "I'd like to live with you."

Wanda smiles shyly, embarrassed by the implications in your speech. But you let your fingers wander to her hair, tucking the strands behind her ear.

"I think we would be happy in a cottage." You say, and her gaze brightens beyond the redness on her face. "Or we could buy an apartment in the city where there's a park for you to walk around in."

"I would like that." She confesses smiling. "To have a home with you. Wherever that is."

You swallow dryly, feeling your chest warm with happiness. "Do you think we could handle taking care of animals? I don't ever remember feeding Iron."

Wanda laughs softly, nodding. "We could try a cat first, they're more independent."

"And then an owl."

"Soon a dog."

"Maybe two."

You take a chance. "Or who knows..." But you lose courage, but Wanda smiles.

"Children."

You nod softly, looking at the green orbs adoringly. And she looks at you the same way. "As many as you want."

Wanda's eyes looking at you lock on your mind for the next few seconds as the memory fades, and you find yourself back in the horror of dark magic all around you.

You stumble away from the illusion of the locket, wielding your sword, and ignoring the adrenaline whistle in your ears.

There is no time for another defense, you raise the sword, and the next minute, it strikes the metal, destroying it.

The ghosts scream, and are gone in the blink of an eye, and you gasp in shock, still standing with trembling hands.

When Wanda stands up, and makes mention of touching you, you stumble over your words. "W-we have to go. He'll feel it for sure, let's get out of here before they find us." And you are already walking out toward the tent, keeping your gaze on the ground.

For the next few minutes, you are on autopilot.

Helping Agatha with the tent in silence, the two other witches don't seem to know exactly how to talk about what has just happened.

And when you need to Apparate to a new place, you hold Agatha's forearm instead of Wanda's hand.

"Where are we?" The brunette asks as soon as the ground settles at her feet. Agatha sighs.

"Honestly, we're running out of options." She replies. "It's still the United Kingdom, but it's almost the limit. We're going to need ideas from here on."

You remain silent as you set the tent back up, and when everything is ready, your hands are still shaking.

"Try to rest, Stark." Agatha says beside you. "You did very well tonight."

You only mutter in understanding, hurrying off to your room.

Not even taking off your shoes, you throw yourself on the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

Maybe sleep will put the horcrux image out of your head, but you imagine that once you fall asleep, this will be the only thing you’ll dream about.

//-//-//-//-///-//-///-//-//

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